Capturing Hadley

It embarrasses me to realize that it's been a whole year since I sat down and recorded what my dear girl is like. I used to do this exercise every few months. And since my camera now won't take any pictures, I almost put off this post longer. But when we went to JC Penny yesterday for your "school picture" they were having a promotion  where they emailed me all the proofs in low resolution for free. Perfect for blogging. And for the record, Hadley picked the outfit and the hair style. If you  haven't read these portraits in time before, they are always written to the subject. Kassy will come soon.

Yesterday, as I flipped through a catalog I noticed that suddenly all the kids clothing and all the decorations for little girls' bedrooms had models younger than my you. You look like a girl now. There is no preschooler left in you. You are tall and skinny (actually about average height for a second grader). Your hair is still that complement-producing shade of red. And your eyes are hazel.

Sometime last spring you stopped having to wear dresses or skirts everyday. In fact, there have been weeks of all pants. You are suddenly very practical about clothing. It doesn't have to be pink, though it often is. And you wear dresses, not so much for your own pleasure, but to please your sister or your dress-loving friend Alexis. In fact, this fall, the back-to-school outfit you picked out was a pair of khakis and a green shirt with orange flowers! Sometimes you come down the stairs, dressed, and I'll say, "Just so you know, hot pink and orange don't look good together."
"MMMOOOMMM" you reply with disbelief, " God doesn't care if my outfit matches."

After struggling in Kindergarten and first grade with reading, you are now a skilled peruser, eager to learn new things and to find great stories. It gives me so much pleasure to share stories that I have loved with you. You just finished simplified versions of Anne of Green Gables and The Little Princess. Over the summer you were really interested in the Magic Treehouse series. As your reading improves you are becoming more interested in Little House on the Prairie or the American Girl series.

Last November, almost a year ago, you started gymnastics. The sport has captured your heart. Many days your father forbids you from doing any more handstands for the day since fifty or more seems like enough. Sometimes we want to look at you right-side up. You have improved quickly and are very determined to learn each new skill, but we don't have the money or the desire to let you on the team, which is really your dream. It's been breaking my heart to watch you dream of that team and having to say "no." You came out of gymnastics class the other day, frustrated and angry. You started the recreational class able to do back hip circles on the bar and now, since they rarely use the bar, you had forgotten. And it was only at the first class that you got to practice back hand springs, which is a huge goal of yours.

This fall for the first time, you played on a not-so-great soccer team. Your father, the coach, was frustrated but you flourished. For the first time you weren't one of the worst players on the team.  Actually you may have been the best player on the team. While you can still be spacey as a  defensive player, you have excellent ball handling skills and have learned this year to steal the ball and dribble around the defenders with finesse.

You've matured emotionally too. Fights with friends or feelings of exclusion used to make you cry. While those things still bother you, you are able to keep things in perspective a bit. Tears are not as frequent and you seem more confident.

You are still characterized mostly by silly fun. You are a happy kid, quick to make friends, delighted by gifts. You struggle with wanting things and sweets too much, but are slowly becoming more generous. You are a good eater, understanding the value of healthy food. You eat most anything even if you don't like it.  You are affectionate (sometimes too much). You love to learn and to create. You are constantly making connections and asking questions. I was so impressed with your perceptiveness the other day when you said, "Mom, in art class they keep telling how to draw. 'You must have four buildings and trees with two different color leaves.' It looks nice, but it just isn't me."

Currently you are saving your allowance and hoping for an American Girl doll (the one you want changes regularly. You wish Samantha wasn't retired and are now hoping for Felicity).

Most exciting of all though is your faith. It has blossomed. In September you made a decision to accept Christ. I have seen your doubts diminish and your desire to be obedient and kind increase. You are more trustworthy. It our prayer that you will continue to walk down this path.

I love you Hads. Keep growing into a wonderful young lady. 

I'm back: Soccer and Halloween

Silence. I've haven't gone 26 days with a post since I started blogging. Did you miss me?

Sometimes I have adolescent-like fits when I blog. They aren't rational really—I started blogging for me, not because you asked me to. Still, sometimes I resent how much you know about me and my family (unless you are a fellow blogger) and how little you respond to my posts. Like I said, unfair and irrational but reality. Our inner thoughts are never as neat and tidy and selfless as we want them to be and I am bit embarrassed to admit my fit.Add my fit to computer that won't upload every third website and a broken  camera and I wasn't in the mood. Though I have been working on my food blog---check it out if you haven't in a while.

