There are a lot of missed posts in the month of May. It is at least as busy a month as December with less cute decorations but better weather. We have been going non-stop and will continue for the next two weeks but I thought if I could pop this post out and at least get caught up in pictures then I wouldn’t feel like throwing in the towel and jumping over all this May hoopla. Because there has been some good hoopla!
Earlier in the month, Daniel started eating solid food. Our pediatrician said to start introducing food when he seemed interested and after a couple of dinners when he kept swiping my plate and cup, I figured he was interested. Oh, boy, is he ever. This boy loves food! So far, he has only tried rice cereal and sweet potatoes but he loves both. It’s messy and time consuming and I don’t do it at the end of every day because nursing is so much quicker but when I do, he appreciates it. I’m thinking of getting one of those baby food blenders I see on TV. Has anyone tried them? Is it a gimmick?
In his new high chair. He likes to put his fingers or thumb in his mouth after every bit...which spreads the food mess love all over!
Have you ever heard of the Hershey track meet? They are sponsored locally and those who finish first in their age group move on to the state level and then, I suppose, if they finish first there, qualify for the national meet. Seth qualified last year but the state meet conflicted with another summer commitment. This year, he was determined to qualify. Sam was old enough to compete this year but ran against some pretty fast 10 year olds and got third in both his events. Of course, to a perfectionist like Sam, third place means he is the slowest and worst runner ever but he did great. I love watching him move. He’s such an athlete.
At the start of the 50m dash.
It was close but he got third.
What a neglected third child does to entertain himself when dragged to all kinds of events for his older two brothers. He has his own race!
“I’m fast, huh Mom!”
Sam’s 100m dash which was immediately after the 50 yard dash. Sam kids.
Maybe next year, Sam!
Seth really wanted to run in the mile but it wasn’t offered in his age division so he settled for the 800. It was a small group of runners and Seth’s strategy was to not start off too fast.
You can see him settling in nice and steady.
Nice and steady....
Wait a second! Way too nice and steady. Go catch her, Seth!
At the 200m mark on the final lap, Seth finally switched gears and started to kick.
He caught her in the end and qualified for the meet in Denver (if he gets his grades up..Grrr) but I think he needs some coaching from Dad or maybe Uncle Rex.
May has been absolutely horrible for exercise. I know I’m an excuse maker but it’s hard to fit it in with a newborn who is still figuring out his sleep. The gym I pay to go to only has classes in the morning and then for the after work hour, which I can never make, so if I miss those 8 or 9 or 10 o’clock classes, out comes the baby jogger. Daniel seemed to like it.
Henry’s kindergarten class threw a mother’s day tea party which turned into a parent’s day tea party because father’s day is in June. Jay couldn’t make it and I was surprised again by their strict adherence to the tea theory. They only served tea. They did this at his preschool party and I think it is so bizarre. Do kids like tea?
Here’s Henry performing one of the many songs they learned. With his hands down his pants. So proud!
What an absolute cutie. I’m a lucky mom. Who doesn’t drink tea.
May (and April. And March) have been all about soccer for Sam and Seth. Practices, extra practices, tournaments and more tournaments. It is finally over and I’m not a bit sad about it. I like that it gives them a team experience and it is wonderful exercise but this club soccer is way over the top, in my opinion. I think some parents are already gunning for their kids to play in college or professionally and so it makes sane and reasonable parents like me seem lazy and whiny when I think it’s all too much. But, I support them because they have committed to the season. I’m still proud of them though for choosing not to play on Sundays, even when Seth’s team made it to the championship game in two different tournaments which were played on Sunday.
Sam was under the weather and as he is the dominant scorer on his team, they didn’t do so well. Plus, this team was really, really good. The ref was hilarious. I’ve never seen a ref take his whistle and hand signals so seriously. It was very reminiscent of Paul Blart, Mall Cop.
Go, Sam!
He takes a shot!
