Deep Love In The Shallow End

Kindergarten, A-Z

Dear Laney,

For the last 26 days of the school year, your class did an "A to Z" countdown. Each day - for 26 days - there was a different theme that required some kind of activity or costume ("'P' is for Pajamas!") and was fun but frankly exhausting.

You're someone who dresses herself in ensembles like this for a NORMAL day of school:

Yes, that is an animal-print scarf from Talbot's on the left. Yes, that is a gold lame purse on the right. But then all of a sudden, "'C' is for Cowboys and Cowgirls," and we have to up our game. 

"F" was for "Field Day"

I forget which letter sent us on the Field Trip to the Smokejumper Center. Every kid tried to prove he or she could do the required 7 pull-ups to qualify for Smokejumper duty. They mostly focused on the pulls-ups portion of qualifying for the job, vs the "willing to hurl yourself out of a plane towards a raging wildfire with a chainsaw strapped to your back" part.

"R" was for Run, and you ran laps around the school to raise money for the PTA. I walked up to the school with Hagen in a stroller so we could cheer you on. Your teacher saw Hagen and invited him to run with the class, so Hagen did a quarter mile with you in his little Crocs. 

 

"S" was for Silly Pictures. I asked Mrs. Hosman what she normally did for silly pictures, and she said, "Take a picture of each kid with my iPhone." I told her I could do something a little more fun if she was into the idea, so on "S" day,  I hauled my backdrop and some lights and two laundry hampers of dress-up clothes to the school and we did a funny photo booth. I ended up doing pictures of every kid in every kindergarten class at the school. It was honestly great fun.

 

One of the last days of school was reserved for a reading performance. (Maybe "'T' for Theatre?") and your dad and I got to go to the classroom to see a reader's theatre production of The Very Hungry Caterpillar. You played the moon. Your line was: "Look, an egg!"

"Z" was for "Zip Away To First Grade," which I am not emotionally prepared to process just yet, because I am "'S' for Shocked At How Fast The Time Is Going," and "'N' for Nostalgic For That Eleven Pound Newborn I Had Just Yesterday," while also totally "'P' For Proud As Heck."

Love,

Mom

The Tooth Fairy Can't Catch A Break

Dear Laney,

A few weeks ago, we were invited over to our friend Correy's house for dinner. As usual, you went upstairs to play with her daughter Abby. Fun night had by all.

Then...

The next morning, Correy texted me pictures of Abby's room. Seems the two of you decided to draw on Abby's bedroom walls with crayon. I was mortified, because you know better. I offered to march you right over there to help clean it up, but they were on their way out of town. Instead, I told you that you would need to use your tooth fairy money to buy Miss Correy some Magic Erasers to scrub the crayon off her walls.

You marched to the trampoline, zipped yourself in the safety net, and started dramatically sobbing. Your dad and I rolled our eyes, because if one is going to have an emotional meltdown, a trampoline in the middle of the yard is a ridiculous choice. I mean, I don't consider myself a mental health expert, but I'm pretty sure that if you're truly despondent, you don't go looking for an elevated stage.

You covered your eyes with your arms and wailed to the neighborhood things like, "I could have bought SO MUCH HOT CHOCOLATE with that money!" It would not surprise me if I one day discovered that our backyard neighbors have a live Twitter feed on occasions like this. #FirstWorldProblems. #FreeLaney.

 You came in from the trampoline an hour later, and told your dad, "I think this other tooth is loose now." And he reached in your mouth AND PULLED IT OUT. You grinned. "Now I don't have to give up all my tooth fairy money, because I have NEW tooth fairy money."

$#!%.

The tooth fairy can't catch a break.

The next morning, you sat down and wrote an apology note to Correy:

"I am sorry that I drew on your walls. Laney"

You folded it up and put it in an envelope, and were supposed to include a $5 bill for Magic Erasers. As we were headed out the door to school, I happened to ask, "Hey - where's that $20 that Peg Peg and Tex sent you to sponsor your Fun Run?" "Oh," you said, "I couldn't find that five-dollar bill, so I just put the twenty in there."

"WE ARE NOT GIVING MISS CORREY TWENTY DOLLARS." What I didn't scream, but wanted to: "I can't BELIEVE you spent an hour sobbing in a damn trampoline over five dollars, just so you could turn around and give up twenty because you're too lazy to walk upstairs."

Of course, we all know how this story ends. Miss Correy invited us out for ice cream two days later, and magically pulled the $5 out of her purse and used it to buy you a large cone. 

#IGiveUp. 

Love,

Mom

Piddle Boarding

Hey y'all - 

Last year, your dad bought a paddle board, and we all fell in love with it, so this year, we bought a second one and have spent all of our spare time so far this summer on the water. We've paddled on two rivers, two lakes and two ponds, and I usually do it with one or two young'uns hanging off the front of my board, so I've had to become competent in a hurry. In fact, one day last summer, Hagen climbed on my board, laid face-down on the front half, declared, "I go night-night," and let his arms drag in the water on either side of the board as he fell asleep and we continued down the river. "THOR!!," I said, "What if he rolls off into the river?!?" "Don't worry," your dad said. "He'll be moving at the same speed as your board, so you can just scoop him back up." Not one to panic, your dad. 

Through knowledge gained from our many outings, it's possible I have invented a new version of the sport that I like to call "Piddle Boarding." In my version, you get to sit down on the board with a cold beverage balanced between your legs. It was such a pain to balance a drink and a kid and paddle with the customary long paddle (because I'd have to swing the paddle up and over your heads with every stroke) that your dad bought me a two-bladed kayak paddle to make it easier for me to sit. 

A few weeks ago, we went to Salmon Lake with some very athletic/competitive friends of ours, who suggested we have a paddle board relay race around the buoys at the lake. Somehow, for my leg, I was pitted against your dad. I don't know what got into me, but I really, REALLY wanted to beat him. I got down on my knees on the paddleboard so I could get the paddle deep in the water, and I hauled ass. I cornered around that buoy like it was my JOB. And I beat your dad, fair and square. I possibly pulled muscles in both thighs because I couldn't walk right for three days after, but note that on June 12th at approximately 12:30pm, I beat your dad at something. 

Laney loves going on these adventures, because she likes swimming and loves the water and usually gets to invite a friend along and they spend all day pretending to be pirates or mermaids or pirate mermaids as their parents paddle them around.

Hagen loves these outings, not because he likes swimming (he doesn't) or because he loves loves to get wet (he hates it), but because he really likes to sit on the shore and consume roughly 5000 calories from the cooler before passing out on a blanket.

 So...that's what we've been doing in our spare time.

Ahoy!
Mom