You Never Know What You'll See With Night Vision Goggles

Wow.  What's up with the chick who wrote that last post? She sounds like a real downer.

So, uh, it turns out that when you turn 40, at least in my experience, no matter what kind of grand plans you have about 40 being the new 30 and kicking 40's ass, sometimes your body has other plans.  Can you say hormones gone haywire.  Good times.  Good times.

Let's cleanse the palate with funny story, shall we?  Tonight as we were watching America's Funniest Home Videos, I was reminded of the time we almost submitted a tape to the show. 

When Bubba was small, he was obsessed with trains, as many little boys are.  We fed that obsession with a steady diet of Thomas the Tank engine DVDs, The Polar Express, and his Polar Express train that he got for Christmas many years ago.

When we heard about the Polar Express train ride that you could take in the North Carolina mountains, we knew we had to do it.  You might be familiar with such things -- you go and get on the train, it goes about an hour in one direction while you have hot cocoa and listen to The Polar Express read over the intercom.  You stop in a quaint little town for about 30 minutes and then you head back down the track while Santa makes his way down the train visiting with all the kids and handing out jingle bells.  What's not to love about that?

Being relatively new parents, of course wehad  the obligatory video camera and because we had only one child we actually got it out and used it.  Poor Punkin, no video of her exists.

Anyhoo, we had a great time as we chugged down the tracks.  I taped Bubba looking out the window and drinking his hot chocolate.  There was a family across the aisle from us and while we didn't actually talk to them, we all smiled at each other in the friendly way that you do when you're sharing a pleasant experience with strangers.  Their kids were cute and we smiled at their happiness.  They returned the favor, obviously enjoying Bubba's joy at his first train ride.

As it turns out, our track went through a tunnel.  It was pitch black as we made we our way through and it was kind of cool to experience that total blackness.  On the way back down the track, Mr. Daddy had the bright idea to use the night vision lens on the video camera to video tape ourselves.

As we entered the tunnel, I flipped on the night vision switch.  Mr. Daddy and Bubba glowed back at me, both obviously blind in the complete darkeness.  I decided to pan around and see what else there was to see. 

I panned over to the family across the aisle and they WERE TOTALLY MAKING OUT!!  The dad had the daughter stiff armed away from them and the mom had her hand firmly on the little boy.  I don't know WHERE their other hands were, but they were GOING AT IT.

 I was so shocked that I quickly turned the camera off and a few seconds later we came back into daylight.  Mr. Daddy took one look at my face and my wide eyes and was like "What?"

"I'll have to tell you later," I managed to squeak out.  Needless to say, I couldn't make eye contact with the nice family across the aisle for the rest of the trip.   When we got to the car I rewound the tape and played it back for Mr. Daddy.  We both howled.

I would LOVE to have submitted that to AFV, but you have to have permission from the people in the video and there was NO way I was going to ask them that.

While it was very unexpected and gave me and Mr. Daddy a good laugh -- and still does lo these many years later -- you have to give that couple credit for finding some excitement in the most unlikely of places.

She's An American Girl

The other day I made a total rookie mistake.  You'd almost think I'd never done this mom thing before, that I hadn't learned anything in the last 10 years.

As we pulled into the driveway, I checked the mail.  There, amongst the grocery store circulars, was an American Girl catalog.  And without thinking, I handed it into the backseat to Punkin.  Did you hear that loud scratching sound last Wednesday?  That was the needle of realization scratching across the record of my consciousness. 

What had I done?

Sure enough, before I had even put the car in drive, "Look, Mommy!  There's a doll in here named Punkin! And she has blonde hair just like me! And a pony! And a nightgown! And a sleeping bag!"

And the coup de grace, "I want an American Girl doll, Mommy."  Cha-ching!

Oh Lord.  This, from a girl who has never once played with a doll for more than five minutes.  I don't really care that she doesn't play with dolls.  She comes by it naturally.  The running joke in my family was that within five minutes all my dolls were naked in a box under my bed.  The only time I seriously played with Barbies was when I chopped all the hair off one of them and "punked" her up by using magic markers to streak her hair and apply more makeup.

I actually kind of like the idea of American Girl dolls because of the stories that accompany them.  What I don't like is their price tag or the fact that I know that she wouldn't play with it for five minutes.  I'd rather just get her some books.

Now, where DID that American Girl catalog get to, anyway? 

Mountains Out of Molehills

So, apparently I do this thing? This thing where I withdraw when I'm feeling stressed. From everything. Even stuff I enjoy? I don't know what this is about, but I'm doing it right now.

We didn't even go to church on Sunday because I felt like I just couldn't deal. I'm only at work because I HAVE to be.

This morning I sighed one of my patented "dragon breath" sighs and Mr. Daddy asked me what's wrong. "I'm stressed," I replied.

"About what?"

"About Punkin." And although he reminded me that really, she's fine, she's healthy, she's smart, she's sweet and really we have NOTHING to worry about, I can't help it.

She breaks my heart. I want the world for her. I look at her little face and she wants to do big things, I can just tell.

