Getting Ready for Thanksgiving: Heel, Toe, Shuffle, Step, Hands in the Air!

Jacob and Molly are getting ready for our Big Thanksgiving Weekend. Jacob is in the process of writing a play (a musical, actually) for Molly and the cousins to perform over the weekend (Jacob’s taken on the role of director). The script is partially done, the plot sounds complex (read: confusing), and the songs are original compositions. Should be quite the show! At this very moment, Jacob is choreographing Molly’s big dance number (“Heel, toe, shuffle, step, hands in the air!”). Molly would really, really like to curtsy at the end, instead of putting hands in the air (“Jacob, it’s the polite thing to do…”), but Jacob’s just not having it. Having given up on the curtsy, she’s now asking, “Jacob, am I hot in this show? You know, like the really cute kind of hot?” (Sheesh.) Look out Henry, Gabe and Sophie — you’ve got a wild ride ahead of you in show-stopping Montclair.

Camp Henry, Day Five

(Posted by: Anne)

First an update on the “interpersonal issues” — I think Henry’s words last night on the subject speak best tell the story: “Uncle David, Molly was supposed to include me in all her games today at camp…” Now picture Molly starting to writhe and moan, anticipating the worst. Henry continued, “…And she did! So, Aunt Anne said that she gets extra reading time tonight at bedtime. And that means I get extra reading time, too!” Everybody wins. Yes!

Now, on to Day Five. Molly and Henry started the day by making more progress on their necklaces. Well, actually, Henry started the day by taking Alice on a long walk with David, complete with lots of ball-throwing. (I’ll stop here and say that we’re really not trying to get Henry to want a dog anymore than he already does, though I suspect that’s what’s happening…) Then, breakfast and off to build some more robots.

After camp, the kids and I went to our local, homemade ice cream spot, Applegate Farms, and selected Henry’s pre-birthday ice cream cake. He wisely chose the cake with chocolate icing (I’ve never seen an ice cream cake with chocoloate icing, before, so I was glad he chose this one).

We debated whether to go to the pool or to go home for some more necklace making, and the necklaces won. Though, once we were home, slaving away in the Anne Sailer Design sweatshop paled in comparison to riding the Star Cruiser on our backyard swingset. (Henry LOVES the Star Cruiser.) When I was about to start cooking The Birthday Dinner (spaghetti, sauce, meatballs, and parmesan cheese, as was Henry’s request — though I tossed in some red and orange pepper strips, baby carrots and grapes to round out the meal), Henry came bounding inside and said, “Aunt Anne, I went outside, saw an enormous spider web on the Star Cruiser, came inside, and now I’m telling you about it.” What delivery, I’ll tell you. (I removed the web, and — wow — was it huge.)

It was lovely to have both David and Grandma Jane with us for dinner. After the food was consumed (albeit slowly by one birthday boy), we brought out the ice cream cake (which we actually remembered to thaw for an hour, and which had only turned into half-ice-cream-soup) and sang Happy Birthday in full volume to a boy with a smile on his face as big as Alaska. Can I just say, “Yum.” To all of it. What a treat to be able to give Henry an extra birthday celebration this year.

We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Programming…

(Posted by: Anne)

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for a quick post of Molly’s latest portrait of me. Honestly, I’m honored that this is how she sees me — open arms; big smile; large eyes looking directly at her; dogs, bunnies and …  chicken tracks (?) on my clothes. Truly honored.

Camp Henry, Day Four

(Posted by: Anne)

I think it’s time for a shorter post about Camp Henry. Who knew I had so much to say!

With the car still out of commission (waiting patiently for David to come home), I borrowed my mom’s car to get the kids to camp this morning, and Grandma Jane will pick them up this afternoon. She’ll take them to enjoy some Grandma-time at her house, then out to Wendy’s for a fun dinner, and then home. At that point, I’ll be in a meeting and David will be home, waiting to greet them. Tag, he’s it!

Even so, I’ve already had a full day at Camp Henry. Henry started his morning at 5:45 am, while the rest of us “slept in” till almost-7:00, at which time Henry came into my room and asked me to kiss the spot on his back that had gotten sore “while waiting for someone to wake up this morning.” He’s just charming. Kiss applied, he then asked, “Aunt Anne, last night you said that we’d be able to start making jewelry this morning…Can we do that now?” What was I thinking?! So, up I got, and I cobbled together a pile of beads, pliers, wire, and other stuff to set up a necklace-making operation on the dining room table. At 7:00 in the morning. I will now pause to pat myself on the back. Again.

Henry and Molly have designed and are in the process of assembling two gorgeous necklaces. Although I hope the pieces will be finished by the end of the week, I’m not positive. These two jewelry designers have lofty goals, that’s for sure. (Molly’s is a study on the four seasons, and Henry’s is an exploration of color, pattern and texture.) I might end up throwing in some Anne Sailer Design mojo to help ’em over the finish line. We’ll see.

