Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Girl Scouts - is there a badge for "reluctant mom?"

My daughter wants to be a Girl Scout. I don't think she knows much about the whole deal - she just knows that some of her friends are Girl Scouts. She suspects she might be missing out on something fun, something social, and most of all, a chance to run her mouth with her friends.

I was never a Girl Scout myself. I think it was a combination of me being fairly introverted as a child and my mom not being too keen on driving kids around all the time. I can't say that I blame her. I've generally told A that she can do one activity at a time and I'll be happy to take her. She regularly takes swim, gymnastics, and dance classes at the Y - but not concurrently. I am frazzled enough as it is.

Anyway, I don't really know a lot about Girl Scouts, except that moms of Girl Scouts seem to end up with a thousand cases of cookies in their living room once a year. I don't know that I should be given easy access to thin mints. I am capable of eating a sleeve of them in one sitting. People say, "Freeze them! Then you won't eat them right away!" Bah. It is an established fact that I am willing to break a tooth on a thin mint before I'll be denied.

Here is what I'm most worried about: the time commitment. I've noticed that when you get involved in an organization, they don't really care that you donate your time and resources to a different organization - they just want you to devote yourself to theirs. In my case, the rescue sucks up quit a bit of my time. I just don't want to end up with one more thing competing for my time (and let's face it - it would all fall to me, not to P). Does that make me sound terrible? I mean, I'll drive her to meetings and attend events with her and I'll buy whatever she's selling, but is it wrong not to want to do more than that?

Tell me, scout people . . . is it possible to be a Girl Scout mom without being A GIRL SCOUT MOM of the highest order? Are half-hearted slacker moms allowed? And most importantly, would I get a discount on thin mints?

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Good boy, Kaiser

Plastic poop

I worked at a pet expo Friday and yesterday.  On Friday, one of my fellow volunteers brought their foster dog, who did fairly well with all the attention.  Yesterday, I brought my foster dog, Kaiser. I was really proud of how well he did. Pet expos can be pretty stressful for a dog because they have to endure a lot of petting and poking.

First off, I'd like to applaud the parents who teach their children to ask before petting a dog they don't know.  Lots of kids did remember to ask before petting Kaiser.  Obviously, we would not bring a kid-hating dog to a pet expo, but I think children should observe dog safety rules in general.  My daughter is required to ask before she can pet a dog.  She also may not bother a dog that is eating or sleeping.  Anyway, most of the kids who came by were very polite and well-behaved.  Sometimes I wonder about some of the adults, though.

One lady came by and said she wants to make snowsuits for dogs. She whipped out a measuring tape and started measuring Kaiser from every angle.  When she measured his butt, Kaiser wondered why she hadn't at least taken him out to dinner first.  

Kaiser held steady for over three hours of petting and attention. Eventually, though, I could tell he was over the whole scene.  He started barking at any man wearing a baseball cap.  Since our shift was almost over (we just needed to wait until some of the volunteers from the next shift showed up to relieve us), I pulled Kaiser back behind our table and kept him close to me. Of course, that didn't stop a few determined souls from coming back behind the table and attempting to make contact with him. I told one man, "He's really tired and he's taking a break. He's been barking at men in hats."

The man was wearing a hat but seemed to have no intention of moving along to the next booth.  "Do all Boxers bark at men in hats?"  Sure, it's right in the breed standard.  I successfully kept Kaiser behind the booth for the rest of ours shift, but he kept trying to climb into my lap.  He was stressed and started shedding a bit. I think a hair went straight for my eye (I am mildly allergic to dogs).  Moments later, my contact fell out and I couldn't get it back in.  I just sat there winking at people until it was time to go.

The lady at the next booth had it rough.  I'm accustomed to answering questions at pet expos and to having every other visitor look down at the dog and say, "he must smell my dogs." However, the lady at the next booth had two Chinese Crested (the hairless variety) in her booth.  After spending two days sitting next to this poor lady, I promise I will never again complain about some of the goofy questions we get ("does he bite?" oh sure, we always bring the biters out to hang with the kids). After the first hour, I had memorized the answers  to the Chinese Crested questions myself.

"No, they're not cold."  (the dogs were laying on a heated blanket.  They weren't cold, but eventually the lady put jackets on them just because she couldn't take the questions anymore)
"They're both females."
"Yes, they are supposed to look like that."

