Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
Like a Boss
This is why God made cell phones with Instagram capabilities.
To catch her when she strolls out of the garage as I try to pull in.
Wearing super baggy yoga pants, dragging on the ground.
Stunner shades.
Chewin' on Daddy's golf tee.
And rockin' some redneck gloves like nobody's business.
Signaling me to stop, STOP THE CAR.
I open my door.
She poses.
Asks me if she can park the car for me.
I absolutely let her.
And naturally, she parked the shit out of the car.
On Mama's lap.
Like a boss!
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Fly
Kid Rock,
Daddy and I had your preschool conferences yesterday. I was very excited to go and glean all I could from your sweet teacher. You see, as a preoccupied 4 year old, you don't share much about your day away from me. I mostly get stock answers from you when I inquire about your day on our drive home. For example, each and every single day I ask you what you had for lunch and you reply, chicken.
I remember my own Mama's trepidation about my conferences when I was a child. She knew the outcome would be the same.
Bright, social child.
Never, ever shuts her damn mouth.
This occurred kindergarten through whenever she stopped going- junior high?
I did not fear attending yours.
The Easter Bunny gifted you a butterfly Barbie doll and since that Sunday morning, you've been appearing in real life in these wings. You're a wingnut and I fully supportive your current habit/trend/obsession.
At conferences, we were presented with your Observation Report. It's based on a scale that on the left-hand side, shows "Not Observed" and the middle is "Emerging" and the right-hand side shows "Consistently Observed". Your teacher explained that as a winter birthday 4 year old, she simply wanted you to be "Emerging" in all your developmental areas:
Social-Emotional
Social Competence & Relationships
Creativity & the Arts
Physical & Motor Development
Language & Literacy Development
Language & Literacy
Cognitive Development
And without surprise, you are beyond Emerging and pretty close to Consistently Observed in most areas. You excel at Language & Literacy. When presented with free time, you usually find a big ol' pile and books and set about looking at them solo. (I nearly cried at that ... oh, baby girl! We're such nerdy bookworms and I am delighted!) You take writing very seriously.
You adjust to new situations and scenarios very well. That's the Daddy in you ... Mama, not so much.
You always participate.
You're independent and often times at recess, you're by yourself. Again, that is the Daddy in you.
But you're very happy this way, and I am learning it doesn't mean you're sad and lonely. It means you're content and OK. Maybe that's the Grandma G. in you!
You need to remember to cover your mouth when sneezing or coughing.
You're getting better with patience. You'll sit THISCLOSE to the art easel as your classmate finishes his or her project, waiting for your turn.
The one comment your teacher made was this:
Lil' dude participates and enjoys all parts of the preschool day. She is willing to try everything. Occasionally it is hard for her to share her favorite things. She continues to grow in all developmental areas.
Sharing is a theme we continue to work on- at daycare, and with your village. We know full well how you operate.
One week at school, there was a pet shop setup in the Star Room. A pet shop! Complete with pens and pens of stuffed puppies and furry kittens and tank after tank of fish, turtles, and reptiles. Besides a barnyard, I can't imagine anything better for you to experience. You're a truly obsessive animal lover. So, pet shop week rocked your face off. One afternoon, your teacher went to straighten the Star Room up and noticed a bunch of puppies missing. The next day, she witnessed you removing said puppies from the play refrigerator where you safely stowed them for first dibs.
As your mother, I am not sure if I should scold you or high-five you for your ingenuity.
I think I'll do both.
I'm proud of you, my little preschooler.
So insanely proud.
Bigger than the sky, and better than Starbucks.
Mama loves.
Daddy and I had your preschool conferences yesterday. I was very excited to go and glean all I could from your sweet teacher. You see, as a preoccupied 4 year old, you don't share much about your day away from me. I mostly get stock answers from you when I inquire about your day on our drive home. For example, each and every single day I ask you what you had for lunch and you reply, chicken.
I remember my own Mama's trepidation about my conferences when I was a child. She knew the outcome would be the same.
Bright, social child.
Never, ever shuts her damn mouth.
This occurred kindergarten through whenever she stopped going- junior high?
I did not fear attending yours.
The Easter Bunny gifted you a butterfly Barbie doll and since that Sunday morning, you've been appearing in real life in these wings. You're a wingnut and I fully supportive your current habit/trend/obsession.
