Hannah’s Dance Class

httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNDcZl3ii4Q

Hannah just started her very first dance class.  She loves it, and I never get bored of watching her.  She is wearing the same shoes Emma did when she started dance class, and I can’t believe how big my kids are getting.  It’s going so fast, but I love watching them all grow.

Her class has a lot of little girls, and they all have fun dancing with their spunky teacher.  My favorite parts of this video are when Hannah turns to wave at me and keeps waving.  I start to do hand motions through the window telling her to turn around, but she doesn’t get the sign language, and starts doing what I’m doing… and then when she got all of the girls sliding on their tummies while they waited for everyone to finish their turns.  When she first started sliding out and then all the girls started to follow, I was trying to get her attention to get her back to where she was supposed to be waiting, so I only got the part after she was shooed back by the teacher.

Hitting the Streets

Today was the day I have been dreading.  I had a shakey stomach all morning and was very nervous. I tried to think of a good excuse not to go, but couldn’t come up with one. So this morning I went door to door to see what people think about Proposition 8.  I arrived at the high school parking lot late, secretly hoping that for some reason there would be nobody there or that there would be nothing left to do.  It’s not that I don’t feel strongly about the issue.  I’ve devoted a page on this blog to it, but I do not like talking to people when I’m not sure what they are going to say back.  I could never debate anyone in real time because I need to sit and process everything and don’t come up with quick answers ever.

Luckily when I went to sign in, there was an odd number of women, so I was able to join Tina and Kirsten as part of a group of three.  We had a map and a list of homes with registered voters.  There was a very general type of script that we followed, and we were there basically to find out how people are thinking of voting.  And if they support Prop 8 ask if they might want to put a sign up in their yard when the election gets closer.

The first street we knocked on was full of people that were either not home, or didn’t answer the door for whatever reason.  It was a good warm up though.  At least I was trying and actually knocking on doors. Then we discovered that we didn’t really need to do that end of the street because it wasn’t on our list and moved on.  The other women I was with started getting people home, and were doing great.  I was starting to wonder if God was sending me to the empty houses so I couldn’t screw anything up. Then I started to get people at home too.

Most people were nice, but didn’t want to chat much.  I’m the same way when someone comes to my door, so I wasn’t surprised. I do have a couple of memorable doors though.

I met one woman who was standing in her doorway waiting for me to approach her.  I wasn’t expecting to see her there, and she didn’t look happy.  I was wearing a “Vote 2008” tag but she seemed to think I was out for the “no” team.  She didn’t want to tell me what her feelings were on Prop 8 until I told her that I was voting yes.  She then talked for several minutes about how she thought letting same sex couple marry was fine until she started doing some research. She had a lot to say about the lawsuits she and her husband have read about against photographers and others whose businesses have been attacked because they don’t want to support a gay marriage, and why she doesn’t want her kids told stories in school of a “prince looking for a prince.” She seemed glad to have met me, and told me how she did a lot of knocking doors for political candidates.

One apartment had a noisy dog barking when I knocked, so I waited for someone to come.  Ten seconds later, I knocked again.  Then I saw a forearm and hand appear and slowly close the window next to the front door, so I waited a while longer knowing that someone was home.  Nothing after another 20 seconds, so I left a flyer on the door and moved on.

