Thanksgiving

This year has had its trials.  It is not in competition for one of my most challenging years, nor has it been easy.

But here, tonight on Thanksgiving Day, I feel more thanks than I do "wishing".  My cup definitely seems 1/2, well more like 3/4 full. 

My 'plan' of teaching Pyrope the academic skills he needs at home so he just needs to learn how to pay attention is working.  He is ahead academically and is comfortably staying that way.

Obsidian is growing.  After 6 months of hGH that did not work, IGF-1 is clearly working. 

I'm glad I'm at peace with Jet and my relationship at this moment.  There were parts of this year that I could not say that.  And I just don't like that.

I'm thankful for close friends.

I'm thankful for the family I have that I am close to, that I can rely on.  Not everyone is so fortunate.

I'm thankful that my view of life is still "There is always someone significantly worse off than me, and my family.  People die from a lack of love, whatever my problems might be, that is worse.  And that will never be my problem."

A favorite

For as long as I can remember, today was a favorite day of mine.  All Saints Day.  If you don't include Christmas and Easter, it has always been my favorite feast day.  Not St. Nicholas Day or the Epiphany or St. Valentine's Day (and those days I got a small treat or gift).  Adults thought this odd for a child.  Particularly after they heard my reasoning.

I loved the idea of people, ordinary people, people I knew, or knew of being with God in Heaven and knowing that someday, I would be with them.  I was less drawn to the "known saints", the people who were famous for being good and well, saintly.  I was drawn to the people who were like me.  Who were my family.  I wanted (and still do) to meet my grandmother who passed away before I was born.  I had always been told I had a similar personality to her.  I wanted to be with my grandfather and climb in his toy cabinet again (seeing I was 2.5 when he passed away and I remembering it being a tight fit, I doubt I would have fit in, and I highly doubt now as an adult that Heaven is physically like my grandfather's apartment).  As I've grown older, my list has grown of the people that I hope and pray are saints in heaven that I will someday be reunited with.  I look forward to all of the souls that I have not had the privilege of meeting or getting to know here on earth.

As I sat in Mass today with Pyrope and Obsidean, I thought of other years masses on this day.  8 years of going with my classmates.  The year I was 8 and defended myself for going with my father.  The year I was living in an adult family home, and the sermon was exactly what I had lived the 5 hours prior and the fit of giggles it gave me and my friend.  The years that I went and was sad for those I missed.  The years that I was excited for the 8 weeks to come.

And this year.  I thought of those that I hope are in heaven.  And I thought of the voice that I've thought heard pulling me to do something.  Something that is was not the plan.  That I hope is not the plan because it will be hard.  Rewarding but hard.  A road I didn't want to go down.  Only time will tell if I will go down it.  I felt my resistance breaking.

So it continues to be a favorite.  I miss those that have gone before us.  I pray they are in heaven.  I look forward to the day that I will join them in eternal happiness.

Pushing the envelope

Pyrope is a laid back kid.  Much like Jet.  He doesn't have motivation to excel.  If he can do it, that is good enough.  He doesn't want to be the best.  If it is hard or he can't do something, that is fine.  He'll do something else.  I wish he would try more to do things that are hard for him.  Or try to do things he can better.  I have to provide the motivation for these things.  I think this plays into his poor attention.

There is one exception for this.  Hockey.  Ice hockey to be exact.  Neither Jet nor I are much into watching sports.  However, I do watch ice hockey when I get a chance (for reasons I don't understand, there is very little televised ice hockey where we live, although it is a large sport for boys around here).  I was watching an ice hockey game during the 2010 Olympics.  Pyrope walked in the room and instantly was in love, obsessive love.  He wanted to know what it was called, then a host of questions.  He wanted to play.  The next weekend, we took him ice skating for the first time.  We told him he could not play ice hockey until he passed a certain level of ice skating lessons.  Thinking that he would give up long before that point.  He has focused and practiced during ice skating lessons like no other activity.  Focus is usually a problem, not at all of skating.  The man who runs the learn to skate program is excellent.  As in he is nationally known for running a very good skating program.  Every time Pyrope sees him, he talks to him about playing hockey and asking if he thinks that Pyrope is ready to move onto hockey.  While the hockey program does its own thing for the most part, they deffer to this man if the children are ready for hockey from an ice skating point of view or if they are better served with learning to skate better first.  (Parents can always "overrule", but from talking to the parents who have elected to do that, it rarely turns out well)  At open skate on Thursday, Pyrope got the green light to try hockey.  Today was the first informational/weed out kids who are not ready session.  Pyrope attended the whole time.  He never got distracted and did his own thing, as many kids were doing, but he listened, waited in line, followed the directions, and gave each drill his all.  There were 47 little kids on the little practice rink (the length of this rink is the width of a standard rink).  It was crowded, and chaotic.  It was interesting watching the wide range of everything.  Kids that did not want to be there but their parents were making them.  Kids that just couldn't pay attention and were skating around doing their own thing.  Kids on the ice who could barely stand.  Kids in full hockey gear.  Kids not even wearing gloves.  Kids wearing bicycle helmets.  Kids without hats.  Pyrope remained focused.  The times he fell was because he was pushing it as far as his ability took him and a little more.  He tried to go around the cones a little faster than he could handle at times (most of the time he remained on his skates).  He tried to stop a little more quickly than normal, most of the time this worked too, but not always.  He aggressively tried to get the tennis balls up off the ice before others could get to them.  Off the ice, he is one of the most passive kids I know.  He never tries to beat another kid to a toy.  If someone else wants something he has, he typically willingly gives it to them.  On the ice, in any related to ice hockey, he becomes the other person.  Aggressive.  Pushing the envelope in his abilities.

I like it.  I wish it was a little bit of a cheaper sport/activity he was so passionate about, but I'm glad to see it.  I'm glad that this is entirely of his own doing.  This is not a passion of Jet or mine, or any other family member or close friend.  This is Pyrope's.  I currently am seeing many many practices and games in my future.

A different culture

After a very long day yesterday, I found myself standing in a Star*ucks this morning at 6:50.  What should have been me being in and out to pick up some coffee wound up with me standing around where you order and get your drinks and food.  I know of Star*ucks, but prior to this morning I don't think I had ever spent more than a couple of minutes in one.

I decided it was a different culture.  Everyone (but me) seemed what to do and the language to speak.  If the line was long, you told your drink order to the lady making drinks.  Most of these orders were 6 to 7 words long it seemed to get one cup of specialized coffee.  They seemed to make things more complicated than needed.  There were not small, medium, and large for size.  But tall, grande, and viente.  Not just cream and sugar.  But skinny, soy, and I think some other things.  The baked goods seemed more straightforward.  I think I could have ordered myself something, if I could eat any of them.  Even if I drank coffee, I don't think I could order a cup of it.  Or maybe I could because I would have some sort of idea of what all of the choices mean.  I typical order water.  I like drinking tea at home.  Even with that, there are a couple of teas I like.  I'm not for all sorts of options.

As I was trying to figure out what the heck people were ordering (to kill the time, and in case I'm ever in need to go to one of these places and order something to be social.  Not a huge Chai Tea fan either.  I did see they had bottle water, and that is probably what I would get), I was listening to the workers talk.  There was the manager who looked to be in her late 20's to early 30's.  A woman being trained who looked to be in her 40's.  And two women in their early 20's.  The two younger women were out working the front several times by themselves during lulls and their conversation was enlightening interesting.  The one is about to turn 25, the other one "has a couple of years" before she turns 25.  The one whose birthday is approaching was talking about how she is having a mid life crisis because she is about to turn 25.  The other talked about fearing turning 25.  They talked about the manager who was "so mature" for her age so when she turned 25 "a while ago" it was not a big deal.  The manager had apparently "gone through some tough things".  This got me thinking about when I turned 25 and what I was doing.  It took some thinking to figure out what I was doing shortly before my 25th birthday and what I did the year I was 25.  My 25th birthday was nothing I pondered too deeply.  I had got engaged 2 weeks prior to it but it was not some major milestone.  I had no idea my world was going to come crashing in on me the day before my 26th birthday.  Essentially from after my honeymoon on, I had seen the writing on the wall that my life was entering a trying and defining time but I had not known what the bottom was going to be.  The day before my 26th birthday I knew what 1/2 of it was, 2 days after my birthday what I anticipated (correctly) to be rock bottom to be was confirmed.  I just didn't know when it was going to happen.  I didn't know that there were going to be 3 other significant deaths prior to in the intervening 10 months.  It was after this thought I started to listen to the ladies talk again.   There "midlife crisis" over turning 25 involved hard classes in school, and dating the same guy for more than a year.  Maybe getting their nose pierced.  I sighed.  How I wish those were my worries the year I was 25.  I then wished that their worries remain their largest worries for the year.  The next time one of them talked to me, she initially called me "Miss" then corrected herself to "Ma'am".  Typically I think of "ma'am" being someone older or military (when I was a commissioned officer's wife, this is how I was routinely addressed), almost something to be offended from being changed from a "miss" to a "ma'am".  Something old fashioned about it.  Then the thought flashed through my head, I guess in their eyes, in there culture where I couldn't even order a drink in a coordinated manner where what would cause a "midlife crisis" for me is so entirely different than theirs, I guess I am of an older generation despite less than a decade of difference in age.

The ironies of life

Last night, I was sitting in my living room.  And I just thought of how ironic the scene and situation was...

