Call me Mother of the Year.
Once again, dear readers, a mommy moment has lasted a month. Figures. And there's a lot of happy shouting here. Shouldn't surprise anyone.
This has been what I refer to as The Month of Lasts. The last field trip. The last parent meeting of Kindergarten. Track & Field Day. My last moments of peace and quiet before summer vacation. Okay, peace and quiet during nap time, anyway. These are all over now.
Today was the Optional Last Hour of School. Not surprisingly, Peanut opted to go. Surprisingly, he wasn't the only one in his class. He hung out in his classroom, helped Kindergarten Teacher with some clean-up duties, and munched an apple while attacking the playground one last time. All in all, not a bad way to end Kindergarten.
I spent the hour considering this year. Peanut's grown so much that it's almost hard to see the little boy who could barely control himself at the start of this school year. He's more willing to listen and follow directions the first time he's told, rather than the fifth. Instead of shoving himself forward, he listens to his peers. He's taking responsibility for his actions and accepts the consequences- most of the time.
I couldn't have given him that. Believe me, I've tried.
Kindergarten Teacher gave all the credit to Peanut. "He did all the hard work." She's right, but he needed the guidance she provided. He needed to know that she cares about him and his successes. He needed to know that when there were bad days, she was still cheering him on. I'm in awe of this woman because as she gave her best efforts to teach my son, she gave that same best effort to all 22 kids in her class. They all know she loves them. She gave them that gift, along with her gifts of knowledge and creative teaching. Peanut's lucky to have had her as a teacher, a mentor, and a friend.
He's ready for first grade. And while I'm still stunned at how quickly this school year flew by, I'm ready for first grade too. We have a behavior plan in place, and I know he can succeed. I'm more confident in my son's abilities and not quite as ready to hover. Kindergarten Teacher gave me that.
Thanks. For everything.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Listening To The Mustn'ts
Call me Mother of the Year.
It's official: my son is brilliant.
His Kindergarten teacher sent home a note this week. All students in her class are writing a hard cover book and require ideas. Thus the story map. Peanut and I sat down yesterday and decided to fill this out.
Homework and Peanut are usually a bad combination. Peanut's a bright kid, but sitting down and doing his work is not the easiest for any six-year-old; ADHD only complicates this. I'll confess that I wasn't looking forward to this experience.
It took maybe five minutes. Tops.
Wow.
Peanut came up with his title, characters, setting, problem, and solution. The thoughts and ideas just poured out of this kid. I was writing them down as fast as I could, and within minutes, he had his outline and was off to computer time. I sat at our table staring at his work in awe.
There are so many times during his day that he's told "no." He deals with them for the most part, but I know he gets frustrated when all he wants to do is imagine and create while his mommy tells him to quit playing and do as he's told. I try to limit this, but it's difficult to get him to stay on task if I don't. He hears "no", "can't", and "don't" way too often for my liking, and I'm celebrating that I didn't have to use those words yesterday afternoon. He's a smart, empathetic boy who chooses to focus on what he can do rather than what the world tells him he can't. Watching him yesterday reminded me of one of my favorite Shel Silverstein poems. Peanut embodies this, and I share it in his honor.
Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,
Listen to the DON'TS
Listen to the SHOULDN'TS
The IMPOSSIBLES, the WON'TS
Listen to the NEVER HAVES
Then listen close to me-
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.
Call me Mother of the Year.
It's official: my son is brilliant.
His Kindergarten teacher sent home a note this week. All students in her class are writing a hard cover book and require ideas. Thus the story map. Peanut and I sat down yesterday and decided to fill this out.
Homework and Peanut are usually a bad combination. Peanut's a bright kid, but sitting down and doing his work is not the easiest for any six-year-old; ADHD only complicates this. I'll confess that I wasn't looking forward to this experience.
It took maybe five minutes. Tops.
Wow.
Peanut came up with his title, characters, setting, problem, and solution. The thoughts and ideas just poured out of this kid. I was writing them down as fast as I could, and within minutes, he had his outline and was off to computer time. I sat at our table staring at his work in awe.
