Back to school

Wonderboy officially became a second grader this week. I can't figure out how I happen to have a second grader. When did this happen? He was not at all excited about school because he "doesn't like homework". I have to think he's been anxious about starting a new school, knowing almost no one. Kind of breaks my heart. We briefly met his new teacher Monday, and my boy seemed to feel a little more optimistic since his teacher is male, and as he put it, "I just get so bored of all these girls, girls, girls." We have two days of school under our belts, and I've breathed a sigh of relief as he's told me about his awesome teacher and how great the book selection in his class is. He's just itching to get his hands on the Captain Underpants books E and I have thus far banned from our own bookshelves.

But my agony didn't end there. The next day I waved goodbye to my baby girl (she is my baby and nobody may convince me otherwise) at the door and she ventured off to all-day kindergarten with her piggy tails flipping. She loves every minute of it, and the best sight in the world was the two of them exiting the school at the end of the day hand in hand. Honestly, I was devastated to learn kindergarten is exclusively all-day here. I just didn't feel ready to lose her. But if she must go, it's a huge relief that she adores it. ADORES IT. So much so, that she was crestfallen to realize, when she woke up the next morning, that she had only an ordinary Saturday to look forward to. She pleaded with me to take her to school until I explained the school was quite empty. The weekend is awfully long to an eager kindergartner.

Oh, and her one request as she prepared for all-day kindergarten? A giant carrot in her Hello Kitty lunch bag. Because those baby carrots aren't right for big girls, and she is a big girl now, thank you very much.

When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie

Spinach and mushroom Chicago style pizza. I'm pretty sure I heard my arteries say "Oy!".

The spinach is redeeming, no?

Feeling Thrifty

I dropped off a bunch of junk at Goodwill today, because why not move long distance with your junk and then purge, right? Right. Our new kitchen is larger, but oddly enough seems to hold less. So I couldn't justify keeping all nine sets of mixing bowls, or the wok we haven't used in four years, or the components to an old food processor I threw out 3 years ago. You get the picture. E and both declared NO MORE KITCHEN CRAP. Moratorium on kitchen crap.

Anyway, while I was there dropping off the aforementioned junk, I thought I'd dash in for a look through the shelves. Now, I've only ever ventured in a Goodwill once before and it was slightly horrific - the smell alone was so off-putting I left promptly. But some time ago I read about Duralex French bistro glassware and the sad fate of the factory here and here, and became a smidge obsessed with finding some bistro glasses to go with my new white porcelain bistro dishes (thanks, mom) and, although a long shot, I thought Goodwill was worth a try.

And, do you know I think I squealed out loud right there in the middle of all the knick knacks and kitch -and I should add that place was hoppin' - but who cares?! I found a nice selection of Picardie glasses!

And a bunch of these cute little sundae dishes.

What? What moratorium?

Lovin' Chicagoland.

We've been wondering when we'll come to realize we haven't relocated ourselves to Utopian Perfection, U.S.A. I suspect it will happen when winter hits and the wind chill is well into the negative double digits. Sigh. Maybe I'll love it since I'm always too hot anyway.

We drove into the city Saturday to visit the Shedd Aquarium. We bought the annual family pass (See? We're bracing for brutal winter. Bring it on!) and spent hours looking at the aquatic creatures. Pictures were tricky since flash was against the rules...

Perplexed by the stingray suctioned on the glass:

Is that a LEASH?? Am I a mother who puts my child on a leash? Like a dog? Why, yes, I am. Have you met my third born??

Fascinated by the dolphins:

Fuzzy pic of mamma beluga and baby:

Playing penguins:

Some of the jellies:

Enjoying the dolphin show:

Drumroll, please?

I drew names. Not rigged - I really drew Andrea's name. So watch out lady, lap quilt from the land of misfits headed your way.

Just because I like to bury my head in the sand.

When life gets crazy, I prefer to unearth the sewing machine. So I followed the tutorial at Presser Foot to make a little girl's dress out of one of daddy's dress shirts. He's got plenty. He won't miss it. And it turned out pretty cute. How come there are so many creative brains out there in blogland?

And I decided to try my hand at free motion machine quilting, so I pieced this strippy lap quilt and machine quilted it. Not so easy, it turns out. I mean this little quilt has 'issues'. But it's serviceable.

I'd love to get rid of it, so if someone wants to leave a comment that they want it I'll gladly pack it off and send it on it's way to you. And if TWO people want it, why then I'll have Bubs choose who to send it to. And if, say, three people want it, then we'll draw a name out of a hat. That's right folks! Free lap quilt with 'issues'! Just what you've always dreamed of.

And as bizarre and unbelievable as it truly is, I'm aware of a few readers in far off exotic lands - but I'd really prefer to pay U.S. postage, thank you kindly.

Where to begin?

I've been especially lousy at this blogging nonsense lately. So there's no way to catch up, other than a choppy, yawn-inducing run down. Consider yourself warned. And feel free to bail.

Mostly, this has dominated our lives the last few months:

Cleaning, painting, staging, and then, when the phone rang, scrambling to load 3 kids and 2 dogs into the Ody to vacate, and fast. We quickly fell into a routine. Fia makes a mad window washer woman, and Wonderboy is your guy if you want to ensure that all toilets have been flushed (And if you have kids who don't really see much point in flushing, like mine, this would be something you'll want to double check before you leave for a showing. I can't imagine who needs to look down a toilet when considering buying a house, but I'm just saying. You wouldn't want to lose a potential buyer just because your kids are particularly phobic about flushing). Poor Bubs got strapped securely in his car seat at T minus 15 minutes because that was the only way to do the last minute shine up, without his especially efficient counter effects. But it's done, and we have been grateful that it only took about 2 weeks for our initial offer to come in. And with the contract signed, the wee people went happily back to lettin' it mellow, because that's what they do.

E did a preliminary house hunt alone while in Chicago for work. And then WE. ALL. WENT. TO. CHICAGO. And if you've never personally been stupid enough to house hunt with three young children in tow, you really should try it. It's delightful. I'm sure it was E's idea.

I guess it wasn't really that bad. Wait. Yes, it was. But the kids were crazy excited and they did pretty well, all things considered. If all the planets align just so, and the sellers decide not to continue their pattern of just-plain-loco-ness and burn the place down before closing, this will be our new home:But, really, I'll believe it when we actually have keys in hand. Besides, there's always Motel 6. I think they leave the light on there.

Oh, and one of the great trials of Miss Fia's young life has been sitting in a "BOY" car seat. Back when I purchased Wonderboy's car seat (a Britax Marathon) in 2002, I got one of the first ones to hit the shelves in D.C., and consequently had to settle for the only color available - a grey-blue sort of velveteen option. And then when Fia was ready to move out of the infant seat, I got all practical and conservative and decided the seats should match, so I bought another boring grey-blue Marathon. She feels quite strongly that she has been subjected to a sore trial indeed, sitting in a grey-blue BOY seat. Until our house-hunting trip, that is. When Southwest's baggage guys must have tied her seat to the end of a long rope and taken it for a joy ride across the tarmac. When we claimed our carseats, 2 of them looked like they'd been through a grizzly attack. Kudos to Southwest though. They reimbursed me for replacement, and now Miss Fia sighs with relief each day as she climbs into her new Mariposa Marathon "GIRLY" seat. Poor thing. The shame I've put her through.