Almost 3 years?

Yeah, I fell away from blogging hard for awhile.  I can't really say why - life, the universe, depression, kids... you know, the usual insanity that comes with being a mom who also suffers from depression and can't seem to keep on top of things.

 But I've decided that I need to make some changes, and regular writing is going to be one of those.  Will I keep a regular schedule?  Probably not.  At least, not at first.  At first, I'm just going to be writing about the day to day stuff, trying to get my thoughts out there, and give myself a bit of an outlet.  Over the last three years, I've tried a bunch of stuff - paper journaling, bullet journaling, apps to keep track of this, that and the other.  And very little of it has worked longer than a week or two.  I can't say for sure that this will work in the long run either.  But I'm hoping that it will.  Because I've got to do something more than a sentence at a time on Facebook.  It helps, too, that there probably aren't a lot of people that even check to see if this blog is active any more, so I'm hoping it won't be as much pressure.

I'm trying to remind myself that I don't need to be super-anything.  I need to remember that sometimes, just doing one small thing is enough.  Didn't get the house cleaned?  Well, at least there's a load of laundry done that hadn't been done yesterday.  Didn't write the number of posts I wanted to?  Hey, one post is more than I had this time last year.  Didn't read as much as I wanted to?  Hey, I'm enjoying binge-watching Criminal Minds so I'm still having fun.  That's what I need to remember above all else.

Right now, I feel like writing about some of the things happening in my life.  First, my boys are... growing.  A lot.  Teddy is 13. Thir. Teen.  As in, I have a teenager.  He's as tall as I am, his voice is starting to deepen and he's not my little boy any more.  He's got the teenage attitude, but still shows me love all the time.  He's also a chip off the old block, in that he is a super-geek with a wicked sense of humor.  He's at a 7 - 12 academic magnet school now (this past year was his first) and it's a big change for him.  He's finding it a lot more difficult than he'd expected so it's been a struggle, but he isn't giving up.  And that's what means the world to me.  That and the fact that he's now in his 3rd year of chorus (two at his old middle school, one here) and he's still loving it.  If nothing else, he's gotten that from me.

Pete is 10 and last year, we found out that he's on the Autism spectrum.  It explains a lot for us.  I'm still learning a lot when it comes to him - what I can and can't expect from him, how to deal with him when he has meltdowns, accepting that he probably won't have the same amount of friends that his brother has.  But he's still very much my baby - and probably always will be.  He loves math and science, hates reading and ELA.  Next year, he starts middle school (thank you school system that believes middle school should begin in 5th grade) and he's excited because his school has a robotics program.  He still follows his brother everywhere, wanting to be a lot like him.  He's got the same sense of humor and his geekiness is slightly different than Teddy's.  He's just 100% himself, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

Maybe next time, I'll talk a little more about me.  Right now, I need to get Pete and I ready for Teddy's end of year concert.  (And I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that school is over for the year a week from Thursday.)

The Past and the Present

Tomorrow, I will be braving the crowds of shoppers for Tax Free Weekend.  I will be armed with School Supply Lists, clothing and shoe sizes, and a list of other things that I want to pick up, since I'll be out. This year, I'll be supplying two kids for school instead of just one.  I'll be buying double the amount of pencils and erasers, sanitzers and Wet Wipes, than I've had to buy before.  And I don't know if it's because this is the first year I'm shopping for more than one child, or if it's just memories sparking as I'm getting older, but it brings to mind my mother returning home one year, a few weeks before I started school, laden with everything I would need to start the school year out right.

I can still see clearly my mother, sitting on the floor in our living room with a large bag or two from the store 30 minutes away from home.  I watched with anticipation as first one, then another, and another item came out that was going to have me ready for another year of school.  There was a school bag, and a metal lunch box with it's own thermos - what was on it is now lost to the mists of memory, but the feeling of having that wonderful lunch box with it's matching thermos, being in awe of the "new lunchbox smell" that it seemed to have for me, stays with me until this day.  I'm sure other things came out of the bag, like pencils and paper and other school essentials, but what I really remember most were the clothes.

One by one, my mother would pull out a new outfit for me to wear to school.  Cute dresses that would come up to my mid-thigh.  Matching pants and tops.  Shoes that matched perfectly with the clothes I was getting.  That day was like Christmas for me, all the new things that belonged to just me.  I was so excited to start school so I could begin using these things.

