Drama Girl's First Day of School

I love the day after Labor Day on social media. All of my mom friends are posting beautiful pictures of their kids starting school. I have a few of my own.

Here's Drama Girl on her first day of kindergarten.

And here she is on her first day teaching a college class. I love that she sent me a first day of school picture. I love that she apologized for the unpacked boxes. As if I would care! She just moved into her new apartment a few days ago.

I am so proud I could burst. There is nothing like knowing your kids are going to make it, that they're doing what they love, that their future is so bright they've gotta wear shades.

Congratulations Drama Girl. I love you so much.

The (Almost) Final Additions to the Shrine of My Children

There is a ritual I delighted in for many years.  From the time they were babies I would periodically take my kids to a portrait place in the mall and get professional photos to mark their growth.

The photographers always got my kids to smile just right.  I always got at least one good shot of each of them.  I purchased frames and proudly displayed them on the wall.

This tradition fell off sometime in their primary years.  But I still had school photos and snapshots to display and make me smile.

The end of high school is a big milestone, so I decided to hire a professional photographer to mark the occasion.  The photos he took are simply stunning.

Now for the lucky break I want to share with you.  Right now Photobucket is having a sale on canvas prints for 80% off.  

As soon as I saw the sale I took the plunge.  (Please note, I'm not compensated by Photobucket to advertise for them - but maybe I should look into it!)

Now my hallway has these beautiful huge photo memories of each of my kids during their senior year.

Just a few more shots to finish the collection...wearing caps and gowns at graduation.  Then someday I suppose I'll have a wall of wedding photos.

I guess this shrine to my children will never be finished after all.

How to drop a freshman off at college

This has been one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life.  There has been real grief and real joy in this process.  I am still recovering.  I'm going to apologize in advance for the blurry photos.  Everything happened so fast.  It will give the realistic impression of looking through tears.

Step 1:  Packing.

Three suitcases packed impossibly full.  Each suitcase came in at just under the 50lb weight limit.  This was no small feat.  Favorite pillow, favorite teddy, favorite journals all had to stay home.  We enjoyed the miracle of those big bags that can be filled and then vacuumed to remove the air.  Even though this made things wonderfully compact, it didn't make them any lighter.

Step 2:  Arrive at destination, hit all the stores.

It's all those little things that add up:  a white board, highlighters, a desk lamp.  Ka-ching!  Big bill at Target.  Then we went to another store where my credit card was immediately denied.  Apparently out-of-state big purchases trigger a freeze.  One parent told me that a Target she went to actually had  a sign on the front door warning out-of-state college parents to notify their credit card company before trying to make a purchase.  It took a little time, but I got it cleared up and spent plenty more money at the bedding store.

Step 3: Visit the campus even though move-in day is the next day.

"Mom,this is the lawn, this is the castle..."  is about the level of detail I got from her. She had been out to visit earlier in the summer with a friend to take placement tests. She was thrilled to show me the "writing room" in the library where she plans to hunker down with her laptop.

But the castle!  Oh my, what a beautiful place.  I learned the next day that it was modeled after the castle in Scotland that was later used to film the Harry Potter movies.

There were numerous ballrooms.

Some of the ballrooms had painted ceilings.

Suit of armor - I was told he tends to change spots and poses in the night.

Step 4:  Try to sleep the night before move-in.  Fail.

Step 5: Try to survive move-in day
This was so well orchestrated that it all went pretty quickly.  Parents backed cars up to the curb in front of the dorms and all the sports teams descended on the cars and unloaded them and took everything up to the room.  It felt like it was about 130 degrees and these poor kids kept their good humor despite being drenched with sweat at 10:00 in the morning. 

Step 6: Make the bed.

Even though it would have been a lot easier for her to wrestle the sheets onto the top bunk, I insisted on doing it.  It's the mom's job, the last time I'll probably ever make her bed for her.  I tugged and smoothed and tried to make everything as perfect as possible.  Meanwhile, Drama Girl stuffed clothes into drawers and I bit my tongue to stop myself from lecturing about the importance of folding.

