Just a suggestion

Dear E,

You know I love you truly, madly, deeply. However, may I suggest that if you find yourself drinking wine out of either Sophie's crayola thermos or a bud vase, you consider washing a glass?

XO, Boo

Today's best thing about being a mom: Laying in bed together in the morning reading.

Today's worst thing about being a mom: Finding half eaten moldy oranges in the dress ups.

I miss my peeps...

and I'm afraid some of them have given up on me.

I'm not a huge social butterfly and I don't have tons of friends, but I haven't seen or reached out to those I do have for so long. And I'm lonely.

Summer blasted by, and then school started, and my health hasn't been great. First I had a crazy rash for like, ever, and then the cough that wouldn't end. Add to that 3 of my besties have new babies in their houses, and now here we are, months later.

Sigh.

Today's best thing about being a mom: Having someone to play Uno with.

Today's worst thing about being a mom: We were both feeling sad and friendless yesterday.  It was a blue, blue day.

3 years later...

and I'm looking in boxes that I never unpacked from the last move.  Dur.

I'm making progress, but slowly.  Why is it that when I have house related work to do, I always find it necessary to play about 50 games of bejeweled blitz first?

Did I mention I'm 35.  Thirty five fucking years old. So why do I still not feel like an adult?  Adults do things like dust the shit on the plant shelves. Adults keep their cars clean. Adults have some recognizable filing system. I feel about 19 today.  I just don't feel like I will ever get the hang of this grown up thing.  Shit, the next thing you know I'm going to be building a beer bong, buying a Pearl Jam CD, and heading to freshman orientation.

Today's best thing about being a mom: Went and saw Tangled today. It's nice to have an excuse to see the new Disney flick.

Today's best thing about being a mom: I'm going to have to go through and sort out her room. Again. Nothing blows like packing up kids' rooms.

Still to do for Christmas

(...another list. Hey, I'm moving and Santa is expected to arrive in less than a week. Doin' my best here!)

1. Stocking stuffers: I'm so bad at this!  I always think I'm done, and then I realize I have nothing for stockings. So, I need 2 oranges, a bunch of candy, and a knickish knackish something for both of the kids.

2. E.  Darn his hide. I can't decide if he REALLY only wants the Fringe season 2 DVDs that he ORDERED FOR HIMSELF or if I really need to go comb the town for something else amazing. Maybe I'll stick some sticky bows to my tits Christmas Eve and just give him a good old fashioned jolly rogering.

3. The CROCHET!  Having decided to give my loved ones all small store bought gift plus a handmade crocheted item seemed like a good idea...in October. Now I am rushing to finish Mom's shawl, hats for the extended family boys, and other stuff for other people.

4. Cookies. When are Soph and I going to make cookies?  Tomorrow morning?  Sounds good to me.  We need some Russian tea cookes, cut outs (where oh where are the cookie cutters!?), and I also promised her we'd make some almond bark.  Ok. Doable.

This really doesn't sound like too big of a list, until you take into account that I also need to PACK AND MOVE next week.

Today's best thing about being a mom: Being forced to slow down and make cookies in the midst of the chaos.

Today's worst thing about being a mom: See above.

Questions...

1. Is 35 too old to wear a big fake pink flower in your hair? (...because I'm trying to pull one off today.)

2. Is there any gracious way to smooth over receiving a gift from someone when you don't have anything to give them? (...because I thought we weren't doing gifts at work people!)

3. Is there any possible worse time to move than during the holidays? (...because I don't effing think so!)

4. Do kids ever outgrow acting like lunatics on the last day of school before Christmas vacation? (...because mine seemed to have all eaten crack krispies for breakfast today.)

5. Is there an age when you just say "no" when your kid asks you if there's really a Santa? (...because Soph asked me again this morning, and seemed really serious about it. And I said "yes" but am thinking...I don't know...that she really wanted the truth this time.)

Today's best thing about being a mom: Singing "Holly Jolly Christmas" together.

Today's worst thing about being a mom: Keeping the magic...but also keeping it real.

This is good news...right?

So everything with the home sale is now official, and we'll be closing before the end of the month.  The folks buying it actually wanted us out before Christmas, but I basically said, "Sweet baby Jesus in a manger. Are you shitting me?" (to E, not to them,) and so we'll be here until the end of the month.

