Thursday, August 31, 2006

C.S.I. - Faith's room

The trace evidence was scattered on the floor by her bed and into the hall. At first glimpse it seemed to be benign doll hair in tiny clumps. Upon closer examination by the trained eye of a crime reporter who happens to be the sister of a GBI forensic chemist, the locks appear to be human. When the evidence was gathered and presented to the suspect's father, he defensively said: "That is Barbie hair, right?" Upon further examination, dad fessed up that he made a similar discovery and interrogated the suspect when he thought he had retrieved all of the hair. "Have you been cutting Barbie hair?" he asked his daughter. "No," she hesitantly answered. Thinking Barbie might have just lost some of her hair during a fervent brushing episode, he went on with his business. Tonight we will get to the bottom of the case of the unexplained haircut. Has Barbie been secretly taking chemotherapy, contracted a rare disease or suffering a vitamin deficiency - or does a little innocent dollface have some explaining to do? Stay tuned.
- Liz

Pulling an all-nighter, (wink-wink)

Waking Faith in the morning isn't usually easy. I remember how tough it was to "rise and shine" as my mother would say. If I didn't budge sometimes she'd return with the cry, "Rise snakes and face the judgement." (I have no idea where that one came from.) I've always tried to be gentle while rousing her by getting into her bed and rubbing her back or lightly touching her head and hair. Because I've worked nights most of her life, my husband normally puts her to bed. While I was anchoring television news in her baby days, I could do much of my script editing and proofreading from my home computer, so I would nurse her before putting her down. Once I started writing for The Telegraph, I couldn't be home at bedtime, but she was weaned by then. Her daddy learned to get her to sleep by rubbing her back. Just when he thought she was asleep, she'd say, "Daddy rubba my back." It was a mantra. And the back-rubbing has become routine. On my days off, I get to be the "rubber." The other night, I climbed into bed with her, we said prayers and I gingerly stroked her back until she dosed off. The next morning, I got back in bed and started rubbing her softly to awaken her. All of a sudden, her eyes opened wide, she sat up and exclaimed, "Mommy, you rubbed all night!" I partially confessed by saying I did have to get up to go to the bathroom. I left out the fact that I watched television for a few hours, slept in my room and then got up for the bathroom before coming back into her room. That's our secret, OK? Wink. Wink.
- Liz Fabian

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

"Ah, this is the life"

"Mommy, I love my new room," were the words my daughter greeted me with the other night. While I was working, my husband and Faith rearranged her room to accomodate my childhood bedroom furniture. Faith was already sleeping in my old bed, but the dresser, chest, night table and desk were still at my mother's. As we prepare to sell mom's house, we're absorbing some of her things. My bedroom furniture actually came from my father's mother. Faith is now sleeping in her great-grandmother's bedroom set. Seeing Faith's enthusiasm reminded me of my own glee that erupted when my mother rearranged my room while I was at school. It was so exciting to be sleeping in a new environment. My dream day as a child was coming home to a newly-arranged room, fresh chocolate chip cookies and spaghetti sauce melding in soft bubbles on the stove. The other day Faith was so anxious for me to see her room, she went running down the hall as I stopped briefly in the kitchen to drop off my purse. As I got to her room, she was already stretched out on the bed with her arms raised behind her head. "Ah, this is the life," she said. I agree.
- Liz Fabian

Heavy machinery

Daniel was thrilled yesterday afternoon when I picked him up from preschool and told him there was a bucket truck at our house. Better yet, I told him there might be a Bobcat there. Sure enough, Mike's Tree Service was hard at work in our yard when we pulled up. Goodbye, hazards to our roof and windshields!

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

pitter patter of COLD feet!