Step 7: Meet the roommates and their parents

Did I mention three girls are stuffed into an "overbooked double?"  Drama Girl will only be with them for one semester and they communicated a lot before they met, but I still have reservations about the whole setup.  By the time we got all three girls and all of their stuff squeezed into the room, it was time to attend the half-dozen parent orientation activities while the kids went off to do some icebreaker activities with other students.

Step 8:  The final goodbye

I can't write about this without crying.  As the staff explained it, they designed it to happen fast, like pulling off a bandaid.  There were plenty of volunteers around with "Free Hugs" buttons and I confess I got one from a sympathetic stranger.  Seeing other moms (and some dads) tearing up didn't make any of it any easier.

But when all was said and done, it was such a happy day too.  As one parent said, it was like "releasing a trout."  A flip of the tail, a shimmer of light, and they were off, happy in their environment.

Good luck Drama Girl.  I love you.

The power of a picture

Drama Girl is about to have her 18th birthday party.  I thought it would be fun to create a little slideshow of pictures of her to show at the party.  Also, apparently, I want to torture myself with sentimentality.

Here she is cuddling with a teddy bear I had made for her.  You can barely see it in the picture but it's right next to her face.  She named him Rainbow Flowers and he's gone on a lot of adventures with her.

And there they are again, that little girl and her bear.  This picture is killing me.  Credit and thanks to Jeff Bartee Photography.

The Final Tears

This weekend was the final ballet recital for Drama Girl.  After nine years of study,  it was time to say farewell to her beloved ballet school.

As in previous years, she was asked to use her storytelling skills to keep the excited younger dancers calm backstage.  I got a picture of this during dress rehearsal.

You could have heard a pin drop, they were so attentive.  I didn't hear the whole story, but it was a fairy tale that she made up.

She has worked as a student teacher for each of the classes of younger girls over the years.  She knows every single one of them.  So I was not surprised when the head of the ballet school made Drama Girl the star of the show.  She was the "birthday girl" and each class performed a dance as part of the party scene.

When she came out in her party dress, she was so lovely and happy. She combined her love of acting and dance and just glowed onstage. 

The final dance was the tribute to all of the graduating seniors.  It was beautiful and touching and at their last bow the five girls each got a big bouquet of flowers.  Several were fighting back tears, including Drama Girl.  Many of us in the audience were dabbing our eyes.

This dance school has been a huge part of her life.  She's taking her ballet shoes to college and hopes to make room in her schedule for classes.  As for me, I will be forever grateful for the chance to watch her experience all of this.

On to the Next Great Thing

So this happened:

I held myself together pretty well.  A few tears escaped.  The real trigger for me?  Pomp and Circumstance; it's one of those pieces of music that is pure emotion, like the wedding march or taps.

 

This is one of my new favorite pictures of Drama Girl.  High school is literally behind her, her gown is off, and there is a look of joy in her face.  Such a happy moment.

It was a day full of wonderful moments, lots of hugs for my "other" daughters who are her friends.  Lots of hugs for their moms who I will inevitably see less of in he future.  A bit of champagne, and of course, a big party.

As usual, I overestimated the amount of food everyone would eat.  We'll be working on this cake for a while.

And what's a big occasion without the gift of a quilt?  I had planned to make a big artsy thing but I realized what she really needs is something sturdy and cozy.

 

This is a flannel rag quilt that's long enough to fit on her extra long dorm room bed.  The back is minky, so it's deliciously soft.  I've worked on it for a few weeks, when I could do it in secret.  Now I need to clean all the minky lint out of my sewing area of the garage.  It looks like a black snowstorm hit.

Now I'm ready for the next chapter.  In my life and hers.

Graduation Day for Drama Girl

 

First day of kindergarten

 Last day of high school.

Same front door.  Same mom taking the picture.  Same bright smile. Each time she picked a favorite dress and hitched a backpack over her shoulders.

Tomorrow she puts on her cap and gown and walks across that stage.  And I will cry. 

