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

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 oldest needed a photo of a military veteran to whom he is related for a school music project called "Our Heroes" this week. I was able to quickly put my hands on the photo I wanted (big thanks to my aunt). My grandpa. As an unexpected treat, she sent along these two as well: I can see my white-haired, rotund grandpa in the face of that young sailor. And I know that the story of this day, the day in the photos, is still probably fresh in his mind. And the days that followed as he boarded a ship at the end of the war. And I wish that I had been smart enough to ask him about those days when his mouth and tongue and voice could still form the words to share those stories without stumbling, slow, frustrating effort. How is it that three photos can make me smile, make my heart swell with happiness, make me mad, bring a lump to my throat and make tears pool in the corner of my eyes? All at once? Love you, Grandpa. You will be G's hero.

My youngest child is athletically gifted. I know he's only three - and we don't put any pressure on him to any do of this - but the kid can throw a ball, swing a bat, swing a golf club, dribble a basketball, and dribble a soccer ball like nobody's business. My husband and I frequently see him do something and then just look at each other in silent amazement. Enter the Razor scooter. The three-year-olds received darling three-wheeled, beginner scooters for their birthday in January. They spent all winter whizzing around the house in them. It was fun. Come spring, we moved the three-wheelers outside. But H abandoned his quickly in favor of his older siblings' two-wheeled Razors. Way cooler, I guess. After about a month of dedication, this kid can now balance perfectly on the two-wheeled scooter. He is a force to be reckoned with.

My kids love to play in our driveway and on our sidewalk - and I am very lucky that: 1. They are very good about staying out of the street. 2. We live at the bottom of a culdesac at the end of a fairly long subdivision street. (Very, very few cars make it all the way down this far...) and 3. My office window has full view of all the goings-on in our driveway, on our sidewalk and in the culdesac (and is two steps away from the front door from which I can speak, yell, run, etc. as necessary). So, I do let my kids - big and little - play out there while I get some work done in my office from time to time. And this? This is what I saw when I looked out this afternoon. Fishing the culdesac. And they were pulling in some whoppers too.

My oldest child had his First Communion last weekend. It was rather anti-climactic - especially after they were able to taste unconsecrated bread and wine the week before (so there would be no gagging faces at the altar on Sunday). He specifically requested a bowtie - and so he wore a bowtie. I even learned how to tie it. Thank you, YouTube... Not much of a story to tell (much less entertaining than his First Confession ) but I'll share my favorite picture from the entire day. Our parish is overwhelmingly Hispanic. When I taught 1st grade CCD last year, the kids were named Tino, Isabel, Alicia (pronounced A-LEE-see-uh), Angelina, Yessenia, Oscar, Diego, etc. And Hispanic mothers and daughters really like First Communion (much like the Italian mothers and daughters in the town where I grew up). The dresses, veils, gloves, tiaras and satin purses were over-the-top. And many of the little boys were in head-to-toe white suits, white shirts, white shoes. So, my little Irishman looked a

My first child had a little issue with haircuts as a small person. He was banned from Great Clips at age 2 1/2. The whole thing kinda freaked him out. Tears, snot, screaming, squirming. It's all good now. He sorta even likes getting his hair did now. My little guys have had several haircuts over their three years. And, other than the first one or two (which occurred on my bathroom counter with me on the shears), they've had them done at the local children's hair salon. The one with race car seats and buckets of DumDums. Because there's nothing better than a sticky sucker coated with bits of hair. Mmmmm. My husband has been chomping at the bit to buzz the babies' hair (and, yes, they're still my "babies"). C had a nice floppy, bowl-ish look going. H had...well, he had a mess of hair. Thin but wild. Hello, floppy. Hello, wild. I pushed him off for months but finally relented and said that he could buzz them for summer. Summer came early this weekend bec

The scene in my front yard this afternoon: Lest you think he was actually relaxing, beneath his head was - not a pillow but - a large rock from the neighbor's landscaping.

1. Two Bakugan - one open, one closed (who knows how many others actually made it to the sewer line) 2. One bar of Ivory soap 3. Lid of one travel-sized container of solid deodorant 4. One travel-sized can of Gillette shaving cream. A CAN of shaving cream. That last one? Required the draining and removal of the stool from the water source and drain hole in order to remove. Gross. I'll give you two guesses as to how those things got flushed:

I got out of my (very dirty) SUV on Sunday morning to fill the gas tank. And I discovered the above-pictured artwork on my gas cap cover. I laughed out loud. And the coolest thing about my new custom look? I knew exactly which of my three-year-olds did it. He has a very distinct "happy face" technique. And this is it. I showed him the picture and asked him if he did it. "YES! I did it for YOU!" I love that kid.

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.

I've been doing some work this morning. My two-and-a-half year old twins decided to dress themselves. Here is their handiwork: (It is currently 40 degrees and damp outside, by the way.) They also decided to cover my bathroom carpet with a healthy layer of shaving cream and Rain-X. Why do people put carpet in bathrooms? Good morning.

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 .

These guys started Mother's Day Out yesterday. They will go on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9:30 to 2:30. Their first day was terrific. C even told me that playing outside at school was "awesome". They played and had circle time and ate lunch at a table with the rest of the kids. Next week, they'll stay a little longer and have naptime too. (We'll see how that goes...) I think I'm going to really enjoy the time on my own. It's been a while. I didn't think I would miss them. And I didn't while they were there. But when I returned and saw them through the doorway, minding their manners, sitting at the lunch table like such big boys? And when their faces lit up when they finally noticed I was there? My heart ached just a little bit - partly because I realized that I had actually missed them a bit and partly because I realized, in that moment, that my babies were on their way to not being my "babies" anymore.

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?