Something in The Way She Moos

Some people have waayyy too much time on their hands. For instance, there are those two German researchers who studied herds of cattle on Google Earth.

Huh?

All the wondrous sites available to see from above and you're ogling bovines by satellite? Why in the name of Elsie the Cow would you?

At any rate, after checking out more than 85-hundred cattle, Hans and Franz determined that two-thirds of them face north while grazing or at rest. Some birds and most bees have exhibited similar senses of direction in prior studies. However, the cattle are the first large land mammals to point due north. The researchers think Bessie and the girls possess some sort of internal compass.

For me, this is great news. I am what is known as directionally-challenged. Given a choice between two turns, I'll usually make the wrong choice. Two lefts do not make a right. Perhaps it's time to assist my utter inability to find the right way with a cow's udder ability to at least point me north-south.

Since my Honda Accord just passed 150-thousand miles, I thought it might be time to trade up. I went to my dealer and looked at larger models. A salesman approached and asked if there was anything he could do. I told him he could eliminate the Honda commercials where Mr. Opportunity knocks on the inside of my tv screen. For some reason, that noise really annoys me.

After he told me he would pass on my concerns, we got down to specifications if I was to make a new purchase. As we continued to negotiate, he asked what options I wanted. Automatic transmission? Check. Satellite radio? Maybe. A GPS tracker?

"No," I told him. "I want a cow."

He looked at me like he was about to request a pretty vest with restraints to be worn in a nice white room with padded walls.

"Whhhattt?" he stammered.

"A cow," I replied matter-of-factly. "I read that they tend to graze or rest facing north. I figure if I put one in my SUV on a swivel that rotates, it would be the equivalent of hanging one of those compass thingies under my rear view mirror. We'd hang at Chick-Fil-A together and I'd never have to worry about milk going bad in the fridge because I'd always have a fresh supply. Unless of course, you sold me a male, which would be great, because I'd have two extra horns if the one that comes with the car went bad and I'd have automatic power steer to give the thing more boost."

For some reason, he started blinking uncontrollably. He then glanced at his watch, set it forward an hour and said, "Gee, look at the time! I'd like to chat some more, but we're closing early today. You might want to try the Toyota dealership across the street. I hear they just got more livestock in stock."

"Thank you sir! You've been very helpful," I said. "Can I get your name in case I have to come in again?"

"It will be on the restraining order," he replied.

Finger Food

Rachel's teacher, Ms. Baum, has several goals this year. One of them is to get our daughter to stop sucking her third and fourth fingers.

Good luck, Ms. Baum. She has sucked those fingers since she emerged from the womb and apparently, they calm Rachel down.

Rachel tells us whenever Ms. Baum catches her sucking her fingers, she makes Rachel wash her hands. The thought is that Rachel won't enjoy that taste as much when fingers are served with a soapy marinade.

This afternoon, as we enjoyed lunch at one of our favorite seafood restaurants, I noticed the fingers were once again in Rachel's mouth.

"Rachel, what would Ms. Baum say?" I chided her gently.

Rachel pondered the question briefly and then dismissed my query in a matter of fact tone, "Ms. Baum isn't here."

It's Just Emotion Taking Me Over

Rachel recently had the following homework assignment. She had to draw something that made her happy, something that made her sad, something that made her angry and something that made her scared.

I had had an absolutely horrible day at work and even though I had been home several hours, I had not been able to shake it. Still, I tried to focus on the task at hand. After all, I had not had much time recently with Rebecca or Rachel, which probably added to my dark cloud.

"What makes you happy?" I asked my daughter.

"Being with you," she replied.

I melted. What bad day?

I looked at her illustration, a bit puzzled by what I saw.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Under the blanket," she answered. All that stuck out from the blanket was my head. She then drew three well-placed hairs, one left, one right, one center. I laughed inwardly.

"What makes you sad?" I asked her. Bless her little heart, she could not think of one thing that made her sad. May she always feel that way!

"What makes you angry?" I continued.