If Daniel sleeps the whole night in his own bed (which is most of the time), he wakes up at the crack of dawn, or 6:30, whichever comes first. He comes and drags me out of bed with clamors for cereal and raisins and milk and his vitamin. (now mommy!)
But if he slips into our bed in the middle of the night and I don't wake enough to carry him back to his room, he just snuggles in between us, braces those cold little toes against the small of my back, and will sleep soundly until 8 a.m. What's up with that?

making time for a getaway

I think this might be the longest break in the blog to date. But as Daniel complained this morning, "momma you go to work all the time!" And he's right. The last two weeks have been tough, what with AVON meetings, a PartyLite show, a scrapbooking evening, and putting together today's special football section for the Houston Peach, even the dog is looking at me like "who are you?"
When you're four, a nap is all it takes to recharge the batteries. But when you're thirty-something, it takes a little longer. Like a three-day weekend!
So we're making time for a getaway. While Chris holds down the homefront, Daniel and I are going to visit family friends for the weekend. We'll lie around the pool for two days, practice his swimming skills, and generally do nothing. Early-morning cuddles, evening storytimes, maybe a little alphabet writing practice. But most important, mommy amd me time. And when we come back, I'll turn him over for some daddy and me time.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Show and tell

On Fridays, Daniel is allowed to bring a toy to school for show and tell. Most Fridays, it's the only way I can talk him into the car to go see his teacher. Can't say I blame him; by Friday I'm ready to stay home and spend time with my guys, too.
But in some ways, every day is show and tell. Because any mom who doesn't believe her kids' teachers know every detail of the little darlings' home lives is sadly mistaken.
Just as I hear "my teacher said..." and "Ian did..." or "I made a happy plate at lunch!," I know Daniel's teachers hear all about how the dog got in trouble for pooping on the carpet and how Uncle Tony made dinner "and I ate it all!" Or how "Daddy fixed mommy's car and I helped!" or "Mommy wouldn't give me candy!" (bad mommy!)
How do I know? Two ways: First, Daniel's teacher asked him what his mommy's name is and he replied "honey." I never realized how frequent Chris uses his favorite endearment, but Daniel sure picked up on it! And second: in a poll of Daniel's favorite things he said his favorite food was "my mommy said dinnertime!" Okay kid, whatever.

Show and tell

On Fridays, Daniel is allowed to bring a toy to school for show and tell. Most Fridays, it's the only way I can talk him into the car to go see his teacher. Can't say I blame him; by Friday I'm ready to stay home and spend time with my guys, too.
But in some ways, every day is show and tell. Because any mom who doesn't believe her kids' teachers know every detail of the little darlings' home lives is sadly mistaken.
Just as I hear "my teacher said..." and "Ian did..." or "I made a happy plate at lunch!," I know Daniel's teachers hear all about how the dog got in trouble for pooping on the carpet and how Uncle Tony made dinner "and I ate it all!" Or how "Daddy fixed mommy's car and I helped!" or "Mommy wouldn't give me candy!" (bad mommy!)
How do I know? Two ways: First, Daniel's teacher asked him what his mommy's name is and he replied "honey." I never realized how frequent Chris uses his favorite endearment, but Daniel sure picked up on it! And second: in a poll of Daniel's favorite things he said his favorite food was "my mommy said dinnertime!" Okay kid, whatever.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Consignment sale reminder!

Whether you live in south Bibb County or not, make a point tomorrow to stop by the "Almost 2 New" consignment sale at 209 Willoughby Court. Run by two moms, the sale will open at 8 a.m., close at 10 a.m., then reopen after work from 4 p.m. to 8 p.m. Of course, Saturday will be half-price day, so don't rule that out. If you can't Mapquest Willoughby Court, take Houston Road to Jones Road, then look for Willoughby Drive and Willoughby Court. These ladies have worked hard and really grown their sale this year!
Also to put on your calendar is the "Trading Treasures" consignment sale, which is now signing up sellers. This one will be held in the Hawthorne subdivision, at 911 Bay Laurel Circle here in Warner Robins. Call Lara at 256-9047 or Shirley 218-0632 for a seller's appointment. The sale will be Sept. 14, 15 and 16. So moms, don't let these opportunities pass you by - last year I got Daniel's whole winter wardrobe for $30! Plus, it's amazing the deals you can find on everything from bikes to playhouses. Shop early, shop often!

