As I was doing the morning dishes (and, let’s not kid, last night’s and those from yesterday’s lunch),  I started thinking about being thankful. And, I am very thankful!

• I’m thankful for the piles and piles of dishes that I have to do today – because it means that my family has enough food to put on the table at every mealtime.
• I’m thankful for the loads and loads of laundry that I have to do today – because it means that we have clothes on our back.
• I’m thankful for the diapers I have to change today (and the fights that will come with stopping Louie long enough to get them changed) – because it means that we have a wonderful, feisty baby girl who is happy and healthy and … growing up too fast.
• I’m thankful for the sand that I will have to sweep up today – because it means that my very active Little Man has been doing what he loves and will be anxious to tell us all about it (over and over again). It means he’s healthy and happy and … growing up too fast.
• I’m thankful for the squabbles I’ll have to mediate today – because it means that the kids have each other and because I will eventually get to see them hug and tell each other, “I love you!”.
• I’m thankful for the insane amount of vacuuming that will need done – because it means that my house is truly a home and … a well lived in one at that!
• I’m thankful for the nagging that Husband will show up after dinner. The reminders of what is not done even though we are bone tired (Wait, it’s not going to be starting after dinner. He just popped his head in the door to tell me that blogging isn’t going to get the furniture rearranged.) – because it means that I have a Husband who is actively involved in everything this family does. A Husband who cares about tradition and family and togetherness.

I have so very, very many things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. They are simply too many to count.

My family wishes you family a safe, healthy, and very blessed Thanksgiving!

For the past year or so, I’ve been looking into our family’s past. I think it’s important for us to know how and where we’ve come from and we are getting to the point where many of our “primary sources” are starting to be of an age where they no longer remember things as they once did. If we don’t do it now, there will be many things lost forever.

So, I’ve been painstakingly trying to harness the collective memory. It’s been both frustrating and exciting!

I started with a group of folks I knew well – or thought I did. The stories behind the photos – the life stories – are captivating and quirky and real. And, they make me love these folks even more than I already did.

my great grandfather, my grandfather, and his brother there's a story here

my grandmother and her brother

Recently, we attended a family reunion and I was able to meet a whole branch of the family tree for the very first time. Having these folks in one place led me to a treasure trove … of both family and memories!

Aren’t these folks stunning in their best attire? This marriage led to Husband being here on this earth – without it, he doesn’t exist. It’s stunning when you think about it from that perspective. Stunning and humbling.

As we met folks that day, looked at old pictures, and chatted about all sorts of things, I was struck by the continuity of it all.

my father-in-law and his sister - he hasn't changed a bit!

Generation to generation – some things different, many things the same. And it’s part of everything we are now and everything we will be.

• Taking the Easy Way Out
• It’s about Dang Time
• Whew, Dodged a Bullet There
• #1 Reason Grammy’s Rule

Your are now fully intrigued, no?

I may have mentioned before that Little Man is not a very good sleeper. He’s just not. If I think about it, he never has been. At the root of it all, I think is this simple fact … he doesn’t want to miss anything. Little Man is also an opportunist – as most 5-year-olds are.

If you combine those two elements with a new baby sister on  the way, you get … bad mommy!

Here’s how it works.

When I was in the last months of pregnancy with BK (a.k.a., Louie), I couldn’t easily get to the level of Little Man’s trundle bed to read to him. So, he got to read with me on our bed where, snuggled in, he often fell asleep – soundly asleep. Fast forward about 20 months and you find Little Man sleeping on the floor in our bedroom.

[You can gasp if you like. You might even want to "tsk" or shake your head. I'm OK with that too. You might want to nod knowingly. I've gotten it all. Little Man is not shy about flaunting this Bad Mommy behavior of mine!]

Although I know that he cannot sleep on our bedroom floor forever, I must tell you that he sleeps well there. He goes to bed when we ask him to and he sleeps through the night. This is not a phenomenon we experienced when he was in his own bed/room.

Oh, and if you ask him about it, you’ll get something like this.

