Posts Tagged ‘preschool’

Valentine’s Day Debacle 2012 Averted

Monday, February 13th, 2012

After the Valentine’s Day Debacle of 2011, I decided to skip the store bought cards for Reichen and Latham’s preschool party this year in favor of something special.


Are you impressed?  Don’t be.  These personalized Valentine’s are super simple to make and I love the visual illusion the card creates.

Happy crafting!

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Toddler Talk

Saturday, November 19th, 2011

Reichen:  “HI STINKY DADDY!!!  I like to call him stinky daddy because he stinks up the whole house.”

What my 5-year-old told his teacher when David picked him up from preschool.

I’m a Nervous Laugher. And So is Ms. Lisa.

Tuesday, September 20th, 2011

She’s a nervous laugher, the principal of Reichen and Latham’s preschool, at least that’s what I’m telling myself so I don’t feel as bad.  I mean, I’m a nervous laugher.  So, I get it. 

In the beginning of our relationship, it irritated David so much that I giggled every time he tried to tell me something that made me uncomfortable, but over the years he’s come to accept it.

“I realize you’re nervous,” he says now, calmly, more to himself than to me, “and that’s why you’re laughing.” 

I know though that  my nervous laughter still somewhat bothers him even after all these years, just like he knows his habit of  leaving hangers on every doorknob in our house still somewhat bothers me.  But these are the the little things we let slide in our marriage because they’ll bury us if we don’t. 

But I’ve never really had to get used to someone else laughing nervously.  And I’ve got to admit, it’s awkward.

“Tasha,” the principal, Ms. Lisa, says through a stream of high pitched giggles, “you weren’t supposed to come to orientation tonight.  This meeting is for the parents of Kids Day Out,” giggle, giggle, giggle.

“Tasha,” Ms. Lisa says though a stifled snicker, “you made it to the right meeting tonight!  Good for you,” giggle, giggle, giggle.

“Tasha,” Ms.  Lisa chortles, “this is the time you’re supposed to meet with the Reichen and Latham’s enrichment teacher, did you forget?” giggle, giggle, giggle.

“Tasha,” Ms. Lisa grins while biting her cheeks, “you only turned in Reichen’s health form.  I also need Latham’s,” giggle, giggle, giggle.

Every day, it’s another day and another giggle from Ms. Lisa.  It is.

I’m not sure what it is, but I am having the worst time getting into the swing of school.  But seriously, with two kids in preschool, it’s always something.


Reichen has to wear Red on Thursday.  Latham has to wear Blue on Monday.  Bring a homemade, healthy snack with a gallon of water for Latham a week from Wednesday.  Reichen’s ‘Family Bear’ homework that he has to cut out, glue pictures to, cover in glitter, and apply googly eyes on is due Friday.  Latham has a half of day Monday.  Reichen has classroom orientation Tuesday for one hour.  And don’t forget that once a month, I have to deliver a secret pal gift for Latham’s teacher.


It’s no wonder, in my humble defense, that I forgot to turn in Latham’s health form or that I showed up on the wrong night for parent orientation. 

“Write it down in your calendar,” my mom and David instruct when it comes to all this school stuff.

“I do,” I defend.  “I do.”

I’m just not used to it, I guess.  Just like I’m not used to someone else nervously laughing while trying to tell me something uncomfortable. 

Ms. Lisa has definitely given me a whole new respect for what David has gone through for all these years, that’s for sure.

But don’t tell him I said that.

First Day of Preschool

Monday, September 12th, 2011

It’s your first day of preschool, my sweet little boy

And with your backpack strapped on, you smile with such joy.

‘I can’t wait to meet my new friends,’ you say grinning at  me

I nod and give you a high five to show you that I agree. 

We take a few pictures of your brother and you

Reichen is starting pre-K – which is a BIG deal, too.

As you walk down the hall – I can tell you’re a bit nervous

So I fuss with your backpack so we can have a little caucus.

‘Are you going to leave me,’ you ask in a small, tiny whisper

I rub your back and say, ‘Yes, but I’ll be here right after.’

It appears you believe me and so you walk off head high

You meet your new teacher and my heart swells with pride.

And then you say ‘Hi. My name is Latham,’ to a brand new classmate

I just know, my 3 year old son, this school year is going to be great!

The Boy Who Draws Stick Figures

Monday, August 15th, 2011

You’re quite the little artist, my sweet boy of four

But stick figures are your favorite – it’s them you adore.

Quite carefully you sit and take your time drawing

After the nose, eyes and hair, comes the smile that’s calming.

‘It needs arms,’ you deduce after scrutinizing your work

You add them along with fingers – on the details, you don’t shirk.

Legs and toes you add swiftly and then print your name ‘Reichen’

You admire your artwork and say, ‘There’s not another one like him.’

To that, we agree and then snap your sweet picture

So we can remember the day, you drew the most awesome stick figure.

“Oh Well, She Wasn’t Going to be Your Friend Anyway.”

