Sixty-two Days

For two summers, now, Isabelle has been  asking to have a Lemonade stand. 

I remember,  as a child, wanting to do  the same thing.  I  grew up on a farm.  The driveway was a quarter mile long, the  nearest neighbor  was almost  a  mile away, and  the only traffic that ever  went by consisted  of milk trucks and tractors. 

Isabelle stands a little bit better chance getting  some  customers, but  not much.  We are on  a quiet cul desac.  But, on Sunday morning she came to me with a Tupperware pitcher that is just her size (and, quite possibly the only good thing to come of the blasted Tupperware party that I hosted…) and said she thought that  it would be a perfect day for a lemonade stand.

I madeher list the things she would  need.  Cups, lemonade, ice, table, sign…I added quarters for making change and she  was off and running.  Her sign was so  cute.  She did  it  in crayon first and I let her go over it with a Sharpie,  “Really, mom?  A PERMANENT marker?  I thought those were for grown ups!”  We  also practiced making change from a dollar.  I didn’t think she’d get this.  It’s pretty abstract for a five  year old.  But, when I asked her, “If someone buys one glass of lemonade and pays with a dollar, how many quarters do you give back to them.”  She thought, held up four fingers put one down and said, “That  finger is for the one they paid me, so I guess I give them three back.”  OK, she’ll do ok.

So, off we went.  I helped her set up shop, told her not to feel bad  if  she didn’t get any customers, and  came back inside to  do Emily’s PT.  Before I even loaded the nebulizer, I glanced out the window to see my little business woman serving her first customer.  A pick up truck was pulled over to the curb and  Isabelle was pouring a cup.

That customer was followed by two neighbors, a workman who was repairing a stove next door and Daddy, returning home from a trip to the store. 

Isabelle was joined by three neighbor girls who could not resist the allure of a curbside lemonade  stand.  At one point  one of them came in the house and said, “Isabelle sent me in.  I’m her assistant.  She said we will need more lemonade.  Can  you make some?” 

When I went out with a new pitcher, Isabelle was  beaming.  She said (and this just KILLS me, LOL) “Mom!  We’re taking care of business!  We’ve already had 5 customers!”

The girls did a pretty good  job marketing their business, too.  I heard them all  calling “Lemonade!  Cold Lemonade here!”  And, they went door to door (to their own houses) to sell to their parents, too.

It was just too cute, and I was glad that I let her do it.  She has plans to expand her business next weekend.

On a side note, one of the  neighbors who stopped by for a cup told me today that she asked Isabelle what she was gong to do with  the money she earned.  She was a little taked aback when Isabelle said “It’s all going to  the Cystic  Fibrosis Foundation to  find a cure for my sister.”  We had not discussed that, and she hasn’t yet told me that that’s what she plans to do.  It’s either automatic by now for  her to raise money for  CF (she’s seen plenty of that happening over the last 2 1/2 years).  Or, she’s figured out early how to tug at people’s heart strings.

Either way, this is one of those times that I am reallly glad  I tookten minutes to stir up some lemonade and drag a table to the curb.  She’ll probably  never forget her first business venture.

She  really was  more excited than she  looks  in this picture.  The  sun was  in  her eyes!  It just  doesn’t  get more “Summer” than this!!!

Happy 6th birthday, T!!!  T is our very good friend.  His parents are very good friends of Daddy’s and mine.  Isabelle and I were discussing T’s party, and she asked if his school friend would be there.  I explained to her that T. had a party with his school friends earlier in the day and the party we were going to was for family – his cousins and grandparents.  She looked at me quizzically and asked, “We’re family?”  And, in fact, it sometimes feels that way.  At least there are lots of times when I’d like to trade T’s mom and dad  for my own siblings and sib in laws.

The party had all the makings of a great time:  bounce house, slip ‘n slide, pizza, brownies and giant sun glasses and  presents.

So, happy birthday T.  And thanks for  inviting us  to celebrate with you.  It’s hard to belelive that six years  have passed since I held you against my tummy and let Isabelle kick you from the inside!.

  Oh, yeah.  If you  were looking closely, you may have  noticed that all of T’s cousins are girls.  This meant that his second party was him, and  7 girls.  He didnt’ seem to mind, though. T’s daddy and Daddy joked (I think) that he’ll be begging for this kind of party in about 12 years, bounce house and all.  Those boys  never grow up.

Friday was the day for a wedding!  Miss Amanda is someone I have known since she was 6 weeks old and I was a teenager.  I was her first (and for a long time, her only) babysitter.  Her parents own the farm next door to my parents, and a good portion of the land on that road belongs to one family or the other.

I spent many, many afternoons and evenings taking care of Miss Amanda and her sister Katie.  By the time her brother and  sister came along I was in college and getting married, so I don’t know them as well, and, in all honestly, except for Christmas cards I haven’t had much contact with them at all for the last several years.

