Yesterday, Lily came home very upset. She’s never gotten a “bad” grade before. They don’t even really HAVE grades at this point - just four levels. Basically, great job, satisfactory, needs work, or you REALLY missed the point. Lily had trouble with an assignment and ended up getting the “worst” grade possible. She put the paper in her cubbie. One of her classmates was messing around in her cubbie later - no idea why - and saw her grade. Apparently he told the entire class that Lily got a bad grade. She was humiliated and upset and being the sensitive child she is, cried. Then she tattled (still haven’t gotten this bad habit fixed).
Everytime someone is mean to the kids I always feel the dread come over me. I remember the days of being picked on, and the glorious high that comes with picking on others. The meanness seems to start at an earlier age these days.
Today, Lily came home smiling. She was carrying a bright orange Easter egg filled with candy, a cute eraser, and a handwritten note:
I love that he apologized. Who knows if his mother or their teacher put him up to it, but it’s completely adorable. The best part? Lily looked me in the eye and said, “I like the candy, but the note is the best part.”
Nikki is a friend I met through NaNoWriMo. We have a lot in common, despite a 12 year age difference. She’s been living in the house on the third floor and has been our unofficial nanny/nurse/chief coffee drinker since she moved in. Since I’ve been remiss on writing about the kids, Nikki wrote a guest post. She might become my regular, unpaid guest blogger until my brain is less muddled and full of bees.
My alarm goes off at 6:55, and resisting the urge to hit snooze, I jump out of bed. Jump is a misnomer here. It’s more like I don’t even think about the fact that prior to two weeks ago, this waking time did not exist for me. I stand up, grab my iPhone, tweet my location on Foursquare so as to not be ousted as mayor of Casa Estrogen, and head downstairs.
If I was smart, I would have pre-set the coffee for the night before. It took me several days at the Del Bueno household to remember this trick from my early college years. Downstairs, I spring into action. Set out two kid’s cereal bowls, one child spoon, one adult spoon. I make an educated guess as to what cereal they will want for breakfast and set it, along with the milk on the counter. Everything is ready to go. I make sure that the set up is in the correct seats, because all hell will break loose at the kitchen table if the seating chart gets messed up and Arden has to sit in Lily’s seat or vice versa. It sounds silly, it sounds trite, and you are shaking your head over something so trivial. But remember back to your childhood. If you had siblings, you went through the same thing. I know I did. Ever rooted in tradition, my little brother still likes to mess up how we sit as a famiglia when we come together for the rare dinner.
I hear thumping down the stairs. The 63 pound yellow lab, who I joke (when the kids are not around, or course), is the biggest, dumbest lab I have ever seen, is awake and demands attention in the form of love and hugs and food. Most of the adults in the house know I say this in jest. I am a true animal lover. Careening towards the door like a bull in china shop, she demands (not begs, demands) to be let out. One she is done, I try and get her sit calmly…who am I kidding, I try to get her to sit at all, as I wipe her paws. She races towards her food as if she has just come from a famine. I guess several hours would be a famine for this big lovable lab. Right now we have abandoned ‘sit’ and are working on not jumping. If I time it right, I can get the dog settled (I laugh as I type settled) before I hear the pitter patter of the girls coming downstairs for breakfast. Lily is ready for school. Arden, her hair sticking up every which way, goes to school later. If I was her older sibling, I would be eternally resentful. I don’t know how Lily feels. Maybe she doesn’t value sleep like I do. Cereal is poured, silliness abounds. It took me a while to get used to one, eating breakfast; two, eating with 2 kids. They eat when they are hungry and stop when they are full. I had to be a member of the ‘clean plate club’ when I was their age, so seeing kids leave food on the plate and it being acceptable is something completely foreign to me. I also like calmness and order, since that’s the way it was in my house growing up. As anyone who has kids or has spent any significant amount of time with kids knows, calmness and order generally takes a gentle soar out the window when you have children in your presence. It was something I had to readily adapt to, and still am.
I find myself craving solace, quiet, the peace that comes with all the family members doing their separate things at all times, but then I quickly remember that I love Arden’s contagious smile, her braids that she requests from me each morning (with the hair ties matching her outfit. major little diva), wildly flying as she streaks to her next activity, ever a ball of energy. How Lily will come home from school and briefly climb in my lap and tell me about school and how, despite the almost 20 year age difference, we can geek out over books together. Holed up in the story room, we both eagerly anticipate the next chapter, and delight when she pronounces a tough word and reads with a fluidity generally reserved for a girl years older. She was recently up in my room, perusing my bookshelves, and picked up my dog eared copy of DFW’s ‘Infinite Jest.’ Mispronouncing the title and then flopping back on my bed in a fit of hysterical laughter only fit for a first grader, she looks at me and with the most serious face says, “Nikki, I am going to read InifiniJest as my next book. But you might need to help me with the big words, k?” How could you not love that? I know I do.
It’s different. It takes time to get used to, as all changes do. I’d write more, but someone is calling for me to braid her hair.
Lily wanted a slumber party for her 7th birthday. Originally I told her she could invite three additional girls (plus Arden, who insisted on being included). Somehow this morphed into inviting 6 girls, plus Lily and Arden. 8 kids, all aged 7 and under. I told them to bring their sleeping bags, cleared out the family room and let it rip.
We painted ornaments - that lasted for 10 minutes before the girls were screaming for the next project. Poor Riley - she wanted everything painted perfectly, and all the other girls were telling her to hurry it up. We consumed a huge platter of chicken nuggets (Abby informed us she was vegetarian - her mother shot that one down). There was toe-painting, present-opening (we traumatized Emma when another girl got Lily the exact same Webkin she did, but a phone call to her mother made everything right again), popcorn-eating and movie-watching. Everyone was quiet, if not asleep, at 10 pm - and didn’t start yelling for donuts until 7 am! It was a miracle. Best of all, this was the maiden voyage for most of the girls spending the night at a slumber party. They all made it, mostly intact after a night with us and the Lily and Arden Show.
My “baby” is 7 today. Everything I have to say is very cliche, so I’ll spare you all the details. She had a great birthday; her 1st grade teacher broke the rules and allowed me to send in some brownies to the classroom. School really takes all the fun out of everything now - no birthdays allowed to be celebrated, everything genericized until it means nothing. I love her teacher and Lily had a great day. My mom had lunch with her (and ate what could possibly the world’s worst grilled cheese sandwich). Tonight we took her to Friendly’s and actually had a good experience there. I ate fried food and ice cream - wahoo! I’ll regret it in the morning but for now we’re all pleasantly plump and the girls are finally in bed.
Her real party is in a couple of weeks. I’m letting 6 of her friends spend the night. Lord have mercy.
Finally - pictures from Halloween. Apparently I had the wrong setting selected on my camera, so the pictures are not the greatest, but you will get a general idea of the cuteness. Warning - if you don’t like pictures of dogs dressed in costume (I’m looking at you, @shedrivesajimmy), you might want to skip the slideshow 
