The Circle of Life at the DMV

Addie got her driver's license today.

I think part of me just assumed that driver's ed would go on forever, that the list marking off her hours would just keep growing without ever reaching that magic 40 hours, that she would never drive off on her own where the roads are full of bad drivers ...

I'm having the typical mother's angst about it, of course, but I did make the agonizing choice to let her take the car to the football game where her marching band is playing tonight. It was made slightly less agonizing by my need for a prescription painkiller that I would have had to put off for about four hours if I'd had to go pick her up, but it was still agonizing.

It wasn't just the pancreatic pull for percocet, though. Something incredibly spiritual happened at the DMV today, sort of a message from some sort of higher power that everything goes in cycles ... even driving.

Addie didn't have school today because of a teacher workshop day, and I stayed home from work to get some rest--I was supposed to stay out of work yesterday (had a doctor's note stating it) but went in anyway, which was clearly a mistake since I ended up in even more pain as well as being completely exhausted by the time I got home. I hate to miss work, but I guess sometimes it's the right thing to do.

Anyway, when I woke up from my very long morning nap, Addie was counting up the hours on her driving log, although I think she must have known she was all set. She looked at me with her big blue eyes, smiled hopefully, and asked if I felt well enough to go to the DMV ... after all, it wasn't like I had to drive or anything.

The line was pretty long when we got there, which was kind of boring. At one point, the door opened and it was one of Addie's friends ... she'd just taken (and passed) the state test, so she and Addie hugged and did the adolescent girl squeal. After that, though, we just kind of stood in line; it was pretty much too loud to talk, and both Addie and I are kind of into people-watching anyway.

I didn't notice the elderly man directly in front of us at first other than to observe that he was very tall and had a cane in his hand. When his turn in line came up, though, something told me to listen.

"I need to turn my license in and get a non-driving picture ID," he said.

The DMV woman looked confused. "Did you lose your license, sir?" she asked. "Was it revoked?"

"No," he replied politely. "I'm just not able to drive anymore."

"But your license isn't expired? You still have it in your possession?"

He took out his wallet with hands that shook, although his voice was strong. "It's right here, ma'am. I just want to turn it in for a non-driving picture ID since I'm not able to drive anymore."

"Well, I can do that, sir ... but, uh, why?"

"That part of my life is over," he said. "I've had a driver's license most of my life, but things are different since I've had some medical setbacks."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir."

"Don't be. It's just how things are."

And then the next DMV person became available, so Addie and I got caught up in turning in paperwork, verifying stuff, and the clerk explaining to Addie the nuts and bolts of the written part of the test ("written" being a relative term ... it's actually a touch-screen computer test).

The old man next to us had been talking to his DMV rep about how excited he was to be able to keep the picture from his old license, since good photos are such a crapshoot.

As Addie went into the computer testing room, he caught my eye. "Is this her first license?" he asked me.

I nodded in reply. "Well, assuming she passes the test."

"She'll do just fine." He widened his gaze to include the DMV lady. "You have a brand new driver with a lifetime of travels ahead of her and a man with a lifetime of driving memories behind him."

The clerk looked bored and annoyed--or both, and to be fair, the line was pretty darn long--but I literally felt chills. Not bad chills; just the contrary, in fact.

It was like this man was effectively stepping down from his driving life so that my daughter could begin hers. I know it sounds stupid, but it really felt that way. A feeling of serenity just overtook me at that moment, and I smiled at the man and thanked him.

When Addie got out of the computer testing room, he was just getting into the passenger seat of a car in the parking lot. His wife opened the door for him and helped him fasten his seat belt because his hands were shaking so much. I looked away then because my sweet child was pumped about passing the written test but was freaking out about the driving part of the test (she ended up passing it, of course).

When we finally left the DMV, the old man was long gone, of course.

I don't think I will ever forget him, though.

Rants and Raves: An Update

In trying to figure out what to write about tonight, I was reminded of a "rant and rave" post I'd done before. You know, you "rave" about all the great stuff going on and you "rant" about what sucks. Anyway, I went back and found it ... turns out it's for "Rant and Rave Wednesday", but I figured that Monday is an even better time.

So, here are my Rants and Raves for the past week.

RAVE: Pythagorus ended up in the hospital for the usual reason (although, as always, there's an interesting twist to it). Anyway, he's out of the hospital now and is recuperating with relatives. Also, he seems to have not been drinking since he got out of the hospital.

RANT: Somebody that I care deeply about told me today that I'm a lot like my mother. It was meant in most uncomplimentary terms.

