Kindergarten Pictures

Kindergarten pictures came yesterday.  Not too shabby.  I had her hair all cute and curly the morning these pictures were taken. She had stated that she wanted it in "big curls".  However, I could tell when I finished, that it wasn't what she had in mind.  I loved it.  She did not.  And, within an hour she had ripped out the hair ties and made it a mess because she was certain she looked like a "clown".  I sighed, and very quietly (gritting my teeth), straightened her hair and put a "clip in it" just like she requested.  This is her normal daily hair do. Boring and predictable, but what can I say?  I was ever-so dramatic on the day of my kindergarten pictures as well. Remember this picture of me in Kindergarten:

I HATED this red dress with a passion.  My mom insisted I wear it, though.  I ranted, and yelled, but still I was made to wear the wretched red dress.  I still have this vivid memory of the humiliation I felt wearing the detested frock.  Now, 24 years later, as I look back on this picture, I think the dress is quite cute. In fact, it's my favorite school picture and, if I could go back, I'd tell my mom to make me wear it again if given the chance.  Blog therapy.  Sigh.

Magic rice? Not this time.

My family and I went camping this past weekend.  Fun trip.  I will post later.  That's not what this post is about.  This post is about emptying pockets before the wash.  My husband ended our camping trip with our digital camera in the large pocket of his cargo shorts (in it's small camera case, mind).  Naturally the first thing I do when we get back from camping is wash the campfire out of our clothes.  So, can you guess where the camera remained?  Yes, in his pocket.  In fact, it never resurfaced from it's laundering experience until I went to fold the said cargo shorts and found that there was a large lump in the pocket.  The camera was nice and toasty warm without a spot of water on it when I took it out.  The dryer did it's job well.  In fact, the SD card still works and we were able to get the camping pictures off it, no problem!  My hopes raised that perhaps the camera case protected the camera better than I thought, so I unscrewed the little screws and opened the camera up and stick it in a bag of rice over night. (This method has resurrected Shiloh's phone before after it was sucked on by our infant.)  And yet, this morning as I carefully reassembled the camera and gently touched the power button to assess my handiwork, what did I get?  Nothing.  Blank screen.  Dead camera.  Sigh. Is it worth looking up a camera shop to see if they can repair it?  I can just imagine the employee looking at me in dismay as I ask him if he can repair a camera that was submersed in soapy water for 45 minutes and then dried completely by my impressive clothes dryer. Oh well.   At least cameras aren't nearly as expensive to replace as they used to be, right? 

Wood Block, wood block, will you turn into a Bongo Drum?

So, I am a believer in positive reinforcement.  I recently started doing a "Marble Jar" for Eliza and Ezra to reward various good deeds and behaviors.  Both of them spent that last couple of months working hard to fill them up and at last, they are full!  I told them they could pick a reward of some sort at the beginning of this little Marble-Jar venture and both have had very specific items in mind from day #1.

Eliza wanted a pink recorder.  And, while the sounds that come out of it can be somewhat annoying, I can normally count on Eliza to be considerate.  Done!

Ezra wanted a "drum".  He is young enough that I had some liberty to interpret that in a few different ways.  We shopped online and I showed him various children's drums.  Each one either looked cheap or was too expensive.  My heart wanted to purchase him some sweet bongo drums.   You, know, these kind with the beautiful leather tops that make a deep, rich sound? 

But, after considering that (and showing him a few) he was not that interested, and I realized imported bongo drums are my dream, not his. 

So, after perusing Amazon for awhile, Ezra picked this:

It was only $7, so I thought, "Why not?"  Two words to seal my misery!!  We got this item in the mail this morning and it has been a loud, high pitched pounding noise in my house, in my car, and every where he goes ever since!  Why oh why Mr Wood Block, couldn't you be an imported bongo drum??

My Chocolate Lover

On a scale of 1 to 10, I'd say Chocolate is a 7 for me.  I like it enough, but I'm not obsessed.  My husband Shiloh and my daughter Eliza don't like it at all.  Which must have been inherited--what are the chances I'd have two haters in the family???

On the other hand, at just 13 months, baby Ashlyn adores all things chocolate.

"What? I didn't eat the chocolate.  I'm innocent!"

"Alright, alright. You caught me."

"Don't look at me like that.  Diet starts Monday!"

My brother's keeper

I didn't always like my little brother Jens.  In fact, there were several years of my childhood when I wished he would just "get out and stay out"!  But, before those years started (and for many years hence), I have adored him tenderly.  This picture captures one of those moments of 2-year-old rapture at having a baby of my very own! I loved on him nearly to the point of suffocation (that's both figurative and literal--ask me later and I'll tell you the story).  Fortunately for Jens, now I have my own babies to cuddle and kiss.  And while I don't love Jens any less, I think it would be a little awkward for both of us if I stood over his bed and watched him sleep.

Kindergarten and Nerves

Here's me.  Kindergarten 1986.  Just call me Farrah.  I was a sweet and shy little girl with some serious nerve issues.  I remember going to the nurses office quite often that year because I was just so anxious at school I made myself sick to my stomach.  Some who know me now may wonder at the truth of this confession, but I assure you, I was a Kindergarten basket case.



Yesterday was Eliza's first day of Kindergarten!  She has anticipated this day for months and months.  The morning of, she was up and ready to go with her backpack 3 hours before it was time to leave.  I began to think that she was going to be absolutely fine--no need for me to worry that she might be shy and nervous like her mom. 

Then came the meltdowns.  She started crying and throwing fits over nothing--hitting Ezra, etc.  I was surprised by her behavior to say the least, and then it all started to make sense: she asked me if I would stay with her at Kindergarten.  "What if there were mean kids?" she said.  I told her I would walk her to class and be there when she got done.  We reviewed some "mean-kid strategy", too. She didn't seem satisfied. 

But, by the time we got to school, she was running to class with her friend.  Things were pretty crazy once we got there with all the kids and parents, but she walked into the class just fine without a glance back.

After school she was all smiles to tell me about her wonderful day, the amazing playground see-saws, and the new friends she made. 

Sigh.  I guess I can stop worrying.  Perhaps, all those nerves from my Kinder-days aren't completely gone, eh?

Superkids 1984

Have you ever seen a cuter Wonder Woman?  I think not.