Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Prom for Preschoolers

Feb. 24, 2008
Subj: Prom for preschoolers

Hello Everyone,

Happy Tuesday. I know I've been remiss about writing more often, but the fact of the matter is, I've been actively avoiding the bonus room (where the computer is), for fear that the quilt I'm supposed to be making (yes, another one, but this one is supposed to be for Baby #2 - or as the girls in the neighborhood call her, "Adeline 2) will jump into my lap and insist upon some attention. So as a result, I have been using this time to perfect my napping skills.

We've been having more computer problems, and I suppose it could have something to do with the bubble wands Addie inserted into the fan area of the hard drive, but I just can't imagine how something as low tech as bubble wands (that's right, not just one, but two), could effect such a highly scientific and advanced thing as a computer hard drive. I'm more inclined to believe it's the quilt (it's not even a quilt yet, just a pile of fabric, but in spirit it's a beautiful baby quilt) exacting it's revenge on me.

Little does it know I can still go to the library to use the computer. It has no idea what kind of procrastinator it's dealing with - I will overcome!

Addie's preschool hosted a father/daughter dance for Valentines, and moms were only allowed if they were helping out with something. Of course Jeff wasn't going to go unless I was there, so I dutifully signed up for ticket taking, dressed Addie in her finest Christmas dress, and off we went.

Now, since this was a preschool function (although it was open to the public), we thought Jeff would be fine in a sports shirt and slacks. Of course, we forgot to adjust our thought process to east coast time. Jeff was by far, the most under-dressed of all the 100+ dads there. Suits are of course the most logical next step up from a sports shirt, but there were dads in tuxedos (remember, preschool dance here). And at least half the girls had corsages and outrageous up-dos (also known as Prom Hair). Many of the girls had visibly spent time at the beauty salon, and had even had their nails and toes done for the occasion.

After watching all these dolled up kiddos come and go, I realized that this must be where beauty queens come from . . .

Aside from all the outrageous hoopla, there is nothing cuter than a room full of dads dancing the night away with their exhausted little girls (the dance didn't start until 7pm, so most of us didn't have a fighting chance to last the whole night).

Good news, we took a hospital tour, so now we know where to go when #2 is ready. And, as luck would have it, while I was sitting in the maternity ward waiting room, I had a chance to peruse my new favorite magazine, "American Rifleman." It truly is the "world's oldest and largest firearm authority." Do you think a lifetime subscription the American Rifleman would be a more suitable birth gift than a quilt?

Jeff and I have taken up bicycling on the weekends, and have quickly discovered that in fact, we are invisible. You'd think that two adults and a bike trailer (which we refer to has the princess chariot because Addie loves it so much) would be at least a little visible, but every time we try to cross an intersection (mind you, from the sidewalk, when the hand is green) we nearly get creamed by someone trying to turn right. But the good news is, we have found what we believe to be the only bike rack in the whole city. Conveniently, it's located in front of the local hippy market in town.

Addie had her first haircut today, and she did wonderfully. Admittedly, Great Clip's haircut sale was really what spurned me into action (you just can't beat $6.99). That, and I didn't want to have one of those kids who goes through school with their hair wrapped around their waists because their moms just won't let them cut it. And, I think if Addie's hair got too long, it might become problematic in the potty training area.

Speaking of poo, (let those who don't have children be forewarned - we will be talking about another well kept parenting secret), I had another one of those moments when I just sat back, and thought, "good lord, how did I get here?"

As if catching vomit with your hands isn't bad enough. . . Addie had a little bottle in the shower, I looked down and it had a little dark thing in it. Clearly not thinking, I picked up the bottle, looked at it, dumped it out into my hand, and realized almost immediately, that I had poo in my hand. Of course the first question I asked myself was, "how did I get poo in my hand?" But the second question that I know you are all asking yourselves is, "how did the poo get in the bottle in the first place?" I wish I knew.

Somehow I think the answer to that would lead to all the answers to all the most difficult questions out there.

In the headlines this week: "Fort Mill teen charged in Dairy Barn Burglaries."

If you're anything like me, you were probably hoping for some great modern day cattle rustling story, but alas, the story didn't actually have anything to do with cows at all.

I'm afraid I have nothing more to report. We pretty much stick to a rigid schedule of eating, napping and playing. It's grueling and exhausting, but someone has to do it.

Take care.


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