out in left field

Last fall I casually asked Ella if she wanted to try playing soccer.  "NO WAY!" was her hearty response.  This was also her response last year when I asked her if she wanted to play softball.  A few weeks ago I asked her if she wanted to try horseback riding camp this summer.  "Why would I want to do that?" was her reply. 

 

You see, Ella doesn't particularly like to try new things and she is a slightly anti- sports.  This is only mildly odd to me.  After all the mom whose biology she does not share comes from a long line of athletes, while the mom whose biology she does share only played elementary school softball because the hot dogs were so damn good.

 

And I mean good.  It was all about the toasted, buttered hot dog roll....It was what I dreamed about while I stood out in left field, squinting into the sunshine, gazing glassy-eyed at the game taking place seemingly without me.  The one or two times per game the ball headed in my direction everyone shouted my name to pull me from my reverie.  I would locate the ball flying overhead in the great, blue expanse, extend my arm like the Statue of Liberty with my glove at my torch, duck my head and close my eyes, praying the ball would land in the not-yet-broken-in leather on my hand. 

 

You see I really am a reformed couch potato myself. 

 

But then Ella's friends, the twins, were signed up for softball and their step-dad is their coach.  I casually mentioned this to Ella, followed by, "Any chance you are interested?"

 

"YES!!!!"

 

This is so out of character for her I thought Sandi would think we were pulling her leg.

 

Sandi was a dedicated softball pitcher.   She was thrilled with this news. She promptly bought a glove for Ella (who wasn't super excited by its brown, rather than pink, hue) and then tied it up with string.  I guess this is a way to break it in but it just reminded me of some sort of oddball sports ritual.  (I tell you I really am out of the sports loop.)  Then she would walk around the house slamming a softball into the glove hard to soften up the leather, telling me if the glove wasn't properly broken in Ella would be frustrated.  

 

I felt like I was living with an eight-year-old boy getting ready for Little League.  All that was missing was some Big League Chew.

 

When my sister and her family came to visit I asked her to bring my niece Michaela's softball glove so the girls could play catch.  I thought it would inspire Ella to play with the cousin she hero worships. 

 

They did one better.  They brought all the gear.  Sandi and Brian even tossed the ball back and forth in the driveway and looked positively giddy.  Kathryn and I sat drinking tea, so happy to have them happy and so relieved that we didn't have to go out and pretend to know how to throw long like they can.

 

 But check out Maya up to bat with her purse.

 

 

She got some pointers from Uncle Brian who, luckily, didn't take a bat to the head.  It is a tough call with Maya: have her hit the ball out toward the cars or back toward the garage with its fragile metal door?

Before they left the kids had a family sing along.  Except the adults weren't allowed to sing and we were scowled at for doing so.   They did a jazzy version of "Down By the Bay" and Ella and Michaela also performed the songs on my guitar they had spent an hour writing in a bedroom with the door closed.  (I don't think they ever did play softball.)  "Ohhhh,  I feel so alone on the playground.... on the playground..."  Really upbeat numbers like that.

 

The really cool thing about the wave of interest in softball, though, comes in the moments when Sandi gets home from the hospital early enough to play outside with the kids.  I usually relish the quiet time to make dinner alone, although one day they came in and said, "Want to come play with us?"  Trying to live by my new outlook of participating in my own life, I dropped the laundry, turned the stove off and went outside to play (and photograph).

She might have an unattractive brown glove, but at least she scored a pink helmet.

Chalk lines for Maya's feet position meant chalk lines for Ella.  Whatever it takes.

When Ella was up to bat, Maya was the fielder.

 

The pictures tell it all.

 

 

This was her system for getting the balls home.

 

Ella then tried her hand at being pitched to.  It was challenging.  But I told her to take all her aggression, all her pent up anger and frustration when we tell her not to lay her hands on her sister but she wants to and smack that ball.  Our sweet, sensitive, won't-harm-a-lady-bug child swung HARD.

Sandi came inside and said, "I'm am so happy to be out there playing with them and teaching them how to play softball.  It gives me something to do with them besides playing dolls, which I just don't know how to play and don't really like at all." 

Maya is a natural at most things athletic, this included, and she has quite a resentment that she can't be on the team. It's hard being the younger sister.

