It's ridiculous, I know, but I feel it just the same.
The Howler's yearly checkup was today. My girl is growing well. She's 49.5 inches tall! Almost as tall as me! (blah blah grammar blah)
Her asthma is under control, doing it my way. I explained what I'm doing, and why...and that we tried the Advair flexhaler and what it did. And how it took fully 2 weeks to get it back under control. Doc F1 was fine with it--basically said that if that's what works (and keeps the side effects away) then that's what we do. I did a smallish happy dance right there, I did.
Then came the Next Thing. And I hate the Next Thing. You will hate it too.
My beautiful, happy, wonderful 7-year-old may have some hearing loss in her left ear. It may have been the machine, but maybe not--maybe not enough to get her evaluated by an audiologist.
Sure, she doesn't always "hear" us, but she's 7, right? And sometimes she says "queer" instead of "clear", and sometimes she pronounces her ending "r's" like she's a Kennedy. And she did hit that left ear this winter and need to get it glued (with a warning from the ER personnel that there maybe-might-be-could-be ear damage from the way she whacked it. Or the 12 pounds of blood that seemed to be in there. Or the swelling from whacking it.)
None of that, nor the fact that there are cousins on both sides of my family who have experienced hearing loss fairly young (somewhere around my baby's age) makes me feel better.
Notice how she's my baby today? Yeah.
I did cry, out of her ear-shot (pardon my grossly inappropriate pun, there.) And I felt stupid and foolish for it--there are way worse things this could be, I know. And it's not the end of her world, either.
How do I know that?
When we got home, she informed her brother, in a rather puffed up with pride at the accomplisment voice, "Hey, Der*, I have hearing loss in my one ear. So speak up, or I will ignore you."
*Der = Toad, to the Howler when she was a toddler.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
So, You've Asked About the PTA Elections
First, let me say that I could have lived my entire life without the drama.
Second, let me say that I have tried, for the past 3 days to summon up at least a little guilt, or something similar, regarding how things went, and well, I just can't do it.
Thursday was The Election.
The meeting started out simply enough--a call to order. After that, it was straight out of a Twilight Zone episode. Honestly, it was.
Miss Thang, acting PTA prez, got pissy when asked why the balloting would be done HER way. (There were two ways to do it--all at once, or office-by-office. She chose as a whole. Nominations, close nominations, move on to next office, nominations, etc.) She does NOT like to be questioned, I'll tell you that for nothing.
So, that's the way we did it--mostly because she'd already put in a lot of effort into having those ballots done up, and, honestly, we'd have been there for quite a while doing it office-by-office.
Business was conducted while we waited for copies of the ballots to be made, and we had a lovely social 20 minutes while ballots were tabulated by 3 non-office running members.
A great deal of what hit Miss Thang's last nerve was that the person who was the vendor for two of the fundraisers we did this year (who is also a member of our PTA) stood up, and in telling us how much was raised, even comparing the fall and the spring totals. She also shared with the group some of HER opinions on how SHE was treated, and what's she's been hearing from others--in email, notes, and conversations. She really blasted the Prez, who is still laid up (I'm still trying to wrap my head around being able to go to Disney World in January--a few short weeks after breaking that leg--but not being able to roll herself in to a meeting) and then turned on Miss Thang. Miss Thang, apparently, really has been upholding the Don't Call Us/We Have No Intention of Calling You policy, and made no attempt to actually step up and do the work her laid up predecessor left her.
Sure, she showed up and did the things that would earn her attention. All efforts, seen in hindsight, show that she basically enjoyed the "being seen" part of the job.
What I've heard in the past few months has been that, overall, she's really done no better, though. I've gotten practically immediate responses from her, but I'm assuming that's because I have what would probably be called Perceived Power. She perceived, back in December, that I would speak up about things I saw as wrong, stupid, or both. She perceived, back in January, that I am (God Help Me) a leader--and, someone who is willing to take a risk. She perceived, last Thursday, that I am willing to stick my neck out, in front of her, to drive a point home (I'll get to that.) She's also pissed that the rest of peons actually speak to each other, and have open and honest conversations.
I've realized that a big part of the problem with this PTA isn't just the funnelling of information to a few people who refuse to share the information or take action themselves, but a lack of trust amongst its members. Who can you trust when the powers-that-be seem to know that you've spoken out against them, and they blackball you?
