Colorspalsh for My Phone

Hold on to your hats, becuase I have a new camera app on my phone. I may or may not be up to 5 camera apps now. Possibly.

Most likely I am ridiculous that way.

But this one lets me COLOR!! It makes the photo all grey and I can manipulate where I want the color to be put back in!!!

I think I am in love.

By the way, Morrie did not appreciate being cropped out of that last photo. I am sorry honey.

This app is just for the kids.

Oh, and the dog.

And sometimes plants.

Pictures From My Phone

Although I haven't had the big camera out and about with me, I do have my phone. I thought I would share where my phone has been lately.

Keeping track of this little pip-squeak. Meet the newest member of our family: Ming.

She likes to meow much too loudly for her size, ignore the dog but be scared of our other cats, balance on the back of chairs, sit in the kitchen sink and growl at her toys.

My phone and I also went on a hike with some people from work.

My phone was absconded by a certain 11 year old at the mall who likes to take self portraits.

We may have been at a parade over the 4th and we may have seen the truck from my favorite farmers market.

There also may have been too many people sitting in front of us. Whatever.




This girl still enjoyed the parade. Maybe it was because we camped out next to a certain diner called "The Ranch" and we may have had some french fries during the parade. Verrrry American.

My phone also has been enjoying my new shoes.

These two fabulous people have been hanging out around me a lot lately.

My phone witnessed this dog playing tug of war with a pair of feet. She wants her stuffed bunny rabbit back!!

It must have really tired her out.

And that is how my phone spent the past few weeks. Stay tuned for more adventures from My Phone.

Our night in the ER

Well, the week started out good enough. Izzy and I enjoyed some sun at the Sounders game- which was AWESOoooooooOOOoooooME! (imagine that in my high sing-songy voice)

Then she had soccer practice on Thursday. They were scrimmaging and needed 2 goalies, so she was brought in as the second one (their full time goalie was at the other end). She tells me at one point she made a great save. GreeeeAAAAaaaat!

Her coach, who was playing on the other team took a shot and Izzy tried to block it with her hands. It didn't go so well.

When I arrived on the field near the end of practice, they were just finishing up their wind sprints and then capped off the night with 300 crunches. I could see her holding her arm close to her and knew she was probably in some pain. But she still finished the running and sit ups.

She doesn't like to show pain...or weakness...or have attention drawn to herself.

So instead, she sucked it up and finished practice.

My first look the big bump on her wrist was filled with motherly concern.

I wanted to hold her in my pocket and stroke her hair and tell her everything was going to be okay.

During the ride home from soccer she tells me it would be okay if I took her to the ER.

WHOA.

Hold the bus. Even though she STILL wasn't crying this was a HUGE sign of how much it hurt.

We came home, and I had her shower and change (thinking if they put her in a cast, I didn't want her sweaty stinky self stuck in there for 4 weeks). Crazy? Maybe, but let me remind you that she still wasn't crying at all.

When I told her it was time to go, I found her in her room putting on make-up and putting on cuter sweat pants than the ones I had originally laid out for her.

Really? REALLY?

We took Maria to my moms house and as soon as we had Maria squared away, the tears came. 45 minutes after it happened, she finally let herself cry.

Thinking about it is making me cry all over again. One look at her face and I was tearing up. I am apparently made of weaker cloth than she. I am a mushy, gummy, emotional mess.

But you knew that already.

When we arrived at the prestigious Children's Hospital (because where else would an over protective mother take her child??) I felt better.

Izzy couldn't move her wrist at all, hardly any thumb movement, there was a huge lump on it and she kept saying it felt numb. They had a hard time feeling the pulse in her wrist.

They couldn't believe she finished soccer practice and gave her a gentle, loving lecture on taking care of herself. Then they started saying things that were freaking her out, like "bone doctor will be here soon" and "vascular damage" and "definitely broken" and "let's get an IV".

These scary words put her over the edge and had mom feeling pretty worried.

[Worried = scared so badly that her stomach was flip flopping and mom may have felt like she was going to throw up.]

Did I forget to mention that during this entire evening Morrie was at the Jabbawockeez show at the Monte Carlo hotel in Las Vegas?

Yeahhhh. Let's take a moment and think about THAT one, shall we??