Last night I had to nix the violin lessons she's been talking about since she was three. We were at our second lesson and she just wouldn't do anything, again. She picked up the violin and was picking at the strings as the instructor asked her to, but only barely. And when he laughed -- not at her -- she thought that he WAS laughing at her and she melted down. I thanked him for his time and said that perhaps we would try again when she was older. At that point I saw her making an effort to pull herself out of her shell. She reached over to the violin sitting in its case and began plucking at the strings, but when I told her that we were done, she got mad and stormed out of the room.

We went outside and sat on the bench. "Are you sad?" I asked her.

"I wanted to play it," she said, "but I was just so nervous."

I pulled her into my lap and wrapped my arms around her. "You have years and years to learn how to play the violin," I assured her, my quivering voice almost betraying me.

Am I making mountains out of molehills? Maybe. Who knows. I think I feel just as lost as she does.

What a Difference a Day Makes

Yesterday did not start off well. I had a bad mood hangover that was exacerbated by Bubba's refusal to help walk Punkin into school because he would be "embarrassed." So, instead I made him walk in with his MOTHER (oh my GOD!) and I even made him hold my hand for a few feet. That'll learn him!

But last night when I picked them up, I was resolved to make it a wonderful evening. I asked them if they had a good day and Bubba said "Yeah, except for this morning." I apologized for my irritation and vowed to do better.

Punkin had a great day. In her class they have a Green/Yellow/Red behavior system, but they also can move UP on the ladder to blue and purple and she had moved up to blue. She didn't know what she had done to get moved up, but I guess it really doesn't matter.

When we got home I asked if she wanted to help me make dinner. I thought this would be a great way for us to spend some time together, doing something fun. Well, fun-ish. She poured water for the rice, she used the can opener to open the beans and dumped them into the pot. We made corn muffins from a box (Shhhh! Don't tell my grandmother) and she cracked the egg and poured the milk. She stirred them and then I held the bowl while she spooned the batter into the muffin pan.

The whole dinner itself was delightful. Everyone ate their food with no complaints (somebody mark this date on a calendar!), nobody was fussed at for squirming or standing up. Everybody used their utensils properly. Over ice cream dessert we divided into Team Vanilla (me and Bubba) and Team Mint Chocolate Fudge chunk (Mr. Daddy and Punkin). The look of betrayal on Punkin's face when she realized that Mr. Daddy was in fact eating vanilla was priceless and sent us all into fits of giggles.

All in all, it was delightful. And stress free. And there was no yelling.

And boy did I need that.

Lost

Lost. That's how I feel. Frustrated. That's another good one. Confused. Inadequate.

For the first time in a long time I feel like I don't know what in the hell I'm doing as a mother. I don't think I've felt this way since Bubba was a newborn and that "Who made me a parent" panic set in.

We're still struggling with Punkin's behavior. There are some issues going on at school that have spilled over from last school year and there's her behavior at home and I don't know if the two are related, but based on several things that happened last school year, we are having her evaluated for ADD/ADHD.

I just know that I'm tired. So tired of having every interaction with her be a struggle. Nothing is ever easy with her.

You ask her to go get dressed. Ten minutes later I go upstairs and she hasn't done anything. She's playing or just sitting there. Ask her to brush her teeth and ten minutes later you go up there and she "getting some water" or she'll say "I just started thinking and I forgot to brush my teeth."

You say "Punkin, time to take a bath." Her response, EVERY TIME "I don't wanna, I don't wanna."

No matter what you say or ask her to do she has some kind of push back -- "But I just need to (insert stalling tactic here) first" or "but I don't want to."

I let her choose sometimes whether she can stay up a few extra minutes and watch a little tv or she can go to bed right then and get a bedtime story. If she chooses the tv option she will invariably beg for a story. If I hold to my guns and say no she will ask and ask and ask and ask until I lose my temper. I don't know how many times I've said "I've said no and that is my answer so stop asking." "I can't stop thinking about it!" she'll wail!

And sometimes I probably make things worse by giving in but my God I get so tired of the struggle.

Today I feel at the end of my rope. Things seem to have gotten worse lately and I don't know if it's school starting back, the new school and new teachers, the new routine.

I just know I feel lost.

Haiku for Summer Camp

Today is Bubba's last day at the Y, finishing up his 3rd year there. He loves it just as much today as he did on his first day there 3 years ago when he got in the car and said "I had the best day ever!"

The last day of camp

high fives, phone numbers exhanged.

See you next year!

Food for Thought and I Enlist Your Help

My pastor's sermon was very thought-provoking and very timely for me yesterday. She was talking about the virus of violence in our world and how what we, right here in our very own lives, can do to help stop it. Her suggestion was to follow the three rules of the Methodist Church:

1. Do no harm -- While on the surface, this seems like it would be pretty easy, right? I mean, none of us go around hitting or otherwise physically harming others. But what about those words we use? They say "Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me," but we all know that's the biggest lie there is. Words are sometimes more painful than actual physical hurts because the sting of words can last far longer any physical ailment. The pain of childbirth is but a distant memory, but I can still remember the emotional hurts of years ago.

