Katy Sinclair Parental Units

M y grandfather, Carl N. Sarles, was a lifelong saver.

An accountant by trade, he kept meticulous details of his spending.  After he bought something, he carefully recorded  the time, date, description and total of the transaction in a little black book. For him, money was sacred. He pondered every purchase and used cash for almost everything.

He didn’t believe that successful people spent money to make money. His mantra: Save, save, save.

I am much less thrifty than he was and as a result, much less financially secure. I believe though that sometimes his “save at all costs” directive can be misguided.

Right now, my household is spending a lot of money. And in the end, we will save more for it. All in the name of energy conservation.

Our mission began in February, when I lucked into a free energy audit from Boulder County’s Energy Corp. (Free audits are rare but reduced-cost ones still are available; see box.)

The energy audit was painless. For about an hour, the experts inspected my house, looking for energy drains and suggesting changes. Some were easy fixes; they replaced our lightbulbs with compact fluorescent lights and even switched a showerhead to a more water-efficient one.

Other suggestions were more time consuming, such as caulking around the window frames and adding an insulating layer to our external wall outlet gaskets.

The biggest project: Hiring a contractor to add more insulation to our attic.

I was overwhelmed by the energy crew’s estimate of cost (around $1,000) and the prospect of finding a contractor on my own.

Fortunately the Center for Resource Conservation is part of this energy initiative. With their Residential Energy Action Program, they help homeowners take the next steps with their energy plans.

My point guy at REAP helped me find a reputable contractor who offered free estimates. He also explained the various rebates and discounts that were available for our project.

After stacking the Xcel and Governor’s Energy Office rebates, I discovered we could save about $600, making our final out-of-pocket cost about $700.

(Up until last month, larger residential energy conservation projects could be financed by the Boulder County ClimateSmart Loan Program. Due to some regulatory issues, that program is now on indefinite hold. Since our project was relatively small, we didn’t use the ClimateSmart program.)

It took about a month to get the estimates done and paperwork finalized. In early June, the half-day project was completed, just before a slew of unseasonably hot days hit the area. The benefit of our investment was immediately apparent; our house cools down faster, and we keep the thermostat higher.

It’s a win-win situation: More efficient heating and cooling means lower overall utility bills. But saving a few dollars each month isn’t the only advantage to the project.

The Iceland volcano eruption, Chile and Haiti earthquakes and Gulf of Mexico oil spill all remind us how fragile this planet is. I want to teach my children the importance of treating our Earth with respect and how to reduce our impact on it.

I think even my Grandpa Carl — who refused to turn on the air-conditioning unless it was 90 degrees or hotter — would appreciate that we spent money to do so.

Contact Katy Sinclair at KatySinclair09@gmail.com.

A woman walks  along the dunes at the Great Sand Dunes National Park. The park is nestled next to the majestic Sangre de Cristo Mountains and makes for a fun, educational family trip.  Cliff Grassmick, Longmont Ledger

Sunset over the San Luis Valley from the Sand Dunes. Cliff Grassmick photo

I  have traveled quite a bit in my 35 years, starting with my first airplane ride at 10 weeks old. From the age of 5, I was an “unaccompanied minor” on countless cross-country flights. I went overseas for the first time at the age of 11.

Hubster’s travel resume is far more extensive. He’s crossed the globe twice and has been known to use his vacation time to travel to Nepal.

We continued to travel after Baby Girl E was born, even heading to Singapore and Mexico.

Now that we are a party of four, Disney World is as far as we go by plane. Baby Girl A’s carsick tendencies and my lack of patience keep our road trips short and close to home.

Fortunately, one of my most favorite places in the world is less than five hours away.

Nestled next to the majestic Sangre de Cristo Mountains, the Great Sand Dunes National Park is remote. Once off Interstate 25, wandering wildlife, low speed limits and steep mountain passes can make the drive a little tedious. (Those who enjoy taking a more scenic route should consider taking U.S. 285 south.)

For me, the trip is always worth it as soon as I see the cinnamon-colored dunes on the horizon.
I believe the dunes have healing powers.

