My son and his friend, S, are apparently being bullied at school.
S's mother called me last night to discuss. We decided to tag team the teacher and the principal this morning to see what they were going to do about it. Nothing liking facing two angry momma bears first thing in the AM. I like both of them, and we had good conversations. Mr. H (the teacher) will address his class today, and Mrs. W (the principal) will be meeting with the involved parties as a group to try to weed out the situation. She said I can expect a call later today or tomorrow with information on what was discussed and how she is handling the situation.
Today is a busy day. Halloween party, riding lessons, 6th grade trip meeting. Oh, and it's the end of the month which is an important and busy time in my line of work. I have done well so far this morning - laundry is almost caught up, household chores done, dinner in the crock pot. I have been working steadily since I got home from my meeting at school, and am just taking this quick break to update the blog.
The art of mothering is to teach the art of living to children. ~ Elain Heffner
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Game 4
World Series game 4
Colorado.
8:00PM EST
Red Sox 4, Rockies 3!
RED SOX WIN THE 2007 WORLD SERIES, SWEEPING THE COLORADO ROCKIES IN 4 GAMES!
Colorado.
8:00PM EST
Red Sox 4, Rockies 3!
RED SOX WIN THE 2007 WORLD SERIES, SWEEPING THE COLORADO ROCKIES IN 4 GAMES!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Damn Tooth Fairy
My son lost a tooth yesterday.
The tooth fairy didn't come last night.
I walked out of the bedroom this morning and the first thing I heard was "The tooth fairy forgot me!". Right behind him my daughter was standing with her hands on her hips glaring at me accusingly (she is in on the secrets of the adult world - since the Christmas before last) "Yeah...the tooth fairy FORGOT him." This is the girl who would sell her little brother to a band of gypsies for enough money to buy a pack of gum and a tube of lip gloss. But factor in the fact that Mom screwed up and she is on his side faster than you can say "therapy".
I stood there trying to figure out what to do or say and just as quick as she accused, it was my daughter who came to my rescue. "When he lost a tooth at Dad's house, the fairy came during the day." That's right....the tooth fairy also failed at dad's house (of course, at the time, I was thinking to myself "What parent forgets to play tooth fairy?". Heh. Karma, anyone?)
Later in the day, the tooth fairy made her delivery, complete with a note explaining that there was an emergency meeting with Santa (a la The Escape Claus), because the elves were threatening to strike and Santa needed help coming up with ideas to keep them happy. Luckily, they all came up with some fantastic ideas, and the elves are happy little campers once again. Christmas is saved! But the meeting put the Tooth Fairy WAY behind schedule.
I really think the Captain is on the verge of questioning Santa, the Tooth Fairy, etc. I so want it to last longer - the magic of childhood. One more Christmas of believing...one more tooth...one more Easter...I hope it's not asking too much.
Children still cannot tell the difference between fantasy and reality until about 8. That is why they believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and monsters under the bed. ~ Daphne White
The tooth fairy didn't come last night.
I walked out of the bedroom this morning and the first thing I heard was "The tooth fairy forgot me!". Right behind him my daughter was standing with her hands on her hips glaring at me accusingly (she is in on the secrets of the adult world - since the Christmas before last) "Yeah...the tooth fairy FORGOT him." This is the girl who would sell her little brother to a band of gypsies for enough money to buy a pack of gum and a tube of lip gloss. But factor in the fact that Mom screwed up and she is on his side faster than you can say "therapy".
I stood there trying to figure out what to do or say and just as quick as she accused, it was my daughter who came to my rescue. "When he lost a tooth at Dad's house, the fairy came during the day." That's right....the tooth fairy also failed at dad's house (of course, at the time, I was thinking to myself "What parent forgets to play tooth fairy?". Heh. Karma, anyone?)
Later in the day, the tooth fairy made her delivery, complete with a note explaining that there was an emergency meeting with Santa (a la The Escape Claus), because the elves were threatening to strike and Santa needed help coming up with ideas to keep them happy. Luckily, they all came up with some fantastic ideas, and the elves are happy little campers once again. Christmas is saved! But the meeting put the Tooth Fairy WAY behind schedule.