Seth’s team is much more intense. These boys have been playing together since they were six or seven and Seth has struggled to find his place and feel worthwhile as this is his first year playing. He contributes to the team with his speed and stamina (he can run for forever) but definitely plays with some inhibition and fear of doing the wrong thing. In spite of all of this, he played his heart out at this tournament and even got yellow carded! His teammates were shocked. He’s one of the taller players so gets put in the line of fire when the opposing team gets a shot at the goal. His priorities crack me up here.
At least they play on such a beautiful field. I never mind being there.
With his running at school and outside races and soccer, he has developed a nasty shin splint. Dad tapes him up.
Mother’s Day was a mother’s day. Jay was on call and at the hospital all day and I was scheduled to teach the YWs lesson. It’s probably a good thing May got so busy because I had a rather long-winded response to all the mother’s day complaining I witnessed which I’ll reduce to short form here. Somehow, Mother’s Day turned into, “I don’t have to do anything” day which is a recipe for frustration, bitterness and feeling bad. I don’t understand women who think it means sleeping in and skipping church or having nothing at all do to with their children unless it involves gift receiving and pampering. All holidays have a materialistic and selfish alter ego and refusing to mother or thinking that it is the one day where you shouldn’t have to mother is a twisted interpretation, in my opinion. It’s like saying, “Well, I’m thankful every day so on Thanksgiving, I will take a day off from being thankful. I need a break from all that gratitude!” Of course, mothers should be revered and respected every day, just like we should be patriotic and appreciative of our freedoms every day and not just on the fourth of July. And don’t get me started on how I feel about the Sacrament meeting talk complainers. Anybody that wants to can find a reason to rip on church meetings and those who speak. We are a church of imperfect people. So what if someone talks about his angel mother? Or what if that guy mentions his hot wife? It shouldn’t spoil your entire day. If it does, then the speakers are not the problem. I need to stop. I promised this would be short.
Anyways....
Look at the blessings who call me mother.
A haircut might be nice. Sam is looking awfully Miami Vice.
Here’s another picture of Sam. He is such a good boy.
We went over to Vaughn and Patty’s for dinner on mother’s day as it was also Patty’s birthday and thus a double celebration. Vaughn grilled some delicious steak and chicken and the boys enjoyed wrestling with Derek. Daniel got some cuddles with Grandpa.
We scheduled our big YW girls camp fundraiser during the hectic month of May - a mistake I’ll never make again. Because we have combined the 1st and 2nd wards for most mutual activities, it made sense to have a combined fundraiser. It was definitely double the work but I’m not sure it was double the reward. Thankfully, all the work, which was hours and hours of shopping and prepping in the kitchen and cleaning up afterward, was made better by working with these good women.
Henry had a tooth pretty much fall out the other day. In pieces. I took him to a pediatric dentist and the poor boy has to get the rest of the tooth extracted as well as crowns on most of his molars. Between his super stubborn personality and all of his oral issues (tongue and speech things) he isn’t a very good brusher and it’s hard to help him. As a result, he has almost $2,000 worth of work coming up. Gulp.
More soccer pics! This time, we were at a tournament in Grand Junction. The weather was lovely and warm and my boys did great. I was like a pack mule with the shade chair, umbrella, diaper bag, water and Daniel in a front pack. That's my excuse for only getting a couple of pictures of Seth and none of Sam. Bad mommy!
I am a huge fan and supporter of piano recitals. We haven’t had many because Sam and Seth’s teacher had a baby this year but the music teachers in the area decided to have a combined recital at the college and I was happy both boys got a chance to perform. Sam played Baroque in Bits and Seth played a duet with his teacher from the opera, Carmen, called “Gypsy Song”
All of the students take a final group bow.
Of course, we did our best to enjoy the rare solar eclipse but we didn’t have the right equipment to photograph the ring of fire. Here’s my attempt anyway.
We did notice we got some funny shadows on the house from the eclipse. Check out Seth’s webbed hands.
Sam and I practice our amphibian look as well.