I've spent some time trying to figure out how to stop myself from crying.  Some people feel it's not acceptable in public.  I have cynical friends who never cry about anything.  I cry at everything.  I was in the graduation aisle of the party store and got misty-eyed at all the celebration supplies.

I think that if I can understand the emotion behind the crying, I might be able to use logic to avoid being overwhelmed by it. So I've been thinking about graduation and what it means, and why it's making me cry.

It's the happy cry of victory.  She made it.  I made it.  I did this parenting thing.  And it all turned out okay.  She's made it to adulthood.  She made it into one of her top choice colleges.  She proudly put her enthusiasm into the decoration of her morterboard:

Not only did she get in with huge merit scholarships, but she got accepted into their study abroad program next Spring.  She'll spend four months in Scotland.  From there she plans to travel to Italy in the Summer to teach English.  She's already made contacts and plans on that front.  She's ready for the world.

Which brings me to the obvious reason for tears.  She's leaving.  Really leaving.  She'll be home for Christmas but beyond that I can't see when. 

Nobody really warns you about this part of parenting.  When you finish your job, if you've done it right, you become obsolete.  Sure, she'll still need some money and some advice, and some help, but the big day-to-day job of parenting is done.  Too late now to make sure the childhood was happy.  Too late now to build any more sweet mundane memories.

It's over.  Summer camps and ballet lessons and sleepovers with friends.  Cooking s'mores for breakfast and late night mac and cheese.  Midnight movie openings and book releases and vacations at Disneyland.  She's working this summer and then packing off to school.

I caught her napping yesterday on the couch.

 

Wrapped in a quilt, blissfully at rest.  Which reminded me of this:

I'm sorry, if you need me, I'll be over here, crying.

That Girl

Drama Girl is a natural story teller.  Always something interesting to say when we're gathered around the table.  I want to write the latest one down before I forget.

When she was at he movie theater buying a ticket yesterday she noticed a woman with beautiful red hair.  Not being shy, she complimented the woman.  She wasn't expecting the reply she got.

"That means a lot to me.  It's a wig.  I have cancer and this is the first time I've been out wearing it."

I got a bit of a tear in my eye hearing this.  Good for her for saying something nice that she didn't need to.

And then, within 24 hours, I find this.  Her brother's homework that he accidentally left out where Drama Girl could find it.  She added a bit to the end:

*sigh* not really such an angel after all.

The Graduation Tears Begin

This was waiting for me at the breakfast table this morning.  I took one look at it and burst into tears.  Whoever writes this ad copy is a genius. See those baby feet?  "First to say hello?"  This is the biggest parental gut-punch I've experienced to date.  I'm having trouble maintaining my denial that my first baby is getting ready to graduate from high school.  That little girl is almost out of here.

The knife twists as I look inside the big glossy catalog:

ACK!  The guilt!  I never did finish the baby book.  This is my last chance to prove that I'm a good mom who captures memories appropriately.  "While he might not admit it now..."  is so true.  Drama Girl insists she doesn't want any of this stuff but the brochure knows that teenagers don't know what's best for them.  If I want to have any kind of bond with my offspring in the future I better capture all the memories NOW.  And let's not ignore the subtext that I might lose my memory in the future and need this memory book to correctly identify my children.

If I don't get her a ring, it's like I'm telling her that she and her story are not important.  Apparently a ring is her life.

I texted Drama Girl this morning when I knew she wasn't in class.

Oh thanks, I'm bawling now!

Don't buy anything from there, I just need the cap and gown

Seriously though, best marketing line ever.

I don't even get it.
Is that supposed to be the school talking?
They weren't even the first to say hello
My preschool was
The doctor who was there when I was born was the first to say hello

[she texts so fast I was still writing my reply to her first line]

MOM was the first to say hello. I knew you were there before the doctor did.

Are they really the last to say goodbye?
Won't that be college?
Or like
Whoever's at my death bed
Is my high school going to KILL me?


There was more to the conversation, but you get the drift.  I was laughing through my tears at that point.

