Umm...what?

I. HATE. THE. PHOTOBUCKET.

Apparently, I have exceeded my bandwidth so my account is suspended. When I went to upgrade to pro which gives you unlimited bandwidth? They told me I cannot until I cancel my previous subscription. Which they won't let me do for reasons unknown to me.

These are things that might have been nice to be told, I don't know, YESTERDAY.

Morons.

I have emails into their customer service. They best be fixing it soon. Or I might be killing them.

Doing my best to fix the look of this hideousness soon. Hang in there.

In the meantime: Send chocolate and diet coke immediately.

Testing my patience

Today's lesson in the culinary arts comes from Chase.

When you want to make a shake after a long, hard day at school, it is wise to remember one thing before starting:

Make sure the bottom is put on the blender BEFORE you pour the #!@$ milk and it runs all over the counter and floor.

Also of note: The blender is hereby off-limits to sixth grade boys pending further notice.

Adorable new smiles notwithstanding.

Telephones and toilets don't mix

Last week, I was on the phone with a teacher from Hannah's school.

See, Hannah has recently started going one day a week to a creative learning campus* and the adjustment has been a bit of a struggle. She feels lost, is frequently in tears, and is begging to return to her home school.

I have worried and wrung my hands about how to help her. I feel that to let her quit something after such a short time goes against everything I am trying to teach her about commitment and endurance.

When she faked sick last Friday to try and get out of going, and my tears mirrored her own, I decided it was time to ask for help. I made calls and sent emails to the school counselor, as well as her morning and afternoon teachers.

One of the teachers eventually found a few minutes in her busy day to return my call. As we chatted, I shared with her the struggles that Hannah has been having. I found myself pouring out my anxiety and worries quite tearfully over the phone. I begged and pleaded for her wisdom as an educator to help me help my child.

And then, over the phone I heard --

-- the distinct and disgusting sound of a flush.

Followed shortly thereafter by the sound of running water.

And the unmistakable crank of a paper towel dispenser.

Her 'mmm-hmmms' suddenly seemed a little less attentive than I thought they were.

I was horrified and repulsed. She could not take two minutes to go to the bathroom BEFORE calling me back? She couldn't mute her phone? The fact that I was crying and pouring out my soul to her while she sat on a toilet did nothing to reassure me that my daughter was in good hands.

Albeit, very clean post-toileting hands.

I must beg the question of you, dear internets -- have you ever made a call whilst on the pearly white throne? Do you flush and dial? Are you a pee talker?

I. am. not.

And I'll try not to judge those of you who are.

*Hannah begged and begged all last year to be tested for admittance into our district's Center for Creative Learning. I finally acquiesced, she was admitted this year, and absolutely hates it. In spite of the phone/toilet interaction, we have come up with some good strategies to help her and she is feeling better about it. I, however, will likely be scarred for life.

Remembering

This morning, my husband will pack a suitcase and get on a plane.

I am more than a bit mindful of the irony.

You see, ten years ago today, he innocently boarded a similar flight. It was a crisp, fall day then. It is a crisp, fall day now. His mind that day was undoubtedly on the meetings ahead; not on the horror that would follow.

Today, as he looks around the terminal at his fellow passengers, I can't help but wonder if the thoughts are running through his head. Who among them has a heart full of hate? Who has children? Who is all alone? Who will never get to mend fences with loved ones or say goodbye? Who will not live to make it back home?

My fervent prayer is that those questions will not be answered. Today or any day in the future.

The days following the terror attacks ten years ago were surreal. Where we lived, normally reserved and crusty New Englanders stopped and hugged strangers on the street. Petty troubles were forgotten, crime virtually disappeared.

It felt as though we had a unified purpose. We became one people, with one heart. We were a nation under attack, and we refused to let the terror win. We rallied around political leaders, regardless of our preferred party. We took the time to call family and make sure they were okay. For once, we didn't mind waiting in line at the store or the traffic light. We found patience for our children. We clasped hands with strangers and prayed together. We felt our hearts ache for those less fortunate.

In short, we were exactly as we should be.

I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to see my country at its best. My children have never seen this firsthand, and I pray it doesn't take another horrific act of violence to bring it about again. Please take today, and remember what it felt like in those few weeks following 9-11. Remember the pride you felt for your country and your people. Remember the love you had for your fellow man and forgive those who have hurt you. Be kind to strangers and refrain from judging others. Be patient and thoughtful. Help those in need.

Live just a little bit better.

BE just a little bit better.

And, please, don't ever forget.

A five-thousand dollar smile

Today was a very big day in the Chase world. Probably the biggest he's known so far. I'll let his note do the talking:

It says:

Dear Siblings:
I am down stairs with my bran-new smile. Mom got me a cake and this. Please come see me.

Chase

P.S. Eat my goody bag*
P.P.S. MP are 40 tokens**

In case the full-sugar soda and "bran-new smile" don't clue you in, he got his braces off today. He about broke the dentist chair with happy feet when they told him the good news.

I doubt his brace-face brother will feel the same joy.

Here's hoping the cake at least cheers him up.

* The orthodontist handed him a gigantic goody bag full of all the treats he has been unable to eat for the last 18 months. Seemed contrary to good oral hygiene practices, but seeing as I ate a few things out of it myself, who am I to complain?

** The orthodontist also has been giving them tokens every visit and he and McKay have their eye on something Xbox related that is called MP. I have no clue.

What I really meant to say was...

This morning, both my boys got up with their alarm clocks.

And by alarm clocks, I mean me tramping down the hall and telling them to get up.

They proceeded to cheerfully shower and get ready for school.

And by cheerfully, I mean fight about who had to take a shower first.

After much negotiation, they finally both had showers, and headed downstairs to quietly make themselves some breakfast.

And by quietly, I mean wake-the-dead-loud.

McKay is in a smoothie phase right now, and there's nothing I love more than hearing the blender crunch up ice at six in the morning.

And by love, I mean hate.

I hugged them both, handed out lunches, and waved as they went out the door. Then I promptly began to exercise.

And by exercise, I mean crawl back into bed and fall asleep.

An hour later, it was time to rouse the little Hannah. She woke up in her usual cheerful way.

And by cheerful, I mean hate-the-world-grumpy.

She quietly ate her breakfast while I made her lunch. She then calmly styled her hair and got dressed.

And by calmly, I mean with many tears. Her hair was "too fuzzy" (her words) to do anything with today. There might have been some silent cursing on her part.

And by silent, I mean slamming of doors and loud sighing.

I dried her tears, fixed her hair, and dropped her off at school with a bit of melancholy in my heart for the loss of her company.

And by melancholy, I mean joy.

I then plotted out my day and began my work ahead.

And by work, I do mean climbing back into bed yet again and ignoring it all.