Let it Go: Reggae Kids Wanna See You Be Brave -- Who Wouldn't Wanna Be Me?

The children have been preparing nonstop for the annual Cardinal Winter Program, which means that we've been singing/practicing/hearing/humming/trying desperately to drown out the same nine songs, over and over, for weeks. We let them watch the videos on YouTube, which was a hilarious and enlightening window into what they will be like as teenagers: Cordelia stared intensely into the Katy Perry and Sara Bareilles videos, singing throatily along, eyes in a far-off world of guts and glory and fearlessness and freedom. Her eyes actually get glassy. It's something else. Emma, meanwhile, also has every single word of these songs memorized, and it's about the funniest thing you can imagine to hear her saying, "I WANT TO SING ROAR!" And then shouting--because of all of us, it's just possible the E is the one who can't carry a tune in a bucket--"I GOT THE EYE OF A TIGER! A FIGHTER! I'm DANCING through the FIRE! I am the CHAMpion! You're gonna hear ME ROAR!" Or saying to me several times daily, "TELL ME HOW BIG YOUR BRAVE IS!"

We'll download our pictures tomorrow, because we are beat like a red-headed stepchild tonight. Mostly because midafternoon, Cordelia--who had a minor cold this week--came downstairs from nap screaming that her ear was about to explode. Two hours before the performance. Off to the Minute Clinic, where they described her infections as "raging out of control" and onto the pink medicine. When I asked if she wanted to stay home she sobbed, "NO! I CAN'T! Mrs. Benzi NEEDS ME!" And she did. She needed sweet, redheaded, incredibly pale little Cordelia Mary to belt out Jamaican reggae songs about diversity, unity, and pride. Preferably all three at once, just to be safe. "Brown Girl in the Rain" would not have been the same without her lilting Irish voice. 

Amazingly, CML was pissy and cranky and mouthy all the way up to the point where the curtains opened, and then:

Is the wiggle awesome, or what? Day-oh. Day, you say day-oh. She likes sugar, and I like rum. 

Right after she finished, she was right back to her sorry self. But I was distracted from her whining when Emma "I NEED TO DO IT MY OWN SELF" Last, during "Brave," insisted on climbing into the auditorium seat on her own. But because she's so small and light, the seat promptly folded back up, swallowing her whole, trapping her foot, and eating her shoe. 

Because we Lasts are nothing if not low-key and inconspicuous. 

Anyway, here's Cody's class. You'd never know from his sweet and joyful face that he spent all day figuring out just how far he could push his sweet mama before she got in the car, drove west, and didn't look back. You can be amazing, Cody, "you can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug." 

Children, since I'm writing this blog as proof of my devotion that you can print out and take to your therapist's office one day, I'll just admit it: despite the happy faces here, it was a challenging day. On the scale of 1 to "I Was a Really Crappy Mother," I think I tipped the scales. I don't want to talk about it and I hope we can start tomorrow fresh. Not fresh as in "sassy and smartmouthed," as my mother used to describe me. But, my dear children, you put it best tonight when you sang your beneficent, malevolent, gorgeous little hearts out:

What would I do without your smart mouth?
Drawing me in, and you kicking me out
You've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down
What's going on in that beautiful mind
I'm on your magical mystery ride
And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be alright
My head's under water
But I'm breathing fine
You're crazy and I'm out of my mind

'Cause all of me
Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me
I'll give my all to you
You're my end and my beginning
Even when I lose I'm winning
'Cause I give you all of me
And you give me all of you.

How many times do I have to tell you
Even when you're crying, you're beautiful too
The world is beating you down, I'm around through every mood
You're my downfall, you're my muse
My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues.

'Cause all of me
Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me
I'll give my all to you
You're my end and my beginning
Even when I lose I'm winning
'Cause I give you all of me
And you give me all of you.

Night all. More pictures tomorrow. 

ROAR!

The Dread Pirate Black Teeth Impersonates Princess Elsa

She's such an elegant princess.