Just observing the dunes is wondrous. They look different depending on the time of day. In the early morning, with the sky a pinkish hue, they look like an alien sculpture, all curves and smooth surfaces. As the day continues, they become an idiosyncrasy, a startling pile of sand propped up against imposing snow-capped peaks. At night, as the sky turns purple, they are a quiet reminder of the astonishing might of Mother Nature.

I don’t pretend to understand the science behind the dunes; how they came to be is a lesson best taught by the dunes’ rangers. What I do know is while they relax me, they do the opposite for my children, fueling hours of activity and curiosity.

Big Girl E and Baby Girl A hike, slide, sled, dance, build, inspect and walk while on the dunes. And if we are lucky enough to catch Medano Creek while it’s running (up until about late June), they splash, too.

Word of warning: Medano Creek’s water is frigid. It comes from the mountains’ snow melt and for the most part, doesn’t warm up. The first step in that water always takes my breath away. I have to grit my teeth to continue to walk across the creek. After a minute though, my feet go numb and I am fine.

Children get used to water quickly; it’s not uncommon to see them playing while clad only in their bathing suits. Remember the sunscreen; while the air is cooler, the UV index is high.

While there are many camping options available at the park, we always stay at the Great Sand Dunes Lodge, which is located just outside the official park entrance. (The nearest chain hotels are 45 minutes away in Alamosa.)

While I’m happy to use the lodge’s amenities, that’s not its principal attraction. The view of the dunes from the lodge’s rooms is the best in the valley.

As I write this column, the park is wrestling with a 5,000-acre wildfire that was sparked by lightning. I hope the blaze doesn’t keep visitors away; the park is a unique site that can only be truly appreciated in person.

Contact Katy Sinclair at KatySinclair09@gmail.com.

Katy Sinclair Parental Units

I’ve never been a fan of hot weather.

I despise getting sweaty, and I don’t like bugs. I slather on SPF 110 and still get sunburned. Even cooling off at the pool isn’t enjoyable when your thighs are as big as mine.

My kids don’t care that I don’t like summer. They thrive when it’s hot outside. Big Girl E adores the outdoors and stays active with various camps. All the fun in the sun means she actually eats what’s on her plate. And at night she sleeps so well that fireworks can’t wake her.

Regardless of how many activities I have planned for them, at some point, I know they will get bored. This year, I have a new secret weapon to stave off the whiny chorus: Longmont’s own Sunflower Farms.

Baby Girl A and I just rediscovered the 50-acre working farm last week. Chock full of animals, including turtles, sheep, llamas, chickens, horses, ducks and goats, the site also has plenty of outdoor activities to keep children of all ages entertained.

Because A has a miniscule attention span, we didn’t spend a lot of time with the animals. We peeked in on the baby pigs who were as cute as pigs can be. We wandered over to the horses for a bit but A wasn’t thrilled when one came over to us looking for food.

Word of warning: The chickens are loose and very good at sneaking up on visitors.  Baby Girl A was startled quite a few times. And of course, where there are birds, there are eggs. Baby Girl A brought me a still-warm one she found under a bench and asked me to put it in my pocket for safe-keeping. I waited until she was distracted by a tractor before gently putting it back.

As for the non-animal options, we bypassed the massive sand box, the duck pond and the pony rides to focus on the treehouse area. Planks flanked by thick ropes connect several platforms; the end result is a safe but challenging climbing structure. A tried getting up to the higher levels but just couldn’t gather the courage or the coordination. (Fortunately, the structure can support parents so little ones don’t stay stuck for long.) She was content to stay closer to the ground and go down the bright yellow wavy slide a few dozen times.

The farm is open on Saturdays and still has opening in its weekly camps. Older children may be interested in a separate program called Kid’s JUNKFEST. For ages 6 to 14, JUNKFEST attendees use objects from nature, construction materials and junk to make collages, sculptures, costumes — whatever they can dream up. Though the kids are supervised, the goal is for them to think and produce something on their own.

