School's In For Summer

Not to be confused with the old Alice Cooper song, School's Out For Summer, here in Wake County, NC, we have year round school. To be fair, we voluntarily decided to send our kids to school year round (we received the lucky lottery ticket for admission into a nice charter school in the area). Many of our friends and neighbors weren't given much of an option, except to rank the "tracks" in order of preference, which the county school board seemed to completely disregard.

The charter school my kids attend works like this: school for 9 weeks, then 3 weeks off. This lasts four quarters and has a 5 week break during the summer. Not a bad deal, really, especially here in NC where July and August can get pretty hot and swampy, leaving the kids inside with little to do other than drive their mother up the crazy wall.

We just completed week #1 with both kids being at the same school. Brady went there last year for kindergarten (that's when we got the "golden ticket"of admission, Brennan was #76 on the 2nd grade lottery wait list, no joke). Once a student has been there a year, siblings are admitted, provided there is space available in the grades to which they are applying. So I am jumping for joy to have both kids on the same schedule and calendar for school. Last year, none of their breaks overlapped, except for between Christmas and New Year. Things are looking up.

At the end of week one,so far so good. Brennan is getting used to the new school, teachers, faces, rules and norms. Fortunately, she's coming from a small, Catholic school, so the atmosphere and discipline code are similar. They wear uniforms, too. Have I mentioned how much I LOVE uniforms? The simplification of our morning routine is incredible. They are capable of "expressing their individuality" (I can be PC) in their choice of shoes, belts, and accessories (and whether they wear pants, shorts, skirts, or jumpers). But I'm all about practicality, and uniforms allow me to get an extra 10 minutes of sleep and avoid fighting with anyone about appropriate wardrobe selection for school.

Brady has rekindled some of his joy for school. Perhaps I should say, his joy for P.E. and math. And snack. And recess. Everything else is booooorrrrrrriiiinnngggg. Then again, he told me the other night that he knows everything already (the Big First Grader that he is) and he really doesn't need to go to school anymore.

Apparently though, he does still have some learning to do. Tonight, he came sauntering up to me, asking if he could "please have a doughnut for dessert? I ate a really, really good dinner!"

His big blue eyes were so sweet, his expression so sincere, and he even said please! It was almost enough for me to give in and say yes. What he didn't know, is that he was already sporting a perfect, snow white ring of powdered sugar around his mouth.

Busted.

Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah...

Greetings from Camp Kanata.

Brennan, who is 8 years old, spent a whole week as a resident camper two weeks ago. We dropped her off on a Sunday afternoon, and picked her up the following Saturday morning. She had attended this same camp two years ago as a day camper, loved it, and couldn't wait to return as a resident. So we waited a couple of years and finally gave in.

On Tuesday, we got our first letter. It was thoughtfully crafted, a full handwritten page. It addressed each of us by name, "Dear Mom, Dad, Brady, Nora, Polly (the dog) and AJ". We got a brief summary of her activities for the day (putt-putt polka, among other things) and an explanation of the Share Box and Cabin Time. She said she was having a blast, but missed us "deep down inside." I was touched at how sweet the letter was and I couldn't wait for the mailman to come the next day to get the next installment.

On Wednesday, the second letter arrived. "Dear Everyone" was the salutation, and she reiterated that she was having "SO much fun" and gave us the words to some cheer that she's learned about the Daisy Cabin. Oh, and that she's forgotten about us.

Nice. I hope that what she meant to write was that she's forgotten about missing us. Yes, I'm sure that's what she meant...

On Thursday, the third letter arrived. "Dear Everyone, I need a new camera." "DAISIES ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!"

That's it. Hmmmm...

On Friday, the fourth letter arrived. "Dear ("Everyone" but it was scratched out) Mom. Can you send me a package and a new camera, and maybe some food for the share box?"

Now, the upside to this story is that we can claim success (so far) in raising a confident, independent young lady. The downside is that she's a confident, independent young lady of 8 years old who successfully navigated a week away from me, without more than a fleeting pang of homesickness.

It struck me that she is growing up, and it is happening very, very quickly.

I immediately went into panic mode, and implemented a new, mandatory, weekly Family Night.

