A Lesson in Marine Biology

Adam came home from school with a project assignment:  to make an animal habitat diorama.  He decided to do an ocean habitat. 

 

Since Poppa and Gangee are here for a visit, I decided to ask Poppa to oversee the making of the diorama.  He agreed, and I am thrilled for several reasons.  First, this will be a great memory for Adam.  Second, Poppa enjoys this kind of thing.  Finally, I am slammed with birthday party and holiday preparations, and it is a relief to hand it off (as much as I usually like a good school project).

 

Poppa is a natural teacher and has been enthusiastically throwing out interesting ocean facts at Adam as they work.  I am beginning to think he is casting pearls before swine, however, because Gangee just reported to me that she overheard the following:

 

Poppa:  ...and did you know that an octopus doesn't have a regular nose? It has a beak!

 

Adam:  I really don't care.

 

A Conversation from the Makeup Counter

In the tradition of mothers and daughters everywhere, Libby and I have a little routine in the mornings:  As I put on my makeup, I also "put makeup" on her.  (Translation: I buff dry makeup-free brushes lightly over her face and tell her she is beautiful.)  I love this time with my girl.

However, I may need a little trip to the Clinique ladies because this morning we had the following discussion as I was brushing on "our" makeup:

Libby (very seriously):  Do I look like a clown?

Me:  What? Why would you look like a clown?

Libby:  Remember, a long time ago, you told me if I wore too much makeup I'd look like a clown?

Me (completely flabbergasted she remembered that from so long ago):  No, honey, you don't look like a clown.
(Then, teasing): Do I look like a clown?

Libby (studying me earnestly in the mirror):  Well, yeah, kinda.

"C" What We've Been Up To This Fall

This fall has been full of fun happenings!  And they are all brought to you by the letter "C."

"C" is for "Cousins."  At the end of September, we got to keep little Cousin Cate for a long weekend while Aunt Abby and Uncle Adam went to Florida.  It was so fun to have a little one toddling around again.  Libby and the boys adored her, and she seemed to enjoy being one of the "big kids." 

 

Sweet little Cate...so happy to be with big cousin Libby!

Just a couple short weeks later, we welcomed a new cousin -- Cousin Claire!  I had the privilege of going down to Augusta to visit Aunt Lindsay and Uncle Kyle and baby Claire for a few days after they came home from the hospital.  Claire might possibly be the sweetest newborn I've ever met.  (Big ups to Steve for holding down the fort here at home while I was gone!)

 

One of my favorite pictures of Claire all sacked out, sleeping like only a newborn can

 

"C" is also for "Costumes."  All of us had the opportunity to dress up this fall!  First, Steve and I were invited to a fun 40th birthday party for some friends.  Pete and Amy were both turning 40, and 40 + 40 = 80.  So...we all dressed up as 80's TV characters.  Steve went as Magnum PI, and I went as Blair Warner from "The Facts of Life."  We had such a good time assembling our costumes!  At the party we mingled with characters from "Charlie's Angels," "Dallas," "Miami Vice," and "Cheers," among others.  I was proud to win "Best Female Costume."  I was not quite so proud to realize during the TV trivia games that I have quite an impressive knowledge of 80's TV trivia.  Hmmmm, what did I spend an inordinate part of my childhood doing? 

 

Magnum PI and Blair Warner

 

The kids got to give their Halloween costumes a trial run at their school's Boo Bash a few days before Halloween.  Andrew and Adam had some awesome Mario and Luigi hats that our talented neighbor Tonya had made for her son's birthday party last year, so the boys wanted me to make them Mario Bros. costumes for Halloween this year.  That presented somewhat of a problem as I can barely sew a straight line with my machine.  But, thanks to the miracle of Pinterest, I was able to find an unbelievably easy Mario Bros. costume pattern online, and I managed to make overalls.  (This was purely the result of my genetics...I must have a latent sewing gene inherited from my mom and Grandma Polly.  Thank goodness this gene decided to make an appearance just in time for Halloween!  I am hoping it doesn't go dormant again because I am rather enjoying sewing lately!)

The Mario Bros.

I have to admit that after my success with the boys' costumes, I totally phoned in poor Libby's bunny rabbit costume.  Next year there will be some sort of tutu-ish girly-ness involved, I promise.

My sweet little bunny in her sad little costume...