I really think the Captain is on the verge of questioning Santa, the Tooth Fairy, etc. I so want it to last longer - the magic of childhood. One more Christmas of believing...one more tooth...one more Easter...I hope it's not asking too much.
Children still cannot tell the difference between fantasy and reality until about 8. That is why they believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and monsters under the bed. ~ Daphne White
Game 3
World Series Game 3.
Colorado.
8:00PM EST.
Red Sox 10. Rockies 5.
Red Sox lead series 3 games to zero.
Colorado.
8:00PM EST.
Red Sox 10. Rockies 5.
Red Sox lead series 3 games to zero.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Mazes and hayrides and trips, oh my!
This evening we went to the Haunted Hayride sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce. The Postman's sister-in-law joined us since I was thinking that maybe the Captain would decide he did not want to go on the ride after all. With another adult, the Diva could still go on the hayride and the Captain and I could wait. He was brave though, and we all went on together.
It was a pretty good ride. It was made up of "scenes" sponsored by local businesses and individuals. Not too scary, just a wee bit frightening for the little ones. (Although the last scene, featuring clowns looking like "It" I could have done without!)
The highlight of the evening, however, was....*THE PORT*A*POTTY*MAZE*.
You read that correctly. One of the local businesses decided that making a port*a* potty maze was a pretty darn good idea. Only in Maine. Let me state right now that they were all unused - or at least clean! There must have been 100 or more all grouped into a maze pattern. It was not too easy to find our way out and after several minutes we were laughing hysterically at the idea that we were stuck in a maze of PORT*A*POTTIES.
As we were walking back toward our car, I was looking at something that my son was pointing at, not paying attention, and stepped right into a crack in the pavement. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground. Luckily, since it is chilly out tonight, I had on leather gloves so I did not scrape up my palms. I got up, laughed about it and kept walking. As we were getting in the car, my daughter whispered "Are you ok?" and I whispered back "Yeah - I'm just embarrassed!". I hope maybe it was a small lesson for her - that something embarrassing CAN happen, WILL happen, and it is survivable. She tends to get so easily upset when she is embarrassed by something she has done. As I sit here writing this my back and knees are achy so I will be taking some Advil before bed. Have I mentioned I am not the most graceful person to walk the earth?
All in all, a good day/evening. Tomorrow we are having our own little family World Series party complete with streamers (red and white), balloons (blue), hot dogs, nachos, a baseball cake, and Shirley Temples for the kids. (Not sure how Shirley Temples made the list of "Ballpark food" - but the kiddos associate them with special occasions and this definitely qualifies!).
Grace is gone ~ Dave Matthews
It was a pretty good ride. It was made up of "scenes" sponsored by local businesses and individuals. Not too scary, just a wee bit frightening for the little ones. (Although the last scene, featuring clowns looking like "It" I could have done without!)
The highlight of the evening, however, was....*THE PORT*A*POTTY*MAZE*.
You read that correctly. One of the local businesses decided that making a port*a* potty maze was a pretty darn good idea. Only in Maine. Let me state right now that they were all unused - or at least clean! There must have been 100 or more all grouped into a maze pattern. It was not too easy to find our way out and after several minutes we were laughing hysterically at the idea that we were stuck in a maze of PORT*A*POTTIES.
As we were walking back toward our car, I was looking at something that my son was pointing at, not paying attention, and stepped right into a crack in the pavement. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground. Luckily, since it is chilly out tonight, I had on leather gloves so I did not scrape up my palms. I got up, laughed about it and kept walking. As we were getting in the car, my daughter whispered "Are you ok?" and I whispered back "Yeah - I'm just embarrassed!". I hope maybe it was a small lesson for her - that something embarrassing CAN happen, WILL happen, and it is survivable. She tends to get so easily upset when she is embarrassed by something she has done. As I sit here writing this my back and knees are achy so I will be taking some Advil before bed. Have I mentioned I am not the most graceful person to walk the earth?
