It's Over!

School is out. Summer has begun. Smiles abound.

Thursday, the next to last day, was rough. I have always suspected that not a lot of learning went on during the last week of school. That suspicion is confirmed. Grades were turned in and report cards had been printed and there were still several days left. Teachers filled the time with movies and extra recesses and “walking field trips” to the local library and playground. Out of their normal routines and with vacation stretching ahead, the kids were pretty much bananas. Loudly bananas. I had one last kindergardener poop his pants in the bathroom by me, parents were in and out all day and things were happily chaotic. By the time I left, I was exhausted. I was totally dreading the last day, but Faith saved me.

She woke up at 4:30 on Friday morning with a fever and hacking cough. I fussed over her and got her back to sleep and crawled back into my own bed with an enormous smile on my face. Rich had a meeting with his CIO and couldn’t possibly take the day off so I had to. Summer started a day early. It was like Christmas-in-late-May.

After his meeting, Rich came home and sat with Faith and I went to Hayden’s 5th grade commencement ceremony. It was a simple affair, which I appreciated. It annoys me that 5th and 8th grade “graduations” have become such a big deal. Completing 5th and 8th grades are pretty much life’s minimum requirements. Do we need to throw parties for completing the minimum? I don’t think so. At our school, the principal gave some nice thoughts and each of the students offered “words of wisdom” and got a certificate and a cookie.

Most of the “words of wisdom” were sweet or smart, but some were amusing. They went something like this:

“In my 11 years of living, one thing I have learned is . . .
don’t worry about what others think of you.
eat nutritious food.
wear shoes or you’ll get cuts on your feet.
love your parents as much as you can because you don’t know how long they’ll be around.
Time is precious; don’t waste yours or anyone else’s.
get good grades so you can make a lot of money.
don’t wear flip-flops to gym.”

Hayden’s words of wisdom were: “Advice I have figured out from my 11 years of living: Do not look at the glass as half full or half empty. Instead, strike out and fill it.”

We’re looking forward to him starting middle school in the fall. He outgrew the elementary environment about six months ago and it’s been a rough hoe ever since. I’m hoping that middle school will be more challenging and that the process of changing classes every hour will help with his restlessness. I also think that the fact that no single teacher will have him for more than an hour a day will be beneficial for everyone. We can hope anyway!

One thing that will be huge for him is that he qualifies for a mentor. He was classified as “highly gifted” by the school district this year which means that for an hour a day, in place of regular class time, he receives one on one instruction from a mentor who can lead him above and beyond the standard curriculum. Hayden’s mentor will be in science which is good because he gets super frustrated and bored in that class because he has so many questions that he wants to get further into and the teacher just doesn’t have the time. Unfortunately, when Hayden is frustrated and bored, everyone suffers so this should be a good solution.

Final Pooping Bandit update

: The Bandit wins. He was never caught. There were no more poop filled toilet paper dispensers in the last week or two so the trail grew cold. Hopefully the Bandit is a kid who is moving on this summer so we don’t have to revisit the matter in the fall.

Ingrates

I

love

home-made macaroni and cheese. In fact, I would like to curl up in a giant bowl of warm macaroni and cheese and take a nap. I would wake up and stretch and lick the cheesy goodness off of my arms. Oh, happiness.
With all of the love I feel towards this dish, you’d think I’d have it fairly often, but no. Reagan and Hayden declare that they hate home-made macaroni and cheese. As far as they are concerned, if it doesn’t come out of a blue box and have powdery cheese, it’s not the real thing.
Today, though I wanted comfort food. I am mentally limping towards the last day of school tomorrow. The cacophony of noise the kindergardeners have been making this week is sending me to my breaking point and food is cheap therapy. So today I slow-cooked a ham and made macaroni and cheese. Since it’s been a couple of years since I’ve made it, I thought I had a pretty good shot at slipping it by the kids. I re-named it “Cheesy Pasta Bake” and put it on their plates.
They sat down all excited about the ham and poked at the macaroni.
“What’s in it?”
“Cheese and pasta.”
“So is it macaroni and cheese?”
“Well, kind of.”
“What else does it have in it?”
“Milk.”
“Mac and cheese has milk in it.”
“Just eat!”
They nibbled a few bites and decided it was edible and actually finished their servings. Success? I guess so. I really wish that they wouldn’t make me feel like I was torturing them when in reality I’m making them creamy, yummy goodness.

