Want Some Appreciation? Just Ask

This week is Teacher/Staff Appreciation week at school. That's fine. I appreciate all good teachers for having skills that I most certainly lack (such as infinite patience with children that they have no parental obligation to). Last year I happily brought my donation to the Teacher's Appreciation Lunch, but apparently that was not enough. This year the girls came home with a list of tasks for Teacher week.

Yesterday we (and every child in the school) were supposed to send a flower, which was fine because I have a lot of flowers in the house from Cinqo de Mayo/Derby weekend. Today we were supposed to send a piece of fruit, which was fine except I forgot the fruit until I saw some kid with an orange at the bus stop and the bus was almost there. I had planned to send them each with a lime, because we also have plenty of limes in the house from Cinqo de Mayo/Derby weekend. I know a lime might seem a bit strange, but it was technically a fruit, and how many apples can one woman eat anyway? Thursday we are supposed to send a book (new or used) and Friday, a candy bar.

Tomorrow, however, we are supposed to send a note of appreciation - not the kiddies, the parents- to the teacher. Here I must draw the line. I send in notes of appreciation to the (deserving) teachers and resource teachers and even the bus driver every year at the end of the year. I will not be directed to write thank you notes at my age. And what about the teachers? Isn't it a little embarrassing to get coerced thank you notes?

Friday I also get to send in a dessert for the teacher appreciation lunch. I will make it from scratch, just like the soup, and send it in like a note to show I really do appreciate the teachers.

Absorbent and Yellow and Porous is He

Marty (holding a wrapper from an Easter Twix, which I must say is the least Eastery looking candy wrapper I've ever seen): I know how to spell Twix

Mommy: Oh, yeah?

Marty: T-W-I-X

Mommy: Yep, that's Twix.

Marty: Actually it's twick

Mommy: Why is it "twick"?

Marty (referring, I keep telling myself, to the universal "you" not "you" as in "you, Mommy": Because when you eat too many of these, they go straight to your thighs

Mommy (ready to place a snotty phone call to whoever is giving our kiddies food issues): Who told you that?

Marty: Spongebob did. He said Squidward was eating too many crabby patties.

Mommy: Yeah, that'll do it.

That Sidewalk Is So Clean You Could Eat Off It

I don’t recall exactly why I recently taught the kiddies the 5-second rule (and yes, I saw the article that the 5-second rule isn't true, but I don't believe it). I probably told them so that if they ever saw someone drop something and then pick it up and eat it, they wouldn’t launch into their typical detailed lectures regurgitating ever reason I’ve ever given them for not eating off the floor. Today, apparently, it came in handy.

I was instructed to send in 12 undecorated cupcakes for Lauren’s spring party. If they had been frosted, I would have driven her to school, but they were unfrosted and such a small number, I figured that she could get them there on her own. I packed them into a small shoe box and sent her off on the bus.

Reports indicate that the trip on the bus was uneventful, but as Lauren was walking to her classroom, someone pushed her from behind and she bumped into a pole which knocked the cupcake box out of her hands and onto the ground, spilling out the cupcakes. Aislinn and another girl passing by helped Lauren get them back into the box. I never got a good answer about whether they all fell out, but at the end of this story Aislinn said “Don’t worry, Mom. I counted to five while we did it, so the cupcakes were still okay.”

I asked Lauren if she told her teacher that they had fallen, she said no. I asked how they looked, and they both shrugged, so I may be off the hook for future cupcake requests.

Programmatic Lessons Learned: Driving Lauren to school wouldn’t have avoided this incident, but taping the box shut might have. I’ll get a working group together to research this soon.

Wardrobe Crises

It started out as a normal day. I was cinching in the adjustable waistband of Lauren's new pants because she is about 6 inches around. The pants were pink, she was happy, and then suddenly:

Lauren: These pants are a little short

Mommy: Actually they’re supposed to be shorter…

Lauren: YOU MEAN THESE ARE CAPRIS??!!! I DON’T LIKE CAPRIS!!!!!! MOMMMYYYY!!