All in all, a good day/evening. Tomorrow we are having our own little family World Series party complete with streamers (red and white), balloons (blue), hot dogs, nachos, a baseball cake, and Shirley Temples for the kids. (Not sure how Shirley Temples made the list of "Ballpark food" - but the kiddos associate them with special occasions and this definitely qualifies!).
Grace is gone ~ Dave Matthews
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Whine or wine
The Diva stayed after school today. Nothing unusual in that. Her teacher stays every Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to help students. It's basically an after school study hall. The Diva adores her teacher so she stays quite a bit, even though she doesn't require any extra help.
3:20 rolls around. The Postman is home already - it was a fairly good day for him. The Captain is going to get off the bus at 3:30 ish. I give Postman a kiss, ask him if he needs anything, and head out the door to get my daughter. 3:40-ish...we head up the road to our house...and no Postman's car in the drive. Hmmmmm, odd. We enter the house and find the cat house - which is usually on the counter (she lives on the counters due to the dogs) on the floor about 3 0r 4 feet from the counter. Again, odd. I call out. No answer. I call Postman's cell. Right to voice mail. I go next door to his parents house...they tell me my son got off the bus and is in the house. No, he's not. "Call T, he'll answer". No he won't - tried that. Back to the house. At this point my daughter is starting to hyperventilate, sure that something is wrong. I asked her to check her brother's room to see if his bookpack is there. She informs me it is and all his homework is all over the floor. The dogs are all accounted for and seem fine. I look in the spot where T keeps his keys and phone and his phone is still there.
Ok. By all accounts, it looks to me as if they have rushed out of there for some reason. I grab both phones and my keys and tell H to get in the car. We drive to the hospital (which is 1/3 mile from our house) and cruise the parking lot. As she's sobbing I am telling her she is not helping. As we pull out of the parking lot, headed to the animal clinic next - my cell rings. By the ring, I can tell it's coming from home. "Where the F*** are you?" is my greeting. I hear a laugh..."I just ran to the bank, hon". I hung up and said to H "I cannot talk to him right now".
So we head home and there they are...the two of them...standing in the driveway playing with their new R/C helicopter. Jackasses. We got out of the car and walked into the house without so much as a peep.
A few minutes later they walk in and T says "You can't possibly be mad at me for going to the bank!"
No. You're right. I CAN be mad at you for going to the bank and not leaving a note or calling my cell to let me know! H still hasn't talked to either of them.
So here is where I admit that I am a bit high strung at times. BUT...my kid and SO were missing and like I mentioned...by all accounts it appeared as though something was wrong.
I am on my second glass of wine.
The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together. ~Erma Bombeck
Update: The Postman has informed me that if anything were actually seriously wrong, he would have called me. He thinks this is the funniest thing that has happened in our house in a long time.
3:20 rolls around. The Postman is home already - it was a fairly good day for him. The Captain is going to get off the bus at 3:30 ish. I give Postman a kiss, ask him if he needs anything, and head out the door to get my daughter. 3:40-ish...we head up the road to our house...and no Postman's car in the drive. Hmmmmm, odd. We enter the house and find the cat house - which is usually on the counter (she lives on the counters due to the dogs) on the floor about 3 0r 4 feet from the counter. Again, odd. I call out. No answer. I call Postman's cell. Right to voice mail. I go next door to his parents house...they tell me my son got off the bus and is in the house. No, he's not. "Call T, he'll answer". No he won't - tried that. Back to the house. At this point my daughter is starting to hyperventilate, sure that something is wrong. I asked her to check her brother's room to see if his bookpack is there. She informs me it is and all his homework is all over the floor. The dogs are all accounted for and seem fine. I look in the spot where T keeps his keys and phone and his phone is still there.
Ok. By all accounts, it looks to me as if they have rushed out of there for some reason. I grab both phones and my keys and tell H to get in the car. We drive to the hospital (which is 1/3 mile from our house) and cruise the parking lot. As she's sobbing I am telling her she is not helping. As we pull out of the parking lot, headed to the animal clinic next - my cell rings. By the ring, I can tell it's coming from home. "Where the F*** are you?" is my greeting. I hear a laugh..."I just ran to the bank, hon". I hung up and said to H "I cannot talk to him right now".
