Ready Or Not...

Here she goes! Miss K is ready to take on the world of kindy-garten! Is her mother ready? Yes, you could say that I am. Little Radar is old for her age. She's been at home with us for a good stretch. While she and Emily are joint at the hip, and she is a big help with Claire, it is just time to move on to bigger and better things. That's not to say that I'm 100% jumping for joy. While I'm not experiencing much separation anxiety (kindergarten is only 2 hours and 45 minutes long- no big deal), my apprehension is more related to what kinds of things she'll pick up on at school. (I worked in public schools before I had Katelyn, and I heard some pretty rude and crude things spout out of kindergarten mouths.)

I don't remember much from my own kindergarten years. I mean, YEAR. I really didn't have to repeat kindergarten. Promise. I remember one girl taunted me for wearing the same outfit 3 days in a row (it was my fave- a rockin purple jumper.) I recall a toe-head boy named Seth, who would sneak over and whisper naughty words in my ear during graham cracker and milk time. There was a red-headed girl named Anna, who periodically wet her pants. There was Mark, who constantly had his finger up his nose, and who also wanted to be my boyfriend. (Just my luck to attract the nose miner.) I went to great lengths to keep my distance from Mark. I would creep into the classroom early to make sure that my teacher had not put my chair next to Mark's. If she had, I would relocate my seat, preferably next to my crush, Bevin. I even attempted to deter Mark's pursuit of me by writing him a direct letter, expressing my feelings. My exact words were:

"Dear Mark, I hope you move away so I don't have to be by you." No mixed signals there, right?

There was an outdoor bathroom, which kindergarteners had been forbidden to go. We were told by the third graders that someone's hand had been cut off in that bathroom, and that it was still there. On show and tell day, I had forgotten to bring an object beginning with the letter J. So I ran down the hallway and found my big brother Jake's classroom, pulled him out of class and drug him down to my kindergarten room. He was less than pleased to be used as my show-and-tell for Letter J Day, especially when I shared with the class that Jake and I had sleepovers together sometimes, because he was afraid of the dark.

And then there was the student teacher named Ms. Henderson, who wore too much eye shadow. Did I say I don't remember much about my kindergarten year? I take that back. Anyway, now that I have made this post all about me, here's to wishing Katelyn a great year of kindergarten!

The Lingerie Department

When we were last in Logan, I had to make a trip to Cache Valley Mall to purchase a foundation garment. (Or as you less eloquent folk might call it, a bra.) Trust me, there are about a hundred other things that I would rather shop for. I had Katelyn in tow, but I figured the trip would be quick and that she could stand a few minutes in the lingerie department. I knew exactly what I was looking for, but was having a hard time locating it. To make our way to the back wall, Katelyn and I wove in and out of aisles of animal print underwear and skimpy nighties. It didn't take me long to decide that I may have made a mistake by allowing her to accompany me. I noticed her glancing wide eyed at a table filled with bright, lacy undies, and contemplating a neglige clad mannequin. I tried to make haste.

After a minute of me sifting through a rack of unmentionables, Katelyn pipes up, "Hey Mom, what's this for?"

I turned around to find that Katelyn had put her arms through the leg holes of a polka thong, and had it hanging around her shoulders.

"Umm, why don't you come with me into the dressing room?" I suggested.

She followed me into a room, filled with hangers of enormous brasiers that one could easily use to float the River Kwai. Little Radar took notice of the oversized garments. Then, shifting her eyes back to the two items I had brought in, she shrugged her shoulders and stated, "Well, I guess you wear a small size." She was smiling at me.

I sighed. "In any other department, that would be a good thing," I mumbled.

I made my boring purchase, wishing I could have rather spent the money the fabulous handbag I'd spotted across the hallway. Then again, the adventure with Katelyn might have been well worth the expense.

My First Prom

I went stag. Joe Campbell, a late dear friend of our family, used to take pictures for the high school dances. When I was 8 years old, he and his wife, Debbie, invited me to go with them to the Mountain Crest prom while Joe took snapshots of the couples. I was thrilled. I remember being in awe at all of the fancy dresses and hairdos. I remember snickering at couples who were smooching while they waited in line to be photographed. But most of all, I remember very much looking forward to seeing a particular high school male. (I guess you could say I've always had a thing for older men.)

We'll call him Tom. I thought Tom was the most handsome fellow in my ward. I wanted to look my best for him. Such an occasion called for a slathering of strawberry Lipsmackers and my most ravishing outfit. Every girl knows the way to a man's heart is through white laced knee socks. Joe snapped this picture of me looking most alluring. As you gaze at this photo, I believe the words you are looking for are "timeless elegance".

I decided to sneak into the gymnasium to try to catch a glimpse of Tom. I spotted him across the dance floor with his date. Okay, I STARED at him for quite some time. It was almost more than my 8-year-old jealous heart could take. Some of Tom's friends noticed me stalking him and pointed him in my direction. Tom smiled and walked towards me with his date. A slow song started, and Tom asked me for a dance. I tried to decline his offer out of embarrassment, but he insisted, and my yearning for romance won over. Tom was quite tall, so he got down on his knees, took my hands, and twirled me on the floor for a minute or two. I don't remember exactly what was going through my mind. There is probably a good chance I was telling myself that his date was no match for my charm.

What a magical night. No girl ever forgets her first prom.