At the end of our farm time, Baby Girl A was dirty — sandals were not a good footwear choice — but happy. Days later, she’s still asking about the yellow slide and the pigs.

Much like the pool, Sunflower Farm is a perfect low-cost activity. But at least at the farm, I get to keep my thighs covered.

Contact Katy Sinclair at KatySinclair09@gmail.com.

Katy Sinclair Parental Units

I never planned on being a full-time stay-at-home mom.

I was a day-care child who watched my mother put in 60-hour weeks. She valued her job and her work as much as she valued her family.

When I got pregnant with Big Girl E, I expected to follow my mother’s lead.

Then I had her and held her and was stunned by my fervent connection to her. She became my focus; work no longer mattered.

At the end of my maternity leave, I begged Hubster to figure out a way for me to stay home. He supported my decision; the mortgage did not.

I had to go back but arranged a part-time, night-shift schedule. E and I had our time together and I paid the bills.

My first day back after my maternity leave was a nightmare. I missed my baby so much that my arms ached and I had to sneak away to cry in the bathroom. When I got home that night, Hubster and E were sitting in the dark.  He told me how she had screamed for hours, how nothing soothed her. He couldn’t go through that again; I had to stay home.

It was too late. Despite my misery, I found a little joy in my eight hours of work. I didn’t have to choose between being a good mother and being a professional. I could do both, and as a bonus, Hubster had to become a really hands-on father.

We perfected our routine over the years, and when I got pregnant with Baby Girl A, I wasn’t worried about returning to work. I took a month off before she was born to   reconnect with Big Girl E and prepare for the blissful chaos of the newborn stage.

Then I went into labor, and it was disastrous.

Baby Girl A almost died. Aggressive treatment and quick-thinking doctors saved her.

After two weeks at Children’s Hospital, she came home. It wasn’t until she was snuggled in her crib at home that I realized how fragile her life was.

Her future depended on how much energy and time I put in to her recovery. There were specialists to see, tests to prepare for and therapist appointments to juggle.

I realized that I couldn’t be the mother she needed while working. I quit my job.

Two and a half years later, Baby Girl A is doing well, and I am still at home.

To be honest, I feel a little empty at times. I have a master’s degree. I worked for close to a decade nurturing a stressful, fulfilling career. I miss that.

I didn’t realize how much I missed working until I was offered a training gig for the U.S. Census Bureau. The job is a short-term, non-sales assignment that pays well.

Though I only worked for four days, we struggled with the adjustment.  For once, I had to ask about school appointments and phone calls. The house got really messy. Dinner became a slapdash (take-out) affair. The commute from Longmont to Westminster was tedious.

Despite the drawbacks, I enjoyed my work time. I read a magazine during my lunch break. I had 20 minute conversations sans diapers and screeching.

The time away gave me something much more significant than a paycheck. I know now that I can follow my mother’s example of working outside the home while also actively and joyfully raising my children.

Contact Katy Sinclair at KatySinclair09@gmail.com

Katy Sinclair Parental Units

Rule of Life No. 49: Parenting does not get easier.

Right now, I am wrestling with Baby Girl A over potty training. It’s an issue I’ve faced, struggled and ultimately resolved with a minimum of mess with Big Girl E. Yet I find myself trying to force the issue with Baby Girl A because I’m just so over diaper duty. And cleanup. And laundry (we use cloth diapers).

And I know when I get Baby Girl A to use the potty, some unexpected Big Girl E conundrum will rear its ugly head. And since she’s the oldest, it will be uncharted territory.

Anne Lamott, author of "Operating Instructions," at the Tattered Cover book store on May 9. Jackie Blem photo

At times parenting these two little persons is overwhelming. I spend a lot of time dissecting my choices and decisions. When the recent children’s medicine recall was announced, my anxiety level skyrocketed. As I dumped the cherry red and bubblegum pink liquids down the drain, I felt very, very guilty.

With this dark cloud over me, I really wasn’t in the mood for Mother’s Day. But it came anyway.

