All I Want for Christmas

'Twas the morning before Christmas and a boy wouldn't sleep.

He was up so darn early his mom wanted to weep.

Soon sis was up too, with a grouch and a pout.

She could hear brother downstairs and would not be left out.

Why, oh why, do they wake me? Mom thought with a bother.

Why is it they never go to wake up their father?

She sighs and gets up, heads downstairs with cold feet.

And instead of some coffee, gets this lovely treat.

HO HO HO! I hope your Christmas is filled with sugarplum smiles like these!

What Were You Doing Two Years Ago Today?

Me? I was freezing my tail off on the Great Wall of China, among other things.

Yup, it's that time of year when I take a trip down memory lane.

We left for China to get Keira 2 years ago on December 14 (which was a Thursday in 2006). And after a day of travel and the time change, we ended up landing in China late on the 15th and touring Beijing on the 16th. For the fun of it, I re-read my blog post from that day. Apparently we got updates on the kiddos then. Keira's update listed her as restless, energetic, with a sweet smile. I didn't know it then, but they really nailed it.

I honestly didn't put much stock in the orphanage generated "personality information" at the time, but looking back at that and the initial profile we got, it was all amazingly on the nose. Perhaps I underestimated them.

But I'll never underestimate the Mighty K. As she reminds me daily, "I can do it, Mama."

Yes, dear. No matter what it is, I'm sure you can. You already have.

It's Like This, Sister

Tonight, during the portion of mealtime conversation that I like to call Mom's Summary of Things to Come or What's Up for the Week, I reminded the kids that not tomorrow, but the next day was....

Keira's Birthday! Quinn shouts.

And then the day after that....? I ask.

Silence.

So I help out. "Keira's uhhh...."

Adoption Day! Again, Q with the right answer.

Keira says: "Doption?"

Before I have a chance to answer, Professor Quinn says this: "Keira. Adoption is when...well, see I was born in mommy's tummy and you were adopted. You were born in another mom's tummy, like I was born to mommy's tummy, but your first mom and dad couldn't take care of you and we had room in our hearts and in our house to love another sibling so we adopted you."

Boom. Just like that. K's story in 10 seconds or less.

Pretty well done, I think. He must listen to some of what I say, here and there. (The room-in-our-hearts-to-love-another is my line, by the way, in case you were wondering.)

And to think, I've been spending all this time trying to eloquently write out a life story for Keira when I could've just asked Quinn.

Next thing you know, the boy will be blogging.

Watch this space.....

It's Beginning to Feel a Lot Like Christmas

Quinn has left no less than 3 lists in his stocking for Santa this year. He's leaving no doubt that he'd like a NintendoDS, Kooky pens, and Bakugan. (Thanks to public school and rides on the school bus for enlightening my little one as to the existence of all these things! And don't feel bad, grown-up, if you had to google at least 1 or 2 of these items....I did, too!)

Anyway, the sweetest thing he's left, however, has to be this:

He left a gift for Santa. Wrapped himself, no less.

One night as I was tucking him in, he said to me, "You know that bear with the broken hat? [Ed. note: I'm pretty sure SC will overlook Q leaving damaged goods.] Well...I thought I'd leave it for Santa. He brings, like, presents to 5000 kids and gets nothing for himself, so I thought maybe he'd like to get something."

I practically cried right on the spot.

You know how, as a parent, you have those days when you aren't sure if any of that use-good-manners-be-kind-to-others stuff sinks in? And then pow! There it is. A beautiful thing. This kid is on the Nice List for sure.

"That's such a great idea," I say. "I'm really proud of you for thinking of that."

And then here is where he maybe he gets himself into trouble with SC. You see, I go on to say that he doesn't have to part with the bear if he doesn't want to (I'm afraid he'll have donor's regret later and I don't want to deal with the tears). I say that perhaps Santa might also like a note that he's written or maybe we could leave some cookies out for Santa or something.

"Cookies?!" Q asks in disbelief.

