Constellation

Yet another episode in "What I said/What I should have said":

The backstory: Last week I had to assemble and get both of the boys to sign valentines for two different classes, for a total of around 80 valentines. Then I had to remember to bring various things for the various parties. (All of this while planning a ladies' night to host at our house on Monday.) For Zach's school party on Tuesday, I was supposed to bring strawberries. All weekend long I made myself mental notes to remember to get the strawberries, which I did on Monday, and then I wrote on the white board, "Strawberries for Z" so we'd remember to bring them to school. Then on Tuesday morning as I was rushing to get out the door for work, I saw Dave making the kids their breakfast, which included two plates of neatly...sliced...strawberries. Aaaaagh!!!!

What I said: "Why did you go out of your way to open up the package and cut up the strawberries?!?! There are freshly washed grapes right in the front of the fridge!!!!!

What I should have said: "Thank you so much for making breakfast for the boys."

Yet another reason why I should be restricted to written communication alone; leave the speaking to other people.

Regarding the mom party; my brave friend who fought off lung cancer two years ago has it back again and she's preparing for another round of chemo and radiation. She has been through so many things that I would not wish on anyone, and yet somehow she always emerges gracefully, with her head held high. We have a little group of mom-friends who meet once a month or so; Sarah's impending treatment called for an emergency meeting of the group. As it turned out, Valentine's Day was the only day we could all swing some time together without needing babysitters or crazy childcare arrangements. So Dave and the other men willingly gave up their evenings and the ladies came over to our house, where we sat in the hot tub under the stars and tried to have as normal a time as possible. Dave was of course our knight in shining armor; staying up late to help with cleanup and dishes.

Speaking of Dave, he did one of his 20-mile runs on Sunday and then afterwards he had a ... nap? No, don't be silly. He had a choice of taking Luke to a birthday bowling party or hanging out with Zach. Perhaps it was no surprise that he decided to hang out with the Z-man rather than mix it up with 30 six- and seven-year-olds. So what did they do? You might have guessed soccer or beach time, but what he did was even cooler: He took Zach to the art supply store and bought black posterboard and glow-in-the-dark stars. Then he helped Zach make a nighttime constellation poster, which they hung up on the "ceiling" of Zach's bunk bed (i.e. the underneath of Luke's bed). And it really glows in the dark! And it really has a Big Dipper!

As previously discussed, Zach loves helping to get ready for a party, so he fully embraced the idea of me having a "mom party." All weekend long he was contemplating what to serve for the mom party, and somehow he latched on to the idea of a "whipped cream cake." The strange coincidence is that I had just been thinking of what to make my guys for Valentine's Day, and I had been thinking about making my mom's creme de menthe torte, which was my favorite dessert when I was a kid, and which involves quite a bit of whipping cream. So Zach was thoroughly excited to carry out the plan. He helped me pound the graham crackers to make the crust, melt the marshmallows, and then finally whip the cream. We wound up making two tortes, one for our family and one for the party - and then it turned out we had so much other food for the party that the moms never even got to it.  Needless to say, we have all been enjoying lots of nice minty, creamy dessert all week long.

I had a chance to volunteer in Luke's class this week for the harvest from the garden they had planted back in October. That morning as they were getting ready to head out to the garden, the teacher announced that they would be picking and sampling lettuce, snap peas, radishes, and carrots. Luke raised his hand and said, "Uh...I already had breakfast." To his credit, he did try a little of each thing, but it was nothing like a few of the other kids who asked for seconds. On salad. At 9:00 in the morning. Go figure.

For all of his various foibles, Luke is unquestionably good at at least one thing: reading. We just got a mid-year report back from the school, and it says that the goal for first graders at the mid-year point is to read 30 words (aloud) per minute with 95 percent accuracy. Then it showed Luke's test results: He reads 133 words per minute with 100 percent accuracy. I don't think I can even read 133 words per minute.

Now here comes the burden of having a kid who reads everything he can get his hands on: Luke was asking me about September 11 the other morning. Why? Because there was a reference to it in Doonesbury, and Luke had been reading Doonesbury as part of his Sunday morning comics ritual. It really caught me off guard, in the same way the "Kevlar boxer shorts" joke in Baby Blues did the other day. File that under: Not Ready For That Whole Talk.

Now where was I? Stars. Yes, stars. I am wishing on one for each of us, especially Sarah, tonight.