Pink Kitty Returns!

Not the same pink kitty, but we do have a pink kitty in the house.  When Roxy was 1 and 2, she carried around a pink cat that she loved the pink off of, and the fur off of, and the whiskers off of.  The poor thing looked terrible.  And, because Roxy could not say the "K" sound (she changed all K sounds to a T sound), it sounded like she was referring to a body part, not a precious stuffed animal.  I rather like the pink kitty in the picture.  And thankfully, Roxy can now saw the K sound.

Roxy's Ten Commandments

Roxy created a list of Ten Commandments and posted them in her room.  She plays hostess to multiple children with our small group, and she is determined to control the behavior.  In case you were wondering, the answer is yes, there is a good reason for Roxy to make this list.  And she did it without any encouragement and acknowledgement from me.  It's a good list.  I'm making a copy for the parents.

Rules:
1.  No hurting anyone.


2.  No crying.

3.  Anticipate.  (Roxy did mean anticipate - she learned this word recently.  She wants everyone to be prepared to act when necessary.)

4.  No jumping on my bed.


5.  No screaming when the lights go out.





6.  No screaming.

7.  No locking the door.



8.  No acting wild.



9.  No breaking anything.


10.  No slamming doors.

Cards by Roxy

So Roxy is trying her hand at making cards.  She is sending mixed messages, I think.

After handing me this precious card, she reminded me that I have not paid her allowance this week.  Ouch.  I wonder what kind of card I will get if I forget to pay her allowance and forget to pack her lunch for school?

Roxy's Protective 'Fro

It's time for the back-to-school lice checks. Roxy's friend was sent home today - eek! I am counting on Roxy's 'fro to protect her from these evil little boogers. I cannot fathom ridding her 'fro from lice.

As I type this, a Google ad for pet product Advantage comes up. Maybe treating her like a pet with a collar that repels ticks would do the trick for lice. She STILL wears the cat suit regularly (yesterday, as a matter of fact, she dressed as a cat and sang karaoke to "Pocket Full of Sunshine." It was a surreal musical experience, let me tell you.)

Do these pictures look like something lice might find desirable?

Random Acts of Photography - The Roxy Story

One Week Down, How Many More to Go?

We completed our first week of summer vacation. No more pencils, no more books, you know the saying.

Guess which kid is already bored? I'm giving her a new agenda: whenever she is bored, she has to hand wash dishes. We did it three times one day, but she still liked it. She had to stop and tell me that as we worked together. So cute, and yet so close to madness (in my opinion!) I chose the hand-wash route because she can't put away all the dishwasher dishes yet, but this girl sure can wash and dry. She has started asking Darby is she can take on her chores. Darby has to pay her, of course, but Darby will end up with very little and Roxy will be rich. Oh goody! More trips to Target for even more little pets...

Guess which kid is back on her technological cocaine of computer games? I think this may be the week she creates her own blog, because we have to find a way to get her thinking and not just clicking. We have a friend's Guitar Hero for a while and she is mastering it rapidly. She is also reading a couple of enormous books. And the cooking - she wants to cook now, whenever I pull her off the computer. The other day, when preparing a meal of steak and potatoes, she was thinking out loud: "I wish we had a magical thawing machine." Yes, Princess, we have one and it is called a microwave. At least the cooking makes dirty dishes for the other kid to wash...

My goal is to save money, save money, and get a light tan. And not go crazy with the girls.

Roxy Makes Me Feel Good

The Fair Police

Roxy was born with an incredible sense of right and wrong. She has very specific ideas about what is fair and how to make things equal, at least on her terms. A Facebook friend referred to a Whine Flu epidemic at her house, and I think Roxy is a victim of it.

I am getting tired of the Fair Policewoman. Here is a summary list of grievances from the last 24 hours:

It is not fair that Daddy has to go to a conference. He should only go to conferences here so she will not lose her basketball partner, wrestling champion, and night-time snuggler. And how come Daddy gets to go somewhere I we don't? We have to go to school every day and it is boring. I don't get to go anywhere fun.

It is not fair that Darby got to have Field Day on Tuesday and she has to wait until Thursday. Don't they know that the little kids always go first? And it is not fair that Mom went to Darby's field day and she did not come to my class. When Roxy has field day, Mom has to stay the exact same amount of time and do the exact same things with her.

