Good Night John Boy!

 

Every night after bedtime routines are completed, after Thom has snuggled down with Lotta to read and I have snuggled down with Zibbi to read, Thom and I head downstairs.  As we start walking, Lotta yells, "I LOVE YOU!" and I yell back "I LOVE YOU!"  Then Zibbi yells, "I LOVE YOU MOM!"  And I holler back, "I LOVE YOU!" Then Lotta yells "I LOVE YOU MORE!"  To which I now know is a trick because if I respond, "I LOVE YOU MORE", then there will be complaints of favoratism, "Wait, you love HER MORE??"  And then I yell to Benja, "I LOVE YOU!" to which he responds, "GREAT!"  And Lotta and Zibbi yell to Benja, "Love you Benja! To which he responds, "I love you too!" (Because he is not a monster and wouldn't NOT respond in kind to his younger sisters proclaiming their love.)   And then Zibbi and Lotta each yell to remind me to tell Thom that they love him, just in case he has forgotten in the few minutes since he arrived downstairs.  

Our evening love fest emerged because we are not spending that much time separated, so good-byes are rare these days.  (Although, when Lotta or Zibbi go for their weekly Agogo visits, there is a great deal of missing the other person.)  During non-Covid times, when I drop Lotta off anywhere, we have a special hug/kiss both cheeks that we created a few years ago.  Now, we only "get" to do our special good-bye hug at bedtime.  When we DO spend time apart, like for sleeping, the good bye must be momentous.  

Then, this morning, I was talking to my dad, because it is "Phone Father Friday" (yet another benefit of Covid-19's Safer At Home, scheduling phone time with my dad).  In the midst of our conversation, Zibbi  burst into the bedroom, where I had been stealthily holding the conversation, because she needed a second helping of Fruitful Oh's(!).  Before ending the call, I told my dad, "I love you" and hung up.  She was confused, saying, "I didn't know you could be 50 and STILL

love your dad."  And I said, "Of COURSE, you love your mom and dad your entire life!"  To which she reponded, "Yeah, but Benja doesn't love you anymore."  I explained that we demonstrate our love in different ways at different ages.  So at 15, showing love to your parents might be asking one of them to go for a walk or taking out the trash without being asked or engaging in a conversation.  Whereas when you are 7, showing your love may be making a sign or giving a hug.  She was extremely surprised by this revelation and immediately went to confirm the theory's accuracy with Benja.  I guess it's good that she's checking sources, even at 7?  

Blizzards in April

One day in late April, I met a group of mom friends at a coffee shop.  Outside, the snow was briskly falling (some might even call it blizzard like).  It was late April.  One of my friends had to keep her back to the windows because she was so angry at the spring snow, she couldn't even look at the weather.  Reading the room, it didn't seem the right time to mention how much I was enjoying watching the snow fall so furiously.  That's why I have been reluctant to write this blog.  It feels like so many are struggling with joblessness, illness, racism, just the overall uncertainty of the future.  There IS so much to be afraid/frustrated/annoyed/enraged/fearful about right now.  However, I must admit, there are these bubbles where I just feel the pure bliss of being alive.  It reminds me of how during grief, when suddenly I would be struck with how blue the sky was, along with an overwhelming feeling of how very lucky I was to be alive on a gorgeous day.  

Right now, I love how time has slowed waay down.  Now I can take the time to sit and watch an afternoon show with my kiddos.  I spend time devouring a good book with the girls (Harry Potter right now).  I look them in the eyes when they talk, rather than trying to multi-task (not always, but I attempt.)  I love the creativity of finding ways to stay engaged.  Lotta right now is using her room as a collage, hanging pictures of things she loves everywhere.  Zibbi has rediscovered her stickers color by number book (similar to color by number, but with stickers rather than coloring in).  Lotta is rewriting a story she began in 3rd grade.  Benja spends hours drawing maps and flags.  I like how during this time I make sure every day to give Lotta and Zibbi and Thom a huge hug in the morning (which would be much more rushed as they head out to school).  (Benja is excluded due to the screaming that erupts when he is hugged.)  I love that feeling of how tight we all are right now as a family, knowing we are here for each other.  No more FOMO (fear of missing out), because what are we going to miss out? I love that there are so many ways to stay connected with those outside of my home, zoom, text, email, even an actual phone call if desperate.  I think I will actually miss this sense of everyday connection and leisurely tempo the most when Covid-19 is over.  

