Marissa's Class Work

Lately Marissa's been bringing home half-finished worksheets with notes from her teacher, telling us to have her finish the worksheets at home and return them. One was an intimidating-looking page of math problems that was half finished, with a note to time her on how long it took her to do the rest of the worksheet and report that back to the teacher.

We know her teacher pretty well since she was also Lindsey's 2nd grade teacher, and knew that this kind of work was not part of how she normally gets parents involved.

We suspect Marissa's been goofing off during school time, having too much fun chatting with her friends to complete the work in the classroom like she's supposed to. Still, it had us curious.

Then this past week I received an email from her teacher, which read something like this:

Jenny,
I am having Marissa bring her classroom work home for you to look at. PLEASE MAKE SURE SHE RETURNS IT THE FOLLOWING DAY. I wanted to make sure you saw it.

"Great," I'm thinking, "what is this girl up to now?"

Marissa traipses into the house and cannot wait to show me her work that her teacher told her to bring home.

"We're writing instructions," she says. "My instructions are on how to get a friend."

And she reads to us.

In case you can't get it to play, some of the instructions are:

1. Go to a school, any school.
2. Find a girl who looks like she is not a bully.
3. Ask her if she wants to play. If the answer is yes, then you can play together.
4. Make sure she has a good time.
5. Ask her about herself, and then ask her if she would like to be a friend. If the answer is yes, then you have a new friend! You are going to have lots of fun together.

Her teacher wanted me to see it because she thought it was so precious.

I was glad it wasn't instructions on how to open a bottle of wine.

Marissa's Special Talent

I have never been able to hula hoop. Even when I was a kid, I couldn't hula hoop, and now, as an adult, the only way I can hula hoop is by putting the hula hoop around my neck. Weird, I know, but that's all I can do.

Remember this toy?

You would put this boy around one ankle, swing it around and hop over it. It was the closest I could come to hula hooping, and I would skip over this yellow, plastic spinning thing up and down the sidewalk.

So I'm not sure where Marissa gets this talent. But here she is, showing off her mad hula hooping skills.

 

Ignore the distraction in the background, that's just me trying to keep Lindsey from jumping into the video...again.

Superhero Day

Yesterday was Superhero Day at Lindsey's school. The kids were instructed to dress up like a superhero, which was defined as anyone that they look up to.

Lindsey has been pondering Superhero Day all week. She didn't know who to be, and I didn't offer any ideas.

Finally on Wednesday she asked if we had a wig of short, black, curly hair. Ummm....no?

"Darn," she said, in all seriousness, "Because I would really like to go as you."

Since she probably wouldn't fit into my clothes, she decided to go as her sister, because she admires her sister, too. Except she decided that Marissa's clothes would be too small for her.

Finally the day came, and Friday morning she is looking through her drawers. She decides to go as herself, because she likes herself just fine, too.

Wordless Wednesday: Sky Gazing

Whatcha looking at, kids?

The sky, through the leaves.

They make pretty patterns.

Keep looking, kids...and never stop.

Drive Time Entertainment

During our drive to Wisconsin we ended up in traffic that came to a dead stop on I-94 for approximately 20 minutes. There had been an accident with two semi-trailer trucks and the interstate was completely blocked. We and all the other vehicles around us put it in park and turned off our vehicles until there were signs of movement ahead. (I'm explaining this so you don't think I shot a nearly one-minute video while hurtling down the highway at 70 mph.)

Lindsey took this opportunity to grace us with her rendition of Katy Perry's "Firework" song while Marissa played with her happy meal toy from our recent lunch stop.



Proof positive that people don't sound as good outside of the headphones as they do in their own heads when they are wearing them. It reminds me of a certain audio recording of a sibling of mine singing the theme song to the hit TV show "Great American Hero" with noise-canceling headphones on. "Believe it or not, I'm walking on air I never thought I could feel so freeeeeee...."

Wordless Wednesday: Nothin' Like a Good Mud Fight

Video by Lindsey, Future Director

While I was at an appointment this evening the girls got a hold of my camera and shot this video. By the time I got home they had played it back several times, giggling the entire time.