Mommy: They’re not capris on you because they come all the way to your shoes…

Lauren: MOMMYYY!!! I DON’T LIKE CAPRIS!!!!

Mommy: Lauren, if you can’t calm down you’re going to have a timeout before school.

Lauren: BUT I HATE CAPRIS!!!!...

Mommy: Then go change into another pair of pants that are clean.

Lauren: I’M NOT WEARING THOSE GREEN CORDUROYS!!!! I’M NOT…

Mommy: Go to your room until you can calm down.

2 minutes later

Lauren: MOMMMYY!!

Mommy: Back to your room.

5 minutes later

Lauren (grinning in a new pair of pants, not green, corduroy, or capri): I forgot about these pants.

Mommy: --- (see - I've got south patrol)

Marty spent the morning declaring that he was not going to school. He declared it all through breakfast and getting dressed, but didn’t fight back until it was time for his shoes and socks.

Marty: I don’t like these socks.

Mommy: Sure you do. They’re blue and they have yellow trucks on them (don’t be alarmed, he was wearing long pants)

Marty: I don’t like blue socks.

I went to get his sneakers and he pulled the socks off. Time for the big guns.

Mommy: If you can’t cooperate, you must need to go to school more often and learn how big boys behave.

Marty: All right. I’ll wear the blue socks.

What are the arguments against school uniforms again?

Sightseeing - Entropy Style

On 395, heading into the city:

Mommy: Look guys, there’s the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, the Capitol...

Lauren: I’ve already seen those before.

On Key Bridge:

Mommy: Look over there, see all of those brick buildings with pointy roofs?

Aislinn: Yeah

Mommy: That’s Georgetown

Lauren: Curious Georgetown?

Marty: Where’s Curious George?

Mommy: No George TOWN, it’s a big college. Grandpa went to law school there. Do you see it?

Lauren: I see someone wearing safety green.

At Tenley Circle:

Mommy: See that big tan building right there? That’s where I went to high school.

Lauren: Was your teacher’s name Miss Doody?

Mommy: No. I had lots of teachers, some of them were nuns and some of them were just regular ladies.

Aislinn: Did the nuns slap you?

Mommy: What?

Aislinn: My CCD teachers says that nuns used to always slap everyone who was being bad.

Thank goodness she’s learning so much about the important aspects of our religion.

On Memorial Bridge heading home:

Mommy (to myself): Look there’s the Lee Mansion, I went on a field trip there when I was in school.

Aislinn (in my head): Just like Lee in my class

Lauren (in my head): What’s the pee mansion?

Marty (in my head): I need to go potty

Mommy (out loud): We’re back in Virginia now.

On 395:

Mommy: See that big building Aislinn? That’s the pentagon. Have you ever heard of that?

Aislinn: Yeah. I mean no.

Mommy: That’s where the head of the whole Army works

Aislinn: The USA Army

Mommy: Yes, Daddy’s Army

Aislinn: How many sides does it have?

Mommy: Why don’t we all just be quiet for a while.

The Greatest Show on Earth

This weekend we went for what we think (and Erin desperately hopes) will be our final visit to Erin's studio apartment. It's not that we all can't get along, its just that the kiddies, oblivious to the fact that there are other people in the building (which takes up an entire city block) seem compelled to drop change, hand weights, heavy books, dishes, and any other possible noisemaking thing on the floor the whole time we are there and they are awake. The HP is away for work, so he missed the circus and all of the activities at Erin's. If he hadn't been working, it would have been a day trip, because Erin's apartment could not hold another person (mainly because you can't sleep on the floor because of a recent mouse sighting).

Friday night Erin and I barricaded ourselves in the kitchen with a bottle of wine (the big one, and a back up just in case) and waited for the kiddies to fall asleep. In response the kiddies stayed up until 11:00 (back up bottle needed). This might explain why they looked like this on the subway on the way to the circus:


Of course, it doesn't explain the crappy quality of the photo, but in my defense, I think we were on the original Metro car, the carpet was stained black and worn right through to the floor, and the lights were definitely yellow. Erin and I were slightly green, regardless of the Metro lighting.



