5,840 days

 

My love,

Today, you are 16. I don’t think I could be any prouder of you than I am today, but you can ask me again tomorrow.

You have continued to grow and evolve throughout this last year. It hasn’t all been easy, though. You’ve been through some heartaches, and I know there were times you were really down. You managed to get through it all with your humor intact, but I know it wasn’t fun. I’m proud of you for powering through what were some difficult situations, but more so, I’m proud of you for talking when you needed to talk instead of keeping it all inside.

Your first year of high school had ups and downs, but now you seem to be on a fairly smooth track. You joined choir for your fine arts credit, and so far, you seem to be learning a lot. Science O was okay last year, but you decided it wasn’t your thing. This year, along with some pretty hard classes, you’re going to be on the swim team. I was so pleasantly surprised to see you willingly go out of your comfort zone, and I’m eager to watch everything you’ll do as a sophomore.

You were lucky enough to travel this summer with your school to Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. I was nervous to let you go because of your allergy; I was worried that you wouldn’t have enough to eat, or worse, that you would have some sort of reaction to something you ate. I should have known that you would be careful and diligent, and you ended up having an amazing time. I missed you a lot, but my heart was so thrilled that you were able to have that experience. I hope that you have a lot of travel in your future.

My favorite part of the recent year has been that you got your driving permit. Spending time with you in the car while you drive is absolutely the best. We talk about so many things, and I constantly learn something from you. Not only is your driving improving in leaps and bounds but so is your patience and your perception. You’re eager to listen to other people’s points of view while still staying true to who you are.

It’s hard to know who you are, especially in high school. I feel like you have a pretty good sense of that for yourself, though. I see a tenderness in you that I don’t see in a lot of people. It’s not weakness but rather a genuine compassion for others and what they may be feeling. I have hope that your generation of men will embrace the fact that men have feelings and that expressing those feelings is valid and pretty cool. I know I can always count on you to help me at home and to help your friends when they need it. You never want to hurt anyone’s feelings if you can help it, and I think that’s amazing. Just make sure that you stand up for yourself when you know something isn’t right. Your sense of humor is still delightfully dry, and I love catching your eye to laugh when perhaps we shouldn’t be laughing. I also appreciate that you’re around to help me get things off high shelves because, as you and your sister love to tell me, I’m too “low” to get them myself. Speaking of Lottie, watching your relationship grow is triumphant to me. Knowing that you two have each other when things get rough makes me happier than you’ll ever know.

You’re truly one of my favorite people on the planet, and it’s not just because you’re my son. I love spending time with you, I love your different takes on the world, I love how sweet you are even though I’m sure you don’t want anyone to know it, and I love you. I’m so happy that I get to be your mom.

 

You’re my bestest boy,

Mom

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

 Sigh. 

Our school system started classes on Wednesday, August 12. We had two options: in-person learning or remote learning. In theory, it's great. Families who wanted in-person learning got what they wanted, and families who wanted their kids at home got what they wanted. Except, it didn't really work that way for the remote learners. 

The remote learners were promised live-streamed classrooms and Zoom calls and lots of personal attention. Although I wanted to believe it would happen, I was skeptical. As it turns out, trying to deal with in-person students and remote students all at the same time has made our teachers stressed, tired, beaten down, and broken. 

VCS told the general public on July 31 that both in-person and remote learning would be offered. That gave the teachers twelve days before school started to get prepped to teach in a way they have never had to teach before. Just in case you missed it, read it again: TWELVE DAYS. That's not a lot of days, by the way. The teachers asked for more time to become familiar with how to use technology to better teach their students, and they were denied. They asked for teachers who could be remote-specific instructors, and they were denied. What we ended up with is giving all students in the district an elearning day on Wednesdays in order to give the teachers some time to catch up and breathe from dual-platform teaching. Now a petition written by an anonymous parent is going around saying that's a bad idea, too, so I guess we're just not allowed to have nice things. 

