boys of summer

yesterday, auntie tia took us for our ride in her jeep, felix.  we couldn't fit lucas, so he stayed behind with oma.

the sun beat down.  the wind whipped our hair.  jacob asked to push the "close button" over and over again...

we got icees and drove back through loomis.

and i wanted summer to last forever.

here comes the sun

one of jacob's more straightforward spelling assignments





we're midway through the week before thanksgiving. the twins have minimum days all week this week because of parent-teacher conferences.



can i be honest? the thought of sitting down with the teachers and the boys is slightly terrifying to me. i feel disproportionately anxious about it. mostly, when i have to go to the school, i feel like a raw nerve. i feel exposed and emotional... easily hurt or angered. i feel like the teachers are always about to deliver bad news, the other parents are going to judge our family or say something insensitive, the other kids in the class are going to ask us a lot of questions about why the boys do the things that they do.



and it will hurt. all of it.



and i will react badly. and say something harsh. or, sometimes worse, i won't say anything. and it will get the best of me. and i won't enjoy spending time with my boys at their school. and marvel at their progress. enjoy their expanding independence. or mirror their enjoyment.



it seems like after all this time in the mainstream classrooms, i should feel a little more at ease, but i still feel like a visitor. like we're just pretending to belong there. and that feels like a huge weakness. and i have to overcome it because it is a luxury that i cannot afford.



so, in the spirit of thanksgiving, i will say that i am thankful that everything changes. that while all these past days i have been a coward, crying in my car after someone says something lame to me--- my boys have been going to their classes and smiling at their teachers, aides and classmates. and i can learn to smile, too. and risk the hurts. because everything changes. and tomorrow, there might be fewer hurts and the sting of those hurts might be less and less until it doesn't even register a flinch.

day 1 of 2nd grade

the first day of school brought:

too few photos.

no tears... just near-tears-grimaces. (from me)

the moment when isaac raised his hand during the first 20 minutes of class and said, "3.14159265." (also known as pi) ordinarily, this could have been thrilling, but the question had been, "what don't we do with scissors?"

a very sweet, new instructional aide for jacob. i might be in love with her. just a little.

a failed attempt at the parent (support group? mixer? networking seminar?) coffee talk. we gave it a solid 5 minutes before realizing that we could talk (and grimace) more freely elsewhere.

over 100 degree temperatures.

a celebratory trip to cral's jr. (or carl's jr., if you don't speak jacob-ese) for a "good milkshake" after a successful first day.

the highlight:

a second when jacob's aide turned to me and said, "we're going to have a great school year." and my whole heart believed her.

good night, grimace.

back to school wishes

jacob and isaac, only hours away from being second graders...

in spite of my denial. and the most earnest desire of my heart, for summer to never end. school starts tomorrow.

gulp.

tears. tightening of stomach. balled fists.

it is almost too much.

to battle (at least half-heartedly) the inevitable sorrow and stress that tomorrow will bring, i have a few wishes to make.

please let me not communicate above stated sorrow and stress to my very sensitive boys.

please let me remember to brush my hair before i leave the house.

please help me to remember every minimum day, parent-teacher conference, fundraiser night, birthday invitation, dress-up day, school spirit day, etc., etc.

please help my boys to make some good friends, or even, one good friend this year.

please give me the courage to speak to the other parents even when i: look terrible, don't feel like it, am beginning to look into homeschooling, or am afraid that they'll say something so thoughtless that i will have to turn their velour tracksuit into a juicy couture body bag.

please help me to tolerate velour tracksuits. apparently they are here to stay.

please no bullies. or parents enabling their bully children and emailing me. seriously. no, thanks.

please let everyone who interacts with my boys see, even if only for a moment, how wonderful they are. and give them the compassion to treat them that way.

please let my boys feel the strength and assurance that they are loved. beyond measure. all day. every day. forever. by me.

happy 2nd grade, isaac and jacob!!!

a tooth fairy fan letter

dear tooth fairy,

how are you? how is your family? did you have a good weekend? we're fine. no, no. isaac hasn't lost another tooth since saturday. and, before that, thursday.

i hope we haven't exhausted you. but fear we might have. when i think about you lugging that last transformer... your little wings weighted down by what must have been exponentially heavier than your fairy-daintiness... my heart cries out a little. can you hear it with your tiny pointed ears?!?!?

then, i remember. of course! your tooth-shaped chariot! sure, you ripped off the idea from king triton, but making it tooth-shaped was all your idea. and you are an innovator, to be sure. also, i think that perhaps, like ants, you can lift things hundreds of times your size. am i onto something, here?

ok. enough about the logistics. as a long-time fan, i want to continue to pledge my devotion and adoration. you are a glittery wonder. each time you attempt to pry that little tooth in the ziploc baggie out of a snoring isaac's hand, and then have to give up and come back 30 minutes later. or, hover breathlessly over jacob's pillow and reach for what feels like forever to retrieve a pearly incisor. and then, finally, when you "transform" those little gnashers into tooth shaped notes, directing their recipients to a secret hiding place for a treat, my heart thrills. and i remember why i love you.

so, please forgive us for requiring you to work overtime this past week. (would it kill anyone to institute a "leave some cookies for the tooth fairy" custom?) we just can't seem to get enough of you, or rattle our remaining baby teeth out of our heads fast enough to keep you showing up night after night. we'll try to reign in our enthusiasm...

