She loved it.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Hat day - July 2009
Some more pictures from "spirit week" at Lea's school - this time from "Hat Day," which in Lea's mind got translated to "Silly Hat Day." So, I made her a silly hat out of an old birthday hat and leftover supplies from my big arts and crafts box. (And, of course, my trusty glue gun...seriously, what did people do before glue guns? I think I could make or build anything with it).
She loved it.
She loved it.
Crazy hair day - July 2009
Following are some pictures from "spirit week" in Lea's old classroom. Every day the kids got to dress up differently (crazy hair day, hat day, pajama day, etc.)
This is Lea with her "crazy hair" for school. We did three ponytails - two lop-sided ones on either side of her head, and one on top. We finished the whole thing off with a big flower.
Of course, I was left wondering why I spent so much time working on Lea's crazy hairdo, when all we really had to do was send her to school with her regular "morning hair." Exhibit A:
I rest my case.
This is Lea with her "crazy hair" for school. We did three ponytails - two lop-sided ones on either side of her head, and one on top. We finished the whole thing off with a big flower.
Of course, I was left wondering why I spent so much time working on Lea's crazy hairdo, when all we really had to do was send her to school with her regular "morning hair." Exhibit A:
I rest my case.
4th of July - July 2009
We had an absolutely fabulous 4th of July. Lazy day in the morning, swim with Zach and Wendy at our pool in the afternoon, and fireworks at night. We gathered at the Palladinos before the fireworks, where the grownups enjoyed a beer and some fabulous home-made berry pie. And the kids? Well, they found their own dessert.
Yes, that is indeed Cool Whip straight from the tub.
Fortunately, the ensuing sugar high helped the kids make the 15-minute walk over to Kenan Stadium (the football stadium where the Tar Heels play) where we planned to watch the fireworks. When we got there, people were streaming into the stadium. And, in a bit of luck, one of the staff recognized Dino (Zach's dad, and also the assistant head coach of the UNC women's soccer team) and led us to an elevator, then up to the press observation VIP section. We were told we could sit in the boxes, but Wendy popped her head into one and promptly whispered to me that the chancellor was sitting there - so we high-tailed it out to the outdoor observation decks, where the TV cameras are during football games. And there we watched the fireworks, which were at eye level. It was amazing, just like the time I was in Hawaii with my parents and got to watch fireworks from our high-rise lanai.
Lea loved the fireworks. The first blasts scared her to pieces - actually, they scared me too, because they set off the first fireworks just as the woman singing the National Anthem finished singing "home of the brave." As she hit the word "brave," the stadium lights slammed off and the fireworks shot up. Amazing. Lea was literally shaking from surprise, but soon calmed down, took her hands off of her ears, and enjoyed the show. My favorite part was when they played Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" in accompaniment to the fireworks - I love that song.
After the show was over, we made the walk back. Wendy and I were walking next to each other, as were Tad and Dino. Zach and Lea were being silly, running back and forth between the "boys" and "girls" and holding our hands. Wendy and I would swing Lea between us while Dino and Tad were swinging Zachy. Then the kids would swap, yelling, "I wanna be on the boys' team!" and "I wanna be on the girls' team!" Before they knew it, we were back at the Palladino house and it was time for us to go.
All in all, it was a wonderful day, mostly because of the wonderful memories that we made. Good friends, good times - can't ask for anything more (even if Lea's 11:40 pm bedtime made the next day, well, challenging).
Yes, that is indeed Cool Whip straight from the tub.
Fortunately, the ensuing sugar high helped the kids make the 15-minute walk over to Kenan Stadium (the football stadium where the Tar Heels play) where we planned to watch the fireworks. When we got there, people were streaming into the stadium. And, in a bit of luck, one of the staff recognized Dino (Zach's dad, and also the assistant head coach of the UNC women's soccer team) and led us to an elevator, then up to the press observation VIP section. We were told we could sit in the boxes, but Wendy popped her head into one and promptly whispered to me that the chancellor was sitting there - so we high-tailed it out to the outdoor observation decks, where the TV cameras are during football games. And there we watched the fireworks, which were at eye level. It was amazing, just like the time I was in Hawaii with my parents and got to watch fireworks from our high-rise lanai.
