Each day Tessa's K teacher has assigned a specific color for the children to come dressed in. Unfortunately, Tessa's brown capris were in the laundry. I probably take this way to seriously as I like to dress her from head to toe in the daily color. She has been reminding me each day that it is no big deal and a little color counts too. Still, I want to make the best color impression, so I began to dig through her drawers and hunt through her closet to find something all brown. No luck. I sat down contemplating other scemes...borrowing from older sister, pulling the brown capris out of the laundry....Tessa sweetly pulls out her camoflauge capris and states, "This has brown on it." "You are right," I replied, "Put them on." We found a cute green shirt to go with it and Tessa even let me put ribbons with brown circles on them in her hair.
My husband came home for lunch to eat with us and take Tessa to school. We asked him if he could guess what the color of the day is. He tried, "Beige, tan,.." Tessa rolled her eyes and gave him a clue. "It starts with the letter "B" dad." He tried again, "Blue, green..." Tessa laughed and told him he needed to practice his letter sounds. I sat there trying to see if he was joking---no he wasn't. He was clueless. Tessa then gave a second clue. "Dad, the second sound is "rrrr." "Brown!," he finally guessed.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
So Cute!
Last night after the homework, dinner, dishes, & pandemonium came to a close as the four oldest children went to bed, I sat down. Nathan, my cuddly 2 year old, came and snuggled beside me. He put his arm around my neck and whispered, "You are so cute." In his reality I am and knowing that makes me smile, even though I'm a huge pregnant mama on bed rest..so what! Nate seeing me for all I am sent me to bed with pleasant thoughts.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Communication 101
Monday, the 22nd, Elizabeth had an orthodontist appointment that required me to get her out of school a bit early. I also had to prove to the office that we had paid for a band music book and see about getting a refund for the flute we'd rented and then returned because it didn't work. Trying to optimize my time and since I am not suppose to be out doing errands, I thought I'd go a little early and try to get everything done at once.
My first stop was the attendance office. I walk slowly. I am in a lot of pain too and so I'm sure that the office secretary took her first glance at me hoping I'd disappear so as to not have a baby in her office and mess up the carpet. I get it...first reactions are important, nevertheless, I waddled right up to her demanding her attention using my most polite voice and a smile. I asked her how to appropriately get my daughter out of class, since I am new to being a parent of a Jr. High student and this school. Without lifting her head to sneak a peak at my hideous state she shrugged a gesture towards the boy and girl students sitting down along a table from her. I am a college graduate so I inferred that I was to ask them. I repeated my question to them although I am pretty sure that they had heard me since we were the only ones in the office with only 3 feet separating us. I did not receive any verbal nor non-verbal replies so I sweetly informed them of my daughters name, grade, and the class I believed her to be in. The boy and girl began to debate something involving how many female teachers were employed by the school...and yet the boy seemed to be looking at some list of names. I remained patient. I still noticed that the one adult in the room still tried to look as if she was intently busy and couldn't possibly help me out...After the young man had turned four pages, he turned to the girl and said, "She's on your list." The girl began to flip through her pages, found my daughter's name and called the classroom. Wow, I thought, easy as a breeze...and it only took me 15 minutes...and I still have to face the finance secretary. I told the two helpful students that I would be across the hall in the other office so they could tell my daughter when she showed up. They seemed happy to help.
I entered the other office with more trepidation than I'd had in the attendance office. My prior experience with the finance secretary was disturbing and after comparing my experience with other flabbergasted mothers, knew I was in for another tidal wave of trouble. She of course, frowned with a similar disgust, as did the first secretary, when she saw me approaching. I think perhaps my presence might cause the principal to send out one more liability waiver home with students stating that the school is not required in any way to assist a pregnant woman. :)
I took a deep breath, smiled, and showed to her the receipt that she herself had given to me showing I had paid for a band book. I asked her if she could look up the "master receipt list" to verify if my daughter's name was on the list. Her face immediately tensed to purple and she defensively stated that I had proof of payment in my receipt. "Yes," I answered, "I do, but the band teacher doesn't seem to have his proof, and could we please check the list?" We bantered for several minutes. She kept saying that I had a receipt, and I in turn agreed and yet asked her to please have her receipt show the proof that my receipt existed so the band teacher would have an official list with my daughter's name on it to convince him that I had paid. I felt like I was looking up at her from the bottom of the ocean trying to speak and yet not able to. I was staring at the ONLY person in the entire school who has the ability to make financial transactions and she wasn't going to help me. Perhaps the mother bear in me surfaced, or the hormones, or the pain, or just the need for this woman to stop saying that I have a receipt, I don't know, but I lost it a little and blurted out my frustrations in dealing with a rude woman who should get on board with her colleagues to work out a better system to communicate. I for one did not understand how a band teacher tells my daughter that he'd gone to the office several times to double, triple, ..., check to see if her name was on the list. My daughter comes home crying to me. I come to the school to show my proof and all I get is an answer of , "Yes, your receipt shows you paid." Does anyone else see the insanity of this?
