Ice Skating with Kiera

Look who I got out on skates.

I never would have thought the child of mine who was born in a semi-tropical region of the world would be the first of my children to try ice skating.  The others showed scant interest at best.  But Kiera?  I told her she'd have to wear her snow pants if she wanted to go ice skating with me and when I came downstairs, she was nearly dressed and ready to go.

Kiera was so excited when we headed out the door, which is funny, because she had no idea what ice skating was.  She looked at me with slight discomfort as I tried to cram her feet into the skates and then was in for quite a shock when I plunked her down on the rink with two metal blades strapped to her feet.

I hunched over and hooked my arms under hers and helped her glide her feet across the ice.  She didn't seem to understand that she needed to put weight on her feet and instead leaned back into my arms. I was exhausted after one lap around the rink.  A friend had met us at the rink, and she skated over and took one of Kiera's arms while I firmly grasped the other.  Kiera was forced to put weight on her feet, but had enough support from us to stay upright.  Eventually Kiera was confident enough to toddle along with just one of his grasping her arm.

This all might have seemed like modest progress, but to me it was huge. It's unfortunately easy for Kiera to get overlooked next to her loud, physical and rambunctious brothers.  Here she was doing her own thing and when you're only three and a half years old, toddling along on skates is something to brag about. More importantly, she and I were having fun together.  Every time I asked her if she was having fun, she smiled and if I asked her if she wanted to keep skating, she nodded her head yes. 

Kiera wanted to pose with the statues of the Peanuts characters.

Football in its Purest Form

I'm not a football fan by any means.  In fact, you could say I hate football, except that we're really trying to impress upon our kids that "hate" is very strong word that shouldn't be thrown around liberally, so let's just say I really, really, really dislike football.  Chris, on the other hand, loves football, and since we encourage the use of the word "love" in our house, he loves, loves, loves football. He wishes I would love football as much as he does.  He would try to bargain with me to watch football with him by offering to watch HGTV with me after the game, but then we got rid of cable.  Even without cable, he knows he can still lure me in with a feel-good, well-written human interest story, such as Football's purest form in the heart of Minnesota.  

ST. PAUL, Minn. -- Some days, you need a game you can reach out and touch. You need a game where there are people standing patiently outside the gates of a small stadium, blankets folded over their arms, waiting for someone to open a ticket booth the size of a upright footlocker on which a sign hangs that says, "Children Under Five Admitted Free."

Some days, you need a game where they're selling hot dogs, and hamburgers, and bratwurst, and you have to pay for them under the stands and then come back because, as another sign says, "Your bun is your ticket." Some days, you need a game where the women's basketball team is selling soda and cookies to support itself. Some days, you need ragged pep bands, seemingly formed by like-minded strangers on the sidewalk outside who just happened to bring drums and a tuba to the game.

Some days, you need a little, low-ceilinged press box where everyone is jammed in, including the coaches from the visiting team, so you can hear them agonizing over their headsets, calling an assistant down on the sidelines an idiot, and calling one of their linebackers a "lazy f---," and nobody in the press box turns a head. Some days, you need a game you can reach out and touch, and a place in the game where the corporate gigantism afflicting the sports-industrial complex isn't quite so stifling, a place in the game where it's still easy to breathe.

Somewhere beyond O'Shaughnessy Stadium, beyond the neat little campus and the grain elevators and the big river, they were playing important football games in the Big Ten, in the SEC, and in the ACC. There were shiny, happy people in shiny, happy luxury boxes. There were millionaire boosters and even more corporate executives. There were bands and they all wore uniforms, and they were huge, and they were so far down below the press box that they might as well have been playing on the radio somewhere. There was bombast and pageantry, and there was some terrific American football being played, and every one of those games was worth watching, on television, because they were basically television shows themselves.

So when St. Thomas whacked Wabash 38-7 at O'Shaughnessy Stadium to advance to the semifinals of the NCAA Division III football tournament, the game didn't shake a leaf outside Lucas Oil Stadium in Indianapolis, or Mercedes-Benz Stadium in Atlanta, or Bank Of America Stadium in Charlotte. But I am willing to bet that, in none of those places on Saturday, did anyone see a tight end score on a fake field goal. I am also willing to bet that, in none of those places on Saturday, did anyone see a tight end score on a fake field goal, which his team then followed up with a successful onside kick, which was followed by another touchdown. And I am willing to bet your house that nobody at any of those games was waving a papal flag in the stands because the star running back on the home team is studying to be a Catholic priest. All of that was what you could see on Saturday at O'Shaughnessy Stadium, where some people played American football and played it very hard.

(article continued...)

I have to hand it to St. Thomas.  As much as I dislike football, this article did tug at my heart. That's because Chris had taken the Oliver and Soren to see this particular game and thought it lived up to everything the writer loved about the game.  They bought cookies from the women's basketball team and Oliver and Soren cheered and ran "pell-mell" in all directions.  Chris got to watch a good game while spending time with his kids and everyone enjoyed the afternoon together.  And that is what football should be about.    

On the Hunt for Our Christmas Tree

I might have oversold Minnesota winters.  Before matching with an au pair, I warn him or her how brutal winters here can be and make sure he or she is hearty enough to come live here.  We can't afford to have someone freak out when the temperature drops below zero and want to stay indoors because that makes for a long and sedentary winter, both for the au pair and our children.  But Celina wasn't phased.  She bought herself a warm coat and is fully prepared for winter's arrival.  Since they so rarely ever have snow at Christmas where she's from in Germany, she confided in me that one of the things she was most looking forward to about coming to Minnesota was having a white Christmas.  With lots of rain and highs consistently in the 40s this past week, I'm afraid Celina's wish isn't going to come true.  I do everything I can to give my au pairs the year of their dreams, but gosh, Minnesota, you're letting me down! 

