Yesterday was school picture day. Monkey Man and I picked out a very simple outfit - light blue t-shirt and jeans with no holes in them. He wanted his hair combed by me for a change, which is a challenge in and of itself because his head is full of cowlicks...just like his mama's. Our hair is like a daily surprise - you never know what you're going to get.
In addition to Pose C (which was the least cheesy of the poses to choose from), they took a class photo. He was very excited about the class pose - I'm not sure if it was the chance to have the picture taken with his best bud Quentin, or the thought that just maybe he'd be next to his secret crush Mollie.
Side note: Apparently a "secret crush" isn't really secret with half of the third grade knows she likes you.
After the school day was over, we met Joey for an ungodly early dinner and then Monkey and I went to the local ice cream place to pick some up and take home. As we were standing outside waiting on our order, all of a sudden Monkey looks down and notices his zipper is down.
"The horse is out of the barn!" he yelped, pulling up his zipper.
"Huh. How long do you think your zipper has been down like that?"
"Um.....since after lunch.....and before the class picture....."
"Eh," I shrugged. "You're the tallest in the class, so I bet you were in the back, right?"
He nodded yes. "Then you're all good." I gave him a big hug.
I'm just waiting for either the call from the school or when the picture comes out. Class picture FAIL.
Showing posts with label School Daze. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School Daze. Show all posts
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Fart machine or whoopie cushion?
Today was the first day of school for Monkey Man at his new school. We elected to send him to the center-based gifted program that our county provides, despite the fact that he was going to have to change schools. On one hand, I am excited because he will get a much broader exposure to school subjects than the regular curriculum. On the other hand, any kind of change that involves his education makes me weak in the knees.
So far, so good. His biggest complaint was that the cafeteria was out of ketchup and he had to eat his cheeseburger without any. The horrors!
*****
I left home this morning feeling pretty good about things - new blouse, new bracelet (a very un-office-like bracelet covered in purple shiny stones), and hopes that Tuesday (or Monday, Part II - The Revenge) wouldn't be quite so bad. At one point while I was in Starbucks with every other human in the county, Joey called and left me a voice mail. I got back in the car and called him back without even checking the voice mail...then decided it would be a good idea to actually check my voice mail since I'd been pretty much ignoring everyone who calls me lately.
First message - Joey. Second message - hangup. Third message - Diana, my friend since third grade calling to check on me. I got kind of teary-eyed listening. Fourth message - Joey again. Okay, that was done...oh wait, there are eight saved messages?
I zipped through all until I got to number six.
"Hello Liz, it's Dad. Just calling to check in, just got back from physical therapy and wanted to let you know everything is going okay. Talk to you later. Bye."
I carefully saved it, then almost ran up on the curb since I was blinded by hot tears.
*****
I spent the rest of my work day moving piles around on my desk and surfing the internet looking for...well, I don't know. I think between the shock of the voice mail and the nerves of the first day of school, my brain went on total overload and decided it would be way more fun to just do nothing. Maybe have a Malibu and pineapple, but they frown on that at work.
I've always thought of myself as a fairly resilient person. Never one to get down for long, I try to find humor in the darkest times. I was the court jester of the nursing home, making the other patients and nurses laugh and trying to keep my dad smiling. I pulled out all the stops, just short of using a fart machine. I didn't think my mother would find that very amusing at all, since she always claimed my dad was the human equivalent of one.
The fart machine could really come in handy right now. The wind is out of my sails today.
So far, so good. His biggest complaint was that the cafeteria was out of ketchup and he had to eat his cheeseburger without any. The horrors!
*****
I left home this morning feeling pretty good about things - new blouse, new bracelet (a very un-office-like bracelet covered in purple shiny stones), and hopes that Tuesday (or Monday, Part II - The Revenge) wouldn't be quite so bad. At one point while I was in Starbucks with every other human in the county, Joey called and left me a voice mail. I got back in the car and called him back without even checking the voice mail...then decided it would be a good idea to actually check my voice mail since I'd been pretty much ignoring everyone who calls me lately.
First message - Joey. Second message - hangup. Third message - Diana, my friend since third grade calling to check on me. I got kind of teary-eyed listening. Fourth message - Joey again. Okay, that was done...oh wait, there are eight saved messages?
I zipped through all until I got to number six.
"Hello Liz, it's Dad. Just calling to check in, just got back from physical therapy and wanted to let you know everything is going okay. Talk to you later. Bye."
I carefully saved it, then almost ran up on the curb since I was blinded by hot tears.
*****
I spent the rest of my work day moving piles around on my desk and surfing the internet looking for...well, I don't know. I think between the shock of the voice mail and the nerves of the first day of school, my brain went on total overload and decided it would be way more fun to just do nothing. Maybe have a Malibu and pineapple, but they frown on that at work.
I've always thought of myself as a fairly resilient person. Never one to get down for long, I try to find humor in the darkest times. I was the court jester of the nursing home, making the other patients and nurses laugh and trying to keep my dad smiling. I pulled out all the stops, just short of using a fart machine. I didn't think my mother would find that very amusing at all, since she always claimed my dad was the human equivalent of one.
The fart machine could really come in handy right now. The wind is out of my sails today.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Big boy
Dear Monkey Man,
Today is a day I've been dreading for weeks now. The last day of school.
This year has been a magical year for you. I can't even express how happy it has made me to see you excited to tell me every afternoon what your day was like. As we drive down the road to meet Daddy, you entertain me with stories about what you've learned, what your crazy friends have been doing, and all the good gossip from your class. Your face has had that light in it that I recognize because I used to have it myself when I was in first grade.
I never had any fears that you would fit in. Somehow, you have always managed to make your own way and make friends along the way. You have a special something about you that I admire greatly - you are able to give your friendship with a courage that I have lost somewhere along the way myself. I hope you never lose that.
Your reading has exploded beyond my wildest imagination. I remember being your age and carrying books with me wherever I went. I had a passionate, mad love for the written word and devoured everything that I could get my hands on. It gives my heart such joy to see you just as obsessed with reading as I was. And then math - Lord, the math - thankfully you have your father's abilities and seem to have a natural knack for it.
We discovered that you love to draw. And you are very good at art. You love to play sports, and while you're not the superstar of the team, you always try your hardest and you are a gracious winner and a good loser too. Both of which will serve you well later on in life.
This afternoon, I slipped by the school to pick up your EpiPen from the clinic and decided on a whim to stop by and see your teacher, Mrs. B. I wanted to let her know how sad you were today that it was going to be your last day - that you had actually told your father that you weren't really going to miss your friends as much as you were going to miss Mrs. B.
She gave me a huge hug and let me know that of the over 20 years that she has been teaching, that you are one of a handful of students that she felt a special connection with. That you are not only extremely smart, but very mature for your age and have a special care and compassion toward other people. She feels like you are destined to be a big success at whatever you do, and her eyes got a little misty as she talked about your love of history and how you have helped Nicholas with his speech class and how you were always well-behaved and attentive. "Joey is very special," she said, "and I will definitely be keeping an eye out for him as he goes through school. He will do great things!"
All your father and I have ever expected of you are two things - that you try your very hardest to do a good job at everything that you do, and that you are a good, honest, and kind person. And from what Mrs. B. told me today, I think you are well on your way to being the very best little man you can be.
We love you, Monkey Man, and we are so proud. Congratulations on a job well done.
Love you bunches,
Mommy
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Love hurts
Monkey Man's best friend in the whole entire planet, Quentin, has been totally enamored with this girl that lives in our neighborhood named Annie Grace. Yes, that is her name - apparently all of the girls in that family have "double first" names. Kind of sickening but whatever. The three kids were in the same kindergarten class last year and have also been classmates at The World's Most Expensive Preschool for several years. This love runs deep, deeper than the ocean and the mountain of tuition debt.
Last fall, Monkey Man scored an exclusive, private invitation to Annie Grace's birthday party at her house - complete with petting zoo. And a zip line running through the backyard. All the pizza and sugar you could snarf. And he was one of three boys invited among something ridiculous like 20 girls, so it was a little bachelor's paradise. But when Quentin's mom Jay found out, she begged me NOT to tell Quentin about it because he hadn't been invited to the party and would be just heartbroken.
And at this point, I realized that sometimes, obsession over Kindergarten Love can go a little overboard. But whatever.
This year, Annie Grace is back in Monkey Man's room again while Quentin was sent packing to another class. But his love remained steadfast, with Monkey Man coming home with sporadic reports of smooching on the playground and declarations of love forever, or at least until recess was over.
Apparently, though, the love is gone. Finished. Over.
Two weeks ago, we ended up at the local pizza joint one night after baseball and Quentin's family happened to be there. He came over to sit with us while we all waited for our food to arrive, so I asked him how school was going and your typical parental grilling questions. "So...how is Annie Grace, is she still your girlfriend?" I asked.
"Well, Miss Liz," said Quentin sadly, "things aren't going so good. Annie Grace tried to kick me in the nuts the other day on the playground and now she's not talking to me."
I just about fell out of the booth. It was all I could do to keep from laughing. Although a huge part of me wanted to take Quentin to the side and explain that this would probably not be the first time, nor the last time, that a female would attempt to have him by the balls - either literally or figuratively. But I figured that was probably a conversation for another time.
Fast forward to last Friday, when I was chaperoning Monkey Man's class to the state park on a field trip. I drove him to school since I was asked suckered into riding the bus with the class, and on the way to school I asked him who his friends were, who he liked playing with, which of the girls he liked and didn't like....
"So Monkey Man, which of the girls do you not like playing with on the playground?" I asked.
"Annie Grace," he said squinching up his face. "She tried to kick Quentin in the nuts the other day, and he's my peep. I've got his back!"
And they learn so early. Bro's before ho's.
*****
I could apologize for being absent again, but it's kind of pointless. About two weeks ago, we found out that my dad's cancer has spread into his bones now. Leg, spine, ribcage. Not unexpected, but still hard to take. I did make it down to see him two weeks ago and he doesn't look good at all...my sister and I suspect that he is much sicker than my parents are telling me.