My kids probably won't share the same excitement.  School here in Nashville is very different than it was in small town New York.  The supplies will be communal for their classrooms.  The clothes will be Standard School Attire - blue, black or khaki pants, short sleeved collar shirts with nothing on them.  No lunch boxes, because school lunches are free for all students in the Metro Public School system.  Teddy may get excited over the backpack I get him (Pete already has an awesome Phineas and Ferb one), and Pete might be excited over the sneakers I buy for him (Teddy got a new pair at the end of last year that he has hardly worn).  And they may want to see what other goodies I get.  But I suspect they'll look at a few things and then, before I have a chance to finish pulling things from the bag, they'll ask if they can go play on the computer, or watch TV, or anything else that doesn't involve watching Mom pull items out of bags.

I'm Coming Back

Obviously, I hadn't planned on being gone from my Blog for over a year.  If I had, I would have posted something to that effect.  Instead, life got very busy.  Trying to deal with Pete's behavior problems, trying to deal with my depression, trying to fight past constant fear that the apartment complex will kick me out.  And, honestly, my blog was the least important thing out of all the things I had going on.  I could put up short comments on Facebook to communicate.  It felt better for me that way.

But now, a lot of things are coming together.  We've found out what's wrong with Pete (Sensory Perception Disorder - and more on him in a later post).  I've gotten back on my meds.  I've made a plan to keep myself a bit more organized so I have time to have fun AND get things done.  I've started exercising with a Couch 2 5K program.  I'm following FlyLady again.  I'm giving myself permission to not be perfect. And, most importantly, both kids will be back in school starting August 6.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to get back to daily blogging, especially not before the kids start back to school.  But I am hoping that I'll be able to post at least once or twice a week.  I've got a lot of things on my mind that I want to write about, and I'm feeling like I have the time for it. So, if anyone is out there and actually still reading this blog, look out for more posts in the nearish future.  Because I'm glad to be back.

One of the big things that happened over this year was Teddy having his First Communion My handsome boys.

H is for... Handholding

On Sunday morning, I drove my eldest to church for his religious education class.  It was just the two of us and, as we were walking across the lawn to the church, chatting about nothing consequential, I felt a small hand slip into mine.  And it made my heart smile.
It's the simple things like this that make me happy.  Especially since I know that I'll only have that feeling for a small amount of time.  Before long, he'll be embarrassed to hold my hand.  He'll be a teen and not want to embarrass himself in front of his friends.  He'll feel that he won't need the warm-blanket security that comes from holding on to your Mom's hand.  He'll try to go it alone without much input from me.  And by the time he'll want to slip his hand into mine again, it will be so much bigger, not nearly as soft.  It will be a growing man's hand instead of a little boy's hand.  These are things that I know as well as if I could see the future.
So I take these moments of happiness as I can.  I revel in the trust is engendered by that simple action.  I feel protective, loving.  I feel like I am the world for this boy, and I'm glad that, for a time, I can be that for him.  Because that's what a Mommy should be.

Treasure these memories while you can

To Push or Not to Push, That is the Question - Pour Your Heart Out

Teddy started getting into Pokemon a few years ago.  It started with sitting on Daddy's lap, watching him play the video game.  Then it turned into him playing the video game on his own.  A little more than a year ago, he started playing the card game at our local league.  He really seemed to love it, and it helped that he was doing really well during his first few tournaments.  A second place at a pre-release tournament.  A third place at a Battle Roads.  He was excited to go to League every Sunday and pull out his deck, testing it against anyone who would play with him.  He started making friends among the other Junior-level players.  He was happy.

Teddy hamming it up at a recent tournament.

Until he started losing.

With each loss, he'd get upset and start crying.  He'd swear that he didn't want to play anymore.  Sundays he would ask to stay home instead of go to League.  And if there was a tournament, he didn't care if he went or not.  Or if he did go, he'd play his DS the whole time he was there instead of breaking out his deck to play with his friends.  It wasn't the Pokemon that he stopped enjoying - it was the card game.

Before I had kids, I'd sworn that I would never push them to do anything they didn't want to.  (Well, except go to school.  That's kind of a requirement.)  If they didn't want to play a particular sport or an instrument, they didn't have to.  If they didn't want to go to college, they didn't have to.  The important thing was that they were happy.  Because I knew that the surest way to make them hate something was to force them to do it whether they felt like it or not.

