Valentine's Day is one of those school days where elementary school teachers deserve hazardous duty pay. Today was the last day of school before Winter Break and this, combined with the giddy atmosphere of a class party day and wildly spiraling sugar highs made for some seriously delirious short people.
I walked into Bug's class to help set up for their class party. The classroom was abuzz with excitement, as the kids flitted desk-to-desk delivering Valentines. I opened the containers of cookies, cupcakes, sliced fruit, and doughnut holes sent in by their parents. Table by table, the teacher sent them to fill their plates.
Shockingly, some children actually took fruit. (Note: not my kid).
I watched one little boy survey his paper plate of goodies with the seriousness of an Iron Chef competitor. He pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and moved one hot-pink frosted cupcake to the center of the plate. From his stack of Valentine candy, he selected a packet of Fun-Dip, tore open the top, and poured the acid-green sugar powder onto the cupcake. He paused and considered his next step, then delicately flicked four candy hearts into the frosting. Finally, he placed a single doughnut hole atop this confection, using his thumb to mash it in firmly. With equal measures of awe and revulsion, I watched him peel off the wrapper and savor every bite.
He caught my eye and grinned happily. Sticking out his tongue, he called, "Hey, Mrs. M.! What color is my tongue?"
And THAT is why teachers deserve higher pay.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Realization
Tonight I went to a spaghetti supper at the elementary school. I sat one table over from a cherubic seven-year-old boy who has been given two to six months to live, due to an inoperable brain tumor. The dinner was in his honor, a benefit to raise money for a last-chance medical procedure not covered by the family's insurance. I watched him tucking in to his plate of spaghetti, as bright-eyed and chipper as any of the kids there, his swollen face the only real giveaway to his medical condition.
His parents sat on either side of him, smiling and clearly grateful for the community support. His mother's eyes looked tired. I can only begin to imagine what she has been through, and where her mind must take her late at night when her little boy is sleeping.
At the end of a day like today, you make sure to give your kids that extra hug, to say "I love you" out loud instead of just thinking it.
I'm going to stop bitching about minutae long enough to give thanks that little insignificant things are really all I have to complain about. Things like the drearily persistent winter weather, my favorite pants not fitting the way I think they should, or the fact that my cat was apparently born with an extra chromosome that enables Continuous Shedding...those are gravy, baby.
His parents sat on either side of him, smiling and clearly grateful for the community support. His mother's eyes looked tired. I can only begin to imagine what she has been through, and where her mind must take her late at night when her little boy is sleeping.
At the end of a day like today, you make sure to give your kids that extra hug, to say "I love you" out loud instead of just thinking it. I'm going to stop bitching about minutae long enough to give thanks that little insignificant things are really all I have to complain about. Things like the drearily persistent winter weather, my favorite pants not fitting the way I think they should, or the fact that my cat was apparently born with an extra chromosome that enables Continuous Shedding...those are gravy, baby.I'm pretty damn lucky, and today I'd like to both acknowledge that and say thank you.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Nine
Birth"day" is something of a misnomer around here. We tend to spin the festivities into at least a full weekend of fun. Here are some shots from Bug's 48-hour Birthday Extravaganza...
Bug wanted a chocolate chip pie for her Real Birthday, and gazed happily into the candles' glow while we clustered around and sang to her. Really, it doesn't get much better than being a kid deciding on your birthday wish in those seconds before you blow out the candles.
Bug's new camera from Daddy S. & I was a big hit. She's showing the makings of being as completely obnoxious as I am about taking photos. Common refrain around here is now Bear crabbing, "Bug keeps taking my picture!" I imagine this is how most paparazzi get their start.
As evidence of my continuing genius (you've started a file with these examples I give you, yes?), I submit The Sledding Party. Points to consider:
a. cheap (like, FREE)
b. completely exhausted children by end of party
c. at no point was I required to wear a bathing suit
c. did I mention the free?
Another genius brainchild of mine was to bake a small cake for each kid at the party. They had a ball slathering them with frosting and sprinkles, and because kids tend to be a wee bit proprietary about "their" cakes, there was no cake for me. Which is a very, very good thing considering the fact that I will be putting a bathing suit on in another four months or so.
Bug wanted a chocolate chip pie for her Real Birthday, and gazed happily into the candles' glow while we clustered around and sang to her. Really, it doesn't get much better than being a kid deciding on your birthday wish in those seconds before you blow out the candles.
Bug's new camera from Daddy S. & I was a big hit. She's showing the makings of being as completely obnoxious as I am about taking photos. Common refrain around here is now Bear crabbing, "Bug keeps taking my picture!" I imagine this is how most paparazzi get their start.
