I like gummy bear | i love gummy bear | gummy bear song english

A not-so-subtle hint left on my desk yesterday morning. I bought her what she wanted - and a few non-Biebs songs too. Because nobody needs an iPod full of the Bieber. (I also removed the profanity-laden Ben Folds song I uploaded a week ago by accident. Whoops.)

This kid. Something happened to her between spring soccer and fall soccer. Her intensity increased by about 110%. Which is to say, it was non-existent before and now, well, she can sure turn it on when she feels like it. In the spring, she was the kid who ran up and down the field and, if the ball came near, she took a swipe at it. Maybe. And now. This (she's the one in the royal blue). She throws a mean elbow.

My daughter can get under my skin like no other. And I am slowly realizing that is due to the fact that she is very, very much me. Now, she certainly has some traits that are NOT me - like the class-clown, ham-it-up-at-all-moments behavior. That is NOT me. That is her dad, for sure. But the rest of it? Me. Ears like radar. Me. Need to constantly use the ears to listen to conversations that don't necessarily involve her. Me. General bossy-ness. Me. Precocious personality. Me. Talks a bit too much when she's comfortable with someone. Me. The newest development, though, is something that warms my heart. And excites me. I can't wait to see where this goes. She has fallen in love with books and reading and history. She can't get enough. Her weekly library ration of five or six chapter books lasts only a few days. She constantly tells me random historical facts, gleaned from the latest Magic Tree House book or from one of her brother's infinite non-fiction choices. She&#

My 7YO was getting ready for school today when I asked her to hurry up and find her shoes. She had gym today, so my request was specifically for sneakers. She turned and asked me if it okay if she wore her Converse. The Converse were her go-to sneaker over the summer and at the beginning of the school year but quickly became kind of a pain to get on and off (and were also filthy). So, I said, "No, just put on your adidas." And then, she told me the following: "Well, the shoelaces were fraying and kind of broken so I threw them away." "Oh, that's okay," I said, "Wear your Converse today and I'll get new laces for the adidas at Target." "But I threw them away." "Your SHOES?!" "Yes." "WHEN?!" "Last week." (i.e., before last Friday when the trash was picked up) So, my kid threw out a perfectly good pair of running shoes because the shoe laces were frayed. And didn't tell me until it was to

Back in the day (for the uninitiated, "the day" was circa 1981/1982 for purposes of this post), I was known to attend the school skating parties at my local roller skating rink. Which one of my elementary school friends on Facebook so helpfully pointed out was The Great American Skate on the Berlin Turnpike in Connecticut (was it in Berlin or Newington?). I can still see that rink in my mind's eye. Everything about it. It wasn't in our town so we didn't hang out there per se - just birthday parties and the occasional school skate. But I remember it with excitement. A purely social co-ed activity when there were few others. Fifth and sixth grades were the height of roller rink excitement for me. (Which coincided with the general discovery of boys as cute, giggle-inducing entertainment.) My big kids are first and second graders. Their school has a few after-school skates every year - but we've never attended. Until this month. On a whim, I decided that we'd

I think I'm actually going to shut down the ole innernets for the holidays now...here's a pic of my blessed angels. (I'm currently hiding in the office, trying not to kill each and every friggin one of the "angels" before Santa can get here. Day FOUR of winter break, people. Day FOUR. OMG.) This is the photo on my Christmas cards, which were just mailed yesterday. Oh, do I ever have my shit together this year... Anyway, Merry Christmas. I hope that yours is happy and peaceful and whatever you wish it to be.

My first grader has library check-out on Thursdays. She's turned into a little reading machine over the last month. I open her door at 10:00pm to cover her up, only to find her lying in bed, finishing the last chapter of a Magic Tree House book (her current faves). She staggers to breakfast in the morning, tired because she stays up so late reading. She takes books in the car, reading Shel Silverstein aloud to me or taking in a few quick chapters of something if she can find a chair to sit in while I shop. She likes fiction and non-fiction. She likes poetry and prose. I was interested and amused to find this as one of her school library selections this week: Weird, no? (She has no idea who Oprah is, by the way. "I just wanted to learn about this lady.")

