Ummmm... Tom.

So I promised a Tom update... but I'm stumped. He's sitting right here, and even HE can't think of anything for me to write.

For those of you who don't already know, he plays George Harrison in a Beatles tribute called 1964... The Tribute. His schedule doesn't change that much... but it does. It doesn't in that it consists of only a few things: touring, taking care of his family, and down time. It does in that it's unpredictable as far as when he'll be gone and where he's going. He's always got great tour stories to tell (I should have him start a blog of his own), even though he has his fair share of dull moments when he's on the road. As you can imagine, he doesn't really get to see much of most cities he plays. They check into the hotel, go to sound check, play the gig, get something to eat, and go to sleep. Up the next morning, straight to the airport, and onto the next town. You might think it would get old, but he loves it.

Tom as George, Sylvania, OH, July 24, 2007

When he's home, he's home full time, which is nice for all of us. He does a lot of work around here--laundry, cleaning, cooking, shopping.... I think I'll keep him.

He hit a creative spurt, and he's been writing quite a bit of music on piano. Most of his pieces don't have lyrics as of yet. His music is, in his words, "some weird cross between Broadway musical style and classical." He uses the phrase "tone poem," if any of you know what that means. I don't. I don't know where he finds all of his inspiration, but it seems like every other day he's coming up with something new. So we've invested in some recording equipment for us to use at home. Finally. People have been suggesting it for years, and it's always been something we've wanted to do, but never have. Now, with technology advancing the way it has it is an expense we can easily justify. We won't have top quality recordings, but we'll have something, and we're excited to get started. We need a few more upgrades before we can get going, but hopefully we'll have something to show you relatively soon.

Summer is usually his busiest time, but it's slow right now. The band always takes a week or two off in June for vacation; so he's home now until July 8. It's unusual for him to be home that long, especially in the summer.

The future of the band is uncertain right now. Gary, who plays Paul, had a brain tumor removed about a month ago. The bad news is it was cancerous. The good news is they got it all out. Now he's on chemo by oral medical, plus radiation. He's in remarkably good spirits, and when we saw him last week he was the same upbeat, friendly, positive guy he's always been. So we all have high hopes for him. But he won't be touring with the band for at least another year.

At this point, they plan to carry on with a replacement; so things shouldn't change that much. But the band is getting fewer and fewer gigs, dropping from about 124 in 2008, to 94 scheduled so far this year. That may pick up, but probably not by much. I guess the economy is affecting everyone. So we're thinking of ways to make up for the dip, but we haven't made any big decisions yet.

As for me, my job at the elementary charter school is finished. I was working as the cafeteria manager there. Not my dream job by any stretch of the imagination, but when I started out part-time, it was convenient because my kids were going there at the time, and it kept me busy. When they asked me to go full-time, I found it difficult to refuse because we had been without benefits since Tom re-joined the band in 2006. The people were great and the schedule was perfect, and I never needed daycare or even babysitters--but my contract has not been renewed due to budget cuts. A number of people lost their jobs there, along with all of the schools in Ohio--charter and otherwise (although our governor clearly has something against charter schools). I took the ParaPro Assessment Test--and got a perfect score, I might humbly add--so that I could become an Assistant Teacher, and hoped to go back there next year in that capacity, but their budget was cut 24%; so they're going to start out with no assistants at all.

So I'll be collecting unemployment as of August 1. I'm not sure what else is available to me. My options are limited because there are no TA jobs. I have years and years of clerical experience, but I really need to work at a school, because I refuse to go the daycare route during the summer. The school schedule was perfect for me.

For the past four years, Tom and I have been directing the spring musical at Woodridge High School, about half an hour from where we live. I'm director and choreographer--don't laugh--and he's musical director and set director--I said don't laugh. We started in 2006 when Avan was a senior. She had been involved in the spring musical in previous years, but their director had left, and Avan was facing the threat of having no musical her senior year. So Tom and I stepped in and threw together a show for them in 5 weeks. Our initial plan was to do just the one show for Avan, but we were so captivated by the charm and talent of so many of the students (you know who you are) that we kept coming back.