Obsidian was dressed up in his Halloween costume, Th*or complete with a hammer that is 1/2 the size of Obsidian.  My son who is/was 3 standard deviations below normal for growth has chosen to be the largest Superhero of them all.  This week I have been dealing with the problems of getting him the Incrlex that he has been on since early August.  He has started to grow since starting.  Problem being it looks like he will have to stop due to insurance and doctor issues.  His appeals have been exhausted.  I have not been impressed with his doctor's office.

I was writing a long email to Pyrope's kindergarten teacher.  Things have not been going well.  It was my second long email to her this week.  The level of communication I've had with the teacher is outside of cultural norms.  I don't want to be a 'problem' parent, but at the same time I feel to give Pyrope the best education, I need to do this.  I do like the teacher.  I like her a lot.  I hope that comes across.  The irony of that situation was I was talking on the phone with my sister.  My sister is a teacher.  She was calling me to ask advice and talk because a parent of one of her students was sending her multiple harassing text messages.  This was to the point my advice was to call the police.  The police's advice was that they are going to step up patrols around her and if it gets any worse for her to leave her city and stay with a relative for the weekend.  So here I am on a Friday night email my son's teacher (hopefully in an useful way) while talking to my sister who is dealing with a parent's communication that is a very negative situation.

So I just shook my head at life, and got the kids to bed.

Sweet revenge

Today I was changing Obsidian's diaper.  A couple months ago, he had no awareness or control.  Now he does, and he could be toilet trained.  Except for the fact he does not want to.  If you try to sit him on the potty, typically he will pee on your leg.  On purpose.  Punishing him for that is only limitedly useful as it has stopped the peeing on the leg, but he won't pee on the potty.  He will either grab a diaper and hold it in front of him and pee or simply wait until a new diaper is put on.

As I was changing his diaper, I asked if he wanted to go to the potty.  He hesitated and got a glint in his eye.  I was not sure what was coming next but I knew it wouldn't be an agreement to pee in or sit on the potty.  I thought of preemptively telling him to not make a smart alec remark.  It ran though my head how if I said that prior to any comment being made, I would then be my father.  Who so frequently when I was a child, and a teenager, and to be honest up until when he passed away when I was an adult, would just tell me "Don't be a smart alec" just prior to when I was going to make a "smart alec" remark.  At the same time, I was wondering what was about to come out of Obsidian's mouth.  My dad admitted when I was an adult, sometimes he would just let me go because he was curious to what I was going to say.  I decided I wanted to hear what he was about to say so I didn't cut him off.

"You take me to Grandpa's house and I will go potty there."  A glint in his eye.

"You mean Grandma's house?"  While my mom lives in the same house she did when my dad was alive, Obsidian doesn't think of it as "Grandpa's house".  Pyrope and Obsidian are familiar with stories of both of their grandpas, but never met either of them.

"No.  Grandpa.  You take me see Grandpa, I go pee potty."  Triumph in his eye as he marched away with his new diaper on.  Briefly looking over his shoulder as I was still sitting on the floor contemplating the comment.

So while the thoughts of my dad having to deal with my "smart" comments in the flash before I knew I was going to have deal with a "smart" comment coming from my child, I couldn't help but think that my dad was watching, laughing in his deep belly laugh, and commenting how revenge is sweet.  A child that takes after me.  For the most part, my dad got the brunt of my "smart" remarks.  It has already become clear, that Obsidian directs the majority of his "smart" remarks at me, not Jet.  Jet gets some, but not nearly as much as I do, even when you consider how much more time I spend with Obsidian.

God give me the grace and strength that he gave my dad to deal with me.  He knows I need it.  (Yes, my mother was involved, very involved, but she never quite knew how to react to things like this.  Plain flat out misbehavior she was fine with.  Me with my comments that I shouldn't have said but were really appropriate, not so much.  So that I always had to deal with my dad.  His reactions were always "reasonable" to me, my mom would react so wildly different that it was fairly rare that I would make such comments to her, even by the time I was 4 or 5).  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

New Year

From the time I was a child, I always associated late summer, as in the end of August or early September with being a "new year".  More so than January.  Even in the intervening years that I was not in school or working in a school, I still thought of it as that way.  Last year, with Pyrope starting preschool, I returned to that thought pattern in complete earnest.  This year with him being in kindergarten, the feeling is back full force.  And I've come to the conclusion, it most likely will remain so for the next 20 years or so.  At which point I'll be in my 50's, and all but 8 years or so will have been marked by the beginning of school.

This year I've really been thinking about stuff.  Material stuff.  Mainly the fact I have too much of it.  My kids have too much of it.  Less is better.  As I think about specific things, for the most part, I really come to the conclusion I don't need it.  And in many cases I really don't want it or think it makes my life happier or better in any manner.  Now to purge my belongings.  And my kids.  That will be the tougher part.

Relationships.  I've been spending a lot of time thinking about how I value them.  Which ones I want to work harder on.  Which ones I want to "maintain".  Which ones I want to spend less time on.  I've thought about the natural cycles where people and my relationship with them goes through.

My "professional" goals.  My monetarily compensated job makes me set new "professional" (i.e. it relations to my job) goals.  These are made each spring.  This year, it has been decided that we have to look at them semi-annual.  This took me by surprise as I was called into my boss' office.  I was then asked what I was specifically doing to reach my goal.  I've never been asked that either.  Um, nothing.  I was then told I have to do something to move towards my goal.  Which I will because it is part of my job.  But as I was thinking about this, I decided, I really don't care.  My "professional" goal(s) at this point is to go to work, fulfill my job description, go home, and get paid.  I don't care to advance.  I don't particularly care to do anything different than what I'm doing.  At this point of my life, I prefer to dedicate my time and energy to my "home" jobs.

This lead me to thinking about time, and how I spend it.  I've decided I need to spend less time on the computer doing pointless things.  I've decided I really don't understand people who spend a lot of time watching TV, or really even movies.  I can't tell you the last time I watched a TV show.  Other than sitting down and watching something with the boys, I can't even say the last movie I watched.  And I don't miss it.  I've decided I do need to spend more time doing cleaning/housework.  I've come to the realization I spend a lot of time, and I mean a lot doing schoolwork with Pyrope and physical to build strength, endurance, balance, and vestibular skills with Obsidian.  I've come to the conclusion that for the next number of years, these activities will be a major part of how I spend my time.  I think about how much time I spend on dealing with health care issues.  And that just makes me angry.  Not physically dealing with, learning about, developing treatments for the issues (mainly mine and Obsidian's, but also Pyrope), but with health insurance carriers, doctor's offices, billing departments, pharmacies, human resources, exc. for getting the services/medications that are needed and the correct billing to the correct payor for each item.  I see no end in sight for this use of my time.  I wish I had more time to read.  Overall, I've read more this year than I have since Pyrope was a baby, but I would still love to read more.  I don't particularly have a list of books that I want to read, but I just love to read and wish I did it more.

My temper.  As a child, it was very short.  I consciously worked on it.  Slowly over the past year, my temper has got out of check and I find myself yelling more.  Just being aware of how much I yell, and verbally show my frustration, and show it in other ways, I've decided I need to reign in.  I know that when I'm not flying off the handle as much, as a general rule, my stress levels go down as well.  I'm not one for really bottling up until things blow up, but I do best if I stop and think before I act or speak.  Particularly when I'm stressed, upset, or angry.

So here is to a new year.  I'm hoping for a good one.

Just everything

Somehow, 'everything' seems to be happening this summer.

Most of the things in isolation would cause me some stress but not knock me down.

However, I feel knocked down.  Or ready to be knocked down.  But I'm stubborn.  Very stubborn and I keep going.  As I've burst into tears a couple times in the last few week with "I don't want to do this anymore" as I'm talking with my best friend, I know that I will.  She knows that I will.  I just don't like it.

Pyrope has started kindergarten.  He is not particularly enjoying it.  His best friend is in his class, which he likes.  However, he has informed me on several occasions it is easier for him to learn when I teach him at home.  There is too much noise at school.  While I agree that I can teach him more academically at home, I saw a very significant decrease in his social and verbal skills since he has been out of school since May.  On top of this, he will neither live, go to school, or eventually work in a bubble.  He has to learn how to function in the "real world".  Academically, he can learn virtually nothing this year, and he will still "pass" kindergarten, as his reading and math skills test at least at a 1st grade level, in some areas a 2nd grade level.  So on we will go.  With lots of communication to the teacher.  I will continue to work on reading, writing, and math at home.  He will go to school, communicate with others, socialize, and try to learn how to learn while there.

Obsidian was taken off of growth hormone in July.  It wasn't working.  The blood tests proved it was not working.  His growth velocity had not changed.  There is a different hormone, IGF-1, he is now on.  Getting it approved of by the insurance is being a chore.  My main problem right now is with his doctor.  If I could switch doctors I would.  Problem being, I can't (practically).  The pharmaceutical company that makes it is supplying him (for up to 8 months) with the medication while we are trying to get it approved by insurance.  He has been on it for slightly less than 3 weeks.  By my measurements (and they have always been accurate in the past), he has grown more in the 3 weeks he has been on IGF-1 than the 6 months he was on GHT (2.6 cm vs 1.9).  I'm hoping I'm measuring correctly.   I'm hoping (and trying my best) to make sure he can continue on the drug.  At this point, I'm not really looking for answers for Obsidian and his medical issues, but just looking for the best treatments I can find.  If there is a way to increase his growth rate so he is a typical (or closer to it) height as an adult, it would be great.  If a way is not found, I just need to focus on teaching him how to function in a world that is made for adults that are above 5', when he will most likely be right around 4'.  I really hope this does give his body what he needs to grow to his genetic potential (which is most likely somewhere in the 5'8" to 5'11" range based on family history). 

