My week of vacation is fading fast, but we made the most of it yesterday.

First stop -- Beary Creative -- Erie's budget version of Build-A-Bear. I'm going to write a story about our experience in the next issue of Her Times so I hate to scoop myself, but suffice to say we had a great time. The girls each made an animal -- Lauren a pink unicorn, Kelly a pink bear and we bought pink ballerina outfits for both of them. Total cost? About $20 a bear. (Here's where I'd post a photo if I could).

The girls loved it and there were TONS of animal "skins" to choose from including lots of things for boys (dinosaurs, monsters, tigers, etc.). The store which had been located on Myrtle Street (near Saint Vincent's) has relocated to W. 8th & Pittsburgh Ave. Lee Rider, whose mom owns the store, said their business has increased 100% since the move.

The story behind the store is an inspiring one. Lee -- who was great with the kids, by the way -- told me that his mother started the business with a $200 investment after she had just gone bankrupt. She started Beary Creative and set up temporary shop at local fairs and festivals, craft shows and special events (you may have seen them at Discover Presque Isle last year).

After Beary Creative, we set off down the road to Presque Isle. I took the long drive to Beach 11 because it's a great beach for little kids. With the sandbars so high at Beach 11, I know they can walk 20 feet from shore and still be up to their bellies. When it turned dark and stormy-looking in the late afternoon, we headed home.

By the time we got home, it was all blue skies and sunshine again, so the husband and I decided to take the kids back to the beach for the Presque Isle Sunset Concert Series on Beach No. 1. It was our first time, but it won't be our last. The crowd was impressive, but it wasn't oppressive. There was plenty of room to spread out and we had no trouble parking (we did get there before 6:30 though). We brought dinner with us, so we spread out our blanket and ate while the band played on stage and the kids played at the shoreline and the sun sunk in the horizon.

It just doesn't get much better than that.

You just never know what's going to come out of the mouth of a four-year-old -- which means I am always on the ready to clap my hand over my daughter's mouth. They say what they mean, mean what they say and they aren't afraid to ask questions.

My little one has been on a roll lately...Here are a few of the funnier things she's said/done recently:

* My husband has a moustache (yeah, I know..how 70s-porn-star, but...really he just doesn't look right without it) and he was giving Lauren a bath the other day & she said "Can I touch your Moose-statch?" He said "If you want to" and she reaches up and touches it and says "Your porky" (which we took to mean that his moustache is like a porcupine..or that it's pokey).

* I don't cook often and when I do I'm a toaster oven gourmet. The other day Lauren pointed to the big stove/oven in the corner and said "What that big one for?" I said "Christmas cookies."

* Last night at the baseball game, she was making eyes at the Grandma sitting behind us and talking to her (Lauren talks to everyone and really never shuts up...hmmmm...like mother, like daughter?) and she says "I like peanuts" because, of course, the woman is holding a bag of peanuts and then she reached in a took one. I was mortified that she would be so bold and thought...dear God, have I taught this child NO manners?" But...of course, Grandma-behind-us thought it was hysterical and gave her the rest of the bag. (thereby creating a monster, I'm sure).

* Some Amish women (or Mennonite?) and children were at our garage sale on Saturday. Lauren followed them all around the garage saying "Who are you? Where are you going? Why you dressed like that?" Again...mortified.

A friend recently wrote a cool review on Camper's Paradise which is a really nice campground in Cook's Forest. I'd highly recommend it -- it's clean, it's wooded and it's got a great, heated pool.

I had to take the girls to run errands with me on Monday. Dragging two young children from store to store is pretty much a recipe for disaster under even the best circumstances, but it's a guaranteed nightmare if one of those children is 4 years old.

Which just so happens to be the age that my youngest turned on Friday (the 13th, no less).

We were in Michael's around 11 a.m. on Monday, my 4yo securely seated in a cart (because I know better than to let her out -- containment is key). She is whining away in her squeaky, high-pitched Minnie-Mouse voice because ... she's hungry, she wants some candy, she wants that plastic flower, she wants a purple foam crown, and ... well, suffice to say she whining about everything and anything.

I say to the cashier (well to her as much as the disapproving-looking older couple behind me) -- "Twos have nothing on the Fours." The cashier says "Really? I thought it was always 2-year-olds that were hard."

I said "No way. At 2, they are still cute. And you can still physically pick them up even when they're freaking out, and (as Lauren interrupts to tell me I'm a "mean mommy" and "Maybe you need a time-out, Mommy") they don't engage in snotty backtalk (which is a 4-year-old girls favorite way to test your limits).

I wanted to stop at another store along the way home, but I knew it there was nothing I needed that badly.

Except a little peace and quiet, of course.

I read a parenting quote several years ago that said "Parenting: The days are long, but the years are short." It sure rang true back then when I was up to my elbows in formula, had two kids in diapers and a full-time job and was frequently heard muttering "this too shall pass, this too shall pass...." Seems every day back then was a struggle just to get through it and get everything done and everyone's needs taken care of. I reminded myself,constantly, to stop and enjoy my babies because they wouldn't be babies for long.

Now, five years later, not much has changed about the daily struggle to get things done -- except I no longer deal with diapers and formula. The girls are a little more self-sufficient now, but it comes with a price -- namely independent streaks that cause them to automatically challenge everything I say or tell them to do, particularly with the 4-year-old.

Today, my oldest child turns 6. She'll start Kindergarten in less than 5 weeks. Every day she loses more of her babyish looks. Her curly ringlets of youth are gone -- replaced by long, golden wavy locks. Her chubby baby cheeks have thinned and her face has taken on a more mature look. I can no longer carry her if she falls asleep in the car and she can't sit on me for more than a few minutes; my girl has outgrown me.

Even though these days (and girls) can be challenging and every day is still an endless stream of work -- from 4:45 a.m. till I collapse at 11 p.m. -- I try not to wish these years away because, indeed, the years are short.

It still seems like yesterday:

This was yesterday:

We stopped at the library Monday and the girls were too entranced with the stuffed animals in the children's library to pick out their own books and movies, so it was Mommy's choice. I spied a DVD of Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory -- the original one (with Gene Wilder and his crazy hair).