Every year, Hubster buys me something in honor of my mama status. But as I get older and slightly wiser, I realize that the day isn’t about jewelry or flowers or an iPad (which he tried to buy me, the sweetheart).

It’s about taking a moment for yourself. To reflect. To pray. To breathe. Maybe make a phone call without a toddler wailing in your ear.

I wasn’t overwhelmed at all on my first Mother’s Day as a mom. I was still euphoric about being a mother to such a stunning little person. My gift from Hubster was a “breakfast in bed” special from a now-closed tea store. The package included a single red rose, a chocolate croissant and some candy on a bright turquoise tray. Hubster and I nibbled on the food while 4-month-old Big Girl E cooed and babbled next to us.

I still get tears in my eyes when I think about that morning.

This year all I wanted was some “me time.” And I got it. Hubster rearranged a work day — ultimately working from 10 a.m. until well past midnight —  so I could get that time.

What kind of event warrants such sacrifice? A Tattered Cover book signing by the brilliant author Anne Lamott.

She writes about the hard parts of life: the anger, the grief, the uncertainty, the lies. She’s lived about a dozen lives in her 50+ years. Her first few decades were about bad decisions — alcohol and drug use, abusive relationships. Once she got sober, her life and love expanded exponentially when she got pregnant and then chose single motherhood.

Many people have similar stories to Lamott. Yet few write them down and of those who do, almost none write with Lamott’s lyricism and unflinching honesty.

The way she lives her life is another facet of her that I admire. She tries to do good  every day. Despite her losses, she hasn’t turned against the world. She uses each experience to strengthen her connections to her faith, her family and herself.

That theme of renewal inspires me. As I fumble through the monotony and relentless uncertainty of raising children, I try to remind myself that I am doing the best I can.
Another truth: no one parents perfectly. But with love, grace and kindness we will do good in our own way.

A sense of humor and the occasional kid-less night out help too.

Contact Katy Sinclair at KatySinclair09@gmail.com.

Katy Sinclair Parental Units

We are in the full swing of spring, aren’t we?

My allergies have exploded this year. I wake up sneezing, my eyes burn constantly and my head is fuzzy from various medications.

Adding to my snotty misery is an amorous woodpecker that insists on using our metal chimney to attract a mate. Apparently he’s in the mood at 5:30 a.m. every single day. He needs to find his bliss soon or he may be removed from the woodpecker gene pool.

She doesn’t look like a troublemaker but this raccoon was responsible for weeks’ worth of sleepless nights at the Parental Units household. She now resides with her children in a forest far, far away. Cliff Grassmick phohto

And then, when I got used to Woody doing his dance, a raccoon moved into our attic. After a week of her noises up there, we called the critter guys to come and trap her. The goal was to get her out before she gave birth. No such luck. We trapped her and then Mr. Critter Guy discovered she had given birth to five. At first, the plan was to let her stay up there for six more weeks, giving her time to wean them and then trap all of them at once. Then my sensibilities came back, and I told Mr. Critter Guy to cut open the soffit and yank them out. I’m fine with the ugly patch job; the quiet is worth it.

I should make this clear: No animals were harmed during the trapping. Mama and baby raccoons have been reunited and are currently kicking back in an unincorporated part of northern Colorado, free to do whatever it is that they do.

In other news, Big Girl E’s spring break was fun; we jetted off to sunny San Diego.

We went there for a wedding, which was held in a multimillion-dollar house on Mission Beach. The bride, a good friend of Hubster’s, kept the beachside ceremony simple. We were all moved to tears as the bride and groom pledged their love to each other just as the sun was setting. Baby Girl A even cried, though her tears came from the sand in her eyes.

After the festivities, all I wanted to do was sit by the ocean with my feet in the sand. The beach is where I feel most relaxed and at peace. And the girls are huge beach lovers.

Alas, my relaxing beach vacation didn’t happen. Despite the sunshine, the water was a teeth-chattering 60 degrees. Baby Girl A couldn’t even get a toe wet without her lips turning blue. With that and the brisk ocean breezes, we had to limit the beach time.