Seasonal Changes

 

Last Saturday, the girls begged me to get out their winter clothes.  I agreed, because at the time, the highs were in the 50s (we even had one night when there was a frost warning, the week before).  So our summer clothing was seeming irrelevant to what was actually happening outside.  PLUS, every morning, Zibbi would emerge in a sun dress with shorts.  The girls had a grand time going through the basement storage containers, trying on outfits, a mini spontaneous fashion show.  Which pretty much created a clothes explosion in the living room.  It took me the rest of the week to get all the summer clothes properly put away and the winter clothes organized. 

Jump ahead to THIS week, when we returned to summer.  Suddenly, the thought of a cozy sweater on an 80 degree day seems utterly ridiculous.  In my mind, I wonder why we even own such items.  Last night, Lotta lamented the fact that she no longer has any shorts in her drawers.  After begging me for that ONE week we seemed to be entering fall to get on the seasonal switch over.  Now to get any summery clothes I must venture to my least favorite spot, the scary scary basement.  Sigh.  It is the LAST straw for me (see how I circled back to that saying?)

Do it for Malala!

When I was in elementary school, ONE day I forgot my lunch money.  At the time, the rule was, no money, no lunch, so that the youngsters could learn about economic inequality RIGHT away.  When I came home, hungry and crying, I was greeted with a lesson to give me some perspective.  Many children around the world do not have enough food every day, I, on the other hand, have lunch every day except for this one.  I am NOT blaming the adults around me as I think at the time, you were not allowed to get your parenting papers unless you frequently stated, "finish what's on your plate because there are children starving in Africa." It was one of THE most popular slogans back then.  I think you would get a demerit if you didn't use it.  When I was told this, I felt ashamed of myself and badly for the other children who didn't have lunch.  (Also, at the time, I had not yet learned the trick of "name dropping", which I utilized frequently during hospital stays with Ellie, because for crying out loud, my stepdad was the principal of the elementary school.)  I think mostly though, it made me feel like the adults around me would NOT in fact help me when I needed help.  

Fast forward to the present, as I struggle with Lotta and Zibbi expressing how very much they hate virtual school right now.  I do understand that the upset is about MUCH more than virtual school.  Virtual school is just the last straw after many other disappointing straws.  (Why straws in this scenario?  I think of a hay stack when I write that, but are we talking about plastic straws? Maybe this phrasing should eliminated for the sea turtles?)  Zoom meetings have been dubbed "Doom Zoom" by Zibbi.  Lotta cries on Sunday night anticipating the upcoming school week.  Unfortunately, every time they protest, I think of all the girls who have been denied education based on gender.  I think of Malala Yousafzai, who fought for girls in Pakistan to have an equal education to the point of getting shot by her opposition.  I think of our own country, where not that long ago, girls were not seen as worthy of educating.  So HOW do I listen AND understand their frustration at doing schooling virtually AND provide additional perspective.  Because honestly, it has helped me recently a GREAT deal to think of all the people during World War II who hid in small spaces to stay safe, compared to us in a modern home with amazing technology hiding from a deadly virus.  (I know I know it's not completely equivalent).  When I think of the alternatives, I feel fortunate.  And THAT is what I want to convey to Lotta and Zibbi.  The ability to both feel the feels AND find the gratitude and perspective to do the best we can.  I think we are going to have loads of opportunity to work through this dilemma.   

Sifferent

 Ellie created the word, "sifferent" to combine the "same" and "different".  I think it so perfectly describes our time now.  We think things will be the same, but in fact they are quite different.  Very similar in feel to "sappy" or sad + happy.  It's really about being able to hold two opposing ideas without having your mind blown.

Speaking of things that are sifferent, I thought I should take a moment to describe Lotta's birthday on August 15th.  Particularly important since the last blog was about Zibbi's birthday.   I don't want to be accused of favoritism (one of the worst "isms" within a family).  