Another place I went to, after knocking I heard a dog start barking and a man yelling angrily at the dog to “shut up and sit down” several times over again before he answered the door.  Once he answered, the dog continued to bark and he yelled at it a few more times to “sit.” I gave him my usual introduction which went something like, “Hi I’m Amy and I’m here to see if you’ve heard about Proposition 8.” He said he wasn’t sure what that was, and I told him that it would amend the California Constitution so that only marriage between man and woman would be recognized. He said, “I think they should all be able to get married, so I’m for that, yes.”  I told him a yes vote supports marriage between a man and woman only and he said, “Oh, I think that anyone should have the right to get married if they want.” I asked, “So you are a definite no vote then?” He said he was, and then went on, thinking that I agreed with him, and got more verbal.  “That’s just intolerant, and prejudice. People should marry whoever they want. The government should get out of the marriage business if they don’t want to let them. Don’t you think?”  I looked him in the eye and said, “actually I’m voting yes.” His eyebrows furrowed and he told me angrily, “people like you are intolerant! I think this should have happened decades ago, centuries ago…” I answered, “I’m not here to fight, I just want to see what people are thinking.  I’ll let you get back to your Saturday and agree to disagree.” I then turned and walked away and heard him call out to me from his doorway, “I won’t agree to disagree (mumble, mumble)….” That was worst of my experiences.  I wasn’t scared by him, even though he was incredibly rude, and I wasn’t ashamed of my position.  In fact, I felt like I had handled the situation pretty well, and was ready to move on to the next door.

In talking with people today I realized that most people don’t understand how changing the laws to allow same-sex marriage will actually cause others to lose their rights. There is no other group of people that have the level of protection that this would provide.  Many people will be slapped with fines etc. if they use their religious beliefs as the reason for refusing to participate in same-sex weddings, adoptions, etc.  The schools will be allowed, and required, to introduce the concept of homosexuality to children regardless of what their family’s beliefs on the subject.

Tina asked two men walking past us today what they thought about prop 8 and one was decidedly for same-sex marriage and the other was undecided and said he has more important things to worry about than this proposition.  He was focusing more on the presidential election and things like the economy.  He said “Why the he** should I care who can get married or not?” Scary.

To educate myself, and in preparation for this volunteer work,  I went to a discussion of Proposition 8 hosted by a friend of mine that is also an attorney.  She has done a ton of research, and had lots of information.  I posted the outline she put together as a page if you’d like to take a look.

Second Day of School

Summer has come to an end, and a few days ago we filled backpacks with school supplies once again. When Emma and Hunter were getting all of their school supplies organized, Hannah and Sabrina worked on decorating little bags with glitter glue so they could be part of the school time excitement. Yesterday was the first day of school, and it went great for Hunter and Emma!  Over the summer, many improvements were made to the school classrooms, restrooms, and office so it was especially fun to go back and see the changes.  The renovations were completed just two days before school started, so there wasn’t time to do much more than bring the desks and supplies back into the classrooms.  In spite of the bare classrom walls, Hunter and Emma both came home excited. Some shifting of teachers and classrooms also happened, so Hunter will be meeting in the same classroom that he did last year, but with his new fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Estrada. Hunter has two of his best friends in his class, and thinks Mrs. Estrada is awesome, so it’s shaping up to be a great year for him.

Emma was so excited about her new third grade teacher, Mrs. Somers, too. They were able to pick their own seats, and Emma already has a new best friend in the class. Another friend that walked home from school with us had the same teacher for third grade and told Emma that she was the best he’s ever had, so it looks to be a fabulous year for Emma as well.

I don’t plan to be a room mother this year.  I may try again when Sabrina hits preschool or kindergarten, but until then, I’ll be happy to help as much as I can.  I got in a bit over my head last year, and although I think it was fine, I didn’t feel like I filled my role as room parent very well.

Hunter and Emma rode their bikes to school this morning for the first time ever, and we are all very excited about that too!

Piper Campaigns for Her Mom

This was one of my favorite parts of Palin’s speech the other night.  I  really like Governor Palin from what I’ve learned about her so far.  And I don’t have any doubts about her mothering skills, because her children love each other. When Rob and I saw this we laughed out loud, and then backed it up and watched a couple more times:

httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yn-OctEgKvE

It Went Too Fast!

The big reunion week we have been looking forward to all summer, came and went in an instant. My family all came to stay with us and we played and played and played. I made a sort of itinerary so that the “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” conversations would be kept to a minimum and we could squeeze as much  as possible in 6 days. We planned about one event each day because there were lots of little ones that needed naps and cousin play time. Erica, Jed, Owen, Davis, and Kate came from Oregon; Matt and Ashley came from Idaho; Chris, Tracy, Adriene, and Honor came from Texas; and Nana and Papa came from the homestead.

