Dear Kid,

Already it’s been quite a busy morning.

Because of she’s on crutches, I drove Pi to school this morning. And because I’m That Kind Of Mom, the puppy came with us. And whined the entire trip.

Puppy: Did not
Me: Excuse me?
Puppy: I was offering a commentary on the things I sniffed
Me: In English we call that whining
Puppy: You do not understand sniffing

Do you know how hard it is to compose a blog in your head when the Puppy is whining? And I’m not talking about a soft, subtle whine, I’m talking about loud, in-your-face, non-stop, “I’m being abused” whining.

Puppy: If I whisper, you can’t hear the commentary
Me: I’d be willing to take my chances

In other news, DearKidLoveMom is making a technology change. Theoretically speaking, this shouldn’t impact you at all. It should be a smooth transition from one hosting service to another.

I did say “theoretically speaking”, right?

The challenge is that technology projects and “theoretically speaking” only have a passing acquaintance—at least in my experience.

Puppy: It’s because you don’t sniff them

I’m hoping you don’t even notice that the site has moved. But in case the world ends (and by “the world ends” I mean the site is down for some amount of time”) I want you to know that I had nothing to do with it and I’m not a bit surprised.

Puppy: If you’d give the technology a treat it would behave much better. Speaking of which…
Me: Puppies who whine in the car do not get treats. Especially not before I’ve finished my first cup of coffee.
Puppy: Drink up, woman!

And in still other news, it’s Be a Millionaire Day. It’s not clear to me if this is a directive or an honorific, but it’s not a bad thing. Especially since a million dollars isn’t really a million dollars any more. Well, it is but it only buys you an ice cream cone and a cup of tea in retirement.

How does one celebrate Be a Millionaire Day? I’m not sure. (Puppy: You sniff it.) Maybe you buy a winning lottery ticket (don’t waste your money buying losing tickets). Maybe you play a round of Monopoly. Or maybe you just go to work or school as usual and plan for the future.

Not sounding like a great day to celebrate? Probably because you’re not an expert sniffer.

Love, Mom

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Dear Kid,

Have you ever noticed that traveling looks wonderful and invigorating in television commercials and magazine ads?

I can only assume that this is because the actors have a) all traveled first class to get to their destination and b) have had several days to rest from said travels.

Or because the ad was filmed on a sound stage which required a commute time of 27 minutes.

Or because there is something magical about the hats the actors wear (you know, the huge brimmed hats that make the women look like movie stars). Of course, the magic called “retouching” and “photoshop” help too.

Real life travel is not advertisement-quality travel. Unless by advertisement-quality you mean it’s flat and tasteless.

Real life travel is tiring. It may mean delayed (or canceled) flights. It may mean driving through rain and hail in places like East Nowhere, PA. It generally involves meals that sit awkwardly in your stomach like a misplaced bowling ball (looking at you, Cracker Barrel). It inevitably means (for me) too much caffeine and too little sleep.

Also it does bad things to my hair. You don’t have this problem, I know. But I do. I don’t know how some women manage to travel with their own cadre of hairdressers, but they look fabulous while I look like mice found lodging near my scalp.

The good news is there is often good stuff at the other end of travel. Like family. And borrowed puppies. And sometimes warm weather.

And travel, no matter how wonderful, always makes us appreciate home just a little bit more.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Dad is going car shopping. The red car finally gave up the ghost. More accurately, it gave up the radiator and is now a lump of un-drivable red metal sitting pathetically in our garage. There is no question that it has worked very hard over the years, but it is now time to get a car that doesn’t have a crank in the front and an 8 track player inside.

The conversation at dinner last night, predictably focused on the most important part of an vehicle: color.

Pi: Don’t get red. Red is not a cool color for a car.
Me: If we get a red car, you won’t have to drive it
Pi: Silver. I think silver is a very good color for a car. It’s very chic.
Tal: Silver is gray?
Dad: Yes
Pi (uninterrupted): And don’t get green.
Me: Watch it, kid
Pi: Green is only good for small cars
Me: My green car wasn’t small
Pi: It was a compact car
Me: It was a full size car
Pi: It was smaller than your car is now
Me: Not really. It had a bigger trunk. I miss that trunk
Pi: It wasn’t as big as your car is now
Me: It wasn’t as high, but it was as big
Pi: I think green is a good color for small cars, but we shouldn’t get green. And we shouldn’t get blue.
Dad: You mean so when we say “the blue car” you don’t have to ask WHICH blue car?
Pi: Exactly. Black is cool
Dad and Me: No.
Pi: Why not?
Dad: Black will show ever dent and ding and piece of dirt
Me: It will get much too hot in the summer
Tal: No one in Israel is driving black cars because of this
Me: Really? Not even official cars? That’s what they show on NCIS.
Tal: Well, maybe official cars, but not regular people because it is getting too hot
Pi: So silver
Me: We’ll have to wait to see what they have
Dad: Not necessarily. We could order one. We’ve waited this long, another month or two won’t hurt.
Me: WHAT?
Pi: WHAT?WHAT?
Tal: How long it takes to get a car
Me: It varies a great deal
Dad: We can wait a week or so
Me: A week or so and a month or two are not exactly the same thing.
Puppy: I want to ride in the car
Me: Girls, please clear the table

At which point the talk turned to whether Pi would get moving quickly or slowly and the girls going to Orange Leaf (planned for this evening).

The things you miss.

Love, Mom