Blake: Phone Home

So really ... I can't remember the last time I wanted a boy to call me so badly. I think it must have been about 1992 when I met Brett on a wayward Thursday night.

But this time, it's the cute soon-to-be sixth-grader with the dimple in his right cheek when he smiles. The phenomenal soccer player. The bookworm. My son.

It's the end of Day 2 of soccer camp and Blake STILL hasn't called home.

The kids weren't allowed to bring cell phones, but he has a calling card for the pay phone. And I should emphasize THE pay phone. Brett said he only saw one phone on the third floor of the college dorm where the boys are staying.

I thought maybe he'd call last night after the nightly scrimmage was over at 8:00. No call.

Today the day flew by and I tried to not think about when and if he might call. Zach and Allie were at pre-school and it was Mom-and-Nick day. We made chocolate chip cookies and read books, then braved the heat to see the Incredible Hulk and suck up long overdue Jamba Juices (I sure miss having one just blocks away like we did in Elk Grove).

So I thought that maybe being out of the house for a few hours would do the trick. You know the one -- you leave and when you get home you see the little red light flashing. You push the button and it's the call you were expecting. No such luck.

Brett gets home and asks if Blake's called.

"I'm going to be mad if he doesn't call," Brett says.

"Mad?" I ask, mulling over his statement.

While I want Blake to call, I don't think I'll be mad if he doesn't. And it all boils down to the simple fact that I'm realizing with increasing clarity that Blake is so much like me, it's scary. I KNOW he loves us, maybe even misses us a bit. He's enjoying his independence. Savoring a new experience that likely involves pillow fights and boyish pranks I probably don't want to know about. Realizing he's maturing and can be on his own in short bursts. Doesn't want to stand in line for the darn pay phone. Feels like if he calls he might just realize he misses us.

I not only understand that, but I breathe it like the muggy monsoon-riddled Arizona air.

But still ... it would be nice if he called. Sigh ...

Blake's First Overnight Camp & R-rated shower gel

Blake left for college today. Well, not really college, but a soccer camp held at a university campus.

This morning Brett drove Blake to Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff for his first overnight camp -- a soccer camp, as those of you who know him might have guessed. I don't think Blake, normally a home-body, would have entertained ideas of any other type of outdoor camp. But when he checked out the website and got word that a teammate wanted to go with him, he was in.

Knowing that he might be facing some occasional uneasiness about his first trip away from home without parent or grandparent supervision, I tried to really pump up the whole camp experience, telling Blake about the fun times I had when I went to Girl Scout camps. I know canoeing, crafts and giggly overnight sessions aren't the same as power shooting, scrimmages and volleys, but it was all I had.

I also wanted him to be prepared, so I told him the showering might be a little less private than at home.

His eyes grew wide and inquisitive.

"What ... what do you mean?"

So I had to explain the basics of locker room showers. I don't think he was deterred, which was good, but he looked a bit uneasy.

"I'm sure there will probably be stalls or walls of some kind," I offered. "Just not a private bathroom like at home."

I see some of the uneasiness drift away.

Then came the physical preparation. Blake began throwing his clothes in his suitcase packing early in the week.

I printed out the list and away he went, filling his suitcase in typical 11-year-old boy style. No order whatsoever -- shorts, shirts, socks, boxers thrown about. And of course, I, being a mother, his mother, had to empty it out, fold everything up and put the shorts on one side and the shirts on the other.

After spending Saturday with a friend, he woke up this morning in that giddy/silly mood reserved for only the most special of days -- like a big soccer tournament, Christmas, or the first day of school.

He was even being especially nice to Nicky, who has made no secret that he's not too thrilled about sleeping in their room alone over the next week.

As the time to leave came, Blake begrudgingly doled out hugs to brothers, sister and Mom. And off they went.

A few hours later Brett called and said that Blake's friend Massimo (really ... his soccer friend is named Massimo, just like in the movie Kicking and Screaming -- a favorite in our house)hadn't arrived yet and that Blake seemed like he was getting nervous.

The kids are staying in dorm rooms with refrigerators, sinks, meal cards and everything. Cell phones aren't allowed, so I hope he can figure out the calling card and the pay phone.

So over a couple more phone conversations with Brett -- after Massimo arrived and after Brett headed back down into the Valley -- my stomach started to feel queasy.

I start to run down the list of things in my head, reassuring myself we didn't forget anything. I'm hoping it doesn't get too cold because we only packed one pair of sweats -- that's all he had that fit him and our last-minute run to the Nike outlet was no help. And I'm hoping he's able to sleep. I'm praying his body can handle three soccer sessions a day. But most of all, I want him to feel comfortable and confident on his own ... for a week.

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IN OTHER CAMP NEWS ...

