So Much Like Auntie Annie

She would not even let Jamie help her

When Ann and I were old enough to care, we would look through old photos that were scotch-taped into those sticky clear film photo albums and look back at the adventures we had as kids.  And inevitably it would come up that there were more pictures of me.  Where was the picture of Mom when she was pregnant with Ann?  Where was a picture of Ann riding a trike?  Why weren’t there any pictures of Ann with her face smeared with dirt in the backyard in Michigan?  The two pictures I recall of Ann’s childhood are one where she’s trying to guzzle from a capped beer bottle in the kitchen in Portage and another where she is holding up Aunt Judy’s pregnancy underwear when Julie was a few weeks away from entering our lives.  Ann didn’t even have her own baby book.  The seldom recorded statistics of her toddlerhood were scribbled in the margins of my baby book that had been filled out 2 years earlier.

It’s true.  Second kids get the short end of the stick.  And so it’s been with Eva.  She’s starting soccer and dance class and learning to ride a bike without training wheels and rapidly turning into a “big girl” right before my eyes, but none of those things have resulted in a blog post to celebrate the event.  None of these resulted in Mommy sitting down to reflect on how grateful and blessed she is to have this child and this life. 

Sam invited a friend from the Y over this weekend, and when the new mom, a mom I didn’t really know yet, saw Eva she kept saying “she’s adorable.  She’s adorable.”  And I thought, yah, I guess she is.  I’ve been so busy trying to balance the needs of two children while working full time that I rarely slow down and appreciate this adorable creature who is growing up right before my eyes.  I listen to the endless mom-mom-moms every day and hear myself constantly sighing and saying “just a second” more than I ever imagined I would, and when Eva wants to talk and talk and talk in the car I often just want a few moments peace without any noise.  But yesterday when I pulled up to the daycare and Eva wanted to show me how she could now ride a big girl bike without training wheels, I saw it.  I stopped and saw my daughter and her incredible determination and persistence and expressive joy.  And yes, she is adorable.

As was Annie. ( Even if we have very little photographic evidence of it.)

 

 Tiny Tots Soccer

 

 Creative Movement Dance Class

 Helping Mommy Plant the Spring Garden

 Fearlessly Loving Every Slide (big and small) at Great Wolf Lodge

 Doing Girlie Stuff with Brooklynn

 "I can do it myself!" is something she says often.

 Painting Her Own Bedroom Mural

 Skating with Harmony

 Hanging in the Tree House in Winter

 

Aunt Judy's Jeans and a Reindeer Shirt

As we race across the black asphalt to the school doors, Eva turns around and looks up at me.  "I'm so excited, Mommy," she says.  "You're coming to my show today."  In the car she told me that some kids would be wearing stars but she'd be wearing a hat and Harmony would have bells.  Eva's little purple shoes slide on the ice and she makes a happy "Whoooooooaaaa" sound as she catches her balance and then begins skipping.  Bubbly and excited and full of energy.  Climbing the stairs towards her classroom she doesn't seem to notice that every girl in the hallway is decked out in some bright red taffeta skirt and white tights and patent leather shoes.  A threesome I don't recognize twirls for each other in front of the office door, but Eva just skips past them in her red reindeer shirt that is probably already a size too small and the jeans she got from Aunt Judy over Thanksgiving.  Earlier I tried to talk her in to dressier black pants with white polka dots, but she insisted that she loved these pants from Aunt Judy the best.  What Eva wears when we leave the house is not one of the battles I've decided to tackle. 

At Mrs. Norton's classroom we are greeted by Stella and "the dad."  Most mornings we guess who will be there with Stella, "the mom or the dad," and even though Becky and Ryan are our friends, at pre-school drop off we call them "the mom" and "the dad."  Eva turns for her "kiss-and-a-hug" and then I walk away as she says hi to Mrs. Murray.  In the halls are more girls in frilly silvery holiday dresses, and I pass Harmony on her way up the stairs. 

