Little One Turns SEVEN

Today my Little One is seven.  Seven.
It has been a wild year, full of challenges.  She moved to a new state/town/home/school.  She weathered Her father disappearing into residency and Her mother going back to work.  She had three health emergencies at school, including on picture day and Her birthday.  She lost three great-grandparents, a grandfather, and Her dog.   She switched schools again.  She started riding the bus, 2 hours a day.  She found out that when the year is over, She will switch again, and oh- also be moving across the world.  (More about that later).  She adopted a fish, took on gymnastics, piano, and swimming, and had a sweet baby brother morph into a 25 pound wrecking ball.  And she lost a bunch of teeth.
 Little One has dealt with all of these things in the Little-One-est way possible; with grace, resilience, and cheerfulness.  Little One, surrounded by challenges, peers out onto a horizon of endless mountains and sees a grand adventure in each one.  Her first instinct on facing any steep terrain in life is to find a foothold and start climbing.
As my little girl begins truly to grow up, Her innate drive to Try Hard is something I find so beautiful and inspiring in Her.  It's this adventurous, open-hearted spirit and willingness to go through the struggle of something new that has brought Her through to being a seven-year old who seems to excel at everything She tries.  It's because She tries, and tries, and tries again until She gets it.  I might want to be like Her when I grow up.  In the last year, Little One has covered a lot of ground.  She has:

- Done well in school, and been accepted into the accelerated STEM program at the magnet school that is practically in Siberia it's such an long bus ride from Her mother.  Ahem.

-Become a self-described "book addicted person", consuming books like a flame.  In the last year she has read the entire magic treehouse series, fairy series (good riddance), and most of encyclopedia brown, in addition to stacks and stacks of others.  She usually gets about 20 from the library each week, and burns right through them.

- Started gymnastics for fun and was invited to team-track.  Last week She completed a gym right-of-passage and climbed 20 feet of rope to stick Her name tag on the ceiling!

- Become super interested in robotics, and for Her birthday asked for "small motors, lithium batteries, and lots of scotch tape".

-Begun cooking meals and baking all by Herself.

- Gotten pretty good on Her bike, though not yet ready to let go of training wheels.

-Managed to keep in touch with friends from Her old school, and also make great new friends on the bus and at Her new school.

-Moved forward in swimming and with Her grandad's coaching learned to dive.

-Been a flower girl in both Her aunts' lovely weddings!

-Taught Her brother the alphabet song, and also how to Cha Cha slide.

-Grown tall enough to ride some of the rides at a theme park

-Taken good care of Her fish.

-Eaten probably several metric tons of sushi.  (should I not have put those last two in a row?)

-Realized that Her parents are not perfect (that one stings a little)

-Loved us anyways (at least so far).

-Loved all of us, actually.  All of of us in the immediate and extended family, neighborhood, and basically the world.  She loves the whole world.  She wants to take care of all the everyone.

Her Loves and Not-Loves:

Loves:
Sushi
Seaweed in any form
Japanese food in general
Hot Dogs/Tofu Dogs/anything called dog that gets ketchup on it
Home made bread and honey
French Onion soup
Ethiopian food
Brussel sprouts
Sugar.

Reading
Robotics
Pokeman (because the bus kids play)
Anything that ends with Her covered in mud
Traveling/visiting new places
Learning about Anything
Making Mister Laugh
Art projects and pretend with Missy
Chasing the boys
Riding the bus
Dancing
Cooking (French Onion soup is Her specialty)
Vegan Baking (Brownie Pie is Her top recipe)
Riding Her bike
Being altogether silly
Pigtails
Headbands
Sparkles/ruffles/fancy shiny anything
Sleeping/snuggling with Her sister

Not So Much
Mushrooms
Bell Peppers
The idea of cheese or eggs.  The look and smell and existence of them.
Sitting at the Peanut-free table at school
Missing Her dog
When Little siblings don't get the memo about Her being In Charge
The "frog" stretch at gymnastics
Playing with dolls/barbies
Scary movies or stories
Lights Out at bedtime (She would read until midnight)
Sleeping/snuggling with Her sister

Little One at seven alternates between being curled up reading, practically in a coma She's so still and  quiet and unaware of the rest of the world, and being a whirling top, cartwheeling through the living room, dancing in the kitchen, creating utopian worlds in the backyard with Missy, constructing 4-foot cardboard robots all over the basement, and asking ALL. the. questions.  About ALL the things.

She's at a fragile stage of growing up, wondering aloud if there's really such a thing as a tooth fairy, but not daring to think about applying the same logic to Santa.  She wants the freedom to wear Her crazy mis-matched outfits and to ride Her bike beyond our line of sight, but still wants cuddles and lullabies before bed.  She's beyond wanting us to read to Her, but still likes to read right beside us.  She thinks She should watch these movies Her friends talk about, like Star Wars and Jurassic Park, but hides behind me when Bambi's forrest catches fire.  Sometimes in gymnastics I watch Her, steadily stepping along the high-beam, and it feels familiar.  She's walking the line between a Little Kid and a Big Kid.