Even having set up a mini-sweatshop in my dining room, I still managed to feed them breakfast of french toast and fresh mango and get three enormous lunches made by 8:45. (My plan is to stuff them full today so we don’t have an I’m-so-hungry-I-can’t-walk reprise!) It’s a good day.

Camp Henry, Day Three

(Posted by: Anne)

Well, no camp experience is complete without a few bumps in the road, and we’ve started to have ours…almost literally.

One the way home from the first day of robotics camp, with about a 1/4 of a mile left to go before we reached home, our car started to give out. “Uh-oh,” I said. The curious children in the back seat asked what was up, though with a little more urgency than I’m relaying here. “The engine’s dying,” I said, and then we basically coasted the rest of the way home. As we turned into our driveway, I had to give it a little gas to get all the way off the street, and the car sputtered to a stop in a perfectly-parked position. “How great that we got all the way home before the car stopped!” I exclaimed. And three nonplussed children exited, quickly, from the back seat. I suspect they might have found the experience a little unnerving (Molly’s comment about being afraid of the car is a little clue), but as soon as they were out and on the porch, they completely forgot about the car. (Me, too, as I’m saving it for David to deal with when he comes home. After all, he should get to share, at least in some way, my experiences so far, yes?)

So, my mom (Pat/Nana) picked us up on Camp Henry: Day Three and took us to robotics camp (and then she brought me to the grocery store, so I’d be sure not to need the car, and then home). She picked ’em up from camp, too. (Grandma Jane gets the next turn.)

After camp, my mom dropped all of us off at the pool, where we swam, played pick-up sticks, hashed a few interpersonal issues (more on that in a bit), and thus proceeded to get really, really hungry. Too bad I didn’t bring any food with me to the pool, since we were walking home. Sigh. I won’t make that mistake again. The four of us packed up and headed home, and within a few minutes Henry said, “Aunt Anne, my stomach is feeling very emtpy and I don’t think I have the energy to walk all the way home.” Oh, boy. (Note: I gave them a whole mess of snacks before we left for the pool, so I didn’t think I’d need to bring more. Ha.) Before too long, Molly joined Henry in the I-can’t-walk chorus (though in a way that conjures up Isadora Duncan, in contrast to Henry’s method of offering polite side comments, just in case I’m interested in what’s going on for him — Henry mentions; Molly wails). About halfway home, the hunger is displaced by the bladder, and both Henry and Molly have an extreme urge to pee. Don’t tell Montclair High that they urinated in the stand of trees by the creek on the school campus (though it looked like worse had happened there, to be sure).

At this point, I started thinking that I was the one who wouldn’t be able to make it home.

But we did finally reach home — after I carried Henry one long block and then Molly one long block (Jacob knows now not to ask anymore) — all of us limping the last bit of the way (and if Jacob asked me one more time if they’d get to watch TV after dinner — answer: no — he’d have had to sleep outside for the night). I told the kids to race (ok, crawl) into the backyard while I raced (which I did) inside to fix “a pile of snacks” (which I did). The pile included three kinds of crackers, raisins, Craisins, and apples, and they devoured it all in the 15 minutes it took me to prepare and serve the taco dinner. (I know, I know…I’m amazing…) Then we ate. Ahhh.

(By the way, Henry’s a master now at feeding Alice. He’s got the measurements and the commands down pat, and he loves to feed her every meal. Jacob and Molly are thrilled to hand over this job to Henry, and Alice is starting to see him as her meal ticket. Good stuff all the way around.)

During dinner, we relaxed (finally!) and talked about that interpersonal issue I mentioned above. At the pool, Henry articulated in the most amazing and self-aware way the extent to which he feels left out when with Molly. It seems that Molly gets distracted by Jacob and her friend Amelia and then doesn’t finish games she starts with Henry, doesn’t “let him talk” in conversations, gives him the boring roles during imaginary games, asks him questions and then leaves the conversation before he answers, etc. Sigh. I am a disappointed Mama. But, this kind of thing was bound to come up during the week, yes? So, now I have given Molly a directive to make a point to include Henry (since she “forgets” to do so), and I have given Henry permission to remind Molly (which he felt reluctant to do in the heat of the moment). Henry now has the phrase, “You’ll earn extra reading time…” in his back pocket — Molly’s reward for positive action. We’ll see how that goes.

At bedtime, after I gave Henry his goodnight kisses, he grabbed me around the middle, kissed my belly and gave me a big goodnight squeeze. I think I’m doing this Camp Henry thing right, bumps in the road an all.

