But not before I put that second coat of paint on the powder room walls and find some sort of clamp that will hold the washing machine drain pipe in place so I don't have to spend my time mopping water off the laundry room floor.
Anyone reading this blog knows I have approached Maggie's Kindergarten year with some...trepidation (to put it mildly). At this point, I am cautiously optimistic. What she reports from school is positive, and we've had a couple of fun exchanges, seemingly prompted from school doings, such as:
Mama, do you know what zero means? I learned about zero in school. Zero means nothing.
Mama, did you know? The Promethean Board can read stories all by itself!And best of all, when she got off the bus on Thursday:
I had fun at school today!In the words of Ira Gershwin, "Who could ask for anything more?"
I finally connected with one of the big consignment events in this area, and the sale was this week. I found some good long-sleeved shirts in my kids' sizes and even a pair of snowpants for Maggie. And because Leo had to put up with that shopping event, I found him a baggie of matchbox cars for $2.50. I love consignment sales. Now he runs those cars along the painter's tape roads I've laid down from bedroom to dining room. Our home is for playing.
We had a family trip to the dentist this week, and for the first time in ever, Maggie sat through a very short cleaning. She sat in Brian's lap, the tears streamed, and the hygienist (who cleaned Brian's teeth through childhood) wore a baggie on her hands instead of the blue gloves for which Maggie has a completely irrational fear. And we got it done. The hygienist who cleaned my teeth said, "I've worked at a pediatric practice before, and you can tell the kids who just don't want their teeth cleaned from those who have a genuine fear. This is a genuine fear." I said, "Yes. Yes, I know." But it's done.
Before I head for The Home Depot and its overwhelming assortment of stuff I need (I'm hoping to find something that makes painting behind a toilet less of the enormous pain the ass that it is--what do you think?), I'll record this poem I'm going to try to keep in mind this week. It just a trifle past seasonal for us now, but good nonetheless.
Coming Home at Twilight in Late Summer
and gravel flew up from the tires
like sparks from a fire. So much
to be done—the unpacking, the mail
and papers ... the grass needed mowing ....
We climbed stiffly out of the car.
The shut-off engine ticked as it cooled.
And then we noticed the pear tree,
the limbs so heavy with fruit
they nearly touched the ground.
We went out to the meadow; our steps
made black holes in the grass;
and we each took a pear,
and ate, and were grateful.
A Fly on our (Chicken Coop) Wall, Amycake and the Dude, Considerings, Finding Ninee, Getting Literal, I Want Backsies, Mother of Imperfection, Rewritten, Thankful Me, The Wakefield Doctrine
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