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Thanks Faith - Mom's the word

My daughter just cut straight through to my heart. For too long the tasks of caring for my bed-ridden mother have obscured the bigger picture. When emptying mom's potty chair, doling out dozens of pills, preparing special meals and changing soiled bed sheets, I do remind myself of my mother's sacrifices for me - the countless times she lovingly wiped my baby bottom, rinsed out dirty cloth diapers and fixed my favorite dishes. I willingly accept my role as caretaker. But it took Faith's school assignment to really open my eyes. In her "All about Me" book she colored this week, there is a page devoted to her family - all four of us. There in crayon is a drawing of my mother in her wheelchair. She's not my patient, she's my mommy.
- Liz Fabian

Monday, August 21, 2006

Dear mom: What were you thinking?

Each week, I read with barely-concealed frustration the birth announcements we run. After all, I'm not exactly named "Jennifer" or "Mary." But as more mothers (and fathers) opt for ceativity and individualism in naming their children, the names only get harder to spell - and pronounce. It used to be the only name I could think of with an accent mark was "Cherie," and apostrophes were reserved for select last names only. Now it's almost a contest to see which mother can saddle her child with the most complicated name to both spell and punctuate.
Mothers - don't you know your child will have to learn to spell his or her name? And how do you expect your little darling's teachers to ever get it right? Have you stopped to consider whether standard forms - including driver's licenses, SAT paperwork, and the Social Security Administration - are prepared to handle three apostrophes and an accent mark in one name?
What brought on this step up to the soapbox? Football season. More specifically, the name on one football roster that I still think might be a practical joke.
Somewhere in our circulation area is a poor teenager struggling through life named "Shafton Head." Think about it. Say it out loud. Then you'll understand why I'm concerned. All I can say to Shafton's mother is "What were you thinking?"

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Open wide and the mother of the bride

Here I was in the midst of glazing 166 mini chocolate cheesecakes for the Taste of Music charity benefit Saturday, when I had to stop and go for the camera. Eventhough the icing was stiffening, I was melting. Faith had one of her baby dolls in a rocking chair, she was in a rolling chair and holding a candle snuffer up to the doll's cheek. She was playing dentist. "Three, two, one," she said before taking the baby's X-ray. Faith had on her painting bib which doubled as her lead shield. She had fashioned a bib for the baby out of construction paper. She informed me that her patient was actually her son, who was a twin. His sister and a teddy bear were in the waiting room a few feet away. Her husband was a doctor who worked nights while she worked days so the children didn't have to go to daycare. (That happens to be our arrangement, except I'm the one on the night shift.) What a treat that she had taken a break from the television and computer and used her imagination.
Today was her wedding day. On our way home from church, she informed me she was getting married. After an afternoon cookout at friends' house, she was anxious to begin her nuptuals. Too bad the mother and father of the groom were ready for a nap. I decided to put the nap on hold. We could get her married off then doze off. She had donned all her bride-looking play clothes and gathered a bouquet of silk roses that she had me tie a white bow around. A wedding arbor from a doll set would play the music and I was to press the button on cue. As she came out of the sliding glass door, I hit the music and rolled tape in the video camera. She walked past the fountain on the patio to the lounge chairs. That was it. She was ready to walk out with her imaginary husband. I caught the bouquet, dad caught the garter (a white headband with a bow from a doll outfit). We all had imaginary cake. It was delicious. After the thrill of the wedding, the parents hit the bed. Faith was ready to watch a movie so now was our chance. The couch was her airplane on the way to her honeymoon and "Shrek" was the inflight movie. She had her baby with her, too. Of course inquiring minds like mommy's wanted to know how she had a baby when she hadn't been on her honeymoon. She told me she was married before, but her first husband had died. As I was straightening up before going to bed tonight, I noticed her trousseau was packed in a suitcase under the couch. Apparently it was still in the cargo hold. Too bad she lost her luggage on the honeymoon. I'm just glad I captured both scenarios on video. What a tape for her real rehearsal dinner. It truly was a weekend to remember.
- Liz Fabian

