Posted by: heartfull | May 28, 2008


My skin is peeling off on my burned hand. It is really gross and embarrasses me multiple times a day. But! It gives me a conversation topic at my many social events. My friend told me last night at the school picnic that yes, she knew about my trauma because I had gone on and on about it Friday night at a party we both attended. I told her that if she remembers my tipsy talk, she needs to drink a little more.

And then I obsessed about my lack of social skills for the rest of the picnic and on into the night. I mean, really, with my excellent conversation skills, is it any wonder I’m not, in actuality, invited to more social events? I mean, who doesn’t want to hear about my burn, in detail?



Bird’s teacher next year is fantastic and her two good friends were put in the same class. I really like these girls (and their moms!) and I’m excited for her to be forming friendships with them.


Mare’s first grade teacher is excellent, I’ve been told. She also intimidates me because she is so quiet and put together. I feel like I’m a tornado next to her mountain breeze. Then again, I feel that way a lot.

Two of Mare’s friends are in her first grade class. One girl, Ellen, is very sweet – the last time she came over for a play date John was working from home and could hear them playing. He said he has never heard so much giggling in his entire life – Mare and Ellen had that good of a time. That said, they had to be separated this year when they were sitting at the same table – too much giggling for the classroom apparently.


Mare’s friend’s dad is starting a “Pre-Select” soccer team and asked Mare to be on it. Not because she is good, I think, but because she showed some degree of aggressiveness and she is friends with his daughter (who is very good.) This makes me a little nervous, but we’ll go with it.


The kids had a great time at the school picnic. Bird was excited that the other kids beat up on her (part of a game, I assume) and Mare was too busy socializing to eat.

Chip spent the entire 1 1/2 hours trying to make other kids laugh. He charmed his way into the center of a gaggle of older kids and they had fun laughing at him – although there was one bout of tears because they wouldn’t give him their ball. Meanies.



  1. I always worry that I am incredibly boring. Because all I can talk about anymore is the kids. So, I obsess about it and try to plan things I could talk about that would not be boring. And then, when I actually have someone to talk to…. all they want to talk about is the kids. Ha.

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