Backpack? Check. Teeth Brushed? Check.

Posted by She Said

Emily started Kindergarten this week, and she has loved it. She loves the special cubby where her new Hello Kitty backpack goes. She loves her teacher, adoringly known among the parents as “The Kindergartener Whisperer”. And boy, does Emily love the special playground that is just for Kindergarteners.

Even with this excitement for school, getting ready in the morning and out the door has not become any easier on me. Any particular chore in the morning makes me sound like a broken record:

Me: Emily, Braedyn, get your shoes on please. It’s time to go. <me running around collecting backpacks>

Me: Emily. Braedyn. Time to go. Please get your shoes on. <me brushing my own teeth>

Me: It’s time to go!! Get your shoes on! <me making sure lunch and snacks are appropriately packed>

Me: Emily! Braedyn! Get your shoes on! NOW! <me watching my children blow bubbles in the backyard WITHOUT SHOES>

Me: GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <me spinning my head, pulling out my hair, and foaming at the mouth>

Good times.

So, once we are at school, Emily picks out the “Kindergarten only” swing with the least amount of bird poop on it, sits, and begs me to push her. I oblige, knowing the time will come when the pumping of legs will render me useless in this task. There I am, lovingly pushing my daughter on the swing on her second day of Kindergarten, and I start to run through the checklist in my head, hoping that I remembered everything in the mad dash out the door.

Backpack? Check.

Teeth brushed? Check.

Snack packed? Check.

Hair done? Check.

I continue to push Emily. She is happy. I am happy. And then as her dress flows up in the breeze…

Underwear on? Oh. Dear. God. Say. It. Isn’t. So. CRAP.

That’s right. My daughter went to school in a dress. Commando.

I let out a mumbled, yet loud, “ohmygodwhatamIgoingtodo?” intermingled with a gasp of epic magnitude. Thankfully, my friend, Emma, came to the rescue. Her oldest of three is in Emily’s class, but the poor middle child, who is only about a year younger than Emily, had her “knickers” taken from her and given to Emily for the day. Crisis averted.

We always knew that Emily had a soft spot in her heart for the Playa, so I blame myself for not double checking her “knicker” status. Trust me, it’s now at the top of my daily checklist.

The Power of the Dollar (Store)

Posted by She Said

Emily’s first day of preschool was awesome! She was self-confident and ready to go. Here’s proof:

Her second day? I got a call about 2 hours into her day to let me know that she “just wasn’t herself.” Translation: she was lying on a rug and wanted to be left alone. The culprit? A 102° fever for two days. OK, I need to get this straight. THREE months of me begging her to get off of the subway floors in China and her not complying didn’t get her sick, but ONE day in preschool does?

Her third and fourth days? All of her previous self-confidence was channeled into her spookishly strong little body to fight us taking her to school. She decided one day of school was enough for her. Thank you very much. Been there, done that.

Me: <holding up an outfit> Em, let’s get dressed for school.

Emily: <taking on a fighting stance> Oh, you go ahead and try. My Kung Fu is stronger than yours.

And to be honest, she was right. It took both Greg and me to get her dressed and keep her dressed. She is seriously freakishly strong.

As she screamed going out the door, Greg flashed me this look that said, “I can’t believe I am stuck with the job of dropping her off at school. YOU. OWE. ME.” And the bite marks on his shoulder were proof that him having that job was SO the right choice for me.

Last night as Greg was threatening divorce if I didn’t take her to school in the morning, I had a moment of absolute brilliance.

Me: Emily, if you go to school all three times this week without fighting us, I will take you to the dollar store and you can pick out ANYTHING you want.

Emily: <starting to cry> But I don’t WANT to go to school.

Me: Well, you are going. And you can fight us if you want, OR you can be good about it and get to go to the <dramatic pause> Dollar Store <said with some serious flare and excitement>.

This morning there was a gigantic welling of tears in her eyes, and she gave me extra hugs and kisses as Greg drove her off to school. The lesson learned? The mighty Dollar Store is stronger than her Kung Fu.

I Can’t See Your Eye for that Mouth of Yours

Braedyn’s 6th birthday proved to be an interesting roller coaster of ups and downs.

First, both Greg and I volunteered in his Kindergarten classroom, which he felt was quite a treat. BUT, he had a sub in his class, so he didn’t get all the usual birthday perks that his teacher usually provided birthday boys and girls. He took it in stride and enjoyed getting to hand out cookies to all the kids in the class as a way to celebrate his day. The best part about that was the cookies we brought turned all the kids’ lips and teeth black. It would have been chillingly zombie-like if it hadn’t been so dang cute.