There was a school board meeting to discuss the change, and I was embarrassed and appalled at the attitudes of some of the parents. A lot of them are wondering why it's such a big deal because "live-streaming is easy"and why can't the teachers handle it. Um, not so much. Live-streaming may be easy when everyone has fantastic, up to date technology and WIFI for days. Live-streaming isn't so easy when teachers are using their laptops to live-stream and therefore cannot use their laptops for anything else, like teaching. Live-streaming isn't so easy when the Internet cuts out at least thrice during a class period. Live-streaming isn't easy when there are some students whose parents don't want their image being live-streamed into strangers' houses. Live-streaming isn't easy when a teacher has to sit in front of a laptop to teach in order to stay connected to the remote learners which means she can't walk around or connect with the in-person learners. And Zoom? It's okay, but if you have ever tried to get a group of kids on Zoom then you know how it's similar to herding a group of goslings mixed in with kittens. It's impossible to hear everyone, kids are using the chat area to write "poop" over and over, and most students end up holding up their household pets for the class to see. And before you get all anecdotal with me about how wonderful your children's experiences have been, just slow your roll. I taught university students remotely, and it wasn't all sunshine and roses. 

Other parents basically said that everyone is stressed, and teachers need to suck it up and get with the program. Oddly enough, many of those people are health-care workers, and I seem to remember the entire nation rallying around them when all this started in the spring. We threw money at the health care industry to help with the problem, and I don't see anyone offering to do that for education. As a matter of fact, I see people writing that they'll do anything to support teachers, but...If you really want to support teachers, there is no "but:" you just do it. Of course everyone is stressed. The pandemic is bizarro world, and it has flipped the universe upside down. But you know who I definitely don't want to be short-tempered, worn out, and frazzled? The dedicated people who choose to be with my children every day. I would prefer that the people who are teaching and influencing my kids on a daily basis are happy and calm and respected. I would also think that those of you who are squawking about wanting what is best for your kids would like to show them through your words and actions that you are behind their teachers one hundred percent. If we truly all want our kids to be in their best mindsets, we need to show them positivity from all sides, teachers and parents alike. 

Boycotting the Wednesday elearning days is detrimental to our students and to our teachers. Listen, we all want our kids in school full-time, able to socialize and laugh with their friends, participate in extra-curricular activities, and really enjoy themselves. I don't know anyone who doesn't want that. The fact is that we're not going to get what we want right now, and we need to deal with it. It's time to put up or shut up. 

Return to Learn

The last time I blogged here, the pandemic was in its infancy heading toward toddlerhood. I think by now, everyone hoped we would be past the teen years and into the years of middle-aged complacency, but there seems to have been a bit of a regression. I don't blame the virus, honestly. We acted like we were going to give it some space, and then we got all up in its business.

School starts in some way, shape, or form in about a month in my neck of the woods and even sooner for some schools that have a year-round or balanced schedule. We recently saw the Return to Learn plan sent by our school system: it was short, not to the point, and apparently couldn't anticipate the many, MANY questions teachers, staff, and parents would have about the numerous "what-if" scenarios.

Some of the highlights!
Masks are recommended but not enforced in the classroom, but they should be worn in the hallways. I hear constantly taking masks off and on is a solid idea.
Social/physical distancing is recommended and desks will be spread as far apart "as possible." Students will sanitize their desks themselves. I have picked up approximately ninety-three wrappers from Capri Sun straws today alone, and I have good kids who generally listen to me. It doesn't make me feel so great about the quality of sanitizing that will be done. Also, who is providing the sanitizing materials?
As long as students all face the same way in a classroom, no mask is needed because the virus only spreads in a linear fashion.  You know...science. The teacher should wear a mask, though, because reasons.
Students are encouraged to get rides to and from school in private cars; however, as far as I can tell, the football players will ride a school bus to games. I can only assume that sportsingball players have some sort of sweet immunity to the 'Rona.
Families will do their own health screenings at home. Whew! That's lucky because I know that parents don't pump their kids full of Tylenol in order to send them to school, and definitely no one will do it during a pandemic for fear of losing a job.
Students will minimize sharing materials and supplies. I mean, the joke writes itself with that one.

I quit Facebook a few weeks ago because it has turned into an utter trash heap. (I know, I know. I linked to this blog via FB. Don't @ me.) I hopped back on a few nights ago to find someone's name, and I saw a post about Valpo's back to school plan. On it, our mayor's wife told people that if they didn't like the Return to Learn plan, they should opt out and do e-learning instead. First of all, that's a super bad look politically. Constituents and all that political jazz. Second, being the mayor's wife doesn't give her the platform to attempt to school people, even if she tries to be PC about it.  Third, just...ew. That's an insanely Mean Girls look at the public education system, trying to pick and choose who can sit at the lunch table. Trying to convince someone that their opinion stinks about anything is difficult, but when that person has deep feelings about a subject important to him/herself, trying to have a logical conversation is akin to spitting into the wind. I typed quite a few responses to her, and then I realized that there was no point: it also reminded me of why I quit Facebook in the first place. <shudder>