And that means that we'll have to move. To a new house. Which we decided on today. It's actually E's parent's old house, which has been standing empty. It took me months to officially decide that it's the place for us, and now that the decision has been made, I feel quasi-barfy.

The pros are many. With family, financial matters are more flexible. This is good. Also, the house is simply gorgeous. Too gorgeous for the likes of me, I feel. It's plenty big, so now E's office and Janz's bedroom can be separate entities. Again, good. The yard is loverly. The neighborhood is nice.  And did I mention it's only 2 blocks from my work?  Pro, pro, pro.

But for some reason, I'm way stressed about the neighbors. They're all fancy Mormon ladies. I am none of above. Not fancy. Not Mormon. And more a gal than a lady. I fear they will hate me. And before we had decided to move in, I was pretty cavalier about it. But now, I have an almost first-day-of-school feeling in my tummy.

Today's best thing about being a mom: Who knows? I've barely seen Soph today. This morning we spent about 15 minutes together before I went to work, and she went over to her pal J's house right after school.  Yesterday she spent the afternoon with her great grandma, so I hardly laid eyes on her then, either.

Today's worst thing about being a mom: Feeling more and more out of the loop.

It's a world of laughter a world of tears...

Lennie died today.

It really shouldn't have come as a surprise.  He pretty much dies twice a year, every year, so I shouldn't get so broken up about it, but every time I read the last chapter of Of Mice and Men aloud in my 10th grade English class, I bawl like a pregnant lady watching a 1980s long distance commercial.

I always think I'm going to make it through, but as soon as George starts telling Lennie that he isn't mad at him, and that they've got each other and he tells Lennie about the little place for the last time, I start to lose it. Stupid.

Then, I went and watched Soph sing in the choir at the school Christmas concert. And even though I'm not Christian or actually anything, every time a choir sings Silent Night I get all choked up.  Add that it's a children's choir and my child is up there looking so earnest and sweet, and forget about it.  I spent the rest of the hour, including the portion when the 2nd grade was singing "I want a Hippopotamus for Christmas"--accompanied on kazoos--snuffling into my scarf. Lame.

I also bawl when listening to live bagpipes, at parades when the flag goes by, and during Emmet Otter's Jug-band Christmas.  It's so bizarre. I don't actually care for bagpipe music, and though I do love my country, I'm not an excessively patriotic person.  Shit...Emmet Otter isn't even that sad.

But luckily, there was some laughter today too.  My film class finished up Some Like it Hot, and I'll never get tired of watching that movie.  So, so funny.  I love how kids who think Jack Ass is the last word in comedy will totally bust up over Jack Lemon, in drag, playing the maracas.  Priceless.

Today's best thing about being a mom: Listening to her singing with the choir.  So, so, so sweet.

Today's worst thing about being a mom: Cleaning out the desk at school.  Who knew so much crap could be stuffed into such a small place?

Busted

I should have blogged this when it was still fresh, rather than waiting almost a week, but I had important things to do like sleep and go to meetings.

Several weeks ago, I totally rolled through a stop sign. This shouldn't come as a surprise, because I ALWAYS roll through stop signs--if I'm the only one at the intersection.  It's a very slow roll, mind you, but it is not a full and complete stop.

So a copper was totally hiding out around the corner, just waiting for someone to roll through that particular stop sign, and I was the lucky bastard who got caught.

Of course, I was on my way to pick Soph and B up from choir, so I had to call the school and let the secretary (AKA, my mom) know that I was getting a ticket and would be late. So, here are the 3 worst things about getting that particular ticket.

3. E, his backseat driving skills honed by taking Janz driving several times a week in preparation for his driver's license test, has been nagging at me for weeks to stop rolling through stop signs. He was able to contain his glee, but only just, when I reported to him that he had been, in fact, right.

2. That bugger was expensive!!! 90 smacks for the ticket, and then 60 to go to...

1. Traffic school!  What a frigging joke. The cop teaching the class was late. His power point was from 2003. Really people, for 60 bucks a pop, I feel like they can update the power point once every five years or so. Sheesh.  On top of that, the dude spent so much time adrift in the land of digression, he flipped through the slides that actually had any information about traffic laws and the adherence thereof in about 5 seconds. I quit counting the type-errors on the ppt and in the handouts after about number 40.