RAVE: Had a great day at the Boston Museum of Science yesterday. I did not get electrified this time, but it was still a lot of fun.

RANT: My BlackBerry continues to need physical abuse in order to function properly. It's kind of embarrassing to be slapping my phone in public.

RAVE: My cousins are helping out with transporting Belle to and from camp since I'm on a crazy work schedule this summer. Yeah, whoever said teachers had summers easy is completely nuts ...

RANT: My dog is even more scared of thunderstorms than I am, and we had a bad one today. She was shaking all over and just scared to death--her heart was beating so fast I was afraid she was going to have a heart attack or something. It was horrible not being able to comfort her as well as I could have because I was so scared myself.

RAVE: My mother, who's in Italy for another week, left Addie a list of chores ... and Addie is actually doing them! She's also been making some amazing strides with her piano.

And I guess that's about it, in a nutshell. It's kind of a neat way to put things into perspective. Give it a try on your blog :-)

Stuff (And Why I'll Be Posting Regularly This Week :-))

I am on vacation from school this week. Never has a vacation been more timely or more necessary (I think I say that the first day of every vacation, though ;-)). So just a quick update, since my posts have been sporadic at best lately ...

* Addie is in England right now. Actually, that's not entirely accurate ... she's just leaving Scotland at the moment. She is having a ball traveling through the British Isles with her school's music department, and I am so happy for her even though I miss her terribly :-( Their trip was postponed nearly a week by the volcanic eruption in Iceland, and as recently as the night before they left on Wednesday, it looked like they wouldn't be going. Clearly, she's having a great cultural experience ...


* Belle is in Florida right now. My mom took her down to visit my sister and do the Disney World thing. Addie is something of a world traveler, but Belle has never been away from me before. She is also in a very clingy phase at the moment, so I'm hoping that she doesn't have a bunch of "I want Mommy" meltdowns. My mother is not a big fan of scenes ... Anyway, she rode an airplane for the first time, had a two hour layover (in D.C., of all places ;)), and made it to Orlando safely. I just got off the phone with her, and she is very excited about going to meet Mickey Mouse today. Here she is coloring during her layover (thanks, Mom, for sending the pic):


* Andy's surrogate father, Ken, has spent the past week in the hospital. Ken is one of the best human beings in the world--he really epitomizes the phrase, "He would give the shirt off his back to a stranger." I will post more about Ken later, but let me just say that I have known him for fifteen years and, in a way, he is sort of my surrogate father figure too. He was released on Friday, the prognosis isn't good, and ... I'm starting to cry again and I'll be doing plenty of that when I go to see him later, so I'm going to change the subject now.

* You remember that "cosmetic surgery" I had done? Yeah, it was really effective ... I mean, if you're going to say you're giving me plastic surgery, stupid eye technician, maybe you should make sure it WORKS!!!!!!!!!!!


* I received The Sunshine Award from Tasha over at Tasha's Truth. Tasha describes herself as "a teacher at an alternative high school and a woman finding her way." She's an extremely astute lady with many great things to say. I strongly recommend you check out her blog. My job now is to pass this award on to five blogs that give me sunshine ... (this is tricky since I read and love so very many blogs)


1. The World According to J.J. in L.A. Jodi, who clearly states, "I was born with spina bifida, but that's the least interesting thing about me", is just hysterically funny, tremendously kind, and a pleasure to interact with. Her positive attitude is a true inspiration.

2. Mommytopia. Wendie is arguably one of the funniest writers I have the pleasure of experiencing. She has a true gift for making both the mundane and the tragic seem thrilling and comedic. It's almost Shakespearean, I swear ;) Anyway, if you don't read Wendie's blog, you should. That's all.

3. Flutey Words. Aubrie is a published writer (yes, I'm RIDICULOUSLY jealous ;-)) who actually lives close to me geographically (although I've never met her because I'm not a stalker). The gentle yet pointed advice given on her blog (and the fact that she comments on almost all of my posts ;)) just make my days sunnier. She's a gem :-)

4. 2Girls2Dogs2Cats. So I went to high school with this girl Carrie, didn't know her super well, we reconnected on Facebook and found out we were both teachers and had a shared hatred for the woeful abuse of the apostrophe. Yeah, she's great. Anyway, this blog has chronicled Carrie and her partner MJ's journey to bring a baby into their family. The journey has been one of the hardest and most heartbreaking I've ever seen, but Carrie recently shared with the blogging world that she is pregnant. I am so happy :-)

5. Children of the Nineties. This is one of my absolute favorite blogs. I know I mention it whenever I'm doing a blog appreciation post or giving out blog awards or whatever, but the fact is, there is sheer sunshine in reliving everything from Pogs to Memoorable Dance Scenes in Movies to '90s Witches. It's just a trip if you spent any time growing up in the '90s (and I'm squarely in that demographic).