All in all, it was a fun weekend. Kaiser represented the breed well. P brought the kid to the expo on Friday night and she won a plastic pile of dog doo at one of the other booths.  As you can imagine, plastic poop is like comedy gold to a five-year-old. She keeps leaving it in spots around the house.  We repeat the same exchange every time.

"Mom, someone pooped!"

"Was it your father?"

And so on it goes.
Kaiser

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Ennui

And she’s making the scene
With the coffee and cream
And the copy machine’s not working
She’s a hell of a girl
She’s alone in the world
And she likes to say hey good lookin
She’s on her way
She’s taking a sick day . . . soon

And she’s taking her time

As she’s tossing a dime
At the man in the cardboard coffin
It doesn’t have to be fine
She’s ahead of the line
And doesn’t have to be here too often
She’s making a play
She’s taking a sick day . . . soon

from "Sick Day" by Fountains of Wayne


Lately I have been feeling the need to take a mental health day. My mom used to let us take the occasional mental health day from school, as long as we made up the work.  Well, I shouldn't say "us" because I'm not sure she ever extended the offer to my middle sister.  My middle sister was sometimes home from school anyway . . . because she was suspended (sorry, sis! I love you!).

My mood exactly
I think I'm just vaguely bored. It's not that I don't like my job (the only vocation I would've liked better would have been to work as a professional puppy petter and no one seems to be hiring for that, so I had to go with a grown-up job). And it's not that I don't have plenty to do in my life - every day is pretty much packed to the hilt. As much as I like routine and schedules, maybe I'm just over it - at least at the moment.  I'm tired of folding laundry and scrubbing the bathtub and the whole shebang.

I could take a day off, but what would I do? We have a foot of snow on the ground right now, so I may wait until it's a bit warmer. Summer can't come soon enough for me.  If I have to wash a certain someone's pink snow pants one more time because that someone rolls in mud every single day at recess, I might just lose my mind. I'm looking forward to digging out my Craigslist bike and hitting the trail.  I tried to find a bike for P but I guess the bike guy is no longer in business.

We did get a new bike for the kid, though. Toys R Us is running a deal where you get $20 off a new bike if you trade in an old one.  I had been planning to sell A's old one on Craigslist, but I'm pretty sure $20 is all I would've gotten anyway.  So, this seemed like a pretty good deal.  The kid emptied her piggy banks and  had $36, so between the money she had and the $20 off, we only had to spot her a few bucks.  Would you like to see her new bike?  Oh, here it is:

Anyone want to place a bet as far as how long it will take her father to assemble it?

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Hard Questions

In the past week, I was forced to explain the following concepts to my little buttercup:
  • Taxes
  • Cremation
  • Why her birthmom chose us to be her parents
When my sisters and I were growing up, our mom would always say, "Why can't you girls ever ask me an easy question like, 'do butterflies have teeth?'"  Now I know how she felt.

First, the taxes . . . if you're lucky, you've got a Liberty Tax office in your neck of the woods.  If you're even luckier, your local branch forces hapless employees (or maybe they hire day laborers? I have no idea) to stand at the nearest intersection wearing Statute of Liberty garb. On Thursday, the kid and I were headed to the gym (me to step aerobics, her to the kids' play area) when she asked me about the dancing halfwit on the corner of the intersection.

"Well," I started. "It's for a tax place. They are trying to get us to have our taxes done there."

"What are taxes?"

"The government takes part of every person's paycheck.  Then we have to file a report to make sure we gave the government the right amount."

The questions sped up from there.  Why do we have to pay?  What does the government buy with the money? Do people in China have to pay?  I answered the questions as best I could (I married a finance major so that I wouldn't have to worry my pretty little head about these things!).  Then she started asking me if people in China speak Spanish, so we were safely off the topic of taxes at that point. 

Next up: cremation.  This topic came up when we passed a cemetery.  Ever since I explained to her that deceased people are buried in cemeteries, she's been sort of obsessed with it. She can spot a headstone a hundred yards away and shout, "that person got dead!"  The other day she started asking, "Is our dog Karlie buried in a cemetery?"  Ugh, I knew this one was coming.

"Well, no," I responded. "We had him cremated."

"What does cremated mean?"

