School Daze

First Day Giggles

Things are always interesting when Noe and Asher start a new school year, and this year has not disappointed. Some highlights so far:

*Asher walked into his class on the first day of school and loudly announced, "I'm Here...."

*Noe lost ALL of his school supplies somewhere between the bus and his classroom on the first day of school. I had to have a school supply shopping REDO and it was even LESS fun the second time around.

*We had some slight fog one morning and Asher insisted on taking a flashlight for the walk to school. And not the little mini flashlight. He needed the mega we-only-get-this-baby-out-for-hurricanes flashlight.

*Our typical morning plan involves Noe and I walking Asher to his school and hurrying back in time for Noe to catch his bus. On Day 6, I was pulling Noe along towards his bus stop because we were running a little late and he face planted the ground. Skinned knees, ankles, hands ..... skinned everything. I tried to clean him up, but when Noe saw his bus, he wanted nothing to do with me. I'm sure his teacher wondered why the heck I sent him to school covered in blood.

*Asher is pretty closed lipped about his kindergarten experience thus far, which surprises me because he would tell me every detail of his preschool day. He says he likes it, but the day is "too long." I totally agree. What few details I get out of him, need translation. He likes eating at the "lunchroom basement" (cafeteria) and doing "field time" (recess) and yesterday they did "laughing arts" (language arts - he must have been reading a schedule).

*Yesterday Asher did tell me that some lady "NOT Mrs. Washington!" (his teacher) took him out of class to talk and practice reading. I think he was getting tested for ESOL. We received a letter from the school informing us that we had been racially profiled and Asher would be tested. A part of me wishes that his Spanish was good enough for this to even be an issue!

*I received a colorful and detailed daily schedule from Noe's first-year teacher. There is a block of time after lunch each day allotted to yoga. Good luck with that, First Year Teach!

*Both of my boys have issues with public restrooms and I should have anticipated it would be a problem at school. Noe will only go at the very last minute (thank goodness he has a bathroom in his classroom) and Asher hasn't gone at all! He goes before school and holds it until he gets home. Kid has an XL size bladder. I asked Asher what he was going to do if he had to go during the school day and he told me he planned to run home really really fast. Some days I half-expect to see Asher's little face at the door, even though I emphatically explained that running home was NOT an option. My sister suggested I send a florescent yellow vest for him to wear so at least he'd be safe crossing the streets!

Best story of all:

Mondays are half days of school. For Noe, this means he has a different bus driver and route on Mondays compared to the other days. On the first Monday of the school year, I got a call on my cell phone from the Transportation Office saying that the bus was waiting at the stop with Noe while I was finishing up a run. Panicked, I sprinted the last two blocks. I was completely puzzled because the call had come only 5 minutes after Noe's school day ended and it takes at least 10 minutes for me to drive him to his school (and a bus would take even longer). When I got to his stop, there was no bus and no Noe. I called the office back, trying to locate Noe. After being transferred and put on hold for more than a half-an-hour, I finally had someone's word that they would contact the bus driver and call me back. An hour later, after receiving no call, Noe's bus pulled up. I rushed out to discover that the bus was late, and it had never arrived the first time. I had received the call by mistake. The transportation assistant then pointed to Noe and asked me, "Are you Paul's mother?" I replied, "This is Noe, and yes, I am his mother." She then looks at the bus driver and says, "There is a mistake. We can't give her this child. His name is Paul." Whaa....? I then boarded the bus and showed her the label on Noe's backpack. She looked confused and said, "Well, his folder says his name is Paul Frank." I had purchased Noe a school folder similar in design to this one.

I still don't know whether to laugh at her mistake or cry because my son is in her care.

Turf Wars

enemy #1 - headed to soccer practice

My vision for our living space was very clear when we purchased our current home. The boys would have ownership of the bottom level. They would share a large room that would be subdivided into a sleeping area and play area. They would also have their own bathroom. The middle level would be shared living space with the living room, dining area and kitchen. The upstairs? All ours. Ed and I would have our bedroom, bathroom and an office/guest room. To keep the boys happy in the basement, we spent a lot of time and money making the space comfortable and appealing. We put down hardwood floors, got rid of the cottage cheese ceiling, painted and decorated all shades of blues and reds and cars and trains.

This grand plan has been under siege, pretty much from our move-in date over three years ago. In Gremlin-like fashion, the toys migrated up into the living area. Eventually, they found their way onto the top floor. MY floor. Every day I throw the toys back down the stairs, and every morning they come back up the stairs, like stray cats that just won't get the hint.

