Logan had his first homework assignment of what will be many sent home yesterday. I’m the dork that likes homework, so I was kind of excited in my own dorky way. I remember making up homework assignments for my classroom of ten stuffed animals. Fun times. Racky Racoon was always at the head of the class. Teacher’s pet and all. I set some homework rules.
1. It is to be done at the table.
2. Preferably when his brothers are preoccupied with other things.
3. My husband and I can’t be overbearing.
Logan’s assignment was to “write name 3 times and practice counting to 20.” Okay. First of all, “write his name,” would this be just his first name or his whole name? Excuse me teachers can you please be specific. Am I seriously confused with kindergarten homework instructions? We did his first and last name for good measure. Luckily he doesn’t have a name like Anastasia Stephanopolous (parents be nice to your kinds when chosing a name, although beautiful it’s a lot to write.) By name #3 he was already telling me his hand was tired of doing this. Great, this is what I have to look forward to for the next twelve years. I bribed him with a single candy corn. “Just finish it with a smile buddy.” Now onto counting to 20. Is he supposed to write down the numbers or just verbally count to me? Counting is just verbal I assume. The instructions say nothing about writing. He then proceeded to count by 10s for some apparent reason. “ThirTEEN buddy, not ThirTY.”
So we completed our first homework assignment unscathed. However, there was another paper behind the homework sheet. A school assignment that was done incorrectly and had to be redone. My husband and I looked it over and realized that he obviously wasn’t told what he was supposed to do. Parent’s first instinct…how could this happen my child is brilliant! There were six numbered boxes with different pictures in them. One had ten birds, another eight seals, you get the picture. You were supposed to count how many animals were in each box and write the number down. Logan wrote the “number” down. For box 1.) he wrote 1, for box 2.) he wrote 2. I explained the directions to him and he easily completed the assignment. I then had to explain to him that he needed to make sure he listened to the directions and if he had a question he needed to raise his hand and ask his teacher. All I got from him was shoulder shrug. Now I can’t help thinking, did the teacher even explain the assignment to them, or was my child just not paying attention? I’m worried that this class of 25 kindergarteners is way too many for just one teacher to handle.
All in all we got through our first homework session, and re-do school work session calmly and with a smile. On to the next.
I’m not a fan of Mondays. Not at all. I get the Sunday blues around 3pm because I dread Monday. It’s back to the crazy juggling act in hopes that I don’t drop the ball somewhere. (Mental note: Friendship snack for Deacon’s school on Friday) Sunday evenings were bearable for a while when I was able to look forward to True Blood, but now Sunday is just back to BLAH. Monday is the day you have to get back into the groove. Work is always insane on Monday. The amount of reports I have due is always doubled. I decided I was going to try to tackle Monday. Get a jump-start so it doesn’t wipe me out completely. So on my True Blood-less Sunday I decided to run to the store and buy a roast for the Crock Pot. I’m thrilled to know that when I walk through the door after an insane day of work, and drop-offs, and pick-ups, dinner will be pretty much done. I wonder why I don’t do this more often. It literally took eight minutes out of my morning.
Salt, pepper, and sear the roast.
3 garlic cloves and a yellow onion on the bottom, put the roast on top.
Add 1 cup water, 1 cup beef broth, 1/2 cup of Merlot, and Lipton Onion Soup mix.
Set it. Forget it. Voila
The house is going to smell like I have been slaving over the stove all day long. I can almost smell the decadent armoa emanating from the kitchen miles and miles away. Lets just hope the dog doesn’t get the lid open and help her self. She’s slick like that. So screw you Monday, I’m winning today!
I was lucky to spend a Saturday with one of my dear friends from the 7th grade. My kids were absolutely thrilled that Faye was coming over, only to be a little disappointed that her cute little dog (aka circle dog) wasn’t accompanying her today. After hugs and kisses the kids went about their business and we caught up. We chatted for quite a while and I noticed that the rainy day forecast I anticipated for the day wasn’t happening and then the guilt sunk in that I hadn’t taken the boys outside. I contemplated taking them to the park but I had to wait for Finn to awake from his nap. Meanwhile Faye suggested, “Let’s got to the pet store to get Franklin a birthday present.” Faye didn’t know what she just unleashed. First of all darling, ask mommy first before making such announcements in front of kids; second, know your audience. Logan at the pet store is adorably cute but you won’t hear the end of it after you have left. You won’t hear the end of it for days or possibly weeks. Daddy took them to the pet store two weeks ago and he just stopped talking about Dusty the $600 parrot that he just had to have because he “took a liking to him.”
Needless to say we were off to the pet store. Bearded dragons, parrots, turtles, koi, ferrets….they’re “all so cute mom.” “Mom, Dusty really wants to come home with me, just look at him.” “Mom, we need to bring that whole family of turtles home, they can’t be separated, they’re a family.” “Mom, that dinosaur Pteranodon dog toy is so cute even though it’s a dog toy. I really wish I could have a toy like that.” As I sit and write this post, it’s Sunday afternoon, I’m still hearing all of this. Thanks Faye. Strike 1!
In addition, you don’t mention the words “ice cream” or any other word pertaining to sugar consumption without discreetly discussing this with the Mom. 4:15pm is too close to dinner time to be going out for ice cream. Strike 2!
Further more, don’t mention fun activities like going to play miniature golf or going to the aquarium without first discussing with the Mom. Now explanations of why we can’t go do those things are in order. I was already asked this morning, “Are we going to the aquarium with Faye today?”
I guess what it comes down to is that Faye sounds like fun and mom’s a tyrant. The Mom is the one that has to deal with the whining, tears, and tantrums when they are denied some of these fun things. So for our non-parent friends, please take notes. Save us moms from the tears, grief, and tantrums. ASK MOM FIRST.