children, mommyhood

Valentine’s Distress

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All you Moms out there with school-aged children have faced this challenge at one time or another. It’s all about getting your child ready to fully participate in whatever holiday festivities their school offers. For Valentine’s Day, it means getting cards and treats for all their classmates as well as teachers.

Sounds simple, right? It isn’t. I spent 45 minutes at Target stressing over what to get for each classroom. I wanted something quick, all-inclusive (meaning the candy or treat would somehow be attached to the card), and economical. I ended up buying TWO boxes of Spider-Man cards with pencils for Full Speed’s class. I couldn’t get away with one because there were only 16 per box and naturally, I needed 17. Naturally.

Full Speed’s class was easy. Little T.Puzzle’s class was in a league of its own.

Since I have a three year old who has/had a food allergy, I am leary about distributing any type of candy or treat that could have traces of tree nuts, eggs or whatever. I landed on the Toy Story box which included heart-shaped lollipops. I knew lollipops are pretty safe in terms of food allergies. I thought I was done. I wasn’t.

I also had to purchase some stand-by gifts. You all know I have been less than holiday minded due to my continued grief process of losing my Mom. Take Christmas for instance. I had some perfectly kind friends drop off presents for the boys and all I had to give in return was anxiety and disappointment. Then, once they left, I had to run to Target like a crazy woman and get them something. That did not feel good so I was proactive this holiday. I have a few small gifts set aside so I will not be empty-handed again. See, I’m telling you, holidays with school-aged kids are extremely involved.

As I pull away from Target and head toward the street turn to go home, I had a warning sound in my head go off. No, it wasn’t voices or hallucitory in nature, but it was more like a flash of unwanted knowledge that popped into my already overwrought head.

Don’t give three year old lollipops the thought warned. Of course. Why would I do that to T.Puzzle’s poor teachers? They would have to follow each student around closely monitoring their airways. It is simply impossible.

Instead of turning right, I veer left. I head across the highway and figure I will run in to Wal-Mart. Hopefully they will have the same Cars Valentine’s with the stick-on tattoos (very child-safe) that I just saw in Target. They do not. So, there I am again, faced with a wall of overwhelming options staring back at me. I ended up burning at least another 30 minutes there before I landed on Super-Hero Valentine’s and mini tubes of bubbles. Believe me, my head was pounding at this point.

I eventually take all my wares home, spread them across my dining room table and instead of feeling love like I assume one is suppose to feel on Valentine’s Day, I just felt dread. I needed to assemble everything, put pencils in place and tape the bubbles to others because we are headed out of town next week. I will be busy preparing for the trip over the weekend and want to have the Valentines ready to drop off at school before we leave. (This trip was canceled the next day by the way; so all my Valentine’s distress was for naught).

Two hours and several martinis later (I wish), I was done. Hallelujah!

Here is a tip. It’s legit, it’s not the martinis talking (I wish). This actually saves you time and teacher sanity. If your children attend school but are not old enough to read, just sign their names to each Valentine they intend to distribute. By putting individual names on each card, it makes it more difficult for the teachers. If there are no names, the kids can distribute the cards unassisted and everyone is happy. That is except for all the Moms stuck at home assembling the various trappings of Valentine’s Day for their children.

Thankfully, St. Patty’s Day is right around the corner. A day designated to celebrate hearty drinking. Finally a holiday I can fully get on board with.

children, health, life in pictures, mommyhood

Quite an Eggperience

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I was feeling so sad. I couldn’t put my finger on it until I realized that little T.Puzzle’s allergy skin tests were bumming me out. First of all, I wasn’t looking forward to holding him down while he was pricked repeatedly with needles and secondly, I wasn’t in the mood to hear confirmation that my dog will never be able to live with us (which turned out to be true).

Little T.Puzze was surprisingly cooperative. He handled everything like a champ. He had to face me while seated on my lap as the tech pricked him over and over. You should have seen his little face. He couldn’t believe she kept coming at him, but he sat there and he took it. He recovered emotionally in about two seconds (of course a snack helped the process tremendously). As for my emotional recovery, I’ll let you know as soon as it happens (if ever).

We had to sit for fifteen minutes and he was not allowed to scratch his back. Of course the hives were popping out like Christmas lights. Instantaneously, I could tell his dog allergy would be off the charts as well as a couple others (turned out to be pollen and live oaks). I noticed his egg allergy hardly caused a blip but did not get my hopes up. I don’t pretend to know medically what is going on and it wasn’t helping that the nurse came in, took one look at his back and made ‘the face’. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen this ‘face’ from medical professionals. When I see the shocked eyes and sad shaking of the head I know that whatever follows usually isn’t, “Your child is completely healthy with 20/20 vision.”

