I never thought I'd see the day: our sweet, little Matthew's got a very devious streak! I watched in horror (OK, total amusement) as Matthew set our laundry basket hamper on its side and said, as if calling a dog, "Here, Zachy. Crawl into here. It'll be fun." Then, to really bribe his brother, Matthew had the adeptness to chuck ALL of Zachary's baby toys that were out on the floor INTO the hamper basket to truly entice him. I put an end to the charade at that point.

Christmas has come and gone. We had a great day, though as always I greet the post-Holiday season with a mixture of relief and sadness. I'll be glad to have life settle down a bit and get back into a routine (and on top of the laundry situation-- how dare I take a vacation from clothes-washing!), although I'm always bummed when Christmas is over. I HATE the taking-down of Christmas decorations; the house looks so naked (and yet uncluttered and cleaner) once everything is back to normal. They say that the holidays is the number one time of year for people to be depressed, but for me, it's the post-holidays that get me down. And very sadly, we have another reason to feel a little bit down this year. Yesterday, December 26th, we had to put our beloved Christmas kitty, Mistletoe to sleep. I can't get over the irony that our last day with her was Christmas Day (our 7th with her). Neither Mike nor I have ever had to put an animal down -- it's obviously a hard decision to make and an unbelievably sad thing to experience. But it was very evident that she was ailing quickly. She stopped eating, could hardly walk, couldn't jump up on the bed and she didn't purr anymore. It was time to put her out of her misery. We both felt guilty for not being able to give her more attention the last couple of years, and sadly, some of the attention that she did get was toddler attention -- not always the most feline-friendly, gentle lovin'. But alas, we all loved her and will miss her. We know that she's in a much better place -- Matthew thinks that she'll be very happy in Kitty Heaven, and we quite agree.

Well, there go my potty breaks as my only quality alone time of the day. Now I don't even get those! Zach is a mobile baby unit. He decided after days of frustration trying to do the 'traditional' crawl (i.e. on knees), that he'd fore-go it and stick with his more successful -- and very speedy -- army-boot-camp-commando-scoot-on-the-tummy method. And man! is the kid ever quick! I turned my back for a few seconds, and next time I looked at him, Zachary was playing with the outlet and plug for the lamp. Oye. He also knows what he wants and is no sucker for the tom-foolery of distraction. He'd much rather have one of Matthew's big boy toys than an old baby toy. So much for potty breaks. So much for a little peace of mind.

And of course, no surprise here, it's two days until Christmas and we have colds. 'Cuz, you know, Thanksgiving wasn't even a month ago yet and we were sick for that holiday, so why not do it again?! Grrr.

It's sad, really. I just feel a little bit disconnected from the world when our internet is down. What, pray tell, did stay-at-home Moms do PRE-world of wide web?! Our cable (as well as our power) has continued to be a bit spotty since [TO BE READ IN THE MOVIE TRAILER DEEP MAN'S VOICE] WIND STORM 2006. Thankfully, despite freaking us out a bit every time the light's flicker, the power's not gone back off for good.

And another sad confession: it is 5 o'clock in the morning here, and while I was just up changing Zach's diaper and feeding him I couldn't stop composing blogs in my head. So, I thought I better come see if we were back on-line so I could type this up, get it out of my system and head back to bed for hopefully a couple more hours of sleep! That, and I'm still on such a high from the soon-t0-be-told experience, that I just couldn't wait to write about it.