And I still believe that it's more important for my kids to choose their own activities, to find what they enjoy.  But when it comes to Teddy and Pokemon, I'm finding that it's so much more difficult.  Because I don't know whether his desire to not play any more or that he's annoyed because it isn't easy any more.  If it's the first, then I won't push him but if it's the second.... that won't be sending the right message.

Teddy has the same problem in life that I did.  Intellectual things come to easy.  He's always been able to catch on to things quickly and it's made him think that everything should be easy.  He doesn't have the patience to work at things because he hates to fail.  And rather than try to keep learning, practicing, getting better, he convinces himself that he'll never be able to do it so why try?  And that's not a lesson that I want him to learn.  It's the path I took through life, and it's why I'm sitting here without my degree, 20 years of being a semester away from graduating.  He deserves better.

I've tried asking him why he doesn't want to play and he gives me a non-committal shrug.  And I don't think it's because he doesn't want to tell me but because he honestly isn't sure himself why he doesn't want to play.  He just knows that he's not having as much fun with it anymore and not thinking about it beyond that.

So here I am, trying to decide which instinct to follow.  Do I put my child's happiness first, following a rule I set down before he was born to not force something he doesn't enjoy, or do I try to continue making this a lesson about what perseverance can give him?  If I could guarantee that he'd get better and start winning again, I'd know what route to take.  But life doesn't have guarantees, particularly with the talented kids we have playing at our league.  He could end up getting no better and just hating it more and more.  I have no way of knowing.

I suspect I'll try to keep him going for a little while longer.  Try to get him to keep playing so maybe, just maybe, the regular practice will help him play better.  And hope that there will come a time that I won't regret this decision.

Sundays in My City

Yesterday was a day to be out and about for our family.  Lots and lots of errands to run, and a little time to play in the snow that was quickly melting from the night before.  I made sure to take lots of pics while we were out so I could share them today on Sundays in my City with Unknown Mami.

Time - Pour Your Heart Out

Yesterday, I was a little girl, hair permed within an inch of it's life. Slim with lots of energy, I played outside all day, every day.  I searched the front yard for tiny strawberries so I could pick them and eat them with milk and sugar.  I made up stories about secret passageways in castles and would use the area between the driveway and the hedges as that passage.  I fought with my sister, could sometimes get mean.  I was too sensitive and would cry if someone was even the smallest bit stern with me.  When my parents fought, I was always convinced that it was my fault.  Who else's could it be?  I did well in school, read far beyond my grade, and wanted to be a teacher some day.  And a mommy.  Because mommies were special.

In just over a month, I will be 39.  Edging so close to 40, but not quite making it yet.  The hair has straightened.  The slimness of early childhood spreading into the fat of middle-age.  I no longer have acres and acres of property to look for strawberries in.  I don't even have a place to call my own.  And my imagination has seemed to stagnate a little.  No more castles - though I do find time to be a Pokemon master or an evil monster once in awhile.  My sister and I get along, though I wouldn't say we're close.  I'd like to say that the mean streak disappeared with childhood, but it sometimes rears it's ugly head, and it makes me cry.  I haven't lost my sensitivity, though I'm a little better at fighting back tears when I'm hurt.  Just not every time.  I know now that my parents' problems weren't my problems.  Sometimes, things aren't meant to be.  But they still are role-models to me, proof that just because a relationship ends doesn't mean that the friendship has to as well.  I still love to learn, though I don't give myself nearly enough opportunities to do so.  And I still love to read - and I make those opportunities happen.

Yesterday, he came squalling into the world.  8 pounds, 2 ounces, 21 inches long.  I have a fuzzy remembrance of , as my husband so eloquently put it, a "cream cheese covered grape" being shown to me over the draped sheet.  The doctor said he wasn't a newborn, he was a two year old.  My mind still wasn't all there, dulled by the drugs that I needed in order to have the C-Section after we realized he couldn't come into the world in the usual way.   For the longest time, I thought his eyes would stay blue. I'd so wanted a blue eyed boy.

He wasn't always a happy baby.  There were times when he would scream and cry and I would sit in the chair in tears because I just KNEW I was doing something wrong.  But those times didn't come as often as they could have.  What happened more often were the moments that made me smile - the first smile, the first word, watching him cruise around, hands on the couch, watching him take his first steps.  Knowing that, from the moment he first arrived, my life would be different, and that this would always be my baby.

