Laylee

Snow Problem At All

February 13, 2019 by Kathryn

My kids and I are Canadians real bad and we crave the snow. We’re not Canadians enough to, you know, actually live in Canada or even to have watched a complete hockey game in the past six months. But we are Canadian enough to eat poutine, to wear toques, and to think we know how to drive in the snow.

Except for Wanda.

She is nine and her snow-driving skills are sub-par.

But we live in the Pacific Northwest, where our closeness to salty water and mountains strands us in a sea of grey almost-snow all winter long. Some years we get nary a flake. And we mourn so hard.

This year the Farmer’s Almanac predicted a wet and mild winter and we made peace with our snowlessness. But then the weather channel app started messing with us.

10% chance of frozen joy sprinkles.

30% chance.

JK rain.

And then:

100% CHANCE OF SNOW!!!

But we didn’t believe it. They’ve burned us before. When it finally fell, we were so excited.

We expected an inch or two and that was enough to make us crazy with joy.

We got snow. We got more snow. We got freezing temperatures.

Over TWO FEET of snow fell in about a week in a place where school will be canceled if a rumor circulates that half an inch of snow sent Seattle a spam email once.

School was canceled.

We didn’t get in any driving practice for Laylee’s impending driver’s test. She didn’t feel up to practicing her parallel parking.

We played a Catan mega game and no one even cried.

We drank hot chocolate by the gallon and made cinnamon rolls and did puzzles and burned half an Ent in our fireplace.

The kids made snow men and snow poffs.

Our power went out Monday night and Dan and I got up at 4am to start the generator. And restore heat and refrigerator power. When he went to pull the cord, this happened.

We spent over an hour repairing the pull cord multiple times (it kept breaking) and trying again and again to start the generator. Then we said a prayer. And tried again. And it worked on the first pull!

So we had heat and refrigeration and Minecraft. We were hooked up! And the snow kept falling, even as the temperatures warmed up.

At one point our two-story vaulted metal roof got melty enough that it roof-alanched all of its snow in one massive 5-foot-tall hard-packed mound at the side of the house.

So, of course, they sculpted a sled ramp that ran from the side of the house all the way down and through the forest owned by our neighbor.

There are benefits that come from allowing your fence to be reclaimed by the moss and slugs of the pacific northwest. Those benefits include turning your yard into a deer highway and having easy access to sled-trespass on your neighbor’s property during Snowmageddon.

A couple other Snowpocalypse highlights were:

Dan working from home

hauling wood for the fire using the kids’ sleds in the middle of the night

watching Dan zoom out of our driveway to go help a friend and leave an 11-inch-deep tire tread in the snow

eating “snow” cones at our awesome neighbor’s house next to a driveway campfire

using my thermal cooker when the power was out

reading by the fire as a family

There will be consequences for this week. The kids have already missed five days of school and had one late start and they’re still home until more of the snow melts. Those days will have to be made up at the end of the year. This is going to wreak havoc with summer plans and youth conference schedules.

The trampoline looks unnaturally stretched and the back deck is suffering under the weight of several inches of unmelted snow.

These are just the consequences for our family and they’re pretty minor. I know other people have suffered much more being stuck and cold and injured on the roads and hungry. I feel terrible for them and we’ve prayed every night that people would be safe and we’ve offered to help where we could.

But, there is nothing our being stressed or anxious or mad will do to change the snow or keep people safe or make the school year any shorter. It will just make us miserable.

So, we choose to celebrate it. It’s been a fat party for a week and a half and we have made amazing memories. Thank you, Mother Elsa. We have LOVED the freeze!

Me and My Dinosaur

May 24, 2017 by Kathryn

As we were preparing for the elementary school musical last night, Wanda said, “I want to have my hair down for the show.”

This is code for, “It would be my greatest pleasure to look like my mom forgot to comb my hair tonight. She is bad at hygiene.”

“You’re supposed to look like an animal. How about if I put it in two little buns that look like ears?!”

“No.”

Somehow, I convinced her to let me try it and see if she liked it. Messy buns. She loves messy buns because they make her look like a high school volleyball player. She doesn’t know that’s why. But, that’s pretty much why.

Not this time. This time, the messy buns made her sob.

“Please, Mom, please. Don’t make me wear my hair like this!”

“But it’s the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life.”

“I KNOW!! I LOOK LIKE A TODDLEEEERRRRRRR! WAAAHHHH!”