Today's best thing about being a mom: Soph's memorizing the poem "The Swing" from Robert Louis Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verses for her class talent show. I really need to post some video.  She recites it with such enthusiasm and emotion.  Precious.

Today's worst thing about being a mom: (Had to pause and think a while today. Nice.) I guess her sudden aversion to bath taking.

"HaCk--CoUgh"

Nothing says happy anniversary--15 years for E and me yesterday--like a nice hacking cough.

But, that's the thing about marriage. We give lip service to the whole "for better or for worse" thing, but, at least for me, that's what makes 15 years of marriage worth it--workable--hell, possible.

So, rather than sitting in a fancy restaurant (well, as fancy as it gets in Southern Utah) eating crab and "remembering when," I stayed in bed coughing up chunks while E taxied Janz to karate, picked up take out, helped Soph with homework, and worked out the final details of our home sale with the realtor.

And that is why I love him and why I'm married to him.

The thing is, though, that's not why I married him in the first place.  I married him when I was 20, and at 20 I wanted to marry him because he was sexy, smart, just bad enough to be interesting, and I had wanted to jump his bones ever since that first make-out session on the debate trip bus.

And don't get me wrong.  My husband is sexier and smarter today than he was then, and his bones are still ever-so-jumpable.  But. But I'm different now. In reality, we grew up together. Regardless of what the law may say, you're not an adult at 20. Shit, you can't even buy beer. And the fact that on our anniversary he took care of me, took care of our kids, and took care of business is what really keeps me going, is what makes me grateful, is what fills my heart and causes me to look forward to the next 15 years with hope and promise.

Today's best thing about being a mom: This morning, Soph was transforming her room into "Candy-cane Cove;" her idea of a winter wonderland, singing Jingle Bells all the while, with nothing but a few old decorations and a bag of pipe-cleaners.

Toady's worst thing about being a mom: 8-year-olds are sure hard to Christmas shop for.  There are no "wow" items left. Plus, she's really moving away from the little kid toys and there's NO WAY IN HELL she's getting a phone.

Denial

I've discovered that the crocheting is actually a denial mechanism.  After making 2 afghans, 1 poncho, 3 hats, several dishcloths, and a crocheted crochet hook holder in about four weeks time, I began to wonder.

We're in the middle of a pretty stressful home sale...and until last week, I wasn't 100% sure where we'd be living during the holidays. As it stands, I don't have any idea where we'll be living 8 weeks from now.  And at first, that was freaking me out. Then, after many attempts to get the situation under my control, I realized that basically, I have zero control of this thing.

And so I began to crochet. Well, and drink white russians. I've spent a substantial amount of money on yarn and Kahlua, but have, to some degree, maintained my sanity.

Soph's doing great. She loves the snow and loves the holidays. She did make me throw up in my mouth a little when she told me she'd been hypnotizing her friend "A" to stop eating her boogers.

Today's best thing about being a mom: Construction paper turkeys cut out in the shape of her hand.

Today's worst thing about being a mom: This year has been the worst one so far with her feeling left out because we live in Utah, but are not LDS.  She asked me if she could be baptized the other day, and I tried so hard to explain why NO, she could not. But that's a whole different post, isn't it?

Crochet

My granny taught me to crochet when I was 10.  The potholder I made took me about 2 weeks, and the stitches were so, so tight that the thing could practically stand up on its own.  But I was proud of it, and my mom kept it for years and years. It was my first and, I think, last crochet project.

Lately, I've decided to pick up the crochet hook again. A new craft/fabric store opened in town, and Soph and I love any excuse to do a little shopping there. (For some reason, I don't hesitate to spend money on myself at the craft store the way I do, say, at the shoe store. I'm not sure why.) So I bought some yarn, and a giant hook, and started to crochet an easy afghan that Katy had taught me.

Wow, was that thing a monster.  For some reason, I decided to make it about 6 feet wide.  I did come to my senses, and decided that 6 feet was a long, if reasonable length for an afghan. The edges are anything but straight. But, it's a pretty, fuzzy green, and looks pretty on the couch, if I fold it so that the mistakes are on the inside.