As evidence of my continuing genius (you've started a file with these examples I give you, yes?), I submit The Sledding Party. Points to consider:a. cheap (like, FREE)
b. completely exhausted children by end of party
c. at no point was I required to wear a bathing suit
c. did I mention the free?
Another genius brainchild of mine was to bake a small cake for each kid at the party. They had a ball slathering them with frosting and sprinkles, and because kids tend to be a wee bit proprietary about "their" cakes, there was no cake for me. Which is a very, very good thing considering the fact that I will be putting a bathing suit on in another four months or so. Bug was very meticulous with her cake-decorating, working away on the details long after her friends had finished their cakes.
My nine-year-old Bug: dancer, reader, piano-player, artist, giggler, screecher, bouncer, budding mathematician, photographer, snuggler, and all-around sweetheart. Happy Birthday! I love you to pieces, baby. 
My nine-year-old Bug: dancer, reader, piano-player, artist, giggler, screecher, bouncer, budding mathematician, photographer, snuggler, and all-around sweetheart. Happy Birthday! I love you to pieces, baby. 
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Birthday Hangover
This is what happens 'long about midday Sunday when you've been celebrating your ninth birthday nonstop since daybreak Friday.
She slept for three and a half hours until I woke her up for dinner.
She slept for three and a half hours until I woke her up for dinner.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Everything I Know About Football
(Those of you who are shocked to find actual words under that title and not just blank space have just earned 10 bonus points).
1. I know very little about football.
2. In junior high, I once made a touchdown while playing flag football in PE class. I can still remember the feeling of exultation, and vague surprise that no one was catching me, as I raced down the field to the sound of my teammates screaming my name. I ran over the goal line, turned, and realized that they'd been screaming because I had just made a goal for the opposing team. This turned me against football for life.
3. I have had "downs" explained to me an easy hundred times over the course of my life and have made peace with the fact that I will never ever understand what they are.
4. My best friend's husband did successfully, and patiently, explain what "offsides" means to me. I basically sit around the whole game and wait for this to happen because it's the only thing I can comment about without sounding like an idiot.
5. I like the shiny, tight uniforms, but I can't tell one player from another with their helmets on. And, yes, I know their names are on their shirts, but I'm too blind to read them.
6. Super Bowl Sunday is an excellent time to go shopping. The stores are virtually empty. Ditto restaurants.
7. I'm a big fan of wings, chips and dip, and other football-type food. I feel this should count in my favor.
8. I watch the Super Bowl for the commercials.
1. I know very little about football.
2. In junior high, I once made a touchdown while playing flag football in PE class. I can still remember the feeling of exultation, and vague surprise that no one was catching me, as I raced down the field to the sound of my teammates screaming my name. I ran over the goal line, turned, and realized that they'd been screaming because I had just made a goal for the opposing team. This turned me against football for life.
3. I have had "downs" explained to me an easy hundred times over the course of my life and have made peace with the fact that I will never ever understand what they are.
4. My best friend's husband did successfully, and patiently, explain what "offsides" means to me. I basically sit around the whole game and wait for this to happen because it's the only thing I can comment about without sounding like an idiot.
5. I like the shiny, tight uniforms, but I can't tell one player from another with their helmets on. And, yes, I know their names are on their shirts, but I'm too blind to read them.
6. Super Bowl Sunday is an excellent time to go shopping. The stores are virtually empty. Ditto restaurants.
7. I'm a big fan of wings, chips and dip, and other football-type food. I feel this should count in my favor.
8. I watch the Super Bowl for the commercials.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Happy Birthday, Bug!
My baby turned nine today. This is alarming on several fronts:
a. I really can't keep calling this "baby weight" when the baby is close to a decade old.
b. Before I know it, I'm going to have TWO hormonal, moody girls.
c. Nine? Really? Wasn't she just four?
d. I think this means that I, too, am getting older. I don't believe I want to think about that right now.
Her daddy and I woke her up by singing to her, let her open a few of her presents at breakfast, and then whisked her off to school with a tray of pink icing-flowered cupcakes to share with her class. I just finished strewing pink crepe paper around the house, which looks a little less like the festive vision I had in my mind when I started and a little more like there was an industrial accident involving Pepto Bismol.
a. I really can't keep calling this "baby weight" when the baby is close to a decade old.
b. Before I know it, I'm going to have TWO hormonal, moody girls.
c. Nine? Really? Wasn't she just four?
d. I think this means that I, too, am getting older. I don't believe I want to think about that right now.
Her daddy and I woke her up by singing to her, let her open a few of her presents at breakfast, and then whisked her off to school with a tray of pink icing-flowered cupcakes to share with her class. I just finished strewing pink crepe paper around the house, which looks a little less like the festive vision I had in my mind when I started and a little more like there was an industrial accident involving Pepto Bismol.
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