Lazy days and Sundays

Daniel, Chris and I spent Sunday just lazing about the house after a busy Saturday. It was nice, jut being able to hang out in cuddle mode with a kid who's normally on the go, go, go. Don't know what got into him, but I'm sure he'll be back to full-blast tomorrow.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

In self defense

I'm seriously thinking about buying five "cars" themed t-shirts. All alike.
Every morning, Daniel wakes up, crawls out from under the "Cars" blanket Grandma sent, takes off his "Cars" pajamas, and asks to wear his "Cars" outfit. And since I won't do laundry every day, chances are his favorite outfit is dirty. So begins the morning meltdown.

What a difference the play makes

Just four days into kindergarten, Faith has reassessed her evaluation. At supper last night, she proudly proclaimed that she told her teacher that kindergarten was better than Pre-K. I'm not really sure whether she's just kissing up to the new teacher, but I believe the new attitude is the direct result of a new discovery. After the first-day condemnation that she didn't do anything fun in kindergarten, Faith has discovered the stash of play things in her classroom. There are more baby dolls, dress-up clothes and art supplies than she originally realized. What a difference the play makes.
- Liz Fabian

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Advice from the Parent Center

Scenario: Your kid has acquired a new skill, one that's different and therefore exciting. A child's first swear word is usually the result of direct mimicry; either from mom and dad or a playmate. Not surprisingly, potty training can also give rise to endless streams of scatological talk. In almost every case, it's an experiment: "Here's something I heard, which people seem to react to. Let's see what happens when I say it!" No matter where this language comes from, though, it's never too early to teach your child that it isn't acceptable.
What to do about swearing and potty talk
Treat toileting matter-of-factly. If you wrinkle your nose every time you change your child's diaper or stage-whisper the common words for elimination, it's no wonder that your 2-year-old quickly latches on to the idea that bodily functions and the terms used to describe them are guaranteed attention-grabbers.If you don't attach too much significance to her fascination with potty talk, it has a better chance of passing (eventually!). Reading fun picture books like Everyone Poops, by Taro Gomi, and The Gas We Pass, by Shinta Cho, can also help de-emphasize the forbidden (and thus endlessly alluring) nature of these subjects.
Keep a poker face. When your child says a swear word or makes a reference to bodily functions, resist the urge to chuckle, which she'll take as wonderful reinforcement for doing it again. The ability to make adults laugh — or angry or upset — is enormously powerful when you're small.
Substitute fun-but-clean alternatives. If your child's just trying a new word on for size or sing-songing it under her breath for the thrill, you can probably swap a similar-sounding goofy word for the inappropriate one — snoopynose for poopynose, for example. If the problem is that she's short on acceptable words to express intense anger or frustration, it may help to encourage her to say loudly, "I'm mad" or "I'm frustrated."
Set limits. If your baby has latched on to a serious profanity or two, she needs you to set some guidelines. It's crucial to do this calmly — without becoming agitated or mad — otherwise, each time you blow up, you just remind her how much power she has to make you pay attention to her quickly. "That's not a word you may use." "We don't allow that kind of language."
Teach respect. You're not doing your 2-year-old any favors by letting her think it's okay to hurl even baby-variety epithets at other kids. (Ask her how she'd feel if someone called her a "farthead," for instance.) Swear words and excessive bathroom talk won't be looked upon kindly at daycare or preschool, on the playground, at playmates' houses — or at Grandpa's dinner table. Explain that these words hurt people's feelings, that it makes no difference if other kids are using the same language, and that name-calling simply isn't allowed.
Watch your own mouth. Sure, there are different rules for adults' and children's behavior, but if your 2-year-old hears you casually pepper your daily conversation with profanity, it'll be a lot harder to convince her not to talk that way herself. If she mimics something you said, admit that you shouldn't have said it either, then quickly distract her with a song or story — and vow to clean up your act.
For more good advice on a range of topics, visit