I don’t sleep well. I need some of that stuff they show on TV for people who can’t sleep at night. But, I like my pallet here in “our” room. I’ll sleep in my bed when I’m 5 6.

If he’s feeling like he needs to impress you, he’ll tell you more (including a myriad of “logical” reasons why it’s necessary for him to sleep there) and you will laugh at the seriousness silliness seriousness of it all.

We’ve been working on this for what seems like forever and, frankly, we’ve just not been motivated enough to get him sleeping where he needs to be sleeping. We’re afraid that we won’t sleep and we’re just too old and wimpy to be going without sleep anymore. [There, I said it.]

Enter Grammy and our little Louie (BK).

The kids have gone to Grammy’s for their summer sabbatical. [We hope they want to come home.] When we set this all up, there was some discussion about where the kids would sleep because Gram doesn’t have a crib. Gram decided Louie could handle a toddler bed and made it so.

[My mother has this power, you know. She says things like, "He will be potty trained by Friday." And, he was. It's a little awe-inspiring and a tad overwhelming.]

Little Man decided that he and Louie should sleep in the same room at Grammy’s and made it so. It’s been a happy 3 weeks!

Bad Mommy heard about all of this happy sleeping and had an idea! A wonderful idea! A-ha!!!

We could move Louie to a toddler bed in her room and Little Man could sleep in the big kid bed in that room! Brilliant! They are of an age where sharing a room isn’t a big deal and he’d be OFF MY FLOOR!!!! Woot!

So, my mom asked Little Man what he thought of the plan. This is what she said he said.

I would like to share a room with Louie and help her feel safe in the toddler bed when we get home. I am her big brother and it would be a good idea for us to be in the same room. I would also like to make my bedroom a toy room so we could have another place to play.

Whew. Really? This might actually work. So, taking stock, here’s where we are.

• Brilliant plan hatched? Check
• Preschooler buy-in? Check
• Toddler bed acquired? Check
• Big bed readied for new tenant? Check

I’m now holding my breath for when they arrive home. Good news, though … my mother is staying for a week.

• Bad Mommy problem #97 solved? Maybe!

This weekend, as I sat with my eyes closed, I remembered and encounter I had with Little Man.I guess before I start, it would be helpful to give you a bit of background. Hmmm…

1. Little Man loves his fish … although he can’t really remember their names from one day to the next.
2. The average life span of a fish in my care is not long – particularly if they are goldfish.
3. After I killed several goldfish, we bought fish of heartier stock – with the help of the lovely people at PetSmart.
4. I have not killed these yet. (I don’t suppose that’s a necessary detail, I’m just proud of myself.)
5. Little Man is convinced that his fish need a house and a plant. Our fish tank isn’t big enough for both.
6. The fishbowl is my job around here. All mine!

Just before Grammy came, I cleaned out the fishbowl. It was getting kind of nasty and I had some time so I just did my thing. I didn’t think to much about it at all, actually. I cleaned the bowl, replaced the stones and the filter, and swapped out the plant that had been in the take with the house that we’d used before. No fish died in the process and the kids weren’t even aware that I was cleaning the tank. No biggie.

the castle and the algae sucker

So, finished with the bowl, I went on to other things. I was in the office working on something and all of a sudden Little Man runs in with a HUGE smile on his face. HUGE! [I initially wondered what he'd gotten into. Candy seemed to be a logical guess.]

“THANKS, MOM!”, was followed by a hug the size of his grin.

Startled, I asked, “Little Man, you are very welcome. But, I’m not sure what I did.”

He said, “You put the castle in the fish tank.”

I had no idea. No idea at all that this castle meant that much to him. Wanna know something else? I had no idea how much I loved this type of spontaneous hug.

Have you ever had the experience of not missing something because you’d never had it before, but then really missing it once you found out what you were missing?

Yeh, me too. I miss him. I miss them.

Spontaneous hugs all around!

[Yes, we know, we are very lucky. Yes, we know, that some will hate us for the blessing that is my mother. We can live with that.]

So we’ve reached the time when, for a little while, Husband and I revert back to DINK-dom. Ahhh … but not really. You see, once you have kids, you can never go back to anything else because you are ALWAYS thinking about … worrying about, missing, doing impressions of … your kids.