I needed a camera to take to the American Royal BBQ last night ( my husband's band was playing). And I was experiencing a camera deficit. My point-and-shoot is kinda broken. It still takes pictures but the LCD screen is busted (as a result of being squished between my butt and an amusement park ride this summer). And my DSLR is at my sister's house. So, I borrowed M's camera (which was a hand-me-down point-and-shoot we gave her for her birthday). Before I left though, I cleared her memory card. Saved its contents to my hard drive and wiped it clean. Today, I sat down to look at what she shot. Here is life from the perspective of my 6-year-old: Stuffed animals. Dolls. And herself. A pretty apt description of her world, at least as she currently knows it. And then I also found this little gem: M's Blair Witch Project from Kate McKinney on Vimeo .

Just picked my kids up at school (first and second grade). Without further ado, here's what they had to say about the hubbub: M: I saw Obama at school. Me: What did he talk about? M: You should never let down your country. Me: What does that mean? M: Letting down your country is bad. Me: But what does that mean? M: Quitting stuff. Like school. G: And there was a senior president there. Named Tim Spicer. It was at Wakefield High School.* M: In Virginia. Me: What else did he talk about? G: Responsibility. M: And compassion. Me: What is compassion? M: Working together. I learned that from the counselor. Not Mrs. Frank though. We have a new counselor named Mrs. Graves. I'm scared of her puppets. And that was that. Totally brainwashed, I tell you. *This kid can't remember to brush his teeth thirty seconds after I tell him to brush his teeth, but he correctly remembered the name of the teenager who introduced the president and the name of the freaking venu

My two-year-olds to each other: Rock, Paper, nuh, nuh, GO! (with rochambeau hand movements) ******* My six-year-old, during a gourmet sloppy joe dinner last night: I have a sesame seed bun. My seven-year-old: I have a delicious and nutritious whole wheat bun. My six-year-old: If I plant these seeds, will it grow bread? ******* My two-year-old at his very first movie last week (very loudly, as the prehistoric squirrel in the Ice Age movies appeared on the screen to start the film): OHMYGOD! WHAT IS THAT? ******* And, I'll leave you with this. What my six-year-old does to her brother when left unattended.

I won't re-tell the Omaha story here. I posted pics and words over at KCKidsFun - click here to read Weekend Family Getaway from Kansas City: Omaha . And we'll be headed back next summer for sure. I've only been asked about it every day since we got back. A big hit.

And...school started this morning. I think I may have been the only asshole who didn't walk her kids in. Dude. It was raining. I had two toddlers in pajamas. Here they are in all of their grown-up glory. Remember what they looked like last year? The year before? Me neither. All I know is that my daughter, who is really not a tomboy, totally looks like one in the outfit she chose for today. The t-shirt does have rhinestones. If you're Beadazzled, you're kinda girly, right?

I've had this book sitting on my desk all summer. My daughter wrote it in her kindergarten class just before school ended. I found it in her backpack along with a huge pile of other papers in mid-June. It made me laugh so hard (and still does) that I had to share it. It's titled "Me and My Girls". Girls are awsum. (Girls are awesome.) Girls are not trubl makrs. (Girls are not troublemakers.) Girls are roolrs of the wold. (Girls are rulers of the world.) Girls owes war dress. (Girls always wear dresses.) Girls are one of the best hamins in the wold. (Girls are one of the best humans in the world.) And my personal favorite double-page spread - Girls have honisty. (Girls have honesty.) Girls can camitucat. (Girls can communicate.) Seriously? Girls can communicate?! I'm assuming that the unspoken message here is that boys are lying, thieving bastards who can't communicate to save their lives. How did she learn this universal truth already??? So good.

