Rachel doesn't know this, but I am (kind of) waving the white flag.

Rachel doesn't know this, but I am (kind of) waving the white flag.  At the age of 2, she owns me.

On Saturday, Laurel, Rachel and I went to Laurel's soccer practice.  About 15 minutes into the game (which Laurel loves because her friends are there but hates because people crowd her if she is near the ball), Rachel and I are trying to make use of time.  We run around, find sticks and rocks.  Rachel and I will also sing songs and play Little Piggies on her toes.  We,then, find a coin at the bottom of the tote that has everything...Moms you know the tote.  For those who aren't a mother, this bag is one step up from a diaper bag.  No diapers, but everything else.  If we were abandoned on an island for 48 hours, we would be totally fine.

Rachel is very excited about finding the coin.  (Oh yea!  She wants to play the coin game taught to her by her Great Uncle George.  This game is "which hand is the coin hidden?")

Oh no..not the game that Uncle George taught her.  She takes the coin and puts it into her mouth.  Rachel turns to me, opens her mouth, holds out her tongue.."Look you silly woman, look what I have put in my mouth?"  And then she takes off.  (Of course, in front of 50 other Newton mothers..awesome.  Like she knows that I didn't want people to notice that I haven't washed my hair in 4, well, 5 days..)

Oh Christ..she starts running on a field that is bumpy and slippery from the morning rain.  I know her intent is not to swallow the coin but I am so afraid that she is going to fall and choke.  She seems to know this because she is three feet in front of me, stops, turns around, opens her mouth and waits. (Dude..is she gesturing me with fingers?) She knows that I can't pounce because I don't want her to take off.  So I stop too.

Is this the way it's going to be?  Flash forward to a Thanksgiving when Crazy Aunt Brendi's wine is out or Nana's drinky drink of choice is just lying there..tempting her.  Not to drink but just to torment me.  I see her getting close.  She picks up it, looks at me and then gulps.  I imagine she will do this at 16.  Smokes could be the same way...Hey mom, look at me light it..and then take a huge drag.

Because I have monkey like arms, I grab her hard.  She won't open her mouth.  (Why couldn't the coin be a dime..this wouldn't make her choke.  She has swallowed pieces of pork bigger than a dime.)  I have no idea how, but she opens her mouth and I grab that nickle like it was a God damn diamond.  Crisis adverted.

I make note that we have got to change her bedroom very soon.  It had a little landing right outside her window..just like a nickle, my worse nightmare.

With this entry, I am taking one for the sisters...because too many of us have freakin' been there.

Prologue
Let's get squicky, shall we?  Initially you may read this and think, "Holy Cripe, you are sharing a lot."  My mom may want to crawl under her desk or add something stronger to her coffee when she reads that I am writing about my OB/GYN/birth control consult conversation with Ching.  But this conversation is not about what was said but that one person is taking responsibility while the other is clueless.  With this entry, I am taking one for the sisters...because too many of us have freakin' been there.

CCW:  "How was your day?"
JCW:  "It was fine--work was fine.  But I did go to the doctor."
CCW: "Why?"  Eyes darting right and left.  "Is everything okay?"
JCW:  Never sure why men don't see a doctor's appointment as preventive medicine, only as something bad...or a god damn pregnancy confirmation.    "Ching, if you mean fine by a confirmation that I am 40 (with a follow up mammogram appointment) or that I gave birth naturally to our girls (and now have to address a leaky bladder)...yeah, totally fine."  (Son of a bitch.)  "But I am thinking or really have made a choice about changing birth control."
CCW:  Says nothing but looks blankly and then worried like he is going to have to do something.
JCW:  "To avoid taking the pill everyday..."
CCW:  Still looking confused..
JCW:  "Because, you know, the pill is everyday...I was thinking about an IUD"
CCW:  Again, confused.  Really this guy knows 1940 World War 2 Europe but current birth control?  I think the last time he heard the acronym IUD was back in 1985 when he was in the 7th grade health class...just waiting to see a picture of a drawing for a naked woman while spitting paper at the douche bag in front of him.
JCW: "I am choosing (his ignorance has led me to my choice) the IUD...I can have it placed and not worry for five years."
CCW:  "How does it get in there?"
JCW:  "In my uterus Ching..that's the place where it goes.  There is only one entry and I believe you are familiar with this.  I can't swallow it."
CCW:  "Wow, it sounds like you are getting a tune up."
JCW:  Awesome.. "I don't have to do this unless you want to get a v.."(I am baiting him.  I know even the letter gets him to turn white.)
CCW:  "No..."
JCW:  "Then IUD it is, if the vasectomy is not an option.  In case you are online, it is the Mirena..this is what your wife is getting."
CCW:  "Should I do something?"
JCW:  "No, continue what you are doing now...nothing.  I will take care of it."

