Of Kindergarten...Next Friday is THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL.
How did it get here so fast?
The Kindergarten is planning a "Splash Day" for Monday or Tuesday. They'll enjoy water balloons, bubbles, sidewalk chalk...fun stuff.
I got bubbles (and accesories), sidewalk chalk, jump ropes, and frisbees. The chalk, jump ropes and frisbees were not on the short list of what parents were being asked to send in, but with the Fun Fest/Picnic just a day or two later (plus recess in between) I figured it wouldn't be such a bad idea to send.
The Howler, while excited by the "stuff", decided that she could not carry it all into the school herself. I had to go in too.
So I did. I got to see the mayhem of arriving at the classroom. These children actually swarm the teacher, like so many buzzing-for-a-snippet-of-attention bees. From being the Home Room Mom, the children know me, too. I got hugs (not all from my own Howler), and I got to see bandaids, and I got to see drawings.
Then, I discovered that when they say the "lockdown" the doors" the MEAN it. I couldn't get out.
I had to walk back past the Howler's classroom. A little girl from the room next door was trying to juggle stuff she brought in, her folder, and her snack...I helped. Her teacher looked at me funny (I looked familiar, but she knew I didn't belong to anyone in her class) until I explained that K. didn't have enough hands. (K. knew me, though, and obviously didn't have a problem with me.)
I'm still smiling at what it was like...but I still don't EVER EVER EVER want to have more kids, or work in the school. Ever. But, it does make me appreciate those brave souls who are called to teach. God Bless 'em, Every One.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
Overrun
So, we now have a pack of wild ankle biters in the neighborhood.
Two are transitory--meaning they appear when they appear. One will appear every-other-weekend, per her father's court ordered visitation, and the other appears when she's visiting her grandparents (which is more frequent the last month or so). Both of these can be defiant and just a bit wild.
The other two are technically step sisters. Both of whom are relatively polite, follow rules, but who do 90% of the initiating of screaming.
We have discovered though, that while the "rule of 3" is vital when a pack of girls is in the brewing, one of the transitories is an instigator. If she's alone, she begins the visit to my house with the announcement, "If you're mean to me, I'll have to go home to my grandma's." (To which, being the bitch I am, I told her, "If you're mean while you're here, you'll definitely be going back to your grandma's.") If Blondie is tired, angry, feeling bored or ignored, she'll take the first opportunity to pick a fight with the Howler.
The Howler is slow on the uptake about friends. She's lonely (and I do feel for her, but I can't stand the thought that she'd allow someone to treat her badly for 'friendship') for someone to play with a lot.
The Howler, though, is starting to get that if she stands up to Blondie, then Blondie doesn't leave "forever!" and Blondie will still be heading our way to play. Blondie also does not like being told that her behavior is unacceptable. And she especially does not like to be informed that I know exactly what she's doing--picking a fight in an effort to force the Howler to allow her to do as she pleases. Blondie will also fight, tooth and nail, anyone else who may come along to play--if there's someone else for the Howler to play with, Blondie's power is lessened.
HAH! The Howler, through careful coaching, is learning that she can choose to not be bullied--and Blondie will still come over to play.
It's tedious--having to repeat ourselves, saying, "A friend does NOT make you feel bad! A friend does NOT have to have her own way all the time! A friend will compromise with you, and let you have a turn, including being first, sometimes!"
We're figuring it's going to be a looooong summer.
Two are transitory--meaning they appear when they appear. One will appear every-other-weekend, per her father's court ordered visitation, and the other appears when she's visiting her grandparents (which is more frequent the last month or so). Both of these can be defiant and just a bit wild.
The other two are technically step sisters. Both of whom are relatively polite, follow rules, but who do 90% of the initiating of screaming.
We have discovered though, that while the "rule of 3" is vital when a pack of girls is in the brewing, one of the transitories is an instigator. If she's alone, she begins the visit to my house with the announcement, "If you're mean to me, I'll have to go home to my grandma's." (To which, being the bitch I am, I told her, "If you're mean while you're here, you'll definitely be going back to your grandma's.") If Blondie is tired, angry, feeling bored or ignored, she'll take the first opportunity to pick a fight with the Howler.
