So a week ago, Fuss decided that she was going to stand up — by herself. She’s only seven months old, but I’m okay with this. I just hope she learns a little more English before she starts walking, so I can say, “Put that down” and “Wait! Danger!”

We’re excited about her development. She’s very agile. She rolls, she tumbles, she climbs and pretty much dives at any screen she sees. It makes doing my work challenging, but I knew what I was getting myself into.

Two clients, who shall remain unnamed, came to Suuru with an old photo of their parents that needed to be restored. They also wanted to use the photo as a gift for their parents’ 35th wedding anniversary.  It was a little cracked up, but I promised to see what I could do.  ”Be as creative as you want” they said, explaining that they wanted the final design to hang up in their parent’s living room.

I provided them with four design options.  Here are the final two, and they chose the second one.

Hello Kitty is the first thing that I think of when it’s back-to-school season. Cute little clicking Choco-Cat pencils, Keroppi folders and red pencil cases bearing that famous little cat all work their way through my mind. As a child I used to get so excited the night before school that I became nauseated. My Trapper Keeper had been stuffed with Pee-Chee folders weeks beforehand and each pencil had been sharpened at least ten times. The clothes were laid out on the dresser and my alarm clock was double checked. I love learning.

After homeschooling my little girl for the past five years, this September, she’s transitioning to private school. I’m more excited than ever before. Sure, she spent a couple of days per week being socialized at small Montessori schools every now and then, but I’ve been responsible for the majority of her education thus far. Now she’ll have the opportunity to have a little cubby with her name and picture on it, group projects, a huge playground and, most importantly, a classroom of 21 students with whom to share her learning experience.

I’ve been preparing for weeks. I waited to purchase school supplies, because her school said not to do it until her teacher did the home visit and sent the list to buy things. I guess my excitement spread to the community, because people just started sending Mooch gifts to start off on her new journey. Aunties, god-mothers and friends all sent stuff. Boxes just started showing up at the house with Mooch’s name on it. I think I cried a little, because these people did exactly what my mom would have done. We are very grateful.

Mooch opening a box from Auntie JaNai

Mooch has been ready to start school since we first met our host family and went to the New Families Picnic. Her teacher’s visit to our home last week was the icing on the cake. Mooch read to her and showed off her favorite toys. She introduced her sister and gave her a tour of our house. This week she has Make New Friends Day and then the students rush into campus Thursday morning while the teachers and administrators blow bubbles from the balcony. I’ll be sure to take lots of pics!

Her lunches are going to be off the hook! I’ll try to post a weekly pic of the best lunch to give you guys some lunch recipe ideas. She got a really cool embroidered Pottery Barn lunch box from her adult BFF. I got bento box compartments for it. She also has a laptop lunch box with flowers all over it. What a hippie, right?

The lunch box Carrie sent!

I know you’re wondering what grade she’s going to be in. Well … her school doesn’t actually have grades. It’s liberal. The grades are grouped in twos and labeled “Youngers,” “Bridge,” “Middles,” “Olders.” She’s in “Youngers” and her teachers are awesome! There are two teachers with credentials in each class.

It’s this Thursday! Yay! Of course her clothes are picked out, her backpack is packed and she has a fully stocked Hello Kitty pencil box. It’s the old school kind, where the pencil sharpener pops out and there’s an eraser compartment.

I have my own language. There are single words for common phrases that I get tired of saying. For example, “Prontashate” means “I love you.” I created it with my god-sister in the eighth grade, because repeating things like “How are you?” was exhausting.

Hannibal thinks this is insane, because the entire language must be memorized as there are no rules based on grammar. I think he’s lazy. You might be thinking that the person who gets tired of saying “I love you” and asking “How are you?” is lazy. I understand that, but languages like “Pig Latin” are pansy to me. They’re too easy to decode. If one is going to make a language, they should make one that no one in the flyover states can understand.

Hannibal said, “In order to speak the language, one would have to know *all* of the phrases and know to ignore all the rules.” I told him that he clearly didn’t take anthropology on that fruity USC campus he went to, because he was attacking my native tongue and, therefore, being culturally irresponsible.

“Your native tongue is lunacy!” He laughed.

“That was mean.” I pouted.

“Baby lunacy is my native tongue, too. That’s why we’re together.” He offered trying to cover it up.

“We don’t speak the same language.” I replied, rolling my eyes. “We wouldn’t have nearly as many disagreements.”

“It’s just a different dialect.” He retorted.

“You look here, with your pidgin lunacy!” I started.

He cut me off with, “Actually, It’s cajun lunacy. It’s blackened.” I gave him a blank stare.

Needless to say, I still walk around the house (and Los Angeles) spouting off syllables that make no sense to anyone but myself and my god-sister, who is usually not present. Maybe that makes me sound crazy, but I just wear a bluetooth and do it with a British accent. People probably think I’m an alien.

Hannibal asked if I was fine with everyone thinking that I was a whack-job alien instead of a designer/dance instructor, and I said, “I’m not done growing up until I’m thirty. I can still change what I want to be when I grow up, and I’m a Libra so I’ll probably take that liberty.”