In two weeks, he'll be seven.  Gone is the happy baby, content to play on the floor at my feet.  Now much of his time is spent laying on the couch, DS in hand as he happily catches Pokemon.  Gone are the blue eyes, mellowed into a beautiful hazel.  Gone are the moments when I didn't know why he was crying and it made me feel helpless.  Now I know why he's upset about something - though I can still feel helpless when I don't know how to fix it. No longer do I see so many firsts at once.  His smile and laughter, his walking and running - these I get to see every day. I also get to see the intelligence and humor, the love and joy.  I regret that I can't snuggle him in my arms for hours at a time.  Or carry him up to bed when he falls asleep downstairs.  I have to accept quick hugs, silly kisses.  I have to wake him up and prod him to get upstairs into his bed to sleep.  Or throw a blanket over him to keep him warm as he spend the night on the couch.  And for all that he's still my baby, there are times when I miss my little baby.

I see so much of who I was yesterday in who he is today.  The intelligence.  The thirst for knowledge.  The sensitivity.  The love of reading and the way he can lose himself in a book.  I see the imagination, even if he doesn't have the huge yard to let the imagination loose in like I did at his age.  I see the temper, the frustration that I remember well when things don't work out the way he'd planned.  I worry about him sometimes because I know the problems I had in my childhood.  I don't want him to have the heartache that I did.  But I also see differences.  He's sillier than I am, having his dad's sense of humor.  And he makes friends more easily.  I also don't think it bothers him as much when someone doesn't like him.  He doesn't seem to have the need for acceptance as I did.  But then again, maybe I didn't feel the need as much then.  Sometimes it's hard to remember seven.

I sit here today and wonder where the time went - both for him, and for me.  The little girl is now the woman.  The baby is now the boy.  It doesn't seem like enough time has passed for this to be reality.

Time is funny that way.

Pour Your Heart Out - It's Not All Bad

This year has been filled with a lot of negativity here - the problems with the van on our trip north, Rich not get assigned classes and money being tight, the engine blowing this November, the sprain in my foot just in time for the holidays.  Since so many of these things have happened in the second half of the year, it's been hard for me to remember that the year hasn't been all bad.  But really, it hasn't.  And I'm not just talking about the usual good things of having a roof over our heads, food on our table and being together.  There's been so much more.

It's been a year and a half now of Rich being cancer free.  I still remember the fear last year when we found out that he had colon cancer.  The worries as he went through surgery.  Would they get it all?  Would it reappear somewhere else?  How badly will the surgery effect him for the future?  And yes, some of those worries are still there.  We both know that there's a possibility of the cancer returning in the future.  And there have been some changes that we've had to make since his surgery.  But the important thing is that for 18 months, cancer has been out of his body.  And that's enough reason for anyone to celebrate.

This summer, we were able to take the first long vacation as a family since both boys were born.  Yes, there were problems with the van.  But the time we spent with family and friends was priceless.  We'll always have the memories of the week at the beach with Rich's family, watching the cousins play together and getting a chance to chat with other family members.  I'll always be able to rewind the video in my mind of my boys playing miniature golf with their Pop.  I still feel the hugs and love from stopping to see my heart-family, Dave and Barb.  I will always remember the peace of visiting with my mother and sister and watching my boys play with my sister's kids while remembering the fun I had with my own cousins as a child.  It was a summer that I won't forget.

This year, we were able to leave diapers behind.  It was sometimes difficult, trying to get Pete to use the potty, especially in the beginning.  He just preferred pull-ups.  But sometime after PDO was over, something clicked with him and it was all potty, all the time.  Of course he still has occasional accidents.  He's four.  But 99% of the time, he is dry.  Of course, 99% of the time, he also doesn't want to wear clothes, which makes the problem moot.  But he's making steps in the right direction.

In May, I was able to watch my son say good-bye to Kindergarten, then watch him say hello to First Grade in August.  I watched him receive an award for his reading at the end of the school year, and watched him surprise his first grade teacher with how well he could read.  I watched him deal with a bully in kindergarten and not let it break him, and I watched him gain a lot of good friends in first grade.  Every day, he impresses me, his dad and his teacher with his brains.  And just as often, he impresses us with his heart.  I've watched him become a great six year old and that's something else that I could never replace in my mind.

