"I'm doing it! I'm doing it! I'm doing it!"

The irony of tonight's bike lesson was not lost on me. I can't ride a bike, yet I was teaching my almost five year-old how to ride one. I like to compare our lessons to the Berenstain Bears book, "The Bike Lesson," where Papa Bear wants to demonstrate all of the how-to's to Brother Bear before he lets him ride the bike. The problem is, Papa Bear is dangerous on a bike and ends up showing his son everything you shouldn't do.

I'm not that bad--yet--but maybe that's because I'm not stupid enough to think I could demonstrate anything. I can, however, hunch over, hold the back of her bike seat, and run along side her. The best part of tonight's lesson were her chants to herself, "I'm doing it! I'm doing it! I'm doing it!"

Bless her heart. Maybe she'll let me ride in her side car once she ditches the training wheels.

sticky situation

I couldn't get comfortable in the movie theater seat. I crossed and uncrossed my legs. I sat with one leg tucked under me. I even dared to almost cuddle with my friend sitting next to me.

The movie ended and as I stood up, I made a gross discovery: the rock-like thing in my cute metallic sandals was a piece of gum. Someone else's gum. From a long time ago. It was grey.

Worse yet, it was smeared along the entire side of my shoe, as well as the bottom of it so that as I walked, one foot stuck to the floor. I tell my friends about it in the lobby...they try not to gag, but they laugh because they're thankful it's happening to me and not them.

It gets worse.

I'm driving home and realize I'm sticking to my car's seat. During the "tuck the leg under me" during the movie, I'd worked the grey gum into the right butt cheek of my jeans...and now I was transferring it to my car.

I used a plastic butter knife this morning to scrape off the gum. Audrey watched, of course, and made me feel like an ass.

refocusing

Grace was holding "summer camp" upstairs this morning. Campers Audrey & Nina had sign in sheets and a busy day of activities ahead. About half an hour into it, as Grace was leading the campers to the backyard (clipboard in hand) for soccer drills, Nina stopped to chat with me.

"I've been facing the corner of the room," she said with a pouty lip. "I don't even know what that means."

She walked away, leaving me confused.

Later, Audrey walks in and says loudly, "We've been at camp and Nina had to be reee-focused this morning" (a nice way of saying she was in trouble and put in the corner).

first "communick"

I returned from the grocery store to a very excited Audrey. She said happily, "We have a First Communick for you." To some of you, this will be a surprise. But to those who know Audrey, it is not.

Allow me to rewind a couple of months.

My niece, Anya, had her First Communion a couple of months ago. Audrey, our 'lil bible thumper, was fascinated by the service and had many questions afterward. She was also vehemently opposed to eating the bread when she had to do First Communion someday. "Don't worry about it now," I'd tell her.

So here we are today...in the backyard. Two lawn chairs are set up on one end of the yard--these are our seats. There's a clear aisle, marked by rocks on the lawn (much to Michael's chagrin). At the end of the aisle, a nice blanket where Grace will begin the service by playing the triangle. In the background, a Norah Jones song about "...the way you touch me."

After the triangle playing, Audrey precedes down the aisle, dropping bits of paper (Michael groaned again). Obviously not something done during a First Communion, but this is Audrey's version and given her affinity for flowergirl duties, the "petal" dropping is added.

Then comes Nina, an apple in one hand (she takes bites every few seconds), performing a dance. Imagine extreme lunging, arms outstreched...and a somersault after she sits the apple on the concrete.

As the dancing continues, Grace presents a certificate of First Communion to Audrey, and then Audrey returns the gesture. Nina is still dancing.

Audrey announces, "Now it's time for the bread and milk." Grace appears with a plastic cup of water and some crackers and the audience (Michael and I) are invited to participate in Communick, as Audrey calls it.

The end.

Oh, and there were programs. Cross drawn on the front, names of the recipients on the back. Very nice.

funny story

Michael and I took a much-needed one-night getaway to Portland. On the way, he says, "Did I tell you about the teachers at Grace's school yelling 'NO POLE DANCING?"

Me: "Um, no."
Michael: "Yeah, some of the girls were using the tetherball pole as a dancing prop and the teachers would yell at them."
Me: "Nice."

Did I mention this is happening at a grade school? DOH!

just another weekend morning at the Turners

The setup:  Michael's mowing the lawn--girls not allowed outside. I'm ready to get in the shower, so I give the usual "don't do anything for the next 15 minutes, girls" warning. I undress in our bedroom...and hear the front door open and close. And I know it wasn't Michael.

So I run out of the room, doing a terrible job of covering my top and bottom parts with my hands and arms. I get to the front door and realize I can't just open the door when I'm stark naked. So I grab a nearby jacket of Michael's. It's black and waist length. You get the picture. Since the bottom half of me is stille exposed, I decide to crouch to the left of the door as I open it.

Now, imagine you're standing outside, witnessing this scene. You see a woman huddled by her door, wearing only a black jacket, crazy-ass bed head hair, yelling for her kids.

After three good shouts over the noise of the mower, I look up and Michael's staring at me from the porch -- giving me the "OMG, Andrea, what are you doing?" look. I weakly say, "I'm getting the girls."

He rolls his eyes, the girls come inside, and I hang up the jacket before going back to the shower. Just another morning at the Turners.

"You want chicken & fries?"

Nina and I were at Walgreens' pharmacy. There's plexi-glass dividers, of sorts, where you're supposed to form a line. Much to Nina's delight, there was space between the bars and glass, so she could stick her head through and ask for someone's "order."

I'm at the counter paying when I hear her ask someone, "You want chicken & fries?" I hope that person has or had children so they can use their imagination and figure out what she was role playing.