Lotta's original vision for her birthday was a LARGE beach party, followed by a smaller slumber party.  None of which was happening because of Covid-19.  Lotta, as Zibbi did, regrouped and came up with an alternative "bunny themed" family party plan.  

I heard recently, that we make memories around things that are out of the ordinary.  Because every day is so similar right now, when we recall this time period, it may seem like one looong hazy day.  I set out to once again, make a memory for Lotta's birthday.    

What Lotta recalls most now about her birthday back in August, was how we were all sitting outside, when, suddenly, Benja started talking about something off topic (it was a code word).  We all went inside quickly (hopefully before she could notice).  We reemerged a few moments later singing "Happy Birthday" while all wearing brand new rabbit shirts.  She was surprised and delighted.  Nailed it (I'm not sure if I'm using this term correctly.)   

Play Like You've Never Played Before

 

One of  the things Lotta and Zibbi appreciated most in the spring when school went virtual, was not having to get up SO early for school (typical wake up is 6:30).  Virtual school doesn't start until 8:30, so the mornings are MUCH more leisurely.  Monday morning, the girls woke up before 7am.  They were excited to have the extra time to play.  They were having loads of fun, when they realized it was almost time for their first Zoom Meeting of the day.  Lotta raced through the living room, shouting, "Play like you've never played before."  It was our slogan of the day.

Another Suicidal Insect

 Thom and Benja set off to deliver items to the dump.  During the pandemic, Benja is up for going on any ride (anything to change scenery for a minute).  When they left, I turned on our hot water kettle to boil some water.  Suddenly a brownish red spider began racing around the increasingly hot kettle.  I thought, "Wow!  This strategy does NOT seem like it is going to work."  Still, the spider continued to race around the kettle.  I watched for awhile, being unable to turn off the kettle, as the spider frantically spun its web.  When I came back, the kettle was still on and the spider was resting on the counter.  I lifted up the kettle and the spider was still attached(!!)  At the same time, the mouse trap under the kitchen sink went off.  At this point, I felt that we had descended to a level I was not willing to continue living and texted Thom, requesting he return home immediately.  He joked that he and Benja were going to swing by Iowa on the way home, not realizing the severity of the situation.  In the meantime I went upstairs to be protected by Zibbi.  When they returned home, it was as if nothing had happened.  The spider was gone.  The mousetrap was merely broken.  As if I wasn't already feeling crazy BEFORE this incident.  (Also, what is UP with the insects around here?)  

Barbie Time

 The girls have been VERY into creating dramatic scenes with Barbie dolls.  (I do realize that there are tons of problematic issues with Barbie, including her completely unrealistic body shape.  With Ellie not a Barbie could be found in our residence.  By the fourth child, unfortunately, exhaustion has set in and it has won out over values.)  Typically Barbie play involves a LOT of back story created by Lotta in long monologues while Zibbi jumps around trying (and often failing) to get a word in edge wise.  

Yesterday I brought home a small bag of Barbie clothes from the thrift store to augment their play.  Of course, the Barbies then had to be changed immediately.  Benja, as per usual, had an informative video he needed to show me right away so that I could understand more fully how the US has messed up pretty much everything.  (I like to say instead of parental rebellion, he is rebelling against the nation.)  Suddenly, Zibbi very proudly held up the newly outfitted Barbie and proclaimed, "Anyone would want to marry her now."  Wow.  I could totally feel RBG rolling in her grave.  I had to defer unpacking THAT statement.  

Nightly Phone Call

 

This is the paper phone Lotta made at some point during this pandemic.  I do not know why it has SO many buttons.  Or why the buttons have no numbers associated with them.  Every night, Thom would have to "take a call" before or after he read with Lotta.  When I heard about this, I OF COURSE had to get in on the action.  Which caused a lot of eye rolling from Lotta's face.  Until one day the phone mysteriously disappeared.  

Fighting Words

When this whole pandemic began, I had great fears that all of us being at home continually would end in homicide, if not multiple homicides.  I imagined one scene after another on a  continual loop of the scene below...