Earlier this week I took Blake to Walmart to get travel-sized toiletries.

"Why do they have to call it toiletries?" Blake asked. "I don't like that word."

His major task of the outing was determining which travel-sized shampoo looked most masculine. Pink and peach-colored bottles were out.

"These all look so girlie," he said.

I agreed, but didn't say anything.

"How about this ... it's blue," I asked him, pointing to what I think was Clariol Herbal Essence orchid and coconut milk shampoo.

"I guess," he says, continuing to look around. "How about this shower gel?"

I look at it and recognize its label -- the black and very masculine packaging of a gel called Axe. Blake got the full-size version of this a few weeks ago. Not until we had it home did I read the back of the bottle. My jaw dropped. This is a product heavily marketed to young men. Use this gel and the girls will be lining up at your shower. You wouldn't think you'd need to censor a shower gel for your 11-year-old son, but look at the "game" and the tagline this lovely product has on its web site.

Ugh!

http://www.theaxeeffect.com/showergelgame/

A few more things about Nicky

"There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million."

~Walt Streightiff

As I mentioned earlier, Nicky's been sleepwalking. And since I last posted about it, he continues.

Whenever I'm awakened in the middle of the night (or usually it's before midnight), I listen intently and dart up out of bed because chances are it's Nicky roaming the hallway or doing some crazy thing.

A couple nights ago it was about 12:30 when I heard what sounded like the recliner ends on the sectional popping up. Strange, I thought. Then Nicky came wandering into our room.

"Nicky?" I said. Then, without a word, he dashes back into his bedroom. I get up to make sure he made it back to his room safely and there he is in bed. And as I walk through the family room, sure enough, the recliners are flipped up, as if two ghosts are there for the night.

During his waking hours, Nicky's obsession with all things roller coaster continues its never-ending corkscrew.

Ever since we got back from our California trip, which included a day at Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, Nick's love affair of roller coaster has been reborn. For the past couple years he's been fascinated with watching, building and thinking up new twists on roller coasters. Riding them is a separate matter.

Before the trip to Santa Cruz, he investigated the Giant Dipper online. But once we were there, he decided to pass.

But since our return home he's been obsessed. We've read the roller coaster book he received for Christmas about three times, we checked out another four books from the library, he looks up roller coasters on the Internet, and he voraciously plays his Roller Coaster Tycoon computer game, engineering all kinds of crazy rides.

Sometimes in the middle of a meal or in the car, you can see his wheels spinning and he'll say something out of the blue about how he would build a roller coaster or describe in detail how a roller coaster ride he saw on YouTube works.




"Mom, you know that part that twists around, well if you ..." or "Mom, do you know that coaster runs on one chain." Sometimes his 7-year-old mind doesn't quite grasp it all, but other times it's impressive how in-depth he thinks about it.

And on the swimming front, Nicky continues to impress. He had a substitute teacher for his lesson last time and the kids didn't get much of a break.

"Mom," Nicky said after his lesson, huffing and puffing. "We had to do TWENTY laps."

A minute later.

"Mom ... did you know the Batman roller coaster ride isn't actually a roller coaster?"

Our Independence Weekend -- Freedom From Diapers!

This past 4th of July weekend was a quiet one around here. No out-of-town guests, no local parties or barbecues. Just us six, the unrelenting heat, the lukewarm pool, and watching the local fireworks from Sonic, where I savored my Reese's Blast and where it was unbearable to sit outside for even 20 minutes.

But the real celebration in our household is that the last of our four children is FINALLY toilet-trained. Allie mastered the whole potty thing months ago (although she still pees in her pants when she's mad at me, but that's a whole separate story), but our cautious little Zach has been reluctant to go #2. A couple weeks ago we just stuck him in his underwear to see what would happen. And he went in his pants.

I wanted to try it again. Brett reluctantly agreed.

For months we've been telling Zach that if he poops three times in the toilet he'll get this cool basketball hoop we showed him at Walmart. We even printed out a picture of it and stuck it on the refrigerator alongside a Google search image of a toddler sitting on the potty as an incentive.

But on Thursday it all happened just like a fireworks show. Zach announced matter-of-factly that he "feels poo-poo coming." Oooh. He scurried into the bathroom and just like that, did what he needed to do -- in the toilet. Ahhhh. Then, just like the big boy my baby now is, did it again and again and again over the weekend. Just like that -- it happened. Brett and I would look at each other and see huge "I can't believe it finally happened" fireworks in each other's eyes.

So now all kinds of exciting things piggyback from this -- like he gets to move up to the "big kids" room at preschool. Mom and Dad don't have to change diapers anymore. And, perhaps best of all, Mom and Dad don't have to BUY diapers or the diaper-in-disguise Pull-Ups anymore.

