Yesterday was Hailey’s first day to go to UPK- and she has been so excited to go!  She started about 2 weeks late because we were in Disney World, but she did great!

Having a yummy breakfast before school

She was excited in the morning to go and posed very willingly for pictures.  Here she is showing off the outfit she picked out for the first day.

All ready to go.  She even told me what angles to take pictures of her princess book bag that she was so excited to finally get to use.

A close up shot of the very loved book bag.

Rich and Hailey walking through the parking lot to get to the building her class is in.

Hailey standing by her name where she hangs up her coat and book bag.

Hailey loved her first day of UPK.  When we dropped her off she hung up her things and went right to her teacher and said goodbye very easily to us.  When I asked her about her first day she said she loved it and loved her teacher.  Since Hailey started school late due to our Disney trip she missed seeing the caterpillars that they have been watching, but she did get to see that they had turned into butterflies over the weekend.  Hailey made a “Life Cycle of a Butterfly” book and told me her favorite thing she did today was to paint a caterpillar (a paper towel tube).  She was very excited that she was the line leader today. She wasn’t all that thrilled with snack- grapes and apples but said there was cheese too which she did like. When I asked her how she felt on her first day she told me, “Kind of good and excited!”  Hailey had a great first day and can’t wait to go back!

by Erma Bombeck

When Mike was 2, he wanted a sandbox, and his father said:
“There goes the yard. We’ll have kids over here day and
night, and they’ll throw sand into the flower beds, and cats
will make a mess in it, and it’ll kill the grass for sure.”
And Mike’s mother said, “It’ll come back.”

When Mike was 5, he wanted a jungle gym set with swings that
would take his breath away and bars to take him to the summit,
and his father said: “Good grief, I’ve seen those things in
back yards, and do you know what they look like? Mud holes in
a pasture. Kids digging their gym shoes in the ground. It’ll
kill the grass.”
And Mike’s mother said, “It’ll come back.”

Between breaths, when Daddy was blowing up the plastic swimming
pool, he warned: “You know what they’re going to do to this
place? They’re going to condemn it and use it for a missile site.
I hope you know what you’re doing. They’ll track water everywhere
and have a million water fights, and you won’t be able to take
out the garbage without stepping in mud up to your neck. When we
take this down, we’ll have the only brown lawn on the block.”
“It’ll come back,” Mike’s mother said.

When Mike was 12, he volunteered his yard for a camp out. As they
hoisted the tents and drove in the spikes, his father stood at the
window and observed, “Why don’t I just put the grass seed out in
cereal bowls for the birds and save myself the trouble of spreading
it around? You know for a fact that those tents and all those big
feet are going to trample down every single blade of grass, don’t
you. Don’t bother to answer. I know what you’re going to say.
‘It’ll come back.’”

The basketball hoop on the side of the garage attracted more crowds
than the Olympics. And a small patch of lawn that started out with
a barren spot the size of a garbage can lid soon drew to encompass
the entire side yard.

Just when it looked as if the new seed might take root, the winter
came and the sled runners beat it into ridges. Mike’s father shook
his head and said, “I never asked for much in this life – only a
patch of grass.”
And his wife smiled and said, “It’ll come back.”

The lawn this fall was beautiful. It was green and alive and
rolled out like a sponge carpet along the drive where gym shoes had
trod … along the garage where bicycles used to fall … and
around the flower beds where little boys used to dig with
iced-tea spoons.

But Mike’s father never saw it. He anxiously looked beyond the
yard and asked with a catch in his voice, “he will come back,
won’t he?”

I was trying to get our house nice and clean today. We have company coming for dinner tonight so I was hoping it would actually stay clean once I cleaned it. So, I cleaned Hailey’s playroom and told her she could play with her toys- but to please only take out a few toys at a time. Then I went off to finish dusting the rest of the house.

Less than 5 minutes later I walked by the playroom and saw this:

At first I was a little annoyed to see the big mess.  But then I remembered this:

No More Oatmeal Kisses

One of these days, you’ll shout, “Why don’t you kids grow up and act your age!”
And they will.

Or, “You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do . . . and don’t slam the door!”
And they won’t.

You’ll straighten up the boys’ bedroom neat and tidy: bumper stickers discarded, bedspread tucked and smooth, toys displayed on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals caged. And you’ll say out loud, “Now I want it to stay this way.”
And it will.

You’ll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn’t been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing, and you’ll say, “Now, there’s a meal for company.”
And you’ll eat it alone.

You’ll say, “I want complete privacy on the phone. No dancing around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear?”
And you’ll have it.

No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti. No more dandelion bouquets. No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from damp bottoms. No more gates to stumble over at the top of the basement steps. No more clothespins under the sofa. No more playpens to arrange a room around.

No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent. No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathroom. No more iron-on patches, rubber bands for ponytails, tight boots or wet knotted shoestrings.

Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it. No baby-sitter for New Year’s Eve. Washing clothes only once a week. Seeing a steak that isn’t ground. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.

No PTA meetings or silly school plays where your child is a tree. No car pools. No blaring radios or forgotten lunch money. No one washing her hair at 11 o’clock at night. Having your own roll of Scotch tape.

Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste. No more sloppy oatmeal kisses. No more tooth fairy. No giggles in the dark. No knees to heal, no responsibility.

Only a voice crying, “Why don’t you grow up?”
and the silence echoing, “I did.”

…Erma Bombeck

So instead of being upset with Hailey for the mess she made, I went and got my camera and took a picture.  Becuase all too soon she’ll be all grown up and I’ll miss the mess.

One of these days, you’ll shout, “Why don’t you kids grow up and act your age!”
And they will.

Or, “You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do . . . and don’t slam the door!”
And they won’t.

You’ll straighten up the boys’ bedroom neat and tidy: bumper stickers discarded, bedspread tucked and smooth, toys displayed on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals caged. And you’ll say out loud, “Now I want it to stay this way.”
And it will.

You’ll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn’t been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing, and you’ll say, “Now, there’s a meal for company.”
And you’ll eat it alone.

You’ll say, “I want complete privacy on the phone. No dancing around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear?”
And you’ll have it.

No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti. No more dandelion bouquets. No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from damp bottoms. No more gates to stumble over at the top of the basement steps. No more clothespins under the sofa. No more playpens to arrange a room around.

No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent. No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathroom. No more iron-on patches, rubber bands for ponytails, tight boots or wet knotted shoestrings.

Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it. No baby-sitter for New Year’s Eve. Washing clothes only once a week. Seeing a steak that isn’t ground. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.

No PTA meetings or silly school plays where your child is a tree. No car pools. No blaring radios or forgotten lunch money. No one washing her hair at 11 o’clock at night. Having your own roll of Scotch tape.

Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste. No more sloppy oatmeal kisses. No more tooth fairy. No giggles in the dark. No knees to heal, no responsibility.

Only a voice crying, “Why don’t you grow up?”
and the silence echoing, “I did.”

…Erma Bombeck

Time goes much too quickly.  Turn off your computer and enjoy your kids this weekend! 

(Come back Monday though for an exciting announcement!)