I never liked the movie much, but it's one of my husband's all-time favorites, so I grabbed it up.

I put it in for the kids that afternoon while I did some paperwork and proofreading nearby. My 6-year-old loved it - and was entranced.

My 4-year-old sat watching wide-eyed and clearly terrified. Every time a "bad" kid would disappear or bloat up or fall into the chocolate river, she's say, "Momma, what happened? Where he/she goed? Where did they go? Where did they go? This is scary, momma. What happened to that boy/girl?"

I knew right then that I'd have an extra body in my bed that night. Willie Wonka was sure to produce nightmares (and it did).

Of course, it only makes sense that she would be terrified. It's a freakishly frightening movie. As the Web site I linked to above states, "Promoted as a family musical by Paramount Pictures, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory is more of a black comedy, perversely faithful to the spirit of Roald Dahl's original book."

The basic premise is that all the selfish, spoiled, whining brats are, well, disposed of. Only the "good boy" remains.

You can see how this might be terrifying to my 4-year-old who is not exactly a "Charlie" at this point in her life. She knows that her behavior is sometimes less than desirable (and, in fact, she had been "acting up" at a few stores that morning) and then her mommy rents this movie for her showing all the "bad" kids having these terrible things happening to them when they don't listen to the adults.

Hand me my Mother-of-the-Year award.

Though, it is kind of funny if you think about it.

And, don't think I'm above using it next time she starts to whine when we're out shopping.

"Hey, remember Willie Wonka and what happens to bad kids ... "

... if I spent every day with my two children who cannot seem to stop fighting and/or whining. . Now...don't get me wrong, we've had lots of fun. I am here at work on a Sunday evening uploading 120 photos that I took during our adventures this week -- evidence of a week well-lived.

But, my husband has been working on a job that needs to be done by the end of next week which means he's working late every night and working every day (yes, even Sundays), so it's been just me & the girls 24/7 for days on end. And, frankly, I think we're all sick of each other. When the husband got home today, I raced out the door telling him I needed to go to work.

I didn't really NEED to come here, though I am on a modem at home and it would take the rest of my life to upload those photos at home AND..it will be nice to be able to just get to work when I do return (having sorted through all my e-mail and snail mail and taken care of minor jobs), but...OK, I'm just going to say it ... I WANTED to come to work.

It's quiet here. There's no one fighting or whining (just some sports guys talking football). It's nice and cool, it's bright, it's peaceful, it's blissfully kid-free and I have Hershey kisses in my drawer and fresh-brewed hot coffee a few steps away. Ah.....

After a week of endless meal making, swimming (beach, YMCA, our pool, the Allegheny River) and animals (Pymatuning spillway, Pmyatuning Deer Park, Erie Zoo, etc.) and all sorts of educational and cultural experiences (Seawolves game, Liberty Park concert, St. James festival, ExpERIEnce museum, TREC center), I am more than ready to come back to my nice quite office.

I've been in a war of words with my daughters, 4 & 6 years, lately. The 6-year-old, in particular, has really been really, um, challenging. She's discovered words can wound and when she's really mad she'll start hauling out her word weapons left and right. Throwing out anything she thinks will get a reaction from me.

Unfortunately, I usually give it to her. I mean, really, how can I not respond to, "You wish I were died, don't you momma?" or "I don't like you, you're a bad mom" and "You're a mean, mean mom" (because I made them leave the Tom Ridge Center after running around it for 45 minutes after spending four hours at the beach and stopping for ice cream...yeah, I'm a real mean, mean mom).

Her latest? "Mom, you never shoulda had kids!" To be honest, that one made me laugh, but...for the most part it hurts when your kid says nasty things to you. And, you want to lash back -- with words, with punishment, with threats, with guilt -- all of which just makes things worse.

During my recent week of vacation, in which the girls and I did fun things every day, almost every day ended the same -- with one, or both kids telling me I was mean or bad or they wanted a new mom. I felt defeated and irritated and frustrated and angry. All I wanted to was have fun with them.

After one particularly bad day, I laid on the porch swing out back, hand over my eyes, stiff drink in hand and I told my husband "I want new kids. I screwed these ones up."

He laughed.

"No, seriously," I said. "Where did I go wrong? How did our cute little girls become these ungrateful, sassy brats? I created these monsters."

Then he said something very, very wise: "It's just their age, Heather. Quit taking it all personally. They'd say the same thing to me if I were with them all day, and you know they say that kind of stuff to your mom sometimes."

The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right. I was taking it all personally -- on an adult level -- something no self-centered child can possibly comprehend or intend. Do I really believe my child thinks I'm a bad mom? No. She's just trying to hurt me because she is not getting what she wants and, at that time, that is all that matters to her.

I know this because 30 minutes after they tell me what a horrible mother I am and I'm still licking my wounds, they come bouncing into the room, having forgotten all about our "fight" and telling me that they love me or that I'm the best mom. At that moment, I am convinced they are trying to drive me insane.

But, after my husband's wise words, I realize that it's up to me to be an adult, keep things in perspective and remember that sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

All this said, don't get the impression that I'll let my kids say & do whatever they want and wave it off due to their age...no way...rude and disrespectful behavior will not be tolerated. I am aware that it is up to me to raise polite children with decent manners. All I'm saying is that I, personally, am not going to play their game anymore. I'm disengaging. I will not give her the war of words that she is looking for, which, I hope, will render her word weapons useless.

I've been up since 4:30 a.m. when I woke up with a start, suddenly alarmed that I never taught Kelly to tie her shoes. This is a problem because she starts Kindergarten in 10 days. Who will tie her new sneakers on gym day? Will the other kids laugh at her because she can't tie her shoes? How could I have failed to remember that I need to teach my kid to tie her shoes? Can I teach her in 10 days?

When it comes to parenting, it's the little things that trip me up -- things that never occur to me until they become a problem. Like teaching them to put on their own coats, cutting up their own hot dog and washing their own hair. It's just easier for me to do it and I never think about the fact that these are things I should be teaching them to do for themselves.

