Friday, October 9th, 2009
We’re back for another year! Kindergarten at last for Sailor, who has already turned 6; and 3rd grade for Mac, who is turning into a “big kid” already at 8.
The children have been in school for one month plus a day. Or 23 days, according to my 3rd grader’s teacher’s blog. Which I just found yesterday. On a website chock full of info about 3rd grade in his class. Where was I when they handed out that information?
It’s cold out. It’s raining. Sailor is sick for the second time in two weeks. We have no pediatrician to call about his sudden-onset stomach ache and fitful nap. Because tw o weeks ago when he was sick the pediatrician’s office refused to let the pediatrician see Sailor because of a computer delay at the office of the new insurance company.
It’s been a wild month. Absolutely wild. The start of school ended our whimsical days of sun at beach, day trips to the olden days, museums, picnics at the park, all the usual. It was a busy summer and I was almost (just almost) ready for it to give way to the more structured life of school days. Tho it was like ripping off a band-aid: Let’s just get on with school already, if we have to do it.
And so we had to. And the kids absolutely love it. From day one Mac knew he was in the right classroom with the right teacher. Sailor was so excited to start kindergarten he had his backpack on a full 20 minutes before we were to leave home. But at school his enthusiasm waned when he was not seated with any of his friends. The photos are priceless. The next day was a return to Sailor’s pre-school attitude and I was sent into a panic fearing we’d have a year or years more of daily crying over school. But by the end of the week Sailor had a new best friend, a French-Vietnamese boy named Nikola, and all was well with the world of kindergarten. Sailor couldn’t wait to go see his friend every afternoon. What a happy kindergartener. What a happy mommy. It's a chaemed life the life of a kindergartner and the life of a kindergartener's mom.
Sailor is quick, efficient and correct with his homework.
Mac drops his pencil often, needs food, needs a drink, needs the bathroom, drops his pencil, falls off his chair, pokes himself in the eye with his pencil, drops his pencil, needs a Kleenex, drops his pencil, falls off his chair. I laugh now. But I do not laugh at homework time. Despite all this, and his sloppy handwriting, I think he is doing well. He has shown a great deal of responsibility in other ways recently and while homework remains the bane of my existence, I think there is great promise for this boy.
In the first week of school our house gained a bunk bed, courtesy of my parents. Realizing it was actually a simpler task to buy a new one than to unbury the existing one from the basement, in a manipulative move to get my kids out of my bed once and for all, they did just that. The first night in the bunks – Sailor on top, Mac on the bottom for obvious reasons – lasted until 5a.m. and was not without tears and trauma. Theirs and mine. We have not had a repeat visit to the bunk beds for a variety of reasons not the least of which is the Chihuahua.
Be careful what you allow your child to ask for on his birthday list. For in the world of wacky-yet-wonderful friends, you may be in for more than you bargained for. Sailor wrote a very benign list this year: stuffed animals, craft kits (not paint ones), Indiana Jones DVD, Toys R Us GC, a Chihuahua (real one). Everything was going well. From the moment he awoke at 4:00 a.m. on his birthday to find a “different shadow” in his bed, which, on closer inspection turned out to be the stuffed monkey from Starbucks he had asked for all summer, his birthday just got better and better. There were monkeys and books and toys and a Leapster2. What more could a 6-year-old ask for? Jumping with Mommy all morning at Pump it Up? Got it! Birthday lunch at Rainforest Café? Got it! Mommy visiting Kindergarten and read a story? Got it! A big Lego set from Dad? Got it. A cake shaped like Michael Jackson’s glove? Got it! A real Chihuahua? Got it! WAIT! A real Chihuahua? Yep. Got it.
Sailor named him Rascal and he’s 5 month old. Smart? Yes. Paper trained? Not really.
So how’s life at the SingleMommy Castle now? Let’s just say Mommy is having a difficult time suppressing her feelings these days and so sometimes it gets rather loud. The children understand the following equations: puppy poopies on papers = puppy can stay a little longer; puppy poopies on living room rug again = puppy moves in with M.P., wacky-but-wonderful friend’s 6-year-old.
Somehow our smelly guinea pigs have lost their ability to really piss me off. Their presence is more of a nuisance than anything else. But theirs combined with that of the runaway frog and the new addition of the Chihuahua and all his accoutrements… it’s the combo that’s making me crazy.
And the homework, and the grand effort put forward to completely renew the boys’ bedroom, and Cub Scouts – hey, who schedules an afterschool activity for 6:30p.m. anyway? That’s bed time for little kids, in case no one noticed!
Basketball…
Art class…
Soccer…
Piano lessons start in a few weeks…
How does SuperMommy do it all? you ask. By not doing anyting else! PTA needs $10? Nope, sorry, not this year. Field trip for 3rd graders? Nope, I'm busy. PTA meeting? No, thank you. Join us at the 3rd grade parents' potluck? No, not necessary. PTA really needs my $10. Sorry, not in my budget this year. Neighborhood Association wants me to do the newsletter? Do it yourselves.
It's really that simple.