But Halloween came and fall is almost over (so says the weather). There are events to record and my dear friends lent me a camera for the weekend. October was cold. And cloudy. I wonder how long I will need to live in this state before I stop resenting the cloudiness? Darn that lake Huron. It is so close and so amazing, but the only way I remember it exists is from the sea gulls and the fall and winter days of endless gray clouds.

Saturday was the end of a long and tiring soccer season. Tom has classes this semester starting at 8 am and ending at 8 pm on Mondays and Wednesdays. He usually leaves on those days before the girls wake up and comes home just in time to give a goodnight kiss. Then on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays and Sundays, there was soccer. And usually the season ends mid-October. But this year, it just kept going and going (same number of games but hard-to-schedule coaches). Anyway the last two games , both on Saturday mornings were miserable. Last Saturday was rainy and cold: winter coats, hats, mittens, blankets and an umbrella. This Saturday was warmer but following a day of rain, high winds had moved in. I watched 50% of the last game from the car where my cheers were muted by the windows. (The soccer pics were emailed to me my another mom. Hadley is white with the pink hat with the pom pom on it.)

But the joy of the season was watching Hadley. Suddenly, she got it. Not being on the champion team she shot to the top of the roster and looked like a pro out there. She could dribble in and out of defenders, her kick gained strength and her feet gained speed. She was one of the players the other coaches told their players to watch out for. And still, after three seasons of soccer I was surprised by my heart: its desire to win, the loud yells that emerged and the instinct to injure any player that pushed my little girl.

And Kassy? She's not the fastest on the field but her ball handling skills are impressive. And of the two girls—she definitely loves soccer the most. She would get sad if Hadley has a game or practice and she didn't. My quiet little girl is tough out there on that field. And nothing is more charming than her big grin after a goal (and I don't think we had a game where she didn't make at least one).

And Tom? Well, there isn't a better coach out there.

Really, Hadley is just dreaming of competitive gymnastics. She even draws pictures of it. And prays about being able to compete every night. Sigh. Not letting a kid have everything she wants is not bad. But it sure is hard.

Halloween. Hadley was Word Girl, from the PBS show of the same name. Word Girl is from the planet Lexicon and fights villains partially by distracting them with big words which she then defines. Kassy was a bunny, again. Our friends, who live in the country, came and enjoyed the evening with us. I think we passed out over 600 pieces of candy to at least 400 kids. Kids from all over the city come to our neighborhood to trick or treat. But neighbors are resentful. They don't like all the kids (and adults) that come for the candy without costumes and with made-up stories about a sick brother in the car which is why they have two pillowcases. So participation is way down—only 30% of the houses turn on their lights. Still, they come. I get the neighbor's frustration but I guess I think , “Hey if once a year kids from this crime-ridden city come peacefully into our safe neighborhood, who am I to deny them the fun?”

The pictures below are from the IB parade at school. It is a huge deal and you have to make a sign that identifies your character and the IB trait (IB is the abbreviation for the International Baccalaureate curriculum their school uses. There 8 or 10 traits that constantly emphasizw as they learn about the world. Words like creative, communicator, open-minded, principled, thinker, risk taker, knowledgeable, balanced, reflective ). Hadley's sign read, "Word Girl is a caring thinker." Kassy's sign read, "The Runaway Bunny is a communicator." Sometimes the IB profiles make me laugh, like when we are making these signs for what is really an attempt to add some thinking to Halloween or when Kassy yells at her sister, "You aren't being principled." But I love it. They have such a great school.

The doctor is in or diabetes update

It isn't that anyone has asked. Just that it's been a while and I need some therapy. And sometimes I fail completely in eating well or in checking my blood sugar numbers. The mental game of diabetes is improving, but not won. So here, is a question and answer session for your entertainment and for my accountability.

Q: So, Laura, how's the insulin.

A: I actually like insulin. It far more effective than the meds I was taking and I like being able to increase amounts as I see my numbers going up (like the week before my period). I don't mind the shots and have find traveling not to be difficult.

Q: So Laura, how are your numbers?
A: What numbers? I am terrible at checking my numbers. I tend to check a bunch of times in a week and then skip three weeks. I can easily remember to check first thing in the morning, but the two hours after a meal is rarely remembered.

Q: So Laura, how ARE your  numbers?
A: After three months on insulin my a1c (three month blood sugar average) was 6.8. That 's down almost a whole point from before which means my average has dropped from 190 to about 150. Good. Remember before breakfast should be around 100, and post meals under 140. So I am getting closer to the target. My before meals are great, almost too low, around 80. My after breakfast numbers are good too. I can never remember to check after lunch and the few after dinner readings I have done are too high, close to 180 unless I don't eat many carbs.