Why these things occur to me at 4:30 a.m. on the only day of the week I can "sleep in" until 6 a.m., I don't know.

It wasn't just the shoes, though. It's everything that comes with this major life change. Kelly's going to Kindergarten will cause lots of shifting in our family's life/work schedule.

For starters, my 10-hour Tuesday through Friday schedule is coming to an end. In order to get Kelly on the bus every morning, I'm going to have to go back to the office 5 days a week, starting later in the morning.

My husband has committed to being home three days a week to get Kelly off the bus. This is a major commitment on his part as he works on job sites and he never knows where he'll be working or which jobs will require him to stay late. Doesn't matter, now -- he stepped up and committed to being here so regardless of which contractors are screaming at who, he's leaving the site in time to get our kid off the bus.

I had it all worked out that Kelly would ride the bus home to the babysitter's house the other two days a week, but on Friday I got a letter from the school district saying that Kelly would be dropped off at our house 5 days a week. I had sent them two letters explaining what I needed to do, but I had heard from other parents that they would likely not agree to it.

I know that the school frowns on a child being taking to a different home on different days, but really, what choice do I have? They don't think she can be counted on to remember what bus to get on each day, and, I'll admit, they may have a point because, well, she IS young (heck she can't even tie her shoes let alone remember which day is Tuesday and where she goes on that day).

So, now I have this to worry about -- in addition to everything else. Where do I send her? What do I do? Can I fix my work schedule to be able to get her on the bus 5 days -- and off it 2 days. Actually, believe it or not, I think I can. Now I've just got to pitch the possible new schedule to the boss and see if it will work for her.

The question is..will it work for me? It means giving up lunches and lunchtime walks every single day. It means making the most of every minute I'm at work. It means less chatting in the halls and less workplace-volunteer duties that take time away from my work day. It means giving up my after-work workouts at the downtown YMCA. It means making up time on weeks we have a day off. It means enduring the sideways glances from co-workers who see me leaving at 3:45 twice a week and think "it must be nice."

Then, it occured to me that my new 5-day schedule means I will never take my younger daughter to preschool again (grandma will be taking her) and I'm sad because I will miss out on talking with the teachers, meeting her classmates and chatting up the other moms.

I realize that being a mom means sacrifice. But, how do you ever know which are the right sacrifices to make? And, how do I not sacrifice everything I enjoy so I can get my kid on and off the bus?

And everyone wonders why working moms are so mad. We're frustrated and scared we're not doing the right thing. And, we're tired because we lay awake all night trying to figure it all out and determine who -- or what -- in our lives is going to be left holding the short end of the stick.

All too often, it's us.

We get to check out Kelly's new school and meet her teacher tonight. We are all QUITE excited (yes, even Kelly!).

She's been chosen to participate in a "looping" program where the students move with their teacher (and I believe their entire class) to the next grade. It's supposed to help ease the transition and helps the students and teacher get to know each other better. After 1st grade, Kelly's teacher will go back to Kindergarten and Kelly will move onto 2nd grade. We'll find out more about the whole thing tonight, but it sounds like a great idea to me.

Thursday we ride the bus to the school for an orientation day. Again...not sure who's more excited -- me, Kelly or Grandma (who will be taking 347 photos of us getting on the bus).

It was another fairly sleepless night last night -- not sure if it's all my anxiety about the changes coming or if it was the four-year-old sleeping between my husband and I who kept kicking all the covers down while I shivered in my tank top and shorts, clinging to my sliver of bed (hey, if you're hot, get out of my bed, kid!).

Sleep may come easier tonight since we may finally have a solution to the after-school bus drop-off. Rather than Dan or I having to rush out of work and get home early, we may send Kelly to our babysitter's house who lives in our school district and currently watches the kids one day a week (grandma watches the other days). It would bring me peace of mind to know that she's going to the same place every day -- a place she is familiar with -- with kids she knows and a babysitter she loves.

Of course, meeting the teacher, seeing the classroom and learning more about Kelly's new school could open a whole new can of worms and leave me tossing and turning again tonight (sheesh...you'd think I was the one going back to school!). That or a four-year-old in hot footie jammies.

This (above) is what my daughter said last night when we tried to take her home after the looping meeting. After the teachers talked about looping (sounds all good to me!) with the parents, we had a chance to see her classroom and the kids got to spend some time in their new classroom finding their desk, locating their coat cubbies and getting to know one another.

My shy leg-clinger of last year is long gone. Kelly jumped right into playing with the kids, first helping build a block house and then helping the boys put together a wooden train track. Never did she look back to see what her Dad & I were doing.

She's a confident, gregarious, independent and happy girl. "Mission accomplished," I thought.

Tomorrow, we ride the big yellow school bus together for a 1/2 day of Kindergarten orientation.

Here's a pix of Kelly on our way to the school last night -- looking pensive and a little scared -- holding the picture she made for her new teacher. (Dan accused me of trying to create a suck-up on day 1...and it wasn't even day 1). :-)

Today was the big Kindergarten registration and bus ride. The bus was running about 10 minutes early, so my mom didn't get there in time to get photos of us getting on the bus. (But, I give her credit because she and my dad were there when they dropped us off in the pouring rain -- Dad met us at the bus door with an open umbrella!).

All in all, it was a blast. Kelly is quite excited. The parents had plenty of time to chat and get to know each other and the whole day was nothing but positive (except for the pouring rain and the early bus, of course).

One of the other moms that I talked to remarked that I was handling it (the kindergarten orientation) quite well. "With my oldest, I was in the corner, choking back tears. I didn't want to talk to anyone," she said.

I knew that wouldn't be me.

First of all...I'm never at a loss for words.

Secondly, I'm sentimental, but not in a weepy, looking-back way. Frankly, I'm glad my baby years are behind me. I'll be glad to never change another diaper or mix up another bottle of Similac for a good 25 years (I expect to be a hands-on Grandma).

And, I'm excited for Kelly. She's excited. This is exciting.

I know that things will never be the same. She will never be the same. She will soon learn how to buy her own lunch and ride the bus alone and tie her own shoes and play ball hockey and read and count change.

