R.I.P. Summer

Summer is over.

For the past couple weeks I have been trying to summon up enough courage to write an actual blog post about the failed promise of Summer 2011, but I think it would just be a giant downer--and ultimately I'd rather remember (and document) the handful of highlights instead of the tantrums, sleepless nights, packing, and surgeries that we all suffered through. In fairness, Andres was the one who suffered through most of this, though it took a different toll on his parents and sister.

Somehow we all made it through. A brief recap: summer began. We decided to put our home on the market. We packed up, discarded, and gave away most things that make a house a home in order to appeal to potential house hunters (note: place is still on the market). Celia learned that saying no is almost as much fun as saying yes. I switched jobs. Natalia hurt her wrist and developed plantar fasciitis. Andres had a hard time sleeping and his general mood torpedoed. He had a sleep study. He also threw a bunch of tantrums. After many appointments with doctors and sleep specialists and a few teary nights we decided to have his tonsils and adenoids taken out. He came through surgery fine. He also recovered fine, during which period he watched every Pixar movie ever created 9 times. And the much-hated The Polar Express about 73 times. Nobody bought our house. Then summer ended.

As you can probably tell, neither Natalia nor I was sad to see summer leave. The expected routines and consistency of the fall schedule appeared as a lighthouse as we slogged through June, July, and August.

So now we are here--at the close of one season and the opening of the next.

And, dare I say it, it's been a good couple of days.

Celia (yes, I do still write about her occasionally) is back at Betty's with all of her little friends. She is talking a ton now. I'll even give you a quick story: Earlier today we were playing with animal puppets at the library. I introduced a few of them to her (like, "Hello, I'm Mr. Zebra" or "Hi Celia, I'm Mr. Owl") and then we played a bit. Then she decided to put one on each hand and have them talk back and forth--I couldn't believe what I was seeing!

"Hewo Midda Zebwa" (shaking the Zebra puppet)
"Hewo Midda Oww" (shaking the Owl puppet)
"Howayoo Midda Zebwa" (again, shaking the Zebra puppet)

Too funny. She is such a fun kid. Oh--and she says "thank you" (or, more properly, "deh-doo") all the time now.

For his part, Andres is now a preschooler. A preschooler! Tomorrow is his official first day; he had a brief "preview day" today where he met his teachers and tacitly acknowledged some of his classmates. He also saw the room (which includes a very cool loft, sandtable, and kitchen set) and had an opportunity to decorate his own nametag for tomorrow.

Off to school!

The cars won him over pretty quickly. Notice how they are all lined up on the street.

Watching him decorate gave me a great opportunity to panic, as is my custom. Andres sat down at a table with his new teacher and one of his soon-to-be classmates. She was decorating her nametag very precisely, making sure to color a rectangle slowly and steadily underneath her name, then changing markers and making another rectangle. She seemed very comfortable with arts and crafts.

Andres took another approach. He selected a green marker, and just launched giant streaks of color from left to right and then right to left. Unlike his peer, he made no attempt to avoid coloring right through his name. He did this a few times and then switched colors, using the same technique. It was all a very violent process.

So naturally my instinct to panic kicked in. "I should have used markers with him more often," I thought, neglecting to think about all those times I used markers with him and then found Crayola creations on the wall and sofa. "Look at how behind he is in coloring!" I thought, again forgetting about all the times that he dutifully sits outside drawing shapes, castles and (as of Monday night) soccer stadia featuring goals, corner flags, and light stanchions. "I can't believe he's going to fail preschool" was my final thought before I somehow managed to regain my grip on reality.

As a final insult to me, I thought his nametag actually came out pretty well. It suits him.

Jackson Pollock meets Old Navy camouflage.

So fall is here. Routines are back in vogue, and everyone seems to be sleeping a bit better too (fingers crossed). It'll be winter before long and by that point maybe some of the frustrations of this summer will have faded into the depths of memory, allowing us to expect better from Summer 2012.

And on that note, I'm already mentally planning a trip to Storyland.