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Marking the Wrong Milestones?

I just read an interesting piece on the Huffington Post from the end of May – yes, I’m behind – on parents in America versus other cultures, and how we mark different sorts of milestones than parents in, say, Sweden.

The article points out that while we as a culture raise spectacularly verbal kids – children here can bargain and negotiate like trial-room lawyers while still in kindergarten – we sometimes lose sight of other values that would be worthwhile to foster.

A Letter To Maddie

Dear Maddie:

This weekend we celebrated your eighth birthday for what seemed like days: we spent a fun morning with friends horseback riding and eating ice cream at the stables; we went for a huge long family swim with more friends; we at ice cream and cake and pizza and your favorite meal: smoked ham, baked beans, and steamed broccoli. And of course we took lots of breaks for opening gifts.

The weekend was a revolving door of friends and family stopping by to drop off a birthday present, and I can’t help but rejoice at what a close community you’ve got in your own right here. Friends came by with a book of poetry about animals (how well does she know you???), or with gift cards to a favorite store, or even an original poem written by a sick friend when she had to miss your birthday party. You, my friend, are well loved.

Don't Mention The "S" Word

Yes, today is the last day of school, and everyone in the world is rejoicing.

Except Cora.

Every time we talk about the “summer” or the last day of school, she growls at us. Sometimes she cries. She can’t believe her teacher won’t be her teacher any more, and there’s no WAY she can imagine first grade will be anywhere near as good as kindergarten.

My poor kiddo.

Yesterday all her workbooks were sent home from school, and at bedtime she gleefully got out her mathbook and did math problems before lights out.

Yeah, there’s no hope for her.

Tired. So Very, Very Tired.

Yesterday was Cora’s kindergarten revue, followed by her end-of-year party, then Maddie’s end-of-year party – for which I am a party mom.

What does that mean?

It means that we spent an hour being assaulted by ridiculously sweet kindergarteners singing “What A Wonderful World” (I DARE you not to cry at that!), followed by 80 kindergarteners eating pizza and playing games in the Texas sun, followed by me being partially responsible for 80 second-graders playing games and eating ice cream in the Texas sun.

Followed by me going to teach for several hours.

I? Am tired.

Just keep swimming . . . just keep swimming . . .

Phoning It In

This?

Is me.

I am d-u-n DONE with school.

Warning: Complaining Ahead

This week is not shaping up to be a good one.

Yesterday we had our handyman out to fix a few things on the outside of the house – rotten boards, leaky spots, and so on. A few hundred bucks later, and our house looks – exactly the same. But less leaky, I guess.

Then our refrigerator started not refrigerating so well. This has been going on for a few weeks – the freezer conked out a while ago – and we decided to just live with it and not buy a new one, as the repair, we’ve been told, is not fool-proof and costs as much as a new fridge. So we’ve been limping along, but apparently now must get a new one.

The warranty, in case you were wondering, expired two months ago.

Did I mention that both caterpillars cleaned out our dill – AGAIN – and left, never to be seen again?

Can we just call this week and be done with it?

Three-Day-Weekend Hangover

You know, when you have a three-day-weekend just a couple weeks before school gets out, going back to school that next Tuesday feels a little bit like trying to put on your skinny-girl jeans after you’ve spent a week on an all-you-can-eat cruise. You can barely fit into them, and it makes you crabby and oh-so-aware of how quickly you spread out.

We spent the past three days wasting no time spreading out; the girls woke up around nine (NINE!) a.m. on Monday. We began moving slower, taking our time, puttering desultorily around the house. Now comes Tuesday morning with its alarm clocks and quick time schedules and errands and lunches to pack and forms to sign and . . .

Bleh.

We can sQUEEze back into our usual routine. Barely.

We are SO ready for summer break to be here.