Charlie's First Day

Charlie had his first day of Kindergarten today. As he put on his new Catholic school uniform today he told me he was a little nervous. Then, as he ate his breakfast he told me, "I am just a little bit nervous."

So, Matt and Clare drove in one car and George, Charlie and I drove in another. As we headed toward school, I told him he was going to have such a fun day and I'd be there to pick him up before he knew it.

As we walked into school, Charlie got very quiet. As we put his things in his locker, he panicked because his socks were too small and were slipping down into his shoes. So, we took them off and put them in my purse, deciding he could go sockless for the day. When we walked into the classroom, his eyes got very, very big. His teacher greeted him, we put his things in his cubby, and I calmly knelt down and said, "I'm going to go now..."

And sweet little Charlie's eyes got very, very, VERY big. He looked at me with two gigantic saucer eyes and shook his little head just ever so slightly, imploring me silently to not leave.

But I left. And as I walked out, Matt said, "Hey - should I get a picture?"

I hissed at him, "NO! Go! He's just about to cry!"

We walked out and I said,"Matt - do you think he's gonna be OK???"

Matt said, "Of course. George looked a little nervous, though..."

And I told Matt to go back and peek in to make Charlie was OK - but if Charlie saw him, I'd kill him.

Matt obliged and reported back that no, Charlie did not see him and yes, Charlie looked fine. As we walked to our cars, I said, "Let's say a little prayer for Charlie!"

Matt again obliged and then said, "You really worry about that little guy, don't you?"

****

When I picked Charlie up at 11, he said he had a great day. His teacher told me that he got sand in his eyes at recess. I asked if he was OK after I left and she said he was just great and had a terrific day (except for the sand in the eyes). I told her I thought he looked pretty scared when I left and she said, "I know, I wasn't exactly sure what was going to happen there, but he did GREAT."

I love that little man, he might be smaller than his backpack but he his my flippin' hero.

The Bat

Looking back, I knew something was wrong when I put the clothes in the washer. As I threw in the dirty laundry, I heard something fall in with it. But I saw nothing as I glanced in the washer. So, I just slammed the lid shut, turned on the machine and left.

When we came back later in the day, I ran downstairs to the laundry room to switch out the wet clothes. As I scooped out a handful of wet laundry, I noticed a metal lint sock in there. "Ah-ha!" I thought, "that's what fell in this morning!"

Mystery solved, I kept transferring wet clothes to the dryer. But then out of the corner of my eye, I saw A BAT STUCK TO THE SIDE OF THE WASHING MACHINE! I slammed the lid shut and backed away in horror. Holy Moses! What the hell? A bat is in my washer? That's what I heard this morning. OH MY GOD! What if it's not dead? OH MY GOD! It's been spinning around with our clothes!

I exited the laundry room, giving my kids and their cousin a terse "Nothing horrifying is going on in there" smile as I ran upstairs to call my husband. I was stuttering as I tried to convey the carnage going on in our house. Ever the calm voice of reason, Matt simply said, "It's gotta be dead, right? Get a towel, pick it up, put it in a bag and throw it in the garbage outside." He thought for a moment and realized his husbandly duty necessitated an additional comment, "Or you can wait for me and I'll take care of it when I come home."

I, of course, took this as a challenge. There was no way I was leaving the vampire bat for Mr. Man to take care of. I was taking the situation into my own (heavily gloved) hands.

I finished feeding the kids lunch. Since I had three rambunctious boys in the house, and one crazy little girl, I decided to bring them in for back up. I took a deep breath and said, "Guys, I have some pretty scary news." They all perked up at this statement, looking at me expectantly. "There's a dead bat in the washing machine." Everyone lit up and shouted a chorus of, "Cool! Awesome! Ewwww! Can we see it?"

I told them I wanted their help. I explained that I was going to pick it up and put it in a garbage bag, but I would let them look at it first. I added that I was scared to death and may cry a little.

And so, armed with an astronaut helmet, a gladiators mask, a propeller hat and toy swords, a toy gun, and a Frisbee, the kids marched into the laundry room behind me. I cautiously opened the washer and pointed to the dead bat stuck to the side of the machine. Through helmets and masks, everyone took several looks and slowly filed out of the room. As I put on a heavy pink rubber glove and reached in for the bat with a dish towel, I looked at my five year-old Charlie,the last man standing. "OK bud, you hold open the garbage bag for me." I stood poised, trying to summon up the courage to touch the bat.

Charlie said in a tense voice, "MOM! Hurry up! GET IT!"

I started to cry a little, "Charlie! I'm so scared! I can't do it! OK! OK! Here I go! OHHHH! I can't do it! OK - here I go! EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! OH MY GOD - DISGUSTING!"

I grabbed the squishy, still warm bat and delicately dropped it in brave Charlie's open garbage bag.

"Let me see it, MOM!" Charlie said excitedly.

"No, I can't! I have to seal the bag - what if it's alive and comes out!" I said, a little hysterically.

Charlie, bored and disappointed, poked at the bat through the garbage bag and dejectedly left the laundry room. I ran the clothes through the hottest wash cycle possible multiple times that afternoon. And so our saga ended. The bat is out of this belfry. But, I can't help wondering, does he have any thrill seeking cam padres skulking around our appliances? Oh please, for the love of God, no! No!

My daughter is terrified of Dick Cheney

We went to Madeline Island over the July 4th weekend and Clare will never be the same.

