Chinese with a 6 year old

Since the last video of the love of my life brought so much joy, I decided to do another one.

This video was taken shortly after she asked me if the Chinese waiters stayed here for the night or went home to China.

Like I said, love of my life =) She did in fact succeed and I have five subsequent videos showing all the things she discovered she could eat with chopsticks. I'm off to celebrate my sorority's founding with (hopefully) cute old ladies, new friends and mimosas! Hopefully my niece's giggles have made your Saturday morning start off on the right foot.

XOXO.

That time I told my niece Mary was an attention-whore

I didn't hear the tornado sirens, but I did see the pack of five moms running in unison and that's kind of the same thing, right? That's right. I survived my first Missourah tornado.

Consequentially (not really, the storm has nothing to do with it) I am having immense writer's block. I read a blog today that really struck a chord with me when the writer said that blogging forces her to be more present in the moment and drag things out. Because really, our life is funny and it is adventurous, but so often we're waiting for "the next big thing" that we miss it. So, while I'm here, I want to remember being here. And a huge part of my life here in good ol' Missourah has been the kids I get to work with in the nursery. I recently realized that perhaps my sass has gone a little too far, especially when it comes to children. I imagine their not listening...but they could be...So for now, until my writer's block heals, enjoy the following sample of my sassy-child interactions.

12-year-old: hey! hey! hey! 

me: WHAT

12-year-old: i got a lunchbox (he has been repeating this for about 30 minutes, 

and I finally catch on)

me: yeah? did you get the velcro too? 

*12-year-old's mouth drops open in utter horror*: how do YOU know that song???

*church choir singing*

6-year-old girl: this music SUCKS

me: HEY. That is the music of the LORD. 

Israel (the special needs boy I watch, who has absolutely no sensory perception) has developed a new habit of whenever he's in a crowd, just putting his arm straight out (Hitler style, no joke) and pushing through into anyone in his way until they move. So of course, he does this to a 60 year old woman, and of course, his hand comes to the height of her butt. Which he proceeds to push on. For a few too many seconds. 

Me: Israel! If you're gonna touch her butt, you could at least say hello!

Creepy 70 year old man behind me: Heh heh, he's just starting early. 

And now...the grand finale. Throwback Thursday...to Christmas...me...and the love of my life...re-enacting the Christmas nativity story. Please enjoy the key parts where I teach her that:

 +Mary was "big and fat and pregnant and this made her very tired"  

+Jesus's "first friends were other animals in the manger, who he sometimes slept with but surprisingly never crushed him" 

+Mary loved all the attention she got when the three kings came bearing gifts

And yes, she does jump in shock when I sneeze at the end. Seriously. Best 5 minutes you'll ever spend.
(Also, sorry I'm not sorry I'm not a professional videographer and at one point my fat fingers cover the mic for like...a minute. But just turn your sound up, it's still gold!)

Like I said...I should watch what I say more...

Day made? You're welcome.

Friday Letters

Dear Snapchat:

I have no idea what you are, or what you're used for. You're on my phone, and so far all I've managed to do is embarrass myself by drunk-snapchatting (god, so many new ways to embarrass yourself these days) a boy (yeah, boy from the creepy nurse-stabbing-me-with-a-needle dream) a picture of a moving car on a highway (no, I wasn't driving, obvi). 

Dear Lauren:
Thanks for trying to educate me on what snapchat is for. Even though I know better now, I will still assume it's to send you pictures of my socks, keyboard, and dirty hair.

Dear Ellen:
Thanks for backing me up that I'm not the only one who doesn't understand snapchat.

Dear people who told me working out in the morning would give me energy:

Dear readers:

I'm confused. Are we supposed to get healthy for ourselves, or for our ex-boyfriend so he'll notice and feel immense guilt? Pinterest is really throwing me off on this. 

Dear HR: 

Sorry I'm not sorry. This is my quiet rebellion against the quadricube.

 Dear people waiting for an update on the quadricube:
Today we played pattycake.

Aaaaaand I'm off to dream of cheese-covered bacon. Happy Friday!

                   

Meet Kate: Kid Post #1

Today at work (I work at a church nursery a couple times a week, part-time), I was asked to be the one-on-one shadow for a boy with Fragile X Syndrome. My first response was to be deeply humbled and grateful  that they thought I would be good at something like this--followed by a complete wave of fear that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. Then, I thought of the first experience I had working with special needs kids as a counselor at SpringHill Camps (the world's greatest camp in the world's greatest state, Michigan. Seriously--if you are looking for somewhere to send your kids where they will be cherished, loved and have the best week of their life look no further).

Kate had Downs Syndrome, and was assigned to my tent that week along with her designated, official Special Needs Counselor. For the first half of the week, I felt like a failure. Kate claimed that I hated her and would constantly run away from me and hide behind trees. I'm not sure how it changed, but right at the halfway mark...Kate switched from calling me "monster" (seriously) to "mama." She would run into the counselor's little shower cubby place whenever I was in there and scream "MAMA! Hurry UP!" The time I was allowed to be out of her site became 30 seconds, and everything was "30 more seconds, Kate, I have to go to the bathroom, "30 more seconds Kate, I have to take this kid to the clinic."

Kate soon developed a favorite game. She would fly through the air, landing on her bunk bed, and at the last second I was supposed to catch her by the ankles and pull her backwards. Fly, catch, pull. Fly, catch, pull. Repeat. Here's the problem: 1) children with Downs Syndrome are just naturally heavier than other children at that age. Kate weighed more than I did (and continually took advantage of this by tackling me to the ground in her excitement--or any other mood she felt); 2) that week we were staying in MASH tents...the ones where the tent walls are kept loose and untied so that they could be rolled up to let the air through. So...sometimes....I couldn't catch her in time. Which meant that Kate went flying through the air, over her bunk bed, and out the tent wall onto the ground. Kate thought this was hysterical and begged to do it over and over. However, I can assure you that my boss did not find it as hysterical to walk past our tent and see the only special needs child inside flying out of the wall and popping up with leaves in her hair. Even if she was laughing. Oh camp....Oh kids =)

My other favorite story about Kate is when she announced during campfire that she had to go to the bathroom. I took her over to the port-a-potties and stood nearby, waiting for her when slowly I hear...singing. She was singing all the same songs as the kids at the fire...just on a one-song delay.

Five minutes passed and I was like "KATE, what are you doing in there??" 

To which she promptly replied "I'm peein' and poopin'!" 

Logical answer. 

Five more minutes went by. "KATE, what are you doing?!?!" 

"I'm practicing my math facts!" 

Indeed, you could hear her, slowly reciting multiplication and addition tables. 

So, here's to hoping that as many cute stories and connections can happen with my newest kid =) I absolutely adore working with kids, so look forward to more 'kid posts' in the future! They say the best things =)

Finally making the switch from monster to mommy. Big deal.
(Squinty eyes get out of control when I'm ecstatic)