I do, however, embrace this time. It’s catch up, work hard, and don’t feel guilty time. I need it – desperately. But, I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that it’s getting harder and harder to put them on that plane. It’s getting much harder.

I would now like to share with you my experience for this year’s flight – the one that took my children almost 2000 miles from home. It’s OK if you laugh with at me. Really.

5:00 AM

Ugh. What? Oh. Dang. We need to hurry. Good thing Little Man slept in his clothes last night. Is Gram up?

5:30 AM

Ugh. OK … are we all ready? Little Man, you ready to go? Where are you? (Already downstairs in the car. Might be a tad excited.)

Awake enough now for self-talk and a stomach ache.

This is just nerves. Stop it. They’ll be fine. OK, gotta get going.

6:00 AM

Leave for the airport. Little Man talks non-stop. BK still trying to figure out why she’s up so dang early. Frankly, so am I.

6:45 AM

Arrive at the airport. Small talk abounds – little airport discussions. Little Man still talking – the car screw is his favorite part (that would be the circular ramp to the parking garage). When exactly did he become a morning person?

7:15 AM

Checked in. On the way to security. Little Man has had a bathroom stop. Husband and I are now realizing that they will be gone in about 10 minutes. Security guys somewhat empathetic to our plight tell us to move out of their neutral zone – but allow us to remain in the security line at the front so that we can watch.

We say a quick good-bye. Kids don’t cry – at all.

7:25 AM

Security is cleared. [They made BK walk through without my mom ... what? I can't even begin to explain this.] They are gone. Husband and I leave for work. Not much to say. Sad.

7:55 AM

Scheduled take off.

8:00 AM

I arrive at work – grouchy and, now that the adrenaline is gone, very tired. Did I mention yet, that this all happened on a Monday. Just wrong.

8:15 AM

Logged on to FlightAware and watched the plane climb out and away. [I have never done this before in my life. I'm not sure what possessed me to do it this time.] Got quite a bit of my “Monday work” done while I watched that plane, that lovely little green line, safely move across the country.

9:40 AM

Checked the flight status for the 20th time (they were at 39000 feet and being guided by the folks in Fort Worth) and quietly realized that I’d become a bit obsessed. I mean, really? What would I have done if that little green plane graphic would have disappeared from the screen. Wait. Bad thought. Not good to think of this when the plane is in the air!!!!

The self-talk began again.

It’s just a flight. Do you have any idea how many flights come and go with no problems. You do. I know you do. This is just a flight. People do this all the time. YOU do this. It’s fine. Stop worrying.

10:55 AM

Announced to the coworkers lucky enough to be in my office that my kids were at 700 ft. Sick, I know, but relieved. It was at this moment that I realized that my life had all but stopped for about 2 hours 49 minutes. Stopped for the duration of a flight – for something I had absolutely NO control over.

10:56 AM

Called my dad to tell him to call me when he got them. Made sure that he was going to be there to help.

11:10 AM

The phone rang. Kids were wonderful and were fantastic travelers. “Everyone said so.” They were heading to lunch. Everyone was fine – a little excited and a little tired.

Looking back, the stress I felt during this everyday 2 hour and 49 minute flight is stunning to me. My parents are completely capable of taking care of my kids. Frankly, if they weren’t, there would be no flight. Still, it was somehow very comforting to watch my kids and my mom fly safely across that screen at 39000 feet with a minute-by-minute play-by-play if I’d have wanted it.

And then, somewhere in the echo of all of the relief, I heard the voice of  our Pastor who spoke about faith and expectations on the Sunday just prior to this crazy Monday flight. One where I was reminded that God is in control and that worry doesn’t change a thing … “less worry about the future means more peace in the present.” Coincidental timing? I don’t think so.

They’ve been with their Grandparents for a week now. In that time, Little Man has learned to fish, entered a fishing derby, and caught numerous fish (which he also released). BK has gotten to know her way around and has witnessed her first real fireworks show. They are sharing a room and taking care of each other just as well as my parents are taking care of them.

