We are moving.

Tonight is our final night at the Ranchero De-Luxe, and I have been surprisingly sentimental about the place. It shouldn’t be surprising. We brought Rex-Goliath home from the hospital when we lived here. We planned, financed, and threw a wedding when we lived here. I went into labor with Xavier here. We had terrible fights, funny jokes, sad moments, and live-changing ecstatic times. The Big Plan was both conceived and realized on this patch of beige carpet that I am currently sitting on. We came up with the “Smell Ya Later, School” Party concept at our kitchen table. Both boys learned to crawl and walk, said their first words, threw their first tantrums. Chloë started kindergarten, lost her first tooth, had her first slumber party, and learned to ride a bike here. Dan and I both went back to school here. Chuckë lived and died here. A lot of hard work and time has been put in here. We have cleaned a metric ton of child vomit off of the floor here. We became a family here.

Tomorrow morning, we will move into the Family Student Housing at the University of Minnesota. For the most part, this is a move up in the world. We’ll have two levels. It will be a better commute for me next fall.

But we’ll have no pug dog. Grandma Vicky has graciously taken the crazy messed-up dog. P. Puggs and I have been through a lot – she used to curl up behind my knees in a sleeping bag when we lived in a house that none of the residents could afford to heat, we subsisted on peanut butter crackers for months when finances were tight. She has put up with so much tail-pulling and eye-poking from kids. She will be missed, but now she has a doggie friend (Tate) and someone to dote on her. No one pulls her tail at Gramma Vicky’s. All dogs go to heaven.

It feels appropriate to move at this juncture. A lot has changed in four years – we have a good thing going. We are ready for the next phase – on to bigger and better things. Stay tuned.

Bonus pic for Ashlee, because she thinks that it is funny that I label my boxes with words like “crap.” It is not funny, however, that Dan labels boxes containing my Martha Stewart magazine collection with “stupid magazines.”

– Mrs. Wonderful

We never had a Plan B. So I guess it is a pretty good thing that Plan A is going, well, according to plan.

Today, this very morning, I received an email from the University of Minnesota – Twin Cities offering me admission to their Pharm D program. I feel like I just delivered a baby. A three year-old baby.

We have been at this for some time. This little plan was hatched shortly after Rex-Goliath was born, and the kid is nearly four. I want to make this clear: this whole thing was a joint effort. Long before I was even able to enroll in classes, Dan was working two (sometimes three) jobs to make this financially possible. There were weeks where I was hardly home because I was studying microbiology. I didn’t do dishes for an entire semester. The man is amazingly supportive, and I am so lucky to have him.

For those of you not familiar with the process, getting in to pharmacy school is the hardest part. In general, if you can get in, you will graduate. It takes a long time – you cannot just decide to apply and be done with it the next day. They look at a lot of factors – GPA, PCAT score, extracurricular activities, leadership, volunteering. You have to write an essay summing up your life and your desire to be a pharmacist that cannot be longer than a page. You have to enter every single college transcript you have into the application system (PharmCAS), despite the fact that you have to send the damn things to PharmCAS anyway. I have six transcripts under several aliases. Just tracking all of those down took time (and fees). Then they take weeks to verify that what you entered matches what is actually on the paper copy. And they charge you $150 plus $50 for each additional school (I applied to seven). Then you fill out supplemental applications, repeating much of the information you already put on the PharmCas application. You write about a billion essays. You pay about $50 a supplemental. At this point, you’ve so much money on fees that you feel as if you are throwing wads of cash out the window. You have to endure the nerve-wracking interview while wearing pantyhose. If you are the spouse, you have to listen to the applicant talk about this crap ad nauseum. For years. And then you wait.

The whole thing has felt like a big checklist. After every semester (heck, every exam), I would say a little prayer of thanks (even though I am atheist) and breathe a sigh of relief. After the PCAT. After the interview. Things have gone so smoothly up until this point, it seemed like I was due for a hurdle. I was preparing myself to be waitlisted.

I wasn’t even expecting the news to arrive until tomorrow. And I was expecting snail mail, not email. I was wondering if Dan would intercept it while I was at class. And if the envelope was thing vs. thick, would that be an indicator. I about fell out of my chair when I clicked on Gmail this morning.

