Thursday, December 16, 2010

Christmas Program

The school's Christmas program is officially over!  After weeks of laboring over costumes (did I mention I don't know how to sew?) and countless hours of being trapped in a basement with six year olds, I can finally look back at time I have invested and begin to look at the fond and funny memories made.

1.  Kindergartners are just cute.  They may not remember the words.  They may not remember the actions.  But whatever they do, they are just so darn cute doing it.

2.  I have answered the question as to why my kids are having so much trouble tying their shoes this year.  Apparently, the PE teacher told them they couldn't go to first grade until they learn to tie their shoes.  My creative thinkers seem to think they have found a way to stay in the land of glitter and happiness.  (For the record, the PE teacher denies ever making this statement.)

3.  Dressing up for a performance means you have to stand in the corner and compare outfits.  Girls in one corner, boys in the other.  All dresses must be tested for their twirling ability.  All shirt tails will become untucked with ten minutes of arrival.

4.  No matter how much they have driven their teacher crazy singing the same songs over and over again at the top of their lungs, kindergartners will suddenly be come shy and quiet in front of a group of people.

5.  Every time they leave the risers, their little eyes shine with pride.  I'm just lucky to be the one taking them back to the basement where their excitement takes on the form of hugs.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Cheese Soup Thanksgiving

I come from a family full of love.  They are strange, rarely make sense, and are rather indecisive, but there is little doubt about the love within the family.  Fortunately, they also have a sense of humor which is why I know they will be perfectly comfortable with me sharing the story of the Cheese Soup Thanksgiving.

Many years ago, my parents divorced.  While my brother and I were shielded from as much of the icky-ness associated with the event as possible, there was little doubt that the commuincation between my mother and father left a lot to be desired.  Somehow, it was determined that Thanksgiving would be a "dad holiday."  It bothered me to think of my mom alone on the holiday, but I was a kid.  There was very little I could do.

One year, we went with my father to celebrate Thanksgiving with his family.  There always seemed to be a bit of akwardness in any family gathering in those days.  It seemed as though our extended family was never quite sure of how to treat my brother and I.  Apparently, the akward feelings were not only directed towards us, but to my father as well.  For some reason, our Thanksgiving celebration ended earlier than expected and we were dropped off at my mother's house. 

Now, my mother had fully expected her two children to be with their father for the evening.  She had plans for dinner at the country club.  There was no time to change plans.  (For the record, there were also no ill feelings on the part of my brother and I.)  She tried to hide the frustration she was feeling toward my father, kissed us goodbye and went out the door.

There was just one, small problem.  We were hungry.  Yes, we had eaten, but it had been hours before.  Being the incredibly independent child that I was, I was determined I would make dinner for my brother and I.  We scoured the kitchen, but my mother wasn't one to have a well stocked kitchen.  At last, we found a can of nacho cheese soup in the cabinet.  That, combined with the chips or crackers we also found, became our Thanksgiving feast.

Thanks to my family's sense of humor, we have been able to look back at this event and laugh.  The first time my mother went out of town for Thanksgiving after I was an adult, she brought me a can of cheese soup.  She wanted to make sure I was covered for Thanksgiving, just in case my other plans fell through.