We compromised with a Rey-From-Star-Wars-Style mohawk, like a mane… to go with her bat costume. And then this morning I wore my hair in two cute buns to the bus stop. I guess I showed her… something.

Our amazing school music teacher puts on about a million musical productions at the end of each school year. She. Works. HORD.

So hard, in fact, that the kids get confused by it.

Tonight at dinner, Wanda said, “Our music teacher lives at the school, like actually lives there. She eats her meals there. She sleeps there. It’s her home.”

While Laylee and Magoo tried to convince her there was no way this was true, I preferred to ask for details.

“Really? That is so interesting. Do all your teachers live at the school?”

She looked at me in disbelief. “No, mom! Just the music teacher.”

“Who told you this?”

“Pretty much Mrs. Q.” (the first-grade teacher)

So I asked Mrs Q about it at the performance tonight. She laughed and said we need to teach Wanda what an “idiom” is. When we say, “The music teacher lives at the school, it is not, necessarily, literal.” Maybe some teachers do. But ours doesn’t. Some men live in airports. Their names are Tom Hanks.

Anyway, the show tonight is one that’s been recycled every few years and it turns out to be the same one Laylee performed in her early days of elementary school. It also turns out that both girls had a solo in the same song. It is our family legacy.

Laylee:

And 7 years later, Wanda:

The force is strong with these two.

I will point out a few of things.

1. Laylee’s costume is better because parents weren’t in charge of finding costumes that year.
2. Wanda’s costume was made for three-year-old Magoo and it’s riding mighty high on her, but she refuses to relinquish it. She treasures it greatly
3. Wanda was robbed of a dramatic exit when the music teacher told her to stay at the mic until the end of the song and I feel that most keenly. The exit was really where Laylee got the chance to establish herself as a consummate performer on the elementary stage. Wanda, alas, may never get that chance.

A Stranger Things Birthday Party for Laylee – BARB IS ALIVE!!

March 9, 2017 by Kathryn

A couple of weeks ago my friend’s husband came to pick my kids up for church youth night. He is also my friend but this story feels more dramatic if I refer to him as “my friend’s husband.” While he was waiting for them to get ready, he asked me a question.

“Does this Saturday work for Laylee’s birthday party or would you rather do it next week?”

I had no response to this.

A. I’ve never had one of my friends’ husbands approach me about the timing of my teenage daughter’s birthday party.

B. I had momentarily forgotten that she had a birthday.

“I mean,” he continued, “We’ll want to have it fairly close to her actual birthday. We could do it at my house, but I’d rather do it at yours.”

What.

This only made it worse. I mean, he’s a good friend, but. What?

It turns out that, as he was driving the jazz band carpool, he had been talking to Laylee about the “locked room” party craze. He’s super creative and wanted to plan an elaborate puzzle like that. And so they hatched a plot. Mike would spend hours creating a locked room/puzzle birthday party for Laylee and her friends, one of whom was his daughter.

It was just that no one had told me about it. So. The confused face.

Once I was up to speed, we got to work. Mike did all the mad genius stuff and I set the mood.

The mood?

Retro 1980s Horror Show That Half of Laylee’s Friends Aren’t Allowed to Watch Because it’s Practically too Scary for Me. Perfect. Here’s how it went down.

The girls arrived at our 80s abode and we fed them dinner. Eggos. 80s dance music was playing.

As they were finishing dinner, I knocked at the front door, dressed as Joyce Byers. This was convenient because I just recycled my Halloween costume.

Joyce was crying as usual and told them to come out on the front porch. It was an EMERGENCY! You see, she believed that Barb was ALIIIIIIIIIVE!

While we were out on the porch, Dan and Mike threw grey thrift store sheets over everything to make it Upside-Downy and then dimmed the lights and flipped on some blue ones.

Joyce told the girls they had to go into the Upside Down and save Barb.

Back inside, Chief Hopper awaited to tell them how the puzzle worked. Everything they needed to unlock the secret door under the stairs and save Barb was on one specific book shelf and table. Then he gave them a walkie talkie and told them to contact him if they needed assistance.

The way Mike set up the puzzle, there were three numbers they needed to find that corresponded with three stickers next to a padlock.

The first riddle involved them sorting books by height. Each book had a letter on it. When sorted properly, the letters spelled Tolkien. When they looked in the Lord of the Rings books, they found a clue to another detailed puzzle. Once solved, that puzzle gave them the quote “rings for mortal men.” There are 9 rings for mortal men in LOTR, so the number was nine.

