Don't forget to call the orthodontist

Last week I finally had a consultation for orthodontics for Rowan, (kid #6 needing braces). I totally picked the doctor based on the location of his office. After doing braces for 5 of the kids already, I know how often those appointments are, and how common it is for a bracket to fall off and need an emergency appointment. It took forever, but the lobby of the office had an arcade, and an ice cream and slushy bar, which made it tolerable. After rounds of x-rays and a meeting with the rather short doctor who didn't look me in the eye when he talked to me, to discuss treatment options, I met with the financial person to discuss cost. Well, I think I know who is paying for that arcade and slushy bar, me! In approximately 24 months, Rowan will have straight teeth, and i'll be $6,700 poorer (just $4,700 after insurance).

I ended up leaving with a slight case of sticker shock, and instead of scheduling the next appointment to start treatment, I pulled the, "I'll need to discuss this with my husband" excuse. When I got home I quickly posted to Facebook to ask the opinions of my friends on the cost of their orthodontic care. Despite already paying for braces for 5 of the kids, I honestly couldn't remember what one of their entire treatment plans actually cost. All I know is that I don't remember the total being more than both Cal, and Landon's first cars, combined.
Answers came from all over the world, (the joys of a military past life), with costs ranging from $2,000 to almost $7,000 for treatment. Because my quote was one near the top end. I had to get a second opinion.

I remembered back to the fall festival that I had attended at my little kids' school when we were just getting settled after moving here. I had bought a few things at a silent auction fundraiser that was part of the event, a craft basket that Lily just had to have and promised she would share with her brothers, and a gift certificate for orthodontic treatment. I paid $150 for the gift certificate which granted me a savings of $1,500 off the total cost of treatment, which was estimated to be approximately $6,000. At the time I thought that seemed super ridiculously expensive, not realizing that that's the going rate in Las Vegas-if the estimate I got from the arcade and slushy orthodontist was any indication of the going rate.

So, I dug the gift certificate out of a pile of papers in a drawer in the office and gave them a call. Three weeks later, our appointment for a second opinion is tomorrow. I'm hopeful for a better price than the first place and a waiting room that is even half as cool would still be good enough. And an orthodontist who looks me in the eye when going over the treatment plan would be good too. What i'm hoping for the most is to leave the appointment grateful that my $150 silent auction investment really does end up saving me $1,500.



(Do not under estimate local businesses that offer services, when soliciting donations for silent auctions and other fundraisers. Window installation, lawn care, pest control, plastic surgery centers, even orthodontists have to grow their businesses too are happy to donate to local charity events.)

Kids For Trade

Living away from family all these years is a bummer. Sadly, my kids hardly know their extended family. They have never had family birthday parties surrounded by aunts and uncles, proud grandparents and cousins to play with. I can count on one hand the number of times they have met Dave's parents or my grandfather, who happens to still be alive.

In contrast, I knew my paternal grandmother like I know my own mother. I spent weekends at her house growing up, and weeks at a time with her at her camp in New Hampshire. When I got older, and she got older, I called her just about every other day. I remember thinking that I would not be able to live without her when she died. But I made it through.

Living away from family all these years has opened the door to awesome opportunity. We have made friends with people that we love so much, and identify with so well, that they might as well be family. These are the people that we talk to every day through text or Facebook or have made the Godparents of our children. Their kids are our kids' best friends. We carry on relationships with these chosen few because we want to, not because blood relation and the branches of the family tree expect us to. They have probably spent more birthdays with my children than my own parents have which is both sad, and a blessing at the same time.

We met Lisa and John when we moved to Sicily in 2007. Coincidentally both of our families had been stationed in Maine at the same time but had never met. My friend Dina, who knew both of us, assured me that we would get along great if we ever crossed paths. In Italy we finally did cross paths and Dina was right.

Dave and I drove three hours east today meet up with Lisa who drove three hours west to meet us for a kid swap. Her kids Sarah, Hannah and Will are the same ages as my Evelyn, Lillian and Rowan and you couldn't imagine cousins who could get along better. I feel an overwhelming gratitude for the life we have been blessed with as a families serving in the Navy. I am honored that Lisa trusts us like family to take care of her kids for the week. I am thankful that my husband is at home to help me with the kids and that we can give Lisa a week off while her John is out to sea. 