My work is work.  My boss that I like has been moved to a different facility.  The one that I have never got along with is it.  She is a nice person, but somewhat lacking in managerial skills that would be beneficial to her job.

Jet's job has degraded to the point he updated his resume.  This is a large step for him.  Finding a job won't be an issue, he just doesn't like change.  So he drags his feet when it is time to change.  He really has not seriously began to look, apply, or interview.  Hopefully the day is coming sooner now.  I would have long been gone, for various reasons.

Jet and I have been arguing.  I really keep getting the feeling he doesn't see or get my point.  Sometimes I think he is trying to taunt me by his actions, but when I stop and really think, I don't feel he is purposely taunting me per se, he just doesn't get what my issue is.  No matter how I explain it, or try to have others help me explain it.  I'm tired of the argument.  I want some sort of resolution.  Even if it means a resolution that I don't particularly like or want.  I just don't like where we, or rather our relationship is.  Or the cycle we seem to be stuck in.  Jet doesn't appear to be nearly as bother by all of it.  That or he is just hoping it will go away, which is really the most likely scenario.

A couple of the positions I took on this spring in organizations are more than I anticipated.  Not horribly more.  Not more than I can handle.  Just more than I expected.  And I find it wearing.  I keep saying that soon that will calm down.  And it really should.

Not working

I've been measuring Obsidian as I always do.  Since he was a premie and he has inital jaundice issues, I've weighed and measured him regularly.

So I knew that his growth had not excellence in the 6 months he was on growth hormone.  It was the same for all intents and purposes.  Bloodwork needed to be done to make sure there was not significant improvements in his IGF-1 factor.  The doctor was supposed to call me with the results and to discuss the plan.  At the appointment he didn't want to go into detail because he didn't have all of the information yet (I had called to ask to do the bloodwork prior to the appointment as I knew he didn't grow as hoped, but doctor wanted his measurements to prove this prior to bloodwork).  I was told it could take up to a week after the bloodwork was drawn.

Lo and behold, 5 days after the bloodwork was drawn, I got a letter in the mail (mailman delievered our mail at 4:30 that day, doctor's office closes at 4.  Some days we get our mail by 8:30 am)..  Well, that is somewhat inaccurate.  I got a copy of the office visit note (which is standard for where we go).  Initially I was reading through it.  No new news.  Then I get to page 5 of 5.  The results of the new bloodwork are in.  Appearently I'm to immediately stop giving him GH, and as soon as insurance approves, he is to be on another medicine.  That is injected.  Twice a day.  Oh yes, his diagnosis to why he isn't growing is something different.

Being the information craving Mama Bear that I am I research the drug some.  There are some different details with this drug.  It must be given with food.  If not, Obsidian can become hypoglycemic.  In general, Obsidian can now become hypoglycemic (but the risk is particularly high if he doesn't have a full meal within 20 minutes of eating).  When I talk to the doctor the next day, he does not mention this.  I bring it up to him.  He said, oh yes, that could happen.  I'm sure my nurse will tell you about that.  She'll contact you in the next week.  But if you haven't heard from her in 2 weeks, call us.  Don't worry my friend.  I will be all over you case in less time than that.

I'm curious to how this is going to pan out with our insurance.  This is a relatively new drug, released in 2005.  It is not considered experimental, but at the same time, there is not a large body of evidence yet.  The large long term longitudinal studies do not exist.  Partly because of time.  Partly because it is rare.  It is an expensive drug.  As Obsidian is 3 and if it works he will have to take it until he has completed puberty, this will be a long term treatment.  It is an expensive drug.  All of these things combined, make me wonder if he will be approved.  Or if I will have to jump through hoops.  Or do battle.  Or if I will win the battle.

And I'm tired.  And sad.  I knew that the odds were not in his favor for growth hormone to work as well as it can in some people, but I had hope.  You have to have hope to enter in on something like that.  I have hope that this new drug will help.  I have fear that it won't.  I have a fear that we will not get the chance to find out if would work.  I have a fear we will find that it does work, switch insurance (which we do regularly, long story, I am not a fan of the US healthcare system as it is today) and they don't approve it.  I have a fear that I will have episodes of hypoglycemia to deal with.  I fear that Obsidian will have to deal and feel hypoglycemic.  I know how that feels, and it sucks.  I fear that there are negative long term risks, risks that we don't even know are risks.  By the time that data is in, it will be far to late for Obsidian.  So many people think it is the actual injection that is the "bad" part.  Honestly, I could care less.  I have no issue or fear of that.  Obsidian doesn't like shots, but it is not an ordeal.  It will become a part of life, as did the bedtime one did.  I'm not looking forward to it.  I dread even more having to every day have a full breakfast and dinner for him and making sure if he/we are out at those times I have the stuff packed and with him/us.  But is a dread like filling up my car with gas when it is 10 degrees below zero.  You live with it, you do it.

It is the other fears that keep me up.  But one foot in front of the other.  As my new keychain says:

God grant me 

the serenity to accept the things I cannot change

the strength to change the things I can

and the wisdom to know the difference

Pegasus

Recently Pyrope and his best friend, A, have decided that her mother's minivan is really a magical pegasus.  After everyone gets in and her mom starts the car, it turns into a pegasus and flies-- not drives.  While they are going to their destination, a running story or commentary goes on about it. 

Since this has started, when I drive my car, Pyrope and Obsidian tell me how they wish I had a magical pegasus as a car.  I ask them why I can't.  I've been told you can't pretend the same thing.  That's not fun!  So my car has become a digger, Lightnigh McQ***n, and various other things, with story lines to go along with it.  At the end of each trip, I get told that it is not "really right" and that they will have to "try again to find the perfect pretend for my car".  Okay, you do that.  It is easier to take some days than the 8,000 times I sing the ABC song, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and 5 Little Ducks (the current favorites, but actually these songs rotate on a regular basis, so it isn't that bad.  They have a large repertoire of songs, and favorites change regularly).

We were talking with someone whose son is 2 years older than Pyrope.  He was saying how he can't go anywhere in the car without his son having to play on his iPh**e or some sort of hand held game.  I said that both of our kids lose interest, and we wind up talking about pegasi (is that the plural of pegasus?), other such stories, or signing songs.  Even on long trips, portable DVD players and video games don't entertain nearly as long.  He said "They know what a pegasus is?"  Um, yeah.  They also like to be a cyclops around the house.  And dragons.  And knights.  And crusaders.  Please don't bring up Musketeers unless you want to see random objects turned into swords and then the moves that go with it (and pretty please don't bring it up if there is not the space to do the moves).

Some days, I do get tired of singing.  And making up the stories.  Or even listening to the stories.  My music or silence in the car I sometimes long for.  But then I think of video games that would get me that peace.  I'll take my songs and stories.

Grow Up

This past weekend, my SIL and her two girls came for a long weekend (coming on Friday and leaving on Tuesday).  I never look forward to the visits.  I don't particularly enjoy her or her kids company.  This time she managed to outdo herself.

My MIL has cancer.  Stage III.  It didn't respond to the first set of chemo drugs.  The second set is taking its toll on her body, and has yet to show any real signs of helping with the cancer.

She is very hard to get gifts for.  Very hard.  She doesn't collect anything.  She doesn't go out to eat.  She doesn't go out much in general.  She doesn't like gadgets or new things in general.  She does love her grandchildren.  And her children.  She loves getting new pictures of her grandkids.  Particularly when she gets new professional pictures of them, we hear about it for a long time.

So I thought to myself, while SIL is here, we will go and get family pictures.  We being Jet, my kids, her and her kids (SIL husband was not coming, and frankly I don't think my MIL cares one way or the other about me.  And it would look silly with me but not SIL husband).  Jet told her the plan.  The girls brought complimenting dresses.  I got outfits for the boys (new ones, including shoes.... if I'm going to do something like this, I want to do it well).  Once here, I bring up (again) about her being in the picture.  She says she can't because she doesn't have any make-up.  I offer to go and buy some.  She says that would be silly.  I say it would be silly to not get her picture taken for her mom.  We continue to go back and forth.  Her girls taking my side of the argument.  Jet not commenting.  SIL says to Jet at one point that she knows he really doesn't want to be in the picture so why isn't he arguing with me.  He quietly observes that my reasoning for it is that their ma would love the pictures, and that there is no way he can come up with a reasonable counter argument to that.  The argument continues the next morning.  And at the studio.  Finially, the moment comes it is now or never.  I say to SIL, if your ma tells you she would really like you to do this, would you?  She said yes, thinking that I had no way to do this.  I pull out my cell phone and hand it to Jet to dial.  He gets the evil eye from his sister.  I glare.  He looks at her, he looks at me.  He dialed.  I talk to my very confused MIL.  She immediately said she would love a picture, make up or not, and kept questioning me why I would think that she would need/want SIL to have make up.  I said I didn't, but to please tell SIL that she would like the picture taken.  So SIL gets the phone, then begrudgingly gets in the picture.  She was pouting for a lack of a better word in the pictures. 

The rest of the weekend, she did things (I feel) to try to provoke or get even with me.  Opening windows when the air conditioner was on.  Not closing the door when she came inside/went outside (hello, air conditioning, mosquitoes!).  Not showing up one night for dinner (or calling to let us know she wasn't coming).  Whatever.  Grow up.  I refused to be provoked.  I kept closing windows and doors.  We waited a 1/2 hour from when we normally eat, then ate without them.  Once again.  Grow up.