"I'm in so much trouble," I say to Jamie.  "Every girl here is in a frilly dress.  I didn't know."  Harmony's very proud of her full dark red skirt with black lace.  Her big sister dressed up for a choir concert a few nights ago and Harmony could not wait to be girly too. 

"I might have one at home if you need something," Jamie says, and I tell her I think Eva will be fine.  I'll think about it.

But as I get in the car I start to cry, and I'm not sure why.  Is it because even at 4 my little girl is already going to start getting the message that looks are important, that what she wears will be studied and scrutinized and compared?  Is it because my little girl is growing up and entering the world where other mean girls might hurt her?  Is it because I feel like an epic failure of a mother because I didn't think that a pre-school singalong warranted purchasing an ensemble that included patent leather shoes that will never be worn anywhere else?

At the office I do the thing I do now when I'm troubled and torn... reach out to my community of facebookers, friends who will give it to me straight and tell me what I should do, whether or not I will actually listen to them.  Most people seem to say Eva will be fine.  She's strong and independent and she has a mind of her own.  But put a dress in your bag just in case when you go back for the singalong.

So I have the dress (minus the patent leather shoes) in my bag and my camera in my hand as the show starts.  But the dress is not needed.  My brilliant little angel with a white hat that is supposed to turn her into a dove walks in to the church and points her reindeer-covered belly at me and smiles while she sings from the front row.  And when we go to the basement for cookie decorating, she slurps up frosting and Mike & Ikes and runs circles around me as she seeks out all her friends.  And only then do I notice how many other little girls are in leggings and long-sleeved t-shirts and how many other mothers look exhausted but happy to spend a little extra time with their little girls who will be growing up way too fast.

Steamboat Days Parade

 

The note said the parade was scheduled to start at 12:31pm so the kids marching for Team Vogel Vs Cancer needed to meet at the Kwik Trip on Mankato at 11:31am.  As is often the case we rushed out the door with me barking at the kids while they sauntered to the car looking at ants and kick balls and long lost Pokémon cards that had suddenly reappeared on the garage floor.  And having another kid in tow delayed the process slightly as we had to clean out the back of the Mazda and make room for another booster seat.  But even though we were late and had to park 5 or 6 blocks away from the staging area, I was having one of those days where I thought "I'm being a good mom.  I'm calm.  I'm flexible.  I'm patient.  I've got this."  Sam and Nathan ran ahead and waited at every corner and Eva took in the sights of the Winona neighborhood east of Mankato, pointing out every puppy and flower and black and white kitty along the way.

 

At Kwik Trip we found the Y group and asked Bailey if she could carry Sam's epi-pen along so Eva and I could find a spot along the parade route to watch.  "I would love to," she said, and I gave Sam a kiss and a hug and snapped a few photos before dragging a reluctant Eva back to the car.

 

With nearly an hour to kill before the parade started, we parked near the end of the route and wandered around, making several trips to the port-a-potty on the corner and settling in a spot near the Post Office.  Dark skies threatened to rain us out and everyone rushed for cover during a wet windy blast that lasted a few minutes.  "I guess we won't need sunscreen," a woman in a camp chair near the curb said, and moments later blue sky appeared to the west and the sun started beating down on us.

 

Eva was a trooper, sitting patiently on the curb and anticipating the floats, but by the time the actual parade arrived she was tired and ready to go home.  She was mostly impressed with the princesses and the horses and the bands with fancy drums, but her favorite group was Team Vogel Vs. Cancer and their tie dye shirts and the handful of candy her big brother had been saving for her for several blocks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fast Spring

 

 

We arrived in a rush after gulping McDonald's chicken nuggets and surviving the hot rush hour crawling traffic across the bridge, and we all had to take several deep breaths as we turned on to Hauser Street and discovered a line of cars and a precarious parking situation just ten minutes before game time.  I parallel parked on the road and threw on the backpack and the folding chair and grabbed the Packer blanket and handed each of the kids their water bottles and said "Let's move."  We followed a line of rushing parents, Eva complaining about her flip flops as we walked along the rockbed roadside and Sam constantly distracted and slowing to look at all the kids in different team shirts. 