The circus was fun enough, not as good as last year. There is definitely an A-team and a B-team touring, and last year was the A year - this year was definitely a step down. However, snow cones were still available, so to the kiddies, it was equally good. (Erin, how about you post about the show? I really don't feel like it). By the end Lauren and Marty were both sound asleep.

From there we went out to lunch at Gordon Biersch, which was very child friendly and with a good number of kiddies with circus souvenirs, yet not in an annoying or well, circus kind of way. In a highly unexpected bit of planning, we actually had a lunch reservation, which was good since we had a fair amount of crankiness on our hands by then.

When we returned back to Erin's in the late afternoon, I parked the kiddies in front of the TV, gave them a lame dinner of turkey sandwiches and peas (I know, you just want to run to your fridge right now don't you) and just waited them out until bedtime.

Saturday night Erin and I took a different tack, sitting in the dark staring daggers at the kiddies. This was much more effective and sent them packing by 9:30. Of course the exhaustion of being up all night, walking to and from the subway, attending the circus, and going out to lunch might explain the earlier bedtime. But you can't discount the stares and stern remarks we were throwing.

Maybe having them sleep Little House on the Prairie style was a bad call, but just look how well they get along that they can all share a full-sized futon.

Today we went to the zoo. Erin came for a while, but she had to work, so eventually it was just the four of us, just like so many times last year. I should have brought or rented a stroller for Marty, because I ended up carrying him most of the way up from the bottom of the hill. We stopped for skittles and starburst down by the seals, and then with a variety of encouragement, threats, and bribes, I managed to get them back to the car. Still we saw a lot of animals actually moving around and had a good time. Plus, they got to pose on an animal sculpture (they don't know that the animal is hardly visible in the pictures - don't tell them):


























I don't know why the exposure is different in all of these. I also don't know when Aislinn started throwing gang signs:

But we had a good time.


And I took one more picture right before we got in the car, in hopes that the kiddies would remember their visits to Erin's house back when she was single and carefree (heh), because they were always as much fun as five people (plus a few others who came and went) could cram into two days and two sleepless nights.

Three-Year-Old Stand Up

Yesterday Aislinn asked if Marty and I would come to her class to help with the books they're writing. I didn't find a note about it in her bag, but she said we should come at 1:00. I figured she wouldn't have invented such a specific request, so we went. Once there, I spent 40 minutes with two other parents, wandering around the classroom with bottles of whiteout. The kids were doing their final draft in ink, and every 2.4 seconds one of them raised a hand, indicating that one of us should jump in and correct a mistake.

While I was engaged, Marty was playing around with another little boy there and inadvertently entertaining the entire class with his witty repartee. I'm not entirely sure what's so funny about any of this stuff, but it killed with the second graders.

Teacher: How old are you?

Marty: Three.

Teacher: Wow, you’re just a little bit older than my little boy.

Marty: Yep, and I just keep going on the potty (pronounced pottah).

While looking at a book of maps:

Marty: I live in Virginia.

Friend: I live in Virginia too.

Marty: If you live in Virginia and I live in Virginia, that must mean we’re twins.

While lying in a bean bag chair:

Marty: I'm going to count to sixty, and then we're out of here.

Mommy: It's not time to go yet.

Marty: Time to hit the trail. Do you know what “hit the trail” means?

Friend: Yeah, it means when two cars hit together.

Marty: Nope, it means ride out.

While looking at a globe:

Marty: Actually I live in South Dakota.

When it was time to leave:

Marty: I’m just so emotional right now.

We're going back tomorrow again tomorrow (prior to our engagement with Lauren at the Kite Day festivities). Something tells me he'll have more material.

Don't Worry Daddy, He'll Eat Less Than Liberace

After peeling my 1,000th apple as a mother, I started to appreciate why my mom got mad if we stole apples she was peeling and slicing for pie. I am quite adept at peeling fruit now, but I can't say I enjoy it. Nevertheless, children who eat fruit are much smarter, cuter, and happier than other children, so if I have to clean, peel, and slice the fruit I will.

