Freaks

"Daddy said when school got out you were going to turn into a cleaning freak.  Are we starting that today?" -Libby

Yes. Yes we are.

Lunch with Daddy

Matt Klee

Saturday

I've been pacing around all afternoon sort of obsessing over my friend Jen's facebook page. I took the girls to run some errands this morning and we got home around noon. I put some things away, started a load of laundry and absentmindedly checked facebook like I often do. There were several posts from friends to my friend Jen letting her know they were thinking of her, had her in their prayers and were so sorry for her loss. She's a dog lover and I'm thinking at this point that she and her husband Matt have lost their dog, Bear. Before I send my condolences, though, I think I'd better verify that this is what has happened, so I go to her facebook wall. Here, I can see more posts people have offered and it quickly becomes apparent that she is in the middle of a much bigger tragedy than losing a beloved pet. My mind races and I sort of panic for her. It's been less than two years, I think, since she lost her dad to a tragedy while he vacationed in Mexico, so I'm reeling at how this could be.

I shoot a message to a mutual friend of ours because at this point it's apparent that it's not their dog, Bear, but her husband, Matt.

Rewind twenty years.... Jen and I are sorority sisters from the same graduating class. We share a major and friends, though neither of us are members of the other's tightest circle. We graduate and more or less lose touch with each other until facebook reconnects all of us. For me, this is 2008.

You know how you're friends with someone, you lose touch and then reconnect on facebook and wonder why you were ever friends in the first place? You realize you actually liked this person more when you knew them less? And then there are others who were your friends, you lose touch,  you reconnect on facebook, realize you have so much in common and wonder why on earth you weren't even closer friends in the first place back when you were actually friends? Well, Jen is in the latter group for me.

In knowing her through social media I found we have a lot in common. She's a total foodie. I am not, but she writes about the things she loves to cook on her blog and I wish I could eat them. We connected over blogging. She is a teacher who loves summer. Matt loves fishing. She and Matt love mountain biking together. Shane and I have talked about leaving the girls with family in Bend so we could ride in Hood River (Jen's Hood) and have them show us around their local trails. Last weekend when we rode the Mckenzie River Trail I thought of them. Just before we'd left for the weekend she'd posted that her mountain bike + dirt = cheap therapy. I'd commented that we were going to get us some therapy up the Mckenzie River that very weekend. Shane and I have found that mountain biking is something we love doing most together and that it's a rare thing to want to do most with your partner. Through her posts, Jen and Matt seem to me to be head over heels for one another. But what's even better is that they really seem to be great friends. Best friends. Not because she ever said so, but because when that's true you can just tell. And in getting to know her online, years later, I think I saw some of us in them. They can laugh together, for crying out loud and if there's not that, then what is there?

So when our mutual friend messaged me back that the tragedy had, in fact, happened to Matt and that he died following a biking accident yesterday at Whistler, a place Shane and I love to ride, I just sat staring in front of my computer. Stunned. In disbelief.

Then I busied myself. I paced. I folded laundry. I packed our bags for a trip we're taking and checked her facebook wall. Then, I started more laundry, fussed with a school project and checked facebook again. When this happens to someone you care about whose life looks, in many ways, similar to your own, you start scrambling for what to do. As if there's something to do. What is there to do? There is nothing that can be done. Or undone. It's heartbreaking.

Monday

I find myself just teary. Teary over the idea of just going back to our routine because it's Monday. Teary because while I'm doing Monday, Matt's family and friends are immersed in what will forever be among the hardest days of their whole lives. Teary over the idea that the cliché about living life to its fullest and tomorrow not being guaranteed, isn't a cliché at all.  For those who loved him, it's today's reality.