Okay, guess that's all for right now. My day consists of playing with the dogs, going to see a soccer game some of my students are playing in this afternoon, going to visit Ken and Andy either before or after the game, and missing my girls :-(

Home from Skiing (And You'd Better Believe There are Videos!)

We just got back from skiing. I have to wake up at 5:30 to go back to work. Yeah, I think we'll let the videos speak for themselves (pretty much : )). Oh, and I sound like a LOSER on video ... I never realized that before.

Before we left ... we have Andy being disgusting (actually, the video was shot just after he was being disgusting)



And we have a bunch of kids VERY excited at the prospect of going skiing : )



And then the skiing begins ... Here are the little kids in their lesson.



And then, of course, there was our attempt to get the big girls getting off the bunny slope and onto some real trails with their snowboards. Epic fail, as Addie would say (but that's a story for another day).



And there are a hundred other cute kid videos (and even one of me videotaping while skiing, which is kind of cool), but I sound beyond ridiculous and I fall, so let's end with Andy being disgusting, just for consistency. (Disclaimer: all six kids were in a lesson when we imbibed the beverage depicted in this video).



So there's no philosophical insight on this one ... unless you count a great day of fun a philosophy of a sort. Yeah, I pretty much do :)

Tired Children

This picture, I assume, speaks a thousand words. Maybe a million. And we haven't even skiied yet : ) Yup, Andy and his son Thomas crashed hard ...

There are six children with us--my daughters Addie (15)and Belle (6), Andy's kids Dawn (6) and Thomas (3), plus Addie's best friend Mikayla (15) and Andy's neice Jessica (8). It's a pretty full house, to say the least.

The ride up was a nightmare. My car is horrible in snow, and it was going all over the road, eventually hitting a guard rail. At that point, I refused to go any faster than ten miles per hour. Andy being the gentleman that he is (or else he just really wanted to get away from the younger kids, who were all in his car) offered to drive my car and let me drive his (far more suited to snow driving) vehicle. We moved pretty quickly after that, although I was kind of annoyed that Andy could drive my car with barely a skid--I guess when you know cars thoroughly, you can even get around the crazy winter driving issues.

Anyway, we got to the condo and had to bring the luggage up ... and some kids raring to get into the pool. We finally made it out to the pool, which was so cool. You get into the pool from inside a building, then you swim out and it's an outdoor pool. We literally swam in the midst of a snowstorm ... and it wasn't even cold : )

After returning to the condo, we all got into our pajamas and had dinner, pizza for everyone but Addie, Mikayla, and Jessica, who opted for Ramen Noodles. The little girls played hide and seek after dinner while the big girls burped (don't ask), Thomas played a computer game on my laptop (we're stealing someone's wireless ... I feel kind of guilty), and Andy just sort of relaxed (he'd gotten up at five to go to work, so he was entitled). I did the dishes and then got the girls to settle in, go to the bathroom, brush their teeth. We'd brought the game Apples to Apples (my highest recommendation, if you've never played it) and I asked Andy when I went upstairs to read a story to Belle, Dawn, and Jessica if he'd be up for a game. He said he would, but when I got back downstairs, he and Thomas had crashed on the pull out couch.

On the one hand, what a fantastic day : ) When children are tired enough to sleep soundly (and everyone is but me, so it's all good : )), you've clearly done something right. However, today was just preparation for tomorrow, when the skiing and snowboarding will transpire here at good old Sunday River.

How far can you push tired children before they reach their breaking point?

Absent Adolescent Angst

Addie spent the afternoon shopping with my mother. She texted me when they'd been gone for a couple of hours to ask permission to get her hair cut. I texted back that it was fine, and then she walked in a little while later looking like this:



I pretty much burst into tears. She is just so beautiful and smart and kind and ... well, amazing in every way. It occurred to me that she will be getting ready for high school graduation (and college ...) in just two years, that this child I have loved and nurtured and laughed with and cried with is going to be on her own in just a few short years. She will always be my baby, of course, but she will be making her own decisions and dealing with their consequences for herself.

It always scares me to put this into writing (it's sort of like asking for trouble), but Addie is such a blessing, the great gift of my life. The kids I teach now are in her age bracket, and I thank my lucky stars for the absence of adolescent angst that Addie has always epitomized. I know you can never know your child 100% (or even 85%, and that's if you're really lucky), but I trust that Addie hasn't been to those wild parties I experienced when I was her age and that she has never touched alcohol or drugs (in large part because she's seen firsthand how addiction can ruin lives).