Q: Have you made any other changes?
A: Since Kassy started school I've been exercising five days a week for 40 minutes at least. I definitely favor strength and  flexibility work over cardio, so I need to push more at cardio, but this is the longest I've ever had a regular exercise plan (thanks exercise buddies). Also, I asked the doctor to take me off Januvia since it cost so much and she did.Now my monthly out-of-pocket med cost is down from $57 to $17.  That leaves me on Lantus (the insulin) and metformin.


Q: What's next?
I need to do a follow up with the dietitians but first need to check to see if my insurance will pay for more time. If not, that visit will wait until January. I see the doctor in February, but plan to be more disciplined in my number checking because I've told you lovely readers and you will ask me about it, I hope. When I have a better record I hope to fax the numbers to my doctor and ask her what she thinks. Personally, I suspect I need to add a short term insulin (Lantus is kind of like a slow release insulin that you take once a day) to lunch or dinner or maybe change kinds of once-a-day insulin. My numbers are too high after dinner and I am hungry all the time  even after eating my allowed carbs. I am not gaining weight (which I probably should) and suspect I  need to eat more. I wonder though, since my carb allowance is pretty typical for a diabetic, what do the people who are overweight eat? How can they possibly be feeling full?


There. The interview is over. Any more questions?

Wrap Ups (I hope)

Ever wondered about the termites? The writing? The smokin' beans?
This hodgepodge post is the wrap up.

First though, every post is more fun with a picture. Here's a four generation picture from this August. The girls had just taken a bath. I bet you can't even come close to guessing how old my grandma is.

So I never finished the termite story. I lost steam and couldn't keep going. It got to the point where I didn't even want to write about it. I just wanted it to be done. I walked around the days after the treatment grieved to see the little demons were still happily mentioning the wood in my garden and muttered things like, "Die little bugs, die." I was sick of hearing people proclaim surprise about having termites in Michigan. And a little angry at the termite men for making a giant dusty mess in the basement, which led to more anger when they said the termiticide might kill a few of my plants growing next to the house. While I gladly pictured the bugs dying, I tried not to picture my plants dying or to worry too much about that chemical deep in the ground potentially affecting my veggie garden. They assured me it was safe. But by late August I had adopted Tom's pessimism and didn't really believe them. But I willed myself to move on and we ate the veggies and we cleaned up the basement (thanks to my husband who is a super fast, super thorough and amazing worker), and eventually even the termites in the garden disappeared (I prefer to think they suffered a slow, painful death). Yesterday we had our first post-treatment inspection and we passed. I'm glad but it's hard to cheer. That was a big chunk of change to spend on bugs!

The day after the Smokin' beans post I bought Febreze. And candles. I sprayed rugs and walls and curtains and furniture. I'm not a lover of fake good smell so I also planned a few full proof slow cooker meals. After all, how many smells can one house hold? The Febreze appeared to work for about 24 hours. Then the smell returned. Muted. But still present. Desperate I googled "burnt beans." Gotta love the Internet. Not only did I find a whole slew of ideas about the burnt bean smell and how to deal with it in one of those post a question and random members will answer, I found camaraderie (wow did I spell that wrong the first try) and comfort in the knowing that others had burnt not just food but beans and most of them had actually left the house! Whew. But their ideas sounded like a lot of work. Rolling up my sleeves I made a plan, but then the next the smell was gone. It lingers in far corners sometimes, but mostly it's been forgotten.

I'll post more about my time without kids later, but have I told you that I've writing about an article a month for the local magazine? They pay me pennies but it is so fun. All the issues are online so here's a link to the most recent issue. Flip to page 35 and read the green article. You can use the buttons on the side to zoom in. This is an article I pitched. I had to redo it three times because my vision and my editor's vision ended up not being the same. So the article isn't quite what I wanted but I still hope it blesses someone. Still, I got paid, right? Now I am writing an article about how to keep a busy family eating well. Right up my alley. Too bad all the ideas have to come from the interviewed expert. It's still fun.

Grilled cheese

Beware: the simple joys of the weekend cause a few too many cheesy similes.

Slowly. Very slowly we have been adding dairy back into Kassy's diet. We started with a slice of cheese. Then another the next day and then another. Her big eyes would glow with anticipation as she tasted the forbidden food. Probably cheese is that much creamier and wonderful after a three year hiatus, especially when you can't remember eating it at two. She got bolder and started asking for yogurt. She's been eying yogurt for well over a year. She watches people eat yogurt the way an infant, who is ready for something other than mama's milk, watches people eat.