Add to this some other issues that I'm not going to get into here but have been weighing heavily on my heart, and I have been just trying to put one foot in front of the other and keep myself going. It's hard, though. I'm realizing more than ever that maybe there isn't much I can control in my life anymore. The pieces are all falling around me and I swear if it wasn't for the people that I love, I wouldn't make it through this with one bit of sanity left. The sadness of it all is overwhelming me at times, yet I realize that life does go on and that I have some amazing people that I share it with - family, friends, coworkers.
And for that, I am grateful. Because even when life kicks you in the nuts, a little love can make it all better.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Surprise!
This morning, Monkey Man and I made a quick stopover at Starbucks for some fuel before we drove up to the hospital on the other side of the city for his x-ray. I was hoping to get there a little early for the mere fact that parking is usually a bitch there and I wasn't entirely sure where we were supposed to go once we got there so we needed some fudge time to figure all that out.
Once we got there, I found a parking place right up front (score!) and after chugging my drink we headed on inside. One slight misdirection and then we ended up at "outpatient registration" where a very unfriendly and apparently ice-hearted woman checked us in and then walked us down the hall. Seriously, she must have been a total kid-hater because she made no attempt to engage Monkey Man at all, and I barely got more than an icy stare.
It was at this point when I received our little surprise. It wasn't an x-ray at all. It was a freaking CAT scan! I started to silently freak out as we sat in Radiology with a million other people, most of whom were at least double my age. Monkey Man had brought the WalMart Christmas Wish Book along so he was happily chattering away as he selected about twelve pages of goodies for himself. Finally, a nice older lady called out, "Mr. Builder?" I started across the room with Monkey Man in tow and she said to me, "I'm looking for Mr. Builder." "Um, yeah, this is Mr. Builder," I said as I presented Monkey Man who was clutching his precious WalMart book and grinning from ear to ear. She seemed to be surprised, probably because most of the people in the waiting room probably had underwear older than Monkey Man.
More paperwork. A few more minutes of waiting and then it was back to the CAT scan room. The technician couldn't have been nicer - not only did he have a 6-year old son himself, but he was a Star Wars fan so he chattered away with Monkey Man as he positioned him on the little bed part of the machine. He asked if I wanted to stay in the room or go back in the booth with him, and as much as I wanted to look inside Monkey Man's head to see what was going on I figured that it was probably better to stay there with him. I donned the lead apron and the tech disappeared back into the booth.
The machine whirred to life. A cross-section of red lasers formed a target on Monkey Man's forehead. My stomach felt sick. This was real.
"Mommy! There are laser beams cutting through my skull! This is awesome!" crowed Monkey Man. "It's like being in Star Wars!"
And just as quickly as it started, it was over. The tech told me the results would be ready in one or two days and the doctor (my brother-in-law) would be in touch. He patted Monkey Man on the head and asked if he was okay...."Yup. That was way easier than that time I got the spinal tap!" he said cheerfully.
"Spinal tap?" asked the tech.
"It's a long story. A really long one," I sighed.
So this morning, after meeting up with Joey so he could whisk Monkey Man away to school, I got online on the American Lung Association website to read up on childhood asthma. Two things stuck out immediately - night coughing, and chronic sinus infections. Huh. We have both of those. But the website was very encouraging about treatment options and it seems like we are on the beginning of a good path. Last night, he slept the entire night without a single cough...I woke up at 2:36 AM so freaked out that I actually stumbled into his room to make sure he was okay. And he was.
Monkey Man went on to school and got his report card which was handed out on Friday. Unfortunately, Joey allowed him to open it and he was crushed to find out that he didn't get all E's, he got a few S's. "I think we're in trouble, because he read it and he was PISSED," warned Joey. So I made sure that when I picked him up tonight that I let him know how proud we were of his hard work and we made a special trip to the Armpit of Hell (a.k.a. Toys R Us) to pick out a little reward. I am all about bribery.
Once we got there, I found a parking place right up front (score!) and after chugging my drink we headed on inside. One slight misdirection and then we ended up at "outpatient registration" where a very unfriendly and apparently ice-hearted woman checked us in and then walked us down the hall. Seriously, she must have been a total kid-hater because she made no attempt to engage Monkey Man at all, and I barely got more than an icy stare.
It was at this point when I received our little surprise. It wasn't an x-ray at all. It was a freaking CAT scan! I started to silently freak out as we sat in Radiology with a million other people, most of whom were at least double my age. Monkey Man had brought the WalMart Christmas Wish Book along so he was happily chattering away as he selected about twelve pages of goodies for himself. Finally, a nice older lady called out, "Mr. Builder?" I started across the room with Monkey Man in tow and she said to me, "I'm looking for Mr. Builder." "Um, yeah, this is Mr. Builder," I said as I presented Monkey Man who was clutching his precious WalMart book and grinning from ear to ear. She seemed to be surprised, probably because most of the people in the waiting room probably had underwear older than Monkey Man.
More paperwork. A few more minutes of waiting and then it was back to the CAT scan room. The technician couldn't have been nicer - not only did he have a 6-year old son himself, but he was a Star Wars fan so he chattered away with Monkey Man as he positioned him on the little bed part of the machine. He asked if I wanted to stay in the room or go back in the booth with him, and as much as I wanted to look inside Monkey Man's head to see what was going on I figured that it was probably better to stay there with him. I donned the lead apron and the tech disappeared back into the booth.
The machine whirred to life. A cross-section of red lasers formed a target on Monkey Man's forehead. My stomach felt sick. This was real.
"Mommy! There are laser beams cutting through my skull! This is awesome!" crowed Monkey Man. "It's like being in Star Wars!"
And just as quickly as it started, it was over. The tech told me the results would be ready in one or two days and the doctor (my brother-in-law) would be in touch. He patted Monkey Man on the head and asked if he was okay...."Yup. That was way easier than that time I got the spinal tap!" he said cheerfully.
"Spinal tap?" asked the tech.
"It's a long story. A really long one," I sighed.
So this morning, after meeting up with Joey so he could whisk Monkey Man away to school, I got online on the American Lung Association website to read up on childhood asthma. Two things stuck out immediately - night coughing, and chronic sinus infections. Huh. We have both of those. But the website was very encouraging about treatment options and it seems like we are on the beginning of a good path. Last night, he slept the entire night without a single cough...I woke up at 2:36 AM so freaked out that I actually stumbled into his room to make sure he was okay. And he was.
Monkey Man went on to school and got his report card which was handed out on Friday. Unfortunately, Joey allowed him to open it and he was crushed to find out that he didn't get all E's, he got a few S's. "I think we're in trouble, because he read it and he was PISSED," warned Joey. So I made sure that when I picked him up tonight that I let him know how proud we were of his hard work and we made a special trip to the Armpit of Hell (a.k.a. Toys R Us) to pick out a little reward. I am all about bribery.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Validation
What a rainy, crappy day it was today.
I got to the polls this morning bright at early at 6:45 AM hoping to breeze in and out like I normally do. Nope - I had to wait over an hour in the rain, which really sucked. Although I have to admit, a huge part of me was thrilled that so many people were voting. Every polling place that I passed in my travels across the city today was packed which has never happened in my memory.
No matter who wins, I can say this much - it will be a vast improvement over what we have now. I'm just sayin' - I'm tired of him phoning it in all the time.
We had dinner with one of Joey's suppliers and his girlfriend tonight and it was sooo good. Like so good that my stomach is absolutely about to burst. I am miserable.
Anyhow, I have to brag on my Monkey Man for a minute. Just bear with me.
Yesterday was parent/teacher conference day. When I got to the classroom, there were four little kids sitting out there - obviously siblings - with the obvious classmate of Monkey Man's sitting there working on homework from last week. And, I noticed, he had a black eye.
His mother literally erupted from the classroom with a look of fury splashed all over her face. "Come on, I've heard enough!" she barked at the kids as she scuttled them out of the hallway.
Great. Just great.
So I poked my head around the doorway and waved at the teacher. "Hi, I know I'm about ten minutes early so if you need time I'll just sit out here until you're ready...."
The look of relief on her face was priceless. "Oh, no - come on in! I've been looking forward to your conference all day because it is going to be the best one that I do."
So for about ten minutes, she regaled me with tales of this marvelous student of hers - how smart he is, what a sweet child, his passion for all different subjects in school. I just could not believe that it was my kid she was talking about.
Sure, I know he's special. He's my kid - don't we all think our kids are special? But somehow, I always feel like maybe I don't do enough with him. We have friends that do flash cards and worksheets and all kinds of stuff at home with their kids every night. My kid plays football and gets to watch Spongebob when he gets home. I just let him be...a kid. He's in school all damn day and then goes to The World's Most Expensive Preschool for before- and after-school care where they make him do homework and then he might get to go outside if the stars are in alignment. Maybe.
"He is one of the best students I've ever had," she said. "And I don't know what you and Mr. Builder are doing to raise him, but keep on doing what you're doing because he is one amazing kid."
I told Cat Door today - I went out in the car and cried. Because sometimes, just sometimes, you have to be reminded just how wonderful your kid is.
It was a great day.
I got to the polls this morning bright at early at 6:45 AM hoping to breeze in and out like I normally do. Nope - I had to wait over an hour in the rain, which really sucked. Although I have to admit, a huge part of me was thrilled that so many people were voting. Every polling place that I passed in my travels across the city today was packed which has never happened in my memory.
No matter who wins, I can say this much - it will be a vast improvement over what we have now. I'm just sayin' - I'm tired of him phoning it in all the time.
We had dinner with one of Joey's suppliers and his girlfriend tonight and it was sooo good. Like so good that my stomach is absolutely about to burst. I am miserable.
Anyhow, I have to brag on my Monkey Man for a minute. Just bear with me.
Yesterday was parent/teacher conference day. When I got to the classroom, there were four little kids sitting out there - obviously siblings - with the obvious classmate of Monkey Man's sitting there working on homework from last week. And, I noticed, he had a black eye.