Hey, it can’t be changed so we do our best to accept it. We’ve adapted to quite a lot and so long as my children are functional, happy and active (oh-so-active), I’m good.

A few minutes later the doc returns. Good news! Little T.Puzzle tested negative for his egg allergy. Yippee!! We had to follow-up with a blood test (you should have seen his face as he was duped into being pricked again; he refused their sticker he was so mad) that will hopefully confirm this result. We will know for sure in a few days.

If it turns out to be true, that will be amazing. Look out ice cream, here we come!

bad day, kids

A First

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Full Speed had another bad report from school. Make that a rotten report. Not only did he not listen when his teacher told him not to throw mulch on the playground; he launched a handful that hit a classmate in the face causing a cut on their eyeball (thankfully it turned out to be minor).

There are many firsts in a young life. The first time a baby smiles is pretty awesome. First steps and first words are pretty spectacular, too. Then there are the smaller milestones, like using a sippy cup, getting rid of a pacifier or being big enough to wear hand-me-down spider-man pjs that one of your favorite cousins gave you.

Firsts are sometimes the things that will keep an overwhelmed mother going. They carry enough sparkle to help you shine through the tedium and get you through your worst days.

However, if the first involves your child being the only classmate to receive a red mark (bad) on the day a brand-new behavior charting system is implemented at school, you kind of want to curl up in a corner and hope that no one can see you. I think I did for a moment close my eyes and hope that like a child, if I couldn’t see the world, the world couldn’t see me. What I wouldn’t have given for some invisibility spray.

To compound an already strained situation, the boys were awful at Tae Kwon Do. Little T.Puzzle ended up disgraced and unceremoniously placed in time-out AND Full Speed lost his belt when his poor behavior report was read at the conclusion of class.

I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or simply shut my eyes again.

Thank goodness tomorrow is another day. Maybe my boys will be perfectly well-behaved. There’s always a first, right?

humor

You’re Welcome

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Do you have to work out if honestly you would rather stick a sharp object in your eyeball? Alas, no sharp objects in sight; when this post is done I’ll have to exercise. Here goes…

Almost every day we need to discuss who goes to school and work and who stays home. I have found that if I liken Full Speed’s schedule to Mad Dog’s, he is much more cooperative. Both he and Mad Dog go to work/school every day during the week while T.Puzzle (because he’s not fully grown like Full Speed) still has two, full days at home with Mom. The only one who gripes about this situation is little T.Puzzle on the three mornings a week he is required to attend school. It’s clearly an imperfect system but I keep trying.

As we are driving to school, Full Speed says “Dad and I go to school and work five days and stay home Tuesdays.”

I started to get a little concerned that he was misunderstanding the schedule.

“What do you mean?” I ask. “I was home on Tuesday and neither you or your Dad was there.”

“I said TWO days (Sat. and Sun.) not Tuesday!” he exclaims. Apparently exasperation can be a two-way street.

Ok, got it. Full Speed is perfectly in control and I, yet again, am fumbling to make sense of my world.

To make it up to him, I decided to compliment how incredibly handsome he looked. As he steps down from the truck I say, “You look so good today, Full Speed.”

I’m assuming he meant to say, ‘thanks’ but instead he replies, “You’re welcome.”

Now, if you know my husband, this sounds like something he would intentionally say.

Full Speed truly is his Daddy’s son.

So, this is the first official blog photo of Mad Dog. It had to be done. This picture is just too perfect and captures the essence of this post entirely. It’s from the recent day when Mad Dog took Full Speed to work with him.

All I can say is, ‘you’re welcome, ladies.’

Love you, Mad Dog!

humor, kids, mommyhood

Mission to Mars

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This is not an excuse, but I want to preface that the following exchange took place while on route to school. Getting out the door had been a circus-like endeavor and I was trying to focus on the nearby elementary school traffic. I can only do so much.

Full Speed: “Mom, what’s on Mars?”

Me: “There’s sand and desert.”

Full Speed: “Are there houses?”

Me: “No.”

Full Speed: “Do people live there?”

Me: “Not that we know of.”

Full Speed: “So you’re saying we don’t know them. Are they strangers then?”

Me: (exasperated tone) “No, they aren’t strangers. No one lives there.”

Full Speed: “So, there are houses, sand and desert but no people?”

Me: “Sure.”

I can blame the faulty government or our school’s curriculum. but really my children’s education is being threatened by my own low-threshold of exasperation. I sometimes say what I say just to get through my day. Houses on Mars, Easter Bunnies who reside at the Holiday Inn, who knows what I will say next?