Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts

Monday, October 17, 2016

My Kid's a Medical Marvel

I read somewhere on the world wide internets that certain people are cut out to parent certain types of kids.  I’ve always said I think I was meant to be a boy mommy.  I just don’t think I was cut out to have girls.  I love girls; I have nieces whom I adore.  But for the day-to-day, I don’t see myself guiding a young girl into womanhood.  Granted, I’ve never actually BEEN a pre-pubescent boy and I know that there are all kinds of “surprises” in store for me within the next few years of my boys being in middle school, but I still think I’ll be better at boys than I would have been at girls. 

I was, however, a very awkward pre-pubescent girl once, and it weren’t pretty.  For some reason, I cut my hair short so that I looked like a middle-aged soccer mom trapped in a 13-year-old’s body, like I should be balancing a Virginia Slims cigarette precariously on my lower lip while spilling red wine everywhere and yelling at my peers to get off my lawn.  My pants legs were always too short approximately one week after we purchased them, but in the name of frugality, there was no way my mom was going to buy me a new pair of jeans.  To top it off, in 1987, suspenders were “in.”  Remember?  No?  Just me?  Anyway . . .  How does one wear suspenders when she is an awkward pre-teen with brand new boobs?  Do the suspenders go inside the boobs, so that they look like a giant hourglass?  Or do they go outside the boobs, so they look like giant parentheses?  I’m awkward from sheered head (BOOBS) to Bass Weejuns!  To top it off, I’m pretty sure I had a raging case of PMS for the entirety of the years 1986 and 1987. 

I think that my middle school years were a practice run.  God watched it all and thought: boys.  We’ll just go with boys.  So in 2003, he gave me one.

Apparently I’m not so great at raising boys either. Even though my mother-in-law periodically reminds me that none of her three boys every broke a bone, I cannot say the same.   
At age 7, Large had a well-fed 2nd grader fall on top of him during a game of tackle and he broke his collarbone.  He’s also had a run-in with a wayward swing (it’s complicated) and he had a freak just-walking-down-the-hallway-at-school accident.  Kid’s got his mama’s natural grace.  Medium’s non-existent ninja skills at a mall play area earned him a cast when he pretended to be running his own parkour course.  Turns out he’s not very good at it.  The only one I had left was Small.

A few weeks ago, Small and Medium were actually getting along, for once.  Naturally this caused the earth to fall off its axis in preparation for the imminent apocalypse, and Small broke his finger trying to catch a football.  He came inside, showed it to me, and told me it really, really hurt.  I took one look at it and my powerful mother’s intuition told me that a pinky is not supposed to be turned in that direction.  Off we went to Patient First, and I literally chuckled when the receptionist asked me if we had ever been there before.  (My monogrammed parking spot out front shoulda been her first clue.)  After three weeks in the cast, we went to get it removed, but Small’s finger hadn’t yet healed completely, so he had to wear another one for 2 weeks. 

Keep in mind that at six years old, he’s still pretty active.  Some might even use the word “rambunctious.”

Small’s pinky and ring finger were both inside the cast - the ring finger serving as a sort of splint for the pinky.  He complained a bit last week that his finger was hurting.  I figured he scraped it or that perhaps the cast was rubbing and irritating his skin, and I reassured him that it could not be broken, because it was already inside a cast.  Go home Mommy, you’re drunk.

When we had the cast removed, I immediately noticed that while his pinky looks as good as new, his ring finger was swollen and purple, and he couldn’t bend it into a fist.  When the xray technician took him back to look at the pinky, I asked real sweet-like if they could maybe just sneak a peek at that ring finger too.

Yep, broken.

Small actually broke a finger that was already inside a cast.  The doctor was very sweet but admitted that she had never seen anything like this happen before.  Look at that – he’s a medical marvel.  This must be what the first kid to ever get Polio felt like. 


Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Buh-Bye Kids!


If you are a lucky homeowner in my 'hood who received your copy of the neighborhood magazine, you've probably read it cover to cover and hence you will have already seen the following post.  For those of you in the reading audience who do NOT live in my 'hood, I am affording you the opportunity to read this piece of literary genius, free of charge!  You're welcome.

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year . . .

Nope, not the holidays; it’s back-to-school time.  Don’t get me wrong.  I adore my children and I am extremely fortunate that I am able to stay home with them, but sometimes I’d like to use the potty without an audience.  It’s a luxury I’m afforded only during the school year. 

