Not Ready to Grow Up Yet

Tonight my seven year old went to his friend Alex's birthday party (my friend Caryn's son).  They had pizza, garlic knots, ice cream with the works, and chocolate cake with Sponge Bob motif.  After the food orgy, they went down to the play room to watch "Space Chimps" and indulge in even more junk food for snack.  When Caryn and I had finished cleaning up the dining room and kitchen, and had a little time for chit chat, I made movements to leave.  I double checked with my son to make sure he was OK with that, and he was.  So I headed out, stopping at the local market for something I needed on the way home.

As I was at the self checkout, Caryn called on my cell.  "He's under the table crying and wants to go home."  Okay.  Good thing I was only five minutes down the road.  By the time I arrived back there, he'd changed into his jammies and brushed his teeth; I guess he was taking no chances about my taking him back!  So we said our goodbyes. 

As he was climbing into the mini van, I asked him whether anyone had said or done anything to upset him.  He said no, and his eyes welled up with tears.  "I didn't like the party as much as I like being with you."  He then clung to me, sobbing.  I assured him that I wouldn't leave him anyplace he didn't want to be, and when he was really ready for a sleepover, I'd be happy to take him there.  Then I asked whether he and Alex were still friends.  He said yes.

I guess it's not a completely bad thing that my seven year old is not ready to snip the apron strings.  I know I'll be sad when he runs off to spend the night elsewhere without looking back, as I've been sad at his other milestone achievements...knowing that he's my last one.  He's getting LOTS of hugs tonight, that's for sure!

Middle School Madness

Were you this busy as a seventh grader?  My oldest has to be at school by 6:50 two days a week for Jazz Band rehearsal.  On a "normal" day he takes the bus which arrives around 8:00, and is home around 3:15 or whenever the afternoon bus arrives.  On Wednesdays he stays late for math club and/or community service club, and arrives home around 4:30 (just in time for his clarinet lesson at 5:45).  The usual nine period class schedule contains:  English, social studies, math, science, French, either band or gym, either health or wood shop, either home economics or art, and lunch (which is only 20 minutes every other day, because the other 20 minutes he attends chorus rehearsal).

I have to attend a meeting with the guidance counselor in early April to finalize his requests for his 8th grade schedule.  Assuming he remains in the honors program, he will have science for one and a half periods a day (earth science has a lab every other day).  Health and art are no longer required, which gives him a free period every other day.  Some kids take study hall (which affords them the opportunity to complete some homework in school) and some attend a generic computer skills class.  They aren't allowed to roam the halls freely, thank goodness.  

So Son #1 was mulling over these two free period options...until we got a note in the mail yesterday about a new class called Science Research, which meets every other day.   The kids will learn the scientific method, will have lab work, will take virtual field trips, and will have projects throughout the course of the year.  Sounds a helluva lot more challenging than study hall, doesn't it?  Sounds like actual WORK to me!   So I casually read him this letter from the dean of the district science program, expecting my son to say "no way" and instead he said, "I'll take that!  It sounds like fun to be so hands on."  

Proud, and a wee bit worried, all at the same time.  I guess that's what I ought to expect out of parenthood on a good day!

No Room

On Thursday morning I finished painting Son #3's bedroom, and yesterday morning I started painting in Son #1's room.  Son #2 is the host of a slumber party.  It was great to see all three mattresses side by side in his room -- they fit with just a few inches to spare.  The little guy will go back into his new blue room tonight, after hubby puts the plates on the outlets and the furniture goes back in place.

Last night, after dinner, the kids were goofing around loudly while hubby was trying to watch the Rangers game.  After this went on for a while, hubby ordered Son #3 to go to his room.  Son #2 quickly pointed out, "He doesn't have a room!"  Even hubby had to laugh at that one.  Right along with the rest of us.

The oldest one, whose room is over the garage, has his ceiling finished and the rest of the room primed.  He also chose blue (slightly darker shade) and that will be begun today.

Sibling Rivalry Moment of the Day

The kids have mid winter recess this week, so the entire time period will be filled with squabbles.   Most of today was the ordinary stuff, but at one particular time, my oldest aced their favorite Wii game (Naruto) and my youngest was clearly seething with jealousy.  So the little guy scowled at his brother and said, "I'm going to dress up like you and hit myself with a tennis racket."

Luckily, we don't have any tennis rackets in the house, and it was all just hot air anyway, but where does a seven and a half year old kid get that kind of a line?  Maybe he was quoting some nasty cartoon or something similar, but I didn't get the reference...

Ogden Nash Quote

Another gem from the cryptoquotes.  This is my husband and me, in that order:

"Marriage is the alliance of two people, one of whom never remembers birthdays and the other who never forgets them."

Half Birthday, Will Travel

This morning, I dropped off two dozen cupcakes at the elementary school on the way to work.  (Nope, Superwoman didn't bake this time; our local Waldbaum's has a fantastic bakery department.  Check it out.)  Today they're celebrating the half birthday of Son #3 in his classroom.   

Half birthday?  What's the world coming to?  Yup, there certainly are a lot of celebrations nowadays, many more than I recall when I was this age, and many do seem gratuitous.  The one redeeming aspect of this is that the kids who have summer birthdays don't get gypped out of a birthday snack at school.  And my second grader is very excited about this.  He gets to have his name announced by the principal during the morning broadcast, and he is entitled to march down to the main office afterwards and collect his special Happy Birthday pencil.  Plus, he's the reason his classmates get to eat cupcakes today.  A real celebrity, just for one day.  I can just see him now, smiling his cheesy grin, but in a coy way.

