Monday, May 26, 2008

So school is almost out for the year. I have a second grader who is "one and a half school days" from summer vacation and he couldn't be happier. I am already showing signs of mental failure.
Summer vacation was the highlight of my life when I was a kid. It was the highlight of every kid's life. No homework. No school. Swimming. Playing all day.
Not so much anymore. Summer vacation has taken on a whole new meaning. Bored children. Sibling pro-wrestling smack downs. Parental insanity.
My goal for the next two months? Not to sell the children to the circus.

Monday, May 19, 2008

I had a child graduate preschool this week. It was a very dignified ceremony, as you might imagine. Of the twenty children graduating to the big, bad world of Kindergarten, three spent the first part of the ceremony picking their noses. One little girl repeatedly pulled her hair bow down over her eyes.
My child? What, you may ask, did she do during this most auspicious of occasions?
She was well-mannered up until the teacher began reading off the children's names. At that point she began laughing - uproariously, at times - at their last names. She would repeat the name in a tone that left no doubt that she thought their names were ridiculous, and then laugh. Pretty soon the kids near her were laughing as well.
Perhaps a school on manners would be a good idea.

Monday, May 12, 2008

I received a lovely homemade card from my preschooler for Mother's Day. Adorable hand print on the front. Cute poem inside. Questionnaire about me.
The questionnaire was the problem.
"How old is your mom?" it asked innocently.
The answer? 49. That would be a great answer if I weren't actually twenty years younger.
"What size shoe does your mom wear?" Answer: 80. Wow.
"What is your mom's favorite thing to do?"
This could have been answered so many ways. Write. Sing along with the radio. Play games.
What did my loving, supportive child answer?
Not cook.
That's right. My favorite thing to do, according to my own child, is to "not cook."
Wow. I need to work on that answer before the next Mother's Day card.

Friday, May 9, 2008

"I didn't know writers could be real live people, because I never knew any writers." - Rita Dove

Wow, is that true. How many times during career day did one of your classmates' parents get up and say, "I'm Jimmy's mom and I'm an author." Like, never.

Guess what? I get to say that. I have already said that. And it was weird. Especially since my son's name isn't Jimmy.

Maybe I'll get used to calling myself an author someday. But part of me really doubts it.


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