Amanda and Katie were both flower girls in my wedding.  They called me on my wedding anniversary for a few years, and send small gifts for special occasions.  They attended my baby shower.

Now, they have reached the age when they are getting married.  Amanda had a beautiful, country wedding in the small church her family has always attended.  She is hoping to find a teaching job this year or next.  She married a man who is a fourth grade teacher at the elementary school where her dad  has been the head custodian since he sold his cattle several years ago (side note, my dad, too, after selling off the stock became a janitor…must be the thing to do).  They are both athletic, they both coach, both like to  hunt and fish.  THey’ll have beautiful babies, and probably lots of them.

Katie is set to be wed in a mere ten months.

So, Daddy took a vacation day on Friday, and we attended the wedding of a girl who  I used to bottle feed and  diaper.  My own little girls were dressed to the nines (sorry, no pictures of them together in their beautiful dresses…what was I thinking???) and were very well behaved in church and at the dance.  It was a nice day of family togetherness, and I only felt a little bit old.

I wish I had a shot of the full dress, and the hat she wore with it.  She loves being dressed up!

*yawn* After a long night  of dancing and  charming the pants off of everybody, it’s good to have a Daddy with broad shoulders.

Finally!  No more swimming lessons.  No more scrambling to get the girls fed, dressed and out the door on time only to  wait in line at the  pool.  No more packing the bag and checking three times to make sure I have adequate swim and regular diapers, Isabelle’s underwear, my underwear, everybody’s clothes for afterward…No more  chasing Emily around with the sunscreen bottle with her yelling “NO!   I  don’t want some sun scream!  NOOOOOOOO!”  when we are already about 5  minutes behind schedule.  No more squeezing in to a swimming suit and worrying what I look like…

Ah, but it wasn’t  all bad.   It really was great to see how Isabelle improved this year.  I love  that she loves the water, even if I do not.  And, it was fun to be in the water with Emily everyday, even if she never did do what the teacher told us to  do.  We tested out limits together and  we both got pretty comfortable with things.

By the way, after our last lesson  we stayed for open swim with our neighbors.  I  went to catch Isabelle and the neighbor girl as they came down the slide, and  Em stayed with  my neighbor.  I came back to her to find her floating, blowing bubbles, putting her head in, laying back in the water…all the stuff she wouldn’t do during lessons.  Is it  possible that she picked  up on my discomfort in lessons and  wouldn’t try this stuff?  Maybe, I guess, although  I didn’t hesitate with anything and I  certainly didn’t  feel like I was giving off a vibe.  I think it’s more likely that she  was just being Emily – stubborn with me and compliant  with others.  Oh well.  I  least I know she was paying attention during  lessons.

Here are some pool pics.  Some are during  lessons, but most are  from our “open swim” times.

                                                                After dinner entertainment

Summer Legs                                                                                         Owie                                           

 Home

                                                                                                    Pedicure needed

                                                         Sisters

So, we were at our weekly coffee party on Tuesday.  Pretty much right off the bat, Jack’s mom says, “So, what do you  guys think about all this kissing?”  Huh?  What kissing?

It seems that Jack and Mikey were caught taking turns kissing Isabelle on the cheek.  Jack’s dad caught them and put a stop to it.

I”m sure it was all innocent enough.  Pecks on the cheek, nothing to get all in a tither about, most likely.

Here’s what I  want to know, though.  How does this start?  Five year old  boys just want to kiss five year old girls?  Five year old girls orders five year old boys to kiss her?  Is it part of some role-playing game, like they are pretending to be husband and wife? 

Perhaps what bothers me most is that at least a few days had passed between the incident and me learning  about it.  And I only learned about it because another mom told me.   When asked why SHE didn’t tell me, Isabelle shrugged and said, “Jack’s Dad  already knew and  told us to stop.  I didn’t think you needed to know if another grown up already took care of it.”

I’ve told her that playing  any game that involves kissing  is not to be played until she is older.  I’ve told her that if someone tries to kiss her she just says, “Please don’t  do that.”  Or, “My mom will get really, really mad at you if you do that again.”  Or, “My dad has a shotgun and knows how to use it.”  Well, maybe that’s a bit strong.  I did talk to her about it, though, trying to keep it low key but direct.  I made sure she knows that moms talk.  Especially about kissing.  So, she better be telling me these things herself.

Jack’s dad, of course, told Jack’s mom that he had to give Jack the “thumb’s up” for his choice.  “If he has to be kissing some little girl, it might as well be the cute, smart, polite one.  If he can pull that  off  in high school he’ll be set!”  Yeah, not what a  mom wants to hear. 

But at the same time, “Yaaaaaay!”  (That outburst was from the awkward, sweater wearing, big-haired geek that stares at me from the picture on my parents living room wall…the  one of me in high school.