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

"We didn't do anything fun"

When I was making a big deal over Faith's first day of school, she told me: "Mom, my first day of school was last year." Sure enough, she started Pre-K last year, but this was kindergarten. I told her that when her parents went to school, kindergarten was the very first day of our school careers. We didn't have pre-kindergarten. Before she left for school, she didn't mind posing for pictures, so I snapped a couple of quickies before she got on her way. Gone are the bangs from last year, her hair is a lot longer and her uniform is a little shorter. She seems so much more mature, but is she ready for the real world? When I asked her about her first day, she sounded disappointed when she said: "We didn't do anything fun. We only got to color a little right before we left." Wow. It is the real world.
- Liz Fabian

Taking the plunge and making a splash

The summer's flown. We'd promised Faith a little mini-excursion to an amusement park. But since my mother's been ill, we just couldn't get away. We finally ventured to Whitewater last week before school started. A check on the Website showed that some of the "splashier" rides had a 48-inch height requirement. Time to get out the measuring tape. Oops - about 46 and a half to 47 inches. How could we go and not take on The Tornado? Faith had no fear, so we piled her long hair in a bun on top of her head and hit the park. No one even checked her height at the twister and she checked her fright in the first few seconds. As we entered the giant funnel on our raft, there was a momentary look of terror that broke into giggles as soon as I said how much fun it was. Next stop - The Cliffhanger. "I want to go first," Faith said as she was heading to the 9-story freefall slide. No, Daddy should go first so he can be at the bottom as she came down. We got a horrified stare from one mom waiting for the adjacent ride. How could we be letting our little one take the plunge? I didn't want to discourage Faith, but wanted to prepare her. It was going to be scary, I told her, but by the time she could get scared, it would be over. When we got to the top of the tall staircase, it was shift change for the lifeguard on duty. "Where's the height stick?" the new guard on duty asked as we were getting closer to the top. Luckily, it was down on the ground. It was a very short wait for this ride. Not many people are brave enough to give it a try. "Step back to the mark," the new lifeguard told Faith. Between her pool shoes and the bun, she was in. Down daddy went. Faith handed over her shoes to me and followed him down. "I've got to see this," one young man said as Faith loaded herself onto the top of the slide. About a half dozen people peered over the edge as she dropped down below. I couldn't wait to go next because I was so afraid she'd been traumatized. I don't even remember much about the experience except when I got down to the bottom, by bathing suit was now a thong. Thank goodness I was wearing a little swim dress over the panty part. Faith was laughing and giggling, while my heart was pounding. After I quickly adjusted my suit and retrieved my dignity, I was beaming with pride over my fearless child. After a few hours on the kid rides, we discovered there were more big slides on the other end of the park. I pried Faith away from the treehouse of downpours and kids-only slides. We stopped at the map and I read her the titles of the other attractions. "I want to do on the Dragon's Tail," Faith said excitedly jumping up and down. Unbeknownst to her, she picked the last 48" requirement ride. We started singing the theme to Dragon Tales on PBS and were off. There were two rippling slides and Faith wanted us to go down at the same time, so we got in separate lines. My line moved much faster and I got ahead of her, though. As I was barreling down the plumes with my body coming off the slide and bouncing back down on my bottom, I knew this ride might be too much for Faith. Her little body would really be weightless on the slide. I was hoping that the lifeguard would measure her and abort her run. We left our shoes at the bottom this time, so I knew she wouldn't make the cut. I could see her and Matt up at the top, but couldn't understand why he was in the chute first. I thought maybe she had been turned away and was coming back down the stairs. When Matt splashed down into the pool with great glee, I asked him about Faith. "She's right next to you," was his reply. Somehow I missed her tiny body coming down the slide as I focused on the top. As she looked up at me, her eyes were wide and her mouth was closed. She seemed like she was in a daze. "I hated that one, Mommy," she said. Daddy was the only one who wanted to go again. When I asked her later about what she was thinking, "I just wanted it to be over," she said. No more butt busters for us.
- Liz Fabian