It feels like our kids have been in diapers forever. Blake was trained when he was 3 yrs, 3 months. Nick was born 5 months later, so we had a short break then. When the twins were born, Nick wasn't quite trained (what a nightmare that was), so really, we've been doing this diaper thing for more than 11 years. I thought about researching the number of diapers we likely used and how much we spent, but, really, that's just too depressing.

And while it is bittersweet to see so many milestones already come and gone with the last two of our children -- the first smile, the first step, the first words, the first time they call their older brother stupid, this is one milestone we're fully embracing.

Free at last, free at last ...

Happy 4th of July!
Missing all of you and thinking about holidays past ...

Zach and Grandma Rex last year here in Anthem.

Allie and Grandpa last year.

Watching fireworks in the blistering Arizona heat.

Brotherly love.

2004. Me very pregnant with the twins and Angela pregnant with Kate.

2005- Such cute boys we have!

2005. Zach and Grandma. Giving high-fives, maybe?

2005. Our patriotic crawlers.

2005. Sweet cheeks.

2005. "Did my mom really dress me in a flag?"

Me and my sweetie.

Here's what Blake and Nick miss most.

Me and Zach with a possessed monster behind us.

Making ice cream and slicing watermelon.

One of my favorite pics. Whatever was going on in the neighbors' yard must have been good.

Back when Nick was into colored gel and spiking his bangs.

Six weeks down, six to go

So today marks six weeks since the boys have been out of school ... not that I'm counting. Our summer vacation is actually slipping by at a comfortable clip. I concede that some days have been longer than others, being confined to the air-conditioned house with energy-riddled kids who unleash their zest by playing basketball with a tiny bedroom hoop and running like crazy throughout the house playing hide and seek, tag, or "how much harm can I do to my brother."

And then arguments abound about whether to watch Cars, Little Mermaid, How It's Made, or professional soccer on the big TV. Thank goodness for our pool. Whenever it feels like the energy mounting in the house is going to decombust, I send it (in the form of my four little children and myself) out to the pool. Nothing like splashing around in 90-degree water to calm the kids.

Meanwhile, in other summer family news:

• Allie and Zach are back at swimming lessons. Zach still frets about getting his face wet on the ride over, but always follows through and does it for the class. He still practically strangles the teacher when he has to do his back float, but at least he's not crying and screaming like he was earlier this summer. Allie, on the other hand, is a little fish and eager to please. She prides herself on managing a couple strokes and going under water for a good 10 seconds. She's the one sitting there with a huge smile on her face.
  
• Nick is taking swimming lessons, too. In our pool he typically swims under water to get around. One day I asked him to freestyle swim the length of our tiny pool and he had a hard time, still not really grasping the whole "breathe to the side" concept. So when his first lesson rolled around on Monday and the teacher asked the kids to swim the length of the HUGE community center pool, I was worried. "Oh no," I told Brett. "They're going to have to scoop him up out of the water and demote him to a lower-level class." But that didn't happen. Instead, my mouth dropped open as I watched Nicky swim -- really swim with arms, breathing and all -- the whole length of the pool. Twice! I was so impressed and he was so proud of himself. He kept slyly peeking up at us to see if we were looking. Of course, we were.
• In other Nicky news ... over the past few weeks he's been sleepwalking. We went through night terrors with Blake when he was 6 or 7, but Nick's is normal, walking-around sleepwalking. Several times he's come walking into our room and then flipping on the bathroom light. At first I thought he was just going to the bathroom. But he would turn on the light without using the bathroom. One time he turned on the light in the laundry room and opened the door out to the garage. Last night at around 11, Brett and I heard a strange sound. We checked the hallway, but found nothing. Later he came running in our room, then running back into his room. But in the morning as I went to turn the computer on, I found his bedsheet on the floor of the playroom, but he was soundly in his bed. It's a bit unsettling watching him walk around and waking up wondering if you woke up because you heard him roaming around -- kind of like watching the dead people roam around in Sixth Sense. So now I'm just hoping he never hurts himself during one of his nighttime wanderings.

Enough for now ... trying to keep these shorter.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

After my whining about the heat yesterday, we were temporarily relieved with a bit of evening rain. The winds kicked up, and after we gave the twins their bath, we noticed a rainbow outside. We ventured out to take a look. Zach and Allie gleefully frolicked in the quick rain shower with their PJ's on.

I love Arizona's summer rainstorms. Just when you think you can't take the heat anymore, a quick shower (or sometimes angry thunderstorms and bolts of lightning) will pass through and bring us out of our heat-induced funk.

Here's Zach with a rainbow growing out of his head:

"Look up at the rainbow, Zachy ... other way, sweetie."