Tom in the pit, March 2006. Taking one for the team. Poor guy.

This past year though, was very difficult, with it being the first time I'd done the show with a full-time job. I loved it, but it was stressful, and it affected the kids in a big way. There were a lot of late nights, missed school events, and sleepy school days. So we had come to the difficult decision that this would be our last year. OK, actually, it wasn't that difficult. On top of the stress, we had grown overly tired of the paperwork, red tape, fund-raising, and other necessary but tiresome production details for which we have no passion. Besides that, the freshman we worked with in our first show at Woodridge graduated this year, and it seemed natural that we should leave with them. Now, however, we are rethinking the situation, since I won't have my full-time job, and we'll need extra money to pay for the health benefits we're losing. But we need to decide soon before they hire someone else.

So, considering I started out suggesting I couldn't think of anything to write, I think that's enough for now. Kind of dull, I know, but updates can be that way. I'll try harder to entertain when I get back to the day-to-day stuff.

Until then, check out some of my links. My brother's blog...er, cartoonatorium...is full of many of his updated caricatures, which are brilliant. Also brilliant is my friend Hayley, who has been in all four of the shows we directed at Woodridge. She is a great writer, and her blog will not disappoint. She's also a YouTube celebrity; so you should check out her vlog, too.

Oh, pictures!

1964, Sylvania, OH, July 24, 2007

1964, Carnegie Hall, January 2008

OK, I'll be back....

Super Duper Cooper

Where do I start? When Cooper was born, I was going through a difficult time. My father had just passed away a couple of months earlier, and I missed him terribly. Add to that shifting (to put it mildly) hormones, and without knowing it I had fallen into a merciless depression. I was basically nursing Cooper to keep him alive, but other than that I really didn't care to have much to do with him. It sounds horrible, I know, but it's true. Of course not having much to do with him was impossible. He was moody, uncomfortable, and very, very clingy. I was also moody and uncomfortable. But clingy, I was not.

Let's skip to the good part. After being diagnosed with clinical depression, and several attempts at prescribing and dosing different medications, Cooper and I were finally able to bond after about a year. And guess what... he's still clingy. Only now I love it. I hope he's always clingy. I just said to Tom tonight, "Cooper is the most cuddly boy ever. He's so willing... and malleable!"

So, Cooper is his momma's boy. And I love it. He wants to be with me always, and while I realize it's a possibility that I may not be doing him any favors, I'm more than willing to let him feel that way. We just love to be together.

He's remarkably smart. He's a very good reader. He loves to be challenged with big words, and just ploughs right through them, not afraid of getting them wrong, which doesn't happen very often. He has a quick wit, and I'm afraid he gets his sarcastic sense of humor from me. After getting scolded by his teacher recently, he could only blame me.

"It's your fault, Mom."
"MY fault?"
"Yeah."
"My fault you got in trouble?"
"Yeah."
"How so?"
"Because you were funny first. I was just trying to be like you."
Silence.
(Sarcastic) "Sorry for getting you in trouble at school, son."
"It's O.K."

He's also a math whiz. He is always our banker in Monopoly, and we never have to double check him to make sure he's not ripping us off. In fact, he's corrected us on occasion. He loves Sudoku, and although he's still at a beginner level, he doesn't need or want any help, and figures them out all by himself. He holds his own in chess with his dad, gives us a run for our money in checkers and backgammon, and has simply mastered tic-tac-toe. He may not always win, but he never--and I do mean never--loses.