Well, who you can trust is me. I'm not very nice, deep down, but you never have to guess where you stand with me, and not only will I not repeat what you say to me, I'll let you sit next to me, even if I think you're a nutbar. (Seriously, if we're all in the PTA to make the school a better place for our kids, your--or my--being a nutbar really isn't the point, unless one of us does something really super strange, and even then, I'm willing to forget it unless you get arrested while I'm watching.)
So, over the course of the last few months, more people have been showing up, getting involved and just plain speaking up.
The meeting also involved Miss Thang being informed that her plans for the end of the year picnic were just plain stupid. Ok, nobody said, "Stupid" but it was made clear that if you're going to spend a few hundred dollars of PTA funds on t-shirts, the KIDS should get 'em, NOT faculty and staff. We all appreciate the faculty and staff, and what they do for our kids, but seriously. Spend the PTA funds on the KIDS. It's a no-brainer, really.
The election results were tabulated by 3 volunteers--none of whom were running for office. Thank God.
There were 31 members present--that's DOUBLE what's been showing up otherwise. 16 votes needed to elect.
Miss Thang got 7 votes for Prez; 6 for 1st VP. Of course, everyone else got their 16. Including Dad, who was now in the position of holding two offices. And since that's "illegal" under our by-laws, he had to choose. He tried to be nice about it, and didn't just jump on the 1st VP thing, and while he was talking and saying basically that he wanted to do a good job, and would do which ever one everyone else thought he should. She snapped, "You have to PICK ONE!" So he did. And she lost for a third time.
2nd VP was now open, and she wasn't nominated. I honestly think that she decided before the meeting that she would have president or nothing at all. Her resignation implies it, even though she claims she's been considering it for months now, because we've all been so mean to her. And she was professional the entire time (of course, professionals pitch flaming asshole tantrums all the time, donchano) and that she has to be true to herself.
She says that "I am excusing myself from anymore invalid information about me since I do not deserve it nor did I do anything to provoke it." (and if there's anyone out there who can explain that to me, please please please do so) because, you know, not calling people back, playing the blame game, pitching tantrums, going along with the blackballing, manipulating, lying, and yelling when asked legitimate questions during a meeting, having access to other nominees bio information and writing your bio in obvious response to it, and assuming--and stating so in writing--that since YOU don't know anything about anyone here means no one else knows anyone else either, sending harassing emails to other PTA officers, is definitely not provoking.
Finally, I'd like to say that no where in this entire post did I mention that her speech patterns show a definite need for speech therapy (buy a freaking hard consonant already!), and her "professionalism" extends to bizarre sentence structure, abused punctuation, lack of coherent thought processes, and a generally entitled attitude have earned her a very special place in the annals of would be tyrants.
Second, let me say that I have tried, for the past 3 days to summon up at least a little guilt, or something similar, regarding how things went, and well, I just can't do it.
Thursday was The Election.
The meeting started out simply enough--a call to order. After that, it was straight out of a Twilight Zone episode. Honestly, it was.
Miss Thang, acting PTA prez, got pissy when asked why the balloting would be done HER way. (There were two ways to do it--all at once, or office-by-office. She chose as a whole. Nominations, close nominations, move on to next office, nominations, etc.) She does NOT like to be questioned, I'll tell you that for nothing.
So, that's the way we did it--mostly because she'd already put in a lot of effort into having those ballots done up, and, honestly, we'd have been there for quite a while doing it office-by-office.
There were no further nominations for President. Closed. First VP was just Miss Thang, and it appeared that no one was going to run against her. So I nominated the Dad. He and I have had several conversations over the past two years (his twins are the same age as the Howler) and he said the same thing I did--without my saying it to him first. She cannot run unopposed. So I dun-did it. Nominations closed. 2nd VP was Dad running unopposed. Nominations closed. 3rd VP--the officer she tried to get rid of--got one nomination from the floor. Treasurer, one guy, no other nominations. Closed. Secretary, mumple unopposed (again with the weirdness). Nominations closed. Vote time.....Miss Thang stressed that write-ins were allowed. Wonder why ~snark~
A great deal of what hit Miss Thang's last nerve was that the person who was the vendor for two of the fundraisers we did this year (who is also a member of our PTA) stood up, and in telling us how much was raised, even comparing the fall and the spring totals. She also shared with the group some of HER opinions on how SHE was treated, and what's she's been hearing from others--in email, notes, and conversations. She really blasted the Prez, who is still laid up (I'm still trying to wrap my head around being able to go to Disney World in January--a few short weeks after breaking that leg--but not being able to roll herself in to a meeting) and then turned on Miss Thang. Miss Thang, apparently, really has been upholding the Don't Call Us/We Have No Intention of Calling You policy, and made no attempt to actually step up and do the work her laid up predecessor left her.