Loved the eclipse’s effect on the tree’s shadow on our garage.
Jay pulls off science guy and builds a rudimentary solar camera. The boys love these kinds of things.
Other random pics from my phone:
Nursing Daniel in the car between soccer games.
Daniel chilling with mom post meal.
Daniel discovering a new friend in the mirror.
Seth thinking and mom wishing she knew what about.
Seth and Sam eating at Chilis after a soccer tournament.
Jay and Daniel take a nap before church on Sunday.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
May In Pictures (and some words. I just couldn’t help myself)
Monday, May 21, 2012
Daniel - 22 Weeks
Edited to add that you added rolling over from your back to your stomach today! You are growing and learning so much!
Monday, May 14, 2012
Daniel - Week 21
Playtime!
Love those chubby thighs.
It’s loud and takes up a ton of space but you sure do like your exersaucer.
Already learning to turn pages. Atta boy!
Monday, May 07, 2012
Daniel - 20 Weeks
I had a mother fail this morning. After your worst night in a long time (3 middle of the night feedings due to your being wide awake and fussy after rolling onto your back), I decided it was time for some tough love and, for your morning nap, I put you in your portacrib on your back and let you “soothe yourself” to sleep. Yes, that means cry frantically.
It’s hard. I remember being so good at this with your brothers. Maybe I don’t have the heart for it anymore because after 45 minutes of listening to you cry with increasing intensity, I went in to make sure you weren’t hurt and discovered a big ol’ poopy mess. No wonder.
Into the bath you went with extra suds to get that caked on yellow mess off your back and now you are contently sleeping in your swing. I just didn’t have the heart for another round of sleep training. Hopefully, we’ll get you a crib this week and maybe the change of scenery will help both of us overcome this little sleep obstacle.
In the meantime, when you aren’t chewing on your fist or my finger to relieve the pressure of your swollen but still toothless gums, you are awfully sweet. Twenty weeks already. Man. It sure does go fast.
Another State...Another Marathon
Jay would like to run a marathon in all 50 states. He is the kind of runner who likes to train hard and see if he can meet or beat whatever goal he has set, whether it is overall time, a negative split or a certain minute per mile pace. For him, that means running a maximum or three, maybe four, marathons a year. Because he chooses not to participate in races held on Sundays, his marathon choices aren’t always what he considers ideal.
For the past two years, Jay has run in the Boston Marathon in April. He has known about a marathon in Shiprock, New Mexico for sometime but as it falls on the first Saturday of May, he wasn’t physically, emotionally or mentally ready to race again so soon. This year, he bypassed his favorite race ever to run in what he described as “the hardest marathon I have ever run.”
I have never been a lover of the high desert. Oh, sure, it has its appeal. If beautiful sunsets and pinkish brown hues are your thing, you would love New Mexico. My dad served the Navajo people on his mission in the Southwest States and told me, “It grows on you.” It certainly does but I’m still fond of trees. Jay agreed when none was to be found anywhere along the entire 26.2 mile trek.
Shiprock is an awe-inspiring rock formation sacred to the Navajo people. According to their tradition, it is what transported their people to the area. It was a small marathon, with thousands of participants in the 10K, half-marathon and marathon relay, but only 200 running the full marathon. At an elevation of over 7,000 feet, Jay knew it would feel more difficult than most of his other marathons, which have all been run at or near sea level. The elevation, lack of shade, heat (it was 80 degrees when he finished at 10:00) and monotonous only-one-turn race course took their toll and Jay said if all marathons were like that, he’d never run another one.
Thankfully, he now has New Mexico crossed off his list. He’s signed up to run in Denver in September and that will cross off Colorado. Unfortunately, some of the coolest and highest rated races throughout the nation are on Sundays, so Jay will have to search for some more of these less famous, less popular marathons to work towards his goal.