And Pete... along with his success at potty training, I've gotten to watch him become the little clown that he is.  His sense of humor is something that I swear I'm going to get on video one of these days.  He is growing so quickly, showing how smart he is and how different from his brother he is.  He's still small enough that he can snuggle with me on the couch (especially right now when I can't do much more than snuggle on the couch) and that fills my heart with joy.  He's my little scientist, my super hero with his enemy invisible man and my imaginative child.  He's part of what's made the year great.

One of the best things of the year was watching my dad regain himself.  For so long, he'd been in pain. There was so little that he could do - physically and mentally.  But he was able to let go of baggage, have his back repaired and lose a lot of weight.  And now he's doing so much.  He's even dating again, and I couldn't be happier for him.  My relationship with my dad has always been strong, and I'm still a Daddy's girl.  (I doubt that's something that will ever change.)  But I feel even closer to my dad now, somehow.  I've been able to spend more time with him, able to see him more (both at my house and at his) and I'm continuing to make memories with him just as much as I'm making memories with my own children.  The best is that I'm able to let him continue to make memories with his own grandsons.  I can't regret that.

I've made a lot of positive changes in my life as well.  I'm continuing to lose weight.  Slowly, yes.  But I've lost over 35 pounds since I was at my heaviest a few years ago.  And I'm noticing the difference not only in my clothes but in my ability to do things.  I don't hurt as much as I used to.  I don't feel as tired as often.  And I'm heading in the right direction.  I'm also starting to figure out how to keep on top of the things that I need to do around the house.  For awhile, my house was a disaster.  There was a time when we were being threatened with non-renewal of our apartment because of the state it was in.  But now I'm able to keep things clean and I'm even working through my clutter.  This moment in time, when I can't do as much as I was because of the sprain, is a momentary set-back.  I've internalized what I need to know to get back on track.  And that's what is important.

So I may often say that 2012 sucked.  It's been a year when one thing after another has gone wrong.  But I can also remember the things that have gone right, the things that, when I remember them, will fill me with a sense of pride and love, that will make me smile when I remember them.  Like every other year, 2012 has had it's good and it's bad.  But I want to try to remember the good as I step from 2012 into 2013.

Then and Now

As I was looking for pictures for my entry to Monday Listicles, I happened to look at some of my older pictures of the kids over at Facebook and at Flickr.  And it amazes me how much they've grown.  So I decided to do a little photo retrospective of each of them over the past several years so you, too, can see how they've changed.  I tried to get most of the pictures from the same time of year - Christmas.

Teddy

Christmas 2006

Christmas, 2007

Christmas, 2008 (With Peter - and it's one of my favorites)

Christmas, 2009

October, 2010 (For some reason, I can't find my Christmas pictures from that year)

Christmas, 2011

Christmas, 2012

Peter

Christmas, 2008 (Another of both boys.  Not sure why the words are backwards, though)

Christmas, 2009

October, 2010

Christmas, 2011

October, 2012

It's funny - I can see the boys that they become in the pictures from their first Christmases, but I can also see how much they've changed.  The years go by so very quickly.  They grow so fast.  But inside, they'll always be the babies that I've loved as much as the big boys they are growing to be.

There's a Light in the Attic With Everything On it Where the Sidewalk Ends

Our local library had a book sale the second Saturday of every month.  Among the shelves, you'll find books of every size, shape, type and genre, DVDs and CDs of the same, and even a few videos.  These are items either donated or that the library was removing from their collection.  The money goes to the Friends of the Library, and it's a great way for us to get incredibly inexpensive books to put on our shelves and swear we'll read one day.  We don't make it every month, but we do make it more often than not and have found some great finds.

A few months ago, we were looking through the large selection of children's books.  Sometimes we look to help the boys find something they might enjoy and sometimes we look to see if they have any of our childhood favorites that we hope to one day share with the boys.  Much to our surprise, we found a copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein.  He is one of Rich's favorite authors.  I still remember fondly singing "I'm Being Swallowed by a Boa Constrictor" for my kindergarten graduation. So it was a must.  We brought it home and put it on the boys' shelf for a day that they would hopefully be intrigued and want to read it or have us read it to them.

