Kindergarten

And it's finally his turn. Officially. (When did my baby get so big?) We met his teacher last night…Ms. Petersen. Ellie had her a couple years ago, so he is thrilled. I, however, am a little concerned. There are at least 3 boys in the class that are…(how can I put this?)…"trouble makers". Like this boy needs any encouragement. 

Poor Ms. Petersen.

He leaves in the morning with his sisters and comes home at lunchtime on a kindergarten bus. That, at least, is a little comforting for his mother.

A final parting wave…all is well.

The house is too quiet.

Back to School

This is it! One of my favorite days of the year. Why is that? Well, it's not because I don't love my children and want to be rid of them. It's really because I DO love my children. And want to be rid of them. (At least for a bit.)

Today is also one of the only days they are excited to get up early and get ready to go...which makes my job easier. (Their exuberance for mornings wanes quickly, and dramatically, as the weeks continue.) I like to enjoy it while it lasts.

See? Happiness. Exuberance. At 8:40am. Unheard of!

They both got new backpacks this year. It was a momentous occasion for my two girls. (Their enjoyment of these babies will also wane...but I managed to find them at such a great deal this year, I'll get over it.)

Have I mentioned how much I love the bus? Well...I do. I love it! And not just because the bus stop is right in front of my house and I can send them out the door, stay in my PJ's, and then go back to bed (if I wanted) without having to step outside. No wait...that actually IS why I love the bus!

The new driver told the girls they could call her by her first name. Lindy is still struggling with this unexpected gift of familiarity. She thinks she will still call her Mrs. Lewis...which makes me think I've done at least something right.

Now...for the picture I didn't get: I stood on the sidewalk, across the street from my house, saying goodbye to my fearless girls. As the bus drove away I saw The Boy standing in front of our house, hands on hips, and GLARING. Glaring with all the indignant might his little five year-old self could muster. He'd been asleep and was apparently VERY put-out that he'd missed all the fun.

I paid for it for a couple hours.

Next week: his turn! (Wahoo!!!!!!)

Picture Time

Smiles and cooperation courtesy of Camera Shy...they NEVER do this well when I'm behind the camera!

The Graduate

He made it. We made it. (More surprisingly, Ms. Heather made it.) That's right, this handsome kid has officially graduated from preschool.

Tonight was his Preschool Graduation. Ms. Heather had an incredible program. Curtis had been reluctant (I should say unwilling) to practice during class the week or two before. (I found out that other kids from his class were actually praying that Curtis would "be happy" and do his parts at graduation. Yikes!) So, I spent an exhausting day trying to make sure I delivered a happy, well-fed, un-moody boy. Mission accomplished!

The tie? Well, it was a nice touch that lasted up until the program started. But he went up on stage without a fuss...so who am I to argue about a little tie?

He had three lines: "Yellow duck, yellow duck, what do you see?", "My favorite part of preschool was playing on Ms. Heather's swing set", and "I know that purple stands for grapes." I sat in the audience, holding my breath, as he perfectly delivered all three. A miracle.

A quick back-stage change and they walked out in full graduate regalia. He was beside himself with joy. (Mostly because he was convinced that he was dressed up as an angel...and kept flapping his "wings".)

A quick thumbs up to the audience!

Delivering his final line: (His favorite part of the evening was talking into the microphone.)

Ms. Heather gave them all a candy-lei (perfect!) and a book that chronicled their year. Curtis LOVES that book. It made me cry. Then laugh. A lot.

I can't say enough wonderful things about Ms. Heather. She is a kind and patient woman. Seriously. Somehow she managed to survive the strong-willed antics of my boy and teach him a myriad of things I'm surprised he sat still enough to learn. Miracle.

Now we're on to kindergarten!!

FHE

We've really been trying to be good about Family Home Evening. I know that it has helped our family to draw closer together...and I'm hoping it will continue to help us to develop unity...especially as our kids get older and start going other places. So we do it.

At first, it was hard. Little kids just don't like to sit still. Sometimes the prayer/lesson/song setup is a little tough for them. But luckily for us...it doesn't always have to be that structured. Sometimes it's just a night for us to spend a little time together. Tonight's FHE was at the park!

We chased each other around.

We were goofy.

Some of them pretended to be sharks that wanted to "eat mommy".

And it was FUN! Lots of fun.

Side note: My good friend, Emily, has some awesome ideas here: Reality FHE. 

Mother's Day

I'm the luckiest.

It was a wonderful day. I'm so grateful for these little munchkins!

The Question Was Leading...

"If I get dessert tonight, I will be happy. If I don't get dessert tonight, I just won't be happy...pause...You want me to be happy, right?"

Intelligence and Facial Hair

A conversation:

Curtis: "Mom, do you know who is the smartest person in the whole entire universe?"

Mom: "No, who?"

Curtis: "Heavenly Father...and Jesus is super smart too."

Mom: "Yup, I think you're right."

Pause

Curtis: "I think it's the beards."

Booby Traps

This is my front door:

And this is the reason there's a bench in front of it:

Last night I tucked him into bed with prayers, stories, and kisses. It was a typical night with the typical "I love you, I love you too" routine.