Phyllis Diller famously said that “cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing.”  Many of the homes in our neighborhood are immaculately decorated, spotlessly clean, and well-stocked with fancy cheeses and highly rated wines.  We’ve got juice boxes, Cheez-Its, and the “this-is-why-we-can’t-have-nice-things” speech running in a constant loop over the sound system.  My summer housekeeping skills make a college fraternity house look as sterile as an operating room.  I know my home has potential.   It would be absolutely lovely if I lived here ALONE. 

The only time our home is actually clean is while the children are at school.  After they get on the bus, I clean up the breakfast dishes, (and by dishes, I mean the paper towel where I placed their toast,) pick up a little, and try to enjoy it. . . . but only until 3:00.  Between the hours of 3:00 pm and 8:00 pm, a tornado of trailer park proportions whizzes through our home. 

One would think with all our toys and their various accoutrements, our children would be able to find SOMETHING to do, but alas, they are bored.  If I hear “what are we going to do today?” one more time, I will likely stick my head in the oven.  As a child, I remember going outside to play, riding bikes, building forts, reading books, playing with my friends, etc.  My children act as if I am their camp counselor, responsible for their every entertainment. 

We are raising a generation of citizens with “First World” Problems.  You have so many Wii games, you can’t choose just one?  You can’t get your bike out of the garage because it’s so crowded with other ride-on toys?  You get sweaty when you walk to the pool conveniently located in the neighborhood?  Your friends are at camp, so you have to play basketball in your very own driveway all by yourself?  You poor, poor thing.  I’m not sure how you find the strength to get up in the morning. 

It’s difficult to teach our children the healthy balance between recognizing how lucky they are while being aware that much of the world is not as fortunate.  It’s a lesson I’d do well to remember too.  I have a messy house because I have an active family of five.  I rarely have any alone time because my children enjoy hanging on me being with me.  They are bored because they are afforded so much stimulation that they need to be taught to appreciate down time. 

So while it is true that we can’t have nice things and my house is never clean, this too shall pass.  One day soon I’ll be remembering these times fondly, because I imagine it’s similar to childbirth – you don’t remember the pain, you only remember the end result.  Until then, happy brand new school year, y’all!  Here’s wishing your family academic success, friendly faces, stellar teachers, and the chance for Mommy to use the potty alone.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

The Angels are Singing: it's Back to School Time!


It’s the most wonderful time of the year!  I’ve been singing it all week!  We had a great summer and I enjoyed having the boys home – I loved sleeping in late, staying in pj’s until noon, and splashing at the pool. 

But it was time.

I have neither the physical nor the mental stamina to entertain and stimulate 3 children any longer.  God bless the homeschooling mom . . . I don’t know how you protect yourself from rocking-back-and-forth smooshy brain.  I couldn’t do it.  We love each other a little more if we spend approximately 7 hours apart per day.

For those of you lamenting, “where did the summer go?”  I’ll tell you:
 
One of Mommy's FAVORITEST things to do:
take all three kids to the tire place!
  • It went to the dentist
  • It went to countless movies and ate many a bucket of popcorn
  • It went to basketball camp
  • It went to Dinosaurland in White Post, VA
  • It got a new basketball hoop
  • It went to the pool
  • It saw a Washington Nationals game
  • It baked cookies
  • It saw a Baltimore Orioles game
  • It got new tires for the Swagger Wagon
  • It saw two Richmond Flying Squirrels games
  • It built forts out of blankets and pillows
  • It survived a storm that may or may not have been a tornado
  • It visited Uncle Chris and Aunt Kathy and our new baby cousin, Maya
  • It had eye surgery
  • It went to Vacation Bible School
  • It constructed Lego masterpieces
  • It went to the county fair
  • It paid a visit to Patient First
  • It went on bike rides
  • It saw the Demolition Derby and the Rodeo
  • It went to a National Symphony Orchestra concert at Wolf Trap
  • It went to baseball practice
  • It watched The Muppets and/or Cars EVERY day
  • It cleaned and purged closets
  • It went to Hershey Park
  • It had several sleepovers
  • It went to Granny and Papa’s
  • It's hard work sitting in the seat while
    Mommy pedals all over the 'hood.
  • It went to Sesame Place

 I'm tired.  You kids enjoy gettin’ your Learn on.  Mommy’s gonna take a nap.


Friday, February 17, 2012

I'm Judgy McJudgerson. Nice to Meet You.