At conferences, we were presented with your Observation Report. It's based on a scale that on the left-hand side, shows "Not Observed" and the middle is "Emerging" and the right-hand side shows "Consistently Observed". Your teacher explained that as a winter birthday 4 year old, she simply wanted you to be "Emerging" in all your developmental areas:
Social-Emotional
Social Competence & Relationships
Creativity & the Arts
Physical & Motor Development
Language & Literacy Development
Language & Literacy
Cognitive Development
And without surprise, you are beyond Emerging and pretty close to Consistently Observed in most areas. You excel at Language & Literacy. When presented with free time, you usually find a big ol' pile and books and set about looking at them solo. (I nearly cried at that ... oh, baby girl! We're such nerdy bookworms and I am delighted!) You take writing very seriously.
You adjust to new situations and scenarios very well. That's the Daddy in you ... Mama, not so much.
You always participate.
You're independent and often times at recess, you're by yourself. Again, that is the Daddy in you.
But you're very happy this way, and I am learning it doesn't mean you're sad and lonely. It means you're content and OK. Maybe that's the Grandma G. in you!
You need to remember to cover your mouth when sneezing or coughing.
You're getting better with patience. You'll sit THISCLOSE to the art easel as your classmate finishes his or her project, waiting for your turn.
The one comment your teacher made was this:
Lil' dude participates and enjoys all parts of the preschool day. She is willing to try everything. Occasionally it is hard for her to share her favorite things. She continues to grow in all developmental areas.
Sharing is a theme we continue to work on- at daycare, and with your village. We know full well how you operate.
One week at school, there was a pet shop setup in the Star Room. A pet shop! Complete with pens and pens of stuffed puppies and furry kittens and tank after tank of fish, turtles, and reptiles. Besides a barnyard, I can't imagine anything better for you to experience. You're a truly obsessive animal lover. So, pet shop week rocked your face off. One afternoon, your teacher went to straighten the Star Room up and noticed a bunch of puppies missing. The next day, she witnessed you removing said puppies from the play refrigerator where you safely stowed them for first dibs.
As your mother, I am not sure if I should scold you or high-five you for your ingenuity.
I think I'll do both.
I'm proud of you, my little preschooler.
So insanely proud.
Bigger than the sky, and better than Starbucks.
Mama loves.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Monday, April 16, 2012
Just Keep Swimming
Here's a little update on how the lil' dude is doing in her swimming lessons- you know, the third time she's been enrolled in this same level.
(Recap? First time, did magnificently entire course. Would not test out on finals day. When I asked my teeny blond daughter why she didn't listen to her instructor on that particularly important day, she answered, Because I didn't want to. Enrolled her again, she did even more magnificently. This included the tiny sprite of a thing shimmying/kicking/paddling her way down the length of a college, regulation-sized pool and back with a water noodle. I thought we had graduation on lock. Upon the final day, the instructor and aquatics director met with us and said while yes, she passed, at three she was just too little to graduate to the next class with first graders as the average aged swimmers. So passing was an epic fail).
That was a long recap!
So here we are, spring of 2012, in Advanced PreK swimming lessons for the third time.
We missed the first Saturday. Someone was drinking Caribou and watching Pioneer Woman's cooking show with her Fairy Godmother instead of Speedo-ing up.
The second week of class, my girl sauntered into class 7 minutes late (some one's mother was waiting for her coffee to finish percolating at home) and said hello to every instructor, lifeguard and parent in the complex as she made her way to the shallow end. It was like watching the badass who flunked 9th grade return to the classroom in the fall, in his rebel motorcycle jacket smelling like Marlboros. All cavalier.
Always at the end of each class, the kids can stand on the edge of the pool and wait to jump off at instruction. Parents stick to the walls with towels, waiting to claim their fish. The lil' dude moved as far down the edge as she could, distancing herself from her three classmates, requesting to jump last. Lips blue, flesh goosebumping, she waited her turn.
And when it was, my daughter did a 360* into the pool.
I immediately looked to the stands to make eye contact with the Dad. He had a big ol' shit-eatin' grin on his face.
Oh, no she didn't.
When my Olympian surfaced, the instructor grabbed her and told her she is not supposed to do jumps or flips off the edge, ever. She could very well hit her head or smash her face on the way in.
As she paddled for the ladder, the lil' dude said, Yeah, well, I didn't!
I have a feeling we won't be revisiting this particular level of swimming lessons for a fourth time.
And when the aquatics director emailed us this weekend with some scheduling changes as well as her notice of leaving the program, I wondered what, or which blond four-year-old, was her true motivation for abandoning post ...
Just keep swimming.
