Taking Action Makes Me Happy

I’ve been avoiding writing about how Jack is doing at kindergarten. I’ve been trying to process how things are going and what we need to do, and just pretending that the giant elephant isn’t standing in the middle of the room.

Instead, hey! Can I tell you about the weather? It rained, ya know? And there was this day that my dog had to go to the vet. Maybe I could itemize the bill for you? Or maybe tell you about the night that I actually cooked dinner?

And what was I talking about? Oh, yeah, the elephant there.

Jack is struggling. Jack needs more support. Sigh. I kinda wish he was still in preschool. Double sigh. We called an IEP meeting, which is scheduled for next week, and I’m hoping the good will of Jack’s team (and our newly hired educational attorney) will translate into what he needs to help him be successful.

Now, how ’bout that weather?

I Think I May Have Given Up

When I woke up this morning, I tried to look at my watch, but it was facing away from me on my wrist and I would have had to use my other arm to twist it back around. So I decided I didn’t need to know what time it was.

Even though I badly need to shower, I know that I’m just going to have to do it again tomorrow, and it’s not like I’m planning to leave my house today, so I decided I could just live without it today.

I keep my medicine in a lockbox by my bed so my kids don’t get into it and overdose. This morning it seemed too hard to open it, so I decided that taking my anti-depressant every day can’t be entirely essential. I have a sneaking suspicion that this may be an incorrect assumption.

I wandered downstairs to find two of my three kids still wearing just underpants. Eh?

My brand new cold makes me sound terribly sick, so I haven’t cleared my throat yet. My hope is that I’ll sound terribly pathetic and maybe garner some sympathy from Alex. He hasn’t noticed yet.

Sam just ratted Alex out. Apparently he hasn’t fed them and has had Sam do his bidding all morning. I think Alex may have given up too. Wait. They just wandered by eating cookies. Yep, he’s given up too.

I was about to call my friend who just got back from vacation, but I was trying to think what time it is at her house. She, incidentally, lives three houses away from me.

My mom, who is living in Africa right now, just sent me an email: “Why doesn’t the little map on your blog show a red dot on west equitorial Africa? You have a fan there who looks at your blog at least once or twice a day. Am I not a person!? Am I not human?” First, are you getting a glimpse of what made me? Second, I think Feedjit has given up too. I told her I would let the internet know that Africa is reading. Internet, Africa is reading.

The number one clue that I’ve given up might just be that I’ve put this drivel on the internet. No, I think the antidepressant thing is number one. This is number two.

Rain, Rain Go Away

The plan was simple. We would all drive to Alex’s motorcycle dealer’s shop, where he would pick up his bike. Then he would ride and I would drive to Costco. Then we would go home. (ETA: It’s not actually our motorcycle shop. It’s where Alex takes his bike when it breaks. Or needs service. Or whatever. Because he we don’t know how to fix motorcycles.)

It didn’t rain on the way up, but the storm clouds looked threatening.

“I predict that as soon as I get on my bike it will start raining,” Alex said. “Then it will stop when we get to Costco, only to start raining again while I’m riding home.”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha,” I said.

We picked up the motorcycle and guess what happened?

I asked the little dudes if they thought Alex was wet.

Jack said he thought that yes, Alex was wet. Sam said that since Alex was wearing a coat, his clothes were wet, but underneath, he was dry. I thought that my seat warmer was making my butt too hot.

I think Jack was right.

Yep. Jack was right. Here is Alex when we arrived at Costco just as the rain stopped.

I can’t speak to what the weather was like while we were in Costco, but I am assuming that the clouds parted, revealing smiley face sunbeams and rainbows with unicorns prancing on them. At the very least it wasn’t raining when we stepped out of the doors.

As we walked to the car, it started to drizzle again. “It’s starting to rain,” commented Sam.

And it was. True to his prediction, Alex had been on his motorcycle during the most torrential rains of the day so far.

Moral of the story: If you’re smart enough to predict the weather, you might want to be smart enough to plan weather-appropriate activities. Or at least wear your rain gear.

That’ll Teach Her to Run and Jump and Play

Because I’m tired of bitching about the chaos of kindergarten, I will instead bitch about the fact that my DOG cost me nearly THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS today because she CHIPPED A NAIL.

Well, I guess it was a little bit more than that. Last night I noticed her obsessively licking her back paw. I didn’t even want to look at the foot because I could sense the prohibitive cost in my future. But I did. And her nail quick was entirely exposed.

Here’s the thing about Cassidy. She doesn’t care for vets. And not in a “I’m going to be grouchy and maybe cower in the corner” kind of way.

