cue52

We visited Dada while he volunteered at cue52 last week.

Ryan hated school growing up. (We're quite opposite in that sense.) I think he always knew deep down what we've all discovered as adults--that, no, despite what your math teacher says, you will not in fact use half the geometry and algebra skills they insist you learn and, no, you will not in fact remember (or ever even discuss again, for that matter) what the War of 1812 was all about. It really wasn't until he went to film school in his early 20s that he really excelled, finding for the first time his passion for education.

When Ryan left his day job to work for himself several years ago, his decision was preceded by a lot of conversations about what he would do to make a living. He seemed to always come back to the notion of teaching. (I guess he would teach Audio/Visual, although we didn't have anything like that at the uppity public school I attended. :) ) We both knew deep down that it wasn't a realistic route for him (gee, I wonder which types of classes get nixed first when budget cuts come around?), but the desire to teach never left his heart.

A few years ago, one of the volunteers at the church where Ryan was Video Director asked to meet with him to discuss an idea. He and his wife were starting a "camp" for the arts where kids could learn drama, singing, dancing...and film. Ryan signed on almost immediately to mentor the film class and became a part of cue52. It was his opportunity to teach, to give back, to inspire kids like him--kids with a passion for their creativity to come alive on the screen. He's volunteered for cue52 for a few years now, both at the annual week-long summer camp and during the year for after school classes, but this current cue52 camp has been a bit different.

Kevin Jackson, who founded cue52 with his wife, Jana, passed away from a brain aneurysm on Emma Vance's birthday--June 27th, less than three weeks before camp was set to begin. It was a tragic and sudden loss to say the least, and sitting at Kevin's celebration service just a few days later, it was apparent that his impact was deep, his absence widely felt and that his legacy bound to live on. The next few weeks are a bit of a blur as Jana, Ryan and the other mentors tried to figure out what cue52 was going to look like this year.

As God tends to do, He made a way. Somehow everything landed into place in perfect timing, and starting last Monday, Ryan had a class of 13 eager students to teach. All week they learned about special effects makeup, cameras, lighting, etc., and although at the end of each night I could see that Ryan's exhausted beyond belief, I could also see that he was satisfied with his day's work. I know it's a tough subject--especially last week--but I can't help but think after hearing Ryan's recap every night that Kevin would be so proud of the camp staff. The kids and the mentors learned and grew and created, and that's the ultimate goal.

E.V. and I visited Ryan on Tuesday, sneaking a peek in on his class and having lunch "behind the scenes." Emma Vance always loves a crowd to entertain, and with a bunch of kids and adults hanging around and eating, she was ecstatic! In fact, she pretty much ignored Ryan and I in favor of putting on a show for everyone--walking, crawling, banging together shoes, clapping for herself. She is a natural ham--a natural performer--and as Ryan walked me to the car, baby in tow, I joked, "So how old does Emma Vance have to be to sign up for cue52?" The bigger question is this: Will she opt to sign up for film class? We'll have to see what Dad says about that. :)

Chewing on Holding onto Dada's access pass for a minute

Waiting for Ryan's class to break for lunch at the adjoining coffee shop

(Too bad that toy made noise, which annoyed the patrons. Oops. Sorry!)

This is a weird habit of hers--taking five second breaks while playing where she literally just flops down flat out of nowhere. Weirdo. My weirdo.

Quick baby lunch before daddy lunch started...

Jana trying to "teach" E.V. to walk...

...until she took off! ;)

"Hey guys! Hey! Hey, it's me, Emma Vance! I'm a big kid, too!"

Apparently performing took everything she had for the afternoon.

College at 30: O.L. '04 + an All-Nighter

Half the ol' OL team!

Yesterday I make the trek up to Athens. It's not a long drive for me to my old college town, but it's not one that I do often. It's always a tough but rewarding trip; I love reliving my glory days and reveling in such sweet memories, but I'm always a little depressed as The Arches fade behind me. It's a hard reminder that a wonderful and desirable phase of my life is gone forever. Don't get me wrong, this phase is beautiful and full of life, and I wouldn't change it for anything. However, my time at UGA still stands pristine upon a pedestal in my memories, making it hard not to wish I was reliving it.