So yes, living away from relatives is a bummer sometimes. I miss my friends back home, family and Dave's family too. But the distance the military has forced us to sustain has made us vulnerable-opening the pathway to new friendships that are as strong as family ties. 

• Two weeks ago Austin drove 8 hours to Orlando to spend the weekend with his best friend Justin, a friend made during our tour in Italy. When we think of Justin living 8 hours away we think of that as close.
• Last week Abby (Austin's girlfriend of two years who lives in Virginia) and the boys' friend Sarah came to visit for the week. They have visited us 3 times in 6 months. It may be a lot of miles but really Virginia's only a short flight away. I am certain they will remain lifelong family friends
• Today Austin and Cal flew to Virginia for a few days to catch up with old friends. They called to say it was weird seeing new people living in our house and they didn't like it.
• At the end of the week Austin and Cal are heading to New Hampshire and then Massachusetts to hike with my parents and have a family cookout at my Dad's beach house. My sister is arranging for the teenage kids of my high school friends to be there too. My kids don't see any of them often enough but when they do, they pick up as if they were never apart.
• This week we are hosting the McGonagle kids. Next week our brood is headed to Lisa's house for another kid trade.
• Phil and Amie, Rowan's Godparents, just got orders to Japan for the next two years. We are lucky enough to be stationed 30 minutes away from each other until January 2013.

All of these relationships are possible courtesy of the red, white and blue 

and years of serving in the US Navy!

Dave at Malcolm House's retirement ceremony.

Family vacation with the McGonagles, Outer Banks, NC, 2011.
Lily, Hannah, Sarah and Evelyn

My godmother (Great Aunt Elaine) with Rowan and Davey during a visit to Virginia, 2011.

Rowan and Will swimming in Sicily, Italy, 2009.

Landon's birthday stationed in Brunswick, Maine with the Brock boys, 2006.
Harrison, Liam, Ethan and Landon

Florida or Bust

At this very moment I am crammed in the passenger's seat of my Suburban. My iPad is strategically propped on top of the pile of junk on my lap which includes a bag of Legos, stuffed animals and books, the snack bag filled with string cheese and Pringles and my beautiful leather tote bag filled with paint color chips, floorplan designs and closing documents. I get to sit with all the extra bags-the ones that no kids want to deal with. We are on a road trip. Well, it feels like a road trip but it is actually a PCS move. For the non-military folks out there that stands for Permanent Change of Station. We're headed to our new assignment in Florida's Sunny Gulf Coast.

We left early this morning with grand plans-to do the entire drive in one day-all 17 hours of it. The combination of getting a late start and realizing after the first 20 minutes of the ride that the littlest kids were going to drive us completely crazy asking "how much longer?", there was no way we could pull that off. So, while I got a half hour of sleep under this pile of crap on my lap, Dave called our friends in Jacksonville, FL and asked if they minded company. Lisa, my dear friend from our tour in Italy and fellow Navy spouse, who happens to be the best hostess ever, replied with some version of "you need a comfortable place to rest your heads and a good meal. We'll wait up for you." Anyone who would welcome a family of nine at a moment's notice, along with their dog, cat and hermit crab is a saint. Lisa certainly fits into that category. (Dave did mention the pets Lisa...didn't he?)

I had a few minutes between bathroom breaks, a blown tire in NC, and stopping for gas to check email and Facebook. A friend posted on my page, "I can't wait to read your first update when you get settled." That got me thinking and then motivated to write about our adventure-moving a family of nine half way across the country yet again, buying and renovating what I hope is going to be our forever house and integrating our crazy, big, spirited, loving, athletic, smart, beautiful, family into the beachside community that we will soon call home. This is a pretty exciting time for the family. Until tomorrow, ciao.

