The first day of school has taught me that I will have more homework than the kids as a collective will for the entire first month. I have to fill out a form for this and sign my name to that, and then I have to multiply all those by the number of kids currently enrolled in public school. And since I'm whining, I'm just going to tell you that I actually get writers cramp doing it all, because is this age of keyboarding everything you need to say, actual handwriting has fallen by the wayside.
I made a big, huge mistake last year right after school started. In my effort to be super organized and efficient, I asked that the kids empty their folders. Anything that needed signed or filled out goes on one pile, and everything that was simply reading material goes on another.
See me make the kids take initiative?
See me be really, really stupid?
See me freak when I realize that there are not 3 of the same forms, but 3 different and very non-specific ones? Which kid does this form belong to? Which teacher wants this? Does it look like something from a 4th grader? Or maybe more high schooler-ish? Or is it from Micah's Life Skills class? Who knows?!
See my head explode?
So this year I was way smarter. I told the kids to put their bookbags on the table, completely intact. Do not open that zipper, or you'll face sudden and instant maiming. And then I plunged in. I was armed with paper clips, sticky notes, and a pen. Each child got a stack of "to sign" clipped together with their name sticky-noted onto it, and a "to read" stack with a named sticky. When I am allowed to run the house my own way, things are super organized. Sometimes, I scare myself. But don't ask me where the scissors are at any given time, because despite the fact that we have 3 pair, nobody seems to know anything.
This year, the school is now laughing as they read this. They will have the last laugh, too, because in each "to sign" stack were only about 2 papers. People, I know for a fact that more will be forthcoming, because I already know of 1 form that was missing from the heap. And that form will be multiplied by 3. This year, the school is going to slowly break me down instead of killing me on the first day. And once again, I know I'll reach the point where I just say, "put the papers that need signed here."
I just can't win this game.
Her Epitaph Will Read, 'Eaten Alive By Paperwork'
On The First Day of Third Grade
I could talk about the kids first day of school, and the busing issues with Micah because the school starts an hour earlier this year and the van company is confused by this.
I could talk about the fact that our house has turned into canning and freezing of the abundance of our garden central, filling the counters with tomatoes, peppers, and sealed jars of goodness that'll be consumed in a month's time by ravenous kids who insist on growing too fast.
I could talk about how I just made the longest run-on sentence in the world. But I won't. Instead, I'll remind my future self that in 3rd grade, Micah looked forward to going to school.
Yes, he did.
On the first day of 3rd grade, Micah packed his Voice in his book bag, willingly got dressed (after a brief struggle of "no, you can't wear your Woody pajamas to school today"), and was very excited to see his van pull in the driveway. He happily climbed in without requiring fifteen hugs and producing crocodile tears while doing the pouty lip of champions.
In third grade, Micah decided that he loved school. I'm excited to see what he'll learn this year with a winning attitude like that.
On the first day of third grade, my boy grew up a little bit more.
Also, this is hands-down the best first day of school photo that I have ever taken. It's so very "my kids."
School, It Starts Tomorrow
'Twas the night before school started, and it looked rather like any other night. Okay, the little boys were bathed and in bed earlier, but other than that, it looked rather normal. Okay, by "normal" I mean there was newly canned tomato sauce cooling on the counter, homemade salsa odors permeated the house, and freshly picked corn was chilling in the freezer for winter.
We believe in working the kids to death right down to the wire to make them appreciate sitting around in school that first week.
Bookbags were gathered, scheduled secured, important paperwork that should have been turned in at the end of last year was found (we now know why Josh wasn't called for soccer camp this month), and mama was frantically trying to make sure everyone had clean underwear fresh from the laundry. Yep, it was a normal 'twas the night before school night.
I asked Becky if I should make cinnamon rolls for the boys' breakfast for their first day, or do something less labor-intensive that they'd love equally. (I love through baking, it's what I do. And no, there are no houses for sale nearby for you to move in next door.) Her reply? "I was going to get up early and make them chocolate chip pancakes. They all really love them."
I need a collective awwwww here, people. That girl gets up early for nobody. She, too, loves through cooking.
I've trained her well.
It's In My Head
Early in the summer, while on an outing with the kids, I got a grand idea for a portrait of the kids. I wasn't able to do it that day, and then summer took off and we just didn't get to attempt it in the following 3 months. Last week, the opportunity was (kind of) upon us. With only 3 of the 4 kids, we headed to the state park and I tried to make that portrait come to life.