About two weeks ago, Teddy found it and asked Daddy to read it.  We give the boys 2 stories (or 2 chapters for chapter books) each at bedtime. Pete usually chooses picture books, since that's pretty much his level.  Teddy varies wildly from favorite kids books (like the incomparable Big Plans by Bob Shea - which I actually enjoy more than his Dinosaur Vs books) to graphic novels to early reader chapter books and, sometimes, even older chapter books.  (We're currently working our way very slowly through the 39 Clues series).  Most of these, he'll read by himself during the day, but he prefers to have us read them to him at night.

Every night, for the last two weeks, that has been what Teddy's wanted as his stories.  Rich uses the equivalent of 6 to 8 pages counting as a story, so they'd been reading 16 pages a night.  And the other night, when we got to the end of the book, Teddy asked his dad (since Daddy's been doing more of the reading duties lately because of my back) if they could start over again at the beginning.  Teddy has found his first truly favorite book.

Saturdays are our library days and usually a family affair.  But Rich had some important work he needed to do and he needed peace and quiet to do it in, so I took the boys by myself to the library.  Both Rich and I had books to pick up (for Rich The Disappearing Spoon: And Other True Tales of Madness, Love, and the History of the World from the Periodic Table of the Elements by Sam Kean and for me, How to Be a Woman by Caitlin Moran) so I headed over to the holds section while the boys went to the children's and juvenile sections to pick out their own two allotted books.  I could trust Pete to be quiet for that long (though, sadly, it didn't last much longer than that and I had to rush us out without a chance to browse myself, but that isn't what this story is about).  Pete picked out a couple books that he found in the juvenile non-fiction section (a usual occurrence when he follows Teddy, but one I don't discourage), and I expected Teddy to come back with his usual choices of a couple graphic novels.  Instead, he proudly showed me A Light in the Attic and Every Thing On It, both by Shel Silverstein.  He told me that while he was looking for the graphic novels, he spotted these two books and changed his mind.  He had something new for Daddy to read at bedtime.

But that wasn't the end of it.  After we got to the car, both boys buckled into their seats and me ready to pull out of the parking space to head for lunch, Teddy started reading poems from the book to Peter and I.  He put the same amount of feeling into the words as Rich and I do when we read to him. He was living in the poems, feeling how he knew they should be spoken.  At stop lights, he'd ask me to glance quickly at the illustrations as he held the book up.  And I loved him for it.

Reading to us is a fairly new development for him.  Teddy's been able to read since he was about 2 1/2, surprising his PDO teachers and the elementary teachers he's had so far with his vocabulary and word recognition.  When I take electronics away from him for whatever reason, he'll gravitate immediately to the books.  And sometimes, he'll read even when he has electronics permission. (Believe me, I'm trying to get more reading and playing time and less staring at a screen time.  He's getting better, but he's not completely there yet.)  Now, he would read to Pete, sharing some of his favorite story books from when he was Pete's age and younger.  But if Rich and I were in the room, one of us would be the designated reader.  We'd ask him if he wanted to read and he'd say, "No.  I'll lay in my bed and listen."  One night, he told us that he wanted to read Big Plans as a family - I'd take the narrative, he'd read the boys' lines, Rich would read the other lines spoken by people and Pete would chime in with the myna bird's "I'm in!"  It was a step.  And him reading in the car was another step.

My boy is a lover of books and a teller of stories.  I hope this is something that he never loses.

PYHO - It's Not the Same

Over at Momma Can..., Momma spoke about the importance of saying yes to the notes your child comes home with from the PTA or the teacher. Many schools - and more importantly, teachers - are relying on donations and assistance from the parents and the community at large.  So few things are able to be supplied by the school systems any more that things that were once a staple of school just don't happen any more.

And it got me thinking about how different Teddy's school experience is than mine was 30+ years ago.

When I was in first grade, I don't remember needing to bring my own crayons, my own glue, my own chalk (which would have been the equivalent of today's dry erase markers).  What I needed for school were  pencils and paper.  Maybe not even the pencils, though I suspect I probably did.

Teddy had a long list of things that he needed to have for the first day of school, along with another list sent home by his teacher on the first day of school.  The school-wide list was:

• 1 large box of Kleenex
• 1 small plastic school box
• 1 pair of Fiskar scissors
• 24 count box of crayons (no more)
• Back Pack (NO ROLLING BACK PACKS)
• 4 Yellow #2 pencils (Do not put names on the pencils)
• 1 container of disinfecting wipes
• 2 (8oz.) Elmer's bottle of white glue
• 1 pack of rectangular erasers
• 1 bottle of liquid soap

Our Art teachers request the following materials from 1st grade students:

• 1 box of #2 pencils
• 1 box of Crayola colored pencils

The teacher's list was similar, a few more of various items here and there.  And while I think that these things are incredibly important to learning, it saddens me that schools aren't able to help provide something as simple as Kleenex or soap.