She is starting to really come into her own, though, and her beauty is only part of it. She is brilliant, a musical prodigy, and most importantly a kind and thoughtful young lady. She has brought me such joy, and it kind of bothers me that this hit me like a tons of bricks when she walked in with her new haircut and her eyebrows done, looking like a young lady instead of an awkward teenager.

There's a bittersweet element to parenting that is new to me (like, only a few hours old). Why is it that my heart is swelling with love for Addie and pride for who she has become even as it is simultaneously breaking a little bit at the realization that Addie is becoming more of her own person--more of an adult, though it pains me a bit to say that--and will be slowly but surely severing her ties to me with each bit of growing up that she does?

It's the most beautiful, terrible paradox I've ever seen ...

Biology, Brick Walls, and the Piano

Last night, Addie had a little meltdown. I was taking Belle to the doctor where we got the H1N1 diagnosis (yes, I'm evidently cursed by this stupid virus) while this was going down, so my mom handled it. By the time I got home, Addie had just gotten out of the shower and, other than the "I've been crying" stigmata on her face, was fine.

She explained to me that she couldn't figure out how to do her lab report for Biology and it "made me want to kick babies." (At this point, my mother nodded wisely and added, "She did yell something about wanting to kick babies.") Addie is typically extremely even-keeled and mellow, so this was very out of character for her (and she would never kick babies).

She said she was going to bed, but I heard her upstairs playing the piano for quite a long time (I had to keep Belle up until ten to get her next dose of medicine). Addie plays the piano when she is really stressed out, and even though part of me loves listening to her play (she's pretty much a prodigy and composes her own stuff), it always makes me a little sad because it almost always means that she's upset about something. Talk about bittersweet!

Addie started Honors Biology last week with the change in terms, and the class is challenging her. She got the only 100 on the first quiz (it's hanging on the refrigerator ... I don't think she's allowed her schoolwork to be posted on the refrigerator for years) so, as usual, she's just being really hard on herself. The thing is, she happily gets Bs in Honors Geometry without issue--she's not ridiculous about grades in general. She just has this major hangup about doing really well in Honors Biology since she wants to be a doctor (a pediatric oncologist, of all things).

As a teacher, I cannot stand it when parents say to me, "My child is extremely bright and is not being challenged." As a parent, however, I'm very frustrated by the fact that my child (my very bright child, not to be obnoxious about it) was never taught skills and strategies for what to do when the work is difficult. Since she's never put more than 40% effort into school (and that only math classes, which have always been difficult for her), she does not know what to do.

I talked to her at length about some of the stuff she can do. She's making vocabulary notecards, reading each chapter and taking notes ahead of time so the teacher's lecture makes sense to her, and so on. These are skills and strategies taught to our lower- and mid-level students from elementary school all the way into high school, but students like Addie were given enrichment work instead of focusing on these things because an assumption was made that they were "smart enough" to figure it out for themselves.

I wish someone had given Addie a copy of Grey's Anatomy or War and Peace or something when she was eight or nine and showed her how to slow down, take her time, and work with material that is very difficult for her.

Education in America does not prepare our brightest children for the inevitable brick wall they will come to at some point. Whether they succeed or throw up their hands and give up isn't something anyone can predict. Addie will be fine--she has her piano, not to mention a family that loves her unconditionally and will work with her to teach her these necessary skills and strategies, not to mention coping mechanisms (and we're fortunate that the content is accessible to both my nurse practitioner mother and my Ph.D. Microbiologist sister, both of whom adore Addie and would do anything for her).

The disconcerting thing is, I realize that I am, as a public school teacher, part of the problem. What do you think--does public education in America shortchange our top students?

Words from Addie (I Mean, Directly from Addie--she's Guest-Writing)

Addie has discovered my blog. As such, she suggested we co-write a post for today. However, since I'm in the middle of a thrilling part of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, I'm going to read while she writes a post here. Hope y'all enjoy :) Heeeeeeeeeeeeere's Addie.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don't like that most of you reading this know more about me then you should. And I don't like this weird name my mother gave me. Addie? Like math? You add? Ie? Ew. My sister gets the better deal. Belle means beautiful. I mean mathy. I HATE math. I didn't even know she wrote on here about us until I read the one about me and my jealousy towards my grandma and Belle. AND SHAME ON YOU to all who took her side. You are horrible people who don't deserve to read this blog. Be gone with you. She is 5 and she gets along with her parents. She doesn't need her all the time. Me on the other hand... Anyways. My head hurts. Migraines? Maybe. This is pointless, unlike the normal entry. But I'm bored and Secret Life of the American Teenager doesn't start for half an hour. Plus this blog needs some spicing up. So my topic here, after all of this rambling, is the generation gap. Do you really believe that my generation, the teens of this period, are worse than your generation? I believe that all are different; we would never do some things your generation would, and you would never have done things we do now. We may be way too tech-savvy, but we know skills most adults will never learn, or will fail miserably at, as my mother has shown. Anyways, give me your input. Am I from a group of people worse than Neanderthals? Or will we save the world in our future? Nice talking to ya.

