Dropping Like Flies

I have this friend named Kristin (aka: Lulu). And gosh, she's a real neat gal. Something special, that one. The gods were smiling on Meagan and I when we were placed in a dorm room smack-dab across the hall from miss Krissy ten years ago.

Kristin has dated a couple of men since I've known her, and with each suitor I've asked her this question: "Does he know—I mean REALLY KNOW—what he has?" And each time her response has been something like, "Um. Well. We have a lot of fun together!" And then I'm all, "This boy should be kissing the ground you walk on and thanking his lucky stars that you even glance in his direction once in a while. DOES HE EVEN KNOW HOW LUCKY HE IS."

But, when Kristin started dating Nick, her answer to that question was, "He knows." And that's all I had to hear. I was sold.

A few Sundays ago, Nick took Kristin for a romantic stroll along the beach and proposed to her. And she said yes.

Congratulations Krissy and Nick! I am so, so happy for you.

Budget-Friendly DIY Décor

A few months ago Aunt M and I were walking past a flower shop near her house called A New Leaf, and we saw a wreath. It was made out of driftwood and grape vines. It was aged, dirty, rustic, tattered and uneven. In short, it was perfect. We both loved it. But the price tag said $140, so neither of us bought it.

While we were in Michigan over the weekend, La helped us collect driftwood. Then we all sat on our hotel deck while Aunt M and I made our own versions of the driftwood wreath. Here's mine:

I hung it yesterday and I wasn't too sure about it at first, but it's grown on me. I think I love it. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I do. And it was practically free (See, grandpa? I'M FRUGAL). But the best part is that there's a little bit of western Michigan sitting in my living room.

A Weekend Away

These past few weeks have been a little rough on La and I. We've adjusted to kindergarten and all that goes with it. There's the homework, the lack of naps and the walking a few miles every day. It's a whole lot of change in a little bit of time. But I think we've got it down now.

La did not have school Friday, so we packed our bags and headed over to western Michigan with Aunt M for a brief, relaxing vacation.

And wow. It's gorgeous there.

We met my parents in Grand Haven. The five of us spent the weekend together in a quaint little hotel with a big wrap-around deck and an incredible view of the Lake. We sat, we chatted, we walked along the shore, we drank wine, we sat on the pier, we (grandpa) fished, and we ate great food. The only things missing were Uncle Aaron and both sets of my grandparents. (we missed you guys!)

It was one of the best weekends I can remember. Last night we had dinner on the deck, and as I looked at my daughter, my parents, my sister — my family — I realized that there was nowhere else in the world I'd rather be.

I want to go back. Soon.

Pushing my athleticism to the limits

So one night at a bar with some friends, I decided to join a flag football team. Yes, I did. And my brother and dad are simultaneously groaning at the image that is forming inside their little heads right now. But I'm here to tell you that I'm good at it! Well. I'm not bad at it ... I mean ... I'm sure I suck less than some people in this world.

Ahem.

The problem isn't that I'm not athletic. In my eighth grade track glory days I used to run a 12.9-second 100-meter dash. (that's fast for a girl.) Anyway, the real problem is that I can't catch and I certainly can't throw. And that's what football is all about. Right?

Aunt M is on the team too, and I have to say that she kicks butt. She can throw AND she can catch. Gosh. So jealous.

Anyway, I took La along for the first game dressed like a cheerleader.

BIG MISTAKE.

While she was cute and all, this league is pretty serious business. Like, she was the only person under 24 years of age for miles and miles. And she was almost pummeled with several misguided footballs. And she had a colossal meltdown at halftime, so we had to leave before the game was over.

Not to worry. I have pre-hired a babysitter for all remaining games.

The first game we played was lost by a tremendous margin. I want to say it was twenty or thirty-something to seven. So, some of the boys on our team took it upon themselves to come up with actual routes and plays and zones and stuff. Which they emailed to us as attachments. That I opened. Here's what I saw:

So. I think I .... Well. It looks ... um. Oh I get it!