Her way of hating the vet is more of a, “the flourescent orange ‘CAUTION’ sticker on her chart wasn’t enough, nor was the bright red ‘MAY BITE’ sticker, so they had to go ahead and put a neon green ‘WILL BITE’ sticker on her chart” way.

And on that WILL BITE sticker is a handwritten note that says, “sensitive about paws.”

See where I’m going with this?

A foot injury on Cassidy is not just a matter of an office visit, antibiotics, and a bandage. I know because she regularly injures her feet. It’s weird.

Cassidy requires an office visit, a day of boarding, sedation, blood work, and two prescriptions.

And a bandage in a bag ’cause it’s raining.

Poor girl. I think she had a sucky day too.

One of Those Days: A Timeline of Minor Annoyances and Downright Failure

My day was going great until…

8:15 a.m.: Jack freaks out because he has to return his library book at school today. He is absolutely not down with that. Tears and yelling ensues.

9 a.m.: Sam and Jack are at school. For no discernible reason, Quinn starts yelling at me, “I don’t like ya’! I don’t like ya’!”

9:50-10:05 a.m.: I’m driving to a park that I’ve been to dozens of times and drive an entire mile past my turnoff. I struggle through a traffic jam clusterfuck before I realize that I’m nowhere near where I’m supposed to be.

10:15 a.m.: We arrive at the park. Quinn immediately demands to eat lunch.

11:05 a.m.: Quinn insists that the tree he is banging a stick on is his. No other kids are to come near it. I edge closer to him in case he decides to take action against the small befuddled child trying to bang a stick on the same tree.

1:43 p.m.: A FedEx box completely defeats me. I rip it to shreds to get at the contents inside.

2:00 p.m.: I decide to make apple crisp with the apples Quinn picked at the apple orchard yesterday. I’m past the point of no return when I realize we don’t have any stick butter in my entire house. In fact, all we have are scrapings from a tub of spreadable butter. I collect 1/2 cup of spreadable butter and wonder how it will affect a recipe that asks for 1/3 cup of stick butter.

2:12 p.m.: I’m on the phone with Ruby Tuesday when I give up entirely and let Quinn eat a chunk of brown sugar.

2:15 p.m.: Having elicited promises of gift cards from Ruby Tuesday, I get off the phone and take away the sugar.

2:16 p.m.: Quinn objects.

3:20 p.m.: A neighbor takes Sam right after school for a playdate. Things are looking up!

4:50 p.m.: On the walk back from picking Sam up, Quinn falls and wonks his head on our sharp wooden porch steps.

7:10 p.m.: I walk in circles around the house trying to get away from my kids, all of whom are trying to talk to me. I am on the phone with Jack’s aide, who is calling from home to give me advice. I am also trying to take notes in my own communication notebook. My frantic finger waving does nothing to stop my children.

7:30 p.m.: It’s bedtime for Team Stimey. Because Sam had a playdate, karate, dinner, and then chase Mom in circles around the house time, tonight bedtime is known as Sam Starts His Homework Time.

7:55 p.m.: Sam takes 16 years to read his assigned book.

8:07 p.m.: Sam finishes his homework.

8:08 p.m.: I check out for the night.

But, hey. It could have been worse.

I’ve Never Cared For the Word “Belly”…

…but it turns out that belly dancing is all kinds of fun.

Not that those two things have anything to do with each other.

When Devra invited DC Metro Moms Blog writers to a party celebrating the opening of her (and Goon Squad Sarah‘s) fitness trainer Vionna’s studio, I just read the evite as far as “wine with no whine.”

I was in.

I was aware that the evite mentioned belly dancing, but I sort of figured I would stand over next to the wine and laugh and take photos of those who chose to belly dance.

This was not how this particular shindig was set up. We were allowed some wine and chat and then our hosts forced us into belly dancing gear. Most of the ladies picked up normal waist scarves. I picked up some fancy red, floor-length number that I needed help getting into. I didn’t take a photo, mostly because I’m pretty sure I looked entirely ridiculous.

But it was okay, because belly dancing itself was outrageously fun. The instructor, Shaylah, was kind and gentle and fun and worked the hell out of us. I had been feeling guilty for not working out that day. But after I broke into a sweat, I felt my guilt slip away.

Besides Sarah and Devra, Whymommy and some other friends were there. And I finally got to meet Sue from My Party of 6. It was a lot of fun.

Be sure to check out Vionna’s new studio, Hot Mama Fitness Studio, in Bethesda. This Saturday they are having a full day of free sample classes. It looks like a lot of fun. And please check out all the kinds of events Shaylah does. I think she and her fancy belly dancing scarves could add some fun to any night.