There are so many times during his day that he's told "no." He deals with them for the most part, but I know he gets frustrated when all he wants to do is imagine and create while his mommy tells him to quit playing and do as he's told. I try to limit this, but it's difficult to get him to stay on task if I don't. He hears "no", "can't", and "don't" way too often for my liking, and I'm celebrating that I didn't have to use those words yesterday afternoon. He's a smart, empathetic boy who chooses to focus on what he can do rather than what the world tells him he can't. Watching him yesterday reminded me of one of my favorite Shel Silverstein poems. Peanut embodies this, and I share it in his honor.
Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,
Listen to the DON'TS
Listen to the SHOULDN'TS
The IMPOSSIBLES, the WON'TS
Listen to the NEVER HAVES
Then listen close to me-
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Should've Named Her Ivy
Call me Mother of the Year.
I've been reliably informed that a toddler gets bored easily when all she's doing is chasing Big Brother. Therefore, new activities must be presented or discovered.
Miss Tula has taken matters to her hands and knees. She's climbing every surface in this house. Her adventures began as she figured out how to climb up on the couch- which is deeply cute. Then came climbing down safely, which I appreciated. Next was the leap onto the end table. I could have done without this as everything on said end table hit the floor in record time. Tula understands that this form of mischief means certain thwarting, so she's moved on to bigger and better things. After using the dog bed (and, consequently, the dog) to get onto Mommy and Daddy's bed, we needed more of a challenge. Luckily, there was one begging to be conquered.
She figured out that climbing onto kitchen chairs equals climbing onto the kitchen table. Tula was kneeling on the table, scribbling away on scratch paper. Be still my heart. She was most displeased when I unceremoniously removed her from the table, but I still hold that she shouldn't have been up there in the first place. She holds that she's cute and wants it.
Boomer and I have now learned that we need to keep chairs flush with the table or our little Miss Adventure will attack. This also goes for my desk chair- Tula has her big brother's sense of excitement with my computer. She'll understand that scaring her mother is a bad idea one of these days- like when she's a mommy herself.
Call me Mother of the Year.
I've been reliably informed that a toddler gets bored easily when all she's doing is chasing Big Brother. Therefore, new activities must be presented or discovered.
Miss Tula has taken matters to her hands and knees. She's climbing every surface in this house. Her adventures began as she figured out how to climb up on the couch- which is deeply cute. Then came climbing down safely, which I appreciated. Next was the leap onto the end table. I could have done without this as everything on said end table hit the floor in record time. Tula understands that this form of mischief means certain thwarting, so she's moved on to bigger and better things. After using the dog bed (and, consequently, the dog) to get onto Mommy and Daddy's bed, we needed more of a challenge. Luckily, there was one begging to be conquered.
She figured out that climbing onto kitchen chairs equals climbing onto the kitchen table. Tula was kneeling on the table, scribbling away on scratch paper. Be still my heart. She was most displeased when I unceremoniously removed her from the table, but I still hold that she shouldn't have been up there in the first place. She holds that she's cute and wants it.
Boomer and I have now learned that we need to keep chairs flush with the table or our little Miss Adventure will attack. This also goes for my desk chair- Tula has her big brother's sense of excitement with my computer. She'll understand that scaring her mother is a bad idea one of these days- like when she's a mommy herself.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
The Phone Wars
Call me Mother of the Year.
I freely confess my glee in part of this debate, but the rest just has me shaking my head in disbelief- and Boomer is laughing.
Nana has a new phone. It's cooler than mine. She now has an iPhone. I'm annoyed.
It's not merely phone envy, although that's infuriating enough. No, my issue is more the fact that my mother is completely technologically illiterate. Plus, she never turned on her old phone. This phone is totally wasted on her. Thus the obvious question from her (utterly jealous) daughter:
"Why on earth did you get one?"
"Well, all my friends have one!"
"That's peer pressure. And peer pressure is wrong. You shouldn't have given in."
(Yeah, that's where I'm gleeful. It's quite delightful when her lecture comes back at her.)
"Well, I need an iPhone."
"WHY?????!!!!!"
"I need to learn about the texting so when Peanut gets his cell phone I can keep up with him."
At this point in the conversation my head was in my hands. My mother just used my six-year-old as an excuse to get an iPhone. Yes, she did.