And I suppose it's a little sad that my innocent baby will now be on her own (sort of) 8 hours a day, but if you could see her face -- how happy she is -- how excited she is -- how ready to do it all herself she is -- you would understand why I can't possibly sit in a corner in mourn what was.

All I see in those bright eyes and wide smile and giddy laughter is all that she can become.

Nothing sad about that.

The Washington Post had an interesting post on it's On Parenting blog about a pair of moms who were angry about the unhealthy food choices at their child's school and -- get this -- did something about it.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that my daughter's school adopted a wellness policy two years ago that has specific goals -- and a three year plan -- to create healthier students. Step one included removing soda from all school vending machines, switching to all skim or 1% milk products, eliminating high-fat, high-sugar desserts and serving smaller portions to elementary school children. In addition, the kids have active time every morning, gym twice a week and go outside for recess every day (except in the most severe weather).

In addition, classroom snacks are to be healthy alternatives to sweets such as crackers, pretzels, fruit and veggies with dip, cheese sticks, etc. They strongly discourage parents from bringing in snacks like cookies and cupcakes and ask that they not send soda pop in their child's lunch (if they pack).

All good news to me.

I've long thought that if America really wanted to do something about the growing obesity problem, they needed to start with the schools who were routinely dishing up fat-laden meals like macaroni and cheese, deep fried chicken nuggets, french fries and full-fat cheese pizza with pepperoni.

That's not to say that we should demonize cupcakes and hot dogs. Truly, everything is fine in moderation.

But, it only makes sense that -- along with their ABCs and 123s, schools should be encouraging kids to make the right food choices and lead active lifestyles.

I may not be as angry as these ladies, but I am prepared to put my money where my mouth is. I'm already dreaming up an elementary school running program to pitch to the PTO. Something that would introduce the kids to running -- perhaps have them run a marathon (over a period of months) and reward them with medals and such.

I know the last thing I need is one more thing to do, but...as with anything...we find time for the things that really matter to us.

Healthier kids matter to me. Healthy bodies create healthy self-esteem -- and if I can give them a good dose of that now it may help immunize them to the self-hatred that too often infects them (girls especially) in middle school.

... on your daughter's first day of kindergarten -- and the first day of riding the big bus alone -- is "Mrs. Cass, we had a problem transporting Kelly today. But, we've located her...."

Seems the bus garage had it down that Kelly would be going to the babysitter's house only on Tuesday & Thursday, but a week or so ago, I changed it to five days to simplify things for everyone. Someone at the bus garage didn't get the message and put Kelly on the wrong bus home.

Isn't this every kindergarten mother's nightmare? Your small, tiny child lost on a big, yellow bus..driving around town.

My mom was waiting at the babysitter's house, camera in hand, to capture Kelly's arrival home from her first day of Kindergarten.

Only she didn't get off.

To their credit, the transportation folks located Kelly quickly (they had tried to deliver her to our house...where no one was home) and got her to our sitter's house and called me and informed me before she'd even gotten off the bus. I don't feel like she was ever in danger and she's not the kind to scare easily. As long as it seemed someone was in charge (the bus driver), she was probably just fine and had no idea she was on the wrong bus.

But, I can't help but wince at the thought that immediately enters my working-mom head -- If I were home, this wouldn't have happened.

I'm sure no one will be emotionally scarred by this (except maybe my mother....who worries way more than I), but it's no way to start the first day of school.

It's a good thing she has a day at grandma's to recover (the other half of Kelly's class starts school tomorrow). grandma, who's been taking care of Kelly since she was 10 weeks old will surely have something special planned for their last day together.

Despite all my no-tears talk, I did find myself choking back tears this morning when that big yellow bus rumbled away with my baby on board. Funny thing is...the only one who did cry was my younger daughter. It never occurred to me that she would miss probably Kelly more than anyone since her big sister has been her constant companion since ... well, birth.

We were eating dinner the other night and I asked Kelly how her day at Kindergarten was and if she played with her friends. I asked who her friends are, she told me Autumn (like the season) was her friend. I asked who else, she said, "Nobody. They think I'm weird."

My stomach sunk. I stammered, "What, uh, do you mean?...do you mean weird like you're funny?"

"No, like they're always looking at me and staring at me and then they say I'm weird"

"Who says you're weird" (thinking...name names...name names!)

She says "Everyone."

My husband, oblivious to the mini-drama (because guys don't think it's bad to be called weird) is still happily shoveling dinner into his mouth.

I'm now finished eating because I can no longer stomach food and I'm convinced that -- on only the 2nd week of her entire school career -- my kid has been branded a social misfit. I'm thinking...did I dress her funny, is it cause she's lost her front teeth already, is it my fault for waiting a year to send her to K (see how I make it all about me?). I was taking it much harder than Kelly, but trying desperately not to let it show.

Later on, we went for a walk and I asked her more about the "weirdness."

Turns out they said she was weird because she doesn't like jelly on her peanut butter sandwich at lunch. I had, of course, made a mountain out of a molehill (in my head).

She doesn't like jelly and one kid probably pointed it out & they all stared & someone called her weird. So what? It wasn't some giant plot by her little classmates to ostracize my baby (as I had conjured up in my head).

Wheew. Crisis averted.

One thing is clear from this little "scare" though -- the social aspect of school -- particularly girl cliques may end up being as hard for me as my daughters. I have visions of Jr. High dancing in my head and I will never forget how vicious girls can be. Though I was never a major target (I made fast friends with the girls everyone else was afraid of and that afforded me protection), I was witness to it. And, I still feel bad that I was involved (even if I didn't do anything but stand by).

I barely made it out alive the first time. I'm not looking forward to going through it again.

I just never thought it would all start this early.

I know my responsibility is not to worry about it happening, but to arm my daughter with the tools she needs to deal with it. I know that love is the biggest tool I can give her, but I'm sure there are other things I can do to shore up her foundation so she can weather the social storms.

Heck, maybe I'll even convince myself in the process.

