Toothless Wonder

Since losing his first tooth a few weeks ago John has lost three more. He hung onto two of them for the duration of our trip to Arizona but decided to pull them both out the night before last. Here he is - without his four front teeth.

They're growing up

Seven-year-old John recently lost his first tooth. Overall it was a pretty non-traumatic event as he figured out he had a loose tooth one Saturday morning, he spent all day wiggling it, and by bedtime, it was out and the tooth fairy was on her way.

It went by so fast – I didn’t have time to prepare for it. With Lucy a tooth can be loose for months before she’ll get up the courage to pull it out – and even then it’s with lots of drama and by the time it’s out she’s lost a tooth and I’ve lost my patience. Sophie is pretty nonchalant now but when she was younger we had to coach her through it. With her first one she let Dave take the pliers to it but after that she wanted to do it all on her own.

Over the last twelve years there have been lots of firsts, seconds and thirds. And usually I’m fine with it all – I was excited for Sophie’s first steps, Lucy’s first words, and John’s first bed. I was happy to send Sophie off for her first day of Kindergarten, then Lucy and then John – there weren’t any tears shed by me for any of the kids. But this first tooth thing took me by surprise – after the tooth fairy had put the $1 bill under the glass that held the tooth, I shed a little tear.

Maybe it’s because Dave was out of town, maybe it’s because I was starting to get sick, or maybe it was because the kids had all been sick and I was tired – but actually I don’t think it was for any of those reasons. I think it had everything to do with the fact our kids are getting older and there won’t be any more losing of the first tooth at our house. We’re done – we’ve passed that milestone and we won’t see it again – until grandchildren start losing teeth.

The thing is, I wonder why this hit me so hard when other major events haven’t. Is it that our life has finally slowed down enough that there are times during the day when I actually have time to drink my coffee and just think? I have to admit that having three kids and one miscarriage in four years meant there was a whole lot of blurring of our days and nights but I must have still had some time to think and process, right?!!?

I don’t know the answer but I do know it hit me hard that all our kids are growing up – by July Sophie will be able to babysit, Lucy will hit double-digits on her next birthday, and John will be in second grade. The grade I used to teach and when I was teaching I certainly never thought of those second-graders as little ones.

My plan on coping with all this: sit back, grab a cup of coffee and give a kid a hug every chance I get. Oh, and I guess there might be a tear or two shed along the way.

Ode to Dakota (from John)

Dear Dakota,
I love you so much. When I am at school I can't wait to see you.
From John.

We've come a long way baby

This picture is of John at seven months - our happy baby who looked like he must just hurt. The baby who couldn't sleep for more than a few hours before he woke up itchy. The baby who had at least one bath a day (without soap) for his first year of life - just so his skin could stay hydrated.

John was first diagnosed with eczema at his two month checkup, but until that point it was manageable. But from the time he was 2 1/2 months until we figured out he was allergic to the cassein in milk and dogs at about eight months, he pretty much looked like the picture above. We tried everything - from Aveeno products to Crisco vegetable shortening... I know, I know but we were desperate. His daily regiment consisted of a lukewarm bath followed immediately by a "patting dry" followed immediately by an antibiotic ointment followed by a coritsone ointment or else protopic, followed by a slathering of aquaphor. We only used All Free laundry detergent, avoided fabric softeners all together and he only wore 100% cotton clothing. I was nursing so I gave up all dairy and all citrus. Nothing seemed to help.

Until, finally, at seven months we did allergy testing. At that point we found out John was allergic to dogs and the cassein in milk. I quit nursing and we tried Alimentum formula - which he actually drank even though it smelled nasty. After Dasher, our twelve-year-old cocker spaniel, died in her sleep we got all the rugs, upholstry and carpets professionally cleaned. And, within a few weeks of those changes, John was better. Better as in we could see his beautiful round cheeks without the weeping sores for the first time since he was only a few months old.

He still breaks out - especially his hands during this time of year when he's playing hockey - but he just knows it means we need to slather his hands with aquaphor and he needs to wear all cotton socks to bed for a few nights in a row. We've learned that the antibacterial gels that so many people use in place of washing hands do not work at all for him - they cause his hands to become almost raw. And we still use the Robathol bath oil once in a while - if nothing else but to give him incredibly soft skin.

What's most amazing though is that he drinks milk all the time now - and eats yogurt. And we got a dog - granted one that is supposed to be non-shedding (not always the case at our house) and hypo-allergenic. And even though Dakota does shed a bit it's pretty amazing to see how John just snuggles right into her furry belly and rubs his face all around her - and there's not a wheeze, not a dry patch, not anything.

Overall, I'd say we're pretty fortunate.

More Kid Malapropisms

On the way to the ballet on Saturday night John was most interested in the concession stand and asked, "Can we get popcorn during the interference?" To which I replied, "Uh, no... that would be intermission John, and yes you can."

Two things - can you tell he had hockey practice earlier in the day? And secondly, aren't we lucky we get to munch on popcorn while watching classical ballet?