Best Big Brother

Life with Cody is a bit of a roller coaster. He's just … intense. Wonderful, but man, he's high-maintenance. In all the normal ways kids are, and then some more. A lot more. We butt heads a lot, because the problem is … he is me. Except the other problem, as Jonathan will tell you, is that … he's Jonathan. So the poor kid really had no chance. He was probably never going to come out laid back, relaxed, type B, or—I always want to punch parents who describe their babies this way—"chill."

But that's okay, because he's just so great. Right now he's into a couple of typical curious-Cody things: building Rube Goldberg contraptions (a la Ok Go) and learning to play chess (he's kind of disappointed that we can't really play wizard's chess). And, showing me his muscles. : )

But tonight, immediately after being tremendously frustrated with him, I fell in love with him all over again. Mainly because I was tremendously frustrated with Emma, who had a great day and then just decided to freak out at bedtime. In a huff, I just stuck her in bed and shut the door while she screamed and I sighed and stalked around putting away a metric ton of laundry. She was howling that she had lost her bunnies and then I heard Cody open her door and say, "I will help you find your bunnies!" He did, and then she was doing that sort of half-sob, half-gasping routine, and he said, "Do you need Cody to read to you?" "Yes!" she sobbed!" "Tan you read me Little Twact?" "Of course I can read you Little Quack," he replied. And he did. And when he was done, he turned out the light, turned on her music, and tucked her in.

I've never loved him more. (Her? Her, I've loved more. : )

Beauty and the Beast, and Beauty and the Beast

Life with Cora is no easy stroll down a summer lane, either. She's mercurial, and fierce, yet ineffably sweet and deeply sensitive. She's a hoarder, but when she's really sorry about something, she tells you by putting some of her money under your pillow. She's a whiner, but the most loving sister imaginable, always tuned in to her brother's and sister's moods and needs, and willing to take care of them. Sure, sometimes that means wailing on them. But she's always really, really sorry about it. She's complicated. As evidenced by her explanation of why she wanted to be Queen Elsa, instead of the feisty, lovable, red-headed Princess Anna for Halloween: "I want to be Elsa, because her dress is so beautiful, and because she has magic powers that can hurt people … [long pause] … by accident."

Her big Christmas present was a pair of tickets to her first-ever show, Beauty and the Beast at the Warner Theater in D.C. We went last weekend, and made a day of it. Possibly my favorite day ever. I don't get a lot of one-on-one time with any of them—and I believe I'd be a much better mom if I could raise them one at a time—so it was especially precious to me, on the heels of the Epic Harry Potter Screening and Sleepover.

We dressed up, drove in, and parked at my office, then walked to Le Pain Quotidian for a little snack. I ordered coffee and a croissant. She asked for a bite, then slid my plate over and finished the whole thing. So I just ordered another. The same thing happened. Then she got a "mini brownie" and hot chocolate, which she promptly spilled, so they just gave her another one. (This will, of course, be the story of her life, given her exquisite face.)

 Then we walked, in the frigid air, to St. Patrick's to see their huge creche, which she loved. Then on to Barnes & Noble, to buy the second in the Ivy & Bean series, which she loves. Then to Starbucks, to get cake pops: "just in case, Mom." As far as I'm concerned there's always a case for cake pops.

Then we went to the theater, where she was able to get … popcorn. I had a coffee. With Baileys. Because I could.

She didn't know quite what to expect.

The second the lights went down, she crawled out of her $85 seat and onto my lap, where she stayed the rest of the afternoon. And I didn't mind one bit. She laughed, she trembled, she actually cheered and called out encouragement to the actors. At the end, during the curtain call, everyone stood for Belle. I held her as high as I could and she turned, eyes shining, and shouted, "MOM! Belle waved AT ME! She looked RIGHT AT ME and WAVED JUST TO ME!" It was magic.

Afterward, we walked around the theater and she was fascinated by the orchestra pit, which was below stage. She called out in alarm, "How do they get OUT!?" and then, "You guys were amazing!" 

They were all charmed. Of course. 

I can't say I blame them.

Then we went back home, and she was so overwhelmed by the whole day that after about 10 minutes, I heard the unique sound of Cordelia snores coming from the backseat. Just a little catnap.

