Yesterday afternoon Maddie came out of school distinctly subdued. She had a couple papers in her hand and immediately handed me her backpack, keeping the loose papers to herself. “Do you want me to put those papers in your backpack?” I asked.

Maddie handed me one, and as she did I caught a glimpse of the other, retained paper – a math test with the score written in red. “You can have this one,” she said, handing me her vocabulary test. “But not this one,” and she waved the math test.

“Baby, is it because of the grade on the math test?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Honey, it’s ok, we all miss some sometimes.”

So Maddie handed me her math test and burst into tears.

She made an 89.

As you can’t help but be aware, I got an awesome new blender about a week ago. I’m lucky there’s a seven-year warranty on this thing, because I’m certainly going to wear the motor out before then.

Cora’s favorite smoothie right now is: one whole orange (peeled); one pint of whole strawberries; one banana; one cup of homemade plain yogurt; and, unbeknownst to her, a handful of fresh spinach leaves.

I made this smoothie for her last night with dinner, and I had to make three full batches of it. That’s three pints of strawberries, folks. Suddenly the sixty-eight pounds we picked a few weeks ago doesn’t look as big in the freezer any more.

I’ve started experimenting more with what’s going in them, and quite like a green smoothie I make for myself every morning now. A friend of mine told me she puts half an avocado in any fruit smoothie – it doesn’t add any taste, but adds a creaminess and some healthy fat to help with the blood sugar spike from all the fruit. So I’m starting to do that, too.

The upshot is that the poor blender’s been working overtime, and I’ve made copious trips back to the grocery store for more produce.

This fresh, healthy eating thing is getting expensive.

Dear Cora:

Every morning provided the weather holds, you scooter to school. About a block and a half into it, you arrive at your friend Lily’s house, and invariably you pause there, lingering in the hope that she’ll come walking out the door at that moment and you two can continue on to school together.

When I catch up with you, you’ll always say that your leg is “tired and needs to rest”. One day I teasingly pointed out that your leg always seems to get tired at the same spot on our journey; you shrugged and said matter-of-factly, “My leg always wants to rest with my friends.”

Well, I don’t know about your leg, kiddo, but I know for certain that your heart rests with your friends. You spent the past few years essentially “borrowing” friends from your older sister, but this year you’ve truly come into your own and have spent kindergarten developing your own sweet little gang. You are always begging me for a play date with Lily, or Maggie, or Logan or Rawan – always wanting to spend more time with your friends. And it’s not that you’re not comfortable in your own skin: you can easily entertain yourself in your room for hours at a time. No, you simply love your friends. You have an easy confidence with them that, frankly, I envy: I can’t imagine being that comfortable with myself and open with so many others at your age.

Monday afternoons always feel a little hectic for me; Mondays are my “errands” day, full of grocery stores and the cleaners and the drugstore and taking care of returns and all the other million things your children HATE to do with you. Then I come home for about ten minutes to eat and switch mental gears as I get ready for the second half of my day: pick the girls up from school, spend a few precious minutes with them, then rush off to teach for the rest of the day.

I try hard not to be flustered and tired when I see the girls, so I can be focused on them and enjoy them for however brief a time. This past Monday my teaching started a bit later than usual, so I was looking forward to having a good hour with the girls before heading out the door.

Then Cora was invited over to a friend’s house – a house she’s never been to before. I couldn’t say no. So as I prepared for this past Monday afternoon, I pictured the quality time Maddie and I would spend together, chatting about the day and having deep talks while cuddling on the couch. I headed off to the school to give Cora a quick hug in passing and pick Maddie up for the day.

But when I got to school, Maddie ran at me bursting with excitement. “Mom! Marina invited me over to her house to play! Can I go? Please???” I looked at Marina’s mom, who nodded that yes, this was a sanctioned invitation.