Jay finished in 3:08. I was a total race supporter failure as I was at the finish line to see him finish but missed him. I never miss him! I knew it would be difficult to finish in under 3 hours due to the elements but, as the time passed 3:10...3:15...3:25, I started to worry that he was injured. Then, I saw him wandering around looking for me. He was about to get in his truck and call to leave me a message because he figured I might not have come after all. Henry and Daniel were my co-supporters and it may have been the fussy baby or the playing in the dirt six year-old that distracted me from seeing the bright red race singlet.
Congrats, Jay. Montana, Utah, Maryland, Massachusetts, Tennessee, Washington, Georgia, and New Mexico (I think that’s all of them) down and only 42 more states to go!
Thursday, May 03, 2012
Book Review #14 - The Paris Wife
I have read one Ernest Hemingway book: For Whom The Bell Tolls. I liked it well enough but it was hard reading. Short, curt sentences. Bleak. Unemotional. Plus, there was a lot of formal spanish dialogue.
Reading about Hemingway was much simpler and more my cup of tea. I know novels are never as accurate as biographies or wikipedia articles (joke) but their delivery is so much more palatable, in my opinion. Novels that aren’t written by Hemingway, that is.
The Paris wife is a novelized account of Ernest Hemingway’s first wife, Hadley, and the years they lived in Paris before and during his rise to literature stardom. I found Hadley and Ernest Hemingway and their relationship as depicted in The Paris Wife to be quite believable. They felt like whole people to me. Both were flawed, Ernest far more so, but as we were told the story through Hadley’s perspective, it felt right to see her as more of the victim of an ambitious and selfish man.
What a time period! I admit, I watched Woody Allen’s “Midnight in Paris” and barely enjoyed it. Not knowing any of the legends depicted except the most famous (Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Dali, Porter), I didn’t finish that movie with a sense that life in Paris during the 20s was all that spectacular. This book both confirmed and corrected my attitude. Paris was filled with what would become the all-stars of American Literature. It was an interesting time in an interesting place. The Great War, World War I, had recently ended. Many of those living in Paris either fought in the war or witnessed its atrocities. The world was recovering from what probably nobody thought could have ever happened. So much death. So much destruction. So little reason. Thus, the free and lose values of these young and provocative artists created an atmosphere almost akin to the Renaissance. It was another rebirth.
The rebirth came at a cost, however. Drugs, sexual promiscuity and an enlarged sense of lasses-faire may have created epic works of art and timeless literature, but it ripped away any kind of foundation for family life. Hadley Hemingway learned this the humiliating and painful way as her husband’s ego and success grew.
What detracted from the book were the rushed histories on both ends of the main story. Hadley’s childhood, while certainly necessary to understand her character, felt one-dimensional. Her younger self barely looked like her married self. Likewise, the tidying up at the end with both her and Ernests’s later histories satisfied some curiosity but, again, didn’t match up. I ended up reading wikipedia to get more explanation. :)
An interesting story of marriage, however. Fascinating really.
Book Review #13 - Three Day Road
This is one of those kinds of books I appreciated more than I actually liked. The time period is set during World War I, or The Great War, which I knew very little about. I went through my goodreads book and I have read 32 books that are set during or about World War II. I have read 2 about World War I. Of course, I’ve also watched Downton Abbey but I have a sneaky suspicious watching solders convalesce on the estate of a british aristocrat isn’t the everyman’s story of the war.
Three Day Road probably isn’t either but I did get an unflinching look at the brutality of living, fighting and dying in the trenches. By reading, I got a glimpse of the unrelenting snails pace of progress or defeat. I learned what kind of provisions the lowly privates of the war had provided and the kind of artillery and strategy used by those hunting down Fritz. It was all very interesting and depressing.
What sets Three Day Road apart from other dreary war books is the point of view of the narrators - both Native Americans. One is young Xavier, who enlists with his childhood friend, Elijah, both given Christian names by nuns trying to unheathenize them in Eastern Canada. Xavier and Elijah are excellent soldiers due to their lifetime spent hunting. They are selected as snipers and commanded to go out on midnight attacks, hunting their new prey - Germans.