Traveling with Children

Last Tuesday, we returned from my parents lake house on Lake Huron in Michigan. We were away for about two weeks (it's an 18 hour road trip, so we try and stay as long as we can to make it worth the drive).

First of all, if you've never taken the opportunity to visit Northern Michigan, you are seriously missing out. I am not getting paid by Michigan's State Tourism Board, when I say that is has some of the most spectacular places to visit and explore. It's one of those well kept secrets...those who know about it don't want the masses descending upon the area and messing it all up. Seeing as most of you live in NC, I don't imagine that you'll believe a word I am writing, and never take me up on the idea. Therefore, I think it's safe to share it with you.

So we survived the drive up, somehow only having to resort to a movie once (okay, maybe twice) per 9 hour leg of the trip. As parents, we sunk to a new all time low with car safety (only momentarily though --- I promise). While I was driving, Mark was feeding the baby a bottle in the backseat, when he realized that a diaper change was definitely in order. Seeing as the diaper bag was on the floor in the front seat, I heard him say "Here, Nora, hold AJ for a minute." as he passed Nora the baby to hold (for a moment, I swear!!) while he wrestled and snaked his way around the front seat, past the dog (who had been throwing up hourly thanks to the steak scraps Mark had fed her the night before), under my purse, a pillow, the camera bag, DVD case, bag of trash from our stop at McDonald's, to finally reach the diaper bag below. I couldn't help but laugh at Mark, who is generally a nut about safety issues and rules, taking matters into his own hands and making things happen, without getting frazzled. Kind of a Mom thing to do. Nice personal growth moment, I think!

I had enough food and snacks to fulfill the Government Preparedness Plan for our family. I think we easily could have survived for a week, much less the three days Uncle Sam recommends. I had my breast pump (with the car adapter), bottles, formula, babyfood, bibs, spoons, sippy cups...the whole set up. About the only thing I didn't have was beer (or any type of alcohol, really), which was a good thing because 18 hours in a car with your husband, four kids and a dog is enough to make anyone drink.

We counted the colors of cars, played I Spy, colored, wrote letters, drew pictures, the kids made me cards (we left on my birthday), read books... The license plate game and the ABC game did NOT finish well, as the two older kids, who are very competitive got into a fight. Every time we played. Brennan, who is a bit of a type A, jumped on each and every letter as if her life depended on it. Brady, two years younger but still determined to win, is a bit more leisurely in calling out the letters that he sees. So in their terms, she's a show off and he's a sore loser. I'm quite sure there are many life lessons to be learned while playing car games however, in the interest of personal sanity, I called a moratorium on the games.

During the moratorium, the older kids listened to their ipod shuffles. Brady, who is not normally a singer, becomes a rock star the moment he turns the music on and starts belting out lyrics. Thank God for the new indie kid rock. At least the songs he sings are interesting, not to mention amusing. I love that the Bare Naked Ladies are doing kids music now. Life is good.

Nora, who is three, does not know her letters yet (as I was embarassed to realize, much less admit, when the doctor asked me at her three year old check up) so she just played the Punch Buggy game by herself, occasionally yelling out "punchbuggy, no buh-vertible" to herself, at the sight of any compact, slightly round car.

I don't think that Mark and I had one complete adult conversation during the whole drive. No one but the baby (and Mark) slept in the car. I do know that it is MUCH easier to be the driver than the navigator/referee/chef/server/janitor/entertainment coordinator. Give me a Red Bull and the steering wheel and I'm golden.

I have to say, having made this pilgrimmage an annual thing, the kids, for the most part, are really good and know what to expect. They know that we're going some place really special (and that they're guaranteed popsicles at least four times daily from Grammy) so they're excited and in great spirits. They did ask the dreaded "How much longer until we get there?" question about four thousand times. My standard answer was "six hours." I thought that after a while they'd stop asking. They didn't.

It's easy to forget how long time can feel when you're a kid, especially when you're looking forward to something. As adults, we get so wrapped up in the "getting there" part that we lose sight of the fun that can be had during the journey. While I didn't do a great job of it this time, I made a promise to myself to try a little harder next time to have "fun" in the car with the kids, not in spite of them. Right now they LOVE "family time" and being together...it won't be too many more years until spending 18 hours in the car with their family will be the very LAST thing they want to do.