May I See Your License?

Today I went on a field trip with Sam's 2nd grade class.  They've been studying wetlands in science class so they loaded all the 2nd graders up and hauled them to a nearby lake, which is surrounded by wetlands.  It was a fun and interesting day, with beautiful weather, and even the parents learned a few things. 

Next to the lake area is a park where our half of the group spent the morning, seeing the farm animals, running around and having lunch while the other group toured the wetlands.  There is a nice trail that connects the two areas that is probably 1/4 mile or so.  On the way back over to the lake for our turn, Sam and a classmate were lagging way behind the rest of the group.  I encouraged him to catch up, but he complained that he was tiiiirrred and couldn't go any faster.

I joked with him that if he was gonna run out of energy so quickly they were going to revoke his kid license and make him be an adult.

"But Mom," he replied matter of factly, "I don't have a kid license.  All I have is a library card and two tickets to the Fair!"

Training Again

After doing my first half marathon in June, I decided Heck, I could do that again!   Apparently, walking 13.1 miles is kind of like childbirth:  you forget the painful parts and only remember the reward.  So naturally I immediately committed to doing another one.  Which is in 10 days.

I'm excited about doing it, especially since it's in my city and I can come home and pass out on my couch celebrate immediately afterwards.  Oh! And maybe I'll even have someone waiting for me, cheering me on, at the finish line!  I'm hurriedly trying to get my legs and feet back accustomed to the torture task of going 13.1 miles, since after the June race I spent a month hobbling around, babying a sprained ankle.  And then summer, kids, camping, blah blah blah got in the way and, long story short, I haven't been as dedicated to my training as I should have been.  So I guess I'll just plan to spend much of October hobbling around, babying my sprained/broken/abused {insert body part here}.

Do I know how to have fun or what??

The Tooth Fairy Comes Tonight

Sam just turned 7 years old a week or so ago and he still hasn't lost a tooth. Of course, he was late getting them, not having a tooth break thru until he was 10 months old. So I figured he'd be late to lose them as well.

The last couple days he's been complaining that one of his front top teeth was hurting. It wasn't wiggly and when I looked at it, it was brown underneath and on the back side of it. I thought maybe it was a cavity and made myself a mental note to call the dentist to make an appointment.

Well, this morning at 9:30am the phone rings and it's Sam, calling from school. "My tooth hurts," he said and when I asked him what I could do to help him, he said "Come get me." I knew that if he was calling me it must have been hurting pretty bad. So I quickly got dressed and called the dentist before leaving home, explaining the situation and asking if there was any way Dr. Mary could see him. They said to bring him in and they would squeeze him in. So I picked him up and we headed in.

Upon arrival they did an x-ray and checked it out. The dental tech said it didn't look like a cavity and after the Dr. saw it, she said they wanted to pull it. Which is what I was afraid of. But apparently Sam wasn't afraid of it because he came bounding out saying "Mom! They're gonna pull my tooth!"

Unfortunately, they wouldn't let me go back with him because it was technically their surgery day and parents aren't allowed back. But I could see him through the reception window and from the looks of it, they were having a party! The Dr. and tech were cracking up and they were all laughing and gesturing wildly, having a great time. And the next thing you know, they sit Sam up and show him his tooth that had been detached from his face. Dr. Mary said it was most likely some kind of trauma that caused it, which I am perplexed by. Except for the time Sam was about 3.5 and hit his mouth on my parents' coffee table and knocked a front tooth loose (which completely resolved and was fine). But could this really have been the cause of today's pain? Who knows.

All I know is that the Tooth Fairy is finally coming to our house tonight. And my boy now looks like this:

Fishing

We live in an area of the Pacific NW where the salmon run up our rivers, back to their spawning grounds. The pink salmon, or "humpies", run every other year and in recent years the run hasn't been very good for various reasons. We've been anxiously awaiting this season and have had our fingers crossed that we'd actually catch some fish this year.

Opening Day was August 16th. My dad, Hubby, Sam and I headed out early that morning, down to the river. It was Sam's first real fishing expedition and I worried how he would cope with being cooped up on a 16' boat all day, especially if the fishing was slow.

Turns out we didn't need to worry. The fishing was decent and in between the catching, Sam munched away on potato chips and played Yahtzee on my phone. Only once did he fuss and ask to go home and that was when a bee was buzzing around his head. (He's been afraid of bees ever since he got stung on the end of the nose.)

Sam, reeling in a fish.

Sam's first salmon

I caught the biggest one that day, and boy was it fun! I could tell I had a bigger fish on by the way he fought. They're fiesty little critters! But I guess if I had a hook through my lip, I'd fight to get away too!

Me & my Dad

We managed to land 12 fish that day and went home happy and tired and satisfied with a good day's fishing.

Out with the old...

I decided it was time for a bit of an update here on the ol' blog so I mucked my way through it and did it myself, with the help of some free online backgrounds and my pal, Heather. Now that I have a tentative grasp on how to do it, you can look forward to occasional changes to occupy your occular orifices.

You're welcome.

