Two down, one to go...

Eleanor started kindergarten today!

We weren't sure if she would. She's technically too young to go to kindergarten; she misses the deadline by three weeks. Matt and I have been talking about accelerating her for a while. She's always acted older than her peers and we really did think she was ready to go. We signed her up for preschool just in case, but also signed her up to get her tested for acceleration.

She had the testing three weeks ago, and after that we had a really great conversation with the Gifted and Talented department about Eleanor and her readiness to go. They thought she was most definitely ready to go and had some really good insights as to her emotional and intellectual abilities. They rarely accelerate kids into kindergarten; Eleanor was one of the 2 that were approved to accelerate this year (I asked).

So she got the okay to go. But then we found out that that there was an unexpected influx of kindergartners this year and there were no slots available for her. So, no kindergarten. Good thing we signed her up for preschool! I wouldn't usually send my kids to preschool unless there is a real reason to go, but she'd be attending a Montessori school and we could basically do a kindergarten curriculum while in preschool. That's what I love about the Montessori program.

But yesterday I got a call that there was now an opening available, would we like to put Eleanor in it? Mind you, the first day of school is today, Thursday. So, yes, we took the spot. BUT! She's not technically registered to go to kindergarten! This morning I had to wake up early, get Eleanor and Theodore dressed and take them down to the district office to get signed up while Matt put Peter on the bus. Eleanor got signed up, and I took her down to go to school, only half an hour late!

She was SO excited to go. She's excited to ride the bus, eat lunch at school, make new friends, learn to read, and mostly to be a kindergartner. It reminded me a lot of when I was 4 and I would look out the window at Diedra and Rixa walking to school in the morning and just WISH that I could go to school.

So now I'm here at home with just Theodore. He's watching Dora and finishing his breakfast and I'm blogging and watching The Daily Show. It'll be just him and me for a few more months until the baby is born.

A major (unwanted) milestone...

...the first stitches!

We are here in Rochester, visiting Grandma. Right after lunch today, all the kids headed into the front room for one of Eleanor's elaborate pretend games. I was cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready to drop Peter and Eleanor off at their 12:30 Quarry Hill summer camp classes. Mom was at a grant meeting (this detail will prove important later). I was almost done cleaning when I heard a loud thump followed by a scream from Theodore. This thump/scream combination happens quite frequently around these children, but I hurried over to see what what wrong because the scream was of a higher intensity than it usually is.

I found Theodore standing with a huge conch shell on the floor and a huge gash in his foot (yes, Diedra, it was your conch shell that caused this commotion. Well, that and two kids fighting over it). It didn't look like much until I realized just how huge the gash was: it was one of those gashes that makes you woozy just looking at it and you know it needs stitches.

I commenced freaking out. I scooped up Theodore, ran to the bathroom, and put his foot under cold water. Luckily, very very luckily, his wound was not a pulsing fountain of blood. Why, I'm not sure, because it was deep, but it didn't bleed much at all. Theodore was screaming and all semblance of common sense left me at that point. I started thinking a million different directions: where is mom? where is the urgent care? where are the bandages? what about Quarry Hill class? where is mom? can I wrap it up so I can drive to the urgent care without having to hold Theodore? oh, yuck, that cut is deep. where is mom?

Okay, first things first. I got a cookie for Theodore and he stopped screaming. Then I found the bandages and wrapped up his toe very nicely with a gauze pad and scotch tape. I tried to call mom's cell, but somebody wasn't answering. I called Matt and had him find the urgent care centers in Rochester while I ran around to the neighbors' houses, hoping to have them tell me where the urgent care centers were (note to self: next time, don't multitask). I finally figured that it was close enough to Quarry Hill time that I could drop off the older kids then go to urgent care, and that would be fine for Theodore because his wound wasn't squirting blood everywhere. I dropped off the kids, got to the urgent care center, then waited.

Here's something I learned today: if you ever want to have your toddler sit quietly on your lap for three hours, just drop a conch shell on his toe. He will snuggle you all day long.

To make a long story slightly less long, Theodore got two stitches. Although his toe was anesthetized, he screamed throughout the stitching. He's been whimpering all afternoon and refusing to do much with walking or standing, but every once in a while he'll forget and run for a few steps, then stop and cry. Poor baby.

I also learned today that I do not do well in emergency situations. Which I kind of knew already, but boy, I cannot keep my cool under pressure. I also learned, from the urgent care nurses and PAs, that I make a mean dressing of gauze pads and scotch tape. I was complimented on it multiple times.