His mother literally erupted from the classroom with a look of fury splashed all over her face. "Come on, I've heard enough!" she barked at the kids as she scuttled them out of the hallway.
Great. Just great.
So I poked my head around the doorway and waved at the teacher. "Hi, I know I'm about ten minutes early so if you need time I'll just sit out here until you're ready...."
The look of relief on her face was priceless. "Oh, no - come on in! I've been looking forward to your conference all day because it is going to be the best one that I do."
So for about ten minutes, she regaled me with tales of this marvelous student of hers - how smart he is, what a sweet child, his passion for all different subjects in school. I just could not believe that it was my kid she was talking about.
Sure, I know he's special. He's my kid - don't we all think our kids are special? But somehow, I always feel like maybe I don't do enough with him. We have friends that do flash cards and worksheets and all kinds of stuff at home with their kids every night. My kid plays football and gets to watch Spongebob when he gets home. I just let him be...a kid. He's in school all damn day and then goes to The World's Most Expensive Preschool for before- and after-school care where they make him do homework and then he might get to go outside if the stars are in alignment. Maybe.
"He is one of the best students I've ever had," she said. "And I don't know what you and Mr. Builder are doing to raise him, but keep on doing what you're doing because he is one amazing kid."
I told Cat Door today - I went out in the car and cried. Because sometimes, just sometimes, you have to be reminded just how wonderful your kid is.
It was a great day.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Flasher in the pan
It's getting so ridiculous at this point...the lack of blog posting...that I'm not even going to apologize for it anymore. Heh.
*****
Is the election over yet? I'm about ready to move to Canada or something. I've had enough.
*****
Two Fridays ago, Joey and I arrived at The World's Most Expensive Preschool to pick up Monkey Man from the after-care program and were met at the door by Lisa, The After-Care Director.
"Well, he didn't have a great afternoon. He was talking back to the teacher, not listening, and wouldn't stop pushing one of his friends," she whispered.
I can tell you this much - there wasn't a lot of whispering going on in the car on the way to dinner. Stern talking, as in If I Were Your PaPa I Would Be Beating Yo Ass With My Big Belt. And the promise of worse punishment if we had any more problems at after-care - as in, NO FOOTBALL.
Yup, we were so freaking smug. We figured out his currency and we cashed it in, dammit. There was no way that our kid was going to be anything but a model citizen from now on.
Can I have a slice of humble pie now?
Last Friday, I arrived at after-care and was greeted at the door by Lisa again. Crap.
"Um, yeah, we had a little issue today. Actually, a big issue. Monkey Man...um...well, showed his privates to two of the boys today. This morning, actually."
Hell what?
Long story short, he was IN the classroom when he decided to show off his winky to two of his buddies. They were all laughing when the teacher came over and asked what was so funny...Monkey Man got hauled off to Lisa's office where he promptly confessed that the two boys had dared him to do it. So they had a little chat with him and the two boys, and she asked me if I could follow up with Joey and have a serious talk with him about the whole thing.
My face burned. MY kid? My good, sweet kid? My kid that almost never gets in trouble for anything? I thanked her, went into the classroom and I knew by the look on his face that he instantly knew he was in Deep Shit.
I can't remember a time when I was more angry with him. Seriously, it's probably a good thing that CPS wasn't lurking out in the parking lot because I got that boy in the car and let fly with a screaming fit like no one has ever seen. Joey called in the midst of all of it, told me I was overreacting, but by the time we met up for dinner he was about ready to turn the kid into a big greasy spot in the parking lot.
I can laugh about it today - I mean seriously, I get it. Boys - and men - think that their winkies are the most important thing in the universe and they should be able to display it no matter what. But here's the thing - this was serious. First of all, our county schools have zero tolerance for this kind of stuff - they don't care if you're six or sixteen, ya don't do that shit. It's called sexual harrassment and is grounds for suspension or even, heaven help me, expulsion. Secondly, not only did he show his privates to some other kids, but he LIED about it to Lisa. The boys didn't dare him to do it at all...he did it because he thought it was funny.
And do you know why he thought it was funny? Because another kid had done it to him in summer camp. At the lunch table. Seriously. The World's Most Expensive Preschool apparently has a bunch of flashers in the first and second-grade groups. I've heard numerous stories from other parents about this stuff going on (and other similar things all focusing on winkies) so obviously there are some supervisory issues going on.
Not that it excuses the behavior, mind you. And not that it excuses me or Joey from not emphasizing that private parts are exactly that...PRIVATE. Hoo boy.
So anyway, we discussed everything at length and tried our best to teach him that private parts are private...and nothing to be dirty or ashamed of...but also the issues involved with showing them in inappropriate ways...and also the whole lying thing. It was simply awful.
The punishment we came up with was multifaceted. And maybe a little harsh, but honestly I felt like the crime deserved it.
No cartoons.
Clean up the playroom without assistance (including pulling out old toys to give to charity)
Removing all stuffed animals from his bed (this was huge, he cried the whole time because he freaking loves those things)
And worst of all...no football. But I did make him go to his first game and stand at the fence to watch his teammates play. He cried the whole time.
I don't think we scarred him for life, but hopefully he's learned his lesson.
And I learned that sometimes, being a parent really, really sucks.
*****
Is the election over yet? I'm about ready to move to Canada or something. I've had enough.
*****
Two Fridays ago, Joey and I arrived at The World's Most Expensive Preschool to pick up Monkey Man from the after-care program and were met at the door by Lisa, The After-Care Director.
"Well, he didn't have a great afternoon. He was talking back to the teacher, not listening, and wouldn't stop pushing one of his friends," she whispered.
I can tell you this much - there wasn't a lot of whispering going on in the car on the way to dinner. Stern talking, as in If I Were Your PaPa I Would Be Beating Yo Ass With My Big Belt. And the promise of worse punishment if we had any more problems at after-care - as in, NO FOOTBALL.
Yup, we were so freaking smug. We figured out his currency and we cashed it in, dammit. There was no way that our kid was going to be anything but a model citizen from now on.
Can I have a slice of humble pie now?
Last Friday, I arrived at after-care and was greeted at the door by Lisa again. Crap.
"Um, yeah, we had a little issue today. Actually, a big issue. Monkey Man...um...well, showed his privates to two of the boys today. This morning, actually."
Hell what?
Long story short, he was IN the classroom when he decided to show off his winky to two of his buddies. They were all laughing when the teacher came over and asked what was so funny...Monkey Man got hauled off to Lisa's office where he promptly confessed that the two boys had dared him to do it. So they had a little chat with him and the two boys, and she asked me if I could follow up with Joey and have a serious talk with him about the whole thing.
My face burned. MY kid? My good, sweet kid? My kid that almost never gets in trouble for anything? I thanked her, went into the classroom and I knew by the look on his face that he instantly knew he was in Deep Shit.
I can't remember a time when I was more angry with him. Seriously, it's probably a good thing that CPS wasn't lurking out in the parking lot because I got that boy in the car and let fly with a screaming fit like no one has ever seen. Joey called in the midst of all of it, told me I was overreacting, but by the time we met up for dinner he was about ready to turn the kid into a big greasy spot in the parking lot.
I can laugh about it today - I mean seriously, I get it. Boys - and men - think that their winkies are the most important thing in the universe and they should be able to display it no matter what. But here's the thing - this was serious. First of all, our county schools have zero tolerance for this kind of stuff - they don't care if you're six or sixteen, ya don't do that shit. It's called sexual harrassment and is grounds for suspension or even, heaven help me, expulsion. Secondly, not only did he show his privates to some other kids, but he LIED about it to Lisa. The boys didn't dare him to do it at all...he did it because he thought it was funny.
And do you know why he thought it was funny? Because another kid had done it to him in summer camp. At the lunch table. Seriously. The World's Most Expensive Preschool apparently has a bunch of flashers in the first and second-grade groups. I've heard numerous stories from other parents about this stuff going on (and other similar things all focusing on winkies) so obviously there are some supervisory issues going on.
Not that it excuses the behavior, mind you. And not that it excuses me or Joey from not emphasizing that private parts are exactly that...PRIVATE. Hoo boy.
So anyway, we discussed everything at length and tried our best to teach him that private parts are private...and nothing to be dirty or ashamed of...but also the issues involved with showing them in inappropriate ways...and also the whole lying thing. It was simply awful.
The punishment we came up with was multifaceted. And maybe a little harsh, but honestly I felt like the crime deserved it.
No cartoons.
Clean up the playroom without assistance (including pulling out old toys to give to charity)
Removing all stuffed animals from his bed (this was huge, he cried the whole time because he freaking loves those things)
And worst of all...no football. But I did make him go to his first game and stand at the fence to watch his teammates play. He cried the whole time.
I don't think we scarred him for life, but hopefully he's learned his lesson.
And I learned that sometimes, being a parent really, really sucks.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
It's all Greek to me
Or, maybe more appropriately, Chinese.
At the end of the school year, we received a letter home from Monkey Man's school that they were going to introduce a new part of the curriculum for the 2008 - 2009 school year:
Mandarin Chinese.
At first, I was a little irritated. How about Spanish, since it's becoming increasingly useful (especially around these parts)? But then I thought - well, that's cool.
Until I saw the homework. With no instructions on what the hell he's supposed to do. So I guess we'll be taking a stab at it and I'm sure she'll let us know next Friday when he turns it in if he did the right thing. All I can think, though, as I look at the sheet that she gave him, is that it's going to be a hell of a long year. Mandarin Chinese will be the death of me, I'm afraid.
*****
Monkey Man's first football game of the season was cancelled this weekend thanks to the tropical storm or monsoon or whatever it was we had yesterday. It rained cats and dogs most of the day and although the wind wasn't really bad it was WET.
Somehow, the dog got outside and ended up cowering on the front porch without anyone realizing he was out there. Eventually, I went looking for him and found him there, so he happily burst through the front door and spent the next few hours hiding in the laundry room spooning with his dry food bucket.