I don't particularly care if her opinion, or anyone's for that matter, is different from mine. (It is for those of you keeping score at home.) My issue is in shaming the people who have honest fears about sending their children into the petri dishes of hell in thirty days. People like her are saying that public schools don't have to keep kids safe because that is the parents' job. To a certain extent, that's true. But these are the same people who are saying that kids need to get back to school so they can have meals and physical safety from possible abuse at home. You can't have it both ways and say that parents have to keep kids safe but that kids need school because they're not safe at home. Pick a lane. Getting kids back to "normalcy" is her idea, but it's deliberately obtuse to think that the fall semester will be anything like the normal we used to have. Nothing about this is normal.

Public schools do have an obligation to keep our children safe. That's part of why we do background checks for all volunteers and staff, tornado and fire drills, active shooter drills, anti-bullying programs, etc. Our schools are supposed to be equalizers, where all kids get what they need to be successful. Telling people to kick rocks if they don't like the school's return policy is like preying on someone who is already out of options: unhelpful and downright cruel. There are people in our community who don't have a real choice about what their students do come August 12, and I'm not here for the shaming that is cloaked in sickly-sweet concern.

If you want to send your kid back to in-person school because you truly feel it is the best option, go for it. If you're going to send your kid to school because you don't have a choice, I'm sorry, and I support you. If you are going to send your kid to school because you don't think we'll make it past mid-September with in-person learning, huzzah. If you want to keep your kid at home, I've got your back. If you want to withdraw your kid completely and homeschool, I have nothing to say to you. (I joke! I joke!) There are no right answers here; we have no real historical precedent for what is happening. If you feel like you know all the answers and have all the right things to say, Imma tell you that you don't, but I implore you to at least attempt to be kind and think about what other people are feeling. You might learn something, and we could all use the education.

Sick days

I'm pretty much a rule follower when it comes to all things education. I make my kids do their homework, I help them review for tests, and, of course, attendance is compulsory. I'm not a crazy never-miss-school-so-you-can-get-a-perfect-attendance-award kind of mom, though, mostly because, as a rule follower, I keep my kids home when they're sick.

I know that I'm lucky to be able to be at home with the kids when they're sick. I can look after them, snuggle them, make them soup, or put fresh sheets on the bed so they can rest as much as possible. Not every parent has that availability, and I'm grateful that I do. For example, I followed the rules last week when Lottie woke up nauseous on Monday morning. She didn't have a fever, but no one wants a kid at school who may possibly spew in the middle of class. We followed the BRAT diet, she slept, and we snuggled. She still wasn't feeling one hundred percent the next morning, so I kept her home again for fear of public upchucking. Thankfully, she was much better Wednesday morning, and off to school she went.

Now, here's the issue: make-up work. Sweet baby Jeebus, she has a ton of make-up work. So much so that as I sit typing this on Sunday afternoon, she is still working on math homework with her dad (not me because, well, I don't get it.) She hasn't done much this week after school other than come home and work on make-up work in addition to her regular homework each day. I get it; there is a lot of homework in middle school. And of course she has to make up what she missed while she was gone; I get that, too.

But the thing that all the "keep your kids home when they're sick" messages and memes don't understand is how much work it really ends up being for the sickie. Did you see the meme that made the rounds on social media recently about the mom who kept her kid home from school and all activities due to his fever? If not, here is the link. While I totally agree with Sam's mom, I would hazard to guess that Sam is in preschool or early elementary at the most. Sam's mom doesn't have to crack the whip to make sure the day's homework is getting done along with whatever make-up work needs to also be done. Sam's mom probably isn't helping Sam study for a test he missed while also going over new material he has to learn.

Even though normally Lottie might do just about anything to miss school, I guarantee that she won't want to miss days now, sick or not, because staying home to rest isn't worth it. Although the idea of self care that is being shoved in our faces by every website and magazine and TV ad sounds peachy keen, it's not practical. The problem isn't that the kids are missing school due to illness: the problem is that the stakes are too high for sick kids to miss even one day of school. Missing a day means missing a lot. Although that shows us exactly how much teaching goes into one school day, and it's A LOT, that doesn't mean it makes it any easier to come back into a classroom where everyone has moved on without you. Do I think classes should pause for sick kids? Um, no. Of course not. However, I do think that something needs to give when it comes to the amount of make-up work kids have. I don't know what it is; I have no solution. What I do know is that when everything is given the same weight of importance, then nothing is important. If something has to be important, I would rather it be the kids' all around health rather than the missing lessons. And, to be clear, in no way is this an indictment of Lottie's teachers or any teachers for that matter. It's a hope that as parents, teachers, and human beings, we can distinguish the little stuff from what is truly meaningful.