I spent the rest of the drive in total gratitude (all too rare), and wondered what she would remember most — when she called the day back from her memory, what would be the most special detail? 

I didn't have to wait long to find out. When she got home, she jumped into JVL's arms and shrieked, "Daddy! Today was so amazing! I had three desserts! THREE!!!"

Christmas Music

A little December catch-up — this was even more adorable in person, but I'm so glad I got video!



Jingle Bell Pop!

Not Quite Disney Princesses

It's been a long winter already, and it's only January 14. Yesterday, Cordelia kept asking me to do various activities ("Can we do puzzles? Can we make tea from leaves? Can we put a tablet in a water bottle and make it fizz? Can take a bath in the middle of the day? Can we dress up like Anna and Elsa?") and I just kept saying yes, because … why not? Naps were short, but they happened, we can't go outside, and we'd already hit the library. I'm so glad I did, because I was able to capture the worst rendition of "Let It Go," ever. But to me, one of the funniest. Emma is just belting it out randomly. And Cordelia could barely walk afterward without crashing into things. : )

10 Points for … GRYFFINDOR!

It was a mixed weekend — on the high side of average, but with two giant, giant highs. I'm too tired to write about  both now so I'll start with the epic Friday Night Party. Remember how I've been wanting to read my child Harry Potter aloud since about 2001? Cody wasn't even a glimmer in my eye then, but I knew it would be unforgettable. And it really was. As my regular five readers know, I'm perhaps overly picky/protective/obsessive about what we allow the kids to watch, read, and listen to. Which explains why there was no TV until Cody was about three, and then it was Mary Poppins for a year, and eventually two or three tame Disney movies, and Mr. Rogers. We gradually added Thomas the Train (thanks, Emma), Polar Express, and the occasional Sesame Street. I bought Home Alone for Cody for Christmas, then chickened out. I decided to wait on it because I didn't want him acting like Kevin McAllister (a real possibility; Cody can be a real nudge and enjoys the idea of acting out a little too much) or hearing "sucks" or "ass" or even "sucks ass." So we did Toy Story instead. For the first time. 

I know, I know. I realize most parents think this is insane, and they're probably right. There are plenty of times I think so, too. Especially in the winter, when the days are long, and tempers are even shorter than attention spans. I'm trying to just accept that I do not have easygoing, restful children. They're alert, curious, awake, interested, prying, loquacious, and — well, demanding. Which is, I suppose, their right. It does get tiring, though, and there are moments I wish I could park them in front of computer or video games. But for my own crazy reasons, I don't. Part of it is that I know those days will come. Video games and iPods, like Nerf guns (thanks, Santa), cannot be avoided forever. That will all happen eventually. It's every teenager's birthright. And it's totally okay. And part is that I can see both Cordelia and Emma, having been exposed to more, being totally thrilled to be in the presence of a screen for hours on end. (I can hear JVL saying, "Wait: why is this a bad thing?" : ) This is actually incredibly helpful now on long car rides — iPad movies have saved us.) But for now, even though many times I really, really, really DON'T want to hear what they just HAVE to say RIGHT NOW (all of them simultaneously) and would like to just PLUG THEM INTO SOMETHING, deep down, I really do want to know. And yes, I know these things are not mutually exclusive, but I suck at balance, as we all know.

Baby, I don't know why I go to extremes. So, here we sit, with me overthinking the right time to introduce certain pieces of culture and all their implications. Like, witnessing the brutal murder of one's parents and being suddenly thrust from a safe crib into orphanhood and a decade of abuse and deprivation forced on an unsuspecting infant wizard by dark powers (a nice prelude to the eventual Bruce Wayne storyline, if you think about it) and all the attendant clashes of good and evil. Cody's sensitive, and I (it turns out, correctly) didn't think he was ready for the scary parts of Harry Potter until this summer. We could talk through the murder stuff by focusing on the power of love and friendship and the triumph of good over evil. Yadda yadda yadda (I mentioned the quiddich). So I read it to him first, and it was an amazing bonding experience. Then, to stall the eventual More Murder and Mayhem (those books get pretty dark, pretty fast) I told him we could move on to book two after he'd read the first book on his own. I thought that was pretty clever of me. 