When the doctor tested her range of motion and pushed on her wrist and told her to push back, this mom was a little woozy.

Isabelle was so stressed out about the IV, that her veins shrunk out of sight and they couldn't get the IV in. They wrapped her good arm in warm packs to see if that would help, and we kept her injured arm covered up because she didn't want to look at it.


(this picture is fuzzy because she lifted her head off the pillow when she realized what I was doing and gave me a stern "Moooom!")

[This picture has been removed to protect the innocent]

[And because I promised I wouldn't show it to anyone but Dad. It's just her in the hospital bed. Sheesh.]


I took this one while she thought I was texting.

(it has since been removed per Isabelle's request)

By midnight, the x-rays were done. The doctor came in and surprisingly said there were no fractures.

Wait, can you say that again? No fractures?

Then what the heck is going on?

They determined that when the ball hit her hands, her wrist dislocated and then popped back into place. Then a large amount of blood began pooling in the wrist cutting off her hand blood supply (hence the cold hand) and made a huge lump (that looked like a broken bone).


She ate the PB and J sandwich that I brought so they could give her pain meds. Then we waited for those to kick in while she slept under warm blankets.

I pushed 3 plastic chairs together and laid down. My leg fell asleep and my neck doesn't turn to the right anymore.

Meanwhile Morrie was sleeping comfortably in his bed at the Venetian hotel.


After the pain medication kicked in, the doctor came back and made Isabelle move her wrist more to begin to dissolve the large contusion she now has. She wanted to make sure the pain was masked before we did this.

It was hurting me so much that I asked for some pain meds too.


We finally made it home around 3am.

There wasn't too much traffic.

We spent the day today icing, providing meds and working on the contusion when it was icey cold and numb. Well...mostly numb. I could hardly feel it.

Tonight we had already planned a triple birthday party for my nephew, myself and Izzy at my sister's house. I ordered the cake earlier in the week and explained that it was a 14th birthday and could they make it look girly and celebratory- but no old lady pastel flowers. They always do a really good job, so with even the vague direction, I knew it would turn out great.

Plus, it would be a nice surprise for Izzy on this difficult day.

This is what I saw when I picked up the cake:



Um...wait...I did NOT order a 4th of July cake. What is going on??

When the guy saw my confused/dissappointed look, he looked at the order slip with the directions.

"Oh, I am so sorry ma'm. Our decorator had about 30 cakes to do for today and I guess she just glanced at this and saw the 4 from the 14 part and thought it was a 4th of July cake".

The cake looks lame. It looks like it has a flying mustard bottle on it and a ketchup bottle squirting mystery sauce.

Sigh.....This mom might have started crying because I went to bed at 3 IN THE MORNING and didn't get a lot of sleep with the neighbors car alarm going off at 4:30 and my mother calling me at 8 am and my dear husband calling from his plush hotel bed at 9am and I am really stressed about my girl's pain and THIS IS NOT WHAT I ORDERED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's kinda been a rough day around here.

Facing Reality

I haven't really wanted to talk about Isabelle's graduation. Let's face it, I'm not the biggest fan of the girls getting older and moving forward in their lives. I prefer to bury the facts deep under some heavy blankets in the dark corners of my heart and pretend they are still 4 and 6.

Seriously.

Case in point:
This girl looks way too old for me to know what to do with. Those blue eyes! The straight teeth! That fantastic brain of hers!

Facts: Her teachers love her. I went up to one teacher to thank him for being so fantastic and passionate about history and geography and he tells me that he thinks Isabelle is "wicked smart"
and wants to keep track of her and where she is going.

Then I started tearing up and he was faced with a speechless, weepy mother and was looking over my shoulder for someone to come and save him.

I can't handle it.

When Isabelle told me her all time favorite teacher, the one she couldn't have done it without, I had to thank this woman. I grabbed her at graduation and before I finished my first sentence, I was choked up. I quickly handed her the card I had written since I pretty much knew I wouldn't be able to get the words out. It was too much for me.

They have built her up, encouraged her education, celebrated her accomplishments and held her hand through her losses (I think she got a B one time in 5th grade, she was devestated).

Fact: Images of future moments in life really make my heart gummy. Wasn't she just 4 and dancing with her daddy? Now she is almost 14? Someday she will dance with him at her wedding, and look just as radiant and I will be in the corner sobbing. Life's big moments are sometimes just too big for me to wrap my arms around.