#WalkoutWednesday

It was interesting to follow all the news today about the National School Walkout day. Some schools were very supportive of the students' desire to make a statement; some schools tolerated the walkout but didn't exactly support it; and some schools denied the students an opportunity to join together with other kids around the country so their voices could be heard. Detentions, suspensions, truancy reports: kids, and likely adults, were punished in different ways.

The thing that made me shake my head, though, was the social media memes and posts from parents who were obviously against the whole idea. I mean, I'm not shocked that some adults found the walkout ridiculous because they tend to be the same adults who call Generation Z spoiled snowflakes who can't handle anything. I read posts from numerous parents who said they went to the walkout themselves just to make sure their children weren't participating.  One parent even said she told her son before school that if she saw him outside during the walkout period, she would "whip his ass in front of all of his friends." Classy.

Then there are the people who post the meme about how kids should just be kind to one another at school instead of doing the walkout because kindness can cure any ill. Don't get me wrong: kindness is a vital part of a happy and healthy existence. I think our world could use all the kindness it can get; however, it's not a panacea, and in our hearts, we all know that.

What I realized is that I envy the parents who feel there is no need for a walkout, that things are fine the way they are. It must be a wonderful feeling to wake up every morning in a cozy bubble of rainbows and puppies. When their kids head off to school, they probably feel completely at peace because nothing bad could ever happen where they live. Everyone smiles and bluebirds perch on beautifully blossoming trees when they're not helping princesses clean little cottages. At night, doors are left unlocked while families eat popcorn and read in front of a roaring fire. Such a lovely vision. I envy those people because I would love to thrust my head in the sand and keep the fantasy of a perfect world at the forefront of my mind. Sounds nice, right?

Instead, I live in a quiet, albeit constant, state of gnawing despair.  Every morning, I send out wishes and hopes to whatever deities or higher powers choose to listen to me to keep my children safe because I know what can happen. Our school system is no stranger to violence, so I can't pretend that we are completely sheltered. I trust our administrators to do the very best they can to protect our children, but I'm not so naive to think that's always enough.  Why? Columbine, Sandy Hook, Parkland, Red Lake. That's just in the last twenty years, and it doesn't even include universities.

I choose not to live my life in complete fear because that isn't living, but I cannot completely erase the insight that when I watch my children get on the school bus, I am sending them to a place that may or may not be safe, that may or may not become a target for a bad guy with a gun. My kids live in a time when school shootings are commonplace. They will never know a school that doesn't have a buzzer and a camera at an entrance that is flanked by bulletproof glass.They have grown up with the Internet, Taylor Swift, and lockdown drills.

I support the students and the adults who participated in the walkout today just as I support those who couldn't participate due threats of repercussions. I support the parents and community members I saw today in front of our local high school. What I can't support, though, are people who continue to insist that everything is hunky dory. We cannot maintain the status quo and expect anything to get better. It's time for change, big, BIG change, and I have faith that the kids who agree that they have had #Enough are the kids who will reconstruct the nation.

Every town for Gun Safety
March for Our Lives

2,920 days

Dallas,

Today you are eight years old.  For some reason, this seems like a strange, in-between age because you're not quite big but you're not a baby anymore.

You're definitely growing and changing, even from day to day.  You are trying more things now, things that used to scare you or simply make you uncomfortable.  I don't think you are ever going to be a huge risk taker, but you're getting braver all the time.  I couldn't believe the number of crazy rides you and Lottie rode at the fair this year; you laughed and screamed and smiled while I stood watching from the sidelines.   That's good, though, and it makes me happy.  It means you're growing up and gaining independence, and that is what Dad and I have always tried to help you do.

You are still quite the rule follower at school, but I have noticed you beginning to test things a little at home.  Good for you!  Most of your actions are done with good humor and silliness, but I'm glad to see you breaking out of your shell a tiny bit.  After all, you're never going to learn from your mistakes if you don't allow yourself to make any.