I made a second afghan, of somewhat more moderate dimensions, and at least marginally straight edges, and then, I started making granny squares. They're fun, and satisfying, and there's a nice sense of accomplishment at the end of each one. Of course, now I have a dozen granny squares and no idea what I'm going to do with them.  Mostly, they're rugs and blankets for Soph's dolls. (Of course, it didn't help when Janz noticed the square I was crocheting, a pretty--or so I thought--sagey green and purple, and he said, "Hmmm. The Joker.)

My next project is a multicolored poncho for Soph. I can't deny, I think ponchos are super bitchin'. If hers turns out, the next one will definitely be for me.

Today's best thing about being a mom: Soph made me a bowl of oatmeal today. It's the first time someone has made me breakfast in a very long time.

Today's worst thing about being a mom: The oatmeal wasn't very good. ;)

Lookin' out the window

It's November 5th, and 72 degrees! The breeze blowing through the window is more of a breath of summer than of fall, and the sweatshirt I threw on in "didn't do the laundry last weekend and I'm totally out of clothes now" desperation is way to hot.  Bizarre.  It reminds me of this book.

I've really enjoyed fall this year. Usually I'm so freaked out by school starting and Christmas looming that I curse the fall and refuse to open my eyes to its beauty. Maybe since this one has gone on for so long, I've worked through the baggage to a place where I can notice and enjoy it.

Yesterday I took Soph and her around-the-corner friend J on a little nature walk.  They both are such little collectors. They want to take nature home with them in their pockets, and in mine when there's are too full.  For J, it's shiny rocks.  She just can't pass them up.  I preferred her gatherings to Soph's, which were pine cones that dripped with sap. She'll still hold my hand on walks, and by the time we got home, we were practically stuck together.

So now I'm off to do my little bit of volunteer work for Soph's teacher. I can't make it in during the day to be a reading mom, so I spend some time on Friday afternoons getting the reading folders ready for the following week.  Soph tools around visiting her old teachers and I have a chance for some one-on-one time with Mrs. S., so I see it as time well spent.


Today's best thing about being a mom: holding hands

Today's worst thing about being a mom: helping with math homework (So far it's not above my head, but folks, it's just a matter of time.)

What to read...

Sophie is a good little reader. Not a great reader, mind you.  She's on grade level, and all of her teachers have commented that she always reads with plenty of drama and expression. (No surprise there.) But the problem is, she doesn't want to stretch herself, and she won't ever, ever, ever finish a chapter book.

She'd much rather sit and read Calvin and Hobbes (again). In fact, that's pretty much all she wants to read.  Even at bed time, when I read to her, she wants me to read her Calvin and Hobbes--reader's theater style, with her reading for Calvin and me for Hobbes.  She even gives me notes about how she thinks it should be read, and interrupts me and shows me how it should sound if she thinks my interpretation isn't quite right.

And I'm just slightly, slightly concerned about this.  Don't get me wrong. Bill Waterson is a genius, and I do love Calvin and Hobbes, but a little variety would be nice.

But really, who am I kidding.  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and with the exception of the books I'm reading for my young adult lit class, (Unwind--gag. The worst book I've had the misfortune of reading since Geek Love.) I haven't read anything from a new author in years.  I'm perfectly fine working my way through everything by Terry Pratchett, Diane Wynne Jones, and Sharon Creech, and with rereading my beloved Tamora Pierce, and Shannon Hale, and other "She-roe" authors.

Today's best thing about being a mom: I've been crocheting these super easy afghans lately. I gave one to Soph and she just loves it. It's nice to make something for someone you love.

Today's worst thing about being a mom: Imagining adolescence.

Nostalga

Wow. I abandoned this blog years ago, in favor of a fancy shmancy one on type pad. And then I never posted on the type pad blog. And then facebook came along and devoured the blogs, or at least blogging time/interest of most of my blogging pals. And then today in order to waste some time that I should be spending in productive ways, I began reading through these old posts. What a treasure. Not for anyone but me, of course, but all the same, what a treasure.

I'm not a picture taking mom, or a video making mom. And now that Sophie is 8, I've been mourning my lack of attention, my lack of appreciation of the precious days when she was little. And needed me. And skated on sprite on the new wood kitchen floors, and once stuck her new electric toothbrush in her butt. Sigh.  But here, here is a record of those days.  I had forgotten so many of our adventures together, and now here they are again.

