A short note on school

We went to parent night tonight. It won't be our last (and I think the teachers are equally excited at the prospect of two more), but it's hard to believe Nathaniel is almost done with preschool.

He sang and danced his little heart out... well, at least I'm pretty sure he did. He definitely did for the last two songs, which is when we could see him. My boy is not what you'd call "tall," so you can always find him in the front row.

Except that tonight the 3/4 class stood in front of the 4/5 class. And yes, the little girl in front of him was taller.

Doh.

His teacher asked us afterward if we could see him. I admitted we could once the little class joined their parents. She laughed and apologized.

"I am so sorry! I tried to make eye contact with him at one point and I was like, 'Where IS Nathaniel?'"

Yup. That's my boy. He already thinks he's big stuff. Never mind that he's barely 3.5 feet tall.

And in a few short months, he'll be off to kindergarten. On a bus. All day. Where I will have no idea what he is doing and learning, but I'm sure I'll hear about lunch and recess.

Where there will probably be lots of little girls taller than him.

*Sniff*

Overheard at my house: Potty tales

My darling girl went next door to watch her brother and the neighbor boy play basketball. A few minutes later - when I was on the phone, mind you - she returned.

"Mommy, can I go potty at Bev's house?"

"Honey, do you have to go potty?"

"Yes."

"Okay, you're here. Just use our potty."

"But I want to use their potty."

"Well why didn't you ask Bev to use her potty?"

"But I can't open the door."

"Well next time ask one of the boys to open it. But for now, use our potty."

We went back and forth like that for a minute before I gave her a Look and the wailing began. "But I don't want to!!!"

I was on the phone with my Thirty-One director and she absolutely lost it. I think my children and I both amuse and frighten her.

I feel the same way.

Overheard at my house

All the warm weather means the few flowers I didn't manage to kill last year are starting to come back. In most cases, they're buried under the dead growth from last year (it's on the to-do list, I swear), but my bulbs are coming up for the second year in a row! Score!

Leah noticed the daffodils (and something else... I forget...) were starting to show above the mulch.

"Mommy! Your flowers are growing! They need water and sunshine and wuve"

"Water, sunshine and love?"

"Yup. That what Quincy says on Einsteins."

If she follows that advice, she may have more of a green thumb than her Momma. My plants have hope.

Overheard at my house: Untle Mino

My darling girl is destined for speech therapy. For all my fretting and worrying over my barely-verbal son who could now talk anyone into the ground, she is the stubborn one who I think needs help.

She's willing to work with me for about three tries and then she shuts down. We're getting closer on "l." Next up is "r" but the sounds that you make in the back of her throat - c, g, k - are no go.

She's pretty good at pronouncing words that don't contain any of those. Put a lot of them together and it gets interesting.

"Daddy when awe you donna be done with your Untle Mino?"

Hubby, through snorts of laughter: "My El Camino? Not for a while, Baby Girl."

Bouncing baby... fever

Ahhh baby fever, what a wonderful thing.

I've had direct contact with two squishy, wonderful babies in the last week. All I can say is, it's a good thing we're having another, because I want to have another.

We visited a friend at the hospital this week who had her first baby early that morning. They were old-fashioned and didn't find out what they were having, so I was itching to hear the news - boy or girl? I guessed boy and I was right! As soon as I heard, I couldn't wait to get my hands on that fuzzy, squishy bundle of baby boy. Luckily my friend didn't mind some visitors.

My kiddos fought in both cases over who could hold the baby first and for the longest and again and again. I had no doubts about Nathaniel being a fantastic big brother again, but for my little princess, I had reservations. 

Not necessary.

Having a boy in the middle of the night sounds a lot like where Hubby and I were, more than five years ago. Nathaniel arrived at 3:16 a.m. just past his due date and after 17 hours of labor. (my friend was in labor 30 hours. She wins.)

There is nothing quite like holding your first born. Hubby and I enjoyed that early morning surprise (as much as we could on zero sleep) and I remember loving the feeling that the three of us were in our own little bubble. As much as I loved snuggling with him, and especially letting him sleep on my chest, I was so happy and proud of my little man, I was happy to hand him off to anyone who wanted to meet him.

Then there were the sleepless nights, the fretting over nursing - oh to have known he was tongue-tied, mastitis (twice), the relief over switching to formula, the two weeks relying on family for help when Hubby had to go to Switzerland for work and all of the chubby, drooly love.

There's nothing quite like your first.

Or your second.

And I'll get back to you later this year, but I'm pretty sure there's nothing like your third.

Parental victory

My kids do hilarious things sometimes. That's part of the reason I started doing this - half to remember the insanity of their toddler/preschool years and half to share it because it's too freaking funny not to.

Many times, it's the mental head-slap moments when my kids are repeating or mimicking me and Hubby gives me a raised eyebrow that says 1,000 words. A little less than a year ago, it was my television-watching habits that came back to haunt me. Here's what I'm talking about:

Parenting Fail - The News Edition

My kids are pretty observant. As soon as Nathaniel could say "choo-choo" he knew exactly where every set of tracks was near our house. He now knows all of the important stores in our life: Walmart, Target, Starbucks... ya know, the staples. He is a walking, talking game of 20 questions.

