I Can't Complain

Kindergarten Fashion Report

I guess it's not technically a kindergarten fashion report, since the actual kindergartners were all wearing pretty much the same thing  - plaid jumpers or blue shorts with white shirts.  They did all look awfully cute, though. 

Anyway, today was my weekly reading day in K5, so I naturally wore a new outfit in hopes of impressing a roomful of five- and six-year-olds.  I realize this is bordering on pathetic, but a girl's gotta take whatever compliments she can get, you know?  And hey, it worked - when I came in I got a BIG chorus of "Mrs. Bomber's Mommy, I LOVE your shoes!" And "Mrs. Husband's Last Name, you look pretty!" 

(Almost no one there calls me by my actual last name, which I find slightly hilarious - yesterday when I was there helping out with Mother's Day cake decorating one of the Bomber's teachers announced to her class that they needed to all pay attention and go up when Mrs....um... when H-bomb's mother calls them.  It's not that she (and everyone else) doesn't know my last name, but it's such a mouthful, especially in comparison to the Bomber's last name, that no one wants to attempt it. I'm not complaining, it just makes me laugh.)

So, today's outfit was a big hit:

The tunic sweeater is from Boden. It is so super-comfortable, I want to wear it every day. I'd buy it in every color if it came in anything else besides tan and grey. The leggings are just leggings - from Delia's or Target or some other source of generic leggings. 

The shoes are Annie, and I found them when I decided I needed lime green shoes and Googled "lime green flats".   I knew that some day all those skills I've been honing doing legal research for the last 8 years would come in handy.  "Lime green flats" to find lime green flats - that's why they pay me the big money, folks.  I got them from Amazon for an absolute song, too.

Scarf and belt are both old pieces in my wardrobe.  The scarf is from a Bass outlet and the belt is so old, I can't even remember where I got it.  It's surprising how much use I've gotten out of a lime green chain link belt. The bracelet I bought last summer at Broadway at the Beach in Myrtle Beach for like a dollar. I love it way more than a dollar's worth, though. It's really cheerful and summery. And I got a serious compliment on it from one of the little fashionistas today - she told me she wanted one like that for her mommy. :)

Here's how I look in all of this:

You can't see my shoes, and there's no cat box today, but you do get a bonus picture of the potted plant in my office lobby. Come to think of it, the potted plant coordinates nicely with my outfit, doesn't it? Or.... I coordinate nicely with the potted plant. Which doesn't sound nearly as fashionable.

Just a few more weeks of school, which means just a few more weeks of ego-stroking...er, I mean reading to the kindergartners.  That's probably a good thing, though - the stress of finding something exciting to wear every Thursday is really starting to get to me.

Oh, and happy Confederate Memorial Day to all you crazy kids who celebrate it.  I have to work, but I hope you'll print some money or secede from the union or something, for me.

Blatant Pandering

Last week there was very little action on the shoe fetishist front.  I switched days from Thursday to Friday, and when I got there they were all abuzz about their visit from some short, trap-busting, candy-pushing Irish guy.  The only way they'd have noticed my shoes if they were green satin boots with turned-up toes.  And I totally forgot to wear mine. What? YOU don't have leprechaun shoes in your closet?

Anyway, today, in what I like to think of as "playing to your audience"  (but is really most accurately described as an act of blatant pandering,) I made a point of wearing shoes I thought would appeal to your average five-to-six year old.  Specifically, these:

If you think those shoes are all kinds of awesome, you are in good company with a small gaggle of five year old girls, and one of their teachers.  (I can only assume the other teacher just didn't get a good look at them.)

The best part about these shoes is that while they're not new, I haven't worn them much, so it's like having a new pair of shoes. (In fact, I discovered them in a shoe box I was emptying out to use as a kindergartner's Valentine's Day card mailbox.  It's kind of appropriate that they used shoe boxes, don't you think? But I digress...)  Anyway, it's a good thing I dug these up because I gave up shopping for Lent  (I know, right?! I hope someone reading this is already working on my application for beatification....) so I can't just go out and buy something. 

Easter is only a few weeks away, though, and I've already started scoping out shoes to add to my kindergarten-approved collection. I wonder if these:

are too much for daytime wear?

 

 

 

 

Kindergartners Are Closet Shoe Fetishists

Since right after winter break, I've been going over to the Bomber's school once a week to read stories to his class.  It's absolutely one of my favorite parts of every week - I'm really enjoying getting to know his classmates and there's nothing like the rock star treatment a visiting parent gets from a group of five-year-olds to buoy your spirits.  But after going over there every week for the last two months, I've learned something else about small children that I never knew before: they dig shoes.