The Howler is slow on the uptake about friends. She's lonely (and I do feel for her, but I can't stand the thought that she'd allow someone to treat her badly for 'friendship') for someone to play with a lot.
The Howler, though, is starting to get that if she stands up to Blondie, then Blondie doesn't leave "forever!" and Blondie will still be heading our way to play. Blondie also does not like being told that her behavior is unacceptable. And she especially does not like to be informed that I know exactly what she's doing--picking a fight in an effort to force the Howler to allow her to do as she pleases. Blondie will also fight, tooth and nail, anyone else who may come along to play--if there's someone else for the Howler to play with, Blondie's power is lessened.
HAH! The Howler, through careful coaching, is learning that she can choose to not be bullied--and Blondie will still come over to play.
It's tedious--having to repeat ourselves, saying, "A friend does NOT make you feel bad! A friend does NOT have to have her own way all the time! A friend will compromise with you, and let you have a turn, including being first, sometimes!"
We're figuring it's going to be a looooong summer.
Bubble Tape
Saturday, I got home from work to find a slew of little girls running through the neighborhood. Mine, of course, being the grimiest of the bunch. There was some obligatory screaming and shrieking (girls seem to be unable to communicate with each other in decibel levels that do not cause spontaneous eardrum bleeding), but in general, they didn't fight.
We have discovered one of the basic rules about girls--if you want anything resembling peace, you MUST keep even numbers. Odd numbered groups are bound for hell--and they're taking you with them.
The Howler is in all her glory--roaming the neighborhood, in a wild, raised-by-wolves pack. Again, I cannot stress enough the layers of neighborhood grime on the girl. I imagine that she's akin to the Great Dust Bowl sand storms of the 1930's.
But, the high point of the evening was shortly after I got home.
The Pack had disappeared around the house, and the Howler came straggling back to the patio--to us. She is a vision of Schultz's Pig Pen, accompanied by a dust cloud. She's standing there, holding a pink container, whinging.
"They all ran down there.They all have caterpillars and I don't. I'm thirsty. When's supper? I fell off my bike earlier and no one cared. Why can't I have a caterpillar? They won't give me one. They won't help me find one, either. Will you guys help me find one? I want my own caterpillar. Can I have a Coke? When's supper? Can I go play down there ? My Bubble Tape is all gone !" She stomped her foot.
I'm constantly amazed at how her mind works--how did we get from wanting a caterpillar of her very own to being upset because she has no Bubble Tape?
We have discovered one of the basic rules about girls--if you want anything resembling peace, you MUST keep even numbers. Odd numbered groups are bound for hell--and they're taking you with them.
The Howler is in all her glory--roaming the neighborhood, in a wild, raised-by-wolves pack. Again, I cannot stress enough the layers of neighborhood grime on the girl. I imagine that she's akin to the Great Dust Bowl sand storms of the 1930's.
But, the high point of the evening was shortly after I got home.
The Pack had disappeared around the house, and the Howler came straggling back to the patio--to us. She is a vision of Schultz's Pig Pen, accompanied by a dust cloud. She's standing there, holding a pink container, whinging.
"They all ran down there.
I'm constantly amazed at how her mind works--how did we get from wanting a caterpillar of her very own to being upset because she has no Bubble Tape?
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
What Was I Smoking?
When I agreed to chaperone a field trip for the Howler's class.
This is what I agreed to be part of:
6 adults (3 teachers, 3 parents)
approx. 60 5 and 6 year olds.
What was I smoking?
Seriously. Tomorrow by 9am, I will be trapped in a bus full of ankle biters. I don't really like most people--and I don't make any secret of not enjoying the company of most OPK. My own gets on my nerves well enough, timesing that by 60 is NOT my usual idea of a good time.
Add to this that high probability of a bus breakdown (never been on a field trip where the dammed bus did NOT break down) and I'm just beside myself with anticipation.