So now, here I am, back again.  I never really liked the type pad blog, frankly.  It never felt like a home.  And the only thing facebook is good for is playing bejeweled.

I basically quit blogging when my sister told me that her daughter, then 10, I think, had discovered and was reading my blog.  It was very intellectually constipating.  But now, I suppose, I feel brave again.  At least for the present moment.

So, I hereby resurrect the blog. It won't be technologically savvy. But it will be a record. Because when my sweet Sophie Gene is 16, I'll think to myself..."Remember when she was 8, and still needed me?" And hopefully, look back here, and smile.

Today's best thing about being a mom: Halloween!  This year, Soph dressed up as the "Bride of Dracula." NOT, mind you, the bride of Frankenstein.  You see, her on again off again boyfriend (gasp, I know) "A" was dressing as Dracula, and the two wanted matching costumes.  Walking around with a couple of cool moms, supervising the trick-or-treating, and then coming home for a hot apple pie (the cocktail, not the desert) was good fun.  Also, I get to eat all of the Almond Joys out of her candy bag.

Today's worst thing about being a mom: Boyfriend!!  Well, as many times as I've insisted that "A" is a BOY and a FRIEND, but not a boyfriend, and as often as Soph has assured me that she "KNOWS THAT MOM!" she still calls him her boyfriend when she thinks I'm not listening. Mostly they chase each other around on the playground, I think, but all the same. This makes my stomach begin to think it would be a good idea to digest itself.

With a Capital "T"

Sophie is in trouble today.

Well...actually she was in trouble on Tuesday, but we haven't been able to squeeze her punishment into the schedule until today.

It all started on Sunday really.

Every summer our church (St. Jude's Episcopal) holds a Mass in the Time of Shakespeare (complete with queen, lutes, etc.) in honor of the Utah Shakespearean Festival that is our little town's claim to fame.  We showed up last Sunday having missed the last several weeks, and not knowing what Elizabethan shenanigans awaited us.

For the service, they invite the actors from the Greenshow (the free before-the-real-show-show with dancing, singing, and again Elizabethan themed)to participate.  Sophie--who is a huge Greenshow fan--was very excited to see these"famous" actors at her church.

So, after church, the hospitality ladies put on a super sweet high tea.  We're talking crumpets and cream and silver tea pots here.  Sophie and I ended up at a table with the Greenshow actors, and they were super sweet to her.  They answered all of her questions and chatted her up and it was a thrilling experience for Soph.
But that was NOTHING compared to Tuesday when Sophie and I attended the Greenshow, and one of the actors recognized Sophie and singled her out to stand up and play a part in "The Scum and Ratsby Show"  (think Elizabethan stand-up).

My girl was over the moon.

So we came home, and she was telling her dad about it--swirling and twirling around generally being spaztic--and she promptly spilled a huge class of water right on E's laptop.

It sparked and smoked and died.

I should add that Sophie as been told and warned and cautioned about fooling around in close proximity to her dad's computer desk.  About 500 times.

There were tears all around, and while it was an accident, it was one she had been warned against profusely.  Unfortunately, the incident happened on Tuesday; her birthday was on Wednesday; Thursday I had to be back at work (sigh)and she was scheduled to spend a day with Grandma; so the decided punishment--a full days worth of grounding to her room--couldn't actually take place until today.

Not the best case scenario I know.

Oh well.  Wish me luck in holding my resolve today.

The dog won't come when she's called...

and the dumplings keep burning.

And that is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my complaints about the DS that Sophie (finally) got for her birthday today.

I held out for a long time on this one kids.  But, E talked me around, and my shiny new seven year old is now the proud owner of a shiny new pearl pink Nintendo DS.

Have I mentioned that video games fill me with rage.  I can't play them.  I hate them.  I hate trying to help Sophie play them.  I hate that the stupid voice command on the Nintendogs seems completely shitty, and trying to make the fake dog answer her to her fake name like 50 times (which, by the way, made the REAL dog very antsy because he was like, "Hello!  I'm here!  Why do you keep calling me!) nearly lead me to have a nervous breakdown this morning.