Snips and snails and dragon tails

I introduced Daniel to "Pete's Dragon" during our little storm Saturday night. Now it's his favorite movie.
We go through these phases - "Aristocats" lasted about two months, "Oliver and Company" lasted almost six - I think that's because the lead dog looks like our own pup. "The Brave Little Toaster" probably would have lasted longer than its two-week run, but I couldn't take it any more.
But "Pete's Dragon" has all the winning bits for boys: Dragons and ships and colorful bad guys. Plus, lots and lots of kids in the cast. Singing, playing, dancing, there are kids everywhere. And I watched the movie just grab his little imagination and plant ideas. So the next few weeks should be fun - who knows what he'll come up with?

Monday, August 14, 2006

It could happen to any of us

My heart and prayers go out to Octavia Ammons, the mother of 6-year-old Jabriel Eason. Jabriel slipped out of the house while mom was taking a nap Sunday, even though she had moved a sofa to block the door. His little body was found in the lake behind their home today. I guess I feel like this could happen to any of us.
Because how many times has an exhausted mom lay down on the couch "for just a few minutes" while the kids are engrossed in Dora the Explorer? Or in my case, been in the kitchen cooking dinner while junior plays in the back yard, only to have him climb the fence and be found two streets over? Or worse, be in the mall bathroom and have the slippery little devil slide under the stall door and out of the ladies' room before you can get your jeans zipped? (I witnessed that one years ago - before I had a child.)
But really, as far as this case goes, I can't fault mom. I can't honestly say "you shouldn't be sleeping while you are taking care of your kids." Because I know what it's like to put a four-year-old down for a nap, thinking I can squeeze in one of my own once he falls asleep. Only to have him take a twenty-minute nap and then destroy his room as I sleep on. If he cracks his bedroom door, the mommy ears come on and I'm up. But I owe that more to a sticky bedroom door than to my own mom-sense. So I feel for Jabriel's mom. And I'll be keeping a closer eye on Daniel from now on. No matter how tired I am.

Saturday, August 12, 2006

101 reasons not to go to bed

I thought I'd have more time before Daniel entered this phase. You know the one - you put the kid to bed, go through the ritual, tuck him in, and turn out the light. Five minutes later, it's I forgot to brush my teeth." An hour later, you're still going through the last glass of water, then the last potty visit, thgen another kiss goodnight. Then it's "where's my red truck?" or "teddy bear got lost" (under the covers) or "I want to sleep in your bed."
After spending two years trying to get him to sleep through the night, I had really hoped Daniel would settle into a human sleeping pattern. Instead he's up until "God knows when" and gets up at "oh my God, it's early." The pediatrician says "some people just don't need as much sleep as others." We'll see if that holds when he's a teenager.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Penny candy and the $100,000 heist

Growing up on the northern edge of Long Island, I remember my trips to the St. James General Store where penny candy was in vogue. There were large jars of all kinds of treats - licorice whips, rock candy and my ultimate favorite, the dots. I'm not talking about the chewy package of gumdrop-shaped colored domes that was my favorite candy of choice at the movies, but the strips of white paper with tiny globs of confection that started in one color and morphed into others. My recent trip down candyland's memory lane came when I looked in a vending machine at work the other day. I did a double-take when I saw the $100,000 bar. First of all, I don't know where I've been all these years since Nestle changed the name to 100 Grand. An Internet search informed me that the candy formerly known as the one-hundred thousand dollar bar was renamed when the manufacturer hit the computer age. Apparently the dollar symbol didn't jive. I don't know, that explanation doesn't make "cents" to me. Anyway, after I got over that shock, I noticed the candy seemed about half its size. I don't think this is a case of the shrinking backyard at my childhood home where everything seemed so much larger when I was little. I really think the candy shrunk as I grew. There was only one thing to do. Buy one. Perhaps it's just the packaging. It was a tight squeeze on its little dark cardboard tray instead of having a little breathing room for the chocolate-covered crunchy caramel chunks. A few days later, I broke down and did a little more "research." Maybe it just tastes great, less filling. I guess it's just a fact of life, $100,000 went a lot farther when I was a kid.
- Liz Fabian