Both munchkins love cartoons, but we also watch a lot of Food Network, DIY, HGTV, Discovery and Science Channel. They are equally as likely to be zoned out on a weekend morning to Mickey Mouse as to How It's Made. What can I say, I married an engineer?

In my former life, current events and the goings-on of the world was pretty darn important. I still like to know what's happened in the real world, so our TV auto-tunes to the local news everyday at 5, and if I have my way, it stays on the same channel until the national news is over.

But obviously I need to start shuffling to CNN during the day, because my children - despite all my efforts - are lost.

Nathaniel was going to curl up on the couch with Hubby while I cleaned up from dinner. Hubby had switched to BBC America to watch "Top Gear" and a commercial showed a clip from an upcoming news program.

"Look Daddy, it's Dr. Phil," my beloved cherub said.

It was President Obama.

DOH! Mental head slap.

I don't know, you tell me... was he close?

 

 

 

Flash forward to tonight. 

 

Nathaniel and I were curled up on the couch, watching the "first" round of the NCAA tournament when the camera kept flashing over to the President (and Britain's Prime Minister). Nathaniel asked me to pay attention to the screen to see "this guy."

 

"Who is that, Mommy?"

 

"That's the President of the United States. President Obama."

 

"Omama?"

 

"Obama."

 

"Odama?"

 

"Obama."

 

 "Oh. Obama."

Whew.

Fresh out of snark

Sorry folks, I have nothing funny or even remotely humorous to say today. I hope you'll forgive me.

And while you're deciding to hate me or give me a second chance, say a quick prayer (or whatever works for you) for my friend. There's a medical crisis in her family right now and I hate sitting by without being able to help. I've offered my shoulder to cry on, my ear to listen, and food when she doesn't feel like cooking. That's all I can do, but it doesn't take away the pain and uncertainty.

I know she would do the same for me.

Thanks.

Menu plan ...Tuesday?

Is it really Tuesday? I think I was here Monday but I blinked and then it was an hour past my bedtime. That's been known to happen on the day we get back from a trip/community band board meeting day/a day I realize I haven't done any work in a while. It wasn't pretty.

And I kinda freaked when I realized that I needed to make a lot of dairy-free recipes for yours truly this month. Lucky I have some good friends who talked me down on Facebook and gave me good ideas.

So here we are a day late and a dollar short, but it is what it is...

Monday: Fend for yourselves, which meant mac n cheese and green beans for the monkeys, fried eggs and toast for me and whatever Hubby could find before band while I was in a meeting.

Tuesday: leftover enchiladas from the weekend

Wednesday: grilled flank steak with lime marinade (new)

Thursday: shrimp fried rice

Friday: on the road to the in-laws for my nephew's birthday

I have all of March on the calendar, so let's see if I can make a list and get to the store while the boy child is in school. I am cautiously optimistic...

Overheard at my house: Sharing with friends

An oldie but goodie for you to enjoy while I'm sipping hot tea under a blanket, watching snow and reading a book or 12. 

"Daddy, is John coming over to help you move my closet?"

"No, Kirt is."

"What?!"

"Yup. How do you like them apples?"

"What?! We're giving them some of our apples?"

No, but I still have plenty of jars of applesauce to share.

I hate my car. No really, I do.

It was an Alexander kind of day. You know, "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day"?

Me and him, we're like THIS.

My wonderful, loving, supportive Hubby ran to the store last night after I got home from shadowing my director at a party. We needed a few last-minute things before our annual ski trip with friends and he knew the last thing I wanted to do was take the kids in the morning.

But I ended up doing it anyway. See, he didn't get salt. And we were out. Completely, totally out. Not a grain to be had in my house. Made making pancake mix a smidge difficult.

So when I finally dragged myself and the monkeys out to mail a package, hit the library and get ONE thing at the grocery store, I missed a telltale sign that we were going nowhere. A massively flat tire on the right rear of my van. At least when I started the van, she yelled at me.

"Hey dumbass! Your tire pressure is SEVEN. You ain't goin' nowhere."

No really, that's what she said. She's tired of me bad mouthing her all the time. Just because the seats didn't work and now they don't match and smell like new plastic, or the headlight is temperamental, or the radio loses ONLY my presets, not Craig's, or every once in a while it acts like there's no power steering...

Sorry. I digress.

My only saving grace was that we haven't returned the Grandparents' pickup that brought the New Other Woman home. I squeezed two kid seats into the front with me and we were off. Slowly. I'm not what you'd call a truck girl. I swung her wide and parked far away from everyone else at the library but got brave at Kroger. Darned if I didn't park it PERFECTLY between the lines and with about a foot to spare between the hood and the car across from me. Score.

But of course, there was still my van. Hubby came home early, tried to get enough air in it to drive and could instantly hear the hiss. When he backed it up to see the culprit, we found this:

I have replaced and/or patched that same tire FIVE times now in the three years I've had the van. The first was the week after we brought it home. I should have taken that as a sign.

This car really, really hates me.

And she was due for new tires anyway, so $800 later, we can drive to Michigan for our ski weekend.

Starting out to be a damn expensive weekend...