The first time I stepped onto UGA's campus as an official student was for The BIG Event (now renamed Dawg Camp). My decision to go to UGA had gone like this: I applied to a ton of schools, but Vanderbilt was my first choice, UGA my back-up. When I found out I had been accepted to both, my parents offered me a deal: Choose Vanderbilt, and they'd only pay for school. I'd have to cover housing, food, extra-curriculars and living expenses. Choose UGA, and they'd pay for everything (and they'd still come out getting a better deal because of the HOPE scholarship). I didn't want to spend my free time and summers slaving away, nor did I want to leave school with a trail of loans following me. So naturally I chose UGA, and I was bound to make the most of my time there. It was a quick and almost thoughtless decision, but one that really set me on a path that (looking back 12 years after making it!) I'm thankful that I chose. It started with The BIG Event--and really didn't stop until four years later, standing on the stage at graduation, ringing the bell in victory and stepping through The Arches and into adulthood.

During my time in Athens, I tried to take advantage of every opportunity, especially extra-curricular-wise, and found a lot of fulfillment. Perhaps the best choice I made was to interview for Orientation Leader; it was a summer that really impacted my life, and now NINE YEARS LATER, I went back to visit with my other OL '04s to check out the new generation of OLs.

 Every time I step back into my old college town, I get a little weepy. So much has changed--on the campus and in the faces. It's strange to walk around and to not know where you are, to be confused by what people call things these days, and to not recognize anyone. Orientation isn't even held in the same place as it was back in '04, so as I wandered around the new building looking for a dozen red polos and excited faces, I had to ask for directions. It was the weirdest feeling; it's like looking at the back of your hand for the first time in a long time and realizing it's gotten wrinkly and spotty and that you don't recognize it anymore.

But then, a ray of light.

Although at 30 I was an awkward sight at Orientation--neither a parent's age nor a new student's age--there were my other OL '04s! We hung around the unfamiliar building for a while, talking grown-up talk about kids, jobs and marriages, and then headed to Last Resort for dinner (Mallory bravely with her three kids in-tow). It was strange but comfortable to be back with people from my past, in a place from my past. We reminisced about good times, about ups and downs, where people were in life these days. We tried to remember tiny details that have long since faded from our memories, like our orientees' names and our introduction songs. I've done this occasionally on my own before, but have always come up short and feeling a little old; so much has happened since then! But, in a collective group it's like we're parts of a larger whole--where my memories are faded, someone else's are still vibrant, and where I can still envision certain moments, other have long forgotten them. There's something about being part of a team that never leaves you, and last night I remembered that for the first time in a long time.

After dinner we ventured back to the unfamiliar hall where the familiar excitement of skits was about to happen. Skits is perhaps the most fun and exciting moment of every session, a time where everyone relaxes, laughs and enjoys good ol' slapstick humor. As our OL '04 team watched, we were reminiscent of our own times on stage. It seems that a few of our original skits may have stood the test of time, which was a delightful surprise. There were a few adjustments, but we found ourselves grinning and excitedly chattering as we recognized our ideas from almost a decade ago! Whether it was the test of time and knowledge passed down or simply inspiration from the common experience, the content was the same. It was comforting to feel like not so much time had passed and that not everything had changed...

And then there was the pride. I didn't even know a single OL '13 before last night, but (and I think I can speak for our entire team) there was a strange sense of pride. Like we had something to do with their success. Like they were us, just as if we had been born nine years late. Like they were our little brothers and sisters. I know it's not a concept they'll understand and the time, and certainly one that I didn't when I was an Orientation Leader, but one day, when they're 30 and hugging their long-lost team members, I hope they'll look back at nights like yesterday and think, "Oh! So THIS is what they were talking about..."

After the proverbial curtains were closed and the students were well on their way back up the hill to Brumby, we did introductions. Our team couldn't help but notice--are the OL numbers typecast?!? Whether there was a physical resemblance or not, there was a distinct essence common between the personalities of each number, even nine years later. We joked with the Orientation staff afterwards--Really, is there some magical formula passed down year to year, Director to Director? Some wonderful way of giving an order to a dozen seemingly random folks that brings out their distinct "number's" characteristics? 

And then there was my little #7, Mariana. How cute and sweet and eager! How like me she seemed. And I liked that. It gave me a strange sense of being okay that so much time has passed, like even though I'm not there anymore, people like me still are. Like I could still fit in easily (if I was 20 again  :) ).