Sure, she showed up and did the things that would earn her attention. All efforts, seen in hindsight, show that she basically enjoyed the "being seen" part of the job.
What I've heard in the past few months has been that, overall, she's really done no better, though. I've gotten practically immediate responses from her, but I'm assuming that's because I have what would probably be called Perceived Power. She perceived, back in December, that I would speak up about things I saw as wrong, stupid, or both. She perceived, back in January, that I am (God Help Me) a leader--and, someone who is willing to take a risk. She perceived, last Thursday, that I am willing to stick my neck out, in front of her, to drive a point home (I'll get to that.) She's also pissed that the rest of peons actually speak to each other, and have open and honest conversations.
I've realized that a big part of the problem with this PTA isn't just the funnelling of information to a few people who refuse to share the information or take action themselves, but a lack of trust amongst its members. Who can you trust when the powers-that-be seem to know that you've spoken out against them, and they blackball you?
Well, who you can trust is me. I'm not very nice, deep down, but you never have to guess where you stand with me, and not only will I not repeat what you say to me, I'll let you sit next to me, even if I think you're a nutbar. (Seriously, if we're all in the PTA to make the school a better place for our kids, your--or my--being a nutbar really isn't the point, unless one of us does something really super strange, and even then, I'm willing to forget it unless you get arrested while I'm watching.)
So, over the course of the last few months, more people have been showing up, getting involved and just plain speaking up.
The meeting also involved Miss Thang being informed that her plans for the end of the year picnic were just plain stupid. Ok, nobody said, "Stupid" but it was made clear that if you're going to spend a few hundred dollars of PTA funds on t-shirts, the KIDS should get 'em, NOT faculty and staff. We all appreciate the faculty and staff, and what they do for our kids, but seriously. Spend the PTA funds on the KIDS. It's a no-brainer, really.
The election results were tabulated by 3 volunteers--none of whom were running for office. Thank God.
There were 31 members present--that's DOUBLE what's been showing up otherwise. 16 votes needed to elect.
Miss Thang got 7 votes for Prez; 6 for 1st VP. Of course, everyone else got their 16. Including Dad, who was now in the position of holding two offices. And since that's "illegal" under our by-laws, he had to choose. He tried to be nice about it, and didn't just jump on the 1st VP thing, and while he was talking and saying basically that he wanted to do a good job, and would do which ever one everyone else thought he should. She snapped, "You have to PICK ONE!" So he did. And she lost for a third time.
2nd VP was now open, and she wasn't nominated. I honestly think that she decided before the meeting that she would have president or nothing at all. Her resignation implies it, even though she claims she's been considering it for months now, because we've all been so mean to her. And she was professional the entire time (of course, professionals pitch flaming asshole tantrums all the time, donchano) and that she has to be true to herself.
She says that "I am excusing myself from anymore invalid information about me since I do not deserve it nor did I do anything to provoke it." (and if there's anyone out there who can explain that to me, please please please do so) because, you know, not calling people back, playing the blame game, pitching tantrums, going along with the blackballing, manipulating, lying, and yelling when asked legitimate questions during a meeting, having access to other nominees bio information and writing your bio in obvious response to it, and assuming--and stating so in writing--that since YOU don't know anything about anyone here means no one else knows anyone else either, sending harassing emails to other PTA officers, is definitely not provoking.
Finally, I'd like to say that no where in this entire post did I mention that her speech patterns show a definite need for speech therapy (buy a freaking hard consonant already!), and her "professionalism" extends to bizarre sentence structure, abused punctuation, lack of coherent thought processes, and a generally entitled attitude have earned her a very special place in the annals of would be tyrants.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Toad Not On Road
Last night, I came home to find my Sweetie under the Beast.
It seems that when you have a car that is upwards of 10 years old, things start to wear out on it. Toad is oblivious to the obvious, of course, and spent his hard earned income tax refund on a new DS412, the latest and greatest expensive game system.