Making Guns With His Fingers and Shooting Other Students

Rowan is 5 years old. He is in kindergarten. He is the second youngest and has four brothers. He gets really dirty. He plays rough. He loves to wrestle. He got punished at school for making guns with his fingers and shooting other students. I'm not surprised. I am not surprised that Rowan plays that way, he is very imaginative. I am also not surprised that his teacher, who is a twenty something and pregnant with her first baby, punished him for it.
When I was in my mid 20's, before Austin was 2, I was adamant that he would never play with guns. I remember saying that I would never allow them in my house. I thought that if I just kept toy guns away from him he would never want to play that way; like a delinquent, a violent and angry child. Then reality set in.
One day we were sitting at the table. Austin was eating chicken nuggets. He took little bites out of a nugget in all the right places to form a perfectly shaped pistol that fit right in his tiny little hand. Then he proceeded to shoot me as he said "bang, bang". That is when I realized that playing rough, and hard, getting dirty, and playing with toy guns is just inherent in little boys. I stopped fighting it and embraced it.
Rowan has been brought up with Nerf guns, air soft guns, squirt guns and yes, guns made out of his forefinger and thumb. He shoots his brothers, his sisters and even me and Dave. We hide behind couches and ambush each other. Even Davey has mastered "playing dead". The skills have been passed down by each Dermody boy, and girl. Our weapon bucket in the toy room is overflowing, a collection of favorite bazookas, knives, rifles and light sabers collected over the years.
If the same note had come home from kindergarten when Austin was in school I probably would have panicked. I might have even asked his teacher for advice or her thoughts, "Is he a troubled kid? Where have I gone wrong?" But now I am the one with wisdom. I know that boys who play with guns can turn out to be happy and healthy young adults. So Rowan took his punishment. I signed off on the note from his teacher. I had to refrain myself from adding a little smiley face next to the comment-showing her that I was laughing on the inside. Then I advised him to save imaginary play involving guns, fighting, the military, hunting, God, and Christmas-all permitted at home but taboo in school-for at-home play.

A Boy and His First Car

If you follow my blog you know that Dave and Austin bartered deck-work for a car. A couple of months ago an ad on Craigslist offered a classic car as payment for building a simple deck. We're pretty innovative and resourceful, so we accepted the challenge. What better way to "buy" your kid his first car than to help him earn it, through manual labor supervised by Dad. Between football practices and spending time with his girlfriend, Abby, Austin has worked tirelessly (and Dave too) to earn his car. Two days ago their efforts were rewarded when Freddy, the homeowner, handed over title to the '67 Chevy, Chevelle Malibu.

We immediately called a friend of a friend to replace the brakes in preparation for the inaugural drive. Austin, driving permit in hand, drove the Chevelle home yesterday.

Austin proudly takes the driver's seat.
Without labor nothing prospers.  ~Sophocles

Austin spent today washing and polishing the Chevelle, and taking it for a spin or two. He wiped down the interior, and we talked about paint colors, new wheels and the bigger engine that will transform it into a true muscle car. I drove it home from dropping Austin off at Abby's house this afternoon. As I pulled out of the driveway waving goodbye, I couldn't help but to feel like I was reliving a scene from Thelma and Louise. I have to admit, driving a classic car is pretty cool. Much like decorating with antiques instead of new furniture, classics have character, charm and a story to tell. 

Steve Jobs: Writing History

I have to admit, I was saddened at hearing the news that Steve Jobs, Apple's co-founder, died today. My first response to the news on the car radio as I drove Cal and Landon home from football practice was anger. Cancer makes me very angry. Cancer has taken too many people that I love, too early. Then I started to feel sad. He was only 56.
Obviously I didn't know Steve Jobs personally, although he was said to have been my father-in-law's neighbor (and Dave's too I suppose) growing up in Northern California-according my kids who had spoken with their grandfather about it before. But losing someone who has been so influential on our world, technology and our children is sad. That one man could be so brilliantly intellectual and business savvy is extraordinary. Someday our kids' kids will learn about Steve Jobs and the Apple empire that he co-founded in history books-digital versions of course. Thanks for Apple, Pixar (I particularly love Toy Story) and for being a leader in innovation for our generation. Rest in peace Steve Jobs.