Last night I drove away from Athens in the midst of a storm, feeling very wistful and weepy. The constant thought that ran through my head was how different life post-college is, how unique and wonderful it is to be in your early 20s with so much left to figure out. I'm happy with every decision I've made in life, but there is a sense of sadness that comes with realizing that most of life's decisions have already been determined: I know who my husband is, what my career is, where I live, who my first child will be...but the up side of knowing the answers to so many of life's big questions is the excitement of knowing that there's still more of life to be determined for me--most of all who I am, which is always constantly changing and evolving as life moves forward.

When I got home, emotionally and physically exhausted, my mind was reeling but I was ready for bed. A few minutes after settling down, Emma Vance began to cry. Back to reality. I went to comfort her, but she was sick--a runny nose, congested throat, warm forehead. She was unconsolable, and after being unable to settle her back into her crib, I trekked with her back to our master bedroom. She cuddled next to me all night, neither of us sleeping much at all as she cried mournfully off and on. Somewhere around 4 a.m., she peeked her sleepy little eyes up at me and then crawled onto my chest. She laid on me belly-to-belly, arms wrapped around me in a hug, head on my shoulder, legs falling lazily to the side. It was like when she was a newborn, and the sound of her heartbeat and the feeling of her breath made me grin in the dark like a fool. At 7 a.m. it was time to wake for the day, and I hadn't slept at all. It was a grown-up's all nighter, and after an evening reminiscing about being a college kid, I couldn't help but think of my college all-nighters. How different their purpose! I could hardly remember what it feels like to stay up all night just because, just for fun or to study or because you forget about time. I forgot what it's like to be able to stay up all night because your only responsibility the next day is a couple passive hours of class, and although spending the night tending to a sick child is not a desirable reason to pull an all-nighter, it's nice to know that I still can if I want to. Or need to. :)

O-O-O-O-L  O-O-O-O-4!

There I am, somewhere in the middle. :)

Stormy weather in The Classic City...

Mallory's little Sam at Last Resort :)

OL '13--so proud!

My #7 counterpart! Heart her!

Who needs sleep? Not these girls!

All-nighters are allowed to make you a little loopy, right? :)

Fishes and Friends (One Year Dr. Appt.)

I can't believe we just had Emma Vance's ONE YEAR doctor's appointment! Ah!

I missed E.V.'s one year check-up.

For some reason I had the days mixed up (it was supposed to be last Friday), and for a list of very boring but understandable reasons, I totally blanked--until I got the dreaded, "Where are you?" phone call from the office. Oops. Thankfully, by a twist of fate and a bit of luck, the appointment was easily rescheduled for today--practically at the same time as E.V.'s friend, Clara's, appointment! Yay! (Making lemonade out of lemons...)

We arrived a little early for our somewhat-impromptu play date, allowing for Emma Vance to bask in all the glory of the "well" waiting room fish tank. (Ob-sessed.) It also gave E.V. the chance to interact with another little boy who was a little older and very, um, affectionate. He had a new baby sister and was VERY into hugging "babies" (which he deemed Emma Vance), and hugged her over and over and over--while she was trying to pay attention to her fishes. Bad idea. As his mom nervously apologized, reminded him to be "gentle," and told him that "no means NO," Emma Vance got increasingly annoyed. She chanted, "No-no-no!" at him, and as he eventually backed her into the corner for a big hug, she pushed him away. I guess I don't have to worry about her in life; the little lady can handle boys! He was sweet and well intentioned (although boisterous), and just as his family went back for their appointment, Clara arrived!

Why didn't Alli (Clara's mom) and I ever think of this before??? I mean, this was mom-multitasking at its best. Not only did we get to hang out for a bit with the girls, but as our appointments were so close together, we got to run into one another as we carried the babies here and there, comparing stats and stories as the appointments progressed. (Spoiler alert: Clara is WAY bigger than E.V. was at her age six months ago--and practically bigger than her even now!) However, since her appointment was 15 minutes before ours, Clara got called back before us, leaving me with a boisterous and newly lonely baby to handle in the waiting room. Cue organic corn puffs, my secret "quiet" weapon. Thankfully we only had a few minutes of overlap before meeting with the nurse to weigh-in.

Oh, girl, no woman likes that scale, so I don't blame you for wiggling away!