However, I am able to see the humor in this. After all, it's not every day my mother tries (and fails) to send a text message. I'm waiting to witness this. And pat her on the head when she succeeds. And pray she hasn't written me (or texted me) out of her will yet.
Call me Mother of the Year.
I freely confess my glee in part of this debate, but the rest just has me shaking my head in disbelief- and Boomer is laughing.
Nana has a new phone. It's cooler than mine. She now has an iPhone. I'm annoyed.
It's not merely phone envy, although that's infuriating enough. No, my issue is more the fact that my mother is completely technologically illiterate. Plus, she never turned on her old phone. This phone is totally wasted on her. Thus the obvious question from her (utterly jealous) daughter:
"Why on earth did you get one?"
"Well, all my friends have one!"
"That's peer pressure. And peer pressure is wrong. You shouldn't have given in."
(Yeah, that's where I'm gleeful. It's quite delightful when her lecture comes back at her.)
"Well, I need an iPhone."
"WHY?????!!!!!"
"I need to learn about the texting so when Peanut gets his cell phone I can keep up with him."
At this point in the conversation my head was in my hands. My mother just used my six-year-old as an excuse to get an iPhone. Yes, she did.
However, I am able to see the humor in this. After all, it's not every day my mother tries (and fails) to send a text message. I'm waiting to witness this. And pat her on the head when she succeeds. And pray she hasn't written me (or texted me) out of her will yet.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Snow Days and Birthdays and Sick Days, Oh My!
Call me Mother of the Year.
This particular Mommy Moment has been lasting for a month. Thus the lack of writing- I've been waiting for the finish to tell you what's been happening here.
We begin on February 1. The snow was starting and I was snickering at the forecasters who enjoy predicting big snows and getting only a couple of inches. The snickering turned against me fairly quickly as we got nailed with approximately seventeen inches. School was canceled in the afternoon for the next day. And Peanut was thrilled because there was snow for his birthday.
For a certain young man's sixth birthday, he got a massive amount of snow, all his class's cupcakes, a sled, and his own camera. Kid's got some talent, and I'm figuring out how to post his stuff. Boomer took a few shots of our backyard, to the dismay of the dog. It's a bit difficult to heave a seventy pound mutt through a snowdrift. Just sayin'. Once the roads were opened and school resumed, he had quite the fuss made over him by Kindergarten Teacher, which he loved. All things considered, a good birthday.
Later that week, Peanut started going to sleep at 7:00 at night. For those rare few who have seen my child at bedtime, you're aware this only happens when he's sick or in major trouble. In this case, it's the former rather than the latter. Thus began our first trip to the doctor. It hasn't been our last.
After a false alarm, Peanut was diagnosed with strep throat. Bad enough for him, but now Boomer and I are tasked with keeping it from Tula. This wasn't easy or quiet, but it was accomplished. Then came Round Two.
Peanut was sent home from school with a hundred degree fever. Figuring it was just a virus, Boomer and I kept him quiet and away from his little sister. Again, we're just the most awful parents EVER. A trip to the doctor let us know it was the flu and pneumonia. Good times. The follow up with Peanut's regular doctor showed an ear infection. At that point, Peanut had been quarantined, I had a nebulizer for the kid, and his ears hurt. Yay Mom.
So Boomer and I were busily congratulating ourselves in keeping each other and Tula safe from this... right up until I caught the flu and bronchitis. At this point, the nurses know me by name and I'm getting sympathetic chuckles. Oh, and I haven't seen my kids in five days. I want my life back, thank you very much. Poor Boomer needs a vacation now.
I'm just about over this nonsense and ready to disinfect my house. The good news is that so far, Boomer and Tula have escaped this. Right now, I'm off to see if I can end my reign as The Ghost of Mommy.
Call me Mother of the Year.
This particular Mommy Moment has been lasting for a month. Thus the lack of writing- I've been waiting for the finish to tell you what's been happening here.
We begin on February 1. The snow was starting and I was snickering at the forecasters who enjoy predicting big snows and getting only a couple of inches. The snickering turned against me fairly quickly as we got nailed with approximately seventeen inches. School was canceled in the afternoon for the next day. And Peanut was thrilled because there was snow for his birthday.
