First Day

Way back when Clare was two and starting preschool, I found a very cute book called First Day, which puts in poem format a little girl's first day at school. It's one of Tim's favorite books, and it does a nice job of expressing the nervousness and apprehensions a child has on the first day of a new school. It's clear, though, that the main character was not based on Clare. Although I had to wake her up this morning, once she realized it was the first day of school she bounded out of bed and said, "I need to get my uniform on!" (Let's just hope she moves with similar speed every other day.) She was chipper and chatty the whole way to school, and when we were walking from the parking deck to the courtyard, she spotted one of her classmates that she met over the summer and confidently called out, "Hi, Caitlin!" Similarly, once we were in the auditorium she went over to greet another girl that she knew from Sunday School. And when it was time for the Kindergarten kids to head off to class, and her name was called, she strode forward with nary a backward glance. So, it went pretty well! Of course, when I picked her up, she was pretty quick to say in a disappointed voice that they didn't read or have nap time today. Those noon dismissals - not the advantage to Clare that they are to other kids, apparently.

So. Not. Cool.

Clare starts kindergarten tomorrow, for the .01% of you who haven't had to listen to me mention this for the past month. As the day draws closer, I'm starting to freak out. Not for sentimental reasons - I have one foot on her little behind, more than ready to push her out the door to school. However, the logistics of this experience are starting to sink in, and I'm not too sure I like it. Five days a week I will need to get up at 6 a.m. and get myself and two children moving. Five days a week I will be driving a fair distance. Five days a week I will have to pack my uber-finicky child a lunch. But the final straw? Ironing. The uniform that Clare will wear five days a week requires ironing. And for that .01% of you who don't know, I detest ironing.

How many more days until Christmas vacation?

Home

For those of us who moved away from our hometowns for college, jobs, etc., it's sometimes a lengthy process before we stop referring to where we grew up as "home." It's taken an even longer amount of time for me to answer the "where are you from?" question with anything other than "San Diego." After all, I live in Atlanta, and I really like it here, but with just three years under my belt I don't feel like it's made a big enough imprint on me to say that's where I'm from. (I'm sure I give it way too much thought.) If there's enough conversation, I'm able to say that my husband and I moved here from Chicago (another formative place for us), and that I grew up in San Diego and he in Buffalo. I feel like this is really the complete picture, not just for us but also for Clare and Danny. We are all fortunate enough to see San Diego and Buffalo quite frequently, and in many ways they are both like other homes to us. As the saying goes, home is where the heart is.

That said, after a whirlwind six weeks of being on the road, it was nice to wake up in our own house this morning. The Annual Summer Grandparents Tour has come to an end. It was truly lovely, although next year I'll spread it out a bit more. Because at the end of the day, our kids answer the "where are you from?" question with "Atlanta" - and so they like to see it every once in a while!

P.S. My Grandpa Bob has been asking to see a picture of our house for a long time, so this seemed like a good time to post one.

Danny's first touchdown dance

I'm not claiming this to be ESPN-worthy footage, but ever since the ballet video I've felt obligated to defend Danny's manhood with some of his nearly-constant athletic activity. Primarily because his uncle Brian accused me of scarring him for life...

The Falls

Ever since I saw a picture of my mother-in-law with Baby Timmy at Niagara Falls during the winter, I've been wondering when we'd venture to this magnificent sight with our own kids. Tim hasn't been in any hurry, given his fear of heights (so ironic for a man so tall). He couldn't avoid it any longer, though, when my own parents came to Buffalo for the first time and naturally wanted to see the falls. The poor guy literally had nightmares leading up to our excursion that apparently involved vivid images of Danny in his bright green Crocs.

I'm happy to report that our trip was incident-free (although Danny did wear the Crocs). I can probably sum it up best by Clare's report: "This place isn't even boring!" I hadn't been since Tim took me the very first time I came to Buffalo (for inspection by the family, naturally), so it was a treat to go with both my parents, my in-laws, and my own nuclear fam. I'm still eager to see it in all its frozen, wintry glory, but today's spectacular day will be hard to rival. There was a complete, perfect rainbow over the falls the entire time we were there. It's the kind of sign that really summarizes the wonderful time our two families have had together the past few days...but the recycling bin is bearing the brunt of our festive evenings!

Loaves and fishes

Today at church I heard that indelible tale from the bible about Jesus and the loaves and fishes. As is so often the case when I go to mass, it brought things together in my mind. First, though, I should start with the confession that Clare has been driving me up a wall lately. She's a routine-oriented kid who hasn't been given a whole lot of it lately. Couple this with feeling competitive for attention with her little brother, and the results have been irritating, to say the least. While I treasure moments of play with her, I know it's important that she learn to amuse herself, something she used to be quite good at but of late seems to have slipped her mind. In California, as long as she had her cousins or friends around, she was good to go - and therefore, so was I (but when they weren't around - oy!). I was concerned how this would translate in Buffalo, where she has wonderful grandparents but no cousins and few playmates. What she does have, though, is Danny. And like the fish and bread that miraculously multiplied to feed the hoards, Clare's and Danny's love for each other and active imaginations have sprouted wings, and the results have been a joy to observe - from behind my newspaper or coffee mug! Whether they are re-enacting The Lion King (their current favorite movie, and how nice is it that they agree?) or turning Grandpa's office into their Arctic home as polar bears, they're doing it together.
Here's hoping I haven't just jinxed it...

It really is a great lake

Both in California and now here in Buffalo, Clare has taken to asking us each evening, "What fun thing are we doing tomorrow?" Of course, I find it appalling that she has become so spoiled and bold to make such an inquiry, but it's not surprising, given that we have been on the go since we landed. Yesterday it was a trip to Bay Beach in Canada, right on the shores of Lake Erie. Very close friends of my in-laws have a beautiful home at this beach, and they generously invite us up each summer. It is the ideal beach setting for small kids, because the lake remains about a foot deep for several hundred feet out. So, Clare can feel like a cool kid by going far out, and I know that she's still only up to her calves. There are also no true waves to speak of, but the ripples from nearby sailboats, not to mention the wind, make enough movement to keep it interesting. The whole experience is very laid-back, providing you can get across the border in the first place...

Danny was a tad tentative about the water at first, but once he discovered that he could stand and not get knocked down by waves, he grew increasingly adventurous, especially because he wanted to hang with Clare and the kids she ultimately befriended. This age is so interesting, because one moment Clare's playing by herself, and the next she and total strangers have formed an intimate ring. She never did find out much about these kids, but since she didn't care, neither did I.

Better than the Chateau Marmont
The day before our beach trip we went to the Strong National Museum of Play in Rochester, about 90 minutes away. I think it takes a lot to live up to a name like the National Museum of Play, but this one delivered. To sum it up best, we spent five hours there and still didn't cover everything. Aside from a brief respite at lunch, we were on the go, visiting the grocery store where the kids can try their hand at everything from shopping to running the register (with real receipts) to stocking shelves; multiple areas of dress-up and art stations; sand boxes; helicopters and ships for climbing; a carousel and train ride, etc. etc.! Thanks to their two traveling exhibits (also awesome), the museum even offered celeb sightings: Clare and Danny got to "meet" both Clifford and Mama (Berenstain) Bear, and couldn't have been more thrilled about either one.