So we head home and there they are...the two of them...standing in the driveway playing with their new R/C helicopter. Jackasses. We got out of the car and walked into the house without so much as a peep.
A few minutes later they walk in and T says "You can't possibly be mad at me for going to the bank!"
No. You're right. I CAN be mad at you for going to the bank and not leaving a note or calling my cell to let me know! H still hasn't talked to either of them.
So here is where I admit that I am a bit high strung at times. BUT...my kid and SO were missing and like I mentioned...by all accounts it appeared as though something was wrong.
I am on my second glass of wine.
The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together. ~Erma Bombeck
Update: The Postman has informed me that if anything were actually seriously wrong, he would have called me. He thinks this is the funniest thing that has happened in our house in a long time.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Sox vs. Rox
World Series Game #1.
Fenway.
8:00PM.
Sox 13, Rox 1. Beckett rocked and the Sox offense was en fuego!
Sox lead series 1-0
Fenway.
8:00PM.
Sox 13, Rox 1. Beckett rocked and the Sox offense was en fuego!
Sox lead series 1-0
$55 Muffins
Last night I attended a planning meeting for the 6th grade day trip that my daughter will go on in the spring. There were 11 parents/guardians in attendance - the same ones that attend all of the meetings and events.
Raising money for this trip is going to fall to the 11 parents at this meeting(and whoever is brave enough to attend future meetings), that was made clear from the get go. It is also up to the 11, to a point, to decide where the trip will be. We tossed around some ideas and came up with rough costs. At this point, one mother stated that she would rather just pay for the trip for her child outright. None of this fundraising business. Let me just state right now that I could not agree more. I do not need $55 worth of candles or wrapping paper or candy. Let me write my check for $55 and off my daughter goes on the trip. However. There are parents who can not make that same gesture. It's a fact. $55 (and that is the cost if we stay in Maine for the day - double that if we decide to venture out of state) will be a hardship for some families. How do we ensure those children attend this trip?
Cricket, cricket. Blink, blink.
"Well," the one mother finally responded "we can then do fundraisers for the kids who can't afford to pay." To which her friend sitting next to her replied "Yeah...like a bake sale! And we can charge $55 per muffin - I'll make them really big!"
While I understand this was an attempt at humor, I was outraged. Is it a joke that there are families in our community who will not be able to afford this trip for their children? Are we so smug in our own security that it makes it ok for us to laugh at others who are not?
My knee jerk reaction was to bid adieu to the parents in attendance and be on my way. I have learned though, that silence is acceptance. I will not be silent. I will attend, I will plan, I will make sure we have enough money for every child to go on the trip, whether their family can afford it or not. And I will do it with grace and tact and humor when appropriate.
Men show their characters in nothing more clearly than in what they think laughable. ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Raising money for this trip is going to fall to the 11 parents at this meeting(and whoever is brave enough to attend future meetings), that was made clear from the get go. It is also up to the 11, to a point, to decide where the trip will be. We tossed around some ideas and came up with rough costs. At this point, one mother stated that she would rather just pay for the trip for her child outright. None of this fundraising business. Let me just state right now that I could not agree more. I do not need $55 worth of candles or wrapping paper or candy. Let me write my check for $55 and off my daughter goes on the trip. However. There are parents who can not make that same gesture. It's a fact. $55 (and that is the cost if we stay in Maine for the day - double that if we decide to venture out of state) will be a hardship for some families. How do we ensure those children attend this trip?
Cricket, cricket. Blink, blink.
"Well," the one mother finally responded "we can then do fundraisers for the kids who can't afford to pay." To which her friend sitting next to her replied "Yeah...like a bake sale! And we can charge $55 per muffin - I'll make them really big!"
While I understand this was an attempt at humor, I was outraged. Is it a joke that there are families in our community who will not be able to afford this trip for their children? Are we so smug in our own security that it makes it ok for us to laugh at others who are not?