Wayne had no idea what they had been up to, even though you hear him laughing in the background. I've mentioned previously how he has this amazing ability to focus, regardless of what's going on around him. This was another example of his talent; at least this time no one ended up with green paint in her hair.

Capturing Joy

I downloaded photos from my camera recently and came across a batch that my daughter had taken while having a playdate with her friend. I love the innocence and silliness that she captures.

I can just imagine Dax the long-suffering dog, sitting patiently watching the girls' shenanigans, waiting for the door to open so he can escape into the quiet of the rest of the house.

Dancing is an important part of every playdate. A requirement of life, really. Wouldn't all of our days be better if we all just danced without a care in the world? And didn't mind if someone took pictures to capture the joy?

The Toenail Fairy, Eh?

*Warning: This post is not for the weak of stomach. If the title got you, don't bother reading the rest.

A little background for you:

My husband is a marathon runner. Like a lot of runners who put on miles by the double digits, this means that he loses the occasional toenail. The nails rub against the top of the shoe over and over until it kills the nail; it grows out and a new one grows underneath. It's a fact of life for many long distance runners.

After he lost the first one, he grossed Lindsey out by making her believe he had put it in her tooth box, the one she puts under her pillow for the tooth fairy to find when she loses a tooth. You should've seen her open that box when she thought there was a toenail in there -- she held it at arm's length and had a grimace on her face until she opened it and found nothing inside.

The next toenail he found, he told her that if he put it in her tooth box, she might actually trick the tooth fairy into leaving a dollar for it. So she agreed to let him put it in her tooth box. Lo and behold, the tooth fairy left her a dollar as a reward, but forgot to leave a note. (This is what happens when dad plays the tooth fairy.)

Recently Wayne lost another toenail and when he showed it to her she actually raised both her hands in the air in a triumphant "YES!" Because this meant another dollar. Only this time, the toenail was accompanied by a note from a confused tooth fairy.

Okay, so the toenail fairy doesn't have the best grammar, but that's what happens when the note gets written around midnight. And when she's expecting a tooth.

Lindsey is kind of curious about whether or not the tooth fairy exists, especially since a good friend of hers informed her that her parents just pretend to be the tooth fairy. But we've explained that every little girl and boy has their own special tooth fairy, and that hers must like her a lot since she accepts toenails that aren't even her own in exchange for a dollar.

Yes Virginia, the toenail fairy exists.

An invitation to tea

Welcome to my tea party. I'll be your host, please let me know if you need anything.

Would you like some gummy vitamins in a cup? How about a ham sandwich cut into the shape of a snowman? I've also got yummy cinnamon and sugar roll-ups, and marshmallows topped with frosting and sprinkles for dessert.

All of it washed down with some lovely room temperature water in little tiny cups.

I love these little shows of sisterly love. So sweet.

Phineas Lives Here

My girls are stuck on a Disney show called "Phineas and Ferb." For those who don't know it, every episode follows the shenanigans of two brothers who are constantly making inventions and whose older sister, Candace, is always trying to "bust" them making these things. And they don't just make things: they will make forts that are 10 stories tall, rockets that go to the moon, submarines that they can shrink to explore the microscopic world, and so on and so forth.

One morning Lindsey decided she wanted to make a time machine. So she asked for some cardboard boxes, got some fuzzy pipe cleaners and tape and went to work.

When she explained what her machine did, it's actually more of a transmogrifier (to use a Calvin and Hobbes term) than a time machine. You push a button telling it what you want to transform into, enter the machine (the pink and green playtent), and come out acting like whatever button you pushed. Your options are cat, dog, baby or teenager. She had all of us get in and test it out -- it worked pretty well, although for a while she had two teenagers for parents and nobody knew who was really in charge.

Here she's demonstrating how you push the button to choose what you want to transform into.

She also had a clipboard made of a piece of cardboard in which she recorded who had used the time machine and what they transformed into. We all had to re-enter the time machine to transform back, especially me since I had to become responsible enough to make dinner. Otherwise it might've been Mountain Dew and Pringles for dinner.