Maybe a few weeks ago (or perhaps a few months, I've really lost all sense of time), Lotta and Zibbi were fighting in the kitchen.  Here's a sample of what it sounded like, "You said SIX thirty."  "No, I said, SEVEN thirty..." "NO you SAID SIX thirty."  "NO I actually said SEVEN thirty".  At this point, the verbal argument erupted into violence.  Lotta explained that she'd looked at the alarm clock and thought she saw 6:30, then she heard Zibbi confirm this.  Zibbi explained that she'd looked at the clock and saw that it said 7:30, and then told Lotta.  As they explained this to me, the verbal and physical assault between them was reignited.  I suggested that BOTH these things could be true--Zibbi could have SAID one thing AND Lotta could have HEARD a different thing.  Of course, this did not fly and the yelling continued.  I suggested maybe we NOT talk about it anymore because we would never agree.  Lotta agreed, but not before she ended with, "BUT she DID say 6:30."  Overall, an extremely unsatisfying ending.

I have been quite surprised at how the girls most certainly fight, but then they quickly make up, because right now, without playdates or school or sleepovers, they are all they have.  Even Benja has spent time making up "not dangerous" games (one of the main goals during a pandemic is avoiding ER visits) which often involve one participant being blindfolded (?!?!) All three of them spend time daily playing Mine Craft, creating worlds together.  I think in retrospect, the three of them will look back on this time as most certainly challenging, but also a time when they all came together.

So about the Tooth Fairy...

 

As you may recall, we have had a flurry of Tooth Fairy visits this past year, as Lotta and Zibbi have BOTH been losing teeth.  Furthermore, you may recall the Tooth Fairy's waning ability to arrive the morning AFTER a tooth loss, leading to late fees and letters of inquiry.  

This last summer we implemented "Windy Wednesday" when we would have a socially distanced outside visit with our great friend Wendy (I somehow pronounce it Windy, according to many sources).  During one of the visits, 10-year-old Lotta suddenly says, "I know who is REALLY the Tooth Fairy."  And I responded utilizing my psychological training, "Tell me more about that..." Lotta said, "I'm looking at her."  We then started having a conversation about how she started becoming suspicious, and some of the hints that gave it away for her.  We also talked about how when you want to believe in Santa, you only look for ways that is true and when you are ready to believe in something else, you start noticing all the information that tells you something different.  Suddenly, she gasped and said, "So who's been eating all the cookies???"  To which I explained that her dad always MADE the cookies HE likes best, so....

At the end of the conversation, Lotta said she wanted to do everything she could to make sure Zibbi keeps

believing because she didn't think Zibbi was ready, at 7, to not believe in Santa.  I explained the trick of when Zibbi asks about Santa, rather than telling her a lie, saying, "What do YOU think?"  The thing that struck me about the entire interaction was how peaceful she was, she was truly ready to not believe.  Benja and I had just had a conversation about how disappointing it was for us to realize that Santa was not real.  Realizing that the world is actually not magic, it felt earth shattering.  Lotta however, seemed excited to be apart of carrying on the tradition with Zibbi.  

The Troublesome Tooth Fairy

So the Tooth Fairy has had a challenging time lately delivering the goods in a timely manner.  The first time, the speculated cause was that the tooth was not extracted until well into the evening, near bedtime.  It was assumed that the tooth fairy was unable to get our home on the schedule for that evening.  When she did deliver, she included a small "late fee".

Next time, TF again did not arrive the following morning.  Zibbi descended the stairs, head down, tears in her eyes as she explained that the Tooth Fairy didn't come. 

Again, TF delivered late with a "late fee" included with the usual dollar. 

(Just as an aside, there is an epic tale floating around both Marquette and Lapham Elementary Schools about a student who received $10 from the Tooth Fairy!!  Even the school nurse had heard the tale...)

Then this week, when Lotta lost a tooth, TF left money, but did not in fact take the tooth.  We suggested Lotta write a "Yelp review" for the tooth fairy.  Here's what she wrote...

Lotta obviously did not want to discourage TF, still giving her 4/5 stars (!!?!)

Then, Zibbi joined in, being a bit more direct...

While the girls were in school, the Tooth Fairy responded...

Zibbi came to me last week excitedly (with a bit a of bloodiness), telling me how she had banged her tooth into something and she was sure it would come out soon.  Who knew something so very tiny could create so many stories?