On, Sunday afternoon we all went Christmas caroling at a nursing home in Seattle with several other of our friends from Engaged Encounter. It was amazing. I wore Zach in the front-pack while Matthew walked up and down the halls with our group for nearly two hours. Not only did the boys tag along but, of course, they totally stole the show. Matthew carried a shaker in one hand and one of my jingle bell bracelets from music class in the other and kept a steady beat the WHOLE time. At one point, Sister Beatrice (of our group) had given a resident (a dapper, older -- well, OK, they're all older -- fellow) a maraca to shake along with us. He came up with a fancier rhythm (not too crazy -- but something like: shake, shake, rest, rest...shake, shake, rest, rest). Matthew immediately picked up on it, and the two continued that way for the whole song. So, while Matthew was focused on being the heartbeat of our group (he really was very focused -- didn't smile much but delighted the residents with his percussion-skills none-the-less), Zachary was focused on being the heart-melter of the group. I finally had to take him out of the front-pack and let some others in our group carry him because I couldn't sing whilst wearing him for two reasons. One: Any time we'd stop to let a resident see him up close (and they'd tickle his feet and chat to him or whatever), he'd be kicking and leaping so much it was hard for me to sing. And Two: Any time we'd stop to let a resident see him up close I'd get so choked up with how happy he was making them that I couldn't sing!
It was an amazing experience and definitely made us full of Holiday cheer!

We have not blown away -- though it sure did seem like a possibility. The winds whipped up to about 60 miles an hour in our area on Thursday night (so reported the news). Our electricity flickered on and off all evening but was still on when we went to bed. The wind was howling, shaking the house and rattling the windows. I had just said to Mike, "I'm a little nervous...about the trees in back," when THUMP! (and I JUMPED about a foot) -- a tree grazed the house on its way down. We immediately got out of bed and moved the boys into the family room downstairs. Looking out our upstairs window we watched nervously as a tree behind the neighbor's house across the street kept lighting up as it blew into power lines. (We called the fire department though we never saw them show up, and thankfully, we lost power before the tree really caught on fire). A HUGE tree fell across the road two houses down from us, so that part of the street was blocked for several hours (though the neighbors got out there pretty fast to take care of things). First thing in the morning I went out to make sure that my brother Chris was alright (he was home alone since my parents were staying at a B & B in snowy Leavenworth -- they got a foot of snow dumped on them while they were there). I found myself trying to get dressed in the dark and thinking, "hmmm, what does one where on a rescue mission?" We were all worried about Chris since he REALLY gets nervous during storms especially when the power goes out. After trekking up to Bellevue (which was treacherous as there were downed trees and power lines -- and therefore roads closed -- everywhere), I walked into my parents' condo only to discover that Chris wasn't there. I had a moment of serious panic until I got a hold of someone at the grocery store and they said, "oh yeah, he called in and said he'd be a little late, but he's on his way to work." So here we'd all been worried for nothing. Chris had just gone to bed (and he's the heaviest sleeper I know though Matthew might give him some competition), slept a little late since his alarm didn't go off, and got himself out the door as always. What a guy!

Anyway, in the end we were without power for less than 24 hours (after hearing to expect up to 8 days of darkness!). We're SO thankful to have power and to have the reminder to stock up on supplies in case of longer, more serious natural disasters. The blackout also provided a good excuse to eat a fair amount of ice cream.

So, the Mistletoe, our cat, does not have an STD -- which is sure is a good thing 'cuz if she did, Mistletoe the Catholic Christmas Kitty would have a heck of a lot of explaining to do -- especially since she hasn't been outside...ever. At the vet today we were informed that she doesn't have AIDS, but it is very likely that she has Cancer. We're back on the force-feeding regiment for a while, but if she doesn't get better and stay better than in all likelihood this will be our last Christmas with Mistletoe. She's not old (only 6), but she is a Martin, so I guess there's no surprise that she has to have some unique medical issues. She's been such a good kitty (despite peeing on my wedding dress and my being allergic to her which isn't her fault), and it'll be hard when we do have to say goodbye.

Matthew's dictated letter to Santa (and I quote):

"Dear Santa,

Can I please have a crane for Christmas? A crane for worker men. I don't want a crane, I want a fire truck.

Can Zachary please have a baby ducky toy?

Daddy wants a sled.

Mommy -- she wants a green farmer hat.

Santa wanted a sled.

Daddy wants a digger for digging in the snow. I want a digger too. I want a crane too. I want a roller truck from Santa. I want a boat from Santa -- in my tub for playing.

A good Santa. Thank you, Santa."

