Dinner Drama

Libby didn't like her dinner tonight and had a momentary meltdown about it. Shane tried to convince her it was delicious, but she wasn't having it. When he asked her why she was crying about it she said (through tears), "I don't knooooow. I just can't hold my tears in and I don't know the reason whyyyyyy....."

Silence. Then, "Wow. That was a pretty good explanation."

I'm glad he thinks so. 'Cause, you know, welcome to womanhood, right?

Literary Critics

Today was a bit of a mess.  The mess actually started yesterday morning when Peyton's socks didn't feel right and then it ruined our lives.  Today's meltdown was louder, longer and, from what I can gather, had something to do with her pants not fitting just so. My day seemed to draaaaaag on forever. Peyton's after-school-attitude wasn't much improved from the morning and when I went to by my lottery ticket to win $636,000,000, I missed the cutoff by "30 seconds" according to the clerk.  Right after he sold tickets to the people in front of me.  He then proceeded to tell me I should've come earlier.  Yeah.  I got that.

Grrrr....

Sigh.

Tonight, after laundry and laying down expectations with Peyton I was sorta done.  So, I asked Shane if he'd read the girls their bedtime story.  He agreed.  Shane and I consider different criteria when picking bedtime stories for our girls.  I look for stories with well developed characters; ones we might even be able to relate to, and interesting story lines with great voice.  A little over-their-head humor is a total bonus.  Shane looks for stories that are short. Tonight, his first comment after giving Peyton's book pick the once-over was "This looks really long."

The book was Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse by Kevin Henkes.  It's such a good book.

About half way through, though, I called him out for racing through the story and not reading any of the captions.  Then Libby added, "Yeah, and why are you, like.....YELLING?  Is it because you can't hear yourself?"  I mean, I think she might be onto something....

Mammals

Peyton: Mom, are mammals the ones with hair?

Me: Yes. 

Peyton: Are we mammals?

Me: Yes.

Peyton: So Grandpa Dad isn't a mammal?

Snow Day(s)!

Since school is closed and who knows when it'll reopen, I've been all kinds of stalker-ing the facebook posts of people baking with their kids, decorating for the holidays and reading under a blanket in front of the fire.  It's all so full of nostalgia and appreciation.  We've done every one of them too.  Except for the baking part. Well, I did bake. And by bake I mean I cut up a roll of Pilsbury Cookie Dough and made cookies and promptly shared them with almost no one.  Also, we read books when I looked at the reading log on the fridge and I panicked because I can't be the teacher who doesn't read with her kids when snowed in.  So yesterday we had a marathon round of sit still while I read to you and please listen because if you don't do those two things I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to write it on your reading log.  Now, where were we?  Yes, Dinosaurs' Christmas. Now, let that resonate with you for just a moment.  Dinosaurs'. Christmas. Irony, right?  Anyway, I'm not going insane yet due to the fact that I have an enormous car with four wheel drive and snow tires.  I still equip my car every year like the Bend girl that I am, which means I'm not snowed in!  I'm on vacation! Really cold vacation where I have to think up lots to do so nobody gets hurt.

Then, tonight while lying on the couch thinking up our what-to-do-next I remembered something my dad gave Libby when she was born and I went searching to find this....

The effect for me is not unlike what it feels like to launch water balloons at my students on the last day of school.

Libby said she wanted to make it more challenging for me and they've just gone to put on their roller skates.  Please.  Oh, it'll be more challenging.  But not for me.

Happy Snow Days!  Here's to doing whatever it takes to stay warm safe sane....

Update:  On skates they didn't stand a chance.  I killed it.  However, we had one last round without skates and the littles dominated.  I ended on the verge of needing my rescue inhaler.  Peyton sustained a small injury.  It had less to do with the sling shot, and more to do with being the smallest of the three of us who dove over a chair to get at a puff.  She's fine.  They've asked to play again tomorrow.  First thing in the morning.  You got it, sisters.  Game. On.

How do you solve a problem like.......this one?

Today Peyton is insisting that I have five more babies. Two boys and three more girls.  I'm thinking maybe I underestimated the impact of The Sound of Music.  Also, much to her dismay, we aren't immediately getting a bigger house or a butler.  Crushing their Christmas wishes early over here....