Xavier struggles with the cause and the brutality. As he narrates from the first person, I could feel his reluctance, his fear as well as his confusion about wanting to do well when doing well meant killing. Elijah, on the other hand, enjoys his success and becomes lost to sanity after killing hundreds and becoming addicted to morphine. How their friendship and loyalty plays out is a major theme of the book.
The other narrator is Niska, Xaviers aunt, who continues to live as her ancestors did: hunting and roaming for shelter as a nomad. She is also perceived by her tribe to have special powers and visions that come to her when she has what appears to be epileptic seizures.
The chapters interchange between the two as Niska cares for Elijah upon his return home after the war. Through flashbacks on both their parts, a story of Native American folklore, the high cost of war and the element of three - past, present and future, emerge.
So Unpretty
It struck me, as I finished putting on my makeup, that I had just spent the better part of the previous thirty minutes spent showering and getting ready thinking some pretty negative thoughts about myself. Of course, those thirty minutes were all spent in the bathroom with bright afternoon sunlight pouring in both windows and overhead skylight while being in various stages of undress. I hear and I believe how important it is to be confident; to be strong, be loving, generous and kind...to ourselves. I don’t read glossy magazines. I don’t aspire to look or be like anyone famous. Most days, I think I get away with having my positive self-image remain unscathed.
Then, for reasons unknown, I have these very bad days. The dark circles underneath my eyes bother me. The weird red mole on the left side of my neck sticks out too far. My front tooth is darkening again and I think veneers would be nice. My cracked heels are gross. My eyebrows need waxed. My hair. Even after putting product in and blowing it out with a diffuser, I still have to roll my ridiculously short frizzy bangs back and put the rest of my hair in a pony tail because I look like I was electrocuted. And don’t get me started about the color. Still ridiculously orange. I think about getting an spray tan because I’m so pale. I need better hair product to control the frizz. I need an entire facial and make-up lesson because I have no idea how to apply it so that I can make....this...look better. No, I need plastic surgery...everywhere...to make this all look better.
I hate it. I hate days like this. I hate caring. I hate knowing how unattainable that kind of beauty is. I’m not a bad person. I worked out today, have only had 882 calories so far, showered, shaved my legs and put make-up on. It should be enough. But then I see the tooth and the mole and the chin hairs and...
I just feel so unpretty.
Wednesday, May 02, 2012
The Right To Be Outraged
As someone who considers herself a reader and a thinker, belonging to a book club is always something I’ve sought out. Of course, as anyone who has ever been a part of a book club can tell you, the quality of the club can vary widely. In the past, I’ve belonged to a book club when the book hardly got mentioned but I enjoyed being with my friends so much, it didn’t matter. I’ve belonged to a club where a member felt compelled to photocopy pages that contained vulgarity, black out the offending words and distribute clean copies so that every one could read sin free. I’ve belonged to a book club where only LDS books were allowed to be certain that no one could possible be offended (some were still offended).
I’ve belonged to a book club that changed the meeting dates so often it quickly went defunct. I’ve belonged to a book club that mailed books from reader to reader with notes and comments in the margins and another club that was formed with mostly strangers who blogged. I currently meet with a charming group of women, most of whom are in their late 40s and 50s who are not my besties but are nice thoughtful people who, for the most part, choose interesting books.
The who’s and the why’s are a longer story than I care to share, but each month, the book is selected by the person hosting who also serves dinner to the club. I missed April’s meeting last Thursday, even though I had read the book because Daniel had had a rough day and I still needed to get things done to prepare for my busy weekend such as talk writing and cleaning. In an email, I told everyone how much I enjoyed the book, The Paris Wife, and how I was looking forward to seeing them in May.
An email from the club’s leader (how much do I hate that the club has a leader? A lot.) came on Wednesday saying that no one had signed up to host in May so we were going to meet at a downtown restaurant and discuss the book 50 Shades of Grey. I’ve seen the book on Amazon.com’s top seller list but the cover didn’t appeal to me at all, nor the fact that it was part of a trilogy (it seemed like a grown up Twilight) but I didn’t know what it was about. So, I looked it up.
