I'm Being Myself

I've already conducted a webinar on puberty and adolescence in children with seizure disorders, made phone calls for my other job supporting advocacy efforts for kids in foster care, spoken to my sister about supporting Oliver with mindfulness meditation, gotten Sophie ready for an 11:00 orthotics fitting appointment that The Husband is thankfully taking her to, prepared for my afternoon meeting with the social worker from Medi-Cal and IHSS who will be appearing between noon and 2:30, hopefully closer to noon because I need to pick my boys up from school early because it's Tuesday, but not too close to noon because Sophie won't be back from her orthotic fitting, and she needs to be at the meeting so the social worker can ascertain whether she still needs benefits and am thinking ahead to this afternoon's semi-annual meeting with The Neurologist in Pasadena, hoping that she'll be in a better position to help ME get Sophie's medication added to Anthem's formulary so that I won't have to go to Vancouver, even though a trip away by myself in Vancouver is alluring.

There's a Mother-Son dance tonight, the culmination of Cotillion, and I'm kind of, sort of, hoping that Oliver will decide that he doesn't want to go. Because it's all too much. Then again, racing back from The Neurologist in Pasadena just in time to change my clothes to be squired around by my handsome youngest son is probably the brightest spot in an otherwise cockamamie schedule.

What are you up to, today?

Lacrosse, Cotillion and Cake

A few of you expressed interest and ignorance about the game of lacrosse. Both my boys play it, and while it's a new game on the west coast, lacrosse is a Native American game -- played hundreds and hundreds of years ago by Native American tribes in the northeast and all along the Atlantic seaboard. It's rough and tumble but less so than football and infinitely more fun to watch -- at least to me. I think it satisfies a lot of boy aggression, and at Henry's level (he's thirteen and in the junior high school league) is an exciting, skilled game to watch.

Henry is Number 13

At Oliver's level, it's a bit more mayhem-like, but Oliver is a tank and enjoys "bringing them down."

Oliver is Number 0

And here's Henry, cleaned up and ready for Cotillion. He recently topped me in height, but I told him that he's still my baby.

Oh, here's a cake I baked this weekend, and if you want to check out my updated food blog, How to Eat, here's the link.

Chocolate Cake with Milk Chocolate Buttercream

Cupcakes and Cotillion

The annual Mother/Son, Father/Daughter Cotillion made me feel very proud. I could barely walk after the dancing, though!

And the cupcakes? These were red velvet and chocolate, made for my dearest friend Moye's pottery show and sale. See her work and website here.

Cotillion

Oliver and one of his oldest friends

The ancient rite of dance and manners has swung round again.

Henry and Oliver went to their first cotillion of the season, and despite their propensity for jock-i-ness, they loved dressing up. I felt so proud of my two handsome boys, I nearly burst. The only trouble was that I could not get a non-goofy photo.

Scenes from an evening

Here's Oliver when told that he had to do some of his homework right now.

 Here's Oliver when told that there's one more piece of chocolate cake left:

 Here's Henry, acting goofy before Cotillion:

Here's Henry looking handsome before Cotillion:

Here's Sophie, looking tired after her six-hour infusion:

And just so you don't feel too sad for that girly up there, here's a peek at our Halloween mantel:

(Those are some leth-uh plays of Shakespeare, underneath the bric-a-brac, doo-dad, whatever, Halloween decorations)