Here are the five bags my daughter packed for a two-night trip to Omaha. These were lined up by the garage door when I got out of bed on Wednesday morning. These bags contained two completely random outfits (one of which included the shorts to a pajama set), two nightgowns, two pair of underpants, a bathing suit and goggles, four lip glosses, a hairbrush, six beanie babies, four My Little Ponies, an amusement park prize stuffed animal, her security Lambie (head poking out in far right of photo), a second stuffed lamb, one pair of Crocs, two compact mirrors, seven Dr. Suess books and a set of Crayola Color Wonder markers with Glitter Princess paper. I told her that five bags wasn't happening. She assessed the situation and informed me that she really needed everything she packed. Unfortunately for her, I then had to handle it. We got that down to one bag with two different outfits, one nightgown, two pair of underpants, bathing suit, goggles, one lip gloss, hairbrush, Lambie, sneake

I just informed my big kids that we're going to take a little trip to Omaha next week. Just to get out of town and see something new. So far, our plans include the zoo and the children's museum. And a hotel. My six-year-old daughter is sitting across the table from me making a list of things to pack. The following are excerpts of our conversation: Do we need to pack blankets or will the hotel have them? *** Are we taking a plane? Please tell me we're taking a plane. No plane. It only takes about three hours to drive there. But you can take some movies to watch in the car. Okay. Should we take three? Or maybe just two. Probably just two. And we can stop for gas if we need to. Right? We'll probably need to stop for gas two times. Maybe three times. Wait here! I have to go get the United States map puzzle to see where we're going. To see how far we're going. Stay here. *** Do we need to take soap, conditioner and towels? The hotel has that stuff, baby. Remember the

Over the years, I have come to realize that I express myself better on paper or in email than in person. This is true in daily conversation to some extent but it is very true when I'm angry or upset. I can collect my thoughts and say what I really mean. And, I think, it allows my husband to consider my perspective in a similarly contemplative manner before responding. Our most constructive disagreements often involve an exchange of emails. I found this on my husband's desk this evening. The big kids had been playing on his computer earlier in the day. Apparently, big brother wasn't giving little sister her way. There was no written response from G to be found. My guess? He probably just ignored her drama, hoping that it would pass. Like father, like son? :)

M is on a really good softball team. Not good insofar as talent - they're just six, so we can't exactly judge talent yet. But a good group of good girls from good families. We haven't always been so lucky with sports teams (specifically G's various sports teams over the years). This one though? Is a good one. Kinda sad to see this season end actually. Which means a lot coming from me - I'm not exactly the sports parent who is overly excited to watch and practice and coach, etc.

My children in their pajamas* playing poker with my husband at the kitchen table. With betting. I'm not even sure what to say about that. Except that it made me laugh and get the camera. They're obsessed. *G is wearing long flannel pajamas. It is July in Kansas. I have no idea what that's all about. It makes me sweaty just to look at him.

I took my big kids to Union Station today to see the Narnia exhibit. I posted about the exhibit over at KCKidsFun - click here to see some cute video of the kids. We had lunch at the Harvey House Diner, with milkshakes of course. Then we walked The Link from Union Station to Crown Center to see the LEGO exhibit, which was pretty cool (though smaller than I expected). And then we stopped at the toy store. Didn't buy anything but I enjoyed watching them roam the store more than anything else we did all day.

About a week or so ago, my two older kids and I went for a walk. It was mostly just to kill time and get out of the house before bed. I grabbed my camera and asked the kids to tell what to take pictures of. There wasn't much happening on our wooded walking trail that evening, so we got lots of pics of flowers and foliage. And we brought some daisies home with us and deposited them into a bud vase and a tall shot glass on the kitchen windowsill. A few days later, I noticed we brought home a little bit more than plant matter. A tiny green inchworm had taken up residence on one of the daisies. I showed him to G - who promptly adopted the little creature. And named him Mark. Mark is dead now. But he was a good worm. We will miss him.