Later on, I tried to get him back outside and he wasn't having any parts of that. So he remained in the laundry room until heard Joey and Monkey Man goofing around in the basement with the football so of course he had to go galumphing down the stairs. (Note: If you ever have the opportunity to watch a corgi go down stairs, you should definitely watch from a safe place. Anatomically, they are not designed to go down the stairs like a normal dog so they do this crosswise gallumph all the way down...and if you're in the way, Lord help you.)
I was parked on the sofa watching some idiotic TV when I heard Joey start yelling at the dog. I went running downstairs and apparently, Rufus had gotten so excited that two perfect pieces of shit had come rocketing straight out of his ass.
I guess he was so excited his poor little sphincter finally relaxed and...well, all I can say is thank God that Cat Door gifted me with some fantastic enzyme carpet cleaner from Peestravaganza 2008.
*****
I just realized that I hadn't talked about Cat Door in a long time. He's been busy. Really busy. Like so busy that most days he barely takes lunch and is working from 6 AM until 6 PM.
A few months ago, he was going into Home Depot when he saw this bum-looking character hanging around as usual. The guy would always kind of wave at him and of course, Cat Door always gave him The Marine Nod and moved on his way. That day was different, though - the guy asked if Cat Door would give him a job. He said yeah, but only on a provisional basis.
So here we are a few months later, and Al - the Bum - is still working for him. Why, I'm not sure, because these are just a few of the highlights of Al's employment:
*His first week, Cat Door paid him and then got a phone call not even 24 hours later that Al had gotten drunk and lost all his money. And wanted a loan.
*Two weeks after that, Al was getting ready to get evicted from his trailer so he decided to go door-to-door in the trailer park trying to pick up side jobs fixing things so he could get rent money. He ended up finding two women who were in the same predicament so they all decided to move in together. Then I guess Al and one of the ladies (ahem) started hooking up, so Cat Door was treated to reports on an hourly basis about how Al hadn't gotten laid in SIX YEARS and damn, he'd forgotten what he was missing. Keep in mind, this guy is 62 years old - I'm just hoping he doesn't have a heart attack or something after a drought like that.
*A few weeks later, Al told him that he had to take a half-day off in order to bomb his trailer for roaches. Cat Door had the other helper drive Al home (because, of course, he hasn't had a driver's license in like 20 years), and when the helper came back he said, "Mike, I don't think he's going home to bomb his trailer. He had me drop him off at the liquor store." Three hours later, Al started drunk-dialing Cat Door's cell phone every 10 minutes for the next few hours even after Cat Door cut his cell phone off. He also quit about five or six times. Eventually, the next day, he called Cat Door and asked if he could have his job back.
*He lost his cheapo Wal-Mart reading glasses, but instead of fessing up he came on to work without saying a word. He then proceeded to cut 27 pieces of siding incorrectly because he couldn't see.
*Last Monday, he called in sick because he said he'd had a little accident. The following day, he showed up with an elbow swollen up to the size of a grapefruit - he'd chipped the bone in a car accident. Oh, and he needed another loan.
So I think over the past few months, he's averaged about three days a week. Cat Door was bitching on Friday about how busy he's been and how he really wants to go on a motocross trip to Vegas in October and he doesn't have anyone reliable to keep an eye on things while he's gone. "Why, Mike, can't you hire anyone decent?" I asked.
"Liz - I can't afford decent. I can afford breathing with a pulse."
And I'm thinking that surely Al must've worked for Joey at some point, because that's exactly the caliber of employee that they have at The Bane of My Existence.
Have a great Monday, y'all.
At the end of the school year, we received a letter home from Monkey Man's school that they were going to introduce a new part of the curriculum for the 2008 - 2009 school year:
Mandarin Chinese.
At first, I was a little irritated. How about Spanish, since it's becoming increasingly useful (especially around these parts)? But then I thought - well, that's cool.
Until I saw the homework. With no instructions on what the hell he's supposed to do. So I guess we'll be taking a stab at it and I'm sure she'll let us know next Friday when he turns it in if he did the right thing. All I can think, though, as I look at the sheet that she gave him, is that it's going to be a hell of a long year. Mandarin Chinese will be the death of me, I'm afraid.
*****
Monkey Man's first football game of the season was cancelled this weekend thanks to the tropical storm or monsoon or whatever it was we had yesterday. It rained cats and dogs most of the day and although the wind wasn't really bad it was WET.
Somehow, the dog got outside and ended up cowering on the front porch without anyone realizing he was out there. Eventually, I went looking for him and found him there, so he happily burst through the front door and spent the next few hours hiding in the laundry room spooning with his dry food bucket.
Later on, I tried to get him back outside and he wasn't having any parts of that. So he remained in the laundry room until heard Joey and Monkey Man goofing around in the basement with the football so of course he had to go galumphing down the stairs. (Note: If you ever have the opportunity to watch a corgi go down stairs, you should definitely watch from a safe place. Anatomically, they are not designed to go down the stairs like a normal dog so they do this crosswise gallumph all the way down...and if you're in the way, Lord help you.)
I was parked on the sofa watching some idiotic TV when I heard Joey start yelling at the dog. I went running downstairs and apparently, Rufus had gotten so excited that two perfect pieces of shit had come rocketing straight out of his ass.
I guess he was so excited his poor little sphincter finally relaxed and...well, all I can say is thank God that Cat Door gifted me with some fantastic enzyme carpet cleaner from Peestravaganza 2008.
*****
I just realized that I hadn't talked about Cat Door in a long time. He's been busy. Really busy. Like so busy that most days he barely takes lunch and is working from 6 AM until 6 PM.
A few months ago, he was going into Home Depot when he saw this bum-looking character hanging around as usual. The guy would always kind of wave at him and of course, Cat Door always gave him The Marine Nod and moved on his way. That day was different, though - the guy asked if Cat Door would give him a job. He said yeah, but only on a provisional basis.
So here we are a few months later, and Al - the Bum - is still working for him. Why, I'm not sure, because these are just a few of the highlights of Al's employment:
*His first week, Cat Door paid him and then got a phone call not even 24 hours later that Al had gotten drunk and lost all his money. And wanted a loan.
*Two weeks after that, Al was getting ready to get evicted from his trailer so he decided to go door-to-door in the trailer park trying to pick up side jobs fixing things so he could get rent money. He ended up finding two women who were in the same predicament so they all decided to move in together. Then I guess Al and one of the ladies (ahem) started hooking up, so Cat Door was treated to reports on an hourly basis about how Al hadn't gotten laid in SIX YEARS and damn, he'd forgotten what he was missing. Keep in mind, this guy is 62 years old - I'm just hoping he doesn't have a heart attack or something after a drought like that.
*A few weeks later, Al told him that he had to take a half-day off in order to bomb his trailer for roaches. Cat Door had the other helper drive Al home (because, of course, he hasn't had a driver's license in like 20 years), and when the helper came back he said, "Mike, I don't think he's going home to bomb his trailer. He had me drop him off at the liquor store." Three hours later, Al started drunk-dialing Cat Door's cell phone every 10 minutes for the next few hours even after Cat Door cut his cell phone off. He also quit about five or six times. Eventually, the next day, he called Cat Door and asked if he could have his job back.
*He lost his cheapo Wal-Mart reading glasses, but instead of fessing up he came on to work without saying a word. He then proceeded to cut 27 pieces of siding incorrectly because he couldn't see.
*Last Monday, he called in sick because he said he'd had a little accident. The following day, he showed up with an elbow swollen up to the size of a grapefruit - he'd chipped the bone in a car accident. Oh, and he needed another loan.
So I think over the past few months, he's averaged about three days a week. Cat Door was bitching on Friday about how busy he's been and how he really wants to go on a motocross trip to Vegas in October and he doesn't have anyone reliable to keep an eye on things while he's gone. "Why, Mike, can't you hire anyone decent?" I asked.
"Liz - I can't afford decent. I can afford breathing with a pulse."
And I'm thinking that surely Al must've worked for Joey at some point, because that's exactly the caliber of employee that they have at The Bane of My Existence.
Have a great Monday, y'all.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
First day
The last week has been a whirlwind of football practices, a quick trip to Charlotte (of which we will never speak again because the Hokies sucked that bad), some fun and frolic with the Badasses, and of course...the first day of school today. Sigh.
I was thinking back today about the first day of school when I was growing up. I loved school (freak). I couldn't wait for school to start. But my first day was never special. I suspect that by the time I came along - kid number four to a mom who was worn out from having teenagers - my mom was happy to just push me out the door to the bus stop. I don't ever remember her walking me to the bus stop, or doing any kind of first-day rituals with me. No pictures, no cookies after school, nothing.
Gosh, I'm getting kind of sad now.
And then there's Joey, who was basically raised by his grandparents. His parents were so busy working trying to keep a roof over their heads that they were almost never home. And his grandparents didn't drive, so it really limited what he was able to do. Like he never got to play any sports in school because there was no one to pick him up. He did play baseball for an independent league, but only because he had buddies whose moms would pick him up.
Again, sad.
So, when Monkey Man asked me yesterday if I was going to come to The World's Most Expensive Preschool to watch him get on the bus on the first day of school, I kind of gulped and said yes, I would be there. I hadn't planned on going - heck, I was planning on getting to work early and everything knowing what a busy week we were going to have - but I couldn't let the boy down. If he wanted me there, I was going to be there, dammit. I left EPOD a voicemail explaining what I was up to and that I would be in around 9:30.
I crept into the school this morning where the kids were lined up waiting on the buses. I started snapping pictures when he looked over at me and waved me to come over.
"MOMMY. I'm not in kindergarten anymore, so really, you don't have to be here."
Oh. My bad. So I went back over and stood against the wall, just observing the kids.
He beckoned to me again.
"Okay, well, I just wanted to say that I'm still glad you're here." And he hugged me.
The little shit.
He really likes his new teacher, and has a few buddies in his class (albeit none of the Badass kids are in the same class this year, what were the odds of that?). And he got one of his beloved cafeteria cheeseburgers for lunch, so the world was good.