And really, this kind of makes sense.  They're all still pretty low to the ground, and for most of them, a grown-up's feet are a LOT closer than their heads.  And not only that, but no one's feet ever scolded them or told them to stop doing something they wanted to be doing. Heads? They do that stuff all the time. 

I have to admit, I didn't quite put it all together at first. The first day I went over to read, I thought all the scuffling to be in the front row, and touching me was just because of that whole five-year-old-rock-star treatment.  The next week, though, I went over there wearing these:

They're made from a sort of fuzzy microfiber.  Not quite faux suede, but fuzzy enough to have a little texture.  The kids sitting closest to my feet were FASCINATED by them. One of them rubbed them absent-mindedly the entire time I read, while another had to be restrained from putting his face on them.

The next week I wore these:

Not even remotely fuzzy, so I figured I was safe.  Instead, one little girl actually wrapped her arm around my leg and stroked the boot from ring to ring, stopping every few strokes to hook her finger in one of the rings and try to pull it off. The little boy from the previous week preferred the toes.

The following week was the booties again, and more fuzzy admiration. A pair of brown leather booties garnered virtually NO interest, but I suspect that had to do more with the fact that they were out of sorts from being stuck inside on a rainy day, than a critique of my footware.  At least, I hope so. I'd hate to think my favorite brown shoes didn't pass kindergarten muster.

Last week, I wore these:

The buckles were a HUGE hit. There was a discussion of whether they did, in fact, unbuckle, and then a plea to be allowed to unbuckle them. Then there was an examination of how one would go about unbuckling them, if one were ever given permission to do so. (Sadly, permission to unbuckle was never granted.)  There was also some admiration for the pleasing smoothness of the leather.  I must say, they ARE pretty nice boots.

Today it's supposed to hit 81F here, and I've had to admit to myself that boot season is probably over.  Instead I wore these:

As I walked through the door, the VERY first words I heard from the VERY first kindergartner that approached me were "I like your SHOES!"  The small thrill of happiness I got from that comment has actually started to worry me a little. I mean, what if, on some dark day, I wear a pair of shoes they DON'T LIKE?!?! WHAT will I do then? How will I handle the disappointment and embarrassment? 

Here I was worrying about whether they were enjoying the books I was reading, when it turns out the real concern was they approved of my footwear. I think I need to go home and take a serious look at my shoe collection before next week...

The More Things Change

Not quite five years ago, in October 2006, I sat at this computer with tears in my eyes, a lump in my throat and an ache in my heart, and wrote about the Bomber's first day at daycare. As I hoped, it eventually did become easier and less painful.  And somewhere along the way, it became something else - those people who held my baby when I couldn't, who helped him walk and talk, who taught him songs and numbers and colors and how to write his name and read a book - those people became our family.  The other kids he spent his day with became his brothers and sisters, and their parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles became our community.

And so today I find myself back at this computer, with tears in my eyes, a lump in my throat and an ache in my heart, writing about the Bomber's last day with this family, this community of people who have helped raised him and cared for him and loved him. Oh, he'll be back there on Monday for summer camp, but it won't be the same.  Just like on that day in October 2006, after today, nothing will ever be the same again. And just like that day in October, I know this is good - for him and for me - but it is so incredibly hard to say goodbye to the people who have shared our lives for the last five years.

So I'm not going to say goodbye. I'm just going to say thank you - thank you to all the caregivers and teachers and members of our community who helped shape his life and mine into what it is today.  We'll miss you all, and we'll carry you in our hearts always.

 

I Can't Complain (But Sometimes I'm Still Blue)

I've been feeling pretty blue lately, for a variety of reasons, but as my husband has pointed out, I really have very little to be unhappy about. Which isn't to say I think that only people with "real" problems are allowed to be sad or unhappy, but I do think it's good to remind one's self of the good things once in awhile, just to keep everything in perspective. With that in mind, in no particular order, I bring you a few things that make me happy:

1. A sleeping Bomber.  Aside from the fact that he doesn't talk (much) while he's asleep, when he's asleep, I can still see the tiny infant he once was - in the expression on his face, the way he still holds his hands in his Han-Solo-Meets-Carbonite pose, and the tiny bit of drool running down his chin. Awake, he's all little boy who knows everything, but asleep, he's still my baby. 

2. Larry. He's all kinds of awesome. I don't know what I can say that doesn't sound ridiculously sappy, but I got seriously lucky when I met him.  He's cute, funny, understanding, thoughtful, a good father, an awesome partner, and the only person I can even imagine spending the rest of my life with.  He puts up with me when I'm moody and unpleasant, and tries to make me smile when I'm down. Yeah, he's a keeper.