...what it must be like for our reporters (most of whom are parents) to sit in a courtroom and listen to the details of cases like this. (Not to mention the lawyers, judges, clerks and whoever else are privvy to the horror that some children live with).

I once asked court reporter Lisa Thompson (after the Shawna Howe trial) if she ever felt jaded or disgusted with humanity after hearing all the horrible details of the terrible things that people do to each other. She said that it can be really depressing, but she has to tell their story because it's her job (and she just may help someone else by bringing the subject to light).

I'm not in favor of the death penalty for many, many reasons, but...when it comes to people who rape infants and children you must ask yourself if they can ever be anything more than a danger and burden to society and if it wouldn't be better for everyone if they just weren't around anymore.

My 6-year-old woke up Sunday morning and said "I have an idea" and scampered off to the spare bedroom where we keep all the arts and crafts supplies.

She came back with a tub full of crayons and a fistful of paper and said, "I'm going to make a book. Daddy, can you help me say (spell) "I love you kangaroo."

The book, no doubt inspired by the kangaroo costume we'd bought for her on Saturday night, was all her own idea, her own words and her illustrations. We helped her with spelling and book binding, er, stapling ... other than that, she did it all herself.

It goes something like,
"When you swing with me,
I love you kangaroo.

When you swim with me,
I love you kangaroo.

When you brush my teeth,
I love you kangaroo."

Only...in Kelly's version it's more like,
"whenyouwsimwi
thmeiloveyoukang
aroo"
because Kindergarteners just don't grasp spacing yet.

But, her story illustrates that she does have a grasp of the cadence of a children's books (she should, we've been reading her stories every night since she was born) and the imagination and internal drive to write her own.

Sure, sure, I know I shouldn't clear a spot on the mantle for her Pulitzer yet and that every mother thinks their kid is a gifted (fill in the blank -- scholar, pianist, gymnast, etc.), but a small part (OK, a big part) of me hopes she's inherited my love of words, books and writing.

What about your kids? Did they display their talents early? Have they found a way to use them in their grown-up lives? What about you?

I truly think the key to happiness in life is A.) helping others and B.) doing what you know you were born to do - whether that's teaching, gardening or writing computer code.

To do anything other than what you know you are driven to do is to deny your true self and waste your natural-born talent. And, life is just too short for that.

So, yes, I'm on the lookout for my daughter's natural talents because I'm going to encourage them in any way I can.

With my little author, I think a few blank notebooks and a new box of crayons or colored pencils are in order.

A few excerpts:

I had a hard time getting the girls up and out of the house for Sunday school last week. My husband was at hunting camp, so it was up to me to get both girls bathed, fed, dressed and to Sunday school by 9 a.m.

As usually happens in high-pressure, gotta-go, situations with the girls in the early morning, there were a few meltdowns, lots of whining and a couple of sister fights. All this was topped off with my yelling, "C'MON, I've had ENOUGH. Brush your teeth (put on your shoes, get in the car, etc. etc. etc.)."

Whenever I get mad at the girls and raise my voice or talk through clenched teeth, they try to make me feel bad by saying things like, "You hate me." I always respond, "Nope, I love YOU, I hate the way you're acting right now" (or something similar).

So, lo and behold, the children's sermon last Sunday is about how God loves his children even when they do bad things or are ungrateful (based on Luke 17:11-17).

Pastor starts out by saying to the kids, "Does your mom or dad ever get mad at you?"

If I could've crawled under the pew right then and there, I would have. I sat there...holding my breath thinking...oh, God, no...

But, to my utter surprise my normally talkative daughters didn't pipe up and tell the entire congregation about their mean, mean mommy who had yelled at them just that morning. One of the older kids nodded and that was good enough for pastor to continue with his sermon (pheww...dodged that bullet).

Pastor went on explaining to the kids how God's love is like our parent's love...that even though you might do something bad or act in a way that makes our parents mad, they will always, always love us.

He said "So, even though your mom or dad get mad at you, they still love you, right?"

That's when my girls piped up. Both of them nodded enthusiastically and shouted out "YES!" (So, apparently my message IS getting through to them.)

It's funny... now that my kids are at the tell-all stage, I find I do the most praying in church during the children's sermon when they have a captivate audience and center stage.

This is for all the moms out there.

Get your headphones out & enjoy this one.

We came home from work on Friday evening to find our family guinea pig, Oreo, dead. We just got her last fall and she was just 10 weeks old then. Guinea pigs typically have a lifespan of more than a few years -- some as many as 5 to 7 years -- so we were quite shocked. She had not been acting sick and was, in fact, eating normally that morning -- Kelly & I had even given her a couple of carrots before we left for school/work.

Luckily, the girls were upstairs when Dan noticed she was laying funny in the cage. We were able to get her in a box and have a few minutes to think of what to say to the girls before we called them downstairs. Kelly cried and cried...insisted on picking her up and hugging her and petting her. (Yes, a serious heartbreaking moment).

The little one? Well...four-year-olds are a little less emotional and a little more excitable. She quickly put on her rain boots and volunteered to help bury Oreo out back by Cassie . Considering I've got two geriatric cats, we may have to apply for a permit for the growing pet cemetery in our backyard.

So, it was a strange turn of events that Friday also happened to be the day Dan's brother's daughter's guinea pig had babies.

Both girls have their Halloween parades/parties at their respective schools, so I took the day off to attend all the festivities.

When all the parents whipped out their video recorders at my younger daughter's preschool parade, I realized that I had forgotten mine. Never even thought about charging it up. That's how it is for the 2nd kid, I guess.

With my first daughter, I got there early, wormed my way up front, recorded every moment so my husband could see it. Now, I don't even remember to bring the video camera.

I will say, however, that I enjoyed listening to them sing more when I didn't have to watch it through a camera lense while balancing on one knee on concrete.

...I think I am really messing up this whole parenting gig. Not a day goes by when I don't question what I've done or regretted something I said or wished I had done something differently.

I used to be so confident. I used to be so sure of myself. I used to be in control.

Now, my days are filled with self-doubt, anxiety about the choices I'm made and endless waffling and regret.