Holy Moley

The girls and I were in the waiting room at the dermatologist today when a little boy who was three or four came back through the waiting room after his appointment.  He was clearly looking to share his good news with someone because he made eye contact with me and came straight for us.

"Know what!?  My mole is gone!"

"It is?  Where did it go?"

"It's in the test tube and I didn't even cry!"

"No way!  Good job!"

I mean, if this isn't exciting news people, then I don't know what is....

Seven

This is what the last day of six years old looks like. Tomorrow she's seven.

Warning: Poop Talk (TMI)

Libby: "There was no toilet paper in the bathroom at school today.  I like the kind of poops where it just comes out hard and there is nothing left behind."

Amen sister.  Can I get a Hallelujah?

Also, Libby is about to turn seven.  I just reread this and realized poop talk, like a lot of things, becomes less cute the older they get.

Oy.  Seven years.

Peytie-isms

This morning while I was in my bathroom getting ready for school Peyton stormed in and said, "MOM!  LIBBY SHOVED MY FACE!!!"

I gave my best horrified gasp and said, "Why would she do that?"

"Um.....she didn't like the thing that was in her face."

"Was the thing that was in her face your face?"

(Opening my sweater and tucking her face inside) "I just want to snuggle."

Also this:

"Mommy you scared me so much that it made my tummy suck in!"



November 23, 2013 Update:

I took Peyton's class yesterday for a few minutes while Ms. Silver got her picture taken in the gym.  My kids were working on a writing/art assignment, so while they worked I read a story to the kinders.  I love getting to interact with my babies and their friends in their (somewhat) natural habitat.

This morning Peyton rolled over in bed next to me and in her sleepy state she asked, "Mom, do you think I could make your fourth graders laugh if I wanted to?"

Hmm..... It appears someone may be setting the stage to debut as class clown....

It Matters More About Love

"It matters more about love" is something Peyton says regularly.  It's not a statement, but a question, really.  When she says it she's trying to gauge the present situation.  What she really wants to know is that no matter the topic, love is more important, right?  It can be anything.  Tonight, when I asked her how long she brushed and she replied with, "half of what's in the timer", I reminded her that this is exactly half of the time that she's expected to brush.  I lectured on like any good parent about how her teeth are an important part of her and so it would serve her well to keep them.  Brushing well will accomplish this.... yada yada yada....  Also, I knew she rushed just so she could get her mitts on the iPad.  Grrrrr. I'm a fan of my iPad, except for the part about how it's killing everything good about society as we know it.  I practiced some self control and did not start in on that lecture.  As she shuffled her buns to the bathroom to put her flouride away she asked, "It mattuhs more about love than wotten teeth, wight mom?"

I mean, it's true.  I'd love her no matter which part of her was wotten....

Staging My Umpteenth Comeback.....

Flannery O'Connor said "I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say."  I'm maybe supposed to know who Flannery O'Connor is before I quote him.  Or her.  But I just loved the quote when I saw it on Pinterest because it's super-true about me.  And then I quit writing here.  Time has gotten away from me and my job is hard.  I mean hard. I know there is a population of people out there who just think teachers and nurses are whiners, because of the unions and all.  But the truth is, summer is so easy and then September comes and I don't have a minute to stop and think it all through. It's more or less 10 hours straight of thinking on my feet.  I have entertained the idea that maybe it's that way because I'm doing it wrong.  The thing is ,though, I'm pretty sure I'm also doing some things right.

Then, when I got home tonight one of my favorite online writers, Glennon Melton of Momastery, posted this on facebook....

I’m in a new life season over here. I’ve got all three kids in school and I’m working from home, so I’m taking my turn. I’m heading into the school to help the kids’ teachers when I can. For all of you parents who can’t make it in because you’re in a different life season- I’d like to offer you the OFFICIAL KINDERGARTEN REPORT:

THE KIDS ARE FINE.