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Kids stuff recalls

The consumer Product Safety commission ( has put out a recall on girls hide and seek hooded drawstring sweatshirts. If you haven't bookmarked their site, it's high time to do so. Because even though toy makers and clothing manufacturers test their products continually, they don't have Daniel the Destroyer on staff.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Home business bummer

Saturday was my big open house. A number of other home business consultants and I got together, put out our displays, placed an ad, and waited for customers. And waited and waited and waited. In a 5-hour period, we had three people. So now it's back up, regroup, and focus on expos and other ways to find new customers. It's frustrating, but every time I think about quitting, I go and have a great show or meet great new people. I guess it's like raising a kid: every time you want to just ship them to Grandma (because after all, the little monsters can do no wrong in HER eyes), they go and do something cute like gather you a bouquet of yard flowers.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Where's Trevor?

As I'm sure will happen a lot over the next twelve years, Daniel and his best buddy from 3-K are in different classes in 4-K. And while he didn't mention it on Friday, This morning he woke up talking about Trevor. Fortunately, we arrived in time for large-group time, and Trevor was there. And they were both wearing Superman shirts. So the dynamic Duo ride again, at least until class begins. I feel like leaving a note: Hey, Trevor's mom, shall we arrange a playdate?

Friday, August 04, 2006

School daze

Daniel's first day of pre-K started out with a bang; I overslept.
So we hustled through the morning ritual, and it was as he was polishing off his cereal that I noticed the dog. So I snapped a few pictures, and we were only five minutes late for class. The teachers were still sorting out who was whom and what symbol each kid got. (Daniel is now the red rooster) I noticed as I was typing bus schedules for the last two weeks that elementary buses are usually coded: yellow crayon, orange basketball, and so on for easy identification for the kids. Cool.
So whether your kid is starting his first day of kindergarten or the first day of her senior year, or whether you're packing up mini-fridges and bed linens for a college dorm room, take a minute, mom. You've gotten them this far.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Winter wardrobe land

It's a little hard to be thinking sweaters, coats and corduroy when it's pushing 100 degrees. But if you can muster the energy, it's time to mark your calendar for some more kids clothing consignment sales. Misty filled us in on some dates around Warner
Robins, but there are a couple of bargain bonanzas coming up in Macon. The bi-annual Kidz Replay sale will be September 6th through the 9th next to Lipson's Fabrics on Riverside Drive behind Natalia's in the newly renamed River Street Corners shopping center. While the Mothers of Preschoolers of Martha Bowman Memorial United Methodist Church will be holding their sale September 22 and 23 at the Hephzibah Children's Home across from Lake Wildwood on Zebulon Road.Both sales feature half-prize Saturdays from 8 a.m. until noon where most of the items are 50-percent off. The Replay sale begins on Wednesday with Grandparents Day from 9:30 a.m. until 7 p.m. (Moms can attend along with Grandmas.) The hours for Thursday's sale are from 9:30 a.m. until 6 p.m. and Friday from 9:30 a.m. until 1 p.m. The MOPS sale runs from 9 a.m. until 7 p.m. on Friday before Half Price Day on Saturday. Thanks to both sales, my daughter is a clothes horse without us having to mortgage the farm.
- Liz Fabian

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Hey Grandma, look at this!

I got a call from my mom last night - "What did you do to my grandson's hair?!"
Turns out she'd been reading the blog and saw the photo of a freshly-shorn Daniel painting on the sidewalk. Well, here's another one for you, Grandma. Daniel can write his name!
I dropped him off at school this morning and his teacher handed me a sheet of blue construction paper with his name at the top, followed by the letters in his very own handwriting. I'm so proud I'm not even hanging it on the fridge - I'm putting it up in my cubicle!