Because, you know, having a new video game system is WAAAAYYYYY more important than having money in the bank (or in your pocket) to pay for necessary things, like, oh, I don't know...brake linings on your 10 year old car.
Of course, the money's spent and this is when the Beast decides to blow an artery.
Apparently, Toadwort was driving home from work (or somewhere) and gets to make the choice between on-coming traffic, running a red light --again with the oncoming traffic, or go curbside. He did make "the right choice" in going curbside. And he made it home in time to change his pants.
But now, we're faced with hauling his no-clue-what-his-own-work-schedule-is-self to his place of employment for at least a few days. On top of whatever the hell else it is we claim we do.
Door#1 cannot get to this until next week. Door #2 can get to it possibly this afternoon, but definitely tomorrow. The best part of this entire scene is that in order to get to Door #2, the Brakeless Beast must be driven through a replace-the-thousand-year-old-bridge construction zone (other option: drive all over town to go the 'round-about way to get there. With, did I mention, No Brakes)
I love that in all the years I've had spawn, no one ever ever ever mentioned that it does not not not get easier when they get older.
It seems that when you have a car that is upwards of 10 years old, things start to wear out on it. Toad is oblivious to the obvious, of course, and spent his hard earned income tax refund on a new DS412, the latest and greatest expensive game system.
Because, you know, having a new video game system is WAAAAYYYYY more important than having money in the bank (or in your pocket) to pay for necessary things, like, oh, I don't know...brake linings on your 10 year old car.
Of course, the money's spent and this is when the Beast decides to blow an artery.
Apparently, Toadwort was driving home from work (or somewhere) and gets to make the choice between on-coming traffic, running a red light --again with the oncoming traffic, or go curbside. He did make "the right choice" in going curbside. And he made it home in time to change his pants.
But now, we're faced with hauling his no-clue-what-his-own-work-schedule-is-self to his place of employment for at least a few days. On top of whatever the hell else it is we claim we do.
Door#1 cannot get to this until next week. Door #2 can get to it possibly this afternoon, but definitely tomorrow. The best part of this entire scene is that in order to get to Door #2, the Brakeless Beast must be driven through a replace-the-thousand-year-old-bridge construction zone (other option: drive all over town to go the 'round-about way to get there. With, did I mention, No Brakes)
I love that in all the years I've had spawn, no one ever ever ever mentioned that it does not not not get easier when they get older.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Standing Up
So, we got home from the holiday trip to the in-laws. It was nice, but it was nice to get home, too.
Anyway, this AM, Missy came a-callin', and happiness filled the Mumple abode. They play well together, mostly because Missy doesn't take the Howler's bossiness crap, and they are "BFF" to the point of making up songs and singing them.
But then, right before noon, Blondie shows up. I refused to let Missy or the Howler go outside to find her--she had to come to us. Shortly after Blondie showed up, Blondie's Mom came over to make sure "she was being good." Apparently GrammyB had tattled on Blondie and her previous visit's performance.
I said, and I quote, "Everything's fine--so far." Mom said that she'd been told and they've had a talk with Blondie about how to behave, and I just couldn't let it go--I told Mom that during Blondie's last visit, between 5pm and 7pm, Blondie had reduced ALL THREE other girls to tears at one point or another.
Oh, and that's not all: I also told her that last summer it was months of name calling and "accidents" and so far this year, it's that the rules don't apply to her. "As long as there's no crying or fighting, there's no problem."
Mom told Blondie she had to play outside.
HAH!
I hope they get the hint. Last year, it was everyone else watching the kids--and when they did come outside, it was them, on GrammyB's front porch, shooting dirty looks at the rest of us.
I stressed to Waif, Dollie, Missy, and the Howler that they do NOT have to put up with her, and that if they stick together, she'll either start to play by their rules, or she'll have to go bully her grandparents or parents.
GrampsB made the comment to my (step)Dad that they don't get involved in the kids' things, because they're kids and they'll be made up, and the grown ups will all still be mad. Okay, there's a point there, and a valid one, but when 2 of their 4 grandchildren show up, and there are tears all 'round ('cept for Bully and Blondie, of course) then grown ups DO need to step in.
Considering that they bus the bullies and brats in, and that the girls who do live in this neighborhood "go along" with Blondie because they are worried she'll report them for "being mean" to her if they don't--well, I don't play that way, either.