I should have had this conversation closer to a gift giving season...rookie move JCW!

I haven't seen my girls since 8:00 this morning, I haven't eaten since 11:30 and I would like to take a piss.

Last week, Ching declared that Laurel's teacher is "kind of hot."  I met her tonight at the First Grade Open House.  She is attractive but holy cripe, she is like me! And after how she handled the night, I kind of want her to be my new best friend.

Let me set the stage.  (Can you tell that I was pretty fired up on the car ride back to write this?)  The Open House was not an opportunity to meet one on one with the teacher or mingle. (Exactly my kind of event)  It was a brief presentation of the community of first grade with a question and answer period.  The questions were going pretty well:
What if my kid thinks her books are too easy?
How are they grouped in learning levels?
How much independence should I give them?  (I say leave them at the curb and let them find their way to the classroom.)

Fielding the questions are the three first grade teachers:  Laurel's teacher, a male teacher whom you know every kid thinks is cool and funny, and then the young newlywed teacher whom most would consider "nice."

Immediately my attention is on the dude because very rarely do you see a male first grade teacher.  He is so personable with the crowd (but very masculine..like a buffalo.)  I am starting to think I should have tracked Laurel into his class.  (God dammit JCW!) I could care less about the nicey nice teacher.  I keep staring at Laurel's teacher, trying to find Ching's "hot factor."  It was there, perhaps in 2002.

Then, it happens.  After 45 minutes of general, normal questions, there is a lull.  I thought, hoping that we may get out early.  The room was getting very warm with approximately 45 parents jammed into one class; all of us sitting in first grade chairs so our backs hurt while our asses are 3 inches from the ground.  Then this happened:
"May I ask about sending my kids to school with peanuts?"
(Freak me.  Your kid is in the first grade...this was covered in kindergarten.)
The dude tries to appease the mom...classroom specific rules, only sitting at the nut table, etc.
Then she asks, "What about tree nuts?"
(Who is this woman?  I crane my neck and holy crap!  This is the weirdo from my 12/15 entry--you know the one with the fishtail braid down to her ass, knitting mittens for her advent calendar, ready to ride a tandem bike home after her kindergarten daughter is dismissed?)
The dude, again, tries to appease with taking the cautious approach, always.  The nicey nice teacher won't touch this one.
"There are lots of nut butters and then sun butter. I am just not sure what to send."
(Are you kidding me?  There is a Whole Foods within walking distance that practically offers consultative service.  If I had a magic power, it would have been acid shooting eyes.  It is 8:30.  I haven't seen my girls since 8:00 this morning, I haven't eaten since 11:30 and I would like to take a piss.)
Then another mother.."You know sun butter is made out of sunflower seeds.  It is not a nut butter but a seed butter."
(What is happening? All the while, I know that Laurel eats none of this shit..her sandwich of choice is jam on wheat, no crusts.  Help me!!)

And then she does.  Laurel's teacher shuts it down.
-Call the nurse if you have concerns with your child and what you are sending in regards tonuts.  She will ans..
-But..
-Call the nurse..next question.

It may seem harsh to some but not to me.  Laurel's teacher is like me...she will let you have some space but will shut it if time is being wasted.  Prior to this nut fiasco, she had a great sarcastic, a tad self deprecating sense of humor.  My girl is good for this school year.  And if Ching thinks she is kind of hot...I am okay with that.

And (this behavior) kept me away from the secret file of doom.

It's confirmed...Laurel is good at school...like me.  When I mean "good", she is well-behaved.  Not like some little twerp (Ching) sent home with a note, not once, but twice for using an F-bomb. (He was seven!) His (immigrant) father didn't even know the meaning of the word but getting a note sent home like that doesn't need translation.  He also got in trouble for soaking gobs of paper towels and tossing them up to the ceiling, making it a nightmare for the custodian.  You can probably assume that it was downhill from there.  I won't even start with the Ching Wang, The Wonder Years or Ching Wang, Save by the Bell years.