Okay, here's the boring part: In a nutshell, Emma Vance is still short(ish), fat and brainy. Her percentiles moved around a bit, though. For height, she grew 2.25 inches and is now 29.25 inches tall; she went from the 25th to 40th percentile (not too shabby). She gained two pounds and now weighs 21.8 lbs.; she went from the 70th to the 75th percentile in weight. As for her head, it grew two cm to 47.3 cm in circumference, jumping from the 75th to the 95th percentile.

Once we were done with the stats, we had to wait for the doctor. Any form of waiting is getting increasingly difficult as E.V. gets more mobile. I was left trying to figure out how to entertain a one year-old for what felt like for-ev-er, so here's what we did:

Um, just crawl around for a bit, Dear.

Okay, whatever. Finder's keepers.

Finally, something appropriate to do...although it didn't last long.

This girl loves her some selfies!

The doctor finally rescued me, answering a few questions then doing her examination. Everything seems on-par with Emma Vance. (Yay!) Then it was time for immunizations--and the second I laid her down she started bawling. "I know what's coming, Mom, and you're a meanie for making me do it!" Post-shots, I was trying to calm her down and discovered a box of books under the exam table. Score! She was still sobbing as she pulled out the books, but by the time she had emptied it and chosen one to "read," the tears had stopped. Whew.

Does seeing her in pain ever get easier? No? Crud. At least we survived and have three whole months before having to do it all again! :)

 

Bunny Teeth

See those cute, tiny little bottom teeth?

Now see those GIANT top teeth? :)

Oh, teeth.

I love a baby who sleeps through the night. When E.V. started teething several months ago, I read that it should only take a few days to a week per round of teeth, and so when she started having sad, wakeful nights, I was prepared for a few newborn-esque nights. And then it took over a month for her bottom two teeth to come in...ugh. This is NOT a fast process, people!

Then, a month or two ago, her molars popped up and her top teeth started bulging. I was eager to see those top teeth; their arrival meant sleeping through the nights again and the signal that Emma Vance is finally becoming a big girl. As they started to poke through (her middle two teeth followed by her lateral ones), I thought, "Gosh, those look kinda'...BIG." And they are--oh, how they are!

E.V.'s bottom teeth are very petite and very square. Her two front teeth, though, are giant and very round. Seriously, it's like a mismatched set! I've always felt like my two front teeth are a little too big, and so now I can't help but wonder if she's inherited my smile. I mean, there are definite upsides to the Aquilio mouth: None of us ever had crooked teeth or braces, but our teeth are weak. Oh, so weak! No kidding around, I can literally tell when I get a cavity; it takes only one or two nights of missed brushings, and I'll inevitably end up stuck in the dentist's chair, paying for my laziness. (Ryan, on the other hand, has the world's strongest teeth. Go figure.) Thankfully Emma Vance is OBSESSED with toothbrushes, joining me in the bathroom every morning saying, "Tee! Tee!" (translation: "Mom, get my toothbrush ready! Can I have Elmo toothpaste today?"), so at least if she inherits my weak teeth, she'll also inherit my strong oral care habits too. :)

As for now, all I can think when I see her grinning with those tiny bottom teeth overpowered by those giant top ones is how she looks like a little bunny rabbit. Too bad she's already inherited my disdain for carrots. ;)

Vampire Baby Draws Blood

Remind me that boo boos are a childhood rite of passage, okay?

Ryan cracks me up (in general, but more specifically) because anytime E.V. gets a scrape or a bruise or a bug bite, his reaction is always protective, and in his mind, if one of us is nearby, these boo boos wouldn't happen. This makes me laugh because, as a mom who's literally within an arm's reach of Emma Vance at least 90% of the time, I know that these bumps in the road are inevitable. I mean, there have been times when I've even had my hand actually on her little body, and she's still managed to fall. Doomed for klutziness? Possibly...