"Yes, cookies. Sometimes people leave Santa cookies as a treat, since he's been working so hard and all."

"Uh...mom?" Q whispers, "Santa kinda has a big, fat belly. I really don't think we should be leaving cookies."

Oh. Well. He's got a point. Guess my healthy snack chats have made an impression, too.

So I agree that maybe carrots would be better. And we leave it at that.

Despite the diss on SC's weight, I think Q will stay on the Nice list anyway. Afterall, he's just looking out for SC's health and well-being. And maybe saving the Ho Ho Ho HMO some money in the long run.

Who Was That Masked Bird?

Earlier this month, Quinn had a project which involved "disguising" a turkey so he wouldn't be found on Thanksgiving Day.
So whaddya think? Is Q's disguise a good one? Can you spot the turkey?
Yeah, I didn't think so.
Afterall, there are no turkeys in Colts jerseys. Better look elsewhere. (And because I'm in a good mood, thankful for a 4-game win streak and all, I won't even mention where you should be looking....but you know who you are...)

H A P P Y T H A N K S G I V I N G !

Say What?

See sweet little Miss Salsa Face over there? Yeah. Her. She told me to shut up the other day. Lovely, eh? Here's how it happened....

Have you ever tried to teach a kid to NOT interrupt? It is not easy. Heck, even grown-ups have trouble with the concept on an on-going basis, but for kids it is really some form of torture. Nonetheless, in an attempt to teach that mommy will not answer you if you are interrupting (so please wait), I sometime "ignore" the offending child when he or she is yelling over a conversation-in-progress.

As it turns out, Miss K is not a fan of this approach. I was talking with hubby the other day (a serious topic too, like what take-out we wanted or something) and she kept trying to interrupt. For something of utmost importance: a barely visible scratch she had, which apparently urgently needed some sort of first-aid. Anyway, after trying - unsuccessfully - a few times to get my attention she finally just said, "Hey! Mom! Shut up!"

Well, mission accomplished, Munchkin. You got my attention alright.

And how do you suppose I respond? With that classic, albeit ill-advised, mother's line: WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?

And, being 2 and very literal, she replies: Shut up, Mommy. File this under: be careful what you wish for. I asked what she had just said, and so she obliged: she said it again. (Why do moms do this? Ask the ol' what-did-you-just-say question? You know you've done it. And you know you really didn't want to hear it again. Yet we ask....)

Thankfully, I had some patience leftover that day, so I calmly said something to the effect of: That's rude; we don't speak like that here; please don't do it again.

And so that was that.

Except for the look on Quinn's face. For someone not involved directly in this incident, he was looking a smidge bit guilty. Probably waiting for the "Well Quinn says it to me" retort.

But alas, Keira never offered that up.

I think he owes her one. Perhaps he's thankful for his little sister afterall.

Let's Talk Turkey

It's that time of year. Time when all good little kindergarteners make Pilgrim or Native American costumes and enjoy a Charlie Brown-type Thanksgiving feast: popcorn, crackers, and the like. Quinn had his class feast today and looked smashing as Robert Wilson (whoever that is...no doubt a dapper young man listed on the Mayflower's manifesto).

Recently, my little kinder-kid also brought home a book the class put together, entitled How to Catch and Cook a Thanksgiving Turkey. Each child was interviewed by the teacher and answered four questions: How do you catch a turkey? How do you clean a turkey? How do you cook a turkey? and How do you serve a turkey?

To catch a turkey, many of Q's classmates thought chasing after it with a net would be helpful. One girl, the one who loves horses, thought you could rope it rodeo-style. Only one kid mentioned this method: "look for it, grab it by the neck, and then chop its head off." One kid. Mine.

Sigh.

Should I be worried? Does he harbor a heretofore unknown violent streak? Where he get this stuff, I have no idea. I've never even let him watch newconferences done in Alaska.

Calling Ms. Manners

So, what's the protocol here? You know, when you haven't posted in about ages and suddenly you show back up.

