This week I found myself musing on young love, in particular, toddler and preschooler love. The other day I observed my son and his long time love, Abby playing together. My son is a bit bold and obsessed with superheros.

“Spiderman! Spiderman!” he sang as he ran across the room. Two of the other kids were not quite sure how to react to this display.

His girlfriend Abby smiled, dimples showing and said, “Don’t catch me Spiderman!” and started running in the other direction. He quickly smiled and started chasing her. Suddenly, all the kids were playing their game.

Isn’t that what we all want in a partner? Someone who gets what is different about us and enjoys it.

Today while watching four year olds play on the playground I overheard a little boy say to a little girl, “Amanda, you were in my dreams last night.”

She smiled.

About ten minutes later I heard him tell her, “Amanda, I’m going to marry you!”

That comment was followed by “Amanda I want to kiss you!” The little girl smiled and gave him an air kiss near his cheek.

How romantic, I thought.

Right before recess was over the same boy told me, “Jake came over to my house and before he left, we KISSED!” he giggled. “And we’re boys.”

Maybe my theory of young love is in the eye of the beholder.

Last night, Mark realized fully that Zach is his true spawn. Observe the master negotation over eating broccoli with cheese:

“Zach eat a bite of your broccoli.”

“No, that’s not for libble boys.”

Snicker. “Zach have one bite.”

“No, it’s too spicy.”

“Daddy, I need a hug,” Zach says, arms extended.

“Please try one bite of your broccoli.”

“I need a kiss, Daddy.”

Point and case, this boy is 100% his.

“God help you if you are Phoenix and your dare to rise up from the ash. A thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy while you are just flying…”–Ani Difranco

I’ve never thought about getting a tatoo very seriously until this morning. The thought of the legend of the Phoenix and the idea of how it applies to my life, time and time again made me consider making it my image-association.

mythological bird: in ancient mythology, a bird resembling an eagle that lived for 500 years and then burned itself to death on a pyre from whose ashes another phoenix arose. It commonly appears in literature as a symbol of death and resurrection.

The idea of the Phoenix is that it needs to be destroyed to be reborn is inspiring. So many aspects of my life require that kind of change. Building new on the cinders for a lifetime of change, I believe would make for an amazing life. Clinging to the past hinders our life, by treating our non-longer relevant pieces as the Phoenix treated itself, we can continue to remain fresh and new, even until we pass from this world.

Interesting enough, the school I’m going to is the University of Phoenix (after the city) but now when I think about the effect the schooling is having on my life, I tend to imagine much more than just a well-planned city in Arizona.

Unlike two year-olds, three-year olds have a clear concept of the power of “no.” They will wield this power at any given moment, about any given subject. Example:

“Let’s ride in a stretch limo with cookies, movies and all the soda you can drink!”

I promise you, just as I promise the sun will rise tomorrow, in a group of ten three year olds, one of them will say, “No. I don’t want to.”

Why not? Why would you not want to ride in a stretch limo loaded with three-year old bliss? Because you know the word “no” and right now 1/800th of your little body feels like rejecting paradise.

Three year-0lds: love to ask why, will never tell you why.

Now that I’ve re-careered, I don’t get as much time at work to write my posts and surf the web for money. Bummer. The posts are coming slower.

What is not coming slower today is three year olds with diarriah. So many have not made it the potty, they have began to fake me out. If you utter the phrase, “I have to go poopy,” you are given a free pass to leave my classroom and hustle your tushie to the bathroom. Unfortuantly, for some, I have caught on that even a three-year-old with the runs does not have to go poop four times during nap time. Still, do I take the chance. Truly, it’s a lose-lose gamble for me.

I’m so in need of good fodder for a post…instead of chatting about the runs.

So, I’m on week two of my new daycare teacher gig. I’m going to be frank here and say, “I LOVE IT!!”

I have totally found my Office Space occupation: the job I would still do if I won the lottery. Of course, I’d do it two days a week instead of five, but honestly, this is wonderful.

The bonuses: Hugs, hugs and more hugs. If hugs were cash, I’d be six figured employee.

Little kid conversations: way better than adult swearing. My former profession was in the construction industry, need I say more?

They nap between 12:30 and 3:00 each day. One of the more zen moments in life is rubbing the back of a child to sleep, followed by watching said child sleep for hours while you read a book. Bliss, BLISS I tell you!

The other day a little girl played with my hair while I watched recess. Wow, that’s a really nice job perk. Plus, last Friday I entertained a group of girls for 30 minutes by braiding their hair. Yes, this is a girl thing, but it is so cool.

Negatives include teacher agnst and poopy anything not in a diaper. Oh, and peeing on not only your naptime setup but your prissy, girly-girl neighbor’s….not so fun for teacher. Still, a few well-chosen hugs, and guess what, I’m over it.

I think I’ve learned enough about job satisfaction to teach a seminar to corporate America. Oh, wait, I HATE those people. Guess they’ll never know.

Whew! This last week has been more like a month. I finished my math class! Whoo hoo!

I also started working full-time at Zach’s daycare. I love it. I learned more about life in the first week of daycare than I learned after years at other jobs. It’s amazing. It’s tough, but wonderful. I’ll try to share some antidotes later. I did learn that dill pickles are a very hot topic (pro or con) amongst 3 year olds. It was almost as if a second election was taking place at lunch on Friday with lots of discussion about the merits and flaws of dill pickles.

On Sunday Zach and I went to the store get some ice cream.  He told me “Go faster, Mommy!”

I was trying to get into the turn lane with no luck. The person ahead of me was doing the ”no signal” lane change. “I’ll go faster, but this person in front of me is driving me bananas!” I said.

“No bananas, Mommy,” Zach said. “Only ice cream.”