The over-achievers are concentrating and the artists are doodling and the rascals are rascalling (why do the rascals always have the most hard-to-resist grins?) and the ones that struggle are with the teacher getting some extra love and smiles. They’re painting and sharing and getting band-aids for invisible paper cuts and singing math songs and talking over each other and telling twelve minute stories during circle time that have absolutely nothing to do with the topic being discussed. Teacher: Does anyone know why we celebrate Thanksgiving? Little One: Oh! OH! ME ME ME! Teacher: Yes. Sarah. Sarah: MY GRANDMA’S NAME IS ALICE AND SHE HAS A BLUE CAR AND ALSO NINE CATS!!!! (then twelve more minutes about each cat, obviously.)

LISTEN TO ME: They don’t miss us. I KNOW they swear they do and they cry before drop off and they make us feel fifty shades of crappy before 8 am and I’m not saying that they’re lying: but let’s just say THAT THEY ARE DRAMATICALLY MISREPRESENTING THEIR EXPERIENCE. I don’t know why they do this. I think that maybe after our babies are born and the nurse takes them away to have their “first bath” she actually takes them a workshop entitled: “THIS IS HOW TO LAY ON THE MOMMY GUILT HARD AND FAST. DO IT OFTEN AND EARLY- SHE’LL BUY YOU MORE CRAP.” Don’t buy them more crap. They’re happy. I watched them all really closely this morning- and they are being cared for. We have a-freaking-mazing teachers in this country and they are DOING THEIR WORK so that we can breathe and do ours. And all of them- the overachievers and the artists and the rascals and the story tellers and the strugglers – they will be okay. They have nets.

Breathe Deep and Carry On, Warriors.

Of all the things she has written that I love, and there are many, this post is probably one of my favorites.  I could totally relate to it.  Libby won't let me near her class, knowing she'll dissolve into a puddle of tears. She just does.  If I stay away she's fine. Which is tricky because my fourth grade students are buddies with her first grade classmates.  Luckily, Mrs. Kirk has lots of hugs, high expectations and a mop.  Peyton is happy to see me, so I help in her class twice a week when my students are in PE.  It's a world away from fourth grade and I love it.  When I leave, she's fine. Really. Even though they both beg to be picked up early. 

Anyway, maybe I'll start showing up here again.  Then I can get a grasp on what I think.

The Register Guard came to our Halloween parade.  Libby is the princess in yellow.

 

An overnight with Debra and Jodi

Last weekend in Waldport....

Looking for agates

Look who's reading!  To her sister, even.

 

Also, Flannery O'Connor is Mary Flannery O'Connor.  She's a girl.  I checked.

Making Connections

Kids learn by making connections to things they already know.  So you can imagine how I swelled with pride when a minute ago Peyton said, "Mom, when Grunny toots it sounds like a train is stopping."

Tru dat.  Also, we live with the gassiest animal on the planet, and I don't mean Shane.  Or me, for that matter....

Mad Skillz

I'm sitting with Peyton tonight doing her homework packet and she says, "You're really good at this. You should be a teacher."

Huh. Now there's an idea.

Baaaaaaa

Yesterday when I picked her up Libby told me a boy at school wiped a booger on her desk.  "Um.....that's gross." I said.  Then she said he also wiped ear wax on her chair.  "He sounds charming."  I had to giggle a little because this sounds like any story by anybody who ever went to school.  When I asked her how she'd responded it was all over her face why a kid in her class might pick her as the target of his disgusting displays of boyishness. She blows up like a fourth of July fireworks display.  I mean, she attempts a pokerface, but the kid has got nothin'.  No skill at hiding how she really feels.  In the end we decided next time she could get up, hand him a tissue and go back to work.  I actually thought of some great comebacks, but maybe a snarky approach isn't the best approach in first grade.  Anyway, I told her I believed that he's "gettin' your goat", and (again) we must try our best to not let others light our fuses.

A girl in her class pushed her buttons today and it was reported to me by the student teacher that Libby was very patient in a frustrating situation.  She said Libby told her, "I know how to deal with that.  I have a little sister."

The best though came tonight at dinner while Peyton was doing her best to get under Libby's skin by leaning into her as we sat at the kitchen island.  Always my firecracker Libby yelled, "PEYTON!  STOP KICKING MY GOAT!"