Instead, we saw some of the sights of the area. We gaped at a seahorse exhibition at Birch Aquarium in La Jolla. We giggled at the floppy seals lolling on the aptly named Seal Beach. We ate fish tacos.

No visit to San Diego is complete with seeing the San Diego Zoo. It was the highlight of the trip for us. We spent about six hours there and could have gone back for another day. My favorite — the koala enclosure — failed to impress Big Girl E. She wanted to see the rather boring giraffes and zebras. It’s no coincidence that they are her favorites; they look like horses, which is her obsession.

Quick tip: We bought the “Best Value” tickets, which meant unlimited bus rides and free access to the “Skyfari” aerial tramway. Hubster and I had a momentary lapse of reason and forgot Baby Girl A’s stroller. We were glad for the Express buses that zipped around the  very hilly park.

Now that we are home, I’ve got spring cleaning to do. As soon as I stop sneezing, I’ll get right to it.

Happy Spring!

Contact Katy Sinclair at KatySinclair09@gmail.com.

Katy Sinclair Parental Units

We don’t go to sit-down restaurants.

Baby Girl A just can not follow basic rules of decorum. She wants to sit on, not at, the table. She dumps the salt and pepper. She demands her own meal and then refuses to eat any of it. Then once Baby Girl A starts acting out, Big Girl E catches the bad behavior bug. Rather than wrangle both of them, we just stopped going out.

Recently, however, we set aside the anti-restaurant policy for doughnuts and a gorilla at two very different restaurants. At one we ate simply prepared organic food; at the other, gelatinous cheese covered the entrees.  One is in a Boulder landmark site; the other in a Denver strip mall.

The doughnuts were part of Sunday brunch at Salt in downtown Boulder. The hip, contemporary restaurant, located in the old Tom’s Tavern space on Pearl Street, doesn’t appear to be very family friendly. We were pleased with the welcome we got however. The hostess let us in early,  lent us crayons and coloring sheets and even moved tables around for us. (We wanted to be near the huge sun-drenched windows.)

The Sunday brunch options include the traditional — blueberry pancakes — and the unique — scrambled eggs with Wild Alaskan smoked salmon and capers. We ordered the pork green chili and the biscuits and gravy but the doughnuts were the highlight of the meal.

The four of us fought over the sugar-encrusted cakes, which were served with a sweet dipping sauce. They went well with the exceptionally strong coffee. That java is no joke; after one sip, even my toes felt more awake.

Big Girl E and Baby Girl A weren’t the only small children there but as usual they were the loudest. A in particular seemed to enjoy punctuating the sleepy Sunday vibe with random noisy protests.

Our other outing — to Casa Bonita — was nothing like the Salt meal. But then Casa Bonita is unlike any place I’ve ever seen — a weird mix of carnival, quasi-live theater and sit-down restaurant.

Though few visitors are there for the food, everyone must order something before sitting down. Even Baby Girl A had to order a meal, a rule that I despise. But I figured the entertainment would make up for the inevitable wasted food.

I was wrong.

Initially excited to see the shows, Baby Girl A hid in my arms after the sudden “gunfire” from the Sheriff and Bad Guy Black Bart shoot-’em-up. She didn’t even perk up when   Chiquita — the aforementioned gorilla — came out. Big Girl E enjoyed all the entertainment even though she knew it was all pretend.

Our night was saved by the too-brief cliff diving. Big Girl E watched so intently that I was afraid she’d fall in the water. Baby Girl A even watched a little bit of it but was very concerned that the diver would get a “boo-boo.”

Now that we’ve survived our eating adventures, our rule is back in place. Our next restaurant foray will require more than a doughnut.
Something with liquor in it just might do it though.

Contact Katy Sinclair at KatySinclair09@gmail.com

Katy Sinclair Parental Units

Big Girl E is obsessed with dogs and horses.

For her Valentine’s Day homework, she listed her “loves” in this order: dogs, horses, “unicorn pegasuses” and her family. I should be happy we made the list: She told me she added us so our feelings wouldn’t get hurt.