(Recap? First time, did magnificently entire course. Would not test out on finals day. When I asked my teeny blond daughter why she didn't listen to her instructor on that particularly important day, she answered, Because I didn't want to. Enrolled her again, she did even more magnificently. This included the tiny sprite of a thing shimmying/kicking/paddling her way down the length of a college, regulation-sized pool and back with a water noodle. I thought we had graduation on lock. Upon the final day, the instructor and aquatics director met with us and said while yes, she passed, at three she was just too little to graduate to the next class with first graders as the average aged swimmers. So passing was an epic fail).
That was a long recap!
So here we are, spring of 2012, in Advanced PreK swimming lessons for the third time.
We missed the first Saturday. Someone was drinking Caribou and watching Pioneer Woman's cooking show with her Fairy Godmother instead of Speedo-ing up.
The second week of class, my girl sauntered into class 7 minutes late (some one's mother was waiting for her coffee to finish percolating at home) and said hello to every instructor, lifeguard and parent in the complex as she made her way to the shallow end. It was like watching the badass who flunked 9th grade return to the classroom in the fall, in his rebel motorcycle jacket smelling like Marlboros. All cavalier.
Always at the end of each class, the kids can stand on the edge of the pool and wait to jump off at instruction. Parents stick to the walls with towels, waiting to claim their fish. The lil' dude moved as far down the edge as she could, distancing herself from her three classmates, requesting to jump last. Lips blue, flesh goosebumping, she waited her turn.
And when it was, my daughter did a 360* into the pool.
I immediately looked to the stands to make eye contact with the Dad. He had a big ol' shit-eatin' grin on his face.
Oh, no she didn't.
When my Olympian surfaced, the instructor grabbed her and told her she is not supposed to do jumps or flips off the edge, ever. She could very well hit her head or smash her face on the way in.
As she paddled for the ladder, the lil' dude said, Yeah, well, I didn't!
I have a feeling we won't be revisiting this particular level of swimming lessons for a fourth time.
And when the aquatics director emailed us this weekend with some scheduling changes as well as her notice of leaving the program, I wondered what, or which blond four-year-old, was her true motivation for abandoning post ...
Just keep swimming.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
Besties From the Block
The lil' dude is growing up with her best friend living directly across the street from her, their driveways are perfectly aligned.
Born six weeks apart and acting like sisters ever since, it' been one of my greatest pleasures in life watching these two ladies grow up together, all sweaty blond hair and overly applied sparkly lipgloss and sweaty, clutching hands.
Something pretty big happened in the neighborhood under last weekend's sunshine:
These babies crossed the street together, alone. Free of parental supervision.
Granted, each Mama was on her own front porch, hollering directions and wringing hands in worry and disbelief.
That our firstborn, our darling daughters are capable of such a feat. The two who used to swap Nukkies and share blankies and sleep forehead to forehead on big king sized beds when their parties were over.
Born six weeks apart and acting like sisters ever since, it' been one of my greatest pleasures in life watching these two ladies grow up together, all sweaty blond hair and overly applied sparkly lipgloss and sweaty, clutching hands.
Something pretty big happened in the neighborhood under last weekend's sunshine:
These babies crossed the street together, alone. Free of parental supervision.
Granted, each Mama was on her own front porch, hollering directions and wringing hands in worry and disbelief.
That our firstborn, our darling daughters are capable of such a feat. The two who used to swap Nukkies and share blankies and sleep forehead to forehead on big king sized beds when their parties were over.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Four Foot Fashion
I was commiserating with my Mama friend this week about daughters who have a say ... too much say ... in their Mother's personal style. Last week the lil' dude told me I wear scarves too much; that she was tired of that particular look.
That's harsh, man. She's only four!
Then I told my Mama friend what my kiddo was rockin' that very day to preschool- a pastel green and yellow maxi dress, navy blue striped tights, a cream, ruffled long-sleeved t-shirt, and silver sparkly Toms spattered with orange paint. Judge on, tiny judger, lest you not be judged!
I'm back to wearing scarves on the near daily.
In the mean time, my four foot fashionista is rockin' ensembles like this on the daily:
Gopher sweats. Syracuse tee. Pink fancy shoes. Mama's work gloves. And her iPod. Nary a care in the world.
That's inspiration at its finest.
That's harsh, man. She's only four!
Then I told my Mama friend what my kiddo was rockin' that very day to preschool- a pastel green and yellow maxi dress, navy blue striped tights, a cream, ruffled long-sleeved t-shirt, and silver sparkly Toms spattered with orange paint. Judge on, tiny judger, lest you not be judged!
I'm back to wearing scarves on the near daily.
In the mean time, my four foot fashionista is rockin' ensembles like this on the daily:
Gopher sweats. Syracuse tee. Pink fancy shoes. Mama's work gloves. And her iPod. Nary a care in the world.
That's inspiration at its finest.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
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