I was thinking back today about the first day of school when I was growing up. I loved school (freak). I couldn't wait for school to start. But my first day was never special. I suspect that by the time I came along - kid number four to a mom who was worn out from having teenagers - my mom was happy to just push me out the door to the bus stop. I don't ever remember her walking me to the bus stop, or doing any kind of first-day rituals with me. No pictures, no cookies after school, nothing.
Gosh, I'm getting kind of sad now.
And then there's Joey, who was basically raised by his grandparents. His parents were so busy working trying to keep a roof over their heads that they were almost never home. And his grandparents didn't drive, so it really limited what he was able to do. Like he never got to play any sports in school because there was no one to pick him up. He did play baseball for an independent league, but only because he had buddies whose moms would pick him up.
Again, sad.
So, when Monkey Man asked me yesterday if I was going to come to The World's Most Expensive Preschool to watch him get on the bus on the first day of school, I kind of gulped and said yes, I would be there. I hadn't planned on going - heck, I was planning on getting to work early and everything knowing what a busy week we were going to have - but I couldn't let the boy down. If he wanted me there, I was going to be there, dammit. I left EPOD a voicemail explaining what I was up to and that I would be in around 9:30.
I crept into the school this morning where the kids were lined up waiting on the buses. I started snapping pictures when he looked over at me and waved me to come over.
"MOMMY. I'm not in kindergarten anymore, so really, you don't have to be here."
Oh. My bad. So I went back over and stood against the wall, just observing the kids.
He beckoned to me again.
"Okay, well, I just wanted to say that I'm still glad you're here." And he hugged me.
The little shit.
He really likes his new teacher, and has a few buddies in his class (albeit none of the Badass kids are in the same class this year, what were the odds of that?). And he got one of his beloved cafeteria cheeseburgers for lunch, so the world was good.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Football frenzy
By the way, congrats to Michelle B. who won the Yoplait Kids giveaway over at Picks and Pans!
There is still one prize left, so if anyone is interested please leave me a comment over there and I'll zip it to you as soon as I can get my head above water!
*****
Football has totally taken over Builder Mama Headquarters. All football, all the time. Practices four days a week, and this weekend was the "jamboree" which is just a translation for multiple scrimmages while the parents sit out in the sun and dirt.
I have to confess, though, that it was fun. I love watching Monkey Man play. He adores football and would eat, sleep, and breathe it if he could.
He's fast. Really fast. He sure didn't get it from me, and he didn't get it from Joey either. "All I ever do is see him sprawled on the couch," complained Joey the other night. Yup, that about sums up his existence. Until football.
He has this really odd obsession about uniform colors and mascots. It's probably a good thing that his school colors are yellow and black, or we'd probably have to move. And every team he plays he has to know what the mascot is.
His team is called the Gators. So every team that he plays, he will repeat some silly thing like "Mommy, we're gonna chomp the Cardinals this Saturday!" And usually, I'm focused more on things like not running over kids in the parking lot so I'm going uh huh, yeah, great.
Last Friday, we were riding down the road when he asked me what team they were playing on Saturday....
Monkey Man: So Mommy, who are we playing?
Me: All I know is that you're playing Weaver in the first game.
MM: Weaver? What's their mascot?
Me: I don't know, son. I have no idea...
MM: I bet it's the Beavers! The Weaver Beavers!
Me: I doubt it. I don't think any teams around here are called the Beavers.
MM: But it rhymes! Weaver Beavers!
Me: Mmm hmmm...
A few moments goes by, and you can almost hear the wheels turning in his head....
MM: Yup, we're gonna eat some Beavers this weekend!
Holy crap. I just about drove off the road with that one. It was all I could do not to pee my pants trying not to laugh.
It's gonna be a loooong fall.
There is still one prize left, so if anyone is interested please leave me a comment over there and I'll zip it to you as soon as I can get my head above water!
*****
Football has totally taken over Builder Mama Headquarters. All football, all the time. Practices four days a week, and this weekend was the "jamboree" which is just a translation for multiple scrimmages while the parents sit out in the sun and dirt.
I have to confess, though, that it was fun. I love watching Monkey Man play. He adores football and would eat, sleep, and breathe it if he could.
He's fast. Really fast. He sure didn't get it from me, and he didn't get it from Joey either. "All I ever do is see him sprawled on the couch," complained Joey the other night. Yup, that about sums up his existence. Until football.
He has this really odd obsession about uniform colors and mascots. It's probably a good thing that his school colors are yellow and black, or we'd probably have to move. And every team he plays he has to know what the mascot is.
His team is called the Gators. So every team that he plays, he will repeat some silly thing like "Mommy, we're gonna chomp the Cardinals this Saturday!" And usually, I'm focused more on things like not running over kids in the parking lot so I'm going uh huh, yeah, great.
Last Friday, we were riding down the road when he asked me what team they were playing on Saturday....
Monkey Man: So Mommy, who are we playing?
Me: All I know is that you're playing Weaver in the first game.
MM: Weaver? What's their mascot?
Me: I don't know, son. I have no idea...
MM: I bet it's the Beavers! The Weaver Beavers!
Me: I doubt it. I don't think any teams around here are called the Beavers.
MM: But it rhymes! Weaver Beavers!
Me: Mmm hmmm...
A few moments goes by, and you can almost hear the wheels turning in his head....
MM: Yup, we're gonna eat some Beavers this weekend!
Holy crap. I just about drove off the road with that one. It was all I could do not to pee my pants trying not to laugh.
It's gonna be a loooong fall.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Like lemmings off of a cliff
Every thirty-something woman in this God-forsaken city will be at the movies tonight watching the Sex and The City movie. Including me.
I never had that kind of experience. I grew up 45 minutes outside of NYC proper and spent a lot of time there but mostly with my parents. Maybe the closest that I ever got to experiencing the freedom of Noo Yawk was when I was 18 and went back to visit my best friend from high school along with my boyfriend, Angry Rocker Dude. We spent a whole day in the city doing all the touristy fun things, eating at Carnegie Deli, all that good stuff. The best part of the trip was the fact that Angry Rocker Dude had never been on an airplane before, so when we caught the small puddlejumper from our hometown up to Newark Airport, his whole extended family - who I'll call The Clampetts - showed up to see us off. My mother was mortified, but honestly she should've been glad that they left their pet chickens at home.
Most of my time in the city was spent going to various museums and cultural events. Mom was always really big into that, not to mention that my dad enjoyed driving our car into the city because it reminded him of driving a tank in World War II. I shit you not. His tactic usually involved not making eye contact and getting one fender in first. Make sure you pack an extra pair of undies for those trips.
When SATC came out on HBO, I didn't watch it because of the stars. Or the humor. Or even, God help me, for the sex. I watched it because I missed that damn city so much. I relished each and every episode and secretly envied the fact that not only did these people have a cool job where they got to be in the city all the damn time, but that there was a whole show about the consummate "single woman experience" based in the city. That's what I would've chosen for myself, but it just didn't happen that way.
I'm hoping against all hope that the movie will be good. Not great, but good enough to enjoy with the Badasses tonight, most of whom have never been to Noo Yawk and won't understand someone who wasn't watching the show for all the regular reasons. Nor will they understand why someone would leave the chickens at home or why you should pack a change of undies when riding with my father in the city.
*****
Today was the class party. I made cupcakes with vanilla icing and red sprinkles on some and blue sprinkles on the rest.
The rest of the menu was pretty tame. Hot dogs, chips, watermelon, and cupcakes. Lord, did we have cupcakes. Because not only did I bring some, but one of the other Peanut Allergic kids' moms brought some too. Each kid ate at least 2 cupcakes and then were being shipped home on the bus to some lucky parents.
I somehow ended up helping serve the food to the kids, who lined up to receive this bounty on their red and blue plates. The boys all suspiciously eyed me and asked repeatedly if I was REALLY Monkey Man's mommy. The girls all told me I was pretty. Nothing like a little ego boost from a bunch of six-year-olds, huh?
It was fun, and even when he was trying to act all cool in front of his friends the teacher told me he'd been so excited all week about me coming to his party that she got a kick out of it. I guess I need to do a better job of popping in every now and then.
I never had that kind of experience. I grew up 45 minutes outside of NYC proper and spent a lot of time there but mostly with my parents. Maybe the closest that I ever got to experiencing the freedom of Noo Yawk was when I was 18 and went back to visit my best friend from high school along with my boyfriend, Angry Rocker Dude. We spent a whole day in the city doing all the touristy fun things, eating at Carnegie Deli, all that good stuff. The best part of the trip was the fact that Angry Rocker Dude had never been on an airplane before, so when we caught the small puddlejumper from our hometown up to Newark Airport, his whole extended family - who I'll call The Clampetts - showed up to see us off. My mother was mortified, but honestly she should've been glad that they left their pet chickens at home.
Most of my time in the city was spent going to various museums and cultural events. Mom was always really big into that, not to mention that my dad enjoyed driving our car into the city because it reminded him of driving a tank in World War II. I shit you not. His tactic usually involved not making eye contact and getting one fender in first. Make sure you pack an extra pair of undies for those trips.
When SATC came out on HBO, I didn't watch it because of the stars. Or the humor. Or even, God help me, for the sex. I watched it because I missed that damn city so much. I relished each and every episode and secretly envied the fact that not only did these people have a cool job where they got to be in the city all the damn time, but that there was a whole show about the consummate "single woman experience" based in the city. That's what I would've chosen for myself, but it just didn't happen that way.
I'm hoping against all hope that the movie will be good. Not great, but good enough to enjoy with the Badasses tonight, most of whom have never been to Noo Yawk and won't understand someone who wasn't watching the show for all the regular reasons. Nor will they understand why someone would leave the chickens at home or why you should pack a change of undies when riding with my father in the city.
*****
Today was the class party. I made cupcakes with vanilla icing and red sprinkles on some and blue sprinkles on the rest.
The rest of the menu was pretty tame. Hot dogs, chips, watermelon, and cupcakes. Lord, did we have cupcakes. Because not only did I bring some, but one of the other Peanut Allergic kids' moms brought some too. Each kid ate at least 2 cupcakes and then were being shipped home on the bus to some lucky parents.
