Today was supposed to be Pumpkin Farm Day for me and the kids. Before I went out this morning, leaving the kids with Ace, I informed the little Anklebiters that two things had to happen by the time I got back: 1. Rooms had to be picked up, and 2. All kids had to be good listeners for Ms. Ace. If I got back a bad report on even one kid, Pumpkin Farm Day would have to be cancelled. Four little heads nodded solemnly.

Fast forward to lunchtime, and Ms. Ace's Morning Report. Two kids got a thumbs down.

I was so bummed. I'd been looking forward to Pumpkin Farm Day at least as much as them.

In the past year, I've gone from being a Homeschooling Mama to missing out on 35 hours of their week. Add in the weekends they spend with their dad, and you get one mom with Serious Kid Withdrawl.

Even when they are home, they don't necessarily want to spend every waking moment with Mom. They're no longer the Little Extensions of Mommy they were as infants and preschoolers. This is right and healthy. But it's left me feeling a little lost, now that they don't need me 24/7 anymore.

So when they didn't meet the requirements for Pumpkin Farm Day,it was so very tempting to give into their pleas that I take them anyway.

I told them, "I have to keep my word to you and cancel the trip." The two "good girls" cried -especially M&M, who had actually cleaned her brother's room in an attempt to keep Pumpkin Farm Day going. But everyone accepted it.

I hope that, by keeping my word to them today, I've built their trust of me and their understanding that actions have consequences.

I also hope that the weather's good tomorrow. I'm taking them to the Pumpkin Farm, good behavior or no.

Carpool Moms and The Superior Dance

I am a Walker Mom. My kids walk to school each morning, and I meet them at the side entrance every afternoon so that we can walk home together, sharing meaningful conversation about our day - and so I can make sure that 7 year old Dubya does not "accidentally" leave his little sister at school.

The Carpool Moms, on the other hand, wait in the carpool line and chauffer their little ones home each afternoon. Nothing wrong with that. But here's where I am totally stumped: there are Carpool Moms waiting in line for a solid hour before the final bell rings, in order to get a plum spot in the Carpool Line. I myself have been through the Carpool Line on occasion, and I happen to know that it takes approximately 20 minutes from the end of said line, to the point where the little anklebiters are fighting over who gets to go first through the minivan door.

So. . . there are people who wait for an hour each day, in order to save 20 minutes.

I'm flummoxed.

Some of them, perhaps, are women far less lazy than I, who are actually willing to chauffer their child to an activity that is not within a 5-mile radius of their front door. These self-sacrificing women actually give up an extra hour of their day in order to deliver their child to their class or practice promptly. To them I say, "Kudos, Supermom. You've got me beat."

But I suspect that many of them are like me - competitive women who really, really, really HATE sitting at the end of a line that is moving nowhere fast. For them, sacrificing five hours a week is a small price to pay for avoiding 20 minutes of torture, five days a week.

I have to admit, I've been known to giggle at these Competitive Carpool Moms, secretly allowing myself to feel superior.

Maybe I ought to drop the Superior Dance and thank the Good Lord that we live within walking distance of school.

Meet the Brood, Part I

Here's a Story
Of a Lovely Lady
Who is bringing up three very Lovely Girls
Two of them have Hair of Gold,
Mom's is Clairol
The oldest one's is Brown

Here's a Story
of that Lovely Lady
Who is busy with one son of her own
He's the Sole Male;
There's no Prince Charming,
Unless you count our Frog.

People see this Lovely Lady with her Children,
And they say that they have much more than a hunch
That this Lady with four children must be Patient -
Lady snorts and says, "This ain't the Brady Bunch!"

We're Krysta's Brood
We're Krysta's Brood
We're a wo-man, three girls, and one Small Dude!

Buh-dummm-buh-dummm-Bop-Baaaaaaaaa-bop-BAH!


P.S. We also have our babysitter Ace, who lives with us and who, in this analogy, would be the equivalent of Alice the Housekeeper - except that she's about 3 decades younger and never wears an apron or lace-up Granny Shoes.