~ Matthew, 3 years old
Nov. 27, 2006

After nursing ZJ this morning, Matthew approached and demanded that I feed his special teddy bear, Green Bear as well. I declined this request, so Matthew proceeded to nurse Green Bear, himself. What a special little boy!

IT'S SNOWING!!! Which means I'm like a cow to a salt-lick...just can't get enough of it! And boy does this just fuel the fire that is Jenny and the Holiday Season!! Mike said yesterday that he actually feels 'sorry' for Thanksgiving -- no carols, not too many decorations, sandwiched between Halloween and Christmas, it totally gets the shaft. I feel on the other hand, that Thanksgiving is wonderful because it's the kick-off for the holidays! In case you were unaware, I'm just a wee bit of a Christmas nut. It is a part of myself that just cannot be denied; my Christmas-obsession plays a vital role in making up the essence of Jenny, the Jenessence. And Matthew, I am happy to share, is beginning to experience this excitement for himself. Yesterday, Matthew practically drooled with anticipation standing at the gate in his room during 'quiet time' while Mike and I were out in the living room putting out decorations. Matthew kept calling to me, "How 'bout I get on my apron [that he wears when helping in the kitchen, you see] and come and help? It's OK with me. I'll be all done with quiet time now and help? It's a good idea? It's OK with me!" He is my kid, after all.

Zachary expresses his excitement in a different way -- howling like a howler monkey. Now, I've never actually heard a howler monkey, but I imagine it would sound something like our excited (rather vocal and teething) nearly seven month-old. It is not uncommon for Mike or myself to break out into applause in the middle of a meal -- Zachary will stop screaming mid-howl if someone starts to clap; it's the funniest thing. We had some friends over for dinner the other night, and apparently Zach was not receiving enough attention [the kid LOVES a crowd...focused on him, and him alone. He is my kid, after all.], so conversation was sporadically interrupted by a cacophony of spontaneous clapped cadences. Never a dull (or quiet) moment in the Martin household.

We've joined a gym, and I'm FREAKISHLY excited about it! In case you aren't quite in-the-know (or live in a cave sans la television) it's been a bit rainy in Seattle lately, and therefore I haven't been able to run outside for quite a while. Now, don't think that joining a gym was just an impulsive commitment, we've been planning on it for some time -- that it would actually be my Christmas present. But we realized that to really make it worth it (and to help my mental stability), we'd join sooner rather than later. Thankfully, we got a great deal and I couldn't be happier about it. They have a phenomenal Kid's Club too (definitely a selling point) -- complete with a separate baby area, a huge padded play structure, pretend play kitchen, etc., and of course lots of great trucks (a requirement). And this is how impressive the childcare people are: I set Zachary down in his car seat and put the diaper bag on the floor next to him while I got Matthew all settled in with the trucks; upon returning to Zach, the diaper bag was gone. I asked Lisa, one of the child care peoples, where my bag was, and she said, "Oh, we moved it up on to the shelf since the shoulder straps are a strangulation hazard." Yeah! That's what I say -- you TELL me I'm being unsafe! Anyway, I'm (obviously) just a tad excited about the whole scenario. Perhaps, the most exciting aspect of this whole situation is that our memberships come with five sessions with a personal trainer for each of us. Mike mentioned that he'd be prefer if I had a female trainer if possible (while I really don't care either way just want someone who will be good for me). Anyway, when I sat down with the manager to schedule our first training sessions, he recommended that we get matched up with a trainer based on personality and time availability. So, here's the irony: I've been paired up with a large dude DeShaun and Mike was paired up with a petite little gal Rachelle! Now, apparently because Mike played varsity football he knows everything there is to know about fitness and weight-lifting and (I roughly quote), he 'doesn't think a personal trainer could push him any harder than he pushes himself.' I've been assured that Ms. Rachelle will kick his butt, and I can't wait to hear about it! :) I met DeShaun and he's AWESOME! -- super nice and funny. I have my first session with him on Monday, so we'll see how it goes. This past Monday, I got up at 4:50am (what was I thinking?!) and attended my first ever hour-long spin class (again, what was I thinking?!). About 20 minutes into this intense stationary-cycling class I thought I was either going to hurl or pass-out and tried to determine which would be less embarrassing. At any rate, I survived and somehow was, thankfully, still able to walk afterwards.

