A Politician, A Rock Star, and a Mother Weak for her Boys.

Last week we had parent/teacher conferences at the boys school.  For some reason, standing outside of the closed door waiting my turn almost felt as if I was heading into the Principal's office.   There were no surprises about what I would come to hear, yet for some reason I felt a bit nervous.  Turner's conference went as I posted here.

Chase and Ryder's conference was interesting.  As they are finishing up their Pre-K year and getting ready to head out into the real world of Public School I sometimes, OK maybe a bit more often than that, get nervous.  Since they day I gave birth to boys with Summer birthdays I have been asked the question of "Will I hold them back?"   At first I was unsure to what all of these nosy and inquiring minds were referring.  As I had mentioned, people seemed to ask me, a new mom to twins, some really absurd and personal questions.  Hold them back as they started to crawl?  Push them down when they started to walk?  Had I known then that Ryder would climb walls and dart through parking lots maybe I would have held them back on such obvious milestones.  But, it seemed, they wanted to know if I would hold them back in school.   I was just hoping to get them off of formula first, perhaps get them out of diapers, before I started thinking about kindergarten cut-offs.  But, really, the world thought I should I start thinking about these things.
So, with the peanut gallery constantly whispering in my ear, and the apparent new trend of red shirting kindergarten making headlines (and here, and here), the question began to sink in.  And, there I was, ignoring the obvious signs of readiness, and instead debating the smaller things.  They are really little.  And, it would make a huge difference in sports.  And, they were premature, you know?  Besides, are they ready for such a big school, such a big world?  They are little, Jewish boys, heading into the Non-Jewish world.  Will their charm take them anywhere?  This is all crap.  I know that.  I am only half crazy.  The other half tells me that every five year old boy and girl sets out to the world of Kindergarten.  They all survive.  Even if they don't like it.

Of course, Chase and Ryder will do more than survive.  They are ready for the big school.  They are mature beyond their young age, and despite being nearly 9 months younger than some of their classmates, most of the time you can not tell. Academically, socially, emotionally, they are ready!   I guess the big question is, am I?

So, I set into Miss Liz's classroom and this is what I was told:

She likes to call Chase the Mayor.  She is convinced he has a future in Politics.  Or Negotiating.  Or both.  He is a "person of the people" who will greet each and every one of them, make sure they are all happy, speak for them when (and even if not) necessary, and will make his rounds to everyone in the classroom.   He does this at parties, too.  Actually, he does this everywhere. He gets this trait from Todd.

He showed a good amount of improvement in almost all areas being assessed.  Chase listens intently and has astounding recall, for both concepts and details.  He loves the game hangman (and is pretty good,) does really well with rhyming, knows all of his letters, their sounds, and can name a word that starts with each letter, and can also count to 100.

There are some areas he continues to need development in, in addition to some gross motor skills, such as accepting constructive criticism, not always being the center of attention, and tattling.  None of this came as a surprise.

That aside, Chase always has a smile, a laugh, and a hug to offer.  He is well-liked and likes everybody, though he does seem to play more with the boys.  He is eager, loves to share his knowledge, and above all else he is driven and determined like she has never seen in an almost five year old little boy.   Miss Liz believes that Chase will be successful in life not because he is smart (which he is) or charming (which he is, as well) but because he needs to be the best, he needs to be number one, he doesn't like losing.  Although I was aware he was competitive, I was a bit surprised to hear that it was to this degree.   Admirable, perhaps, but it sounds a bit stressful.  Clearly, he did not get the trait from me.  He must get that from Todd, as well.  Or my dad.  Or Todd's dad.   I never liked being number one.  Not because I couldn't or because I didn't want to try that hard but because number one meant a whole lot of attention.  I was not interested in attention.  At all.  The more I write this the more I realize that maybe Chase is not my son.

Ryder is a different boy, totally.  One of the things I was most happy about Miss Liz as a teacher was that right from the very beginning she knew the differences in the boys and never expected them to be the same.  She knows them, she understands them, and for that I am so grateful.