The last thing I wanted to tell a five-year-old is that someone tossed her beloved dog's body in a fire and burned him up (even though that is technically what happens).  So, I hemmed and hawed and stammered my way through an explanation and told her that Karl's ashes are on a shelf in my bedroom. A asked if she could see them when we got home.  I told her she could.  She forgot for about a day (I almost thought I was off the hook) and then she asked to view the ashes.  I opened the flowered tin and showed her the contents.  She nodded and walked away.  No more questions - whew!  A few moments later I realized I'd actually shown her Lucy's ashes.  I think I'll just keep that little tidbit to myself.

And finally, the really hard one. My daughter knows that she was adopted and has lots of adoption-themed books in her collection, including a book I made that contains her story specifically.  She doesn't ask a ton of questions, but I answer them as they come, as honestly as I can.  As I was tucking her into bed last night, she asked: "Why did J choose you and Daddy to be my parents?"

I didn't know if she was asking why her birthmom placed her for adoption or if she was wondering why her birthmom chose such inept parents for her. I explained that J loves her very much but at the time A was born, she didn't have the greatest job, didn't have anyone (a partner) to help her, and that it was a tough time for her in general. So, she chose P and I to raise the baby.

Whenever I ask my daughter, "What was the happiest day of my life?" she smiles and responds, "The day I was born."  I always try just to make sure she knows she has been loved all along.  By me, by her dad, by her birthmom, and by about a bajillion friends and relatives (biological and not). 

I'm exhausted from all the tough questions.  If the next question is anything other than "do butterflies have teeth?" I'm referring her to her father.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

And on a lighter note . . .

My local Dairy Queen is hiring fruit smoothies.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Pray the Gay Away

Have you checked out "Our America with Lisa Ling?"  I caught a commercial for the show, was intrigued, and added it to my DVR list. It's on Oprah's network. Honestly, doesn't Oprah get just a little sick of herself?  Sure, name a magazine after yourself. And a talk show. But a whole network? I worry that she may be eyeing some forlorn unnamed planet in some neighboring solar system next. Anyway, I digress. I find the "Our America" series interesting because Lisa Ling seems to have come up with a few topics that haven't already been beaten to death in a hundred other ways.

The recent "Pray the Gay Away" episode all but broke my heart (and the episode about sex offenders living in the woods made it a little queasy). The "Pray the Gay Away" show featured a camp for kids who are gay but also Christian. I'm aware that many believe that being gay and being Christian are mutually exclusive. It saddened me to see and hear what these teens had been through in the past. So much pressure to be . . .  anything-but-gay. One kid made a really valid point, which is that if he lies about who he is, isn't that also a sin? In a really moving moment, one of the camp leaders held up a mirror in front of each teen and said, "You are a child of God." He encouraged them to look at themselves and know that they were not a mistake, not defective. The point was also made that there are something like six verses in the Bible that decry homosexuality.  Why there is so much focus on those few lines is a bit of a head-scratcher.  The book of Leviticus prohibits homosexuality, but also the consumption of shellfish. The Red Lobster in my neighborhood seems to be doing just fine. For me, the Bible (both old and new testament) is an amazing religious text, full of allegorical tales and lessons. Even today, there is still much to be learned from Jesus' example. I think most Christians believe that wholeheartedly. I suppose it's just some small percentage that have appointed themselves to interpret and uphold those six verses (perhaps completely out of context?).

An organization called Exodus was also heavily featured in the "Our America" program.  Exodus operates on the belief that homosexuality is a choice, and provides counseling in an attempt to help confused folks make . . . the right choice, I suppose. Other folks featured: a man who helped found Exodus but later felt he'd made a mistake (and now lives with his male partner in a domestic partnership that he describes as being too ordinary to be noteworthy), a man who runs Exodus currently and feels confident that he no longer has homosexual tendencies, and a young guy named Christian who was struggling mightily with who he is and who he thinks he should be.  Christian's story was also heartbreaking (at least to me). He fit every gay stereotype out there but was undergoing counseling with a pastor and said he hoped to marry a woman someday (even while admitting that he is generally not attracted to women).

I sent a text message to a close friend of mine who does happen to be gay. I told him about the show I was watching and joked that he could try praying his gay away.  He replied, "Away to where? Why should my gay get the day off while I'm stuck here? Thanks, but count me out . . . " I laughed and was reminded, once again, why he is one of my oldest and dearest friends.