Painting: Not Just for Paper

While purging organizing some outdoor toys this weekend Wayne came across an art easel that he wanted to toss, which immediately made both of our girls want to use it. We pulled out our two art easels and set up the paints and paper for some outdoor studio time.

Lindsey began with a butterfly -- nice!

Then she decided to copy the same butterfly design on her hand.

I didn't get a chance to take a picture of Marissa's butterfly that she had painted on the paper, but she definitely took Lindsey's lead and began painting on the canvas of her choice: herself.

I love the impish grin on her face. She decided to give herself a beard and moustache after covering her hands and arms up to her elbows.

This was followed by a bath in which the water became nearly the same color green as the infamous green paint incident of last summer.

What a great way to spend a summer evening!

One Small Step for Marissa...One GIANT Step for Mommy

A couple of weeks ago Marissa learned how to buckle herself into her booster seat.

Any parent will tell you -- this is a big milestone.

Perhaps not for the child. Probably the child has been buckling various things for a year or more by now -- a belt, a strap on a doll stroller, a shoe, whatever.

This is a huge milestone for parents.

This is up there with potty training in my book. I am serious.

For 7 years now I have been strapping at least one but most often two children into carseats and/or boosters. This entails bending your body 90 degrees at the waist with minimal support, wrenching your arm around a bulky carseat/booster seat, and trying to fit a buckle which seems to shrink in your hand into an invisible latch that you cannot see (per bulky carseat/booster seat noted previously). It's like trying to thread a needle without looking at either item, and while just lying the needle on the table and poking the thread at it. See how well that works for ya.

The other part of strapping my kids in carseats that I won't miss: the ever so lovely rear view that my fellow parents at daycare get to see. I am embarrassed to say that there are a few parents that I recognize by seeing their rear ends poking out of the backdoor of their car as they strap their kids in. And I am even more embarrassed to say that they probably recognize me the same way. We should just walk into parent meet-and-greets bent over, butt first. We'd all know who the other parents were if only we could look up to see.

That part is always made all the more fun by children who take their time getting into their carseats, insistent on telling you about their day, showing you their art project, making sure they have their blankies...all while you stand out the open rear door in the pouring rain, wishing you could just get in the damn car yourself. Don't bother carrying an umbrella -- ever try doing that needle and thread thing with just one arm, while holding the other arm as far above your head as possible, while bent over at a 90-degree angle? My chiropractor is smiling at the vision: hmmm....that'll be three visits a week for at least four weeks, cha-ching...

Now that Marissa has mastered the buckle, here's how we get into the car when we all have to go somewhere.

1. We all open our own doors.

2. We all close our own doors.
3. We all buckle ourselves in.
4. We get ready to ride.

Sweet.

A Prelude to Goth

The other day Lindsey asked me for some lipstick to use to play dress up. All of my make-up is the permanent, staining kind that you use with a color and a gloss, not very child-friendly. So I gave her the only lipstick I could find -- the black stuff I used this past Halloween for my costume as a Goth goddess.

I don't know, I think the black sets off her eyes. Goth could look good on her. Except I don't think she's supposed to smile. Ever.

A Chance Encounter

Tonight Marissa wanted to head down to the park, while Lindsey decided she wanted to play "princess" in her room. "Princess" consists of, you guessed it, dressing up like a princess and prancing around. And apparently it's not as much fun when your entire audience is gone, so at the last minute she decided to join us for the park trip, but forgot to remove one piece of princess apparel.

As we get down to the park, she sees her friend Dylan from school. Dylan is in her 1st grade class, and I get the impression she kind of has a crush on him. When we last saw him at the park in the winter, she chased after him and, upon catching him, rolled on him like a dog would on a dead fish. Well, maybe not the right analogy, but anyway....

She saw him from a distance and ran back to me to give me her huge stuffed chick, because she was apparently embarrassed to be carrying around a massive stuffed animal. And then as she's running down the hill to see him, she realizes she's still wearing a tiara and she exclaims, "Why am I wearing a tiara?!"

A good lesson that you might run into somebody you know, no matter where you go, so leave the tiara at home.

Trouble at Bedtime

As typical, Marissa continues to surprise us with her independence and unique ways of getting in trouble.

For instance...