Of course, she's enjoying the Cooking with Mama game, and even has on her chief's hat.  After yesterday's REAL cooking experiment ("I made you a nice warm drink mom.  It has milk, sugar, chocolate, butterscotch and cinnamon. The microwave is a little messy now.") I can't say that I'm sad that she is making octopus dumplings in a completely sterile environment.

Ultimately, I'm a complete and total Luddite when it comes to video games.  I sound like an 80 year old woman walking around saying things like, "Kids these days don't know how to have fun anymore.  All they do is play those new-fangled  Pac-Man games."

But I said OK, and so, having made my bed, I suppose I aught to quit my bitching and lay in it.

So--Happy 7th birthday my darling Soph.  You are the light of my life and the song in my heart.  Please keep liking me for at least a couple more years.  Also, it's almost time to put the DS away.  You have 10 more minutes.  I don't care if you're almost done with that level.

And then she turned 34...

I kind of hate birthdays.  It's like you should be having lots of fun and feeling very special, but ultimately it's just another day and while it's nice to get some cash and not have to do the dishes, I kind of wonder if it's worth the trouble.

Snapshots from the last few weeks:

• Janzen watching in awe as I unloaded my first Costco haul.  After he watching me put away the lifetime (well, 3 month anyway) supply of paper towels, toothpaste, laundry soap, etc., he asks, "Geez Boo. Is this for when the zombies attack?"
• Sitting on the porch at the Jorgensen family cabin all day with my dear Jen.  Nothing better to do than watch the Quaky leaves quake.  Perfect.
• Making my first ringer in horseshoes.
• Cleaned out my closet.  Finally.
• Trying to find some jeans that fit with Soph...both of us struggling and unsuccessful.  Her saying, "Mom, trying on pants just makes me too emotional."
• The first red cherry tomato from the garden.
• Turing the calendar over to August, realizing that school is starting any second now, and I am not ready.
• Having the first truly, truly ugly fight with my husband in years.  Then making up and realizing that I truly, truly do love this man.
• Watching Soph gear up for her first jog with dad (her idea).  Shoes on the right feet--check.  Headband--check. Shaker cued to Dancing Queen--check.  The girl is ready to rumble.
• Sitting through my first visit to the dentist in WAY longer than I feel comfortable disclosing to anyone.  Even the hygenist.  Do I floss?  Ummm.  Sure.  You bet.  No cavities (I've never had even one.) but the punishment for my lack of dental care is now a series of fairly painful "deep cleanings."
• Celebrating Erik's birthday with a picnic at Cedar Breaks--just us and the kids.

Home Run!

"Mommmm!   Geez--I'm going to second base!"

Huh?

The above is what Soph yelled at me when I opened the door while she was going to the bathroom.
Apparently, she heard someone (probably her dad) talking figuratively about "first base" and "second base"--spun the idea through the crazy mess and marvel that is her 6 year old mind--added a little prior knowledge, and figured he must be talking about bathroom business.  I guess it makes sense in a way--number one/first base, number two/second base.

So now, when we walk the dog, it's "Ew...Jimmy just went to first base on that mailbox."

I haven't set her straight yet.  While I'm confident I could explain first base with no problem, bases 2, 3, and home plate are probably better covered sometime in the distant future--like at the 5th grade maturation program.

(Ok--maybe a little before that.  Lord.  I'm going to have to have the sex talk with my daughter some day.  I wonder how that will go.  Personally, I got most of my information from various Harlequin romances.  As you can imagine, I was slightly disappointed when my first encounter was nothing like "Savage Thunder."  Apparently he hadn't read the book.)

In which she acts as t hough it hasn't been several months since her last post...

Anyone else finding the solutions to systems of linear equations today?

I thought not.

Ahhh, summer school.

Somedays I just sit here with my thumb up my ass.  Other days I explain the difference between socialism and communism to one kid, dash over to check on the girl doing the packet on invertebrates, and then desperately try to relearn polynomials to drag some poor senior through his last math credit.

GT.

We're four weeks and four days into summer, but who's counting.

I feel like this is the last summer that Sophie is going to be a little girl; next year is 2nd grade, and after that, or so I've heard, moms become creatures who know nothing, and are basically in the way.

