Category: Children

Class of 2023

Published on by NouveauSoileau2 Comments

You remember the first day of school. New clothes. New pencils. Fresh packs of filler paper and the pungent odor of plastic-bound three-ring binders and fresh ink.

No matter what your age, you can always remember the butterflies and the backpacks, the calculators and the cafeteria food.

It being August in Kentucky this morning it was 80 degrees Fahrenheit at 7 o’clock. The scene here is the first First Day of School for young Trasimond, class of 2023 and kindergartener extraordinaire.

The class of 2023. Wait — can that be right? It sounds more like a science fiction movie than something that applies to this little scoot, standing there with a Pop-Tart in his hand.

I have the distinction of having three children enrolled in the public schools this year, and naturally enough, they’re spread out all over this end of the county. Trassie joins the march of public education in elementary; Christopher toils as an eighth grader; and Claire is in full sophomoric glory at the high school.

Would it be too much to ask that all schools start at the same time? Yes. Yes it would. Elementary begins at 7:45 am, high school at 8:30 and middle school at 9:05! Fortunately, Claire can ride the bus and Christopher can walk and we’ve only got one kid to drop off. Join me now in the classroom, won’t you?

There were no first-day tears, from either the pupil or the parents. Thank God we got that over with last year in preschool. Of course, at the time I was 800 miles away in New York City, and left the drop-off to poor Tras, who was completely new to the delicate art of nudging a fledgling out of the nest. It was harrowing to the two of them — but mostly for me, who had to listen to the post-dropoff sniffing and snuffling via cell phone four states away.

Due to the disparity in school start times, we weren’t able to get a shot of all three children ready for school; the hair gel and other products were still being applied before anything audacious as a group photograph could be taken — but here is Claire and two of her friends at band rehearsal, which has rapidly taken over our lives. Claire’s in the color guard, which back in the day we called flag corps.

And then we have my dear boy, Christopher. So easygoing, so helpful. First-chair in the middle-school band … an eighth grader who’s been asked to participate this year in the highly competitive high school band. My little marcher, voted Best Mohawk last week at the end of band camp.

So that’s the State of the Household here in August 2010. Who knew starting school would be such a hair-raising experience?

Bee mine

Published on by NouveauSoileau6 Comments

Incredible though it may seem — given the level of vermin consumption of my flowers this spring — I’ve got quite a few sunflowers blooming right outside my kitchen window today.

I stepped outside yesterday afternoon to take a photo of this beauty.

I was thrilled to discover a bee who’d been busy as a … well, you know. See him there toward the bottom?

What was even more exciting — if you count tiny insect sightings as among the exciting events of your life (and I do) — is that his knees are just covered in pollen.

It’s the bee’s KNEES fer chrissakes!

Bees are something I know a little about. The emphasis here is on a little. And the reason I’ve gotten so smart lately is because Trassie is pretty interested in natural science and I just picked up a National Geographic book, shockingly titled Insects.

Insects, as I’m sure you know, are the only animals in the world with six legs. Beside birds and bats, they’re the only thangs that can fly. And those legs? They’re really weird, man.

On page 4 we learn that a fly tastes things with its feet. A katydid HEARS through tiny holes near its knees. And honeybees, as you can see above, carry pollen in baskets on their legs.

Insect mouths are fairly interesting, and gross too. Flies again. “A fly soaks up yucky garbage. Its mouth is like a sponge,” I intone nightly. “A mosquito sucks blood. Its mouth is like a needle.”

These factoids often are perfect set-ups for 5-year-old based humor. Pretend you’re a katydid and yell into each others’ knees. Put a sponge in your mouth and head for the kitchen trash.

There’s no reason to be bored when you’ve got preschoolers and bugs around!

Rainy days and Mondays

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It’s been a soggy weekend. Louisville on Derby Day received two inches of rain. Derby hats, as you can see, were severely threatened.

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On Sunday, roads were closed all over the state. Dams washed away, menacing innocent towns. There are slim rivers running down my basement walls.

Yesterday morning at Mass, Father abandoned the sprinkling rite, whereby we all are doused/blessed with Holy Water, he said, “for the obvious reasons.” Apparently, when it comes to water, we’d been blessed enough. About the time he made this announcement, I noticed a rather fast-moving stream barreling down one of the enormous pillars inside the church.

This was at 9 am. By 8 o’clock that night, the rain still poured down. My children cheerfully (and I use that term loosely) performed their Sunday evening duties, taking out the trash and placing the cans at the curb for Monday-morning collection. They looked damp yet rather cute. The photo’s not much to speak of; I was standing on the porch trying to keep the camera dry and at such times I apparently lose focus.

Isn’t the grass a lovely shade of green, though? All verdant and growing, thanks to the nearly four inches of rain. Rain that, on a less cosmic scale, has prevented me from getting out there and getting dirty by grubbing in the garden.

Here you see the tense scene on my window sill.

These poor things have been languishing in an inch of soil in egg crates, waiting for their permanent home in the back yard. There, abundant weeds choke out the azaleas and sundry other plants. This despite the fact that I dumped an entire trailer-load of dirt back there last summer ON TOP of a bunch of cardboard to kill the weeds and,  more importantly, the mint. Short of a flame-thrower, though, there’s not much you can do with mint, except make a metric buttload of juleps.

Anyway, the heavens opened Saturday morning at around 6 am and apparently liked staying good and open. My deck is drenched and sad; no sunny annuals in porch boxes yet.

But I suppose it’s still early. There’s plenty of time for the world to dry out, the pollen to fill the air — and when that happens  I really, really know it’s springtime in Kentucky.

Damn, I’m good

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Last night my son Christopher had a friend stay the night. He arrived in time to have dinner with us.

Scrumptious, it was. Pan-fried chicken, baked in the oven with a slice of ham and cheddar cheese on top. Accompanied by french fries, sweet-potato fries, and a mixture of  sautéed zucchini, onions, and mushrooms. And salad. Usual fare, more or less, for us … nothing out of the usual rotation, though I don’t make it often. Another time Nathan was our guest, I fixed meatloaf, which he positively gobbled.

And so, I was unsurprised when he made up his plate and proceeded to eat just about everything. And when he was done, what was the high praise I received?

“I like eating over here. I don’t have to pretend I like the food.”