She describes Ryder as the handsome boy, leather clad on a motorcycle.  Untouchable yet desirable.  Mysterious yet so sweet.  A budding rock star and poet.  Though this description is accurate it makes me a bit uncomfortable.   She described the guys I crushed all of growing up.  Sorry, I just threw up in my mouth there.

Ryder is a free-spirit who is independent and not influenced to conform.  He is creative, and imaginative, and thoughtful, and deep.  He is well-liked and likes everyone but tends to form strong, deep, friendships and show a favoritism to those friends.  He enjoys the company of boys, and particularly those that share his interests.  He sounds a lot like me!  He laughs, he smiles, he is kind, and though rambunctious, he is also sensitive and caring.

He did show improvement in most areas evaluated since the assessment in the Fall.  He knew all of his letters, completed all of his rhymes, and also has pretty good recall, when he wants to.  Surprisingly, he could not count to 100, which both Miss Liz and I believe he can (know he can) but figure he may have lost focus along the way.  He has a tendency to do that.  Did I mention he reminds me of, well, me?

He has very well developed fine motor skills, and is an agile and flexible boy.  He has beautiful handwriting, and enjoys it, always wanting to write everything.  He loves art, and seems to have a developing talent.  He is passionate and faithful and loyal and yet, still, easy going enough to mix in with anyone.  He loves to laugh and to smile and a karate chop to the head is often a sign of love.

He could use continued improvement in the areas of listening to what he is being told, focusing, and making choices that don't just benefit him, but the class as a whole.  Unlike his driven brother, Ryder doesn't get bothered by being less than the best.  He likes to do the best he can, for him, not for anyone else.  He has talents and he uses them but not for the purposes of recognition.  He is much less interested in that sort of attention.  Yes, it turns out, Ryder is clearly my son.

Overall, it has been a great year for both kids.   We believe they will both benefit, even if at first they struggle, by being separated at school, where they can hone in on their individuality without the pressure of the other one.   I know that they will always have their special bond and being a twin will always be a huge part of who they are, but they could each use a chance to be one without the other, at least during the school day.

Miss Liz believes they are both ready for Kindergarten and despite their being a late birthday or smaller than the average boy, they will fit in exactly where they belong.  So, to answer the question of all those nosy strangers, red may be Ryder's favorite color but this is one red-shirt he won't be wearing.  "NO!  WE WILL NOT BE HOLDING THEM BACK IN SCHOOL!"

There is about three weeks left in the school year, at the safe haven of a Jewish Pre-school where the teachers and students alike find them funny, and adorable, and smart.  I will spend the summer preparing MYSELF for my little guys to ride on a great big bus, in a great big school, surrounded by great big kids.   Lucky for me, or for them, I am sure they can handle themselves with those bigger kids because this mama is not sure she ca.   Mistreat my boys and those silly bands you wear on your wrist will become a weapon which I will use against you.  Oh, I will.   I am weak for these boys.

Hot For Teacher!

I've mentioned (here) that Turner started school back in January. He loves it.  He has from day one. He goes without hesitation, he asks each morning if it is a "Barbara's house" day.  He comes home happy, tired, and singing the songs.  I am not sure if it is because of school, because of his age, or both, but since January he has matured considerably, often times reminding me he is no longer a baby.

I haven't mentioned it much here but Turner is a big talker.  He talks in full sentences, and has just so much to say.  He is very specific in his choice of words and can be, at times, demanding.  He commands your attention by both the look in his eye and, when necessary, by grabbing your chin and pulling it towards him.  He is not much of a parrot, one who repeats what you say, in fact he prefers not to be told what to say nor when to say it.  Instead, he speaks his mind, his thoughts.  He sings a variety of songs all day long, asks for what he wants, and when necessary, he makes sure his voice is heard.

With this being said, however, it should be known he also has a tendency to get shy.  Around women.  A pretty girl is a reason for him to close his mouth, and throw on the charm.  Batted eyelashes, flashed dimples, puppy dog eyes, and a contagious smile all replace his extensive vocabulary when a lady is near.  We used to think it was just one girl, (who he definitely still crushes,) but we are finding that Turner becomes quite coy in front of most ladies.  Most pretty ladies. Aunt Amy is a lady.  Kate's mom is a lady.  Aunt Carri is a lady. And, it seems, Miss Barbara is a lady.  Because, he may love school.  And, he may love to talk but he has yet to talk to Miss Barbara.  He charms her, like he does other girls, but he won't talk.