Lea loved the fireworks. The first blasts scared her to pieces - actually, they scared me too, because they set off the first fireworks just as the woman singing the National Anthem finished singing "home of the brave." As she hit the word "brave," the stadium lights slammed off and the fireworks shot up. Amazing. Lea was literally shaking from surprise, but soon calmed down, took her hands off of her ears, and enjoyed the show. My favorite part was when they played Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" in accompaniment to the fireworks - I love that song.
After the show was over, we made the walk back. Wendy and I were walking next to each other, as were Tad and Dino. Zach and Lea were being silly, running back and forth between the "boys" and "girls" and holding our hands. Wendy and I would swing Lea between us while Dino and Tad were swinging Zachy. Then the kids would swap, yelling, "I wanna be on the boys' team!" and "I wanna be on the girls' team!" Before they knew it, we were back at the Palladino house and it was time for us to go.
All in all, it was a wonderful day, mostly because of the wonderful memories that we made. Good friends, good times - can't ask for anything more (even if Lea's 11:40 pm bedtime made the next day, well, challenging).
Compromise - June 2009
Lea, walking outside: "Hey Mom! Mom! Me and that bug there, we just compromised because he was in my way, and I went one way and he went another. So we compromised!!"
Thus, a diplomat is born.
Thus, a diplomat is born.
Girls Just Wanna Have... June 2009
Back in the 80s, I was a Madonna-wannabe. My first CD ever was a Madonna CD. I knew all the words to her songs and played them constantly (when "Live to Tell" came out, I think I even filled up an entire side of a cassette tape with the song). I did a dance routine to "Lucky Star" at summer camp, complete with teased hair, rubber bracelets, big earrings and an off-the-shoulder shirt (and might I say, I was looking FINE). Madonna had (and truth be told, still has) a special place in my heart.
But another special place was reserved for Cyndi Lauper. Cyndi was always a bit more out there and less calculating than Madonna. She was crazy, kooky, unabashedly herself, and more importantly, a girls' girl. I mean, what better anthem is there than "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun?" To this day, it remains one of my favorite songs (full disclosure, I did a dance routine to "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" as well - this one was in Girl Scouts, and I really don't remember much about it - probably because my costume wasn't as cool).
At any rate, recently I've begun downloading some "adult" songs that I think Lea will like, and a lot of them are 80s tunes: Safety Dance, 99 Luftballons, Don't Worry-Be Happy, You Spin Me Right Round, 867-5309/Jenny, etc. And, of course, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun."
So today, we're listening to Lea's playlist in the car on our way to Moe's ("Welcome to Moe's!) and "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" comes on. We're singing along, and we get to Moe's before the song is over. As we exit the car, I'm still singing (no doubt this is the kind of behavior that will cause endless embarrassment to Lea later on). And here's what happens:
Me: "Hey now, Hey now, What's the matter with ya, girls just wanna have fun now, c'mon."
Me: "Hey Lea, what do girls want to have?"
Lea, without missing a beat: "Popsicles!!!"
Clearly, Cyndi and I haven't gotten through to her yet.
But another special place was reserved for Cyndi Lauper. Cyndi was always a bit more out there and less calculating than Madonna. She was crazy, kooky, unabashedly herself, and more importantly, a girls' girl. I mean, what better anthem is there than "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun?" To this day, it remains one of my favorite songs (full disclosure, I did a dance routine to "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" as well - this one was in Girl Scouts, and I really don't remember much about it - probably because my costume wasn't as cool).
At any rate, recently I've begun downloading some "adult" songs that I think Lea will like, and a lot of them are 80s tunes: Safety Dance, 99 Luftballons, Don't Worry-Be Happy, You Spin Me Right Round, 867-5309/Jenny, etc. And, of course, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun."
So today, we're listening to Lea's playlist in the car on our way to Moe's ("Welcome to Moe's!) and "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" comes on. We're singing along, and we get to Moe's before the song is over. As we exit the car, I'm still singing (no doubt this is the kind of behavior that will cause endless embarrassment to Lea later on). And here's what happens:
Me: "Hey now, Hey now, What's the matter with ya, girls just wanna have fun now, c'mon."
Me: "Hey Lea, what do girls want to have?"