So it's been three weeks of small, daily doses of dairy--either cheese or yogurt. And nothing. No side effects. No illness. Just silent rejoicing. The kind you hesitate to share because what if it goes away? This weekend was the pinnacle of the experiment--yesterday at a friend's birthday party she had ice cream. Not frozen fruit ice granules with fancy names like Italian ice or sorbetto but real ice cream. Ice cream was a staple treat of my growing up years. I fondly remember bike rides on hot summer days to Baskin Robbins and a scoop of Gold Medal Ribbon (did you see they are opening up a BR here--right by Target--memory triumphs taste for me and I will always prefer BR to Cold Stone Creamery). But really, have you ever teared up giving your child ice cream? I did.

And then today. Oh today I wish I had thought to take a picture. For a variety of reasons Kassy earned a privilege today. She picked, "Choose favorite meal for mom to cook." This treat gets picked with some frequency---only rule is you must plan a balanced meal. I asked Kass what she wanted and she smiled like a kid who had opened a long wished for birthday gift and said,"Grilled Cheese." She sat in the kitchen watching every step. Memorizing them. Supervising the placement of the cheese. And then she stared at her sandwich on the griddle as I silently hoped the tapioca bread would brown well. And if she had been a dog, she would have been drooling. And I laughed as asked for the tenth time,"How much longer?" She never eats fast, unless she LOVES the food. And this sandwich she ate leisurely, too precious for high speed, eyes closed, with a giant smile on her face. It turned out perfectly just pleasantly brown with the cheese completely melted. And I wondered---where did she learn to close her eyes when eating something delicious? Is it instinct or do we learn by watching?

Tomorrow for lunch? She wants me to make Annie's Mac and Cheese with Rice Pasta and put it in her thermos!

We haven't tackled cows milk. The proteins in that are more troubling to a stomach than cheese and yogurt. For now, I'll let her relish the joys of these foods that were once denied. Praise the Lord!

Who's Smokin'?

It's embarassing to tell this story since it happened on a morning when both kids were in school--no fighting children as an excuse. So I was cooking beans. In a pot. Black beans. the stove was on low, and I went downstairs to exercise. Beans take forver to cook. I wasn't worried. I have no idea how long it was--45 minutes? And I started to smell smoke. Not fire smoke but who's- been- hanging- out- at-the-bar smoke? For a second I thought the used couch  was emitting a previously hidden smell. No such luck. I followed my nose upstairs. The upstairs was hazy, filled with smoke. Not cough, hack, crawl- on- your- knees- to- breath- smoke, just haze and stink. I ran to the bean pot, removed it from the heat while noting the lack of liquid in the pot and then turned on fans and opened windows and doors. Now there aren't many windows to open. It's been so cool this summer and we've been so busy that we never took off the storms (yes we still have the original windows). So I could really only open the doors. I figured the smoke would clear our. It did, but the smell stayed. And we had a party Friday night and all the guests politely said nothing when they walked into the stinky house. Saturday and Sunday I kept wanting to shower and wash clothes to escape the smoke smell. Nothing has worked. It reeks in here. You get used to after about a minute but why isn't it going away? And why does it smell, not like fire smoke, but like cigarette smoke? Ick. Now today I have to solve the mystery of why none of the smoke detectors went off.

Empty nester for the school days

I've imagined yesterday, the first day both girls would be in school all day, for over a year. (Yes, Kindergarten is an all-day gig here). I've fretted, gotten excited, and cried--all before the day came. Here's the truth: while Kassy's food allergies make school a bit more difficult, I was ready--so ready I almost felt guilty. I didn't cry and I didn't feel sad. Okay, okay, when we were praying morning prayers and Kassy started sobbing saying she wanted help not feeling nervous, I shed some tears, but that was it.

Yesterday and today are my adjustment days. A little bit of extra time to relax. Now, here's what scares me. I've been home, for seven years. The only skills I've perfected have to do with mothering. I didn't go to college for seven years (thankfully); I didn't teach for seven years; I didn't work for a publishing company for seven years. Now what? Who will I be? I can start again and reinvent my future.

