Thursday, January 21, 2010

Birth Order

On Monday when I asked the wee one to pick up her toys, she snapped, "I'm not doin' nuh-sing!" So I put her down for a nap.

On Tuesday when she insisted she needed to be unbuckled so that she could close the garage door and I told her no, she screamed "you ruined my life!" Did I mention this all took place on the freeway which happens to be nowhere near our actual garage door?

On Wednesday, while at lunch, she began pounding on the window and yelling when two ducks attempted to end a third duck's life by drowning it. While this all too disturbing act was occurring, she turned to me and through pursed lips stated, "I am really pissed off at that duck!" I tried not to choke on the tortilla chip and encouraged her to use another word like angry, as in that duck is making me angry.

So when you see us out together and wonder when we are having another one...the answer is...never. This one has done me in.

*editor's note - While it did take roughly 20 minutes to recover, the duck was fine, no natural selection took place in the process of lunch

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

No Words

Sometimes, an evening out needs no explaination, and sometimes describing the personality of a child cannot be properly communicated in any words...

Monday, January 11, 2010

Sabbath Day Rituals

5:45am Sucrose Guy's alarm goes off

5:54am Alarm goes off again

6:03am Alarm goes off again, I tell him he better get up, he's gotta go

6:07am Lights flicker on and the shower starts

6:30am Sucrose Guy is off for 6:50am meetings

6:32am My alarm goes off and the shower starts again

7:05am Wake kids up to go

7:15am "Come on I gotta do your hair, we gotta go, we can't be late"

7:18am Curly exclaims amid sobs during the hair brushing, "I hate when church is in the middle of the night!"

7:22am "Did everybody brush their teeth?" to which Hollywood grumbles, "We haven't even eaten yet, what's the point?"

7:27am Lights off, Oatmeal to Go, juice boxes, socks, and shoes in one hand, church bag in the other, wait, where are the crayons? Who used the crayons last? Where are they? Got um, ok let's go...hopefully we make it on time

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Quarterly Review

Middle school is generally considered a "time of growth" by many. Most are awkward 12 and 13 year olds with far too many hormonal changes infused with an intense desire to belong. Throw in the daily mocking and cat fights and it is a recipe for disaster.

Valiant efforts have been made to retain as few memories as possible of these awkward days in my life, but yesterday the dam of repressed memories sprung a leak when report cards came home.

Whie we haven't yet entered the awkward middle school years, this year has proven challenging for Hollywood. When no homework came home for the first month of school, I thought it odd. On curriculum night I learned it wasn't because of his superior ability to focus and plow through tasks, but rather he "forgot" he had daily assignments. His efforts were rebuffed with daily communication with the teacher for a while, weekly progress reports, and followed up with weekly visits in the classroom by mom. There were also a plethora of chores added to the list when homework assignments were not completed. Being the intelligent kid he is, he quickly learned school and homework were far less painful, and we saw dramatic improvement in his studies.

Curly is in love with school this year. She skips through the gate when I drop her off, and usually has a great story from the day on the walk home. Yesterday, she couldn't wait to get home with her report card. We were thrilled to see she is above benchmark in most areas; and it came as no surprise she is excelling in art.

After heaps of praise were pronounced upon Curly for the fabulous job she is doing, we asked Hollywood where his report card was. When he responded defensively he had not received it, the flashback began.

In an endless dual of sibling rivalry, my brother never ran home faster than on report card day. During those awkward junior high years, I will concede his academic achievement was far greater than mine. He would dash home to receive his heaps of praise and I would hide mine under the mattress and tell my wise mother my teacher forgot to hand them out.

While my pants burned in fire, an e-mail from Hollywood's teacher confirmed she had in fact forgot to pass out report cards and promised to send them home today.

Yesterday, the memories not just of middle school came flooding back, but also the curse of every mother..." I hope you have one just like you so you can someday understand what it is like to be me." I definitely got mine. He's just way better!