Lea, without missing a beat: "Popsicles!!!"
Clearly, Cyndi and I haven't gotten through to her yet.
Girls' Night - June 2009
Last night I went out to dinner with two of my best friends in the area. Dinner was at 6:15, and I got home at 10:15...and all we were doing was talking. Every time we have a girls' night dinner, I'm reminded of how much I enjoy just talking and spending time with my friends. We talk about our lives, kids, husbands, current events, whatever. It's just a way to see that other moms struggle with the same things you struggle with (children who like to talk your ear off, the occasional temper tantrum) and sometimes things that are even more challenging (medical problems, speech therapy, developmental delays).
As I was leaving last night, Lea cried that she didn't want me to go. I gave her a hug and a kiss and promised that I would check on her when I got home. Despite the tears, I didn't feel guilty leaving her. First, I knew she was in great hands with Tad. I made them tuna and lettuce sandwiches for dinner (one of Lea's favorites), and they were planning to eat outside and then go to the pool. Second, I knew that time away connecting with my girlfriends would make me a better, happier mom in the end. (And third, I'm pretty sure that me being away for a couple of hours will not permanently scar the child).
Whenever I have girls' night, it reminds me of the book group meetings my mom used to have when we lived in New York. Although I'm sure that she must have gone over to other women's houses sometimes, the meetings I remember most were the ones at our house. I think it was because I was privy to a bit of the mystery - although I didn't participate, it was a glimpse into what went on. My mom would make some sort of hors d'oeuvres (I distinctly remember her making the cheese/rice krispy thingies that I love) and get the house in order. During the actual meeting, I played in my room and then went to bed (I think - my memory on what I actually did isn't so clear). Looking back, I have no idea where my dad was or what he was doing during the time. I do remember listening at my door to hear what my mom and her friends could be talking about. I could never hear anything specific - just the sounds of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. Whenever I heard laughter, I always wondered what they were talking about. To me the whole thing seemed very mysterious, very grown up, very cool.
I'm sure that Lea will understand and appreciate the need for girls' nights when she gets older. Perhaps she'll even look back on the nights when I kept my work clothes on, refreshed my lipstick, and went out to meet the girls. And hopefully she'll understand the importance of having good friends around to keep you grounded and happy.
As I was leaving last night, Lea cried that she didn't want me to go. I gave her a hug and a kiss and promised that I would check on her when I got home. Despite the tears, I didn't feel guilty leaving her. First, I knew she was in great hands with Tad. I made them tuna and lettuce sandwiches for dinner (one of Lea's favorites), and they were planning to eat outside and then go to the pool. Second, I knew that time away connecting with my girlfriends would make me a better, happier mom in the end. (And third, I'm pretty sure that me being away for a couple of hours will not permanently scar the child).
Whenever I have girls' night, it reminds me of the book group meetings my mom used to have when we lived in New York. Although I'm sure that she must have gone over to other women's houses sometimes, the meetings I remember most were the ones at our house. I think it was because I was privy to a bit of the mystery - although I didn't participate, it was a glimpse into what went on. My mom would make some sort of hors d'oeuvres (I distinctly remember her making the cheese/rice krispy thingies that I love) and get the house in order. During the actual meeting, I played in my room and then went to bed (I think - my memory on what I actually did isn't so clear). Looking back, I have no idea where my dad was or what he was doing during the time. I do remember listening at my door to hear what my mom and her friends could be talking about. I could never hear anything specific - just the sounds of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. Whenever I heard laughter, I always wondered what they were talking about. To me the whole thing seemed very mysterious, very grown up, very cool.
I'm sure that Lea will understand and appreciate the need for girls' nights when she gets older. Perhaps she'll even look back on the nights when I kept my work clothes on, refreshed my lipstick, and went out to meet the girls. And hopefully she'll understand the importance of having good friends around to keep you grounded and happy.
So pragmatic - June 2009
The scene: All of us are in the car, driving home from soccer practice. As we're about to turn into our neighborhood, Tad notices a turtle in the street. The street is fairly busy, and the turtle is about 1/3 of the way across, with a long expanse of pavement in front of him. We turn into our neighborhood, and drive a short way before I ask Tad if we should go back. We agree that, having noticed the turtle, we have some sort of obligation to rescue him.