... Wait, no I don't.

Look! Knitting needles! I can do this one!

And then, there are the defensive zones:

I have to mention that I think it's the cutest thing that these boys sit in their offices during lunch and draw up little plans for our little team. PRECIOUS. It makes me feel really bad that I don't know what the hell a cornerback is or what those dotted lines indicate. But, I will print them out. I will study them. And as soon as someone tells me what a DL is and which side of the drawing our team is coming from, I'll be golden.

My favorite part about the latest email was the following excerpt explaining what the job of the "Steppenwolf" position is:

• Position I randomly made up (Phew. That means I'm not going batty)
• This person will line up in the middle behind the LB's but doesn't have to cover a zone (No zones? I'm bad at zones. BAAAAD. I'm thinking this is the job for me)
• This person is free to do whatever he/she wants (Love it)
• Whether coming up to help the LB/CBs, dropping back to help the safeties or going after the QB; this person has to sniff out plays and be disruptive. (Disruptive? HELLZ YEAH. Just call me Steppenwolf!)
• This person has animal-like instinct. (Uh oh.)

We have our second official game tomorrow night. I'm hoping for a win, but would be almost as happy with a "slight" loss.

And if all else fails, I'll just demote myself to the one who brings a snack to each game.

Picture Day Update

Yesterday morning I put her hair in a bun on top of her head because she had instructed me to make her look like Cinderella for her class picture day.

When I picked her up in the afternoon, she was a complete wreck. But there's really no way of knowing what time of day she morphed, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt and assumed that she had looked fairly decent for her photo.

But then I reached over and touched her partially-intact bun. It was rock-hard and sticky. Then I noticed her collar. Brown. DARK BROWN.

The following conversation insued:

Me: La? How did your shirt collar become brown?

La: Oh yeah! I was carrying my milk and I tripped and it FLEW WAAAY UP IN THE AIR and landed on my head.

Me: You're not supposed to be ordering chocolate milk. Remember?

La: Whoops.

Me: Did this accident happen at breakfast or at lunch?

La: Breakfast.

GGGGGRRRRRRR.

And then I just shook my head and realized that if her very first school picture did not show La with rock hard hair and stains on her collar, then it would not have been an accurate portrayal.

Transitions

This past Saturday, La was a holy rotten nightmare to be around. There's no other way of putting it.

She acted like one of "those" children. The ones when you're shopping at Target who are screaming their bloody heads off, and it's so loud and so annoying and gets SO bad that you can feel your blood pressure skyrocketing and you must summon all the strength within you to keep yourself from marching over and slapping that mother who is SO CLEARLY NOT raising her child properly.

La was that child. I was that mother.

It may have had something to do with the stress of transitioning into the more structured day-to-day rituals of kindergarten. You know, that whole "adjustment" period that everyone talks about. For some silly reason, I thought that La would be immune to that phase. That she would smoothly transition into full-blown school without any "side effects."

Boy, was I wrong.

Folks, I'm here to tell you that kindergarten these days is hard. It's the real deal. She's in class from 9 to 3. She has homework (yes HOMEWORK) every night, and it's stuff that I didn't do until first grade. There are all kinds of things she has to remember. Like lunch money! And folders! She has drama class on Mondays ... Library on Tuesdays ... Art class and show and tell on Wednesdays ... Phys Ed on Thursdays. Her schedule is jam-packed.

It's no wonder she was a total crab-ass on Saturday.

It probably didn't help that I carted her around on Michigan Avenue and then took her on an architectural boat tour up the Chicago River.

Aunt Kathleen and my mom were both in town, and thank goodness they were there for moral support. The weather couldn't have been better. And the boat had a bar on it WITH BEER. It really wasn't all that bad.

La shaped up on Sunday for another day of hanging with the girls (including grandma Dale!). Yesterday she was fine too, and today she was simply delightful. I'm crossing my fingers that she's on the road to "transitioning" out of this wretched phase.

