Touring

Mr. K and I have been touring schools for Piglet for several weeks now. We are leaning heavily towards a language immersion program and with this in mind, our breakfast conversation with Piglet goes something like this:

Me: Piglet, can you say cwahssan (croissant)?

Piglet: Cwahssan!!!

Me: Piglet, can you say fromage?

Piglet: Fromage!

Mr. K: Piglet, can you say "I am speaking a dead European language?"

Oh that Mr. K, he thinks he is so funny.

If he had his druthers, we would enroll Piglet in a Mandarin Chinese immersion program.

Yesterday.

He figures that it will serve Piglet well to know the language of our "future overlords."

And he may have a point.

But let's face it, "Ni Hao Ma!" does not have the same flair as "Bonjour Maman!" And to be honest, the school with Mandarin immersion is, as Mr. K put it, "kind of a dump." Some facilities are modern and new while two of the main buildings should probably be checked for asbestos and mold. Seriously. MVK never jokes about mold and I'm telling you that there was a dank smell that hinted at something more. Thankfully, the classroom where the three year-olds are housed is in one of the newer buildings but the four year-olds are in mold central so we would only have one year before having to decide what to do next.

The school of the dead European language is fantastic all-around. The grounds are lovely and well-maintained and the buildings are bright and clean. The children all appeared happy and confident, not to mention adorable with their "s'il te plait" this and "oui, c'est bon!" that. The teachers are all native speakers and the head of school who has a PhD, stated a very compelling case for language immersion. I was smitten from the get-go, imagining my Piglet being all French speaking and fabulous.

Because that right there is the truth.

The French language is freaking fabulous. Sure, it's not as useful as sayyyyyy Spanish or Mandarin, but who needs useful when you can have FABULOUS?! Just saying.

Besides, let's just call a spade a spade. Mr. K is a genius-level uber geek. Signs point to Piglet having inherited the geek gene. Odds are that while it would be an amazing gift for him to be bilingual, he probably wouldn't need it in his chosen career.

Did you catch that?

I just charted my 2.5 year-old's career path.

NO, I DO NOT HAVE CONTROL ISSUES.

Thank you very much.

Moving on!

While we cannot believe that the time has come to consider preschools for Piglet, we know that he will probably be ready to start in January and certainly next fall. It's an exciting process for us and especially for Mr. K who loves to learn and loves that he will be able to share this journey with Piglet soon.

I am having so much fun touring schools and imagining Piglet making pipe cleaner art and handprint wreaths. Though I'm pretty sure my parents didn't go through this elaborate process with me. I think they just picked a place that was clean and where the people didn't seem like they would practice corporal punishment.

Ah, how times have changed.

Piglet, enjoy your last days of lounging and raiding the pantry. Change is a-comin'!


P.S. - To my new fan Liz, this one was for you. Now you can say "TWO freaking posts in October?" Put me out of my misery and hit follow already!

Oh Reality, surely you jest.

Okay. Where did we leave off?

Oh I KNOW.

I was about to embark on a sunny, dream vacation to celebrate my 20th friendaversary with my BFF.

And let me tell you, it was awesome! The best part? We discovered that we are perfect travel companions. Which is HUGE. You know how sometimes you are great friends with someone and then you go on vacation with them and you suddenly discover 1,000 annoying little things about each other that have you calling your spouse from the bathroom saying "OMG! She pouted all morning because we didn't go out to breakfast!" or "She spends all her time on the phone! I might as well be on this trip alone!"

Not with Jess. Not for one second did we get on each others' nerves or bicker or have a moment of tension. Miraculously, we seemed to be in sync for the entirety of our trip. No small feat! I think that this is due in large part to the fact that we both fundamentally believe that vacation has three finite goals: lounge, eat, and shop. Oh and also because we were drunk most of the time.

KIDDING! (not really)

It helps too that we share the same twisted sense of humor where even a CONVERSATION about the SkyMall catalog can send us into a crying fit of laughter. Meaning, there was no actual catalog on the plane, but just TALKING about it made our shoulders shake and eyes tear up because YES, a standing pig wearing a chef's hat and apron while holding a chalkboard is *that* funny.

Conclusion: we are ridiculous.

I could regale you with many tales from our trip, but perhaps the most memorable was our evening spent with the troubadour Paul who insisted on serenading us TABLESIDE whilst staring deeply into our eyes (Jess' were intermittently averted by the very arduous task of cutting asparagus). My strategy was to think of the most unfunny things possible, you know -- dead bunnies and JESUS ON THE CROSS.

Seriously. The whole evening was complete hilarity. Oh, One-Man-Show Paul with your Mark Cohn and Bruce Hornsby, you made our evening one of the funniest in TWENTY YEARS, for this we thank you.

If you're wondering how Mr. K fared, he was a superstar. I got texts all day long with photos and videos of happy piglets. He had a marvelous time with the whole Mr. Mom gig. In fact, he was so effusive about the whole experience, he had me wondering if perhaps he was enjoying my absence TOO much. When asked what made single parenting so fun for him Mr. K replied "I think it was being able to do whatever I wanted with the kids. I could even dress them in stuff that didn't really match!"

You'll excuse me now as I clean up the mess because MY HEAD JUST EXPLODED.

Ahem.

Jess and I returned in the evening around 7:00 p.m. and to say I hit the ground running would be an understatement. I no sooner set down my bags then it was "Juice! I need juice!" and "the babies need to eat!" My first full day after vacation went something like this:

9:00 a.m. - Playdate

11:00 a.m. - prepare trio for dr. visit and shots

12:30 p.m. - leave for dr.

2:45 p.m. - return home from dr. visit (during which the nurse started fanning me with the Twinks' charts because things got so crazy)

3:00 p.m. - drop off prescriptions at the pharmacy

3:30 p.m. - pick up dog from groomer due to "anal gland issues"

4:00 p.m. - take dog to vet for above mentioned problems

5:00 p.m. - return to pharmacy and pick up prescriptions

5:30 p.m. - make dinner, feed kids

6:00 p.m. - bathe babies

6:30 p.m. - last feed for babies

7:00 p.m. - bath for Piglet

7:30-10:00 p.m. - replace binkies, soothe babies, put Piglet to bed, clean kitchen, pick up house

Now how's that for a strong dose of reality?

Did I mention we had our own pool and 3,000 sq feet to frolic in just the two of us?

There's no such thing as a gradual re-entry when you are a mother!