2. Do good. This, too, at first seems easy. I think the majority of us go about our lives trying to be good people. There is a difference between being good and doing good. "Doing" implies activity, not passivity. It is not enough to BE good, we need to DO good.

And 3. Stay in Love with God. This one seems easy, too, especially when you've just left a particularly moving sermon or a great worship service. But when life gets really busy and we get stressed out, it is easy to feel one's self losing that close relationship with God, losing that connection. We start to feel as though God has left us, but it is generally we that have left God.

All of these messages struck home with me yesterday because my own home hasn't been feeling particularly peaceful as of late. I don't know whether it's the continued lack of any kind of schedule because of the Christmas holidays and then no school for a week because of the snow, but Punkin's behavior has deteriorated. It seems as though we had a great couple of months and had a lot of forward progress, but lately we're back into the daily tantrums and the yelling, oh the yelling -- it kills my soul.

Yesterday in the car on the way home from church, I made a vow to my kids: No more yelling. BUT, I also said, I needed them to do their part and do what they're told when they're told. Now for Bubba, this isn't really a problem. Bubba is a model child. If I'd ordered him from an order form, I don't think I could have done any better.

But remember that "mind of her own" of Punkin's? Well, that mind rarely, if ever, wants to do what it's told to do. It never puts on it's pajamas when asked. It never brushes it's teeth, instead piddles in the bathroom forever. It doesn't put on it's socks in the morning, pretending intead that it doesn't know how. It falls down (in the most melodramatic fashion possible) to keep from having to do something it was told to do.

And y'all? I don't know what to do. I've tried everything. Knowing that reward works better than punishment I made a chart, complete with little pictures of all daily activties. Punkin got a sticker if she completed her task when asked. Once the chart was filled, she would get a prize. Guess who got a prize? Bubba! Who also got a chart in order to head off the "why does she get a prize for doing something I do all the time" complaint.

I've threatened to send her to school in her pajamas/sockless/naked if she doesn't get dressed.

I've used a timer, which works, but which causes so much anxiety and tears in Punkin that it's really not worth it.

So, I turn to you. What's a non-yelling mom to do? Englighten me, O brilliant readers.

I Wonder Where She Gets It

So, Punkin's strong personality is well documented here on this blog. I recently heard this song by Frances England and it so perfectly captures what I imagine is going on her mind.

Take a listen....

Rules

Did any of y'all have any age-related "rules" when you were growing up?

Like, I wasn't allowed to get my ears pierced until I was 9. Or, I wasn't allowed to wear any makeup at all until 6th grade and then I was only allowed to wear a little eye shadow and some blush. When I finally was allowed to wear mascara, I wasn't allowed to wear black, only brown. I wasn't allowed to date until I was 15 and then it had to be a double date. Single dates had to wait until I was 16.

I think most of these were based on the notion of what "good" girls do and don't do. "Good" girls don't wear too much make-up and I distinctly remember my mom telling me that only trashy girls wear black mascara. When she was younger good girls didn't get their ears pierced (remember Sandy from Grease?).

But I wonder if these sorts of rules still apply? I mean, sure, there are things I definitely won't allow Punkin to do -- no short shorts or belly baring shirts while she lives in my house.

Most of these rules worked out pretty well for me, though, and I had planned on instituting some of them in my own home. The makeup rules will definitely stand and in fact I may up it to 7th grade. I'm not even sure Punkin will be allowed to date -- we'll see when the time comes. (Kidding! Of course she'll date.) (With her dad and I in the backseat.)(Kidding again! Mostly.)

But as I mentioned yesterday, Punkin has really been angling to get her ears pierced. At first I thought about making her wait, but then I didn't really have a good reason to. Pierced ears no longer equates to trashy and even though it squicks me out to see a baby's ears pierced that has more to do with the thought of actually doing that and dealing with the resultant screaming child than any aesthetic or moral reasons. So, I told her we would go this weekend.

Whereupon she promptly changed her mind. Fear, of pain mostly, has changed her mind. I'm not completely surprised, but to be honest, I am a little disappointed. It's seems like sort of a rite of passage, you know? And I looked forward to picking out some earrings with her. Heck, I even looked forward to helping her care for them.

But I didn't push her. I told her she didn't have to if she didn't want to. We'll see what happens.

And Now For Something Completely Different

Blech. Was that depressing, or what? Sheesh, if I weren't depressed before, I would be after reading that. So let's lighten things up a bit, shall we?

Things are a bit sunnier here today, in the metaphorical sense, and I realized that I hadn't shared with y'all one of the funniest things that's happened lately.

Punkin, not surprisingly (to me anyway), has turned out to be pretty smart. She is doing really, really well academically in school -- and behaviorally too, but that's another update for another day.

Periodically the teachers give the students benchmark tests. For kindergarten, the students are required to draw a little picture and then write a sentence about it. Punkin has been working on sight words since the beginning of September and I've seen her attempts at spelling come home on other projects -- "rabit" for "rabbit" and "ruod" for "road" -- both pretty excellent attempts I thought.