Knowing how close that era of Her life (and ours) is now, it's impossible not to look ahead, as a mom, and go breathless with the wonders and worries of the more complex years ahead.  But being around Little One helps me to keep from panicking.  Hanging out and chatting with Her, it's hard to imagine She could ever not be sweet, fun, and fantastic.  When I'm with Her, I see all those challenges ahead in the Big Kid years for what they are through the Little One lens- adventures waiting to be taken on and made into successes.  Mountains waiting to be climbed.

Seven on the Seventh.  A golden birthday! Happy, happy birthday Little One, my golden little girl.  We love you so much, and love going through all your grand adventures with you.  May you always climb with such strength.   

Adventures In Learning

I can't believe the summer is winding down.
Little Miss is very excited to be returning to Her montessori school, where She will be starting Kindergarten.  She's very, very excited to be staying all day this year.  I am very, very much in denial about the whole thing.  I like to tell myself that it's the same montessori class (mixed ages 3-6) so it's not really really kindergarten.  Even though it is.  I try not to think at all about Her being gone all day.  I just can't with all that.  But I'm glad She's going back to a school that we all love and which I am pretty sure will be a positive educational, social, and emotional experience for Her.
That's Montessori, though.  You get all this happy fuzzy stuff, and all it costs is an arm and a leg.
Public school, on the other hand.  That is free!
Sadly, Little One's kindergarten year was worth just about exactly what we paid for.
I actually liked the school.  The principal was competent and nice, the teacher was friendly, the kids were all as cute as only a bunch of snaggletoothed 6 year olds can be.  I liked the other parents and hosted a weekly coffee and cake so I could hang out with all their awesomeness.  I got to know the nurse (a little too well) and trust her to look out for my girl.  I PTA'd it up and was elected to be the VP this year.  Little One and I started a book club after school.  It was a dream to be able to walk both Sisters to school every morning.  I mean, Little One's school is about one block from our house!
The thing is, Little One had all that Montessori pre-school.  And She has this voracious appetite for learning.  She's been known to randomly get interested in something- the revolutionary war, or greek mythology- and go on a bender where She can't read or hear enough until She feels like She's learned Alllllll The Things about it!  So.  Before school started, I met with the principal, and said I thought maybe She should start in first grade.
The principal smiled, and chuckled, and gave me a "hey now, Tiger Mom, let's take it down a notch!" speech, and showed me the door.  Ok.  So, maybe, her points about Little One having just moved to the area, and going to public school for the first time, and the food allergies and all that being overwhelming as it is were valid.  So we went to kindergarten.
At the first teacher conference of the year, in October, Her teacher said to me,
"well, Little One has already met all the indicators for the end of the whole year! So... She's good!" Thumbs up.
I said, "Great, but, so....what's next, then?  I mean, She needs to keep learning throughout the year...new things, right?  So...what's the plan for Her then?"
Teacher stopped smiling.  And that was the start of the trouble.
Little One loved kindergarten, in that She loved recess.  She made lots of friends and became "leader of the girls team" on the playground, and loved everyone in class.  She got awards for being helpful and respectful in class. But She complained a lot about being bored.  She would finish the homework for the month in one evening, but I gave Her other work from bookstore workbooks, and She read a lot, so I wasn't really worried.
Then I went to parent day.  Waiting for my turn to observe the class, another mom greeted me all teary.  "What happened?" She asked.  "What did Little One do, to be punished like that?"
I was alarmed.  What DID She do?!
"She has to sit all by Herself! All the other kids are together in groups, but She had to be in the corner by Herself all morning!" 
So I asked the teacher.  "Oh no, She's never in trouble! But mornings are reading centers, and She's in Her own group.  There's one kid who reads at a level 8, but the others are all 2s and 3s, and Little One...is a 16.  She just can't read with the other kids." 
I observed.  Little One, who was reading chapter books at home, still had to sit at circle time and repeat over and over, "C says Cuh! C says Cuh!"    
She raised Her hand after a story, and was waved away, "Little One I KNOW you know the answer, so let me ask someone new".  There were worksheets later. She finished Hers in two minutes.
"What does She do now?" I asked the teacher.
Blank stare. "Well, it's a 15 minute center... so.  She can rotate when the bell rings."
"Could She read a book or something while She waits?"
"We can't let everyone do whatever they want. They have to stay at their center. The rules are the same for everyone."
I was in class for three hours and Little One did basically nothing, the whole time.  But She was still expected to sit still and be quiet.  By Herself.  Keep in mind, because of Her food allergies, She was already seated at Her own table at lunch.  She already had to stay apart from other kids while they ate the school provided breakfast (which She wasn't allowed to skip watching Her classmates eat, as that would have made Her tardy and reported as a truant).  So except for recess, She was set apart all day.
At home, She started saying that reading wasn't fun, because you couldn't have friends if you can read. She started pretending She didn't know how to do math.  She became so used to doing all academic work in 3 minutes or less, that when I introduced a challenging problem at home- something She would have exalted in before- She would get frustrated and call it dumb and give up.
I talked to the teacher.  I asked if She could be grouped with kids from other classes who were at Her reading and math levels.  But it was no longer "policy" to group kids out of their assigned class.
I asked if She could get worksheets from first grade teachers to work on while She waited during center time.  I was told it was absolutely not allowed to introduce anything outside the KG curriculum.
I pleaded for Her to be allowed to do Her work at a table with other kids. I had to actually beg, and promise to tell Her to hide Her worksheets so She wouldn't be a "show off" and make the other kids "feel bad".  Later, Her teacher said she turned out to love having Little One at the table with other kids, because She "helped them all with their work".  But, other than getting different books to read and some extra homework (to appease Her mom), She was never allowed to have any work that entailed learning something new.  All. Year.
Now, I know that a kindergarten teacher has a really tough time, because there are 15 students and they are all across the spectrum of learning.  Some have had 3 years of preschool, like Little One, some have had no school, or are just learning English.  That's a lot to handle, trying to meet all those needs.  I understand prioritizing the kids who need help to catch up- they need that help.
But as an advocate for my child, I couldn't accept that She had to spend six hours a day bored out of Her mind and being made to feel like an outcast.  I couldn't stand seeing Her wonderful passion for learning squelched as if it were a nasty habit.  I had a lot of talks with Her teacher and even the principal about how I could help Her, and got nowhere.
At the end of the year, I went to an info session on what the curriculum covers for each grade level.  It was clear that the work She was doing at home was about the middle of second grade level stuff.  So J and I asked to skip Her to second grade next year.  People, you would think we had asked for the actual Holy Grail. You would think I had asked them to bring me a pink unicorn.
The administration had heard of this mythical "skipping of grades"....but never actually SEEN it. It didn't really exist.
But since we insisted, they had to do something.  So they decided on an "evaluation period".  They pulled Little One out of class parties and music and art, to test Her and test Her with reading and math specialists.  At the end of this three month period, I went to a meeting.
I was told that, while She got the answers right on the math tests, She had to be failed on the evaluation, because She wouldn't always explain why She got those answers. She was docked points for doing math in Her head, because She didn't show Her work.
Example:
"what is 18 take-away 7?"
"It's 11".
"WHY is it 11?"
"... Because you had 18...then you took away 7."
"Can you show me why on paper?"
(on paper): "18 minus 7 is 11 because that is what is left."
Wrong.
I was told that, while She was reading on an end of second grade level, She wasn't ready to start second grade, because when the specialist asked Her about the books, Her answers were short and to the point, and She preferred non-fiction, factual information over discussing how She felt about things.
The reading specialist pointed out that not once, not once, did Little One ever re-open a book to look for the answers- which was a VERY important indicator for using resources.

