Archive | October, 2010

Confusion, Costumes and Candy

30 Oct

Halloween is the 31st of October, right? I mean, that’s what it says on my $5 scenic sights of the U.S. calendar so it must be so. Or, maybe not.

It seems there are quite a few towns that prefer you to observe the candy collection event on another day if it falls on a Sunday. Some say it has to do with religious reasons. Others say it’s a safety thing. I say I’m confused.

Following the request of our town leaders, we decided to let the kids set out in search of glowing porch lights on Halloween Eve. We didn’t find many but in the end, it really didn’t matter. It gave those of us participating something to talk about and helped limit the amount of sugar the Nia and Nate had at their disposal. Also, the kids didn’t care what day it was that they went trick-or-treating. They got their sweets and felt great when people made a big deal about their costumes. Nate even received requests to jump like Mario. Of course, he did.

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Peaced Out Girl and Super Mario Posing Pre-Candy

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She was so happy with her costume!

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Stick-On 'Stache for Mini-Mario

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Say Trick-or-Treat!

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Our Candy Organizer

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At Peace in a Candy Coma

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Silly Boy

26 Oct

First, he was running around the house with his baseball glove – back and forth in the hallway and living room – diving and sliding on the floor. I suppose he was perfecting his baseball moves but it just looked painful and extreme. Then, came the cup music.

Nate made for some funny entertainment while I tried to do the dishes. I would have to stop to laugh and then to, of course, get his silly version of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” on camera. Thanks for making mommy shake her head in confusion one minute and then laugh out loud the next, you silly boy.

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My Future Bumper Sticker

26 Oct

Instead of plastering my car with bumpers stickers like, “My child is an honor student” or “My child beat up your honor student,” mine might say, “My child rejected your honor.” It’s something I’m not sure how to handle.

I try not to take the whole school gifted program too seriously. Sure, I see the benefits. They seem to offer students a more extensive focus on a topic and it seems the students enjoy them. I just never worried or aspired for my kids to have that label tied to them. For example, how some parents will tell you that their kids are gifted before they even tell you their names.

When Nia was tested in Kindergarten, we didn’t make a fuss about it. She needed to pass three of the four areas and only passed two. They told us then that she was pretty young to be considered and they were sure other teachers would recommend her in the future. We weren’t sad, mad or disappointed. In fact, we didn’t give it another thought until last week when we got another letter saying she’s being considered for the program but they need our permission to test her. I thought, sure, why not? She could take the tests again. Well, it turns out, she doesn’t want to.

She told us that the tests were boring. They take too long. She doesn’t want to miss class. She doesn’t care about the field trips that the gifted kids get to go on because that would mean she would have to miss class. She doesn’t want to do those projects. She likes to do her classwork.

She outsmarted/out-answered us on every response we gave her. She definitely passes my gifted test.

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Specifically Unspecific

24 Oct

It happened the other day. (To me, everything always does, even if it happened last month.)

It’s on the thing. (Whatever it is, it’s always a thing to me.)

Can you please hand me that whatchamacallit? (Because can’t you tell I need that whatchamacallit so badly that I can’t even think of its name?)

As terrible as it is, this is how I communicate. Andrew has learned to translate so I’ve always been able to get away with it. Not anymore though. It seems my lazy language is not sufficient for Nia. I thought that whole “why” phase was rough – and don’t even get me started on her past “I wanna listen” fits – but this is just plain painful for me.

The most recent exchange went like this:

Me: Nia, please get your cheer bag.
Nia: Where is it?
Me: It’s on the thing – the chair. (Where we usually leave bags and such.)
Nia: What chair?
Me: The dining room chair.
Nia: Which dining room chair?
Me: (Head explodes in exhaustion and defeat)

She will even correct me now if I’m not specific enough.

“You didn’t tell me to shut the door behind me.”
“1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Five seconds are up. Can I watch tv now? You said five more seconds.”
“Are you driving about 20 fast or is it 18?”
“It’s not 9 o’clock, momma. It’s 8:58.”

It all makes that thing in my whatchamacallit between my ears hurt.

Dealing With Irregularity

20 Oct

There are certain things I’ve come to rely on/expect during my work day. They are small things that help me get through the day. Part of my routine. Things like:

  • I prepare myself that I’m going to hit traffic and that my commute will take at least an hour.
  • Coffee makes my morning better.
  • I like to listen to music from my childhood/teens while I work.
  • I desire a Diet Coke at about 2ish every afternoon.
  • My back is going to crack when I turn to look over my shoulder as I reverse my car out if its space at the end of the day.
  • I have a set restroom stall I use.

And that’s where my routine becomes irregular. Some new users have not been taking care of this commode. It is no longer up to my standard and therefore I am forced to choose another.

It is so odd how much this stall shuffle has bothered me. I never realized how much I rely on routine. I’m all out of sorts because of the location of the loo?

I think I’m also disturbed with how yucky people can be. I have no idea who is responsible for ruining my routine with their gross potty habits and they will likely never know the full extent of the mess (the toilet and my sanity) they left behind.

