Almost late for school...

...on account of a salamander swimming in the dog dish.

If Only Every Night Could Be Like This

The Warlock made it home for dinner tonight. The kids were starving when they finally sat down at the table, but they were glowing as they heard me tell him about their day. When I was a kid, I had that EVERY night.

The Party

Incident #1--Last night, Bardo suggested that we get started making the "happy birthday cakes" for Pippi's party. He was really helpful, wanting to do everything from cracking eggs to placing cupcake wrappers in the tin. When moment of cupcake doneness arrived Bardo was right there, rushing to my aid so I wouldn't have to remove them from the oven alone.

I pulled them out and gently laid a kitchen towel over them so they could cool. Then, I left to go do...something. Anyway, when I returned, I found coconut cupcakes with oregano sprinkles (mountains, actually) on top. Who would have thought oregano and coconut could go together?

Incident #2--This afternoon, a couple of hours before the party, Pippi and I purchased a birthday cake. We had the bakery lady write "Happy Birthday Pippi" on the cake. We placed our beautiful cake into the cart. It got home in perfect condition. Then, when Bardo was eating dinner, he thought the cake would make a perfect little seat atop the counter. Fortunately the lid was on, so he didn't get his pants dirty. The cake wasn't completely crushed, but it did read something more like, "Happy Bir19432 Rebecca" and have a little dent in the frosting that we had to try to conceal. Pippi was a really good sport about it, not at all upset that her beautiful cake was imperfect. Then, when I was doing some last minute vaccuuming Pippi decided to even out the frosting a little with her finger. I didn't take a picture of the cake this year. Sorry.

Incident #3--An hour before the party, Pippi comes to me in severe distress. "Mom, I think someone stole my Belle costume. It is missing. I remember you hanging it up. And now it's gone." We searched for the costume for 30 minutes, to no avail. And then it dawned on me, "Pippi, did you put your Belle costume in a suitcase? Go and get it." Whew. Crisis averted. 30 minutes preparations wasted. Oh well.

Incident #4--The camera was missing. I found it after the party hidden behind my glucometer. I guess Pippi's not the only one who puts things in silly places.

But you know, once the party began, it was SO much fun. Nothing was "perfect," but it didn't matter. Pippi has such great friends with such great personalities, and they all meshed very well. I asked Pippi what her favorite part of the party was and she said, "When we were chasing each other around with the little plastic bugs." That wasn't one of my planned party games, but I'm so glad that she had a good time.

Good Teachers

One of my dreams, as a mother, is to surround my children with good teachers. Unfortunately, this is not entirely under my control. This year, Pippi seems to have two fine teachers. Here are some qualities I want in a teacher for my daughter. I also want these qualities so that I can be a more affective teacher to her.

1- I want, most of all, her teachers to be kind to her and to all their students. Pippi looks up to her teachers and follows their lead. Pippi told me the other day that she had the best 2nd grade teacher because her teacher doesn't ever yell and tells people to do things in the nicest way. Kids notice politeness and kindness.

2- I want her teachers to set her up for success, not failure. This may seem like a no-brainer, but I believe some special effort is required. Pippi's current teacher puts an extra color on the top of the school's regular regular color-code behavior system, so it takes longer to get to Red. (Blue is good behavior. Green is pretty good. Yellow--2 naughty things. Red-bad day.) The first week of school, the teacher rewarded the children for things that she expected them to do.

3- A good teacher recognizes a student's limitations and helps her through them. A couple of weeks ago Pippi came home with her wrist hurting from all the writing that they had had to do that day. (Stop laughing at my daughter's writer's cramp!) Pippi actually had to have the teacher help her finish her writing tasks. And her teacher did help her through her painful situation.

4- A good teacher seizes teaching moments. Today Pippi came home with a story told by her teacher. "Mrs. N says that the boys used to call her diarrhea (Her first name is Ria) when she was in school. She thought that was an awful name for someone to call her. And it hurt her feelings. But, she just laughed with them and then they didn't call her that name anymore." I don't know how this story came up, but I'm pretty sure this isn't written into the curriculuum.

5- A good teacher is patient. Pippi's piano teacher seems to be awfully patient with her and with me while we're getting her practice schedule figured out.

6- A good teacher can figure out where students are going to get frustrated and prepare a way to help ease the frustration. Today I asked Pippi's piano teacher for some help on a song I'm working on. She asked me which part was troubling me. I showed her and she said, "I knew it! Here, this is the fingering I would use." And her trick worked, and now I am not stumbling over the keys so much anymore.

7- A good teacher doesn't get discouraged for very long. They figure out a way to solve their problems and touch their students. Pippi's piano teacher has two LDS, Spanish speaking, piano students. When she found out I was LDS too, she was so excited to show me the simplified hymn book she found online for them. I feel grateful for a teacher who will use a person's own music to help teach them as this great woman seems to be doing.

When I think of Pippi's teachers, I'm humbled and grateful. They definitely do things for her that I can't.

One Day More!

The Warlock here, with a word or two about Work.  If I can stay awake long enough.

I am sitting in the airport right now, waiting for my flight to leave to Washington.  I have a major deal that is trying to close up this week, so my prospects for sleep over the next few days aren't good - last time I had to travel for a major closing, I slept six hours total over six days.  

This wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't worked the entire weekend, and until the wee hours in the morning on Thursday/Friday/Saturday as well.  I am very tired.