Buy Me That: Teaching Children to be Smart Consumers

Visiting the toy store can be a nightmare. The season's hottest toys are strategically placed at a child's eye level where they can't be missed. Excited kids scan the isles looking for something to buy, toys to add to their Christmas lists.
What actually makes toys "hot" has almost nothing to do with quality or entertainment value. Advertising budget determines how popular a toy is. How many times the image of the toy is imprinted in your child's mind-through paper and TV ads-determines how likely they are to want it.
Make your next trip to the toy store a learning experience. Teach kids to be better consumers through fun, simple lessons.

It's the Size of the Package that Matters
More so than the size of the actual toy, the size of the package is what attracts attention. Point out the size of package compared to the size of the toy. Read the small print which usually states that the product pictured is larger than actual size. Talk about value for the dollar. Lower priced toys are more likely the result of less overhead-less advertising and packaging-than poor quality.

This Looked Cooler on TV
Show your child specific toys that she has seen on TV and has said she wants. Compare the real toy to the way it appeared in the commercial. If it is a doll that eats and wets, explain that once the food and diapers run out the doll may not be as exciting. Show her that the joints don't bend, the skin is hard and the doll is heavy, for example.

Avoid the New Toy Trap
If your son is just dying for the new version of his favorite hand-held gaming console, talk with him about it. Does the new system require new games or is it compatible with the old games? Are the new features features that he will really use? Check out reviews and be sure that it is worth the money. Just because it is the newest version doesn't mean that it is the best or most useful version.

Hippies and Hobos

My parents were hippies and I think it's so cool. I am not sure why but I just do. They went to Woodstock when my mom was pregnant with my sister. They lived on an Indian reservation in Canada for a while too. My Dad was in college at the time, on a football scholarship to McGill University in Montreal.

My mother. Montreal, Canada, 1969.

My kids mix up hippies and hobos. When they see a hobo, a homeless type man with messy clothes and worn shoes they point him out as a hippie. "Wow, look at that hippie," they say. I've explained the differences before but they still don't get it.
I remember our Volkswagon Camper. It had a vinyl bench seat in back and a little stainless steel sink. When I was in college I went through a phase when I wanted to get one and restore it. That was about the same time I had my Volkswagon Jetta with peace signs and Grateful Dead stickers on the back. I loved that car. I loved the Grateful Dead (and still do). I guess there's a little hippie in me too. However, there is no part of me that is hobo.

My sister Krista and me in the back of the Volkswagon Camper, 1973.

It's Raining, It's Pouring, My Sons' School is Flooding

The weather in Fairfax County, VA and the DC area has made the national news yet again. First an earthquake, then a hurricane. Last night there were tornadoes nearby. Today, flash flooding took the lives of at least two people, and has caused immense damage to the area. And it's still raining!
The rain has been pelting all day. It fell at up to 2" an hour and didn't stop. A friend of mine just posted on Facebook that after a day of work at the Pentagon her husband returned to the VRE lot in Reston, VA to find his car under water up to the roof. (Luckily he salvaged his golf clubs from the trunk.)
School is cancelled here tomorrow for a rain day, or a flood day. I'm not sure what to call it. At our elementary school a window broke. An inch of water flooded the cafeteria, according to my 6th and 3rd graders. At Robinson Secondary, my three sons' school, water poured in through a door and headed toward the 8th grade locker bay.

Flooding at Robinson Secondary School, Fairfax County, VA

Cal had his phone ready and took a picture. It was immediately posted on Facebook and generated a comment thread a mile long. The best thing about bad weather for kids is the anticipation that it will lead to a day off from school. The announcement was made on the news early tonight. School is cancelled tomorrow.
I have to admit, although I wasn't wishing for damage to school property by any means, with every falling rain drop I felt like we were one step closer to getting a day off. I am looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow, but I am growing weary of the Northern VA weather patterns.

School Supply Absurdity

There I was in the Target school supply isle looking over the list for the first time. I couldn't help saying out loud, "They want me to buy what?" When I looked up to see if anyone had heard my outburst I received head nods and half smiles. Mothers walked past with carts overflowing with cases of tissues and hand sanitizer, zip-lock baggies and paper towels. In addition to the usual, pencils, notebooks, and erasers that I expected to find on the list, some things were just asinine. Apparently parents now buy janitorial supplies for the janitors, dry erase makers for the thousand-dollar smart boards and white boards in the classrooms, and bags of candy. Candy? What in the world is one teacher going to do with 60 bags of candy, assuming each student contributes the two required bags? Good thing that we are a military family with seven kids and money is no object. Like teachers, we are so well paid. (Insert LOL) When can I expect a bill for the rent to cover to cover classroom time? The way things are going, it wont be long.