I’m posting the recipe In The Fridge and then heading for the basement because the grim man on my television is telling me that a fleet of tornadoes is headed my way. Fun. I hope they’ve passed before the

Lost

finale later. I hate it when natural disasters interfere with my television viewing pleasure.

Speaking Of Old Music . . .

I have a new habit on Sunday mornings that makes me start out in the best mood. You’d think that it would be easy to be happy on Sunday mornings. There’s no work, we get to head to church and out to lunch and take a nap in the afternoon. What’s not to like? If you have to ask, you aren’t a mom. By the time I get everyone up and supervise the eating and dressing and squabbling and get to church, I am feeling less than holy. When Rich is here, it’s easier but most Sundays he leaves before we’re up to rehearse for worship. (In his head, he’s a rock star. In reality he plays at church. I’ve seen mid-life crises that are much worse.)

So Sunday mornings have been a crab-fest for a long time - but no more. Some radio genius has decided to market Casey Kasem’s old American Top 40 programs from the 70’s and they play here on Sunday mornings. Now I get to wake up and listen to a young CK in his inimitable style introduce songs that I don’t actually remember from when they came out the first time, but have either loved or thoroughly mocked in the years since then. This morning was especially great. The show was from 1978 and Casey told me, without a trace of irony or sarcasm, that Barry Manilow’s “Can’t Smile Without You” had spent 10 weeks in the top 10 but was unfortunately now at number 14. Then he played it. Awesome. You can’t listen to that song and NOT be happy. A couple of songs later, Olivia Newton John and John Travolta sang “You’re the One That I Want” and my mood was set for the day.

Minor rabbit trail here: Has there ever been a movie with a worse message for young women than Grease? Essentially what we learn here is that to get the guy, we should give up studying and our values and take up smoking and hooker clothes. Nice. Of course I love this movie and have entire scenes committed to memory but I’m sure I feel bad about it. Oh wait, there is a worse movie. The one where we learn that prostitution is a great way to earn money and meet Prince Charming - “Pretty Woman.” I love that movie too, but you can’t sing along to it.

Back on topic now. If you would like to join my Sunday morning happiness, click on this

wikipedia page

for a list of stations where it plays. Some of you will have to settle for Saturday happiness unfortunately. Or for those of you who pay for your radio, I understand that XM radio carries these old broadcasts as well.

Mom! We Learned A New Song Today!

I was sitting at my desk today while the third graders were in P.E. class in the gym right next to me. Our P.E. teacher, Mrs. C, is a wonderful lady who does a great job getting kids excited about exercise and life-long fitness. I’m going to mention her age her not because it is relevant to her job, but because it is relevant to the story. My guess is that Mrs. C is 50something which makes her 15-20 years older than I am.

That age difference probably explains her music choices today. Usually the kids are in there playing to KidzBop tunes or songs from the 60’s. Disney stuff is also popular. It’s usually pleasant and predictable and I’ve gotten to where I just tune it out. Today though there must have been a new CD because suddenly Quiet Riot was blasting out of the gym. I looked up in shock and caught the eye of a passing teacher who looked stunned as well. Mrs. C must have quickly realized that the song was a bit hard core for the kids because it suddenly changed to a catchy little ditty. A pleasant, whistling tune with accompanying clapping. I recognized it within three notes as

Centerfold

by the J. Geils Band. If you aren’t familiar with the song, it’s about a young man who is looking through a “girlie magazine” and sees a former classmate, who he has had lifelong fond memories of, in the Centerfold. If you need further clarification, or a hilarious trip down memory lane, click

here

for the video.

I waited for the song to get to the lyrics to see if Mrs. C had one of those CD’s where they change the lyrics to make the song kid friendly although I couldn’t imagine how they could do that with this particular song. But no, it started right in with “Does she walk? Does she talk? Does she come complete?” so I jumped up and went over to the gym door, laughing. Mrs. C saw me standing coming her way and poked her head out to see what I needed.

“Mrs. C? Do you know what this song is about?”
“No. Why?”
“It’s about porn.”
“Oh! Goodness! Good thing you’re listening out there. I’ll go change it.”

My reward for this good deed? A good laugh and the next forty minutes listening to the High School Musical soundtrack. And yes, the album cover above is

Freeze Frame

from the J. Geils Band. No making fun of me for calling it an album either because that’s exactly what it was.