So, when we got her report card it included her benchmark test. Her picture was a self-portrait with a frowny-face, though more sad than angry. There was something smudgy next to her, but I couldn't tell what it was since I was looking at a photocopy. Her sentence below it read "I had a bad daeee. I hurt my knee." Everything was spelled perfectly except for "day."

"Punkin," I exclaimed, "this is fantastic! You did such a good job writing your sentence! I'm so proud of you!! But I have a question. What's this smudgy thing here beside you?"

"Oh, that's my bike," she replied.

"Your bike?"

"Yeah, I was going to write 'I had a bad day because I fell off my bike and scraped my knee' but that was too many words. So I changed it."

That's one smart cookie.

Yes? No? Maybe?

So....yeah, I suck.

But, y'all, I have been SO busy. Since I last posted Punkin has turned five, I've been going to boot camp two nights a week, and we go to church on Wednesday nights. Nobody reads blogs on Friday (so they say) and my weekends have all of sudden been consumed by College Football (woot!), birthday parties, and sleepovers.

Also, there's been a lot of stuff brewing in my head and when that happens I find that it becomes harder and harder to just sit down and write. In part because I'm still struggling to define my thoughts about this issue and in part because it will be nearly impossible to convey the wild swings my brain takes whenever I start to think about this. But, the only way through it is to do it, so here goes.

Y'all remember the whole saga about the Autism specialist to whom Punkin was referred, right? That's a lot of links, so if you don't feel like reading it I'll sum it up for you:

• daughter was referred to Autism specialist at 4 year well visit, though to be high functioning Asperger's
• called Specialist and found out there was a lengthy wait AND they don't take our insurance. Cost: $350. High but do-able. Began wait for appointment.
• 9 months later, called by Specialist. Daughter's behavior had vastly improved so we weren't sure what to do.
• Interwebs (and gut) said we should take the appointment just to see what they had to say.
• Found out that testing had increased to $1400 and they still didn't take our insurance. The cost plus our feeling that she was "okay" caused us to decline our appointment.

Fast forward another several months. Punkin's behavior continues to improve, though she still has issues with being extremely shy and still occasionally prone to meltdowns. However, at her 5 year well visit, her pediatrician followed up with us in regards to last year's referral. I confidently explained that I didn't think Asperger's was her problem and that we had declined the appointment.

At this point he asked me about a gazillion questions regarding her behavior and by the end of the questioning, somehow, I was again concerned that she DID have Asperger's. The pediatrician's main concern was what he called her "lack of warm fuzzy feelings about her peers."

I immediately thought of all the times Punkin has come home saying "No one will play with me on the playground" or "My friends don't like me." In her 5 short years, this has happened more than you'd think. I've also noticed that while she's friendlier than she used to be to kids she encounters on playgrounds, etc., she doesn't actually play with these kids as much as she plays beside them. For those of you unfamiliar, children with Asperger's often have difficulty with social relationships because they don't know how to read facial expressions and social cues.

Is it Asperger's or is she just shy?

I asked her parapro what happens on the playground and she said that Punkin would come up to her and complain that it was too hot, that she didn't feel like playing.

Was it really too hot or did Punkin just not know how to navigate the social jungle that is the playground?

Then, last week Punkin got a "card pulled" at school for yelling at a little boy. I followed up with her teacher to see what had precipitated the yelling. Punkin was playing a game with a little boy and he wasn't following the rules. Punkin got very upset and yelled at him. More than once. Children with Asperger's are big rule followers and tend to get very agitated if others aren't doing what they're supposed to do.

Is it Asperger's or is she just a rule follower like her mom?

The truth of the matter is, I don't know. But I've spoken with her teachers and we have an appointment with the Assistant Principal, Punkin's teacher, and the School Psychologist next Tuesday to begin the process of having her evaluated. I'm going into this meeting feeling very confused because honestly, I don't know the answer to any of my questions above. And, if my conversation with Mir the other day is any indication, we may not really know anything after the evaluation because it is sometimes difficult to determine at this age what is Asperger's and what is just "being a 5 year old."

There are some (hi, mom!) who wonder why I'm doing this at all. Heck, even I sometimes wonder it, especially when I see my little girl smiling and telling jokes and acting goofy. But there are also other times when I feel like she is unhappy. That there is a social aspect missing from her life. So, I'm doing this because I want to do what's best for my child. I want her to be the best Punkin she can be and I want her to be her most confident self.

So, we have her evaluated. If there's nothing "wrong," we've lost nothing. If it turns out she does have Asperger's, well, then we'll go from there. But at least we'll know.

Have You Exercised Your Brain Today?

I've got a "Deep Thoughts" post brewing but it needs a little more work, so in the meantime I thought I'd give you guys an update on school. Specifically, Punkin and school.

The first week went great. Until Friday that is. When we got home, there was a note in Punkin's agenda from her teacher telling me that Punkin had not participated in the class' Brain Exercises all week and for me to please talk to her about it.

We talked to Punkin about it, but trying to find out WHY she doesn't want to participate is about like trying to get secrets from the Sphinx. She either can't or won't articulate the reasons. But when we were talking with her about it, she demonstrated some of the moves for me, so I know she can do them.