And, really, how are those little boys supposed to help themselves?  Who’s going to NOT kiss this:

Call it “Writer’s Block.”

Call it “boredom.”

Call it “I am spending far too much time on the computer reading random blogs and getting totally s ucked into things I don’t need to read.  I HAVE to keep the laptop closed and out of sight so that  my children get fed and my house does not become a total heap.”

Call it “Why the hell did I agree to have a Tupperware Party?  Now I have to clean (REALLY CLEAN) the house and make food and feel guilty that I’m asking people to buy stuff so I  get free stuff….

Call it what you will.  It all boils down to THREE DAYS without blogging.  *SIGH*

For the entire day, Emily has been putting the words “I think” into pretty much every sentence she utters.  She has used them to  start sentences, end sentences and tossed them into the middle.  She has used different expressions to convey  different meanings.  She’s fixated on these two words.

Some examples:

I’d like to  go in the  pool now, I think.

Dad,  I think I’d like to watch Barney.

Mom:  Emily, we are eating.  Please come to the  table.

Emily:  Ummm.  I think not.

I think you should  ride on the train to  grandma’s house with me.

I suppose she just picked them up somewhere and is trying them out.  Or, maybe she’s been studying philosophy behind my  back and is delving deep into the world of existential being.  I’ll have to check under her mattress for a copy of “Descartes for Preschoolers.”

I won\’t worry until she starts chatting about Cartesian planes.

It’s just been really, really blah around here the last few days.  I’ve missed two days of blogging, mostly because almost  nothing noteworthy has happened!  Yet, I feel compelled to have an entry for every day, because, well, because it’s that  kind of blog.

I  do believe I’ll start up another blog after post number 62 has been published.  Clearly the  write each and every day thing doesn’t work for me.  But this has been fun, and I’ve got some “ide-ers” for a non-summer blog, so I think I’ll give it a shot.  Needs a name, though.  Hmm.  Maybe I’ll do a de-lurking contest and have people suggest names for my new blog.  Of course, that  would work better if I  were  doing some kind  of give-away, and  this certainly ISN’T that kind of blog.

So, the only thing that happened on Saturday was my cousin’s baby shower.  Hot, sticky and annoying-as-expected, but  I’m glad we went because that was the only way my mom was going to get to go.  And, she loves anytime she  gets to be with my girls.  Oh!  And I got to be in charge of buying the gift from my mom my two SIL’s and me.  I say that like a little kid, because I usually am treated like a little kid when it comes to this type of thing.  It  is always just assumed that I  can not pick out a gift or shoulder the responsibility for purchasing one.  Most of my adult life I  have given  money to the person who bought the gift for our family.  I guess due to the utter apathy of my brothers’ wives and my mom’s failing health, I get to be gift-girl, now.

I was pretty darn impressed with my gifting abilities, if I do say so myself.  I had $120 bucks to spend, I I figured, why not have some fun.  I also wanted to get some of the things that no one buys you and you have to run out to get when you need them, because you had  no idea you would need them until you  needed them.  Know what I mean?  Like babyproofing stuff.  Door latches and outlet plugs.  No one buys that for you.  And, until the kid crawls you don’t  know you need it.

So, I got a big plastic bin (pink…cause it’s a girl) and filled it with stuff like that.  I decided to make it a “Baby’s First Year” box and get some small things to go with each month.  Newborn diapers for the first month.  A box of rice cereal for the 3rd month.   Baby food and bibs for the 5th.  Swim Diapers and  swimmig suit for next summer when the kid is 10 months old…stuff that no one else is gonna buy for them.  I wrapped each thing up and  put a little note on it with the month it represented, and a little description.  For example the outlet cover/door latch one said “The Eighth Month  She’s crawling!  Time to baby proof the house!”

This is the kind of gift I would have LOVED to get.  I think the effort was kind of wasted  on  the recipient.  She didn’t seem too overly excited, but, oh well.  Her kid’s got good stuff, and I got to have fun shopping with my sister-in-laws’ money!

So, Emily is doing much better with her swimming lessons.  For a minute or two today, she actually forgot to keep a death grip on my upper arm.  She clearly is not afraid of the  water itself.  She splashes, kicks, puts her face in to blow bubbles and shreiks  with delight when we bob and up down or spin around together in the water.   Try as we might, though, none of us can get her to jump into the pool.  She watches all the other kids do it, and says she’s going to do it before we leave home.  I think she even told Grandma on the phone that she DID do it.  But, she just won’t.  She firmly shakes her head and says, “No, I’m not jumping.”

I think I figured out why.

Today, as we were getting  out of the pool after class, she  paused  by the tile emblazoned with the international “No Diving” symbol, couched down, patted it, looked up at me and said, “See, mom.  This means NO JUMPING!” 

Yes, Emily, yes it does.