Landon and Evi sorting the school supplies. This was before I went to the grocery store to buy all the big ticket items, and the $100 calculator.

And That Was an Earthquake

Did you feel it? I live just outside DC in Northern Virginia and I sure did. I was laying on my bed on the top floor of our colonial. It sits on a hillside, with a walkout basement. Rowan and I were reading stories and Lily had just stormed out of my room having a mini-tantrum. I felt the house shake, the same way it does when Lily jumps and stomps her feet.
The stomping lasted longer than normal. I kept waiting for it to end but instead it got stronger. I stared at the walls, which started to shake and sway. I realized we were having an earthquake, grabbed Rowan and started yelling for the kids. I was frantic. I didn't know where Davey was in the house. He had left my room earlier to hang out with Cal.
Evi came screaming out of her room. I ran by her, "We're having an earthquake, where's Davey?", I said. She tagged along behind me and Rowan. We grabbed Lily on the way down and finally bumped into Cal on the stairs. He had Davey.
The shaking lasted about 30 seconds. By the time I found all the kids and got to a safe spot in the basement,  it had stopped. We were all panicked and shaking ourselves. Because I am the grown up I had to pretend that I knew what was going on. I told the kids that it was over (I certainly hoped it was) and that we were OK.
We hurried to Facebook to post status updates. Hey, it's not often that you get to say you were just miles from the epicenter of a 5.9 earthquake on the East Coast.

Do you like our new crack? We have two matching cracks in the foundation, and a big one straight through the driveway, but that's all the damage we see so far.

He's Not Off To College, Yet

It's football season again. Do you know what that means? In our house that means stinky shoulder pads strewn about the foyer, shirts that stink worse than anything I ever produced playing sports as a girl, and muddy cleats. It means excitement, as the weather starts to cool off. Visions of Friday night games under the lights start to emerge. Our beloved New England Patriots are on TV.
Austin boarded a bus today for a 5-hour drive to New York for an intense week of three-a-days and bonding drills, ropes courses and zip lines into the lake. He's off to football camp with his JV/Varsity football team, the Robinson Secondary Fighting Rams. Robinson is a Northern Virginia mega-school where they play some serious football. I'm excited about a new season. I am not thrilled about the fact that my oldest son is starting his sophomore year when it feels like I just sent him off to kindergarten. He'll be off to college in three short years, and when I type that, say it or even think it, I get anxious.
I stayed up late with Austin last night. We sat in his room sorting laundry and socks, making sure he had enough clean underwear and a travel toothbrush and toothpaste. He loaded all his gear into a military duffel bag and grabbed his pillow. I noticed his Bee, the security blanket that he has slept with since his baptism as a newborn baby. "Are you taking your Bee?", I asked. Not looking back as he left the room he answered, "Nope".
I went to bed already missing Austin. Dave was driving him to the bus at 5:00am and I knew he would be gone when I woke up. When one of my kids is away from me it just doesn't feel right. I suspect that this empty feeling is nothing in comparison to sending him off to college. It doesn't make sense. I cried when I downloaded the pictures of his incredible tackle from Saturday night's scrimmage. I checked Facebook countless times today, hoping for a status update telling me that he is OK.

Austin making a pile driving tackle
in Robinson's first 2011 scrimmage against Hylton.

Certainly he is OK, right? I know that he is having the time of his life, playing the sport that he loves more than anything in the world. That should be comforting. However, nothing is as comforting for me as having my babies right here with me, no matter how big they get.