You're ridiculously and adorably honest at all times.  If you don't want to do something, you have no problem just saying no politely and moving on. You don't feel the need to over-explain or lie; you just don't want to waste your time on something that doesn't interest you.  You are also insanely funny.  I don't think you even know how funny you are sometimes, but when you spout off some hilarious phrase with your serious voice and a glint in your eye, you absolutely make my day.

In some ways, you're still the same boy you have been since you were little.  One cross word makes your head go down and your lip tremble, even if you're not the one in trouble.  You take other people's pain as your own, and you try to prevent sadness for anyone whenever you can.  You're slowly learning that you can't stop bad things from happening, that you can only control your own reaction to those things.  

You love to cuddle and snuggle, especially at night, and you get a lot of joy from doing things for other people.  The thought of someone being bullied or left out makes you angry and sad, and I'm proud when you take the steps to help a friend.  You still take my hand when we walk through a parking lot, and I know that won't last too much longer.  While I have it, I relish feeling your warm, not-so-small hand holding on to mine.

Of course, you still love your Xbox, and this year you have moved more into being obsessed with Terraria, although Disney Infinity, Minecraft, Lego Dimensions, and Skylanders are all on the radar, too.  You enjoy reading almost as much as you like video games, and it makes my heart happy to walk by your room when you're lolling on the bed with a book.

Although it seems to get harder, you are a wonderful brother to Lottie.  As you both grow, you're arguing a little more, but I know that despite it all, you are there for each other when it counts.  Even when she bugs you, try to remember that she was your first best friend, and she will always be in your corner.

My wish for you this year is that you always continue to be the amazing boy that you are.  Keep loving and full-body laughing.  Ask for help when you need it, and give help where you can.  Remember that being kind is always the best choice to make, but don't ever let anyone put you down or treat you badly.  Stand up for what you know in your heart is right.

I love seeing you gain more and more confidence in yourself.  You can do so many things if you have

faith in your abilities and just give it a shot.  You're an incredibly smart kid, and you're resourceful, as well.  You have everything it takes to be great, and all I want is for you to be the best version of you that you can be.  Don't put so much pressure on yourself to be something or someone you're not.  You are SO loved just the way you are.

Thank you for making our family complete.

I love you, and I love you, and I love you,
Mom

Less is less

Scouts, soccer, baseball, gymnastics, swimming, track, football, cheerleading, clubs.  It seems like a lot of kids are doing a lot of those things.  Parents are running to get their kids to activity after activity, day after day.  Chez Wells, though, after having been in it for almost a year, Dallas is done with martial arts.  He learned a lot and earned a few new belts, but his heart was never truly in it.

I had begun to notice that getting Dallas to tae kwon do was no easy task.  We had to get in the car as soon as he got off the bus, have a snack en route, get to the studio, change into uniform, and start class.  That's a lot for a Kindergarten kid to do right after school.  He enjoyed his class and liked his teacher, but he wasn't really into the whole thing.  He spent most of his time making faces at himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors.  I knew he wouldn't be ready for the next higher level of class which involved more memorization, a longer class period, and more difficult practices.  He would end up being a distraction to the teacher and the rest of the kids in class.

T and I decided that Dallas could stop the martial arts class.  I felt guilty at first because I wondered if we were teaching him that it was okay to quit something out of boredom.  Would this decision affect how he lived his life?  Would he change his major in college twelve times because we allowed him to quit tae kwon do?   Then I realized that I was a little nuts, and I reined it in.

Part of my guilt stems from the fact that it's almost de rigueur for kids to do all the things: music lessons, sports, drama classes, academic teams.  I worried that Dallas wasn't going to have An Interest.  Don't all kids need An Interest to feel successful and confident?  What would His Interest be?  I was afraid I was ruining his life.  And as parents, we're constantly inundated with what our kids should or shouldn't be doing, mostly opinions without many facts behind them.   But how are we supposed to know which way to go or what works for our own children?

All at once, I was hit with the proverbial bolt of lightning: the kid is six years old.  He's six.  He doesn't need An Interest.  He couldn't choose An Interest right now if his life depended on it, because, SIX. And I'm not even saying that no six-year old knows what he/she likes to do, but I know that Dallas needs some time to develop his interests.  Having lots of after-school activities works for a lot of kids and their families.  Lottie, for instance, would be thrilled to do something different every day of the week: that's just who she is.  But Dal, he's more of an old soul who likes to ease into things before he fully commits.  His personality is essentially different than mine, so sometimes I find it problematic to parent him.   I'm learning, though.  I'm learning to give him some time and space to be who he is and who he needs to be.

