Friday, December 23, 2011

Why I can't leave Kate alone with art supplies

Yes, she used her nose as a stamp to make a lovely picture.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Monday, December 19, 2011

In the kitchen with Kate

I'm not a huge fan of baking. The preciseness and exactness of it has always been a bit of a turn off. Baking powder and baking soda are two different things, a half a cup of sugar is a half a cup of sugar, I can't try using sour cream instead of milk ...

Kate loves baking. Loves it.

She wants to taste and smell and mix everything.

Kate: What does baking soda taste like.
Me: Smell it. You aren't going to like it.
Kate: (smells it) But, what does it taste like
Me: Try it and see Kate
Kate: (tries it) I don't like it.

Kate and I have been busy making Christmas cookies this week and it has been so much fun - messy, sticky, sugary, gooey fun.

My mom and I would always make cookies together around Christmas. She would wait until I got home from college to do them as I got older.

There's something comforting and familiar about making cookies at Christmas, the same ones that we've always made, year after year.

People and places have changed, life has grown more complicated - but, I still always have peanut butter kiss and snowball cookies for Christmas.

It's been a good reminder of what the season is really all about. Family. Memories. Traditions.

And cookies.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Everything I need to know, I learned in Kindergarten

David has been a kindergartener for about 4 months now and it has been amazing to see his growth in such a small time period - his writing has improved, his communication skills, manners.

But I think, as his mother and educator for the past 5 years, what I am most proud of is his increased knowledge of bad words. Each new day has brought something new and unexpected, a moment to cherish as I quickly try to figure out what to say in light of his ever increasing vocabulary.

Just today in the car he told me he knew what the "n-word" bad word was (oh yes, that word). When I asked him where he had heard it, he told me it had been in a song on the bus.

What the fuck. How the hell am I supposed to block him from all the shitty things stupid ass people say. Damn it.

But, I digress ...

I've tried to be as open with him as I can about bad words. Explain what they mean (okay, not all of them), explain how the whole concept of a word that you aren't supposed to say is rather silly, explain how we usually don't say them because they are mean.

I arm him with this knowledge and hope he'll make good decisions.
And send him to school where he continues his education.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

(you're welcome)

There are some days where just the thought of having to unload and load the dishwasher again is enough to make me snap. Or stomp my feet. Or think evil thoughts about dishes and the sound they would make shattering.

Today is one of those days.

You have been warned.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Friday, December 9, 2011

Tales of a smart ass 5 year old

David recently put a sign up on his door with 4 names:


These are the people allowed in his room. We occasionally have Kate's friends over when he is at school and, inevitably because they are kids and he has toys in his room, Kate and her friends will venture into his room to play.

Not a big deal, right?

Well, it is to a 5 year old. So he made the sign and it has been hanging on his door.

Kate really pissed him off today. I'm still not entirely sure what she did. I don't even know that he remembers.

This what the sign looked like this morning:

This evening, I pissed David off.

It's not a very exciting story, but did involve juice being spilled all over his floor.

I was cleaning up the juice and noticed David and Kate whispering.

The sign now looks like this:

It was bed time and we were finishing reading books in Kate's room. I told David it was time for bed.

David: Will you come tuck me in?
Me: I thought I wasn't allowed in your room.
David: It doesn't count for bedtime.

As I closed his door, I noticed a new sign:

A bit hard to read but it says:
Only kids in my room and daddy (written at the top)

It's nice to know it doesn't count for bedtime though.

I have no problems handing the cleaning of his room over to daddy.

He can start with the juice on the carpet.