We live in Michigan, home of the worst economy in the nation, for almost a decade. People don't stay home with kids after they start school so I don't have any examples to mimic. And I doubt I could get hired as a teacher--almost no one gets hired here, just laid off. And as I wonder what to do next, I 've been confronted by my own insecurities. Turns out that even after staying home for seven years, I still place a disproportionate amount of value on jobs. Let's say my "Finished" list at the end of the day reads: emptied dishwasher, put laundry away, cleaned four windows outdoors, called my mom, called friend to see how she was feeling, weeded garden, read one chapter in a book for book club, updated my blog, prepared for interview for magazine article, prepared dinner mostly before the kids got home so I could focus on them when time came, helped Hads with homework, drove to soccer practice, cleaned up dinner; read to, snugglied with, and prayed with both girls before bed, prepared lunches for tomorrow.  My brain focuses on "prepared for interview for magazine article." It reads this list item as "the only job-like thing" on the list and placess more importance on that accomplishment than the others.

Ok, I tell myself, reread the list. What might be glorifying to God on that list? Serving my family by helping to keep things organized and clean, serving my family by making sure what they eat is healthy and good for them, loving people by spending time and calling them. Yes, Yes, Yes. That's who I want to be. But, I still read the list and place importance on the job-like thing. Oh I have a lot of growing to do because I don't write most of these things down on my to-do lists. So at the end of the day if the list has just three "jobs" accomplished. I feel like I didn't do much.

So that's the mental jump I need to make. (For the record, this is a post about what I am learning, not a post about why women should or should not stay home) Still, you wonder, what is Laura going to do? I assure you there is plenty. For one, exercise. I've never climbed this mountain in my life. I've started the ascent but never gone far enough to see the view at the top.  I am slowly setting up exercise partners and placing a priority on this task. Two--write. In my dreams, I would make enough money freelance writing to not need another job. Never mind that with all the newspapers going out of business that the freelance market is saturated with better trained, more experienced writers.  I still want to try. And after seven years of 24/7 mom duty, I am giving myself the gift of trying for at least this school year. What else? I will be in the girls' school doing picture parent lessons(art history lessons) and helping in other ways. I have a Bible study I love and some mom friends to hang out with and do the book club thing. And then there is the long list of household projects that I never get to. Maybe now?

But dang it, I am doing it now-- telling you my plans and hoping you won't think me lame or lazy because my goals aren't more concrete, my time isn't more filled. But that's the gift of this season for me, unfilled time. I 've been guarding it, trying not to volunteer for every need that presents itself. Soaking up time with the Lord more. Waiting to see, what does He have for me now? I could fill my time, find a job. But I might miss His direction. Wait, Laura, wait. Be still and know that I am God. I wonder when my philosophies will match my reality?

Oh and Kassy? She liked Kindergarten. She is treading cautiously. Watching others, staring with those big brown eyes and waiting. Waiting to see if this classroom will be a safe place to show others who she is, hoping no one will bother her for having "special" snacks, looking for a distressed little girl who is shy too that she can befriend. Oh she is precious and I might cry if I keep writing about her. Sometime I will post about how we manage food issues in Kindergarten.
For now, it's 2 pm, time to start dinner prep!

Tidbits

I've gotten behind. Here's a few snapshots of what's been going on. I'm always amazed at what pictures I forget to take.

Let's see. We had our annual bike parade and neighborhood picnic. Hadley won the bike decorating contest again. Great, except her bike doesn't look much different from Kassy's and and last year Hadley took second and no prize for Kass then either. Next time I'll be tempted to tell the judges not to pick Hads.

We took a long weekend to visit Illinois. We stopped first at my parents in Rockford and were able to see my grandma. It was a nice visit and I know we took pictures but they must all be on my mom's camera?

Then we went to Chicago to stay at Tom's Grandma's. Aunt Becky lives with grandma and Grandma and Grandpa Wells came, along with Aunt Tricia, Cousin Eva, and the newest addition--Cousin Eva. Remember this post, about my sister-in-law and how she and her husband were trying to adopt? Their wish came true in June thanks to prayer and a French exchange student, they now have two daughters. Here's baby Ingrid. Not the best pictures, but she is beautiful, healthy, and happy. It was so exciting to meet her.

While in Chicago we went to the Lincoln Park Zoo. I swear that must be the zoo that every movie uses if they need a zoo. It was gorgeous, the animals were awake and not sleeping, and it's free (if you don't count the $18 parking fee...but still you COULD walk right in).

 

Can you see the tiger back there? Aren't the cousins cute? They love being together.

One of my favorite shots. 

I felt so bad that I didn't get any pictures of Grandpa Chris while we were in Honduras, I tried to make up for it here. Cute, huh? For those who wonder, Grandpa is the source of the red hair gene.

Here are the girls with Tom's younger sister (Aunt Becky)...I think she was looking at Tricia's camera, while the girls were looking at mine.