We've got us a big-boy-underpants wearing boy!!! Matthew has stayed dry for the last several days, so we finally took the plunge and went underwear-shopping. I'm sad to report that Matthew was fairly disappointed with the selection of truck-themed unmentionables. He eventually settled on some Bob the Builder themed but without much excitement or enthusiasm. In the end, he has been pleased with his selection. He put on a pair and, walking backwards up to the full-length mirror in our room, exclaimed, "Bob on my bum!" with a pat-pat on his rear to solidify the deal. So far, we have remained accident free; though I'm sure it's only a matter of time. We haven't ventured too far from home just to be safe. His latest response when I ask him (100 times a day) if he needs to go potty is, "No, Mom. Not yet....not yet." He's doing very well though and it's very exciting!

Poor Zachary has not had such an exciting week. His first tooth did cut through on Halloween (more of a trick than a treat), and at his six month check-up yesterday, the little pumpkin received five shots plus his flu shot. Ouch! He took it like a champ and pretty much slept the day away afterwards. He weighed in at 14 lbs. 10.5 oz. (10th percentile for weight) and is 28 inches long (90-95th percentile for height)!! He's one tall and thin boy. The doctor was pretty amused by how active he is (jumping on my lap and giggling away while he was examined, not really holding still...at all). The doc. wished me luck (oye!) and said that he wouldn't be surprised if Zachary is crawling and cruising by his 9 month check-up. He also surmised that this little kiddo's going to keep us plenty busy!

Well, we survived Halloween with only one major incident of scarring-for-life trauma. As we were leaving a house where we had just trick-or-treated, another crew was coming in and Matthew looked up into the face of a very scary monster-mask-wearing boy. Our poor child let out the most horrific scream and just started to sob and shake all over. We got him calmed down and reminded him over and over 'it's pretend...it was just a boy in a costume' etc. Once Matthew could talk again he said, "that monster boy really freaked me out. He was totally freaky." Dr. Phil is now on speed dial. Anyway, he came home and went poo-poo in the potty...guess he literally got the crap scared out of him! Poor sweetie. He's been doing well on the potty front though and got to pick out some big boy underpants at the store today. He went with Bob the Builder though he was disappointed they didn't have a more truck-themed selection to choose from.

Zachary is a nonstop drooling, teething machine. He celebrated Halloween with his first little dagger tooth finally breaking through his bottom gum. What a treat!

I received an email from one of my fave PA's (personal assistants...nurses) from my extended stay at Spa Overlake (Hospital). Turns out they received a patient survey form back stating that the patients should be offered the opportunity for a bikini wax during their epidural and should be provided with better [non-chafing and exfoliating] towels. Those surveys are shared with the nurses and this particular survey got everyone's attention. Apparently it was taken quite seriously (as it should be) until someone pointed out that it was from patient Jennifer Martin. ha! I don't know why that should change the seriousness with which my suggestions were taken. I would like to know if they also added TiVo to the hospital rooms as well as mini fridges, bigger beds, and daily massages for the Labor and Delivery Nurses. I'm serious, people. Before I even consider checking into Spa Overlake for an extended stay, I insist on some changes. Other than the above mentioned ideas, the service (with a couple small exceptions) was exemplary, and I highly recommend it for your anti-partum bed rest needs.

Zachary is working on cutting his first tooth. There's a little hole on his bottom gum, but no little dagger of doom sticking out quite yet. (ooh, how fun the nursing will be)! Who'd-a-thunk that something like teething could throw an entire little person so outta whack?! He's turned into a vending machine of body fluids; poor guy.

Mike and Matthew are currently carving a pumpkin. Matthew chose to do a skeleton. Mike attended a jack-o-lantern carving contest on Saturday night and won. (Surprise, surprise). The man carved a picture of a John Deere tractor into his pumpkin. Pretty impressive! And boy, was our little farmer Matthew excited about it!