Dressed for outside hockey

Here's John - and no he hasn't gained a lot of weight around his tummy - all ready for outdoor hockey practice. They play even if it's below zero so he has his winter coat on in lieu of shoulder pads and elbow pads. What a cutie.

Comfort Keeper

I couldn't sleep last night - from 2:05 until 5:30 I lay awake asking myself, "When did John stop being my little boy?" I don't know the answer but it's apparently come on slowly enough that I didn't see it coming. Then, last night, at precisely 2:05 it hit me.

Lucy had a fever and was home sick from school yesterday so when I heard the attic door open and footsteps come up the stairs at 2 am last night I just assumed one of the kids wasn't feeling well. I forced open my eyes to see John at the corner of the stairs and as I prepared to hold out my arms for him I saw him bypass me and head to the other side of the bed. Admittedly, I was somewhat OK with that - after all, it meant Dave got to deal with a sick child. But then I heard him snuggle in with Dave and murmur, "I had a nightmare."

I instantly became fully awake. Wait a minute - if it's a nightmare aren't I the one to provide comfort? Aren't I the one to hold the child tight in my arms and nuzzle my mouth into that sleepy head full of hair and whisper, "It's OK, Mama's here. It was just a dream. Mama's here."

Granted, the instant Dave told John everything was OK and let him go John rounded back to my side of the bed and gave me a hug as well. I held him tight and resisted the urge to have him lay in bed with us for a bit. Instead, I told him to start down the stairs and I'd come tuck him back in. He did and I did. But even then, he was already in bed with the covers pulled tight heading back to his own dreamworld.

I went back upstairs and crawled into bed but I couldn't sleep. When did this happen? When did he start looking to Dave for comfort more than me? I'm not jealous, really I'm not. But I feel a sort of sadness that my time as the main comforter is up - my little boy is growing up. Maybe it'll come back around again at some point - but who knows.

The whole thing is I'm happy for Dave and for our kids. They all know love for one another in an unconditional way. They know that even though Dave might get grumpy at them for not listening the first time or for coming downstairs after they should have been in bed he still loves them and will always be there for them. That even though he travels around the country quite a bit we're not far from his thoughts when he's gone.

When he's home, he's really home. And that's not just because he works out of 817. It's because he's present. His presence is in the way their vitamins are on the kitchen table every morning and the way vegetables make their way to that same table at suppertime. It's in the booming "Good morning" we hear as he sees us for the first time each day. It's how he gets up early and goes to work at 817 and then makes his way back over here before school starts and even walks with us to school a few days a week. And it's in the "I love you" voiced each night. It's no wonder John sought Dave for comfort last night... we should all have such a Dave in our lives.

I'm so glad I do.

Goofy Glasses, Goofy Kids

First Day of School

"All was fine on Belmont Road until the kids went back to school..."

This reflects a semi-calm moment following our whirlwind summer.

We saw the tagging of a Cooper's hawk in the alley behind our house. The kids, and sometimes the adults, bounced on the new trampoline. John and I built a cardboard pirate ship while the girls went north to the cabin with their dad and Papa. Sophie accomplished a back walkover. Dave and our trusty handyman, Mike, completed a paving stone patio at 817. I co-facilitated a four day RRVWP workshop in July. Sophie and Lucy performed in The Velveteen Rabbit in Cando. The kids can swim. For part of the summer I had budding playwrights on my hands, as Sophie and her pal, Juliet, led the charge to write a play based on a Magic Tree House book. Dave grew grass next door! Lucy taught all her stuffed animals how to read. John attended hockey camp--a true North Dakotan--he is on the ice, even in July. The kids had a picnic lunch under the largest tree in North Dakota and they helped their cousins build a treehouse all in the same day. Dave was home most of the summer for the first time in seven years. I walked the dog and picked up poop by the bagful. Dave and I had front row seats at a Twins game as part of our bi-annual Suite Night Event. (Thanks St. Peter!) And for the first time in years, I was up at 6 am most days reading the newspaper and drinking my coffee on the back patio, enjoying that quiet time of the day.

Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater......

On Sunday afternoon Lucy spent some time with her pal Maia. John and Sophie hung out with me as I stopped to pick up some pumpkins from a local pumpkin patch. We found lots of good ones for my apartment and the kids found some fun things to do there too. After dropping those at my place, Sophie, John, and I went to the park for the rest of the afternoon to explore and play. As you can see in the pics, these two got along great all afternoon. We're sorry Lucy had to miss it, but rumor has it she and Maia had a great day too and today she got to go on a school field trip to a pumpkin patch that included a hay ride, a corn maze, and everything.

Science in the Tub

While mom and dad are soaking up the Mediterranean air, enjoying sangria and paella in Barcelona, the kids and I are taking in our usual fare of Parmesan noodles and so forth.

Last night John entertained Lucy and me with his science experiment that demonstrated that air exists or something profound like that. He wadded up a big of napkin into the bottom of a plastic cup and then pushed it straight down to the bottom of the tub. When he removed the glass the napkin was ... drum roll please.. dry. It was DRY! That's because there was air inside that got trapped and kept it dry, but if he turned the cup at all you could see the air escape and sure enough... that napkin was WET when he removed the cup.