So now, like the brochure suggests, I'm going to ignore her wishes and figure out how to mark this milestone.  Do people really still send out graduation announcements?  I've never received one that I can remember.  Seems like it's just a way to ask for a gift.  Do I have to get those little cards with her name on them?  I remember getting a million at my high school graduation and not knowing what to do with them.

Goodbye denial, you've protected me well for as long as you could.  This is all getting a little too real now.

This Girl

This.  First day of school.  Stand in front of the front door so mom can snap a picture.  Happy?  oh yes.  Excited?  Oh yes.  A little tear in mom's eye?  definitely.

And now this.  The last first day of school from this house.  Same beautiful girl, same beautiful smile.  A carefully chosen dress.  The same front door that needs refinishing now.  And maybe just another little tear in mom's eye.

Oh Downton!

The Sorrow We Share by threeundertwo related [litandlaundry.blogspot.com]

Oh Downton! How could you do this to us?  And yet we've known all along that under that classy, well-dressed veneer you were just a roller-coaster ride of emotions.

But I regret nothing.  I'm glad I watched despite the tears.  Because Carson with a baby?  Priceless.

I actually made this toonlet a few weeks ago after that other bad thing happened.  Seemed appropriate to post again today.

I'm off to have some tea and a sniffle...

Today We Mourn

Yesterday's tragic events were so shocking and unbelievable to me that I could hardly process them.  As a scientist, I find comfort in gathering as much information as possible to sift through and analyze, but yesterday watching the news unfold did not give me any of the answers I needed.

Like everyone else, my brain got stuck on why?

I choked up when the President did.  I texted my kids in class that I love them.  We talked and shared when they came home from high school.

Today I woke up thinking of the families and community who lost so much.  I mourn with them.  I don't need to know their children.  I work with small children and I am a parent.  There is nothing more innocent and sweet than a kindergartener.  I can't imagine anything more horrible than losing a child to violence.

Today I will probably not read the news.  Nothing can undo.  Nothing can fix what has happened.  Nothing will make those families and that community whole again.  I cannot gather any information that will help me.

Today I am getting ready for our annual cookie party.  I will bake and tidy and set up .  I will find comfort in family and home and traditions.  But throughout the day, I know I will pause and think of those affected.

A little piece of my heart was torn yesterday.  Today I mourn.  Tomorrow I will celebrate the season and give love to my own community of young people who will come my house. 

And by giving that love, I will give myself healing and hope.  I will teach the young people I host that there is a community that cares for them.  By traditions and joining together, I will teach peace.  It's that simple.  I can't cure the world, but I can help my one small corner.

Needlework Tuesday: Crows

I'm almost done with my Henrietta Whiskers quilt.  I had to add the final borders before I can attach the last few applique crows.

Here's the top half, with the crows and stars pinned on.  I really don't like crows in real life - they seem to bully the songbirds out of the yard.  One of my kids told me they can recognize a human face up to two years later.  That's just creepy.  I'd hate to have a crow mad at me. 

I'm also stealing moments at my sewing machine to continue making blue stars for the patriotic quilt I started.  It's amazing to me the fabrics that I can find in my stash that I've forgotten about.  Luckily these stars only require very small pieces so I'm able to use up some of the scraps I have around. 

Stealing time to sit and sew is certainly therapeutic for me.  I learned yesterday that an old family friend passed away in his sleep.  We never expect to hear bad news, but it is so good to have comforting things to turn to to keep the mind and hands busy as we work through life and grief.  When my brother died, one of my sisters-in-law prepared pot after pot of tea.  It wasn't necessary, but it was comforting, and it was something to do in those hours of sadness.  Today I'll make tea too I think.

A Day Without Quilts

I just want to say, to begin with, that the comments on my last post really meant the world to me.  I sat and thought about every one of them and really listened to your advice and support.  Thank you for your words.  It reminded me that I should comment more.  I read a lot of blogs quickly on my Kindle and don't comment but those small gestures can mean a lot to the person who wrote the post.

I think somebody tipped off my husband that he should read the post.  He called a family meeting and we had quite a talk about mutual support and taking mom for granted.  Then the talk took a surprising turn for me as it turned to what quilts meant for each of them.