They are fine. They are alive – I mean really living. They are having the time of their lives and doing things that we simply couldn’t do here at home. Life is good.

They got on that plane … and they’re still flying! We all are.

the happy expecting couple (we had no clue)

When Husband and I decided to get married, there was never any doubt that we would have children. Although we met and got married “later in life”, it was just a given that we would have a family. We were youthful – if not young – and idealistic. Life was good! [Life is still good, by the way. Very good!]

About seven years ago, Husband and I found out we were expecting for the first time. It was mid-June and just after our wedding reception.

[There's a running joke that we got pregnant between our wedding and reception. We did, actually ... the dates were like 3 months apart.]

We no sooner found out – and had time to get excited – than I miscarried. Six weeks – two days. We were devastated.

finding reasons to be thankful

Not long after that we learned that we were expecting the second time. This time, we were cautious. We ran tests, prayed, and waited. At about 5 weeks, we knew that I would miscarry. The tests said so.  It was Thanksgiving. We gave thanks and prayed that the tests were wrong. They weren’t. I miscarried at six weeks – two days. We were devastated.

I believe that faith and parenthood/fatherhood are necessary companions. We had faith. We had pain and grief and all that goes with miscarriage. We were scared, but we had faith.

The doctors assured me that it was likely that there was nothing wrong – that miscarriages are quite common. We took solace in that and decided to just be faithful and see what would happen.

Several months went by before we found ourselves expecting for the third time. This time we were just plain scared. We were also “activists”. We asked questions, learned a whole lot of medical terms, ran tests, and were cautiously optimistic. Then we started watching the calendar for the dreaded six weeks – two days. The numbers on the tests weren’t right, but the hCG numbers were going up so … we prayed and prepared.

Six weeks – two days. No miscarriage. Six weeks – three days. Six weeks – four days. No miscarriage.

I will never forget the appointment – the day when my OB said, “Looks like you are going to have to raise this one.” Never.

a father is born

Just about 9 months (and several anxious moments of our own making) later, we were blessed with Little Man. In that moment, in that messy, scary, exciting, crazy moment a father was born as well. It was instant – a sort of rush of all of the emotion that comes with the journey to the moment. He had no idea what do to, but he was hooked.

Husband grew up the youngest of three kids. He never babysat and, until he met me, he’d not spent a lot of time with children at all. Now, he had a little one depending on him all of the time. I’m sure that it scared him to death. But, we never saw it.

Little Man had Husband uncovering feelings that he never knew existed. He was our little bundle of shock and awe. Husband loved him more and more every day and, today, they have a bond so strong that I can’t imagine a power strong enough to tear it apart. I am in awe of their relationship.

Roughly four years later, we decided that Little Man needed a sibling brother. We weren’t going to have another child – you can ask anyone. We were content. And, then, all of a sudden, we weren’t. And, then? Nah, we’re good. But, then? We really should. It was insane.

We really couldn’t decide. And then we did. We decided that we were read to do this crazy dance all over again.

The first month, I just knew I wasn’t pregnant. I just knew it. I didn’t feel pregnant. But, I checked anyway and uh, yeh … WRONG! So, we quickly got a grip and counted on the calendar. Our first healthy milestone was that six week – two day mark.

The doctors tested me out the wazoo – almost 40 with a history of miscarriage earns you a lot of needles in early pregnancy! I was on a business trip and bugged the sin out of the nurses at my doctor’s office. But, there they were – perfectly textbook hCG numbers and, then a strong heartbeat. We were going to have another baby. Little Man was going to have a brother.

our tiny baby girl

Yeh, except that God had some other plans. Little Man apparently needed a sister. Who knew? And, as it turns out? Daddy needed a baby girl.

When we found out BK was not a boy there was some denial going on. Husband refused to buy in to what the nurses and ultrasound pictures were saying. She was a boy. What would we do with a girl? He already had the boy thing down.

But, sure enough, little BK showed up a tad ahead of schedule and full of healthy (if tiny) spunk! At 5 pounds 12 ounces, she was SO tiny and feminine – the complete opposite of her big brother.