Fact: She is gorgeous and doesn't know it. Makes her mom think that she needs to be even more protective of her little girl.

I'll just keep her in my arms a little longer, okay?

Does someone have a tissue?

Boggled Mind

I can't tell you how many times in the last month, I have gone to my blog and looked at it with a blank stare. I didn't know what to write.

I was in a black hole of writer's block.

At the beginning on the month, I was a nervous wreck as I was interviewing for a new job and gave notice at my old job. Each day I was a bundle of sweaty nerves. It wasn't pretty. I couldn't sleep most nights, which doesn't help when I want to write some profoundly funny item for my blog. Nothing funny was going through my mind.

At all.

By the time I wrapped up my last day of work, I had a To-Do list that was a mile long for my first few days home. There were things that had been piling up during the previous month that I couldn't get to. Instead of taking care of them in a timely manner, I was spending my days at work clenching my nervous stomach (have I mentioned I don't prefer interviews?). The rest of my "free time" was spent volunteering at Isabelle's play practice as a stage crew manager and then I would come home late at night and try to get in some more work. Thus, a pile of things to do at home, that was a mile long and 3 stories high.

I knew the enormousness of this list.

Yes, that is a word. Enormousness. It expresses great girth and giant awesomeness.

The first week I spent tackling the phone calls that had to be done, the grocery shopping that was in dire need and attending to my inbox. Part of the list was consumed with Isabelle's graduation items- parties to plan and countless "last events" to go to at school and turn in money for, and drop off goodies for, and go to school to watch. I was starting to sleep better (how can you not when you are totally exhausted?), especially as things were getting crossed off.

I still found myself opening up my blog, and my mind was still, sadly, blank. I was trying to wrap my mind around Oprah leaving my living room forever and Isabelle graduating and it was just too much to handle. Why were they doing this to me at the same time??

The second week was spent almost 100% at the theater as we were in final rehearsals for the play. In the last 7 days, we put in 50 hours of time for the play. I was sleeping like a rock. However, every night before I fell asleep and every morning when I woke up, the songs from the play would go through my head. Then, by some miracle, there would be a moment during my day when the music stopped. It was a peaceful silence.

It lasted about 4 seconds until Isabelle would start humming one of the songs and I would try not to grind my teeth in frustration.

The play finally wrapped up yesterday and I slept today. Then I slept some more.

It was nice.

Now I have a final "final" list of to-do's for Isabelle's graduation week and one of them is to buy kleenex at Costco. At least 2 carts full should do nicely. I am going to wake up on Thursday and still not know what I am wearing that day because I haven't had the time to figure it out. I still need to bring juice to school for the picnic tomorrow, order the cake, get the dog nails clipped (before I go insane from them clacking on the floor), take the kids to 2 doctor appointments this week, and hit the grocery store no less than 3 times. Because I will forget something. Twice.

Does anyone ever need time off from being a mom? I feel like I do.

So, my mind is still void of anything funny, but I felt it was time to get something posted. A "Diary Entry" of why my life is crazy no matter what it is currently consumed by.

Will I feel calm and collected next week? No, but that is another story for another day.

Kleenex Alert!

Okay, maybe YOU don't need kleenex for this one, but I needed some. As a matter of fact, I think I need a therapy appointment for my gooey heart and melty memories that make me weepy. Isabelle was once a second grader. She was really cute. It was Christmas one time. We draw names at Christmas. Every kid (even the big ones) hope that my Dad gets their name. He likes lists. He buys the whole list. He's pretty much like having Santa in your family. This one year, when Isabelle was second grade cute, my dad had her name. She opened her gift, that turned out to be a note. That led to another note. She was obvisouly planning on something grand, because it looks like she is dressed for the Oscars. Anyway, this note led to yet another note. It was very exciting as all the little cousins chased her all over the house listening to her read aloud, telling them where this epic adventure was taking them next.

It eventually led to the porch.

Outside.

Where there was a brand new bike waiting for her.

She saw the bike, and then quickly looked at Mom to share an over the top moment of excitement that only you can share with your mom.

Because you mom knows you THAT well.

And it still makes your mom cry every time she sees the picture of the shared look of sheer joy.

