Thursday, April 29, 2010

Principals and Principles

I'm hungry.

Not that that has anything to do with anything.

George doesn't like school. Every day is a battle to some degree, and argument about how he doesn't want to go. This morning we had this conversation:

George: What if I did math at home?
Me: You would be really good at math.
George: If I did math at home then I would be homeschooled.
Me: hmmm... but you go to ___ ___ Elementary. (smile)

I thought, wow, that was an easy argument. He got dressed, got his shoes on, backpack packed, and was ready to head out the door, and that was all I got? Halleluja! We were even EARLY! This never happens.


So as we are getting into the car, the tears start rolllliiinnggg down. Big, huge, fat crocodile tears, in torrents like an African rainstorm. (Not that I know what that's like, but you get the point.) And then... the lip. Oh, the lip was out, that sad little lip. It's a heartbreaker, truly. The story... his tummy feels sick and he feels like he's going to barf.


As a mom, I know this is probably another tactic. But what if it isn't and I send him to school, only to barf on the floor in front of all his friends? ugh.

So, I take the change and say, "you know, when you lie, then when you tell the truth, people don't believe you.

If you have a habit of not telling the truth, then people don't know when you are."

This is a hard truth to learn, and I don't want my child to wait to learn it when they are 10, 12, 14, 24. The Truth is all we have. Our words, how we use them, say a lot about us. If people don't believe what we say, they don't trust us. Ever. 

Golden rule: Always Tell The Truth.

So, after the reality of that hits, the story changes to plain old, "I don't want to go to school." Yes, my son, that is clear.

We finally pull out of the driveway, streams flowing faster with each block we drive, and once at the school, it begins anew in greater force. I actually have to sort of pull/push him gently down the hall (very glad I changed out of my pajama top, put on a bra AND a sweatshirt) and walk him to his classroom. He is clinging to me for DEAR LIFE.

What the heck?

I peel him off me to go in and talk to his teacher. She was occupied (with a roomful of Kindergarteners? Imagine that.) and so I went up to his student teacher, who he loves, and explained that he's having a hard time and is actually in the hall crying.

"Oh, is that because he visited the principal yesterday?"

Oh, he visited the principal yesterday??????" I said while trying to maintain control of my voice.

Apparently he said "a word" and so he had a chat with the principal. She didn't feel it was necessary to send a note home. Well, yes, quite likely that IS THE VERY REASON I AM DRAGGING MY CHILD INTO SCHOOL BAWLING. YES, IT IS!

Grr. Why was I not told? A question for later.

So back out to the hall I go to gently calm this troubled, traumatized soul.

My son is very tenderhearted, and takes reprimand (well, except from mom and dad, we've sort of worn out the effectiveness, so it doesn't sting as much) very, very seriously. However, if you are not his mom or dad, he will just save it for later. He is not likely to start crying or get upset in front of "strangers." But, fearing reprimand from the mother, he will also not tell ME what's going on.

Ahem. I need to know. When in doubt, tell the parents! Even if it's not a big deal. thankyouverymuch

So his wonderful teacher, who I think had a sub on the day of the offense, and have I mentioned how I love her and she is wonderful and she is ABSOLUTELY  the God-given teacher for my son, came out into the hall, and apologized to me at least 3 times, saying she would not have handled it that way. She's very compassionate and tender herself. I thought she was going to cry. Because who wouldn't have their heart wrenched by the sadness of this sweet child in the hall?

We both assured him that today was a new day, and it was going to be a good day, and that he would be ok. She gave him a hug, and managed to convince him to go inside.

And I went and talked to principal. Nicely. But now she knows I need, want, to know these kinds of things. So that I don't have to drag my very upset child into school again.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010


We had a scheduled power outtage last night. 3am to 6am. No biggie. Except... ALL 3 of my older kiddos woke up due to no nightlight. (Boots doesn't really care, so he only stirred a little.) My first visitor was George, who is the most freaked out by this, crying. Come on in, I said. (Daddy was gone working so there was room.) Of coarse, this kids doesn't like to sleep with you, he, since birth, prefers under you. It's weird. Maybe it's replicant of the womb experience. I, however, am not interested in having someone that close to me. sigh. What a mother does for her children.

Second came Koko, who started crying for mommy. By that time George was asleep so I went to the girls' room (so as not to add any more to MY bed) and layed on her bed with her. Since it was just barely starting to get light I opened the bedsheet curtain (they have a HUGE window in their room) and so by the time she kicked me out (no joke - she "needed her space." lol Like mother like daughter.) half an hour later, it was manageable for her. Cheeks cried too, but I just told her it's ok. She was reassured enough just hearing my voice so near that she went right back to sleep. I, on the otherhand, do not have this skill most of my children inherited by their father that allows them to fall asleep easily. Needless to say, I am doggone tired today.

It's just funny to think that something that shouldn't affect them, because they're supposed to be sleeping, was, even to me, noticeable immediately. I woke up too. It was weird.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Oh Dear Blog,

I am so very sorry I have been neglecting you. It's not because I don't miss you or love you. I just happen to be really really tired. One of the reasons pertains to a certain monkey, I may have mentioned him, he's the baby. Well, this little baby wants to play with the big boys kids, and keeps running outside. I have surrendered, essentially. There is not amount of door locking or barricading that I can do to keep the little bugger in. Trust me when I say I have tried. Everything. To no avail. I have to force his siblings to stay inside so I can get dressed, eat breakfast. Sometimes I can get them to stay til just about lunch. Then the race is on, and torture ensues (for both parties) til lunch in made and eaten. But then, outside we must go. For boy monkeys must run, and play with toys and see puppies. There's also some muttering about "obey" which includes not going in the street, which seems to be a bit challenging.

So pardon me while we take this tiny reprieve. Any suggestions in raising funds for fencing will be accepted, as well as donations for such. Then, once I can regain some control/energy/sanity, I must devote a considerable certain amount of time to Mr. Laundry. He has become very angry and crapped all over the house. He has left drawers empty and floors, corners, hampers full. We may need to mandate a "one outfit a week" policy in order to regain control.

Until then,...

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Someday... or not.

If I had my stuff together, I would share with you (via video) the daily antics of my major monkey, aka Baby Boots, who is driving his parent's absolutely crazy (and tired).

Right now, content to not escape rush outside, for the moment anyway, he's playing with this musical ?panel? thingy that was on the side of a Baby Einstein book, and has about 10 buttons with sound effects or songs. He's walking around the house in circles, and stomping his feet to the beat. (well, as much as a 21 month old can). Earlier, he was doing the same stomping in circles thing, holding one of the girls' Disney Princess microphone that lights up and sings when you push the button, only he was singing some strange rendition of Jingle Bells. Loudly.

It was hilarious.

I think it goes something like be-ko beuw, be-ko beuw, (repeat an infinite number of times), yay!

Why, oh why, do I not have that new memory card set up in my camera yet? grrr to myself. I also failed to capture any of George's first play/school program (which was surprisingly good). Maybe I'll get him to do his schtick of jokes. It wasn't his part in the play, but he sure said all the lines perfectly at the supper table. The fake laughter almost being the best part of it. 

Some day.