C: "Did you know, that on the school's red-yellow-green behavior scale, Little One has been green, every single day?"

Punk Reading Specialist: "No, but what does that have to do with.."

C: "Ms. LittleOnesTeacher, has Little One ever broken a rule in your class or failed to ask your permission before doing anything She didn't know the rule about? No? So, Ms ReadingSpecialist, I have to ask.  Did you ever tell Little One that She was Allowed to look for answers in the book?"

PRS: "Um...no."

C: "Because I'm pretty sure She would have thought that would be cheating."

PRS: "Well. Oh.  Well.  She still was supposed to...it's a...uh...it's an indicator...."

Right.
In the end of the meeting, it was clear to see that they had never really considered skipping Her.  They don't believe in unicorns at all.  All of the reasons given were basically that while She could get all the answers right, She was shy enough with strangers to give them a reason not to move Her.
In the meantime, while all this testing was going on, the principal called me in for a talk.
"You know, not that we're trying to get rid of you, because we love you guys. But there is this school, a magnet school, for kids like Little One who are just...how can I... who are sort of....humming along at a different frequency.  You might just consider it." 
It happened to be the day before the deadline to apply for this mysterious odd-frequency school, so we just turned in the paper, just in case.
Then we had to send letters from teachers, letters from us, transcripts, report cards.  Little One had to do an interview and go to a testing session which we were not allowed to watch.
We googled and found that there are people whose whole career consists of tutoring little snaggletoothed 6 year olds to pass that test.  That hundreds of people apply, and only 25 get in. So we forgot all about it, and went back to trying to skip Her a grade.  
Then we got an acceptance letter.  
Supposedly, it is the same curriculum, but there are "acceleration opportunities" for STEM subjects. And there will, they promised without my having to ask, definitely be other kids in Her reading and math groups, doing the same stuff.
The place is an hour away.  Little One has to be there, and leave there, at the exact same time Missy has to be at, and leave from, Her school over here.
Instead of walking 5 minutes, I'll have to drive Her 15 minutes to the bus stop, where She will have an hour long bus ride to school.  If She has an allergic reaction or an asthma attack that doesn't respond to medication, as She did last year, I won't be able to rush right over.  There will have to be an ambulance.  This school does NOT sound fun, for ME.
So we deliberated and discussed, talked and thought, J and I.  What to do? Then we asked Her.
The so-called Queen of recess, who loved Her friends and teachers so much, what Her preference would be, so we could consider that in our decision.
She didn't miss a beat.  She didn't hesitate, and She was unequivocal.
"Please.  Please please.  PLEASE let me go to the new school!"