In Vogue

Cowgirl Boots: The Second Child on Armitage | Shirtdress: Gap Kids | Scarf: Kate's dress-up bin

One Hot Mess

There's a phenomenon that takes place each and every day at La's school.

As you can see, I drop her off each morning looking like a sweet, preppy, put-together school girl.

Notice the clips in her hair. The tucked-in, stain-free shirt. The absence of dirt on her face. THE CLIPS! IN HER HAIR! (did I mention those?)

And I when I pick her up in the afternoon, I'm all HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM.

My kindergartner has transformed into something unrecognizable. Something scary.

The shirt's untucked and stained. The pants are drooping. The hair is one giant dreadlock. The face is smudged. The fingernails are grimy. Those clips that were flanking her luscious blonde tendrils? GONE. VANISHED. POOF! Into thin air.

Some days, like today, she even looks a little "scrappy" ... as if she's about to kick some preschooler's butt.

Seriously. Would you mess with that?

Days like these I half expect her to pull a pack of cigarettes out of her rolled-up shirtsleeve and light up on the way home.

SCARY I TELL YOU.

But, what REALLY scares me? Frightens me out of my mind? Is that tomorrow is picture day. This photo will go down in history. It will forever be enshrined in her School Years Scrapbook* and cherished for all eternity. And there is no way for me to know what time her 180-degree metamorphosis will occur tomorrow. We will just have to see.

Judging from the above photos, nothing will surprise me.

*I don't actually keep a School Years Scrapbook. I could start one now, since she's only in the first few weeks of kindergarten, but I already know that I will not be any good at it. Besides, I prefer the "shoebox" method. As in, throw all the precious keepsakes (report cards, awards, cool art projects, school pictures) in a shoebox for safe keeping, and throw everything else away.

Bzzzzzt.

This year, La decided she wanted to be a Ghostly Girl for Halloween. But, not just any Ghostly Girl, mind you. This specific one. And she wanted all of the pieces. AAAAAALL OF THE PIECES. The dress, the cape, the hat, the wig, the shoes, ALL OF IT. And do you happen to know what that would have cost me? Two hundred and thirty dollars. That's right. Plus shipping. WHAT???!!! I know! Outrageous.

So you can imagine my delight when we were browsing the aisles of T.J. Maxx over the weekend and La announced, "I've changed my mind! I want to be a bumble bee for Halloween!"

Phew.

And at a whopping $19.99, it didn't break mama's bank.

It even came with a little tag between the wings warning us to keep any and all bumble bee wings away from open flames. The safety nerd in me is very pleased about that little feature.

Happenings

La and I just finished our dinner. Normally I would not still be thinking about the dinner I just had, but I ate so much of it, that my dinner is all I can think about now. It's like a brick. In my belly. I hate when I do that.

I made Pasta Carbonara tonight, and if you don't know what is in this dish, you're better off not knowing. Blissfully ignorant is best, that's what I always say! Don't get me wrong, this dish is not all bad. Like, say for instance you are planning on spending the next four months on the frozen tundra of Antarctica with only a fishing pole and a frying pan — and before you embark, you're looking for a "last supper" that will add a nice thick layer of fat to your body for improved sustenance in the wilderness, then THIS IS THE MEAL FOR YOU.

I served mine over a bed of arugula.

I did this for two reasons. 1) to make myself feel like my dinner was healthy and 2) I have a bag of arugula in my fridge that's almost as large as my five-year-old child. And if I don't eat all of it before it goes bad, it will haunt me forever and ever.

See?

That's one big-ass bag of arugula, don't you agree? More like Ar-UUUUUUG-u-la. (That's how I say it when it comes out of a bag four times the size of my head)

Let's see. What else has been going on? Oh, yes. La, Aunt M, our friend Poonam and I (AND KATE!!!) went to the German Festival this weekend. We drank enormous steins of beer and pushed La around in her stroller. Don't worry people, it was GERMAN FEST. Every other person around us was also pushing a stroller and drinking a beer. Just like in Wisconsin. (And Germany, I presume?)