Finally, the woman turns on her computer. She finds "the List," and scans it for my daughter's name. She supposedly finds it, says some nasty things about the band teacher, and gloats that she did not make the error. Again, I'm thinking, "What error, I just want to see if we're on the List," but I keep my mouth shut. Instead, ,I say, "Thank you so much! Would you please print out that page for me and I will give it to my daughter to take it with her to band and then everyone will be at peace." She cirlces the name, too far away for me to see it, and throws the paper at me. My daughter hadn't shown up and I didn't need to hang around for a potential new round of impossible debate about the flute rebate, so I fled the office.
I nearly knocked over my daughter's counselor as I entered the hall way. Tears were beginning to flow--my body's way of immediately releasing stress. My daughter questioned me about my disposition in a loving way as her counselor began to scold me for allowing my daughter to wander the halls unsupervised and to not let it happen again, and why was I out of bed anyway? Restraining myself from unleashing an unkind reply, I put my arm around her, kept my eyes focused on the exit door, and bolted, in my best waddling way.
Being outside never felt so good until I gave my daughter "the List" so she could give it to her band teacher. She being extremely bright glanced at the circled name and asked, "Who is Chloe?" My flood gates immediately unleashed as I realized I'd have to do this all over again another day. And, we still had to go to the orthodontist.
My first stop was the attendance office. I walk slowly. I am in a lot of pain too and so I'm sure that the office secretary took her first glance at me hoping I'd disappear so as to not have a baby in her office and mess up the carpet. I get it...first reactions are important, nevertheless, I waddled right up to her demanding her attention using my most polite voice and a smile. I asked her how to appropriately get my daughter out of class, since I am new to being a parent of a Jr. High student and this school. Without lifting her head to sneak a peak at my hideous state she shrugged a gesture towards the boy and girl students sitting down along a table from her. I am a college graduate so I inferred that I was to ask them. I repeated my question to them although I am pretty sure that they had heard me since we were the only ones in the office with only 3 feet separating us. I did not receive any verbal nor non-verbal replies so I sweetly informed them of my daughters name, grade, and the class I believed her to be in. The boy and girl began to debate something involving how many female teachers were employed by the school...and yet the boy seemed to be looking at some list of names. I remained patient. I still noticed that the one adult in the room still tried to look as if she was intently busy and couldn't possibly help me out...After the young man had turned four pages, he turned to the girl and said, "She's on your list." The girl began to flip through her pages, found my daughter's name and called the classroom. Wow, I thought, easy as a breeze...and it only took me 15 minutes...and I still have to face the finance secretary. I told the two helpful students that I would be across the hall in the other office so they could tell my daughter when she showed up. They seemed happy to help.
I entered the other office with more trepidation than I'd had in the attendance office. My prior experience with the finance secretary was disturbing and after comparing my experience with other flabbergasted mothers, knew I was in for another tidal wave of trouble. She of course, frowned with a similar disgust, as did the first secretary, when she saw me approaching. I think perhaps my presence might cause the principal to send out one more liability waiver home with students stating that the school is not required in any way to assist a pregnant woman. :)
I took a deep breath, smiled, and showed to her the receipt that she herself had given to me showing I had paid for a band book. I asked her if she could look up the "master receipt list" to verify if my daughter's name was on the list. Her face immediately tensed to purple and she defensively stated that I had proof of payment in my receipt. "Yes," I answered, "I do, but the band teacher doesn't seem to have his proof, and could we please check the list?" We bantered for several minutes. She kept saying that I had a receipt, and I in turn agreed and yet asked her to please have her receipt show the proof that my receipt existed so the band teacher would have an official list with my daughter's name on it to convince him that I had paid. I felt like I was looking up at her from the bottom of the ocean trying to speak and yet not able to. I was staring at the ONLY person in the entire school who has the ability to make financial transactions and she wasn't going to help me. Perhaps the mother bear in me surfaced, or the hormones, or the pain, or just the need for this woman to stop saying that I have a receipt, I don't know, but I lost it a little and blurted out my frustrations in dealing with a rude woman who should get on board with her colleagues to work out a better system to communicate. I for one did not understand how a band teacher tells my daughter that he'd gone to the office several times to double, triple, ..., check to see if her name was on the list. My daughter comes home crying to me. I come to the school to show my proof and all I get is an answer of , "Yes, your receipt shows you paid." Does anyone else see the insanity of this?