And, Daddy? Well, if I am to be honest, I’d tell you that he was just scared. He stayed back this time … loving, but a little standoffish. He loved, supported, took care of … but didn’t really bond initially.

She was so small and so pink … and Little Man needed him … and she was so small and fragile.

Then, one morning in the first part of her second month, I looked over at the rocking chair and saw a father being born once again. In the quiet morning light with eau d’formula floating heavily in the air, I watched my husband fall completely in love with his daughter. I literally watched him fall. It was a precious moment that I will treasure forever.

BK is in love with her Daddy – as it should be. She thinks he hangs the moon – and the feeling is mutual. They have created a wonderful relationship that gives me such confidence in her future. I am in awe of their relationship.

My kids and their Dad are an awesome force. They love each other and hold nothing back. It’s pure and raw and real. They share bonds that will get them through the rough times. I am thankful for this to a point beyond expression. I wrote this post to honor the journey. The bond. The man.

Happy Father’s Day, Husband … and to all fathers everywhere!

We are beyond blessed to have you in our lives.

I may have mentioned before that Little Man talks almost non-stop and that listening to him can be very entertaining and enlightening.  He’s told me more than I could ever imagine about topics I never thought I’d even consider, much less talk about … and sometimes he’s right! I actually signed up for Twitter, initially, to keep a running record of the crazy stuff he says! [Which so totally ironic that I can't stand it!]

Every once in a while you get a blog-worthy gem. Something that really deserves a bit more “ink” than the typical 140 on Twitter. Something that makes you stop in your tracks and think – or laugh out loud – or both.

I am quoting here.

Mom, you should do something more with your day than Twittering.

Really. I kid you not. He said that to me at dinner last night.

I think he should have warned Husband that he was going to say it because lemonade almost spewed all over the kitchen table. Once recovered, Husband looked at me as if to say, “See, I’m not the only one who thinks so!” [Husband and I are exact opposites when it comes to social technologies. That's an odd story for another time.] Between the two of them, there was righteousness and smugness to spare.

Of course, they are right. I should do something more with my day than tweet … and I do.  Lots more. In fact, I’m doing one of those things right now!!!  [Ahh ... the rebuttal, feels so good. Don't you agree?]

I am more than aware that Little Man knows I work on computers all day. He knows that it’s part of my job and he knows that many of my hobbies are computer-based. He’s talked to me about Facebook. He’s been a guest blogger here. I had no idea he knew about Twitter! Color me surprised.

As it stands, I’m going to pack away two important pieces of information from this little discussion of ours.

1. Little Man hears and processes everything Husband and I say. And … he often gets it right.
2. Being able to laugh at yourself – and see yourself through the eyes of your kids – is a good thing.

I’ve got one more thought on this before I get back to Twitter. [LOL, just kidding.] My son will soon be of an age where technology will play a bigger role in his daily activities. I expect the tables will turn at least a little before too much longer. I can hear myself saying something like…

• Little Man, I’ve got a dirty job for you … your room! Turn off Mike Rowe and clean up.
• Little Man, put down the Wiimote and let’s go outside.
• Little Man, time to log off … let’s eat.
• Little Man, don’t tell your Facebook friends that I’m crazy! I’m in your friends list, remember?

Wanna bet that sometime, someday I actually turn the tables and say…

Little Man, you should do something more with your day than Tweeting.

Hmmm … the child’s words used by the parent. I think I like it! Makes for a good tweet … don’t you think?

The other night, Little Man and I were talking about what he’s learning at school. He’s getting closer and closer to kindergarten and his preschool teachers are really doing a good job with readiness skills. One of the things they are doing is reading and talking about A LOT of books. [His teacher LOVES the library and talks about books and reading all the time ... heart is singing here!]!

Little Man is excited about the books they are reading – especially one. A chapter book about a little girl in kindergarten – one Miss Junie B. Jones. [Little kids are soooo cute when they say chapter book ... there's awe in every word. I love it!]

