Last Day of Pre-K

I posted yesterday about it being Gwendolyn's last day of pre-K, and then Blogger went down, and now that post is missing.  So I will just repeat myself and apologize to anyone who might have read it the first go round.  Honestly though, I don't remember what all I said, so maybe this time will be more poignant or clever.  It is possible, it could happen.

Gwendolyn's last day of pre-K was Thursday.  The school year flew by and I can't believe it is over.  (And I can't believe that she will be starting kindergarten in three months.  What happened to my baby!)  Although we had not intended on sending her to preschool, it worked out and benefited all of us:  Allowing us to get used to school routines and new social interactions.  We really lucked out and had fantastic teachers and a school that allowed her to grow and blossom this year.

When I picked her up from school yesterday, her teacher put her in the car and buckled her in then whispered in her ear.  I heard Gwendolyn whisper, "I love you too" back.  Then as we were pulling out of the parking lot, she took a deep breath and her little voice was shaking and her lower lip was quivering and she said "I just hope Miss Rhonda and Miss Nancy and all my friends will remember me."

Just about broke my heart.

Gwendolyn's first day of school, September 2010

Linking up to Company Girl Coffee and Photostory Friday

Saturday Confessions plus I heart faces: Soft and Sweet

The theme this week for I Heart Face's photo challenge is "Soft and Sweet".  I'll be honest and say that I wasn't entirely sure where to go and what to do with that.  I tend to do better with searching for something concrete, not just an idea.  I guess that is why it is called a challenge though.

Here is Maggie waiting and watching for Keary at the front window.  I think her big curls and her waiting is sweet and the dirty, smudged window adds a softness to it, don't you think?  It sounds like a stretch and maybe it is, but I think it'll work and it was my favorite picture of the week.

And I'm going to link up with Melissa's Saturday confessions with this story.  The Tuesday before last was Gwendolyn's first tee-ball practice.   She hasn't been too sure about playing tee-ball, but I think it is a good way for her to get to know some of the kids she will be going to school with so we were really talking it up.  We got there a little early and walked into a mad house:  kids were everywhere, parents were everywhere, nervous energy filled the air choking out any ounce of organization that might have existed.  I checked my voicemail to make sure of where we were supposed to be and who her coach was.  Field 5 and the coach's name was David.  Great.  

We hunted around and finally found where we were supposed to be.  Gwendolyn was introduced to her coach and team member and had a good practice, appearing to even enjoy herself.  We ordered her uniform and Keary even ordered us matching shirts that said "3's Mom" and "3's Dad".  It all worked out and was great.

The next day I received a call from Gwendolyn's coach wondering where she had been and if something was wrong since she missed practice.  "Oh no, we were there... My husband and I brought her and a little toddler that kept stealing balls and rushing out on the field."  No response.  "Gwendolyn has blond, curly hair and a pink glove."  Still didn't spark anything for him, but he said maybe he just missed her.  "We practiced on team 5, we are the yellow team, still looking for a name besides team 1..."  No, no.  The team did practice on field 5, but they (we) were the red team, team 6.  Since it was just tee-ball, two teams had been assigned to each field, and as luck would have it, both teams' coaches were named David. I just made Gwendolyn practice with the wrong team.  

That Thursday I left Keary in charge of making sure we practiced with the correct team.

Dental appointments and backwards pants

I took Gwendolyn to the dentist today and she was given a clean bill of health: no cavities and clean teeth (not going to lie, the clean teeth surprised me.  It feels like a constant battle to get her to brush her teeth and not just walk around with the toothbrush in her mouth.)  Yay!  The staff bragged on how well she behaved too, so I was pretty proud.

While we were there, I looked down at her and saw her pants were on backwards.  Obviously backwards. Slit pockets on her hiney kind of backwards.  Nothing to do about it there then though. And it wasn't hurting her, so no reason to say anything out loud to her and risk embarrassing her.

I sent Keary a message and his response was "Yeah, she was bragging this morning that her pants didn't have any buttons or snaps this morning.  I thought that sounded funny."  I probably would have checked or looked at the pants after that proclamation, but that is me.  I think it is a fine example of the differences between moms and dads: dads nod and go on, while moms check things out further.

At the end of the day, the backwards pants didn't hurt anything though.  Gwendolyn has clean, healthy teeth. And the dental hygienist gave her a little timer to help with the "Mo-om, how much longer do I have to brush my teeth?!"