So, we started out telling her what the consequences would be if she didn't participate, but then I remembered that Punkin responds much better to rewards than threats, so we told her that if she did her Brain Exercises every day this week, I would buy her a toy of her choosing (within reason, of course) this weekend.

Now I'll be honest, I really had no idea what Brain Exercises even are. Bubba piped up that he had done them last year, but not in kindergarten, so it must be a relatively new thing the school does. So, I Googled them just now and found a description of Brain Gym, which sounds like what Punkin is describing. I was going to copy it here, but it's easier just to go to this page. In addition to the things you see listed on that page, at the end, the kids are to put their fingertips together, breathe deep, and vocalize their one goal for that day.

Now listen, I'm all for helping kids learn, but this sounds a little woo woo to me. I'm justAlso, to make such a big deal about it in kindergarten is somewhat frustrating to me as well.

BUT, I get that Punkin needs to learn to follow directions and do what the teacher tells her to, even if if she doesn't want to.

So. Yesterday when I picked Punkin up, her parapro was in the office. When I asked her if Punkin had done her Brain Exercises she said yes. Punkin and I high fived and we went home. Where I opened her agenda to find a note from her teacher that yes, she HAD done them, but not to the degree that the teacher would have liked and that she gave Punkin several opportunities to do better and when she didn't, she "pulled a card" on Punkin. For the uninitiated, "pulling a card" is what happens when the kids get in trouble. There are levels of cards for different levels of offenses and the punishment varies depending on the color of the card, but usually consists of missing some or all of their recess time.

I'm not going to lie, my first thought was "Seriously? This is a little nit-picky if you ask me." But I HAD asked for feedback. So, what to do? Punish? Not punish?

Perhaps I was a little harsh, but I opted to punish Punkin. Because her unwillingness to do what she is asked is an ongoing problem with her, I went with punishment. We normally allow the kids to watch cartoons while I'm getting dinner ready, but I made her turn the television off and let Bubba watch cartoons in my bedroom.

She wailed. She cried. She yelled at me. I sent her to her room until she could apologize AND tell me what she'd done wrong. She kept wailing "I can't stop crying! I can't stop thinking about television." It wasn't fun, for me or her, but I hope the message got through.

I just wish I believed in the message.

She pinky promised me she would do her Brain Exercises today. With gusto, even. We'll see.

It Happened on the First Day

Well, the first day of school has come and gone. And I would say it was a success.

Because I drop the kids off early in order to get to work, I had to leave Bubba and Punkin in the gymnasium with about a hundred other kids to wait until it was time to go to their class. Bubba immediately found all his friends and was soon jabbering away, barely noticing my presence. Punkin and I found the line where the kindergarten class was supposed to sit. She didn't cry. She didn't cling to me, as she so often does when she's nervous. She just sat down on the line, criss-cross-applesauce and hugged her bookbag to her chest. I gave her a kiss, told her I loved her and told her I had to leave.

"Okay, Mommy."

"Have a great day, okay?"

"Okay, mommy."

I walked away and turned back to look at her when I reached the gym door. She looked so little sitting there. She saw me looking at her and then she smiled a huge smile and waved at me. I waved back.

I made it to the car. I even made it out of the parking lot. It was only when I called Mr. Daddy to give him a report of how it went that I broke down. And it wasn't full on sobbing, just a catch in my throat and tears pricking behind my eyes.

When I picked them up that afternoon, Punkin rounded the corner first, sweaty but looking happy. She got a smiley face in her agenda, but more importantly she had a smile on her face. But one of the most exciting developments was also one of the most surprising. I asked her "Did you make any friends today?"

"Yes!"

"Who?"

"Bubba!" You see, it turns out that Bubba and Punkin played together in after school. They haven't played well together at home in over a year, with most attempts at joint play evolving into a yell-fest with lots of tears. But on Friday Bubba even allowed Punkin to join the Memangee Club, a club created two years ago by a group of sweaty boys in the after school program. The only requirement to join the club, apparently, is to be able to chase Katie Smith really fast. Punkin, as it turns out, is a pretty fast runner. So, she's in like Flynn. Of course it doesn't hurt that Bubba is the President of the Memangee Club. And he's promised her that next year, she can be president.

It does my heart good to see him looking after her like that. She thinks he hung the moon, but she thinks he doesn't love her. He would probably like to pretend that he doesn't, but his actions on Friday make it pretty clear to me that he does. Hopefully she'll soon realize it too.

Tomorrow is the First Day of the Rest of Her Life

All week I've had a vague sense of anxiety. I wake up at night and can't get back to sleep. I find myself clenching and unclenching my hands. My neck is a little tense. Mr. Daddy, an excellent reader of my moods, keeps asking me "What's wrong? Just tell me what's wrong. After 13 years of marriage, I know it's something." He stays after me, even after I've protested numerous times that there's nothing wrong.

Really, I was telling the truth because I couldn't put my finger on just what was wrong exactly. Until it finally hit me.