Madeline Island is a very artsy eclectic place and each Independence Day there is an amazing parade. Two years ago our boys rode on the Madeline Island Library float and we have wanted to get back for the festivities ever since.

So this year we made it up there. We stayed at our friends' cabin and got the boys back on the Library float. I walked along with the float so I was not able to witness The Incident.

Part of the parade's appeal are the contributions made by Madeline Island's bohemian artists. This year there was a several trailer long dragon float along with a fully costumed dance tribute choreographed to Micheal Jackson's Thriller. There was also a man dressed in a huge paper mache Dick Cheney head.

Matt and Clare encountered Dick Cheney along the parade route. He was dressed in hunter's camouflage and toting a shotgun. Apparently he snuck up on Matt and Clare from behind. When Clare spotted him she went mental - screaming and crying. Parade goers laughed at the spectacle as Matt yelled,"Get away Cheney - you're a bad man! Bad man!"

And now Cheney has become a favorite villain around our house. He turns up in all of our bedtime stories and even has been used by immature me as a threat.

"You better hurry up, Clare - or Cheney will get you!"

I think I'm gonna barf (or fart)...

At our house we do not use the word fart. We use the word toot, instead. Once Charlie realized there was another word for tooting he was all over it. Or, at least, he wants to be all over it...

Charlie cannot keep the words "fart" and "barf" straight. He mixes them up all the time. Case in point, we were sitting in our boat, waiting for the log ride to start at Nickolodeon Universe at the Mall of America and Charlie looked at me and said, "Mom - I hope you don't fart!" I didn't realize until much later that evening that he was afraid I was going to barf, not fart. It sure made a lot more sense once I figured that one out...

And yesterday, Charlie tried an almond out of a bowl of almonds and honey nut cheerios that I was eating as a snack. He bit into the almond, grimaced and ran into the kitchen. When he returned and said, "Sorry Mom, I had to go fart that one out."

"BARF! You mean you had to BARF it out - FART means toot! BARF means throw up!" I screamed at him.

If you would have told me five years ago I would be having this conversation with my children, I never would have believed you...

The Start of Summer

Uh-oh. Summer officially starts tomorrow at our house. George's last day of school is tomorrow. Then we have all three kids home for three months or so. Around twelve weeks. Ninety plus days. But who's counting.

We don't have a ton scheduled. No big trip is planned. None of the kids have any week long, full day camps. The boys have six weeks of Urban tennis (one hour a morning, just a block and a half away). George has two circus classes a week, Charlie just one. We will do swimming lessons at some point. But as for the rest of the summer - roughly 35 hours a week for twelve weeks, we will just play outside, explore the urban parks and recreation offerings, check out some cool places (zoo, museums, nature centers) and hopefully read some good books.

The more outings we have, the better summer will be for everyone. Just sitting around the house and playing in our backyard tends to get old fast. So, hopefully I will be a creative, active mom this summer. Three kids, twelve weeks, and no school can really go one of two ways...

George's Star Student Event...

George had his Star Student Event today. He got to bring his family into his first grade class and talk about what makes him special.

Nana, Poppop, Aunt Peg, Charlie, Clare and I all went. George introduced us to his classmates in a very grown up manner. He had warned me beforehand that he would be introducing Poppop as Grandpa Michael. Nana was still Nana, but apparently Poppop was a little too exotic a title, so Grandpa Michael it was...

He started by writing his name up on the big piece of paper on the easel in huge bubble letters (very cool). Then he showed the class photos I had printed off of he and his dad, he and his siblings, and him in a fake jail cell in Arizona with "Wanted Dead or Alive" written across it.

He introduced my side of the family as his Minnesota family. Then, he explained how Matt is from New York and we have a New York family contingent as well. We played a DVD slideshow of our trip to Florida with the New York relatives. His class loved that the song, "If I Had a Million Dollars" was the soundtrack to the slideshow. They played air guitar and bounced along to it and even asked to see it again (which we vetoed) when it was done.

The class had a question and answer period where George was asked, "Why does your brother look so much like you?" (I answered, "Genetics"), "What is your favorite football team?" (George said NY Giants and Vikings - always the diplomat) and "What is your favorite movie and popsicle?" (Combo Question - Gremlins 2, Indianna Jones 4 and Lime). He was also asked what are his favorite shoes, to which he said, "Congresses", but meant Converse.

Then he went to the front of the class, posted three big sheets of paper with his mythical beast drawings. Each kid was given paper and instructed to create a mythical beast (George suggested a Tornado Monster) in pencil.

Charlie sat at George's table and drew with the kids. In typical Charlie fashion, his monster was tooting in his picture, so he leaned over to the girl next to him and said, "My monster is farting." To which the girl replied, "George! Did you hear what your brother just said???" It's a little disconcerting to me that Charlie was astute enough to know that although you say toot at our house, you have to say fart to the big kids...

The kids loved it. George loved it. And we really, really, really loved it.

Clare sans diaper...

Clare has been using the potty pretty consistently. So consistently, in fact, that sometimes she just appears there. Out of the blue, there is Clare, perched on the potty with a smile on her face saying, "I pooped!"

I was sick yesterday and trying to nap upstairs while Charlie and Clare watched a show. Twice during my less than an hour long nap, Charlie appeared at the edge of the bed saying gravely, "I"ve got bad news. Clare's on the potty and she pooped." And then he'd run gleefully away knowing that I had to get up and come downstairs to wipe her bottom.

Little does he know, the fact that Clare pooped on the potty is great news, it's when she doesn't make it to the potty that it is truly bad news...