The weekend after our Chicago trip, before Tom dove head first into school, he agreed to pick blueberries with us(but not to get his picture taken). We brought most of our Bible Study with us. It was a bit chilly but we were zealous pickers. The nine of us picked close to 60 pounds of berries! Personally we brought home 22 pounds. We are stocked for the year and our oatmeal is very happy. 

The first day of second grade--complete with backpack stuffed to the max with supplies(it's the tissues and clorox wipes and paper towels that make it look so big!). She was so excited though you can't tell in this picture (camera was on the wrong setting and I couldn't tell in the view finder). Hadley loves second grade and has come home singing it's praises for the last two days---even though she had 40 minutes of homework tonight (some of that was her own distractability). Kassy starts Kindergarten next week. I don't know why. It would have been exciting to send them off together...but look for more next week as the emotions will be running strong and I'll need some blog therapy.

Saying No

Gymnastics. The girls spend more time in leotards than they do other clothing (unless you count the sleeping time of PJs). Hadley conducts gymnastics classes for all children who enter the house, willing or not. They happen in the playroom, on the gymnastics mat my parents bought me and saved for twenty years before passing on. Regularly I hear the in unison counting of my two girls as they do the designated warm ups for the day's tumbling tests.

Sometimes, Hadley will grab a clip board and write out a  list: headstand, handstand, somersault, back bend, splits. Kassy will happily perform for her teacher who then rates the skills, always with words of encouragement and praise.

November will mark the one year aniversary of starting Hads in gymnastics. While I value the strength and determination she has developed (it seems just yesterday she was crying over not being able to do a headstand...well, the tears have stopped and she has learned valuable lessons about practicing), gymnastics has my stomach in knots. True, when she spins around those bars and lets go to land, I hold my breath and can barely watch. That's bad enough, but the real knots come from the future.

Hadley started in the recreational classes and was quickly moved to the pre-team class called Ladybugs. I gawked at the three hours of practice per week that they wanted and only agreed to once a week. They gawked at me, but must have needed the money. Now they want to move Hadley to Junior Trainers, which requires six hours a week in the gym, for three hours at a time. The fee, not including the insurance fee, $150 per month. If a month was really only four weeks long, that would be $6.25 an hour--not unreasonable.

And Hadley is praying fervently to be able to be a Junior Trainer. She'd sell most of her possessions and give up soccer if she could be a trainer. She wants a team leotard and wants to compete. She's good--not exceptional, but good.

But I can't afford $150 a month, not unless I tell Kassy she can't do anything. And the next level is 9 hours a week and more money. And the level after that? 12 hours.I don't want her gone twice a week from 4:15-7:15. She's 7. I want her home for dinner---the too- busy- for- family- dinner thing CAN'T happen yet. And who knows? Gymnastics might not be her life-long sport love and no one can do gymnastics past their early 20s. But for now, Hadley is smitten. We both cried when they moved her up because we both knew she couldn't go up.If I knew a college scholarship or a job teaching gymnastics full time was in her future, I'd go get a job and make this work, but some people don't even think gymnastics is a particularly healthy sport and I don't know the future.

Why are kids sports so intense, so quickly? Can't she just go for two hours a weeks? Yes, she can. But then she can't compete and she gets second rate coaching. You know those moments when you look at your sweet, sleeping child and hope you can give them all that their heart longs for? I've always known I couldn't, that I shouldn't, that heart breaks would come and I would be powerless. But tomorrow I have to call the coach, "Look, we can't do this, now what?"

And then I have to tell Hadley, who is still holding out hope that she is so good, they will let train anyway, I will have to say, "Look honey, even though your friends can be trainers, you can't (with, the undertone of we don't have the money). But you can still take gymnastics(unavoidable translation by my daughter:non-competeing, inferior, gymnastics). Chin up." And we will both cry.

And I will wait for the day when I can grab her thoughts and complete the lesson, see, "We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." But I will still cry.

Rain sale

I know...you are wondering about the termites. And maybe even the diabetes (I just went to the doctor), but let me tell you about today. Drop me a note or a comment and then I'll know what you want to hear about.

I'm sitting in my garage. It's raining. It's 60 degrees outside. I'm drinking hot chocolate and wearing a favorite hoodie that needs to be a bit warmer. (I still think of the end of August in college-in-Iowa terms---the hottest most sweat-dripping days came the first week of school as we moved into the non-air-conditioned dorms). The calendar says August 28th, but it is not August.

If you remember the post about the girls cleaning out their toys and wanting to sell them to raise money for the orphanage, that's why I am in the garage. At the sale. Numerous times I thought, "Why am I going to all this work to have a sale?" But the girls had a noble desire and I wanted to follow through with it. I knew we didn't have enough stuff for a great sale, but I wanted the girls to have a finished lesson. I checked and double checked the weather. But by Wednesday this week, I couldn't postpone the decision any longer. The weather was supposed to be good. I decided to do it.