My knee jerk reaction was to bid adieu to the parents in attendance and be on my way. I have learned though, that silence is acceptance. I will not be silent. I will attend, I will plan, I will make sure we have enough money for every child to go on the trip, whether their family can afford it or not. And I will do it with grace and tact and humor when appropriate.
Men show their characters in nothing more clearly than in what they think laughable. ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Again
I'm back. Again.
This blogging thing weighs on me at times - I know, all 11 posts I've made so far. I really do want to keep up with it. Almost daily I think "I could blog about this!". Yet another part of me thinks....well, why would anyone care what I have to say? But as I read back over the very few posts I've made, I smiled at some of the things I wrote. Much like reading over an old journals (which I don't keep either). I love the art of writing, even if I don't do it well. So here we go again.
I sit here today, right now, fully coiffed and made up. Generally this is not the case. I work from home and consider it a victory to be showered and in fresh clothing before the rest of the family arrives home in the afternoon. Those fresh clothes might be sweats or even the jammies I plan to wear to bed that night. I see no point in getting all made up and doing my hair. I know some of you might make the argument that I should try a little harder for the Postman. He might like to see me all gussied up when he gets home at the end of the day. I say that the Postman has seen me at my very worst. The Postman also loves me for reasons that are way more important than blush, eyeliner and hairspray. I sit here today made up for my daughter.
Yesterday I was in the middle of cleaning when the phone rang. It was the Diva asking me to bring her some Advil. She had a headache - and her school does not allow them to carry medications, much less self medicate. I was a mess. I told her I would finish up as fast as I could, hop in the shower and be there before her lunch period ended. I did exactly that. I walked in to the lunchroom with 5 minutes to spare and wet hair. She was mortified. I was hurt that she was mortified. How could she not realize the choice I made to skip drying my hair so that I could get the Advil to her quicker? But I know the answer. She's 11. It matters what her friends think. I remember. Do I agree?....well of course not. I'm 38 now. I have learned what is really important. But I still remember what it was like to be 11.
She is bringing a friend home with her on the bus today. So my hair is dried and sprayed, my cheeks are rosy and my lashes are fuller and thicker. There are also brownies in the oven. June Cleaver lives.
Setting a good example for children takes all the fun out of middle age. ~ William Feather
This blogging thing weighs on me at times - I know, all 11 posts I've made so far. I really do want to keep up with it. Almost daily I think "I could blog about this!". Yet another part of me thinks....well, why would anyone care what I have to say? But as I read back over the very few posts I've made, I smiled at some of the things I wrote. Much like reading over an old journals (which I don't keep either). I love the art of writing, even if I don't do it well. So here we go again.
I sit here today, right now, fully coiffed and made up. Generally this is not the case. I work from home and consider it a victory to be showered and in fresh clothing before the rest of the family arrives home in the afternoon. Those fresh clothes might be sweats or even the jammies I plan to wear to bed that night. I see no point in getting all made up and doing my hair. I know some of you might make the argument that I should try a little harder for the Postman. He might like to see me all gussied up when he gets home at the end of the day. I say that the Postman has seen me at my very worst. The Postman also loves me for reasons that are way more important than blush, eyeliner and hairspray. I sit here today made up for my daughter.
Yesterday I was in the middle of cleaning when the phone rang. It was the Diva asking me to bring her some Advil. She had a headache - and her school does not allow them to carry medications, much less self medicate. I was a mess. I told her I would finish up as fast as I could, hop in the shower and be there before her lunch period ended. I did exactly that. I walked in to the lunchroom with 5 minutes to spare and wet hair. She was mortified. I was hurt that she was mortified. How could she not realize the choice I made to skip drying my hair so that I could get the Advil to her quicker? But I know the answer. She's 11. It matters what her friends think. I remember. Do I agree?....well of course not. I'm 38 now. I have learned what is really important. But I still remember what it was like to be 11.
She is bringing a friend home with her on the bus today. So my hair is dried and sprayed, my cheeks are rosy and my lashes are fuller and thicker. There are also brownies in the oven. June Cleaver lives.
Setting a good example for children takes all the fun out of middle age. ~ William Feather
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