Happy Blogiversary to Us!

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Here we are, dear readers. One year. 365+ posts. 50,000 plus hits. New friends. Old friends. Faithful readers. A lot of memories. More to come.

Just like one year ago when we began, I’m not sure where Piperism is going next. If parenting has taught me anything, it’s not to assume I have anything figured out. The minute you do, change happens. It’s inevitable. This moment matters. This one. I’ll keep blogging. One post at a time. I’m grateful to have you along for the ride.

And since it’s our one year blogging anniversary, let’s take a little trip down Piper lane.

Here are your favorite posts (based on number of hits) from the last blogging year:

Hold On. We’re Going Gaga

Soulmates

Drunk Dialing or Something Like It

Grumpy Naked Guy

Dear Katy Perry

And here is mine:

I’ll Stop the World and Melt With You

Hummingbirds

Snow Falling From Sissy

Courage Comes in Small Packages

Burning Our Regrets

And you? What’s your favorite post? What piperism made you laugh out loud? Share!

Katy Perry Piper 2

Burning Our Regrets

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Last week at church Piper burned her regrets from 2012. It was part of the Children’s Worship Service, which is one of my favorite things that our congregation does. One Sunday a month, in a space that’s all their own, the children come together to practice spirituality. The children light the candles. The children collect and give the offering. The children decide their own service projects. The children join hands and pray. The children recite their pledge to our community:

May we have eyes that see,

hearts that love and

hands that are willing to serve

Children squirm during the short service and it’s okay. Sometimes they switch seats and it’s okay. Sometimes they have urgent questions and it’s okay. They’re children. This is their service. I get to attend with Piper, but I’m only a visitor.

Because it’s the new year, the children decided that the service would center around new beginnings. And to begin anew sometimes you have to let go of the past. These kids are geniuses, aren’t they? We should stay out of their way and listen a little harder.

Each kid wrote a regret from 2012 on a piece of flash paper. It could be something they’d done or something that had happened to them that made them sad or something in our world that was regretful. I’m sure you can think of a few. Piper had no problem coming up with hers. On her tissue paper thin paper she wrote:

TEASING

It’s happened to her. She’s done it a few times too. We all have. And sometimes it hurts. Whether we mean for it to or not. Piper regrets teasing and she doesn’t like when she’s teased.

Piper clutched her paper tight as she got in line with the rest of the children. One by one they burned their regrets in a large urn. The flash paper gave it a dramatic effect. When you toss your paper into the small flame, a momentarily flash of fire bursts. Piper thought it had PIZAZZ, her new favorite word.

Then they talked about forgiveness and letting go of injuries. Piper had one moment of teasing that particularly hurt that she’s been holding onto. She’s talked about it daily since it happened. But after burning TEASING, I haven’t heard her mention it. She’ve moved on. Kids can do that. They live in this moment. This one. Sure, there’s a birthday party at some bounce house this weekend, but when you don’t know the days of the week, the weekend means nothing. It’s so far away. It could be tomorrow. It could be never. It’s recess. Let’s go play. Let’s try not to tease while we’re out there. And forgive a lot more in 2013. I’m following Piper’s lead.

Grading

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Piper is worried about first grade. She just started reading. She just began really writing. And she’s already anxious about an event that is 9 months away. Her eyes fill up when she talks about it. Poor baby.

“What are you worried about, P?” I asked, wiping away her tears.

“It looks so hard,” she said, “they do all this big kid stuff.”

“You do big kid stuff, already. This morning you dressed yourself and packed your snack and set the breakfast table. That’s big kid stuff.”

“That’s easy stuff, Mom. In first grade you get REAL grades. It’s not just about trying anymore.”

I thought about that. Piper already understands that effort goes a long way but eventually this world is about performance and evaluation. At five, she gets that. Sigh.

“Actually, Piper, they don’t give grades in first grade. I don’t think report cards have grades  on them until third. Instead, they give you little check marks about your progress.”

Piper’s eyes got big at that news. “Well, geez, then, why do they call it first GRADE?”

 

A Tale of Two (or Three) Giraffes Part 2

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Have you read A Tale of Two (or Three) Giraffes Part 1?

Here’s part 2:

This afternoon I cleaned out Piper’s backpack. We were searching for her homework, which she likes to stuff really far down in various pockets in hopes that I won’t find it and make her do it. Nice try.