I somehow ended up helping serve the food to the kids, who lined up to receive this bounty on their red and blue plates. The boys all suspiciously eyed me and asked repeatedly if I was REALLY Monkey Man's mommy. The girls all told me I was pretty. Nothing like a little ego boost from a bunch of six-year-olds, huh?
It was fun, and even when he was trying to act all cool in front of his friends the teacher told me he'd been so excited all week about me coming to his party that she got a kick out of it. I guess I need to do a better job of popping in every now and then.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Martha Stewart I am not
With all the chaos currently going on at Builder Mama Headquarters, I've pretty much been slacking off in the parental involvement department in terms of those pesky emails that I get several times a week from the Class Mother (sound of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in the background) begging for us to send stuff in. Next year, there is no way in hell that I'm signing up for both the PTA volunteer list and the class volunteer list. No way. No. Freaking. Way.
School officially ends on June 13th and after the Field Day festivities of a week ago (including the requisite emails asking for a myriad of things like a cooler, ice, water bottles, etc.) I breathed a huge sigh of relief that the class parties, except for probably a party on the last day of school, were over. Done. Finito.
Yeah, right.
Yesterday, I get an email from the class mother at 4 PM telling her faithful minions that the teacher has decided to have a July 4th party on Friday. That would be this Friday, May 30th. Not July, May.
Uh, okay. So then the email goes on to state that she needs things like hot dog buns, napkins, and then the real kicker. "It would be nice if one of the PA kids' mothers would provide dessert for the class like cookies or cupcakes."
Oh it would be, wouldn't it? Sure, if you're not one of the moms of the PA kids.
PA stands for Peanut Allergic. And yes, my kid is PA. There are actually three PA kids in his class, one of which can't even be in the same room as peanuts or she goes into anaphylactic shock. It's serious stuff, folks. Thankfully, my kid is not put into a life-threatening state by the presence of peanuts, but we keep all nuts away from him with the hopes that by reducing his chance to exposure, he will never have to worry about dying because someone left a speck of peanut butter on the table.
The agony of all of this is that unless people have a kid with food allergies, or know someone like Monkey Man that has food allergies, they think it's no big deal. Seriously, I have had people tell me that I worry too much, that he'll grow out of it, and all kinds of other insane things.
No, he won't grow out of it. Yes, it's serious. Yes, it can potentially kill a person who is highly allergic.
After living with this for so many years, I've become kind of numb to the whole thing. You get so used to checking packages, to asking questions, to bringing your own treats to birthday parties, that it just becomes routine. And you really stop expecting people to understand how freaking hard it is and you just suck it up and do the best you can do.
You might ask - what irritated me about the email? The fact that we were singled out and made to feel like if we didn't provide the treats, the class would go without them. So it's either suck it up and spend the next 2 nights baking and decorating cupcakes, or be known as the mean mom who didn't bring dessert for the class. That's what it makes me feel like. Never mind the fact that I have to work both days, I had to drag a very unwilling dog to the vet tonight, have to shovel out the mess so Reyna can clean tomorrow, then tomorrow night I have a haircut right after work and will have to come home and deal with the cupcake fiasco.
It just rubbed me the wrong damn way. So sue me.
And I'm sure that Martha wouldn't turn up her nose at me for using, gasp, prepackaged cake mix and canned frosting, right? Right. Even she wouldn't be that mean.
*****
On a somewhat related note, I had to drag a very unwilling corgi to the vet this afternoon. Seems as though he got a goopy eye about five days ago and although I've been putting his usual "goopy eye salve" in there it hasn't gotten better. Not to mention the poor guy has been kind of gimpy around the house lately, struggling to walk without a severe limp.
If you've seen a corgi, almost all of them are overweight unless they are show dogs. And yes, poor Rufus has been told today that he has to lose 15 pounds.
This is so not going to be fun. He already acts like we don't feed him enough and spends every spare second in the house scouring the carpet for any wayward crumbs or morsels of Oreo Goodness. He is downright pathetic already, let alone now being fed DIET DOG FOOD. He was glaring at the bag the whole way home from the vet with palpable hatred.
School officially ends on June 13th and after the Field Day festivities of a week ago (including the requisite emails asking for a myriad of things like a cooler, ice, water bottles, etc.) I breathed a huge sigh of relief that the class parties, except for probably a party on the last day of school, were over. Done. Finito.
Yeah, right.
Yesterday, I get an email from the class mother at 4 PM telling her faithful minions that the teacher has decided to have a July 4th party on Friday. That would be this Friday, May 30th. Not July, May.
Uh, okay. So then the email goes on to state that she needs things like hot dog buns, napkins, and then the real kicker. "It would be nice if one of the PA kids' mothers would provide dessert for the class like cookies or cupcakes."
Oh it would be, wouldn't it? Sure, if you're not one of the moms of the PA kids.
PA stands for Peanut Allergic. And yes, my kid is PA. There are actually three PA kids in his class, one of which can't even be in the same room as peanuts or she goes into anaphylactic shock. It's serious stuff, folks. Thankfully, my kid is not put into a life-threatening state by the presence of peanuts, but we keep all nuts away from him with the hopes that by reducing his chance to exposure, he will never have to worry about dying because someone left a speck of peanut butter on the table.
The agony of all of this is that unless people have a kid with food allergies, or know someone like Monkey Man that has food allergies, they think it's no big deal. Seriously, I have had people tell me that I worry too much, that he'll grow out of it, and all kinds of other insane things.
No, he won't grow out of it. Yes, it's serious. Yes, it can potentially kill a person who is highly allergic.
After living with this for so many years, I've become kind of numb to the whole thing. You get so used to checking packages, to asking questions, to bringing your own treats to birthday parties, that it just becomes routine. And you really stop expecting people to understand how freaking hard it is and you just suck it up and do the best you can do.
You might ask - what irritated me about the email? The fact that we were singled out and made to feel like if we didn't provide the treats, the class would go without them. So it's either suck it up and spend the next 2 nights baking and decorating cupcakes, or be known as the mean mom who didn't bring dessert for the class. That's what it makes me feel like. Never mind the fact that I have to work both days, I had to drag a very unwilling dog to the vet tonight, have to shovel out the mess so Reyna can clean tomorrow, then tomorrow night I have a haircut right after work and will have to come home and deal with the cupcake fiasco.
It just rubbed me the wrong damn way. So sue me.
And I'm sure that Martha wouldn't turn up her nose at me for using, gasp, prepackaged cake mix and canned frosting, right? Right. Even she wouldn't be that mean.
*****
On a somewhat related note, I had to drag a very unwilling corgi to the vet this afternoon. Seems as though he got a goopy eye about five days ago and although I've been putting his usual "goopy eye salve" in there it hasn't gotten better. Not to mention the poor guy has been kind of gimpy around the house lately, struggling to walk without a severe limp.
If you've seen a corgi, almost all of them are overweight unless they are show dogs. And yes, poor Rufus has been told today that he has to lose 15 pounds.
This is so not going to be fun. He already acts like we don't feed him enough and spends every spare second in the house scouring the carpet for any wayward crumbs or morsels of Oreo Goodness. He is downright pathetic already, let alone now being fed DIET DOG FOOD. He was glaring at the bag the whole way home from the vet with palpable hatred.
Friday, November 16, 2007
The never-ending cycle of suburban hell
I feel so out of touch. I'm not sure exactly what's going on at work with our network, but I have been having serious Blogger and Gmail problems for the last 2 days. Anyone else having problems? I will say, though, that my productivity at work has definitely increased.
*****
Sunday is Monkey Man's birthday party. And apparently, this birthday party is causing a big ruckus among the Queen Bees of the neighborhood.
The main Queen Bee lives in our neighborhood - I'll call her LB. LB is also the room mother for Monkey Man's class since her daughter AG is in the class too. They both have these annoying double-first names like the rest of their family so it's almost comical because people mix them all up all the time. I get emails from this woman almost every day because I volunteered not only to help out with stuff for the class, but also the PTA. Remind me next year to pick one or the other, okay? Damn working mother guilt.
I knew from earlier this summer that she has a circle of friends (the other Queen Bees) who had pretty much thrown my friend Frankie out of the group because she wasn't Queen-Beeish enough I guess. Frankie was pretty crushed but since then has become an auxilliary member of the Badasses. We take anyone, especially the non-Queen Bees. So I knew going into this school year that I was going to have to tread lightly for fear of offending LB.
Well, I've pretty much fucked that all up. Apparently her little darling AG's birthday party is also scheduled for Sunday at the same time as Monkey Man's. We got an invitation and I responded back that we would be unable to attend as Monkey Man's party was the same time but we hoped that they had a lovely time.
That was over a week ago. Fast forward to yesterday, when I get this really odd email from her that says some crap about the class Thanksgiving dinner and then she wrote, "Are you getting much of a response from the kids in the class? I am trying to figure out who is not going to be at AG's and if I know they are going to Monkey Man's I doubt they will be here."
Huh. I thought about it for a few minutes and responded back that we had only invited 5 kids from the class (I think we're supposed to invite all but MM was pretty adamant that he really only wanted a few there) and that since we had received AG's party invitations prior to sending MM's out, I limited the number of kids so that it wouldn't interfere with her party. Which in reality wasn't true - first of all, Monkey Man absolutely didn't want AG even invited to his party since he says she is "bossy and mean". So I used the excuse to explain why AG didn't get an invite...and hopefully keep her from thinking we were trying to sabotage AG's party.
Seemed like a good answer, right? Well, maybe too little, too late. Last night I was talking to Shannon who had been at that adult toy party last Thursday...as it turns out, one of the beeyotches from that particular neighborhood was there and it just so happens that not only is her daughter in Monkey Man's class but she is also friends with LB. Oh goody.
So Shannon, in an effort to make conversation, told her that my son was in the same class too (I had already left at that point). The woman gave her this evil glare and said, "Yes, I heard that SHE sent out invitations for her son's party for the SAME DAY as AG's party. I mean, what was she thinking?"