Then she cries harder as she sees those little hands wrapped around Grandpa's neck thanking him for the most fantastic gift a girl could ever get.

Thanks Dad. It was a gift that that I won't ever forget!

Camera+

To say that I am "enjoying" my new Camera+ app on my iphone would be an understatement. I just spent an hour playing with it instead of making breakfast. Have a banana people, I am busy! Sometimes, the most willing subjects are the ones that can't cover their faces.

That is my dog from 1979.

Okay, it was from yesterday, but I love the fact that I can re-create what it would have been like to go ride my big wheel and come in and pet my dog.

That was my cat from 1893.

Amazing?

The borders! The effects! I can't take it!!!

I actually have 2 camera apps on my phone, so imagine what my life will be like when I am obsessed with both and not just one.

Learn how to cook your own meals is my only advice.

We do other things!

You must think that by this time, we don't do anything except play sports. It's a little bit true, but I will prove to you today that we are multi talented. This is Maria after school last week. I think someone needs to get more sleep. She may want to take some of the vitamins that are sitting right in front of her. Just a suggestion. This is moi talking to my friend Kathy. Morrie is- for some inexplicable reason- using my camera. Izzy is repeatedly saying "Mom, we need to go to Starbucks" over and over. I can't hear Kathy and I can't hear Izzy (because they are both talking to me), but I can pose for the picture!

I think this is why I embarrass the kids sometimes. Not totally sure, but it's a possibility.

Maria finally woke up, and she is holding her goods from Starbucks. Can you believe they sell cake pops now? I keep thinking some baker just totally scored the giant contract with that decision!

Starbucks in my family makes everyone very happy. The happiness lasts too, so it is in my best interest to keep it coming. The joy lasted so long for Maria, that she is actually posing on the soccer field here.

Who does that?

Poses all funny when they have a camera pointed at them?

Weird.

Izzy and I spent HOURS shopping for her graduation dresses. No, that is not a typo, they need TWO. I think they are trying to kill the parents. Morrie said we should go for high neck and long skirt.

Does this foot the bill?

It's not a shirt folks. It is really a dress. My dad had it easy in our day.

OMG, she looks so cute here! I have to go hug her. She is getting to grown up and I need her to be 7 again.

I will also have you know that I don't always hold the camera at soccer games. Well, most of the time I do. Unless my camera is broken. Then I sit around with these two squirrels. I wonder what piece of priceless advice Maria is passing on here. Maybe I shouldn't ask.

There you have it, we drink Starbucks, we lay around, we talk on the phone and we make fun of ridiculously short dresses. Ialso make Izzy try on floor length gowns just to pull pranks on people when we text them pictures of it. Then we lay on the floor of the dressing room laughing until our sides burst.

A Typical Week

People often ask me what it's like to have school age kids, or even a teenager in our lives. Even I wondered when my girls were little, what will our lives be like when they start going to school all day instead of being with me? What kinds of things will they be interested in? How will the definition of "mom" change for me with all the new responsibilities that will come our way?

Here is a peek at a typical week at our house:

Monday- Isabelle asked for $11 for a field trip. I amazingly scrounge some up because I don't carry cash that often. She also reminded me that they were having a party at school this Thursday, but I didn't think twice about it because I had already dropped off chips for it last week. That night I dropped her off waaay early at volleyball because I needed to get 2 towns over to pick up Maria at the same time volleyball was to start. I made Isabelle text me every ten minutes to tell me she was ok until the coach got there.

This is typical teenager: She jumped out of the car and ran into the school. Ten seconds later I get a text that says "I'm okay!". I was pretty sure she had made it those ten seconds in tact, but she was kind enough to let me know. I then texted her back that if she wanted her water, then she better come back out to the car and get it.

I picked up Maria on time (phew!) from soccer. She and I made it back home around 7:30 and I think I had toast for dinner while I helped Maria study for her Social Studies test.

Tuesday- Isabelle told me she needed $12 for a math and science notebook that she can buy at school. I am officially out of cash. I get an email that tells me the chips I dropped off for the party on Thursday will not be sufficient and I need to bring a "treat" instead. Siiiigh. Fine.