Buried deep down in there were the giraffes magnets that were recently confiscated by Piper’s teacher from the thieving, evil first grader who stole them from Piper’s locker.

Except. Piper had two giraffe magnets. And now we have…

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“Piper, why do you now have three giraffe magnets?” I asked.  “You only had two before.”

“Ugh oh,” Piper said, “maybe I stole HIS giraffe magnet! I’M the thief!”

Don’t worry, dear readers. Piper will be returning the giraffe magnet to the innocent, evil first grade boy first thing tomorrow.

A Tale of Two (or Three) Giraffes Part 1

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Part 1: There was a crime spree at Piper’s school last week. At least, according to Piper.

“Mom! A little boy stole my giraffe magnet!”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I saw it in his locker. I was walking by in the hallway and I saw MY giraffe magnet in HIS locker.”

Piper told her teacher. The teacher gathered information and investigated the crime scene. Then she helped Piper retrieve the evidence. And they decided that maybe Piper shouldn’t bling out her locker with such cool stuff. Piper agreed and packed up her locker mirror, pictures of Sissy, magnetic notepads, and giraffe magnets. No reason to leave the good stuff in plain view when there are elementary school thugs roaming the halls.

“Who was the boy?” I asked.

“Some first grader,” Piper said. “Those first graders are all evil.”

A Tale of Two (or Three) Giraffes Part 2

Beach Illustrated

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According to Piper, this is what the beach looks like:

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There is always a rainbow at the beach. Your mommy is always with you. And those big bright shiny things in the sky? That’s how bright the stars are at the beach. Sometimes you see shooting stars, too. Your rainbow protects you from their fall.

Your mom carries a sand bucket and a shovel for you at the beach, too. Oh, and mom is green. Either green was the only crayon available or Piper watched the Wizard of Oz at the beach for the first time. But, really, if your mom was a witch, would she carry your sand castle making implements? I don’t think so.

Miss Manners

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Piper’s been learning about manners this week at school.  Her teacher took the opportunity to suggest some etiquette among the unruly kindergarten masses.

Piper is taking the manners very seriously and correcting our trespasses freely. This from a child who still leaves the bathroom door open so she can talk to us if she gets bored from the potty throne.

“Due to my recent manners training, Mom, I’ve decided to stop picking my nose,” Piper said.

“Sounds good to me,” I nodded.

“But only at the dinner table.”

What’s On Your Plate?

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It’s a little slow around here, especially compared to the marathon that is the holidays. Today there weren’t any presents to wrap or unwrap. No holiday cards to address (Oh, who am I kidding? Tiny Prints does all the work for me). No holiday tunes to belt out. We said goodbye to the beach and flew home with sand in our suitcases. I’m hoping the fairies show up soon and wrap each ornament individually and put away the tree. Le Sigh.

So Piper and I spent some time this afternoon mulling the new year over a bowl of spaghetti. It’s what she asked for when she came in the door from her first day back to school. “Mom, I had a great day,” Piper announced, creating a pile one foot from the door of backpack, coat, mittens, scarf, lunchbox, hat. “Now, I need some spaghetti. Bolognese sauce, please.” I understand. I had made the same thing earlier for lunch. Great minds think alike. The new year needs comfort food. Parmesan makes everything better.

Piper ate and told me about her new school project called “What’s on your plate?” where she’ll be learning how food actually gets onto her plate. It’s her first big research project. She’ll create a Power Point. She’ll present it by herself to an audience of parents. There will be cookies, of course, but she’ll know that the cookies are made from flour which comes from wheat which is grown in the ground. It’s cool stuff. I’m pretty sure I sat and made Playdoh snakes my entire kindergarten year. Times have changed.

“I’m really starting to think about my food, you know?” Piper said, gazing down into her spaghetti goodness. “Like this came from you, right?”

“I boiled the pasta and made the sauce, but I didn’t grow the wheat myself,” I admitted. “I bought the pasta from a store. Someone else grew the tomatoes.”

Piper twirled a good amount around her fork and sprinkled on more cheese, which comes from cows and is aged two years in Italy’s Parmigiano-Reggiano region.

“Well, wherever it came from, I like the sound spaghetti makes when I slurp it,” she said, smacking her lips together for effect. “It sounds like someone is KISSING!”