Addie's Car Phobia

Addie is seriously petrified of motor vehicles. She hates to ride in a car, grumbles incessantly about taking a bus to school, and freaks out if a car goes by too fast (or too close) when she is walking.

I have to admit, I am not always the most patient person when dealing with this. It's kind of annoying when you're driving along and the car a mile up the road puts its brake lights on and your passenger literally hits the deck. We were at the toll booth a couple of weeks ago, and the car in front of us went through the toll then started reversing back toward us. There was a line of cars behind me, so it's not like I could back up or do much of anything. Addie was screaming, "Back up! Back up!" to me and was trying to get to the horn. The teenage girl--admittedly not looking to be the sharpest saw in the toolbox based on reversing into a tollbooth--was looking out her window as she backed up, to be fair, and she told the tollbooth attendant that she'd blown through because she was used to having an EZ-Pass. Stupid, yes.

But Addie's meltdown? Kind of ridiculous. If Addie was prone to meltdowns, I think I'd be more patient. However, since she's in general very level-headed, this issue of hers drives me crazy (wow, pun was completely unintentional there).

I bring this up because Addie went out with one of her friends today, originally to a local water park. It was closed due to rain, possible thunderstorms, and highs in the low sixties, though, so they ended up going to see Transformers 2 (by the way, the movie was pretty decent according to Addie). What I wonder, though, is if Addie acts like as much of a horse's ass when one of her friends is driving as she does when I'm driving. I mean, does she go, "Oh my God, Jenny, a Mack truck's coming. Pull over! Pull over right now!" or something like that?

As I've been writing this, though, I've been thinking about some of my own irrational fears. The big one, of course, is thunderstorms. I literally sit on the stairs and cry when there's a rumble of thunder. That's pretty stupid, really. I'm also too scared to get on an airplane, I almost pass out at the mere sight of a snake, and speaking in front of people in a formal setting (such as a school board meeting) is torture for me.

I guess in the great scheme of things, Addie's motor vehicle neurosis is no more strange than some of mine.

Any thoughts on what causes strange and intense fears? Any suggestions for getting over them? Any of your own you'd like to share?

Struggling for Sibling Status

Believe it or not, my daughters almost never fight. Their one bone of contention, interestingly enough, involves my mother--their beloved Mimi. They had a real blow-out today ...

My cousin asked Belle to be the flower girl in her wedding. Naturally, Belle was thrilled at the prospect to be part of the attention and wear a pretty dress. She's a little fuzzy on what exactly a flower girl does, but she's stoked.

This morning, my mother called and wanted to know if Belle and I wanted to go to the bridal store in Nashua with my aunt and cousins. I had an eye doctor appointment at eleven (finally got my new contacts--woohoo!), a softball game to attend at one (several of my students were playing), and Addie had a haircut scheduled for three, so I was pretty tapped out for the day. My mother pointed out that it seemed that, while I might be busy, Belle seemed to be available. Long story short, Mimi took Belle for the day.

After Addie's haircut, we drove up the New Hampshire coastline, taking the scenic route to my mother's house. She and Belle were outside playing catch with Mollie when we got there, and they were very excited to share the details of the day. We had dinner (spaghetti and salad, mmmmmm :-)), and as we finished eating, I realized something interesting.

Addie was ripped. I mean, she was furious.

Obviously, she wasn't furious so much as she was jealous. She was the first granchild, and my parents spent a more active role in her early upbringing than most grandparents do. Therefore, Addie is used to being the light of Mimi's life. The only light of Mimi's life. My mother has always been very, very careful to make sure that Addie doesn't feel usurped from her position as princess-on-a-pedestal as far as her grandmother is concerned. However, today was unquestionably Belle's day. As far as I'm concerned, she deserved it--Addie has owned her grandmother's adoration and special moments with Mimi for fourteen years, while Belle has never had the same kind of experience. She was thrilled at the chance, thrilled at the day, thrilled at the flower girl prospect, and thrilled to be "Mimi's Girl" for a day.

