Alabaster Mom

For reasons known only to him, my father finds the concept of picking apples to be very comical. Every fall, my husband and daughter and I head to a local orchard to pick apples. I am pretty sure we are not the only ones to do this. It seems to me like a common autumn-type excursion. Last year, my daughter took a photo of me and her dad next to an apple tree, and I posted it on Facebook. My dad has been calling us "the apple pickers" since then.  Over the summer, he shared our orchard photo on Facebook right before we drove out to Maryland to visit him. "The apple pickers are on their way," he wrote. I knew we were going to pick apples last Saturday so I gave him a heads-up ahead of time. "Those apples won't pick themselves," he told me.  And then added: "be sure to wear your official apple picking outfits."  There were so many people at the orchard that they had a team of six people who had the sole function of parking cars. Apple pickers ...

I haven't been writing much, because there hasn't been much going on. The rescue had its big fundraiser on September 20th and I needed about a week just to recover from that. As far as what I've been doing  with my free time . . . I know I'm late to this party but I've been plowing through all five seasons of "Six Feet Under."  I truly think it's one of the best shows I've ever seen. I'm not one to sit around and watch TV for large stretches of time, but having HBO GO on my Kindle means I can watch the show when I'm getting ready and whatnot. I watched "Big Love" over the summer. P and I also just finished "Breaking Bad" (we accomplished that one via DVDs from Netflix).  We were late to that party, too. The only other bit of recent news is that I bought myself a plane ticket to visit my middle sister and her family in Northern Virginia for Thanksgiving. I can't wait!  I saw my sister for about five minutes in a par...

My daughter is getting her palate expander on October 8th. I attended a consultation with her orthodontist a couple weeks ago. Interestingly, the kid herself didn't even need to be at this appointment. The only thing I needed to bring, apparently, was my checkbook. I had to make a down payment and then the rest will be billed monthly over the next year. Insurance is paying for some of the cost. However, I noted that the amount they are paying is a lifetime limit. I know the kid is likely to need a second set of braces once she has her adult teeth, but apparently she will need to wait for her next lifetime now. I have to say that the visit was at once harrowing and informative. The orthodontist showed me a plaster cast of my daughter's mouth.  I wish I had taken a photo of it. All I could think of was that old joke about "summer teeth."  Summer here, summer there. Dr. M told me that although he previously thought braces were a possibility, he could confirm that they...

This is probably the most famous photo in the history of my family. My parents continue to tease me about it, 40+ years after the fact. It started like this. We were living in an apartment in Maryland. I think I was three or four (I believe this was before my middle sister was born but I could be wrong - if she was around, she was an infant). A snowstorm had hit the area pretty hard and my parents and I played out in the snow for a bit.  Then we came inside. I spotted our Instamatic camera sitting on an end table. This was back when you had to buy flash bulbs and attach the little cube to the top of the camera. Between buying film, buying flash bulbs, and then taking the film out to be developed (and waiting days for the photos) . . . I feel like it's a wonder anyone ever bothered.  Of course, this was the 70s and we had no internet, so maybe we had nothing better to do but wait around for stuff. My parents were in another room and saw the flash from the bulb. My mom c...

I couldn't decide if I should write about this or not. I know that A's birthmom has read my blog from time to time in the past, and the last thing I would ever want to do is to make her feel sad or uncomfortable. But, it's been almost a week since my daughter dropped the big question on me and since I'm still upset about it now, I thought some cathartic writing might help. Last Wednesday, we were on our way home from swim class at the Y.  She was pretty excited because she skipped a fish group (guppy) and is now a minnow. As we sat at a stoplight, I heard this from the back seat: "Mom, I don't want you to think I don't want to be with you, but why did I have to go?"  The emphasis was on the I.  For a second, I wasn't sure what she meant or why she was asking the question in that way. And then I knew: she was asking why her birthmom had kept her brothers and not her. I could almost feel my heart breaking, just to know that my baby thought - eve...

It has been brought to my attention (by the curly-haired girl who lives in my house) that everyone has a phone as well.  (Read this post for the jazz shoes reference.) I've been informed that "two seven-year-olds at my daycare have phones!"  Followed by: "Real ones, too!"  She added that point of clarification because we've caught her trying to smuggle old, inactive cell phones to school. My first inclination was to say, "The parents who gave phones to first graders are lunatics."  However, I can totally picture my kid tracking down one of those moms and saying, "Hi, my mom said you are a lunatic."  So instead I said, "Well, I'm not their mom and who knows, maybe those kids are freakishly responsible or something." I mean, my daughter can't even handle turning off the light after she's done using the bathroom. Flushing happens only sporadically. She can't get up on time because, and I quote, "My eyes...

The first week of fourth grade is in the books. A's school goes up to fifth grade, so just two more years to go and she's off to junior high. I could swear we just dropped her off for 4K the other day. She looks so tiny with her big backpack. Now she's a big, bad fourth grader who wears skinny jeans (so skinny, in fact, that she can barely get her foot through the opening) and acts exasperated with her parents much of the time. On the first day of school, she wore a neon shirt, glittery high tops, and a SIDE PONYTAIL.  All she needed was a Scritti Politti cassette in her backpack and she could be transported straight to 1985. The first week of school, she'd surrendered an item to the lost and found by the second day. She brought home a fundraiser on the third day. Yes, another school year has begun. Another year of filling out emergency contact forms, navigating the intricacies of the school lunch menus, signing homework logs, and yelling at the kid to get dress...