The park has a sleepy little road through the forest, and the striped shadows on the pavement make me very happy. I had this grand plan to place each kid in a spot of light, so that it would look like the sun was shining down right on them.
The first problem happened when Micah wasn't so keen on standing right there. Or even how about here. And certainly not just be still for a minute, please. So Becky got the bright idea to make circles on the road where each kid would stand. Sometimes Micah thinks things like that are fun, and his compliance level will suddenly become elevated to a near cooperative level.
And he did become cooperative. He took it upon himself to be the circle drawer.
xcept that he missed the part where I wanted kids at certain places. The kids needed to be in the right spots to make things happen like they did in my head. The sunlight, you know. And shadows.
He grapsed that I wanted kids to stand in circles, however, and lined the circles up nicely. It made for a very I love my siblings photo.
I finally realized that Micah was just going to be uncooperative in carrying out my grand photography scheme. I place Becky and Luke where I needed them, and let Micah do his own thing.
And it turns out that Micah knew what he was doing and I didn't. That awesome portrait of the kids on the road didn't turn out nearly like I envisioned it in my head, but Micah's take on it isn't a bad little shot of the kiddos. Next time, I'll just ask his advice.
He's a Snappy Dresser. Or Something Like That.
I organized Micah's dresser the other day, which made him realize that he had some fun new things that he was not aware of before. He chose his mostest favoritest things and wore them. Behold.
Awesome, no? Plaid, argyle, camo, printed socks. Nothing plain and boring for that boy, thankyouverymuch. He wore it for 2 days before I confiscated it. (He has a multi-pack of P&F socks.) And then today, because his plaid, camo & argyle weren't available, he chose something else to wear. I'm sorry there are no photos. For a visual, try picturing red & blue madras plaid shorts paired with a green & gray striped shirt. That boy likes visual interest, that's for sure.
I'm just a little worried that he's practicing for his first day back to school. They'll definitely know when Micah comes.
People Look At Me Weirdly When I Talk About This
Last year, we jumped on board the Halloween Decor Wagon. Previously, I decorated for fall and avoided the whole Halloween thing. But the kids asked, so I complied. And now, it's all I've been thinking about for quite some time. People, how have I missed the fun of Halloween decor all these years?
I have a plan. My plan will not come about because it's going to take way more work than I want to put into it, and neither will I want to spend the money to do it, but maybe someone will take my plan and run with it. I plan to make a Biblical Halloween layout. I know what you're thinking (something along the lines of "huh?") but truly, some of the best stuff is in the Bible.
There is Absolom, David's son, who hung in a tree by his hair after his donkey ran through the woods during a war. He was speared through by the enemy while he hung there. Halloween decor at it's finest.
And Jonah, who was swallowed by a fish. There's a lot of fun to be had with that. You can go the giant-fish-eating-a-man-in-your-front-lawn route, or just run with the fact that Jonah would have been bathed in digestive juices for a few days before being spit out, thereby fading him white like a zombie and smelling like fish barf. Either one is Halloween-worthy.
There is Jezebel, who is perhaps my favorite. She fell off a wall, got trampled by horses, and eaten by dogs. Gruesome, to be sure. You could have dismemberment, blood, guts, brains - all sorts of wrongness with that one.
And then there's the lady who took out a bad guy by giving him refuge in her tent, offering him warm milk to drink, lulling him to sleep, and driving a tent spike through his temples. She rocks the Halloween scene.
Samson had his eyes gouged out, there was the naked man living in the graveyard who was possessed by demons, the 10 plagues of Egypt make for awesome nightmare-inducing, Lot's wife turned into a salt statue,
a bunch of teens were eaten by bears for making fun of a bald prophet, the crucifixion of Jesus (and others) is rather bloody, and there's a whole lot of fun and interesting going on in the book of Revelation.
Seriously, I have to wonder why anyone even felt the need to come up with things like witches and demons. Which, by the way, are both Bible characters. I'm thinking if someone had the time and inclination, an entire haunted house could be filled with Biblical things, and could well be the freakiest things anyone has ever seen.
Vandalism. Definition, Please?
There is a crew of workers in our field, drilling a hole under the road to run a pipeline through. It's rather interesting to watch, with the big equipment, and heaps of dirt, and busy comings and goings. And there's a porta potty there, too, because people have needs.