If you know me or have read my blog, you've probably gleaned the fact that I am fairly liberal, in both my political and religious views. If my daughter remembers nothing else about my parenting style when she is an adult, I hope she'll say that she was never afraid to tell me anything about herself. Granted, I will give her a hard time if she does something dumb like tattoo the letters B-E-E-R across her knuckles or something, but I hope she will always know that I love her fiercely and will always support her. Disney movies have taught her that girls only marry princes (and not other princesses), but I'm not too worried either way. I'm more concerned about the fact that she doesn't really like chocolate chip cookies (talk about a defect!)

It looks like the entire "Our America" episode is available online - check it out if you're interested.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

First Festibul of the Season


There's not much going on in our neck of the woods.  I did some spring cleaning today, even though we've still got snow everywhere (and will get more, no doubt). Yesterday I took the kid to an art festival. Within thirty minutes of our arrival, I was forced to carry the following:
  • Her sweater
  • A still-wet painting of a butterfly and a flower
  • A Chinese mask that she colored
  • A bag of kettle corn
  • A brownie
  • A bottle of water
  • A papier-mache rose
  • A monoprint (I think that was what it was called - she painted an image on glass and then it was transferred to a piece of wet paper and put through a press)
The only reason she didn't make me carry her coat was that I'd had the good sense to use the complimentary coat check.  She got to use a pottery wheel to make a bowl, and I have to pick that up in three weeks. 

In other news, I'm on Day 4 with no Diet Pepsi. I definitely notice my energy waning by mid-afternoon. I think I need to get rid of the leftover case of Pepsi in my refrigerator, because I have had just about enough of those cans mocking me.

I have to go. I've been invited to a tea party in the living room. Honestly, I don't even know if I have the energy to pretend to drink tea!

Friday, March 11, 2011

Test of will

Oh Diet Pepsi, it's not you - it's me.
After giving some thought to my last blog entry, I've decided to do two things:
  1. Break up with Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi (all forms of soda, for that matter)
  2. Try not to eat after 6 p.m. Sunday through Friday
So, yesterday was my first soda-less day. I had a colossal, epic headache by 2 p.m. . . . just in time to head to a client meeting. I popped two ibuprofen and kept my fingers crossed that I could make it through the meeting without a) falling asleep or b) snapping. The first thing the client did was to turn down the lights and fire up a projector so that we could review some websites. I almost nodded off a few times, but I managed to stay awake by mentally counting the number of times he said the word "path."  As in, go down the right path, make sure we're on the right path, path path path.  The total count? Seven.

I guess the fact that I had a headache and felt sleepy/cranky/out-of-sorts does speak to the fact that this is a true addiction. When my daughter and I got home, she immediately but politely asked for a snack. I said, "WELL, OKAY, BUT YOU'D BETTER EAT EVERY SINGLE BITE OF YOUR DINNER!" So yeah, just a little crabby.

The "no eating after 6" plan is just meant to curb evening snacking. I do fine during the day when I'm at work, but for some reason I can't be trusted to have unrestricted access to my own kitchen.  Granted, when I "binge" it means I had three Weight Watchers snacks instead of one, but still. I don't keep dangerous trigger foods in my house.  At the grocery store, I sometimes stop and caress a package of Keebler Fudge Sticks, but I never buy them. I recently discovered that one grocery store in my area carries Entenmann's chocolate chip cookies. I was better off without that knowledge. If you're wondering why I didn't include Saturdays, I'm planning to incorporate Saturdays as well, but I'm going out with a friend tomorrow night and didn't want to blow it on the first week. It was either blow it and lie about it or exclude Saturdays.

Anyway, we'll see how it goes. I'm really trying to focus more on my health.  I exercise and I eat a ton of fruits and vegetables (even more so now that they are zero points on Weight Watchers), but I think I am sabotaging myself with the soda and nighttime snacking.  It seems kind of silly to go to yoga and focus on being healthy and then suck down a carbonated, caffeinated beverage (even though I love it soooooo).  I wonder what my yoga instructors eat.  The woman who owns the studio is in amazing shape (and she's a grandma).  Looking at her tiny little torso, I can't even figure out how all of her internal organs fit in there, to be honest.