I am so relieved that Sandi can prep Ella so well for this because if she were to show up at practice on day one and have no exposure, she would struggle to be successful.  Her own fear and self-doubt would put her at risk for immobilization.  And I want more for her than hot dog (veggie dog?) daydreams and being terrified of the next pop fly.

a project for those in need of green

For anyone else that desperately pines for something green and growing, have I got a fun project for you.  If you've never made a grasshead you don't know what you are missing.  It is like a homemade chia pet but even better! 

 

This is the kind of fun that can be enjoyed by kids and grown ups alike.  All you need is some knee high nylons, dirt, grass seed, a few decorations (or not) and an imagination.

 

 

Step one: to make the "head" of the grasshead, put some grass seed in the toe part of the nylon and then fill it with dirt.  We used three scoops of dirt. Squish the dirt to pack it down and then tie a knot to complete.

 

The squishing is very important...

Step two:  invert the nylon so that the knot is on the bottom and the grass seed is on the top.  This way the grass will grow out the top as hair.   Shape into a head, spreading the grass seed out to grown evenly as hair. Place the excess strand of nylon into a cup (one that will fit your grasshead so it doesn't slide down into the cup).

Step three: decorate!

 

Ella made a ponytail out some of the pompoms in our art closet. I guess her grasshead has hair on the top and on the back.

Here is another one Ella made:

 I made these- one for me and one to give to my mom since she was coming to visit.  Just what ever grandmother wants, her very own grasshead.  "What is that?  A potato?" she asked, skeptically.

Maya made one for her and one for Beckett to give him on his second birthday.  Because every two year old also wants a potato look alike holding the promise of grass to come.

Step four: once the decorations are dry, gently wet the soil, especially where the grass seed is. Fill the bottom half of the cup with water.  The nylon will wick the water up to hydrate your grasshead.  For best results keep the top moist until the grass seed sprouts.    And when your grasshead grows enough "hair" you can give it a haircut!

I have no idea why Maya's grew so much more than Ella's and mine did but she was very excited that she "won" it the grasshead contest she fabricated in her mind.

random things and a visit from an important bunny

Well, we made it through March, a month whose only bragging rights are that the sun is noticeably warmer than it is in February. Sometimes your car will actually heat up and you have to crack the window.  Oh, and we change the clocks so it doesn't get dark during supper anymore.  I know I'm grasping but I don't have much to work with. 

The only other thing March can brag about is its mud, and since it knows better, March remains quiet on the topic. 

March is the most bi-polar month in Maine, not sure if it should lean toward spring or stay rooted in winter.  This March was no exception with a few spring days and a monster snow storm that allowed us to use our last scheduled snow day. 

Personally, I would have preferred to have summer start a day earlier, but that's just me.

This time of year has me dreaming of the succulent heads of lettuce from our farmshare, wearing flip flops with brightly painted toe nails, sleeping with the smell of lilacs on the night breeze, running at dawn in shorts and eating dinner outside.  But for now I will just celebrate getting the snow tires off the car and stowing the snow shovels. 

Here's what we've been up to as we tredded water through March and gleefully sailed into April where dirty snowbanks and brown turn into the color that our eyes desperately crave: green.  

Sandi made a batch of molasses taffy with the girls that didn't get heated to the proper temperature and turned into a fantastic gooey mess. Instead of twisting the taffy into golden strands, it glopped and plopped all over. 

It was awesome.

Maya had a cold that led to croup but, mercifully did not lead to an airway crisis or an ER visit.  Managing her at home with the array of drugs, inhaled and oral, is a delicate process of method, guesswork, luck and prayer.  When she was home sick one day with me we played blocks and she made this:

You don't know what it is? Well, it is a hospital bed, of course.  That is the patient lying under the finish line and that red block standing off to the side is Sandi getting ready to administer anesthetic agent.  Duh.  

Maya has been working on this learning program at home with math and phonics and she is doing a great job.  She has a short list of words that she can actually read now.  We played number bingo using Honey Nut Cheerios until the wonderful moment when we could shout "BINGO!"  Maya was really into the shouting part. No surprise there.

Ella has really been missing her teacher who is out on maternity leave.  When she found out her teacher was coming back a week earlier than expected the made this announcement on our white board.


"At the end of April vacation Mrs. Fitzpatrick is coming back!"

Maya finished level two at gymnastics and got this medal she has been coveting for weeks.  Unfortunately, she hid it in a "very important" spot that night and we have yet to find it.  She speaks of it wistfully.