This elicited, at first, a storm of protest, and then a month or so of stalling. He's a bit of a reluctant reader at times. Not reluctant because of a lack of skill; he's actually an excellent, intuitive, and fairly fast reader. When he gets hooked, he can't stop. But hooking him can be a challenge. I think it's because there are so many other things he'd rather be doing physically. Being outside. Building stuff. Taking stuff apart. Organizing his stuffies. Assigning homework to his family members so that he can then grade us mercilessly. Tormenting his sisters. He's never been one to sit still, and reading requires—well. So he took his sweet time getting down to it, but then was hooked right back in. 

When he got about two-thirds of the way through, I told him there was … a movie version of the book. 

Mind. Blown.

Then I told him we'd go to dinner and have a sleepover and screening in the basement — just the two of us — when he finished. 

Mind. Blown.

This past Saturday, he was on the penultimate chapter around 7:30 when he went to bed. He didn't want to keep going because that's when it gets really, really scary. I told him to just come in to my room in the morning, because it would be less scary in the daylight. Then I tucked him back in. And around 9:30, we heard running footsteps in the hallway and he burst downstairs shouting, "I DID IT! I FINISHED IT! THREE HUNDRED AND NINE PAGES! I FINISHED IT! CAN WE HAVE DATE NIGHT ON FRIDAY?"

It was one of the best moments of mothering him, ever. He was so proud of himself, and it really is an accomplishment for a six-year-old (at least, I think it is, though I have almost no basis for comparison, and comparison is totally bad and counterproductive anyway). The point is, he was just thrilled about it, and in my book, it totally deserved a House Cup. 

So Friday night, off we went to the Cheesecake Factory (his choice) for our date. The pictures are awful, but it was so nice to just have HIM. I never get just him, and he never gets just me. And we really need it.

Then we tucked into the pullout bed, broke out popcorn, and stayed up watching the movie. Which he loved. He shrieked, he giggled, he covered his eyes, he gasped — and I realized that as insane as I am about media, I'm glad in this case that I held out. Because it wasn't just something passing across the transom of his mind and getting lost. He wasn't looking for the next thing. 

It was … magic. 

Assorted Christmas Mini-Recap

There's so much to get to and I'm going to miss tons of stuff, but here are a few highlights from our trip to NJ for Christmas:

Cody and Cordelia opening the amazing quilts that Granny made for them. They totally freaked out with joy and now sleep under them every night.

Cody and Cordelia with Fiona (and Kelly) on Christmas morning:

C & C helpfully explaining the iPad to Granny.

Here's Emma with her present from Kelly and Mark. It's a pack-and-play bed for her dolls. Except that Emma refuses to allow her dolls to use it. She treats it as a bed for herself.

Funny story: Mark and Kelly also gave Emma some clothes for one of her dolls, Baby Stella. Upon opening them, Emma immediately began struggling to get the doll pants onto herself. Somehow, she succeeded in getting her feet through the leg holes and the pants just over her ankles. I suggested to her that the pants would fit Stella somewhat better. She angrily replied, "No! These are MY pants!"

Here are the three kids playing in the backyard on the one temperate day we had in Parsippany. Note who the alpha is, obviously.

This is probably my favorite series of Emma pictures yet, from the afternoon of her birthday. Totally adorable:

And this is Cody showing off his Precise V-5 Rolling Ball Extra Fine Tip pens to a very interested Aunt Mary Beth:

And here's Mary Beth with her girls. (Note the matching outfits--a first.)

And here's the birthday girl, in a tiara, curled up on Pop-Pop's chair:

Then it was party time!

Unlike last year, she was very into the cupcake:

She was less excited by my birthday present--the first public appearance of Super Girl. Who happens to have short, curly blonde hair and a winning smile. (Not pictured: Emma.)

And finally there's this shot of Cora, which I just love. My favorite pics of the kids are always the ones where their expressions are opaque. Is she about to smile? To cry? To announce that the cupcakes we've all just eaten were laced with strychnine? Who could say.