Not really thinking, I had scheduled his 6-year wellness visit at the pediatrician’s on his birthday. Bad, mommy. Bad. However, the saving grace was he didn’t need any shots (not until the trip we’re all taking in a couple of weeks to get whatever it is we need for China). Greg suggested to Braedyn that “maybe Mommy will get you a treat after the doctor’s office.” Bad, daddy. Bad. Greg was thinking a little food treat, but Braedyn heard “treat” and instantly set his mind on a toy. And when I say “set his mind”, I mean the idea of a toy was like a snare catching a big, bad ass animal and not letting go. Since it was his birthday, I decided, against my better judgment, to take him to to a big, horrible, mega-store and let him pick out something less than $5.

Sigh.

Everything he wanted was of course more than $5, but I had drawn the line in the sand and I wasn’t wavering in my resolve. In fact, we talked about how he needed to find something that had a price starting with a 5 and then a period. It was a good life lesson, right? Well, I let him mull it over and look up and down the aisles… Look up and down the aisles and mull it over… *yawn* There was a complaint here and there about how he wanted things that were over $5, but I let them slide. It was his birthday after all. So, after an HOUR of this mulling and looking, I told him he had 5 minutes to decide. Tears. I calmly explained to him that this was supposed to be a small treat for being good at the doctor’s office and not a birthday present. I also explained to him that his aunts and uncles were looking for ideas of what to get him, so we could make a list of the toys he would like. With the 2 minute warning, I got screams. When I told him he had to pick, he told me I was mean because he wanted toys that were over $5.

*snap* <----- That would be the sound of the straw breaking the camel’s back.

I then told him CALMLY that we were leaving without anything, that he no longer was going to get a toy because his behavior was unacceptable. I’m certain people on the other side of the mega-square-foot store could hear the shriek that came from my son at that moment. Since I had already picked out a couple of other necessities from the evil, mega-corp, I still had go through the check out - with a tantruming 6 year old. I was wishing for a hot poker to the eye instead, but since I had no such luck, I had to endure. The woman ahead of us was telling the checker “that she’s never had any, and for that she was glad.” Kids. I’m sure she meant kids. Then another woman came up to me and put her arm around me and said, “You are doing a great job.” I’m fairly certain she meant that and wasn’t just being sarcastic. I think.

Since he still hadn’t let go of the $5 toy he grabbed when I told him time was up, I had to tell him we were not leaving the store with the toy. It was time to put it down. A young employee of the nefarious, mega-corp was trying to help me by telling Braedyn that if he left with the toy, the alarms would sound and he’d be arrested. Apparently that was enough for the iron grip to release. Then the employee offered him a piece of candy. I was thinking, “That’s nice. She must be handing out Halloween candy.” Um, that would be a no. Instead she pulled out an open bag of gummy worms that she obviously had during a recent break. Then I did a horrible thing. I let him have one. From an open bag. From a stranger. I guess in my desire to get the hell out of the store without another meltdown from my son, I said yes. Not an excuse, but still. It still makes me shudder to think of it now.

So things got back to normal after that. My obviously very tired son would not take a nap before we left for dinner at his favorite “lunch house”, Red Robin. What a treat that ended up being! No sarcasm here. Seriously! It was a blast! We happened to go on a night we never usually go on, and it was “Kids Night”. We had a magician doing tricks at our table that had the kids doing some serious jaw-dropping. Then there were the free ice cream sundaes and birthday song by the employees. And if that weren’t enough, there was an animal balloon maker wowing a slew of kids, mine included. The guy was absolutely amazing, and after my own balloon fiasco, I have an amazing amount of respect for his craft.

The most difficult thing that happened, for me anyway, was not the tantrum in the mega store, if you can believe it. It was a girl walking past us on our way to our car. She had a very large birthmark around her eye, and once I saw it I was nervous that Braedyn would say something. You know, since kids have that knack for pointing out things that seem different to them at some of the most awkward times. I glanced over to him just as his pointing finger was aiming, and as she walked passed us:

Braedyn: Hey, look at her eye!

The girl: Oh, THAT’s nice.

Me: He’s six. He doesn’t understand.

The girl: Fucking kid.

Me: I will explain it to him.

I am SO grateful the kids didn’t hear her swearing, and once in the car, we promptly had a discussion about birthmarks. We explained that it could hurt people’s feelings when you point out things that are different about them. We followed that up with a discussion that being different doesn’t make one bad or scary. We explained that we needed to be considerate of others’ feelings, so if they have a question about something they see that is different, they can always ask us. Of course, I’m saying this out of my mouth, but my head is thinking that I couldn’t see her eye for that ugly fucking mouth of hers. I understand it must be hard for her, and for that I am completely sympathetic. It’s just obvious that she either doesn’t have kids or has never been around any to see how they behave.

It was hurtful to me to hear someone say something so mean to my son. He wasn’t being mean; he didn’t do it to hurt her. When we had our talk with him, he said empathetically that he didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. He has a big heart, and I am very proud of him – even with a crazy tantrum thrown in once in a while. Keeps my parenting skills on their proverbial toes.