For Easter this year we headed to Beals.  Luckily the Easter Bunny knew of our travel plans and visited us there.

 

With Tia as the very tall Easter Bunny egg-hiding assistant, it was game-on for the egg hunt.

It was a truly gorgeous morning on the ocean and we took full advantage with a beach walk with Sandi's parents.  Dwight found a high quality buoy washed up on the beach that was not marked as another fisherman's so he carried it out.  Maya is Grampie's girl and was psyched when she found an old, beat-up buoy of her own to carry.  

Now there's a downeast girl for you.  

In other news, I got out for my first bike ride of the year today!  With a pair of toe warmers keeping my feet from frostbite I could totally deal with the 45 degree temperature and wind.  I had some gear issues wherein my low gears wouldn't hold so each time I would climb a hill my gears would switch on their own, nearly causing me to faceplant.  Still, I was thrilled to be pedaling again. 

This year I am doing the Trek Across Maine again and Sandi is doing it too!  The Trek Across Maine is a fundraiser for the American Lung Association.  It is a 3 day, 180 mile bike ride across Maine June 14-16.  It is, in a word, incredible.  My experience  last year  had me itching to do it again.  The minimum fundraising goal is $500 per person and since Sandi rarely sees the light of day anymore, I will be raising $1000 for the two of us.  We would LOVE sponsors!!  You can sponser me or Sandi by clicking on the link to get to our personal page.  No amount is too small since it all counts! 

Happy spring to all of you!

what??

Sometimes things happen in life and you just think, really?  Did we need that?

And then, if you're lucky and/or you work at it, you think,  wow, we can totally handle that.  We are so fortunate that this is what we are dealing with when there are so many other, much, much more difficult and terrifying things to deal with. 

At Maya's well child visit last fall, I asked our pediatrician if she could test Maya's hearing. I had some concerns that I had mostly dismissed as Maya just being Maya but figured it wouldn't hurt to check.  She didn't seem to hear me all the time.  Really, what parents would say they feel heard by their children?  How many parents all over the world at this very second are asking for the fifth time for their children to brush their teeth, put their clothes in the hamper or pick up their toys?  Maya would say, "What??" many times a day, especially in the car when we were back to and there was any sort of other noise. She always cranked the volume on everything and when we would lower it she would say, "But I can't hear it." 

Maya is also loud. Often very loud.  Sometimes it feels like she is shouting at us.  But she is also a rambunctious child with lots of energy.  We had both noted that when we are one on one with her she is a more quiet, introspective child but as soon as you add people (even just one person) and any amount of noise (conversation especially) she would ratchet up her volume to an intolerable level.  Taking her to a restaurant became unbearable.  We always just thought this was her.  Initially we wondered if she just wanted the focus on her or, later we began to wonder if she became overstimulated and made lots of noise as a way to destimulate herself.

They tested Maya's hearing at the office.  She didn't pass.  They referred us to see an audiologist.  The referral never went through.  Another month passed.  I called about it.  Finally we got an appointment for January.  Maya thought the idea of throwing balls into the left or the right basket depending on which ear she heard the noise was fun.  For about 5 minutes.  Then she wanted the ear phones off, the balls to go where she saw fit and to go home.  The audiologist said that she didn't pass the test, possibly indicating a hearing loss, but that her answers were inconsistent so she needed to come back.

Sandi and I both took her to her repeat test in February.  This time she got to press a button on an M&M dispenser when she heard a sound.  She heard 51 sounds and got 51 M&Ms (which she arranged by color and then wrapped up in a tissue to take to her sister and cousins who were visiting).  But 51 sounds were not enough sounds.

The quietest sound an adult needs to hear at is 20 decibels.  For kids the cut-off is 15. The lowest sound Maya can hear is 30 decibels.  The test showed that she has a mild hearing loss and needs hearing aids. 

We took the news as best we could, considering Maya was right there with us.  One of the tests pinpointed where that her loss is sensorineural, meaning it is based in her auditory nerve. We don't know if it is congenital or if there was damage to it somewhere in her young life.  This means the loss is permanent and not due to fluid and cannot be corrected surgically. 

She will need to wear hearing aids for the rest of her life. 

If you're wondering if this feels like a punch in the gut, it does.  But after I let the tears fall over the loss of the idea of my perfect child, I was overcome with gratitude that I wasn't leaving the office of a pediatric oncologist or some other specialist who diagnoses terrifying diseases.  We didn't find out that our child is autistic, mentally retarded, deaf, blind, has cystic fibrosis or needs a heart transplant.  We didn't even get the challenging but liveable diagnosis of a peanut allergy. 