I have to say some thank-yous: To Mr.Wonderful, for being the best partner I could ever wish for, to the kids for putting up with how difficult this has been (and it will not change for some time). To Ashlee, Abdi, and Phil for writing my letters of recommendation. To Vicky, for all of her support. Warren and Deb, for the support and all of the advice. The three of you have been our biggest cheerleaders. Thanks to all of our friends and family.

Off we go. On to Phase Two.

The park we were at. Amazing, isn't it?

It is taking every bit of restraint Rex-Goliath has to not play with those toys, which were not ours

Rex-Goliath learns to do the zip-line thingy

Daddy gives a demonstration

Mama and Baby Bee

Fun on the swings

Rex-Goliath on an adventure

Totally superfluous picture, but it turned out so good! Hey everybody, look at my cute kid!

Can we have Chinese food yet?

–Mrs. Wonderful

As a family, we have plenty of weird rituals and quirky little activities. My favorite is Election Day.

I have a deep personal belief that voting is important. It is our right and our duty. If you don’t vote, you have no right to complain. This is one of the few things that I want to teach the kids.

So we drag them to the little Lutheran church down the road to breathe in some of that musty old-church air and do their civic duty (read: stand in a reasonably quiet manner, watch their parents vote, and let their parents think that they are reflecting on the importance of this day even if they are really mentally counting the number of SweetTarts left in their Halloween candy bags). They get their little red stickers, Mr. Wonderful and I vote for the most liberal candidates we can find (and thirty-three unopposed judges) – win-win!

Will the kids do this with their kids? I hope. Most likely, it will go down something like this:

Child: Daddy, where are you going?

Rex-Goliath: To go vote.

Child (whining): Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? How long is that gonna take?

Rex-Goliath: Dude, stop whining. It could be way worse. My parents made me go with. And they took a family picture! You better count your blessings that Grandpa Dan and Grandma Leah aren’t your parents.

This is how it’s done rookies.

1) It is dark, meaning every. last. picture. is grainy and full of irreparable red eyes.

2) It is late, so the baby is scared and the middle child is tired (“Mama, I’m a sad little owl.”)

3) It is Monday morning, the house looks like a tornado hit it, I have to leave for school soon, and I desperately need a shower. Also, the cable box is not working so I cannot distract the children with Dinosaur Train. This means I have to explain why Rex-Goliath cannot have candy until after lunch about once every three minutes. Lunch is hours away. It seems like a random line to draw in the sand, but for some reason I have this belief that good mothers do not allow cookies and candy prior to lunch. But I am fine with coleslaw and spaghetti for breakfast. I can’t explain it either.

One last note – I feel bad that I somehow did not get a picture of Elizabeth as The Joker or her costume for Princess Pug as a flying pig. Things got a little chaotic as we were trying to get out the door.

Here it is – Halloween 2010:

A baby bluebird!

Rex-Goliath flaps his wings

Chloë waits patiently for the adventure to begin

The obligatory picture with Bill. No clown costume = big disappointment for Team Wonderful

Owls ride bikes, right?

Team Wonderful on the move

Trick or treat!

Final attempt at a picture of all three of them = fail for Mama

Xavier gets a ride in the wagon

Check it out – Mr. Wonderful and I get out of the house at the same time without kids!

Mr. and Mrs. Draper

Sookie Stackhouse, Kat Von D, Betty Draper aka Stefany, Ashlee, Leah

–Mrs. Wonderful

Although it proclaims to be mighty, we did not actually venture out of the kiddie midway.

The Safari Train seemed like an obvious first choice. Only because of the monkey, though.

Despite his intial excitement, the Safari Train was more terrifying than thrillifying for Rex-Goliath

I was really hoping that those animals did something. I was sorely disappointed.

Dan's attempt to thrillify Rex-Goliath

Apparently the carnie (I mean, ride guy? entertainment engineer?) has to put tape over this image (and others) in certain states. But we're not that progressive in the great old carve-a-lady's-head-in-butter state.