The rest of the scene as it plays out:
Pam, to Tad: "I'll stop the car and you can go rescue him."
(I stop the car, Tad leaps out, waits for cars to pass, then runs out into the street to grab the turtle. In the meantime, I pull around to the other side of the street to go pick up Tad.)
Lea: "Is Daddy going to get runned over?"
Me: "No, he'll be careful."
Lea: "What's he doing?"
Me: "Rescuing the turtle who's in the road."
Lea: "Oh. Why?"
Me: "Because the other cars might not see him."
Lea: "And then he'll be runned over?"
Me: "If they don't see him, maybe."
Lea: "Daddy's going to get runned over!"
Me: "No, Daddy is smarter than that."
Tad gets the turtle, and puts him in the landscaping at the edge of our neighborhood. As he's running back toward the car, I realize that this is a great opportunity for Lea to see a turtle up close and personal. So, just when Tad is about to get back in the car, I make him go back, get the turtle, and hold it through the window so that Lea can see it. She touches its shell and looks spectacularly underwhelmed.
Tad gets in the car, but before I can drive away, I start thinking about how close the landscaping at the edge of our neighborhood is to the road. What if we've rescued the turtle but haven't taken him out of harm's way? Oh, the horror.
Back out of the car goes Tad. He picks up the turtle again and brings the turtle over to a pond that's about 20 feet away. My conscience is now clear, confident in the fact that if the turtle bites it, it's Darwinism at work. We've given the turtle every chance - now he just needs to not blow it.
As Tad gets back into the car, I applaud him as a turtle-rescuing hero. I am awash in the warm glow of our altruism. I'm certain Lea must feel the same way - Daddy, the Turtle Rescuer. After all, when I was a child, I would have obsessed over the turtle. Did he make it? Did he have a good life? Was he someone's Daddy? Did his family miss him? Would he ever find his family again? Was he able to fulfill his true turtle potential? Was "he" even a "he"?
And Lea? Well, her reaction was somewhat more pragmatic: "If he gets dead, there will be more baby turtles, you know."
Oh well.
The rest of the scene as it plays out:
Pam, to Tad: "I'll stop the car and you can go rescue him."
(I stop the car, Tad leaps out, waits for cars to pass, then runs out into the street to grab the turtle. In the meantime, I pull around to the other side of the street to go pick up Tad.)
Lea: "Is Daddy going to get runned over?"
Me: "No, he'll be careful."
Lea: "What's he doing?"
Me: "Rescuing the turtle who's in the road."
Lea: "Oh. Why?"
Me: "Because the other cars might not see him."
Lea: "And then he'll be runned over?"
Me: "If they don't see him, maybe."
Lea: "Daddy's going to get runned over!"
Me: "No, Daddy is smarter than that."
Tad gets the turtle, and puts him in the landscaping at the edge of our neighborhood. As he's running back toward the car, I realize that this is a great opportunity for Lea to see a turtle up close and personal. So, just when Tad is about to get back in the car, I make him go back, get the turtle, and hold it through the window so that Lea can see it. She touches its shell and looks spectacularly underwhelmed.
Tad gets in the car, but before I can drive away, I start thinking about how close the landscaping at the edge of our neighborhood is to the road. What if we've rescued the turtle but haven't taken him out of harm's way? Oh, the horror.
Back out of the car goes Tad. He picks up the turtle again and brings the turtle over to a pond that's about 20 feet away. My conscience is now clear, confident in the fact that if the turtle bites it, it's Darwinism at work. We've given the turtle every chance - now he just needs to not blow it.
As Tad gets back into the car, I applaud him as a turtle-rescuing hero. I am awash in the warm glow of our altruism. I'm certain Lea must feel the same way - Daddy, the Turtle Rescuer. After all, when I was a child, I would have obsessed over the turtle. Did he make it? Did he have a good life? Was he someone's Daddy? Did his family miss him? Would he ever find his family again? Was he able to fulfill his true turtle potential? Was "he" even a "he"?
And Lea? Well, her reaction was somewhat more pragmatic: "If he gets dead, there will be more baby turtles, you know."
Oh well.
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