Tippy Toes and Tantrums

Her First Author Meet and Greet, From This Side

Pre-pants tug of war

Clover may have been most excited about the promise of dessert, while I was just happy to give her a new experience. We were fortunate to both be invited to a book signing and reading from local author and teacher Phillip Done last week at a friend's home. I couldn't remember if Clover had ever been to an author reading before, perhaps at the library or the local independent bookstore, but I knew being at a home with a small group would be a totally different experience...and it was. Clover writes a lot of books in her room, even adding her own blurbs on the back praising the book and illustration. She's probably not the only author who has wanted to blurb their own work.

We took with us to the reading our copy of Done's latest book, Close Encounters of the Third Grade Kind, which I had only finished the night before, so Clover hadn't even seen it before the event. It's not for kids, as Done repeated to the small group of moms attending, but having read the book, I didn't feel it wasn't not for kids either. When picking up any book, parents are deciding - even a snap judgment - if the subject is age appropriate. With advanced readers, it's a little trickier because complicated words are not a problem, but the subject matter in books at an advanced reading level may be. My feeling is that Done's book is not complicated on any level, giving me no reason to object to Clover's reading it. After he signed the book for her, she sat down and started reading, so it was a good thing that I had no objection. It's not like it was a Danielle Steel book signing for moms and elementary school kids, after all.

Done gave a dramatic reading that demonstrated why he's such a popular teacher. I think his real calling may be in the theater. The kids sat perfectly still and listened, not to mention he did a great job of calling them out by name to compliment them on their behavior. Following the reading, he answered questions from the adults and kids, all while Clover started to spread out. First she had to book on her lap as she read, then she curled into a ball, then she sat face down in the book, but butt up in the air. All the while, her slightly large, low rise pants kept dipping down until it was too much for me. I kept tugging at the back belt loop, trying to get her pants up to a more modest level, never making much progress before they sagged down again. I gave up.

It was past Clover's bedtime once the talk ended, and Clover was upset I would not keep a light on in the car while we drove home to allow her to keep reading the book. While Kevin helped Clover get ready for bed, he asked her how it went. Well, she said. She had a brownie bite and a cookie, but the only bad thing was the kid behind her who kept pulling her pants up and top down. After getting her settled, Kevin asked me about the kid who was tugging on Clover's clothes. I said it was me, the modesty police. No doubt not the last time I try to rework the coverage of her clothes.

Disclosure: I was given a copy of Phil Done's book for free.

Felt Brooches for Everyone!

She learned to sew yesterday and within an hour she decided that everyone she knows will be getting a (SPOILER ALERT!) hand sewn felt brooch from her. I'd like to make fun of her announcement, but I tend to jump head first into the deep end with craft projects too. I still have two partially sewn dolls in my closet from three Christmases ago. The brooches will likely end up in Clover's closet too (thrown on the floor, run over in the sliding door tracks. It's like finding roadkill - sad, gross and waiting for someone to clean it up.)

Stanford, Kalifornia

Full of optimism and spirit, ready to scream "Go Stanford!" about three million times before the night was over:

 

A few hours later, watching her heart get stomped on:

After the interception with little time left sealed Stanford's fate, we went to the elevator to get down from the Sky Deck. When the doors opened up, revealing all of Cal's coaching staff who watch the game from the box, I moaned, "oh goooddd." As pleasant as one would be after an important win, they all so cheerfully said, "Come on in! There's room for you guys!" Kevin said I missed my chance to tell them, "You ruined a seven year old girl's birthday. I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY!" They were all perfectly nice people, but we weren't ready to be literally surrounded by blue.

On the plus side, Clover got to see Tiger Woods, even though she's confused why a golfer was honored during a football game.

As we crawled through traffic on our way out, I told her the story about how seven years ago that night, she was born at the hospital right there (the traffic moved so slowly that I had time to tell her the story while creeping past the hospital). She cried both nights. First as a newborn, later because Stanford's passing game sucked. Let's hope this isn't a tradition.

Seven Fingers

Yesterday when Clover and I were talking about her birthday, I said, "This is the last day that you'll be six ever again." She thought about it and said "I liked six. It was a good year."

In one way, it's hard to imagine she's seven. When she was a baby, the age five seemed so old and mature. It's a whole hand's worth of fingers, after all. But now she's seven and in many ways she seems older than that. She's always seemed older than her age, to me. She's always been thoughtful and independent, making her seem more mature, and she was an early talker, which contributed to thinking of her as older.

When talking to her class yesterday, without going into detail, I told the story of how Clover was born five weeks early and still had some fluid in her lungs that she had trouble processing. As a result, she'd occasionally choke and stop breathing and it would take 30 or so panic-filled seconds to clear out her airways. She grew out of this, but what she retained was the option of holding her breath when things didn't go her way. Upset at a clothing change, Clover would hold her breath until she turned blue. Annoyed at being swaddled? She'd purse her lips and refuse to breath. Kevin finally figured out that if he blew a big puff of air on her face, she'd start breathing, more out of a what-the-hell type of surprise. For me, it showed us Clover's personality from the start: the girl is strong willed. Her first grade teachers would always tell me that Clover is destined to be a CEO, but first we need to make it through her head strong youth.

