True Story

Playgroup went ice skating earlier this month. I was a little nervous about taking them myself. Lacing up all those tiny skates. Only having 2 hands that need to hold 6 hands. Turns out, I shouldn't have worried so much.

True, A cried as soon as her skates hit the ice. True, I had no idea why. True, the crying went on for 9 minutes. True, nothing I said or did helped. True, a strange man told me to put her in the penalty box. True, I daydreamed about tripping said strange man for the next 30 minutes.

But it's also true that M and S took off without me and never looked back.

Ugh, sometimes the truth hurts.

Looking for Inner Peace

Last Monday, I was ill-equipped to catch the everyday crap that 3 almost 5 year olds can sling at you. I was a grumpy mommy. So grumpy that I threw a makeup case to the floor of the car. A told me I should never throw things out of frustration.

Noted. Way ahead of you.

In the interest of full disclosure, we were in the parking lot of the library, waiting to go into a preschool yoga class.

Namaste.

So pretty?

S is quite beautiful.  Straight blond hair, blue eyes, button nose, pink lips always in a smile.  Don't take my word for it though.  Just look . . . .

Wait.  Sorry.  Wrong picture.

Here we go.  That's better.

Pre-K Pride

Several weeks ago, the Salad's school had parent/teacher conferences.  We got good reviews on all 3, though with a mention that Ms. Robyn still finds S staring longingly at the picture of R and I that she keeps in her back pack and tells her that "she likes school, but she'd rather be at home with Mommy."

I mentioned to Ms. Robyn my only concern was that I have heard from A that there are several little girls who are very exclusionary in their play.  They will only let 3 girls play.  No boys allowed.  You can't play with us today kind of play. 

We have a strict "You can't say you can't play" rule in our house.  Everyone who wants to play, gets to play.  If there is an argument about what to play, I still give them words to find a compromise.  When A comes home telling me these stories, we play act what she should say the next time. 

This hard, awkward work seems to be paying off, because Ms. Robyn paid R and I the highest compliment.  She said she knew just who the girls were.  She said they have been working with the whole class on "filling up each other's hearts."  She said she was particularly sad that A felt that way, because she uses A as an example to the other kids.  She told us that A uses the right words, "compromise" and "include".  That she's a positive leader in the class.

I couldn't have been more proud. 

Keep up the good work, sweet girl.  

Anatomy of 2 Playdates

M had a playdate at Brett's house on Tuesday.

My SIL called to see if we'd be interested in a playdate, with my 2 nieces, at our house on Tuesday.

And thus 2 playdates were born.  It was an interesting experiment for me.  I got to see first hand how innately different boys and girls are.  I will list the events that occurred at each playdate and you can decide for yourself - was it the boys' playdate or the girls' playdate?

Playdate 1, with descriptions of event, straight from the children's mouths.
1.  We played with Nerf guns and tarts. (I think this child meant darts.)
2.  We played on the swing set and saw dog poop!
3.  We played with army guys.
4.  We ate peanut butter and fluff sandwiches, lots and lots of Oreos, a Popsicle and 1 gumball.
5.  We dressed up as ninjas and Transformers, then rode on the firetruck.
6.  We played birds, and jumped off the couches.

Playdate 2, with descriptions of event, straight from the children's mouths.
1.  We ate pasta and grapes for lunch.
2.  We used makeup, but not any nail polish.
3.  We made necklaces with the squishy beads.
4.  We decorated 2 chocolate chip cookies with pink and red and white sprinkles and hearts.
5.  We played "Angelina Ballerina" and did ballet.
6.  We had a pretend birthday party.

The Dangers of Mini Golf

The first week of January was lonely for me, with R back to work and the Salad back to school.  It was like starting from scratch all over again.  I thought if I was feeling down in the dumps, the Salad must be too.  So I picked up my mom, drove to their school, scooped them up 30 minutes early and took everyone to Linvilla Orchards.  They had just opened an indoor miniature golf course that I wanted to check out, to see if it might be a fun spot for their birthday party in February.

Once again, we were the only people there*.  We took our time on the very age appropriate course and each one of us got at least 1 hole-in-one.  Though, as we played through, I heard myself saying the same things, over and over.  "Don't stand on the green when someone else is hitting their ball."  "Please stand back when someone else is swinging their club."  "Please stop swinging your club around so violently."

I realized towards the end, it's a cute way to spend an afternoon.  But a birthday party?  With 24 kids under 7?  Swinging clubs?  Golf balls flying through the air?

Accident waiting to happen, people.  Accident waiting to happen.

*However will I avoid crowds when the Salad is in school full time?   

The 13th Post on this Blog in which I talk about Poop

The weather called for the high 50s last Tuesday. I know I keep saying it, but it is January. It should be like 30. Ms. Amy and I both jumped on the chance to be outside again and brought our babes to the Zoo.

It was mostly a good day, even if the carousel, train and "Goose Floats" (A's name for the Swan Boats) were all closed for the winter. Though, there were several fights among my Salad about who got to push whom in the stroller that Ms. Amy brought along. The irony of the Salad loving strollers now that I don't need them anymore is not lost on this mama. That's off the subject though. The subject of this post is poop.

I wanted to study the polar bears, since we've been talking about animals that have blubber. I had an experiment in mind for when we got home. We were going to stick our bare hand in freezing water and see how long we could keep it there, then we'd cover our hands in Crisco and gloves and then submerge our hands again to see if our "blubber" helped keep us warm. But the bears were just laying around and the pull of poop is too strong for a 4 year old. Hence, the following excerpts from our day.

"Hahahahaha! That rhino just peed! And now it's going to walk through it's own poop! Hahahaha!"

"If we brush this goat's tail, do you think it will poop on us?"

"The tractor doesn't work 'cause of all the pigeon poop."

"Mommy, is that poop floating in the pig-nosed turtle water?"

"Once, I saw a giraffe poop right here."

See that picture up there?  It's M, most likely pointing to poop.