 

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He cried, then I cried – in baseball

18 Oct

I thought he made it. He thought he made it. It was such an exciting sight. Cheers from both sides erupted as we all watched him take off for Third base as the Second basekid on the other team chased him. That Second basekid had to dive for Nate to even have a chance at catching our speedy number 8. Nate was almost there. I screamed and jumped. The other child dove. I screamed and jumped. “He made it! He made it!”

“You’re OUT!” The umpire’s call proved me wrong.

My arms fell to my sides. Nate stood on Third in shock. He shook his head in disbelief and sadness.  His head folded under the weight of his helmet as he was guided off the base. Tears slid down his cheeks. Tears slid down my cheeks.

I’m sorry, Buddy. I know it won’t be the last time you are disappointed on the diamond. I can only hope your little heart doesn’t break each time – for both of our sakes.

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Nia and the Cafeteria Money Mystery

18 Oct

“Hello. This message is for the parents of Antonia Valles. Our records indicate you have a cafeteria balance of negative $2.50. Please pay this balance promptly. Thank you.”

I never would’ve thought a message like that could spark the flood of tears and deep concern that came from Nia. Her immediate reaction was to cry and tell me over and over again, “They are lying, momma! They are LYING!”

After doing my best to calm the crazy, I asked her why she was so upset. All that did was start her up again. “Because they are lying! I never buy anything!” “Okay, fine,” I said. “Let’s try to figure out what else it could be.” I asked her if she got a juice, a milk or forgot her money on popsicle day. She dramatically denied me every scenario I suggested, still insisting that the cafeteria people were out to get her. She instructed me to call them and tell them they were wrong.

I thought about that phone call in my head. “Yes, Miss Elementary School Cafeteria Cashier, as if you don’t have enough to put up with, my seven-year-old says you’re a liar, liar pants on fire.”

Right.

Wow. All this for $2.50 that I knew I was going to pay whether Nia forgot she spent it or the school or another student made a mistake when entering the student ID. I mean, someone spent that money so the school needed it either way.

Despite Nia’s protest (“They just want our money, momma.”), I gave her the money to give to the school and, to satisfy her, told her I would call them to see what may have happened.

Turns out, someone purchased three school lunches using Nia’s number. The really nice woman from the cafeteria said she didn’t think another child could’ve made a mistake because the cashier is supposed to verify. She told me she’d talk with Nia’s teacher about it. I let her know all is well, until the bill is $50. Then, they’ll have to speak with Nia and she’s not as understanding about this matter as I am.

An Artistic Nap

11 Oct

He always acts as though he will go right to sleep for nap time but as soon as we shut the door Nate the artist comes to life.

Here is one of his creations I discovered on his pillow the other day. He wrote all of his loves. He documented the names of the three girls he likes and then he drew a baseball underneath their names. I found it extra sweet that his beloved blankey was right next to his work.

 

Loves

 

He was really proud of this next creation and he even told me a little story about it. “Look at my porcUpines, momma. See, there’s a mean one and a happy one. The mean one is named Nate. They’re my porcUpines.” I will always remember how adorable he sounded when he pronounced the word. His tiny voice, emphasizing the “u”. I can’t imagine him being the mean porcUpine – or, in fact, any porcUpine pronounced like that being mean.

 

PorcUpines

 

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“They don’t look like the picture.”

10 Oct

How could I say no? Nia asked if we could make a sweet treat out of her special recipe book (she still loves it, Ginger!) so that meant I needed to swallow my cookie insecurities and put on my baking face.

“Pretty Princess Puffs,” you seemed simple enough and we enjoyed the time trying to bring you to life but you still defeated me in the end. Even Nia critiqued, “They don’t look like the picture.” That’s ok, Bean. I will always be here to bake with you. I hope you don’t mind my baking blunders along the way.

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Picture Perfect Here

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Making them was fun.

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Making the Puffs Pretty

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Pearls for the Puffs

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Eh.

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Puff went poof.

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The ones that didn't make it.

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This one reminds me of "Little Shop of Horrors" plant.

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The ones that made it. Puffs!

 

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Pumpkin Patch + 85 Degrees = Fesitively Wrong

9 Oct

What the? It was fall weather when I went to sleep last night. As I dreamt of picking the perfect pumpkin, hay rides and apple cider, the temperature was supposed to drop, setting the stage to bring my dream to life.

Well, part of the dream came true. We had a great time with our friends, the Combee family, at Washington Farms but sweated through pumpkin picking, jumpy jumping (where Andrew got in trouble for doing what the video below captures), cow-train riding, goat feeding and pig racing. Hoo-wee. Nothing like a happy and hot fall day.

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Wheel Barrow Princess

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Pumpkin Patch Princess Gets a Lift

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Perusing the Pumpkin Patch with Pals

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Pumpkin Patch Pose

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Pumpkins!

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Hot Hay Ride

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Jelly Bean Cow for the Bean

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Headless Annabelle Cow for the Boy

It's called a jumping pillow and it's awesome!

 

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