There are only four school days left and then much of my blog fodder is on hold for the summer. Hopefully something good will happen next week to send us off to summer with a smile.

Recipes

Potluck season is heating up around here. This week I’ve brought hummus and scones to two different events and tomorrow I’m bringing lemon bars to a picnic at work. All recipes are In The Fridge for your enjoyment!

I Can't Take It Anymore

There are things that I have to say so often, with little or no effect, that sometimes I think I’ll go mad if I have to say them even one more time. Yet I do - over and over again. I’m sitting here right now, trying to eat my breakfast in peace, and my blood is near boiling because with just 9 days of school left people around here STILL CANNOT REMEMBER WHAT TO DO TO GET READY FOR SCHOOL!

Here is the list of things I will repeat at least three times each in the next 45 minutes:

1) Are you dressed? (After I ask this, they

always

ask for a weather report as if the windows of our home were opaque.)
2) Is your room picked up?
3) Have you fed your pet?
4) Have you put away the clean dishes?
5) Stop reading that book right now and get ready for school.
6) Brush your hair.
7) Brush your teeth.
8) Get shoes on.
9) No, not those shoes, go get your other ones.
10) Where is your backpack?
11) Stop fighting with your brother/sister and get moving!

These are the same things they have had to do every morning of the school year - every school year. I have made reminder lists and check off sheets and given bribes and punishments. Nothing helps - at least not for long. I am doomed to be frozen in their memories as a gigantic nag and they will grow up and complain about me and promise their spouses to “never sound like my mother.” Really though, the fault here is not mine. It’s their goldfish-like attention span and the joy they take in watching me lose my mind. It has become almost a sport for them - or an art form. The day that I have to be dragged away drooling and mumbling under my breath, “Didyoucleanoutthelitterbox? Whereisyourhomework?” they will all do a triumphant dance in the driveway.

As I sit here typing, Hayden just plopped himself down next to me. He wants to discuss whether or not The Poodle will go to heaven when she dies. He has not yet completed six of the above items and there are only 25 minutes left and he wants to discuss poodles and theology. I quit.

Irksome

Pasted Graphic 138

Irk is a great word. It’s even better if you combine it with poodle, as in: “The poodle is really irking me!” That sounds so much better than, “The dog is annoying.”

The poodle is not my point here though. T-shirts on children are my point. Some of them are very irksome. Like this message on a 5 year old girl’s shirt the other day:

I want it.
You pay for it.
Any questions?

Now there’s a great message to reinforce with your daughter. Put that shirt on her, have everyone laugh and tell her how cute she is and then wonder whey she has a meltdown at the store next time you tell her “no.” Good Grief. Then there are the shirt messages that slam siblings. Some examples:

“My brother did it.”
“Sister For Sale - 5 cents”
“I’m much cuter than my brother.”

Again, how do crack down on a behavior - sibling fighting - if you’ve just publicly encouraged it? Next are the happy bunny shirts. I have to say, that some of them

are

pretty funny. Reagan wore the shirt pictured above for most of last year. However, that’s self-deprecating humor. Some of the others are less amusing.

“It’s all about me. Deal with it.”

Kids are born believing this. It’s our job to convince them otherwise. Not reinforce it. (Although perhaps my parents didn’t do such a good job here because I still often believe it is all about me.)

“It’s cute how stupid you are.”

On an adult it’s kind of amusing but on a kid, it’s just mean.

“I’m not spoiled. I deserve all my stuff.”

See example #1.

There’s also a whole genre of “I hate school messages” but I have mixed feelings on those. Right now I kind of hate school too. :)

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother’s Day to my mom! When I was growing up, she passed along the important life lessons that all good mothers do and threw in some equally important things that were all her own invention. Here is a sampling:

-Respect your elders. There’s a lot to learn from their wisdom and history.
-You should be thankful that you have sisters and be nice to them.
-Khaki goes with everything except more khaki.
-Stand up straight. Tall girls who slouch only look taller.
-Eat lots of vegetables and drink lots of milk.
-If you’ve eaten your vegetables and drunk your milk, you deserve a dessert.
-Don’t be late. For anything. Ever.
-It doesn’t matter how intelligent you are if you sound stupid. Watch your grammar.
-Leftover pie is a breakfast food.
-Take lots of pictures but try not to be in any yourself. I had to go through years of digital photographs to find this one of all of us on a trip to Mt. Vernon a few years back.