When T and I told Dal he could be done with tae kwon do if he wanted to, he thought about it for a while before responding.  (Shocking.)  He eventually said he was glad he was going to be done with the Monday/Wednesday rigmarole; he said all he wanted to do when he came home from school on Mondays was read the new library book that he had gotten at school that day.  He may not know everything just yet, but he knows what he likes.  I'm just glad I was finally able to give up my own worry in order to lessen his.  It doesn't matter what everyone else is doing - jump off a bridge, anyone? -as long as we're happy with the result.

Get outta my dreams...

Get into my car!

I have been doing two different car lines, four times a day for the past six weeks or so.  Holy cannoli, have I seen a lot.  Allow me to give you, the wonderful readers, some car line tips.

1.  Don't smoke in your car while you're waiting for your kid.  I mean, really?  There is even a sign in the parking lot that says the school is a no-smoking zone.  C'mon.

Credit:http://standupforamerica.files.wordpress.com/2010/06/no-smoking-sign-premises.jpg

2.  Do put your phone down and say hello or good-bye to your child.  I have seen so many parents drop their kids off in the morning with nary a wave because the parents are too busy jabbering on their cell phones.  Maybe the parents make a special point to say goodbye before the actual drop-off, but I sort of think the kids deserve a little hug or kiss or something as they're getting ready to walk into school.

3.  Don't park in the car line if you plan on leaving before it's your turn.  At least twice, I have had parents come up to my car window and ask me to move my car over a little so they can drive between the cars in the two lines to get out of there.  I know everyone is busy; we all lead crazy, hectic lives.  But if it's that important to get to an appointment or get out of the parking lot, leave a little earlier.

4.  Do pay attention when you're in the line. If the rest of the cars have moved up five car-lengths, it's probably a hint that you should do the same.

5.  Do not pick your nose.  Those car windows?  They're made of glass.  We can ALL see what you're doing, and it's gross.

credit: http://debbieschroeder.typepad.com/.a/6a00d83451d6e069e2016760293d0a970b-500wi

6.  Do try to relax.  Stop looking at your watch, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, and shaking your head.  The kids will come out soon, and then you can get back to your über-important life.

Just some car line guidance from your friendly neighborhood CarLine Mom.

September morns

I haven't blogged much at all lately, but it's not for lack of desire.  I'm simply exhausted by the end of the day, and that's usually the only time I have to sit down with the computer to write.  The morning routine has evened itself out but, man, it's tiring.  

I get up around 6:15 every morning in order to have a little time to myself before the nuttiness of the day begins.  I usually have until 7:00, but occasionally, Lottie decides to make an early start of things and begin her daily chat-fest while I'm still in the shower.  Good times.  Normally, I wake the kids up at 7:00, but that always takes a few minutes of groaning, yawning, stretching, and protesting before they're both actually up and at 'em.  They begin breakfast although something usually distracts them and I spend the next twenty minutes or so saying, "Let's concentrate on eating, guys." I probably say that forty times in those twenty minutes: you do the math.  Then we all troop back upstairs for dressing and grooming, and my phrase of choice is, "GUYS!  IT IS TIME TO GET DRESSED!" Because, you know, jumping on the bed or playing pirate is much cooler than getting ready for school.  By the time we get everyone zipped, buttoned, brushed, and washed, we're already late to get Dallas to the 8 AM drop-off.  Luckily, we don't live too far from school, and we're rarely the only car running behind.  Once Dallas is out of the car, Lottie and I run errands.  I can't drop her off at school until 8:30, so I try to use those thirty minutes to my advantage.  Running errands with Lottie is interesting, to say the least. She inevitably asks for candy or a toy no matter where we are, and getting her to move along is like herding molasses.  If there aren't any errands or if we have time before her drop-off, I park the car in the Flint Lake Elementary driveway, and we read together.  I know Lottie really enjoys the quiet reading time, as do I, but I have a feeling her favorite part of this activity is that she sits on the console in between the two front seats while I read to her.  Rule-breaking!  In front of the school!  We could get arrested!  When the clock says it's time, she heads out the car door to school, her backpack making her look a bit like a drunken, albeit adorable, turtle.  