There is nothing easy about being a parent -- and I'm sure there's nothing easy about being a kid. My job, I know, is to be the calm in storm, but sometimes I just feel like a ship on choppy waters -- being tossed around by the emotions of a couple of little girls.

I know, I know....God help me when the waters really get choppy in a few years.

As I stood at the end of the driveway waiting for the bus with Kelly this morning -- feeling bad for having yelled at her for not getting dressed, not eating her cereal fast enough, for leaving the lights on upstairs, for losing her library book, for spitting toothpaste all over the counter and for whining all morning -- I remembered how I used to think mornings were stressful when the girls were babies and I had to get them dressed and get the diaper bags ready.

What a joke.

What was so hard about that? I'd scoop up my crib-warm babies, snuggle them, change a diaper, wrap them in snowsuits and carry them out the door. All the while, they'd smile at me, coo, giggle and laugh.

Do you suppose some day I'll look back on this time -- when they can still fit in my lap, when they spontaneously say "I love you, Mommy," when I choose their clothes, when they draw me pictures and pick me flowers and beg me to play games with them and read them "just one more" story -- and think, what was so hard about that?

Quintessential Erie-area fall fun. Can't you just smell the leaves?

Here's the turkey plate we made at Claytopia last week:

My Kindergartener is learning how to write and is forever asking us how to spell things. We typically have lots of patience about it and even try to make her figure it out by sounding it out, but there are times -- like when I'm trying to make dinner (ha..that's kinda funny...OK, when I'm trying open the can of Spagehetti-O's) and the cat wants out and the phone rings and the four-year-old starts crying about something -- well, I just don't have time for it.

I feel guilty, of course. She wants to learn & I want to help her, but somebody's got to get the Spaghetti-Os on the table.

Saturday it occurred to me that what I needed was a kid's picture dictionary so she can see the item and see how to spell it. So, I'm adding that to her Christmas List, but, in the meantime, I rounded up all the baby "first word" books that were still floating around the house and realized that they work just as well.

In case you missed it, there was a blurb in the newspaper the other day about Letters to Santa.

"Employees of the U.S. Postal Service in Erie will again respond to letters sent to Santa Claus. Letters should be addressed to Santa Claus, Erie, PA 16515-9998. They should be stamped and include a clear, complete return address. All letters sent by Dec. 20 will be answered."

When I told Kelly she could send Santa a letter, she quickly got to work and could hardly wait to wake up and put it in the mailbox this morning.

When my girls were babies I thought 4 mos. was the perfect age, then I thought it was 5 mos., then 6 mos., then 7 mos. and so on and so on. The truth is -- it just kept getting better and better.

The pessimist in me was waiting for the shoe to drop.

I thought it did when they reached 18 months. But, despite their newfound independence and stubborn streaks, they were still so much fun. Their vocabularies were growing, they were able to participate in activities, they were unabashedly excited about silly things and capable of walking alone.

At 6 years and 4 years, I still find every age that they're at to be the best age. Every age is more fun than the next (not all the time, but...).

kids really do have more fun with the boxes the gifts come in -- especially when a handy daddy turns it into a cage so the kids can play "guinea pig."

Here's hoping the like the gifts that came in this box as much as they liked the box.

We had a surprisingly light schedule this holiday weekend which meant the girls and I were able to find time for some fun. Hmmm...but what to do in Erie in the dead of winter?

Well, for starters, we headed over to Asbury Woods Nature Center on Saturday morning for a program about hibernation. The presenter brought out some animals for the kids to touch -- a ferret, a frog, a salamander and a big black snake. The coolest thing at the Nature Center -- the see-through honeybee hive -- I could've spent all day watching all those bees go about their bee business.

After the program, we headed outside to walk the center's boardwalk and look for wildlife and other cool things. We found plenty.

I definitely want to visit again in the other seasons -- I imagine spring would be an exciting time to visit. (Ah...sigh...spring...).

Sunday, we decided to try out the Family First Fun Zone. I had a coupon for the "Bounce Zone and Mini Golf" (from the Erie Times-News' Coupon Clipper) for $8 per child. The pass is all-day access, so you can spend all day there golfing and bouncing if you wish.

We spent about three hours or so. And, it was the best $16 I've spent in weeks.

So, my uncle died yesterday after a 6+ year battle with Leukemia. He was the husband of my dad's oldest sister -- my Aunt Barb. I feel sad for her (and him), but it was not unexpected.

The girls and I were fairly close to my Aunt and Uncle -- more so than any of my other sibs -- we visited often and they babysat the girls occasionally. They have always lavished them with too many gifts and too many sweets, no doubt making up for the grandkids they never had a chance to spoil.

Now, I'm faced with a dilemma though: Do I take the kids (4 1/2 & 6 1/2) to the funeral home for the open-casket viewing on Sunday?

They understand death -- we've buried a dog and a guinea pig and flushed a fish or two, but this is a person and it's one they knew well and liked. We just saw him Saturday, in fact.

My gut instinct says that I don't necessarily want them to see that yet (to be honest, I don't want to see it). And, yet, I want them to be there for my Aunt -- cause I know she'd love to see them as would all the other relatives and friends who will come to offer their condolences.

I used to think my mother was freakishly psychic. She always knew when we were sick, before we even knew we were sick.

When my rambunctious four-year-old who loves water (I swear the girl has gills) wanted to leave the Y pool on Saturday afternoon, I knew something was wrong.

...at the Family First Golf Dome. All you need is the sports park's ad in yesterday's Showcase section in the Erie Times-News -- page 5 -- and you and the family can play a round of indoor mini golf for free.

(The dome is open Saturday from 12:30 to 9 p.m. and Sunday from 2 to 7:30 p.m.)

Seems like just yesterday that I was losing sleep trying to decide whether to send my older daughter, Kelly, to Kindergarten. She was a late July baby and her preschool teachers thought it was in her best interest to enroll her in 5-day preschool rather than send her to Kindergarten a few weeks after turning 5.

