Thursday, April 26, 2007

MOVING ANNOUNCEMENT

Attention all readers, particularly those who struggle with change (especially you Mom, bear with me, here):

It's official. I am MOVING MY BLOG here, so please click on over to my new place, update your bookmarks, and visit often!

For the link-challenged: My new URL is http://kdfblog.wordpress.com.

Well, heck, this is pretty cool!

The fabulous Peri, of Peri's Wrinkle fame, recently honored me (OK, shocked me) with a Thinking Blogger Award. Simply stated, she says that mine is among her top few choices of blogs that challenge her to think.

She said some really nice things about my writing in her April 25th, 2007 blog entry, which can be viewed by clicking here.

Thanks, Peri!

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

So, I'm just sitting here innocently typing away

... while Abby and Hannah discuss their American Idol predictions for the evening, based on today's schoolbus buzz. They remark, for perhaps the 17th time this week, how very glad they are that Sanjaya is no longer a contestant. Oh, and that Jordin Sparks is fabulous, but she was kinda pitchy last night.

I attempt to stifle my laughter. It doesn't work.

Abby: (hands on hips; looking at me in accusatory, school teacher fashion) "Mom, you type everything we say, don't you?

Hannah: Duh, Abby, we're her children.

Abby: So? That doesn't mean she can put our lives on the internet.

Me: Har!

Abby: (again with the hands on the hips) You're gonna write that down aren't you?

Monday, April 23, 2007

Dental Survey

Somehow, a tiny sample of Crest's new vanilla-mint toothpaste wound up in my travel bag, so I begrudgingly tried it. I mean... vanilla? Vanilla paste? I prepared to gag.

So I was surprised when this turned out to be a pleasantly refreshing vanilla flavored minty experience, and I actually went out and bought a tube last week. Prior to this, I was a stubbornly obsessive loyal buyer of Crest's (also fairly new) cinnamon gel. It's not that I particularly like cinnamon -- it's just that it's something different than what I was forced to use for so many years, because there just wasn't anything else.

I'm grateful we've progressed so far from the days of mint only, and even worse, from those gritty tooth powders and baking soda, but where are we going with this?

Is cookie dough toothpaste right around the corner? Flan-flavored floss? Raspberry gel infused with dissolving peanut butter chips?

Have you ever used tooth powder? How awful was it? Do you like the new flavors or would you rather just stick with mint when brushing your teeth?

And when the chocolate mousse toothpaste arrives on the shelves -- because you know it will -- will you try it?

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Conflict Of Interest Update

Reader Warning: Shameless self-promotion to follow; this entry may contains multiple links to my own old tired *classic!* blog entries.

I cooked bacon this morning. Real bacon. Not the baconish-flavored turkey "bacon" that I usually make, but the actual, traditional, greasy, crispy, oh-so-delicious, Homer Simpson-approved, full-fat pork product.

I don't do this often. On the rare occasion that I go whole hog (har!) and fry up the real stuff, I am treated to high praise and all-day heartfelt thanks from my children.

Especially Hannah.

She of the bacon, egg and cheese sammich fame; enthusiastic Charlotte's Web fan; imminent elementary-school stage personality -- the very girl who once apologized before devouring her favorite bagel-encased, salty strips-o-cured-meat lunch.

This morning, Hannah's tastebuds took an unexpected turn.


My little Wilbur turned in her breakfast dishes with all of the bacon -- minus one bite -- still on the plate. This is unprecedented. Hannah usually licks the pork portion of her plate clean, then asks for more. I asked her if she felt sick. I expressed my surprise at her absence of pork-inspired enthusiasm.

She looked at me, slightly mournfully, and said, "I don't know, Mom. It just tastes funny."

Method actress in the house! Piggies don't eat their own.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

For Today's Quote of the Day,

... we turn to my 9 year-old.

Abby: I don't like seeing kissing in movies. I don't like it in real life either. It makes me uncomfortable.

Me: What do you mean, Abby?

Abby: Remember when we went to Suzanne's wedding, when she kissed Darren? Even though it wasn't me, I felt the magic. Gross.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Declaration Declamation

Abby made it to the Declamation* semi-finals along with a few of her 4th grade classmates. She will be reciting a poem in front of 600 people in a few weeks.

She is ready.



This is quite an accomplishment for a kid who, in kindergarten, almost threw up just thinking about standing on stage with her class, to sing "Grand Old Flag" in unison.

Of course, that was before she was a seasoned actress.

* OK, I'll admit it. I looked it up.
dec·la·ma·tion (děk'lə-mā'shən)
- noun

1) A recitation delivered as an exercise in rhetoric or elocution.
2) a. Vehement oratory
b. A speech marked by strong feeling; a tirade.

Monday, April 16, 2007

Spring Soccer

It's that time of year again.


Here, the goalie receives motivational advice from Coach Phil.

10 points to the reader who correctly identifies the item in Hannah's right hand.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Breaking 2nd Grade News

Hannah announced early last week that her class will be producing a play, to be performed at the end of the school year. They chose "Charlotte's Web," and she expressed interest in one of the lead roles -- the part of Wilbur.


As the week progressed, Hannah's desire to be Wilbur -- to own the pig -- became more urgent. She spoke, sometimes to me, occasionally just to herself, of several classmates who were also being considered for this role, and listed new reasons daily as to why she and she alone could do the part justice.

This worried me.

Each morning she declared that it was one day closer to the Day of Reckoning -- Thursday -- when the parts would be officially posted at a table in her classroom. It was clear to me that her hopes were so laser-focused on this one role that she might be losing sight of the fact that the play would be fun no matter what part she got. She mentioned that she was also being considered for the part of the narrator, so I did my best to sell her the idea that the narrator also had an extremely important job. Unfortunately, I knew that this was pointless, as the narrator does not get to faint three times, sit in Fern's lap, or wear a fuzzy pink suit.

Thursday morning, as Hannah packed up her homework, morning snack and jumprope, she reminded me that today was the day. She would learn her theatrical destiny as soon as she walked past her hallway cubby and into her classroom.

"Mom, when I come home later, you'll know that I'm Wilbur if I have a biiiiig smile on my face," she said. Of course, I cringed, concerned about the opposite scenario, imagining her little face contorted with pain and streaked with tears once she found out she was slated to play any other role.

All day, I wondered what had happened, preparing to comfort my little blonde if she came home disappointed.

At precisely 3:45, I heard the loud rumble of Bus #9, as it stopped in front of the house. I raced to the front door. Act casual, I ordered myself. Hannah disembarked, looking at her feet.

Uh oh.

As she approached the door, she glanced up and saw me, and made an effort to flash a big, toothy "Hi, Mom" grin. I read it as a brave attempt to show me that she was OK, and prepared for the tears.

From inside the front door, I watched as she crossed the lawn, squishing the mud under her boots. She walked up the steps and ditched her backpack at the threshold. Then she stretched her arms out to both sides, threw her head back, and loudly declared: "I'M WIIIIIIILBUR!!!"

I have no idea how she is going to memorize all those lines.

I'm also not sure how to address this disturbing conflict of interest.

UPDATE: Mrs. P told the class earlier in the week that whomever got the role of Wilbur would have to be someone with a loud voice. Hannah is quite proud to have been positively recognized for her lack of volume control.