Ava: “Dad, let me show you proof that leprecauns are real.”
Bryan: “Oh, I know they are. They live with the Easter Bunny in the summer and Santa in the winter.”
Archive for the ‘Ava’ Category
9 Apr
Ava & Olivia
Olivia woke me up at 6 am on Sunday morning, just to see if it was time for the Easter egg hunt. I put her off roughly an hour, and then both girls were up and ready to hunt. They found not only eggs, but also their Easter baskets as well!
7 Apr
Easter preparations
I tried a couple of new Easter egg tricks this year, courtesy of Pinterest.
The first was an Alton Brown recipe that suggested baking eggs directly on the oven racks for 30 minutes at 325 degrees. This worked very well, at least for for the first 25 minutes—after that, the eggs began to explode. I can’t decide if the situation is helped or hindered by the fact the oven hasn’t been cleaned since roughly 2007. Either way, I have another project ahead of me this weekend.
The second trick was using Kool-Aid to dye eggs. It was certainly easier than mixing vinegar and food coloring, though I will say I didn’t have quite the spectrum for which I was hoping. We stirred up green and blue the old fashioned way to expand the palette, and then the girls set to work.
5 Apr
The night Bryan ruined Christmas
This title is, of course, totally unfair, but let me explain…
Recently, Ava has expressed that she “just feels seven,” as if the impact of this new number has suddenly hit home. When I visit her room at 7 am, I find the door closed, with holiday-themed “Elves at Work” do not disturb sign hanging from the knob. The first time I encountered this, I was most definitely disturbed, and I swung open the door, only to find her fully dressed and tidying up around an already made bed. This strange behavior has continued throughout the week, and her newfound responsibility and maturity has spilled over into other areas as well.
Case in point: My intrepid seven-year-old arrived home after school last night, looked me straight in the eye and said:
“Mom. I need you to tell me the truth. Santa and the Easter Bunny aren’t real, right? You and Dad put out the presents, don’t you?”
I sidestepped, asking what prompted such a question. Apparently, the first grade class is divided, with half believing and half doubting. Ava felt she absolutely needed to know. RIGHT NOW.
I told her that I most definitely believed in the spirit of Santa.
It didn’t work.
I tried my own mother’s line: “You know, if you stop believing in Santa, he might not come anymore…”
This also failed.
At this point, I did what I usually do when faced with tough questions like, “How did the seed from Daddy get into your belly to make the baby?” and “What’s the difference between a planet and a star?” That is, I promptly directed her to her father.
And then, everything started spinning.
Bryan sat Ava down and told her that she was a smart and inquisitive child. He said she was seven now, and that he’d answer any question she had honestly. And then, when she asked again, he simply said, “No, there’s no Santa.”
While Ava sat there thoughtfully, I burst into uncontrollable sobs, a misstep I am sure will be far more memorable than the actual realization itself.
It seems terribly unfair that there’s only seven years of the magic that comes with such a belief. I was completely and totally unprepared for this phase to end—I had honestly never contemplated it before, and now, there was nothing that could be done. It was just . . . over.
I tried to regain composure, stifling sniffles as Bryan said, “It’s okay, Mommy just really loves Christmas,” and thinking to myself, “Why don’t you just put her on the pill and send her to college?”
I will also admit that at some point (and I think it’s fair to blame hormones here), I said both “Well, at least I have the NEW baby,” and “So help me God, if you tell your sister, Santa will never bring you another present again.”
Later in the evening, somewhere around the fourth or fifth time Ava checked to make sure I was okay, I regained some sensibility, apologized for my reaction, and told her that she was now—at least in part—responsible for carrying forth the spirit that allowed other children to believe. I said, she’d have to be an “elf at work.”
She promised me she’d do her very best, and I believe her.
I mean, she is SEVEN, after all.
2 Apr
Ava’s new accessories
My parents made me wait an agonizingly long time to have my ears pierced—nine years, to be exact. (Dad took me to Dr. Knosp’s office the morning of my ninth birthday, and then proceeded to pass out during the actual piercing.)
I always said that I wouldn’t put an arbitrary age limit on this rite of passage for my girls, and so when Ava asked about it shortly before her sixth birthday, I said, “Sure.” Turns out her father had other ideas. And, so, she waited.