The mention of the Junie B. series made me all warm and fuzzy inside.  See, about 15 years ago, I read the Junie B. series to my students and we all fell in love with her – and Barbara Park, the author. My students and I couldn’t get enough of  her books. We bought out the book fair and emptied piggy banks when the Scholastic Book orders went around. It was a reading frenzy. I loved it. We loved it. It was a true reading community – amazing things happened.

About 10 years ago, I had the absolute privilege of meeting Barbara Park in person. She was doing an on-camera appearance in the studios where I worked. She was there to talk to students about reading and writing – her work.

Just before her visit to the studio, it was discovered that many of the folks in our little production group weren’t familiar with her books. So, I spent an hour a day reading them out loud in our cube area. By the time Ms. Park arrived, everyone knew Junie B. and loved her. [Yep, there's a pattern here. If you don't know these books, you should get to know them!]

After the shows, she sat and talked to a few of us about writing and teaching. I didn’t get much work done that day … in fact, maybe none.  She was wonderful and gracious and delightful to talk to. [Grown-ups are sooo cute when they talk about meeting amazing authors who "get it" and are willing to talk about it ... there's awe in every word.]

It’s hard to believe that it’s been so long since I’ve spent time with Junie B. So, I was excited when Little Man brought her home. And, last night, some 15 years after first meeting Junie B., I passed on my collection of her stories to my Little Man. It was good.

Tonight, he and I read about Junie B., that Grace, Mrs., Lucille, and Meanie Jim. None of them have changed much in all this time. Junie B. is still her silly, honest, ornery old self. She hasn’t aged a bit … not one. And I love that.

Little Man can’t wait to read on! My old friend has captivated my son … I can’t wait to see what happens next!

I’ve been an educator for a long time now. I’ve seen ups and downs, highs and lows. Over the years, I’ve watched, participated in, embraced, and avoided trends. It’s part of growing as a professional and generally working to become better at what I love.

However, about five years ago, something changed. I became a mom and started adding another rich layer of experience. These years have provided teaching experience of a different kind. I now examine and evaluate educational practices from yet another angle.

 So, as you can imagine, it was with great interest that I opened and read a new study from the Alliance of Childhood about a crisis in kindergarten classrooms in the US.

You can get the full report here.
You can get a summary here.

When I opened the report summary I was greeted with this statement. A statement that was carefully crafted, I’m sure. It’s, frankly, a heck of an opening line.

The importance of play to young children’s healthy development and learning has been documented beyond question by research. Yet play is rapidly disappearing from kindergarten and early education as a whole.

I will be honest and tell you that I read the report with some skepticism because the world of educational news reporting has gotten a bit shrill and dramatic for my tastes. This report is also, by the Alliance’s own admission, a call to action. So, it’s written with a certain drama and tension. It’s meant to provoke!

Somewhere in the middle of the second sentence, I stopped reading as a professional educator and began reading as a mom. I can tell you the instant it happened … the niggling concern, the desire to protect.

So, here we are. What follows is an open letter to Little Man’s kindergarten teacher … whoever you are!

Dear One of the Most Important People in My Son’s Educational Life,

Please know that we value you. You are about to be entrusted with one of the loves of our lives. Along the way, I am sure that we will learn more about each other than we ever intended … the good, the bad, and, perhaps, the ugly.

We also know that you have a difficult job and that the pushes and pulls on your time and focus are intense and immense. We respect that and will support your efforts.

Little Man, like all of the children in your class, is unique and special. We hope we have instilled in him the skills and behaviors that will make him happy and successful in your class … and in life.

I have only a few requests of you as you interact and guide my son through this vital year in his educational career.