Yes, I've had to grieve.  And each and every time I allow myself to, I also shift my perspective back to how very fortunate we are.

The uneasy part for us is that there is some history of hearing loss in Sandi's family.  We don't know if this means there is a hereditary component, a genetic vulnerability or if this is just a fluke.  Maya's hearing loss is mild, at present, but we worry it could potentially be progressive.

About 5 minutes after we told Sandi's mom about the hearing test, she was online doing some research of the retail variety.  She called us up to say that she would be happy to get Maya's American Girl doll hearing aids.

So Maya and I tucked her doll, Kaylee, snuggly into a carboard box to send to the American Girl doll hospital.  Maya was very concernced about Kaylee being naked as required so we made her a tissue paper hospital gown and taped her up.  Ten days later, and way ahead of schedule, Kaylee returned.

I will admit that at first I thought the whole American Girl thing was a total racket.  I mean we have a perpetually injured, wheelchair-bound doll that lives in our house and tells everyone what to do.  Now I am singing a song of gratitude.  Did you know they even sell dolls that are bald for kids who are going through chemo?

The next step for us is a medical clearacne appointment with an ENT in 2 weeks and ear molds for Maya.   I think we will be up and running in about a month.  Maya has already picked out the color she wants (purple) of the pediatric hearing aid we will get.  She is excited that they come with stickers so you can decorate them and a storage case. Maya is all about storage options.

We've been reading books about kids with hearing aids and teaching her about how this is just like kids who need glasses so they can see better.  Being Maya, she is taking it all in stride and likes the idea of "little computers" for her ears.

Kaylee can hear better and soon so will Maya.  We are all looking forward to (perhaps) a little bit less volume in our house and hopefully less frustration for everyone. 

We are fairly sure that Maya will tell us all to quiet down once she has her hearing aids.  Also, when we have to repeat ourselves it won't be because Maya isn't wearing her hearing aids but that she has turned them off.

if we are dying eggs it must be spring, right?

A few days shy of the spring equinox Maya threw a tantrum about not being permitted to wear her flip flops outside.  She just couldn't wrap her head around what March in Maine means and why the interminable winter has not yet given up its grasp over this northern corner of the world. 

I said, "It is just too cold, honey.  We still have to have a fire in the stove everyday, mittens on our hands and winter coats."  She came back with a wailing. "But WHEN will winter be over?  It has been SO LONG and it should be spring!"

How can you argue with that?

All I know is that at 4:45 am on the "first day of spring" I was digging our cars out from 10 inches of snow so that Sandi could get to the hospital.  I don't usually begrudge thing that are so clearly out of my control and have cultivated a more accepting, get-on-board-with-what-is mentality, but that morning I was shaking my fist at the sky. 

Our patio had just become bare for Pete's sake.  I was planning a party in my head.

But spring doesn't really come to Maine until at least April, and if we are unlucky even May.  However, Easter with all its sleeveless dresses and open-toed shoes, often comes in March.   Poor planning there.  Again with the conversation and ensuing tantrums over footwear when you have daughters. 

It may not be spring yet, but it was time for the annual dying of Easter eggs with the Smith's.  (The whole time I was thinking about the older kids, please still like this next year...please don't let this be our last year.)

Beckett (who someone just performed a magic trick and turned two) is in the stage of the scrunched up nose. I love it.

 

Let's just say a smock is a very good thing for Maya.

Between dying and decorating, the girls ended up in leotards.  You just never know at our house. 



brothers

Beckett wanted to know what would happen when he put his finger in the spinning fan.  Hopefully he doesn't try to replicate this experiment at home.

 

As usual, an impromptu kid parade rounded out the afternoon (although this time it was absent of the random German music CD the kids usually find to play) and the adults enjoyed hanging out and eating supper.  This was the first time Beckett went in the living room and played with the older kids instead of velcroing himself to Matt or Ange.  It was almost like the four of us were out on our own having normal conversation.  Well except for the 100 decibel screeches of delight coming from the crowd in the living room.

Okay, I know it is only March but I am pining to ride my bike and I just want to sit outside and read a book.  I want to sleep with my window open and smell lilacs on the night air.  Honestly, if it could just stop snowing I would be good with that right now.