She wants a horse of her own. She recently asked us to buy a neighbor’s house and turn it into a horse farm. She sighed when I explained that the house’s owner, Mr. E, likes living there and wouldn’t just leave for her horse plans.

Miranda Nabkel, then age 6 1/2 of Longmont, reads to Maverick the dog at the Longmont Library in 2005. Jonathan Castner photo

I sighed at her response: “OK, then we’ll just have to get a dog,” she said.
Again with the dog thing. She’s been asking for one for years. To prove how capable she is, she recently told me she has 209 that she takes care of every day. If she can handle that many imaginary ones, she believes she’s ready for one real one.
She was 4 when she discovered this passion. She asked me every day, sometimes every hour of every day for a puppy. At the time, I had just had Baby Girl A. I couldn’t deal with the daily doggie requests and the exhausting newborn stage at the same time, so I told her she could get a puppy when she turns 8.

Two years later, her ardor hasn’t waned as I’d hoped when I set that arbitrary age requirement.
Good thing I found the Dogs Enjoy Afternoon Reading event at the Longmont Public Library.

Designed to support early readers, the DEAR program is offered during the school year.   Children read out loud to individual dogs during the hour-long event. The animals are trained to be attentive but calm around the children. Pet guardians keep control of the animals and also answer questions about the specific breeds.

At the February event the reading audience consisted of a Jack Russell Terrier, a Border Collie, an Australian Shepherd and two Papillons.

Big Girl E is an avid reader who is learning to read very quickly. However, she can’t block out distractions while she’s reading. This proved to be a problem at the event.

As dogs and children arrived, the room got rather noisy quickly. And since each attendee sits with each dog, there is a lot of movement as readers move from dog to dog.

Big Girl E  just couldn’t concentrate.

I ended up doing the work. E’s choices, such as Dr. Seuss’ “Go, Dog, Go!” and “Slippers Loves to Run,” were dog related and very long. By the end of my readings dog and child alike were bored. And I was hoarse.

Next time, E will choose a very short book. That way she actually gets the reading practice, and I get to keep my voice.

Baby Girl A was another complication. She loves animals too but has no attention span. She wandered around the room poking the dogs and staring at the other children. The dogs were very well trained; not one was aggravated by A’s interest. Next time we go, though, I’ll leave her at home.

The event did temper Big Girl E’s dog obsession a little bit. She discovered a new favorite breed, the ones with the “funny stick-up ears,” otherwise known as Papillons. But we also discovered that she is likely allergic to at least one of the breeds, as she rubbed her eyes red while we were there. Good to know if I ever back down from my no-dog rule.

She was content to go home to her imaginary dogs that day. But the next day she wanted to know how many more days she had to wait until her eighth birthday. The countdown continues.

Contact Katy Sinclair at KatySinclair09@gmail.com

Katy Sinclair Parental Units

T he morning of Dec. 28, 2009, the actor Johnny Depp could not get into Disney’s Magic Kingdom.
I don’t think Depp was upset by the shutout, mostly because he wasn’t there.

But if he had been, he would not have been let in because the park had hit maximum capacity. Imagine that: His likeness is the heart of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, and he could not get in to the park.

Pluto gives a high five to a fan at Disney World. A perhaps unavoidable pilgrimage can be made more affordable and less hectic if you try. Cliff Grassmick photo

Max capacity means resort-to-park buses stop running. The monorail idles and the turnstiles are locked down.

How could something like that happen at The Happiest Place on Earth? The answer is, it just does. Especially around the holidays.

Fortunately for the Guest Services staff, the Parental Units family was not affected by the closure. We were at Epcot, recovering from a two-hour wait for the seven-minute ride Soarin’. (Quick tip: Soarin’ is not worth the wait even with the fancy computer game distractions.)

Since Hubster hates crowds and our economic-downturn vacation budget was around $500, the fact that we went to Disney is an accomplishment. I spent about four months planning our trip, and after it was all over, our to-do list was done. Success.