I was good as gold, all the time.  I was quiet when I was asked to be quiet and I did my work when I was asked to.  Sounds boring but whatever.  My good behavior suited me just fine.  And (this behavior) kept me away from the secret file of doom.  For some reason, I thought all of my naughtiness (at school) would be documented.  This documentation would prevent me from the next grade, college, perhaps even a job.  I think I was 19 when I realized that there was no file.

During dinner, Laurel expressed lament about being paired up with Shannon (not her real name) during math stations.  Apparently Shannon, very new to Laurel, doesn't do her work when she is supposed to and talks constantly.  Since the kids sit at tables, the more behaved tables get first privileges.  Today, Laurel was not at one of those tables and she hated the association.  Perhaps the teacher thought that Laurel's goodness would influence Shannon but it did not. Regardless how good Laurel was, Shannon sullied Laurel's rep.

I sit at dinner, listening to Laurel's story revelling that I have at least one well behaved girl.  Because Rachel is not going to be well behaved.  She is rolling her eyes and throwing food at me.  Today a handful of peas, tomorrow a wet wad of paper towels on the ceiling.

No...I am not ready for some.

No...I am not ready for some.  I have always been ever since I started dating Ching.  I studied it, was enthused and excited.  Now, not so much.  For some reason, this season, regardless if it is college or NFL, I am just not ready for some football.

Ching lives for the game.  At a very young age, he gravitated toward it.  He likes the strategy of the X's and O's.  As a child, he was a frequent guest of his Aunt Angela and Uncle Ming-Luh.  Now, residents of Columbus Ohio, but then, Miami, Florida and there wasn't a team better than the Miami Hurricanes.  Ching told me that he liked the inner thug, bad ass like play.  (As he described this to me when we first met, he pointed to himself like he was a thug too.  That's right..Mr Ching Wang..inner thug.  I think this was the only justification of his pants hanging mid-ass and showing his boxers.)

Miami was and still is his team...regardless of his attendance of Boston College, undergrad, while some of his best friends playing against Miami.  How ironic is that?  He goes to Boston College and doesn't know a soul.  He ends up being friends with players who are still his best friends to this day.  But regardless of friendship, he always cheered for Miami.  I am glad to say that they are still his friends...some of his best.

We had our first fight during the Boston College/Miami game of 1999.  This was an amazing Miami team.  I learned more about football watching my favorite guy, Santana Moss. (And I would like to think that my quick knowledge was my way of wooing Ching.)  So it was quite a surprise that at the end of the 3rd quarter, the score was 28-0, BC.  Ching is not a gracious loser...he throws the f-bomb, yells, and does that "old man whatever gesture of dismissal".  This was a very hard game for me because he wouldn't talk to me and then this mo-fo gets up and leaves.  My assumption was that he was leaving the game so I follow.  I get caught in a crowd and lose him but decide to meet him at the gate.  No Ching Wang...I decide perhaps he is outside the stadium, no Ching Wang.  I was so disappointed, even after six weeks of knowing him, I thought he was a really good guy.  I stomp 1.5 miles to his car.  It's locked and I can't get my bag.  (I was planning on spending the night.)  I leave him a very sassy voicemail telling him where I am and he better freakin' get there.  About 20 minutes later, I see this little man running toward me from a distance.  It's Ching...  He gets to me..he is out of breath, sweaty, still in his Miami sweatshirt. (And I think it's 80 degrees.)
CCW:  Jude, where did you go?  I didn't leave you.  I went to the bathroom.
JAC:  But he didn't tell me where he you were going!
CCW:  True, he said. (With that finger...the index finger of reason.)  But guess what?  Miami came back and won the game! Jude it was so good!
JAC:  Wait a minute, you knew I was gone but stayed to watch the game?
CCW:  Jude it was really good, they came back to win!
JAC:  Didn't you wonder where I was?
CCW: I asked people around me, but they didn't know where you went.  Jude..they won the game!
JAC:  (Christ..that smile!)

We joke about how he stayed.  We still joke about how he stayed.  He also jokes that I still ended up spending the night.

I love his exuberance of the game.  He does get pissy when his teams lose.  (He has other teams-MN Vikings, BC and the Hurricanes...right now they are all in that building, sucky stage.  Some Saturdays are kind of tough.  I just ask that he closes the door.)  But he has softened a bit.  Rather than focusing just on the game, he will take Laurel to fan fests at BC before the game.  She will get her face painted and eat ice cream (first quarter) and popcorn (second)...she is good for about a half of a game.  Soon Rachel will get good for a half of a game too.