It's not just the supplies that are different.  It's what we learned vs what they are learning.

When I was in school, there was a focus on being well-rounded.  Art and music were as important as math and reading.  PE was something that (I think) we had every day.  We learned science and social studies, talked about the world around us.  Through 6th grade, we had a designated day and time that we went to the library every week.  When we were younger, the librarian would read a story to us.  As we got older, we were encouraged to pick out books to take home and read.  It was a huge thrill when we were able to move from the "little kid" books to the ones that were for what would here be considered middle school. (And the day we were able to go through the door from the elementary library to the HS library.... just, wow!)

For Teddy, he still gets art and music - and, thankfully, he's at a school where they do think it's important.  But he's got PE two days a week instead of daily (and yet, they complain about children being overweight).  The library is something he goes to only when he wants to rather than being a scheduled thing.  His teacher mentioned at Open House that they aren't letting them focus on science or social studies any longer - our school had poor reading and math grades so it was to be a heavy focus on those two subjects and the rest could be fit in as you had time.

When I was younger, school was as much a place of social learning as it was book learning.  Recess lasted 30 minutes.  You were encouraged to play and to work out your differences with your friends.  Teachers were there if you needed them, but they tried to let us handle what we thought we could first.  The time we weren't learning how to write or read or add or how plants grew was spent learning how to interact with our friends - and we were given down-time to just decompress from the hard job of learning.  Granted, it was a little less each year, but the down time was just as important.

In Teddy's school, recess lasts 15 minutes.  Lunch is only 20 minutes.  Every minute of every day is scheduled with learning.  There never seems to be a minute that they can catch their breath.

It seems as though what they learn is accelerated far beyond what I learned at that age.  Kindergarten was a time to play, to learn how to interact with people, and maybe learn your ABC's, numbers, colors and shapes.  We still had nap time and afternoon snacks.  First grade was simple addition, starting to read, starting to learn how to write a bit better.  I don't ever remember bringing home homework my first couple years of school.

But for Teddy, kindergarten was a place where he learned simple addition and how to read sight words.  (Though he has always been far beyond when it comes to reading).  In first grade, he's already doing tens addition.  The first week he came home from school, the word "attitude" was one of his spelling words.  He has homework every night (though usually it's only a worksheet or two).  He has spelling tests weekly and tests on his reading passages.  It's a lot more work than I remember first grade being.

Now, in some ways, I'm comparing apples and oranges.  I went to school at a K-12 in upstate New York. Teddy goes to a K-4 school in a state capital.  We had 2 teachers for each grade.  They have between 8 and 10.  We could wear whatever we wanted to.  They have an SSA (though, thankfully, it's not as strict as it could be).  We didn't have the infrastructure in place to help kids that were gifted.  Teddy's school does.  I don't know how schools were in larger towns, if they were anything like what Teddy's experiencing now.  But from what I've read by others, I don't think my experience would have been too different from theirs.

Don't get me wrong.  I love Teddy's school, his teachers and there are a lot of advantages he has now that I couldn't dream of having then.  Everyone at the school knows Teddy and loves him.  They try to find ways to push him further than he would push himself - like letting him read chapter books (since he's reading at a 5th grade level).  We've had some problems with him health-wise in school, and they go out of their way to make things easier for him there.  I am glad that he has this school and has had these teachers.  But sometimes... sometimes I wish he could go back to when I was in school and enjoy being a kid rather than having to focus so hard on learning.

Pokemon-Loving Boys Evolution Chart - a Tale of Potty Traini

Potty training with Teddy felt like a nightmare.  He just didn't seem to be interested and I couldn't find the magic way to make him interested.  At the time, he was edging closer to 4 and if he hadn't started using the potty by the beginning of the next school year, he wouldn't be allowed to go to Parents' Day Out.  So I cast around for ideas, trying anything that anyone would suggest.  But it was Teddy that helped me come up with the idea that stuck.

