The Big K


Here we are. The day before Kindergarten. Holy freaking crap, Kindergarten. My 7 pound, 1 ounce baby is going to Kindergarten tomorrow. In the hubbub of school preparations, I haven't had time to think overanalyze just how I feel about this until I sat down to type this post. And tear No. 1 just rolled down my cheek.

Raise your hand if you remember your first day of kindergarten. I do. I remember the pictures of apples all over the room (so many apples). I remember how Mrs. Stratman didn't call on me during circle time and how devastated I was that she picked a girl named Amy instead. And as I'm remembering things, I'm remembering how I didn't look back, even once, for my mom.

At 8:30 a.m. on August 31, Faith won't look back either. And I'll realize just how my mom felt sending me into that enormous school all alone all those years ago. Oh how I wish 32-year-old me could hug my 36-year-old mother that day. She survived and so will I, but it probably won't be pretty. Scratch that, it's definitely gonna get ugly.

My tough-girl self wants to slap my sappy self for even getting emotional about this. It's school, not the military, and she's five, not 18. I'm still going to cut her meat for dinner when she gets home and wash her hair in the bathtub because she still refuses to take showers. But tough-girl knows something will change when her firstborn daughter is inside those doors. Mom won't be there to encourage, explain, translate, cheer, clap, laugh or cry. It will just be her. Left to fend and friend for herself. Today it's kindergarten, tomorrow she's driving.


She's been asking about this day for MONTHS. Now that it's finally here, she told me she's "nervous." Nervous? I questioned her incredulously. She confessed she's worried about "making friends." I told her to look at me. When her Daddy's shade of green eyes finally locked on mine, I told her as straight faced as I could: "You will make a great friend to anyone who wants to be one to you, Faith." I hope she believes it. Because it's true.

She survived her shots. When the doctor finished the exam, she told her "I think you're forgetting something! The finger prick?" We all got a good chuckle out of it. She (and the nurse) screamed during the shots.
Two scoops for two shots. We both had stomach aches later!

I'm sobbing while writing this, but it's possible I'll be fine tomorrow? After all, I didn't even get a little misty at Kindergarten Round-Up or anytime anyone asked about the big day. So maybe I got a lump in my throat when I read "12- No. 2 pencils" on her school supply list, and when I learned her teacher's name for the first time, and when I saw her cubby on Back-to-School night, but there's hope right?! 

Oh forget it. I should have saved two of the four boxes of tissues for the classroom for myself and the other moms on the first day. That's right, Dad won't be there. His first day of school is also tomorrow, but sadly he's getting a Tupperware container of leftovers and a swift kick kiss out the door in the morning. With him not present, I'm liable to linger, break down in front of Mrs. Pearce's entire Kindergarten class (my baaaabyyyy) and possibly be politely escorted from the school grounds by a wannabe police officer.

Her Hello Kitty backpack is by the door. Her new school clothes laid out in a pile by her dresser. Her Frozen alarm clock set to wake her up to "Let It Go." This is real. This is happening. Kindergarten, here we come.

Back-to-School Night. Is there anything better than the inside of a Kindergarten teacher's room? Gabby doesn't think so.

Next stop, Kindergarten!

How Not to Take Away Your Baby's Binky



If you Google how to take away the binky, i.e. how to steal the one comfort item your child has had since birth right out from under them, you will be met with a mere 228,000 results. All of them are cruel and unusual.

I mean, cut the tip off? Why don't you just behead one of their stuffed animals while you're at it?

And dip it in something nasty tasting? Probably going to give them a sauerkraut complex for life, but go right ahead.

Then there's the binky fairy. Even the tooth fairy doesn't believe in her.

I never liked any of these methods, so instead we tried our own. And let me tell you, my husband and I, we collectively Sucked, capital S for emphasis. You will not find our methods on any baby websites anytime soon because frankly, we'd be sued. We'll keep them right here on this blog where no one can find them and I guess all you parents out there can just go back to beheading binkies and dipping pacis in pickle juice.

Here's our top 5 "what not to dos."

Mistake #1. Elect to de-pacify on the 4th of July weekend. Pop. Pop. Pop go the fireworks. Crack. Crack. Crack go the cans of beer we needed to save our sanity. I thought my 2-year-old would be the first kid to stay away 24 hours in a row. While the Guinness record would be nice, just no.

Mistake #2. At least I've read the websites mentioned above and knew the "tried and true" methods. My husband decided to go rogue with his idea. Our toddlers room features an owl theme, therefore we have a decorative cage in her room. Dad decided to lock the binky in the see-through cage and act like he couldn't get it out. Really? Imagine what our child thought. "Why did daddy lock my binky in a cage? How dumb is he? He knows I need that to sleep! And why is he so incompetent that he now can't get it out. Mommmmmm!!!" Once I caught wind of this odd jodi-mind trick he tried, I released the binky from captivity. Out of sight, out of mind, or so I thought.

