Boys. Is it me or is it strange that there was a kitchen fire at the temple that houses Riley’s preschool on one side of the building and Dylan’s charter elementary school on the other side, and everyone – including Dylan and Riley – was evacuated from the buildings for more than fifteen minutes, and fire trucks were on the scene and there was visible smoke and it wasn’t a drill and neither of my boys said anything to me about this exciting event? Instead, I was informed by an email from Dylan’s principal late last night as part of an update on the first week of school. Trying to get information from my boys about their time at school besides “I played,” “I had recess,” or “I got hit in the face with a hot dog toy” (Riley) is going to be the death of me.
Bounce. Dylan came home yesterday with a note from his teacher telling me that he had two time-outs at school for talking when the teacher was talking and that she hoped “for a better day tomorrow.” Two?! Say, what?! Dylan has never had a behavior problem at school. Ever. Upon reading the note, I immediately bounced to Dylan’s future as his teacher’s worst nightmare, a juvenile delinquent, a high school drop-out, and a full-time employee at the movie theater concession stand. (Actually, Dylan’s dream is to be a popcorn maker, which as you can imagine, only exacerbates my anxiety.)
As per the abovementioned fire story, it’s tough to get information from him. If he changes his mind about the whole popcorn thing, he’ll be an excellent special agent for the CIA. I took several deep breaths all yesterday afternoon and tried really, really, really hard not to ask too many questions about the time-outs to prevent him from shutting the whole thing down (Akin pun intended).
I briefly considered the idea that Dylan’s teacher was mistaken or that she was unfit to be an educator. Then I came to my senses. There are so many new things in Dylan’s life right now – a new school, a new classroom, a new teacher, new friends, a new uniform, a new therapist, new food (god willing), and a new schedule. It’s been quite an adjustment for me this week, so I can only imagine how stressful it’s been for him. With that in mind, I decided he was a rock star rather than a future felon.
At the end of the day, instead of thrusting my anxiety on him and making the situation worse, I simply reminded him of my school rules, which, among other things, includes “be a good listener.” Oh, and I promised him a reward if he comes home with a good report today. (That almost always does the trick.)
Birthday. It’s not my birthday yet, but my birthday month – September – is quickly approaching. Look what came in the mail yesterday! For me!
It’s that time again…
Shopaholic ME time!
They remembered this year (those bastards). Oh, Anthropologie, how I love to hate and hate to love you!
Big. There’s a Big storm (Isaac) headed toward Florida. There’s a Big problem with the air conditioner in one of our cars, and there’s a Big chance we’re going to sell it or trade it in instead of putting Big money into fixing it. The probability is Big that we’re going to maybe, possibly, perhaps, consider a – gulp – Big minivan. According to the Wall Street Journal, minivans are getting their swagger back. (And I’m always on the pulse of what’s hip and cool.)
I need your advice! Sienna or Odyssey?
The Runaway Mama by Jen Gregory 