For a certain young man's sixth birthday, he got a massive amount of snow, all his class's cupcakes, a sled, and his own camera. Kid's got some talent, and I'm figuring out how to post his stuff. Boomer took a few shots of our backyard, to the dismay of the dog. It's a bit difficult to heave a seventy pound mutt through a snowdrift. Just sayin'. Once the roads were opened and school resumed, he had quite the fuss made over him by Kindergarten Teacher, which he loved. All things considered, a good birthday.
Later that week, Peanut started going to sleep at 7:00 at night. For those rare few who have seen my child at bedtime, you're aware this only happens when he's sick or in major trouble. In this case, it's the former rather than the latter. Thus began our first trip to the doctor. It hasn't been our last.
After a false alarm, Peanut was diagnosed with strep throat. Bad enough for him, but now Boomer and I are tasked with keeping it from Tula. This wasn't easy or quiet, but it was accomplished. Then came Round Two.
Peanut was sent home from school with a hundred degree fever. Figuring it was just a virus, Boomer and I kept him quiet and away from his little sister. Again, we're just the most awful parents EVER. A trip to the doctor let us know it was the flu and pneumonia. Good times. The follow up with Peanut's regular doctor showed an ear infection. At that point, Peanut had been quarantined, I had a nebulizer for the kid, and his ears hurt. Yay Mom.
So Boomer and I were busily congratulating ourselves in keeping each other and Tula safe from this... right up until I caught the flu and bronchitis. At this point, the nurses know me by name and I'm getting sympathetic chuckles. Oh, and I haven't seen my kids in five days. I want my life back, thank you very much. Poor Boomer needs a vacation now.
I'm just about over this nonsense and ready to disinfect my house. The good news is that so far, Boomer and Tula have escaped this. Right now, I'm off to see if I can end my reign as The Ghost of Mommy.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
My Kids Are Just That Cute
Call me Mother of the Year.
With the first big snowfall of the year comes a Peanut itching to attack with snowballs. Good thing the yard's fenced. After much flinging of snow, Peanut decided to build a snowman. I saw him roll a snowball as tall as himself and attempt to make it bigger. He came running from the back fence toward our patio, turned around, and sprinted (okay, as much as one can in snow boots and six inches)toward said snowball... and skidded to a stop mere inches away from his snowman as he was afraid to crash. I sent Boomer out as a reinforcement. It was a great snowman, and the ensuing snowball fight was spectacular. I saw my guys attack from the playhouse, which if you're Peanut's size makes a delightful fort.
***********************************
Tula is continuing her fascination with all thing electronic and on Mommy's desk. I was charging my cell phone and came back into the room to find my daughter holding said phone and babbling into it. Thank God she hasn't figured out how to call anyone on it (yet). I'm equally grateful there's no way to make international calls on that phone. This proves a couple of things: First, Tula is way too smart for my own good. Second: I spend way too much time on the phone.
***********************************
Over Christmas break, Peanut, Tula and I went to a delightful place filled with moonbounces. There was much rejoicing. Peanut discovered the pirate ship bouncy. Even more rejoicing. I now have a picture of my small son holding his mouth mid-bounce as one of his teeth fell out. The second one fell out the next day. Good thing this was after Christmas- Papa instantly broke into "All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth". He only shut up when I pointed out that it's no longer Christmas.
***********************************
Tula's latest obsession is Pattycake. I'm good with this because it's a surefire way to keep her from screaming. She fusses, I start the chant, she giggles. She's also quite fond of wrapping her hands around my thumbs and going through the motions with me. As we were driving home, I looked in the rear view mirror to see my baby roll her hands, mark them, and throw them in the air just like Mommy. Yes, I totally melted. Until the light turned green.
Call me Mother of the Year.
With the first big snowfall of the year comes a Peanut itching to attack with snowballs. Good thing the yard's fenced. After much flinging of snow, Peanut decided to build a snowman. I saw him roll a snowball as tall as himself and attempt to make it bigger. He came running from the back fence toward our patio, turned around, and sprinted (okay, as much as one can in snow boots and six inches)toward said snowball... and skidded to a stop mere inches away from his snowman as he was afraid to crash. I sent Boomer out as a reinforcement. It was a great snowman, and the ensuing snowball fight was spectacular. I saw my guys attack from the playhouse, which if you're Peanut's size makes a delightful fort.