"Wearing my eyepatch," was the not too surprising answer. Rachel cannot stand having to wear that eyepatch. She has one eye weaker than the other and the eyepatch forces her to use the weaker eye. Rachel also doesn't like getting her hair washed. A couple of days earlier,I asked her whether she wanted me to put on her eyepatch or wash her hair. "Wash my hair" was the response. "Wow! She must really hate that eyepatch" I thought.

"What makes you scared?" I asked, fully expecting the answer to be insects.

"Crows" was the response.

Crows?

It was only later that I learned she and her mom had a conversation earlier that day about a huge bird that startled Rachel. Rebecca had explained it was a crow and that they could be mean sometimes.

Ah, so that's where that came from!

Still, I'm what makes her happy. I'm still smiling, days later.

Out of the mouths, once again

Rachel is now in her second week at the Davis Academy, a Reform Jewish Day School. She loves it. She is making new friends and she loves her teachers. They teach character as well as lesson plans and there are already signs she is sopping it all up like a sponge.

We told her what a good school it was. We also told her that one reason she was going there is our neighborhood has grown increasingly Hispanic and we were told by two former teachers at our neighborhood school that many of the kids there do not speak English. We didn't want Rachel frustrated by the language barrier and wanted to give her the best opportunity to learn.

Right before school started, we went to that neighborhood school to vote in a runoff election. We brought Rachel with us, to explain the election process. So we're registering, moving toward the voting machine, when Rachel says audibly, "They speak English here!"

Watch what you say around your kids, lesson 43!

Killer Queen

The phone rang this morning. It was the principal of Rachel's new school. She wanted to let us know Rachel seems to have adjusted well to her new surroundings, was having a good time and was making friends.

I didn't really think she would have any problems, but being a parent, any unneeded worry can be replaced by a new one. My new worry is Queen. The rock band.

Thankfully, Rachel has begun to enjoy a little of the music mom and dad like to listen to in the car. Queen is one of her favorites. It provides us a welcome break from the Little People, Wiggles and Silly Songs cd's.

However, since we live in Atlanta, we spend a lot of time in traffic. Occasionally, it doesn't move at all. To combat the anger and tension when that occurs, my wife has self-appointed herself as Debbie Allen/Tony Basil/Paula Abdul.

She has created exaggerated hand gestures and facial mugging/tics to go with the lyrics on the Queen cd. Rachel enjoys mimicking her mom. Their Bicycle Race is particularly good.

The other day, I was in the car with them. Thanks to two separate school orientations and my overnight shift, I had only slept six hours in 36 hours. I was wiped out. However, when Rebecca started her choreography to Bicycle Race and Killer Queen and Rachel joined her from the back seat, I dissolved into uncontrollable, slap happy spasms of laughter, enough that my stomach hurt.

So here's why I am worried. I envision another phone call from the Principal of the Davis Academy Lower School. Ms. Hunt tells us that Rachel has become a disruption at the school and refuses to obey demands to reform her behavior. When I ask what she's doing, I am told that Rachel won't stop singing Fat Bottomed Girls, They Make The Rocking World Go Round at the top of her lungs while acting out the accompanying choreography.

It's going to keep my lying awake at night. I just know it!

Sculptress

I walked into the kitchen the other day and found four mac n' cheese microwave meals placed one atop the otheron a chair.

"Did you see my mac stack?" Rachel asked.

Love Letter

Dearest Rachel:

I see you asleep in your room and can scarcely believe that tomorrow, you will begin a new chapter of your life. How is is that five and a half years have passed since I heard you take your first cries of life and I was proud and terrified to be a father for the first time?

I was able to overcome the fears of your fragility. I watched with pride as you took your first steps while I just happened to be videotaping it. Mom and I worried about how you'd make the transition to preschool, only to see you dive right in and never look back. We prayed you would emerge healthy from tonsil surgery, only to hear you screaming halfway down the hall while you were in recovery.

We laughed as you told your class of 2-year-olds that your favorite food was chicken alfredo, while your classmates offered more pedestrian alternatives like crackers and juice. We blanched when you loudly exclaimed, "That lady is a loser!" as you and mom walked past a smoker at Discover Mills. We marvelled as you recognized more and more words and counted to one hundred by fives.

