I Don't Hate Many Things, but...

I'm sorry, but I have to say this...

I hate homework.  It is my least favorite part of the day.  I have tried everything to get it done, and it just sucks.

I have tried screaming and yelling, I have tried simply not caring, I have tried not doing it at all, I have tried doing it before we pick up other kids, I have tried doing it while I cook dinner, I have tried doing it before bed.  There is no good time.

So now here's where all the teachers hate me, and I have A LOT of teacher friends.  I went to Longwood...hello!

Why the hell does my 2nd grader need to do homework?

She spends 7 hours a day in a classroom.  She spends 3 hours at home every night.  In that 3 hours we must eat dinner.  We also take a bath most nights.  We try to read books.  We like to play.  And these are nights that we have nothing else going on...no errands to run, no practice to go to.

So how in the world am I supposed to also fit in 20 minutes of homework with a child that does not want to do homework because she's been doing work all day in the classroom?  And by the way, it is not 20 minutes.  Last night, it was almost an hour!!!  One third of my night!

I already know what you're going to say.  Teachers don't have time to teach everything that needs to be taught to stick with state standards.  Am I right?  Well, I don't care!!!!  And I'm not screaming at the teachers here.  I love the teachers in my life and I know how hard the work.

So I'm screaming at the system.  It's ridiculous!!!

Last night, we come home and sit down to do homework before we pick up the boys.  She is not focused.  She wants to eat a snack and talk about other things but we don't have time to eat a snack and talk about other things.  Because we have to draw a stupid graph about storms.  And then write all the facts we possibly can about them in the graph.  I read the directions to her 5 times, she read them, she still did it wrong.  Because she's totally not interested.  Her brain has been working all day, she wants a break and I don't blame her.

I don't go home and get on my work email.  Why should she have to come home and do more school work?

And while we were reading the packet about storms, she kept just telling me all these random facts about storms that were correct and not in the mandatory reading book.  So obviously, she has learned something in school about storms, because I assure you, we do not sit around the dinner table discussing Tornado Alley and Hurricanes forming over the Atlantic Ocean and Gulf of Mexico during warm months.

So after a half an hour of reading this packet, and then 20 minutes of pushing her and begging her to do the graph right...I said screw it, she obviously knows the stuff.

I try to take that attitude with homework, but it's hard.  I don't want her to fall behind, because even though she knows about storms, she doesn't do as well with math.

I really don't know what the answer is.  Any advice?

Sick Days

Ainsley is rarely sick.  Maybe once a year she gets a cold bad enough to run a fever.  But really, she's fairly healthy.  I attribute it to full time daycare since 3 months of age.  Because she wasn't always this way.  She was my ear-infection-every-6-weeks kid.  If it wasn't an ear infection it was a virus or strep throat.  She was sick a lot, which made me sick a lot.

However, by about age 3.5 she stopped getting sick.  Sure she has a cough or runny/stuffy nose here and there, but really down and out sick...no more.  Also, she's never had any kind of stomach bug.  The child has never thrown up.

This school year, the only days she has missed have been days we pulled her out of school for something...until February.

February brought the flu to our house and a nasty, high fever virus to both the kids.  So three weeks ago, Ainsley was sent home from school with a 102 fever.  She then missed the next two days  The following week we kept her home because of another high fever.  That whole time she would run a fever here and there, but that was it.  In between fevers she was her normal happy self.

Fast forward to this week.

Tuesday the school called at 10 AM, Ainsley was complaining of a sore throat, but no fever.  I was kind of caught off guard.  No fever?  Then why are you calling me?

But since I'm still kind of new at this public school thing, I left work and picked her up.  This child was not sick.  No fever, no congestion, nothing.  She said she "had a frog in her throat."  She flipped out when I told her she couldn't play with the neighbor girl after school.  "But I'm not sick!!!" she insisted.  Which I knew, but no way was I encouraging this behavior.

Yesterday, she cried getting on the bus.  Said she was afraid of poisonous snakes.  The night before she had grilled me about blood-sucking bugs.  Clif forced her on the bus and the day was uneventful, as far as I know.  Last night I asked her about it.  Asked her if everything was okay at school.  Asked her if she was getting along with all of her friends.  Her answer "I had a great day mommy," as she bounced into the minivan.

Today, I'm working away at my office when the phone rings...Virginia number I don't know.  I answer.  It's the school.  Ainsley's in the clinic.  She told her teacher she felt like she was going to throw up.  Again, the girl has NEVER thrown up.