When I saw the crew arrive, my first thought was that I should feed them. (I'm aware that I'm very June Cleaver-ish, there's no need to point it out.) I baked a pan of cookies and Luke and I walked them down. The crew were appreciative. This good, however, deed was negated by the teens, who TP'd the porta potty and wrapped the seat in plastic that night after the crew left for the day. I was none too happy about this because I consider it vandalism. You don't deface property that doesn't belong to you. I don't care if it's what teens do. I made them un-do their handiwork.
*************
I took the kids to the state park yesterday, armed with a camera and sidewalk chalk. The first thing Luke did was draw a smiley face on a rock. And then the kids wrote "Have A Nice Day" in the middle of the road. It's been on our summer to-do list, to leave a nice message for motorists. This is the last week of summer before school starts, and we've successfully checked that off.
And then my conscience kicked in and smacked me around. Did we vandalize the park? How awful would that be?
But sidewalk chalk washes off with rain. It's not permanent by any stretch. And our intent wasn't to harm or prank, it was simply to make someone smile. We wanted to make someone's day a little happier.
Am I teaching a double standard?
Confessions Of A Cheap Mom
I am constantly on the lookout for clothes for the kids. Just last week I snagged a pair of mens jeans for $5. (Mens, not boys. For $5. Wowzers.) They're too small for Josh, but Luke is going to hit his stride in the next few years and outgrow everything he owns in a 3 month clip. (I'm speaking as an experienced parent.)
I also snagged a pair of size 12 elastic waist pants for Micah. He currently wears a size 8, but elastic waist in bigger sizes is so very hard to find, and when I find it for $5 I'll not-so-politely shove people out of my way to stuff it in my shopping bag. At the rate Micah is growing, he'll wear those next year. And I'll be glad for them.
This is the way I shop. When I see a deal, I buy it. Because of this, the kids always have updated things in their closets, and we slowly rotate in larger sizes as we weed out smaller ones. Because of this, I don't grasp the concept of back-to-school shopping. I cannot fathom buying entire wardrobes of clothes at a clip, nor buying all of it at full price. (I'm trying to stop my head from spinning at the thought of all that money being sucked down the retail drain.)
If I don't do back-to-school shopping, does that make me un-American? I generally buy them all a fresh pack of socks. Can that count as my back-to-school expenditure? Because you rarely get socks on sale, and the ones that are were overpriced in the first place.
And speaking of socks, Luke got his early. That boy cut the tops off his socks because he preferred the ankle height better in summer. My head. It's spinning again.
Shopping With The Angry Birds
The scene takes place in Walmart. The characters are an older female clerk and a hurried shopper.
(Hurried Shopper rushes in the store and immediately approaches Older Female Clerk, ignoring the people in line waiting to check out.) Do you have Angry Birds?
(Older Female Clerk looks up at the ceiling, with a puzzled look on her face.) Well, we have a few birds in here, but I'm not sure they're angry.
People, that made my entire weekend.
Pickle Blowing
The game at camp today was the Pickle Blowing Contest. It's pretty much just like it sounds, but for clarification, I'll explain.
1. Get a pickle out of a jar. We used kosher, but it's not mandatory.
2. Put the pickle in your mouth. It's your choice whether the whole pickle is enclosed inside your mouth, or whether just one end is.
3. Blow the pickle out of your mouth, with as much force as you can muster.
4. Measure how long you blew the pickle. You'll need a tape measure for that.
Things we learned in the Pickle Blowing Contest.
1. Getting a running start doesn't really help.
2. Slinging your head to dislodge the pickle is less effective than blowing the pickle out of your mouth with force.
3. Putting your pickle on the end of your already-eaten ring pop is probably not your best accessory.
4. Boys are generally windier than girls.
And, because I know you're wanting to know, the winning launch was close 100 feet.
The Much Coveted White Glove Trophy Award
Being experienced camp parents (or parents of campers, whatever), we learned a lot of things.
1. Girls are more responsible than boys.
2. You never send your child's best clothes to camp.
3. Sometimes your child will not bring back everything that they took to camp.
4. Sometimes your child will bring back more than they took to camp. In both the clothing/towel department, and the dirt/nature department.