Around the time I got married, Mom was diagnosed with a sampler menu of autoimmune disorders. She had been having mystifying symptoms for years, but having names for the enemies made them seem scarier to me. Though I had moved out of the house then, this was when some of her most important teaching began. To look at my mom, you would

never

guess the array of physical bothers she deals with daily. This is due to an awe-inspiring dedication to the power of positive thinking. She is a very strong woman anyway, but anytime she’s not feeling so strong, she fakes it. In pretending for others that everything is all right, she convinces herself as well and as a result she’s remarkably healthy for someone who has been battling illness for over 20 years. I’m astonished at her resiliency and humbled by it as well.

Now as a grandma, Mom gets to teach fun things.
-Homemade jam and popsicles are superior to store-bought.
-Fresh blueberries should be eaten all year long.
-Vacations are fun. They’re even better when you share them with people you love.
-Going to a bookstore is the best kind of shopping.
-Grandpa is full of beans.

I love you, Mom. Have a terrific day.

The Bandit Strikes Again

Maybe they should have held out for catching the Pooping Bandit red (brown?) handed. The suspected serial pooper was well supervised this week when two more messes were found which means that it’s not who we thought it was. Either that or we have a copycat pooper, but that seems unlikely to me. So the hunt continues. We only have 14 days of school left though. I’m guessing he’s going to get out for summer uncaught.

It’s 7:20 a.m. on a Saturday morning and I’m sitting here in my jammies, drinking coffee and eating Cheerios. I should be in bed, but I set my alarm for 6:30 to turn on the radio and see if Reagan’s track meet was going to be cancelled due to rain - it was - and then I was so happy about it that I couldn’t get back to sleep. It is nuts that I sign my children up for all of these activities, drive them to the practices and then hope the games/meets get cancelled. I like the

idea

of them being in sports, but the reality is that it means I have to spend hours in fold up chairs or on bleachers on the weekends when I have so much to do. The weekend really does need another day added to it. I vote for Monday. We would all be so happy to be staying home on Monday that it would take a really long time for Tuesday to become the new Monday, don’t you think?

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day and once again I didn’t get a card in the mail on time. Sorry Mom. For some reason, my Mom’s computer won’t let her leave comments on my blog. She’ll call me later and tell me that it’s okay, she understands, she knows I love her and blah, blah, blah. It’s not okay though. Seriously? How hard is it to buy a card and get it into a mailbox? It’s not like Mother’s Day is suddenly thrown out there as a surprise. There’s plenty of planning time and lots of cards to choose from. The Post Office has made it easy for me by selling Forever Stamps so I don’t even have the excuse that my stamps won’t work anymore. I am pretty much a loser. My sisters should thank me. They’re both going to look like excellent children tomorrow.

Women Are From Venus/Men Are From Another Solar System Entirely.

Rich takes Reagan and her friend, Leah to school every morning. Today, about 5-10 minutes after they left he called me from his cell phone.

“Hey, do you know what’s going on at the middle school?” he asked.

“No. Why? What’s wrong?” I said, but he didn’t answer immediately, and I could hear him instructing Leah and Reagan to go ahead and get out of the car and walk the rest of the way. That didn’t sound promising.

“Rich? What’s going on?”

“Well there are . . . one, two, three, four, five fire trucks and two ambulances parked in front of the school and traffic is backed up.”

I let that sink for a second and semi-screeched, “And you just dropped her off??!! Rich! What if it’s serious? Call her back!”

“Huh? I can’t. She’s too far away. She’ll be fine.” He sounds irritated.

“But there are fire trucks! And ambulances! What if school is cancelled?”

“She can walk home. It’s a nice day.”

At that point, I just really didn’t even know what to say. He had dropped off my child at the middle school that was surrounded by emergency vehicles. Seriously. So I hung up with him and made a few quick calls to figure out what was going. All remaining doubts about getting Reagan a cell phone vanished when she called me to tell me that there was a gas leak and they weren’t sure when they could get back into the school. A gas leak - good. I can handle a gas leak. I told her to wait around for half an hour and call me back.

It turned out that someone had left a knob turned on, on a stove in the Home Ec room. They aired everything out and, much to everyone’s disappointment I’m sure, let the kids in about 20 minutes later. I called Rich back to tell him and as nicely as I could, said “In the future, if you pull up to a school surrounded by fire trucks, please don’t leave my child there.”