Do I go on acting like I was never really gone for 3+ weeks? Post a litany of excuses? Try to smooth it all with cute photos?

Well, scratch that last idea. I haven't downloaded any photos since the last time I posted. Heck, I haven't even really taken any photos since I last posted. Yeah, its that bad.

Well, OK, not really. But it did all start (the blog-out) with a really sad event: Hubby's dad passed away on October 31.

H had gone up to visit his dad earlier in the day, but didn't quite make it there in time. He waited to tell me until later that evening, so as not to ruin the trick-or-treat fun for our little goblins. This would be our 3rd funeral in a year's time (H's bro and dad, my granny; and well, make that 4, if you count the loss of our super pooch in Feb). The week that followed was an exhausting week in many ways - mentally, emotionally, physically (that stems from trying to get 2 kids to stop.running.in.the.funeral.home!). And just when we were getting our groove back, so to speak, H was gone for the weekend again (to help siblings sort through his dad's stuff) and then I started back to work full-time.

So, needless to say, things have felt a little inside-outside-upside down.

But, better days are ahead, I'm sure of it. Starting with Thursday and some of my mom's yummy home cooking. Nothing like turkey, dressing, and pumpkin pie to cure what ails you.

So faithful readers, the 3 or 4 of you left, fear not. I shall reward you with fine photos and turkey tales in the near future. Just not now.

OK, fine. Here's a photo to tide you over. Since you've been so patient and all....

Happy Halloween!

Hope you all had a festive Halloween!

The kids were thrilled about their first-ever trick-or-treating experience.

Although at bedtime, Candidate Quinn (see also yesterday's post) added this to his proposed platform: "Mom, if I get to be president, I'd let kids eat as much candy as they wanted at bedtime." I think he's appealing to the too-young-to-vote demographic and the dentists-who-need-work demographic. But this mom may have to pull her endorsement!

A Candidate I Can Support 100%

Quinn, ever the competitor, wants to know "who we're cheering for" in the election. He wants to cheer for one, and boo the other. As we drive through our neighborhood, he reads off "Obama!" or "McCain!" as we pass the yard signs. He's been asking a bunch of questions.

But yesterday, he had an idea all his own.

Hey Mom, if I get elected president, I'll make sure the Colts get to win all their games. Purdue and the Pacers, too.

Now that's a candidate I can support without reservation.

(Don't look now, McCain, but Q might just get Indiana to turn BLUE afterall....Colts blue at least!)

The Mommy Spin Zone

Are you as tired of all the political spin as I am? If you're a Republican, you probably think the Democrats are full of hooey; if you're a Democrat you are up to your ears in it as well. And if you are still undecided, well, your head is probably spinning right and left!

Here's a more constructive way to spend your time: Create your own little Mommy Spin Zone.

This is how it works: Take any of the day-to-day situations that make you crazy, and, well, spin them to the result of your liking. Pretty simple, eh? You'll delude yourself into thinking that your kids can do no wrong and that you are indeed Supermom. Allow me to illustrate.

Remember the Crayon-Carpet Incident of a few weeks ago? Well, now it has become the Keira and Quinn Working Together For Change! Incident....or the Keira Showing a Talent for Interior Design Incident....or the At Least They Didn't Get Their Hands on Sharpies Incident. See how this works? The results show that your kids are geniuses and that you are not incompetent but rather mother of said geniuses. Double bonus.

Here's another example: Have problems with the munckins following you everywhere? In the bathroom? On the phone? Yeah, well, it's not as irritating as you think once you become a spinmaster. You see, what is really going down here is that you are, in their eyes, the coolest kid in school (you always wanted to be, right?). You're a rock star. You are so fabulous and interesting that they can't get enough. They have to know your every move. And - this is important - they want to be like you.

Ahh, yes. Nice, eh? What they say is true: It's all about perspective, people. All about perspective.

And, just to prove that I practice what I preach, know this. I am not about to consume a couple of scoops of high-fat, high-calorie mint chocolate chip ice cream, but rather I am about enjoy a high-calcium, osteoporosis-preventing frozen treat. See? I feel better already.