So we drove up to visit my MIL.  It is a 4 hour trip each way (well sometimes it is less, construction was heavy to put it mildly).  We got there and pulled out the pictures for my MIL to choose what she wanted to keep (along with the ones I had framed).  She was so excited.  And confused.  She didn't understand that I was talking about a professional picture.  She commented that she never had a professional picture taken of the two of her kids but had always wanted one (I had planned on a picture of just the two of them, but with the torture of the one group shot, I was not up for further argument).  She went around her apartment rearranging her picture several times to come up with the perfect arrangement.  I'm sure it has been rearranged multiple times since then.  All of her grandkids together in a professional picture (actually a couple different poses of all of them together, then each individually, then the siblings).  And then the one with her kids in it as well.  She then started to question me if SIL knew about this prior to her trip.  I said yes.  She then questioned me why SIL had not come prepared for it (meaning make up and a coordinating top, Jet choose a top to match the kids, he figured that he would be in the pictures).  Or gone out and got the make up and/or top after she got here.  I shrugged.

My MIL happiness over the pictures made it worth my trouble.  I don't understand what made my SIL fight it.  Or be so passive aggressive the rest of the trip.  The pictures weren't about her.  In all honesty, if she didn't like them or want to see them, then don't take any or give any out.  Just give a copy to your mom.  Grow up.  It really was not any stretch of the imagination on my part that my MIL would love it.  Why couldn't SIL just see it as a gift even if she didn't like it?  Jet certainly does not enjoy taking family pictures but didn't say anything after I put out my reasoning.  It gets down to: Grow up.

Wordless Wednesday

Boot straps

One of the things I really like about my job is the number of people I get to meet and talk to.  Not only talk to, but many share part of their life story in very personal ways that you don't typically get to hear.

Recently, I was talking with a lady as I was working with her.  She was a tiny older lady (as in she can claim more years to her life than she can claim pounds on her body).  My initial impression was a sweet little lady.  However, there seemed to be a resolve or a toughness just beneath the surface.  The conversation was mainly how she wants to get stronger (by doing therapy) so she can return to all of her activities and social events.  Imperceptibly, the conversation took a turn.  She started to talk about how she was not always so social.  That she was frequently teased in junior high and high school and always walked with her head down and shoulders slumped with very little respect for herself.  After high school she got married and had 7 kids.  Never working outside of the home and pretty much just sticking to the house.  Not having many friends or interacting with many people outside of her husband and kids.  Then one day, her husband called during his lunch.  He told her he was tired of his life and was no longer coming home, she did not see it coming.  And he never did.  She said that day, she wanted to walk down the middle of a road and get hit by a car, or curl up and die.  She had no friends.  And now she was the single mom of 7.  She very shortly was going to have bills to pay, no work experience, and no job.  She said that night she didn't know what she was going to do, she just wanted to die.  However, for some reason she said she couldn't even verbalize all of these years later, she woke up with the determination she was going to make it.  She was going to do right by her kids and show them what can be made of.  She did not want to run into her husband and give him the idea that he had beat them down.  Personally, if it was just her, she would have liked to curl up and die, but she said that she couldn't do that to her kids.  She got a job.  That at some point turned into a career that lead her to a bachelor's degree.  She wanted her kids to have more of a support system than she originally had.  So she started going to church more.  Then other community events.  She said in those early years, there were days and weeks she still did not want to live.  However, she wanted to do right by her kids.  So she got up and did what needed to be done.  And slowly, she found herself living and loving a very extroverted social life.  The days, and weeks, and years she would dress and hold herself in a manner that if she ran into her ex-husband, he would not see a broken woman that she felt she was, she somehow became that person.

The idea of raising 7 kids alone impresses me.  It had to have been hard, doing the math, it had to be in the 50's or 60's this happened.  The American culture was not nearly as accepting of divorce singles moms as it is today.  On the days I find it hard to drag myself out of bed for whatever reason, on the days I just don't seem to have enough time to get everything done... she had to have had that with several magnifications.  She got herself out of bed, and pulled up on her boot straps.  And somehow got herself father than she ever imagined.  And gave those of us who know her and her story a true role model to look up to.  She just did it.

That's my boy

Today, Jet was getting his small fishing boat ready to take out.  As I was at work, it was mainly him doing it with the boys running around (and a neighbor helping when he needed another adult's help).

The story I get when I get home is this (as combined by me, as each party told me their version of it, in of itself was amusing and a sign of each person's personality)

At one point, Jet was winching the boat back up onto its trailer (I'm a little unclear of why it was ever removed but I have long since learned to not ask too many questions).  Pyrope was sitting in the boat on one of the seats.  Obsidian was standing in the yard watching.  As Jet was winching the boat up more and more, Pyrope was laughing in delight.  Obsidian started to scream for Pyrope to get out of the boat.  "Out Pyrope! Out!  Pyrope! Pyrope!  You too high!  Pyrope not safe!  Get out!  Daddy stop!  Not safe!"  Jet continued winching trying to verbally telly Obsidian it was okay.  Pyrope continuing to squeal with delight and telling Jet he wanted to do it more.  Typically I am the voice of safety.  I guess Obsidian is following my footsteps (earlier this week, Obsidian explained to another child that he was carrying Pyrope's lunchbox with snack in it for camp because if Pyrope was carrying it, he would lose it.  Which would have been a very likely scenario.  This is also a case of the Jet-Pyrope vs Ruby-Obsidian similarities.)

That is my boy.

Time wrinkles

Most of the time, anniversaries don't mean a whole lot to me.  I reflect on the event but not that excessively.  I might or might not feel a little effect on my general mood but nothing that noteworthy.

Quite unexpectedly, I've stumbled onto an exception.  This coming Wednesday, it will be 6 years since my dad passed away.  I find myself reflecting on it very frequently, and a general sadness in my mood.

I find it interesting because this has never really happened for this anniversary before.  I've always noted it, but not even the first year did it really bother me.  I find myself wondering "Why now?"

I casually observed that it was going to fall on the same day of the week when I was mapping out my plans for June this spring.

My dad loved kids.  He would have loved being a grandfather.  He would have been great at it.  My kids would have loved him.  He would have loved how much they love classic cars, fixing things, and trains.  Oh, how he would have loved how much Obsidian loves trains.  I am very much my father's daughter.  In many ways I think and act like he did.  It mystifies my mom at times, it always has.  Obsidian is my son.  My karma if you will.  In the past few months in particular, I can hear my dad laughing in my mind's eye (or ear I guess), at me having to deal with his antics, what goes around comes around.  For the most part, they are things that I could have done.  Jet looks at Obsidian and responds in a manner much as my mother did "I never would have dreamed of doing that as a kid!"  Stunts like spelling his name instead of saying his name when he realized he was being tested, now that is something I would have done.  Jet, Pyrope, my mother, no way.  My dad would have done it too.

The night DB1/SIL called the big family meeting, I thought with a vague sense of irony how we had gathered as a family in the exact same spot on the exact same day 6 years earlier.  Only a little later at night and to celebrate Jet and I putting a bid in on our house (that we won).

A long time family friend posted on Facebook that she was running a 5k in memory of my dad on Saturday, just a few days shy of his anniversary.  

Then came a series of friends on Facebook posting how their dad was not that great, but their mom or grandfather or stepfather was great to them.  I only noticed one friend actually putting something up about her dad.  That seemed to seal my fate in remembering.  Or remembering and being sadden so much.

Things in general have been busy for me lately.  Much as they were that June.  I was the sole financial support for Jet and I at that point.  I was doing a crazy commuting 240 miles one way 3-4 times a week from when my dad first came out of remission the first week of May, until today, the Friday before he died when I moved back in with my parents.  I was the point person for running interference for issues/people that really did not need to be dealt with by my larger immediate family.  I will always remember one particular day in early June, I worked one case, drove 240 miles to go sign papers at a bank and to hand deliver a letter (which I also sent an identical copy by certified mail) written by an attorney to a group of {ehov**'s Witn*** to stay away from my parents home (they kept coming to "comfort" my mom by talking about how in the Bible people lived hundreds of years but we are now so evil we have a shorter lifespan (I fail to see the "comfort" in this), but very much distressing my dad and siblings; my mom saying she couldn't ask them to not come back because that would be impolite... they stayed away for a good 6 months to a year after the letter), I drove back and did another case (so 7 hours of driving total).  As I was sitting on my balcony, trying to escape the sweltering heat of our 2nd floor flat, and eat a very late dinner, and do some paperwork for work, I got a phone call from one of my dad's first cousins (as we were asking all phone calls came through me because of some of the craziness and time restraints my dad had).  She began talking about how if my dad "had enough faith in Jesus Christ he could be healed" and could she please give me some books so I could give them to him so he had a chance to continue living on this Earth.  Are you joking me?  Are you seriously joking me?  She was not.  I said sure, I would pick them up and pass it on when it was appropriate (thinking it was way easier and less stressful on the rest of my family to deal with it in this manner).  At this point, I decided I needed to get a break.  So I went in and check my email.  Sitting in my email, was one of the best gifts I ever got.  I think it always will be.  A dear internet friend of mine had asked the day before about what church my dad went to.  My dad was a traditional Catholic (meaning he doesn't believe in much that happened since the second Vatican Council in the 1960's.  Think Latin Mass and the like).  There were only 2 churches that he went to (as in within 50 miles of where he lived, one only had a Mass in Latin 2 times a month for the most part, the other once a week, with some exceptions).  She had managed to get a mass said for him later that week.  She was initially told that they could not accommodate a traditional mass for him until mid July.  She persisted and got one for that week.  I'm not sure if this was a regularly scheduled Mass or one that was scheduled and said specifically for him (as in it didn't normally happen at all).  This meant a lot to my dad.  A lot.  And to me.  But it was a very large gift for my dad.  The kicker was, she is Jewish.  I immediately called my dad.  He knew I was in town for the bank, and I had promised him no more JHs would be showing up for a while but he didn't know that was what I was doing that particular day.  Nor did he have any idea about his cousin and that phone call.  Knowing that the irony of the situation wouldn't be lost on him I started the conversation with "I know this is going to sound like a bad joke, but this actually happened to me today.  Now if you had 2 Christians and a Jew, who is going to give you the most religious support and comfort?"