Spelling tests, Sports and Final Concerts

Spelling Tests

One of Lotta's least favorite parts of 3rd grade are the spelling tests.  A few weeks ago, she came home with the word "wide " misspelled, as "whyed ".  I explained to her teacher that Lotta was spelling the word correctly.  As in, my little sister just about "whyed" me to death.  Why did that ambulance race by?  Why is the grass green?  Why are we going home?  

Sports

Zibbi Dramatically Dancing

Next week is Zibbi's birthday.  Meaning, she will have the great honor of being "friend of the week" in her class.  One night before sleep, I asked her what this entailed.  She informed me that her teacher would be sending home papers with more information, including a poster we would need to complete.  Then Zibbi paused and said, "I'm going to need you to explain to me what a 'sport' is."  She explained that on the poster, there is a section with "favorite sport" on it.  As a musical theater lover, I felt I had really done my job, particularly while living in the middle of Green Bay Packer country.  I explained to her that sports are things like dancing, ice skating, soccer, swimming, biking, basketball, swimming.  

Final Concerts

Last night was Benja's last orchestra concert of Middle School.  Which we only discovered when his Agogo told him she would love to attend one of his concerts and he suddenly informed her that he actually has his last one on Wednesday, during her visit.  My mom, not knowing our history of waving at each other at concerts decided we should wave and embarrass Benja.  Instead, Benja completely turned the table on us and waved to the point where we couldn't even wave back.  And his BF Kai sat beside him and joined in because of the incredible peer pressure emanating from Benja.  All the other 8th graders made sure to NOT make eye contact with us.  And still Benja continued to excitedly wave.  It was like a comedy routine where the comedians keep going long after the joke is done.  

At one point, the conductor turned to the audience and explained that the next piece had three movements in it.  So, we should hold our applause until the very end of the piece, even though there would be breaks in the music.  Then he turned around to begin conducting and the whole audience erupted into applause.  I said, "Request denied" and then had a hard time not laughing.   Until the principal gave me a look, the look you never want to get from your principal.  

What Exactly are we "Saving" Here?

So Friday, we had a sunny warmer (in the upper 30s day!) Just in case you wanted to talk about the weather, it has been extremely cold and snowy for about the past two months.  So there was a great need for a bit of a reprieve.  Then, Saturday, alas it started raining.  Cold raining.  Which soon turned into more snow. 

Then today, Sunday, was daylight savings time.  I didn't used to feel so strongly AGAINST daylight savings time.  Prior to children, I had no real feelings about the whole thing.  Then, every year, with small children there is the struggle for bedtime, which now suddenly occurs in the DAYLIGHT.  And the opposite struggle to go back to awakening in the dark.  Sigh.

At bedtime, I was explaining to  Lotta (8) and Zibbi (5), how the time was changing, and we were losing an hour at midnight.  I further explained (complained?) that we all participate in this activity so that golfers can golf later in the daylight.  Lotta paused and said, "I can't imagine ANYONE golfing tomorrow." 

The REAL Mustache Day!

Yesterday (Friday, February 22) was mustache day at Marquette.  Unfortantely, one of Lotta's classmates, thought Mustache day was two days ago.  I was chatting with his dad at pick up and telling him how Benja is now growing a mustache, but we are NEVER under any circumstances to mention it.  Which of course, his younger sisters are wont to do.  So poor little Maceo came racing out of Marquette and I could tell that he had tried desperately to wipe off the mustache he'd applied earlier in the day, but of course, it was still pretty evident.  As we left the playground, I told Maceo to remember, EVERY day in middle school is mustache day.

So Friday morning Lotta was super excited and cut out a mustache and taped it to a pencil.  Then, we decided it would be fun to have an additional "surprise" mustache underneath the pencil one.  As we brought out the facepaint, I noticed the paint brush was all wonky.  I did not, seek, another paintbrush,

thinking that maybe it was just me and this must be the brush that came with the set. Right?!? Well, the first side of the mustache, even with the wonky brush, I must say, turned out pretty swell (that seems like an appropriate mustache day word...) As I started on the other side, unfortunately, that brush turned against me and the second side looked MUCH different than the first.  And I gasped, "OH!"  Probably, not the phrase you want to hear out of someone's mouth when they are painting your face.  Although, probably better than if they are cutting your hair.  Or performing surgery.  Luckily, Lotta is NOT a perfectionist, so she just looked at the askew mustache, shrugged her shoulders and said, "that's fine."  And raced downstairs to eat breakfast.  It made me thoroughly appreciate her calmness, as I KNEW if it had been another one of my children, I would STILL be working on THE perfect mustache.