It’s hard to believe this all happened in one day. It was a lot for me; I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to my beautiful six year old boy.

You Yellin’ at ME?

Today was my second Friday volunteering for parent patrol at Braedyn’s school, where I help kids and parents cross the street. This volunteer job is not without its perks, let me tell you. I do get to make quite a fashion statement with my bright neon yellow jacket with the words PARENT PATROL across the back. And the hand-held stop sign gives such a rush of power. I mean, cars listen to me! My kids don’t even do that!

When asked if I would volunteer, of course I gave an enthusiastic “Yes!” I mean, what’s better than giving your self-esteem a boost doing your civic duty AND being a role model for your kids at the same time!? I did pick the busiest intersection however, which as a rookie parent patroller may not have been the wisest move. I did it in order to be right by the Kindergarten corner, so I could give sporadic glances over to my son in the play area.

So what – two cross walks. No biggie, you are thinking. Well, throw in soccer moms running late to school, cars coming from three directions, people coming from ALL directions, and you can see how this becomes a bit of a challenge.

Generally speaking, I get lots of “Go Parent Patrol” shout outs, many “good morning” acknowledgements, and lots of thank you’s. It is actually a nice way to start my Fridays.

And then, there are days like to today when a MOM YELLED AT ME WHILE DOING MY VOLUNTEER WORK. Yup. Yelled at me. She said that I can’t just jump in the street. Given how many cars and how many people were waiting on little ole me, I simply said, “I’m doing my best.” After she drove off, I kind of kicked myself for not ending that sentence with “bitch.”

I know it seems like an easy job, and for most of the time I am out there, it is. But there are about five minutes where the traffic, both auto and foot, is very high, and it is an intense job.

To that lady who yelled at my VOLUNTEER work today, I’d just like to say, if you think you can do a better job, I’ll show you where to get the brightly colored fashion-statement jacket, and I welcome you to do some VOLUNTEER work yourself. Bitch.

Bouncy Houses for God

I am appalled by the amount of shit that hit the fan when the President of our United States wanted to address the students of our country. Parents threatening to not send their kids to school. Facebook was crawling with polls about this “controversial speaking to students”. News sites were reporting stories of parents freaking out with worry that their children were going to be brainwashed. And all of these panties in a bunch and ruffled feathers were for what? Because the President wanted to encourage students to take an active role in their education.

GASP!

He wanted to talk to them about the value of an education.

OH THE HORROR!

He wanted to energize kids who might find school difficult.

WHAT WAS HE THINKING?

He wanted to express the importance of doing homework.

WHO WANTS THAT?

My Kindergartener did not get to see President Obama’s speech. I wanted him to, but he didn’t get to. His class didn’t see it. I have not found out yet why this is. Did enough people call and complain? Did the school district as a whole decide they weren’t going to air President Obama’s address to their students? Did they think Kindergarteners wouldn’t watch?

On the VERY SAME DAY that my son DID NOT see an encouraging speech from the President of the United States, he came home with a flier he had been given for a “community event” hosted by a religious organization. Cross on the flier and all. But they are giving away a Wii! But there will be seven different bouncy houses! What kid wouldn’t be enticed by that? Apparently the school district can get away with pushing a religious event (let’s call a spade a spade) by placing the following disclaimer at the bottom:

Distribution of this material does not constitute an endorsement by the school district. It is provided as a community service.

So, I’m trying to wrap my brain around this one. Work with me here.

Encouraging speech for the students?

No.

Religious propaganda distributed through school?

Yes.

Students enlightened by a President who cares about them?

No.

Schools encouraging bouncy houses for God?

Yes.

OK, I’m still trying to wrap my head around this very whacked scenario. It may take me a while… Thinking… thinking… thinking…

Nope. I don’t get it. You?

That’s It. You’re Grounded.

When I used to rock Braedyn to sleep as a baby, I used to tell myself that I would never EVER forget how wonderful that very moment felt. By the time Emily was a baby, I realized there is no holding on to a moment like that because all the beautiful intricacies of those precious moments like those I had with Braedyn were gone. I could think of them fondly, but the full-body essence of those moments were gone forever. So, with Emily I told myself that I was going to fully embrace and cherish those precious moments with her as a baby as they happened. Thinking back on them just isn’t the same. Enjoy the moment now.

Because they grow up.

Braedyn knows he is not allowed to, but the little stinker just won’t listen to me. I am always telling him he is not allowed to grow up any more. He thinks this is hilarious. One day after I threatened a good grounding if he grew any more, he said, “but I want to be a teenager.” Oh boy. After a good long sigh, I told him that I would only allow him to become a teenager - one day - if and ONLY if he promised to still love me the way he does now. Again, he thought this was hilarious, but he smiled a huge smile and promised me. After all, in his mind today, there is no world without giving oodles of love to his one and only mommy.