I can't wait! (and I'm taking the camera.)
This is what I agreed to be part of:
6 adults (3 teachers, 3 parents)
approx. 60 5 and 6 year olds.
What was I smoking?
Seriously. Tomorrow by 9am, I will be trapped in a bus full of ankle biters. I don't really like most people--and I don't make any secret of not enjoying the company of most OPK. My own gets on my nerves well enough, timesing that by 60 is NOT my usual idea of a good time.
Add to this that high probability of a bus breakdown (never been on a field trip where the dammed bus did NOT break down) and I'm just beside myself with anticipation.
I can't wait! (and I'm taking the camera.)
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Howler Humor
So, anyone who has ever known a 6 year old knows that they think bodily functions are funny. I'm hoping girls out grow this phase, but I already know that boys don't.
Anyway, two nights ago, my Sweetie was "pretty stinky." And noisy about it too.
The Howler was grossed out, but still thought it was funny.
Yesterday morning, I bent over to pick something up off the floor. She saw me, and said, "Hey. Don't point that thing at me."
I told her to just be glad it wasn't about to go off.
Anyway, two nights ago, my Sweetie was "pretty stinky." And noisy about it too.
The Howler was grossed out, but still thought it was funny.
Yesterday morning, I bent over to pick something up off the floor. She saw me, and said, "Hey. Don't point that thing at me."
I told her to just be glad it wasn't about to go off.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
The Absolute Joys of Spawn
Oh, that they each would have been twins. Then I'd have a case for justifiably beating them both.
First, the Toad is a miserable lump. So, he's determined to make the rest of us unhappy. He torments the Howler. He snaps out at My Sweetie and me. He sits and sucks air, doing little else besides eating.
And he leaves his dishes lying around for others to pick up after him. He tells us he'll be dining with us, then, when dinner is ready, he refuses to eat, saying, "I'm not really that hungry." WTF did he say he'd be eating supper with us, if he had no intention of doing it?
And why is the dishwasher full of clean dishes, and the sink full of his dirty dishes when he's the only one whose been home all day?
I also absolutely adore his biting my head off when I give him his phone messages--phones messages that he's already received ONCE today because he, yes, he himself, answered the phone the first time these people called him. Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick! If you told them you'd call them back and you don't even have to look up their phone numbers because they're on Caller ID, why didn't you call them back? Especially when you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this person will be calling back within 3 hours to talk to you about it because being the big waffle that you are, you didn't give 'em a definite answer the first time.
Then, wonder of wonders, he gets confused and MORE sullen when I get mad at him, but it certainly does NOT inspire him to adjust himself, his attitude, or his actions (or really, the lack of action).
Second, the Howler cusses me out (not literally cussing, though) every day--regardless of what I do, it's wrong. Take any action or word, and today, it must the exact opposite. If I say "yes" to something, I get told off because she didn't really want to. If I say "no" then I'm mean and she hates me.
Now, I don't mind the being mean (or the hating me parts) because, I'm pretty sure I am mean and that, on occasion, she's not the first in line for the "I hate my mother" parade.
What bothers me is the sheer relentlessness with which she informs me of this. For example: Not helping her out of the vehicle (a vehicle with an automatic door that I'm not allowed to touch because our Little Red Hen can do it herself) but the fact that there is no consistancy in which we apply the *rules by which you peacably live with a Howler* to my life, and the 30 full minutes of whine, yap, and complaint.
She'll even take short rest breaks in the constant telling me off--only to revisit the incident if she sees me trying to do anything except stick sharp sticks in my ears to deaden my hearing.
I should apologize. There is one blaring consistancy in the Howler: It's always opposite day. Whatever we're having for supper is something she hates, unless her father is cooking it. Whatever she's wearing is not "beautiful beautiful" enough. I'm too loud.
She does miss me terribly, but I think this is more because other children will not take her full-on whinge attacks, and she certainly cannot subject others to this "Teaching a pig to whistle" life philosophy--which, btw, SHE is the pig (she's pissed off) and I'm the one trying to teach her (I'm frustrated beyond words.)