Knowing all these things, Sam and I invented the White Glove Trophy award at camp this year. This is simply a prize for winning cabin inspection, of course. There are other things we've learned being experienced at this camp thing, too.
1. If you have cabin inspections, kids will get into the spirit of the competition and take it seriously.
2. Regular cleaning will reduce the number of lost towels, socks, and shirts.
3. While kids are meticulous and dare I say it? Even anal about picking up after themselves at camp, this unnatural phenomenon will not carry over to their bedrooms at home. Ever.
We've known that the kids will clean thier little hearts out to win, but we also know that a tangible award makes it so much sweeter. So we hit up Salvation Army to find something to spray paint a gold color and make a super tacky treasure. But in our search, we found a trophy. A real one. The only problem is that it had a bowler on it. We're not bowling at camp. So I added a pair of 50 cent white gloves to the $3 trophy and we call it The White Glove Trophy.
We knew the kids would work to win it. What we didn't know was how coveted this trophy has become. It just cracks me up to watch the winning cabin run around camp with it held high, clung to their chests, sitting beside their plates at mealtimes, going on hikes with them... I swear, the only place it hasn't shown up yet is at the swimming pool. I'm waiting for that to happen at some point this week.
It has been the best $3.50 we've spent in a long, long time.
Brothers
I'm at Kids Camp this week. (I think we covered this.) For that reason, I'll have tons of photos, and very little to say that won't divulge all sorts of fun information about people I'm not privileged to talk about.
I can tell you, however, that when one takes nearly 500 photos a day, one's arthritic knuckles tend to get a bit sore and crampy. This particular one will be taking Advil to camp tomorrow.
The Universe Hates Me
Tomorrow, all our kids head off to camp. Mind you, being summer, we've had quite a few weeks of camp already. Micah was at Camp Parc, that awesome place just for kids with mental delays. Josh was at Jr. High camp through the church, and Becky was at Sr. High camp. Josh just got back from Trapping Camp today. (Yes, it's where kids learn the fine art of trapping. Animals. Yes, I encourage my kids to do such things, because spending time out in the woods is far better than spending time hanging around the streets of town. But that's my opinion.) (And if you're like Becky, who is horrified at the idea of trapping animals, there's no need to worry. Last year's camp money was basically to get Josh out of the house for a few days. The boy caught nothing more than a cold last winter.)
But tomorrow, all the kids are heading to Kids Camp through the church. The little boys are campers, and the teens are counselors. That's 4 out of the 6 of us gone, and the two remaining are us adults. Sa-weet. Except not. I have one lone responsibility at camp, and it's one I enjoy a lot. I am in charge of the skit in the morning opening ceremony each day.
Are you seeing the flaw in my week? It's kinda obvious and glaring. Let me restate that.
I have no kids this week. I only have one job at camp, which leaves 90% of my day free and open. My one job requires me to be at camp at 9:00 AM.
The universe is determined that I do not need to sleep in. Ever. I think the universe is flirting with the cruel and unusual punishment thing. I'd just like to know what I've done to tick off the universe. After 15 years of parenthood, you'd think I'd get a day every now and then to wake under my own powers, right?
Wrong. But I'll be having fun, so there's that.
Cooperation in the Photo Department
Micah is skilled at avoiding the camera. Skilled. If he sees me grab the Canon, he will oh-so-subtly turn his head so that it's angled away from me. And if I continue with the snap-snap-snapping, he'll blatantly glare me down, then get up and walk away.
Getting a good photo of the boy's face is something that doesn't happen often, and when I do he's never looking directly into the camera.
See?
And the really ironic thing about that photo is the fact that he wanted me to take his picture. He's just so in the habit of avoiding eye contact with that lens that it's instinct.
But at Kennywood, while we were standing in line for a ride, I got some golden shots of the boy. Or at least they would have been if Daddy's shoulder wasn't in the way. I'm guessing that's why he was down with me getting all up in his grill. He figured eye contact was acceptable if his entire face wasn't showing. Kind of like Wilson on Home Improvement. (Remember that? Or are y'all too young? In which case, you can just hike up your low riding pants and shuffle on out of here.)
And then I discovered gold. Or Micah did. The boy would cooperate willingly with my photography session if he was allowed to pick his nose. He's not stupid - he knows it's very socially unacceptable. It's why he did it, of course. See what an awesome photo this would be otherwise?