Blowing Off Steam

This is how the girls are blowing off steam after school today. Libby throws a Pepsi can at Peyton and tries to land it inside her bike basket. She's about 0/50 at this point. If Peyton's head were the target she'd be about 48/50. Wait. Peyton's head IS the target. Got it. I'm quick like that. We'll see if Peyton catches on....

I Really Love Summer

Three years ago I wrote this.  Tomorrow, I go back to my fourth year of teaching since I took a leave of absence when the girls were born.  Add that to the years of teaching I had under my belt before my babies and I'll be able to retire..... well, one day.  I gauge everything that way.  Everything is relative to when the girls were born.  The end of summer this year is bittersweet because we had the best summer.  Even today while shane and I sat on a park bench and watched the girls play I said, "Isn't it nice to sit here and not have to hover over them on the play structure?"  He agreed.  The girls are so capable right now and we totally soaked that up this summer.  Not that I haven't loved other summers, and I certainly don't wish time will go any faster, but this summer has been the best.  Here's how we spent our day together today....

Look.  Everyone pedaled their own bike. 

We played at the park and then met my dad and Margie at McMenamins North Bank for lunch on the river before riding back.  Not a bad way to end a great summer.

Breakfast of Champions

Because it's still summer, we eat cupcakes for breakfast. 

School is going to be a rude awakening for all of us on many levels.

Summer Sass

This teacher isn't usually in a hurry for school to start.  However, I just said to my kid, "Oh yeah?  I know you are, but what am I?", so I'm thinking school might be our saving grace this year.  Also, I might be 50% responsible for their ever evolving mouths....

Not So Dreamy

I was talking to my friend (another teacher) yesterday about how she'd had her first back to school dream already.  I hadn't, something I attributed to a very relaxed, fun-filled July.  My back to school dream usually has students swinging from the rafters while I try (unsuccessfully) to get their attention.  Sometimes though, I'm on the other side of the desk.  In this dream, I walk into a college auditorium full of people who have their blue books and pencils out ready to take a math test. I have no blue book. I can't find a pencil. Ugh. Always math. Always about being unprepared.

Anyway, a back to school dream signals the beginning of the end.  And last night.......it happened.  In my dream I reported back to the school cafeteria where breakfast was being served.  I had french toast, sausage and hash browns with an adult Ryan Fleming, my childhood friend who lived at the end of my street.  Make no mistake, food is a priority even when I'm sleeping.  In my dream, though, students showed up on the same day as teachers.  A friend and colleague showed up too, having been told she could teach my class this year.  Um........awkward.  After dropping the girls off with their teachers in the cafeteria it occurs to me that I am minutes away from having students show up to learn in my classroom.  A classroom I've not set foot in since June.  I walk calmly through the cafeteria doors and then sprint down the hall to my classroom, where everything is still stacked against one wall for summer cleaning.  frantically, I start positioning furniture (and broken carousel horses.....what?) as fast as I can, trying to make it look like I'd given thought to being a teacher before this moment when my students start showing up at the door.  And this is where I woke up.  Sigh.

Holy July!

We're home after a month of being on the go for, seemingly, every nanosecond. Disneyland, our latest adventure, was awesome. Some highlights were breakfast with the Princesses, The Tower of Terror and Splash Mountain. By the last day the girls had overcome their fear of the characters and even hugged Goofy, something Libby was adamant she WOULD NOT do. Donald was an elusive little bugger and the line to greet Mickey was a little long, but we did get visits with Minnie and Pluto. This'll be a hard summer to beat....

....and more.

....and more fun....

Summer Fun

My plan for August is to get back to blogging, but right now we're too busy with summer fun!

Happy 4th of July!

Math

The girls are working on some math today. Not so much because I want them to keep their skills up, but more so because the sound of math is more pleasant than the sound of fighting.

Also, it's worth noting that tattling is still tattling even if you lower your voice to a near whisper to do it, Peyton.

Father's Day Overkill....

I went a little overboard on the pictures maybe, but it's been so long since I've posted anything here and the walk down memory lane was really fun.  So, I included them all.  Happy Father's Day, Babe.  We love you....

And since every word of this post still rings true, I'll likely include it every year.