At that point, the house was bare.  Without quilts around, it was cold and generic and really didn't even feel like our house.  The kids were looking around at the bare walls and the window seat where we keep a stack of quilts for watching television.  I hadn't taken the quilts off their beds, just all the ones in the common areas. 

I cried as they talked.

Drama Girl said when she brought friends over they always asked about the quilts and she was so proud to say her mom made all of them.

My husband talked about how he loved to watch them evolve on my design walls.

They each talked about how they loved them and different quilts reminded them of different times in their past and how they liked to watch the seasons change in the house by the different quilts I brought out.  I was really crying at this point.  I never imagined they felt that way.  They had never said anything.

Then Drama Girl made a confession.  By this point she had tears in her eyes too.  "Mom, that one quilt you made for my bed that's really soft?  The reason I always put it with the bottom towards my pillow is so I can keep the label on the back close by and read it."  On the label I had written how I will always love her.

Quilts are love.  I think they have learned their lesson now on how much it means to the quiltmaker to say thank you and I love you back.  And how even though quilts just show up from time to time, it's important to admire them and acknowledge the effort involved.  Most importantly, they realized that there has been a lot of support flowing in one direction around here, and some of it needs to flow back to mom.

So I'll put the quilts back out.  Here's a little bit of the new quilt as I was working on it.  My feelings are still a little raw but I will probably move forward on this one and pick up my hobby again.  Thank you for all of your kind words.  It's been a rough few days.

I'm Cured

My quilt retreat was amazing.  The teacher, Sue Nickels, was probably the best quilt teacher I've ever had.  She kept up a brisk pace and I learned so much.  Every minute was a joy.

I managed to almost finish my quilt top for the class project.  It's probably the best work I've ever done.  I worked some mornings from 6AM and stayed to laugh and work and chatter with the other women until 11PM.  I picked colors that sang to me.  I got so much out of it in return.  People showered me with compliments that made me feel so good.  People told me I inspired them.  People told me they were proud of me.  Strangers asked to take pictures of me holding my quilt.  It was the greatest week in my creative life.  I was really proud of myself and what I was able to accomplish.

Then I got home.  Nobody bothered to greet me when I walked in.  I tried to pull out my finished piece to show my girls.  Drama Girl took a quick glance and said.

"I guess the people at that place would like it."

I cried.

I have been deluding myself for so long that what I found joy in would have any interest to my family.  There is nothing that would make them proud of me.  Even after I told my husband about how I thought it was my best work he wasn't curious enough to ask to see it.

I try to support all of them wholeheartedly in every thing they do.  I guess I was expecting some support in return.

For the first time, it made me ashamed of my efforts.  I have clearly been wasting my time doing something silly with all of this handiwork.  I'm going to leave the sewing machine packed up and not work on quilts or needlework or anything else any more. 

I've taken my stupid quilts off the walls and couches and packed them away.  I'm cured of my stupid hobbies now.

Finished for Friday: Your Turn

I vowed I would have something crafty to share every week, or a book that I had read.

This week? I have nothing to share with you.

My trip to Disneyland with the twins took a good chunk out of the week, and then since I've been home I've been mourning the passing of a very dear friend of mine.  My heart is broken.

But I want to see what you have accomplished, and I promise to have something to share next week.  Of all people, I know how therapeutic stitching can be.

Thank you for sharing what you've been up to!

Why They Shouldn't Let Me See Shows for Kids

We've said goodbye to summer with some family entertainment.  No simple feat when you have 14 and 12 year old daughters who at times would rather not be seen with their very uncool family.

This weekend we saw a marvelous version of Peter Pan.  It was presented in a 100 foot tall tent near the waterfront in San Francisco.  The ceiling of the tent served as an Imax-style surround screen.  When the actors went up on their wires and flew over London, we really felt like we were swooping along with them.  I loved it.  We all indulged in that willing suspension of disbelief, if just for a few minutes.