I think of how the room my dad was admitted to exactly a week before he passed away wound up being the same room I did my first evaluation of a patient as an employee of the hospital 5 days after he passed away.  It was the luck of the draw.  When my boss saw my face and inquired, she said I could put it back.  I did it because I knew would eventually have to, the longer I would have waited, I think the harder it would have been.  This came up quickly and unexpectedly, so I didn't have a chance to ponder it before hand.  Still, this weekend when I work, I'll be making sure that is not on my list of rooms I'm seeing people in.

If find myself thinking of how it was the last day of working at my old job.  How cruel they were making the last thing I had to do was open a Hospice case.  Of driving to move back in with my parents for 3 months.  Of that dinner, less than 2 hours after I officially "moved back home" that my dad announced that he changed his mind that he wanted to pass away at home not in a Hospice center.  An hour or two later privately saying he did not think my mom could handle the minute to minute end of life decisions of medications and care.  But felt that I could.  He was waiting for me.  At 2 am that same day, less than 8 hours after living at home, my dad collapsing on the kitchen floor and not being able to get back up without help.  The downward slide of his health that Saturday but he was still basically functioning but it was clear it would not be for much longer.  Officially getting Hospice services.  Getting his plan in place with him.  Listening to him say he didn't want be sick for any more than 3 days.  On Sunday, his incessant questioning if he was going to die that day.  That he did not want to die that day.  It was my sister's 18th birthday, and Father's Day.  He didn't want to "ruin" those days.  I kept assuring him, he was close, but not that close.  Monday morning, checking on him but going into start my new job so I could get benefits.  How he kept telling me to go.  I went.  It sucked.  I got benefits.  The descent into Tuesday.  The long night Tuesday night.  Watching my sister, DB2, and DB3 realize that death was close.  Watching my mom, DB1, and my dad's twin not really get how close it was.  On Wednesday, realizing that if he didn't pass soon, I would no longer be able to keep him comfortable at home.  Signing the transfer papers to a facility that could give him that care.  The transport people coming.  Me working on the final papers for him to go, my mom and DB1 in with him and the transport people coming back out and saying he had passed.  The surrealism of it all. 

But it happened.  And we continue to live.  And miss him.  And I try to honor him by keeping his wish that the day that he passed, was not a day for unhappiness in the future. 

I've felt him since then.  The day I was figuring out my due date for Pyrope.  I did it multiple times.  In multiple ways (on line, calendar, and a tool that OBs use).  Each time it was the same.  My due date was the 1 year anniversary of his passing.  How frequently Pyrope gets hiccups (from in utero to this day), my dad was plagued with horrible hiccups from his first surgery on.  Pyrope never minds his.  Obsidian trying to fix things.  Obsidian and all of the different sounds he makes for trains (Something my dad did as well. Can you believe I know if he is pretending to be a large or small or diesel or steam or passenger or freight train that is either going in the country or the city by the type of sound Obsidian makes?)

So I just find myself thinking, and remembering.  And missing him.

This year, weather permitting, the boys and I will be riding alone a bike path, then picking up the train to get back to our car.  Something he would have loved (he rode to work on his bike the Thursday before he passed away and he LOVED trains).  It is the bitter and the sweet. 

Observations for personal use only

Recently, I was at work, in an elevator and someone asked me "So when is the little one due?"

"I'm not."

"Oh, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to.  I'm sorry.  Well you know... You must get that a lot."

Um no.  Please let the doors of this elevator open so I can get the heck out of here.  The worst and at the same time most humorous part of the conversation was she had no idea that her last sentence was way worse than the first part of the conversation.

Then today as I was dropping off Pyrope at gymnastics camp. A mom that I used to see regularly but now don't see that often was there dropping off her daughter who is a few months older than Pyrope.  Her younger daughter is 20 months old.  My best friend was standing next to me, she was dropping off her older daughter and had her 2.5 year old with her. 

My best friend says "E and L have really grown a lot since I've seen them last!"

I chime in "They really have."

Other mom says "It is fun to see how much kids have grown when you haven't seen them in a while.  It is hard to see in your own kids.  A, B, and Pyrope have really grown too.  Obsidian's the same as always."

Now I understand that Obsidian who will be 3 in less than 3 weeks is smaller (as in shorter and I'm guessing lighter) than her 20 month old daughter, but I really don't like it so bluntly and vocally observed.  Even less than the fact that I could lose some weight around my mid-section.

As we were leaving, the mom that made the comment went out ahead of us (as she was carrying her daughter, and Obsidian and my best friend's daughter were messing around).  We were joined by another friend that we see regularly.  My best friend made a comment in her not so subtle way of asking me if I was okay, repeating the comment of the other mom of how much that must hurt to hear.  The other friend said before I could reply, "Now no one would make a comment like that!  It is so... so..."  My best friend said something along the lines of it was a direct quote made in the last 5 minutes.  I just said some people don't think before they speak.  This person was not trying to be mean, just making an observation.

Some observations are best kept to oneself.

Why this?

DB1 and I have fought since he was born.  Our fights were always... different... than the arguments than the rest of the siblings had with each other.  Deeper might be the best way to describe how, but that is not quite the right word.  When we were younger, it was a constant thing.  We would forgive each other, most of the time quickly, but there was always the next fight.  From our mid-teens on, there have been periods of peace.  When we are not fighting, I'm closer in many ways to DB1 than any of my other siblings.  DB2 and DB3 have the closest relationship, but next to that, the next strongest bond was between DB1 and I.  Although as my sister has grown up, our relationship has deepened (I think that a lot of that has to do with the fact that there is nearly 9 years between us.  As we are getting older, the 9 years does not seem nearly as much as it did when we were say 1 and 10.)  At any rate, rarely (as in I probably can count on both of my hands) the number of times that one of my other siblings or my parents have commented to me privately about sides in DB1 and my arguments (and those comments are a fairly close wash to if they agree with him or me).  And I do not remember an argument that a family member has entered in on the disagreement.  Ever.

In particular, since DB1's son has been born, he has done things that have really ticked off my family.  Particularly my mother, my sister, and I.  To a lesser extent DB3.  DB2 is very hard to read in such matters and is very very difficult to really anger in general (but watch out if you do). 

In the events leading up to Pyrope's birthday party, I was a slight sense that my mother was getting mad at DB1 over what was happening.  To the point she might say something to him.  From her comments at Pyrope's birthday party, I knew that something had happened that she was not telling me.  As DB1 has made it very clear that he thinks this whole argument is set up by me, and my "fault", I have a feeling it will come back to me at some point.  The fact Mom is not telling me only bothers me because it is very uncharacteristic of her.  Very.

My sister is a list writer.  I am too, but not to the extent my sister is.  She is staying with Mom.  On Mom's kitchen table was a list of what she wanted to do in the next 3 days (which this list was 4 days old at that point, but she was still working on checking things off.).  The one item was write a letter to DB1.  What?  You have to keep in mind that DB1 and my mom live less than 3 miles apart. 

I questioned my sister what she meant by that.  She vaguely answered me that she is sure I'll find out from DB1, but she doesn't want my thoughts to influence what she says so she isn't going to talk about it until after it is given.  And on top of that, she wants to be able to tell DB1 that I had absolutely nothing to do with the letter when he blames it all on me, which she says she is sure he will do.  Grand.

To me, this fight with DB1 is nothing significantly different than similar fights we've had over the years.  The subject is the same.  Specific details are different, but not that different.  More than anything else, I'm tired of the cycle.

What is different is that there are kids involved.  Sometimes when my sister, DB2, and DB3 were little, I guess you could have said the same thing, as similar arguments happened then, but is somehow different when it is siblings.

And I have to qualify the "kids".  While it is elevating the argument that it was Pyrope's birthday party that this started over (keeping in mind, that that was mainly an argument between my mother and I, and if DB1 had not sent me an email that was tangential to him not coming, everything would have ended there), my kids are not why my mother and sister are entering in.  Or that DB3 has begun to make comments about the situation.  It is DB1's son.  A child that does not recognize a single member of my immediate family.  It is the fact that they have chosen to not include us in their and his life but when we do have contact say that we should do more together.  Then if/when we reach out to them, we get silence or a rebuff in return.

It has entered my mind that my sister may be trying to be a mediator.  I'm praying she is.  At one point, DB1's wife felt a bond with my sister that she never did with the rest of us.  I haven't seen signs of it in years.  But I hope it is there.  I hope my sister is trying to tap into it.  The realistic side of me says no.  If my sister was trying to mediate, she would find a way to go over and see DB1 and SIL and talk.  If sister was in a mediating or neutral mood, I would not be hearing volume of the snide comments I'm hearing her make.  I doubt she would be so careful in what she is saying to me.  I would think she would be encouraging me to make a peace offering.  Or at a minimum trying to warm me up to the idea of some sort of peace.  Typically, me offering some olive branch is how very large blow ups end.  Generally one of my parents, or less frequently a sibling, comes to me and asks me to make a peace offering.  And I do.  I have said I'm done.  And I'm guessing they sense that when I'm saying it this time, it is different than when I've said it in the past.  But I have said it in the past and relented.