"But you know you won't see all of your friends any more. It will be all new. You won't know anyone there, and it will be different."

"Yes, I know.  But I can make new friends! And different stuff is good, cause that's what's an adventure, mom.  And besides...maybe...maybe...maybe at the new school, I won't have to teach the kids stuff all day with their work.  Maybe we could work together instead. That's all I want."  

 Ok then. I'm nervous about Her being so far if something goes wrong.  I'm scared to death of the bus.  I'm going to miss Her those two hours a day She will be commuting to school, and I can only hope it will be worth it.  And truthfully?  I'll miss the PTA and the moms I chatted with at pick up and all of that too.  All I can do is try to follow my Little One's lead, and make new friends. Hope that just maybe it will be a place where She can fall back in love with learning.  And realize that different is good, because that's what's an adventure.

Mary Had A Little Lamb

Mary had a little lamb. But Missy has a little dog.
Well.  Not that little, really, at 50 pounds, but Her dog seems to have other things in common with Mary's lamb.  Like being soft and fuzzy.  And wanting to follow his mistress to school.
We are lucky enough to live within walking distance of both Sister's schools.  Today Miss and I had dropped Little One off and were heading to preschool, when we were surprised at being charged by a big brown dog.  Who happened to be ours.
I told him to go home, at which he looked surprised, but turned to obey.  I watched him run across a green space and up a hill, where he made a valiant effort to get back into our yard through the hole he had dug under the fence.  He tried, but could't wriggle in.
So he just looked at me helplessly, a little guiltily, until I sighed.  "Ok then, X.  Come on."
He bounded over like he had just won christmas.
Little Miss, who had been complaining of the cold, of her feet being tired, of "please-carry-me-I-need-be-unner-yoh-ja-cket" was suddenly and miraculously cured of Her ills.
We backtracked a block to pick up his leash, and then he followed us to school.

X has never been a runner.  He is the dog who, as a puppy, stayed in our front courtyard during the day.  One day, a parcel deliveryman left the front gate open while J and I were at work- all day. When we finally got home, there was X, wagging his tail on the doormat.

There have been times he has jumped fenced before.  Always to get to the front door, where he waits expectantly to be invited inside, where he knows he belongs.

Until he developed a serious grouchiness with other dogs in his middle age, we never even bothered walking him on a leash.  He likes to be near his people.

The great tragedy of X's life was Little One's asthma.  Little One is allergic to dogs (of course).  A lick in the face gives Her a swollen eye that could compete with a bar fight injury.  She does pet and cuddle Her doggies, but always at the price of sneezing, wheezing, itching, and hives.  Dog time is always followed by wash time.
When She was three, She began to have serious trouble with asthma.  It was the dogs.
Numerous doctors have told us, in no uncertain terms, to "get rid of them".  But we couldn't.  Just couldn't.  So we tried everything; we restricted them to one part of the house, away from Little One's room.  We shaved their fur and bathed them every week, washed their beds every few days, vacuumed the house twice a day, and had HEPA filters all over the house.  Little One took a daily inhaler and a daily allergy medicine.
She was still needing Her rescue inhaler a couple of times a week.
So with heavy hearts, we built them a dog house in the back yard.  Within two weeks, Little One stopped having asthma attacks.  Soon She didn't need any of those medicines.  We couldn't argue with that.
So X and E became something none of us ever expected- outside dogs.  In Virginia they had reign over the yard and garage, but this house has no garage.  There is a storage room in the basement, and when we moved in it became the "dog room" for them to sleep in at night or during bad weather.
But just a few weeks in, Little One began having breathing trouble again.  Just having the dogs walk through Her playroom twice a day to get in and out was enough to affect Her health.
So we have converted the shed in the back into a behemoth dog house.  We fitted it with a dog-door, and they have their beds, their bones, their basket of toys in there.  They will have heated pads to curl up in when the weather gets cold.  But we still miss each other.
With the all-consuming life of babies and toddlers, we are sure they have felt quite neglected for some time.  But we've found a new turn of events now that the Sisters are six and three-and-a-half.
The dogs still don't get anywhere as much attention from me and J as they did before their banishment.  But, like all siblings in large families, they now get it from the other kiddos.
Miss and Little One play with them in the yard, throwing things for them, running with them, playing around and cuddling them.  They are now old enough to walk the dogs, holding the leashes themselves while I hold Mr, making their attendance possible on family strolls.  They seem to be reintegrating into the family in a new way, and the bond between the dogs and the children is pretty sweet to see.

It's why our otherwise well-behaved, never-been-a-runner dog X plotted an escape- to walk his girl to school.  It's why he greeted Miss first when he ran up to us.  And why he wagged his tail all the way to drop off- and whimpered all the way home.
Yesterday, Little Miss spent two hours in the back yard mixing mud and decorating a beautiful, elaborate "cake" for X, to celebrate his tenth birthday.