Pictures of The Toe will be up later, when we change the dressing and get a chance to photograph the carnage.

"Now we're even!" says Eleanor.

So, there's a long story here, but it boils down to this: we decided to find out the sex of our baby this time around. The kids were DYING to find out and while we didn't find out for Theodore, the payoff wasn't as big as I had hoped.

The deal was that Peter would be told first, and the ultrasound technician was very nice about whispering in his ear when the time came. I could tell from his squeal of excitement what it was, but I had to wait for him to tell Eleanor first before he would tell me.

And it turns out that Eleanor will finally get her sister. And I will finally get to use all those cute girl clothes again that I'm saving in the basement. The kids are thrilled; Peter and Eleanor were both confident that it was a girl, so nobody is disappointed. I think Matt is a little nervous about her disposition, though. While he's not averse to having another girl, he (and I as well) definitely hope that we don't get another stubborn girl.

In which I surrender

Annie is gone. Not gone gone, but she no longer resides at our house. We brought her back to the shelter this morning. The people at the shelter were really nice and understanding, especially when I cried.

It was an interesting two months. I will miss our crazy dog, but not badly enough to regret my decision. Thank you, Matt, for letting me get rid of her.

(Although you should have seen the kittens there! Oh, they were hard to resist...)

Number 4

Matt and I are proud to announce the upcoming birth of our fourth child, due sometime between the summer solstice and the winter solstice*. Yay for us!

*This is me, poking fun at my sister, who refuses to tell me her due dates.

Just your normal, everyday shopping trip...

Names withheld to protect the sure-to-be-traumatized-by-this-when-they-read-it-in-15-years children.

I went to the grocery store yesterday for my weekly shopping trip. I was feeding the missionaries that night and couldn't put off shopping any longer. I had a long list of things to buy and a short window of opportunity to do so. Annie was home in her crate and would need to be let out as soon as I got home. We would get home just in time for lunch. We got loaded up in the cart and started shopping.

Bananas. Check. Strawberries. Check. As we were on our way to the kiwis, E started saying in her typical fashion, "I need to go pee! I need to go pee!"

It wasn't the normal time for her to go; she's usually very reliable about her calls of nature. Whatever, though, I'm a roll-with-the-punches kind of mom. I parked the cart at the front entrance, unbuckled T, and guided my two kids into the women's bathroom. E got into the stall, closed it behind her, and promptly peed in her pants.

Now, I don't have a spare change of clothes for her or any of my other kids waiting in the van in case such an event does occur. Some people would, but I don't. I wasn't going home, either, because I really, really needed to get the grocery shopping done and this was the only chance I would get. Here's what I did:

I took off her wet clothes and shoes. Luckily, I had a plastic bag in my pocket from a walk with Annie, so I threw her wet things in the bag. I washed E off in the sink, put a T diaper on her (it barely fit), and put her in the shopping cart. She was clothed in a long sleeved shirt, vest, and a diaper. That was it.

Then I headed back inside the store. I bought new underwear, pants (well, technically I bought her a new outfit. There weren't any pants I liked and I liked the outfit a lot), and the cheapest shoes I could find: flip flops. Good thing it wasn't freezing outside!

I checked out my purchases (including the bananas and strawberries), then turned right around and headed into the dressing rooms. E took off her diaper and got dressed in her new (Tinkerbell!) underwear, pants, and shoes.

Then I finished my grocery shopping.

Temporary insanity

We got a dog.

Yes, that's right. A dog. Actually, a puppy. Puppies are worse than dogs.

Don't ask me why. I was the one who actually made the final decision. I think that somehow I got this idea that it would be easy. Ha! It's like a bomb went off in our house.

I would give her back, but I can't for four reasons:

1. We've spent too much money on her.
2. Matt won't let me.
3. This would be the first thing to come up in my childrens' therapy sessions in 20 years.
4. Actual quote from Eleanor: "Mommy, yesterday was the best day I've ever had, because we got a dog, and I love her, and I love you for getting us a dog. Thank you, mommy."

She's a great dog when the kids aren't around her to rile her up. We got her from the shelter and she's a collie/Boxer mix but looks all Boxer to me. She's 8 weeks old and her name is Annie (name courtesy of Eleanor).

Constant attention.

This is the face of a happy girl.

She's a very beautiful dog. Eric, are you jealous yet? You can have her!