Little stinker. I'd show him the photo, he'd laugh, I'd quickly try to get another while the smile was in place but the finger wasn't, but he was quicker than I was. I guess that proves it was him that found gold, and not I.
He's My Hero
Micah learns so very, very much over the course of a few months. Small, teeny, tiny things, but things nonetheless. Things like saying Mom and Dad. Yes! He does! I waited 8 years for him to say Mom, and I'm not quite yet tired of hearing him yell "Um! Um! Um! Um!" five hundred eighty three times daily as he's tattle taling on someone.
Yep, he tattletales, too. Just the other day he said, "Um! Um! Um! Eee urt i ahm." (Translation: "Mom! Mom! Mom! Becky hurt my arm!" And I only know that because I saw Becky tap his arm lightly just two seconds before he came to me in outrage.)
I don't know about you, but I find that to be about thirty seven kinds of awesome. His speech is really coming along. Sentences are a thing for him now, although most of them are not nearly as intelligible as the one mentioned here.
But one of his biggest accomplishments this summer is the fact that Micah can now drink from a cup. He no longer requires a straw, either. Micah simply gets a cup, fills it himself, and drinks from it, just like any other 8 year old can.
Such a small thing, and yet so very, very huge. Micah will never be a normal kid, because genetics have dictated otherwise, but he now has one less handicap to make him different. My son has overcome once again. My son is my hero.
The Deception of Men
As we were frantically trying to pack for vacation, Becky questioned why I didn't just put the luggage in the back of the van rather than stack it by the front door. (She knows I'm nothing if not efficient and organized.)
"Honey, your father insists on packing himself. He doesn't trust anyone else to pack for fear it won't be done right. He does a really good job, mind you, but he is convinced that nobody can do it as good as he can. It's my job to make him continue to think that. It makes him feel good about himself."
Being a wife is really a funny job sometimes, isn't it?
"Yes, hon, it really is."
Thank You, Kennywood, For a Wonderful Day
We checked Kennywood off our Things To Do This Summer list, and I have to thank Kennywood for retaining their original wooden coasters. Since my second pregnancy, when I became motion sick while riding in cars, I haven't been able to do amusement park rides without becoming ill. That pregnancy was 14 years ago, and it's been that long since I've ridden a roller coaster. In those 14 years, the world of coasters has only gotten bigger and faster and more nausea inducing.
Congratulation, Kennywood, for having an original 1927 wooden coaster. It is the first (and only) one I've ridden in the past decade. The Racers were incredibly fun. Just ask Micah. While I was cringing and bracing (hey, it was my first coaster in over a decade) that boy had his arms up in the air and was grinning from ear to ear. The minute the coaster stopped (our red car won!) Micah signed "more." Yep, he was ready to go again.
And he did, trust me. There is nothing that boy won't ride. Unfortunately, the park has height restrictions on some of the bigger coasters (what park doesn't?) and we had to deal with a screaming little unhappy person when the big kids went on those few without him. But everything that was 48" and under was fair game, and he rode them all.
The Pirate Ship gave one kid a headache, and another a stomach ache, but Micah wanted more. He moved from there to the Jack Rabbit. And then rode the Merry Go Round before heading back to the Jack Rabbit for another go-round. He rode the Log Jammer, and the Wave Swinger, and the Turtles. (Side note: those turtles whip you around a whole lot more than you'd think they would. It makes for difficult random photos by just holding up the camera and clicking. See this photo:
That is my boy on the Turtles. And those things are tiny and tame in comparison to the coasters he loves so much. He giggles and belly laughs on coasters. I'm not even kidding you. I have no photos of that reaction because I didn't ride most of what he did. Yes, my 8 year old boy is braver than I am.
The park plays music on the PA system as well. Micah loved this, because he loves music of any kind. It inspired spontaneous dancing.
And this? This could be my favorite picture of the day. It's not in focus, it's rather dark, and as far as photos go, it just isn't very good. But look at the joy on those boy's faces. It's their second ride on the Jack Rabbit, and they were that excited to be heading out again.
That right there is what Kennywood is all about.
I Apologized. And Then Wondered Why.
New York City was busy. The streets were elbow to elbow, which made Micah retreat to the safety of his stroller of his own accord. We were grateful, because keeping an eye on that boy in that crowd would not have been easy. Or fun. But the sensory overload took it's toll on the boy regardless. By midafternoon when we'd reached the upper end of the city and he was released into FAO Schwarz, he was nearly out of control. One of us was assigned to chase Micah, while the other parent was in charge of keeping tabs on the other 4 kids that belonged to us.
