Little m Long a

The last time I checked, I had successfully completed the third grade.  OK, successfully might be stretching it as a descriptor but I made it through.  And no, I do not have a diploma or letter of recognition to commemorate the occasion.  But then again, I come from an era where mediocrity was not celebrated.

It was expected.

It was generally assumed that if at the end of the third grade school year your name is on the list of students moving to the fourth grade that you had completed the requirements for the third grade.  There were no ceremonies, no pomp.  Just move along.

How is it, then, that I find myself once again in Mrs. Reed’s third grade classroom?

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The van had a button.  Things were pretty easy.  You want the back lift-gate open?  Press a button.  You want the back lift-gate shut?  Press the button again.  Easy.

We don’t have the van anymore.

In all honesty, that is the only feature I miss about that van when compared to our new vehicle.  Well, new is kind of stretching it.  It was new to us in June.  New to us I have to say because the actual newness of the vehicle wore off some two years earlier when it was in fact at that time a new vehicle.

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Yesterday, I had a little girl.

Yesterday...

And then…..

A few years passed by

And suddenly….

She grew up.

And I love her more and more with each passing day.

Still My Little Girl

Happy Birthday, Zoë!

As spoken to me this morning by Zoë’s little friend, one of two who spent the night with Zoë in honor of her birthday party.

Westayedupunitlthreeo’clockinthemorning!

Wewatchedtwomoviesbutwecouldhavewatchedthree.

Thenwedideachothers’hair.

Andthenwehadapillowfight.

Afterthatweplayedwiththecat.

Ican’thavecoffeeunlessit’sthedecafkind.

MymomsaysIdon’tneedthecaffeine……

It took me a while to understand it, too.

Today will be one of those days remembered for its missed opportunities. I’m not sure if anyone has noticed, I’ve certainly not made mention of it, but I have decided to hop on the proverbial wagon.

Project 365 has been around for a while now.  How long?  I hear you asking.  Long enough.  I suppose I could take the time to look into it and find an exact, or at least approximate, answer for you.  But I’m not going to do that.  That would involve something more than a minimal effort on my part and I’m just not there.

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Zane’s science teacher stopped me in the lunchroom yesterday, said she just had to let me know about what he had said in class.

“Oh Lord,” I audibly muttered.

Seems the discussion of the day involved something about adequate fluid intake.  The teacher had asked the class, “does anyone know what it is to be dehydrated?”

My mind immediately flashed to a morning just a few weeks earlier.  I had just picked up Zia and the twins from their morning classes and was loading them into the car.  I was literally standing in the parking lot–mere feet from the schoolhouse door when my cell phone rang.

It was the school nurse who was calling to let me know that Zane was in quite a bit of discomfort and I should probably come and get him.  Seems he was constipated.  (The problem was immediately resolved upon arriving home for in the comfort of familiar facilities he was able to rid himself of the offending load.  Yeah, I checked my kid out of school so he could go home and poop!))

Anyway, Zane and I had a long discussion about making sure he drinks plenty of water and keeps himself  adequately hydrated so that this doesn’t happen again.

So when the teacher asked if anyone knew what it was to be dehydrated I just knew Zane would be regaling the class with his tale of the reluctant turtle.  I suppose I was a little bit relieved when she said Zane had immediately piped up and said, “I’m not for sure.  But I know your pee gets real yellow.  And orange!”

It’s Wednesday.

This is wordless.

Mostly.

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There’s a hole in the sky.  Light peeks through, an exercise in futility.  Pinkish, purplish, shades struggling to spread.  It’s more like a stain in a endless sea of gray.  A monochrome palette based in white.

For an instant there is hope.  Only an instant.  The struggling stain is swallowed almost as quickly as it appeared and the gray is once more.

Everywhere.

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It was a bit overcast today.  The wind really wasn’t blowing but then, it didn’t need to.

It was 15 degrees.

Damn the weather and damn the temperatures.  There was snow on the ground and we had sledding to do!

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9/365

I finally took all of the lights off of the Christmas tree.  The decorations have been off and put away since the 1rst–I’m not a total slacker.  But today was the tree. I had to cut the majority of the lower branches just so I could get the dang thing out of the house.

OK.  Full disclosure here.  It’s not out of the house yet.  In fact the room looks pretty much just like it did in the picture and it’s now 11:30 pm.  But at least the lights are off.  All 8000 of them.

That’s right, I put 80 strands of lights on our Christmas tree this year.

Because I’m an idiot!

Befuddled.

I’ve been working for the past two days on a little tweek and I’m no closer now than I was 10 days ago when I had not even considered it.  I was not cut out to be a geek.  Oh, I enjoy changing a little code here or there or adding a little gadget that will do some really cool trick but the time I spend getting such things to work correctly makes the endeavor absolutely frustrating and quite frankly–not much fun.

I just want to set up a subdomain on my blog and occasionally make posts directly to  it–bypassing the main page.  Why is that so difficult?  Is that even possible? Anyone?

In the meantime, here’s this:

Drying Time

It’s a pink boot.

Actually, it’s two pink boots.

It’s all I’ve got.

Something caught my eye when I was looking at the picture of Zella I used for yesterday’s post.  Anyone else happen to notice her outfit?

Yeah, that’s right.  My little girl was rocking a striped shirt with polka dot pants.  Because in addition to being a computer whiz at the tender age of three she also dresses herself.  I take solace in the fact that at least the base color of each garment matched.

Though she was probably wearing white shoes.

4 + 4 =

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This is bigger than me.  And it’s bigger than my level of comprehension or understanding.  I’m not so sure I’d want it any other way.  I suppose in a way, it’s good.  In order for it to have appeal there has to be an element of intrigue, of mystery.  It’s what drives me and pushes me on.  It’s what makes me ask.  It’s what makes me care.

Truth be told, it’s bigger than all of us—still, all good.

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Better than….

I keep hearing those words.  They crop up, seemingly, on a daily basis.  Typically benign in their intents they’re used as a measuring standard, a barometer.  Childlike comparisons between teams or artwork.  Footraces or eating cereal.  Hot Wheels cars or Barbie skirts.  Simple statements in some weird hierarchical system arbitrarily derived by kids who really don’t know the difference.  (I almost said don’t know any better.)

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