It's noon (3 hours of sale). There have been 5 customers and lots of rain. We've made $16 dollars. And if one or two moms, or an eager grandma, with little girls between ages two and four would just walk up the driveway, they would find treasures (like a heart-stealing tiny stuffed iguana or a love poem in book form), beautiful shoes and some great dresses. But alas, it's cold in my bones with all this wet, I've moved into the warm house, covered the clothes rack with a tarp and am writing with the computer facing the garage. The neighbor across the street said one of the signs had fallen down. It's raining, hard. Do I bother to fix it? Will the crayola markers the girls used to color the sign be indiscernible? Not sure I have the heart to find out. I hate well-intentioned lessons that don't work.

What to do now? Do I pack up everything and save it until the neighborhood garage sale next June? Or do I pack it up and send it to some charity's thrift store? I hate it when effort seems in vain, but at least all this stuff has been sort out and won't go back in the drawers.

Toy Sale for Honduras

I know. I've been so quiet. Summer days start slowly and then snow ball into craziness from playing and working all day. Sometimes I am ready for school to start. I have much to post but for now, here is the most immediate.

Toy Sale tomorrow (friday the 28th, 9 am -3 pm). Just to get rid of things we are also selling the girls' clothes. If you know anyone with a 3 or 4-year-girl send them our way. Stop by or call if you don't know how to get here. I promise prices are cheap and the girls would be encouraged to see you. All money raised goes to our dear friends in Honduras. See you tomorrow?

Holes every six inches

I've almost written this post three times. But those earlier posts would be have angrier. Why do I get so worked up about unchangeable things? We have termites. It costs a lot of money to deal with them. The exterminators ( I like to call them terminators) are making messes. But there is nothing I can do about this so. It's happened. It must be dealt with. Handle this gracefully, Laura. And sometimes I did--but only after a short freak out where I often call Amanda and cried or yelled (thanks friend).

So the termites have lived here longer than we have. And I've seen them many times. Turns out those little white ants that are under the wood stepping stones in my garden, those aren't the larva stage of some unknown bugs, those are worker termites. I tried to take a picture for you, because they are still there, eating away in my garden, but my camera won't focus on such a close up. Lucky you.

Tom was gone all week again--at a math conference in Muskegon. The girls and I were going to go with him, but we needed the money to fight the termites. So Tom was home for about 24 hours between trips, and I got to greet the terminator technician Tuesday morning. Note that they didn't send me the real licensed terminator yet, just the technician. His first task? (I didn't realize when this started, even though they tried to explain it, that there were four steps in this process). Task one was to cut a hole in the foundation to access the inaccessible part of the foundation. This was the hold my breath and drink 7up to keep my stomach calm moment for Tom and me because it would reveal more clearly how much damage there was.



So here's the hole. It's in the storage closet in the back of the basement so it's presence won't be noticed much. But look at the floor. Here's a close-up. That's termite food the terminator technician pulled out the crawl space. AKA a rotting cedar porch that some previous owner didn't remove. Apparently, before the addition was built, there was a large cedar porch outside. Then someone wanted a cement porch instead and placed concrete blocks around the cedar porch and poured the concrete slab there. They never removed the wood. And it's been rotting, for years. Then, some other brilliant owner, wanted an addition instead of a concrete slab, To save money, the addition was built on top of the block supported concrete slab. At some point, vents were added to this inaccessible crawl space, but they haven't been opened for years. Between the rain and snow here in Michigan that small space would get wet, and without ventilation the wood would start to rot, and rot , and rot and before long a colony of termites noticed.

So the terminator technician, he removed all that rot for us. But before he left for the day, he showed me the sill plate. If you are ignorant like me in all things construction, the sill plate is the horizontal board which all vertical boards are attached in the framing of your house. And guess what? It crumbled to the touch. Crumbled. Then he told me that the pile of leftover wood from the charming treehouse was infested with termites too. Oh gosh. I had to tell Tom, because he would ask. And he wouldn't be able to sleep with such info in his head.