Punkin is starting kindergarten tomorrow. My baby. Who is still only 4 years old (she'll be 5 at the end of the month, for the record). When I finally fessed up to Mr. Daddy, his response was "Oh good grief. You're being ridiculous." Um, dude, when you press your wife to share what's bothering her, don't brush her off and make her feel silly. TALK TO HER. Don't you guys get it by now? We women want to talk things through, hash them out.

Y'all know the issues we've had with Punkin. While her behavior has vastly improved and she's always better behaved for other people, her starting "real" school is making me a little nervous. I've told a couple of people that I don't have any problem picturing Punkin in the classroom, but the idea of her tiny little self in the large cafeteria, full of kids, carrying a tray nearly puts me over the edge. But then yesterday I was trying to imagine her in the classroom, learning sight words and I nearly had a panic attack.

The thing is, I know I'm overreacting. Punkin is smart. She can do this. Tonight we go to meet the teachers and then tomorrow morning, my Punkin takes her first real step into the real world. And the first step in walking away from us. And maybe that's what's really making me sad.

Perhaps I Exaggerated

To be perfectly honest, the trip wasn't all bad.The

first two days were spent with Mr. Daddy's cousin and his wife, who is 8 months pregnant, and her parents at the parent's lake house. We fished, we rode the Sea Doo, we rode in the boat, we ate good food. I tried to ski. For the first time since I was in sixth grade. That went about as well as you would expect. For the record, I did manage to get up once, but immediately fell down. All in all, I tried six times to get up but was never successful. And man, I was sore for the next three days. Why hello, pectoral muscles! But it was truly a lot of fun.

The above picture is Bubba and Mr. Daddy's cousin, Jason. The picture below is one Mr. Daddy took of Punkin as she was chillin' in the swing on the dock. It's one of my favorite pictures of her, ever.

We saw some wildlife at the campground, so that was fun. Animals encountered included:

a black snake
a deer
a toad

The black snake was lying directly in front of the door to the ladies bathroom. My brain went through this convoluted thought process in a matter of about five seconds "Is that real? No, soembody's just playing a joke by putting a fake snake in front of the ladies room. But we are in the middle of the woods, so it could be real. But it's so still, it must be fake."

And then it moved and we were sure it was real. Punkin screamed like, well, like a little girl and ran away. I'm not personally afraid of snakes and it was already retreating, so I waited until it went around the corner and then we went on our merry way into the bathroom. The bathroom doors had this mechanism on them that kept them open for a few seconds after you let go of them, I'm assuming to keep them from slamming. I couldn't help but think, though, that if that snake had timed it just right, she (he?) could have ended up in the bathroom. I didn't mind encountering it on the pathway, but I'm not sure how I would have felt about finding it in one of the stalls, or having it join me in the shower. That's a lie. I know exactly how I would have felt -- terrified!

I also got to visit with a good friend of mine while we were in the area. My friend, I'll call her Sara, had been my maid of honor 13 years ago. Time and distance had caused us to drift apart, but Facebook, that wonderful re-uniter, brought us back together. We picked up right where we left off -- only with the addition of two kids apiece. Our kids got along famously, picking right up and playing together with no hesitation as only children can.

And we did finally get to go to that fair I mentioned in yesterday's post. Though we dropped a boatload of cash in just the two hours we were there, the kids had a blast. And I got spit on by a llama in the petting zoo. Fortunately he was aiming low and he mostly got the bottom of my dress, but he was cut off from any more kibble. Dude, everybody knows you don't spit on the hand that feeds you.

There was also a miniature donkey in the petting zoo and now Mr. Daddy wants one. I've asked him where he's planning on putting it, but he hasn't really come up with a satisfactory answer just yet. We've been having fun coming up with names for it though. 'Rastus is winning right now.

So, you see, it wasn't all bad. I just think it's one of those vacations that will get better with the benefit of some time and distance.

A Comedy of Errors

Well, we had a pretty good vacation. I realize I'm damning it with faint praise, but it is what it is. Last year's vacation was so awesome that I think we just had a lot to live up to. When we're on vacation we like to see historic sites and tour quaint little towns with interesting museums. We did not find anything like that. Unfortunately, most of the little towns surrounding the state park were dying on the vine.

The campground was nice, but all the campers were bambambam right up next to each other without the benefit of even some brush or branches to provide any semblance of privacy. Fortunately, our neighbors were really nice and quiet, with the exception of the middle aged couple blasting Somewhere Over the Rainbow at midnight. Seriously? You're gonna blast show tunes? I didn't hear them but Mr. Daddy got up and politely asked them to turn it down. I know we weren't the only ones bothered because the next morning another set of neighbors snarkily asked if we'd enjoyed our Judy Garland serenade the night before.

And I don't know what happened to us, but we did not pack worth a damn. Oh, I had all the clothes and some dry goods. We'd planned to pick up the cold items we needed once we got up there. But, we completely neglected to pack our griddle, upon which we planned to cook our breakfast every morning.