Beginnings

Tomorrow Sam heads back to school as a 2nd grader. Today we went and met his teacher (turns out he'll actually have two - more on that in a minute) and saw his new classroom. It was so sweet to see him greet and hug various teachers, all while grinning madly. I think he's more excited to return to school then he's letting on. And I'm so glad we won't be going thru any of the drama we went through last year with switching schools.

If I've not mentioned it before, the elementary school he goes to is pretty small. There are only 1.5 second grade classes, the .5 being a split 2nd/3rd grade class. He's in the 2nd grade room, sharing it with 23 other students. His teacher, Mrs. S., explained that because there were so many kids that he and several other students would be going over to Mrs. T's room in the afternoon for math and science. They will be joined by the 2nd graders from the split class. Other than the obvious benefit of being able to work with & teach a smaller class more effectively, Sam will have the advantage of knowing ALL of the 2nd graders since he'll spend the first half of the day with one class and the last half with the others. I think he'll enjoy that.

I think it's going to be a good year for him. I liked his primary teacher, Mrs. S.; she's young and has a child of her own, which I think lends another level of patience and understanding to a teacher. His math/science teacher is an older lady that has been teaching for years and seems very kind and calm. Lord knows she's gonna need with it a herd of 2nd graders!

All in all, I'm in a MUCH better frame of mind about the start of this school year than I was last year. Man, but I sure struggled with it last year. While I'm still going to miss my boy, I'm excited to see what the year brings. I plan on helping in his classroom as much as I can, joining his for lunch during the week, and going on field trips of course. I'm glad that he'll be back with his friends, continuing his friendships, and working on his tetherball skills. I think he'll be happy and that makes me happy.

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My Zoë-girl starts off on her educational adventure next week, when she joins the preschool crowd. She'll be going two mornings a week and, while she's excited about it now, we'll see how she reacts when Momma walks out the door. I hope that she'll be fine and can just embrace it and have a great time. Stay tuned.
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Since everyone is going back to school and getting new school clothes and pencils, I wanted to join in the fun. I'm working on getting enrolled in the local community college and am going to tiptoe back into the classroom (online) and start working towards a degree. I think I've finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up.

It's only taken 38 years and a couple kids to show me that I really just want to play with school supplies and kids all day. So, I think I'm going to pursue a degree in elementary education in hopes of being a teacher. I mean, what better schedule to have when you have kids yourself? My kids are just starting off in their education and considering that I actually really LIKE my kids and WANT to be part of their lives, I can't think of a better job to have than one that gives me weekends, holidays and summers off with them.

I know it's going to be challenging at times; I work almost full-time, have two small kids and a husband, a house on 5 acres, I keep signing up for half marathons which require some training, I have friends I like to see and hobbies I like to pursue, plus I'm trying to go back to school.

It's never going to get any easier. And if I don't start, I'll never finish.

My Dad

This is my dad.

And if a picture is worth 1,000 words, this absolutely sums him up. Whatever words spring to mind when looking at this picture are probably 100% accurate.

I've written here about my dad several times and what a special relationship we have. So much of who I am is because of him. By example, he has taught me to work hard, put family first, keep smiling, be honest & fair, always look on the bright side and, maybe most importantly, to enjoy life.

My dad had his first heart attack at the age of 42. It was shortly before my 12th birthday, and if it hadn't of been for friends of our family being involved in his medical care, and working desperately and tirelessly to save his life when he went into cardiac arrest, he wouldn't be here today.

He had his second heart attack nine years later. It was shortly before my 21st birthday, and if it hadn't of been for my sister who'd become an intensive care nurse, recognizing the symptoms and insisting he go to the hospital when he himself thought it was just indigestion, he probably wouldn't be here today.

He's endured two open heart surgeries, multiple other tests and procedures, and lives with a heart that is only 50% functioning. He has outlived all his brothers, even though he is the only one to have had a heart attack and such a complex cardiac history. When I was a baby, his own father died in his arms of a heart attack as they were coming back from a father-son day of fishing.

If there ever were a shining example of living by choice, my dad is it. He has had the lion's share of pain and suffering, both physical and emotional, and yet he continues to be positive and downright happy. I've seen so many people who have had half the misfortune he's had spend their lives wallowing in self-pity and negativity. But not Dad. Every day is a new adventure, a new opportunity to make memories and spend time with people he loves, doing what he loves.

He himself will tell you he's living on borrowed time. He makes very few excuses for doing whatever the heck he wants, choosing to spend whatever time he has here on earth being happy and grateful. I can't tell you how much I admire that.

The night before my dad walked me down the aisle to marry my husband a thought occurred to me: What would have become of me had my dad died during that first heart attack? What would my life have been like? It's a thought I can barely stand to imagine, but I know that I wouldn't be the woman I am today, with the rich and loving memories that I carry in my heart, and the joie de vivre that he nurtured in me.

The other day I was hanging out with my dad and he yet again joked that I was going to get sick of seeing him now that we're neighbors. And, yet again, I reassured him that that was impossible. He turned to me, with a grin similar to the one above, and said "I know how you feel about me." "How's that?" I asked, grinning myself. "I know how you feel about me," he said, "because I felt the same way about my dad. I couldn't spend enough time with him or do enough for him. I was always with him."

With tears stinging my eyes, all I could do was nod. He does know.

And that's all that matters.