Life in Words.

I am sitting at Woolworth's having lunch after shopping for home goods and a few groceries. Lunch is delish. I am fully convinced that I could live in South Africa by Woolies alone. I love everything about it, especially their marketing department. They cater directly to me, I'm just sure of it. I love the colors and lighting in their stores, the fonts - oh the fonts - on their signage, and their grab-and-go food that is fresh and tastes like I made a real effort with dinner. See? Made pour moi! I met a mom yesterday whose kids go to the American school and are in tennis lessons with Quinn. We talked for a while and she asked me if I have met a lot of people since we moved here. Several people have asked me this and I can't lie...I can't lie because I can't fake the supporting information. The answer is no. I usually follow it up with, "We met our neighbors across the street and really like them, but I haven't met tons of people." (or anyone really)

I think its funny to joke about how kids can really and truly drive a person crazy. Literally, straight jacket, creepy asylum nutso. The kind of mental that you can really only tell your best friend or your sister about...the kind that you really hope no one witnesses. The kind that takes every ounce of restraint not to show in public. We all know how it happens, when it happens, why it happens - each of us gets pulled off the Throne of Good Mothering by our children once in a while. It’s funny to joke about it after the fact and its almost always funny after the fact. Not so funny when your otherwise sweet child smacks you in the head because you wouldn't buy him the truck at Sam's Club and you're 110 months pregnant and too fat to do much of anything about it but probably lay on the couch and wonder how this happened. See...funny now and I can't even believe that lovely public scene really happened to me. I mean, it was a full on 3-year-old blow to the head. Here

I was in the car today listening to Classic FM, all classical, all the time baby. It rocks and I have Jake hooked too. We're old people. I even listen to the Breakfast Quiz in the morning and contemplate calling in when I know the answer. If I did call in I would have to give a fake name because I would be too embarrassed to say my real name. Jenna? Jamie? Jackie? Anyway, I love classical music AND the totally nerdy hosts on the station. Over the last year or so I have started to notice that I feel more comfortable in my own skin. Its not all the time and I'm not floating on a cloud of self-love, I just noticed that I feel more comfortable. I do more things that I like just because I like them, not because I think I should like them. My friends seem happier too. My conclusion is this: WE'VE CUT THE BULLSHIT (except for giving a fake name on the breakfast quiz radio call-in). There was a lot of it in my 20's - A LOT - and even more before that. Embarrassing really but

We really aren't "those" parents. I love Quinn with all my heart, but I don't think he is necessarily exceptional academically. He is a very good reader; he is marginal at handwriting and art. He doesn't really have any special needs in school and seems to make friends pretty easily. You make decisions based on what you know at the time you make them, right? Quinn started Kindergarten in Arkansas with huge amounts of enthusiasm. He would run into school with barely enough time to smooch his mom and dad. He knew all the kids' names, all the teachers, and with the exception of the day he called someone a butt face, did really well. He loved school. When we came to visit and as noted in previous blog entries, choosing Quinn's school really wasn't a difficult decision. We looked at the American International School of Johannesburg and it was very impressive. A beautiful school, warm, friendly teachers, and lots of opportunity for kids to try new things