I never met Matt. I thought I would. In reading what is quickly becoming his legacy it's a shame I didn't. He was loved by so many, and he clearly lived his life to the fullest. I know he loved his family and loved the outdoors. The impact he had on his community is far reaching, yet he's described by those who knew him as a humble leader; a kind soul who could make things happen. You can read more about him here. Then, if you feel compelled, you can make a donation to a scholarship fund in his name here. In knowing a bit about who he was it's not surprising, then, that the girl he married got on her mountain bike today for some cheap therapy. Though I think it's brave, I imagine it's exactly what he expected her to do.

Hang in there, Jen. We're so sorry. Shane's heart and mine are aching for you. May you always find your Sweet Sweet Love with you on whatever trail you're riding.

Wronged

A conversation between Peyton and I....

"Mom, when I saw my friend at the store his mom and my mom pulled us away from each other and we couldn't say hi to each other."

"Oh. What?"

"When I saw my friend at the store his mom and my mom pulled us away from each other and we couldn't say hi to each other."

"Wait. Who pulled you away?"

"My mom.  You.  You pulled me away and I didn't get to say hi."

"I did?  What store?"

"Fred Meyer."

"What friend?"

"Orion."

"When?"

"Seven days ago."

"Oh. Sorry. You mad at me?"

"No.  It's alright."

I guess she just needed me to know.

Happy Holidays!

What do teachers do on Spring Break? Some work. Not me. I Sleep in. A little travel. Read a book. A book.  Just for me.  Not to learn anything.  Have you heard of the Overdrive app?  Who knew?  Today though, I read my Christmas cards. As it turns out, I collected them in December, but didn't actually read them. So today I did. Every one of them. We have amazing friends and family.  And some of you had an amazing year.  A year of family and friends yourselves, Some had monumental joys and others, heartache.  Thank you for including us in your Christmas greetings and in your lives.  To those of you who don't send us a card.... get on it!  There is no rigid December deadline.  I'll give you 'till April next year.  You're welcome.

Headstrong Hundreds

If Peyton was upset when she was little she'd throw herself down and head butt the floor.  Even if the floor was a concrete slab.  Our pediatrician wasn't concerned when I asked her about it.  She told me, "She's not going to be anyone's doormat.  Count yourself lucky.  Some kids smear their feces." Ew.

Last week I was in Peyton's classroom and a classmate of hers told me that "she's a little bit mean." I asked her what Peyton had done.  She just repeated "she's a little bit mean."  I explained that if Peyton knew what she'd done maybe she should apologize.  Again, her classmate told me just that "she's a little bit mean."  Alrighty, then.  I asked Peyton.  Genuinely clueless.  So I asked Peytie's teacher if she's being mean to this particular kid and she answered, "Peyton isn't mean to anyone.  And she takes guff from no one." Ah. Okay.

Tonight, this:

"Mom, I have 100 and another 100.  How much is that?"

"200."

"No, you don't understand.  I have 100 plus 100.  How much is that?"

"200."

"Moooooommeeeeeeeeeey! You don't know what I meeeeeean. I have 100 and 100.  How much is that?"

"Babe.  I'm sorry.  It's 200."

"MOMMY! YOU DON'T GET WHAT I MEAN!  I DON'T MEAN 100 PLUS 2 MORE.  I MEAN 100 MORE!"

"Yeah.  I got that. 100 plus two more is actually 102.  100 plus another 100 is two hundred."  I went and got base ten pieces to show her. "See?"  100 and 100.  200.

(grabbing the pieces from me) "No!  Mommy!  Look! 1, 2, 3, 4..........(deep breathing from me)...........98, 99, 100.  See? And if I have both of these (holding two AT me in desperation) how much is that?

At this point I'm trying so hard to stifle my giggles because the only thing I know for sure is what she DOES NOT want to hear and frankly, I got nothin' else.  Also, I spent all day with 27 kids who were converting fractions to decimals and percents before putting them in order.  Many of them didn't try to understand fractions AT ALL so it's not lost on me that I should be ecstatic that Peyton wants so desperately to understand this. She's hungry for it.  She's going out-of-her-mind to try to get it. It's the sort of grit I beg my students to have.  And then, (again)

"200."