Finally, a week before her seventh birthday, I took Ava downtown to Claire’s, the one location for piercing in our little city. A store manager and assistant, both dressed in St. Patrick’s Day garb (including green, feathered false eyelashes), stabbed permanent holes in my daughter’s ears. There was a point at which I realized why my parents waited, but I am loathe to admit that…
Once the hole placement was marked with purple marker, the piercers worked on both ears simultaneously. Ava didn’t even grimace…
Seriously, her expression never changed.
She did manage a smile once it was done, of course.
One benefit of waiting a bit is that Ava can care for her new earring entirely by herself, with only a reminder here or there. They are healing nicely, and she’s already picked out the pair she’ll switch to when her six week wait is up.
26 Mar
Ava Turns Seven
On Saturday, we celebrated Ava’s seventh birthday with a county-western party for family and friends.
We had hats and bandannas awaiting their cowgirls…
…and a cowgirl awaiting her guests:
We set up the kids’ table outside, thanks to gorgeous weather that brought early spring blooms.
The “Sweets Saloon” included s’mores pops and number cookies.
I made Debbie’s dip, dubbed “Cowgirl Caviar,” and served a collaborative western barbecue menu on pie tins.
Gramma Great made punch for the kids (and we served margaritas for the grown-ups).
Party favors included caramels and chocolates with trail mix bars in galvanized tins.
My mom made an angel good cake, and we served vanilla cupcakes with strawberry meringue buttercream. I dusted chocolate stars with edible gold glitter to top each one.
Of course, the best part was the party participants…
We were so happy to have our parents, grandparents and aunts and uncles come down to Kansas for the weekend. Thank you for making this such a memorable event for all!
18 Mar
It’s 5 o’clock somewhere…
…and the second shift is just beginning.
For the most part, running a two-working-parent household works pretty darn well for us. Granted, the kids are young and relatively uninvolved in extracurriculars, but for now, most weeks go by pretty smoothly. If there are problems, they seem to revolve around differing priorities.
For example, as I hit the height of Christmas preparations at home, I noted that Bryan could possibly be a bit more helpful. He pointed out that perhaps instead, I could re-evaluate what actually NEEDED to be done, resulting in a lighter workload for all. Had I not been making a snack for Santa’s reindeer at the time, I would have had a better chance of winning that particular argument.
Throw in a first grade teacher into the mix, you have yet another set of competing priorities. Somehow, hers always tend to win out. And so, after a busy and just plain difficult week at work and at home, I received the following message in my email in box:
Leprechaun traps are due TOMORROW.
And there goes Thursday night.
So, at 5:30 pm, we set aside tasks like laundry, grocery shopping and strategic planning reports to work on the most challenging task of the day: Building a trap to catch a mythical creature.
During this process, Ava asked us if we believed in leprechauns. I wearily nodded, “Sure,” while Bryan just sighed and said, “No.”
I took the opportunity to tell Ava that regardless of how much energy and effort we put into this end-of-the-day project, it was unlikely to yield the intended result, mostly because leprechauns are quick-witted (probably due to the fact they didn’t have to spend limited brainpower on projects like this after navigating a day that included six meetings).
Thankfully, the energy of an almost seven year old is not eclipsed by reason, and Ava set to work covering a shoe box with sheets of moss. We added in a three-dimensional rainbow with a cotton ball cloud, hoping to draw attention to the pot of gold (er…spray-painted rocks) waiting below. Amazed by his luck, we anticipated the stunned leprechaun would stumble backwards into the moss-covered trap door, and become imprisoned in the shoebox.
The trap had yet to work come Friday evening, but the ever-optimistic Ava left it at school over weekend. Meanwhile, her parents returned to their day jobs, anxiously awaiting the next high-priority deadline.
14 Mar
Ava’s first music program
This year has brought many firsts, and I have to admit, I’m starting to feel like a bit of a pro at this elementary school business. Good thing, because there’s about 12 years of it still ahead of us.
I will say, though, our first music program brought a few additional lessons, including “Get there REALLY early, or sit in the back.” I tried to stand to snap a few photos, but Bryan kept saying, “DOWN IN FRONT” in his best stage whisper. So with apologies for the distance and resulting lack of focus, here are a few images of Ava’s first grade choral program from last night, built around a clever gardening theme.
Ava is under the hoop, in the front row, just a tad to the right.
From the “Bumblebee” song. (Actual excerpt: “I’m throwing up my baby bumblebee, won’t my mommy be so proud of me?”)
As I noted on Facebook—one school music program down, 457 to go!
4 Mar
Spending Sunday on the Brooklyn Side
We took the girls bowling for the first time this afternoon. Thanks to gutter bumpers and a ball guide, they nearly out bowled me.
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