I've told each of 4 not-Blondie girls to stand up to Blondie TOGETHER, and to not whine or blame IF Blondie's Mom or GrammyB come out to ask what's going on--just tell whoever's asking exactly WHAT Blondie is doing, and that none of the rest of you want to play that way. And, send 'em to me if they have a problem with that.
Anyway, this AM, Missy came a-callin', and happiness filled the Mumple abode. They play well together, mostly because Missy doesn't take the Howler's bossiness crap, and they are "BFF" to the point of making up songs and singing them.
But then, right before noon, Blondie shows up. I refused to let Missy or the Howler go outside to find her--she had to come to us. Shortly after Blondie showed up, Blondie's Mom came over to make sure "she was being good." Apparently GrammyB had tattled on Blondie and her previous visit's performance.
I said, and I quote, "Everything's fine--so far." Mom said that she'd been told and they've had a talk with Blondie about how to behave, and I just couldn't let it go--I told Mom that during Blondie's last visit, between 5pm and 7pm, Blondie had reduced ALL THREE other girls to tears at one point or another.
Oh, and that's not all: I also told her that last summer it was months of name calling and "accidents" and so far this year, it's that the rules don't apply to her. "As long as there's no crying or fighting, there's no problem."
Mom told Blondie she had to play outside.
HAH!
I hope they get the hint. Last year, it was everyone else watching the kids--and when they did come outside, it was them, on GrammyB's front porch, shooting dirty looks at the rest of us.
I stressed to Waif, Dollie, Missy, and the Howler that they do NOT have to put up with her, and that if they stick together, she'll either start to play by their rules, or she'll have to go bully her grandparents or parents.
GrampsB made the comment to my (step)Dad that they don't get involved in the kids' things, because they're kids and they'll be made up, and the grown ups will all still be mad. Okay, there's a point there, and a valid one, but when 2 of their 4 grandchildren show up, and there are tears all 'round ('cept for Bully and Blondie, of course) then grown ups DO need to step in.
Considering that they bus the bullies and brats in, and that the girls who do live in this neighborhood "go along" with Blondie because they are worried she'll report them for "being mean" to her if they don't--well, I don't play that way, either.
I've told each of 4 not-Blondie girls to stand up to Blondie TOGETHER, and to not whine or blame IF Blondie's Mom or GrammyB come out to ask what's going on--just tell whoever's asking exactly WHAT Blondie is doing, and that none of the rest of you want to play that way. And, send 'em to me if they have a problem with that.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
I'm Not Very Grown Up
In that I am no longer tolerating Blondie's ignorant bitchiness.
All winter long, when she's over, she does this down on all fours galloping thing--always near the other children--most particularly near my Howler. If not stopped in time, somebody's gonna get clopped in the nose. And she never apologizes, unless forced to by an adult. Then, after the forced apology, she decides she's going to leave, and saying things to other children like, "Let's not play with the Howler."
Then, when called on it (even if an adult has actually heard this come out of her mouth) she denies it.
Today, she pulled this again. After being told off because, of course, the Howler got clopped, and, of course, Blondie refused to apologize, saying, "It was an accident."
Now, how much of an accident is it when the same person is repeatedly clopped on the head or in the face by the same person, doing the same behavior the clopper has been told repeatedly to NOT do? I don't believe it is an accident.
The galloping behavior started when she was pointedly told to stop with the "playing dogs and cats" because the Howler was forever getting scratched in the face.
So, today, when all this went down, and Blondie was told off, she took the captive dog (Gracie the Garbage Hound) and ran off. The Howler came to me in tears, so I went to see what was going on.
Blondie looked at me, with a cutesy face, and kept saying, "She just went to tell on us." And when asked what she would have to tell on you for, Blondie stuttered and couldn't answer.
Finally, she admitted it, in a round-about way.
I offered snacks to the other two girls, and Blondie ran to her grandma. Grandma came over to chat with my Howler, so I stepped in.
I informed her that Blondie clopped my Howler on the nose, claimed it was an accident, but it was done while she was doing that galloping thing she's been told repeatedly NOT to do--exactly because somebody gets clopped EVERY time.
And, I explained, that Blondie refused to apologize. Grandma made her apologize, but I'm sorry, that's not good enough.