We danced. We ate. We were merry.

And now it's back to the reality of Monday. La's second week of school has begun. And she has homework. Which reminds me, we'd better go get that done!

Career change

I picked La up from school on Friday and she informed me that she has altered her career goals. She no longer wants to be a life saver (lifeguard) when she grows up. Instead, she wants to be a singer.

And maybe that's not a bad idea.

Day three, and we're already bending the rules.

Technically speaking, her uniform is a white or light blue top along with navy bottoms (pants, skirt, or jumper). But I saw this little dress on Jcrew.com during their Final Sale, and just had to get it for her. The top of the dress is super-soft cotton like a t-shirt and the bottom is linen-ish. And then there's the little flower applique. Perfect. And it was only $15.

And guess what? We didn't get a note saying that today's outfit was outside of the uniform parameters. Score!

Tomorrow I'm feeling some neon green shorts.

Day two. And she's still kicking.

Two days down. Phew. La started her before and after-school programs today. It went well. I had to practically pry her from that school when I picked her up tonight. She's loving kindergarten, and everything that goes with it. She has one gripe though. And that's that her teacher has not given her any homework yet.

Well, shucks. The world ain't perfect, La.

Did I mention the uniform? No? So, the uniform. OH HOW I LOVE ME SOME LA IN A UNIFORM. Here's what she wore today:

And so far, (because, you know, it's been TWO WHOLE DAYS) I'm liking having to walk three miles each day. It makes me feel like I've accomplished something. I don't think I'll feel the same when it's minus 10 degrees with 50 mile-per-hour gusts. But, for now? It's not that bad!

Day one of seventeen years of school

I worked from home today so that I could drop my little La off right when school started and pick her up right when it was over. Most days will not be like this. I'll normally be dropping her off at a before-school program an hour before school starts, and picking her up at an after-school program two-and-a-half hours after school ends. It makes me a little sad.

We tried to make the day extra special, because there's only one first day of kindergarten!

First things first. Hot curlers! CUTE.

Which made her hair bouncy and voluminous. Until we walked outdoors and the 99% humidity smacked us in the face like a brick wall. As we walked, her hair slowly deflated, until it was back to its normal scraggly state. Oh well.

Aunt M slept over last night so that she could fulfill her role as "husband" and walk us the eight blocks to school. She's normally the stronger, less-emotional one in our relationship, but by the time we reached the first crosswalk, where there happened to be a crossing guard, she got all misty-eyed and was like, "It's a CROSSING GUARD! A real-live CROSSING GUARD! This is REAL SCHOOL!"

When we got to the school, we were asked to find our child's name on her class list just to double check that we were sending them off with the correct teacher. I walked over to the lists, and my heart sank. She was not listed under Mrs. Baughman's class (which was the class that we attended the open house for ... the class where she had found her desk and made new friends ... the class where she had a great teacher and pink and blue and green walls), but under Mrs. Barbeau's class. Who in the heck is Mrs. Barbeau???

I didn't panic though. I asked the nice lady standing there what the deal was, and she referred me to the office. I walked in, and the assistant principal greeted me. I opened my mouth to explain the problem, and she immediately knew what I was there for. She explained that La had been enrolled in TWO kindergarten classes. And Mrs. Barbeau's class is the one she was really supposed to be in.

I've told La before that one of the biggest indicators of how far someone will go in life is their ability to adapt to change. So I knelt down and explained that she would not be in the class that we thought she would be in, but that she would be fine.

Thank goodness the kid knows how to go with the flow!

And then we went outside and met her new teacher. She was so nice. I could tell that La liked her immediately. Then they were off to the classroom to begin a year of learning. And that's when a tear came to my eye.

La was excited to see me when I came to pick her up, but was not ready to leave. I practically had to drag her out of there. I think that's a good sign.