Oh. My. God. These people are freaking insane. Do they seriously think that I really put that much thought into it? The Mad Science place had one opening for this weekend, and it was that day and time. That was all the thought it took other than finding my credit card number. Jesus.
I honestly, truly, thought people like this only existed on sitcoms and Dr. Phil. And now I'm trapped in suburban hell.
*****
Today, I'm thankful to have friends that are "real" - that don't get caught up in a bunch of BS or drama. It's so refreshing!
*****
Sunday is Monkey Man's birthday party. And apparently, this birthday party is causing a big ruckus among the Queen Bees of the neighborhood.
The main Queen Bee lives in our neighborhood - I'll call her LB. LB is also the room mother for Monkey Man's class since her daughter AG is in the class too. They both have these annoying double-first names like the rest of their family so it's almost comical because people mix them all up all the time. I get emails from this woman almost every day because I volunteered not only to help out with stuff for the class, but also the PTA. Remind me next year to pick one or the other, okay? Damn working mother guilt.
I knew from earlier this summer that she has a circle of friends (the other Queen Bees) who had pretty much thrown my friend Frankie out of the group because she wasn't Queen-Beeish enough I guess. Frankie was pretty crushed but since then has become an auxilliary member of the Badasses. We take anyone, especially the non-Queen Bees. So I knew going into this school year that I was going to have to tread lightly for fear of offending LB.
Well, I've pretty much fucked that all up. Apparently her little darling AG's birthday party is also scheduled for Sunday at the same time as Monkey Man's. We got an invitation and I responded back that we would be unable to attend as Monkey Man's party was the same time but we hoped that they had a lovely time.
That was over a week ago. Fast forward to yesterday, when I get this really odd email from her that says some crap about the class Thanksgiving dinner and then she wrote, "Are you getting much of a response from the kids in the class? I am trying to figure out who is not going to be at AG's and if I know they are going to Monkey Man's I doubt they will be here."
Huh. I thought about it for a few minutes and responded back that we had only invited 5 kids from the class (I think we're supposed to invite all but MM was pretty adamant that he really only wanted a few there) and that since we had received AG's party invitations prior to sending MM's out, I limited the number of kids so that it wouldn't interfere with her party. Which in reality wasn't true - first of all, Monkey Man absolutely didn't want AG even invited to his party since he says she is "bossy and mean". So I used the excuse to explain why AG didn't get an invite...and hopefully keep her from thinking we were trying to sabotage AG's party.
Seemed like a good answer, right? Well, maybe too little, too late. Last night I was talking to Shannon who had been at that adult toy party last Thursday...as it turns out, one of the beeyotches from that particular neighborhood was there and it just so happens that not only is her daughter in Monkey Man's class but she is also friends with LB. Oh goody.
So Shannon, in an effort to make conversation, told her that my son was in the same class too (I had already left at that point). The woman gave her this evil glare and said, "Yes, I heard that SHE sent out invitations for her son's party for the SAME DAY as AG's party. I mean, what was she thinking?"
Oh. My. God. These people are freaking insane. Do they seriously think that I really put that much thought into it? The Mad Science place had one opening for this weekend, and it was that day and time. That was all the thought it took other than finding my credit card number. Jesus.
I honestly, truly, thought people like this only existed on sitcoms and Dr. Phil. And now I'm trapped in suburban hell.
*****
Today, I'm thankful to have friends that are "real" - that don't get caught up in a bunch of BS or drama. It's so refreshing!
Friday, October 12, 2007
And in next Wednesday's edition of After School Enrichment Nightmare...
"Um, are Alexander's parents here? We've had a little, um, incident...."
Thanks to GMan. You rock, dude.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
She blinded him with science
Yesterday was Monkey Man's first PTA-sponsored "enrichment event" - and when I say sponsored, I really mean "cough up $49 in addition to the other $100 in fees you've already paid the PTA so your kid can stay after school for a total of 4 hours and maybe get something out of it."
The thing was supposed to be over at 4:45 and I was picking up Monkey Man and his friend Josh. I was already a little bit of a basketcase because while Monkey Man is a fairly docile child (or at least he was until recently, which is a whole other post) his friend Josh is, well, totally off the hook. Crazy. Nuts. Bouncing off the walls. So I was already pretty anxious when I was waiting outside of the classroom for them to finish up for the day.
The boys had signed up for Mad Science, which was billed as being scientific experiments that the leader would teach the kids to do. And of course, in my never-ending effort to raise the next Albert Einstein, I was all over that like a duck on a junebug. (Or, in homage to GMan, stripper juice on a pole.)
The mothers were all gathering outside, some of us were chatting quietly when this woman with a Mad Science laboratory coat and this wiry grey hair stuck her head out of the door...
"Are Alexander's parents here?" We all looked around, no one seemed to acknowledge that they knew Alexander or belonged to him.
"Weeeeellll," she sighed, slipping out the door and shutting it behind her, "It seems we've had a little incident. Nothing too serious - I had the kids make these little exploding canisters and I told them NOT to hold them close to their faces...but little Alexander didn't follow directions so he got some chemicals in his eye. But don't worry, we've washed his eye out the best that he'd let us and we went on with the class. But we're running a few minutes late, so please be patient with us," she wheezed in a sing-songy voice. And then she disappeared back into the room.
Every mother rushed over to the door and the slender window so we could check on our little darlings. Everyone was unblemished, however Alexander was fairly easy to pick out. He would be the kid that looked like he was punched in the eye.
"Well," gasped the mother next to me, "I thought this was supposed to be a safe activity!"
"Honestly, I'm just glad it wasn't my son or his friend that it happened to," I told her. "I can't imagine anything worse than having to call my friend and say that he ate all of his chicken nuggets, oh, and by the way, he lost his eye - but don't worry, they washed it out the best they could!"
Gah. So much for enrichment activities. Next thing you know I'll sign him up for chess next month and I'll have to provide him with a mouthguard and a cup.
The thing was supposed to be over at 4:45 and I was picking up Monkey Man and his friend Josh. I was already a little bit of a basketcase because while Monkey Man is a fairly docile child (or at least he was until recently, which is a whole other post) his friend Josh is, well, totally off the hook. Crazy. Nuts. Bouncing off the walls. So I was already pretty anxious when I was waiting outside of the classroom for them to finish up for the day.
The boys had signed up for Mad Science, which was billed as being scientific experiments that the leader would teach the kids to do. And of course, in my never-ending effort to raise the next Albert Einstein, I was all over that like a duck on a junebug. (Or, in homage to GMan, stripper juice on a pole.)
The mothers were all gathering outside, some of us were chatting quietly when this woman with a Mad Science laboratory coat and this wiry grey hair stuck her head out of the door...
"Are Alexander's parents here?" We all looked around, no one seemed to acknowledge that they knew Alexander or belonged to him.
"Weeeeellll," she sighed, slipping out the door and shutting it behind her, "It seems we've had a little incident. Nothing too serious - I had the kids make these little exploding canisters and I told them NOT to hold them close to their faces...but little Alexander didn't follow directions so he got some chemicals in his eye. But don't worry, we've washed his eye out the best that he'd let us and we went on with the class. But we're running a few minutes late, so please be patient with us," she wheezed in a sing-songy voice. And then she disappeared back into the room.
Every mother rushed over to the door and the slender window so we could check on our little darlings. Everyone was unblemished, however Alexander was fairly easy to pick out. He would be the kid that looked like he was punched in the eye.
"Well," gasped the mother next to me, "I thought this was supposed to be a safe activity!"
"Honestly, I'm just glad it wasn't my son or his friend that it happened to," I told her. "I can't imagine anything worse than having to call my friend and say that he ate all of his chicken nuggets, oh, and by the way, he lost his eye - but don't worry, they washed it out the best they could!"
Gah. So much for enrichment activities. Next thing you know I'll sign him up for chess next month and I'll have to provide him with a mouthguard and a cup.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
The mystery of Monkey Man
About two years ago, we were talking to one of Monkey Man's teachers from The World's Most Expensive Preschool and she revealed a very interesting fact to us.
Monkey Man's MO at school is to look like he's not paying one bit of attention nor does he give a rat's ass what is going on - however, when you ask a question about what is being discussed, he is 100% in tune with what's going on. And always has the correct answer.
Huh, I thought. Sounds familiar. I used to do the same thing. Most likely because I could read already and I was freaking bored to death.
Fast forward to yesterday, when in a casual email about a room parent meeting (which is a whole other rant) I asked her how Monkey Man was doing. "He is having a little trouble in the classroom sitting on the carpet, keeping his eyes turned toward the lesson and not watching everyone else," she replied. In a separate email, she said, "The good thing is that he does know what is going on when called on. I hate to come down on him about it but the only problem is the other children watching and copying."
Hmmm. So he is paying attention, but not staring down the teacher?
He's just like his mama. And maybe his daddy, too.
The problem is, how do we conquer this? I've already tried appealing to his competitive nature by telling him he's a leader - and leaders do the best at everything they can, including being good listeners, well-behaved, blah blah blah. I think I saw the lightbulb go off - the kid hates not being #1 in everything (yikes) but will it stick?
Gah. It's going to be a long 13 years. But somehow, I can't get wound up about this. Is that wrong?
Monkey Man's MO at school is to look like he's not paying one bit of attention nor does he give a rat's ass what is going on - however, when you ask a question about what is being discussed, he is 100% in tune with what's going on. And always has the correct answer.
Huh, I thought. Sounds familiar. I used to do the same thing. Most likely because I could read already and I was freaking bored to death.
Fast forward to yesterday, when in a casual email about a room parent meeting (which is a whole other rant) I asked her how Monkey Man was doing. "He is having a little trouble in the classroom sitting on the carpet, keeping his eyes turned toward the lesson and not watching everyone else," she replied. In a separate email, she said, "The good thing is that he does know what is going on when called on. I hate to come down on him about it but the only problem is the other children watching and copying."
Hmmm. So he is paying attention, but not staring down the teacher?
