It's been about a year and a half since we moved into this house. It was Thanksgiving when we moved in, and it snowed that weekend. We didn't really see any kids outside playing that first winter, but we figured once the weather got warmer, the kids would come out of hiding. Wrong. Many nights after dinner we, as a family, take walks around our neighborhood, in search of friends for our children to play with. Well, either these kids never come outside, or THERE ARE NO KIDS IN OUR NEIGHBORHOOD.
Owen and Emerson ask almost daily to take a walk to "find friends". Like maybe THIS time we'll see some. Right. So, the other day Em asks to take a walk to find her some friends. In a moment of total frustration I say, "There aren't any kids. What do you want me to do? Pull some out of my butt?!"
Em gets all serious, and you can see that she is processing this comment. Her response? "Well, Mom. Did you ever EAT any little kids?"
So very logical. Of course, you have to EAT the kids before you can pull them out of your BUTT.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
What's Really Important
The other day, I took Em to Kindergarten Orientation. (Sniff.)
Now, we all knew she was "ready" for Kindergarten, but I didn't know just how ready she actually was. She's always been a little-miss-smarty-pants, even correcting Owen on his homework (much to his dismay). She's also in the Kindergarten class at her Montessori and her teachers tell me she is "gifted" in the Language department. I'm not so sure about that one, though.
So, we get to the school and they whisk Em away for testing while I fill out mounds of paperwork, proving that, yes, she is my daughter, yes, she is of age, and yes, we really do live here. At one point, one of the teachers pulls me aside and tells me they had to mark Em down because she DIDN'T SPELL HER NAME CORRECTLY. Right. They said they asked her to spell it orally and to write it on paper. Both ways, she spelled it "E-m-e-r-s-o-n". Well, THAT IS HOW YOU SPELL HER NAME. Then the woman shows me her paperwork and they have her name spelled "E-m-m-e-r-s-o-n". OOOOOOOHHHH. THEY have it spelled wrong. So, they fix her score and go back about their testing.
When she is finished, they send Em out to me and we step up to the table where they give you your child's score. I sneak a peek at the table and see the little boy who was tested before her had gotten a 36. The teachers had gotten all excited and told his mom how well he had done and how he was SO ready for Kindergarten. The woman tells me that the children are scored on a scale from 1 to 50. 50 being the highest and I'm guessing 1 would be a newborn. They show me her score and its a 50. FIFTY. Like, the highest possible number. Then, they tell me, yes, she is ready for Kindergarten and away we go.
Now, in my head, I am freaking out a little, wondering how she could possibly NOT be bored next year, but outwardly, I tell Em she did a great job. We proceed to the ice cream shop as a special treat, because they just opened for the season and she's the first kid to go there! YAY! Then we head to the grocery store, mainly because I am out in public with only one of my kids, compared to the usual four, which almost NEVER ends well. Em asks if she can get some new nail polish and I agree to it, because, let's face it, she is a genius in my eyes today.
We get home and paint all of her fingers and toes the purpley-pink color and she is happy.
Jason gets home from work a few hours later and wants to hear ALL ABOUT her Kindergarten Orientation. Oddly, she doesn't have much to say about it, so he starts asking her questions, based on a phone conversation I had had with him earlier. SO he manages to SQUEEZE out of her that she had to write her name, draw a picture, and they gave her her very own book to keep.
Then she says, "The most important part is my new nail polish. Did you SEE my fingers and toes?!"
Now, we all knew she was "ready" for Kindergarten, but I didn't know just how ready she actually was. She's always been a little-miss-smarty-pants, even correcting Owen on his homework (much to his dismay). She's also in the Kindergarten class at her Montessori and her teachers tell me she is "gifted" in the Language department. I'm not so sure about that one, though.
So, we get to the school and they whisk Em away for testing while I fill out mounds of paperwork, proving that, yes, she is my daughter, yes, she is of age, and yes, we really do live here. At one point, one of the teachers pulls me aside and tells me they had to mark Em down because she DIDN'T SPELL HER NAME CORRECTLY. Right. They said they asked her to spell it orally and to write it on paper. Both ways, she spelled it "E-m-e-r-s-o-n". Well, THAT IS HOW YOU SPELL HER NAME. Then the woman shows me her paperwork and they have her name spelled "E-m-m-e-r-s-o-n". OOOOOOOHHHH. THEY have it spelled wrong. So, they fix her score and go back about their testing.
When she is finished, they send Em out to me and we step up to the table where they give you your child's score. I sneak a peek at the table and see the little boy who was tested before her had gotten a 36. The teachers had gotten all excited and told his mom how well he had done and how he was SO ready for Kindergarten. The woman tells me that the children are scored on a scale from 1 to 50. 50 being the highest and I'm guessing 1 would be a newborn. They show me her score and its a 50. FIFTY. Like, the highest possible number. Then, they tell me, yes, she is ready for Kindergarten and away we go.