I think what sent Addie over the edge was when Belle announced to her grandmother, "Mimi, I think I'm going to come live with you." Mimi said this was absolutely fine with her, and Addie's eyes just about popped out of her head. I guess Addie might as well get used to it, though--in addition to my girls, Mimi is now grandmother to Adam's little Pete (unspeakably cute, I might add) and Mary and Jon's baby is due any day now.

Do you think most parents and/or grandparents have "favorites"? Is it possible for this title to be usurped? Do all kids feel like they are the favorites sometimes (I've said to both Belle and Addie when told that I like the other one better that they are both my favorite, depending on the day)? How devastating is it for a child to realize that they are not the one and only? Is "favorite status" really all it's cracked up to be, or is it a double-edged sword? Given the interesting triangle between Mimi, Addie, and Belle, who do you feel most badly for, if any of them?

It's not a big deal, really. I mean, everyone ended up happy, and Mimi had a great day with Belle and a great dinner with all of us. It just got me thinking about some of this stuff ...

Writing--a Family Habit

Okay, I'm cheating.

I've been keeping up with my writing goals; this is huge for me ... if you know me at all, I'm not always great at the follow-through. The fact that I've been blogging here every day, putting time into my current WIP, and slowly but surely getting my Dark Tower blog going without procrastinating has been a minor miracle.

With that said, it's Friday afternoon of what's been an incredibly long week at work. Pythagorus and I are going to watch a DVRed television show, and he's waiting (not very patiently :-)) for me to finish blogging so we can get to the show. Therefore, I figured that I'd post an essay written by Addie for her summer reading project for Honors Freshman English. It got me thinking ... do you think writing is a genetic trait? Do most writers raise children that are good at writing? Is there an added pressure on children of writers to excel as such?

Interesting to think about. Anyway, here's Addie on The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. I'll be back on track tomorrow : )

"Summer Reading Analysis Essay: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time"
by Addie

I have been required to read many books for school. Some were excellent, and I’m glad I had the opportunity to read them. Others weren't so great, and I hope I never lay eyes on them again. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time didn't completely fall into either category. Some things about this book lived up to my standards, while others confused me or left me wishing the author had done something else. Overall, it wasn't a horrible book; however, it wasn't spectacular either.

When I opened the book, my first observation was how well the author described Christopher Boone, a teenager with autism. His word choice was spot-on such as when Christopher emphasized, “I do not like people shouting at me. It makes me scared that they are going to hit me or touch me (4).” His actions were realistic as well; his reaction of “I turned and walked away (38)” when people laughed at him seemed very realistic considering this book is fictional. Reading the point of view from an autistic adolescent's eyes makes the reader understand how hard life is for him, and how differently he thinks: “In the bus on the way to school next morning we passed 4 red cars in a row, which meant that it was a good day (24).” This makes the story very unique because, to me, it is always interesting to hear a story told from someone else's perspective.

I found Mark Haddon’s graphics to be another positive. They helped the reader understand more effectively what was going on in Christopher's mind. In many books, it is hard to understand exactly what the storyteller is thinking. In this case, though, Christopher makes it easy to understand confusing description. When he got lost at the train station, I found the map Christopher made in his head and drew in his book very easy to comprehend what was occurring.

As the story began to unfold, though, I was confused. A dead dog? Who cares? I wish the author had used more foreshadowing to give the reader a glimpse of what was to come by either making Christopher slowly put the pieces together rather then all at once or made his mother’s whereabouts a little more obvious. Although the writing itself was decent, I thought the plot was a bit lacking. I was also very confused about the relationship between Mrs. Shears and Christopher's father. I had to reread certain parts several times to understand. It seemed like before the dog died, there was no suggestion of an argument between them, but after Christopher mentions confronting her about his detective work, there is a random, unclear conflict.

The thing that confused me the most about this story was the ending. I don't know if I was just hurrying through the book, but after reading the last fifty pages, I had no idea what happened. I had to reread the ending several times to apprehend how Christopher ended up back at his father's house. When I was reading this book, I felt like the author wanted to finish writing it as much as I wanted to finish reading it. If he had put more explanation into it, it would've been easier to realize how and why the book ended the way it did.