From the time he was around 3 or so, Teddy was interested in Pokemon.  He watched his Dad play on the computer and on his DS, then started playing himself on the computer and the DS.  Eventually, he even started playing the CCG (collectible card game), but that came later.  He knew stats on most of the pokemon out there, including their evolutions.  So it was no surprise that, one day, he asked if he'd eventually evolve into Daddy.  "Of course," I told him.  "But first, you need to evolve into a Big Boy."

"How do I evolve into a Big Boy?" he asked.

And here is where my inspiration struck.  "Well, you need to learn to use the potty.  Once you do, you'll use an evolution stone and have the move, 'Potty Master'.  Then you'll be a Big Boy."

"Can we get a Potty Stone?"  He was pretty excited.  So we went to the store and picked out some ceramic monsters that we declared to be Potty Stones.  I promised that we'd paint them too.  But that got sidelined for awhile and then forgotten as the Potty Stones were misplaced.

When it was time to potty train Pete, the thought of the potty stone was in my mind.  I didn't go hard core in trying to train him until school was out for the year and I could focus on it.  But when I did, he learned quickly.  And Teddy wanted to make sure he got what he was due.

"Pete gets a Potty Stone too, right?  It's time for him to evolve into a big boy?"

So this is how I found myself, yesterday afternoon, with three ceramic monsters (because, of course, Mommy needed a potty stone too), two little boys and acrylic paint ready to do some painting.  It had been so long since I purchased the paint, though, that most of the colors had dried and were unusable.  But there was still enough that we were able to make a game try.

About an hour later, I had two boys very proud of their potty stones (which will be, I'm told, displayed in the bathroom for all to see).  The painting on each of them is as individual as each of them.

Peter holding on to his Potty Stone.

Teddy with his Potty Stone

All three Potty Stones - mine, Teddy's and Pete's.

They told me that I needed to take a picture with my Potty Stone too.

Now it's official.  Both my Baby Boys have evolved into Big Boys.  And I couldn't be prouder.

I should write up my vacation, but I'd rather share a few pictures - Ocean City Edition

I'm having a hard time getting into the writing mindset of vacation - a combination of negative things happening (almost all during the travel portion) and being daunted by writing about 2 weeks worth of fun.  So instead, I'll share some of my favorite shots with brief captions from the vacation.  Maybe it'll get me back into the mindset that I need to be in for it.

Pete and my niece, Layla, just loved playing in the sand.  They were a couple of sandworms.

Pete even came away with a sand-beard!  It amazes me the places that sand can end up on children.

This is one of my favorites of Teddy.  He and Rich had been walking to the bathroom and the sand was hot on Teddy's feet so he wore Daddy's flip-flops.  While walking back, he told him, "Daddy, it's really hard to walk in your shoes."  Truer words were never spoken.

 The four of us, enjoying some family time on the boardwalk!

The three kids (my two and my niece) had a great time on the rides at Gillian's Wonderland Pier.  This was one of the (few) rides that all three kids enjoyed, what with Teddy being too old for kiddie rides. ;)

This, of course, was another ride they all enjoyed.  Teddy being the driver of the two younger kids just tickled me to no end.

One of the "musts" for any Shore trip is a stop at Kohr Bros Frozen Custard.  As you can tell, Pete really enjoyed his chocolate cone.

We had a lot of wind while we were at the Shore, so Teddy decided to wear his sweatshirt.  I thought it was a cute look.

 Rich taught the boys how to make drip castles.  I'd never made them before, but I thought they were really neat.  I may need to buy sand so we can make some on the back porch.

Pete and Layla were thick as thieves the whole vacation.  To the point that Pete got really upset when he had to leave her so we could travel home.

We took an early morning walk to Ove's for apple cider donuts. Teddy and Rich were far ahead of us and I thought this was a wonderful picture of the two of them.

I'm pretty sure my sister-in-law took this picture of her daughter on my camera.  She's such a beautiful little girl and this picture completely captures her.

Another great picture of Layla and Pete.  She was leading him around the house.  She was really the leader of the two of them.

Rich, the boys, Pop and I went miniature golfing.  Of course, the boys needed a bit of help.  This was a common sight through out our game - Pop helping one of the boys or the other with their golf swing.

Doesn't he look like he's plotting something?  He'd just finished telling me, "No pictures, Mommy!"

Teddy was upset about something and had let his glasses fall down under his chin.  But the way his hat and glasses were, I thought it looked cute - almost like he had his head down instead of looking forward.

The morning we left Ocean City, one last pic of the kids.