Back To School is Annoying

Especially if, like me, you have a brand spanking new Middle Schooler.

Last week, we went to the middle school for 6th grade orientation. I was looking forward to getting the Howler's schedule and having an idea of what to expect. Since it's been a long time since the Toad went there, and I've been over elementary school since well before the beginning of 5th grade, I want to have my 6th grade/Middle School bearings. I don't need any crap from the school district, and I plan to do exactly as I've been doing all through elementary school:  pay attention, act as needed, blah blah blah.

I have already, before school even started, been annoyed beyond belief. My annoyance level may be a bit over the top, but not by much.

It's called "orientation" for a reason! The people talking at me about what to expect, what is expected, how things work, blah blah, should tell me who they are. First and last names would be good.

The Howler and I were not late. We were exactly on time. We were already seated when what appeared to be a random district employee began talking into a microphone. Several minutes into her talk, she told us she was the principal. I caught her first name. Now, maybe I'm expecting too much, but if you've got yourself a microphone, I expect to be able to hear your full name, especially if I'm attending a thing called "Orientation". And when you introduce the other people who will have contact and a direct influence on my child during this school year, I expect to hear their names clearly too. Six people were introduced...I caught 2 first names, the resource officer's full name, and the athletic director's full name.

That's right:  I have the first names of the principal; the vice principal; have no clue as to the 6th grade guidance counsellor's name at all; the full name of the police officer serving as the middle school's resource officer; the food service guy luckily gave me his name when he was going over his section of the program because the principal certainly didn't; and the full name of the athletic director, which doesn't count because I know him and recognized him anyway.

I just think that when you announce something as an "orientation" you can be sure that many of the people in attendance are actually there because they aren't familiar with you. And if you have a microphone, you use to be sure you're heard...and if you're part of a list of people who will be talking during the whatever the program is, even if you've been fully-assed (as opposed to half-assed) introduced, you introduce yourself again. The lame-ass wave you gave when being half-ass introduced is not going to win you my confidence. It makes me think that, much like all guidance counsellors I've met before you, you're a waste of space and tax payers dollars. Oh, what I wouldn't give for a guidance counsellor worth his or her paycheck!

I'm annoyed and the school year hasn't even started yet!

Dayum!

The children who come to my yard only ever manage to find boxes of Cheez-Its in my cupboards.

Why can't my neighborhood ever get this lucky?

Item #4

 

 

 

My mother in law's "to do" list for last weekend.

 

'nuff said.

A Mother's Day Story

This year, for Mother's Day, no one wished me a Happy Mother's Day all day. Even with prompting, the Howler stubbornly refused to acknowledge me as her mother (in her defense, I don't think she knows the "MF" word.)

I had to work that afternoon, and when I had been home from work for about an hour, the Howler finds me in the smoking lounge, reading. She begins to blather on about something--don't ask me what, I wasn't listening--and then she goes silent.

I look up from my reading to find her grinning at me.

She says, "Happy Mother's Day" and holds out a $1 bill.

I look at the bill; I look at her. I look back at the bill. I ask, "You couldn't even scratch 'happy mother's day' onto a piece of paper to wrap that in?"

She wiggles the bill at me a bit and snaps, "Do you want the money or not?"

I took the money.

Happy Mother's Day to me.

Mouths of Babes

Saturday, May 11, 2013, was the 5th grade trip. What that means is the Howler is ending her elementary school days, and this fall will be at the middle school. I'm saving my ACK moment for later. I can't afford it right now.

So, on this trip, we are going to Kennywood Park, in Pittsburgh, PA. She loves rides, what I refer to as "Spin me, Flip me, Fly me!" and the only restrictions she has are no dark rides. She refuses to ride anything that goes in the dark--no matter how tame it is to you or me, she won't do it.

My Howler has been incessantly watching videos of the rides, driving everyone around her to distraction. She was keeping a notebook of who, what, where, and how for about a dozen rides.

Once there, her obsession became the Black Widow. It was closed for "maintenance" on and off throughout the day, which didn't lessen her insistance that she ride it. Watching this thing was terrifying.

By 5pm, it was open and running. And still terrifying. And she's riding it ALONE--she's immediately to the left of the girl all in pink. I walk with her to get in line. I watch with much trepidation as she patiently moves thru the line. Several other children and their chaperones are watching this thing too.

One girl asks me, "Why are you letting your daughter ride that, if it scares you?"

"Because I believe, especially for girls, it's important to face your fears and do new things, even if they seem scary to their moms."

She looks back at the Black Widow, then at me, then back at the Black Widow, and says, "I just can't ride that. No way!"

"Well, that's part of facing your fears:  knowing that you just can't do some things, and sticking to it, regardless of what everyone else is doing."

I was terrified for the Howler--she's doing this, and doing it totally by herself....until she's on the thing. Once it started, the unadulterated joy on her face was enough to make me laugh out loud and garner odd looks from others around me.

It was sooooo very worth it...especially knowing that my own mother would never have allowed me on it at any age, because of her own fears.

The Cat is Trying to Kill Me

Or herself. Whichever.

We have 4 cats:  one geriatric cat, one 3 years old, and two 2 year olds. The Violet, the 3 year old, is the fluffiest, and the smallest. Also, the wildest. She got a case of the rips on Sunday morning.

The rips involve zipping thru the house like her head's on fire and her tail is catching...running into, over, and under things. Including people and large pieces of furniture. It also means that something's gonna get broken, preferably something irreplaceable, like me.

Sunday morning she got it in her fuzzy little head that she needed to be on top of the dresser in my bedroom. Now, there's all of 4 inches free on the top of the dresser, what with the TV on top of it and all.

She gets up there, and then promptly slips behind it. She's effectively stuck, and we both know it, mostly because we've been here before. (Last time involved My Sweetie trying to lift the dresser so she could get out--she was squalling a racket like the apocolypse and managed to wedge herself under the dresser.)

I laugh and tell her that she's stuck now for a while, until I feel like getting her out of there.

She's got other plans, probably featuring the TV falling on top of one of us.

Charlotte, one of the 2 year olds, enters the room and plants herself in front of the dresser. Charlotte is wide-eyed with either awe or terror. That's the dresser where she stuffs most of the catnip mouses so that we can periodically drag them back out. I assume she thought that it was those very mouses grown big and strong and coming out to look for her.

I notice that My Sweetie's slipper is moving. Violet has reached from under the dresser and snagged it. She's keeping it. What she thought that would prove I don't know.

As I watch, still laughing, the Peach, as Violet is also called in our house, begins trying to cram herself out thru the space in the front of the dresser. Perhaps she thought that if the slipper would fit in, she would fit out. I don't know. She's on her third try, and getting very close to getting herself jammed in there, much like Pooh Bear when he was stuck at Rabbit's house....but not quite so cute and nice.

I can see that this IS going to get ugly, and possibly bloody, and also cost me a TV.

I shove Charlotte out of the way, and remove one dresser drawer. Charlotte's back, suddenly excited that the dresser drawer is out, but she's making herself dizzy trying to decide between investigating the drawer or the hole that is now in the dresser. I shove her out of the way again, and get the lowest drawer out.

Charlotte hops in the now-open space, with two Sweetie slippers and Violet.

Violet meows loudly with annoyance and jumps out. I remove two slippers and Charlotte. I have to put the drawers back in one handed--I'm fending off two deranged cats.

Once the drawers are back in the dresser, Violet begins zipping around the room, bouncing like a crazed thing, still in the throes of the rips.

On the way downstairs, the other 2 year old, Vendetta, "Precious," weaves thru my legs and under my feet.

They're trying to kill me.