The second riddle involved an unfolded cootie catcher. Remember those little paper folded fortune tellers from when we were kids? When they folded it and held the points together, it contained a musical staff with a line of music. When they played the song on the piano, it was the theme from Star Wars.

In the Star Wars VHS tape on the shelf was an oddly cut out piece of paper. There was another piece of paper with similar markings on the table. They had to hold up the cutout paper a foot above the table paper with a flashlight shining through it.

The combination of the projected light from the first paper and the symbols on the second paper spelled out the word “quinze”, which means 15 in Portuguese. Good thing there was an English/Portuguese dictionary on the table. The second number was 15.

For the third and final clue, there was an 80s Troll puzzle half-assembled on the table. They had to put it together, squish it between two cookie sheets, flip it over, and read the message on the back. The message contained 4 quotes they recognized from Harry Potter books. Now, I know Harry Potter is not 80s appropriate, but we needed to pick books the girls would all be familiar with and time is irrelevant in the Upside Down.

They found the correct books and in their pages were the pieces to a brightly colored Sudoku puzzle. The colors matched the colors of M&Ms in a jar on the shelf. They had to solve the Sudoku puzzle, count the number of M&Ms and then do a math problem with those numbers, giving them the final number for the code.

They unlocked the door.

And found this VHS video from Barb inside.

She was ALIVE!!! And she’d left them some rad treats. Scrunchies, Coke glasses, hot pink nail polish, and makeup bags with Nerds inside.

Here is a picture of the girls watching Barb’s message. I love the older kids’ delight contrasted with Wanda’s horror. Eaten by monsters? Gross.

And I let them eat cake.

And monsters ate no one.

Post-Op Grocery Shop

August 25, 2016 by Kathryn

The worst day for me after my surgery came when I went for my check-up a week later and the doctor gave me a clean bill of health. My blood count was up a bit. My incisions were healing nicely and he said the dreaded words, “You can resume normal activities as you feel able.”

This sounds like good news, but to me it was horrible because it turned on my guilt faucet. When I was on bedrest, I couldn’t move. I just couldn’t. Doctor’s orders. But as soon as he said I could listen to my body and decide, I found myself feeling guilty for not being 100%. I was still dizzy when I stood up. My incisions were still painful when I sat upright for more than a few minutes at a time and even walking for short distances left me weak and out of breath.

But I felt bad because I wasn’t up and doing everything. It’s amazing how hard we are on ourselves, right? The heck?!

I told myself it was fine, to listen to my body and take it easy, but it was a real struggle.

Hello. My name is Kathryn. And I have a hard time being nice to myself consistently without conscious effort. I’ve gotten better over the years, especially the last few, but it’s still a struggle and I still have to be mindful about it.

So it turned out we needed groceries (re: kids eat food all the days) but I was worried about walking around the grocery store. I’d had several friends offer to pick things up for me at the store, but I thought of a better idea.

The kids could do it!

Isn’t that a good solution to most problems in life?

Newly free of the narcotics, I drove the kids to the store. We had a pep-talk where I told them about looking for brands and sizes with the best price. I took them down the cereal aisle and showed them how to look at the price per ounce and see if a bigger box might be a better value even if the price tag was bigger.

I refreshed their memory on how to pick produce.

I told them that vacation as coming so the budget was tight and I asked them to stick to the list unless they saw something they thought we actually needed for a good price. If that happened, they were to come and ask me.

On the list, I indicated that they could choose one treat that they all agreed on.

If they got along and showed good grocery manners, they could have a free bakery cookie at the end.

Then I planted myself in a reclined position in one of the comfy chairs in the pharmacy waiting room and read a great western novel for book club.

My 13, 11, and 6-year-old navigated the grocery store beautifully and had a great time doing it.

They came and found me with questions like, “You wrote down red bell peppers but the green ones are so much cheaper. Is there a reason you really need red?” and “We want to get a box of Cheez-Its for our treat but there’s a deal where they are way cheaper if you buy three boxes. Can we please buy three?”

They made hard choices and proudly told me about how they refused to buy the salad dressing brand I specified because it was way too expensive and there was a store-brand alternative that looked just as good.

Seeing the pride on their faces, even though one of them wouldn’t admit she’d had a good time, I wondered why I hadn’t done something like this before.