This time, though, I wasn't within an arm's distance, and thus the boo boo was bigger and badder than ever before. Emma Vance is a proud toddler these days, enjoying practicing her walking skills and occasionally using furniture to cruise around. We've had a few bumps as a result, but nothing scary enough to stop our little lady from getting back up immediately. This time, though, she happened to be cruising around the coffee table happily when she fell FACE-FIRST into it. Cue tears, Dada hugs, a bottle and an ice pack. It was her first bloody lip--the result of four new top teeth chomping down on her tiny little lower lip. Thanks a lot, Vampire Baby fangs. I know vampires like blood and all, but c'mon... :)

Did I mention that this happened a few hours Emma Vance's official one-year-old photo shoot? No? Well, did I mention that earlier in the day I also happened to accidentally thwack her in the forehead (with the Jesus Storybook Bible nonetheless), leaving a huge red mark as well? How about the fact that it rained as if on cue at the exact time our photo shoot was about to begin? How about that the restaurant where we waited the rain out RAN OUT of highchairs? No joke. Or that she pooped herself in the middle of taking pictures? Or that it was so muggy out I'm sure my hair was a frizzy mess in the family shots? Or that our poor, sweet, talented photographer friend ended up with giant mosquito bites all over her legs from standing in a field? Oops. Do Vampire Babies even show up in pictures, or is it like the whole no-reflection-in-the-mirror thing? :)

Revising Emily Post

E.V.'s first time "writing" thank yous.

Warning: This confession is either going to appall and horrify you, or make you say, "Amen, sister!" Either way, let's still be friends, okay? :)

I hate writing thank you notes.

Like hate-hate writing them. Like I'd-rather-do-ANYTHING-else-than-write-them-hate-them. Like please-don't-give-me-a-gift-because-I'll-have-to-write-one-hate-them. When I was younger, probably up through graduating college, I only wrote thank you notes when my mom forced me to; however, now that I'm an adult, a compelling guilt plagues me until I mail out thank yous in response to every small gift. It's the worst feeling in the world to have unwritten thank you notes looming over your head. Grown ups out there, am I right or am I crazy?

This next statement is also probably going to get me lambasted, but since I'm having an honest moment, here it goes: I also kinda' feel like formal thank yous are becoming a bit outdated. {gasp of horror} I always try to tell my friends NOT to write me a note when I give them a gift, especially if it's received in person. The verbal, "Thanks a lot!" at a shower is enough for me. It's a gift, and I hate the thought of someone lamenting over having to write me a note about it. For me personally, in this modern world, if a gift receiver emails, texts, Facebooks or verbalizes a thank you to me, I consider that more than enough. I know Emily Post's ghost is going to haunt me for this confession, but I'm ready for etiquette to be modernized a bit.

With Emma Vance's first birthday just behind us, I was dwelling on this concept of modern etiquette: How do I instill within my daughter the joy of expressing one's gratitude but not create a negative association with the actual act of expressing gratitude? For me, writing thank you notes, especially as a kid, was a burden, and I don't want that for Emma Vance. If she loves writing them as she grows up, then hallelujah! If she's like the average person who dreads it, how can I help her, even at an early age, find ways of expressing gratitude that bring her joy?

I know she's only a year old, but her birthday was the first non-family function where she really got gifts, and so the thought of what "modernized etiquette" could look like was bouncing around my brain. Then an idea came to me: She can't write, but she sure as heck can play. And really, that's what most of her gifts were about--toys to play with. So I decided that her thank you "notes" should fit the gifts, grabbed some paint and paper, and set to showing my one year old how to express true gratitude.

It was messy, but it was fun. Emma Vance was stripped down to her skivvies as she crawled around, scooted about, and rubbed her tiny little peach-and-mint-paint-covered hands all over the paper, creating her very first set of paintings. We laughed as she learned the hard way that eating paint is not enjoyable, but overall we just had a good time playing. What kid doesn't like to get messy, right?

When they were dry, I put my motherly touch on the project, cutting up her big paintings into little cards. They will serve as her thank yous this year, and I hope they do the trick. I hope that she had a good time expressing her gratitude and that the receivers will get the message. If not, then I suppose next year we'll have less thank you notes to write! Ha!

So, thanks Emily Post for the foundation and for the sentiment, but we've officially brought thank you notes into the 21st century. I hope you're proud of us and not appalled, but if you are appalled, I look forward to receiving your formal rebuttal in the snail mail. ;)

The official "before" picture!

Uh...
Dear Paint Company,
Thanks for making your product non-toxic.
Love, Talie

Oh, and don't forget E.V.'s reaction to the whole experience (and her favorite word): "WOW!"

Not to shabby for having no formal training, right? :)