I'm praying that Pyrope does not put all of the pieces together that this portion of the fight erupted over his birthday party. The reality of it is that it really has very little to do with his party.  It started long before.  In some ways, I wish when he asked to send his cousin an invitation to his birthday party I told him no.  Or I addressed it to my mom.  But I let him choose.  And it was sent.  And everything that happened did.

Above all, I'm praying for the passage of some time.  Which will come, in time.  I just want to move on to the next phase.  Whether it be working on a relationship with DB1 and his family, or moving our separate ways.  Knowing if my mother and siblings will have a relationship with his family and I will not, or my children and I will not. Currently, the ball is not in my control.  It is not time for it to be in my control.  I need let my mother and sister make their moves.  I'm very used to it being my decision what to do next.  Right now when I sit and am quiet, and pray, I hear a resounding "Be still.  This is not your time to speak.  Wait."  It is harder to wait than it is to do.

Better than Christmas

This spring I started using this book,  Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons, with Pyrope.  Tomorrow we will finish lesson 60.  While the directions for teaching the lessons are clear, I would not say that they have been "easy" for Pyrope to learn.  He eventually gets what is being taught, but it has not been easy.  For a while, it was both of our most dread portion of the day.  It has got significantly better.  Tears are no longer a daily occurrence with each lesson.  And it has been a long time since I've had to put him in time out if he refused to participate.

However, the gains he has made have been incredible since he started.  Everyone has noticed.  He is legitimately reading now.  When I started this, I thought there was no way that he would be reading at a "solid 2nd grade level" by the time he finished as the introduction said he would.  Now, I'm thinking he will be.  Or will be darn close to it.

It started a few weeks ago, but Pyrope started to put together that reading is a way to convey information to people.  In the last couple of days, he has started to grasp the extent of it.  And is in awe.

As he was going to bed, he looked at the window fan.  Obsidian was with him, and I was in the bathroom, listening:
"Listen Obsidian.  I will sound this out.  ooooo-fffff.  Off.  Lllllll-ooooo-wwwwww.  Low.  Hhhhhh-ooooo. No, not right.  Hhhhhh-iiiiii (short i sound).  I try again Obsidian.  Hhhhh-iiiiii.  Hi." pause "Obsidian!  These words tell you what the fan will do!!!!  Let's try!!"  Squeals of delight ensued when the fan did what the switch said.  "Mommy!  Come fast!  Look!  You can read what it will do!!!"

When he got his new scooter for his birthday, very soon after getting it he questioned Jet.
"Daddy, did you put this together?"
"Yes."
"Did it come with instructions to read?" said with wonder and awe in his voice.

At the zoo:
"Mommy!  Look!  Menus!  Read them to me!  They have too many words that are too long for me to sound out.  I think the menus will tell me about the animals." (He meant signs.  He never has been interested in them before, so I think "menu" was just the word he found that was most appropriate.)

At a restaurant:
"Daddy, why do they have so many words for each thing?  There are more words than they are?  Why?" (Looking at the description of each item on the menu)

Incidents like this are repeated over and over thoughout the day.  Each time, a joy and awe is there when the message is discovered.  There are written words, some of which he can figure out on his own, that are all around him.  Telling him things.

While he is beginning to grasp the power of the written word, it is just the tip of the ice burg.  I love reading.  I have always hoped to pass that on to my children.  Pyrope would sit and listen to me read, and generally be content if not happy.  But he never really engaged.  He wouldn't look at the pictures and tell me a story.  He rarely was able to answer simple questions about the story.  Rarely, if ever, was he able to come up with some prediction of what was going to happen next in a story.  I was concerned but knew there was nothing I could do other than keep reading to him, and have him see me read for my pleasure (and information).  I hope that he continues to discover just how powerful reading and writing can be.

Now I love watching my kids experiencing new things.  To catch a glimpse of the magic that I no longer see.  Or have no longer been seeing.  I love watching kids (mine and in general) experience things like Christmas.

Watching Pyrope discover the power and magic of reading, it is far better.  While it is taking me longer, sometimes significantly longer, to do everything right now (from turning on a fan, to draining the tub (did you know that above where the lever is for draining the tub a word is stamped in the metal?  I didn't until I had to help sound it out.), to shopping, to walking around the zoo, I will gladly do it.  He has started to read himself, Obsidian, or his toys books.  Sometimes reading the words, other times by looking at the pictures.

To see Pyrope discover reading is awesome.  This magic does not seem to grow old for me.

Blood

There is this funny thing in life.  You choose your friends but not your family.  Which is good an bad.  For the most part, friends seem to come and go with the seasons of my life.  With a few major exceptions.  And those people I consider more of family than anything else.  Friends seem to (for the most part) naturally drift in and out of my life.  On a rare occasion, they will leave my life with a big scene.  After that, either by my choice or by theirs, they are gone.  For the most part, all of these people I call friends, close friends, have something in common with me.

And then there is family.  Ah, family.  What a complicated thing it is.  We do not choose them.  They are a group we are born or adopted into.  Family is something (except in rare extreme cases) that does not go away.  Even if we feel "done" with the relationship.  Or really don't want to continue with it.  Yes, I know you can completely cut ties.  But it is different, harder than cutting ties with friends.  Even very close friends.  Even if you do not have much in common, there is still a bond that somehow lasts longer than most other relationships.

Pyrope's birthday party was this weekend.  It was a saga getting to it.  By all stretches of the imagination and reality.  Fortunately, Pyrope was mainly unaware of the negative drama.

My mother choose the date of the party.  Long story why she choose the date she did.  But after it was chosen, the days surrounding it got blocked in, and it was the only date possible to have the party.  Then for motives I only really have conjectures of (abet strong ones that my best friend agrees are probably fairly accurate), my mother decided to go to the baby shower of my cousin's wife instead of Pyrope's birthday party.  It turned into a huge argument between me and my mother.  (The short of it is that she had chosen the date of the party, Pyrope really wanted her to be there, and she could have gone to a birthday party on Saturday and seen the same part of the family.)  We argued for a long time (as in since April when the invitation for the shower got to her and she started "thinking" about it) over what she was going to do.  After my brother (DB1) said he would go with her, she was going to do it.  I was ticked.  I argued my point.  She said no.  Fine.  I was ticked and I told her so, but she is an adult and makes her own decisions.  So then, a little over a week before the said date, I get an unfriendly email from DB1.  Now if I have a problem with a person, I try to go and see them (particularly when they live as close as we do).  If that doesn't work, I call them on the phone.  Really, an email?  (The fact that DB1 told me what he did in the form of an email is what ticked DB3 off at him.)  Now I was ticked at my mom, but nothing I wouldn't get over.  It would be a sore subject, but not a huge deal in the overall picture of our relationship.  The email from DB1 on the other hand was a lot more than ticking me off.  (Among other things, he called me a bully for trying to convince Mom that she should come to her grandson's birthday party, that I have bizarre behavior he just tries to ignore but I keep contacting him (um, but then he says how he wants to spend time with me.  Riddle me how I'm going to spend time with him when he doesn't want me to contact him, he doesn't contact me, and he doesn't want me to just show up at his house unannounced.  As almost a side note, he said how he really would like to come to Pyrope's birthday party, but because of baby shower he can't.)  I emailed him back (a VERY edited version of what I originally wrote).  I went over to my mom's house.  I told her my extreme anger at DB1 over the email and the whole situation (I wasn't expecting any sort of reply from DB1, not even a "we can't come".  Although I'm always harping at him that when someone invites you over, it is nice to call before the event starts to tell them if you are running late and will be there, or are not coming.  His other alternatives is to not call at all, or call several weeks after the event).  My mom stated she was sorry that DB1 is being such a pain (she had been saying that we were both acting like children and wished this feud would be over... however during this whole thing, I kept including her in on the emails that were being sent, and she was getting irritated as well) but she was still going to the baby shower.  DB1's wife calls a family meeting, including calling my sister who comes up (she lives about 90 miles away) for that evening.  She also states how she really wishes they could come to Pyrope's birthday party.  They really want to spend time with us.  I was so angry, I was not going to start the conversation at the family meeting/picnic.  So all of us came.  She (or DB1) didn't bring anything up.  I didn't as I was still so ticked I was afraid I would run my mouth more than I care to in front my children (and nephew, which it was the first time I've really seen him since Christmas).  As a follow up, a peace offering of sorts, I emailed DB1 a couple of things we were/are doing that he could join us.  Including one event that he suggested we just cancel because it would be a good time for them to come to Pyrope's party.  No email back.  No phone call.  Didn't show up at the event.

So the plan (as far as I knew) was to be Mom, DB1, nephew, DB1 wife, and my sister were to be at baby shower.  DB2 and DB3 at Pyrope's birthday party.  People start coming to Pyrope's birthday party early.  Like 40 minutes early for the first family (that includes Pyrope's best friend, and mine so that wasn't bad) and 30 minutes early for the second.  I'm trying to get things done that I thought I would get done before people showed up while trying to start to host.  Yeah.  The phone rings.  It is my mother.

"Uh, hi Mom."

"So when is Pyrope's birthday party starting?"

"What?"

"I don't remember when it starts."

"3.  But people are already here."

"Okay I'll be there in 10 or 15 minutes...... if that is okay with you."

"What?  Where are you?  Did you go to the shower?"