An almost 7 year old child who has to be told, every time she plays with other children to NOT call names, NOT hit, NOT gallop at, and to NOT single someone else out for exile simply needs her little spoiled ass beat.
We did this last summer, and we did this all winter. We're headed into summer again, and I am not going to spend it trying to mend the Howler self-esteem, or teach this brat how to play well with others.
And Grandma is simply going to have accept that fact--if Blondie cannot play well with others, she doesn't need to be here. (And, my new goal is to teach the other children and the Howler how to ostracize these bullies when they're here. Maybe if Grandma and Grandpa are up to their asses in their grandbrats, they'll decide to actually help police them.)
Oh, and I didn't blog about the incident with Bully, Blondie's brother earlier this spring (late this winter?) The kids were all outside in the almost spring like weather. Bully decided to get Dude Jr to tackle the Howler--for no reason other than to make her cry.
Dude got hell for it (from me and his dad) and Bully's grandpa was sitting in their living room, and could hear me screeching like a banshee at him and Dude--the man didn't even LOOK to see what was going on.
I rest my case.
All winter long, when she's over, she does this down on all fours galloping thing--always near the other children--most particularly near my Howler. If not stopped in time, somebody's gonna get clopped in the nose. And she never apologizes, unless forced to by an adult. Then, after the forced apology, she decides she's going to leave, and saying things to other children like, "Let's not play with the Howler."
Then, when called on it (even if an adult has actually heard this come out of her mouth) she denies it.
Today, she pulled this again. After being told off because, of course, the Howler got clopped, and, of course, Blondie refused to apologize, saying, "It was an accident."
Now, how much of an accident is it when the same person is repeatedly clopped on the head or in the face by the same person, doing the same behavior the clopper has been told repeatedly to NOT do? I don't believe it is an accident.
The galloping behavior started when she was pointedly told to stop with the "playing dogs and cats" because the Howler was forever getting scratched in the face.
So, today, when all this went down, and Blondie was told off, she took the captive dog (Gracie the Garbage Hound) and ran off. The Howler came to me in tears, so I went to see what was going on.
Blondie looked at me, with a cutesy face, and kept saying, "She just went to tell on us." And when asked what she would have to tell on you for, Blondie stuttered and couldn't answer.
Finally, she admitted it, in a round-about way.
I offered snacks to the other two girls, and Blondie ran to her grandma. Grandma came over to chat with my Howler, so I stepped in.
I informed her that Blondie clopped my Howler on the nose, claimed it was an accident, but it was done while she was doing that galloping thing she's been told repeatedly NOT to do--exactly because somebody gets clopped EVERY time.
And, I explained, that Blondie refused to apologize. Grandma made her apologize, but I'm sorry, that's not good enough.
An almost 7 year old child who has to be told, every time she plays with other children to NOT call names, NOT hit, NOT gallop at, and to NOT single someone else out for exile simply needs her little spoiled ass beat.
We did this last summer, and we did this all winter. We're headed into summer again, and I am not going to spend it trying to mend the Howler self-esteem, or teach this brat how to play well with others.
And Grandma is simply going to have accept that fact--if Blondie cannot play well with others, she doesn't need to be here. (And, my new goal is to teach the other children and the Howler how to ostracize these bullies when they're here. Maybe if Grandma and Grandpa are up to their asses in their grandbrats, they'll decide to actually help police them.)
Oh, and I didn't blog about the incident with Bully, Blondie's brother earlier this spring (late this winter?) The kids were all outside in the almost spring like weather. Bully decided to get Dude Jr to tackle the Howler--for no reason other than to make her cry.
Dude got hell for it (from me and his dad) and Bully's grandpa was sitting in their living room, and could hear me screeching like a banshee at him and Dude--the man didn't even LOOK to see what was going on.
I rest my case.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
About My Girl
She's been attending AWANAs this year. Our church is small, and it's population of ankle biters is practically nil, so, in an effort to continue the fun and spirituality she's picked up in spite of having slackers like us for parents (although we attend church regularly, up til now her share of Bible stories and songs were the one-a-year-for-a-week-in-the-summer variety from Vacation Bible School,) we took her to AWANAs.
Sponsored and run by the same people who lovingly cared for our Howler through day care and preschool, it's a good program. She enjoys it, and has made friends. She wears her vest with pride, and finally decided to tell us she needed change for the collection.