Apparently the Martins and the pumpkin patch just don't mix (view yesterday's blog update for strike one of the pumpkin patch outing). We officially give up! We're done! We can take a hint!
Today, despite the sinister dark sky and gusty winds, we headed South to meet up with friends at the pumpkin patch. After stopping for a quick bite for lunch, we pulled into the mud-soaked parking lot at the Carpinitos Brothers Pumpkin Farm. Our friend, Rebecca was in their car (wisely so as there had just been a down-pour of hail) and informed us that her husband had gone ahead to pick up pumpkins for all of us and we'd just head to their place for the carving festivities. We thought this was a swell idea, however Matthew seemed to disagree. He commenced to cry and within moments we realized the crying was not actually due to pumpkin-related sadness but another much worse malady -- he proceeded to vomit all over himself, the car seat, and the floor of the car. Again, I declare unto the Universe: you win! We won't attempt another pumpkin patch...at least not this year. We did come home with a pumpkin (thanks to Jason for stashing it in our trunk whilst we used paper napkins to clean-up mess 'o vomit). Needless-to-say, there will be no pumpkin patch pictures with the latest on our site.

Where has the time gone? Ahh, yes, I know -- wiping noses. I think that's all I've done for the last week since we've all been sick. 'Tis the season. And we've really kicked off the Cold and Flu season with a bang this year! Despite downing gallons of Airborne before Mike, Zachary and I flew to Houston last weekend [for the National Engaged Encounter Convention -- which was great!] we still managed to pick up germs from flying -- surprise, surprise! Mike came down with it first (darn him!) and then shared it (how sweet) with the rest of us. Matthew woke up one morning totally stuffed up and said, "Bombby, dere's someting wrog wid by dnose." Translation for those of you not fluent in snotty toddler: "Mommy, there's something wrong with my nose." So, sure enough, as predicted (perhaps a self-fulfilling prophesy), Matthew followed in the footsteps of both his parental units (most be genetic) and stayed home sick instead of attending the first field trip of his school career -- a trip to the Pumpkin Patch (tractor ride included). At any rate, he didn't seem too devastated as the day we were to go we were not only coming down with the cold but it was pouring rain. He even looked outside and said it was too rainy to go. So, we're making up for it and taking the whole fam to a patch with some friends tomorrow.

Zachary is six months old...today! Can you even believe it? And to celebrate this milestone, he had his first taste of "solids" -- also known as "totally runny, breast-milked-down, with yucky vitamins mixed in baby rice cereal. " He's a fan though -- totally chowed down. Also, today we all dressed up and went to the Halloween party of some friends. Matthew is a farmer (how appropriate with his latest John Deere obsession), Zachary is a cow (the cutest calf, you ever did see!), I'm a pig (huh! funny, I still feel like one!), and Mike is a horse. Now, Mike and I have a very strong relationship, if I do say so myself, and "Openness in Communication" is a topic that we teach to the engaged couples on the retreats that we lead, so I was sad to have to openly communicate with him that we did not see eye-to-eye on what kind of horse he should be. (A stallion, of course....) I had pictured a very Fabio-style flowing mane (of black fleece attached to the hood of his white sweatshirt) but what he made was a more stiff and short Trojan war-horse style mane. Not at all the look that I felt he would have should he be a horse -- a horse one would find on Farmer Matthew's farm, none-the-less. In the end, we managed to agree that he was a well-groomed show horse. I'm saddened to report that despite arriving at the party with a farmer, a cow, and a pig, some people still couldn't figure out what he was. (But maybe people are just a bit slow). [I'll work on Mike to get pictures up on the website soon.]

I just finished taping up the boxes of 0-3 month and 3-6 month baby boy clothes. Hmmm...don't really know how I feel about that. Sad, I guess. I really don't know if we'll have more kiddos or not, and I think about it every single day. I certainly had every intention of being a baby carrying machine (3 at least), but that whole hospitalized bed rest, preemies in the NICU thing followed by bed rest recovery with postpartum depression, taking care of kids and infant, sleep deprivation and nursing issues is...pretty lame. HOWEVER, with that said, God has blessed us with two AMAZING and healthy, BEAUTIFUL boys and both of them are totally and completely worth any and all moments of suffering that I may have endured.What mother wouldn't lie in a bed for seven weeks if it would help her infant? Well, sadly -- many. But I'm the kind that would do it (obviously), but I certainly know that it would be extremely difficult to do it again.