This focus on my health may be for naught, however.  According to my daughter, I won't be around much longer.  She dropped this little gem on me in the hallway earlier this week: "Mama, when I'm seven and if you're still alive, will I still have to listen to you or can I do whatever I want?"  A while back she also asked me if she can have my "marrying dress" when I die.  I'm starting to wonder if a life insurance policy has been taken out on me or something.  I'm looking over my shoulder, for sure.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Why must I be so . . .

. . . Rubenesque? 

I try to refrain from adopting an overly confessional tone with my blog. I also try to stay away from TMI-type posts. You don't want to know how frequently I menstruate or how often my husband and I have, ahem, marital relations. For the most part, I try to invoke a little humor, keep the topics fairly light, go off on a tangent every so often, but mostly just keep writing.

My main topics seem to boil down to:
  • Animal rescue
  • How adorable (and feisty) my child is
  • Adoption
  • Pet Peeves/things that are wrong with the world
  • My weight
  • Pure randomness
For the past year and a half, my weight has really been vexing me.  I know this is a boring topic, which is why I don't bring it up as often as it actually pops into my head - about a hundred times a day.  Some days I feel as if I can think of nothing else. I sometimes wonder if I've got some deep-seated trauma in my past that I'm trying to repress?  When I watch shows like "Heavy" it seems like the participants are always fighting some major demon. I just don't feel like that, to be honest.  Sure, I've got some rough stuff in my past, but I don't feel like I'm freaking out on some deeper level or something.

The bottom line is that the methods I followed before (when I initially lost weight in 2005) are no longer working.  I'm six years older now, so I realize my age may impact the situation (and not in a good way)..  I've started looking at some variables that may or may not make a difference.  I'm considering whether or not I need to make some sort of change. If any of my fabulous readers (both of ya! I'm talking to you!) have been down this road before, I'd love to hear your input.
  1. I chew gum all day long at work.  I've never been a big gum chewer but I picked up the habit a couple years ago. I thought it would keep me from snacking. I can't image this makes a big difference in my weight, but if someone convinces me it's a problem, I think I could give it up.
  2. I drink diet soda. I open approximately three cans of Wild Cherry Diet Pepsi a day.  I say "open" because I almost never finish them, but it's safe to say I consume at least 24 ounces a day.
  3. Maybe I eat too much sodium? I eat a Weight Watchers "Smart Ones" meal for lunch several times a week and they are fairly high in sodium. 
  4. I have bum hips and they really hurt at night. So, I take Tylenol PM. I've never heard of any correlation between nighttime pain relief and weight gain, but I'm tossing it out there for the sake of disclosure. 
That's about all I can think of offhand. There are other, more obvious things I could do better, of course. Although I don't drink during the week, I've been known to indulge in a few glasses of wine over the course of a weekend. I do calculate the points for those and work them into my allowance, though. I do struggle with eating later in the day.  Maybe if I set down a "no eating after such-and-such time" rule for myself, I would actually abide by it? 

I don't know.  I'm feeling a little lost.  And fat.  Part of me thinks, "Don't judge yourself by a number! You're worth more than that!" But part of me knows, "You look like poop in your clothes!"

Me two years ago, looking less . . . portly

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Girls' Weekend

Our girls' weekend went well.  On Friday night, we hung out and I painted the kid's fingernails and toenails. She's very petite, as you know, and her little toenails can barely be seen with the naked eye, so this little exercise was actually fairly challenging for me and my old-lady eyes. On Saturday morning, I took her to my Weight Watchers meeting with me. Speaking of which, are you wondering how I'm doing with the June challenge I gave myself? Yeah, me too.  I guess I've been holding pretty steady.  I had three solid work-outs last week (one hour on the treadmill on Saturday, yoga class on Tuesday, and step aerobics class on Thursday) and somehow managed to gain a couple ounces at this week's weigh-in. Part of me wonders if I should just try to keep focusing on being healthy vs. being thin. I would also like to have my younger self's metabolism back, please.