So--my goal for this summer is to, as much as possible, enjoy my little girl.  Well, that and have many more drinks than I do during the school year.

Here's a quick summary of the days that have blasted by.

Swimming Lessons
Soph ended up with a GREAT teacher.  The scardy-Soph who wouldn't even put her face in the water at the beginning of last year now jumps off the diving board--in the deep end--and swims to the edge on her own.
(The last lesson was a bit of a gross-out comedy.  Imagine a pool full of kids.  Sophie has on her pink Speedo goggles and is having a tea-party at the bottom of the pool with the fairies while waiting for her turn to practice the elementary back stroke with the teacher.  Suddenly she shoots to the surface.  Her face a study of composed concern, she raises her hand, and in a just louder than normal voice calls out, "Teacher!"  The teacher doesn't answer, as she busy drilling "Monkey/Airplane/Soldier "into the brain and body of a very reluctant student.  Sophie calls again "Teacher!  I need to tell you something!"  Kathy, the teacher, finally heads over to Soph to ask what the problem is.  Sophie tells her, "I think someone had an accident."  Kathy asks, "Did someone get hurt?"  Sophie whispers, "No.  Somebody pooped."  Kathy asks, "Are you sure?"  Soph answers confidently, "Yep.  It's over there.  I can see little pieces coming off of it."  After investigating with Soph's borrowed goggles, Kathy confirms the turd and evacuates the pool.)

Summer Reading
We're blasting through the Little House on the Prairie books.  She's taken to wearing the bonnet my mom gave her daily and calling me Ma.  I really, really want to get her to start reading independently,and try and tempt her with many and varied kinds of books from the library, but she just isn't interested.  This is where I start comparing her to other kids, and me to other moms, and then feeling like shit for even making the comparisons and like even worse shit for finding us both a little lacking.

Other Shenanigans
As usual, I've over scheduled her, because there's nothing that makes me more crazy than trying to entertain a bored kid.  Which, frankly, I'm not sure is my job, but which I do.  My mom didn't taxi our asses all around town.  We just played--or watched tv--or forced Jon to submit to being dressed as a girl complete with hula skirt and bikini top--but it wasn't like she was all that involved.  Which I get.  There were four of us.  We had a built in playmate--or nemesis--and either way, there was someone to interact with.  I guess my guilt at not having another kid has lead me to play mommy cruise director--a roll I'm ambivalent about.  But there's craft camp and yoga and piano and cousin play dates and all other kinds of activities that we run around to.  And not only do they keep Soph busy, they give me an excuse not to clean the house.

Am I the only mom...

who feels a little overwhelmed (and slightly peeved) by the amount of shit that the elementary school wants me to keep track of?

Maybe I'm just stupid.

Lately though, it seems like I'm receiving a new dictum every day...

• Wear the class shirt on Monday.  (Which is a problem, as Sophie doesn't actually have any PANTS.)

• Track 20 minutes of reading per night.

• Return the leveled reading book every day.

• Return LIBRARY books on Tuesday.

• Start tracking addition reading minutes for the read-a-thon starting last Friday.  (p.s.  The letter sent home for said read-a-thon was abysmal.  Shocking. Nearly impossible to read because of the shit-tastic usage.)

• Turn in minutes for read-a-thon on Friday.

And that's just the crap I can think of off the top of my head.  I don't know how moms with more than one child do it!

Don't get me wrong.  I have nothing but love for my comrades at the elementary school.  I couldn't do it.  The same kids.  All day.  Plus the tattling and pants peeing and snotty noses.  BUT maybe they could lighten up just a bit on my 6 year old.

In further bitching and complaining news, I hate the cold, hate the first week of daylight savings, (because frankly, I just don't see the savings.  I don't think the SUN gets the memo about moving the clock an hour either way.  It shines for its allotted shining time whether we call it 6:30 am or 5:30 am.) and I hate that my body was thrown so out of wack this morning, I didn't get in my, ahem, morning constitutional, and now will probably be backed up for days.

To balance things out, I can report that I love (ok, that's a strong word.  How about like?) the Dead in Dixie books that Kodikins loaned me.  I love that the crippling fear and worry I've been experiencing for the last several weeks seems to be on a brief hyatus.  I love having my Daisy Scout meeting all planed out.