 

"C" also stands for "Craziness."  Which is what we experienced on Halloween.  Steve and the kids were trick-or-treating while I held down the fort here and passed out candy.  So I didn't get to witness the craziness personally, but here's what I'm told happened:  Libby went up to a house a few blocks away to ring the bell and say "trick or treat."  Inside the house, right by the door, was a (very ill-natured) parrot sitting on a perch.  When Libby put her finger up to the doorbell, the parrot attacked, punching a hole through the screen door with its beak and biting Libby's finger.  Libby screamed (and bled).  A neighbor, who happened to be an ER nurse, came to Libby's aid and took care of her finger.  Steve went up to the parrot house's door and told the man inside that his parrot bit Libby.  Parrot Dad said, "No, it didn't," and turned away to walk up his stairs. (!!!)  ER Nurse, finished with Libby, began yelling at Parrot Dad because she knew the parrot had bitten Libby.  A screaming match between Parrot Dad and ER Nurse ensued.  Steve was like a deer caught in the headlights -- what just happened here?  The upshot here is that Libby's finger is healing fine.  Our pediatrician's office did not think we needed to worry about any strange tropical bird diseases festering in Libby's finger, so that was a relief!  And now we will always have a crazy Halloween story.  In Libby's (oh, so serious) words:  "I put out my hand to ring the doorbell and get candy.  Only I didn't get any candy.  I got bit."

 Finally, "C" is for "Corn Maze." October got a little wild, and we just could not squeeze in a visit to our cool local corn maze/pumpkin patch/kitschy fall farm place before Halloween. (Naturally this was the year I had bought a Living Social deal, so we had to go because we'd already purchased the tickets.) We decided to go today, even though it's November, and we had a terrific time! The weather could not have been lovelier, and the kids were so much fun. Once again...(almost)9, (almost)7, and 4...best. ages. ever. My heart just swells with loving this season of our lives so much. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

 

Ready to Play Monopoly!

 

"I get to be the dog!"

 

In Which Having Mommy Brain Finally Pays Off

Yesterday was my 38th birthday.  Had you asked me a few years ago what I thought about turning 38, I probably would have said that it would make me feel really, really old. 

About 9 years ago I developed a complication of pregnancy called "Mommy Brain."  Unfortunately this was not one of the pregnancy complications that is cured with delivery.  In fact, it became even more...complicated with the birth of my first child.  Over the next several years, my scathing case of Mommy Brain was compounded with the pregnancies and births of children numbers 2 and 3 to the point that it is truly miraculous that I can even make microwave pancakes without involving the fire department...oh, wait.  I can't. 

During the past 9 years, Mommy Brain has been responsible for me pouring glasses of orange juice, putting the OJ container in the cupboard, putting the full glass of juice in the refrigerator, and walking away and completely forgetting that I ever wanted orange juice in the first place.  I've left my keys in the freezer on more than one occasion.  And how could I forget the time I bought 4 gallons of milk at 10:00 am on a hot summer's day, loaded it all in the back of my minivan, and promptly forgot all about it until dinnertime?  Don't even get me started on remembering the kids' names:  MB either causes me to draw a complete blank or mockingly supplies the wrong name every other time I look at one of my babies and open my mouth to speak.

But, finally, for once, Mommy Brain did me a kindness.  I can't remember what prompted this, but a couple months ago I did some math --  2012 minus 1974 -- and realized that in September 2012 I would be celebrating my 38th birthday.  Here's the thing:  thanks to Mommy Brain, from sometime in late 2011 and throughout most of 2012, I already thought I was 38 years old!

Mommy Brain gave me a whole extra year.  I don't even care that I never got to be 37.

So yesterday, I got to celebrate being 38...again!  I don't feel any older at all.  In fact, I like 38 so well I might just celebrate it for a few more birthdays.

Staircase Remodel

Thirteen years ago when we bought our brand-new house, I did not really have an opinion about the generic oak cabinets in our kitchen.  With each passing year, however, I did begin to form an opinion:  Bleh.  Which makes my current opinion of our cabinets Bleh to the 13th Power.

About a year ago I began reading about a new product by Rustoleum called Cabinet Transformations. It is a kit that allows us "normal" (read: not particularly handy) folks to redo our cabinets with minimal work and supposedly professional results. I was, in the word of Baby Bear from Sesame Street, "intwigued." (I don't know what it is about the word "intrigued." Ever since I've had children who watch Sesame Street, I cannot say or even think the word without hearing Baby Bear say "intwigued." But I digress. As usual.)  However, redoing cabinets was not something Steve and I wanted to jump into feet-first.  Cabinets are pretty major: if we screw them up, there's really no taking that back.  So I would furiously research opinions on Cabinet Transformations,  read about how much everyone loved it, gather up my courage, and...get cold feet and forget about it for a month or two.  And then I would repeat the cycle.  Current state of our cabinets?  Still generic oak.

Recently it came to our attention that our staircase (also generic oak) was looking a little shabby.  Not only that, it no longer matched our floors since we replaced the hardwoods a couple years ago.  Steve and I had begun to research replacing the handrails and newel posts.  About the same time, I started up anew with the Cabinet Transformation research cycle and got fired up once and for all:  I was going to take a leap and redo those cabinets!  So I showed Steve the informational video, and he immediately said, "Why wouldn't that work on the staircase?  We were going to replace it anyway, and if this works, it's a lot less expensive than replacing it, and it'll be good practice for the cabinets."  This is why I married my husband.  