It is not fair that Roxy has to go to the store after school. Why couldn't Mom go to the store when she is home alone? I think that Mom should have to buy me something when we go to the store, because that is the only way to make up for this major inconvenience.

It is not fair that I have to wait 15 minutes to eat breakfast when I'm hungry now. Mom should wake up and have breakfast ready when I wake up so I don't have to wait.

ANNOUNCEMENT: for Mother's Day, I would like the Fair Police Relief package and a vaccination against the Whine Flu that has overtaken my precious daughter.

The Realities of Learning

My daughters are in the midst of much testing this week. I am ready for the paranoia to be over, because the way the schools prepare you for tests is pretty mind-numbing. I have had to be the bad guy for weeks, making the kids focus more on various subjects. Roxy, for example, has had to spend hours working on math flashcards. I bought her the flashcards and I would drill her on them nightly after dinner. I even packed flashcards in the car so she could work on them in transit. One day Roxy actually read the flashcard box, which advertised a "fun way to learn math!" Roxy said, "Fun? They must think that flashcards are fun if they put a little animal on it! There's nothing fun about little animals on flashcards! It's still math and nothing changes that. Whoever thought this was fun?" This is Roxy's first mature realization that people advertise things falsely. Who knows what her next rant will be?

Easter , Roxy Style

Roxy drew this picture last summer on our road trip to Georgia. I found it with my 2008 tax documents (please don't ask - moving is such a beast) and I had to smile at it. Let me translate: "My butt hurts" and "What?", but notice that bunny #2 is missing an ear.

Roxy learned this routine from her father who must have been channelling Bart Simpson. While her spelling has vastly improved, the humor will always remain...

Roxy's Toy Story

My baby is growing up, which is no big surprise, but it is starting to feel more like a funeral than a celebration. She is completely excited about everything, is a happy camper most days, and still loves to play, play, play. But there are some changes...birthday #7 is around the corner and many things are getting buried each day. Sniff, sniff.

1. Dress up has become pretty much non-existent. That cat suit has not seen the light of day in ages. She puts on the ballet leotard when she jumps on the trampoline, she dons the owl cape when she rides the zip line, but pretending to be an animal? Not so much.

2. The belief in the tooth fairy is no longer a given. Those big, beautiful, trusting eyes have doubts.

3. Roxy no longer carries a stuffed animal with her everywhere. She still loves them, but does not need a cuddle buddy 24/7.

4. The Bitty Babies were moved to the top shelf in her bedroom. It's just like the scene from Toy Story, where special things on the top shelf will be forgotten. When I went in to her room and saw them up there, it nearly made me cry. The baby in her has passed away and the bitty babies no longer have a place of honor in her room. Roxy assured me that she loves them and wants to keep them out, but her stuffed animals need my old doll bed more than the babies do.

These things have been piling up on me and now - I am bereft. So long, little Roxy. Hello big girl.

Jump for Joy

The girls are enjoying the outside air. It took a major purchase to make this happen...

We do have a safety net on it now. Roxy prays for everyone to be safe on our trampoline now, including people that will probably never jump on it. How sweet is that?

Cookie Monster

Seen: Cookie Monster selling cookies, disguised as a Brownie. Thanks to Josh and the car wash for a beautiful sale (and a beautiful car, too.)

You Can't Handle the Truth

Age six is such a radical year of change. There is the ability to learn combined with a lengthened attention span. Things like reading and math start clicking together rapidly. There is the social aspect of life - knowing what everyone else does, trying to top your friends or compete for "coolness". There is the loss of baby fat and the maturing of facial features. At six, you look less like a baby when you are asleep. And what could be the most tragic sign of aging - the questioning of standard myths.

Roxy confronted me last night about the tooth fairy. There has been rampant tooth loss at Due West Elementary these days, and the debate is hot among the six year old demographic. In all honesty, Roxy has not been particularly fascinated by the tooth fairy. She prefers to carry around her tooth in a baggy to show her friends and she could care less whether she gets any money. But now, the little boy from her class, the one that makes bad choices, is telling her about the parent role in the whole thing and she wants the truth.

I asked her if it was fun for the parents to be the tooth fairy, and she said no. I encouraged her to keep it fun, because getting money is fun and who cares how you get it. She is not pleased with my answer. I just don't want her to grow up anymore...

