Archive for August, 2008

I jest. (Kinda.)

This morning when I sent my son off to school, I had a feeling he would not make it through the full day.  He had a cold coming on, but he wasn’t sick enough to warrant a full day home from school — no fever, no hacking cough.  However, he did look pretty bad.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise when his teacher called me and left a message saying he was miserable, and could I pick him up?  I practically ran out of my classroom, knocking small children over in my haste to leave the preschool because my son being sick meant I got to go home early.

Sorry you’re sick, son.  Now go lay down because Mama’s got some relaxing to do.


Dear Mr. Preschool Parent,

I understand that you sometimes get phone calls at inopportune times.  It happens to us all, really.  And so I don’t hold the fact that you walked into the preschool whilst talking on your cell phone against you. 

My beef, Mr. Parent, is with the fact that instead of finishing your phone call out in the hall, you walked into the classroom with the phone still attached to your ear.  Then, when I wanted to speak to you about your child and what that child had gotten in trouble for doing that day — which was fairly serious, really — you just managed to give me a small part of your attention and you didn’t even remove the phone from your ear.  Nor did you even mouth an apology.  You just nodded, picked up your child, and left.

Please do not ever do that again.  Or I just might have to rip the phone out of your hands and beat you with it get angry.

Sincerely yours,


This delicate flower is wilting.

I still haven’t adjusted to working full time.  I come home at 6:00, and my body feels like it is bedtime.  Basically, I feel like sh*t.  I must look like sh*t, too, because everyone has commented on how tired I look.  I’m met with very sympathetic gazes, and have even had one person ask if I was sick.  Hmmm… maybe I am getting sick.  Sick of this schedule.

Luckily, I’ve been spoiled enough to have a wonderful woman (my neighbor across the street) take care of my children after school.  She’s been doing their homework with them, and even brought them over to our house yesterday so they could just chill at home for a while.  She kept asking if I was sure it was okay for her to bring them to our house, and I kept reassuring her that it was fine with me.  I restrained myself from giving her the biggest bear-hug ever, but just barely.  Because all I’ve ever wanted for my kids is for them to not have to be shuttled from one loud place (ie: school) to another (ie: daycare.)  Even when she takes them to her house after school, it is a nice, quiet place for them to be.  And I like that very much.  It makes my schedule a little more bearable, knowing I don’t have to worry about them.

Instead, I just worry about ME.  And right now, I’m still in doubt as to whether or not I’ll last.  I’m much too delicate for this, or at least that’s what it feels like so far.

They’re clean, but at what price?

We have a situation here at our house. 

It has reached code red, level 10, big frickin’ problem status.

It is a situation that is going to require some relearning of skills and a lot of monitoring on my part.  (And that’s just what I need: more work.  Because I don’t have near enough on my plate already.)

The situation is this: my children go through a bottle of shampoo a week.

Now, I know that it may not sound like much of a problem to you, but I’m being slowly put into the poor house, one bottle of shampoo at a time. 

People, I’m buying obscene amounts of shampoo!

I have tried and tried to show the children exactly how much shampoo they should use at a time.  But somehow, the many demonstrations and examples have not left a lasting impression on their brains because it is Monday and they have already used the whole bottle of shampoo that I bought them last week!  How much shampoo can a four foot tall child use?!  (A lot, evidently.)

I suspect the main culprit is my daughter, she of the hair that never used to get clean because she never used enough shampoo to actually make any bubbles in her hair.  I think she has gone from one extreme to the other.  My main clue is that she emerges from the bathroom after her shower, and the whole house smells like a salon.  Her hair is now gleaming-ly clean.  And yet I don’t feel any better about her hair washing habits.

My husband suggested I go to the warehouse club and buy them a big honkin’ bottle of shampoo.  And that sounds like a good suggestion.  But the problem is, they cannot maneuver those huge bottles with their little hands.  And my son, well, it’s questionable whether or not he’d be able to even lift the bottle, period, much less tip it over and pour anything out. 

So I guess I’m on the hunt for some sort of shampoo rationing device.  Something that pours out the perfect amount of shampoo each time, like that kid’s mouthwash that measures out the exact amount needed by just squeezing the bottle.  Do they make those for shampoo?  And if not, would somebody please get to work on that, pronto?  My wallet would be forever grateful.

Week one in my classroom.

The other teacher and I had an idea, before preschool started, of what kinds of things we would do with our students.  She had a lesson plan written out, and I had visions of how we would run our day.  However, once we walked into the classroom and saw the children already in action, we quickly realized we would have to scrap any ideas and start over again.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that the two of us are new to this school, or if this particular group of students is just seeing how far the limits can be pushed, or maybe  it’s both.  Whichever it is, we are certainly being pushed.  In fact, for the majority of last week I felt like I was being pushed right off the edge of a very high cliff.

We have some wonderful students.  But we also have a couple who are down right spoiled, mean, and bratty.  And I’m not quick to say that about a child.  But you should see those children.

So week one was spent working on how to walk in a line; how to sit in your seat; how not to physically hurt other children.

We had to take a big step backwards, and, man, it’s going to be a challenge.

Getting better. A little.

Okay, so yesterday I may have been a little overwhelmed.  And today is still a little crazy, but I think it’s going better. 

I’m on my lunch break right now, so I’ll write more again soon.  I just didn’t want anyone worrying about me — or thinking I’m locked in the preschool bathroom waiting until it’s time for me to go home.

(The bathrooms unlock too easily.  They’d be able to drag me out.  Must find a better place.)


Today is my first day in the classroom with the kids.  In fact, I’m on my lunch break right now.  I just had to take a minute to write because, well… how do I put this…

Well, you know how you usually have ONE kid in the class who is difficult and hard to control?  Sometimes you may even be unlucky and have TWO.  Well… we have more than that.

Wish me luck!