Both of my children were very excited to bring home the paperwork pertaining to some gifted enrichment program available in connection with the university. Happy little geeklets that they are, the idea of spending even MORE time doing math sounded pretty awesometastic to them, and they were absolutely crushed when I told them we wouldn't be enrolling. The cost is $350 for three months. APIECE. So, $700 if I wanted to enroll both kids. I'm sure it's a wonderful program, but I explained that I just don't love them that much. And besides, they're already in the (free) gifted program at school!...
Have I mentioned how much Chickadee loves middle school? Because she does, so much. She loves her teachers, she's made a bunch of new friends, she's enjoying the challenges, etc. It's all been great. Or, it was, until first quarter progress reports came home. 97, 100, 98, 96, 100, 100, 65. Sixty-five. SIXTY FIVE. As in, a big fat F. But sure that 65 would be in some class she hates or in band or something else non-academic, right, on account of she's got that big beautiful brain and she's brilliant and all? Nope. Her 65 is in... English. Too bad she doesn't have a parent who's a writer or...
The post I wrote for BlogHer yesterday about writing unsavory things about your children was a hard one for me. The subject of my post has, in my mind, crossed the line. Hell, she can't even SEE the line anymore. It seems pretty black and white, to me. But I write about my kids. Many writers I admire write about their kids. I think it can be done respectfully, and I cringe when I hear the baby-with-the-bathwater arguments for parents to never say a single word that's less than glowing about their offspring. It's dangerous territory, but I refuse to believe a few people making poor choices...
Today was a giant work day for all of us; the kids and I dug out their rooms and their closets, while Otto did manly things like replace a faucet and put holes in the walls where we've had things just propped against the wall "to be hung" for months on end. Monkey made up a little "Spring cleaning in the FAAAAAALLLLLL!" song that he kept singing at me to make me laugh, and Chickadee did a lot of complaining about how it wasn't her fault her room was a mess and she didn't realize that I meant the WHOLE closet and such, and the end result was lots of stuff got done and rooms ended up clean and...
Lord, this has been a long week. I was sick, Otto's been sick, yesterday Monkey was sick, and thanks to all of that, we're all behind on work and meals have been cobbled together a la "Well, I found... a green pepper that doesn't look too old. And a slice of cheese. And I think we have some rice. What could I make with that?" I like order and routine and this week has had precious little of that. To top it off, Chickadee (having gotten sick last week, instead) has been trucking along as the sole healthy member of the family, but with her skin having taken another turn for the worse. She so...
At about 11 this morning, my phone rang. Conveniently, I had just fallen asleep again, so I was super-excited to be woken up as you might imagine. Me: Hello? Chickadee: Hiya. Me: What's the matter? Are you okay? Her: I'm fine. Well, I got something in my eye, and my contact fell out. Me: It FELL OUT? Okay...? Her: Yeah. So. Um. I'm wearing one contact. Me: Take it out and wear your glasses, instead. Her: Oh. Um. I don't have my glasses. Me: You don't? Her: Nope. Me: So you need to put your contact back in. Her: Right. Me: And let me guess. You don't have your glasses, and I bet you don't...
Last week the kids and I read a charming little book for our Scholastic review, and the upshot of the story is that---much like the old song---you don't always get what you want, but you do get what you need. Both children found my distillation of the book down to this message somewhat annoying. For Chickadee, it was a case of, "Mooooom, why does it always have to be some kind of LESSON?" And for Monkey, well, he actually had an interesting bit of circular logic wherein he had convinced himself that in the end, something different had happened than what had actually happened. (Sorry, it's...
This morning I was on the phone with someone at the middle school about an issue with Chickadee's schedule, and said person was very kind and patient but basically let me know that it was time to, you know, cut the cord already because my child is fine and I need to relax. Then this afternoon I went looking for some things to complete her assortment of uniform items for school, and the only place I was able to find the plain black leggings she NEEDS, MOM, was in the Juniors section, so I bought them, and brought them home, and gave her a long speech about how they will probably be too big...
Allow me to take a break from the maddening aspects of this entire Dog Debacle (case in point: Guess who walked right into the live trap outside my window this morning, helped himself to the grilled chicken I'd baited it with, and then RAN OUT as it snapped shut!) to note that having completely screwed up with what was supposed to be our newest family member during the first week of school has proven unexpectedly difficult for me. I mean, it's difficult, anyway. But here I am---having completely failed to care for what is supposed to be a fairly low-maintenance creature---also trying to...