That afternoon I get a call from home. The girls are home alone and not getting along. I spent 15 minutes on the phone with them getting it all sorted out and hurt feelings back in place. That night, I stop buy a store on the way home from work and they dodn't have anything in the bakery that I had pictured as the perfect delicious cupcake- that would fall under "treat" would it not? It better. I went straight from the store to Maria's volleyball practice where Morrie had dropped her off (and he then took Isabelle to soccer). I watched 14 5th grade girls learn the art of "bumping" a volleyball, while they lip synched to their favorite music that the coach let them bring for practice. I think there was more dancing than spiking, but they sure were having fun! We rolled into our driveway at 8:30, discussing the play that Maria was going to be in on Friday. She was verry excited about it.

Wednesday - It was a crazy morning because it was "Cat in the Hat" day at school and the kids could wear a hat representing a favorite character from a book. Isabelle waited until the last minute to figure this out and re-did her hair 4 times on the way to school so it would fit perfectly under the cowboy hat she had on. Both girls had volleyball pictures that afternoon. $12 each for the pictures, $15 for the 19 year old niece, who helped enormously that day, to take them out for a snack after school before pictures and $20 for her own pocket for managing that whole afternoon for us. I met Maria once again at volleyball practice while Morrie took Isabelle to a training/conditioning class for soccer. Maria was starving after volleyball and she was not entirely pleased that we had to stop by another store to find cupcakes for Isabelle on the way home ($15 for 30 red velvet cupcakes) and then my mom's house to pick up the dog who was playing over there all day. I texted Morrie to please have a plate of food ready for Maria when we walked int he door, because we have learned that when she is hungry, ain't nobody happy. We made it home by 8:00.

Thursday- I send the cupcakes to school with Isabelle and tell her to hand out the chips at lunch one day since they were already at school. Done, and done. I was able to spend an entire 30 minutes at home that night before 6:30. Morrie and I actually sat at the kitchen table together with food in front of us. We were both too tired to talk about anything. I left and picked up Isabelle from soccer and drove her straight to volleyball practice. On the way to volleyball she tells me "Mom, the coach asked me if I would stay an extra 30 minutes tonight for some setting practice". Of course he did! She jumped out of the car when we got there and I went to park. As I made my way into the gym, I saw something dark on the wet pavement. As I got closer, I realized it was Isabelle's soccer shoe that she had accidently knocked out of the car when she jumped out. Thank you thank you thank you to every God, Buddha, Mother Earth, Holy figure out there that I found this shoe!

On the way home I asked her how the party went. She said it was great! I asked if everyone liked the cupcakes. She tells me they didn't have them.

WHAT?

There were 4 of us who brought treats for the party (that 3 grades were coming to). Isabelle's teacher thought the red velvet goodness looked soo good that she wanted to save them for her own class on Friday, because they had enough treats for everyone from the other moms. Are you serious? All that and they didn't even EAT them? I had no words. We were home by 8:45. When we got home Maria tells me that parents are invited to the play that she is doing the next day. Could I go?

This kills me. It hurts my heart. I can't take the afternoon off to come to her play- not only am I 45 minutes away from the school by bus, but I am taking time off next week to be Mom and Dad while Morrie is out of town. This is the suckiest part of being a working mom. I know this hurts her too.

Friday- Maria woke up bouncing off the walls. She was so excited for her play that day. Nobody asked me for money, so I was pretty happy all around. I spent my lunch hour on the phone with Isabelle's new school for next year getting everything sorted out for her registration. It made me all nervous and wishy washy inside as I realized she is really and truly going into 9th grade. I texted her that I loved her and needed to hug as soon as possible.

On my way home from work I picked up my niece from her barista job hoping for free coffee. I needed energy to make it through the triple birthday party we were having for our family that night. My niece is turing 20 and I can't stand the thought!

Morrie handled Maria's soccer practice and before I knew it we were on our way to the party. We weren't there 10 minutes when my stomach collapsed on itself and I became ravenously hungry. Once again I had missed dinner and my sister and brother in law kindly whipped up a delicious piece of chicken to make sure I didn't go all crankypants on them.

The whole goal of our week is to make sure nobody goes all crankypants on anyone else. That is pretty much how we make it throught the week. By the seat of our pants. On a wing and a prayer. Okay, it's really through google calendar.

