As I mentioned last time, we started off the week with some sick kids. I kept Andrew home Monday, which always feels like a sacrifice, as a slightly-sick Andrew is a bored Andrew who entertains himself by tormenting the other kids. Luckily, by Tuesday (when we thought we'd have to keep him home again as Evelyn was starting to show a rash some 48 hours after her fever and we worried he'd do the same), I was smart enough to do a little more research and found that most medical experts believe the rash was an immune response to hand-foot-mouth and by that point the individual is no longer contagious. Phew. So he went to school on Tuesday.
Here's Oliver from earlier in the week. The rashes are finally starting to go away.
Wednesday was the district science fair. Like last time, it went from Andrew being super excited (the winners get money!) to being quite upset, though at least he didn't cry this year. Although he's a smart kid with a decent project, there were a lot of other great projects at the district fair and he just didn't stand out to the judges. It's subjective (more or less--there are a few standout projects, like the 3rd grader who mummified Cornish game hens because she wanted to learn how mummification worked).
But Andrew struggles with things like this, because in his mind, if you work at something, you *should* win. Sometimes it works, like with the Spelling Bee. But most of the time, it doesn't, and if you don't find intrinsic satisfaction in the work you do, you'll struggle to find happiness in life because so many things are subjective. (Hmm. Maybe I need to take this more to heart myself!) Anyway, he spent the thirty minutes or so after we got out of the Fair raging about how unfair it was and how he should have won . . . I guess we still need to work a little on good sportsmanship, though I was telling Poppy tonight how far Andrew has come in playing Pollyanna. He doesn't even cry now when his guy gets sent home. It's hard to be eight and want so much.
It's hard to be any age and want something that badly. (I'm trying to be more mindful of Elder Zwick's advice to try to first see the other person's perspective).
Oliver discovered Evelyn's dress-up shoes this week and has been delightedly clattering around the house (and risking his neck--he's not quite adept at the high heel thing).
I'm beginning to have a love/hate relationship with conference. I love the inspiring messages and the time with family. I don't like that I struggle so much with my expectations: I always picture this beautiful, inspiring occasion surrounded by quiet children who actually let me listen, and the reality doesn't exactly look like that and then I get frustrated. It seems, in particular, that the more I need to hear a particular message, the more the kids act out, and the more frustrated I get. (I don't think that's coincidental--but it is something I need to work at). Anyway, yesterday was not good. Today was better--mostly because I did better at letting go of those expectations.
Also, the crepes Dan made for breakfast might have helped. Oliver was particularly fond of the whipped cream.
And Andrew seems to make it his personal mission to eat as many as he can (he can out-eat me). He likes strawberries and whipped cream.
And Evelyn--my beautiful, sensitive little girl--is entering on that awkward phase of childhood where all her teeth come out at once and she looks a bit like a jack-o-lantern for a while. She's currently missing five teeth; only two have started to come in. And both front teeth are loose and she pushes them out with her bottom lip so now they permanently jut forward, giving her a distinct buck-toothed look.
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