His interests now are: guitar--he takes improv lessons with Tom, and some of the melodies he creates are absolutely beautiful; singing, which he mostly does privately and independantly, but rarely hits a bad note; soccer, which he plays in a league, and basketball, which he plays in our yard; computer, DS and wii games; and, of course, breakdancing. It's so fun to watch him breakdance, because his personality totally changes. He gets dead serious--almost a stank face--and just lets the music take over. He dances like he reads--without fear. You almost feel privileged to witness it, even though it's obvious he won't be cast on SYTYCD anytime soon.

He has made a friend. They've known each other all year at school, but it wasn't until about a month ago that he was able to work up the courage to get his phone number and call him. On his first night there, which was meant to be a sleepover, he called me around 10:30 saying he was scared and wanted to come home. I was a little disappointed, I suppose. I'd hoped he'd be brave enough to last the night. But secretly I was relieved to have him home with me. I'd missed him. When I went to pick him up, he got in the car and said, "I guess I just don't like being away from you." That didn't suck.

The following weekend, however, he struggled through the night there, but emerged proud of himself in the morning. Since then they've spent every weekend together, and have seen each other every day since school ended. Either Cooper's over there, or Christian's over here. We like Christian. He's painfully shy, I think, and barely says a word, but he's starting to open up a little more. Cooper just thinks the world of him.

So now he's looking forward to being a second grader. He's been saying for a while he already feels like he's in the second grade, because "well, I've doing second and third grade homework for a while now." And he reads at a fourth grade level. But his less-than-model behavior has kept him in first grade. In fact, it's kept him in the principal's office a few times. He peeked into the girls' bathroom, laughed at a girl whose "butt crack was peeking out," and in his most recent escapade, peed on the playground because he didn't want to miss any recess time. Each time I'm shocked, and each time I try not to laugh while his teacher explains it to me over the phone (picture me moving my hand alternatively between covering my mouth, covering the phone, and wiping tears from my eyes). We're hoping he'll do better next year.

He's adorable when he sleeps. I am often taking pictures and sending them to Tom while he's on the road, with the caption, "Another One." One cannot have enough pictures of Cooper sleeping. So, for your enjoyment (please bear in mind these were taken with my low-quality, grainy cell phone camera):


And one more, with his eyes open; so you can see what he looks like these days. Actually, this photo was taken a little over a year ago, but he looks so grown up in it. He still looks like this, pretty much.

I know, right?

In short, we feel so privileged to have Cooper--and Jensen, while I'm at it--in our family. They're both such great, talented, inspiring children. If you don't know them, I feel sorry for you. Tee hee.

Up next.... Tom's latest misadventures.

Hello. Yeah, it's been a while. Not much. How about you?

Wow. Four years, really? Hm. I'm more useless than I thought.

So, instead of catching up on everything that's happened in the past FOUR YEARS (I really can't believe it's been that long. Truly, I was thinking two at the most.), I'm just going to start rambling and hope most of it makes sense to you.

Jensen just passed third grade, and is a budding genius. Actually, she's passed the budding stage and in full-bloom. She's already reading at a sixth grade level, which is of no surprise to any of us. She reads like I used to, though: she loves it when she does it, and will pick up one book and read it voraciously until she's through, then not read anything again for a while. I wish we could get her to read more often. She also writes. She writes songs, stories, even books, which she illustrates herself. She's so clever in the way she illustrates, too, because her script will tell only part of the story. The pictures will give you the details--often hilarious ones.

And let's just talk about the drawings. Where she gets it we're not quite sure, because neither Tom nor I are skilled in that way. But she very much is. Her attention to detail is remarkable, and it's all in her mind and memory. She doesn't trace or copy--she just remembers and translates. I'll post some things soon, I promise. (Just so you know, I don't keep my promises.)

Her passions now include music and singing, at which she excels; Hannah Montana, of whom she believes herself to be the number one fan; fashion (her sketches are truly impressive); and, as always, animals. She's been a vegetarian since she was six, which we thought would pass but clearly won't anytime soon. Let me explain: her commitment began when we told her one day we were having chicken for dinner.

