Let's start with Potpourri: When I was in elementary school they put these stations all around the library for the students. At each station you could read something, do something, play with something and there was an educational goal built into each one. Once you completed the task, there was usually an answer or thing to turn in. I remember one where you had to look up the word "potpourri" and figure out how to pronounce it. Once you read the pronunciation key and figured out that the word sounded nothing like you expected it would, you could go over to one of the librarians and get a sticker or star or stamp on your sheet. I don't remember what the reward was, but I do remember where the potpourri station was and I remember learning how to pronounce potpourri that day. I've never forgotten how to spell it since.
Crème brûlée French Toast: Who came up with this delightful breakfast treat? And at Whole foods too. They have some good cooks/chefs there. I've been spending time at Whole Foods in the mornings while my daughter is rolling out to her new school schedule. I love french toast, but add crème brûlée to the mix, make it all moist and creamy and then add butter and syrup? I may have to start dieting again if my daughter doesn't get up to speed with a full half-day of school soon.
Wait, Sun, where are you going? It's nice to get up in the morning and have the sun come up before you've run for an hour, taken a shower, prepared breakfast for two children, fed one dog and drank a cup of coffee. But there's a downside. The sun has to go to bed much earlier now. I was driving home yesterday afternoon—okay, it was just after five o'clock but it still felt early—and the sun was setting. There was that pretty orange and cloudy glow on the far horizon that says day is almost over and you should be enjoying your pina colada on the porch at the beach, but it's not warm, you're not at the beach, and it's not evening--it's late afternoon. It's time to hunker down and get in the mood for some fireplace warmth, hot chocolate and holiday cheer as we get closer to Winter Solstice. The days only get shorter from here for a while.
Eyelid Ouch: I need to put in an eye update. All is well, but for the purposes of this interesting bodily strangeness, take note that I'm using steroid drops in one eye for the next several weeks. The other day, suddenly my eye started hurting on the outside. It reminded me it was like the stye pain or inflamed eyelash follicles I'd had in the past. I was a little surprised at my eye and concerned that something was wrong. It got worse and I fiddled with the eye lashes, pulling some out, trying to find the sore area. Then I looked in the mirror when it got even more painful and that's when I got the biggest surprise. There was nothing wrong with my eye, there was a pimple on the eye lid. In the very middle of my eye lid. Who knew you could get acne on your eye lid? It is not an easy spot to deal with, what with the loose skin and the eyeball underneath that you can't put pressure on. But at least I didn't have eyeball or vision problems.
The Jolly Rancher Danger: I loved Jolly Rancher candies as a child. I still love them as an adult. I was reminded of eating them as a child when I noticed one in my son's trick-or-treat bag. Today, and for a long time now, the Jolly Rancher you're most likely to run into is an individually-wrapped, fit-in-your-mouth easily, shaped piece. When I was young, the only way they were sold were in these long, ruler-shaped, flat packages. On the one hand, there was a lot of candy to be enjoyed, say six inches of deliciousness. On the other hand, you were likely to wound your hand or your mouth trying to get to that enjoyment. The only way to get a piece in your mouth was to break the stick and the only way the stick seemed to break was in shards and sharp pieces. Still, it was worth it for the intense green apple or grape or watermelon flavor.
Whistle Count: After the whistle post I counted how many times I caught myself whistling for the next few days. Surprisingly, I seem to whistle around nine times each day. I also paid attention to the times when I did so. If a song is playing and I can't hit that register in voice but I can while whistling, I change over from singing to whistling. Also, if I don't know the words in that area of a song I tend to whistle through it too. My husband says he whistles a lot too, so I'm not the only one.
The Big Boy Update: We have solids. Are you tired of the potty saga? I think we all are. I eagerly await the last potty update. I haven't spoken to his teacher in a while, but from the two to three underpants and one to two pair of pants sent home each day in the, "you need to wash this right away" tub, he's not making straight potty A's at school either. I know that potty training is heavily weighted on the "training" component. You have to keep at it. If they know they can hold out until you give in and put on a diaper, you're just training them to use diapers. We're diligent. Well, some days we are. But we are seeing some results, like today when solids arrived in the potty. He wasn't even that proud of himself. He explained what he'd done, got up, took the insert (full) and carefully dumped it into the big potty while I internally cringed at his aim. He flushed, asked for help with the stool at the sink and then started in on the twelve rounds of "soap, more soap" as he turned on the taps and began to wash his hands. Did I mention he has a soap fetish?
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: "She did work," her teacher said. School went well yesterday. Or well-ish. I was so sad when I handed her off to Angie this morning. She cried. I wasn't sad for her, she got over it pretty quickly, but no one should cry at Angie. Angie is everything you want in a teacher. She's kind, she's friendly, she's happy and she has a calm confidence that make children feel comfortable in learning and exploring around her. I went into the office one room over to ask the administrator a question and sure enough she stopped crying in a very short time. The good news is, not only did she "do work" as the other teacher, Pearl, said when I picked her up, but she cried again. At me. Because she wasn't ready to go. I wasn't so sad at that.
Someone Once Said: If one tolerates bad manners, they grow worse.
No comments:
Post a Comment