And when we got to the long lines at the end, I asked the kids to pay for the groceries. They balked. Using my credit card was taking things a bit too far for them. I told them I could really use their help and asked them to try it because I didn’t think I could stand up in line that long.

Then a sweet lady overheard us and asked if we would like to take our massive load of groceries and cut in front of her in line. Drops of Awesome for kind strangers. I meet them all time!

All About that Base…ball

April 19, 2016 by Kathryn

BASEBALL IS NOW!!!

At the beginning of each calendar year, there comes a point, and I never know when it will be, when I get an email that essentially says, “BASEBALL IS NOW!!!”

What this means is, “You signed your child up for baseball six months ago, not knowing when it would be, and then you planned your schedule and moved on with your life. But starting tomorrow you will have baseball practices and games 3-5 times per week in various towns all over the valley and you will no longer be in any way in control of your family’s schedule. You will not eat normal family dinner for the next 4 months.”

baseball1

And we do this every single year because, flying in the face of everything I thought I knew about genetics, I have a kid who adore sports, particularly baseball.

This year is especially special because not only is Magoo playing, but Wanda is six and it’s her first year playing softball. And she’s not the only one playing softball. Due to an utterly desperate coaching situation in our little corner of Little League, I am managing and coaching her team.

baseball2

Have I ever played softball before? No.

Have I ever touched a softball before? No.

Have I ever watched a single game of softball being played? Not so much.

Am I much more qualified to direct a theater production, conduct a band, or coach a team of mathletes? Yes.

baseball3

But I do know how to dial up the YouTube. And I know how to interact with kindergarteners. And I have great parent support and the sweetest assistant coach ever, Coach Laylee. So I’m doing okay so far. Our games start soon and then we’ll see exactly HOW okay.

Not only am I… ahem… coaching, we also decided to sponsor Magoo’s team this year. I have a business license in Washington State as an LLC for my writing and coaching work. So when the team asked if any of us had a business who’d like to sponsor the team and have our business name printed on the back, I could not resist.

Meet Team Drops of Awesome.

baseball5

While other kids go around with the names of local restaurants and hardware stores printed across their backs, our kids wear the banner of Awesome.

I love to cheer for them but my cheering is at best awkward. At the moment, I’m working to use phrases that don’t in any way come naturally to me to support the kids as they try to do the good baseballing.

When other parents call out things like, “Good cut,” and “Way to get a piece of it,” they sound cool and sports-like. When I call out those things, I feel like I’m dressing my vocabulary up in a baseball mom costume and the costume doesn’t fit so well and I sound silly.

baseball6

One seasoned baseball mom recently told me it’s all about yelling things with authority. It doesn’t really matter what you say. You just have to commit and sound like you know what you’re talking about. So here are a few I’ve come up with this season and I’m excited to try them out.

“That was high quality cutting!”

“Your arm is nice!”

“You swing with great strength!”

“Throw the ball with more hardness!”

“Knock it to Sammammish!”

“I like the way your bat touched that ball even though it didn’t go the right direction to allow you to run to a base!”

Okay, that last one’s a bit long but I think it gets the point across nicely. I could also go uber short with things like, “BOOM!” “Ska-DOINK!”

I’ll fine tune it and let you know.

Besides vocab choices, the main concerns I have during baseball season are how to feed my kids when we’re at baseball from 4:30-8pm and there’s no eating allowed in the dugout, how to get stains out of white pants that are worn exclusively for times when you plan to slide and roll around in the dirt and grass, and how to prepare for every possible weather situation.

We’re wet and freezing. We’re sizzling and baking in the sun. Sometimes we do both of those things during a single game. So I bring umbrellas and sunscreen, snacks and water bottles, sunhats and parkas.
This year Magoo’s level of Little League team chooses a Major League team for their team name, so we’re the Dodgers. I like this because it makes finding fan gear easy.

The Northwest, and online store that specializes in exciting, new and innovative products for the majority of the world’s most recognized and loved brands in sports, entertainment and lifestyle

9 Secrets to Raising Happy Kids

The Northwest, an online store that has all kinds of great MLB gear, reached out to see if I was doing a story on baseball this season and when I told them I was, they sent me this awesome Dodgers blanket which helps keep us snuggly warm on rainy days or as the sun drops behind the trees sunny days. It’s fun to be cozy and support our team at the same time. Their site also has tons of other cool licensed products from just about every type of sports team and entertainment companies like Disney, Universal, Marvel Bros, etc. Next time you go to a hockey game, played between Kylo Ren and Santa Claus, they can hook you up for that too.

baseball4

At least next time I yell, “Dodge like a Dodger baseball man!” I will look legit while saying it.