I have absolute faith in Clover. She's more than smart and beautiful, she's strong, confident and self-assured. Of course I will always have the mom worries, hoping she is healthy, has good friends and doesn't trust the wrong people, but overall, I know she's going to be great. She already is. My wish for Clover is that she looks back the day before every birthday and thinks, "It was a good year."

Every year with you is a good one, sweet pea.

Vanilla with Sprinkles

Clover's second grade teacher has a great tradition when celebrating a child's birthday: the birthday kid gets to pick two friends to stay back from their normal post-lunch activity time and the three kids bake a cake with the teacher. As part of the ritual, I went in today to give a little presentation on Clover, then the class sang, ate cake (the cake was not topped with crushed Ritalin, as I suggested) and presented a class-made card. It was really sweet, especially the spontaneous notes written on the chalkboard from her friends, saying they love her and that she's funny and caring.

It was a great way to spend the last day of age six.

What in God's Name?

Clover excitedly showed me a ring she got from a vending machine during her soccer team party at a pizza place.

"My friend got it, but we were sharing it [classic Clover mooch move], then she just let me keep it," Clover explained.

"What's in the ring? Is it a picture?" I asked.

I looked at the ring, then showed it to Kevin.

"Oh my god!" he said.

Pretty close.

What's next? Holy Trinity Skee-ball?

Jell-O Shots and Ninjas

The most exciting thing about a birthday party for one of my kids is the pure joy I feel afterward. Total relief from surviving the party, and happiness that I don't need to think about throwing another kid party for six months. (Rocket has already started planning his party, mostly by focusing on what he wants in a cake. "Yellow cake for my birthday," he announced soon after Clover's last guest left.)

We had Mad Science come for the entertainment portion of the party and the kids had a great time. Slime was made and none of it spilled on the floor. Even though our scientist stressed that slime was not for eating, one girl when leaving, held up her slime cup and said to the adult taking her home, "I got Jell-O!"

Cake Ninja

I nervously showed Clover her cake a few minutes ago and thankfully the little ninja passed inspection. This was my last ditch, desperate attempt to get her a ninja cake. I didn't make the cake - if I was Sandra Lee, I'd say I semi-homemade it, when really I marched into Costco and put it in my cart.

My plan was to make marshmallow fondant, tint it so it was flesh colored, then add eyes, which would hopefully look like the face of a ninja peeking through. I was worried about making fondant for the first time, but that ended up being the easy part. Trying to get a flesh color from standard food colorings was impossible. Here's how it turned out:

It looks like someone stuck the Geico eyes on a used maxipad.

Unwilling to give up, I put it on the cake, which looked like a very strung out Fozzie Bear. Kevin suggested a full ninja, like a little plush gift I'm making for Clover. Ninja guy worked well enough for me and apparently Clover too, although as she walked out of the room, she asked, "Are you going to add some little trees around the ninja?"

Next year I'm buying cupcakes.

She May Be on the Naughty List

Santa's response when Clover said she wanted a computer and a Nintendo DS for Christmas. Even Rocket looked stunned. I think Clover may be disappointed come Christmas morning.

No Love Bugs

His other love: the tire swing

A note to Rocket's future girlfriends: he'll do anything for cake. All men have their price, his is homemade lemon cake. Lemon cake is such an odd thing for a kid to like anyway, shouldn't cake only have chocolate frosting and sprinkles in the world of a three year old? When I decided to make the cake to use up our lemons, Rocket held my hand while I made the batter. It was a sweet gesture, but also annoying to crack eggs and shift flour while holding the hand of a little person. When I appeared to forget he was there, Rocket stepped up his game. He tenderly kissed my hand over and over, saying soulfully, "I love you so much...(long pause)...cake ready yet?" When he wants something, the kid lays it on thick. He dropped his suave demeanor and started squealing and jumping up and down after the oven beeped. The poor kid was crushed when I told him it was the preheating signal and that the baking was only beginning. "I'm sorry, love bug," I said. "DO NOT call me a love bug!" he barked. His sweetness returned when the cake emerged from the oven. "You are the nicest mommy...I love you so much...is the cake ready for eating now?"

Rocket was forced to be the brave one today when the nurse walked in holding the flu vaccines for the kids. "Who's going first?" Without looking up from her book, Clover pointed to Rocket. She made her little brother go first. He took them both (Flumist up the nose and seasonal flu shot in the arm) like a champ, saying ow, but mostly excited by the bunny on his Band-Aid. Clover started crying...as soon as Rocket's shot was finished. A needle wasn't anywhere near her, but there she was, blubbering away. She cried until she got the shot, then abruptly stopped and said, "That wasn't that bad." But then she started crying again after deciding she liked Rocket's Band-Aid better than hers. I laughed, even though that usually makes her mad, but some days laughter is the only thing saving me from running away to Mexico. (That and my fear of getting Montezuma's revenge...again.)