I’ve been really touched and affected by the passing of Mike and Heather Spohr’s 17th month old daughter, Maddie.  Although I didn’t “know” them, I randomly and sporadically followed Heather’s blog.  I followed her on twitter, and seeing her updates go from a very scared mom of a daughter having trouble breathing to silence, then to a final simple link with the news that Maddie had passed was just literally heartwrenching. 

The funeral service was today. Heather and Mike both wrote posts in honor of Maddie, and I was beyond words after reading them.  That they can both write so clearly and beautifully in the middle of what has to be the worst heartbreak/ache in the world blows my mind.  To be able to focus on all of the beautiful things about your child, instead of raging at the world or god or whomever for taking her away - is more than I could ever do.  (note:  the site is under heavy traffic so please be patient with the loading/unloading.  you can also read both posts here.)

Although it’s hard to read, I encourage you to read it anyway.  It made me so grateful for my two girls, sleeping peacefully upstairs.  I will be able to hold them again tomorrow, and kiss them, and breathe in their scent, and be around their goofiness and their sweetness. 

**Update:  both SassyMonsters.com and NapMatsandMore.com are offering a 5% discount code (it’s maddie10).  If you use the code, you get 5% off, and Maddie’s March of Dimes account gets 5%.**

Those who have known me a while know that I used to laugh my ass off at the crazy shit mothers did and said to each other, all in the name of being “good parents”.  I always called it “competitive mothering”, and this past week, I ended up feeling like one of those women I make fun of.

I explained to Mike that with kindergarten looming in Lily’s future (well, her 12-months-from-now future), I feel like I did during her first year of life.  Uncoordinated, uneducated, a little bit fearful, apprehensive, and paranoid to make a mistake.  I’d almost forgotten how HARD it was to feel that way.  With Arden, even if I hadn’t know what I was doing, I was too tired to be aware of my incompetence. 

Lily is entering a pre-K class on September 4, and I went to the orientation blissfully ignorant and happy that they were giving her structure and working on the basic skills that will enable her to learn to read in kindergarten.  I didn’t really pick it apart or worry too much about it - I think I was more focused on how I was going to help her decorate her first big-girl locker.  Then I spent some time on the phone with Emma’s mom (also in Lily’s class).  She’s got an older daughter in college, is very smart, and highly up-to-date on education.  She was having a fit of worrying about the curriculum in the pre-K classroom.  (The fact that she referred to it as “curriculum” should have clued me in that I wasn’t really with the program).  She met with the director of the school, researched Montessori programs, and reported back to me on her conversations with the school.  It turns out the that “curriculum” is actually going to be just fine, and thank god I have smarter, more with it parents to explain it all to me.  One thing that was made clear:  Lily’s school’s primary function is not to teach her to read this year - they are leaving that for kindergarten.

I thought everything was fine, until the following day when I picked up a “Reading Express” flyer or something like that from her folder at school.  One of Mike’s pet peeves about where Lily goes is that he feels he is nickel-and-dimed to death.  Everything is extra - and it’s fabulous that they offer things like Computer Bus, Gym Bus, Ballet, and now Reading Distress Express.  However, each of these little activities runs in the hundreds of dollars per quarter, and I am constantly fielding questions like “Why can’t I take ballet like Kate?” or, “Why can I not go on Computer Bus like I used to?”  Well, honey, it’s because Mommy’s business isn’t really paying her these days and Mommy can’t afford to sign you up, sweet cakes!!!  I checked over the flyer and it’s all about a class, $200 per quarter, 8 sessions per quarter, giving your child the “necessary foundation” for reading success.  So I took this to mean that if we didn’t fork over the money, Lily would be foundationless.  It sent me into a tailspin, especially when another phone conversation with Emma’s mom yielded the fact that Emma would definitely be taking all four quarters of the Reading Rainbow stuff.

Mike’s take on this?  “I don’t remember my parents signing me up for reading enrichment programs before I ever entered school, and frankly, I think this is a little over the top.”  I tend to agree with him, and then I start to freak - but what if we don’t, and Lily’s behind everyone else?  What if she spends her life in therapy determining that the reason she is a failure in life is due to missing Reading Spasms class???  I mean, I am poking fun at this - and tempering my fear with sarcastic posturing - but what pisses me off is that I feel like a pawn in the game to get parents to cough up money by using fear marketing techniques.  Perhaps we should employ that method in our online stores.  It would be something like this:

“Visit us at http://www.napmatsandmore.com to ensure your child’s educational future.  Did you know that without a high-quality, allergen-free nap mat, your child could be seriously brain-damaged during nap time?  Sure, you can skip the nap mat, but studies have shown that kids without a NapMatsAndMore.com mat will score 40% lower on standardized testings and also have a tendency to drool and sleepwalk.  So why take the risk?”