Contrast this with my own enthusiasm about turning 45 this year.  LOL.  Although I do get lots of attention at work, similar in concept to what my son gets at school.  Birthday cards and greetings, and some wonderful cronies who bake sinfully delicious treats.  My department gathers for a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday (often on key!).  I like having a seven year old at times like this, to remind me that I can always be more enthusiastic and appreciative about my life.

Rat Race

Yesterday I attended a technical conference in Manhattan.  I was lucky enough to get to stay over at the Marriott Marquis on Sunday night; that's where the conference was held.  Service there was primo, and they put out a very nice spread for lunch!  I had taken the Long Island Rail Road on Sunday afternoon, and walked up the dozen or so blocks to the hotel.  The weather was balmy compared to a few days prior -- in the forties! -- and I had a new backpack-style laptop bag which made my load seem lighter.  I very much enjoyed the sessions, and at 5PM on Monday I was ready to head home.

I'd already purchased the round trip portion of the train ticket, so I merely had to walk downtown to Penn Station and find a suitable train.  Oh yeah, and grab a slice of pizza on the way...I used to be a major pizza-holic years ago so this was a trip down memory lane...I am still carb girl in a major way though.  The pedestrian portion of rush hour wasn't all that bad until I reached 36th Street.  Two blocks in elbow to elbow quarters, which I must admit made me nervous since I'm not used to that.  And I was fortunate to find a train that was not traveling the full distance down the line, so I was able to get a seat -- hadn't expected that!

I must say that I continue to have sympathy and respect for those who do this commute day in, day out.  Plus, it's expensive ($9.75 for an on peak ticket for a 45 minute ride) and it's time consuming.  Being closed in among crowds of people is no picnic either, for various reasons.  Whew!

Mr. Jones and Me

I did yesterday's Newsday puzzles while I was having my oatmeal this morning.  The cryptoquote answer was particularly apt in today's state of economic turmoil, and I liked the fact that this short quote used 21 letters.

"No one has more trouble keeping up with the Joneses than Old Man Jones himself."  

Origin Obscure

Music to His Ears

Almost two weeks ago, Son #2 went with his dad to the music store in town.  The bass clarinet he's been playing was not getting good sound out of some of the keys.  Even though it's a school district rental, my husband decided to shell out $100 to have it serviced.  It's the only one the elementary school has, and my son didn't want to be without it for too long because he's working on a piece for his competition in March.  

They dropped it off on a Thursday after school.  The owner of the music store said it needed a complete overhaul and some work on a few keys.  Well, I got a call on Saturday morning to alert me that it was ready to be picked up.  I was very surprised that it was finished so quickly.  I went over to get it, and the owner explained that the instrument was in pretty bad shape, and he did considerably more work than what he asked us to pay.  I thanked him very much for that, and for having it ready so my son could use it for part of the weekend and have it for school on Monday morning.  He said he had all that in mind when he worked on it the day before.  He also confided that the district doesn't use him for repairs; instead they go to someone whose prices are lower.  Hey, if he was trying to hook us as future customers, it worked at least for the time being.

When my son began to play his repaired instrument, it certainly did not sound like the same bass clarinet.  What a beautiful sound!  We were all impressed.  He told me he wanted to call "Mr. Frank" at the music store to say thanks, which I thought was super cool and mature for a ten year old.  Anyway, today he finally got around to doing that.  He got Mr. Frank on the phone, identified himself, and explained why he was calling.  I only heard one end of the conversation, but Mr. Frank was obviously very touched and appreciative.  I'll bet he doesn't get many thank you calls, and hardly any from kids.

Afterwards, my son asked me if he had performed a mitzvah by making the call.  (Mitzvah is a Hebrew word which, in practical terms, refers to an unsolicited act of kindness.  The Hebrew school teachers encourage the kids to perform them in their daily lives.)  I told my son that I guessed that Mr. Frank was so pleased that he would probably go home and tell his family all about it at the dinner table, and he would probably tell all his friends about the smart, mature ten year old kid who put a smile on his face today.  Son #2 was pretty pleased with himself too. And the mom is feeling proud right about now...

The Gift of Life

Yesterday I attended the bris of my friend's son.  (A bris is a ritual circumcision performed when the infant is eight days old.)  Gorgeous little creature, of course, and a blessing to the entire family.  I also feel blessed that our circle of close friends has more babies...for me to hold and smooch and make funny faces at and say silly things to...and so we can have a great time enjoying them as they grow up.  Other friends of ours have a six month old daughter who is simply delightful as long as she is not spitting up what she just ate a little while ago.  Actually, she's even delightful when she's doing that.

Our oldest is almost thirteen, and is giving us other gifts, including defiance and backtalk, but we are as proud of his accomplishments as he is.  Our youngest will be 7 1/2 in a couple of weeks, and I have to continually be reminded that he's not a baby anymore.  Still, I smile whenever I think about how he bounds into my lap or climbs me like a tree.  It's a lot more fun to consider that I'm about to get catapulted into age 45 this year and am on a constant quest to eat more fiber!