A Futile Rescue Mission

Kids’ interests come and go. We all know this. Maddie at one point last year got a Pikachu at Build a Bear. He was a cute bright yellow beacon upon entering the store. She has loved him off and on for the last year. Just to be clear, she did not care about the greater world of Pokemon.

Fast forward and she’s been coming home with the newest oldest thing, Pokemon cards. It’s all the rage and close to being banned from school grounds as she tells it. Of course her steel trapped mind recalls that once upon a time SHE had a Pokemon card.

Remember mom, I got it when I got my Pikachu. It came with him! It has to be here somewhere!

Oh, right. Well. This only child house that is filled like a five child house might just be hiding this card somewhere in the chaos. Commence Pikachu card rescue mission!

This is great timing as we have about 10 big, strapping, bbq eating, baseball guy picking men convening on our casa tomorrow. Organizing and clearing is not really her forte but she’ll do anything to find this card.

I suppose at some point I should tell her that I threw that card away months and months and months ago because she:

a. Did not care a lick about Pokemon
b. Had nine million random pieces of crap treasures lying around the house and something had to give

Somehow as I watch her bulldoze through straightening up, I don’t think she will see it my way.

 

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The Same Books 

My daughter’s school was the host of a used book sale yesterday. The flyer had come home a few months ago asking for donations. I knew families and teachers were clearing out shelves. Forced to be discerning about which to keep and which to let free.

3 for $1!!!! the latest flyer and Facebook post called out in big letters. We are drowning in books at our house but there’s always room for more right?  Off we set to the school. 

Upon entering Maddie and I split ways and were diving into our own stacks before you could blink an eye. 

Calling out to one another about a gem that just had to be rescued. She on the hunt for certain chapter books and I perusing with the first inklings of new classroom library in the corner of my mind. 

The prospect of heading back to the full time land of children is all together exhilarating and terrifying. 

But books are my jam, so naturally I start there. 

As I shift through stacks I am taken back to titles so familiar I have to open the front cover to see if my name is stamped there. 

I see titles mixed in that I know for certain are or were on the shelves in the bookroom I work to maintain.  

I easily find the teaching gems and start to use my very handy seven year old for book recommendations. 

The exhilaration grows as my stack increases and while edges of me are still terrified, I take comfort in the fact that even towns over, the books are the same. 

Despite all the change, there’s enough of the same to build on. 

History is Cool

The popular crew these days. The trendy crew these days. 
Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, Alexander Hamilton. Aaron Burr. 

Yeah. The stoic stiff faced portraits that stared at you from your history books are cool. 

People are crowding in droves to see them. The screaming and cheering when they step on stage is enough to make you want to whip out the noice cancelling headphones. 

Except when you’re happily in the midst of the screaming and cheering swarm. When you’re in awe of the set, astounded by the performances, brought to tears by the verse. 

When you sit there and all you can think is This is so, cool. You don’t have any other words for it. 

I’m still coming off the high of being there and experiencing it alongside a swarm of high school choir kids. They’re excitement and wide eyed awe was contagious and I found myself looking at their reactions as closely as I watched the performance. 

For these kids the level of excitement could only be described as equivalent to me getting a lunch date with JK Rowling and Kate Di Camillo (that would be a really big deal like really really big deal).

These kids got to see themselves in the performers on stage. They got to imagine the possibilities. They got back on that bus and under the layer of star power they were basking in, the talk of the technique started to seep out. They could do this too. 

That moment there on the bus was my favorite of the night. 

King George was pretty stellar too though. Like epically so. 🙂 

No Help

Maddie, what should I write about?

You should write about how you worked at McDonald’s and you didn’t like it so you went to the candy store. The End. 

Brian, what should I write about?

You should write about the 20th anniversary Sevendust show and how we didn’t get to go. You could watch the video if you need inspiration.

Gabby, what should I write about?

No response. She is a cat after all. 

Hailey, what should I write about?

Mawww! (That’s her meow that usually means, Feed me human!) 

I’m surrounded by useless inspiration. They didn’t give me a darn thing to write.

Maybe they should slice instead.

 

Another One Bites the Dust

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We thought we had turned a corner. We thought there was for sure some improvement. We were excited that she’d be branching out. We were excited that there would be some variety. There was a celebration and such anticipation to showcase, runway style, each and every piece. We were positive that the Elsa doll would no longer be the best dressed member of our family.

I had eyed that one with the cutout bow in the back with a dubious eye. Quick as a blink was that look I gave Grandma. Over and gone before anyone could even register it. So big was her excitement about all the excitement that I never uttered a word in caution.

She won’t wear that. It’ll bother her. There’s no way. 

All the purchases from the dressing room fashion show were lovingly laid out for wear this week. Day one went off without a hitch- only a mild squabble about how the picture on the shirt is a French Bulldog and not a cat. This somehow led to an hour long platform about how we should get a Pug.

Day two was slated for the bow. The one with the lovely rose and teacup wishing you to be their guest. I’m sure it’s all the rage in the houses where its copies ended up. I can recall the sparkle in her eye as she went upstairs to get ready for the day. I can also recall how that sparkle was snuffed out when she descended, clutching the bow in her hand, and sporting Day three’s panda instead.

“Mom, I can’t wear this the bow bothers me and NO I can’t wear a tank top it doesn’t go high enough so I’m going to hang it on my door and we can do something with it maybe Elsa can wear it,” all stumbles out of her mouth in one breath.

Before I can even think, I swear she gets stuff she won’t wear just for that doll, she shrugs and heads into the living room to eat her breakfast.

 

 

2017 Poemy Monday the Third

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Won’t You Come Back?

Back for a visit,
just for a day.

Decision to be selfish,
for you and your littlest.

She’ll want you to stay,
it’s so hard to explain.

Places to see,
we’d love to come with.

To be able to see,
what you’ve always seen.

You’ll need to see her,
she’s been so tough.

So you’ll just have
to stay.
We need you.

You’re so far away,
come a little closer.
Just for a day.

Or forever.

This poem was “found” within a slice I wrote a few years ago. When the words of a poem struggle to form in my mind, I like to walk through old pieces and see what lines I can discover.

 

Breakfast Duos

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Breakfast?

Upon that word being uttered, you have about 10 minutes to roll out of bed and fix yourself up to resemble a human being of some sort.

There’s never a preconceived plan to go to breakfast. It’s a thought that floats through the air and waits for one of us to grasp on to it. Most weekends, it aimlessly flies around and never gets stuck.

This weekend, it was first thwarted by the pounding in our heads. Ah, but this morning it relished in needling in to his brain and finally won. Which left me the previously mentioned 10 minutes to get to the car lest he leave without me.

Our morning breakfast duos are some of my favorite. The week melts into the conversation and builds a bridge to the future.  Then we just are. We settle on any random fact, topic, or tidbit that strikes our fancy. Our place is a place where everyone knows your name.  The coffee is plentiful and never ending. The food comes fast and you’re encouraged to linger.

Linger, we do. For when we leave the day returns to us and we set off toward our obligations.