Santaphobia

In keeping with the holiday spirit, I give you Sketchy Santas.

Look for our picture here soon, as Abby is having none of the Santa Claus this year.

Random Thought

It's cold here today. So cold that instead of walking out to get the morning paper, I waited until I was backing the car out of the driveway to pick it up. Three days worth of papers were piled at the end of our driveway. And it occurred to me, I bet the paperboy hates, cringes, seethes when he sees three days worth of papers. He has to get up at 4 a.m. on a 25 degree morning to deliver the paper and I'm too lazy to walk out and get it.

The Poet

A few weeks ago Sam was invited to participate in his school's academic fair on December 5. In my day we had science fairs, but now they've expanded to include math, spelling, poetry and art. Sam's teacher has told us a few times that he likes to read "with expression" so, needless to say, he was asked to recite a poem.

The week before Thanksgiving he was assigned his poem, "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere" by Longfellow. He practiced and memorized. I walked that line of offering him advice without hurting his feelings. Thanksgiving break came and went. The week before the fair his teacher added another page because she was afraid he wouldn't meet the time requirements. We practiced more. She told me how he could improve but that he need not memorize the poem - just focus on enunciation, pronunciation and delivery.

And then he got strep throat.

We got several doses of antibiotics in him, he wasn't feverish and he wanted to participate so we went. (Even though, poor guy, he got up once the night before, gulped a glass of water and promptly threw it up.) Spectators weren't allowed in the performance rooms so Jake and Abby and I colored and ran the halls of the high school while we waited. In the poetry category there were six schools competing, two or three kids per school, so you can imagine it didn't take too long.

I tried to pry information from Sam. "How did you do? On a scale of 1 to 10, what do you think? Did the teachers make any comments?" He offered very little information. After a quick lunch we went back for the awards ceremony.

Now ... I cry a lot. I cried this morning at a Folger's commercial. I cried at Star Wars In Concert. I cry when babies are baptized at church. I'll cry later this week during the kids' Christmas programs. Sometimes it doesn't even have to be my kids. Like the academic fair awards ceremony. For the first and second grade competitions all the participants got a purple ribbon and then first, second and third places were awarded.

When it was time for second grade poetry all the participants went on stage and received their purple ribbons. Then they announced the winners. Third place, Jane Doe from Main Street Elementary. Second place, Joseph from Rosemont (Sam's school and classmate). First place. Oh God. Could he have done well enough for first place?

I couldn't tell you if a boy or girl won. All I know is it wasn't Sam. He wasn't two steps off the stage before he - and then I - started crying.

I got Sam, Jake and Abby into the foyer and gave Sam a big hug. By this time he was sobbing. "All that for nothing. I practiced every day."

"Sam, I bet none of those kids had the week you had. I bet none of them have strep throat or have been to the doctor or were up this morning getting sick. But you were. A lot of kids and adults too would've said "I'm sick. I'm just not going to do it, but you showed up. If they gave a 'Courageous Kid' award, I know it would go to you."

We didn't talk about it anymore. But that night when I was laying in bed, I started to get a little bitter. Why did his teacher say he didn't have to memorize the poem? I saw the scorecard and they were judged on memorization. Why was he given a 900-word Longfellow poem? One of his competitors recited a one-page Shel Silverstein poem. (Today I will be reciting chapter 7 from Stephen Hawking's "Brief History of Time.")

To be honest, when Sam practiced with me, he needed improvement. But when the teachers were cheering and hugging and taking pictures with the winners, I wanted someone to pull him aside and hug him too. I wanted him to be excited. I so wanted to see his face when they announced his name.

Maybe he'll get to participate next year. Maybe I said some things right and he won't be discouraged. Maybe he'll practice more next time. Maybe I'll push more.

No matter what happens I'll probably cry.

A Run In With Saint Nick

Despite my better judgment I took the kids out to eat Saturday night at a coffee shop near our house. The surrounding neighborhood was having its annual holiday celebration - stores open late, strolling carollers, wassail, hot chocolate - and I thought we could eat and catch a little of the merriment. But the best part of the evening happened before the evening even started really. As we were walking into the coffee shop we ran into ... Santa.

Sam and Jake immediately ran to hug him, and right on cue he said, "Finally! The elves told me I should be watching for two brothers in Batman hats and here you are!" (The boys seemed to forget they were wearing Batman hats. It was just a comment from omnipotent Santa ... )

Although Abby was not so effusive she immediately cut in. "We have your elf at our house," she said, referring to General Snowball. And without missing a beat, Santa asked, "Are you taking good care of him?"

We chatted for a bit and then started to go our separate ways. Santa was walking away when he turned quickly ("with a jerk" perhaps) and pointed at Jake. "And YOU. You're still on my nice list, but you have to remember that there are 19 days until Christmas and you have to be good each and every day. Can you do that?"

Our own little miracle, right there on Bishop Street.

Sayeth the Lord

As I have recounted many times, the minute Bryon goes on a business trip, something happens at home. We've had minor malfunctions like the air conditioner quitting during a hot week in July. We've had major disruptions like Sam getting strep throat while I was home on maternity leave with a six-week old Abby. ("Can you keep him away from the baby?" the nurse asked me.)

And so it's no surprise that a mere five hours after Bryon's plane took off from Dallas, one of my kids was puking. This time it was Sam. I picked him up from school and after first noticing the circle of blue around his mouth, I noticed how pale he was. "I have a headache," he told me.

We'd been in the car two minutes when I looked in the rear view mirror and realized he was vomiting. In his lap, on the floor, on Jake's backpack. It was blue too. "Why is it blue Sam? What did you eat this afternoon?"

"It must've been the icing," he said.

I got him home and into a hot bath. By early evening he was curled up in bed. I gave him a dose of Tylenol for his headache and turned my attention to Abby and Jake. A couple hours later Sam came downstairs, bored and hopped up on Tylenol.

Let me back up a little and say that Sam hasn't missed a day of school this year. I'm not one to send a sick kid to school, but his perfect attendance record is important to him and he didn't want to break it. Plus, he was supposed to be reciting a poem during morning announcements - a poem he is also reciting at an academic competition Saturday morning.

When he came downstairs feeling better I explained to him that it was the Tylenol and he probably was still sick. (I'm thinking strep - he always vomits when he has strep.) But I was leaving it up to him. If he felt OK in the morning I would take him to school. If he didn't, he really should stay home. Maybe he could do the announcements on Monday morning.

He went upstairs to brush his teeth but was downstairs a couple of minutes later. Obviously this decision was causing him some anxiety.

"Just now I was upstairs talking to the Lord," he told me. "And I heard a voice that said 'You will.'"

"You asked God about school tomorrow?" I asked him.

"God and Santa," he said.

Scenes

So Thanksgiving is over. We hosted and celebrated with Bryon's side of the family. From my perspective it was a near perfect day. The weather was lovely, the boys played football in the street with neighbors, the house was filled with good smells, we only had three meltdowns, and the food was pretty good too. Some highlights:

Jake put together these little candle centerpieces:

I was proud of my apple pie:

We decorated the Christmas tree, among other things:

My Christmas cactus bloomed (and promises more):

And right on time, General Jolly Apple Alligator Snowball, our own personal elf, arrived to keep an eye on things for Santa until Christmas:

To top it all off, we had snow flurries this morning. They've already melted but it was pretty while it lasted.