Eyes on Word Choice

A few days ago, Zibbi noticed the moon out during the day.  She proclaimed that her eyesight is so fantastic she can even see the moon during the day.  She explained that she'd had an eye test during school.  Now she can see the moon during the day.  Apparently this is a side effect of school eye exams.  Who knew?

Benja was telling a story at the table, and he used the word "brang".  Lotta corrected him by saying, no, it's bringed.  I chimed in, to say that no, it's actually brought.  They both looked at me like I was crazy.  Brought.  Who came up with that crazy word?  Very soon after, again at the table Zibbi used the word lightened.  And Lotta once again corrected her with the word, "lit ened".  I again suggested an all together different word  "lit" and was met with a look of exasperation by all.  The English language is hard to explain.  Good thing I have Alexi and/or Siri to back me up. 

The mysterious mail carrier...

Lotta told me recently that she used to think the mail carrier was like Santa Claus.  He was not supposed to be seen by anyone, so would sneak around the neighborhood delivering mail only when no one was watching.  I told her at one point we had a super friendly mail carrier.  I would often chat with him while waiting at the bus stop.  One day after Ellie died, I was curious if he knew, by the mail we were receiving at the time, if he knew about Ellie's death.  I ended up telling him how she'd died recently, and how it was 13 days away from her birthday.  He stopped, shocked.  He told me that his daughter had the exact same birth day.  I could tell it really shook him up, made him feel vulnerable for his own family.  Soon after, his route was switched.  And I wondered if he'd requested a switch because he couldn't handle that kind of vulnerability.  I know the world doesn't actually revolve around me...Luckily, maybe a year later, I ran into him when I was walking around town.  We were both equally excited to see one another once more.  I was startled when he even leaned in for a hug.  He explained that he'd been reassigned another route, that he missed his old one.  And I of course, told him, we missed him too.  I just think it's so magical when you actually get closure on something and you don't have to just keep wondering what happened or making up your own endings.

Strengths Focus

The day Thom left for his recent business trip, I decided we would implement a strengths finding program during.  (As recommended in the book, "The Strengths Switch" by Lea Waters, PhD.)  The idea is to identify and write down any strengths you see a family member exhibiting in order to encourage more use of strengths.  I went to Dollar Tree and after MUCH debate and texting with my friend Jennifer, I purchased a clip board for each child with "computer paper".  I like that it's called "computer paper", it makes me want to take it home and try to stick it in my laptop.  Anyway.  When the girls arrived home from school, I explained what we were going to do.  Basically, we were going to try to catch other family members using his/her strength, forcing us to think about what we LIKED rather than what we didn't.  The conversation ended with Zibbi smacking Lotta across the face and Lotta retaliating with a swift kick.  As Thom proclaimed when I described the scene, "NO, not THAT kind of strength!!"

That Kindergarten Logic

Thom returned from a week long business trip to Las Vegas yesterday.  Benja is calling it Thom's "midlife crisis".  Zibbi pondered why it was call "lost"Vegas.  And we all decided because when you go there you LOSE a lot of money.  Lotta declared it's actually LOSS Vegas, not LOST Vegas. 

As we were preparing to leave the house one day, Zibbi suddenly sang, "damn".  Lotta and I stopped and said, "What did you say?"  She explained that she accidentally said "damn", but at least it wasn't it's much worse cousin, "dammit".  It's definitely becoming PG-13 around here...

Frenemies for Life....

To celebrate Benja turning 13, we went to see Hamilton in Chicago.  Since then, we have been all Hamilton music, all the time.  There's a song where Hamilton talks about his frenemy (friend + enemy) Aaron Burr.  After a listening, Zibbi told me that Lotta is HER frenemy.  I thought that was pretty an accurate assessment, their loving playtimes can so quickly turn violent, before there is even time to respond.  Then, Zibbi sighed and said, "And I have to LIVE with my frenemy..."