I'm home by 8:35 with a few minutes to relax and enjoy the silence.  I eat breakfast (which I can't eat any earlier due to my apparent inability to absorb Synthroid, thus necessitating two hours between taking the meds and food entering my body) and decide which task I am going to tackle.  I'm usually just getting into the groove of cleaning out the basement storage area, going through the kids' closets to weed out old clothes, or scrubbing the showers when I look up and realize it's 10:45.  Sigh.  I take five minutes to try to disguise the fact that I'm a sweaty cow and leave to go get Dallas.  I always end up feeling like I should have accomplished more in my two hours and ten minutes of freedom, but I know I do as much as I can.  One of these days, I'm going to blow off any attempt at working, lie on my bed under a blanket, and read all morning.  

And those are my typical mornings. Most times they're enough to make me feel like I have lived a whole day by 8 AM.  They're rushed and hurried and stressful, but I also get to hear hilarious and bizarre conversations that I wouldn't otherwise get to hear.  And if I'm really lucky, I get some sweet morning cuddles from both of my snuggly little cubs.  

For those of you who are thinking that I need to enjoy the crazy mornings with my kids because soon enough they're be running out of the door in the mornings without a backward glance, I say I won't notice because I'll still be under the blankets fast asleep.  So bring it on, my friends.  Bring.  It.  On.  (Kidding.  Sort of.)

--And for those of you who have asked, my thyroid levels are still out of whack.  They're slowly coming down but not as quickly as the doctor and I would like.  Once again, I have a higher dose of Synthroid, and I will go back in six weeks to have my levels tested again.  Keep your fingers crossed for me!  

Week of firsts

It has been a busy start to the school year chez Wells, and overall, it has been a good one.  Well, it has been a good one for the kids.  I'm not sure I have been the most stellar school parent, though.

Lottie's first day of Kindergarten was, to be expected, insanely exciting.  She was all ready with her backpack and her new dress, ready to conquer Flint Lake Elementary.  The whole family walked her in, gave her lots of hugs and kisses, and left.  No tears from anyone, not even me.  Does that make me cold-hearted?  I saw a squadzillion posts on Facebook of kids' first days of school and parents wiping away virtual tears.  No tears for me.  I didn't exactly do a happy dance, but after the crazy summer we all had, I was ready for routine...and quiet.  And frankly, I knew Lottie was ready to start Kindergarten.  She is a bright, friendly, sweet little girl, and I knew she was ready for something new and exciting.  No one loves an adventure more than my girl, and adventure is calling her.

To add to the excitement, Lottie lost her first tooth!  After a few days of wiggling and angst, the tooth fell out.  Man, she is cute with it gone.  Serious cuteness, no?

So, let's get to the non-stellar parenting.  I'm so used to the preschool way of doing things that I didn't realize that Kindy is a whole different ballgame.  For instance, kids in preschool have drinks provided to them; that doesn't happen in Kindergarten.  Lottie had lunch for the first two days of school without a drink of any kind.  Whoops.  The kids are also supposed to take a snack to school because it's a pretty long day for a bunch of five year olds.  I did, indeed, provide a snack for the first three days, but I didn't find out until the morning of day four that Lottie had no idea that the snack was in her lunchbox.  This despite the fact that I had told her specifically on the first day where her snack was in her bag.  Apparently, she assumed that I hadn't been packing her a snack, so she told her teacher she was snackless.  Miss J probably thinks I'm a total dolt: no beverages, no snacks.  And so begins my reign as WORST PARENT EVER.

Dallas has had a good first week as well.  He likes his school and his teacher, but he's far less effusive about it all than his sister.  His views on school are pretty monosyllabic, but that's just Dallas.  He occasionally gets loquacious about what he did on the playground, but most of his three hours a day of school is kept a closely guarded secret.  I suppose he'll share when he's ready to share.  And just so he's not left out, here's his cuteness, too.

I hope the good times at school continue for the kids because it sure makes my life easier when things are going smoothly for them.  And, you know, my happiness is paramount to everything.

Why I do it

I'm at home with a sick little boy.

I kept Dallas home from school Monday.  He was really tired and whiny in the morning with a slight fever, and I didn't figure he would end up being any good in a classroom.  He also wasn't interested in eating, and that rarely happens.  He stayed with me, and we did a lot of snuggling.  All day, he just wanted to be held.  He slept a little over 13 hours Monday night, and I thought that might be the end of whatever crud had started.  Silly me.