Monday, April 18th, 2011

“Look mommy,” my 4-year-old says while pointing to a girl with a red bow in her hair, “that’s Mary!”

I’m not exactly sure who Reichen is referring to at first.  I mean, standing in the long line at the mall to see the Easter Bunny the weekend before the holy holiday happens isn’t exactly the best idea I’ve ever had.

“Oh,” I say after finally realizing why he recognizes the little blond beauty, “it’s Mary from preschool.”

And according to Ms. Jill, Reichen’s preschool teacher, Reichen loves Mary.  But so does Simon, Reichen’s classmate and best buddy.  Both boys want to marry her, Ms. Jill says.  But sadly, Mary has told them she’s simply not ready to wed. 

“Hi Mary,” Reichen says softly while waving.

“Hi Reichen,” Mary replies while waving back.

The sweet scene reminded me of my little brother when he was about Reichen’s age.  Every day at school, my brother walked around holding the hand of a blond little girl name Cherice and every now and then, I’d also see him sneak a quick kiss.  My brother may have only been 4 or 5 years old, but the kid had game.  And it appears, my son is following in his Uncle’s footsteps.

“Mommy, can I please talk to the the Easter Bunny with Mary,” Reichen pleads while clasping his hands and hopping up and down.

“I don’t know,” I say.  “We’ll have to ask Mary’s mom.”

Before I even say it, I know the answer.  Mary’s mom and I are not friends.  And I don’t know why.  Every day, I drop Reichen off at preschool and every day, I say a happy ‘Hello!’ to Mary’s mom.  And every day, she never replies.  Ever.

“Hi there,” I say to Mary’s mom.

She looks at me like I have a booger hanging from my nose.

“I’m Reichen’s mom, Tasha,” I trudge on,  “This is Reichen.  Mary and Reichen are in preschool together.”

And here’s the best part,  Mary’s mom didn’t say one word to me.  Not.  One.  Word.  She just turned around, finished writing her check for the Easter Bunny pictures, packed up her kids, and left.  David couldn’t believe it.

“Seriously?  Did that just happen,” he said.


And I had.  I’ve told my husband a million times about Mary’s mom – the one who never says hello.

 “Well,” he replied, “I thought you were exaggerating, but I guess you weren’t.”

We put our conversation on pause so the boys could take their picture with the Easter Bunny, but David quickly pressed play again when we reached the mall play area.

“I can’t believe that woman,” he said.  “I mean, who does she think she is?”

“I don’t know,” I reply.  “I mean, I’ve never done anything but say hello to the woman.”

And our conversation carried on for another couple minutes before I realized little Mary was in the play area, too.  I didn’t see her mom, but I was sure Mary’s dad must be near by and I had no idea what he looked like.

“Oh my gosh,” I stop David.  “Where is Mary’s dad?  Do you think he heard us talking?”

“No,” David replies.  “I’m pretty sure Mary’s Dad is that dude over there.  There’s no way he can hear us from here.”

And as if on cue, Mary calls out to the guy standing right next to us, “Daddy, look at me!”

Seriously.  Mary’s dad heard our entire conversation.

“Oh well,” a good friend of mine said after I later repeated the sordid story to her, “she wasn’t going to be your friend anyway.”

“Good point,” I replied.

And now, I thought, at least I know why.

Toddler Talk

Wednesday, April 6th, 2011

Ms. Joy:  “Reichen, let’s welcome your mom as today’s preschool mystery reader.  Can you introduce her to everyone?”

Reichen:  “Her name is mommy.”

Ms. Joy:  “Yes, she’s  your mommy.  But she’s not our mommy.  What’s her name?  What does your daddy call her?

Reichen:  “My daddy calls her Sunk.”

Me:  “Oh, sorry.  That’s a nickname David calls me.”

Ms. Joy:  “Oh.  Reichen what’s your mom’s name?  What name does your dad call her?”

Reichen:  “Darlin’?”

Ms. Joy:  “No, Reichen.  What’s your mom’s name?  What name does your dad call her?”

Reichen:  “Bubbers?”

Me:  “Um, sorry.  David rarely, if ever, calls me by my actual name.  Reichen, can you tell all your friends my name is Tasha?”

The incredibly embarassing conversation that happened at Reichen’s preschool this morning.  And if I wouldn’t have stopped it, it could have gone on forever.  David has a million nicknames for me.  A million of them.

Toddler Talk

Sunday, March 6th, 2011

Latham:  “Are you the Tooth Fairy?”

The sweet and surprising question my two-year-old asked a little girl in Reichen’s preschool class who was wearing a tutu.

To Raisin Bran Or Not To Raisin Bran, That is The Question

Monday, January 24th, 2011

After much consideration, I’ve decided to take on a new role in my life – one I take super seriously, one that comes with a lot of responsibility, and one that takes a lot of thought, effort, and planning.  But after last night’s conversation with my husband, it’s also a role David obviously doesn’t think I can handle.

“You can’t give kids Raisin Bran,” he says to me dripping with disdain.

“Why not,” I counter.  “Our boys love Raisin Bran.”