He ran here, and there, and stopped at the candy store to drool a bit. He rounded corners and raced aisleways. He played with the stuffed animals and watched the puppets. But nothing he did lasted more than 90 seconds, because he was overwhelmed and needed to destress. His destressing looks like ADHD without Ritalin if he doesn't have a movie to sit in front of and Woody to dance on hardwood. We chose not to take Woody into NYC for fear he'd become a lost toy. And there was a complete lack of free movies playing for the kids.
It's only what we expected, of course. We'd just have to step up our vigilant eagle eye mode.
We moved from the toy store to the Apple Store next door. That was a mistake of immense proportions. If we thought the streets of New York were crowded, they were nothing compared to what was going on in Apple. We had to physically elbow our way in and around, and Micah was leading the way. I had no choice but to push and weave my way through the crowd to keep up with him. He zigged and zagged, and made much better time than I did because of his dimunitive height. And then he made an abrupt right turn and beelined to the corner of the store, through the thickest crowd there was. When I finally caught up with him (and thank goodness I found him!) he was moving in on someone's personal space.
Micah was enthralled with the orthodox Jew. So much so, in fact, that he hugged him. And I'm not talking about a I-found-Woody-at-Disney-and-I-knew-all-along-that-he's-real kind of hug. No, I'm talking a it-is-such-an-honor-to-meet-you-and-I'm-awed-at-your-presence kind of hug.
I wonder at what the boy thinks. I wonder a lot.
NYC, Rocking Pony Style
Today was an On Again vacation day. I'm seeing a trend here. I'm just really grateful that the pattern continued and we had an On Again day because with a traveling party of 11, we really didn't need an Off Again Kid kind of day.
This morning we took the train up to New York City. Revelation: It was the first train I'd ever ridden. Awesome. Micah was thrilled, which was very good. We got off at Penn Station and surfaced to this.
Egads, the people. And signage. And traffic. SENSORY OVERLOAD. I was extremely grateful that Sam was manning the stroller, which allowed me to fully man the camera. Unfortunately, we kept up a good clip and I didn't have time to stop to frame and focus as much as I'd love to have. I'm also grateful for friends to take photos of our family in the city.
Yes. Yes, we did pick up another kid along the way, because our traveling party isn't large enough. We love that we know people everywhere we go.
We visited both Kids R Us and F.A.O. Schwarz, and the kids lurved them both. In fact, you could say that they were like kids in a candy store.
They were especially grateful to see F.A.O. Schwarz, because we hiked the 30 blocks between the toy stores and they were pooped by the time they got to the upper end of the city. We always take time to find fun along the way, though.
Why yes, it IS an FDNY fire truck! We consider that a piece of America right there. A definite photo op. As was Central Park.
The kids loved rock climbing in the middle of the city. We loved seeing so many fun sights. Truly, NYC is a part of America that needs to be experienced by the kids. We can check it off the list now. The daughter was there last summer and was as much in love with the place as she thought she would be, and told us a few times today that she was finally home again.
If you don't tell her I said so, I'll admit that I, too, could fall in love with the city.
On Again, Off Again, Vacation Version
Well hasn't this been a fun, fun week of vacation. Monday had us at Six Flags, where everyone is to be thrilled by all the amusement offered. Micah, however, was not as amused as he could have been when the family split up. In fact, a 5 minute screamfest ensued in which I had to physically restrain 70 pounds of distraught determination while the rest of the park looked on. After that screamfest, Micah decided to have a pretty good day. Which, THANKGOODNESS.
Yesterday we were at the beach, and following Monday's unexpected disaster, I expected the worst. True to childhood, we were shocked at the wonderful day we had.
So today, I figured we had the Big Bad Ugly out of the way and were good to go. I mean, the family was going to stay together, and we were simply going to see the Statue of Liberty from Liberty State Park in Jersey City. It's a state park. It's free and open space to run. There is water, and the boy loves water. There was a playground, and a very long bridge to run on. It was an instant win-win situation.
Except it wasn't.
If anyone out there has the good day/bad day code for kids, please get in touch with me ASAP. I'd be willing to trade a kid or three for it, depending on what day we're talking.