I was crushed. I thought it was something I did wrong and wondered why my child wasn't ready for Kindergarten. Until it finally occurred to me that it wasn't about me or what I did or didn't do. It was about Kelly and what was best for her. And, she was academically ready, she just wasn't socially ready. She was a shy, sensitive, quiet kid who still sometimes napped and was likely going to struggle in a class of 20-some kids at "big" school.

I knew, in my gut, that the preschool teachers were right and that Kelly wasn't quite ready. We made our decision (sent her to 5-day preschool) and I haven't regretted that decision at all. When Kelly went to Kindergarten this year, she was a completely different kid -- confident, outgoing, enthusiastic and a step ahead of most of the other kids in the class (from the benefit of having 5-day, K-like curriculum for a year).

This morning I had a parent/teacher conference with my younger daughter, Lauren's, preschool teacher and I was fully prepared for her to recommend 5-day preschool for Lauren who is also a July baby.

But the teacher threw me for a loop and said she thought Lauren would do fine in Kindergarten.

I was stunned. And, yet, I knew she was right.

A friend (and SIL) just sent me a link this post in the New England Mamma's blog that is filled with some creative B-day party ideas.

I, personally, LOVE the idea of a pseudo sleepover -- my girls would love it and I wouldn't have to spend all night yelling "SERIOUSLY...GO TO SLEEP." (We're actually going to get to test this concept out on Friday when our church Sunday School teachers are hosting a PJ and Movies night at the church.)

I'm a big fan of theme parties and -- go ahead, laugh at my anal-ness (somewhere a copy editor is cringing at that made-up word) -- I deliberately planned summer babies so I could have their birthday parties OUTSIDE. I come from a family of five..as does my husband...even a small family gathering is 30 people.

Plus, we have a pool -- which is instant party entertainment in the summer. I can't wait until the girls get old enough to have friends for a real, honest-to-God pool-theme party. I've got it all planned in my head already -- the cake, the decorations, the games, the favors, the invites....

Tomorrow, I'll share with you some of the themes we've done (with photos).

And, I'd love to hear from you Mommy readers -- what fun party themes/games/ideas can you share?

I overheard two co-workers talking this a.m. Co-worker No. 1 was telling the other that his son lost his first tooth. Co-worker No. 2 said something about the tooth fairy. Co-worker No. 1 said, "We don't really do that. It's sort of silly and we just don't have it in us to lie to him like that."

My ears perked up and I gave a silent cheer. I thought I was alone. I thought it was just me who thinks that perpetuating made-up holiday characters is just stupid and....in a way...kind of cruel.

Now, I let my kids believe in the Tooth Fairy -- we have the tooth fairy pillow and everything -- and I'm not out there destroying their Christmas and telling them that Santa isn't real, but...when they are old enough to figure out the truth for themselves, I'm not going to lie. And, I'm not going to the lengths that some parents do to "keep the magic alive."

I don't think there's any magic in lying to my kids. Seriously...wouldn't I just be setting them up for a BIG fall some day?

I know what you're thinking -- you're thinking I'm some psychologically damaged kid who went through life with cruel parents who deprived me of holiday joy. Wrong. My mother has holiday spirit up the wazoo -- she's even got holiday-theme shower curtains, toilet seat covers and bedspreads (I'm not even kidding). And, when I was growing up, my Mom did all that stuff that parents do -- she wrapped Santa's gifts in different paper, had a friend at work write the tags so we wouldn't know she was Santa, she hid the Easter baskets and pretended not to know where they were, she dutifully stayed up until God-knows-when to sneak into our rooms and exchange a quarter for a baby tooth....

But, the thing is...I don't ever remember buying into it. Maybe it's because I had four older siblings and one of them told me there was no Santa or Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy...who knows...I don't remember who -- if anyone -- ever destroyed the "magic" for me.

I just know that I always knew that the source of ALL the good things in our house were my parents.

I think that's magical enough.

A topic of discussion among my girlfriends and family at a Friday night get together was the laziness (for lack of a better word) of some of the teens in our families. As they get older, their laisse faire attitude is threatening to derail their future. They are so-so students, barely bringing home passing grades, who lack the motivation to do much of anything, let alone pick a career path.

First two disclaimers:
1. I'm sure the same thing was said about my generation when I was a teen
2. My kids are still young and I have no idea what it's like to parent a teen (my day will come and who knows what's in my future)

But, our discussion got me to thinking about how kids learn responsibility and accomplishment and that it starts at home. It starts with contributing to the household duties and, let's face it, most kids today are not expected to help around the house. They're too busy, after all, with their activities and their homework and whatnot.

Look what I found in my flower bed last night:

Now...if only I could get my children to stop picking the flowers...and the cat to stop laying on them...

When we put the 2nd floor on our house years ago, we incorporated space for a small home office. At the time, I was telecommuting twice a week, so a designated home office was more than a nice feature, it was a necessity.

Once the office was done, I had to figure out how to furnish it. I half-heartedly browsed office stores and furniture stores, but (this should be no surprise to you), just couldn't figure out what I wanted to do and found the whole thing annoying and overwhelming.

A friend at work suggested I look into having an office designed by a pro. I scoffed, assuming it would be too rich for my blood.

But, I decided it couldn't hurt to find out and I called A.J. Grack (they do all our office design work at the paper) to see what they would suggest and how much it would cost.

Wondering what to do with your elementary-school-age kids this summer?

Look no further than W. 8th Street for the best summer camp bargain we've seen in these parts.

The Villa Maria Elementary Center offers a summer day camp (for children entering 4-year-old preschool through grade six) from early June to mid-August from 7:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. for about $125 per child, per week. Kids can also go part-time (2 or 3 days).

Even better? No packing lunches or nagging the kids to finish their cereal in the morning -- the program includes breakfast, lunch and an afternoon snack.

You can check out the details of the summer camp at Villa's Web site, but be aware that it's outdated & prices have gone up slightly. Call the school at 838-5451 for current tuition.

Got little kids hanging around the house (that you'd like to get out of the house)? Stop by a Dollar General store on your way home -- they've got some great, cheap outdoor toys for kids for $1 to $3 or so.