Yesterday, we had his school conference. This is what we learned about our boy:
He is charming.  He has a fantastic smile.  He is friendly, and personable, and loves art and cooking.  He has well-developed gross and fine motor skills and is a cooperative and well-behaved little boy. He can build with blocks at least 5 high, and much to my surprise, he doesn't dump.  Containers.  This is not the case at home, but at least he caters to Miss Barbara's self-proclaimed OCD.   She didn't assess it, but Turner has a bit of that as well.

Climbing high without assistance

He is the one to watch on the playground because he can climb any structure (as seen in this picture,) he can climb the stairs without assistance, one step at a time.  He can do puzzles, hold the pencil the right way, and, in learning something new about Turner, he seems to have a strong sense of compassion for the other kids in his class.  This does make me proud.   Does Turner know his colors?  His shapes?  His letters?  That was unable to be assessed because when Miss Barbara asked he grinned and laughed quietly, and made her do so as well, but there was no way he was answering those questions.

I asked his teacher if we should be concerned (though my gut knew we should not be!)  I asked if she thought he had selective mutism, which I would not even think was a real thing if I did not know a child with that diagnosis.  She answered, as I expected, "of course not!"  She has heard him talk, just not to her.  He talks to his peers, he talks (a little) to the other teachers, he talks within the school building.  He just does not talk to Miss Barbara.

Todd and I decided to talk to Turner about this.   We reminded him how much she loved him, how much he loved school.  We asked him why he does not talk to Miss Barbara and, smiling, he said "'cause!"  We told him we really wanted him to talk to her that it would make her, and us, so happy.  Then we dropped it for a bit.

A while later, and seemingly out of nowhere, Turner said (loudly, I may add) "mama, I talk to Miss Barbara!"
Surprised I responded, "You will, Turner?"
Grinning and happy he said, "yes!"
I asked, "Turner, what will you say to her?"
Grinning more, he paused and then said, "Hi, you are pretty!!"

I don't think Van Halen had toddlers in mind when they wrote Hot For Teacher!  

You Should see the Other Guy!!

When I was twelve years old I played Maccabi softball.   I was one of two girls on the boys team and the tournament was held in Chicago.   I stayed with a host family, who I hardly remember, except that they lived in the same neighborhood as Michael Jordan.  Yes, we stalked his house.   

My sister (the other girl on the team!) stayed in the house where Risky Business was filmed.  Just knowing that Tom Cruise danced in his underwear in the same house she slept in was way cooler than being near Michael Jordan.  No offense, Mike.  Most of the world wanted to be like you.

Anyway, the room I stayed in, in this mostly unmemorable home, had beds in an L shape.  Between them was a table.   This was the exact configuration both my bedroom and my sons' bedroom would have in the future despite the rest of this story.  

So, I was soundly sleeping in this suburban Chicago home when my alarm went off so I could catch the bus to that days games.  I got out of bed, went to the bathroom to wash my face, and nearly scared the shit out of myself when I looked in the mirror.  I had an eye, swollen shut, the color of prunes and raisins.  I was not sure how it happened nor why I looked like I had stepped into a boxing ring.  After further examination, it became clear to me that while I slept I banged my eye on the edge of the table.  At this point in my life I had slept through alarm clocks, my brother's rock-n-roll music, even a hotel fire alarm (which was, thankfully, a false alarm) but I would have thought a bruising thump to my eye would have woken me.  Unless, of course, it knocked me out.  Which was possible.   I never have been quite the same since.  

My sister nearly had a heart attack when she saw me and got her big sister panties in a bunch concerned someone hurt me.  I told her the other guy was laying in a ditch somewhere and there was no need to worry.  We went on with the day, the week, the tournament, as if all was normal.  The purple in my eye only clashed a bit with the royal blue and yellow uniforms.