Camp Henry, Day Two

(Posted by: Anne)

After a late night, today started early. Henry woke up at 6:30 and waited patiently for the rest of us to get up. (And by “waited patiently” I mean tiptoed in every few minutes to ask a slew of important questions in a whisper voice…until I figured it was easier to just get up and start some breakfast. Really, for hist first day not at home, sleeping alone in another boy’s room, and about to go to a new camp in a new town, he did GREAT. I hope my kids are as resilient and self-reliant as he is.)

Once I got up, I think the morning went pretty well. Henry and Jacob took Alice in the backyard for some ball-throwing and bladder-relieving while I made breakfast in a toaster that no longer toasts. (Hrrmph.) Molly slept. Henry ate yogurt, frozen strawberries and hard bread (can’t call it toast) and then went up to shower. Molly slept. I burned the bacon for the BLT’s while getting Henry in the shower. Molly slept. When Molly woke up (I think the burning bacon did the trick), I whipped up her smoothie, started another round of bacon, made a lunch sandwich for Jacob, assembled containers of grapes and baby carrots, loaded ice packs and cold juice boxes in lunch bags, deliberated over what to pack Molly for lunch, and then almost burned the bacon again when Henry started yelling from upstairs, “Aunt Anne! Aunt Anne!” Thank goodness for Jacob, who ran up and showed Henry how to turn off the shower. Phew. All that before 8:30 am. I see what folks mean when they say going from two kids to three is like going from man-to-man to zone defense. (Though in my case it’s one-to-three, since David’s traveling.)

Hey — I didn’t lose my cool for even a moment, and I chuckled to myself through it all. I’m feeling pretty proud of my little old self.

On the way to camp, Henry asked about our planned afternoon trip to the pool about 20 times, so I’m thinking he’s a little excited to swim. He also asked what in the world I’m going to do all day while he, Molly and Jacob are at camp. “I’m going to work,” I said. “Oh, so you’ll make about four or five phone calls?” Henry asked. So, he’s still spot-on funny, but maybe not so generous this morning.

Once at camp, the three kids marched right in the front door (Henry: “Hey, this doesn’t look like a camp at all…This looks more like a church!” St. Luke’s Pres., to be exact, which is where the camp takes up residence each summer) and then scattered into the first-morning frenzy. Henry never even looked back. And I waited, just to make sure, waving at the back of his head for a few minutes. As I said, what a resilient, self-reliant kid…

Camp Henry, Day One

(Posted by: Anne)

This afternoon, Henry arrived from Brooklyn and Camp Henry officially began for the Montclair Sailers. (He’s staying with us this week, going to a robotics/new media day camp with Molly and Jacob, and hanging with little ol’ me in the afternoons/evenings.) Molly and Jacob have been very excited about Henry’s visit, especially because we’re planning a little birthday celebration for him on Thursday at dinner, which means ice cream of some sort…and maybe even cake! We’re extremely lucky to be able to host Henry during his birthday week (he turns 7 on Friday).

Anyway, tonight I took the three kids to the grocery store to buy breakfast, lunch and dinner supplies for the week, letting them choose things like the rolls they prefer for Turkey Sub Lunch Day (Henry: whole wheat mini-ciabatta), yogurt flavors (Henry: bluberry, strawberry and peach), and cereal (Henry: Honey Nut Cheerios). Molly and Henry raced around the store at top speed, making up adventure tales about the decorated birthday cakes in the bakery, piling packages of pistachios into the shopping cart, collecting options for hamburger buns, and squealing more and more loudly until I threatened to separate them if they didn’t pipe down. (Aren’t I the fussbudget party pooper?) Shockingly, I had a delightful time at the store.

At checkout time, Jacob took out quarters that he’d brought to share with “the little kids” (his phrase) and they each bought something from the gumball-type machines near the front of the store. Molly and Henry each got a plastic, glow-in-the-dark necklace, and Jacob got a sticky grabber-thingy shaped like a zebra that you slap on car windows or on garbage that you don’t want to bend over to pick up. Henry gave his necklace to Molly, and Molly gave hers to me (“because you’re the best mom in the whole world”…so I put it on immediately). I overheard Henry saying, “Next time I’ll bring my own money and get something I really like.” I resisted the urge to race home and bring them back with fresh quarters so that Henry could leave the store more fulfilled. (We’ll go back before the week is up, for sure. I’m a softy.)

Henry is three of the funniest people I’ve ever met. I asked if the kids wanted a bag of Pirate’s Booty. “Well,” said Henry, “It’s not my favorite… I like the things that are cheesy and puffy and, well, puffed out.” Jacob thought he was describing Pirate’s Booty (which, of course, he was), but I knew Henry meant those orange Cheese Puffs. I said that I was going to just get the booty, since it was right there and Molly was about to eat her arm. “That’s okay,” said Henry, “I don’t have to eat any.” Really, he’s incredibly generous and laugh-out-loud funny at the same time! And, you should have seen him in the produce section: “Oh, Aunt Anne, can we get PEARS!” Sure, I said, and he loaded up a bag. I told him that Molly and Jacob don’t like pears and he said, “Well, you and your husband, David, can have some.” See what I mean? Generous AND funny.