Slightly off topic, last week, I gave her a dollar for AWANAs. She took forever to come downstairs from her room so we could leave, and jingled when she did. A quick search lead me to a secret cache of cash--about $2.58 more than I originally gave her. She was taking her own money (and was quite miffed at me for giving her a dollar, when I knew perfectly well she had her own money!) Upon arriving at AWANAs, she refused to part with the "quiet" money, and only reluctantly coughed up the "noisy" part. When I went to pick her up, I noticed one dad handing a few bills to one of the leaders, and over heard him saying, "Here. Just tell her we found it." Said leader then approaches me and tries to hand me the $2, explaining that she lost it. I told him I heard the "found it" conversation, and that this is really a cheap but good lesson for her to learn. He was adamant that she not cry. I took the $2, and still have it. She found the money the next morning when putting on her shoes to go to school. So, this is the "village" we've chosen for our Howler. How wonderful that we picked right!
Anyway, one of the "homework" assignments for AWANAs is to tell your family about one of the Bible stories they've heard at AWANAs. The Howler is insistant that she cannot remember any. Her father, my Sweetie, is beside himself over this. Is she not paying attention? Is she a slacker like we are?
He's totally forgetting that she knows the Books of the Bible better than we do, and to his chagrin, she insisted that there was a 3rd book of John. He was convinced that no there is NOT. We had to get a Bible and check it out. She was correct. He got to eat crow. (And, for the record, she's much nicer to him about his being wrong than she ever is to me.)
So, he's beside himself, and she's not telling. She can sort-of kind-of tell him stories that she's gleaned from Veggie Tales, but she admits to him that she knows the story through Bob and Larry, not AWANAs.
Yet, last Sunday, during church, she's drawing in her notebook, and whispers to me, "Mommy, how do you spell 'eraser'?" I whisper back, and she explains to me that she needs to know, because "in this picture, it's God's Book of Life, and when He writes your name in it, He does it without an eraser. And it never ever gets erasered."
Now, Mr Mumple, my Sweetie, My Love, put that in YOUR notebook under "Better than a Bible Story"
Sponsored and run by the same people who lovingly cared for our Howler through day care and preschool, it's a good program. She enjoys it, and has made friends. She wears her vest with pride, and finally decided to tell us she needed change for the collection.
Slightly off topic, last week, I gave her a dollar for AWANAs. She took forever to come downstairs from her room so we could leave, and jingled when she did. A quick search lead me to a secret cache of cash--about $2.58 more than I originally gave her. She was taking her own money (and was quite miffed at me for giving her a dollar, when I knew perfectly well she had her own money!) Upon arriving at AWANAs, she refused to part with the "quiet" money, and only reluctantly coughed up the "noisy" part. When I went to pick her up, I noticed one dad handing a few bills to one of the leaders, and over heard him saying, "Here. Just tell her we found it." Said leader then approaches me and tries to hand me the $2, explaining that she lost it. I told him I heard the "found it" conversation, and that this is really a cheap but good lesson for her to learn. He was adamant that she not cry. I took the $2, and still have it. She found the money the next morning when putting on her shoes to go to school. So, this is the "village" we've chosen for our Howler. How wonderful that we picked right!
Anyway, one of the "homework" assignments for AWANAs is to tell your family about one of the Bible stories they've heard at AWANAs. The Howler is insistant that she cannot remember any. Her father, my Sweetie, is beside himself over this. Is she not paying attention? Is she a slacker like we are?
He's totally forgetting that she knows the Books of the Bible better than we do, and to his chagrin, she insisted that there was a 3rd book of John. He was convinced that no there is NOT. We had to get a Bible and check it out. She was correct. He got to eat crow. (And, for the record, she's much nicer to him about his being wrong than she ever is to me.)
So, he's beside himself, and she's not telling. She can sort-of kind-of tell him stories that she's gleaned from Veggie Tales, but she admits to him that she knows the story through Bob and Larry, not AWANAs.
Yet, last Sunday, during church, she's drawing in her notebook, and whispers to me, "Mommy, how do you spell 'eraser'?" I whisper back, and she explains to me that she needs to know, because "in this picture, it's God's Book of Life, and when He writes your name in it, He does it without an eraser. And it never ever gets erasered."
Now, Mr Mumple, my Sweetie, My Love, put that in YOUR notebook under "Better than a Bible Story"
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