I hate not seeing my kids on a daily basis.  Things are much better since we moved to Houston, but I still have stretches like this.  I am probably even going to have to cancel my planned trip to Dallas this Thursday.

However, I absolutely love the paycheck that comes from my job.  It's not the only reason I continue to do it, but it's a major one.

Kids, please don't hate your dad for being a sell-out.  

Aggression

Friday afternoons are such a relief because there's NO homework. This is STILL a favorite aggression release. And hooray for friends to play with on a Friday afternoon.

Everyday with Bardo

With a new baby on the way, I just feel like I need to treasure every moment...not because life will be bad, but because life will never be just like this again.

Bardo lately has become such a good friend to pass the days with. We seem to understand each other. As long as I play with him and stay off the phone, he's a perfect angel. He loves to talk to me about everything. He anxiously awaits garbage day, HEB (our grocery store) day, and he loves his weekly play day with his friend Miles. He loves books and will participate in library story time--in his own way. He loves his little potty and asks to wear underwear as we are walking out the door every day. And he thinks it's so funny when I tell him he can wear it on his head but he needs to wear a pull up today. He turns a 30 minutes flower planting job into a couple hours with his love for the dirt and his ability to scatter mulch everywhere. He thinks shovels and weedeaters are SO cool. He's very polite and asks permission in the sweetest way. "Can I touch your earrings just one touch? Can I have water? Can I have a hot bath? Can I see the garbage truck? Can I ride in the car cart? Can I take my sippy cup to bed?"

Bardo loves his friends and tries always to share and be gentle (unless he's tired or hungry).

This week I went to the toy store with Bardo because he started asking me, "Where's my horse?" in the most irresistable way whenever Pippi would play with her beloved horses. (He pulled the tail out of one of them, so she doesn't trust him anymore.) He picked out a chocolate brown stallion and this horse has been his constant companion for several days now. It was so worth $5 to not have this sharing issue anymore.

Bardo also loves sports. He loves balls and he loves catch. He loves soccer and he still talks about when Pippi played soccer last year. Bardo loves life, and it's so fun to be around him all day.

Halloween Preview 2008

Getting Away With Something

Can you think of all the things you get away with? Maybe you are a better person than me, but I've mastered the art of getting away with a few things. I walk my dog off-leash, I go over the speed limit what I think I can get away with, I've yet to get my Texas drivers license (I do have a current license...), and I'm sure I could think of other things if I really racked my brain, but I like to think that I'm a good person.

I like to think that Pippi's a good person, too. But at the ripe age of almost seven she's working on this fine art. Her school has a rule that the children are not to bring toys. Period. Pippi's seen cars confiscated and than donated to a place for children that don't have toys. She talks about these classroom situations frequently. This week, Pippi decided to bring one of our old, non-functioning cell phones to school. The first day, she left it in her backpack. The second day, she brought it to recess.

"Mom, I took this to recess, and Mrs. Nicholas didn't say anything."

"Really?" I say in my coolest, surprised voice.

"Yeah. We're not supposed to take toys to school, but she didn't care about this." She goes on to described D's cars that were confiscated. "Sophia's going to bring her real cell phone tomorrow."

"Huh. So do you think it's okay to do this because you are getting away with it?" I say in my most motherly of tones.

"Mom. This is not a distraction." She holds up the phone like someone on a TV commercial.

"Huh." Right. Apparently, Pippi is more a "spirit of the law" kind of girl instead of a "letter of the law" girl.

The Home Stretch

Well I've reached the final trimester of my...turmoil? Actually though, pregnancy is not hard for me. I can stay pretty active until the end. I never get unbearably uncomfortable. My body doesn't get swollen (except for my belly, of course). I don't really even get heart burn as long as I stay away from chocolate and other sweets. And I really have a great energy level for someone packing a basketball around the middle. But every pregnancy, I fail my one hour glucose load test. And then I have to take the three hour test. I've been following my special pregnancy diet that the dieticians gave me when I was pregnant with Bardo. I went to the doctor today and I passed that three hour test, but to nobody's surprise--barely. And this baby is growing just the same way all my babies grow--BIG. So the doctor ordered a "rescreen" in 2 weeks. I negotiated out of it with the promise of some on my honor self-monitoring. Will all the monitoring in the world give me an average-sized baby?

A chip off the ol' block!

The Warlock here, with a word or two about profanity.  Those of you who have known me for a long time will no doubt recall that I developed, as any kid from the country would, a very skilled use of various verbal weaponry as a kid.  Why, I mind the time when I was milking the cow and she kicked the bucket of milk over my head, and then when I stepped behind her, I turned around to see her tail start to lift, and...

Okay, mabye that's not really a story appropriate for a family blog.  But the point of the story is that I know my way around Farmboy French.  Now that I'm a bit older and more mature, of course, I try really hard not to curse that much.  Except for the biblical words, which I sprinkle about my language to season it up, sort of like salt on a tasty steak.  Or sometimes more like the steak itself, I guess, when the mood strikes.  

I bring this up because Bardo, skillful linguist though he is, still has a bit of trouble pronouncing the odd word here and there.  And, in the case of two of his favorite words (shirt and truck), the resulting phonemes have a distinctly profane flavor.

I try not to giggle.  I really do.  But the Witch's giggling renders my efforts useless.