Finally, the woman turns on her computer. She finds "the List," and scans it for my daughter's name. She supposedly finds it, says some nasty things about the band teacher, and gloats that she did not make the error. Again, I'm thinking, "What error, I just want to see if we're on the List," but I keep my mouth shut. Instead, ,I say, "Thank you so much! Would you please print out that page for me and I will give it to my daughter to take it with her to band and then everyone will be at peace." She cirlces the name, too far away for me to see it, and throws the paper at me. My daughter hadn't shown up and I didn't need to hang around for a potential new round of impossible debate about the flute rebate, so I fled the office.
I nearly knocked over my daughter's counselor as I entered the hall way. Tears were beginning to flow--my body's way of immediately releasing stress. My daughter questioned me about my disposition in a loving way as her counselor began to scold me for allowing my daughter to wander the halls unsupervised and to not let it happen again, and why was I out of bed anyway? Restraining myself from unleashing an unkind reply, I put my arm around her, kept my eyes focused on the exit door, and bolted, in my best waddling way.
Being outside never felt so good until I gave my daughter "the List" so she could give it to her band teacher. She being extremely bright glanced at the circled name and asked, "Who is Chloe?" My flood gates immediately unleashed as I realized I'd have to do this all over again another day. And, we still had to go to the orthodontist.
You can't have your cake and eat it too
Sunday afternoon my 12 year old daughter, Elizabeth, asked me if she could make a dessert. "Of course," was my reply. Especially since one of the advantages to having your children grow up is allowing them to do things that you might not have time for yourself...and being on bed rest...baking is not on the list of my top priorities right now.
A couple of hours later I realized that Elizabeth hadn't even been in the kitchen so I asked her what she was going to bake and when...At that moment it was 6:30 pm. I remembered I had promised dessert to the other 4 children based on Elizabeth's enthusiasm to bake and if she wasn't going to bake I was in BIG trouble. Bed time was coming...and a promise is a promise. So, I did what a lot of wise parents do and I threatened my 12 year old with no computer privileges for the next day and bribed her she'd get an extra hour to stay up late if she'd just make something.
After some coaxing and multiple suggestions she agreed to make a yummy easy to make lemon poppy seed bundt cake. My 10 year old, Noah, loves this cake and was eager to help. He found the recipe and brought it to me for my approval and to get some tips. I thought everything was going great...
An hour later and I asked my kids about the cake. They told me it still wasn't cooked. I was concerned as I remembered it to only take about 40 minutes to bake. Another 40 minutes passed. Elizabeth said she finally took it out of the oven but sensed that something didn't seem quite right. For starters, she turned the cake out onto a plate and half of the cake stayed in the pan. I assured her that even with all the greasing and flouring it can happen to the best of us. I told her to scrape the top half out and put it on the cake like a puzzle, drizzle some glaze on it and no one would care. I really wanted her to feel successful to promote further baking skills and continue to bail me out of dessert dilemmas
My husband, Ray, was eager to assist the cutting and serving of a family favorite. Each child took an anticipated bite to only quickly spit it out. Everyone wailed in disappointment. Elizabeth came to me in distress. We reviewed the recipe in detail. The recipe called for one box of yellow cake mix. Elizabeth interpreted that to mean that she had to make that cake first according to the package instructions and then add my recipe to the batter. She ended up making a 7 egg cake with enough oil to be explosive, which may be why Noah complained of our kitchen being filled with smoke during the baking process...HMMM....
I am happy that while no one had dessert that night, no one really complained about it either. I did manage to drag myself out of bed and made The cake for them last night. It was devoured.
A couple of hours later I realized that Elizabeth hadn't even been in the kitchen so I asked her what she was going to bake and when...At that moment it was 6:30 pm. I remembered I had promised dessert to the other 4 children based on Elizabeth's enthusiasm to bake and if she wasn't going to bake I was in BIG trouble. Bed time was coming...and a promise is a promise. So, I did what a lot of wise parents do and I threatened my 12 year old with no computer privileges for the next day and bribed her she'd get an extra hour to stay up late if she'd just make something.
After some coaxing and multiple suggestions she agreed to make a yummy easy to make lemon poppy seed bundt cake. My 10 year old, Noah, loves this cake and was eager to help. He found the recipe and brought it to me for my approval and to get some tips. I thought everything was going great...