There were 19 of us! Seventeen slept at our house while Nana and Papa escaped at night to a nearby hotel and spent the days with the grandkids. My kids were thrilled with the full house because it meant our family slept in the tent in the backyard. (Yes, we decided to go for it after putting a padlock on the fence.) This way we weren’t tripping over pillows and air mattresses in the living room all week, and we could claim a camping experience for the summer.  It was so much fun having all of the cousins, siblings, and parents together.  With all of us living in different states, it doesn’t happen very often. I hope this becomes a summer tradition!

Monday

Everyone arrived

Dessert at Yogurtland

Tuesday

Guys went to Boomers

Kids and Ladies went to Castle Park

Wednesday

Disneyland and California Adventure

Thursday

Disneyland and California Adventure

Friday

Ladies had a Manicure and Pedicure and Smoothies

Guys and Kids played Wii games

Big kids and Guys went to Walking With Dinosaurs

Ladies put little ones to bed, talked and watched a girlie flick

Chris’ family did day 3 at Disneyland

Saturday

Corona Del Mar Beach

Sunday

Everyone left for home

So Fashion

When Emma was little she came to me once all dressed up and cute and said, “Mommy, I’m so fashion!”  I loved the phrase and still use it with the kids.  Sabrina has taken to changing her outfits multiple times a day, mostly revolving around (of all things) her favorite pajamas. She has a “snail shirt” and “stripey pants” that she thinks she should be able to wear anywhere.  A couple of weeks ago she brought them with her into the church nursery because we wouldn’t let her wear them and compromised on letting her hold them if she put on a dress. It wasn’t long ago that she would refuse to wear anything but a flower dress, so maybe next will be jeans and a t-shirt. Here are her outfit changes from today:

Outfit #1 Snail Shirt and Red Skirt

Outfit #2 Purple Swimsuit and Stripey Pants

Outfit #3 Snail Shirt and Stripey Pants

Outfit #4 Flower Dress

Outfit #5 Blue Flower Dress

Outfit #6 Snail Shirt and Stripey Pants

And finally, it was bedtime!  She happened to have on the pajamas at the right time!  Wish me luck tomorrow as I pry them off of her and throw them in the washer.  She will follow me around saying, “my snail shirt clean Mommy? My stripey pants clean Mommy?” until they make it through the dryer.

Scary

It was 12:40 am, Sunday morning.  I fell asleep watching the Olympics and had just been woken by my husband’s voice saying, “Amy, it’s time for bed.”  He was closing windows and locking doors as I headed up the stairs to do my nighttime ritual.  I saw that the lights were all turned off in the kids rooms and knew that Rob had just checked in on them.  They like to fall asleep reading books, so the dim lights stay on in their rooms until we turn them off and head to bed ourselves. I decided to take a little peek in on them anyway.  First I poked my head in the door of the girls room and could hear them breathing quietly, then a took a step into Hunter’s room and saw him comfortably snuggled up as well.  Just then, I heard a Boom, Boom, Boom, BOOM, ring, ring and a man shouting. It took me a second to register that the noise was coming from my front door.  My heart seemed to slow down rather than speed up as I would have expected it to.  I started walking deliberately down the hall towards our room calling out in a worried, almost questioning voice, “Rob?….Someone’s knocking on our door…?”  Before I finish the sentence I heard Rob heading toward me.

We look at each other, bewildered, as I freeze at the top of the stairs and Rob bellows out, “Who is it? What do you need?”  I hear the man outside call back “It’s an emergency, I’m hurt.” Rob calls up to me, “get my baseball bat.” and turns on the porch light.  I head into the bedroom and grab the baseball bat we keep there for just-in-case-middle-of-the-night-crazies-come moments like this. The blinds are closed turning upwards on the long skinny windows by the front door, so I can see the guy pretty well from the stairs.  He looks to be somewhere between 17 and 20 with dark blonde hair that is matted against his head with sweat. He has on a white t-shirt and shorts and is saying things like, “please, help me” as he turns in circles and sounds like he’s in pain and scared.  My instinct is to open the door and see what’s wrong with him, but Rob’s instincts prevail.  He says he will not open the door, and we both stand behind our closed front door as Rob calls out questions to the guy.