Ten minutes later my mom-ears picked up on some suspicious movement. I quietly snuck up to his room and opened his door. I found him fully dressed (including socks, shoes, and jacket) with his backpack on his shoulders looking like someone going somewhere.

"What are you doing?" I queried.

"I don't live here anymore!" was the reply. (Seriously?) 

After assuring him that he does, in fact, still live here (and that he is loved, to boot) I helped him change back into PJ's and tucked him into bed. Again.

Shaking my head, I walked back downstairs as my phone started to ring. I answered it and began telling Amy what had just occurred.

Minutes later I heard the familiar beep-beep-beep of the front door lock being activated. I rushed to the door, pulled it open, and found the little nightmare standing on the front steps, fully dressed (again), with flashlight in hand.

I quickly sent him back up to his room. He grudgingly obeyed (and made sure to slam his door to let me know how much I was overreacting). For a few minutes I parked myself on the stairs thinking I'd deter him from any further foolishness. But...I couldn't stay there forever. What if he woke up in the middle of the night and decided to try it again?

Thus...the bench. Cunningly littered with toys that would potentially alert us if he tried to move it.

And that's what I've been reduced to. Trapping my child in our nice warm house instead of letting him wander willy-nilly through the neighborhood...in the freezing weather...in the middle of the night.

For my over-protective mothering I was treated to the stink eye bright and early this morning. All because I "put that black thing in front of the door".

Shame on me.

Threats

Curtis: "Mom, if you don't let me play the Wii, I'm not going to be part of your family anymore."

Christmas Break: Day 26

It's been 26 days since I was able to send all three of my children off to school. I'm thinking that's the longest Christmas Break in the record books.

Whatever virus hit us...well, it's the Christmas gift that keeps on giving.

Of course, odds are that you're right there with me. Am I right?

Stupid germs.

Pinterest Made Me Cry

Last night I was browsing Pinterest. It's something I do from time to time...something to calm my swirling thoughts.

I came across a post for a pasta sauce. The blogger was sharing a recipe for an authentic Italian sauce given to her by her husband's grandmother...who was from Italy. And, my friends, it sounded downright delicious.

Here's what got me all fired up: I decided to check out the comments. I was so surprised at what I found. Most people were complimentary (good). Some people decided to share how they would do it differently (odd). Then there was one lady who was utterly offensive. In a diatribe spanning more than 3 or 4 comments, she let loose a string of criticism that was insulting both to the blogger and the sweet Italian Nonna (she basically accused the old lady of not being Italian because of what she put in her sauce!)

Seriously?

No...I mean, SERIOUSLY????

Why? Why do people do this? What possible satisfaction could be gained by attacking someone else's personal likes and/or dislikes in such a public fashion? Did she really think the blogger would change her mind? "Oh, I was just kidding. I didn't actually enjoy the sauce. In fact, it was horribly tasteless!" Give me a break!

We all have our opinions. I know this...I myself am literally brimming with them! For example, I don't like fish. Strike that...I REALLY don't like fish. This doesn't mean, however, that I feel some kind of obligation to inform all fish-eaters that they are idiots! It doesn't mean that I sit at home drafting paragraphs of disparaging comments to hand to all my friends and family who eat the stuff.

No.

NO.

NOOOOO!

It was obvious, as I read on, that the blogger's feelings had been hurt. Certainly by the outright attack... but, if I was a betting gal, I'd bet her feelings were hurt by the many other comments telling her all the other things she could do to make her sauce better.

It made me so sad. I wish I knew her. I wish she were a friend of mine...someone I could put my arms around and assure that those comments, those people, just don't matter. Because they don't.

But, isn't it hard to remember that? I'll answer that: Yes! Even at our best we sometimes feel inferior. Less-than-perfect. Not quite up to snuff. Etc. Don't we?

I do.

And my guess is that you do too.

So, maybe we should just be nice to each other. Let's be honest...is there anyone out there who you sincerely and truly feel isn't making an effort to be their best? I doubt it. We are all trying. We are all imperfect people just giving it all we've got. Right?

So let's cut each other some slack. And enjoy whatever pasta sauce you want to enjoy, okay?

Bwah-Ha-Ha!

Details, Details

Lindy is working on a Hidden Picture drawing for Curtis. She was asking for ideas for items to include in her drawing.

Lindy: What should I put in the picture?

Curtis: A dog.

Lindy: Not an animal.

Curtis: A cat.

Lindy: That's an animal. Not an animal.

Curtis: A fish.

Lindy: NOT an animal.

Mom: (helping) Something that isn't alive, Curtis.

Curtis: A dead fish.

I Don't Want To Go On the Cart!

So. I'm not dying.

(Don't laugh. There was a moment or two this last week where my impending demise seemed...well...impending.)

By a small miracle I managed to haul myself to the doctors office where I was plied with many wonderful medicinal wares. The Canadian in me was, of course, overcome with gratitude. It really is so much better to be able to take whatever you want when death approaches. (An open apology to my friends who recently faced their own illnesses while expecting bambinos: Sorry. That sucks.)

Today I:

• made my bed
• showered

(And believe me...those two items thrilled me beyond belief.)

Tomorrow I hope to:

• make my bed
• shower
• AND start catching up on my blog

I know. Awesome.