Tuesday morning, he seemed much better.  His eyes weren't glassy, he wasn't as feverish, and his mood was overall improved.  I took him to school, and everything seemed okay when I dropped him off.  Fast forward to 10:30 when my phone rang.  One of his teachers called to say that he was having a hard morning.  He was not himself at all: sad, whiny, and unable to pull it all together.  She said he was calm at that moment, but she would keep me updated on his progress.  I got my shoes on, found my keys and my purse, and in less than 5 minutes, his teacher called again to say that maybe it was time for me to come get him.  I arrived a few minutes later with worry starting to build in my chest.  As soon as I saw his face, I knew something was wrong.  He was sobbing, and he flung himself right into my waiting arms.  He buried his hot head in my shoulder and whispered, "I didn't know where you were."  Ouch.  He apparently told his teachers in the midst of his breakdown that he needed his mommy.

He needed me.  He didn't just want to see me for a moment of comfort; he needed me.  And it hit me at that moment that this is why I do what I do.  I'm a stay-at-home mom, and I do it because my kids need me.  My little boy was sick, and he needed his mommy.  When I took him to the doctor after I picked him up from school, it was confirmed that he has croup.  He rarely complains about not feeling well, so I had no idea that he was that sick.  I must have missed the signs during the morning rush to get bags packed, shoes on, and sweatshirts zipped.  It's no wonder that he was so sad, and it broke my heart to think that he felt abandoned at school Tuesday morning.

The steroid shot worked its magic overnight.  Dallas isn't completely back to normal, but he has had a big turnaround from Monday.  His voice is still hoarse and scratchy; it's sort of like living with a mini-Vito Corleone.  But instead of calling for Luca Brasi to sleep with the fishes, he's calling for another granola bar or a hug.  He is laughing again, smiling again, and even arguing with me again.  He's working his way back.

Don't get me wrong: there are definitely days that I wish I were the one going to work and leaving the clean-up, the snacks, the fights, and the tedium all behind.  But I can't.  It's not in my nature to be away from the ones I love more than I have to be.  I know myself, and I couldn't be a good mom AND a good teacher.  Someone would always be getting my best while someone else would only get the leftovers.  My decision to stay at home is what works best for our family, and it may not work as well for other parents, other families.  It's definitely not a judgement or condemnation of parents who have to work or choose to work.  I admire the fact that those parents manage a career and a family.  But I'm beyond grateful that I was able to be there to wipe away Dallas's tears, hold his hand to reassure him during the steroid shot, and feel his ragged breath as he lay on the couch with me.  I stroked his soft hair and whispered, "Everything's okay now.  Mommy's here."  Because that's my job: I'm the Mommy.

If you want to read more about mother's views on careers and families, click here or here.

Amen

Lottie and Dallas both go to an awesome preschool, Good Shepherd Day School.  The school is affiliated with Good Shepherd Episcopal Church.  We love the school, the staff, and the whole atmosphere.

One of the components of GSDS is, of course, religious study.  The kids have chapel every Wednesday morning where they learn about God and Jesus.  Not being at all religious myself, I think it's great that my kids have the opportunity to learn about things that I wouldn't be able to teach them.  Sometimes Dallas throws a towel around himself and says he's Jesus. Lottie, especially, has really gotten into learning all she can at chapel, and that has been the catalyst to some pretty interesting conversations.

When I picked her up from school today, she decided she wanted to gather some fall leaves.  While working at her task, she nonchalantly asked if I knew that Jesus was the light of the world.  Three of four times a week, she bursts out with, "God and Jesus can do miracles!"  It's always totally random and apropos to nothing, but it's always stated with utter joy and wonder.  Around Easter, she was fascinated with Jesus's resurrection.  "Mama, they hanged him on a cross and his hands had bleeds but then he came alive again!"

Yesterday, we were stuck in traffic next to St. Joseph hospital.  There is a huge statue of St. Joseph outside the hospital, and Lottie always says it's Jesus.  I don't feel like arguing so I usually let it go.  While we were waiting at the light, Lottie asked, "Mommy, do I look like Jesus's girlfriend?" Um, okay.  I laughed so hard that I almost had to pull over.  Then she wanted to know if Jesus even had a girlfriend.  I told her that I thought that was an awesome question to ask Deacon Lauren the next time she had chapel at school.  Yeah, I passed the buck.  I'm not ashamed, either.  And if I'm ever the mother-in-law of Jesus, I'll deal with Him then.