[Voice over: I'm Quinn and Keira's Mother and I approve this message.]

A Picture is Worth....

Well, the saying goes something like: A picture is worth a 1000 words. These are worth about 5 to 10.

For example, this one says: Mom, stop taking so many pictures!

And this one says: OK, fine....but we don't hafta smile, do we?

An this one says: At last! Momma got lucky!

Now, if only Santa brings me one of those sweet SLR cameras I've been coveting....these kids will be in real trouble. :-)

Can I Have a Do-Over?

In life - whether as a student, a working professional, or as a parent - I've always tried to be prepared. My degree of diligence in preparing may vary, but nonetheless I try to be ready.

Of course, then reality steps in and you may find that any pre-work you've done has just flown out the window.

Take this for example.....

As a parent of a child who was adopted, I try to do my best to anticipate those "tough" questions and think about how I might respond. I try to think about what might be asked and when.

And of course I was totally unprepared to have that "when" be last week, and the "what" be: Kiki grow in mommy's tummy?

Ugh. All my prep flew out of my head. I was stuck looking like a deer in headlights. Like Sarah Palin at a Katie Couric interview. Instead of saying something touching and eloquent, like "No honey, you grew in my heart", I mumbled something along the lines of "No, Kiki grew in another mommy's tummy...we adopted you and now you're part of our family....mommy loves Kiki very much." (Which, you have to admit, is a smidge bit better than "I read all of them, Katie....any in front of me..." Seriously, Sarah. You of the wink and the nod. Didn't you think of buttering up Ms. Couric by saying that you used to get your news from the Today show but now it's all about the CBS Evening News??!) Anyway, mine wasn't the world's worst response, but it certainly didn't seem all that I had imagined. Of course, my audience was a 2-year old, so I think all she really understood was the "no" (she frowned) and the "mommy loves Kiki" (she smiled and put her cheek out for a kiss).

In retrospect, I suppose it went OK. But still. Not like a Lifetime Movie of the Week or anything. More like reality TV. Of course, I'm sure I'll have a chance for a do-over a time or two or twelve in the coming years.

And instead of reruns, I'm hoping to provide some fresh programming.

Vincent Van Go-To-Your-Room!

Hmmmm...where to begin?
OK - I'll keep it simple. Me making lunch. Kids in basement. Coloring. See pic to the right, from a few weeks ago, for how it should be done. That is, on the paper.

NOT. ON. THE. CARPET.

Oh yeah. You heard me. On the carpet. They colored the carpet. Which is possible. I didn't know that until today.
I knew it was too quiet down there, but did I check? Nooooo. I decided to remain blissfully ignorant. Which lasted all of about 7 minutes. Then the mac-n-cheese was ready and Andy and Andrea Warhol came upstairs. Q proclaims that Hey! Keira colored the carpet! What? Yeah, she did; really. Hmmmm...could she really do much damage in such a little time, I thought. Will crayons even write on carpet? As I'm contemplating this over a few seconds, K fires back an accusation of her own: Gege color too! Oh no, I foolishly say, he knows better; Quinn knows we color only on paper.
They traipse off to wash hands. We eat. Play outside a little afterward. Keira naps.

Then, I inspect the damage.

Yikes.

Not only did she color the carpet, but she colored about a 12x24 area. In orange and blue. And then a foot or so away, there's more. Not scribbles though, but well formed letters. Including a Q. Hmmmm....curious. I'm starting to see now why Quinn didn't rat out Keira right off the bat, as she was coloring (as he typically does for even the most minor infractions). No, not this time. He didn't have time to tattle...because he was too busy doing some coloring for himself! Arghh!
Initially he denies my accusations, insisting that Keira made the Q. And the A, too. Oh really? I say. She can barely make a circle, let alone a Q. And that is one mighty nice Q.
Before I have to get all Elliot Stabler on him (pop reference to one of my favorite prime time detectives!), he confesses to being the brown-crayon-bandit, but maintains that Keira told him to do it. Uh, yeah, right....since when do you listen to anything your 2-year old sister tells you?
So, once I have a straight story, more or less, I do what any mom worth her salt does: I leave it for daddy to witness when he comes home from work, and then equip all 3 with buckets and rags to clean it up. Yeah, that's right. Somehow I managed to get hubby to lead the kiddos in the clean-up effort, even though he had nothing to do with it. How about that? Some finesse, eh? I know, I know - one could argue that it was my negligence (um, make that misplaced trust) that led to this whole thing in the first place, but I certainly wasn't going to point that out.