He didn't sleep. He drove home. He had to investigate for himself. Now Tom and Hadley are the worriers in the family. With Tom not here to analyze every possible disastrous scenario and to find solutions for them all, I took over the job of worrying(especially since Hadley did not yet know there was something to worry about). What about the treehouse? How far up the house had the termites eaten? What now? And money--well I didn't let myself go there. With Tom back in the house---using flashlights, calling people for advice, drilling through wood to check for rot--I could calm down again. And woo, am I glad the task of worrying is usually his ( at least in all things house related). Tom devised a plan for fixing the sill plate. Then drove back to Muskegon and everyone slept well. Oh, in case you were worried, the treehouse is built on treated wood and termites don't eat treated wood, but the garage...well you could worry about our garage.

Day two with the terminator technician, he finishes cleaning out the rot.
Day three started step two : hole drilling. Now I knew they had to drill holes in the foundation. I didn't realize how frequent they would be. And I didn't realize he drilled from the inside. Terminator technician would emerge from the basement periodically saying he needed to escape the dust. Too trusting, I didn't put the puzzle pieces together. When he left for the day, I went downstairs. First I noticed the holes:
I hope you can see them, click on the picture to make it larger if you need to. Little quarter inch holes every three inches or so...all around every wall of the foundation. Is this what we signed up for? A quick call to Tom (thank goodness he wasn't in the unreachable wilderness this week) assured me the holes were part of the system. But dear I complained, why didn't he warn me. There was thick, coating concrete dust on everything. He didn't cover the carpet, the couches or even the TV. And he didn't clean up.

Oh wow. I'm tired. I promise to finish the story later...Don't worry, the worst part is yet to come.

Grandparent post

So this post for is really for the grandparents. I guess you can read it if you want even if you aren't a grandparent, but they are the ones who will be really happy to see all these pictures.

When Tom is gone, I tend to schedule a ton of things to do. So there are lots of pictures. Plus, I haven't done just a general update since we returned from Honduras-- so here we go.

Last week, we made only our second trip to the local children's zoo. It was normal, fun and entertaining, special in that we brought Laura (Cody's wife) with us. It was her first trip and the girls loved showing her all their favorite things--carousel included.

Then Friday, we went with Mary Lin and her kids to Crossroads Village in Flint. Mary Lin is the mother of Hadley's best friend, Alexis. Alexis has a younger brother who is six also. They also have a family pass to this old fashioned village, which means we got in free (bonus!). The kids had fun riding the paddle boat (forgot to take picture), exploring the old schoolhouse, the opera house, the stores, and even trying stilts. Both girls were able to take a few steps. They had old, turn-of-the century amusement rides. And that ferris wheel and the carousel flew. It was amazing--perhaps our rigid safety standards have doomed these classic rides to a level just barely above boring. I felt like I was in Mary Poppins, racing my carousel horse. It was great.

Sorry the captions aren't matching up correctly, I goofed and am too tired to fix it. Never pick a left sided layout for pictures if you want to put captions under the photos...it doesn't work.


















































At Adli's lately, strawberries have been $1/pound. I've been buying them and drying them in the food dryer. And after weeks of dangling in a precarious diagonal position, Hadley finally let her dad yank her other front tooth.
She is proud of her giant hole and there no signs yet of the new teeth.






























































Then today, betting against the rain clouds, we drove up to Midland and went to the Dow Gardens. The kids had fun. They even had some good lessons on reading a map as the area is huge. As you can see, creating large bubbles was serious business. The picture on the left here is the middle of the yew maze.








Ok, the swimming pictures are from July. The girls took lessons, like they always do in summer. It was so relaxing to have them both in lessons at the same time. Perhaps because of the economy, the classes were extra small this year, which I loved. Hadley progressed greatly in stroke development and can almost do the butterfly now. She's working on learning to dive. I don't help much because I laugh so hard at her belly flops. Kassy conquered her fear of jumping in and can now jump, without hesitation off the diving board and doggie paddle for a little ways. She was trooper out there, waiting in line for the diving board, with trembling lip, trying not to cry and shaking as she walked the plank. But by the forth lesson she did it. I was so proud.

And then there are pictures of friends. First the Bierbrauers. Jason, the dad, is a friend of Tom's from high school. They were here off and on for five days while they went back and forth to a wedding in Ann Arbor. They have five kids. It was nutty, but exciting here. Beneath that is a picture of the girls with my great aunt Mariel and uncle Phil. They were also in town because of a Michigan wedding. It had been several years since we had seen them so it was a good chance to catch up. And finally, the girls with two, of the four Drost kids. The Drosts are our good friends in Des Moines. We stayed with them for Cody's wedding. Again, nutty, but fun. I love chances to "live" with other families. You get to see how they interact, discipline, structure their life. It always inspires me to keep working hard at being a parent. And I think when you stay together for a few days, you see more reality than a quick 2-4 hour visit. I definitely recommend it.