It's hard to believe it's been a decade since I held a tiny flop-eared puppy on my shoulder and whispered him a promise that I was taking him out of that county shelter and would take care of him forever.

Looking back over those years, I remember how he stood guard at my bedroom door every night when I was pregnant with Little One.  I remember how he herded her into the room with us when she was toddling around, how he he loved going down the slide with both girls at the playground and letting the neighborhood kids throw sticks for him or mob him to wash him together in the summers. I remember that time a foster puppy got out and I could not catch her- then I let X out and he rounded her up and shepherded her home.

X with the foster puppy he rescued

 
 There have been times I've watched a Little lean into his fur and cry quietly, and know that it helped them because I've done the same.  I remember the time all the houses on our row of town homes got robbed one night- except ours.  The time when J was deployed that he and E barked so ferociously in the middle of the night, and then the police knocked to tell me that a neighbor had seen a man trying to break in- who didn't.  I realize that while I've kept my promise to feed and shelter him, maybe he's the one who has taken care of me.
On the tenth birthday of the member of our family who was sort of our first baby, I maybe should have scolded my dog for digging a hole under the fence and wriggling through to chase us to school.  But I can't help thinking that he wasn't doing something wrong, so much as righting a wrong.  After all, he ended up right where he should be.
By our side.

 

Halloween Tricks and Treats

Our Sisters had the idea of being the Frozen Sisters for Halloween the first time they watched the movie, back in the summer sometime.  They are obviously not the only ones to be struck by this particular inspiration, but they were so excited about it (mainly about Mister filling the role of Olaf) that even though I prefer not to get characters involved in Halloween,  I couldn't say no.  Plus, then they got their Nana involved, and after that it was just out of my hands, guys.  
And into her very talented ones.  My mom whipped up all three costumes from nothing in a couple of weeks!  Complete with capes, appliquéd flowers, and embroidered snowflakes. So, while their theme may not have been unique, their costumes certainly were.  
Thanks Nana! Now.  When it comes to those characters, my Sisters faced an existential dilemma that had them debating for weeks.  Who is which sister??? On the one hand, they reasoned, Little One is the eldest, so She should be Elsa, and Missy Anna.  BUT then again!  Missy has the blonde Elsa hair (an all-important aspect of Disney identity, you know), and Little One has Anna hair.  
Problems. 

Almighty Nana solved this crisis for us, by sizing the dresses such that both Sisters could fit into either.  And they worked out amongst themselves how to trade off. 

Little One got to be Elsa for Her school parade and party.  

Miss and Mister came to cheer Her on, and got to join in the class party as well. 

 Little One's favorite part of it all was getting to have Her sister sit next to Her at Her desk. 

 They had snacks, played bingo, and helped me lead the class in some crafts, which was a lot of fun. 

 Another parent had brought candy corn for the bingo game, and had tried three stores to find a version (which I did not know existed) that was allergy safe for Little One. When the mom told Her, Her face lit up like fireworks, and Her teacher exclaimed, "it's a Halloween Miracle!"

Little One also played Elsa at a Halloween party, and this time Missy dressed up too. 

Little Olaf stayed home to nap, but the Royal Sisters had a ton of fun, especially after the party, when they discovered a huge leaf pile.  Lots of kids got involved. And ok.  So did I.  Who could help jumping in a leaf pile on a perfect autumn day?!  We came home bedraggled, but it was worth it.

When it was time for the costume parade at pre-school, Little Miss chose to be Elsa.  

She must have been pretty in-tune with those ice powers, because it was a very chilly parade.  Luckily, Olaf was toasty in that snowsuit, Little One huddled in Her cloak, and Elsa was so proud to be showing off Her own school event, that the cold never bothered Her anyway.  

In the deal brokered between Sisters, Missy also got to wear blue for the Halloween-day party and actual trick-or-treating.  Our neighborhood has this strange cosmic phenomenon of providing residence to quite a few sets of sisters the exact age of Little One and Miss.  So we got some of the pairs together to run wild and dress up together before the party.  The giggles could be heard for miles, I am sure.  

Mister courageously survived as the sole representative of His gender.  

Then we all struck out for tricks and treats.  J joined us, even though He was coming off a 30 hour shift.  Actually it worked out for him; he was a totally believable zombie.  

We walked to a neighborhood famed for it's Halloween spirit.  The police even close off the street, knowing that scores of tiny costumed monsters come to beg for candy and ogle the amazing decorations.  

It was a little busy, but a lot of fun.  Everyone was in an excited spirit, we ran into lots of friends, and the setting was really cool.  One house had transformed itself into a diorama from Harry Potter, one was a haunted castle, there were graveyards, haunted houses, and yards full of costumed actors.  

Pirate tales and treasures

A "produce stand" on the street filled with dragons tails, newts eyes, and the like

Grumpy trolls 

20 foot ghouls behind me!