One of my least favorites is watermelon, because even with the most avid watermelon eating troupe, some of the watermelon (and my associated hard work) is going to get pitched. The small watermelons in the stores now are not so bad, but they are still more fruit than our family can eat inside the watermelon freshness window. As an experiment, a few weeks ago I cut up half the watermelon and then wrapped the other half in Glad press 'n' seal to see if it would last longer.

Marty is our biggest watermelon fan, but he is still unable to eat it without staining at least four articles of clothing and either some furniture or a rug. The other day, I heard him open the refrigerator, and I asked if I could help him. He told me he was just getting some watermelon. I had sealed the cut pieces in a ziploc bag, so I went to the kitchen to help, get him a plate, and see if I could trick him into eating it outside without a shirt on.

If I wasn't so tired and I hadn't been conducting the half watermelon experiment, I might have just sat back to see what would happen when he carried this:


out of the kitchen. Now, although I have no doubt that he was going to eat it, I'll never know how he would have done it. That would have been a much more entertaining picture.

Everyone Needs South Patrol

Outside after school, Lauren volunteers a story about her day:

Lauren: Mommy, today we learned about south patrol.

Mommy (is this part of Virginia's Confederacy curriculum?): South patrol? What's that?

Lauren (looking a little unsure): Umm, no not south patrol...

Mommy (hey, I know what she means, it sounds just like...): The south pole? Like penguins and stuff? What did you learn?

Lauren (still puzzled): No, not the south pole. It was self patrol.

Mommy (I got nothing): Self patrol?

Lauren (squinting a little like maybe this still isn't right): Yeah, self patrol.

Mommy(still puzzled): What's self patrol?

Lauren (giving up): Umm, no not self patrol. I can't remember what it was...

Mommy (wait! finish the story! rusty gears finally kick in...): Was it self control?

Lauren (relief): Yeah! Self control.

Mommy (knowing exactly what the answer will be): Well, you have lots of self control. Who doesn't have self control?

Lauren (shaking her head like a little teacher): S-H-A-W-N

Mommy: Maybe your teacher should have brought up self control a little earlier in the year.

Luckily, We Don't Live in Hawaii

Marty: Help! Save me from the laba!

Lauren: It's lava, not laba. Say lava.

Marty: Laba! Save me from the laba!

Lauren: Marty, say violin.

Marty: Violin.

Lauren: Say vegetable.

Marty: Vegetable.

Lauren: Say lava.

Marty: Laba.

Lauren: No Marty, not laba, lava.

Marty: Lava.

Lauren: Okay, I'll save you. Give me your hand.

So, Where's Lauren Been?

Lauren's little friends down the street each have a Nintendo DS and a game where you can raise a dog and teach it tricks. She LOVES this game. I have given some thought to getting her a Nintendo (and have plenty more time to think about it since her birthday is not until September) and a dog game, but her last book order had a computer game called Fetch listed for $14.95. I'm no math major, but that seemed a lot cheaper than the $150 Nintendo game, so I bought it for her.

It is quite possibly, the most boring game ever invented. She absolutely loves it. She has told me a few times that it is not as good as the Nintendo, but still she plays it every day, and talks about the dogs on the game as if they are her own.

Also, in the past two weeks she has come into our room twice in the middle of the night, crying and saying that she has a headache. Each time we gave her some Advil and water, and then she fell asleep while I spent the next 2 hours wondering if she had meningitis. Each time, when we asked her how she was the next morning she said "Good" and looked at us as if we had three heads.

Eventually we noticed that her voice was a little nasally and she started to complain about her ears, so I finally took her to the doctor who diagnosed her with no visible illness. He gave her some ear drops and she really enjoyed going to school with the cotton in her ear. I think I now have what she had - the world's weirdest cold where your head and ears get all stuffed but your nose doesn't run.

So between Fetch and the cold, she hasn't spent much time charming me with anecdotes to post here. Rest assured, she is the cute bugaboo she's always been.

Windblown, Toothless and Cute

Of course, she'd look a lot cuter without that Eagles jersey.