Unfortunately I didn't stress how important it was to remove the wet napkins and tissues he'd used from the bathwater and so it was full of partially dissolved bits of wet paper by the time John emerged from the bath.

Wetting the bed

John's so logical - a lot like his dad. Yesterday I was making his bed up after yet another night of bedwetting and I was talking to him about it. The conversation went something like this:

John, you really need to try and wake up and get yourself to the bathroom. Maybe we should try without pullups. Do you think other Kindergartners wear pullups?

Of course they do Mom.

Why's that?

Well if I wear pullups and I'm in Kindergarten then Kindergartners must wear pullups.

I just cracked up.

It's all in the name....

John's been having a hard time remembering people's names - he started Kindergarten on Monday and each night at supper resorts to telling stories about his new friends. But instead of telling us their names, he describes what they were wearing or what their hair looks like. You know, the boy who was sitting beside me and was wearing the black shirt. or The one with the spiky hair.

The same thing for some of the teachers. He couldn't remember the gym teacher's name (Mrs. Chase) so Lucy finally said, "John, it's Chase, like chase the ball." He seemed to make the connection.

But last night at supper he was talking about going to gym and the fact the teacher wasn't there, great narration but he got her name wrong. He called her "Mrs. Sweat."

How sweet.

Hockey Camp

Last summer our neighbor gave John two hockey bags full of gear his college-aged sons had outgrown; since then John has been determined to be a hockey player. It doesn't matter what the outside temperature is - whether it's 95 degrees or barely above zero - you can always find him all geared up practicing his game. He looks good - and has studied players enough to know how they should look... the socks, the shin pads, the breezers, the jersey, and the stick. In the summer he even pulls his socks down over his shoes and pretends they are his skates. He's definitely got the look down, the talent, well... not so much.

He's been going to "hockey camp" every day this week from 12-1:15 and loving it. As soon as we drop the girls off at art camp (at 9:30) he asks if it's time for hockey camp and I patiently (more often than impatiently, I'm proud to say) tell him that it'll be in a a few hours, right after lunch.

Wednesday was the first time I took him to camp and it was pretty neat to see him geared up and actually skating on the ice. He looked pretty funny though - everything he wore was way too big and after two down-and-backs his breezers slid down way past his butt. One of the coaches smiled, skated up to John, knelt on the ice and tightened them back up. Today, with some on-the-phone coaching from Dave, tried to get the breezers tighter and thought I did a pretty good job, but I was wrong. They were falling down before the skate around was over and his jersey kept falling out so it looked like he was wearing a red dress. It's a good thing Dave will be with us tomorrow - maybe John will stand a fighting chance against the battle with the breezers.

The neat thing is that John is all smiles about hockey - he's a trooper and doesn't give up, even with other fiveyear and six-year-olds skating circles around him. Each day he tells us that he's going to skate even harder than the day before... and I tell you what, he's one sweaty little boy when he gets off the ice. He's got determination and confidence, and that's all that counts.

So I think we're in this hockey thing for the long haul - Dave best be getting over to Play It Again Sports and getting John some equipment that actually fits. He can save this gear for when he's 14, maybe by then it'll fit him.

Glory to God and Goliath

One of my favorite parts of church right after Easter is the sprinkling of the waters of baptism throughout the entire congregation followed by the singing of the Gloria. It starts with Glory to God in the highest, sing glory to God. Glory to God in the highest and peace to his people on Earth. There’s something so very powerful about feeling the voices of 300 people reverberate throughout the church. Lately, I’ve particularly enjoyed looking at the kids during the hymns and seeing them singing along.

John’s version of the Gloria is quite a bit different than the intended version. His is Glory to God and Goliath, Sing Glory to God. Now, if you’re Catholic, grew up Catholic, or attend a Catholic church during the Easter season you’ll be able to sing this in your head… and John’s version does closely resemble the real one. Good for him though to be puzzled and wonder why we would praise Goliath, who was (in John’s words) a "bad guy."

In another hymn misinterpretation, my friend Shelby grew up thinking that the entire church congregation was saying her name during certain hymns; it wasn’t until she could read she saw the version people were singing (shall be)and everything finally made sense to her.

What are your examples of songs you've sang all your life only to hear the "real" words later? Post them here so we can all share in the remembering and laughter.

Craft for Kids: Ziploc Bag Dryer

Here's our special version of the Ziploc Bag Dryer. As you can see, even a four year old can help put it together and it works beautifully. The idea came about when I saw one at Theresa's house. She knew I wanted one so she dug out her catalogue and handed it over. I was gung ho to order it until I saw the price tag - about $25 with shipping and handling. So my creative side went to work and came up with this concoction. The materials included a small clay pot, a styrofoam ball cut in half, wood dowels and acrylic paint. Put it all together and you have a Ziploc Bag Dryer. I had visions of putting together an assembly line and selling them at the local co-op, but really, the best part was watching John make it himself. Have a go!