Fast forward 24 years.   Chase and Ryder's bedroom, as I mentioned, has this exact configuration.  Each day as they act like the very boys that they are and insist on jumping from bed to bed to bean bag, getting their little brother involved, as part of their bedtime ritual I wonder to myself if heads can actually bounce off of that table.   

No, they can't as it turns out.  But, I did not learn this from any unnecessary rough-housing or overly rambunctious boy exercising.   I learned this, as fate would have it, exactly the way I had learned it over two decades ago.   While sleeping soundly in his bed, grinding his teeth and snoring away, Ryder managed to bang his eye directly on the tables edge.   He is very much my son.  Unlike me, however, he did not sleep through this accident, instead he awoke with tears and screams and only a few drips of blood.

The picture above is his eye the next day, as I was dropping him off to school.  Luckily, he did no damage to the eye itself, nor his vision, and the shiner never did get too much worse than pictured.  He did, however, live a few days totally able to fool everyone into thinking that he wore eye make up.  Perhaps some just thought this was part of his "rocking" style.

Map!!

This is Chase and Ryder looking at the map of the zoo when we went over Spring Break.  We were there with 13 other kids.  We separated from half of the group.  In an effort to meet up we needed a map.  Chase and Ryder were pretty sure that they could figure this out.  They did a good job, but most importantly, they worked nicely together.

For more pictures from the Zoo, click here.

Say Aaaah!

Our boys always like going to the doctor. I am not sure why but I sure am not complaining. I remember being a teenager knowing full well I had a shot coming to my ass so I locked my doctor out. Lucky for me my doctor is a bit of a clown, but all the laughing down was drop my guard enough for him to quickly inject my toosh with a 3 inch needle.
My kids don't have this problem. They do well for the pediatrician offering up their arms of steel for any shots necessary. They have allowed my dad to check out their eyes. And, for a reason no one can understand, a trip to the dentist is fist-pump worthy. Chase and Ryder have been like this since their first appointment when they were two. Now, they are experienced in the dental exam arena. They love the video games, the old-school decor (which they do not know is old school) and the fact that Dr. Maser is Ellie's Saba. I can't, and don't, go back for the exam with them and its just as well because they don't want me there.
After, they come running out all shiny white toothed smiles and giggles flaunting their new toothbrush and dental floss. The last time I saw them that happy was when I served brussel sprouts for dinner.
Today was Turner's first appointment. And, though I'd like to say he begged for me to hold him and cried like the baby he is supposed to be, really it was as equally pleasurable experience as his rounds of vaccines, his first haircut, his first day of school, even his bris. Turner continues to be the happy child, able and willing to do whatever is asked of him especially if his brothers are doing it too.
We practiced a bit, in the waiting room, while Chase and Ryder got x-rays done (which ultimately confirmed what we probably already knew.....they will both need braces!).
"Turner, what will you do for Dr. Maser?"
He'd look at me smile and say, open mouthed, "Aaaaaaahhhhh!".
He probably didn't need practice because he was perfect for Dr. Maser. 3 for 3. If he didn't know me personally he would think I was doing something right with these boys;).
I am thinking about using dentist visits as bribes for good behavior.

Yah Mon, it's my Birthday!

I took this of myself, of the view, at 7am on my birthday!

The kind staff left me this message.  Notice the spelling:)

Today is my birthday! I keep forgetting, which could be an obvious sign of my aging. Or, sheer avoidance. But, it is in fact my birthday. I am 36. However, in my moment of realizing it is the anniversary of my police car arrival I think I am 37. I am not sure if I am grateful for the extra year of youth or optimistic that 37 will still feel this good!!

I am spending this day at The Caves, in Jamaica. No other words are necessary to make that point clear!
I couldn't ask for a better day, a better way, or better company to spend my birthday. Since being here I've battled a bad case of the runs and haven't been up past 10pm yet. Also, my back hurts, which should be resolved by my 4pm Jamaican massage. Coupled with our 530pm sunset hot tub experience. If it were not for these subtle hints of ageing I would not feel a day over 35:)

After our massage!!!

Down these steps into the hot-tub cave for sunset!

The view

The view,  again

Popping the champagne!

Cheers!