The Darrel of the House

There is a Darrel living in my house. Her given name is Roxanne Skye, but trust me - she is a Darrel. My older brother gave me a long legacy list of things that seemed to be uniquely him - "Darrel". Now my daughter has taken over the Darrel department.

In my original family of two parents, two daughters and one son, all the gross jokes and comments were performed by Darrel. My sister and I were entirely too polite to do things like burp words, make music with our own belly buttons, or give unique names to gaseous events. Roxy is filling the big brother void at our house now. She can and will burp on request. She does make up names for all gross things. Roxy will taunt Scott with her ability to use gross-out humor and Scott is VERY easily perturbed when it comes to potty humor. For example, when Scott brings home a freshly cleaned car, Roxy says, "Great, let me go pee in it for you." And now, Roxy's latest gross-out announcement is that she has discovered that she picks her nose in her sleep. "How else did those little boogers end up on my fingers?" Poor Scott - he never grew up with Darrel, so he has no idea what comes next...but I do...

Where Is Your Report Card?

I have been asking this question for a few weeks. The report cards never came home. I would not have been shocked to discover that Darby had misplaced hers (aka stuffed it in her black hole of a desk), but there was no way on earth that Roxy would have let it slip by. That girls is on top of things. It turns out that they spring them on you at the January conference. So, if you are disappointed by something or simply surprised, your teacher gets to read it all over your face.

I'm not such a big fan of this predatory method. What fun is it to look at your kid's report card when the kid is not there for you to praise and/or interrogate? I have the unfortunate plight of also not knowing what grades the kids will get, because Roxy only gets smilies on every single paper, and Darby gets grades but not all of them are recorded. I kind of felt ambushed at the conference, which made me feel guarded and less present than normal.

On the good side, Darby has a beautiful report card, full of lots of detail (only six letters on the entire thing, and nothing else.) And Roxy has shown herself to be quite a student who is coming into her own. She loves to please her teacher and she is learning real writing skills, something that will make her daddy burst with pride. I am so glad to have academic-type students. Go nerds!

Anybody Want a Thin Mint?

I have a very unfortunate personality trait that makes me loathe sales. I don't play the selling game very well. The uncomfortable feeling of asking someone to purchase something for your child's fundraiser, the knowledge that you will not sell enough, the feeling of dread when you have to pass out and collect the cash/check: I do not like it Sam I Am.

I was managing my dreadful feelings pretty well until I got a message today saying that cookie sales sheets were due tomorrow. AAAACK! I thought I had more time. Upon further research, I discovered that this was not a new deadline, it was the one I acknowledged months ago. Way to go, Mom...

My brilliant idea (now) is to make Roxy look extra-cute and sell prepurchased boxes come March. I'm thinking that this is the only way to stay out of the Brownie doghouse. Roxy is cute enough to sell ice cubes to eskimoes...

Inner Beauty

Yesterday Roxy missed school due to a 24 hour stomach bug. She was getting back to normal, but still would not make it through the school day, so I kept her occupied at home. By breakfast, Roxy was bored and asked if she could draw a picture of me. I agreed and she talked about me and my breakfast. Somehow, the portrait did not turn out to look like me. Roxy can apparently see through me, to my soul, my inner beauty. That's right, people, I'm a Pepper.

Let's Play Checkers - I Dare You

No church for the girls and me today. Roxy is a sickie. The poor thing had such a great day yesterday - they built a massive fort in our sunroom, we all went out to lunch, she had a play date and dinner with a friend. Life was good until bedtime, when the virus hit.

Entertaining a girl that is all about "something to do" is not easy with the flu. So we decided to play checkers, and she was beating me for a while until I found a triple jump and kind of ticked her off. She looked at the board, looked at me, and then said that I better watch out or she'll throw up on me.

Sarcasm? Probably. Probable? I didn't want to risk it, so I threw up the game at the last minute. I momentarily forgot that the sick kid should win on a day like this.

200 Posts of Silliness

I reached a milestone - 200 blog posts. And what better way to celebrate my blog about Franks' nothingness than with more statue pictures! I assure you that I do not have a statue guide directory where I go around looking for these things. The statues find us, and we embrace that karma.

I do think it is cute that my girls will find a brick rowboat and immediately reenact Merriweather Lewis and Sacajawea, exploring Louisiana Purchase territory for Thomas Jefferson. Scott and I must nurture history nerds - it is a family imperative!