If you know the story, or have seen the play, you know that there comes a point when Tinkerbell drinks poison and starts to die.  I knew what was coming but I couldn't help it.  When Peter asked the audience to whisper "I believe in fairies!"  I had tears in my eyes.  I was so caught up in the story.  I know, I know.  It's just actors on a stage.  In costumes.  With wires that we can see them attaching every time they're going to fly.  I couldn't help it.  Little tears.  Poor Tink!  I just love that moment when Peter talks to the audience.

Even though they didn't cry like their sappy mother, the kids were enthusiastic about the production.  Even Drama Girl wanted to discuss what made this story so timeless.  Fourteen year old girls initiating conversation is something to be savored.

Then on Monday, the kids were good sports and came along with me to see Toy Story 3.  Have you seen it?

It's not a good movie for sentimental people who are prone to cry.  Unless perhaps you really want a good cry.  Because I really outdid myself on this one.  The theater was packed but I felt safe hiding behind my 3-D glasses.  I had tissues handy because I suspected there would be some heartstring-tugging.

I tried as hard as I possibly could to  not cry at the ending.  I held it in, held my breath, and then...I snorted.  Actually stifled a sob.  It didn't help at all that the woman behind me was obviously crying.

You'd think I would learn my lesson.  I was a wreck after "The Bridge to Terabithia" and I had just cried the day before at Peter Pan.  Why do I do this to myself?

And how will I find an excuse to see these things when the kids are grown up?

Take a Bow!

Of all the proud moments in my life, and my kids have given me many, this is somewhere near the top. Here with a cast of professional ballet dancers, my son is receiving applause for his role as Fritz in The Nutcracker.

Forgive the quality of the photo, I was pretty far back and there was some dust in my eyes, if you know what I mean. *

He did a great job as the obnoxious little brother who breaks his sister's beloved toy. You'd think he'd studied the part carefully or something. Drama Girl was also in the production this year as an extra, so she did not get to take a bow with the principals. She got great laughs as the mouse who gets shot in the butt though. I told her she'll have to put that on her resume.

Seeing my son in the big league makes my Monday. To see more happy visions to start the week, visit Cheryl at Twinfatuation.

* i.e. I had a few tears in my eyes. I'm such a sap.

Finished for Friday: The end of an era

I'm afraid I have a somber FFF today. I did have needlework done but my mind and my heart are heavy with the passing of my old beloved cat Nina.

This picture was taken in better days. She lived over 18 full, wonderful years and despite her serious face in this shot, she was an incredibly loving companion.

Although we have the pair of mischievous kittens to keep us busy, there is a hole in the house that Nina used to fill, and I will miss her a lot.

Animals can be such a quiet blessing to our lives, and it's hard to say goodbye, even when you know the time has come.

I do want to see your projects and accomplishments this week. Thank you as always for joining in. Have a wonderful weekend and cherish those you love - whether they have 2 legs or 4, or maybe fins.

Arrow of Light

Last Friday was my son's bridging ceremony where he transitioned from a Cub Scout to a Boy Scout. It was an interesting evening to say the least. In addition, he received the Arrow of Light award, the highest badge possible in Cub Scouting. It represented a lot of work on his part, and I am very proud of him.

The three boys in his den had built their own bridge. Silly me, I thought it was supposed to look like a bridge. You can see part of it in the picture below. Their old Cub Scout leaders stood on one side, and removed their Webelos neckerchief. Then each boy was welcomed by the Boy Scout leader on the other side and he crossed the bridge. My son the gymnast flew across in about 1 second. Wish I had a better picture, but you get the idea.

Then a Boy Scout in the new troupe he's entering put his new neckerchief on him and gave him the official Boy Scout handshake. The picture is a little tilted, but I love how Jungle Boy is biting his lip in the excitement of the moment.



When all were through, all the Cub Scouts and parents in the pack lined up and made an avenue for the new Boy Scouts to walk down as we all clapped. It was really very moving rite of passage for a fine young man.

I might have had a little tear in my eye. I'm a total sap about stuff like this.

Jungle Boy and my husband celebrated with a camping trip this weekend - but that's fodder for another post.