"Chicken?"
"Yep."
"Like, chicken chicken?"
"Mm hmm."
"Like, this used to be a live chicken?"
"Yes, dear, chicken."
"I don't want that."

So she didn't eat chicken. Soon after, she found out that hamburger was actually cow, bacon actually pig, etc. I still maintain that if chicken were called something other than chicken, she might still be eating animal meat without realizing it. For some reason, though, she would allow herself to eat fish, I think because she went fishing once and didn't want to rationalize. Anyway, this was a relief to us, because it was an easy source of protein for Dad, our family cook, who is unaccustomed to vegetarian cuisine. It was only a little more than a week ago, after her goldfish died, that she no longer wanted to eat fish. She insists the two incidents aren't related, but I'm suspicious. We told her that if she is going to give up fish, she's going to have to learn to like cheese and nuts, which she doesn't. She agreed, bless her heart. So she's added string cheese and honey-roasted peanuts to her repertoire, which she promises to increase. She drinks milk and will eat yogurt from time to time, and she still eats eggs. We'll see how long that lasts.

At any rate, as frustrating as it is for Tom in the kitchen, we are quite proud of her for her commitment, which is based on nothing but a love for animals. She recently heard about something called a vegan. Forgive me--I told her I didn't know what that was.

In short, the girl is filled with passion. Passion for anything. If she's watching a movie about a figure skater, she'll ask if she can take figure skating lessons. If she reads a boook about cooking, she wants learn how to be a chef...starting with today's dinner. She just has all of this passion and feeling inside, and it comes out of her like roots from a tree. In fact, she's reminding me of myself when I was her age.

Crap.

For now she's enjoying the summer, and is, along with the rest of us, looking forward to our next trip to Niagara Falls, which is sort of up in the air at the moment, but will definitely happen.

OK; so I'm going to stop there for now. I'll continue with Cooper tomorrow, and see where this goes from there. Don't hate me if this turns out to be a passing whim. I'm unapologetic lately in an effort to get off my own back. But I'll do my best, I promise. (See earlier note on this subject.)

For tonight--*crud, it's morning*--I'll post a fairly recent picture of Jensen to bring your visual images up to date. She's a gem, isn't she?

Yeah, I know....

Thanks for reading, and post your comments!

Maria

I could have told you, Vincent;

. . . this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.

Yes, Avan and Jensen's turtle has passed away. We noticed he was sick on Thursday with slimy eyes and shell, and by Friday there were little, white worms in his aquarium. How do I know what to do for a sick turtle?! On Saturday morning I thought I'd make sure he was eating; so I picked him up to bring him to his food, and knew immediately he was dead. I think I might be a bad Mom: my first thought was, "Gross, I've handled a dead turtle!" It was only after that that I realized Jensen would be crushed.

She was. I tried to break it to her gently, without making a big deal out of it. At first she seemed only somewhat disappointed, I think because her mind was on something else. But later, when we decided to bury him in a small box, she lost it. She cried and cried and bawled and bawled. She asked for some alone time with him by his grave to say good-bye, and we could hear her from yards away trying to hold back her sobs. For twenty minutes or so she grieved over how much she loved him and would miss him, saying things like, "I've never been this sad," and "This is the saddest day of my life." I could barely handle it.

We buried Vincent, and Daddy said a few words and a prayer. Jensen made a red X on paper and cut it out to mark the grave. She continued to sob uncontrollably, and seemed ashamed of it. I told her that it was absolutely OK to feel this way, and that she wouldn't feel this sad forever. I think that made her feel like it was OK to cry, because then she didn't even try to hold back, and she let it all go. Thankfully, Cooper was oblivious. I couldn't have taken two grieving children.

Resting Place

Fortunately, Tom had planned a nature walk with the kids. Right after the funeral he took them to Firestone Park here in Akron and they walked the trails and marveled at nature. They made a little fire and roasted hot dogs and marshmallows, and had a great time. Jensen was feeling MUCH better by the time she got home, saying that it was "one of the best days ever, EVER!" I was so relieved.