Someone, somehow, had even gone into the storm drain under the street and set up an entire ghoulish scene, with lights and music, for kids to peek down and exclaim over.  There were fog machines, lights, music, and of course, candy.  Our gaggle of girls had a blast.  Olaf took it all in from the cozy stroller with eyes that were as wide as saucers.  Until they fell asleep.  

Not long after that, we walked back towards home.  Zombie J and Olaf called it a night, and the Princesses and I trick-or-treated around our own neighborhood before heading home to divide the candy.  

This year we bought allergy-safe candy to hand out, and let Little One trade in Her chocolate for treats from our dish.  It was like a magic trick for me- we started with this extra pile of lollipops and such, and by morning had a whole bowl of chocolate.  Another Halloween miracle! 

You know.  Halloween has never been my favorite holiday. The macabre element of it is so far from my thing, it belongs in the netherworld from which it supposedly comes.  I don't like teaching my kids its ok to take candy from strangers, and I don't like them to consume loads of refined, artificially flavored sugar.  

But this year, I think I made friends with the holiday.  As we travelled door to door, greeting neighbors we knew and meeting some we didn't, I saw a different side of this tradition.  I guess it's not really about taking candy from strangers; it's about this one night in a year when our culture breaks down the barriers that make us strangers.  Door after door opened in the dark to give warm words and token treats to my little kids.  At door after door, my Littles met smiling faces, smiled back, and practiced their please-and-thank-yous.
Looking down the street and seeing a line of porch lights and flickering pumpkins, watching the doors open and the children walking in and out, weaving the porches together with their steps, it felt less like a row of self-contained homes, and more like a community.
It's always a treat to watch your children lose themselves to the magic of innocent fun.  But for me to really appreciate the tradition of this holiday, seeing the sweetness beyond the candy, was the trick.   