It is erotica. Gross.
I fumed for about a day. With all of the better options out there, I couldn’t believe the group (because it wasn’t just one person, I guess) would select something so blatantly pornographic. I’m pretty liberal in what I read and don’t often cause a ruckus if sex is in a book but it has to have some context. It has to have some meaning. I started to compose a rebuke to the group about its poor choice then deleted it. No one wants to be lectured. No one wants to be told they are reading trash. And no one wants someone who censors what they read. Would my email have amounted to blacking out what I thought vulgar? My outrage waned to disappointed which eventually turned into embarrassment that I had ever gotten so worked up about it in the first place. Who am I to judge another? I don’t have to read it.
I’ve noticed this pattern in my reaction before. Outrage followed by disappointment followed by some strange mix of compassion/empathy/apathy/it’s probably all my fault somehow anyway.
Some more recent examples:
There was a senior prank on Monday and all the air on the all the school bus tires was let out. I think they cut off the stem valve on each tire. School was cancelled district wide and I was outraged. Not because school was cancelled but because nobody seemed to be outraged! So many thought it was funny and I felt like the biggest killjoy by pointing out that these “funny” kids were messing with the vehicles that transport our children. MY children. Then the outrage turned to disappointment and then apathy. No one was hurt, I guess.
A letter came home from the middle school principle apologizing to all the seventh grade parents (I’m not sure why I got a letter. They must have sent it to all middle school parents) for the inappropriate bag some seventh graders got during a field trip to one of those teen-building places, in this case a maze where they had to make choices or something like that. Apparently, at one of the stations in the maze, there was a sex education spiel and bags with a condom and other sundries were handed out. The principle was horrified and apologetic in his letter and promised to address not only the company that hosted this field trip but also the purpose of all future field trips. My Lucy-stages of outrage were very brief and within five minutes I was thinking, “You know, those kids can buy a condom in any gas station bathroom. If it came with some accurate information about the consequences of sexual activity instead of only the titillating picture on the machine, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.” See how inconsistent I am? Oh...and I’m sure my reaction would have been stronger if I had a seventh grader. The scary thing is, I know some seventh graders need that information because when I was in seventh grade, there were some my age who were already experimenting. Sad. Sad, sad, sad.
Both of my sons’ soccer coaches repeated go over the end time of practice. I find it infuriating as I’m usually waiting in the car with a crying baby and have already been in the car for hours. I think if practice is until 5:45 or 7:30 then my boys should be free to get in the car by 5:46 and 7:31. But, they are usually still scrimmaging or doing drills until 5:49 or 7:35. Then the goals need to be put away. It is 5:58 or 7:46 before either boy is in the car. I’d come later but their lateness isn’t consistent and I often don’t have anywhere else to go. I can’t go home as all I’d be doing is driving back and forth (20 minutes to and from). See? I’m already trying to somehow blame where I live on why I feel the way I do.
Is our anger ever justified? Is it because I lack the activist gene that I rarely say anything and rarer still to feel as passionately about it the next minute/hour/day?
What outrages you? Do you speak up about it? Do you think not speaking up about it is a form of weakness?
A Gaggle of Girls
Last Friday night, I invited the young women over to my house for a sleepover. My niece, Delanie, had a great idea to make Venetian masks for a personal progress project but it was time consuming and needed several days to complete so I knew we’d need a setting like an overnighter for it to be successful. I was also motivated to have the girls come together outside of the church setting to see if some barriers between groups could be broken down.
The girls started to arrive at 6 pm and I put the take-n-bake pizzas I bought at Walmart in the oven. My second counselor brought a bunch of soda and my secretary and 1st counselor brought snacks and treats for the rest of the evening. Just because they are awesome, two of my girls who are sisters brought scrumptious brownies and muffins as well. We had plenty of food!
