a rugs life

Ayce took these from the next booth. She asked Rada to make some silly faces, and Rada dove into the task with sincere abandon.

We are in celebration mode. The primary bread-winner at chez rugslife has just been offered a wonderful new job and rejoicing is underway. The phone was busy all evening with calls to relatives and close friends. Plans are underway to perform purgative housecleaning with particular focus on cleaning the study, as a fresh beginning is a great excuse to clear out dust and clutter making way for the new.

To mark the event, Rada and I took a celebratory trip to Target. In an extravagant mood and I got her a:

• cheetah halloween costume
• pumpkin halloween candy bucket
• set of pink, purple, and green bunny barrettes
• pack of socks in vibrant pastels
• 5 multi-colored hair bands

She wore her cheetah costume all evening and spent hours trying on her new hair care items. She was in great spirits, probably infected by the festive mood and energy.

I’m a lucky person. Sometimes the planets do align.

I just re-discovered the talented Dilettante Debutante. Drop by if you can. Also worth a visit is the hilarious My Mini-Van is Faster Than Yours. And now that I think of it, Paul’s tips and Ben’s list always offer good food for thought.

I’m smart and can handle most logistical puzzles that come my way. But this week I got blinded-sided by the seemingly innocuous tasks of getting my daughter from school, to the babysitter, and back home each day.

What started out as several phone calls turned into a logistical nightmare: Babysitter is to pick up daughter at school. Babysitter cannot leave van unattended with other children inside. School is located on street that prohibits double parking. School requires children be ‘escorted’ from schoolyard to waiting vehicles. What to do?

And another:

Parent’s employer discourages employees bringing motor vehicles to work. Parent rides bike. Pick-up of child from babysitter requires vehicle to transport child. Parent’s employer requires a 9 hour day. Babysitter has commitments limiting evening availability. How to switch transportation modes on-the-fly and reach the goal within babysitter’s temporal parameters?

I did figure out solutions to both of the above, but only through the strategic use of cell phones, the targeted placement of grandmothers, and the merciful serendipity of traffic. The challenge of it finally convinced me once and for all, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that motherhood IS rocket science, and that I am a genius.

Who is aided by one rockin’ grandmother.

Please accept my apologies for the delay. There’s been lots to report, but its been busy busy busy.

Rada’s 7th birthday party was a study in chaos and redemption. Planned for the outside, it was on one of those days where the weather never figured out what to do: threatening, hinting and teasing at rain, but never actually down-pouring. Party guests ran wildly over dinosaurs and hippos played miniature golf while dark clouds swarmed over head with occasional droplets, so we bailed to a nearby pizza parlor for lunch.

When we arrived, I discovered to my horror that they were in the process of going out of business and refused to serve a party of 24. I begged and pleaded, assuring them that all we needed were 4 hot pizzas. I had plates, cups, drinks, napkins, and basically everything else, due to the original preparations for outside picnic. Finally, I laid a $10 bill on the server’s hand, pointed to the 12 hungry children streaming in the door, and said “I am at your mercy”.

They were merciful. 4 pizzas arrived 20 minutes later.

Gwen took lovely photos of the event. I can’t stop looking at them:

Here is Rada teeing-off. Note dinosaur and hippo in the background.

Talented Marjorie led guests in Simon Says… and saved the day during the long wait for pizza.

Casey and Rada played movie star with their bad-girl sunglasses.

No sooner did the birthday hubbub die down, but preparations for school began.

Rada has been in 1st grade for 4 days now and beside her initial push-back to the notion of getting up early and out the door, she’s been doing well. She heads into the big red brick school house every day, and I don’t really know much of what goes on, except scattered and vague reports about the new music teacher’s crocodile, and lunchtime when chicken nuggets have value as local currency, traded among students for chocolate milk and extra ketchup.