36 is an uneventful age. Except if you count the fact that today is the Royal Wedding, a day the world could not stop talking about, making this April 29th highly anticipated. I would like to personally thank Kate and William for taking the spotlight off of me on this day and allowing me to sunbathe in Jamaica without the paparazzi and enjoy my aging in peace.
Life is not much different since my post last year. My wardrobe remains as is, my DVR records the same silly shows and is always nearing the 90% full marker since I rarely make the time to watch. My laundry still piles on end and I still enjoy the same things. I am proud to say that different from last year, although I still (happily) have the husband and three boys, I no longer have those extra ten pounds that separated my mid-twenties from my mid-thirties. I had to sacrifice a large portion of my brain, the part that houses short term memory for keys and ATM cards, particularly, but it seemed like a fair trade. Despite the weight loss, however, I still have the membership fee of pregnancy branded on my belly as stretch marks and the baby hips to go along with it. I wonder if sacrificing my spontaneous desire to jump from a 30 foot cliff would be considered market value?

On this start of my 37th year I am relaxed and calm and quintessentially happy. Calm Caribbean waters may be responsible for the relaxed feeling but the happy comes from within. This I know is true.
Birthdays are a time to celebrate. Grateful, always, for another year no matter the number. And today's celebration was way more than I would have ever asked for. Our night, eventually, finished off with candlelight dinner overlooking the wave-crashed cliffs, another fantastic meal at the Caves, and a team of Jamaicans singing "Happy Birthday" to me.

Idyllic setting aside, however, I can't wait to have my boys sing happy birthday to me. Birthdays are for celebrating life.....but its not complete with out them. But, that's two days from now. For now, it's back to my perfect blue sky!!

Til next year!

A Princess Story

Today is the Royal Wedding. It also happens to be my birthday which somehow, or so many other people have told me, makes my birthday a sort of holiday. Frankly, I don't get it. I don't get the correlation between the two and I especially don't get the months of chatter, set my alarm, grab me the box of tissues, overkill fascination with the couple. Everyone is just so excited to see how she looks. SPOILER ALERT: she looks beautiful! Don't need to tune in in the middle of the night to know that. What bride doesn't look beautiful? Particularly one who starts off good looking. Oh, and has a gazillion dollar budget?
No one wants to see what William looks like. Mostly because, who cares about a groom (wink wink,) even a Prince is outdone by a bride, but possibly because he isn't too good looking. Which, is why of course, he is the King-to-Be that pretty much guarantees he got girls at a young age. And, that's how you score a hot Kate Middleton.
The story goes that Kate Middleton, the commoner, a millionaire commoner but one all the same, was choosing between elite private schools when her mother, a no fool commoner, remarked "if all else is equal go to St. Andrew University. William is going there and you have as good of a chance as any!"
I laugh at this for many so reasons. That's a Disney Princess story yet to be told.
You will laugh at me, likely, when I say I never dreamt of marrying a Prince. Becoming a Princess. Oh, imagine my clumsy hands, my rounded shoulders, my gaseous belly being addressed as Lady Wendy. It just wouldn't work.
I never dreamt of horse-drawn carriages, which is lucky since my prince of choice can't get within a few feet of Secretariat without going into anaphylactic shock.
I never dreamt of the glass slipper nor the sprawling castle. Even knowing I would have a staff to clean the crannies of the place, all that SIZE, all of the rooms, it is just too much to handle.
Nah, I never dreamt of being a princess. Perhaps this is why I don't have daughters. Although I do believe, totally, that my sons are Princes and they are evidence that birth right is only part of the princehood equation.
This is not all to say I never dreamt as a kid. Nor that I don't as an adult. Sure. Don't you know that my 4th home is going to be on the grounds of a vineyard I own in Napa Valley. The third is undecided yet, but is likely tropical.
That's right. My housekeeper(s) have finally tackled my laundry problem. And my clutter issue. My staff-accountant pays all of the bills.
My husband, my children, and I will have to return your message at another time because we are jet-setting.   Again.  You really should see Zimbabwe.  Add it to your bucket list.

Wait, maybe I did dream of being princess?! Do you think the royal family would mind if I wear flip-flops to the dinner table?