In the end, the crayon came out of the carpet. The kids will be coloring upstairs for the next couple of days. And Quinn drew pictures of Princess Mommy and Princess Keira as a peace offering.

Now that's some art I can appreciate.

Sweeeet!

The news seems all doom and gloom lately - financial crises, candidates nationally and locally taking jabs at each other, and - this arguably isn't of the same magnitude or importance, but still - the Colts are not off to a good start. So, in an effort to improve to aura of the universe, here are a few sweet things to take your mind off the ills of the world:

Sweet potato fries. Run - not walk - to your nearest Trader Joe's and scoop up a couple of bags of their Sweet Potato Frites. Yumm-mmmy! (or is that yammm-mmmy??!) Even Keira loves them. Keira, the vegetable hater. She loves these little sticks o' goodness. Mmm-hmmm. Of course, Q ranked them as the 4th best food on his plate yesterday...and he only had 4 things to start with. But still, everyone else in this house gives them a double thumbs up. (And while you're at TJ's, do yourself another favor and buy a tub of Oatmeal Cranberry Dunkers with White Fudge Drizzle...you can thank me later. And remember: anything containing oatmeal can, in good conscience, be classified as a breakfast food.)

Apples! Keira's playgroup went to a nearby working apple orchard the other week. She initially balked at the idea, thinking I was going to make her actually eat those apples. But once she realized she could just pick (not eat) ,and later get to ride on a wagon to boot, she was all in. Quinn's class took a field trip to the same orchard earlier this week and while he did not get to actually pick any apples, he gave a gold star rating to the trip overall. When asked what he learned, he replied as follows: "I sat with L on the bus and I think she's in love with me now, too." Oh brother. I'm going to be looking into all-boys schools soon.

Soccer. While technically not as sweet as apples or sweet-tater fries, Q sure has a great old time each Saturday morning, chasing down the little black and white ball. His coach has been so good about being sure that not only everyone plays as much as they want, but also that they all get a chance to score. Keira has a grand time as well, chasing around the little brothers of Quinn's teammates. And yes - you can see it coming already, right? I'm checking into an all-girls school for her. Do convents take Methodists?

And if all the above isn't enough to take your mind off the ills of the world, well, I'm sorry. It's all I've got.

That, and this little barrel full of monkeys.

Fox In Socks

Looking back on my last several posts, I realize there's been a recurring theme: Q and kindergarten. So in an effort to provide equal airtime, or as equal as things can get, I thought I'd take a minute to refresh your memory: There's a spunky 2 year old running around here, too. And she's been talking up a storm.

If you have or had a child this age, you know/remember what it's like when they start talking. It is like opening up floodgates. The words, phrases come blasting at you, faster and faster, until you are totally overwhelmed. Of course, you don't always know exactly what is being said. Just that a lot is being said.

And sometimes, what they are saying sounds a lot like something they should not be saying.

This particular example first showed up in the spring. However, with the onset of summer and therefore hot weather, I forgot about our little "problem". Forgot, that is, until today.

It is fall now, more or less. And a bit nippier in the morning. And cooler temps mean chilly 2 year old feet. And chilly feet need socks. And when K needs socks she means to say, "Momma, Kiki needs socks." However, said 2-year old has these 2 problems (among other verbal challenges):

1. She often swaps an S for an F....like she'll say "fost" instead of "soft". I'm told by a speech therapist friend that this f-for-s thing is not unusual at this age. Ok. Good. So "socks" should come out "fox". Right?