"I'm at my house.  We didn't go."

"None of you went."

"None of us went.  Can I come?"

"Sure." pause "Wait.  Who exactly is coming?" Me thinking to myself.  So okay, guests are here way early.  And I potentially have 4 adults and a kid coming that I didn't plan on.  Extra hot dogs will save the day I guess if need be.

"Just me for now.  DB3 and sister are putting in my new retaining wall and it isn't going well.  I'll be over soon."

I go back to my best friend and tell her my mom is coming.  Pyrope does a happy dance that "Grandma IS coming!!!! Yea!!!!"  My friend as several "What?" and "Why" questions I have no idea to answer.  I tell her to ask my mother if she feels like it because I certainly am not at this point.

Immediately after my mom gets there, I ask if DB1 knows he is still invited.  She answers shortly that yes, she called him after she got off the phone with me and he knows he can come.  I asked if he said if he was coming.  She gave some non-answer.  Later when I had recovered more from everything, I asked again and then asked what DB1 said.  She said I didn't want to know.  She didn't think he was coming.  (DB2 was throwing up and had a fever so he stayed away, DB3 and sister had issues with the wall and didn't make it either.  Earlier DB3 and sister assured me that the whole project would take less than 2 hours.  Most likely less than an hour.  I laughed and said it was going to be a day project, at least.  Guess who was right.)

The story comes out as far as the shower and DB1 is concerned.  Or part of it.  My mother flat out refuses to tell me all of it as "it would just make you angry".  Too late.

DB1's wife decided she couldn't go to the shower the day before it was to happen.  She is working that night.  It would make for too long of a day.  Since DB1, wife, and nephew (mainly nephew if you ask me) were not going to shower, Mom makes the decision to come to Pyrope's birthday party instead.  Now if DB1 was planning on being at the shower at the same time as Pyrope's birthday party, and the birthday party was as important to him as he and wife said, why on earth did they not come?  We are not the 4 hour each direction drive that the shower was.  Even if DB1wife had to be at work, they could drive separately.  Or just DB1 and nephew come (just Jet and my kids went to nephew's party, as he gave me 3 day notice of when the party was and I was working that weekend.  I came for the last small portion of it).

I've said that I'm done with DB1.  And after this, I'm even more done.  If he was a friend, he would simply drop off of my radar.  But he is blood.  Family.  So, at some point, I'm sure he'll make contact.  And I'll be nice. 

Hopefully by then, I will be thinking more about the things I do like about him (which there are some).  That the traits that drive me nuts will somehow fade again.  But really, if I had a choice, I would be done.  For good.  I wouldn't harbor anger at him, and I'm sure I would be friendly if we accidentally crossed paths.  But he would not be an active part of my life.  Or my children's. 

Blood ties are strong.

It's Hard

Recently, I picked up my youngest brother (DB3) from college.  He has just finished his freshman year.  He was majoring in pharmacy.

School had always come very easily up until this year.  Calculus, chemistry, biology, and physics at that level are hard.  Hard enough that it was hard for him.  On top of never really having any subject that was hard, he had to deal with multiple subjects that were hard at the same time.

So DB3 solution.  Stop going to school.  Get an entry job doing something.  Maybe go to the community college to get an "easy" degree. 

I'm not trying to knock on community colleges.  I think they are great.  However, I don't get the "easy" part.  Or maybe I should say I don't agree with the "easy" part.

Most things I have done in life that bring me the most pride and satisfaction were not easy.  School was not easy for me.  Particularly in elementary school.  I had to try hard from an early age to "get" many academic concepts.  Now I think I was also learning something other than the specific skills (which were important enough in their own right). 

Hard does not equal bad.  You need to look at what the end result of the work will be.  Do I think it will be worth the effort in the end?  Do I think I can do it?  Not necessarily without some failure, but can I do it in the end.  After 6 years of Spanish, I decided realistically learning a foriegn language decently was not in the cards for me.

Recently, I accepted a board position.  Part of my duties were to update a packet.  Technically, all I had to do was replace some names with some other names and update dates.  The problem was the finish product looked sloppy.  Over a period of many years, people just added new things.  There were 8 fonts and I don't know how many sizes used.  Single space, 1.5 space, double spaced.  List (some with bullets, others made with check marks, others numbered, others lettered).  Random use of tabs, spaces, and returns.  Random forms that are not used.  Ugh.  I couldn't just replace the names.  It is all now in the same font and sizes (larger size for the titles of the sections, smaller for the details).  If it is a list of points that don't have to be followed in order, it has dot bullets, with one space between each line.  If it needs to be done in order, it is numbered.  The document was 31 pages (one sided) last year.  This year 9 (double sided).  I probably would have been better off just retyping the whole thing in a fresh document (but I decided that too far into the "fixing").  When I was done, it was a lot harder than it could have been.  But it also looks a whole lot better.  I don't think many (if anyone) will notice.  I know.  I also won't have a problem claiming it as my work.  It was worth it.

It is the idea that doing something that is hard or doing it the hard way or not taking the easy way out is something I'm trying to teach.  Pyrope has many challenges.  Speaking, listening, developing an attention span.  Obsidian has challenges.  Learning new physical tasks (yes, I know since he is so small I can carry him up and down stairs instead of making him do it, and yes I know it is hard for him to do it, but he is not going to get any better if he is always carried).  Learning when it is best to keep one's mouth shut.

Hard is not something to be afraid of.  There is such a thing as too easy.

Balance.  It is all about balance.

He cracks me up

People have a tendency to remember Obsidian after they meet him.  While some remember his size, more remember his actions.  "Spit fire", "pistol", "character", "piece of work", and other such phrases are what I hear.

Jet took the boys out to breakfast.  There was a little girl at the next booth who was about 2 years old.  The whole time they played with each other.  When it was time to go, they kissed each other.  The child is a flirt.

The week after Easter, Obsidian asked to eat candy from his Easter basket shortly after breakfast.  I told him no, not until after lunch.  About 20 minutes later, Obsidian leads me to the backdoor and tells me "Look at that.  Somefing in driveway."  I go outside to figure out what he is talking about.  I hear the door close and the deadbolt turn.  I stand at the door looking in the window.  Obsidian is quickly pushing a chair up to the counter, getting his Easter basket down, and sitting on the floor helping himself.  Pyrope walks into the kitchen at about this time.  I motion and yell to him to open the door.  Obsidian tells him not to and offers him M&M's.  All the while looking at me with a glint in his eye.  Pyrope decides to get the M&M.  I get the spare key and let myself back into the house.  Then on principle of the whole situation, take away the rest of Obsidian's Easter basket permanently and some of Pyrope's M&M's.  Obsidian was not impressed with this consequence but kept his comments at a minimum.  I had to repeatedly explain to Pyrope why he was losing candy (bottom line, you should listen to Mom, not your brother).  I tell Jet the story after the kids go to bed.  He laughs.  Hysterically.  Even by that point, I was somewhat laughing.  It would be very funny if it wasn't my kid.  My kid that is not even 3 years old.  That I have years of parenting to go.

If Pyrope wakes up at night, if he can't immediately find us (any time we are not sleeping in bed ourselves).  He cries and walks in circles.  And typically starts to seriously panic.  Then there is Obsidian.  He'll wake up and we will here him calling "Mommy!  (or Daddy, depending on his mood)  Where are you?  I wake.  I no sleeping!"  Then, in a minute or two later, a head will pop out from the door of the room we are in.  "Peek-a-you!"  (note, he has never said peek-a-boo, it is always peek-a-you).  He will then reiterate the fact he is not sleeping.  Sometimes he will say he is hungry, thirsty, had a dream, just wanted to see us, or whatever else was on his mind.  Most of the time, this is so humorous, that we laugh on the spot.  Which doesn't help stop it from happening again.

So while I can see some...challenging... parenting moments in my future (as I do with Pyrope, but for entirely different reasons).  I just can't help but laugh.  Even when I simultaneously want to pull out my hair.  I just hope I can keep saying that.

He does crack me up.

Thankful Thursday

• The craziness of the last month is winding down.  Yesterday was Pyrope's last day of preschool.  Today is the last day of Pyrope's swimming lessons.  After Friday, there will be a little over a 3 week break from gymnastics.
• Friday and Saturday we are predicted to have a break from rain.  So far for the month there have been 5 days where there was not a recordable amount of rain.  April was similarly wet.
• Obsidian can ride his 2 wheeler with training wheels everywhere without help including starting.  And get on and off on his own.  His endurance is getting better too.
• Obsidian's new DAFO's (foot braces came in on Wednesday).
• Obsidian likes his new braces (this was not so when he got his first pair when he was 14 months old).
• Pyrope's reading is continuing to improved daily.  It has been a while since he has cried over having to read if you don't count having to read the word "I" (Don't ask.  For some reason he can not get this word.)  Pyrope even read a book (very short and simple) to his class.
• Pyrope has made some significant discoveries about words and reading this week.  There are words everywhere, and they are put there to tell people things (these are new revelations to him.  And it is motivating him to try to learn how to read more)
• My lilac bushes are in bloom.  They are my absolute favorite flower.  I have some on my table and above this sink on the windowsill.  And of course in the yard.

Wordless Wednesday

To whom it may concern

To whom it may concern:
I would really like a week of sunshine, without a single episode (much less full day) of rain.  Please don't misinterpret this.  I am not asking for a drought.  Enough rain for my garden to grow, enough sun that I'm not vitamin D deficient all summer.  A little balance would be great.

Thanks

Still going up

This morning, Jet spoke to his mom.

