Just Heather

We are home again. The girls slept most of the trip, even through last night’s thunderstorm. I’m pretty sure no one even noticed that I set off the traction control 4 times.

Now I have a van to unload, a week’s two week’s worth of laundry to clean and a ton of mail to work through. At least the house is clean—hubby always manages to whip it into shape while we are away.

Our middle child is super tall. Brenia is 4 1/2 and wears a size 6. She is also quite advanced for her age, which comes mostly from her big sister being 5 years older. She’s 4, going on 10. Everyone—including the kindergarten teachers at Stacia’s school—assumes she starts school in August.

She doesn’t start school until 2008. I wish she could go to school this year. It would make a lot of things easier. For one, it would put 4 grades between each of our girls. The way things stand now there are 5 years between Stacia and Brenia, then 3 years between Brenia and Lorelai.

Our school system does not allow early admission for any reason. I actually looked into Montessori schools for this year. They go by ability level, not age. If she goes to school in kindergarten and first grade at a private school, she can attend public school in 2nd grade as the requirement is not age based—it is based on completion of 1st grade. Unfortunately, while our local Montessori school is incredibly affordable for a private school it is still out of our range.

I know she could make it. She’s been with the Daisy troop at camp all week rather than hanging out with my mom and the babies. The other Daisies have just completed kindergarten. She doesn’t start for another year, but you’d never notice a difference. She is right there with them in everything they do. Plus, she is the tallest girl in the group!

That’s the 2nd reason I want her to start this year. I worry that by next year she will not only know everything they teach in kindergarten, but she’ll be so much taller she’ll feel out of place. I know she would fit in this year. It’s really too bad the state of Indiana looks at things with a such a simple mind—age 5 by September 1st no matter what their skills may be.

When we first went gluten free, I had heard Amazon was the cheapest place to buy certain foods. They sell in bulk, have free shipping when you spend over $25 and often have online coupons for $10 off a grocery order.

At first, I didn’t buy anything in bulk as we were trying many different products. I thought once we found some favorites we could start buying online. The idea of having our treats arrive on our doorstep instead of trucking to the specialty store was quite appealing. Last month, I finally took advantage of their grocery special. For the bargain price of $46 I ordered 12 bags of pretzels and 12 bags of animal pasta (aka Spaghetti-Os). It truly was a deal and a half.

I received an email a couple weeks later from Amazon that the pretzels were back-ordered. I had to purchase a different brand at the specialty store while we waited. The other day our pretzels arrived on the front porch. The girls were thrilled. They have already been through 4 bags! At this rate, I’ll have to order again without the benefit of a coupon code. I’m keeping my fingers crossed a good one comes along again soon.

If I don’t keep their favorites in stock, they end of sneaking something else—which then results in headaches, stomach aches, behavioral issues and teary promises that they’ll never do it again. Of course, memory of pain only seems to last so long. That’s why women keep having more kids. I, of course, have managed to develop a great memory for that sort of thing. Which is why we are all done with the baby thing—just as soon as I can convince hubby that I’m serious this time.

While packing for my trip this week, I asked someone to grab a train and a baby doll for Lorelai so she would have some of her favorites to keep her entertained. We’re going to be here all week and she is used to having two cabinets full of toys at her disposal.

The hubby said he took care of it so I crossed it off my list. We got to camp, and I opened my bag to pull out a talking dog—and nothing else.

Apparently, baby + train = dog

Who knew?