1. Celebrate him. Little Man is interested in a great many things. Not all of them translate clearly to the objectives you’ve been asked to tackle with him. I know it’s easy to get caught up in the accountability of benchmarks and testing – things that tend to shift the focus to weaknesses. Please take time celebrate what he knows and can do – his uniqueness, his joys. 
2. Support him. Little Man is one of the most cautious little guys I’ve ever met. He’s sometimes slow to try things because he needs to feel that it’s safe to take risks. He needs to learn to take risks – both interpersonally and academically. Please make it safe for him to practice doing so.
3. Laugh with him. My little guy can be so serious sometimes. He’s got a very clear grasp of real and pretend – and he prefers real. Please help him develop a sense of fun and play! Please provide him time to expand his creative horizons … dare him to dream and be silly. Ask him to tell you all about it. Go along for the ride!
4. Build a strong foundation for him. I firmly believe that what you and Little Man build in this first year of formal schooling will set the tone for years to come. Please show him that learning is one of the most important things he can do for himself – and one of the coolest. Please show him daily that there are many ways to think and learn and do.
5. Cheer with him when he succeeds and help him fail with grace. This is very tough for him. Please let him fail (when necessary) and help him understand that, from failure, sometimes great learning occurs.

It is my hope that we will grow together during this year. It is my hope that we will be true partners in my son’s education. Please don’t hesitate to let us know if there is something we can do to support your efforts!

With all of our best wishes and regards,

Us

I have about four months before the reality of kindergarten sets in. Honestly, I’m not ready for it. I’m hoping that I meet with our kindergarten teacher and the contents of this letter – the requests - just fade away because it’s obvious that he or she values creativity, problem solving, play … the very essence of childhood.

However personally I have chosen to react to this report, I do think it’s beyond time we take a closer look at what we value as we educate these youngest of school-aged learners.

Times they are a’changin’ (and have been for some time). Are the changes for the better? Are we doing this the best way we know how? Are the ripple effects clearly understood? Is this reprt reactionary or is playtime getting the short end of the stick? Should we reverse the current conventional wisdom and return kindergarten to the realm of early-childhood education? What are the risks? Are we willing to take them?

I’d love to hear your take on this!

It could be that I’m going to fuss once again about sharing a bathroom with boys (specifically Little Man) or I could be about to share the first chapter of my romance novel between a handsome and strapping (but, of course, aloof and moody) cowboy who is forced to share space with a bonny lass who was dropped on his doorstep by fate. Heck, it might even be a post about a big  video poker win [Vegas, anyone?]!

Yeh, no. This one is about a funeral. You see, I killed Fishdy.

OK, that may be a bit dramatic. I didn’t do it on purpose. There was no premeditation or heinous act. But it happened. [And, to be fair, it's probably a good thing that I've gotten some distance from the whole thing because I was inexplicably upset and traumatized by the whole thing.]

I was actually trying to be a good fish mom. I was cleaning out his tank. I did everything just like I’d done before … only this time the bubble stone broke. So, good fish mom that I am? I set out to get him another one. He was fine when I left … I swear.

Four stores and a 60 mile round trip later, I had the ding-dang stone [OK, first, I'm not exaggerating about the number of stores and number of miles here. Not even a little bit! Second, I also bought him new rocks and a new net ... he was about to be ready for his own segment on Cribs.]

Seriously, we were gone for about 3 hours. It wasn’t a long time.

When we arrived home, I put the stone in and got the clean water a’bubblin’ again. Ahhh … all was well.  I went to check on Fishdy.

Crap. [I may actually have used a different word. It's all a bit hazy.]

He was laying on his side at the bottom of the holding tank. No gill movement. Nothing.

I told Little Man. He told Husband. There was a bike ride.

A bit later, while Little Man was playing with his trucks, I quietly took Fishdy into the bathroom. I told him I was sorry, dumped him into the bowl, and flushed.

As I walked back to the kitchen, Little Man quietly said,

Mom, I know what that flush was. It was Fishdy wasn’t it?

I told him that it was and that I was very sorry that Fishdy was gone. We shared a quick hug and he went back to playing.

Fishdy’s very clean tank is sitting on my counter top. The pump is still on and the stone is still a’bubblin’.  A couple of times this week I’ve had to remind myself NOT to feed the empty bowl.

Little Man has decided he wants another fish … and a hamster.

I’m sure that there is something deep that I could say here about the frailty of life and the resiliency of childhood. I feel like I should make some commentary here – something deep that resonates with readers everywhere.

But, in the end, this is really just another story of a mom, a boy, a fish, and a flush.