Then there's that whole girl thing. Now, I wouldn't trade my two boys for the world, but (there is a but and I wish there wasn't, but everybody has a big but -- or butt -- in some cases) going through a pregnancy being told that you're having a girl (by two doctors -- 90% sure and 95% sure, just to remind you), becoming attached to this little person (Abigail Madeline, to be specific) not to mention her cute wardrobe (which was already hung categorized by size in HER closet and included some of my puffy little party dresses), and then having to box it all up and know that it's in the garage, definitely leaves a person feeling like, "Gosh! It'd sure be nice to have a daughter in addition to our two amazing and wonderful strapping lads. " After all I was the girl in a 'two boys and a girl family' and I turned out exceptionally well -- it seems to be a great combo. It should hopefully go without saying that if we do decide to have a third bebe, I wouldn't even consider it until I knew that I'd be just as happy with a third boy as I would with a girl. AND I wouldn't ideally get pregnant again until I could hire a full time nanny and housekeeper to take care of my family while I lie in bed and finally get around to writing my novel.

I've been teaching my toddler music class -- "Little Ditties Music Academy" -- for a few weeks now. There's nothing like teaching the toddlers of today, the Mozarts of tomorrow. Two and three-year-olds have a whole other kind of attitude and energy than the puberty-stricken seventh graders that I used to teach. Both ages come with their own sets of issues and challenges, that's for sure. There are similarities though: both groups tend to sing off key and you do have about a one minute attention span in which to pack as much information and music as possible.

I'm only teaching two back-to-back classes right now (45 minutes each), and when I'm done I know I'M ready for a nap who knows about the kiddos! It takes a lot of energy to maintain the interest and attention of ten two-year-olds for 45 minutes. I always enjoy the "classes" -- which could always be referred to as 'somewhat organized musical mayhem' -- but it's always nice to be told (or shown) that the kids are really enjoying them too. I have one two-year-old boy, in particular, that I was a little concerned about. His mom, like me, is a teacher-turned-stay-at-home-Mom (which adds a little pressure), and he is a VERY active little boy. She had hesitations in signing up for the class as she wasn't sure he'd be that interested or able to sit still for that long. Well, thankfully, little Colby, showed us both how much he's enjoying class by bursting into tears at the end of our goodbye song one day. I was concerned that there was something wrong, but soon found out that he was just giving me the toddler version of a rave review. He was devastated that class was over for the week. It's a funny thought to imagine a toddler's recommendation: "The class is so good, I cry when it's over!" Never thought making a toddler cry would be a good thing.

Our boys are doing well. Matthew LOVES his one-morning-a-week Preschool and is currently very interested in the whole concept of Halloween. We've been listening to our "Halloween Howls" CD over and over (he sings along) and we always notice "Halloween Houses" (those with decorations) on our runs. He often asks "where is Halloween? Where did it go?" I'm trying to explain that it's a day, not a thing but I'm not sure he's totally catching on.

Zachary is such the mover and shaker that he's toying with a new move we like to call "The Inch Worm." He lifts his bum up in the air and scootches his torso forward, slowly inching along the floor. He's not even six months old yet! Much to my horror, Mike got down on the floor with him and was giving him instruction in the art of crawling. "What are you doing?!" I exclaimed unto him, "He's the easy one right now -- he doesn't move! Once they're both mobile, then I'm totally outnumbered!" And that's just plain crazy talk.

It's official. Since day 1, we knew that Matthew was just a little "Mini-Mike." But now word out on the street is that Zachary is "Jenny Junior." Ha! Poor kids. Well, we each left our mark on at least one little human.