So, when we headed to the local Wally world to pick up our groceries, we picked up a little cast iron griddle thingie that we figured would be perfect over an open campfire. It was only the next morning as we went to pour our eggs on it that we realized we had neglected to pack utensils. Of any kind. So. It's pretty hard to scramble eggs without a spoon or a spatula.

But guess what? A stick will do in a pinch! Mr. Daddy found a clean looking stick, dubbed it "stickula" and scrambed the heck out of our eggs with it. The eggs looked a little odd, I'm not going to lie, but they tasted delicious. Even after we bought some utensils later that day, Mr. Daddy decided to hang on to "stickula" because you just never know when a good stick might come in handy.

We went to a Pulaski Mariners baseball game one night, which was fun for me and Mr. Daddy. Bubba and Punkin only enjoyed visiting the snack bar a million times and asking "when are we going back to the camper?" We did have our picture made with Slider, the Mariner's mascot.


On Tuesday we went to the lake to swim, but all we heard was "it's too hot, I'm bored, I don't want to swim." We stayed about an hour before the whining took it's toll and we headed back to the camper.
We, like Mir, had a day of which we will not speak. Well, except for here. Actually, it was one of those days that was so bad that by the end we were all just laughing hysterically at the ludicrousness of it all. We had planned to go to a local fair on Wednesday, thinking that it opened early. It didn't.

So, we went to lunch thinking that it would be open when we finished. It wasn't.

Not really knowing anything about the area, we turned to our trusty (well, mostly trusty) borrowed GPS and queried her about tourist attractions. Rusty's Putt Around? Sure, putt putt could be fun. So, we drove 14 miles only to find Rusty's Driving Range and (non-working) batting cages.

Trusty GPS, what are our other options? Fun Challenge? Hmm, sounds like it has possibilities. But it's another 12 miles. Perhaps we should call first this time. Fun Challenge? A daycare. A DAYCARE.

Blacksburg,VA was only a few miles down the road at this point so we decided to check it out. Smithfield Plantation on the Virginia Tech campus? Hey that sounds historic -- let's check it out. Wait, what does that sign say? Open on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. What day is today? Wednesday!?!? Arghhhhh!!!!

Trusty GPS, we're giving you one more chance. What is there to DO around here? Bowling? Why the hell not. Beats driving up and down the road all day. Well, that kind of looks like a bowling alley. Or like it wants to be a bowling alley. But it is NOT currently a bowling alley, only an empty shell.

Maniacal laughter from the front seat combined with incessant whining from the backseat does not for a pleasant day make.

The only good thing I can say is that next year's vacation is going to be awesome. It will have to be compared to this one.

Do You Smell Updog?

What's updog?

Nothin' man, what's up with you. Hahahahaha! I slay me.

No, I'm not dead....sorry it's been so long since I've written....blah blah blah...yadda yadda yadda. You guys know the drill. Sorry.

And now I'm posting only to leave again for a week in a day or so on our vacation. We were originally planning to go to Florida, but when tarballs started washing up on the beach, we canceled our reservation at the state park. I felt really bad about it -- I hated to do that to Florida, but this is our one vacation a year as a family. Plus, I cannot go to the beach and not get in the water and if tarballs are washing up on the beach, I don't trust what's in the water, no matter what Florida's tourism board says.

We're heading up to western Virginia for several days. The state park we'll be visiting has a large lake and beach and the surrounding town has a lot of stuff going on while we're there. Plus, Mr. Daddy's cousin and his soon-to-deliver wife live there, as does my good college friend (who also was my maid of honor). My friend and I haven't seen each other in years and a LOT has changed since we last saw each other.

I just picked my kids up tonight after they spent three days camping with my mom and stepdad and my niece and nephew. Bubba met me with a litany of every travail that had befallen him in the three days -- he got a ton of mosquito bites, he stabbed his toe, he cut his finger, and he threw up.

"You threw up?!? Why?"

"I rode too long on the tire swing."

Ah. My sympathies, Bubba. I cannot even look at a tire swing without feeling nauseated.

Punkin was asleep before we got through the park gates, as is her custom.

They didn't bathe the entire time they were gone and I'm pretty sure they didn't brush their teeth. If you caught a whiff of funk late this afternoon, it was probably them. If they get cavities I'm sending the Queen Mother the bill.

So, that's what's been going on. I've got some exciting news to share, but I'll have to wait until I have full confirmation before I share. Until then, you'll just have to wonder.

I Think I Deserve A Ribbon This Time

Remember those damn ribbons? The ones that caused such an inferiority complex in me? Well, funny story.

Although I wrote that post about how I needed to just let Punkin be who she was, I thought well, maybe she might like to have some ribbon hair bows. You know, if she knew about them. So, I contacted my crafty friend Tara who's made some hair bows of her own and she offered to give me some lessons.

I gathered up my glue gun and bought a bunch of ribbon and other supplies and Punkin and I set off to Tara's for a playdate and a craft lesson. Tara made two bows for me while I watched and then I set about making one of my own. They were fairly large-ish, but totally cute and exactly what I was looking for.

And guess what? With the exception of one Sunday, Punkin won't wear them. Also? They don't really look like her. I mean, they're cute on her, but they just don't look right somehow. But, at the same time, I also made some of these hair bows and they look totally cute on her. And she will wear these. Occasionally.