Our Weekend

This is the snow that cancelled Isabelle's soccer game. Phew! That only leaves us 2 volleyball games and 1 other soccer game to go to!

This is the dog that loves loves loves to chase snow balls.

This is where she sits when she comes back inside and sites for her dog portrait.

Uh-oh! Time to go! This is Isabelle at her very first game:

DOWN AND READY! (they yell this a lot)

I might start yelling it in the middle of dinner to see if anyone responds.

She asked me after the game what she could have done better. Ummm...maybe not be so hard on yourself? Just a thought, after the first game of YOUR LIFE!


OK, throw on some clothes- okay, a lot of clothes, and lets pace back and forth in the freezing weather shall we?

This is Maria coming in too early for the ball, but getting in a nice ankle kick anyway. It looks like her eyes are closed and she is just hoping for the best. That's how I usually play as well.

Weird. Nobody wants me on their team...

This is what it looks like to kick a frozen ball around the field. It makes me cold all over again.

Back to the warm gym I say!

This is all of Maria's energy getting thrown into a serve. She is even gritting her teeth I think. It made it over, and in 5th grade that's all you can really hope for since nobody can return any of the serves. You think I am being funny, but I'm not. Her game of 3 matches lasted over an HOUR. I won't tell you how many times they forgot to rotate on a serve and lost the ball. Then the other team missed their serve and we got it back.

There were looooong stretches of time where no points were scored.

She's eyeing either the ref or the score keepers. Quite frankly, it looks like she paid one of them off before the game.

Once Morrie and I can figure out how to clone ourselves, this will all be a piece of cake. We're hoping to have the gene part figured out by Friday as we have 4 soccer games and 2 volleyball games this weekend. Gulp.

My Worst Day of High School

Now that Isabelle is about to go into 9th grade, I have been telling her stories about my own high school experience, in hopes that she can laugh a little and learn that high school is a completely different universe compared to grade school.
I have already told her about the time I were working in a small group in math and my group was talking about where to buy drugs (I was decidedly quiet), about the time I asked a boy to a dance and he said no (he was waiting for someone else to ask him- and no, he didn't need to tell me that), and about how the girl next to me in Biology tried to convince me to let her copy off my test (except she didn't know I totally and completely did not understand a word of Biology).
I also told her about the good times too- those just aren't as funny as the not so good times.

And so our story begins.