Flap-jackie Chan

I'm entrenched in a ridiculous drama in which GoogleVoice has abducted my cell phone number and refuses to give it back.  It terrorizes me, Peanuts.  It's a mean, scurvy pirate.  One of the ways it messes with me is by randomly transcribing voicemails and sending them to me as a text that would take all of the Pentagon's cryptologysts to decipher.
I was picking up Missy from school one day, when one of these encoded nonsensical messages came in.  I wasn't yet familiar with this phenomenon, and so for a minute I just stared at it dumbly, wondering which one of us was crazy.  It made no sense, guys, none.
But I could pick out three words:
school
daughter
allergy
Which were the only ones I needed to see to turn my stomach inside out.  I smiled at Miss, who I had been unsuccessfully beguiling away from the sandbox, walked over to Her calmly, picked Her up, and sat Her on Mister's lap in His stroller.  I measured my words out like sugar in a teaspoon, "There is an emergency, so we are leaving right. now.  Hang on love!"
And I hauled our three tushies down the path, up the road, past the park and through the parking lot in record time, dialing the school as we trucked it.
She was ok.  She was looking scared and embarrassed, but She was breathing normally.  Other than some hives on Her face, She looked fine.  Except for the eye.
Her left eye looked as if She'd jammed a ping-pong ball under Her lids.  It was big and puffy, swollen and red.
The school features pancakes for lunch (got to start those healthy habits early).  One of Little One's friends was eating pancakes with her hands, and reached across the table to get Little One's attention. She touched Her face.  That's it.  That's all.  That's all it took to blimp up Her eye like that and freckle Her with hives.  The nurse had washed it out and put ice on it, but it was still swelling.
I was relieved.  It could have been so much worse than a swollen eye.  I was just getting my heart to start beating normally again, when She took off the ice pack to let me look.  The white of Her eye was bulging.  The whole eyeball was swollen and eerily fat, and a lima-bean sized pouch was extruding from the white sclera and swelling up and over the iris, covering the color of Her eye.
Eyes, Peanuts.  Heebiejeebie.  Eye stuff is ick.  It was the one part of EMT school I cringed in.
So because I was worried about the eye, and because it was only getting worse, we left kindergarten and spent a long afternoon in the ER.  Little One got some medicine and a cold compress, and after a couple of days was just fine; good as new.
But the scariest part of the story, to me, wasn't physical at all.  It was that when Her eye had started bothering Her, She covered it with one hand, and kept writing.  When Her teacher asked if She was ok, She lied and said yes.  She excused Herself to the bathroom.
She didn't come back for a long time, and so the teacher checked and found Her hiding in the bathroom, embarrassed by Her freakish look, rinsing Her eye in the sink.
Her teacher had FREAKED OUT.  The nurse said she was hysterical.  When she spoke to me, she was angry at Little One for the lie.
I didn't talk to Her about this until we were home, I knew She was ok, and we'd all had a chance to rest and decompress.  Then I filled J in, and we talked to Her together.  We told Her the truth.
"Little One.  It's lucky it was just a pancake and a swollen eye.  Because you need to know that if it had been maybe a nut, and you had gone off and hid like that...you could have died in the bathroom.  You could have stopped breathing and no one would be there to help you.  You HAVE to tell your teacher.  It is the most important thing." 
The silver lining is that when these things happen I don't get brushed off as the over-dramatic mom as much.  Now that Her teacher has seen Little One get a freaky fat eye from one roundhouse-kick by a pancake molecule, She is much more interested in asking me to read labels for snacks and keeping Little One away from spills.  Between our chat and missing a birthday party to spend hours in an ER waiting room, I'm hoping Little One has learned something, too.
The struggle between caution and level-headed moderation is a line as thin as the blade on a double-edged sword.  On one hand, we don't want Her to be paranoid so that She is living under a constant shadow of fear.  We want Her to go out into the big world, have adventures, live.  We don't want Her to be sheltered in a bubble of parental protection to the point that She doesn't learn how to navigate the reality on Her own (after all, the great majority of deaths from allergic reactions occur in teens and young adults- basically as soon as children outgrow their parent's reach).  And we don't want to ignore how real the social pains of food allergy can be at Her age; isolating Her and pointing out Her difference and making Her friends uncomfortable being around Her.  
On the other hand.  There is this story of a seven year old who died at school when a friend gave her a peanut on the playground. And this one, where a girl died in her school cafeteria.  Or this boy, who had two cardiac arrests, despite being given his epipen, when teacher forgot and gave him a hazelnut  candy in one of those dreaded birthday crap-eating fests that happen in Little One's class every other week.  This one, who nearly died after building a gingerbread house in school.
And many others.
Because talking about food allergy sometimes seems to get across about as well as that text message I got from the nurse. People are so attached to and in love with food. It's like hearing that your best friend goes around and axe-murders people at night- "cookies? really?  cookies are harmless! My cookies could never hurt anyone! It's just a cookie."  People seem to almost take offense.  When I was discussing Her food allergies with Her teacher at the beginning of the year, the teacher seemed a little annoyed- "obviously, I want to keep Her safe."  Yes.  No one is saying you are going to tie Her up and force peanuts down Her throat.  No one is calling you a sadist.
But something that is inherently nice, nourishing, even comforting to you, is- believe it! It's true!- deadly poison for some of us.  It is that big a deal to hand out a treat that "looks ok" without reading the label.  Or to expect that a little child not only have the 100% infallible judgement to stay away from allergens "because they are old enough to know better", but also to expect them to have superhuman psychic powers and know what ingredients were used in every processed cracker or home-baked treat brought into school, or that someone spilled milk on their chair yesterday and it wasn't washed with soap and water.  Or that the girl eating pancakes across the table is about to reach out.
A kindergarten teacher tasked with a bunch of crazy mini-people who have various special needs, language abilities, and behavior problems can easily view a food allergy as just one more kid issue to add to a long list.
Especially when my child does know better, is personally responsible beyond Her years, and classroom days go by smoothly without incidents.  It starts to feel like, hey.  What's the big deal?  She  must not be that sensitive, because every time we've bent the rules and let kids with peanuts/eggs/milk sit next to Her at the table so far, it's been fine.
Until it isn't.
It may seem harsh to tell a five-year-old that She could have died on a bathroom floor.  Or to tell it to Her teacher.  But it's true.
It's a strange world, as a parent, when you spend a whole afternoon in the ER, when your child gets a big swollen eye, and you feel thankful.  But I'm dance-a-jig, shout-to-the-stars, prayers-of-thanks grateful for that ugly swollen eye.
Because even though She had a couple of really bad days- She's still here.
As for the nurse and the teacher, of all the info I've showered them with since before school even started, this episode I think had the effect on them that those three intelligible key words in the transcribed text had on me.  It was just a swollen eye.  But, I hope, it was enough for them to get the message.   

"I've Heard About You"

Yesterday we went to the school open house and got to meet Little One's teacher.
She seemed very nice, and as soon as Little One introduced Herself knew all about Her health issues and was ready to reassure me.  Which was, you know, reassuring.
Little One was super thrilled to get to bring Her sister along for the fun, and together they did a scavenger hunt and explored the classroom.  We had a chat with the nurse and the principal, and when we left Little One declared, "Great mom! From the last thing was was worried it might be a super BORING school, but now I see that it will be FUN and FANTASTIC and I can't wait-how-many-days-left-can-it-be-tomorrow?!"  
It's not tomorrow.
It is Monday.  DON'T RUSH ME!!!
But it's coming up and I'm happy that She's happy.  I'm happy that She's growing up and I get to witness it.  I'm going to miss Her a terribly lot.