But the really funny thing happened yesterday morning. Remember my Bible school freak out when all the moms made their daughters's too-large shirts fit just right and look oh-so cute? Well, yesterday Punkin's camp was going on a field trip and they were all supposed to wear their camp shirts and Punkin's, once again, is a mite too big. After she got dressed, she came running out of her room with the excess shirt gathered in her hand behind her back.

"Mommy, you've got to get a hair bow and tie this up like this! That's what the big girls do."

I dutifully obliged. Then,

"And now Mommy, you need to get some ribbon and tie my sleeves up like this! That's how the big girls wear theirs."

You could have knocked me over with a feather, I was so surprised. She looked so cute! And it was all her idea. And fortunately, fortunately, this time I was prepared. I was the Mommy with the ribbon on hand. So, I learned two things at Bible school this year -- 1) never underestimate the importance of a little piece of ribbon and 2) quit worrying so much.

What A Difference A Day Makes!

And a nap! You wouldn't believe the angel child that greeted me last night. Punkin was pleasant with hardly a tantrum in sight. She was cracking jokes, making silly faces and doing silly voices that had the whole family cracking up. If I didn't know better I would swear she was a different child. Amazing.

BUT, I didn't intend on this blog becoming "all Punkin, all the time" so I'm going to share the love and talk about Bubba just a little.

Bubba is in the throes of the "all girls have cooties/no way would I like I girl/NO, I DO NOT HAVE A GIRLFRIEND" stage that most boys go through. The only girl that is accepted no questions asked is his beloved cousin Birdie. Bubba and Birdie have been inseparable since they were old enough to play together. While other cousins of the same gender as Bubba and Birdie have occasionally parted them, they generally wind up back together doing their "Stupid Country Cousins" routine, which is generally hilarious (and incidentally the only time I allow him to say stupid.)

Bubba did have a little girlfriend once, when he was about four. Her name was Rose and she had lovely, curly red hair. She was smart and feisty and I liked her. But somebody -- not me, I'm smarter than that -- teased Bubba about her and that was it for girlfriends. Or even girl friends -- that he will admit to, anyway.

So, when we were at the beach recently, I couldn't help but notice a little girl playing near us in the water. She kept placing herself in general proximity to Bubba and looking at me and smiling. She and Bubba looked to be about the same age, so I called Bubba over and said "Bubba, I'm pretty sure that little girl wants to play with you. Why don't you play with her?"

"Mommy! She's a GIRL!"

"So?! Just pretend she's Birdie!"

"I don't want to play with her!"

Finally, I took matters into my own hands and when she ran by me I asked her name. Her name was Hailey and she was camping with her grandparents. And I was right, she was seven, too. After that, it didn't take too long before we were all building a sandcastle together and then before too long, she and Bubba took off to ride their body boards together.

From then on Hailey was all I heard about. "Do you think Hailey will be at the beach when we get down there? Can Hailey come see our campsite? Can I ride my bike over to Hailey's campsite? Can Hailey and I ride our bikes around the loop?" Hailey, Hailey, Hailey.

On the last day, Bubba begged to ride his bike to Hailey's campsite to say goodbye. When he got back I couldn't resist and said "See, aren't you glad you played with Hailey after all?"

"Yeah," Bubba admitted. "It's just that I didn't think she would like to do stuff like I like to do, since she's a girl."

My tomboy and feminist feathers slightly ruffled, I replied somewhat indignantly, "Well, maybe from now on you should get to know someone before you start deciding what they might or might not like to do, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. She was pretty cool."

So maybe, just maybe, girls don't have quite as many cooties as they used to. Hailey, wherever you are, thank you for being a cool girl.

The Best Laid Plans....

So, I had this grand plan to write a warm, fuzzy post last night thank you all for your kind words. All of you. Burgh Baby, you made me laugh out loud. Lauren -- I can't believe I had you fooled! Perfect mom -- hah! But thank you. I'm glad I'm projecting that at least part of the time. Teresa -- your encouragement means a lot to me, especially your email that you sent. And Just In Case, you hit the nail on the head -- I often don't enjoy my time with Punkin either and that just breaks my heart. I've been so tired and so busy for the last couple of weeks and I tend to get more frustrated when I feel this way and my thinking often tends to go into a downward spiral when I'm tired, so I chalked my last post up to that.

I was feeling better as I headed home. And then, Punkin didn't take a nap at camp yesterday and was a BEAST the entire night. Everything prompted tears and yelling. She is SO frustrated and seem so angry when she doesn't get her way. I'm actually thinking of just putting her straight to bed the next time she starts acting that way. That's got to be better than the alternative -- two unhappy, frustrated, near-tears females. We'll see.

Wanna know what's getting me through right now? This song. Please take a moment to listen to it. You won't regret it, I promise. And it will stick with you -- in a good way.

While this song doesn't match my situation necessarily, I can't help but think that Crayola doesn't make a color to draw Punkin either. She's made up of so many colors and I just need to let those real colors shine through.