At the end of sophomore year, I was feeling pretty great. I had made some good friends playing volleyball, felt secure in my circle of girls, and we were going to be Juniors! We were going to be able to choose several classes going in to Junior year and I couldn't wait. Upperclassman! They were soo cool, soo mature, and I was going to be one. I had some high hopes for myself. I just knew that my bad hair days were behind me and boys were going to actually like me this next year. It was going to be rad!
I wanted to put in my application for Yearbook for the upcoming year. I was very excited. It seemed like the perfect place for me to start my life as a Junior. I was interested in design, typeface, layout, photography, and here was my chance to put those together.
I waited nervously for 2 weeks and much to my dismay, I was not chosen for Yearbook. This seemed like a repeat of the previous year when I tried out for Cheerleading. I worked really hard at all of the practices, perfected my tryout routine and just knew in the depths of my soul that I was MEANT to be a cheerleader. I could see myself in the uniform. That may have been because my sister let me try on her old uniform, but none the less, this was my destiny. When the list was posted and my name wasn't on it, I walked out of the school as quickly as I could, got in the car for the ride home from school (with 6 friends who lived near me) and had tears silently slide down my face for 20 miles until we got home. It took me a while to get over that one.
The Yearbook news made me crumble a bit inside, but I still had volleyball, right? Plus, I was going to be a JUNIOR. You can't deny the god like status that upperclassman had. They knew their way around, had the good lockers, had 2 years worth of friends, chose their own classes, and had lunch off campus.
I prepared that summer for volleyball tryouts by going to camp with my teammates and was stoked about my life as I knew it would unfold. Yearbook was a distant memory- at least I was trying to squash it down like one. Volleyball tryouts lasted 4 days, and I was happy to have this circle of friends around me again. On the fourth day, the coaches sat on the far side of the gym and talked quietly while we scrimmaged. I remember having awesome block where my team mates high fived me. I looked over at the coaches, but they hadn't seen it. I brushed it off. I was feeling confident. That whole Yearbook memory was fading fast. The coaches read the names of the girls who made JV- but I was a Junior, so my name wasn't on that list. Then she read the names of the girls who made Varsity. Then she thanked us all.
Wait. You didn't say my name. Are you sure? Do you want to double check your list? By this time my heart was a little bit hard. This sucked. What was wrong with me anyway? I had just gotten my braces off, didn't they know my life was supposed to be perfect now? Couldn't they see my straight teeth and immediately tell that I was immune to sophomoric mistakes, that I was a Junior! This was not really in my plan, and I wondered how they didn't know this.
I took a deep breath. I told myself it was okay. I collected my emotions and dumped them in a box and taped it up really good. I thought about going to go to registration the next day where I will get a good locker, and see who was in my classes. This would all be fine. I am an upperclassman now and I would just push that box to the furthest corner of my brain that I could find.
I woke up the next morning and spent quite a bit of time with my curling iron and a bottle of hairspray. I wanted to look perfect for my yearbook photo. If I couldn't help plan the yearbook, then I was sure as hell going to look good in it. Our pictures were going to be in color this year, because we were upperclassman. This was awesome. Finally! I went through registration, got my locker on the 2nd floor, made my way between the buildings and finally made it to the class list. Our Junior class would be divided into 3 groups and all of our classes would be with those people in our group. My group was called "MN". How exciting! I was giddy as I made my way to the list of names. Who was going to be in MN with me? As I ran my finger down the list of names, not one looked familiar.
I slowly re-read the list. What? Not a single person who I had been friends with over the past 2 years was on my list. My stomach dropped. I felt hot. What was going on? I was in my third year and I wasn't going to know anyone? This couldn't be happening. Lunch was going to be off campus for crying out loud. Who would I go with? I felt like I was going to throw up. I left in a daze. By the time I got home, I wanted to be anything but an upperclassman.
Morning came on the first day of my Junior year. The experience of what this year was going to be like, that I had been visualizing all summer, was in the garbage can. I was full of nerves all morning. Getting through math class and French class was not a big deal. I just picked a desk in the back, kept my head down and tried not to sweat. It was coming though. The class right before lunch was Collegio- for normal people you might call it homeroom- with all 60 people in my MN group. This was crucial. I would have to go from this class to lunch, and not a single person had plans to stay on campus for lunch. Was I going to be the only Junior in the lunchroom? I couldn't even think of a dark corner somewhere that I could hole up in for the lunch period. What I didn't know was that I had embarassment of epic proportions coming before lunch.
I picked a desk in the middle of the room, as I needed to spend the next hour looking around and trying to come up with a plan. Would there be anyone who I would be willing to approach about going to lunch? I began to look at the faces around me. Sixty people. I think I felt sweat trickle down my back. One of the teachers asked us to break into small groups for a history exercise. Wait, she didn't say small groups, she said pairs. I looked to either side of me. Everyone in my vicinity turned away from me and paired up people on their other side.

Oh My God.

I frantically searched for anyone to catch my eye- someone. Please. Somewhere. Shit shit shit shit.I think my hands were numb. The teacher looked around to make sure everyone had a pair. Then she said it. "Does anyone not have a partner?"
I was throwing up in my mouth. ohmygod. There were NOT 60 people in my class. There were FIFTY NINE. I had an out of body experience. I felt my arm raise. It may have been shaking. I probably wanted to die. If there was a hole in the earth, I wanted to be in it. Five minutes ago. I felt the blood rush in my ears, drowning out whatever she said next. I think it was something along the lines of "Would someone PLEASE let Andrea be in their group? I will give you 5 extra points if you do. I know you don't know her. Let's consider it a Community Service project, shall we?"
This would be a good time for an earthquake. Or a fire. Somehow, two (actually nice) guys behind me, said I could be in their group. This was horribly miserable. Let's just announce to the entire class that I am a MORON and I SUCK and I HAVE NO FRIENDS. I felt like I had been branded.
I wasn't much help to the 2 guys as I was still pre-occupied with figuring out my lunch hour. Somehow class ended. I wasn't paying attention. People were gathering their things and chatting with their friends. I slowly put my books in my bag and felt like the most retarded Junior ever. Across the room, I saw someone who I knew, but hadn't really spoken with for 2 years. I slumped my shoulders and walked over to her with my bag dragging on the carpet behind me.
Okay, maybe I didn't look that defeated, but it sure felt that way. She was standing with 4 other girls chatting and laughing. I built up some courage from somewhere that I wasn't aware existed and asked what she was doing for lunch. My heart hammered in my head. She very kindly said she was going out and invited me to come along.
Umm...yes! She then introduced me to the other girls. They were surprisingly very nice. I let go a deep breath that I didn't realize I had been holding. The massive insecurity and depressing ache I had been carrying around all morning slowly lifted. We went out. They were nice. They were funny, and they would become my close girlfriends that year. One of them, whom I had met for the very first time that day, would in time, become the best friend I would ever have.
That morning was in fact my worst day of high school. (cue uplifting lusic) Junior year ended up being not so bad (it seriously had nowhere to go but up). I ended up joining the Swim Team that November- because they didn't have tryouts, and nobody got cut! I was told there was this cute guy there from our class who was a good swimmer. I didn't know him, and never would have any classes with him, but when I saw him for the first time...

