The biggest change around here is that Zoe has started going to Mother's Day Out. Or school, as we like to call it. Zoe loves the idea of going to school, just like her big brother. The reality can be a little trickier. The first day she didn't shed a tear when I left. A little uneasiness, then I pointed out the play kitchen and she ran off to check it out. The next couple times? Crying a river. Inconsolable. Not fun for anyone. Although the teachers assure me that she stops after a few minutes and has fun thereafter. She's certainly having fun when I pick her up. And once she's safely in my arms again, she's happy to tell me that she went to school! and went on the slide! and painted! and ate snack! and she'll sing a song she learned! So I feel comfortable saying she's doing well, even if the strain of separation is pushing her normal sunny disposition.

It probably goes without saying that I'm enjoying this. Free time! Four hours to myself, two days a week! Yipee! Even if I do mostly spend that time doing chores and running errands, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. It's still exciting. I love my kids to pieces, but I also love to get away from them every once in awhile. I feel a bit guilty about not feeling more guilty, in fact. 

Zoe is attending the program at First Baptist Denham Springs.  (Follow through Preschool Info, then Mother's Day Out; I can't link directly.) It's got a good reputation locally, and so far that seems well deserved. All indications are that the kids are well taken care of, with a sensible schedule of intellectual stimulation and free play, plus meal times and so on. The teachers seem nice, with a grasp of age-appropriate childcare techniques.

The main issue I can see arising is that they are, well, Baptist. And we decidedly are not. "Bible Stories" is part of the official schedule; they're clearly talking to the kids about Jesus and God and a toddler version of Baptist theology; I assume they're teaching them to pray before snack and lunch. I don't know if this will become a problem or not. I have no inherent problem with any of this. Bible stories are fun for little kids (assuming they focus on the more kid-friendly stories); we don't pray before meals at our house but I expect the kids to do so when we visit people who do; and I trust Zoe will care more about her parents' opinions about god than her teachers'. It's just something I intend to be aware of, in case things come up. I should probably add that it's not easy finding secular, quality preschools around here. The vast majority of the population wouldn't see that as a plus. The public school offer such, but only for low-income families, so that's out. 

Zoe has her own lunchbox now, which pleases her greatly. I think I'll take her out later this week to pick out her own backpack, too. Not that the canvas bag I've been using to hold her stuff doesn't work just fine, but I think she'd be far more thrilled by the backpack. Just like Nick! 

An important part of Cub Scouting is family camping trips. There are several each year. January means the Polar Bear camping trip. Now, that means something a little different down here. On Saturday night, they set out a styrofoam cup with water in it. Come morning, if there's ice in the cup, the boys all get their polar bear badge. Ironically, after several weeks of sub-zero nights and the attendant bitching and moaning, the weather warmed up just in time to ensure that no badges would be awarded. Instead, the forecast was for rain. We went out to Fountainebleau anyway. Because, I dunno. We're gluttons for punishment? I was in denial? If we'd gone as a day trip it would have been perfectly nice. It rained intermittently. When it wasn't, we went on a family hike, watched the boys frolic in the mud, hung out around the campfire. We toured the surprisingly nice visitor's center, where Nick and Zoe were particularly taken with the baby alligator in a fish tank, and where we fell into conversation with the ranger. As a result, he came out to our site and gave all the boys a nature presentation, which they seemed to enjoy a lot. There were four or five other families there, so not a bad turnout for lousy weather. It rained during every single meal, but you know, we've got a canopy. It was okay.

The problem was that we didn't just come out for the day. We arrived Friday evening, and set up camp in a downpour. It was awful. Then the seams on the windward side of the tent started leaking. By the time we noticed, the end of Nick's sleeping bag was soaked. Good thing he's short. He scooted over right next to us and was mostly okay. Zoe didn't like the tent, the rain, or the porta-crib, and didn't fall asleep till almost nine. Then she woke up at some ungodly hour of the morning. How early? I don't know; it was too dark to read my watch. But I finally got her back to sleep for awhile, and when she woke up again it was 6AM. It goes without saying that nobody slept well with a toddler roaming around the tent, complaining because we didn't want to read books or play with her. 

So that was a bad way to start the day, and it put me in quite a bad mood for much of the morning. It was hard for me to enjoy all that stuff I was talking about, even though in retrospect it all sounds pretty good. Midafternoon, I told Rich we were not staying another night. Maybe it would have been better, but I didn't feel up to trying. So we packed up some of our damp and muddy stuff, excepting only the tent, canopy, and cooking gear. The plan was to get the rest after dinner. Did I mention it rained during dinner? And it got worse, after. Which means we got to break down in a downpour, too! Whee! In the end, I was just cramming sodden tent parts into the back of the car, slogging through ankle deep puddles and trying not to trip. Rich and I squelched up to our seats, I popped in a movie for the kids, sitting dry and comfy in their seats, Zoe fell asleep, and we drove home through the night. 

*Water everywhere, and no ice in sight.

We're doing better around here, mostly. In fact, there's been a lot of good news recently, so this is my cheery post to balance out the week. Nick got a snow day on Friday, of all things - or an ice day, really. A rainy day plus sub-zero overnight temps meant a possibility of icy roads come morning, and this being the deep south, that means the day off. Aside from staying inside all day (because man was it cold, by our wimpy southern standards) we had a fun day. We did venture out to the park, just to go in the main building and register Nick for spring soccer. He regretted being out of sports last fall.