**Sometimes I get free stuff for mentioning it in a post. I always tell you when that’s the case.**

Concert Despair

November 20, 2015 by Kathryn

Do you ever feel sad, angry, or bored when forced to sit through a middle school band concert? When the music starts, do you instantly feel thirsty or need a restroom break? Do your counting skills become weak when faced with the overwhelming task of counting down songs on a musical program, causing you to ask your mom over and over again, “Just one more, right?” only to have her respond that there are still seven songs left, as she told you at the beginning of this song and please stop talking because we’re at a concert?

This is called Concert Despair and it can happen to anyone. Usually more pronounced in young children, CD can also be experienced by teens and even adults. Adults whose uterine-fruit are not currently performing are especially vulnerable, as is frequently the case with parents of eighth graders while the sixth grade band is performing or the parents of non-jazz-band members when the jazz band plays and gives ten-measure solos to Every. Single. Child. in the band.

Symptoms include hunger, thirst, loud whining, bad posture, limp noodle disorder, numb bum, insatiable desire to use electronic devices, inability to count down from ten, and sudden brain flashes to all the things remaining on your to-do list.

If you or someone you love is experiencing Concert Despair, there is hope. From the creators of The Universe and Your Body, comes the cure for CD. It’s called Time.

Time is a fast acting (depending on your perspective), proven pain reliever. In fact, 100% of CD sufferers experienced elimination of all symptoms with Time. Time is available to everyone, usually found in one minute doses. With just sixty minutes of Time, you can conquer your Concert Despair.

Common side effects of Time include aging, changes in perspective, and weight gain. Do not take Time if the building is on fire or if you really REALLY need to pee.

Thrill the World

October 28, 2015 by Kathryn

Maybe it’s because I snuck out of my room to watch the Thriller video when it premiered on TV even though my parents told me I wasn’t allowed to watch it and then I bawled all night because I was so terrified. Michael Jackson with yellow eyes dancing in a horror movie within a horror movie within a horror movie. I mean. Come on. Vomit-inducing fear.

Maybe it’s because someone once told me I looked like Jennifer Garner, who once did the Thriller dance in a movie.

Maybe it’s because all the best flash mobs involve bridesmaids dancing like zombies.

It’s possibly because I love hip hop dancing about as much as I am horrible at it. Which is a lot.

Whatever the reason, it’s long been on my bucket list to learn the choreography to Thriller.

And dance it in a group.

This weekend I did it! Dressed as a zombie princess with my daughter, her friend, and yes, my chiropractor, I danced Thriller with 250 other people at the mall.

Our makeup wasn’t all that epic.

I smiled way too much because I could not help myself.

I was more jolly than creepy.

But I seriously had the time of my life.

Apparently every year, people all over the world gather in the name of charity to Thrill the World. They all learn the dance and then perform it together at the same exact time, setting a world record for something.

So Laylee and I headed to the Senior Center Saturday mornings in September and October and dialed up the YouTube in between times to learn the heck out of this dance. Every time the music starts up and we get ready to dance, I tear up. Because that’s what I do. Dance makes me emotional.

During the first class we both just kept looking at each other like, “What did we get ourselves into?” It was way harder than we thought it would be, especially considering half the people in the class were senior citizens and they were rocking it.

The second class was better. We were almost up to old people hip hop levels and by performance day we nailed it. Mostly. My goal for next year is to make it look a little more like dancing and learn how to move my head from side to side like they do in the music video.

I’ve rarely had more fun with my girl and despite the fact that I don’t actually like pouring fake blood on myself and dressing up as a gory brain-eating zombie, I’m willing to pay that price in order to dance like Michael Jackson for a world record and to help disadvantaged kids learn golf. I am that selfless.

You should join us next year. Or should I say, “Next year join us… or we will nom nom your gray matter!”?

The fun thing is that whether you’re reading this in Seattle or Salt Lake City or Vancouver or Tokyo or London, there’s an event in your area and we can all dance together apart next year!

Certifiable

June 7, 2015 by Kathryn

I didn’t know Laylee was certifiable but she has a card that says otherwise. I took her to Seattle Children’s Hospital for a CPR course for babysitters yesterday, handed her over to some strangers for five hours and she came out of it with this card and the ability to save your life, especially if you are pediatric in nature.