“Why? She was fine. It’s not like there were a bunch of police cars out there.” He sounded a bit defensive and like he thought I was an over-protective nut job. We agreed to disagree on the potential danger of the situation and for my peace of mind he said that next time he’d wait to see what was happening. I feel so much better.

I Think I Saw Dante There

We spent the evening in an overheated elementary school cafeteria to hear the 4th and 5th grade band and orchestra concert. I’m sure you’re all

very

sorry you couldn’t be there. I have to say, that Hayden’s trumpet solo was the highlight of the evening. (It is true though, that highlights are not hard to come by at these things.) Not only does he play well, but his accompanying facial expressions are a whole performance themselves. He grew bright red, dramatically rolled his eyes and all but laid down at the end. His explanation is that he’s the only one who can play the high notes and this song does not have enough “breath rests.” Okay then. I was hoping to have video to post here but the lady with the overly large blonde hairdo sitting in front of us foiled that plan.

In case you’re wondering - no, he did not pass out when he was done.

You’ll find a couple of new recipes In the Fridge.

My Cat Pleased Me??

Quite a few people have been asking me about the Pooping Bandit. That little guy sure knows how to attract interest. Not getting enough attention in your life? Stuff your poop into the toilet paper dispenser. You’ll get

lots

of attention that way.

To find the Bandit, the teachers started having kids sign in and out to go to the bathroom and bathroom checks increased. While he was never officially caught, we have a pretty good guess who the Bandit is. One particular boy started receiving much heavier supervision and the incidents stopped. It’s not the most satisfying conclusion, but is this the kind of thing where you really want to catch a kid in the act? Probably not.

Since the Bandit’s retirement there hasn’t been much excitement at my school. Nothing blog worthy anyway. Fortunately Reagan has been relating an ongoing saga at the middle school.

In my opinion, music and art teachers generally fall into one of two categories:

“Cool” teachers who find unique ways to teach the kids. They pass along enthusiasm for their subject and become beloved mentors.
Slightly unhinged.

Reagan’s music teacher, Ms. X, falls into the latter category. She seems to have no idea of how to relate to middle-schoolers or interest them in music. She spends a lot of time hysterically scolding them for being off balance in their posture and trying to teach them traditional folk music, with lyrics like this:

“

I got me a cat, and the cat pleased me, and I fed my cat
under yonder tree, and the cat said fiddle-I-fee! . . .

I got me a wife, my wife pleased me, and I fed my wife
under yonder tree, and my wife said fiddle-I-fee”

Perfect song for 7th graders huh? I’m not sure if she’s trying to promote human slavery or prostitution in that last verse. The kids have no respect for Ms. X. The class is a circus of kids blatantly defying her and trying to make their friends laugh in the process. Ms. X has set up her own video cameras to try and catch people who flip her off when she turns around. Oh, and she also continuously mispronounces any non-typical names - especially of minority kids. Got a good picture here?

Ms. X assigned the kids to give individual musical performances in front of the entire class. Can you imagine? They’re seventh graders. That’s like asking them to go to the bathroom in front of the entire class. Reagan got through it all right because she’s generally compliant and plays the violin. She and a friend picked out a song from last year’s song book and played a duet. Easy. For the kids who don’t play instruments though, there is little choice but to sing. As a non-singing

adult

I would have serious problems with this assignment so it’s not shocking that many in the class refused to do it and others tried to find creative ways around it.

Reagan’s friends John and Luke are good kids who were put into a difficult situation here. They don’t play instruments, they don’t sing and they are 13 year old boys. Solution? Sing “Old McDonald Had a Farm” as a duet. When they got up and announced their piece, Ms. X was totally unamused. She wasn’t going to let them do it, but they correctly pointed out that they were meeting the requirements of the assignment. She had never specified a song, just said that it had to be at least two minutes long. With enough animal verses, Old McDonald fits the bill. Finally, Ms. X grudgingly told them that if they could complete the song without laughing, that they could earn a C. They started out strong, with John singing the words and Luke making the animal noises and they were okay until they made it to “sheep.” Apparently Luke makes really funny sheep sounds. The boys completely cracked up along with the rest of the class. Ms. X stopped the performance and announced that their work “was not even worth an F!”

John’s mom is a friend of mine. She tried to take the situation seriously and gave him a mild scolding about respecting adults and trying your best and blah, blah, blah. Then she went into the other room with her husband and they laughed.

Hayden goes to middle school next year and will have Ms. X. Stay tuned . . .