“How are you hurt?”

“My arm! I think it’s broken.” He walks a few steps away from the door and heaves. “I was fighting with some guys in a car.  I punched through the window and they started chasing me with beer bottles.  Please help me.”

“Stay there. I’ll call someone for you.” Rob walks to get the phone and dials 911.

The guy on the porch yells out, “No don’t call the police.  It can’t be the police. Please, I’ll sit down.  My hands are up.”

I watch through the blinds as he sits with his back to the door and sways from front to back and side to side.  He makes more heaving sounds and I say to Rob, “He’s puking!” I look to see if his arm looks bloody, but it doesn’t. His skin is pink all over from running, but there doesn’t seem to be any sign of broken glass or cuts on his arm.

Rob explains the situation to the dispatcher on the phone and asks more questions, “Where did this happen?”

“On the street.”

“Where are you hurt?”

“My arm.” He lifts his right arm and looks at the back of his forearm. We could both see him clearly, and there was still no sign of blood or injury.

“What’s your name?”

“Max”

“Matt or Max?”

“Max”

Rob is telling the dispatcher our address and tells her he doesn’t want to open the door because he’s got a wife and four kids in the house.

“I’m leaving, I’m walking.” The guy calls out.

I don’t want him to leave, not knowing what may be waiting for him back on the street, and I don’t want to open our family up to possible danger, but I also can’t bear to see and hear the guy in pain. There’s no way I will open the door though, especially because his story doesn’t make much sense. If he punched through a window shouldn’t he be complaining more about his hand? and wouldn’t his hand or arm look cut, bloody, or at the very least bright red? …And a guy who just got his car window punched in gets out of the car and chases him with a beer bottle? Why not use the car he’s sitting in?… And why does the guy come to our house? We’re towards the end of a cul-de-sac and our house was totally dark. I never heard a car or anything else outside…

“Don’t go.  An ambulance is coming, not the police.” Rob calls out.

The guy still has his back to the door and is walking around our small porch all jumpy as if deciding what to do.

“I’m walking.” The guy says in agitation and he starts walking away.

“No, wait there!”

But the guy heads down the sidewalk and from our front window we watch him walk quickly down the middle of the road toward our main cross street.

Rob tells the dispatcher “He’s leaving,” and the direction the guy is heading. The dispatcher says an officer will come by and check with us.  We wait in the dark by the front window and watch for the officer.  It seems like it’s taking forever for the officer to appear. Rob stands by the window and I sit in a chair, still holding the baseball bat I had grabbed earlier by my fingertips and bouncing it on the floor. Maybe they were checking the streets first to see if they could spot the guy.  We waited to hear sirens, but then thought maybe they didn’t want to scare the guy off. Finally, we saw a police car pull up quietly in front of our house.

We meet him at the front door.  He greets us with a smile, and says, “Some excitement for you tonight?”  He looked at me standing in the doorway, took a step back and said, “Don’t answer the door with a baseball bat!” I think he was trying to ease the tension. I laugh and set the bat down on the floor. We then retell what happened, and look around for the places the guy had vomited.  To our surprise, there was nothing.  He had either been dry heaving or making some pretty convincing sound effects. There were other police officers out looking for him, but no sign of him by the time we had finished our conversation. So we said good-bye and the officer made a joke again about the baseball bat not being necessary since he had his awesome Batman belt.

We closed the door and went upstairs to lay in bed for awhile waiting for our adrenaline to work itself back down again.  After reviewing it all together we decide that the guy may have been pulling a scam but more likely was drunk or high and hallucinating. Either way, I’m glad we didn’t open the door.

Now, here’s my question to you… I have family coming to visit this week and my kids are planning to sleep in a tent in the backyard.  What should I do about that?