This week proved to me there is just no stopping time. It was a week jam packed with firsts.

First day of Kindergarten. He loved it. Grinning from ear to ear, he wore his Bakugan backpack (“packpack”) as we walked to school. As all the parents were flashing pictures and wiping tears, he didn’t show an inkling of nerves and held his head high.

He didn’t quite grasp the whole idea of school being something he’d be doing for the next decade or two though because the afternoon after that first day, we had this conversation:

Braedyn: What are we doing tomorrow morning?

Me: You are going to school.

Braedyn: AGAIN!?!?

First lost tooth. And boy, did that little sucker hang on for dear life. It wiggled for about 6 weeks before Braedyn pulled it out. Well, sort of pulled it out. We have his older second cousin to thank for the jump start. While at my sister’s surprise birthday party about a week ago, my grand-niece came running out to all the adults yelling, “Braedyn’s tooth fell out!” My legs were in a running motion before getting off of the stool I was on! I ran to him only to find him crying with a bit of blood surrounding the loose tooth still in his mouth. Upon investigation, I discovered that his 14-year-old second cousin had convinced Braedyn to let him twist it out. Yeah, it gives me the heebie-jeebies too. *shudder* Well, his plan was foiled, and even though the loose tooth was now practically in a horizontal position, no one could convince Braedyn to try and get it out. So, the waiting game continued for another three days.

Before bed after his first day in Kindergarten, we helped persuade Braedyn to try and flop the tooth over the other direction. He was very tentative, but he finally did it as he looked on in the mirror over the sink in the bathroom. One little flip and out it came. It dropped right into the sink and almost went down the drain. I tried to grab it and dropped it back in the sink. Grabbed it again with fingers like the jaws of life and saved it.

He was SO excited, he just ran around the house saying, “I’m so HAPPY I pulled my tooth out! I’m SO happy I pulled my tooth out!”

First time bowling. While Greg and Emily were on their adventure in Stella, Braedyn and I went on a date together. I took him bowling for the first time and to a yummy hamburger joint where he got to pick the dessert. He enjoyed bowling so much, he asked for (and got) a second game! And after these two games, a small dinner, and a huge dessert, he asks, “What are we going to do now?” “Well, I think I am going to pass out from exhaustion from trying to keep up with you.”

I don’t think I can handle much more of this growing up stuff in such a short period of time again. But I have great friends with wonderful advice. Amy told me that if he asked to take the training wheels off of his bike this week to tell him he’s grounded. Yeah, I like that. No more growing up this week for my son. We’re done with all that growing up business.

This week anyway.

Wait. What Did He Just Say?

Today Braedyn met his Kindergarten teacher, an absolutely lovely woman I feel is going to do a stellar job with my son. As part of the Kindergarten curriculum, the teacher spends the first week of school meeting with each child on an individual basis for one half-hour. During our time, she showed him where his cubby was and provided some general information about the upcoming school year. Then I waited out in the hallway as she ran through a series of basic questions with him in order to get a feel for where he was with various concepts (ie, numbers, letters, shapes, counting). After assessing each student, she has a better idea of how to teach all these new students as an entity.

During his assessment, I peaked in a couple of times to listen to what he was being asked and to see how he was responding. Bad idea.

Let me clarify that statement. He did AWESOME during his assessment. He wasn’t nervous and he answered what questions he could and said he “didn’t know” on the things he was unsure of. I wasn’t expecting him to know all the answers, especially given my view on pre-school academia. Feeling it was a bad idea came when I overheard things like:

Teacher: Can you count these blocks for me? (Pointing to a board with 3 rows of 10 blocks each.)

Braedyn: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10… <moving to the next row> 1…2…

Teacher: Can you keep counting them without starting at 1 again? Go ahead and try again.

Braedyn: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10… <moving to the next row> 1…

Teacher: What comes after 10?

Braedyn: I don’t know. My mommy always starts over at 1.

Me: <Biting my lip>

or…

Teacher: Please write your name here.

Braedyn: <Writes name>

Teacher: Great! Now please draw a picture of yourself here.

Braedyn: I don’t know how.

Teacher: You don’t know how to draw a picture of yourself?

Braedyn: No. I only know how to draw monsters.

Me: <Hand slapping forehead>

Teacher: You can draw monsters?

Braedyn: Yeah, I can draw angry eyes.

OK, so Braedyn KNOWS how to count past 10. In fact, we count to 30 every time we put on a temporary tattoo. And that would be quite often. Thankyouverymuch. And as far as the monster comment? I can only hope she thinks he was talking about the Sesame Street variety. Ugh.