The good news is she has had her last dose of her current chemo drugs.

The bad news.  The cancer markers continue to go up.  So she started a new chemo drug.  This one is administered once a month.  The side effects are known to be worse.  It is known to be particularly hard on the heart.  She has been having swelling since the 3rd round of chemo.  She is to not get too warm.  Not to go outside when it is warm.  Not eat foods that are too hot.  Not to drink hot tea or coffee, or at least when they are hot.  She had her first round this past week.  There will be a total of 4 rounds.

What is the prognosis?  I don't know.  I asked Jet.  But he had not asked his mom.  She didn't say.  I'm guessing it is not as good as it was going into the first round of chemo.

Coordination

As a general rule, Pyrope is my coordinated child.  Usually.

These last two weeks have been a very interesting mixture of him making significant gains in new gross motor skills and regular spectacular displays of uncoordination.

In ice skating, he has not only learned to stop on command and skate backwards with some actual speed.  He also learned how to switch from skating backwards to forwards and vice verse without stopping between.  He can also be skating forward and catch a puck with his stick and skate with the puck in a controlled fashion (instead of hitting the puck ahead, catching up, then repeating).

In swimming, he now can be on his stomach and roll over to his back or roll from his back to his stomach.  He started treading water.  For the first time ever on Thursday, he was able to do an actual front crawl stroke instead of the doggie paddle he had been doing or having his face in and just kicking.  Then, a few minutes later, he was doing the front crawl again, he paused to get a breath (using his new treading water skill), then put his head back in the water and continued with the front crawl back to the wall.  This is amazing progress (he has been progressing nicely, but these are really significant leaps in a period of maybe 2 weeks).

On the other hand, he has had some spectacular mishaps.  He tripped walking on the sidewalk (not on a crack or anything, just his feet).  He didn't just fall, but his motion kept going and he rolled up onto his one shoulder, both feet in the air bending up behind him.  It even got comments from strangers.  He has walked into trees (not because he wasn't looking, he has done that, but simply because he didn't realize how close he was getting that quickly), rode his bike into the garage (not into the garage as into the building, but as in he didn't stop and hit the garage), and has hit his hand (hard) onto walks when he was just walking (too) close to the wall (then almost cried because he hit has hand so hard).  The one day he went to sit on a chair, and missed the chair and was sitting on the floor right in front of the chair.

It is an interesting contrast so see him gain so many skills while at the exact same time having so many issues with things that don't typically cause him problems.

It almost makes me wish that I tracked Pyrope's height and weight more like I do Obsidian's (but I don't as he is growing normally and there is no particular reason to).  I would guess that I would be seeing some significant growth.  Right now we are transitioning from purely winter clothes, so spring clothes, and there have even been a few days of shorts and t-shirts.  So I don't have the best handle of which clothes he is outgrowing (plus summer clothes, you have to grow a lot before it really shows, so I won't have a real feel for it until fall, of which he rarely fits into anything he did in the spring... unlike Obsidian who I put into his 6 month shorts today that he wore last summer and the summer before and they still fit, they are right at his knees (the first summer he wore them they were below his knees, I just have to remind myself of that fact)).

So I get the joy of watching Pyrope quickly gain new skills, the humor of many of his incidents, and a few "I hope he didn't get really hurt" between the two sets of events....

World Events

Earlier this week, I was talking to a friend about the Royal Wedding.  She remembers watching Princess Diana's wedding.  Her daughter was late for preschool on Friday as she was watching Princess Kate getting married.  To be completely honest, I didn't watch it or really even follow it.  I love a good fairy tale, but it just isn't my cup of tea.  I don't think I watched Princess Diana's wedding either.  I have no memory of it at all.  I was just shy of 3 years old at the time.

As I was just going to bed, the news that Osama Bin Laden was killed by US troops hit.  I was up, and glued to the TV.  I thought of waking Pyrope to watch with me.  If he was a year or two older I would have.  But his is not quite old enough.

My mind snapped back to the Invasion of Grenada.  I was in 2nd grade.  I remember my dad waking me up early that morning, and watching TV with him.  I vaguely remember the discussions of the ramifications of the invasion.  I remember sensing what an event like this means but at the same time realizing I was not fully understanding what I was watching.  I remember watching Reagan making a speech.  I thought how funny it was that I remember the Grenada invasion, but not Princess Diana's wedding.  I thought to myself, maybe it was because I was too young.  But as I continue to watch the coverage, my mind slipped to other 'National Moments'.  Challenger exploding, a few months after the Grenada invasion.  That I was interested in, and I have very very clear memories of.  I understood what happened.  More so than many adults.  My mind slipped to my first memory of a 'National Event'.  Reagan's assassination attempt.  I was in Florida.  At a parade.  A parade where some float was throwing out bead necklaces.  I remember the necklaces.  I remember the sudden change in mood of the crowd.  Of abruptly leaving and going back to the house of the friends we were visiting.  I remember everyone except for me raptly watching the TV, and a vague wonder of what was happening and what all of this meant and what the big deal was.  Doing the math, I realized I was younger at that point than I was for Diana's wedding.

So after I watched Obama's speech and several commentators saying the same thing.  I made a decision.  In the morning, I will wake up my boys early.  Not a whole lot earlier than they normally wake up, but wake them up and eat breakfast in front of the TV with them, watching the coverage.  I don't know if either or both of them will remember the moment.  But I, following my parents path, will try to pass on such memories.  A sense of what is important for our collective memory. 

My friend's daughter will look back and remember Princess Kate's wedding.  It is my hope, that if anything, my boys will look back and remember learning of Bin Laden's death.  As a nation, we have paid a very high dear price.

Early lessons on empathy

Pyrope and Obsidian's friends (who are sisters) started playing with Squinkies.  They are stupid tiny soft rubber figures.  They are a fad toy.  Particularly Obsidian's friend loves playing with them.  As a consequence, Obsidian loves playing with them.  They are now coming out with boy themed sets.  Be still my heart.  The kids play all sort of pretend games with them.  Line them up.  Bounce them on my hardwood floor.  Count them.  See how many they can hold in their hand at a time.  All in all, they aren't a terrible fad toy.  A lot more merit to them than Silly Bandz.

After each reading lesson, Pyrope gets a sticker.  The stickers are in rows of 10 (in an effort to start introducing the concept of grouping).  After each row is completed, Pyrope gets a prize from his prize box (which are junky little toys that he loves to get).  It gives him some motivation for getting through the reading lesson.  The sticker chart also gives me a reason count with Pyrope.  He only has one-to-one correspondence to 11, occasionally 12.  Never 13.

So one day this last week, Pyrope was in the basement.  I was in the kitchen doing something.  Obsidian was kneeling in a chair at the kitchen table playing with their Squinkies.  He was lining them up.  He then started to go down the line and count them, several times.  15 (that was the number he had).  I started to discretely watch without him noticing as he was too involved.  No mistakes counting.  Consistently.  Pyrope even if he counts to 11, needs help not skipping or counting the same one twice.  Obsidian then started to make different lines and count how many were in each line, then how many there were all together.  Then make different lines and do it again.  He then started putting the Squinkies in groups.  Groups of 2, groups of 3, groups of 4.  Observing "Uh-oh" when he couldn't evenly make groups of 2 or 4, and clap and say "Yea!" when it worked out evenly for his groups of 3.  He then tried another group of 6, and he looked at it confused and just gathered all of them up in his dump truck and walked off.  Pyrope has never played with grouping much less made observations about the groups, and when I've tried to do it with him has pretty much gone right over his head.

It hit me.  Obsidian has passed Pyrope in math skills.  I had guessed this would happen.  I did not think it would be so soon.  Before Obsidian is 3.  Before anyone has tried to teach Obsidian any math skill or concept.  We haven't even worked on counting with Obsidian.  He just started doing it.  (After that first time, I've found Obsidian doing it with Squinkies again, and then I've seen him do it with cars, Cheerios. and various other objects.)

I began to wonder, when is Pyrope going to realize his little brother has passed him?  When is Obsidian going to realize?  I would bet that Obsidian will figure this out first.  How are they going to react to this?  I remember the first time my brother passed me with a skill.  It was spelling.  I was mad.  And hurt.  At him, and at myself.  I still remember the confused fury I felt with the situation.  However, I was older, much older (I'm talking maybe we were 9 and 7 years old).  I remember how he help it over my head that he was better than me.  That he could do things I couldn't.

I don't think that Pyrope will ever gain ground on Obsidian.  It takes Pyrope so long to get any math concept (as well as some other concepts), that I have to repeat over and over again what is being taught in school at home.  Which I'm guessing is how Obsidian started counting and playing with the basic math concepts that he experimenting with.now.  As Obsidian is always going to hear me teaching Pyrope these concepts, I have a hunch, he will just pick them up at the same time.  Only faster.

So how do I parent this one?  I know that I want Obsidian to treat Pyrope with respect.  There will be zero tolerance for teasing or belittling (as I would want him to not tease peers or anyone for not understanding something that he does).  But above that, I want, or hope, that Obsidian will have a level of compassion, or empathy, or patience with Pyrope as he is trying to learn what comes so naturally, easily, and quickly to Obsidian.  And I hope that this will carry over.  To let Pyrope know that it is okay that he doesn't learn these concepts as quickly.  It is okay to have have strong suits and weak suites.  Pyrope is by far better at riding bikes, ice skating, skateboarding, climbing, running, jumping, exc than Obsidian.  My guess is that he always will.

So patient empathy for Obsidian.  Acceptance for Pyrope.  And it is my hope that I can teach these lesson well.