A Car for Your 16th Birthday

It's official, Austin's first car will be a 1967 Chevy Chevelle Malibu. Seems that just yesterday he was two and banging around in my mom's kitchen on his little yellow motorized Fisher-Price CAT with a 12-V battery. Now I'm shopping for Ralley wheels. Proud and totally freaked out at the same time.
We're not actually buying the car, but its not a charity donation either, although we might qualify. We are bartering for it, thanks to Craigslist.com. I was looking at classic fixer-uppers today and Dave mentioned that he had seen an add for a classic car for barter. A guy in Fairfax, the next town over, had Chevy Malibu to offer in exchange for the construction of a small deck. We went by to take a look at the car and asses the job. The car is adorable. The exterior is a basic cream color and in average shape, but the interior is black, and near perfect. It started right up, and with the exception of needing new brakes, it could be driven home. The deck? We can build a deck in our sleep. After renovating three houses at the same time with a family of five kids ages five and under, we can certainly build a small deck in exchange for a car for our firstborn. 
So it looks like tomorrow we will be buying lumber and pouring footers. The sooner we get the deck built the faster the car will be ours, and we can start fixing it up.  First purchase, new Ralley wheels so it looks more like a muscle car than a grandpa car.  It's going to be awesome! And of course, I'll get pictures up shortly.

My Hyper Son

This morning I took Davey and Rowan to their school physicals. We left the house on time, expecting NoVA traffic but luckily didn't hit any. I remembered all the school paperwork and immunization records that I needed which is amazing. I usually forget something and get there early or remember it all and get there late. Today I remembered it all and got there on time. Proudly, the boys were both dressed in cute outfits, and I even found underwear for them in the clean clothes pile so they wouldn't be naked for the doctor. In my house, clean laundry when you need it, is a luxury.

I filled out paperwork in the waiting room and noticed a lady behind me staring. I looked at her, and then slowly at the boys, fearful of what I might see. They were purposefully drooling spit onto the armrest between their chairs. I gave Rowan an angry stare and told him it was totally inappropriate. If I ever spanked my kids, which I don't, this would have been a time for a good lickin' right there in front of everyone. Instead I grabbed a paper towel and a glob of hand sanitizer and cleaned the chair.

The longer than usual wait allowed me time to finish the final touches on their school physical forms before meeting with the doctor. In the meantime, Rowan had managed to pull his arms into his shirt and spin it around backwards. He tucked his knees up tight inside the shirt, close to his belly, and pulled his head back in the neck hole. He looked like a turtle hiding in a shell-a Toy Story II t-shirt-with only his head sticking out. Davey fell out of his chair trying to copy his big brother. I got up to check the clock. The doctor was 45 minutes late and I was starting to sweat.

Just when we were invited back for weight and height checks Davey decided he had to pee. I got down to his level, looked in his face, and said "We have been waiting outside for 45 minutes and NOW you have to pee." He laughed. Luckily Lily tagged along for the appointment and took Davey to the bathroom while I tried to keep Rowan still enough that the arm pressure cuff could actually get a reading.

Changing into the pediatric gowns was comical. Davey willingly started to strip. Lily panicked. "Mom, they don't have underwear on!" I assured her that they were adequately dressed and wouldn't be in the buff under their stylish paper gowns. The longer we waited the higher my blood pressure seemed to get. Rowan and Lily wrestled. Davey used the doctor's wheeled stool as a body board. He lunged onto it with his belly, after he zipped across the little room he hit wall with his head and let out a hysterical laugh. Before I could stop Rowan he followed suit. All 55 pounds of him crashed into the wall. When he hit, I was sure everyone in the building heard. I begged them to "sit still for one single second!"

I grabbed Rowan's file and added a note to the "Parents Concerns" section of the physical form. "Needs assessment for ADHD!!", followed by two exclamation points.

The exams went well. Dr. Yazdani, although hard to understand due to his thick foreign accent, is a gentle older man who is great with kids. Both boys were in perfect health. Thankfully, neither needed shots.

When I asked for a consult for Rowan's inability to sit still, his hyperactivity, Dr. Yazdani looked at me curiously. "Do you get any help at home?", he asked. Wondering where he was going with this I answered, "Well, I have a husband." He laughed and clarified his question. He wanted to know if I had a nanny or a babysitter, someone who could help me regularly while Dave was at work. I told him the truth. I don't have help because we can't afford the luxuries that we had living in Italy, the nanny.

He patted me on the shoulder, reminded me how blessed I am to have such a beautiful family, and sent me on my way. "Rowan is going to be fine," he said. "It's you I am worried about."