Nature Walk, October 1, 2005

Caterpillar!

The next day we were telling Avan about our weekend, and Jensen told her that she thought Vincent had died because Jensen took him on a field trip to school for Green day. Of course that broke all of our hearts, and thankfully we were able to convince her that wasn't the reason. Later she told us that she still missed him, but she wasn't as sad as she had been the day before. A lesson in grief.

I just hope PETA doesn't catch wind of this.

Caricature of the Month

I'm posting this sketch of Don's as a tribute to Avan's new pet turtle, who stays at our house, which she named Vincent VanGogh after her favorite artist.
(Order prints or t-shirts from www.caricaturesbydon.com in time for Christmas!)

Our Little Student

Well, it's official. Jensen's a Big Girl. She started Kindergarten on the 25th of August. We went to her orientation the day before and found out where her bus stop is, and what time she'd be picked up and dropped off. She had been a little apprehensive about taking the bus; so I offered to drive her on the first day, but she said no. She was very excited, and I was very proud of her.

Everyone asks if I cried watching her go. I did cry, but only because I could see how very happy and excited she was, and so I was for her. I didn't cry because "my baby had grown up" or anything. We are crazy about Jensen, but there's no question about whether or not she belongs at school right now.

Jensen with backpack and bus tag

So far she loves it. I think she likes the bus more than school, but she likes school as well, and says her teacher, Ms. Knickerbocker (really) is a great teacher. She says she has trouble "being good," and has to put her head on the desk sometimes, but she tries hard and prays every day for help with concetrating and behaving at school. One morning she told her teacher that she was going to try extra hard that day, and Ms. Knickerbocker said something like, "Oh, it's OK. It just takes practice." So I'm sure many of the new kindergarteners are going through the same thing.

Cooper and I are enjoying our mornings together, and he loves going to pick her up at the bus stop. He rides his bike down, and I walk Jensen's bike so that they can ride back together. I'm hoping the weather cooperates with us as long as possible.

Meanwhile, we're doing Phonics lessons at home four or five times a week, and the kids are learning to read. Jensen's already pretty good at reading many words, and will soon move on to books for beginner readers. Cooper is starting to read as well, and is able to read as well as spell several three-letter words. Funny. He can read but he can't use the toilet. Go figure.

Hens & Chickens

Most people know that I'm not a gardener. In fact, it's all I can do to keep my children alive in my house, let alone plants. I'm the Charlie Brown of gardening. Tom gave me a cactus for Mother's Day once, since we'd heard that's the one plant you can't kill. Mine lived for three days. No kidding. The only things that grow around here are mold and potato eyes. . . and with no help from me.

But the other day, as Cooper and I were waiting for Jensen at the bus stop down the street, my neighbor approached me and asked me if I wanted some free hens and chickens. At first I thought she was crazy, but when she showed me a few boxes full of uprooted plants, I realized she was referring to them. Before I could explain that they'd be wasted on me, she explained that they grow like wildfire and were overrunning her yard. She implored me with her tone as she held the somewhat heavy boxes toward me and said I'd be doing her a big favor. Of course I took them, wondering the whole time where I'd be able to pawn them off. She told me how to plant them, and said they'd even grow where nothing else would. Yeah, we'll see.

I don't know what made me do it, but Jensen and I began transplanting them almost as soon as we got home, around this little garden in the middle of our yard. (It was there before we moved in, of course.) I worked on them on and off for the rest of the day, and was finally finished just before dark. They look cute, I guess, but I still have my doubts as to whether or not they'll grow or even survive for very long.

Luckily for all of you, I took pictures!




I still don't know why they're called hens and chickens. They look like neither to me, nor like any other farm animal I can think of. Anyone else have any idea? (See comment -- thanks, Sheila!)