Even more then the confusing description, though, I disliked the plot of the ending. While reading the book, the reader becomes somewhat attached to Christopher and wants the best for him. His innocence makes you almost expect a happy ending. However, once you reach the last page, you realize his life is and will always be a bit of a mess. He's always going to have the image of his father killing Wellington in his mind, and having to spend time with him often probably won't help that too much, as he doesn't forgive or forget easily. Christopher’s fear of his father’s violence is shown when he “pushed the bed against the door in case Father tried to come in (217).” It is nice that he gets to live with his mom and his puppy, although a non-autistic child would have problems with divorced parents so I can't imagine how Christopher will respond to this realization when he's older.

If forced to judge, I'd give the book six out of ten stars. If I were the author, I would have tried to tie in some more interesting plotlines for the slow parts in the middle of the book. I also would have made the ending happier, although it would be hard to make the situation any better then it already was. Although I would change a lot, I'd also give myself a pat on the back because writing about an autistic child is inevitably a challenge. It is easy to forget how much work truly goes into books, and from the graphics to the hard-to-nail point of view, this book must have been extremely hard to write. Mark Haddon definitely earned my respect in that regard.

"Helping" Kids with Their Homework

I've spent most of the afternoon going through Addie's research paper. There were benefits, of course (Addie gave Belle a shower, for example, and Pythagorus read Belle her bedtime story ... these are usually my tasks and I enjoy them, but the break was kind of nice), but for the most part ... ugh!

Addie is literally a writing prodigy. I could read her fiction, poems, and essays happily for the rest of my life. Research papers, though ... painful!!!!!!!!

It got me thinking, though, how Addie lives with an English teacher and a mathematical scholar, yet she very rarely asks for (or accepts) help with her homework. We have an unspoken agreement with our little academic superstar--if the grades are good and you're not acting like a psychopath over lack of sleep, we're not going to nag you since obviously whatever you're doing is working for you.

Like me, Addie is a master procrastinator. However, she knew enough not to ask for assistance of any kind until she had a solid draft (and in her defense, she had rehearsals all week until ten, so she was a busy girl today), and that wasn't done until late this afternoon.

It was good. I was proud of her, and I told her so. She managed to write a research paper that wasn't a total snoozefest, provided information to support both sides of an issue, and framed it with an effective introduction and conclusion. I fixed the commas, some of the word choices, and her Works Cited (Addie has a random inability to do a correct Works Cited ... she has all the information, but it's in the wrong place, and this is the one thing I'll actually fix up for her). That was it. It was a good paper. I'll be surprised if she doesn't get an A. But, most importantly, it was Addie's paper.

It bothers me a great deal when I have assignments that come in with a kid's name on it when I know darn well that his or her parent did the bulk of (if not all of) the work.

Perhaps I feel especially strongly about this issue because I'm a teacher, but where is the line where parents are doing too much "helping"? Did I do Addie a disservice by not rewriting her paper (she's in an Honors class ... there are no doubt parents that will do just that)? Should I have made her write her own damn Works Cited? Should parents let their children sink and swim on their own? Should teachers?

When does "helping" become "enabling", and is this as much of a problem in this country as I think it is?

Flight Tracking Addie (She's Home Safe)

So I've been flight-tracking Addie on the computer since she left Florida. Her plane landed in Boston just before ten, and I waited for her to call and let me know she was all set, per our standard plan when she travels. And I waited. And I waited.

Finally, I sent her a text. At 10:30 (this is a big step for me).

Me: You landed, right? Love you!!!!

Addie: Yep

Me: Okay, thanks! I was worried ... sorry, I'm lame lol

Addie: I know

Yeah, I'm really feeling the love here :) I think she's just mad because I'm making her go to school tomorrow. She and my mom should get back to "Mimi"'s house by 11:30 or so, and then, yes, she'll have to get up and have her grandmother drive her to school.

I'm a mean mother, I guess. And Addie is evidently a texter of few words when you're on her crap list (although she writes veritable soliloquies on her phone on general principle). Sigh ...

Blogroll Appreciation ... and Question

First, I want to express how humbled and appreciative I am to actually be on the blogrolls of a fair number of you. I've become very passionate about this blog, and I've really enjoyed getting to hear viewpoints and connect with a variety of different people.

Okay, now here's my question for you. Addie is my computer guru (although Pythagorus does a lot with computers at work, he is fairly clueless about all things social and blog-esque), and she's not going to be home from Florida until Tuesday. Is there any easy way to organize my blogroll into sections (such as differentiating my writing colleagues, my teaching colleagues, et cetera)?

Also, and not that I think my blog is all that and a bag of chips, but please let me know if you want to be added to my blogroll. I'm very fortunate to be interacting with the vast array of people that I am, and I would love to share whatever I can with you all : ) If I'm being presumptuous, just tell me to shut up. Actually, tell me to please be quiet, as I'm constantly telling my students.