"Mommy!!! Look! 1, 2, 3, 4, ......(Oh. Em. Jee., not again).........97, 98, 99, 100."

"Yes."

"101, 102, 103, 104, .........(we're really doing this.  With a significant amount of help this time)................196, 197, 198, one hundred ninety-niiiiiiiiiine.............."

"200."

"MOMMY!"

"Alrighty. Bedtime."

(sobs) "I JUST WANT TO SNUGGLE WITH YOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUU!"

"That I can do."

Haunted....

Tonight I read this article on Buzzfeed with the girls about some hidden gems of Disneyland. Libby was a little weirded out that there are actual human remains inside the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.

 

When we got in the car to go home I said, "Maybe when I die I'll donate my remains to Disney and I can live on forever as a pile of bones in the Pirates of the Caribbean."

Libby: Ew....No.

Me: Why? You don't like the idea of me reduced to pile of bones at Disneyland? 

Libby: No. I might want to open my own haunted house and I'll need your bones.

Amish?

This on the way to school this morning....

Libby:  Mom, tell me again how I'm French and Amish.

Me: K.......um....wait, what?

A Lot of Ones and Water

When Libby was little(r) she used to insist that after I tucked her in I'd come back in to check on her in her bed.  I always did.  I still do.  She'd say, "A lot of ones and water!" which meant, "Check on me a lot and bring water."  It started as her wanting to know exactly how long I was going to wait before coming in to check on her. I'd tell her ten minutes.  She'd try negotiating down to five, and eventually she understood that one minute goes by way faster than either five or ten.  From there she didn't want me to come back in just one minute, but "a lot of ones and water", which essentially meant, "Come in here every minute 'till you go to bed yourself".

I think agreeing to it was easier for my tired-and-done-with-this-day self rather than explaining exactly what sort of madness she was asking for.  So I'd always reply.  "Yep.  Got it.  A lot of ones and water. For sure.  I'm on it."  Eventually Peyton (from her bed) would yell the same.

It's been a while. I don't know how long since they've asked for a lot of ones and water, but long enough that a once so familiar bedtime mantra wasn't so familiar anymore.  Tonight at bedtime Peyton said, "Mom, what did we used to ask for at bedtime? Watermelon wishes and water?"  I couldn't figure out what she meant.

Watermelon wishes and water?

A lot of ones and water. Yep. Got it. For sure. On it.

N.O.

"No.  No scissors while wearing your roller skates.  Absolutely not."

Add this to the long list of things that I thought was just understood....

Frozen

My friends who have daughters are posting Frozen references on facebook one after another.  They're going to see the movie for the first time, or the fourth time.  They're singing the soundtrack, and planning themed birthday parties.  They're linking to Youtube covers of the songs and looking forward to Idina Menzel on tomorrow night's Oscars.

Us too.  I downloaded Let It Go and use it as the girls' morning alarm.  We sing it on the ride to school. Tonight the girls built an ice bridge out of pillows in the living room.  Then, while they danced together in the "snow" Peyton said, "Let's pretend our mom and dad died."

Awesome.

Q

Peyton and I are sitting together working on this week's homework packet. She has to come up with different words that start with certain letters. Like this....

Me: Q, babe. What word starts with q?

Peytie: qu...qu... Quelephant.

Me: Yes. Alright, then. Quelephant. Write that down. 

Lucky?

I'd like to think that I've played a small role in helping the girls become smart consumers. But this morning I can't help think I'm just the world's biggest buzzkill.....

"There isn't actually magic in every charm."  -Libby 

Winter Cleaning

A word to the wise.... If you're going to clean your oven, thereby setting off every smoke detector in the house, thereby needing to open every door and window, summer is probably a better time to do it.  Also, it takes three hours. So be prepared for that. You can thank me later.