After eating, Delanie instructed the girls on their mask making. Each girl getting masked had to layer Vaseline onto her face. It was amusing to see them freaking out about it but then it got eerily quiet. With half of the girls on their backs being completely still and silent, we had much less noise. To help them remain as still as they needed to be, I put on some soft music. My sister turned me on to Joshua Radin’s Pandora station and it is the best music ever when you want some to play mellow, popular music. The girls loved it and I frequently heard, “Oh...I love this song!”
It took about 20-30 minutes for the masks to be applied and then the girls had to continue to lie still for another 20 or so minutes for them to dry. We only had a couple of girls get claustrophobic and panic but even they did o.k. They just sort of wiggled their arms and legs to vent a bit. Once the first group started to pry their masks off their faces, the merriment of the evening really began. It was an amusing sight. One of my mia maids was sure she was ripping off her eyebrows and once her mask came off, there was this huge dark blob right where he eye was. We saw it, she saw it and she ran to the bathroom to see if she had any eyebrows left. Thankfully, it was only her mascara that transferred and all of her hair remained intact.
The first group of girls getting their masks made. Delanie is in the middle putting a mask on Kristen and monitoring every one else’s progress.
Brooke was the girl who got the most panicked. You can see why.
Tanessa went with a Phantom of the Opera look and only did a half face.
Alyssa also did a half face but hers is the more traditional shape.
My wonderful and adorable counselor, Kristen, was game to make a mask. I would have but it was tricky with Daniel. You’re pretty much glued to a spot for an hour so I didn’t.
Kaeli and her sister Afton were very detailed and spent the most time on each others’ masks. They came out perfect.
Some of the masks drying and Delanie’s example of the mask she made in one of her classes.
Afton right after her masks was taken off.
Elise getting her vaseline on. Look at the glob of it on her fingertips.
Kaeli’s turn being the victim.
Staysha didn’t want to get masked as she has sensitive skin and feared a breakout or allergic reaction but was willing to apply Elise’s mask. Jenna gets a half mask to match her cousin, Tanessa.
Victoria was a pro at lying still.
Elise is covered.
Another Kaylee came with her friends, Brooke and Victoria. I hope she had fun.
Jenna’s mask coming off. Hers was the eyebrow scare.
Eyebrow intact!
Kaeli post mask. Funny girl.
The second group went much the same. All of us leaders hung out in the room talking to the girls and it was a nice feeling of camaraderie. I was really proud of Delanie and her leadership and am excited to see how the masks turn out. They dried overnight and the girls plan on decorating them tonight at mutual with glitter, feathers and paint. Oh my!
After the masks, we snacked and started in on Karaoke. I never know how successful Karaoke evenings go. Some girls had a blast. Some girls didn’t sing at all. It’s a toss up.
Alyssa has Aspergers and struggles at a lot of our activities because they are too loud or she just doesn’t like them. She is a very sweet girl and loves to sing so this was perfect for her. She has such a nice voice too.
Jenna and Tanessa were also fans of the microphone though they liked to giggle more than sing.
Elise, Afton and Kaeli take a turn. I kind of forced Elise and you can see how eager she was to sing (she has the braid giving away the microphone):)
By the time Karaoke wound down, it was 10:20 and several of the girls who had early morning commitments went home. I started the move Flipped, which is really cute. I used the website commonsense media.org to research the film and I think it was o.k in spite of the few swear words thrown in.
At the end of the movie, every single girl minus two was asleep. I quietly turned off the TV, made sure everyone was covered with blankets and had a pillow underneath her head and went to bed. I know! I didn’t even sleep out there with them but there wasn’t really room and I didn’t think I’d hear Daniel crying in the night if I stayed in the living room. My counselor was out there so I knew they were fine.
The girls left early in the morning and I have to say...easiest sleep over ever! They got a bit hyper during Karaoke and I’m sure Jay was nervous that we’d be having those squeals and shouts all night but they calmed down at a decent hour and everyone got sleep. Success!