3. Donuts. I really like donuts. I used to be fairly apathetic toward them.  I mean, I'd eat one and enjoy it, but I didn't have any particular love for them.  When I was pregnant, though, I craved them all the time, and the craving stayed with me afterwards.  Since almost five years has now passed, I figure the craving's not going away, so I might as well just embrace them. Figuratively, of course, since embracing donuts literally would be kind of sticky. But actually, it might also be kind of nice...mmm.... donuts...mmmm.... wait, what was I saying? *ahem*

4. The Money Eating House.  Not only am I grateful to have a roof over my head and the means to afford it, but I am especially grateful for the MEH in particular.  Yes, it eats money. A lot of money.  But there's nothing like walking on floors  that have been there for 106 years and wondering who else's feet have walked there, or shoving open a window and thinking about someone throwing the same window open in the spring of 1906 or so, and  taking in a deep breath of sweet-smelling southern air. So even though the walls aren't plumb, the windows aren't level, and nothing is either a standard size, nor the same size from one room to the next, I wouldn't choose to live anywhere else. 

5. Exercise.  Yeah, I have to get up at 5 AM to do it, but there's nothing like a great workout (or really, even a bad workout) to give your day a boost - even if you do nothing else that day, you've already accomplished something at the end of your workout.  And it can be motivation for eating healthy (why ruin all that work you dragged your butt out of bed at the crack of dawn for) or justification for eating something "bad" (hey, I worked out! I can have a donut! mmm....donuts....mmmmmm.....wait, what was I saying?)

6. Margaritas. Larry makes really good ones. I mean, REALLY good ones.  I could tell you the recipe, but then I'd have to kill you.  They're that good. He mixed up a post-rapture-five-year-old-birthday-party recovery batch this weekend, and they were TAY. STEE. And there's still some in the 'fridge...

So, there you go. Half a dozen things that make life pretty great. A lot of the stuff that's got me down is still there and getting me down, but I truly do have nothing to complain about (though I reserve the right to continue to do so), and lots of stuff to be happy about.

Wild Kingdom, Public Library Style

Most Sunday afternoons the Bomber and I like to head to the library for a new infusion of books. Our public library has an awesome children's room - it takes up the entire basement of the building, and in addition to an enormous number of books, it also has comfy chairs, arts & crafts supplies, a Victorian dollhouse, and a huge collection of very large stuffed animals.  This afternoon, the Bomber was playing in the area with the big stuffed animals when a little girl about his age came along. 

Her name, she informed me in a very sweet voice, was Sally. She had a blue sparkly horse with a pink mane and three books about "horsies."  She was wearing a cute little striped dress with embroidered flowers, lacy socks, and a purple raincoat with pink polka-dots and ruffles.  Sally plopped right down next to the Bomber, introduced herself and announced that she and the Bomber would now be best friends. She was, in short, adorable.

The Bomber was playing with a big giraffe, pretending to eat leaves off the big "tree" (that'd be me). Sally looked thoughtfully around at the animals, and carefully selected a lion as big as she was, and a slightly smaller Corduroy bear, complete with green overalls. She sweetly petted the lion a few times, asked if it was hungry....

and then pretended the lion was eviscerating Corduroy. Complete with growly devouring sound effects from the lion and frightened howling from poor Corduroy.  She was like Marlin Perkins in a Hanna Andersson dress.  I think even the Bomber was a little disconcerted - he clutched the stuffed giraffe to his chest and backed slowly away from the still-snarling girl until he bumped into my legs.  "Mommy," he whispered, "can we go now?"  Good idea, kiddo. And maybe next week we'll go on Saturday...

 

Wordless Wednesday: When Dinosaurs Roamed the Earth Bed

Crafty Sunday: Preschool Valentine Edition

What do you mean, it's not Sunday? Don't you remember The Rules?  It's Sunday until I hit publish on this post. Then your regularly scheduled Monday can commence.

This weekend I made up Valentines for the Bomber to bring into his preschool class. Thankfully there are only 16 of them total, so it wasn't a huge deal.  I planned to make five styles, and make four of each, so I'd have extras and H-Bomb could pick which ones he wanted for each kid, but I wasn't happy with one style, so I only made two of those, and didn't end up using them. I blatantly stole the idea from this blog.

I used my Cricut with the Doodlecharms cartridge to do the shapes, and then wrote the sayings on them with my Cri-Kits pens, except for the ladybug, which I obviously free-handed. 