That’s how I feel a lot of the time.  Am I messing with Lily’s future as a computer programmer if I skip the $250 quarterly Computer Bus?  Will she end up an illiterate street bum because we passed on Reading Rugrats?  I don’t know - but I’m trying to go with my gut and not let what all the other parents are doing affect our decisions.  Damn, it’s hard.  It’s like peer pressure in reverse.  The school says, “We don’t teach them to read because that’s a skill they learn in kindergarten, but hey, while we have your attention, here’s a flyer on a reading program we offer during school time to teach them to read. No pressure!”  It just seems like a major mixed message.

My head hurts.  I’m going to bed. 

No time tonight for posting a long update, though I have much to say. In the coming days I’ll be discussing my inability to be fake, which is causing problems in la familia, an update on my brother, the results of Bizarre Bazaar (I will say that we won first place for best Booth display in our building, which makes us very happy), and life in general. However, I’m tired and I want to go to bed. 

Today when I picked up Arden, Windsor told me there had been an incident.  She said this as almost an after-thought - as she usually does when she doesn’t want to tell me bad stuff about Arden. Some background.  Arden has been socked a couple of times in the past month. One time the beating had been doled out via wooden block, which gave her a very ugly black eye.  Today one of the boys in her class decided he wanted what she was playing with, and shoved her down and took it from her.  Arden stood up and basically got in the boy’s face and pushed him back.  Next ensued chaos, much like a Peanuts’ cartoon where there is a huge dust cloud and hands, fists, legs and feet are the only thing you see coming out of it.  They ended up brawling on the floor while taking turns pummeling each other while they could.  Windsor had to physically break the two of them apart.  Both were sent to Mrs. Bryce’s office (the equivalent of the principal’s office in preschool land). 

I was dismayed to hear this, but a part of me was like “You go, girl!”  I can’t imagine Lily standing up to a boy and socking it to him, but I guess Arden had had enough of being pushed around at school.  I of course am in 100% agreement with the school that physical displays of emotion and frustration are not to be tolerated, but I had to giggle (internally!) that she was belly bumping a 2 1/2 year old boy in her class.  Tonight both Mike and I had stern discussions with her about what had happened and explained that it cannot happen again.  We went through all the politically correct ways to express frustration when you are in a disagreement. 

How a child can be so utterly sweet and loving one moment, then the next re-enacting a scene from “Roadhouse”, I will never understand. 

Yes folks, it’s true.  The normally perky and intrepid Cristina is flat out crabby these days.  Yesterday Jennifer and I ventured out to our first trade show. The demographic we were going for (women our age, with kids, who love cute clothes enough to pay for them), were, uh, not in attendance.  Clue #1:  the event was in Hopewell.  Mike told me it was nicknamed Hopesmell.  He wasn’t kidding. I don’t know what they make there, but ewww, it sure does stink. Clue #2:  the trade show part of the event was held in the Hopewell High School gym.  Fact #1:  We saw more Crystal Gayle look-alikes in 2 hours than I’ve ever seen in my life.  Fact #2:  I know everyone here makes fun of West Virginia, but there are A LOT of people in Hopewell that are missing plenty of teeth.  Fact #3:  I’m going to be firebombed and hatemailed by people from Hopewell. 

But hey, I have to call it like I see it. Hopewellians are a frugal, pragmatic bunch - they shop for onesies and toddler apparel at Wal*Mart, or when really breaking out, Kohl’s.  We wre just really not in the right market.  We sold $0.  Literally.  Jennifer says that’s okay because we got a chance to put our booth together and see how it looks, as well as figuring out what we still need.  We are considering doing Bizarre Bazaar at the end of March.  Apparently Jennifer’s family isn’t considering it - they’ve already booked their tickets!  We are hopeful now that the fine folks at BB will allow us to give them $500 to display our wares. 

In the meantime, Steve finally went back to the doctor.  His heart rate is crazed and he was literally vibrating.  He has been re-admitted to the hospital and is going to have his heart “shocked” tomorrow to see if they can reset the rhythm.  My normally overactive desire to research literally anything on the internet has gone away.  I don’t want to know what the options are if this doesn’t work.  I can’t deal with it - at least not tonight.  I haven’t talked to my brother since he got home from the hospital and he hasn’t felt very well and talking isn’t a lot of fun when you feel like your chest is on fire or your heart is going to bust out of your ribs and do a frenetic irish jig on the coffee table.  I wish more than anything that I could remove all of the stress and worry from his life, or protect him, or fix him, but I can do none of those things. 

Yes, I’m crabby.  This too shall pass.  In the meantime Arden is enjoying her brand new nap mat (she is obsessed with it and kept screaming and pointing at the closet at daycare, saying “NIGHT NIGHT!  ME WANT NIGHT NIGHT!”).  Lily is obsessed with Robots, the movie, and wants me to buy her a pair of robot boots (blue metal).  She also got in trouble today for saying “Poop” and “Pee” during lunch.  This incited everyone at her table to scream it along with her. 

Some pictures we received from Arden and Lily’s teachers . . . I especially love the closeup of Arden.  I find it humorous that her teachers can more easily capture the essence of Arden than I can . . .