The boys also like to bathe....not shower. Spoiled little things. Their bathroom has only a shower, so their bath stuff and toothbrushes have found real estate next to my Burts Bees and Body Shop products in the master bath.

A couple weeks back I came home from work to find Asher had labeled the bathrooms in our home. The upstairs bathroom, MY bathroom, now had a big imposing "MEN" sign on the door. The downstairs bathroom, next to the boys' beds, was now the designated Ladies room. He was very proud, so I played along for the day and only used the ladies facilities in the basement, IKEA pirates mirror, plastic footstool, and all.

Only when I found myself walking past my own bathroom and stumbling down two flights of stairs to reach my assigned bathroom in the middle of the night did it finally occur to me.

I was losing this war.

Fearing we were in for many more years of battles, a mini-Vietnam of sorts in the middle of the Northern Virginian suburbs, or even worse, that we could end up on one of those home organization shows on cable, I decided to launch Operation Reclaim My House.

Operation RMH began September 7th and it is no small coincidence that school began on that date as well. The last two weeks have been a manic blur of sorting, organizing, throwing out, giving away. Making sure all little boy things have a home that isn't in my desk drawer or under my pilates mat. Throwing away all signs written in colored marker that tell me where I can sit, sleep and pee.

Overall, I am claiming victory. I even pulled out a copy of our house deed to show Asher that, in fact, our little slice of NoVA belongs exclusively to his mother and father and he has nothing more than squatters rights (he offered to write his name in colored marker onto the deed).

But even as this battle has been fought, the war is long ..... wish me luck.

Best of Summer 2010 in Photos, Part 1

There is Easy Ed holding a "press conference" for the digital journalism students at Fairfax Collegiate. He was very nice to do it after a long night's work and no sleep in sight.

Virginia Beach, August 2010. I think Noe could have stayed out on that board in the middle of the ocean until Labor Day.


Virginia Beach, August 2010. Photos taken of both boys together often reveal how protective Asher is of his older brother. I LOVE this photo....
June 2010. We tried to use the metro system a lot during our time in LA because there is a new stop just three blocks from Abuelos house. It was a fun way to navigate the city. Here are the boys dressed in their LA uniforms coming back from Olviera Street.

July 2010. I love this picture of Asher at his Abuelos house. He looks like any kid in Mexico,
with his flip flops and soccer ball. Except he was in LA. And his Spanish could be better. And he won't eat most Mexican foods. And his abuelos won't let us cross the border right now.


May 2010. Swimming at Lake Fairfax. End-of-school picnic. Pretty sure that water really isn't
clean enough to be swimming in.....

The Beach Boy

I recently e-mailed an author whose work I admire to tell him I was eager to see his next book project, which I had heard him discuss in an interview. I didn't expect a response, but lo and behold the next day, there was an e-mail from him. He gave the usual thanks for writing before closing with the following words of encouragement with regards to being a father:

"There is pain -- there always will be -- but there is hope."

This writer has a son who grew up having to overcome plenty of obstacles, and I had told him a little bit about Noe. I think what he said goes for any parent when it comes to raising children, but it seems to ring particularly true if your child has special needs. There is a constant worry and weariness that comes with each day, you're terrified at how he'll maneuver the world after you're not there to help him, you fret about the things he'll miss out on that most typical developing kids get to do.

But as he said, there is hope. Which brings me to our trip to Virginia Beach last month.

Surfers Healing is an organization that holds one-day surfing camps all over the country. Because they're free, they tend to fill up fast. We finally got lucky and were able to sign him up for one this year. Based on everything we'd seen and read, we figured he would enjoy it. But as with anything else we do with him, we went in feeling somewhat wary.

It turned out to be one of the best experiences we've had with him.


Noe was excited and eager as he rode wave after wave after wave. It was like he had been doing it for a long time. Very calm, very at ease while waiting for that perfect wave. It was a day that brought great joy, pride and yes, tears. For a few hours at least, all my fears and worries melted away as I saw Noe shine and thrive at something he loved.

It's a great credit to Surfers Healing, which was very organized and professional because we were far from the only ones who walked away with memories that will last a lifetime.


Noe will continue to face challenges as he gets older (he started second grade this week, and turns 8 in December) and we'll do the best we can, much as we always have. But it's days like the ones at Virginia Beach -- the hope that the author told me about -- that makes the pain all worth it.