Bear Hugs:

Somebunny Likes You

Doggone Nice:

Buggy Buddies (I have no idea what "Buggy Buddies" is supposed to mean. That was all I could come up with.):

Sweet (this was the one I didn't end up using):

 

I taped a lollipop on the back and wrote each classmate's name, and H stamped his name with a rubber stamp. There's no way he could have written his entire name on the back of any of these, and he was thrilled to get to use the stamper.

I also made little baskets for the teachers, which included laminated bookmarks made by the Bomber.  Here's the baskets:

And here's the cards, which did have plenty of room for H-Bomb to write his name:

The truffles were made using Sure Cuts a Lot software and a free CVG file. The lettering was done with a Cri-Kits pen which I then traced over using a red gel marker.

(And whoa, these are some seriously bad photographs. My next project should probably be learning how to use a camera.)

Anyway, Crafty Sunday is now over, and you are free to move about your Monday at will.

He Slices, He Dices!

He can even cut through a tin can, and still eat a tomato. Or something like that....

This Christmas my mom got me Wii Sports Resort, which is sort of like Wii Sports, but with snootier games - instead of boxing there's swordplay, instead of baseball there's skydiving, instead of bowling there's...um... bowling.

Anyway, I was trying out the new game during the Bomber's nap on Monday, and when he woke up and came downstairs, I was in the middle of a fencing match. After watching a few rounds of it, and making "useful" suggestions like "Mommy, try to not get knocked into the water next time," he decided he wanted to give it a go. Being four, he already knows everything and did not want any instruction on how to play, so I loaded up his Mii, and handed over the Wiimote. 

To say he has an interesting fencing technique is something of an understatement. After a few rounds, I started calling it "the Ginsu." You really have to see it to appreciate it:

Amazingly, the Bomber Ginsu Technique works incredibly well.  Better, by far, than my strategy of, you know, trying to play as if I had an actual sword. Within a few rounds, he'd beaten all the competitors I'd already beaten, along with most of the ones that had knocked me off. By the end of the evening, Larry and I were both using the Ginsu technique and doing pretty well with it.

So, no matter what the back of the box propaganda claims, it's pretty clear that the Wii Motion Plus thingy required to play Sports Resort does not necessarily provide a "more realistic playing experience." And I'm guessing that means the "escapism of the game's tropical island theme" isn't going to be a substitute for an actual trip to the Caribbean. I feel so disillusioned.

It's the Taj Mahal of Playsets

It's the Play Mahal. Or the Taj Maplay.  Okay, the nickname needs work. I'm open to suggestions.

Anyway, as I mentioned right about this time last year, we decided that what our backyard really needed was a giant, ostentatious wooden swingset.  When I was a kid, we had one of those metal ones like this:

Ours had a flat, metal slide that heated up to egg-frying temperature in the summer. It creaked ominously when we used the swings, and the paint started peeling off the metal poles in pretty short order. When I was describing it to the next door neighbor, he said "oh, I remember those - they were a tetanus hazard."  Yep, that's the one.

Anyway, for the Bomber, I had something grander in mind.  We went and looked at the Rainbow ones and were completely bowled over by the quality and variety.  Once we came to our senses, though, we realized that a twenty year warranty seems a little irrelevant for a child's toy, and there were a lot of less insanely expensive options.  Of course, the ones that were really a lot cheaper were also a lot lower in quality, but eventually I ended up with a company called Gorilla that makes playset-in-a-box kits. It's a nice compromise between quality and price.  Two weeks ago, five large, heavy boxes appeared in our driveway, and on Wednesday, our contractor showed up to set it up. (Yeah, we hired someone to set it up - not only do we want it to stay up, we also want to stay married.)  He finally finished on Sunday (and I think he was sorry he hadn't charged us more).  He also did a nice double railroad tie border all the way around the area.

So, drumroll please... here it is, the [insert witty playset nickname of your choice]:

  

It's actually so big, I couldn't get a picture of the whole thing with my dinky point & shoot. It more or less takes up the entire back garden area, which is really a pretty good use of otherwise underutilized space. 

 

It's got two swings and trapeze bar, a ladder, a climbing wall, a rope climb, a steering wheel, a tic-tac-toe board and a telescope.  The Bomber immediately decided that it's a pirate ship.

That's his scary pirate face. He's also a big fan of the telescope:

"Aw, I'm just kidding, Mom. I know what to do!" And he really likes the climbing wall:

 

The trapeze bar is a little too big for him right now, but he dug it anyway:

And here's the view from the top of the slide.  Check out the look on his face... "do you really think you should be doing that, Mommy?"

We're having some rubber playground mulch delivered in the next week or so. After that, we'll just need some sand for the sandbox and some dark-colored stockings to wear on our heads when we rob a gas station to pay for it all.