Wrong. Enter problem 2. She has trouble making words plural.

No matter what, it is hard for her to put an S on the end of things. I haven't asked my speech therapist friend about this yet, but I do know that in Chinese (which she heard exclusively in utero and for her first 12 months) they don't have plural words (they just make things plural by adding an adjective in front).

So now, put problem 1 and 2 together. Think about it. And translate "Momma, Kiki needs socks" into Keira-speak.

Got it? Yeah. Shocking yet funny the first time you hear it. Disturbing thereafter.

Needless to say we've been working tirelessly on Ss, before and after words, all day. And to no avail.

Today, she went to school in "sssss-fandal!".

With white you-know-what to go with it.

Oh! Did I mention? Her fashion-sense is second only to her vocabulary.

Yesterday

It was only a matter of time, I suppose. Not if, but when.

When would I get the first call from the school nurse? (Yesterday.)

When would Q miss his first day (or half-day) from school? (Yesterday.)

When would a little girl first plant a schmoocher-oo on my LMIK (Little Man in Kindergarten)? (Also yesterday.)

And when would Q score his first phone number from a little chickadee? (Yup, you guessed it - yesterday.)

Yesterday. Sigh. It all started smoothly enough. Quinn catching the bus. Keira off to preschool. Me at home trying to clean up the eternal chaos upstairs, otherwise known as The Purple Room. Then the phone rang. The words you don't want to hear: "Mrs. Quinnsmom?....This is Mrs. S., the nurse at his school...."

And silly me, my first thought was illness not injury. How inexperienced I am as a mom of a young boy.

As it turned out, after lunch (which they eat at 10:15am, btw, so as to completely quarantine kindergarteners from the rest of the general population), as the kids were lining up for recess, Q tripped over some kid's leg (who was butting in front of him in line, so he says) and he fell over a chair, onto a table, and crashed his nose. Bleeding ensued. Later a cheek bruise showed up. Thankfully, by the time I got there the bleeding had stopped and Q was in no major pain. Nonetheless, I was instructed that perhaps I should bring him home so he could spend the day icing it, off and on. Q was so brave through it all, although he did shed a few tears when I arrived....mostly because, as I found out later, he was bummed to be missing school; not because he was hurting.

Also as I found out later, a certain little friend from his class, and quite nearly a girl-next-door, snuck a little peck onto Q's cheek during circle time earlier that day. Of course, this is between you dear readers and me, riiiiiight? Please - NO mention of this to the one who says "it was so embarrassing!" (not becuase anyone saw, he says, it was just embarrassing.)

And the story does not end here. Later in the day, some of his classmates made get-well cards for Q. Among those doing the kind deed was the little smoocheroo herself. Although what distinguished her card from the rest was this: a Q inside a red crayon heart. And her phone number. Oh my.

Maybe teaching kindergarteners to read and write is overrated. I'm starting to think cookies, juice and a couple of stories isn't so bad afterall....

I Was So Tired I Almost Fell Asleep in School Today!

This is not what you want to hear your kid say, first thing off the bus. Yet, it is a direct quote from my son. Today, 3:02pm. Sheesh. Apparently, his near-brush with school-time slumber came at the end of the day, waiting in his classroom for the "bus kids" to have their turn leaving class. So it is not like he was falling asleep during "morning work" or anything, while practicing his Ss today (ironically, they learned to write Ss today....as in, S is for sleep!).

Anyway, before I had a chance to say that Hey buddy, looks like we will definitely go to be bed earlier tonight, he assured me that now, he was no longer tired (Um, yeah. Right.) and that he didn't need to get to bed earlier (Wow - am I that predictable?! They get good at this so fast!).

Tomorrow night is Meet the Teacher night, and so at this point, I'm crossing my fingers that we don't get pulled aside and given a little what's what about proper sleep habits. I'm hoping to keep my parental green card (and not the dreaded yellow or *gasp* red card the kids get for objectinable behavior).