She is prepared to crack your ribs if necessary. She told me this. And, although it would be awkward, she is willing to remove any clothing that gets in the way. Because. And she was very clear on this. Your life is at stake and that’s more important than worrying about awkward nudity. I wipe away a silent tear of parental pride.

I spent the five hours sitting in a lobby at the hospital working on my manuscript for the next Drops of Awesome project due out from Familius in 2016. It’s a gift book about ways to be Awesome and it’s taking an awful lot of time and thought for so short and cute of a book. I hope you love it. You probably will. Re: you are awesome.

Later in 2016, we’re planning to release a third Drops of Awesome book, tentatively titled Autobiography of Awesome, a much more in-depth guided journal that gives you prompts to help you write the history of your beautiful life. I’m working on that right now too and it may be my favorite book yet. I’m so excited to use it!

To celebrate, we drove a mile to the U District and stopped at Full Tilt Ice Cream, where I proceeded to buy bigger-than-your-head waffle cones for everyone I could find who was a) my daughter and b) had just finished a CPR course. They were all super grateful.

I sampled the wares as well, just to be sure they weren’t poison and because my budding life saver refused to order chocolate-covered bacon as a topping on her cone. Something needed to be done with regards to that travesty.

One of us ended up with melted ice cream between our toes. Not naming names. Follow my eyes.

And we came home to a sweet and tired family who had spent the day at our small town’s yearly festival, a magical place where tractors,

unmarked wooden carts full of townspeople,

tanks,

time machines,

fruit people

and dancing Mexican horses

delight the crowds and show off our rich cultural sub-rural Washington heritage.

I was pretty sad to miss the fun, but, hey. If Laylee is willing to crack your ribs and rip your clothes off to save your life, I guess I’m willing to miss a parade with a tin man bee keeper riding in a flatbed truck. You’re welcome.

Brace Yourself

May 5, 2015 by Kathryn

It’s that time. It’s time to give my children the gift my parents still refer to as my most expensive possession, a gift my kids will use every single day of their lives. I will now give to my children the gift of good teeth. I will give to their orthodontist the gift of a Hawaiian vacation.

We’ve been putting this off for years, as friends all around us are getting their kids in braces younger and younger. I don’t see a point in emptying my bank account into my kids’ mouths, only to have to do it again when the rest of their permanent teeth come in. But recently our dentist suggested we get their oral weirdnesses looked at.

So, yesterday we found ourselves in a big cheerful office with a huge Nemo tank. Aren’t all fish tanks Nemo tanks these days?

“Great fish tank, but where in the world has Nemo gone? We have to find him!”

I started off my relationship with the desk staff on an awesome note by complaining about the repetitive nature of the online paperwork we filled out.

The paperwork was super annoying and redundant, but if you’re beginning a multi-year relationship with a team of people who are the gatekeepers to your children’s highly-expensive, highly-skilled health care provider, it’s probably better not to alienate them at first go.

“Welcome to our office! Thank you so much for filling out the paperwork in advance.”

“Thanks. And, about that paperwork, it’s the worst. I challenge you to go through and pretend you’re a new patient filling it out for her two kids. I had to type out my address no fewer than six times. It is the worst. Did I mention it is bad and I did not enjoy filling it out? I’m not a complainer, though. I only complain because it was bad with a great badness and not the eighties Michael Jackson kind. The ungood, opposite of awesome, super annoying kind of bad. Nice to meet you.”

They seemed to take it in stride, but then when the treatment coordinator came out to greet us (she wasn’t there for my tirade), she apologized for my negative experience with the paperwork. Word had reached her. Not good. You don’t want to be THAT lady.

We were taken into an office and that’s when the gifts began, t-shirts for all the kids, balloons, tooth brushes, gift cards. I was even entered into a drawing for a mother’s day basket by having my kids write nice things about me on paper flowers.

I like this one from Magoo that says I’m the best mom in the world because I let them stay up late. This was written in direct response to me stupidly letting them stay up way too late last Friday watching old episodes of Star Trek until two of my three kids ended up having nightmares about salt monsters. I’m the best. It’s the truth.

I know the swag is just a normal thing at orthodontists. When I was in high school, my orthodontist’s office was like a luxury playground. But am I the only one who gets nervous as her kids are picking prizes out of a basket, their new dental wardrobe slung over one shoulder? Someone is paying for all this. Wait. It’s me.