He's just like his mama. And maybe his daddy, too.
The problem is, how do we conquer this? I've already tried appealing to his competitive nature by telling him he's a leader - and leaders do the best at everything they can, including being good listeners, well-behaved, blah blah blah. I think I saw the lightbulb go off - the kid hates not being #1 in everything (yikes) but will it stick?
Gah. It's going to be a long 13 years. But somehow, I can't get wound up about this. Is that wrong?
Monday, September 10, 2007
I owe my soul to the PTO
Or the PTA, as it is in our school.
We are now on Week Two of The Great Kindergarten Experience and so far other than being a total crabass every night, it's gone fairly well. And that's not even referring to Monkey Man, just me.
Tonight I sat down and wrote eight checks in various amounts to both the school and the PTA for fees. $5 here, $10 here, oh, and don't forget the $12.25 one either. I honestly don't remember my mom ever writing checks to school unless I actually bought something like something from Scholastic Books. Now, it's "Please send $5 to defray costs of class parties" but they also expect you to volunteer to send shit in. So what is the $5 for, other than an open bar in the teachers' lounge?
It's going to be a long 13 years if I'm already bitching about it.
The other night, I was looking at the cafeteria menu and wondering if Monkey Man would ever buy lunch. We've already set up his little lunch account for 52 meals and dammit, he better eat all 52 meals. Looking at the menu gave me a little pause, though. We're on a 3-week rotating schedule, but pretty much every day you have two new choices and 3 choices that are on there every damn day:
Chef Salad (with some random toppings, like some days it's ham & cheese, other days some mysterious "chicken poppers", whatever the hell that is)
Yogurt/Cheese/Crackers (which also includes baby carrots, an extra fruit or veggie, and milk)
or the standby of PB&J sandwich (with 2 veggie or fruit choices and milk)
I love the second Tuesday - "Lucky Tray Day" with the rather dubious Manager's Choice. I mean, what the fuck is that? Oh, I know, its the leftover "Beef Nuggets with roll" from the day before crafted into something unique like meatloaf or beef stew. Bleh.
Chicken filet sandwiches are on the menu on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Cheeseburgers are on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And the third Tuesday is "Student-Planned Menu", which I can only imagine consists of Cheetos and a few good doses of crack.
The best part is that I can actually log on to his lunch account and see what he's picking out. And I made it so that he can't get crap - no chips, no cookies, no Fruit Roll-Ups. Because if he had his way, lunch would consist of ice cream, some fruit snacks, and probably the icing off of a cupcake. Good, balanced nutrition. And since fruit snacks are not part of the food pyramid, I'm kind of glad that I did a little secret censoring of his lunch choices. I'm just waiting for him to figure that part out.
We are now on Week Two of The Great Kindergarten Experience and so far other than being a total crabass every night, it's gone fairly well. And that's not even referring to Monkey Man, just me.
Tonight I sat down and wrote eight checks in various amounts to both the school and the PTA for fees. $5 here, $10 here, oh, and don't forget the $12.25 one either. I honestly don't remember my mom ever writing checks to school unless I actually bought something like something from Scholastic Books. Now, it's "Please send $5 to defray costs of class parties" but they also expect you to volunteer to send shit in. So what is the $5 for, other than an open bar in the teachers' lounge?
It's going to be a long 13 years if I'm already bitching about it.
The other night, I was looking at the cafeteria menu and wondering if Monkey Man would ever buy lunch. We've already set up his little lunch account for 52 meals and dammit, he better eat all 52 meals. Looking at the menu gave me a little pause, though. We're on a 3-week rotating schedule, but pretty much every day you have two new choices and 3 choices that are on there every damn day:
Chef Salad (with some random toppings, like some days it's ham & cheese, other days some mysterious "chicken poppers", whatever the hell that is)
Yogurt/Cheese/Crackers (which also includes baby carrots, an extra fruit or veggie, and milk)
or the standby of PB&J sandwich (with 2 veggie or fruit choices and milk)
I love the second Tuesday - "Lucky Tray Day" with the rather dubious Manager's Choice. I mean, what the fuck is that? Oh, I know, its the leftover "Beef Nuggets with roll" from the day before crafted into something unique like meatloaf or beef stew. Bleh.
Chicken filet sandwiches are on the menu on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Cheeseburgers are on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And the third Tuesday is "Student-Planned Menu", which I can only imagine consists of Cheetos and a few good doses of crack.
The best part is that I can actually log on to his lunch account and see what he's picking out. And I made it so that he can't get crap - no chips, no cookies, no Fruit Roll-Ups. Because if he had his way, lunch would consist of ice cream, some fruit snacks, and probably the icing off of a cupcake. Good, balanced nutrition. And since fruit snacks are not part of the food pyramid, I'm kind of glad that I did a little secret censoring of his lunch choices. I'm just waiting for him to figure that part out.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Bitter, party of one
I am just in the worst mood tonight.
Monkey Man, deprived of his 2-hour daily nap for the past two days, has become a pouty puss. And I don't deal with Mr. Pouty Puss well at all, not to mention Joey cannot tolerate it one iota.
He got a lollipop out of his bookbag. Where, though, is the "good day" note that he's supposed to have with it? He's not sure. We searched every pocket of his bookbag, he isn't sure where the note is or even if he got one.
I asked him about the clothespin. This is the teacher's method of encouraging good behavior. They are supposed to wear their clothespin on their left sleeve. If she has to repeatedly reprimand them, she gets the clothespin and puts it on her own sleeve - but the offender gets chances to earn their clothespin back. All day keeping the clothespin gets you a treat and a good note. If the teacher has to take it, even if you earn it back you get jack shit.
So where, I ask, did the fucking lollipop come from? Has my kid already figured out how to pilch a lollipop?
And why, when I ask about if he kept the clothespin all day, does he look at me like he has no earthly idea what the hell I'm talking about?
It's the second day of school and I'm already emailing Mrs. Smith. This doesn't bode well.
Work is nuts. 'Nuff said. If Dave the punk doesn't quit bitching about everything in the world, I'm going to stick my fist down his throat.
Joey's work is even more nuts. It gives me ulcers to think about all the crap going on there, problems internally and with projects they're working on. Not any of MY projects, thank goodness.
My day off yesterday sucked. It really sucked. Monkey Man did great on his first day of school, but there was a teensy bit of Badass drama that really made the day bite hard. I was very disappointed and am trying to overlook it as just a fluke, but it's hard. It all seems very high school.
To cap off my craptastic day with a shit-filled cherry, I discovered that my dear husband, who never throws a damn thing away, managed to throw away the list of songs I wrote down in the Pimp Mobile this weekend that I heard on XM Radio and wanted to download off iTunes. They kicked ass. And now, I'm going to have to kick his. Do you realize how many piles of his shit sit around here that I never throw out because he might need them...well now, I feel like cleaning those piles off of his dresser. Using a flamethrower.
And no, I don't have my period.
And I'm tired. So tired. Why am I so freaking tired? Bleh.
*****
The first day of school seemed to go pretty well. Well, other than finding out that there's a kid with a mohawk in his class. That scares me a little.
Ready to go!
Group hug at The World's Most Expensive Preschool's Before-School Program. That probably cost us like $68.
Get on the bus, Gus!
And of course, the first kid off the bus!
Monkey Man, deprived of his 2-hour daily nap for the past two days, has become a pouty puss. And I don't deal with Mr. Pouty Puss well at all, not to mention Joey cannot tolerate it one iota.
He got a lollipop out of his bookbag. Where, though, is the "good day" note that he's supposed to have with it? He's not sure. We searched every pocket of his bookbag, he isn't sure where the note is or even if he got one.
I asked him about the clothespin. This is the teacher's method of encouraging good behavior. They are supposed to wear their clothespin on their left sleeve. If she has to repeatedly reprimand them, she gets the clothespin and puts it on her own sleeve - but the offender gets chances to earn their clothespin back. All day keeping the clothespin gets you a treat and a good note. If the teacher has to take it, even if you earn it back you get jack shit.
So where, I ask, did the fucking lollipop come from? Has my kid already figured out how to pilch a lollipop?
And why, when I ask about if he kept the clothespin all day, does he look at me like he has no earthly idea what the hell I'm talking about?
It's the second day of school and I'm already emailing Mrs. Smith. This doesn't bode well.
Work is nuts. 'Nuff said. If Dave the punk doesn't quit bitching about everything in the world, I'm going to stick my fist down his throat.
Joey's work is even more nuts. It gives me ulcers to think about all the crap going on there, problems internally and with projects they're working on. Not any of MY projects, thank goodness.
My day off yesterday sucked. It really sucked. Monkey Man did great on his first day of school, but there was a teensy bit of Badass drama that really made the day bite hard. I was very disappointed and am trying to overlook it as just a fluke, but it's hard. It all seems very high school.
To cap off my craptastic day with a shit-filled cherry, I discovered that my dear husband, who never throws a damn thing away, managed to throw away the list of songs I wrote down in the Pimp Mobile this weekend that I heard on XM Radio and wanted to download off iTunes. They kicked ass. And now, I'm going to have to kick his. Do you realize how many piles of his shit sit around here that I never throw out because he might need them...well now, I feel like cleaning those piles off of his dresser. Using a flamethrower.
And no, I don't have my period.
And I'm tired. So tired. Why am I so freaking tired? Bleh.
*****
The first day of school seemed to go pretty well. Well, other than finding out that there's a kid with a mohawk in his class. That scares me a little.
Ready to go!
Group hug at The World's Most Expensive Preschool's Before-School Program. That probably cost us like $68.
Get on the bus, Gus!
And of course, the first kid off the bus!
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Culture shock
"So, Monkey Man - what did you think about school today?"
"We got to play in the sand! That was pretty cool."
"And what else happened?"
"There is a kid in my class with a mohawk! That was totally awesome!"
Dear God. It's already started. Kill me now.
"We got to play in the sand! That was pretty cool."
"And what else happened?"
"There is a kid in my class with a mohawk! That was totally awesome!"
Dear God. It's already started. Kill me now.
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