Now, as you sleep under the pink canopy of your bedroom, we gaze at your chest as you gently inhale and exhale. We embrace you with our hearts, even when we are miles away physically.

We can't wait to celebrate your new knowledge, rejoice as you make new friends and cheer you as you deal with new challenges and achieve new accomplishments. You will always be our little girl, even twenty years from now.

We love you more than we ever thought we could love anyone. You are growing up so fast and we can't wait to spend the rest of our lives with you. You have brought so much joy to our lives; thanks for the blessing that is you.

Love,

Mom and Dad

Groaner

I got home from work today, slept an hour and had a hankering for Bahama Breeze. For the uninitiated, they specialize in Caribbean food, but not all of it has jerk sauce.

Rebecca and I aren't much for spicy food, so she ordered black bean soup and chicken quesadillas. I opted for caesar salad and Grilled Bahamian Kebabs.

The appetizers were fine, but when we bit into our main courses, yikes. My tongue felt like it was on fire almost immediately. The kebabs usually are marinated in a sweet sauce and this was not it. Rebecca reported her quesadillas had a bigger kick than usual.

We summoned the waitress and she returned her entrees to the grill. A subsequent investigation revealed pepperjack cheese was responsible for her situation. And somehow, there was cayenne pepper all over my entree! The waitress resubmitted the order and we wound up getting 25 percent deducted from our meal for our troubles.

Before leaving, I thanked the manager for the deduction and said I appreciated her understanding given our John Cougar Mellencamp situation. Before she could furrow her brow and ask for clarification, I explained..."a little ditty about Jack and Cayenne."

Snooze Blues

Rachel starts kindergarten at her new school one week from today. And that's a problem.

Rachel needs to go to bed earlier. And she refuses.

Last Thursday night, my wife and I had an actual Bill Withers/Grover Washington, Jr. date! Just the Two of Us. We dined at a Japanese Steakhouse. We took in the new Batman movie. It was around midnight as we approached the sitter's apartment complex.

"Think she's awake?" I asked my better half.

"Oh yeah!" Rebecca replied. "She is excited to be around Lily."

"No way," I replied. "I think she's asleep."

Wifey was right. Lily looked tired. Rachel had enough energy to hit the party circuit with Lindsay Lohan. "We played Life" she told us excitedly. "I want to play it again!"

All those books that say kids need 12-14 hours sleep? Someone forgot to tell our daughter. She fights sleep like it's a 15-round title fight. She's like a Jack-In-the-Box with a broken spring. No matter how many times you think you have the lid slammed shut, it manages to spring open again.

Frankly, we're worried. Her new school is not around the corner. It is a 40-minute to an hour drive from here. Rachel is going to need to be up and out the door by 6:30 a.m. We'd like her to remember the kindergarten year. We'd like her to stay in bed at night so we can go to bed.

The other night, we had her in bed by 8:30 p.m. She finally stopped getting out three hours later. We've massaged her legs, blown on her neck and brushed her hair by her ears. We'll think all is good, until we hear John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt being belted out of her bedroom like she's fronting a heavy-metal band.

"I needed to go to the bathrooooom!" (You must have the prostate of a 70-year-old.)

"I can't fall asleep!" (Really, you were in there a whole fifteen seconds!)

"I want you in there with me." (And then you'll talk to me the whole time.)

"I'm hungry!" (Wow, I never knew hungry had four syllables.)

"Go to bed, Rachel! I don't want to have to tell you again!"
"You don't love me!" (Soon to be on the Cartoon Network- Master Manipulator-The Early Years.

"I'm worried about the direction the country is going." (Not yet, but just you wait!)

Eventually, the problem will work itself out. School will exhaust her. She'll fall asleep more easily. I'll miss walking in from work and seeing her smiling face waiting for me when the door opens. And I may even miss having her wake me up every thirty minutes after I get home because a) she wants to play, b) she is hungry and will eat only two bites of whatever I make her, c) she's bored d) she wants to play on the computer or e) She wants to play, is hungry and will eat only two bites of whatever I make her, is bored and wants to play on the computer.

All I can say is, "Can I have some of that energy?"