I love them both, but I desperately want to take the big one and use him to beat the little one.
On a happier note:
Last night, My Sweetie, the Howler and I were outside on the patio (I should mention here that she is obsessed with the outside spigot--if she's home and you're not immediately threatening her, she turns on the water. Everything out there is constantly in a state of wet UGH.) I was reading (and ignoring the Howler's incessant whinging bitching at me and My Sweetie was trying to fit a new gasket in the sprayer for the hose. The Howler, sweet as sugar, asks, "Daddy, whatcha doin' with the sprayer?" and he says, "Trying to put a gasket in this [sprayer] so that it stops leaking."
Her response? "Okay. You have fun with that." (Oh, how much is she like me sometimes!)
First, the Toad is a miserable lump. So, he's determined to make the rest of us unhappy. He torments the Howler. He snaps out at My Sweetie and me. He sits and sucks air, doing little else besides eating.
And he leaves his dishes lying around for others to pick up after him. He tells us he'll be dining with us, then, when dinner is ready, he refuses to eat, saying, "I'm not really that hungry." WTF did he say he'd be eating supper with us, if he had no intention of doing it?
And why is the dishwasher full of clean dishes, and the sink full of his dirty dishes when he's the only one whose been home all day?
I also absolutely adore his biting my head off when I give him his phone messages--phones messages that he's already received ONCE today because he, yes, he himself, answered the phone the first time these people called him. Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick! If you told them you'd call them back and you don't even have to look up their phone numbers because they're on Caller ID, why didn't you call them back? Especially when you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this person will be calling back within 3 hours to talk to you about it because being the big waffle that you are, you didn't give 'em a definite answer the first time.
Then, wonder of wonders, he gets confused and MORE sullen when I get mad at him, but it certainly does NOT inspire him to adjust himself, his attitude, or his actions (or really, the lack of action).
Second, the Howler cusses me out (not literally cussing, though) every day--regardless of what I do, it's wrong. Take any action or word, and today, it must the exact opposite. If I say "yes" to something, I get told off because she didn't really want to. If I say "no" then I'm mean and she hates me.
Now, I don't mind the being mean (or the hating me parts) because, I'm pretty sure I am mean and that, on occasion, she's not the first in line for the "I hate my mother" parade.
What bothers me is the sheer relentlessness with which she informs me of this. For example: Not helping her out of the vehicle (a vehicle with an automatic door that I'm not allowed to touch because our Little Red Hen can do it herself) but the fact that there is no consistancy in which we apply the *rules by which you peacably live with a Howler* to my life, and the 30 full minutes of whine, yap, and complaint.
She'll even take short rest breaks in the constant telling me off--only to revisit the incident if she sees me trying to do anything except stick sharp sticks in my ears to deaden my hearing.
I should apologize. There is one blaring consistancy in the Howler: It's always opposite day. Whatever we're having for supper is something she hates, unless her father is cooking it. Whatever she's wearing is not "beautiful beautiful" enough. I'm too loud.
She does miss me terribly, but I think this is more because other children will not take her full-on whinge attacks, and she certainly cannot subject others to this "Teaching a pig to whistle" life philosophy--which, btw, SHE is the pig (she's pissed off) and I'm the one trying to teach her (I'm frustrated beyond words.)
I love them both, but I desperately want to take the big one and use him to beat the little one.
On a happier note:
Last night, My Sweetie, the Howler and I were outside on the patio (I should mention here that she is obsessed with the outside spigot--if she's home and you're not immediately threatening her, she turns on the water. Everything out there is constantly in a state of wet UGH.) I was reading (and ignoring the Howler's incessant whinging bitching at me and My Sweetie was trying to fit a new gasket in the sprayer for the hose. The Howler, sweet as sugar, asks, "Daddy, whatcha doin' with the sprayer?" and he says, "Trying to put a gasket in this [sprayer] so that it stops leaking."
Her response? "Okay. You have fun with that." (Oh, how much is she like me sometimes!)
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