Fun Slide is the best name they could come up with.

I would totally let this dude on without a ticket.

Dan and Chloë catch some thrills in a dragon.

The kids on the whale-rider ride.

The topless, bubble-blowing mermaid on the whale-rider ride.

This man's sole purpose in life is to make the lives of parents difficult.

Obviously, the baby will be voting DFL this November. Fun fact: we learned of his forthcoming existence on the day Obama was elected.

Mmmmmmm. French Fries.

–Mrs. Wonderful

It is hard having two blended families. It is hard spending half of your life at one house, and half at the other (I imagine). The big perk: three birthday celebrations. Here are the pics from celebration #1, a little shindig at the Ranchero De-Luxe with a very exclusive guest list (read: only people that reside in apartment 2C or stay here regularly):

Members of Team Wonderful are forced to make their own birthday cupcakes

Miss Chloë, expert pastry chef

Xavier catches up on reading while waiting for cupcakes

The batter was actually better than the cupcakes themselves. Especially with soy ice cream.

Would you believe that you can get eight candles into a mini-cupcake?

Her first grown-up gift, a joint project between Elizabeth, Dan and I

Elizabeth is CRAZY!

The birthday girl, contemplating her defeat of Daddy at checkers

After going through these pictures, I realized that I should clarify something: my children do own clothes – nice coordinating outfits, even. They just choose to rip them off and strew them about the house.

–Mrs. Wonderful

Chloë was up next. Also an old hat at school, she was ready for third grade with a vengeance. Pleased at the concept of starting third grade? Not so much. Ready? Yes. She grew up a lot over the summer – learned to ride a bike, shot up an inch or two, cut some bangs, and gained a fair amount of maturity. She seems like a third-grader.

On Chloë’s first day of school, we always take pictures in front of the Ranchero. We used to do it in front of a charming tree with orange berries on it, but the tree became diseased and had to be removed this year. So now we just do it in front of the Ranch. I have unfortunate visions of Chloë standing in this very same spot wearing her high school graduation cap and gown, an elderly Princess Pug snoring on the sidewalk in the background.

Here she is, ready for her first day of kindergarten at the Ranchero, standing in front of the tree before its unfortunate demise.

I read about a little German tradition where the kids kid little horns filled with school supplies and candy on the first day of school, and it sounded like the cutest idea ever. I think they are called tootwaffles. Or strumptoots. Or tootenstrumpen. Or something. I love giving gifts, the kids mildly dislike receiving gifts, and Dan hates picking up pieces from mechanical pencils and mediating fights over dessert-shaped erasers, so the whole concept seemed win-win to me.

Rex-Goliath had two first days of school – one for preschool, which has a parent-child component to it. On Mondays, Dan brings both boys, puts Xavier in the baby room, and hangs out with Rex-Goliath in the preschool room. Apparently they do an art project together (which Rex-Goliath has little interest in because there is a huge plastic truck beckoning him from the toy shelf) and sit in a circle and sing songs (which Rex-Goliath has little interest in because he is not too keen on singing and that truck is really calling his name). Then they allow him to actually play with the truck while Dan is forced to hang out with the other parents and talk about parenting. Which he really enjoys. They do provide hot water, he tells me. So if one were to bring tea bags or some Taster’s Choice and their own mug, sugar packets and stirring implement they could have a hot beverage. Or you could just bring a travel mug of vodka on ice and save yourself the trouble. On Wednesdays, Dan is allowed to just drop Rex-Goliath off, so he can enjoy his vodka on ice without comparing potty training progress and swapping discipline tips.

Here he is, ready to go to preschool orientation.

Xavier, also excited for preschool orientation.

The second first day of school is for Tiny Talk. Rex-Goliath, although actually speaking English these days, does not always speak intelligible English. So he is enrolled in speech therapy, which includes one day of speech preschool with other speech-challenged kids. They call it Tiny Talk, and he enjoys it. The best part of the whole thing is that a tiny bus comes to pick him up at our door – it is the cutest thing ever.

The little bus-shaped nametag they have to wear is adorable.

Here’s to a good year. Or at least survival.

–Mrs. Wonderful