The human condition is a beautiful thing. Thanks in advance for your help :)

The Dichotomy of Daughters

There are nine years between my daughters. The only real con is that they kind of missed out on that sibling-as-peer thing, although Mary and I are only separated by two years and we actively disliked each other for most of our childhood (although my sister is absolutely my best friend now ... go figure). For the most part, I think this is a good thing.

Belle is five, and she utterly adores her sister. Whenever she gets sad or mad or any other emotion she feels strongly (and Belle is kind of mercurial ... she feels all emotions strongly), she'll wail, "I want my Addie!!!!!!!" And Addie, of course, thinks it's pretty cool that someone thinks she walks on water. She takes Belle to a lot of places and includes her to a surprising degree with her friends, who all think Belle's adorable, of course.

They are both on school vacation this week, and it just occurred to me how funny it is the different ways they're spending it.

This morning, for example, Belle had her requisite two cups of chocolate milk (it's like adults with coffee, I swear), put on her butterfly wings (don't ask), and danced around, putting on various shows. She's currently painting at the kitchen table. She has already trashed and cleaned her playroom this morning, something that happens repeatedly with Belle. It's kind of ironic that she's wearing butterfly wings since she's kind of like a butterfly, flitting from place to place, sampling the nectar and then moving on. She's a free spirit and a real character.



Addie is currently furious with me for waking her up early--I have a follow-up doctor visit from my pancreatitis hospitalization, and she's babysitting, but I got the time wrong and woke her up two hours before I needed to. Not to worry, though ... the next thing I know, her friend has pulled into our driveway with a cup of coffee from Dunkin' Donuts for her (I don't advocate giving my children caffeine, by the way ... this was a combination of guilt at waking her up early the one morning she could have slept in and the whole, "Eh, it's vacation" mentality). Anyway, Addie is already on the computer talking to people and doing the MySpace thing ... while she's texting other people on her cell phone ... while she's blaring her iPod ... while she's making plans for the rest of the week. She's such a teenager : ) (Oh, and I feel like I have to explain that the reason I don't post pics of Addie here is that she'd kill me. Slowly. In great pain.)

It's funny, though ... I'm probably going to go paint with Belle for awhile now and, when I'm ready for a break from the pre-school thought process ("What happens if you mix red and yellow? Do you know, Mommy? Did you know it makes orange? How about if we mix everything? Can we try? Can we try, Mommy? Huh? Huh?"), I can go upstairs to Addie's lair and hear the latest and the greatest in adolescent angst (I exaggerate--knock on wood, Addie's absolutely amazing).

Delectable dichotomy : )

Pulling Weight in the Family Unit

I don't write a lot about Addie on this blog, not because she isn't beyond amazing but because she is extremely private and sensitive about me talking and/or writing about her. She becomes irate, for example, when I talk about her to my students ... so the notion of writing about her on a public blog is sort of flirting with certain revenge.

I have to, though. She is just that remarkable (I'm not putting a picture of her here, though ... she might well kill me, plus it would embarrass her). Anyway, Addie isn't her real name, so I guess that lends her enough anonymity. Well, hopefully.

Basically, Belle has been sick this week. She hasn't been able to attend day care this week, and Pythagorus and I have taken a lot of time off this week (not a good time of year for either of us to miss work). Addie has today off from school (her district has a teacher workshop day), and when I asked her if she would babysit Belle, she was happy to do so. She didn't complain or whine or discuss her preference to sleep in, like every other fourteen-year-old in her grade no doubt did.

I've talked to her once, and we've been in e-mail contact (she's been e-mailing me links to attire from those annoyingly expensive mall stores that she'd like for spring), but I'm just touched again by how responsible and willing to pull her weight in the family she is.

I won't brag about her all honors classes and writing prodigy status and musical talent and how just beautiful she is (okay, I guess I just did) for right now ... Addie is without a doubt one of the kindest-hearted people I know. I have so much respect for her. I am so proud of her.

If you read this, Addie, know how much I love you and how much you are appreciated.

Addie's Observation

I am reminded of what a remarkable young lady my daughter Addie is at the strangest times.

"Hey, Mom? Have you ever noticed that the morning sky is so much prettier in the winter?"

I mean, this kid is fourteen. Her main focuses are friends, computer, acne cream, that band she's obsessed with, and brooding. She's a master of the brood.

But every once in awhile, she comes out of the teenage angst persona she's recently cultivated and makes an observation that just blows me away. How magical it is that this young lady can look at the world, take in the ugliness that exists, yet find almost unspeakable beauty in a winter sky?