Oh, and last week I asked Quinn to name the best three things about his day. (I'm trying to follow all those how-to-get-your-kids-to-talk tips and not ask yes/no questions.) Here is what he had to say: 1. We had recess; 2. We had corndogs for lunch; and 3. I got to ride the bus.

So there you have it. Kindergarten highlights from the trenches. And nary a mention of reading, writing, or 'rithmetic.

And while I don't have pix of the sleeping prince in action, I thought I'd post a photo of Q and K doing their best Michael P and Natalie C impersonations (a little Olympics withdrawal going on here).

Oh, and lastly, before I forget (hold the age jokes): thanks to all for the various b-day greetings I got today. You all rock. I will reply personally to each heartfelt message (including the helpful tips on aging from my sorta fav BIL) soon. I would've replied to you all earlier today, but, well, I've been going on and on in my blog instead....and before this whole blogging deal I was (are you ready for this?) playing with the awesome new Wii FIT (yes, let me shout that: WII FIT!!!!!!) that I got from my super-awesome super-resourceful hubby! Ladies, hear this: dropping major hints beginning 3 months before your bday is a good thing. Said often enough, it all sinks in.

A Gold Medal Week

The big story around the world this week seems to be the Olympics. We've been getting our fill here...staying up late (the grown-ups anyway) to see the swimming, gymnastics, volleyball, and glimpses of beautiful China.

Our Chinese-American gold medal toddler models her Olympic finery to the left. She was decked out and ready to go for the Opening Ceremonies. I picked out the t-shirt, she picked out her hat. The outfit pretty much sums her up, eh? (Of course, as far as the shirt goes, what was I thinking when I bought that thing back on our adoption trip? I totally overestimated her growth....she'll likely be able to wear that shirt again for the 2012 Games!)

Of course, around here, the Olympics aren't the biggest story around. The big news in our corner of the world is Super-Q's entry into formal education. So far, he gives a double-thumbs up to Days 1 and 2 of Kindergarten. He has safely navigated the bus to and from school, bought his lunch in the cafeteria (even choosing a vegetable as part of today's lunch!), and given me all necessary parent paperwork (intact, no less). On the right, you see the handsome guy decked out for his first day. He picked the shirt and I started to pick out khaki shorts to go with. "Mo-om, I don't need to look like a church man, do I?" No, no, I guess not. Jean-shorts will be just fine.

And notice little sis in her PJs. Not looking very happy. This, however, was nothing compared to her reaction when Q actually got on the bus. And the big door closed. And the loud yellow monster pulled away, taking her brother with it.
She. went. nuts. Crying, screaming, wailing. Gege, come back. Back, gege! Waaaaaah! It was sweet and heart-breaking at the same time.

I explained that the bus was taking him to school, yada yada yada, and home again after her naptime. That seemed to do the trick. Plus a walk around the neighborhood and another 2 bowls of Frosted Flakes. Tony the Tiger makes everything grrrrrreat!

Kindergarten-palooza!

Well, the last few days have been filled with all things kindergarten. Kindergarten "orientation" on Thursday (meet the teacher, see classroom, visit school library and cafeteria, sit on bus....that should've been ride on bus, but it stalled...but that's another story). School ice cream social on Sunday (get bus assignment, buy school T-shirt, desposit money in school lunch account, avoid PTO recruitment). And now, one final day of lounging around and enjoying summer...all the while, me trying not to say stuff like "Hey, this is your last lunch at home before school starts" or "Hey, tomorrow at this time you'll almost be done with your first day of school" and other assorted phrases which apparently annoy my 5-year old.

Here are various tidbits about Q's cool school: he has twice the number of kindergarteners in his school than I had in mine....and his school is one of about 11 in the district (not the only one, like mine was). His teacher started kindergarten in the exact same year that I started. Started college, I mean. His class is not filled with kids named Jennifer, Michelle, Michael, and Mark, but rather Meade and Callahan and Sofia and Isabelle. He gets to choose one of 3 entrees each day - not Shepherd's Pie, take it or leave it.