Laylee and Magoo both desperately want braces so I told them not to get too excited because , “Each set of braces is roughly equivalent to one trip to Disneyland for the entire family.” Disney has t-shirts too and the rides are way more fun.

But our doctor seems cool and is not one to rush things so we ended up with an order for a tooth extraction, a retainer for Magoo, and Laylee gets to wait six months or so because apparently you need to have teeth to receive orthodontic treatment. She lost six molars in a 48-hour period last week and is drinking her food these days.

Laylee was disappointed.

Magoo is counting the days until he gets his glow-in-the-dark retainer with the spider on it. We pick it up on his birthday.

“Mom. It occurs to me that now I have three awesome things to look forward to on my birthday this year. One – well, it’s my BIRTHDAY! Two – I get to have a tooth extracted. And Three – I get to start wearing a retainer.”

“You don’t get the tooth extracted on your actual birthday.”

“Oh,” he looks disappointed, “Well, two awesome things then.”

Awesome as a tooth extraction.

Wherein I Ramble About Pie and Loss and Being Apprehended by the Police

March 12, 2015 by Kathryn

I am blogging while I wait up for Laylee to get home from her evening activities and then I’ll sleep. I was going to wait up for the pies to cool but I don’t know that it’s worth it. Because there are no pies. Only pie soup with floating meringue. Two hours of my life in a dish with floating blobs of meringue.

And I’m good at pie. I SLAUGHTER AT PIE. But not this time. Because this time it matters. This time I’m making pie for two pie competitions, one at Magoo’s school that he desperately wants to win and one at Dan’s work that I desperately want to win because he’s in his new job with his new co-workers and I don’t know anybody and I have this irrational desire to win Stay-at-Home-Mom/Wife, Microsoft edition. It’s not a thing, but in my special brain-world it is and if I’m going to place in the top 3, I at least need to be able make a freaking pie. Right? Right?

I want to punch myself in the face for typing that because truly? Truly? Who cares? No one. And tomorrow not even me, I guarantee. But in this moment I’m epically sad about losing at pie.

I did good things today. Drops of Awesome were everywhere, but I ended the day exhausted, with liquid pie guts in a dish and I say, “Serve me up a different day, please. Because I’m sending this one back to the kitchen.”

The weather was gorgeous.

One of my kids left the house this morning seething with hormonal rage, aimed at no one in particular but flowing in my general direction. My throat hurt. I had a writing deadline and the post was taking me forever.

By 9:45am, I had heard that someone I care about had passed away, I had gone out in public unshowered and with Wanda looking like a pajama-clad orphan and I’d been pulled over by the police for speeding on a street where Dan has told me no fewer than 30 times to slow down because I would likely get pulled over for speeding.

Preschool, road construction, baseball practice, errands, more road construction, lateness, tween rage, nothing for dinner, trashed house that was clean YES-TER-DAY, instrument practice, play rehearsal, homework, shoes and backpacks everywhere, WAY more shoes and backpacks than there are humans living in my house. Way more. Like I could start a shoe and backpack emporium for people who like shoes with shredded laces because no one under the age of 30 in this family will ever EVER tie their shoes. They just let the laces drag behind them until they wear down to the length they want. Like beaver teeth.

And then Magoo and I spent two hours that I didn’t really have making lemon meringue pies from zest-and-squeeze-your-own-lemons scratch and the lemon fillings wouldn’t set at all. It was like yellow water in soggy hand-rolled crusts. And I blopped the meringue on top and baked them anyway because I was so mad at those pies, I thought a good fifteen minutes in a hot oven would serve them right.

And while I was typing this rant, Laylee came home from her rehearsal and I told her about my day and I cried a little and I told her sometimes it’s hard being the mom. And she said, “Your friend died and you got picked up by the police. That’s a hard day for anyone.” And she hugged me and told me she loved me.

And I loved her more.

I feel better now and I considered letting this post die on my computer without seeing the internet light of day. Because I am Drops of Awesome lady. I’m an author and a public speaker. I think positively. I love myself fully and never ever want to put my kids to bed at 5pm and hoover all the chocolate in Washington State. But that’s not always the case.

Sometimes I’m Drops of Awesome lady. And I’m tired.

And I’m fed up.

And I’m not rational at all.

And I murder pies.

And I thought you should know.

My little tween mom-substitute told me I should go to sleep. I think she’s right. Everything will look better in the morning.