And he should be able to balance school and soccer, because his grades are like night and day compared to last year. Second quarter grades came home Thursday: straight As. We're all proud as punch around here, I tell you what. Nick's theory is that he's doing so well this year because (a) he's trying harder and (b) the words are easier. I agree with (a) but I'm thinking (b) maybe shows more about changes in his ability than changes in the assignment. He's doing so well he's being dropped from the extra dyslexic-focused tutoring sessions he was receiving at school. I'm not thrilled about that; he's still dyslexic, I can tell he still has trouble sounding out new words and using phonics properly, but I admit it's tricky to argue that a straight-A student needs extra help. We'll continue subtly monitoring the situation.

Nick is feeling the most stress from Ivan's death, I think, so I'm glad he has good news to balance it out. It's not that Nick was the closest to Ivan, it's that he's never confronted death on such a personal level before. His great-grandparents, after all, weren't people he knew very well. It was sad and upsetting, but he didn't have a lot of memories of them as living people to miss. Ivan was someone he interacted with every day. It's brought all his existential worries back to the surface. He's been complaining that he keeps thinking about his own eventual death. He's got a recurring rash, too, that I can't help suspect is stress-related, and he's been kind of wild and badly-behaved in the way of a little boy who's worried about stuff he can't fix. I'm not sure what to do for him but offer reasurrance and wait it out. Well, and take him to the doctor about that rash.

See, and this was supposed to be the cheerful post, and now look where it's gone! Let's try to get back on track, yes?  Zoe. She got her picture in the paper in October, and now she's made the "Best Pictures of the Year" list. Unfortunately I can't link directly to it this time, but trust me, she's there. Nick is quite green with envy. And I'll be sending out a few copies soon. When I get around to it.*

*If you didn't get a copy last time, and want one now, let me know before I send out all my copies. I'm trying not to send them to anyone I'm not sure would be thrilled to have their very own copy to display, and I may have erred on the side of caution. 

Today was Nick's first day back at school. So I dropped him off, then came home again. I read some books to Zoe. Then she wanted to read to herself, so I left her room and took a look around the house. That's when I found Ivan. He was having another fit. And as I stroked his head and comforted him, it gradually occurred to me that this one was worse than the previous episode. So I called the vet and told them we were coming right in. And I ran around the house, gathering the cat carrier, then rejecting it for a towel, stuffing Zoe in her jacket, carrying Ivan to the car, and crying. Because by the time we were all in the car, I was no longer sure that Ivan was alive. He was...disturbingly still. But I couldn't think of anything to do but keep going, so I did. Fifteen minutes to the vet. Usually. I may have done it in ten. And we rushed out of the car and into the vet's office, and the receptionist rushed him off to the vet, and I paced out in the waiting room and told Zoe that yes, that was a dog, and that was a cat on the wall. Because she was happy to be there, cheerfully oblivious to the crisis unfolding. And then the vet came out and I knew it was over.

It was a brain tumor, probably. We'll never know for sure. Not practical to treat in a cat of his age; he was 14 years old. And it was a quick and largely painless death, with no slow, miserable decline. It wouldn't have mattered if I'd been right by his side from the start; there was nothing to be done. None of this actually makes me feel any better, though.

Rich and I brought Ivan home from a pet store a few months after we moved into our first apartment. He's been a part of our lives for almost our entire relationship and almost half my life. He was our first baby. He didn't get as much attention after the kids came along, but I always loved him best of all our pets. Even in his old age, he kept the other animals in line. He slept on my pillow almsot every night. Every deli sandwich I ever made was missing a small piece of meat, Ivan's entitled share. 

I had to tell Nick when he got home from school. He was happy to be home, ready to play. It wasn't easy to take that away from him. And he cried. Of course he did; Nick has never known a time without Ivan. He knew Ivan was sick, but I don't think it had occurred to him that Ivan might die. Because he's just a little kid, and little kids don't think about things like that. Finally Zoe said something so absurdly out of place that we all had to laugh. And we dried our tears and went forward. Nick had fun at scouts later on. He suggested we go to the pet store and get another cat. Maybe we'll get him the goldfish he's been asking for instead. We talked more at bedtime, and I told him it was okay to be sad, that we'll all be sad for awhile when we remember Ivan. But we'll get through to being happy again. 

Nick decided that today we should home school Zoe. What he meant by this, it turned out, was that we should do what I used to call "playing school". Nick knows kids who home school, you see, but clearly he does not have much idea how that differs from what he does all day. Aside from the semantically amusing name, it turned out to be a good way to pass the day. Nick loves being in charge and teaching someone what he knows, and Zoe was delighted that big brother wanted to spend so much time with her.

The only fights all day were related to their age appropriate differences in imaginative play and focus. For example: Nick started the school day by herding everyone outside. Zoe got in the wagon with her "lunch box" and Nick pulled her up and down the driveway. This was riding the bus to school. Zoe understood this concept clearly and was thrilled to be riding the bus like the big kids. Everyone was happy. Later we came out again, for recess. Nick stood guard in the driveway, supervising Zoe's play (because he was the teacher on playground duty) Zoe started playing in the wagon, and Nick got very upset. It's the school bus! You don't get on the school bus at recess! But Zoe thought it was just a wagon again, and couldn't understand what his problem was. Parental intervention was necessary. 

Some of Nick's activities were a bust because they were too advanced for Zoe. But she liked looking at letters and numbers with him (on the blackboard, natch) and playing her new computer game, among other things. I suggested art class, but apparently today was PE day so they can't do art till tomorrow. We went to Baton Rouge for lunch with Beth and Jonathan and I declared this a field trip, to general satisfaction. At bedtime Nick told me Zoe will have school every weekend from now on, so he can teach her things.