After the meeting, we went to the gym. They have a kids' playroom and it only costs me $1.50 to park her there for an hour. It's a bargain by any definition. After the gym, I showered and then we went to the mall for lunch in ye olde foode courte.  In the middle of the mall resides one of those strap-your-kid-into-a-harness-and-let-her-jump-on-a-trampoline enterprises. I let her do it once last year and thought I remembered that it was around $8.00. We got in line so that the kid could jump. When we got to the front, the guy leaned forward.  "One?" he asked. "$9.50."  Now, here's the thing.  The guy was completely adorable and had a European accent of some sort (he was very soft-spoken so it was hard to guess the derivation). $9.50 is way too much to spend for five minutes on a trampoline, but somehow I got woozy over the accent and forked it over. If he had informed me it would cost a kidney, I imagine I would have flayed myself open on the spot and handed him the still-glistening organ.

After the jumpity-jump adventure (yes, there's more), we went to see Megamind at the budget theater.  I don't want you to think I'm cheap (I prefer the term "thrifty"), but honestly, 3D movies are crazy - talk about having to fork over a kidney. The budget theater didn't have Megamind in 3D but indeed, it was possible to enjoy the flick anyway.

We ended the day at home, reading and watching TV. We made pink pancakes for dinner (my mom sent me the mix for my birthday - apparently it was a Valentine's promotion of some sort). On Sunday morning, we went to church.  Just in case 48 hours of quality mother-daughter time wasn't enough, I was also scheduled to teach the kid's religious education class this week.

You might think we'd be winding down by Sunday afternoon, but you'd be wrong in your thinking. We also went to Chuck E Cheese's and played games.  The joint was so crowded that it was actually AT maximum capacity. They were only letting people in as others were exiting. Eventually they started admitting people who weren't there to eat (like us). Those who were there for lunch had to stay in line. I guess there's only so much mediocre pizza to go around, ya'll.

We rounded out the weekend with a trip to an indoor water park. A friend of mine won a suite at this particular hotel and posted an open invitation on Facebook a couple weeks ago. We took her up on it (I'm guessing this is the last time she will post an invitation on Facebook). We had a great time and my friend was kind enough to provide us with pizza and snacks, too. The kid swam and splashed around with the other kids, filling my head with thoughts of "maybe she'll go to sleep on time for once" - a girl can dream!  I was pretty paranoid about A's recent surgery, so I made her wear earplugs along with a neoprene headband that keeps them from flying out of her ears.  She didn't seem to mind.  I just want to get six months under our collective belt with no ear infections. 

So, that was our weekend. I think I need to go to work tomorrow just to recuperate.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Guys' Weekend

Please forgive me for being so excited about this, but my other half is going out of town for the weekend.  He's leaving at noon tomorrow. He's headed to a cabin or a resort or an old-time biblical revival or something with a bunch of his friends from grade school. I didn't even ask for too many details, to be honest. I just assume that the weekend involves poker and alcohol and detailed discussions about bodily functions.

Why am I so gleeful about his departure, you ask? Why, unfettered access to the TV, of course!  I mean, don't get me wrong.  I love my husband.  I even like him.  We've been together for almost 19 years.  He's a good guy, a good husband, and an excellent father.  However, he spends a lot of time on our couch when he's not at work. Honestly, I worry he's going to develop bedsores over the course of a weekend sometimes. He watches sub-standard movies that arrive in the mail from Netflix (recent examples: Hatchet and Hatchet II - really, there was a need for a second one?).  We recently bought a wireless router, so now he can stream unwatchable crap instantly and doesn't even have to wait for it to arrive in the mail! He also plays games on the PS3. For hours.

Although we do have two televisions, only the one in the living room has a DVR. I do tend to record a fair number of programs every week (House, Intervention, etc.) so occasionally I'd actually like to watch them. This weekend the TV shall be mine, all mine! When the kid watches TV, she generally prefers movies and can enjoy those in our bedroom. Lately she is stuck on Mary Poppins and sits through it at least once a week. I giggle every time the "Step in Time" song comes on, because instead of singing, "Link your elbows, step in time!" she sings "Lick your elbows, step in time!"

In addition to catching up on recorded shows, the kid and I are going to do some fun stuff together.  I'm really looking forward to the weekend with my little sidekick. We're going to a movie on Saturday (obviously rollerskating is out of the question after last week) and to an indoor water park after church on Sunday. I may even take her to *gasp* Chuck E. Cheese's. Perhaps we'll even do something crazy like having breakfast food for dinner. We aren't specifically planning to discuss bodily functions but she is five, after all, and it may come up.

I'll leave you with an upbeat little ditty that's been stuck in my head lately. Happy weekend!