Micah did not like Liberty State Park. And when I say he didn't like it, I really mean that he was skeeved by something in a very major kind of way. He was so skeeved, in fact, that he didn't even want to play on the playground. (That was our "yeah! A destresser for him so that we can get on with our day!" card.) He did not want to walk along the bridge. He preferred to hold someone's hand. (That is as out of character for him as it is for cows to fly.) He fussed and stressed, and stressed and fussed, until we turned around to walk back. You could feel the relief rolling off him.
Seriously, people? THIS is scary?
But this evening as we gave ourselves a walking tour of Princeton, Micah was thrilled nigh unto death. Thrilled, even. Nigh unto death. And while I, too, was enthralled, I just didn't realize that awesome architecture was that exciting to an 8 year old boy.
There is no rhyme or reason with kids. I think that is the only given in parenthood.
It's Shocking the Difference a Year Can Make
Last year when we were visiting the Atlantic Coast, Micah was thrilled to see all that water at the end of the beach. The boy ran across the hot sand, completely unaware that the rest of us had slight first degree burns on the underside of our toes. He hit the water before we could give him a warning about the waves, and he was bowled over by a particularly good tide while we watched from the beach. When he was done spitting, he decided that he was done with the beach. He ran back toward us, and bypassed our family, and headed back to the van.
He was that kind of done.
It was quite the struggle to get him headed back toward the water again, and there was no way he was going into the water. It was a not-so-fun beach visit for the rest of the family because not only did Micah not want anything to do with the water, but he was freaked out because his brothers had the audacity to actually go play in it. He's nothing if not concerned, and if it's too freaky for him, it's too freaky for everyone. He was sure they were going to get eaten alive, and he was not happy that they continued to take their own safety so lightly. Much fussing was the order of that day.
Today, we visited the coast again. I was stocked with sand toys, and we had friends with, and both could be a distraction for Micah. But would they be? Or would he simply have a meltdown because we were at the Man Eating Salt Waves again?
We staked out our own spot by the water and set up camp. (With a party of 13, it's almost a legal zip code.) The boys headed to the waves, and Micah ran after them. I was shocked that his elephant-like memory didn't kick in and start flashing neon colored warning signs in his brain. The boys jumped a wave, and Micah got bowled over. Great. We were at the beach 2 minutes and 47 seconds, and we would spend the next few hours listening to Micah fussing that we were all in grave danger and could we please go home.
He came up spitting, wiped his eyes, pumped his fists, and grinned from ear to ear. The boy absolutely fell in love with the ocean, and became one of the best wave jumpers at the Jersey Shore today. It's amazing what a difference a year can make, and how much he has overcome in fighting his inner fears.
We'll Be Remembered. Fondly Is Subjective.
I'm telling you, no place is the same after Micah visits it. Princeton's finest hotel will forever remember him, that's for sure.
The boy walked up to the front lobby yesterday at check-in, his Toy Story rolling suitcase in tow and Woody in hand, and charmed the ladies with his, well, not rugged good looks. It would probably be more like his exuberance at being here. The boy if nothing if not exuberant.
As we headed out this morning, the ladies heard him coming from two hallways down. By the time he actually got to the lobby, they were already grinning in anticipation of his arrival.
We spent the entire day at Six Flags, but everyone knew when Micah returned. It really doesn't matter that the staff changes and Micah is all new to some of the employees. They know him the instant they hear him.
But it was the visual tonight that everyone in the hotel will always remembers.
Somehow, someway, Micah snuck a cup of water into the van after dinner. For every obvious reason, we don't allow drinks in the van. And one of the most obvious reasons happened within 7 seconds of Micah getting in. (That might be a slight exaggeration on the time. It was probably more like 5 seconds.) But the boy has sensory issues, and wet clothes are the worst for him. If an article of clothing gets wet, it has to come off. Immediately. And a lot of the time, he can't just stop there. When he starts to strip, he has to do the job right, and he won't stop until he's standing there in his birthday suit.
Daddy sat with Micah in the van while we ran in Walmart for supplies. Birthday suits are highly frowned upon in stores. Upon arriving back at the hotel, he was still in full birthday wear, and there was no way we were letting him streak the hallways. We do have standards. I made him put his boxer shorts and flip flops on.
The lobby ladies were shaking with laughter. They will never forget the loud, scantily dressed boy who visited them this week. Ever.