He will, however, learn to make his letters the same way and still, 2+2 = 4. So, some things I can help him with.

Now, off to figure out how I can snap a photo of him on the bus tomorrow w/o being noticed....I'd hate to be a totally-embarassing mom. Not on the first day, anyway.

Quit Being Such a Salsa Hog!

I'll take Overheard at Q&K's House for $200, Alex.

Answer: The family member who uttered the title quote.

You, playing along at home: Who is.....the man of the house?

Alex: Correct.

You: I'll take Overheard for $400, Alex.

Alex: The family member to whom the quote was directed.

You: Who is....Quinn?

Alex: Sorry, that's incorrect.

Another player rings in: Who is....the lady of the house?

Alex: Sorry, that is also incorrect. The correct answer is KEIRA.

How can that be, you say? Keira - the salsa hog? You've always been told Keira eats nothing but Goldfish, yogurt, and mac-n-cheese. Nary a fruit or vegetable to pass her lips. How could she be the one who is inhaling mass quantities of salsa, nothing but loads and loads of veggies and spices?

Well, let me set the record straight. She does eat some veggies - if you count zucchini bread, spinach and artichoke dip, and breaded eggplant as vegetables. And yes, she does like salsa. But until tonight, I didn't know just how much.

We had been getting Garden Fresh Salsa by the tub-full at Costco. She liked it alright, enjoying the crispy chips just as much. But tonight, we tried Trader Joe's Fresh Mild Salsa. And she not only liked it, she hogged the container. She kept standing up in her chair to reach across the table for more. She rationed her chips, biting off just the part with salsa and then standing to dip again. (The $600 answer would've been: The family member at the end of the "Hey - you're double-dipping!" accusation.) And, to top it off, by the end of the meal (yes, we were having chips and salsa as part of a Friday night hodge-podge) she was, well, you check it out....

As they say, Good to the last drop!

Wild About Books!

If I were to write a book this minute, it would be titled something like this: Never Let Your Child Wear Flip-Flops to the Library (and Other Parenting Tips No One Ever Told You).

It all started out innocently enough - a trip to our local library. A great place. A place you want your kids to love. But, maybe in our case, the library is too great. They love it too much. They feel too comfortable there. Where are all the old crotchety librarians hissing "Shhhhh" when I need them?

Before we headed out today, I led the kids in a rousing cheer-like recitation of the rules.

Do we yell in the library? Nooooo!
Do we speak quietly in the library? Yessss!

Do we run in the library? Noooo!

Do we walk in the library? Yessss!

Do we jump in the library? Noooo! (I threw this rule in there because I anticipated trouble with those wily flip-flops, but did I listen to that inner voice and make her change into sneakers? noooooo!)

Do we listen and cooperate with mommy? Yessss!

I was fooled into thinking that yelling with me in giddy unison indicated understanding of the rules. Apparently, when a 2 year old yells in unison, she is actually, well, just yelling in unision. Understanding. Cooperating. Doing as you are told. All totally optional in Toddlerville.

Anyway, off we head to the library. As we cross the parking lot, I remind again: no running; no jumping. What a waste of breath.

You see, our library is a big, fabulous building. As big as my high school practically. In fact, when we first moved here I thought it was a school. And, like a school, it has those wonderfully echoing hallways. And, as any 2-year old worth her salt knows, when you run or jump in said hallways in sparkly princess flip-flops it makes a loud, echo-y, slapping noise sure to irritate your mom. It will irritate her once, twice, three times over. It will irritate each and every time. A sure thing. Like death and taxes.

Twenty minutes later, after a few gentle (and a couple not-quite-as-gentle reminders), we head out, books and summer reading program prizes in hand.

And my mom wonders why I often prefer Half-Price Books over the library. Carpet, mom. Carpet. They have a lot of carpet there.