It's Snow Problem

Well, apparently it takes a snowstorm to get me to post. Twelve and a half inches fell on Indy yesterday and I've got the school closings to prove it. But unlike my last post, where I seemed all oh-my-gosh-I-can-hardly-stand-to-be-cooped-up-with-little-people, I wanted to add something brighter to this space. Something that says, "I like being with me kids. Really. And I'm so glad I got to spend 2+ years at home with them without the worry and stress that comes with outside employment." So, here we go.

This morning, as I saw Q's school name go scrolling across the bottom of the TV screen, I crawled back into bed and decided that the first remote check of e-mail and voicemail could wait another 30 minutes or so. And a few bleary-eyed minutes later, it was feeling like the old days again. When Keira woke up (thanks to Mr. Q-isn't-for-Quiet), she sleepily asked to eat "beck-fist" in her PJs. Usually, Monday through Friday, my response is a kind and gentle not-today-we-have-to-get-to-school/work/preschool/all of the above. But today, I said yes. Once we hit the kitchen, as I sneak in a e-mail/voice-mail check, Keira rummaged through the freezer to find her waffles and plopped them down by the toaster. This part...not so much like the old days (where I lovingly put the waffles by the toaster). But nonetheless, I got a kick out of her 3-year old self-sufficiency. And at the same time, I managed to feel a twinge of guilt - - couldn't I have just waited until after the waffles to check e-mail? Some mom I am.

But you know what? She didn't mind one bit. In fact, she was very proud of herself. When I told her what a great helper she was, she did a monkey dance around the kitchen. Keira clearly wasn't thinking that she had a lame-o corporate mom who was more worried about teleconferences than her daughter's nutrition. (At least I hope not!) She seemed to be thinking, "Aha! I got to do something for myself! And I did it! I can do it! Yea, me!!"

And then I thought, OK- so you really can't have it all (this I've figured out over the last few months), but you don't have to blame yourself for every little thing. For all those times I've feel like a bad mom for one reason or other (like going back to work, for a big one!), the real opinion that matters is that of the kids. You know, no harm - no foul. If they don't perceive it as bad, I don't have to either. I'll have plenty of other things to beat myself up over the coming years, I might as well give myself a break where I can.

So Miss K - have at it. Soon you'll be making your own breakfast and signing your own permission slips, all in the time it takes me to reply to voice-mail.

Besides, she's got management written all over her, don't you think?

I Don't Know How I Did It

Here's how it went down....

Friday: Too darn cold here, school was cancelled. Kids home, mom therefore home, too, albeit working from home (armed with laptop and Blackberry). Heavy doses of TV and video games seems to work OK and gets us all what we need.

Saturday: Hubby putting in his every-4th-weekend shift, so again - mom home with kids. Still about 50 degrees below zero (an improvement on 100 below previous 2 days). Trying to limit activities involving TV with some degree of success but wishing it was springtime so we could run it off outside.

Sunday: See Saturday.

Sunday afternoon: Fighting over the V-Motion (kids, not mom). Whining about who just won Hullabaloo. Kicking. Throwing basketballs near very large and expensive HDTV. Lost blankets. Lost Nintendo DS (actually just hidden). And nearly, a lost mind. (Did I mention somewhere yet that amidst this all, about 3am Saturday morning, I think, Keira woke up with a 102.7 fever? No? Not yet? Ok. Consider it mentioned now.)

And guess what's next? No school again on Monday. Thanks for all you did, MLK; but this is a little much.

Someone, please remind me: how was it that I was a resident of Stay-at-Home-Mommyville for over 2 years? Was I a happy resident? Did I emotionally scar my children while living there? I'm sure it was a very lovely place, I just can't seem to remember it all right now. Give me a minute....

In the meantime, enjoy the lovely new spring-like blog background. I had to think-spring as a remedy for cabin fever. (As a life-long midwesterner, I really do love the change of seasons, but after about Jan 5, I'm done with winter. And as all midwesterners know, spring is always, always too short.)

Anyway, as I said, enjoy the new background, cuz there are no new pix this time around. I did get an awesome new camera for Christmas, but I just have get more adept at making it talk to my less-awesome laptop.

Oh. OK - fine. Stop whining like the kids. I'll post a couple of photos. Sheesh. I know that's why you all stop by anyway. ;-) Plus, this will provide photographic evidence that indeed, no kids were harmed in the production of this weekend.

Happy Now?

Yeah, well...another 3 weeks....another vacuum in bloggerland. Apparently this whole back-to-work thing is cramping my style more than I thought. But that's another post. (So is our fabulous Christmas, my Nintendo DS Brain Game addiction, and so on.)

Here's tonight's topic (it'll be short and sweet: Leverage is on TNT in 18 minutes!....Yes, I may be back to work, but I still make time for TV!): Quotable Quotes from Quinn and Qeira...I mean, Keira....I wanted it be totally alliterative, but I guess 3 out of 4 Q's ain't bad. Anyway, here we go...

1. "I not very happy wif you!" - Keira, after I put her in a mini-timeout for excessive use of toothpaste. As it turned out, I wasn't very happy with her at that moment either.

2. "You know what they say, Save money. Live better. Wal-mart." - Quinn, after reluctantly agreeing with his dad about saving his money instead of buying more Kooky pens. I think he watches a bit too much TV.

3. "Each sold separately." - Quinn, to Keira, while playing "store". When your son sounds like a TV commercial as a part of his normal speech pattern, you can confirm that, indeed, the TV is on too much. Or his brain is too sponge-like. Or both.

4. "Mommy, I love you most of the world." - Keira. Just because.

And yes, I am very happy with her now.

* * * * * * * * *

We hope you all are having a great start to 2009!

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....