You know how I’m always preaching advising that mothers should not criticize other mothers because we’re all struggling in our own way, even if the persona we present publicly is a mixture of Mary Poppins and June Cleaver?   (Not Roseanne, like I portray.) 
Don't make me judge you . . . 

Well fasten your seatbelts, readers; I’m about to get all Judgy McJudgerson on you’re a$$es. 

On Wednesday, February 8 an article entitled “School Tardiness Sends Waterford Parents to Court” appeared in our local paper, the Loudoun Times-Mirror.  (I know that was a week ago. Pipe down.  I've got a family to raise.) 

Hmmmm, I thought.  I am a former educator and currently a parent.  I am going to read this article.  Then I’m going to extrapolate my unsolicited opinion for my unsuspecting readers to enjoy.  

You’re welcome.

You can read the article in its entirety here.
My favorite parts of the article read as follows:

Mark Denicore leaves early for work each morning from his home in Waterford.  His wife, Amy, is in charge of getting their three children ready and out the door for school.  With three children, all under age 10, it can be challenging to get them ready all at once and make it to school on time.  

What is every parent’s early-morning routine challenge has now turned into a legal battle and a potential life-changing event for the family.
 
On January 31, the Denicores were served with a summons to appear in court on a Class 3 misdemeanor for their daughter Sophie’s excessive tardiness.

The Denicores admit they’re not perfect parents.  Their three children have been late to school 85 times since September, but the majority of the time they missed the opening bell by only a few minutes.
 [Just for the sake of clarification, two children have been late 29 times and one has been late 27 times.]
"The three children have only missed less than three hours each of school since September," Mark Denicore said.
 
Amy Denicore is a stay-at-home mom and either drives their children to school or allows them to walk the few blocks to Waterford Elementary."
 
Although he and his wife had been warned of the constant tardies, they didn’t feel the school system would take it to this extreme.

So.  Much.  Judging.  To Do. 
  1. I, too, have three children under the age of 10.  I have been known to miss the bus once or twice.  I have been on the receiving end of the bus driver's smug look and forced smile as I apologized for making her wait.  In fact, you can read all about one of my parenting misadventures here!  I completely understand being late every once in a while.  Kids can’t find their shoes.  They won’t get out of bed on time.  They forget to wear underwear.  (No?  Just in my household?)  Sh*t happens; I get it.  But 29 times? 
  2. This family lives within walking distance of the school.  Here’s a tip: leave the house earlier.  Yes.  It really is that simple.
  3. What lesson are you teaching your children when you treat their chronic tardiness as if it is perfectly acceptable?  That when you have a real job and you’re expected to show up on time, the rules don’t apply to you?  Those rules are for other people?  Mark Denicore is a lawyer.  What happens when he is late to court, I wonder.
  4. For those who are critical of the school system for spending the time and money on taking the Denicores to court . . . the Denicores forced their hand.  After numerous warnings and lengthy correspondence from Loudoun County schools, the children were still late.  The school system was left with no alternative but to enforce their guidelines.
  5. As a former teacher, I can attest to the fact that it is disruptive to the entire class to have students show up late.  It is disrespectful to the teacher and to the other 20-some students who made the effort to be punctual.  Further, I guarantee that teachers and administrators have spent an excessive amount of time on paperwork documenting the Denicores' breach of the rules.  That’s right, folks.  Teaching is more than just making photo-copies and sharpening pencils.  Surprise!
  6. Granted, I got all my information from the newspaper, but as far as I can tell, there are NO extenuating circumstances that prevent the Denicores from getting their children to school on time.  Mom’s not sick.   Dad’s not overseas.  It's called laziness.  That's right!  I said it!
  7. Yes, getting kids out of the house in the morning can be a lot like nailing jello to the wall, but millions of parents get it done every day.  So can you. 

Dear Denicores, no one is saying you’re bad parents.  I’m sure you love them, feed them, and provide them shelter and other basic needs.  There are children all over the world who would gladly trade their fly-ridden, dehydrated, naked lot in life for the "only less than three hours" of the free education we are fortunate enough to have in this country.  Please give your children’s education the respect it deserves and stop making light of it.  Teach your children to be respectful of time, structure, and basic societal expectations, because eventually they’re going to grow into adults who believe that rules don’t apply to them.  Be forewarned: when one of your offspring parks in the handicapped spot when it is not a necessity simply because rules do not apply to him, I will key his car.  

Thank you for your time,
(hehe.  Get it?!)
Judgy McJudgerson