Now, in my head, I am freaking out a little, wondering how she could possibly NOT be bored next year, but outwardly, I tell Em she did a great job. We proceed to the ice cream shop as a special treat, because they just opened for the season and she's the first kid to go there! YAY! Then we head to the grocery store, mainly because I am out in public with only one of my kids, compared to the usual four, which almost NEVER ends well. Em asks if she can get some new nail polish and I agree to it, because, let's face it, she is a genius in my eyes today.
We get home and paint all of her fingers and toes the purpley-pink color and she is happy.
Jason gets home from work a few hours later and wants to hear ALL ABOUT her Kindergarten Orientation. Oddly, she doesn't have much to say about it, so he starts asking her questions, based on a phone conversation I had had with him earlier. SO he manages to SQUEEZE out of her that she had to write her name, draw a picture, and they gave her her very own book to keep.
Then she says, "The most important part is my new nail polish. Did you SEE my fingers and toes?!"
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Who's in Charge Here?
Spring in Michigan can be simply wonderful or unimaginably terrible. Thankfully, we have a good one on our hands. Yesterday, while the younger two kids napped, I spent some time outside with O and Em on a beach towel in the grass. The conversation touched on many topics, from school to bugs to popsicles and, ultimately, pierced ears.
Can I say that I LOVE little babies with pierced ears? Is that so wrong?? It took a while to convince J that Em needed them. A long while. When she was turning two, J finally agreed that getting Em's ears pierced would be a good idea.
After all, I had waited until I was five to have mine pierced. When they were healed, my mom convinced me to change my piercing studs to a pair of earrings I had received as a gift: little blue discs with hand-painted flowers on them. (See how traumatic this is?! I remember those earrings like it was YESTERDAY.) So, we proceeded to remove the first earring and HOLY HELL that HURT! If you thought I'd be changing the other earring, you would be SORELY mistaken. As a result, I walked around for a month or so with two different earrings in my ears, basically out of fear. And pain. THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
Anyway. Two seemed like a good age for Em to have hers done. Old enough to not rip them out and not old enough to remember the "trauma". So, I took her to the shop, she cried for about 10 seconds per ear, received a sucker for her troubles, and that was that. Easy-peasy.
Then, along came Alayna. AND my sister's twins. Mel and I start talking almost at their births about how cute it would be to get their ears pierced. All three. All together. YAY! Until J catches wind of the talk. I pretty much get a "NO WAY IN HELL" response from him. Whatever. He'll come around. Six months later, we plan the triple baptism and think how cute it would be if all the girls got their ears pierced. SO cute. Except not in J's mind.
So the twins have pierced ears and Alayna does not. Bah. I've been working on him heavily for three months. No dice. J is not interested. So I ask him WHY and his response? "I don't want holes in her VIRGIN ears." Seriously. I am holding back the laughter that is building inside. Virgin ears. Right.
Back to the beach towel. Here's the conversation:
Em: Mom, why do I have my ears pierced and Alayna doesn't?
Me: I want to get her ears pierced, but Dad said no.
Em: Well, is he the BOSS of you?
Can I say that I LOVE little babies with pierced ears? Is that so wrong?? It took a while to convince J that Em needed them. A long while. When she was turning two, J finally agreed that getting Em's ears pierced would be a good idea.
After all, I had waited until I was five to have mine pierced. When they were healed, my mom convinced me to change my piercing studs to a pair of earrings I had received as a gift: little blue discs with hand-painted flowers on them. (See how traumatic this is?! I remember those earrings like it was YESTERDAY.) So, we proceeded to remove the first earring and HOLY HELL that HURT! If you thought I'd be changing the other earring, you would be SORELY mistaken. As a result, I walked around for a month or so with two different earrings in my ears, basically out of fear. And pain. THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
Anyway. Two seemed like a good age for Em to have hers done. Old enough to not rip them out and not old enough to remember the "trauma". So, I took her to the shop, she cried for about 10 seconds per ear, received a sucker for her troubles, and that was that. Easy-peasy.
Then, along came Alayna. AND my sister's twins. Mel and I start talking almost at their births about how cute it would be to get their ears pierced. All three. All together. YAY! Until J catches wind of the talk. I pretty much get a "NO WAY IN HELL" response from him. Whatever. He'll come around. Six months later, we plan the triple baptism and think how cute it would be if all the girls got their ears pierced. SO cute. Except not in J's mind.
So the twins have pierced ears and Alayna does not. Bah. I've been working on him heavily for three months. No dice. J is not interested. So I ask him WHY and his response? "I don't want holes in her VIRGIN ears." Seriously. I am holding back the laughter that is building inside. Virgin ears. Right.
Back to the beach towel. Here's the conversation:
Em: Mom, why do I have my ears pierced and Alayna doesn't?
Me: I want to get her ears pierced, but Dad said no.
Em: Well, is he the BOSS of you?
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