Most of our kids' outdoor toys from last year are MIA -- blown away, broken or run over by the car -- so I stocked up for this summer for less than $20. I got jump ropes, a bug catching kit (oh...how my 4-year-old loves this thing), a butterfly net, sidewalk chalk, squirt guns, flying discs, pom-poms and these great plastic sticks with fabric "spinners" on them (girls love them), play balls, kites, foam airplanes, etc., etc.

Lots of fun stuff.

Lots of good reasons to turn the TV off for the next three or four months.

OH...and if you have a pool...Dollar General also got lots of great swim toys -- arm floats, inflatable rings, diving sticks, masks, goggles, rafts -- and, trust me, you'll want to get this stuff now because it will be loooong gone when you actually open the pool in June.

Caught up in the craziness of day-to-day working-mom life, I sometimes fail to notice the little things.

ETN Assistant Features editor and friend, Joan Benson Cacchione, caught up with me in the hall Tuesday -- a big smile on her face and excited look in her eyes. "Heather, I just saw the GREATEST potential art on your car."

My husband comes from a long line of mighty hunters that, for the most part, gave birth to a long line of girls. They joke about teaching our daughters to hunt. Some of my sister-in-laws are just fine with it and have, in fact, even hunted themselves.

Me? I've long said..."over my dead body." I could make up all kinds of great-sounding reasonable excuses why, but the fact of the matter is that I just don't want my daughters to be the blood-thirsty killers who know how to field dress a deer or call in a turkey. OK...I'll just say it...it's just not very, um...ladylike or feminine. I'm not saying I'm right, it's just how I feel.

You've heard about Webkinz, right?

If not...let me explain...they are the new Beanie Babies. They're stuffed animals that come in all kinds of cute types of animals, colors and breeds. What makes them special is that you can go online and "discover a virtual world" in which you can do thing with your "virtual" Webkinz -- take them for a walk, take them to the groomer, buy them clothes. I've actually never been to the Web site (until I just linked to it) -- that's still on my list of things to "check out" when I have time...along with cleveland.com, dayton.com, unscrewAmerica.com, onlineshoes.com...(sigh), but a neighbor showed me around the site once.

My daughter, 6, has one Webkinz. My mother bought it for her for Easter. She has no clue that she's missing out on an entire virtual world -- she just liked the stuffed animal and wanted one cause all her cousins and friends at school had one. Grandma came through for her.

Saturday morning -- after spending Friday night with all her cousins -- she informed me that she wanted another Webkinz. I asked her why and eventually pried it out of her that she needed another one because all her cousins have two of them.

Tuesdays are "I Tried It Tuesdays" where I'll tell you about something I recently tried -- an item, a movie, an activity, etc.

Today's topic: Fisher Price "Kid tough" FP3 Player"

The Christmas before last -- so...it would be the Christmas of '06 -- I bought each of the girls this Fisher Price "Kid Tough" FP3 player -- a digital music headset for wee ones.

The skinny: Like most Fisher-Price toys (but not all...more on that next week..), this is a pretty solid investment -- particularly for the preschool set. It's sturdy, it's easy to use and it will keep them quiet for hours on end (aside from the singing, of course).

I was telling a co-worker here at the paper -- Joan Benson-Cacchione -- how much I enjoyed her Sunday column about her daughter, Annie.

Joan is one of my favorite people here at ETN -- not only is a great writer, but she's a wonderfully positive person, a friendly face and a good mom. I take every opportunity I can to chat her up and learn from her.

Where Joan is preparing for an empty nest, I'm in the beginning stages of parenting -- it's a lot of work and I worry constantly if I am doing the right thing. The whole parenting gig can seem overwhelming and fraught with pitfalls.

I remarked to Joan that even though it was a tough job, it was a rewarding one. Joan said it definitely was and that the best part is that they are often unexpected, surprise rewards -- like big bear hugs from 18-year-old teens.

Or a 4-year-old who says, "Mommy, I love you twelve times. No..no..I love you 112 times."

The girls and I were doing some painting this weekend so I could take photos of our creations for a story I'm doing in the June issue of Her Times (last-minute Father's Day gifts you can make!). And, I wanted to remember to share a tip with all you moms & dads out there.

Ever find yourself struggling to keep the kids from mixing up the paints -- particularly with the younger set. You try to teach them to rinse the brush and dry it between each color, but...it never works -- the colors end up getting mixed...or, worse, end up a watered-down mess.

I have a great solution.

Buy yourself a pack of cheap paintbrushes (you can find them at most dollar stores) and put one brush in each pot. Then...make sure the kids understand that brush must stay in that color. No water is needed!

I am so anal that I even color-code the brush to the pot. Check it out:

Got two (or more) kids arguing over one color...put a couple of brushes in that pot.

When you're done painting, be sure to wipe the threads of each pot with a paper towel before you close them up!

When it comes to parenting, it's the most basic things that trip me up.

I can handle the big stuff. My kids know about death, they know the proper names for private parts, they can make their own breakfast, sort laundry and operate the TV/VCR/DVD better than me. They can ID most birds and bugs. I even taught them to ride two-wheel bikes this weekend.

It's the most basic of things that earn me a big, fat, red "F" in the Mommy skills column. Like putting on their own coats and dressing themselves. Honestly, I still dress my Kindergartner most mornings. Not because she's incapable of it, but because she doesn't do it fast enough. I know...I know....I'm not doing her (or me) any favors.

My latest "F" is for teaching how to tie shoes. Kelly, 6, came home from school a month or so ago & announced that she and another little boy are the only ones in her class who can't tie their shoes.

My husband took it upon himself to teach her -- which is good because I had NO idea where to even begin with that. Every night at bedtime/story time, he'd grab her little sneaker (the only pair of shoes she owns that tie) and work with her -- making rabbit ears and holes and such.

He told me she got it, but, she obviously didn't since I still have to tie them every morning. I make her try -- she makes a half-hearted attempt and then dissolves into tears when she doesn't succeed.

So, now, at the top of the household whiteboard/"to do" list is: "Teach Kelly to tie shoes." Here's hoping it's a feat I can accomplish by the time she goes off to college.

That...and dressing herself.