Mistake #3. Find the most ear worm-inducing two-minute video on the internet about Elmo giving up his pacifier. Nice idea in theory, annoying as shit in practice. And you know how two-year-olds say "one more time" and you think they mean it? Mine fooled me with this at least four times before I caught on. By then, she had the song memorized and sang it for an hour straight after I left her room for the night.

Mistake #4. Keep a binky in the bottom of your purse. Sure, I'd forgotten it was there, but when I remembered, I was gung ho on handing it over a full two weeks after we'd taken it away because she still WOULD NOT STOP TALKING TWO HOURS AFTER WE PUT HER TO BED! Her name is Gabby and I did not find the coincidence humorous.

Mistake #5. Not having enough alcohol or will power on hand. Self-explanatory.

There you have it. This has been yet another, "What not to do as you raise your children," segment brought to you by the Lindquist family. You're welcome.

Why I Don't Deserve Diamonds

When I lost the diamond out of my wedding ring, maybe you remember how my dog saved my marriage, maybe you don't. Hopefully you remember how, um, what was I going to say? Oh yeah, how forgetful I am.

Just yesterday I left my purse in a store. The entire thing. Sitting on the floor. Wide open because why not? And this was after I forgot to pack my swimsuit for a vacation TO THE BEACH.

I tell you this so you know who you're dealing with as you read the following account. This way the ending may not be much of a surprise.

....

So there I was, washing my face in the sink after a long day that included what seemed like a 300-hour drive to the lake with our children in the backseat for vacation. I glanced up in the mirror of the fish-themed bathroom and noticed it immediately. One of my diamond earrings was missing!

Shit! Shit! Shitshitshit!

Did it fall down the sink? No.
Did I take one out and set it on the counter already? Nope.
Did it drop on the floor somehow? Nada.

OK, well then it could have fallen out in the car, at the gas station 90 miles away, in the expansive yard of the home where we were staying or somewhere in the two-story, four-bedroom house.Gee, that narrows it down.

I thought of shouting a battle cry to commence the search for mommy's diamond, similar to what I did when the one fell out of my wedding ring. Just as I envisioned an all out "Honey I Shrunk the Kids" style search (the one where they're dangling from the clothesline --love that movie) I remembered my dog was back home barking home his brains out at doggy daycare and my children can't ever find one of their 206 pairs of shoes.

I could ask my husband to help in the search, but he was embarking on a 26.2 mile run for the first time the next day and if he knew I'd lost (another) diamond, it would give him way too much time to contemplate divorce.

So. It was up to me to keep it under wraps. I pretended to forget that it was lost. Easy for me to do. But over the course of the next day and a half, I was constantly looking down. If I noticed a speck of anything on the carpet, grass, sandy beach, etc. I was down on my hands and knees examining it and probably giving everyone who observed me cause to reflect on why I was allowed out of the house.

Finally, on Sunday, I couldn't take it anymore and decided to fess up and enlist the help of my spouse, who by the way did complete that marathon and contemplated a separation approximately zero times thanks to my brilliant plan. He was on a runner's high, so I'm not sure he quite got the gravity of the situation/didn't realize I'd want new ones if one half of my current set was lost forever.

When I lost the diamond out of my ring, I didn't feel guilty at all because it truly wasn't my fault. This time, however, I knew it probably was. My husband had given these earring to me at a surprise party he threw for my 30th birthday. He even annoyingly gushed in his speech that I deserved them. Gag!

I figured I'd gotten careless with making sure the back was on right and now one of them had fallen out. I wondered how long I'd been a one-earring pirate before I noticed in the mirror after washing my face. Surely, someone would have noticed and commented, wouldn't they? I went back to the bathroom to search again. No luck.

We arrived home on Sunday and just like every road trip, I ran into the house claiming to need to relieve myself, when in reality I just hate unloading the car. I did my business, paused to take a look at my naked ears in the mirror and then looked at the counter. And there it was. Pretty little diamond earring number two sitting on the counter all "Hi, mom!"

I HAD NEVER PUT THE SECOND EARRING IN MY EAR ON FRIDAY MORNING. I HAD BEEN A PIRATE ALLLL DAY LONG AND NO ONE, NO ONE! HAD NOTICED. IS NO ONE SCARED OF PIRATES ANYMORE?! INCLUDING MYSELF!

This story ends happily, I think, but the next time I lose something, I'm just going to assume it's on my lap, in the bottom of my purse (that's hopefully not at the store) or that given enough time, my dog will find it for me.

I don't have a good photo for this post, but the selfie I took when my husband was about to finish the marathon is probably close to what my face looked like to that diamond sitting on my bathroom counter.