For dinner tonight, we had a special "first day of school" dinner. I asked La what she wanted, and she gave me a list of dinner items right down to dessert. I made Long John Silver's-style "Chicken Planks" (eat your heart out Mark Bellan), corn-on-the-cob, and baked potatoes with heaping globs of sour cream. And ice cream for dessert.

And guess what? No homework tonight.

Labor Day Weekend

Meagan and Mark came in town for a visit. They could only stay for one full day, so we made the most of it. Saturday, we hit the beach.

There was a heavy mist that hung around the downtown area all weekend. Very strange. It gave the beach an etherial glow.

La and Mark played in the sand, while Meagan, Aunt M and I sunned ourselves through the mist. Thanks for keeping her busy Mark! I wish you could be with us every time we go to the beach.

That night I got a babysitter. Man, I really need to do that more often!

We hung out on our friends' (Renee and Phil) rooftop, overlooking Navy Pier and the Lake from 30 floors up. Awesome.

After a game of Catch Phrase we hit the town.

I had to be home by 11:30 so that my babysitter could go out. You heard me. 11:30. This is what happens when you grow up and have kids. Your curfew reverts back to ninth grade.

For once, the weekend seemed to take its time. It was nice, because I got to mentally prepare myself for tomorrow's milestone. KINDERGARTEN. God be with us.

Ready, Set Kindergarten!

This week we attended two events at La's new kindergarten. We went to the "ice cream social" on Tuesday night so that we could pick up a packet of information. La was dressed appropriately for the occasion, as always.

Except we missed the "ice cream" part of the Ice Cream Social, because we decided to go to dinner with some new Nettelhorst friends. Which was even better. It turned out to be a very nice evening.

Thursday was La's kindergarten open house. She got to meet her teacher, see her new classroom, and sit in her desk. She even has a few friends from pre-school in her class!

Cute floral dress from Aunt Karen and Uncle Mark

La played on the playground for a few minutes both of the nights. It's a nice, padded playground. However. It possesses this one particular item that deeply troubles me and unleashes my inner "safety nerd."

It's a gigantic metal pole with pedals and handlebars. You heard me. You ride the pole. Like a bicycle. But, really it's a pole. A very large, very metallic pole. DO YOU HEAR WHAT I'M TELLING YOU? A POLE. THAT SMALL CHILDREN CAN RIDE. Observe.

Allow me to demonstrate the device.

It's like a more dangerous version of the Stair Stepper. And the last time I checked, children are not allowed on Stair Steppers. BECAUSE THEY ARE DANGEROUS.

Also, when I got on that thing, and placed my left foot on that pedal, it slipped a little bit. Slipped! And my heart did a double flip! Because I came THIIIIIISSS close to never being able to give La a sibling.

I hope my college friends feel as old as I do

Five days till my smooshy little nugget starts kindergarten. FIVE DAYS? What? Wha ..? How did this happen? WHERE DID THE TIME GO!?

I can tell she has some anxiety about kindergarten. I can tell this because she wakes up each morning and frantically yelps, "Am I going to kindergarten today?" And when I say no, she puts the back of her hand to her brow, loudly sighs "PHEW," and collapses back down onto her bed.

Not dramatic at all, that La.

But I know she's going to love, love LOVE the PANTS off kindergarten. Kindergarten will have no pants, people. She's going to be a little superstar, I just know it.

A convincing portrayal

La desperately wants to be able to read. I'm sure she would be able to do it by now if I were more adamant about practicing each night. But I hardly have the patience for that. My motto is, "leave that stuff to the professionals!"

It's funny because she pretends to know how to read, and the act is very convincing. In fact, if you heard La "reading" a book, you would think that she's a new reader sounding out the letters carefully, syllable by syllable. But do not be fooled! She's a very good actress.

Note: She looks like a rag-a-muffin because this video was taken Sunday morning shortly after she woke up. I assure you that I put a comb through that hair before we ventured out into public.