Brave

Monday will be the first day of Kindergarten.
It's true that Little One has been going to school for three years now, but this will be public school.  All day school.  With hundreds of kids.  With lunch time. It's a whole new thing.
Tonight Little One and I walked through the drizzling evening to attend the "back to school" info session.  It was mostly hum drum, mission statements and conduct codes and pick-up schedules and such.  It was late (and boring) and Little One leaned on my shoulder, lacing Her arm through mine.
When the teacher got to the part about lunches and snacks, I perked her up to listen.
Hearing the talk about how all the kids get milk, about the class eating breakfast each morning in the classroom,  class-provided snacks (the ubiquitous goldfish crackers being the example),  the various options for lunches on long tables in the cafeteria, caused knots to form in my stomach, slowly tightening with each paragraph.
One parent in the back asked, "is this a nut-free school?"  
"No, no it isn't" answered the teacher.
At that, she got the biggest reaction from her listeners she'd had all night.
"YES!!" exclaimed several parents in the crowd, one pumping his fist in the air.  "Awesome!" "great!" "Oh that makes everything easier!"
Everything easier? Really?
Now, I am actually not an advocate for nut-free schools.  There are nuts in the world, and kids like mine have to learn to navigate that fact.  I also understand the fairness issue with asking many to be inconvenienced for the sake of one.
But it is, after all, the sake of one life.  
How can I explain this to someone who doesn't live with life-threatening food allergies?  Imagine the teacher saying that all the children would be allowed to carry loaded handguns, and all the parents going, "Yes! I'm sending mine with a semi-automatic!"   Only worse.  Because if kindergarteners did carry guns, at least they might have been told to be careful with them.  At least the teachers would know they were dangerous and would instinctively supervise to some degree.
But for my kid, the peanut butter sandwich and the cups of milk are just as dangerous.  And no one handles pizza with caution.  Meaning that the burden of staying safe in an actual minefield of danger, all day long, will fall on the shoulders of a five-year-old.
Hearing all those parents exalt over getting to send nuts into the place my Little One will be spending the majority of Her time,  watching Her innocent little eyes get big and round, feeling the delicacy of Her hand pressed into mine... I felt a wave of real terror.
I put my arm around Her shoulders as if I were sheltering Her from an attack; for a moment I thought I was going to be sick. I can honestly not remember the last time I felt so afraid.  And that's me.
How must She feel?
I squeezed Her hand and the talk moved on to folders and homework.  Afterwards She thanked the teacher and we started for home.  By now it was late, late enough to be dark out.  To get home, we take the short-cut around the back of the school, behind the baseball field and down a little path through a wooded area.  But we've never walked it at night.
As we turned the corner of the school, the back was unlit, littered with broken chairs, flat basketballs, and overflowing dumpsters.  The thought was just flashing through my mind, that this was pretty sketchy looking and I was a bit uneasy about it, when Little One stopped short and grabbed my hand.  "Um, no way Mom.  No way we should go through here, it's too dark! I'm scared.  This looks like a place where Bad Guys come out from."
I looked again.  It did look like a scene that might be accompanied by creepy music.
But it was the way home.
"Little One, it's ok.  This is our own, safe neighborhood.  I have a flashlight, and we know the way.  We are tough and brave, and I am right here.  We're just going to keep going." 
She looked a bit doubtful.
"If a bad guy jumps out, I will whack him with this umbrella. I'm not afraid of anything. Let's go!"
She held my hand tight, and we walked.
Even though what I said was true, that it was a short familiar walk in our own, safe neighborhood, if I'd been by myself, I might have run through the dark part, or gone the much longer way through the lit streets.  But sometimes when you're mom, you don't have the luxury of being scared.  You have to be rational, you have to be brave.  Because it's one thing to teach my child to be cautious, and another to make Her afraid of the dark, of Her own shadow.
So I walked with confidence; I smiled and pointed out the lovely song of the crickets, the beautiful pattern of the moon through the leaves.  I kept a careful watch and I held onto Her hand- but we walked right into the dark and kept walking until we were home.
I wish I could walk Her like that through life.  I wish I could hold Her hand in every darkness.
Kindergarten and school and the wide frightening world are right around the corner.   They are shadowy with Unknowns and there are dangers to navigate.  I would give anything to make every back alley and lunch room safe and sunny for Her! But I can't, and there's no way around it.
Still, even if I can't always be there with Her, I will always be there for Her.
All we can do is hope things aren't so dangerous as they seem, to navigate as smartly as we know how, to walk into the darkness and keep walking.  And be brave.

Great American Road Trip- So Far

Today on our Great American Road Trip, we spent our morning exploring the small town where the Littles' Grandad grew up, and took our time meandering through the middle of America.  We took scenic drives in Kentucky, played at a park and checked out some memorials in rural Ohio, had an awesome lunch at a funky cafe in Cincinnati (even scoring a vegan chocolate cupcake for the Sisters), and saw some sights in Indianapolis.  The girls watched Cars on our way through Indiana, and we talked about races and race cars.  We had a picnic dinner at the edge of a wind farm and took a walk through a baby corn field.  It was a long time before we checked into a hotel and the kids hit the pool, but that's because we took our time, going out of the way if something seemed interesting and stopping whenever we felt like it. We took in some gorgeous sights, played paper dolls and read stories, chatted about all kinds of things and had fun being together.  It's a wonderful thing how flexible kids can be.  I'm all about structure and consistency at home, but I absolutely love the way my kids can adapt when they are out of their element, and enjoy the moment we are in.  Of course, we are just getting started.  But- so far, so fun!