I am not sure where my interest has gone for the game.  Maybe I am weary of the loses.  It doesn't matter how many W's you have during the season, it's that last W that is the killer.  But recently I have come to the realization that I am just happy the Miami won that game back in 1999.  That is the only win that I should appreciate.  I don't want to think about what would have happened if they hadn't won, 31-28.

But uttering, "the new f-word", that is not going to happen.

Dear Laurel,
This is your mother...JCW.  Tomorrow is Monday and I don't want to hear anything like what you said on Friday morning.  I know you were tired and it was a very hectic first week.  But uttering, what I consider, "the new f-word", that is not going to happen.

There are going to be days, weeks when school isn't "fun".  Perhaps you misunderstood your kindergarten teacher last year.  She wasn't teaching you that school should be fun.  She was showing you that the potential of learning could be fun and creative.  Sometimes (the learning process) can be hard.  But the sheer exhaustion and the finished product of what you have learned, can be so satisfying that maybe it may feel fun.

But Holy Cripe, you are in the first grade!  You are a smart girl.  I don't think that you struggle and not only that, you wear really cute, comfy clothes.  Looking back, you are going to regret not appreciating the cake walk you have to Cabot Elementary.  I hate to say it, but school will be harder and there will be so many days that are justifiably not fun.  Those are the days when you do something embarrassing like accidentally farting in front of a group of people or realize that your body looks different.  There will be exams that you will not be properly prepared to take.  Or perhaps exams, while going in, you think you are prepared, but as you start, you realize that you are totally sunk.

I don't want to hear "fun" said like that again.  The word isn't a given for school.  Again, my f-word.  But you probably have another f-word that you hate.  You know, the one that Daddy uses all the time:  Focus.  Yeah, I know, I hate that word too.  We will address that one later.  One F-word at a time.

Love,
Mom

September is the month that could make or break me.

September is the month that could make or break me.  This has nothing to do with money, work or marriage..it is about the girls and school.  I can either be the queen of my cul-de-sac or hold my head in disgrace until next June.  Anyone out there feel the same way?  Please, throw me a bone...

My first reason to be on edge are the forms from the PTO.  The last time I talked about the PTO of Newton, some readers were insulted while one reader suggested that I attend a meeting to see where the Wang's dues go.  (We pay dues along with all of the activities that we attend. The dues amount is suggested.  We haven't seen lower than $30 per child.)  The PTO of my daughter's elementary school meet either at 8:45 or at 5:00.  I am either at work or in commuter stage...so is the PTO is catering to a group that I don't belong OR am I not catering to the PTO?  Granted I would like to go for the former since I don't like most people.  The meetings aside, I had a manila PTO envelope filled with forms that I needed to fill out for them.  The forms were activities that I should plan for the next school year.  Would I like to volunteer for activities next year or make a pie for the next event?  Really?  I am lucky if I have enough tampons for the next month.

September is also a time when some activities need to be booked until May.  Really.  Hip Hop (because Ching will see that his oldest girl has my rhythm) and Math (because that is Ching's version of dance/rhythm) need to be registered and paid for now.

Lunches...holy shit.  For Laurel, her lunch has been pretty much the same for the last three years.  Rachel gets pissed with too much repetition.  I am trying to show her a lot of variety, hitting color, the food groups AND the "funky smell test".  The funky smell test is specific to Chinese dumplings (pork and cabbage)...so good while you eat them but holy cripe, they smell funky...so I can't pack that.  Right now, I am hoping on my new friend, Joe...Trader Joe.

Then there is the prep during the month for the weather...mittens, hats, jackets, costumes.  While Halloween is a given (and good costumes need to be ordered NOW!) , the weather in New England is not a given.  While this week is in the mid 80's, next week could be a frost, and if I am not prepared, some twenty something teacher will be telling me that my girl wasn't warm enough.  So..Trader Joe..meet my other good friend, LL Bean.

My mom taught for over 30 years.  September was and is my families' wheelhouse.  My calendar is a school calendar, not the pagan one that starts in January.  September needs to start out right...perfectly.  September seems to be my hot tin roof and I am the cat.  (Can you tell that I just watched Beverly Hill 90210 with Brenda doing her version of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof?  No?  You are too young and you don't have kids...move on...)