As spoken to me this morning by Zoë’s little friend, one of two who spent the night with Zoë in honor of her birthday party.
Westayedupunitlthreeo’clockinthemorning!
Wewatchedtwomoviesbutwecouldhavewatchedthree.
Thenwedideachothers’hair.
Andthenwehadapillowfight.
Afterthatweplayedwiththecat.
Ican’thavecoffeeunlessit’sthedecafkind.
MymomsaysIdon’tneedthecaffeine……
It took me a while to understand it, too.
The activity is constant and endless. Lifestyles are adjusted to the heightened levels of chaos always bordering on calamity. Insignificance is just that, even more so. It does not matter. Priorities shift in an effort to provide balance, continuity and stability in what by all appearances is disorder. Time does not sit idly by. Things happen constantly.
As testament I present a few happenings of the past 24 hours.
Zoë kicked things off this past Saturday night (OK, I know that was more than 24 hours ago but work with me here. Some things need preface.) by heating things up, namely her core body temperature. Not too alarming–102 and easily controlled with that miracle drug–Motrin. Have you heard of the stuff? I used to say that all the time to parents that would bring their kids to the ER at 3 in the morning with fevers. When I asked if they had given the little fireball anything they would reply, “No, I wanted you to see how high the fever was.” Like they thought I wouldn’t believe them. Geesh!
I digress.
Maura gave Zoë a quick once over when she got home and determined she most likely had strep. And they say doctors don’t make house calls anymore. Antibiotics were started in very short order.
Inevitability. (That means if you’ve got a house full of crazy kids and one is sick–it won’t be long before you’ve got a house full of crazy sick kids.) Zane was first to follow suit though Zander was looking a bit pasty Wednesday evening. Once again, Maura was called to duty and after assessing all of the kids determined that yes, indeed, lymphadenopathy was rampant. Except for Zella. She seemed fine. “That,” I said, “is only logical as Zella never eats and the chances of her eating or drinking after any of the other kids is astronomically low therefore her chances of becoming ill are significantly decreased.”
Antibiotics were started in short order. A lot of antibiotics!
And he had. Zane lost his first tooth. Really lost it. He had no idea where it was. We quickly dismantled the couch and found it nestled between the cushions. Zane lost his first tooth!
Which reminds me….The cushions on the deck are getting soaked. Typical!
Our pool closes for the season this Monday, Labor Day. I know five little kids that are really going to miss it. We started the summer pasty white and timid. Afraid of uncertainty. Buoyancy was a foreign concept. Swimming strokes like the overhand crawl, the breast stroke and back stroke were skill concepts seemingly impossible to master.
Constant exposure and repetition built confidence. Fingers loosed their grip from the reassuring security of the pool edge and children dared venture into the vast unknown. We had lessons. We played. We splashed. We lived at the pool this summer and my children have reaped the benefits.
It has been difficult to get to the pool this past week with school having started. A cool front also made it’s way into town and seems to have lingered, yesterday’s high temperatures nearing 74 degrees. But Tuesday before the cool weather arrived, we hit the pool. I’m glad we did.
Zoë, who has been struggling with a proper dive all summer long, decided she was going to try a front flip. No urging or coaching. She just stepped up onto the diving board and announced, “I’m gonna do a flip!” And then proceeded to do it. She smacked a couple of times but undaunted, kept going back. A few pointers and some minor adjustments and the girl had it down.
As fortune would have it–I had my camera. This was taken after her initial rounds of 4 or 5 practices. As you will see, her confidence literally exploded. Oh, and she’s not particularly camera shy, either.
We will certainly miss going to the pool.
Today, Monday August 25 is the first day of school. I have two children in elementary school this year. Zoë will be starting Second Grade and Zane will be starting the First Grade. After Labor Day, Zia will begin Pre-K attending three days a week Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays in the mornings. For me, this is big. Real big.
I offer my kids to strangers, trusting that they will do the right thing. That they will care for my children as I do. I’m sending them to school. I should feel a sense of relief and relish the freedom gained if only a few hours worth. It’s not that easy.
As we transition some of the daily care of our children to members of our community—namely the educators we have entrusted to supplement and augment the fundamentals we have been teaching at home, concerns manifest. I worry. I fret. I pray that my children will be safe and that their love of learning and their love of life will continue to be nurtured.
I’m sending their teachers a little note…..
Dear Mrs. Teacher Lady,
Good morning and welcome to our school. (I know, that’s something you should probably be saying to me but really, with what I’m paying you guys in tuition, I kind of feel I have the right to call it MY school.) I trust that you had a wonderfully relaxing and enjoyable summer vacation. I know my kids certainly did.
We both knew this day would arrive, though I’ve got to be quite honest, I wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. It seems we had just gotten into a really good summertime groove. That’s OK. We had fun and now are ready for school to begin as I’m sure you are, also.
You may recognize my kids, having seen them around. In the coming months you are going to have the opportunity to intimately know my children. I’m sure that it will not take you long to realize that my little Zoë has an incredibly free spirit. She is an absolute bundle of joy and energy, she loves life and loves laughter more. She’s as smart as a whip but sometimes will need a little push because challenges tend to intimidate her.
Zane is not shy, don’t be fooled. He’s intense and will absorb every word you utter. Be careful what you tell him. His heart is larger than yours and mine combined. He’s a good kid. He’ll never back down from a challenge. Nothing is beyond him and he has no fear of the unknown.
I present them, Zoë and Zane, pure, eager and excited about learning. I expect to have them returned to me in the same manner. Your task is epic, your responsibility enormous. If I felt for one second that I could do what you so willingly do each day, believe me, I would. I know, though, that teaching is beyond me. Though unable myself to provide perfection I expect it from you. Sorry, but that is your lot.
I don’t expect you to do it alone though. I am here. My wife is here. We have committed to provide the greatest quality education possible and will do anything in our collective power to see that goal achieved. We are in this together.
Take care of my Zoë and of my Zane.
Because I have trusted you, they will, too. Do not forsake that trust.
Sincerely yours,
ELamaze
Ed Lamaze
Our summer is rapidly drawing to a close. It’s been whirlwind, exhausting but loads of fun.
One of the tell tale signs that we are wrapping up our summer is the resuming of several of our fall or school year activities. In particular, ballet. Nothing significant to report as regular rehearsals are still about a month away, but Zoë and Zia started last Saturday the first of three “summer intensive” rehearsals for the Christmas performance of Cinderella. Yeah, Christmas. Try outs were last spring and all of the dancers were assigned parts or characters to play during the performance. These people are serious about their Christmas performances.
I asked Zoë how the rehearsal had gone and she timidly lamented the fact that it was hard. In my most upbeat and fatherly voice I tried to explain to her that if it was easy they would start rehearsals some time after Thanksgiving. But that by starting now they would be so well prepared by the time the Christmas performance came around that it would seem easy.
Then Zoë said, “Yeah, but Dad. It’s hard being a Cricket!”
“Well, Zoë. That’s because you’re supposed to be a Grasshopper.”
(Pause, pause)
“Oh. That makes more sense.”
