C ya in Class

liam's preschool class has a "letter of the week" that's divulged, in grand fashion, each monday morning. by friday afternoon they have a huge dry-erase board filled with words that begin with that letter, and most weeks, they've tried many foods along the way as well. (U week required a bit of a stretch. a classmate brought in gummy worms that were Ugly.) liam's favorite aspect of the letter of the week is show-and-tell. he'll clamber into the car on monday and we'll spend the better part of an hour ruminating over options for what he can bring in. (this, also, often requires a stretch. for I week he shared his accordion, because it is an Instrument.) this week is C week. it took us even longer than normal to decide on a show-and-tell item because there are just so many things that start with C. we ruled out a Car -- too boring. Candy, Cookies, and Cupcakes were sure to be overshadowed by the treats that halloween brings. we mulled it over for the afternoon, before i had a brilliant idea. "i know!" i told him, excitedly. "you Can bring in someone from our family for show-and-tell!" he sat back, trying to figure out just who i meant. mommy, daddy, super, grammy, granddad, nana, pops ... they all begin with other letters. his eyes lit up and i thought he'd figured it out, until he said, "susanna!" i looked at him, Confused. "you know, since she's a Cutie," he said. (i Cracked up.) it occurred to him seconds later that his father does indeed have a real name. and, voila! we'd arrived at the perfect show-and-tell solution. Chris will be sitting Criss-Cross-applesauce on the alphabet rug on friday morning, as a living, breathing show-and-tell entry. and, i daresay, it's extra bang for the buck. for he's a Cutie too.

wordless wednesday

liam and susanna accompanied chris to home depot a few weeks back. naturally, they returned with a kids' craft (i swear chris can't go shopping anywhere without buying them something), which required wood glue and a rubber hammer. nothing spells danger like glue and a rubber hammer. good thing those safety goggles fit.

she is legend

i was in the middle of the second set of a doubles match last monday when the manager of the pro shop motioned to me from the fence. "your husband just picked up your daughter from school," he told me. "he emphasized that it was not an emergency, but wanted you to know that he's at home with her now." i was rattled for a bit. i can count on, oh, one finger the number of times i've been called to retrieve one of my children from school in the six total years they've been going. susanna had seemed totally fine that morning, so i had no idea what might be wrong. i drove home following my match and walked into the house, expecting to find her curled into a fetal position in chris's lap. instead, there she was, jumping around in the family room, watching sesame street while chris worked on his laptop. she was singing along to elmo and sipping on ginger ale and having a marvelous time. so, what had happened? she had thrown up. that was the only information he was given, as she was sitting morosely in the director's office at the time and chris was ready to whisk her home. after observing her running around the house with no fever and no other symptoms and wolfing down everything in sight for the rest of the afternoon, i surmised that it must have been the yogurt she ate for breakfast that she had complained had tasted weird. i threw the yogurt out, she returned to school the next day, and it was but a distant memory. until ... i began hearing from classmates. classmates' parents. teachers. the preschool director. this was, by all accounts, no ordinary measly throw-up episode. this was the Vomit Event of the Century. here's how it all went down: she entered chapel with her class (of course! what better place for this to happen than in chapel?) and was seated in the pew among all the three- and four-year olds (of course! it was monday, the only day when all 100+ children are present!) and faculty. and without any warning, she began to empty the contents of her stomach all over herself and the adorable brand-new outfit (of course! first time ever worn!) she was wearing that day. as quick as lightning, ms. kathy high-tailed her outta there and toward the bathroom as fast as her legs could carry her. the only problem was, susanna kept at it, all the way down the hallway, and with such volume that another teacher who was following to help apparently slipped in it on the slick floor, got covered in it, and had to drive home to change clothes. they had to lengthen the chapel service by three extra songs just to give the custodians enough time to clean it all up. friends of mine told me that when they picked up their kids from school hours later, they got the play-by-play delivered with such fascination and awe that it was clear susanna had made far more of an impression than any art project or center activity had that day. yeah, that's my girl. when she does something, she doesn't just do it halfway. she goes all out. (and so does her yogurt.)

wordless wednesday

aaah, the north carolina state fair. i would've loved to just park myself on a bench and people watch all day long ... alas, there were too many rides to ride, too many games to play, and too many cholesterol-laden foods to eat. we all had a blast for our first-ever family fair visit, but i understand why it only occurs once a year. it's going to take us a full 365 days to recover. perhaps by then i will have finally digested those deep-fried oreos that i inhaled, leaving me room for the delicacy featured in the final photo below.

the rides! the kids were fearless on the roller coaster. we all enjoyed the swings, although we were smart to wait until afterwards to eat.

the food! turkey legs, ice cream, corn dogs. vitamins and nutrients are so overrated.

and the perfect combination of sweet & savory ... it's things like this that make me proud to be a southerner.