he in fact

was

pretty cute!

Things were looking up!

My heart hurts

Today was a very blustery day- it reminded me of watching Winnie the Pooh with Isabelle when she was little. We must have watched that movie a thousand times...the leaves blowing...Pooh complaining...Piglet anxious about everything...and Tigger happily oblivious.

After her soccer game today- where the wind just about carried the ball off- I came home and sat down at the computer to try and warm up. I read a few sites that I like to keep up on and I came across a picture of a woman holding her sleeping baby in a snuggli. My thoughts may have gone back to Isabelle again...when she was that little.

I might have welled up at this stranger holding her baby. Unless you think that would be dumb, then I definitely did NOT do that. I felt like I could feel that baby's soft skin. I thought about that mom, who is probably really tired and just wants 10 minutes by herself with no demands. I thought about how I would trade places with her in a heartbeat. It got me to thinking about that 13 year old who I watched play soccer today, and how I can barely remember what she was like at 13 months old.

You know what's coming.

I had to get a blanket and curl up with my photo box. I closed my eyes tightly and put myself back in that apartment we had when she was 10 months old. I could smell the baby powder, I could see the toys in the corner and hear her little voice.

Then my heart turned all gummy and fell out of my chest.

Then I slid off the couch and curled up in a ball because I came across this:


How does this happen? How do those years when each day seems to last 112 hours go by so quickly? When all I did was wash the same dishes over and over again, fold little socks, and accidentally step on the same loud toy every night, disappear like a desert mirage?

How the heck did I end up here:

When she is 30, will I cry when I look at the pictures of her at 13?

Knowing me, probably.

Even seeing her image from 4 years ago, when she just played soccer at school, makes my chest constrict.

Look at those cute braids...her first pair of glasses...those cheeks...(excuse me while I dry my eyes).

...I can't stop...give me a minute...

I just want to reach out and hold her hand.

I am more used to this:

I amused to saying "Go tell your sister it's time for dinner" and she doesn't move, but instead, yells at the top of her lungs "Maaaarrrriiiiaaaa!"

Umm..that's not exactly what I meant...smarty pants. Turn off NCIS and WALK to the stairs and then use your voice. Thank you very much.

Somewhere deep down inside, there are a few dusty memories of a baby with a smile that could melt away those years. Blue eyes that were as deep as the ocean and then some.

Watching her today, I can't even explain how her legs got to be so long. I think about how much she already knows about life and how much more there is for her to learn. She has grand plans for herself, and I couldn't be more proud. She talks about the Peace Corps, and Stanford, and travel, and cooking, and that smile still gets me.

The little girl who had her lovies, "Nordy" and "Baby" (we weren't entirely creative in naming her toys) attached to her hip for years, loved Winne the Pooh, wore the most adorable little snappy onesies, and was always ready for a snuggle...

...now would rather die than hug me in public (which makes it all the more fun to do), reads Jane Austin, has pen-pals in other countries, shares shoes with me, and is looking forward to her first school graduation this year.

I am dying. DYING. I am going to close my eyes now...and concentrate really hard...and when I open my eyes it better be 1998 again.

My throat hurts. My stomach hurts.

If I go into a Babies R Us, do you think they would actually have a baby for me?