Guess what?  The opinions I read on the interwebs were right on.  This stuff is great!  No sanding or priming.  Just scrub all the wood with a deglosser, paint two coats of specially tinted paint, paint on and wipe off dark glaze, and top with protective clear coat. It took about five days, including drying time in between coats and the odd evening or two I took off to focus on eating bowls of chocolate peanut butter ice cream.  The worst part of the whole process was trying to keep all the hair from the World's Shedding-est Dog out of the wet paint. 

So, I give you our new staircase, courtesy of Rustoleum Cabinet Staircase Transformations in "Harvest":

 

Before:  grimy, worn oak

 After:  clean (anyone's guess how long), new "Harvest"

Before

 

After

 

 Before

 After

 

During the first part of the process

Closeup of the finished product

Next on the list:  cabinets!  Move over, Oak, you're about to become Antiqued White...just have to buy a new kit and some more ice cream.

A Heartfelt Letter to Preschool

Dear Preschool,

I can't believe we've been together this long.  Remember when we first met?  It was fall of 2005.  Andrew was not quite yet two years old.  You really weren't on my radar yet; but Andrew would say no words except animal sounds (which I thought should count as words but that snotty speech therapist said otherwise), so we thought maybe you would help expose Andrew to lots of other kids talking and get him to do the same.

Preschool, it was love at first sight.  I was so very, very swollen and elephantlike pregnant with Adam; and Andrew was like a little toddler shark, always moving, moving, moving.  All I wanted was to sit motionless on the couch and mentally telegraph eviction notices to my enormous unborn child, and, Preschool, you gave me six hours a week to do just that.  And then Adam was born over Christmas break, and in January you graciously welcomed Andrew back into your loving arms *right when Daddy went back to work!*  And I got to shower.  And nap.  And try to figure out if the hospital had given me the wrong baby (but that is a letter for another time).  And it was glorious.  Preschool, I have never loved you more.

Oh, Preschool, it wasn't all love and light between the two of us.  I gave you "The Adam Years."  Those time-out chairs sure got a workout being thrown across the floor like that, didn't they?  Heh, heh, heh.  And, really, I cannot apologize enough for the "Running Away at the Strawberry Farm" incident.  (Note to self:  probably still not too late to send Miss Martha a bottle of good wine.)  There were the days when, for whatever random reason, my children would cling to my leg to prevent my leaving and your teachers would have to remove them using the jaws of life while ten or twelve little classmates watched in horror. 

But you must admit, Preschool, you gave as good as you got.  Your halls are admittedly a breeding ground for every form of childhood crud, no matter how your teachers chase down their charges with "hanitizer."  We certainly received our fair share of viral "gifts" from you!  And the stuffed animals and their journals you love to send home to overwhelmed mothers whose own children's baby journals should look so good have almost broken my spirit on more than one occasion.  In fact, Libby just brought home word that there is a stuffed monkey threatening to come here one random Thursday this year and he will be bringing his journal.  (We'll just see about that, Mickey.)  And do not get me started on the Thanksgiving banquets.  Just do not.

However, I think you will agree that ours has been, in the words of my cousin Molly, "a true love affair." But it will soon come to an end.  Libby, our little caboose, will go to kindergarten next year, and our relationship will be over.  Now that our last child has started her last year with you, I find myself a little nostalgic.  Time for a little trip down memory lane.

Andrew's first preschool Thanksgiving banquet with Grandma Betsy

 

Andrew and Seth at the 2-year-old class Thanksgiving program

 

Andrew and Adam before preschool one morning

 

modeling backpacks

 

Andrew and his buddies at preschool graduation

 

 Adam and Cocoa, the first of the $*@%! stuffed animals

Adam at (yet another) Thanksgiving program

 

Libby's first day of preschool!

 

Adam at the best. preschool. graduation. EVER.

 

Libby.  Our last preschooler's last "first day of preschool."  (sniffle)

Preschool, I would like to thank you and your wonderful teachers and directors:  Miss Veronica, Miss Oh-My-Goodness-What-Was-Veronica's-Helper's-Name-That-Was-So-Long-Ago?, "Mr." Pam, "Mr." Lisa, "Mr." Terry, (sorry, ladies, Andrew was only two), Mrs. Love, Mrs. Yow, Mrs. Tyson, Mrs. Belk, Mrs. Williams, Miss Martha (really sorry about that year again, Miss Martha), Miss Robyn, Miss Terry (again!), Miss Kris, Miss Libby, Miss Ginger, Miss Nicole, Miss Jenn, Miss Kitty, Miss Beth, and Miss Randi. 

Preschool, let's make this the best year ever.  Maybe I will even actually attend your Thanksgiving banquet this year.  Maybe.

Love,
A Grateful Mommy