It was with this unseasonably warm weather that we went on the hunt for the perfect Christmas tree at Krueger's Tree Farm.  We picked up a saw and trekked out into the fields.  I was glad I had dressed the kids in boots, not for the snow, which there was none, of course, but for the mud!  The unseasonably warm weather meant that more people than expected had also decided it would be more fun to chop down their own tree and the pickings were slim.  After tromping around to for a bit, we decided we'd try our luck with a pre-cut tree instead. 

Attachment Reminders

I'm 100% confident Matteo is firmly attached to me, but given how hard he rejected me in China and in the weeks after we got home, I don't take any displays of his attachment for granted.  They still catch me by surprise and fill my heart with love. Yesterday he gave me another sweet reminder of how far we've come as mother and son.

Kiera, Matteo and I met a friend and her kids at the park this weekend.  I was thrilled to see my friend's baby and scooped him out of his car seat and cradled him in my arms.  I knelt down so Kiera and Matteo could get a good look at him and Kiera's eyes lit up and a rare smile spread across her face.  She adores babies and points out everyone she sees, whether in real life or in a picture.  I then turned to Matteo and asked him what he thought of the baby.  He looked at me really sadly and repeatedly shook his head no.  I thought his reaction was an anomaly or perhaps he misunderstood me.  But he continued to look sad as I held my friend's baby.

Matteo is not an aggressive or mean-spirited child.  He expresses his disapproval subtly with the gentle tug of my hand or the quiver of his lip as he looks longingly at the child nestled in my arms.  Any attempts to get him to interact with my friend's son was met with more shaking of his head no. 

That night when I tucked him into bed, I knelt down, looked him in the eye and told him that no matter how many babies I hold, I'll always love him and I'll always be his mom. I wasn't sure whether my words mattered to him or whether he even understood what I was saying, yet he looked intently in my eyes and shook his head yes. 

St. Nicholas Stopped By

St. Nicholas had a lot of shoes to fill this year!  Four pairs for the kids and one pair for Celina, who is a kid at heart. 

In our adapted St. Nick's tradition, everyone receives a book in addition to the traditional treats.  Celina got a copy of the classic, Twas the Night Before Christmas, and the kids received How to Catch Santa, The Littlest Elf, Biscuit's Pet and Play Christmas and The Itsy Bitsy Snowman. 

Advent Calendar

As tired, working parents, there's so much we want to do with our kids, but there just isn't enough time in the day! Thankfully our au pair Celina steps in to bring a special kind of creativity and magic to our household. Her most recent offer was to make an advent calendar for the kids and she totally outdid herself. 

She took inspiration from an advent calendar she saw on Pinterest and went from there. 

She and a fellow au pair friend spent all day scouring both Michael's and a neighbor's yard (who had conveniently just trimmed a birch tree) for supplies and assembling the "calendar".  Their final creation ended up being a Christmas decoration in itself.

Celina didn't just fill the cups with a chocolate for each kid, but also puzzles pieces.  Each morning the kids get anywhere from two to four puzzle pieces with the final pieces received on Christmas Eve to complete a Christmas-themed puzzle.  This idea is genius because my kids love puzzles!  So much so that she could have easily gone without the chocolates

Cancer, Fear and Survivor's Guilt

A good friend was recently diagnosed with breast cancer.  A young mom, healthy, no history of cancer, no risk factors and too young for a mammogram. Her only clue was the lump in her breast. I tried to make sense of how a healthy, athletic, young woman could be facing cancer. Could she really be sick?

Her prognosis didn't look good from the outset.  Every doctors appointment she went to the news got worse and worse to the point that I thought the only way for the bad news to stop coming was for her to stop going to the doctor.

Knowing that she'd already shed too many tears over the unfairness of this diagnosis, I remained composed, but inside, I feared for a future without her. I tried to not let my mind go there though, thinking about the possibility of losing a friend. Worse, was thinking about her husband losing his wife and her children losing their mom. That absolutely can't happen, I thought, even as I knew how helpless I was against my worst fear being realized. 

After spending a long time in denial about how serious my friend's breast cancer could really be, I started to brace myself for a Stage 4 diagnosis, the stage that more people die from than survive.   When she was finally diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer, I was actually relieved.  My friend is incredibly strong, but after hearing "stage 3," I felt like cancer was finally giving her a fair fight.  

While I'm thankful my friend's doctors are able to "treat to cure," I'm learning that cancer takes every last piece of dignity and joy from you even if it lets you survive.  Now that we've finished bearing children, this is finally the time we're supposed to get our bodies back, enjoy more "me" time and devote more time to interests outside our children.  We make resolutions to lose the last of the baby weight and ditch the yoga pants in favor of something that reminds us that we used to have some style before we had kids.  We splurge on good haircuts because we want to enjoy it now before our hair goes completely grey.  With no more maternity leaves to plan for, we look forward to finally pushing ahead in our careers.  Cancer takes that all away.  The drugs that save your life take away your hair, cause you to gain weight, mess with your appetite and make you miserable with nausea.  Going to the grocery store, hanging out with friends or even receiving kisses from your own children could cause complications with your weakened immune system and delay treatment.   

I'm bracing myself for the reality of what will be a long and difficult course of treatment for my friend. There are moments when I'm honestly scared for the unknown in the world of cancer that is so new to me, scared of seeing my friend's health get worse before it can get better, scared of how our friendship will be tested, and scared of whether I'm strong enough.