 

"Come on.  Move," I barked as the hot sun was already pushing down on us and I started dreading what the next 3 hours were going to be like 

 

Once we made it to the grass I exhaled slightly and then Eva said she had to go potty and we ran to the port-a-potties and then stood and waited and waited and waited while she needed a great deal of time.  With 4 minutes to spare, she came out of the potty and we washed her hands and I sent Sam running through the crowds in the direction of field 9J.

 

Along the west side of the field we found our people, Sam's friends and their parents, and all the other Euro kids dressed in red and white and kicking a ball around with their coach.

 

For the next 3 and a half hours, the boys (and the amazing Abby) ran and ran and really played their hearts out, each one of them at some point getting a fire in the belly and driving for the goal.  They passed and defended and shared the ball and played aggressively and laughed and cheered and made each and every parent proud.

 

By the time the third game started late at a little after 8pm many of the parents were tired, but the sun was lower in the sky and gloaming light and cool air made for perfect fall-like conditions for watching a ball game.  Eva and Eomji played tag and soccer with Abby's big sister, and the kids got a little punch drunk on the field, but I got a tear in my eye when Sammy posed with his team and then again with his club and his Brazilian coach.  I wasn't prepared to so suddenly be caught up in the emotions of another ending on the same day that Sam had his last day of kindergarten.  All my friends with older children tell me that it goes so very fast, and some days when the sun is hot and the kids are dragging their feet and whining for uppy or complaining that they are hungry or tired or have to go potty for the tenth time, it's hard to imagine that it could go fast.  But then you find yourself standing in front of a bench full of 12 soccer players who grew and matured and learned so much during the spring season and you realize if you had blinked you would have missed so much.

 

Wow.  Thanks for another great spring, Winona Euro!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Madison Reunion

Reunion on Memorial Union Terrace the night before the half

I am sitting in the sunshine in the outdoor garden seating at The Great Dane in Madison, and my skin is covered with the fine powdered feeling of dried up sweat.  My best friend and college roommate sits across from me, her finisher's medal hung around her neck and a pink sweatband saying "Decide. Commit. Succeed." holding back her thick dark hair.  As the waiter sets a giant plate of waffles with berries and whipped cream on the table in front of her son, I am struck once again by how much he looks like his father.

"This is so surreal," I say to both of them.  "It seems like just yesterday it was the three of us... you and Brian and me.  And now it almost doesn't feel much different."

I cannot believe that it's been over 25 years since we spent our weekends in Madison together, and I am so amazed by what kind, thoughtful, generous, adult kids this best friend of mine has raised.  Two grown men who are focused and commited and succeeding at UW-Madison themselves.

Standing at the finish line with Zack a few hours earlier, he and I talked about the running and his recent battle with some virus that kept him from participating.  He was positive and excited and interested in signing up for another race soon.  And when the three of us sat at an Irish pub on the square and he toasted his mother and said how proud of her he was, I got tears in my eyes.

My less-than-24-hour weekend away from my children made me think of mothers and children and balance and history and example and achievement and friendship and how truly blessed I am.

 

 

 

 

How to Survive a Cold Rainy November Weekend

Step One

While waiting for breakfast, start making a collage for Santa to determine your Christmas wish list 

Step Two

While someone else is cleaning up the maple syrup and pancake crumbs, build a LEGO house and enact a complex debate between a mother and daughter using minifigs.

Step Three

A little artwork

Step Four

Bundle Up

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Step Five

Experiment with how both wind speed and wind direction affect the path of a football and a baseball and a wiffle ball

Step Six

Ride your bike in the driveway where the house blocks the wind.

Step Seven

Bubbles!

Step Eight

More Artwork

Step Nine

A game of Life

(Notice Sam chose a boy as his life partner "because girls like kissing and I don't want to have to kiss all the time.")