"Is she running a fever?" I ask.
"Not really, 98.9 (side note: NOT A FEVER NURSE!!!)" the nurse responds.
"Did she throw up?" I ask
"No, but she's asking to go home," says nurse.
"Can you please explain to me your criteria for sending a child home?  I thought they had to be running a fever."
"Well, yes, they need to have a fever over 100 degrees, but we also send them home if they're not feeling well.  And she says she's not feeling well," she explains.

Then I got all blubbery.  I don't know how to explain it.  I'm not good when my parenting is questioned.  I was asking if it was really necessary that I come get her and even though it wasn't, I was being made to feel like an ass hole for, I don't know...not caring that my kid was sick.  Which is not the case, but that's the way I felt.  Most of that, probably my own issue, but I have no idea why a school nurse is calling me when a child has ZERO symptoms.

If Ainsley gets embarrassed or upset she tells me she doesn't feel well.  A kid saying "I don't feel well, I want to go home" is not reason to send them home.

So here I am, at home again with her and guess what...she's not sick!  I am forcing her to stay on the couch all day.  She's pretty pissed about it.

I tried talking to her, asking her why she kept wanting to come home and her only answer is that she was sick, but now she's not.

I'm trying to make her understand the difference between actually being sick and just feeling a little icky.  But really, how do I make a 5 year old understand that?  I don't want her suffering through school if she is sick, but again...she rarely, RARELY gets sick.  And she's already been sick this month.  I can't see her getting another full blown illness this close to the last one.

So bottom line, I kind of feel like something else is going on, but I've asked every question I can think of and nothing.  No one hurt her feelings, everyone wants to play with her, no one yelled at her, she loves school.  So why is she asking to come home every day?

Tiny Dancers

We are late.

I so didn't want to be late.

I'm not sure how we ended up late, I really thought I was on time, but something always creeps up.

She will probably be late to most things in life, as long as I'm in charge of getting her there.  Most likely this will result in many arguments during the teenage years, but right now she lives in a world where time doesn't exist and she smiles happily from her carseat, excited about what's in store.

We've been talking about it for weeks, her first dance class, and to say she is thrilled is an understatement.

I whip into the parking spot quicker than I should and Ainsley says Whoa mommy! from the back seat.

We rush inside, where the tiny dancers are already filing into the studio.  I hurriedly buckle Ainsley's little tap shoes and pull off her yoga pants.  She is pulled off by the teacher before I have a chance to wish her good luck.

I make my way to the crowded one way viewing window.  I don't want to be rude, but I also want to be where I can see and yes, take pictures.  So I slowly and strategically make my way to the front.

At first, they are all sitting in a circle on the floor.  From their muffled voices I think they are introducing themselves to one another.

Soon the teacher and assistants are putting them in three lines.  Ainsley, being tall for her age, ends up in the back.  As the teacher begins giving simple directions that highlight the differences between left and right, heel and toe, I am watching Ainsley like a hawk and suddenly I realize that I have entered a new phase of motherhood.

Fear.

Not fear that something will happen to her, not fear that I won't be the mother they deserve...but fear that she will have her feelings hurt.  And that breaks my heart.  What if she's not good enough?  What if she can't keep up?  What if she's embarrassed?  She's so tiny and frail looking in the body hugging leotard and pink tights.  Although I can't hear everything that's being said, I can tell by the way she stands that she is nervous and timid.  She is not the normal energetic, full of confidence, little girl that we all know and love. I am worried that her little ego will not be able to handle rejection or failure.  Then I try and remind myself that this is a 3-4 year old tap/ballet class and most likely she won't be auditioning for anything anytime soon.  But my fear is more about what lies ahead.  School is just around the corner and that means new friends and new activities...but it also means little girls who are not friends and activities that she will not be good at.  I worry about how I will console her when the heavier bumps in life send her stumbling.

She is not following along with the teacher at all.  She forgets to put her hands on her hips.  She's not quite getting the whole left - right thing.  But as the hour comes to a close, I do notice her understanding a bit more and doing as she's told.  She always listens - to other people, that is.

The teacher tells them goodbye and they all file out of the studio to go get measured for the costumes they'll wear in the summer recital.

As she passes me she is beaming, her head held high and that confident glow shooting out of her eyes again.

Mommy!! Mommy, did you see me!!  I am a drate (great) dancer!