Here’s how we did it:

We stayed at a Disney hotel. Doing this requires you to book through Disney, something I had resisted. But the aforementioned economic crisis has hit everyone, even the mighty Walt Disney Co., so there are deals to be had. Staying on the property also gave us free round-trip airport transportation and free bus service to the parks.

We bought the dining plan. This is the cheapest way to eat while at the parks. Once we paid for the plan, the only expense we had while partying with Pluto was souvenirs. Make sure to make sit-down meal reservations as soon as you book your trip. Disney Dining takes them 180 days in advance.

We went to the parks during the special-resort guest hours. Getting up at 6 a.m. is worth it when you can ride Splash Mountain 10 times in a row before breakfast. Going early or staying late also guarantees that you’ll avoid one of those pesky temporary closures.

We took naps. Go early, ride the rides and meet the princesses, then go back to the hotel for a few hours in the afternoon. The hours between 2 and 8 p.m. are insanely crazy.

We traveled light. There is a bag check at each park entrance, and an overstuffed bag will keep you on the wrong side of the turnstiles for quite awhile. All you need inside the parks is sunscreen, a camera and money. (Room delivery of resort purchases is another Disney hotel benefit.)

Final thought: No matter how many corners you cut, once you enter the Disney experience, money flows out of your wallet and into the vast Disney coffers. You might as well plan for it, pay for it and enjoy yourself.
And you never know: you just might run into Johnny Depp while you are there.
Contact Katy Sinclair at KatySinclair09@gmail.com.

Katy Sinclair Parental Units

On Friday, Big Girl E celebrated her 100th day of kindergarten. It’s been a busy 100 days: she’s in school 32 hours a week, takes gymnastics and horse lessons and dabbles in periodic after-school activities.

She enjoys all of it, but school to her is an absolute privilege. She transitioned well from preschool to the rigors of kindergarten thanks to her great teacher an an inherent love of learning.

I love school too. With E out the door, Baby Girl A and I have time to bond and when she naps, I get 90 minutes to myself. It’s a win-win situation for all of us.

I do have one complaint though.

It’s a three-word phrase I dread like no other: Late-start day.

Almost six months into the school year, I still am not used to the 2.5 hour change that hits us the first Wednesday of every month.

So much goes wrong for us on those days. It begins with E’s wake-up time. Every other school day, we have to get her out of bed by her ears. On that special Wednesday, she always gets up before 6 a.m. — five hours before school starts.

When one kid is up, the other is never far behind. The moment Baby Girl A wakes up, she is “on”; the earlier the start time, the more crazed she is.

To keep the savage beasts busy, I planned projects for our extra hours. Usually our craft time is reserved for Baby Girl A’s naptime because A isn’t keen on keeping the art parts on the table and out of her mouth.

But I am nothing if not flexible, so I decided to allow A to create with us. Ten minutes into making pom-pom dogs, A got into the glue and glitter. Three months later, I am still cleaning up glitter in my dining room.

Other aspects of our late-start morning also have been unpleasant. During October’s late start morning, I nearly set the kitchen on fire trying to toast a bagel for E.  And I remember the November date because that was the morning I cut myself, got soap in my eye and bruised my leg — all while in the shower.

Fortunately, there is a less stressful option — E’s school hosts a movie morning on late-start days. For $15, attendees get breakfast, a kid-appropriate movie and other fun activities. Just attending the movie costs $5. At 10:55 a.m., the students are released to class.

When I first heard about the “Late Start Day Fun,” I dismissed it. Encouraging movie time in this TV-centric era seemed lackadaisical and wrong.

I think I’ve come to my senses, however. My job as a parent is to support and facilitate my children’s education. Having a burned-toast, glitter-strewn, expletive-filled morning doesn’t do that.

Besides, our most recent late start involved a movie anyway. It also involved children squabbling over toys, a huge juice spill and some deep breathing on my part.

As I see it, my options are a stressful morning at home or letting her relax with a movie on the big screen with her friends.

As I see it, there is no comparison: Movie time, here she comes.

Contact Katy Sinclair at KatySinclair09@gmail.com