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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Jacques Chitte who wrote (17193)	1/31/1999 1:16:00 AM
From: Ilaine	Respond to of 71178

Happy Birthday to Helen. Many happy more. These are the golden years. I remember Benjamin's first birthday. He got sick at approximately the same time that we served the cake, it turned out to be strep throat. Oy! Now he is 13, he found out yesterday that he made the first cut for Thomas Jefferson High School, he is one of the eight hundred, out of more than 2,500 who applied. We are very proud. But, he needs to be one of four hundred to make the second cut. I would give almost anything for him to make the second cut. Money. Time. Dignity. Certain body parts, fingers, for example, or toes. Say, three fingers on my left hand, or two toes. Easy.

To: Jacques Chitte who wrote (17193)	1/31/1999 8:38:00 AM
From: Ish	Respond to of 71178

Wow, her 1st birthday party. Seems like only last January you were fixing up the house for a new baby.ggg

To: Jacques Chitte who wrote (17193)	1/31/1999 2:02:00 PM
From: Gauguin	Respond to of 71178

Get This Kid A Job ~ [Maybe tunnel building] ~ HS student Swawn Earp built a bridge of spaghetti for a science project. "The sturdy little structure was 4 inches wide by four inches high and eight inches long, and it weighed a mere 22.71 ounces." The bridge was loaded down with 35 pound chunks of steel. Until it was carrying 1600 pounds. Then a argument arose over whether to continue, for fear something, who knows what, would be damaged by a collapsing 1600+ pounds. "Finally, another 35 pound chunk of steel was delicately placed atop the stack, and the crack of spaghetti and glue echoed through the room." It could be a world record, nobody seems to know. "I'm totally amazed" Shawn said, sweeping up the mess. [I think a girl he could sleep with should have been sweeping it up for him.]

To: Jacques Chitte who wrote (17193)	1/31/1999 4:11:00 PM
From: Rambi	Read Replies (3) \| Respond to of 71178

Happy Birthday to Helen!!! And Happy Birthday to you and LS since Helen really didn't have a clue what was going on, but no doubt enjoyed the gifts and attention tremendously. For us getting through that first year was such an accomplishment. Now it gets fun; now they start to turn into people. I wonder if Coby notices the same thing I and some of my friends have-which is that the babies our children were, are very similar to the people they have become in interests and temperament. You'll see Helen's learning style, her approach to challenge and problem-solving begin, her reaction to frustration or anger, her ability to absorb and concentrate. Dan and I went out to dinner last night after an eight hour day of district swim meet--packed into a hot natatorium with parents from eight high schools, waiting for the couple of minutes that your child competes- it is parental hell. We were trying to balance our happiness that one child had medalled in three events, and the other didn't even place to go on to regionals. We were angry because the coach pulled him from the only event he could possibly have gone on in, and wondering how best to help him. Dan wanted to go rip the coach's intestines out through his throat, but I said it would be messy and probably embarrass Ammo. It's very hard to rejoice with one child and mourn with the other, to sympathize but not allow too much self-pity. We have a sort of joking rule that you're allowed to whine, cry, bitch, be pissed, and feel sorry for yourself for about twenty-four hours, but then you have to decide what you're going to do about it. We were sitting at the bar ordering much-needed marguaritas and next to us was a young couple with an eleven week old baby...all that paraphernalia, diaper bags, carriers, bottles. I cooed over the baby, how lucky they were to be starting these wonderful years, yadayada. They beamed proudly and looked with pity at us lonely old geezers. And the baby woke up and their table was called, and they gathered up all their belongings, smiled at us and staggered off, and Dan and I looked at each other. "NO." he said, reading the question in my eyes. "Me neither," I agreed, relieved. So we took our marguaritas to our quiet table for two and had a leisurely dinner. Somehow you reach a point where you're ready to move on, and while you loved every minute, and will cry and mourn when they leave the nest, you don't want to start over. I don't think we could take too many more hours sitting in a natatorium anyway.