An hour later and I asked my kids about the cake. They told me it still wasn't cooked. I was concerned as I remembered it to only take about 40 minutes to bake. Another 40 minutes passed. Elizabeth said she finally took it out of the oven but sensed that something didn't seem quite right. For starters, she turned the cake out onto a plate and half of the cake stayed in the pan. I assured her that even with all the greasing and flouring it can happen to the best of us. I told her to scrape the top half out and put it on the cake like a puzzle, drizzle some glaze on it and no one would care. I really wanted her to feel successful to promote further baking skills and continue to bail me out of dessert dilemmas
My husband, Ray, was eager to assist the cutting and serving of a family favorite. Each child took an anticipated bite to only quickly spit it out. Everyone wailed in disappointment. Elizabeth came to me in distress. We reviewed the recipe in detail. The recipe called for one box of yellow cake mix. Elizabeth interpreted that to mean that she had to make that cake first according to the package instructions and then add my recipe to the batter. She ended up making a 7 egg cake with enough oil to be explosive, which may be why Noah complained of our kitchen being filled with smoke during the baking process...HMMM....
I am happy that while no one had dessert that night, no one really complained about it either. I did manage to drag myself out of bed and made The cake for them last night. It was devoured.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Morning Time
Being on bed rest during pregnancy has some perks...really. For example, my husband wakes up early to get my jr. high girl and two grade schoolers off to school while I get to sleep in. Now, the idea of sleeping in isn't great when there are so many things to be done, but, if you can't do those things, tricking your body into sleeping an extra few hours a day gives you less time to be miserable during the day knowing you can't do what needs to be done.
At any rate, sharing our bed with our 2 year old is getting obnoxious, and yet I love cuddling with him in the morning and having a special time alone with him. He usually speaks loving words to me, plays with my hair, and tells me he needs and loves HIS mamma. We sing songs and read a couple books before getting up to help sister Tessa get ready for kindergarten.
At 9:30 am, I woke up with my cuddly two-year-old nestled in my back. As I turned to look at him, my sweet cuddly boy erupted into a cranky dictator shouting out commands. "Where is my Emma, Where is my Noah, Where is my 'Lisbeth, Where is Tessa?"
"Nathan," I cooed, "Emma, Noah, & Elizabeth are at school." "Tessa is watching TV and I can hear daddy in the office working."
"NO," he screamed. "I need my whole family!"
He continued to call out to his oldest siblings refusing to believe that they would go to school without him. However, when Tessa came in to see what all the rucus was, he he immediately calmed as he spied thea chocolate chip cookie she held in her hand. As he reasoned with Tessa to let him have the cookie, and of course won his argument, he decided he'd take the cookie, but not her company to go with it. As I encouraged him to go watch TV with her so I could get up and get him some breakfast, he turned to me and screamed, "This is NOT Family Home Evening! I want to watch TV alone!"
And so I am asking myself, "What happened to the sweet boy who wanted his family 5 minutes ago and now prefers solitude? Not to mention, when did he develop his very good debate tactics?"
At any rate, sharing our bed with our 2 year old is getting obnoxious, and yet I love cuddling with him in the morning and having a special time alone with him. He usually speaks loving words to me, plays with my hair, and tells me he needs and loves HIS mamma. We sing songs and read a couple books before getting up to help sister Tessa get ready for kindergarten.
At 9:30 am, I woke up with my cuddly two-year-old nestled in my back. As I turned to look at him, my sweet cuddly boy erupted into a cranky dictator shouting out commands. "Where is my Emma, Where is my Noah, Where is my 'Lisbeth, Where is Tessa?"
"Nathan," I cooed, "Emma, Noah, & Elizabeth are at school." "Tessa is watching TV and I can hear daddy in the office working."
"NO," he screamed. "I need my whole family!"
He continued to call out to his oldest siblings refusing to believe that they would go to school without him. However, when Tessa came in to see what all the rucus was, he he immediately calmed as he spied thea chocolate chip cookie she held in her hand. As he reasoned with Tessa to let him have the cookie, and of course won his argument, he decided he'd take the cookie, but not her company to go with it. As I encouraged him to go watch TV with her so I could get up and get him some breakfast, he turned to me and screamed, "This is NOT Family Home Evening! I want to watch TV alone!"
And so I am asking myself, "What happened to the sweet boy who wanted his family 5 minutes ago and now prefers solitude? Not to mention, when did he develop his very good debate tactics?"
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