dancing king

saturday of our mountain weekend getaway involved a quaint town festival, complete with a pet pig named petunia who kind of roamed the premises on her own, a surprisingly elaborate puppet show, and a live bluegrass band. despite the constant drizzle, it was an awesome way to spend an afternoon. our fellow attendees got an extra treat -- perhaps even better than the funnel cakes -- courtesy of liam. the second the band started up, he beelined it to the stage and proceeded to show us moves we had no idea he had (or, for that matter, where they even came from.) the audience, probably averaging an age of 75 and huddled under umbrellas in their canvas travel chairs, watched in amusement as my son boogied in front of them for close to an hour. occasionally, susanna would give her famous twirl in her favorite yellow raincoat, but the main act was all liam. this is one of those videos that i know i will watch in the future, time and time again, to remind me of who liam was at the tender age of five. no self-consciousness. no inhibitions. just a zest for life that he wears on his sleeve. or, should i say, on his dancing shoes.

wordless wednesday

we enjoyed an absolutely spectacular hike along the blue ridge parkway with great friends on sunday. and let me tell you, being in the mountains on a clear, sunny autumn afternoon when the leaf changing is almost at its peak is just about as close to heaven as you can get. (which is high praise, coming from a beach lover who's not terribly fond of hiking to begin with.)

above: susanna and marshall, before they pooped out and rode on their dads' shoulders. below: liam and web led the way, as older brothers are wont to do.

a royal requirement

susanna informed me months ago that she was going to be a princess for halloween, and i immediately had two thoughts on the matter. first, every single little girl who knocked on our door last year arrived as a princess. way to think outside the box, my sweet daughter! but then my second thought hit me. we already have quite a few princess dresses hanging in the closet, so she could be sleeping beauty for her friend's party, belle for her preschool program, cinderella for trick-or-treating, etc. in the end, of course, frugality trumped any desire for originality, and a princess was born. what's funny is that she also decided months ago that there was a non-negotiable part to her ensemble. whenever anyone asks her what she's planning to be, she says, and i quote: "i'm going to be a princess WITH A WAND." (emphasis hers.) i have no idea where she got the idea that a princess wields a wand. i'm pretty sure that wands belonged solely to fairies and magical godmothers ... am i missing something here? if belle had had a wand in her possession, don't you think she would have turned that beast into a better looking guy with less of a hair problem? wouldn't cinderella have used hers to get the heck out of dodge herself? but logic doesn't work with a starry-eyed (and stubborn) three year old. so the costume is taken care of, and now we're on the mad hunt for her accessory. perhaps a more appropriate response when anyone asks what she's going to be for halloween is a fashionista.

wordless wednesday

susanna climbed into the car today from preschool bearing two gifts, one for me and one for chris. in one hand was the dandelion i've come to expect, limp from her warm palm. and in her other hand, clutched tightly for her daddy, was a surprise. she waited until we arrived home to uncurl her fingers and reveal the treasure enclosed. a four-leaf clover, you ask? or a special art project made at school? oh no. nothing but the best for her daddy: a dirty rock.

pick-up pick-me-up

preschool pick-up is one of the highlights of my day. i get in the long line of SUVs and minivans snaking their way through the parking lot at 12:15, enjoying the last few minutes of peace and quiet as i inch forward at a snail's pace. but then ... as soon as i get past the hedge ... i strain my neck to see my children. and there they both are, holding hands with a teacher as they wait for me to pull up and open the door. liam begins to wave, and susanna clutches a wilted dandelion that she picked from the playground grass that she'll soon present to me and ask me to put behind my ear. it never gets old. i would've thought that by now, the novelty of seeing them awaiting me would have worn off; that each afternoon would blend in with the before it into a sort of monotonous routine. but no. i actually still get excited -- the second i lay my eyes on their sweet faces, i can almost feel my heart being filled up with love as if it were a physical substance. like i've been missing an important part of me, and there, a few yards away, is what i need to make me whole again. they pile in, breathlessly talking over each other as they regale me with stories of their three hours at school. "we went to chapel today and we sang 'God is so good' and it was gardner's birthday and then we did centers and i played dress-up with charlie and then we read a story about dogs --" says susanna, and as she takes a breath, liam jumps in, "we listened to a man play a tuba and he's been playing for 30 years and i gave the classroom bunny my apples because i didn't really like the red peel and we played outside and i got across all the monkey bars by myself --" and then susanna takes over, "and we made pancakes and i got to stir it in the bowl and we played vet with our stuffed animals and then we had circle time and i'm sitting on the letter C this week --" and then liam chimes in, "and davis brought in doughnuts for show & tell and my job today was to be the door holder and henry put on a doctor's coat and ms. kathy took our picture and --" and so on. this never-ending monologue (duologue?) lasts the entire drive home. and while i might squeeze in a question or two, for the most part, i just listen. joy, excitement, love ... my children radiate these as they share with me stories of their classmates and teachers and activities. no matter how crummy or stressful my morning might have been, any negativity i'd been feeling vanishes as soon as they climb into the back seat. the joy, the excitement, the love ... feelings that liam and susanna have for school. feelings that i have for my children. and feelings that the three of us share for those ten minutes a day described as preschool pick-up.