***********************************
Tula is continuing her fascination with all thing electronic and on Mommy's desk. I was charging my cell phone and came back into the room to find my daughter holding said phone and babbling into it. Thank God she hasn't figured out how to call anyone on it (yet). I'm equally grateful there's no way to make international calls on that phone. This proves a couple of things: First, Tula is way too smart for my own good. Second: I spend way too much time on the phone.
***********************************
Over Christmas break, Peanut, Tula and I went to a delightful place filled with moonbounces. There was much rejoicing. Peanut discovered the pirate ship bouncy. Even more rejoicing. I now have a picture of my small son holding his mouth mid-bounce as one of his teeth fell out. The second one fell out the next day. Good thing this was after Christmas- Papa instantly broke into "All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth". He only shut up when I pointed out that it's no longer Christmas.
***********************************
Tula's latest obsession is Pattycake. I'm good with this because it's a surefire way to keep her from screaming. She fusses, I start the chant, she giggles. She's also quite fond of wrapping her hands around my thumbs and going through the motions with me. As we were driving home, I looked in the rear view mirror to see my baby roll her hands, mark them, and throw them in the air just like Mommy. Yes, I totally melted. Until the light turned green.
Call me Mother of the Year.
Monday, December 6, 2010
The Great Shoe Debate
Call Me Mother of the Year.
As autumn approached, Runner Up and I continued our yearly debate about my footwear. Being a vastly more sensible woman than I, Runner Up tends toward Sketchers and flats as she chases after Other Half. I, being younger and dumber, tend toward boots. Specifically, one pair of boots. I love these boots. Black suede, pointed toe, knee high. These boots are fierce. Sadly for me, these boots also have a three-inch stiletto spike heel. Still fierce, but not exactly sensible for chasing small ones around. Doesn't matter. I wear these bad boys everywhere.
Runner Up maintains that I'm going to kill myself in these boots and she will laugh at my funeral because she was right. I hold that I'm going to die anyway, and I may as well go out with good-looking feet. Normally, this is where the debate ends.
This weekend was the first snowfall. Three to five inches. Peanut was seriously pleased and blew through a couple of happy hours exploring the winter wonderland. Runner Up and I were relating stories of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness today when the boots came up.
"You're gonna slip and fall flat on your face!"
"I haven't yet."
"When you fall and chip a tooth, come to me and I'll fix it." (Item: Runner Up is a dentist. Her husband is our dentist. This works well for me.)
For the record, the boots that are currently on my feet are my snow boots. I may attempt to be a fashion-forward mommy, but I'm not quite that foolish. Besides, snow may ruin the suede. Can't have that.
Call me Mother of the Year.
As autumn approached, Runner Up and I continued our yearly debate about my footwear. Being a vastly more sensible woman than I, Runner Up tends toward Sketchers and flats as she chases after Other Half. I, being younger and dumber, tend toward boots. Specifically, one pair of boots. I love these boots. Black suede, pointed toe, knee high. These boots are fierce. Sadly for me, these boots also have a three-inch stiletto spike heel. Still fierce, but not exactly sensible for chasing small ones around. Doesn't matter. I wear these bad boys everywhere.
Runner Up maintains that I'm going to kill myself in these boots and she will laugh at my funeral because she was right. I hold that I'm going to die anyway, and I may as well go out with good-looking feet. Normally, this is where the debate ends.
This weekend was the first snowfall. Three to five inches. Peanut was seriously pleased and blew through a couple of happy hours exploring the winter wonderland. Runner Up and I were relating stories of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness today when the boots came up.
"You're gonna slip and fall flat on your face!"
"I haven't yet."
"When you fall and chip a tooth, come to me and I'll fix it." (Item: Runner Up is a dentist. Her husband is our dentist. This works well for me.)
For the record, the boots that are currently on my feet are my snow boots. I may attempt to be a fashion-forward mommy, but I'm not quite that foolish. Besides, snow may ruin the suede. Can't have that.
Call me Mother of the Year.
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