Pierced Ears

Gwendolyn has been talking off and on for a year and a half about getting her ears pierced.  I've been a little unsure about it, mainly because my ears reacted horribly (I'm talking disgusting, swelling up over and around the little started studs twice kind of horrible) when my ears were first pierced, and I'm not sure she understands that it  will hurt at least at first.  She has been asking more and more often lately, so I think it is time.

For the third time in as many days, "Can we go get my ears pierced today?"

"Well, I tell you what.  Not today, I'd rather go when your daddy is with us or can watch Maggie, but next time we are out and your daddy is with us and if you still want to get them pierced, then we can go do it."

Clearly, that wasn't the answer she thought she would get and her face lit up.  "Oh! And then we go can where you got your butterfly stamp* for your back and get me a stamp for my back too!"

"NO! Ears pierced first and then when you are much older, we'll talk about getting you a stamp..."

Keary and I are going to have our hands so full when the girls get older.  So full.

*Stamp is obviously what she calls tattoos.

This time it wasn't me

I've mentioned that I feel socially awkward and sometimes flub up my words.  I'm not the only one though, and that makes me feel better... Sort of.

Today I took Maggie and Gwendolyn to Chic-Fil-A for lunch since it was Valentine's Day and... Yes, okay, I was attempting to bribe the kids into acting right when we ran our errands.  As the girls and I were sitting in the booth, one of the workers came to check on us.  She was soft-spoken and polite but seemed to linger.

"You look just like one of my teachers."

"Oh?" and I nodded my head because I'm never really sure what to say to that kind of comment.  "My sister is a teacher."

"Ms. Johnson was my Spanish teacher.  You look just like her..."

"No, my sister teaches physical science. I don't think I know Ms. Johnson, but thanks."

"Ah, you just look so much like her.  She just had a baby."

...

I don't *think* she was saying I look like I just had a baby.  At least not deliberately.

SuperBowl Flubs

I'm a little socially awkward, I always have been.  I tend to be more quiet and observant of others, and generally, the bigger the crowd, the more introverted I become.  Keary and the girls tend to be more extroverted and thrive in social environments so when some friends of ours were having a Superbowl party this weekend,  I wanted us to go for their sake.

I was doing okay. I wasn't feeling too overwhelmed and I was carrying on small talk here and there, until a big, loud group of people came in.

Keary, Maggie, and I were in the dining room where the food was and as one of the ladies was getting a piece of the strawberry cake we brought, Maggie started gesturing and grunting (because she still doesn't talk!) at the cake.

"Oh, does she want me to cut her a piece of cake?"

"No, she just wants the spatula.  She saw her daddy licking the icing off of it while ago.... -- No, not that one! It was at home while we were making it... --Not while we were making it, after we were done, he licked it."

The lady just looked at me and then looked at her cake.  Then she looked at Keary.

Then I shot Keary the "Oh God, Help me.  Why do I keep talking?!  Make it better" look.

And he just looked at me and shook his head and chuckled to himself.

And my socially-awkward streak remains intact.

Driving down the road the other day

Keary, Gwendolyn, Maggie and I were on our way across town the other day, listening to the radio.  Or really the radio was on, Gwendolyn was the only one really listening to it.  We rarely get any quiet time in the car because of a certain four year old who barks from the backseat to turn on music.  Please tell me all four year olds are like that, or if they aren't, then just don't.  I don't want to know.

So Ryan Seacrest was talking because he is everywhere and you cannot escape him.  Right before a commercial break he said "Next up, Bret Michaels. We'll talk to him about the stroke he had this summer."

Gwendolyn piped up from the backseat "Grandy has a stroke."

Keary affirmed that "Yes, your Grandy had a stroke."

I mumbled to Keary "Just something else Grandy and Bret Michaels have in common."

Keary looked at me like I was crazy "What else do they have in common?!"

"Rock of Love Bus, of course."

Keary just looked at me.

I stared back at him.

Traffic swished by us.

Keary continued to stare at me.

I looked back at him, satisfied, if for no other reason, then I had made his brain explode a little and rendered him speechless.

Keary shook his head, trying to make mental images fall out of his head and finally said, "We just shouldn't talk anymore."

Then I cackled in victory.

*And no, I can't think of anything Bret Michaels and my grandmother actually have in common.  Sometimes I just enjoy making Keary spazz out.