Monday, October 31, 2011

Pre-Helenoween


What a busy weekend it was. let me give you a little rundown on what occurred:


*inhales large breath*

Friday night, get off work early. Pick Helena up. Take her to the school carnival. Jump on bouncy houses. Slide down inflatable slides. Balance an egg. Attempt to do rock climbing wall. Get too scared. Get face painted. Eat roasted corn. Eat kettle corn. Skip helping out at the class booth. Having too much fun. Get hair spraypainted. Leave carnival. Short drive from the school to Biltmore. Outdoor movies in the park. Watch Beetlejuice. Pet stranger's dogs. Veg on the blanket. Eat more kettle corn. Pack up. Go home. Friends visit. Show off decorations. Friends leave. Make a list of everything you have to do. Reconsider. Watch reruns of The Office instead.

(while I'm pausing to breathe, you can watch these videos of Helena at the carnival)







Wake up early Saturday morning. Make Helena's breakfast. Take my Carole King record off the wall and realize it works. Listen to it three times. Clean the house. Send Jordon to run errands. Keep cleaning. Set up the food table. Make chili. Make pepperjack pinwheels. Yell at Jordon for taking forever. Make guacamole. Set up the backyard. Change lightbulbs. Bathe Helena. Fashion a wooden finger (with Jordon's help). Trim my wig. Hang up tarps. String lights. Put Helena's costume on. Shower. Put on my costume. Set out food. Put on wig. Guests arrive. Yell at Jordon to put on his costume. Make Spider Cider. Watch how many guys it takes to set up the projector. Drink. Talk. Barely eat. Play games. Drink more. Give prizes. Guests leave. Complain about not taking pictures. Eat a cupcake. Realize how much you drank. Go to sleep. Wake up too late on Sunday morning. Miss going to the cupcake festival Jordon got tickets to. Post-party cleanup. Get told a dozen times to have the party again next year. Complain again about not taking pictures. Calm Helena down for an hour after she realizes she was the murderer from the party game. Relax on couch. Watch Breaking Bad. Watch Breaking Bad. Watch Breaking Bad. Make spaghetti. Eat spaghetti. Watch reruns of The Office. Open the Halloween candy early. Read a story to Helena. Go to sleep.

Phew! I'm exhausted. :P


{Stay tuned for costume party pics}

Friday, October 28, 2011

Helena-ism 306

"I don't want that with the top of my lungs."

In reference to a dingy toy we got from Goodwill to mutilate for our Halloween party.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Helena-ism 305

While simultaneously watching Jordon play Demon's Souls and running Ghost Radar on my phone:

"Demons are real. They live under us and that's what makes the ground hard."

You Spin Me Right Round, Baby


This morning, just before 6 AM, Helena snuck into our room like she does most mornings. What stood out in particular today, is that in the early signs of sunlight peeking through the blinds, I could make out Helena's figure next to the bed – spinning. Her eyes closed, not saying a word, spinning in circles repeatedly. Finally, I guess she decided she had had enough and curled up into bed with me.

I suppose this is no stranger than when she enters the room mumbling half-dream, half-conscious thoughts like "They were all gonna explode" or "The fish looked scary, but then I touched it and it gave me a kiss". On several occasions, Jordon has caught her sliding into the room on her belly. I gather as a way to be stealth gaining access to the bed without our knowledge. Most times I'm not even aware she's crawled into the bed. I just wake up in the morning to find her laying next to me. We must have one of those mattresses you see in the commercials with the lady jumping on the bed with a glass of red wine precariously placed on it.

One morning, I wasn't privy to the fact she was in the bed until I saved her from rolling off the side of it. I've been trying for months to get Helena to spend the whole night in her room. I've tried bribing her, I've tried punishments, resorting to the promise of surprises on the rare instances she spends the entire night in her own bed. I only do this because I know it's important for her to have a routine and get a good night's sleep – that's important for both of us actually. Her teacher reiterated this at the parent/teacher conference I had with her last week. Apparently, Helena likes to pass out on the rug at school. It's hard for me to raise too much of a stink about it though. Because I know one day she won't want to sleep in my bed anymore. Or probably be anywhere near me. There will be no more spinnning. No more sleep-talking or belly sliding. And I'll miss those early morning cuddle sessions, where I catch a glimpse of her sleep-smiling at her dreams.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Helena-ism 304

"I smell something like broccoli that's been sitting in the toilet for days and is burnt."

Monday, October 24, 2011

Helena-ism 303

"How do you spell Thomas? .... But T-H? ... That doesn't make any sense!! It's not 'thOMAS'!" (pronounced with the actual 'th' sound)

We had this same exchange over the spelling of 'school' this morning.

Let's Make Beautiful Music


Last week, we took Helena to a free concert at a new venue downtown called The Crescent Ballroom. Granted, the concert was held in the more bar-esque, loungy area as opposed to the main stage – probably not the most appropriate setting for a kid at nine o'clock on a weeknight. But she was on Fall Break the next day and given the nature of the music, I thought it would be right up her alley.

Allow me to backtrack... about a year ago, the two of us were in the car and were listening to a song that went into a pretty extensive violin solo. Helena, never having heard a violin before, asked what was making that pretty sound. And thus, her love for the violin began. When she saw a little girl in her class bring hers in and play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, it was the first time I realized I am a slacker as a parent. Well, maybe not a slacker... but falling behind anyway.

While other kids are already in swimming competitions and playing instruments at recitals, Helena's biggest extracurricular activity is Spongebob Squarepants marathons. And for the past year, as events unfolded and changed in our lives, I've endured Helena's requests to begin violin lessons. Always assuring her one day we'd get around to it. Yet, here we still are.

So, as soon as I brought up seeing a real live violinist, not going wasn't an option. We got prime seats right near the stage, and she impatiently sat through the opening act in the dim, quiet bar. Of course, making noises and squirming around and jumping on Jordon. All the while saying things like "Do you like this music?" "It's too loud." and "When's the violin player coming up?" as we shushed her repeatedly. At one point, she said, "I'm going to play the violin." And began making screeching noises, which I can only assume will resemble much what the actual violin will sound like when she first picks it up.

The violin player, named Tobie Milford, finally approached the stage and from the moment he pulled the instrument from its case, Helena was frozen. I have never seen her sit so still for so long, without being asleep (which eventually happened about five songs in). When she watched him though, I saw something in her. I saw the desire to want to be able to play an instrument like that. I saw the curiosity reflected in her eyes and the genuine interest as she bobbed her head from side to side in a rhythm that complemented each tune. It was a beautiful thing.

As I carried all of her dead weight in my arms out into the night and back to the car, I made myself a promise – that it was time to start keeping some promises.