And they do.  If it were up to my 2 and 4 year old sons, they would slurp the cereal all day, every day.  And there have been days , I must admit, when they have.

“Because,” David says, (And this is really what he said.  Seriously.  I don’t make this stuff up.  In fact, people always ask if David actually says the stuff I attribute to him on the blog, and my answer is always the same:  Yes.  Yes, he does.  And the following quote is no exception.) “it looks cheap.”

I laugh.  “It looks cheap,” I say.  “They’re only 3 and 4 years old little kids.  I don’t think they know what looks cheap or what looks expensive.”

“Well,” he continues his case, “you can’t stuff Raisin Bran in to a bunch of zip lock baggies and give it to them.  It looks cheap.”

My new role, as if you haven’t guessed:  snack mom.  It is my sole responsibility to bring the perfect mini-meal for Reichen’s preschool class of 10.  And it’s proven to be somewhat of a daunting task.  I mean, I want a simple snack the kids will like, but it has to be healthy, and it can’t be cold because the school doesn’t have a place to refrigerate it.  See what I mean?  Daunting.

I mean, this is my first official job as a parent of a preschooler and I want to make a good impression. 

But even after David’s critical comment, I still believe Raisin Bran is the way to go.  I mean, there’s fiber in the cereal and that will make the kids feel full.  There are raisins in the cereal and that will give them something sweet.  And it’s crunchy!  Kids love crunchy! 

Yup.  The official snack mom is making Raisin Bran the official snack. 

And if David says one more word about it, I’m going to be stuffing more than Raisin Bran in a zip lock bag.  If you know what I mean.

The First Day of Preschool

Thursday, January 6th, 2011

It’s your first day of school and you’re so excited to get there.

You jump into your jeans and try to comb your own hair.


Blueberry yogurt is for breakfast, but you barely take a bite.

And forget about the toast – you won’t eat it without a fight.


So you hop in the car followed by your dad, brother, and me.

It’s a really special day and we want to celebrate as a family.


The new friends you’re about to make is what we discuss during the drive.

And you say you’re going to wear your backpack as soon as we arrive.


Ms. Joy is your teacher and she welcomes you with a smile.

She says, “This is your cubby – it’s the one right here on the aisle.”


You tell her you’re excited to start preschool today.

And two seconds later, you dismiss us with a quick wave.


“See you in a couple hours,” I say as I give you a big hug.

And as you give me a kiss Ms. Joy says, “Please, sit on the rug.”


And suddenly, the door closes and you’re off on a new adventure.

I’m so proud of you Reichen, it’s a memory I’ll always treasure.

Just So You Know, We Enroll In January – Not September.

Monday, January 3rd, 2011

“Are you serious,” she says to me, the woman on the other end of the phone when I called to register Reichen for preschool last September. 

Yes, I’m serious,” I say.

 “Well, just so you know, we enroll for fall preschool classes in January, not September,” she curtly conveyed.  And then, as if I needed a math lesson along with the parenting one she just taught me, she adds, “That was nine months ago.”

And then, she hangs up.


I started to freak after similar, although much less rude, conversations with several other preschool directors in our area who all basically say the same thing:  “You waited too long .”  And,  “We’re full.”

I was stunned.  Stunned.  I mean, who enrolls their 3 year old in preschool nine months before the school year starts?  I guess, according to my friends, everyone. 

“I thought you knew,” my friend Jenny says one day during a park play date.

No, I didn’t know,” I say.  “How could I possibly have known?  I mean, I’ve never enrolled a kid in preschool before.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs.  “I just thought you knew.”

After speaking with more mommy friends, I learn there’s a whole slew of stuff I need to know for school success such as:  you have to be the ‘room mom’ so you can plan ‘good’ class parties; you have to find out who the ‘best’ teacher is so you can request him or her for your child, and last but not least, you find out what’s what and who’s who and all other sorts of juicy stuff in the car line while waiting to pick up your child, so make sure you get there early.

For months, that information didn’t matter.  But now, I think it might. 

You see, after telling everyone I know about my school struggles, a woman I barely know from the gym nearly tackles me a couple weeks ago and tells me about an opening at her son’s preschool.

“I don’t know what happened,” she says.  “But there’s a spot starting in January in the 3 year old class and I know it’s going to be filled any second, so you have to call RIGHT NOW.”

So I did. 

And blah, blah, blah… 

REICHEN’S FIRST DAY OF PRESCHOOL IS TOMORROW!  (And by tomorrow, I mean Tuesday, just in case you’re reading this Tuesday and think I’m referring to Wednesday.)

Reichen is SO psyched! 

And Mommy is SO scared, and nervous, and proud, and psyched!

And so tomorrow, David, Latham, and I are all going to school to drop Reichen off together.  And, we’re going to take pictures.  And, we’re going to wave.  And, I bet, we’re even going to cry.

And, I also bet, we’ll be the only ones there doing that because apparently everyone else did it five months ago in September since they knew to enroll their kid for preschool in January, nine months before school even started.