Paddle Boy Story Up Date

May 28th, 2011

I just so happened to bump into PJ’s English teacher in the hall yesterday.

We started talking about the sex ed discussion the kids had in class.  When I brought up the fact that PJ shared the Paddle Boy story her response was, “Oh, I don’t remember hearing about that, I remember her sharing that she was born in an elevator!”

No…she was NOT born in an elevator!


Ohhhhh Little League

May 24th, 2011

Yup…found this on the way to our first Little League game of the year.

At least we know they were well hydrated, seeing it was made from a Gatorade bottle.


Who doesn’t want to do it all?

May 23rd, 2011

This is the problem…I want to do it all.

I think I can do it all.

And then there are moments, like this morning, when I get up at 4:00 am so I can do exactly that, get it ALL done.  Then suddenly there is a chink in the armour, the gig is up.

The feeling that it will all come crashing down washes over me, not one of the many plates I am spinning can spin true, nothing will be done well and they will all come tumbling down in a heap of broken glass around my ankles.

Seriously, not a good way to kick off a Monday.

And here is a good example of why not to tell your kids things

May 21st, 2011

Third grade is when our public school system decided it was the right time to start teaching the kids about sex education.  They learned about male and female “parts”, the sperm and the egg and when those two things mix up together that they make a baby.  They watched a baby being born and then wrapped up the experience with sharing and question time.

PJ came home, the day of SEX EDUCATION CLASS, and asked me all sorts of questions about how I felt when she was born, if it hurt, did I cry, was she cute, all those things.  Then she went on to tell me she shared a family story with the class.  She said, “I told them that I had a baby brother that died (oh how she loves the dramatic).  He was still in your belly when he died and you named him Paddle Boy.”

A sort of audible cough/laugh/choking sound came out of my mouth as I said, “Really?  You shared that?”   She replied with a, “Yup and Mal shared that her dad passed out when she was being born.”

It is at this point you might be wondering if Paddle Boy was real. Did we really have a child that died? Did we really name the child Paddle Boy?

Answer:  yes, kind of.

The story of Paddle Boy.

I was pregnant for the first time back in 99.   We were so excited because it seemed to take an awfully long time to get this deal going. There was lots of temperature taking and charting and trying to figure out when I was ovulating and lots of sex…yeah baby, lots of it.

We found out I was pregnant and couldn’t have been happier.  I was seven weeks along.   With my first pregnancy, I was reading just about every damn book under the sun to know exactly what stage the fetus was in day by day.  At seven weeks of pregnancy their tiny little arms and legs are growing by leaps and bounds but they start out looking like buds and turn into paddles and then turn into fingers and toes.

Needless to say, I started to cramp and bleed and cry and think the world was coming to an end and ultimatly ended up in the ER filled with sick people while I was having a miscarrage.  There were so many people there.  It was the middle of winter and we were hosting a large family dinner at our house.  They were all there…Adam and I were not.   We had been waiting for HOURS  in the chairs. The pain was becoming so intense that I dragged my sweating cramping body over to the nurse to ask if I could go somewhere else, anywhere else, while we waited for a room.

They sat me in a dialysis chair right behind the triage nurse.  I could at least lay down.  I was wearing jean overalls, Adam was wearing an orange J Crew roll neck sweater.  One little tiny ball of his orange sweater sat on my belly.  I was crying at the pain and the loss and the possibility of it never working out.  Adam picked up the little orange ball, looked me in the eyes as he cocked his head to the side and said, “Hey honey, this would be the perfect size sweater for paddle boy.”

And in that moment that felt like the end of the world, we laughed and laughed and laughed, as the tears rolled down our cheeks.








May 15th, 2011

Dear KP,

You are it.  You are the little one, the little brother, the littlest Sellke, the one who watches everyone go first.  And you my friend, are so much older and wiser for it.

You get to navigate the waters differently.  You see things I would have never let your older brother see at your age.  You do things I would have never let your siblings do at your age.  You have a lot of room to roam and you take every last space and fill it up.

You are the one that makes us laugh so hard tears roll down our cheeks. You are the one that finds wonder in everything.  You are the one that can hug so lovingly that you walk away from the experience instantly changed.

Everything you take on, you take it on with great abandon.  From eating to playing to school you dive in hard and fast and don’t let go.

You are an amazing kid to watch and an utter joy to have around.

May this next year fill you up in all ways possible.

I love you and am so lucky to be your mom.

Ohhh and remember, when you are playing with the hand saw while we aren’t watching, just be really careful!



Sweet P turns 9

May 2nd, 2011

Who knew at 9 you would HATE pink?

Or want to wear your brother’s clothes.

Or play ball and skateboard.

Or speak Chinese.

Or be strong willed.

Or be so small, but so mighty.

Or be so funny and smart.

Or be such a wonderful little girl.

May this 9th year be filled with magic and wonder.

Oh how I love and admire you.