Zachary is already five months old! Can you believe that? I can't. We have to start actually feeding him [solids] in a month. Man! But I think he'll definitely be ready for some extra nourishment the way he moves around. It's amazing that even at five months I can see such a difference between the boys. Zach is our mover and shaker. He always wants to be facing out, watching the action (especially whatever big brother is doing), loves being flown around like an airplane, usually wants to be standing (with help of course) and loves to jump. In the last week, we've introduced him to both the Excersaucer and the Johnny Jump-Up -- LOVES them. He's also found his voice and can now yell at the top of his lungs in a very happy but very loud voice! Matthew thinks it's pretty darn funny when Zachary does his 'baby talking', so our house is often filled with loud -- and yet happy! -- noise! Music to my ears.

I'm not sure if I should even share this one. It's definitely one for Dr. Phil. My disclaimer: I claim no responsibility for the behavior of my children -- they have free-will and creative, little, inquisitive minds and are no reflection what-so-ever of my parenting skills (exluding when their behavior is exceptional, of course, in which case, it's all my doing).

Zach was down on the floor doing tummy-time in the living room when I heard Matthew talking to him, so I stuck my head around the corner to be sure there was no overly affectionate brotherly bonding occuring. Unfortunately, there was. Matthew was lying down in front of Zachary, holding his shirt up, and saying, "Do you want to eat Zachy? From my nipples?" Oye. My three-year-old son was trying to nurse his baby brother. Not OK. Not at all OK. I'm sure Dr. Phil's expensive, but probably worth it. Better start saving now.

I didn't know that I signed Matthew up for a 'Children of Over-Achieving Moms' Preschool...or maybe all moms are like that and I'm just the only slacker mom out there. So, last week, was Matthew's first 'official' day of Preschool. To me this meant, you leave your child there and let him...uh...experience Preschool. Let me expand: We arrive on time, and Matthew runs right in and starts playing with his new pal, Theodore (also a truck-lover; they had an immediate bond). All the parents linger around for a little while (five minutes or so) and watch as the teacher, Ms. Susan attempts to pull the kids away from the toys and over to the painting table. I waited to see what the experienced parents would do (the ones who have already had older children go through the whole preschool process). Finally one of the other Moms says, "OK, Ms. Susan, I'm going to go...I'll be out in the hall if you need me." Huh? For two hours?! The whole time?! Then, the second experienced momma: "Ms. Susan, I'll be out in the hall." I watch as both moms file out and stand on the other side of the window watching their little ones from the hallway. I took a big breath, readied myself and said to Ms. Susan, "OK, so I'm going to go." Ms. Susan, "Great. You'll be out in the hall?" Me: "Uh, no, I'm going to go...go." Ms. Susan in total surprise: "Oh! Go...go? Do you think Matthew will be OK?" Me: "Yeah." (Also known as: "Later!"). So, it's official, I'm the slacker mom...ditched the kiddo and went to run errands instead of standing outside the hall watching my child through a window. Time to cut the umbilical cord and apparently neither Matthew nor I had any issues with it!

Now, confession: I did return a little early for picking Matthew up and watched from the window as he and Theodore established themselves as class trouble-makers. Theodore opened a storage cupboard and found a whole hidden stash of trucks which he proceded to hand out to Matthew as quickly as possible before Ms. Susan could put them back faster than they could take them out. Then, a bit later, all the children marched over to the corner for circle time...all the children except for Matthew, that is. Matthew discovered a fire truck up on a shelf and took it upon himself to get it down (which required climbing precariously up on a stool). While reaching for the much sought-after truck, Matthew lost his balance and slipped off the stool, scraping his leg in the process. He was about to cry, looked around to see who would give him attention, realized that all the other kids were in circle time with Ms. Susan, rubbed his leg and joined the group. In the car, on the way home, Matthew told me he had gotten an owie from preschool. I asked him how and he said, "I fell off the stool." I asked him, "Were you supposed to be on the stool?" And he confidently replied, "No, it was circle time. I made a bad choice." Oh well, at least he knows when he makes them, even if it doesn't necessarily stop him!