There’s so much more to tell: like how I put chap stick on his sore belly button (“this pain is keeping me awake”) at 10:30 pm, just so he could settle down and go to sleep; and how M. and J. convinced H. to watch an episode of iCarly tonight (1. sorry, Jim & Cass; and 2. I needed just 15 minutes to get the hamburgers cooking at 8:00 pm and to decompress from the grocery store) and then H. said, politely, “Can we not watch iCarly ever again, please?” But, I’ll finish with a before-bed-dog-walking story.

(Quick back story: We “curb dive” on the nights before bulky waste pick-up to see what cool stuff we can rescue from the garbage truck, and now the kids are hip to the scene.) Earlier this evening, J. pointed out the some neighbors across the street had put curbside “two nice chairs, some fluffy pillows, and what looks to be a hockey stick…can we go get them?” So, after dinner, H., J., M. and I hooked Alice to her leash and went curb shopping. We came back with (sure enough) a hockey stick, a sled, and a rolling desk chair. I still don’t know what they look like; it was really dark out there (given how freakin’ late it was). During the “shopping” trip, H. was holding Alice’s leash, and Alice turned the tables and started decidedly walking H. I quickly got the kids, the sled, the hockey stick and the rolling chair back across the street, ditched the stuff, and then took the kids down the quieter side street for the real dog-walk. No sooner had I said, “Henry, you’re getting so much practice at handling a dog, by the end of this week you’ll be a pro,” than Alice took off after some invisible bunny-squirrel-chipmunk creature, pulling H. across our neighbor’s lawn and towards their side yard at an alarming speed. J. and M. started screaming (oh-so helpful, as you can imagine) and H. ran at a full gallop behind Alice, doing a fantastic job of keeping pace. I bounded over and disentangled H.’s wrist from the leash and gave Alice some serious business about who’s in charge, thank you very much. She calmed right down and promptly forgot about the mystery rodent. H. laughed about how surprising that was and talked about what a good job he did holding on to her (very self aware, that Henry). Returning to my earlier comment, H. then said, “I’m especially good at handling dogs, considering how strong Alice is!” There he goes again: generous and funny.

(Note: I walked Alice the rest of the way home. She seemed quite pleased with herself. And she refused to pee. Given the amount of tests that Alice and Henry are giving each other, I think they are going to end up with a deeply respectful relationship by the end of this week.)

Now here it is, much too late, and the kids will surely be up much earlier than necessary tomorrow morning. Time to get some sleep, if I can, before someone almost-seven-years-old comes bopping in to say good morning. I’m just glad I convinced him NOT to set his alarm clock for the morning. This is going to be one wild week of Camp Henry! Good night, all.

Indiscriminate Grunting

(Posted by: Anne)

During our beach-house family reunion last week, we spent a lot of time with cousins, aunts and uncles jumping and riding waves at the Jersey Shore. In one of my favorite wave-hopping moments, my nephew Gabe turned to me and said, “The thing that I love about the ocean is that you can grunt loudly and indiscriminately, and no one cares!” Now, that’s a fantastic reason to go to the shore.

The Important Side of the Baseball Card

(Posted by: Anne)

This weekend, I bought Jacob a nine-pack of plastic binder sheets that hold baseball and other trading cards, thinking he might want to store at least a portion of his growing card collection in something more secure than a shoebox (which is far more secure than the bathroom window ledge on which they’d been precariously stacked before the box). I have to say that I was surprised at how happy he was about these divided plastic sheets! Right away, he sifted out the cards that would from that day forward live in a binder instead of a box and began loading them into the sleeves. That complete, he found an binder, emptied it, and loaded the cards into their new home. That was yesterday.

This morning, he brought his binder in the car for our journey to Molly’s and then his camp drop-off, and he spent the drive time quietly busy with the cards and pages. When we finally pulled into the tennis camp parking lot (which is surprisingly far from our home!), Jacob exclaimed, “Phew, it’s done!”

“What’s done?” I asked.

“I’ve turned all the cards around in the pockets so that the statistics side is the first thing you see,” he replied.

I appreciate this extra peek into Jacob’s brain. And, I’ll think twice before assuming that the important side of the baseball card is the side with the player’s picture.

Shoveled vs. Spayed

(Posted by: Anne)

A couple of weeks ago, Jacob and David were talking about dogs, in general, and about Alice, in specific. Jacob asked if Alice had been “shoveled.” It took a couple of beats to figure out that Jacob had connected our garden “spade” to the shovel. Yes, said David, she’s been “spayed.” (It’s just like Molly’s notches-to-nachos-to-tacos conversation. I love it!)