One evening last week, we were winding up the bedtime routine: bath had been given, teeth brushed, final potty stop, and I was about to sit down with her to read books. Before crawling onto my lap she looks at me and says, "I want a drink of water."

I say, "Well go get one from the bathroom."

She says, "No, I want to get one from downstairs."

Whatever go for it kid, as long as I don't have to get up. So after waiting for her return for what is now clearly too long of a timeframe, I hustle downstairs to find her painting her nails with nail polish that earlier in the evening I had told her she couldn't use. She has painted the top 1/3 of each finger, skin and all, got the nail polish on the countertop and dripped some on the floor. Thus the reason why I told her she couldn't do it earlier.

Amazing that she used the opportunity to "get a drink of water" to go do a forbidden activity. I'll have to watch out for this one in her teen years.

Then...there's last night's activity, not discovered until this morning.

This morning she and I discovered a chunk of hair on the floor of our bedroom. Hmmm....I wondered, where did this come from?

"Oh!" Marissa said. "That's from where I cut my hair."

Huh?? When did you cut her hair??

AFTER we had put her to bed last night, she got up, went to the bathroom and got the small scissors that we store in the bathroom, went back to her room and clipped off a couple of sections of hair. Then, she decided to put the hair in the garbage and picked the garbage in our room for some unknown reason...but missed the garbage, thus leaving the evidence on the floor.

Then she went back to bed and hid the scissors under a blanket in her bed and slept with the scissors near her head all night. That actually had me more concerned than the cutting of her hair.

I can't quite see where she cut it, so she obviously cut so little off that it didn't make a difference.
Again, I find it amazing that she leaves her bed to go do these forbidden things. Like I said, we'll be locking the doors and windows at night when she's a teenager. And she's never getting the keys to the car.

People wonder if our kids talk sometimes

Hard to believe that that's a concern, isn't it?

Another Marissa Story

Today Elizabeth came up from downstairs to find Marissa with a strange look on her face, like she was puzzled and hurt, while wiping her hand on her shorts. She said to Elizabeth, "I put my finger in the hole."

Elizabeth was concerned that she'd stuck her finger in an outlet. She asked, "Which hole?" Marissa pointed in the general direction of the other room. "There!" she said, as if that was perfectly clear.

Elizabeth said, "You show me."

Marissa marches over to Dax, turns him around and points to his butthole. "There!" Marissa says. "It was ishy."

And it was immediately followed with a 10-minute hand washing. Is there nothing this child won't explore?? I guess we never thought to tell her NOT to put her finger in the dog's butt...

NOTE: (8/20/08) I found out from Marissa this morning that she stuck her finger in her OWN hole. Perhaps she was just demonstrating on Dax what hole she meant. Maybe that's a little better; at least it was her own poop and she hadn't molested the poor dog.

Marissa, Destroyer of Insects

Finally have a good story to share, this one from Elizabeth.

Marissa is sometimes more boyish in her play, demonstrated by her love of tormenting bugs. She will pick up ants with her hands, squish them between her fingers, stomp on them at will, etc.

The other day she was "playing" with an ant and turned to say something to Elizabeth. By the time she turned back the ant had crawled into a crack and disappeared.

"Where'd he go?" she asked.

Elizabeth said, "He crawled into the crack."

Marissa looked at Elizabeth and very seriously said, "He is very lucky."

Lindsey's Sleeping Buddy

Many kids like to curl up with stuffed animals, blankets, little pillows, etc, when they go to bed.

Lindsey has taken to having our Boston terrier, Dax, sleep with her at night.

I encourage it actually, I think it's really cute, and Dax really likes sleeping with people so it works out pretty well.

However, every once in a while Dax gets kicked out of her room for being a bit too stinky. He (and Bostons in general, in case you're thinking about getting one), are known for their touchy digestive systems, which means that any time he eats anything out of his normal diet he gets the stinkiest farts you've ever smelled.

So last night she asks to have Dax sleep with her and immediately falls asleep with her on one pillow and him on the other. Both of them are sleeping on their side and Lindsey has strategically positioned a small baby blanket and pillow between herself and Dax's butt, which is now directly positioned in front of her face.

Smart girl.