sincerely,

steph blackard

p.s. you used to know me as steffie. and i still remember the glittery footprints you left from my pillow to my bedroom window. (so awesome!!!) i think the policies must have changed on that one. new management?

p.p.s. as a head's up, isaac is working on another one and declared it "pretty wiggly".

one of my favorite, recent tooth fairy moments (6-18-10): the tooth note reclining on a ten dollar chaise lounge with an umbrella for jacob. in spite of bucking the leaving an actual treat tradition, jacob seemed pretty thrilled with his surprise.

here's hoping

i've got my fingers crossed for a couple of things right now.

don't underestimate the power of crossed fingers. i'm pretty sure it kept me from being called on 85% of the time, freshman and sophomore years of high school.**

**disclaimer** crossed fingers will not prevent horribly embarrassing moments: like tangling a wad of gum around the front brackets of your brand-new braces minutes before your crush-object speaks to you. tripping over a phone cord, causing your shoe to enter a room several moments before you do. turning your head to sneeze and spraying an entire car window with, um, spit. your dad failing to recognize your steady boyfriend, making you look like a tramp. calling an assemblyWOMAN, first a senator, and then, a MAN, to HER face.

the things that currently require my most earnest finger-crossing are:

an IEP for jacob tomorrow. this will be the last meeting of this school year, and will likely involve the school telling us to look for an alternate placement for jacob. as in, not in a mainstream classroom. will you join my crossed fingers in hoping that i will keep my composure? i'll need several sets of fingers on this one.

isaac has had a week of bad days at school. tears have flowed freely. milkshakes have been denied. and homework + leftover classwork have sucked up our free time and reserves of patience. if we can just make it through tomorrow, i think we can skate through the final week which will be taken up with art day, puzzle day, game day and teddy bear picnic day. (this last sentence begs the question, is there really a reason to go next week?)

our lil' walk needs some sponsorship (calling all businesses!!) and publicity (sac bee, get on the bandwagon, already!). a few more walk teams and volunteers wouldn't hurt, either.

my childhood rock collection is missing. tell me i didn't throw it out in a frothy-mouthed organizational frenzy! also, missing, all my concert t-shirts. they may not mean anything to you, but really, how can i ever hope to replace a marigold-colored shirt from anything box? or a giant hunk of quartz with red velvet glued to its scraggly underside? priceless, i assure you.

these are probably the most pressing issues. if i've forgotten something, please don't remind me. i only have so many fingers.

"twin b"

here are a couple facts about our delightful "twin b", a.k.a. jacob.

1) i call him "cubs". it is a mystery whether or not he likes that.

2) loves chapstick. asks for it every night before bed. blows me a kiss after he's slathered it on his lips.

3) changes the words to songs frequently. this often results in far better lyrics than what the songwriter came up with.

4) loves wearing costumes, having his face painted and, in general, being disguised...

5) almost drove me to insanity the other day when i was trying to help him with his homework. the directions said to list two words that had /kn/ making the "n" sound. they gave the word "knees" as an example. there was no word bank, so kids were just supposed to spout these words out of their little brains. ( i felt like that was a little steep for a first grader. that was later confirmed when a table full of 5 adults came up with a grand total of 5 words matching the description. yikes. don't repeat that.) anyway, the following conversation ensued between jacob and i:

me: "ok. what's another word that has /kn/ making the 'n' sound?"

jacob (reading the example word): "knees."

me: "right. not knees. a different word. not knees."

jacob: "yes, knees."

me: "no. not knees. another word."

jacob: "yes, knees!!!!"

me: "ok. yes, knees. but what about another word? another word that has /kn/? what about 'know'?"

jacob: "what about 'yes'?"

me: "no. i mean, 'know'. like when you know something (pointing at my head)."

jacob: "yes."

me (starting to suspect that we're playing some kind of word association game): "what about 'knit'?"

jacob: "mittens."


and, we skipped that question.


6) while in timeouts, jacob will often wail piteously for me to hug him. it's very sad. and almost works every time.

7) loves to build/create what we lovingly refer to as "jacob's installations". they can be made of anything, so we are careful to not disturb any carefully draped blankets that are surrounded by building blocks. or robots made of legos with hand-held games as heads. or the pair of skeleton pajamas, laid out with paper skeletal hands and a skull ornament head. etc. etc.

8) only recently stopped consistently drawing a mustache on himself when using markers.

9) vandalized a set of new sheets, by labeling both his and isaac's beds with their names. he used black sharpie. we knew it was him because he spelled isaac's name wrong. we tried to discipline him... but admired his work too much. we still use those sheets.

10) just played a baker in his school play entitled, "when i grow up". he wore a chef's hat and apron. he did his part very well and ad libbed a couple of extra dance moves (is it really a musical number without a spin, after all?). at the end of the performance, the kids were all supposed to bow from their spots on the risers. jacob suddenly became mesmerized by the spotlights and wandered out into center stage. he stood right in the middle of the stage as they closed the curtains. he was the last thing you could see. just standing there, looking up, under all the lights. and, you know, he shines that bright to me, all the time.



baker jacob, and partner-in-vandalism, isaac.



***i keep thinking about these very serious topics that i want/need to blog about. namely, autism, as april is autism awareness month. but the time for me to blog is mostly at night, and i am tired and sometimes a little heartsick. i want to be able to devote all my brain power to that particular post, so i'm hoping to do it during the day and before april ends. i have committed myself in writing. please, hold me to it.