Am I Going Mad or Am I Just a Mommy?

Unassisted, RJ spells his first word

on his handy dandy LeapFrog Word Whammer

 I am so proud.  No, really...

For more Wordless Wednesday fun, clickety click!

Makeover Monday

Yes, it's that time again.  Welcome to another edition of Makeover Monday, and a happy Memorial Day to all my American friends, family, and blogging buddies!

I hope everyone had a successful week.

Here's my report on last week's goals:

1.   Keep walking.  I will go out 4 times! - (almost) ACCOMPLISHED

I've gone walking 3 times, and hope to go out today, so that'll be 4.  Yes, I know it's Monday, but it's technically a long weekend where I am, so my week hasn't officially begun yet.

2.  Stay patient and keep sense of humor during nine and a half hour drive home. -  NOT ACCOMPLISHED 

Our drive home was probably the worst we've ever had.  Have you read and/or seen The Perfect Storm?  Well, our journey was a lot like that, minus the fishing part.  That is, if you substitute a minivan for the fishing boat, SuperDad and me for the fishermen, and non-napping teething seven-month old and an equally non-napping three-year-old with an ear infection for The Storm itself.  At least we all got home alive in our version.

As for keeping my sense of humor, there was a lot of laughter.  It was more of the brittle, nervous I-must-laugh-instead-of-breaking-down-in-hysterics variation. 

3.  Set up Ebay auctions for stuff I have piled in my dining room. (Is anyone interested in a Medela Pump In Style, a lavender Bumbo Seat, or a Snuggle Nest?)- ACCOMPLISHED

I listed all items yesterday, only I'm trying Craig's List first.  (It would be great to save on fees and the hassle of shipping.)

 

Goals for this Week:

1.  Submit my teaching recertification documentation to the state Department of Education: 

Did I mention that my teaching qualifications are being audited?  Yes, the DOE has seen fit to audit me after ten years of teaching and three years of being a stay-at-home-mom.  Make sense to you?  Me either, but that's Government for you.  It sucks, but better the DOE than the IRS!

2.  Fill 3 big garbage bags of stuff from our attic and take them to Goodwill.

Three bags will barely scratch the surface of the disorganized pit that is our attic, but it's a start.

3.  Finally get out on a date with SuperDad to celebrate our anniversary.

My saintly, baby-sitting mother-in-law was sick this weekend, so no date for us.  Feel better, Grandma Marsha!

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Want to play?  Here's what to do:

  1. Choose a goal. (It can be a new one each week or something more long-term.)   

2. Write a Makeover Monday post to share your goal for the week ahead. State whether or not you accomplished your goal from the previous week. It's okay to brag! If you are working towards a long-term goal, report on your progress.

3. Link your Makeover Monday post here using Mister Linky below.  Please leave me a comment so I feel loved.

    4. Spread the good karma by visiting other Makeover Monday participants to encourage and congratulate them on their own makeovers.

   5. Feel the love coming right back at you!

Don't let Monday be a downer! Start your week off right by celebrating your accomplishments and those of fellow bloggers.

Here's Mr. Linky.  You know what to do.

Role Reversal

I'm a teacher but I'm new to this whole school thing.

RJ  started preschool a couple of months ago., after Baby C was born. As SuperDad and I rationalized, sending RJ to school would give our social butterfly a chance to be with other children his own age. It would also allow me to spend uninterrupted time at the mall bonding with the baby.

We toured schools, picked one and registered our little man. RJ and I went for orientation a few days before his start date. As soon as we entered, he made a beeline for the Thomas train set and never looked back. A few short days later, he was headed out the door hand in hand with SuperDad, clutching his blue race car lunch box in his other hand. I'd like to say that I cried the day my baby went to school for the first time. Instead, I had a huge grin on my face. Does that make me a bad mother? If you think the answer is yes, then all I can say is that you've probably never been a mother. I poured myself a cup of coffee and gleefully sat down to watch the Today Show while Baby C napped.

Over the next few weeks, we were cautiously optimistic as we waited for the honeymoon period to end. We're still waiting. SuperDad and I continue to marvel about what our son is learning at school. When we ask RJ what he does all day, we typically get the standard "nothing," or "I play cars" in reply. We long for those rare moments when we catch a glimpse of his day through an unfamiliar song, anecdote, or question. Our smiles spread wide and SuperDad and I exchange glances as we listen in rapt attention. He can discuss hibernation and spell his name, the brilliant boy!

We love the school.  It's not without its drawbacks, though, as today's lunchtime chat would illustrate:

RJ: (Eating turkey, cheese and tomato sandwich on whole wheat bread, since I'm having a good mommy day):  Mommy, do we've fluff?

Me:  What's that, sweetie?

RJ: Do we've FLUFF?

Me: Fluff?  What do you mean, fluff?

RJ: It's white stuff, like butter. I like it!

Me: (in horror) Where did you get Fluff? RJ: Bobby Kelly* eats Fluff.  Always.

Me: Oh, does he now?

RJ: He eats it with bread. At school.  I want some.  All I have to eat is bread and cheese.

Me: (defensively) Not just bread and cheese! Mommy and Daddy make you yummy sandwiches for school with turkey or ham. You don't like your sandwiches or your fruit salad?

RJ: I want fluff......"Okay. Can I have a cheese stick, then?" he adds, grudgingly.

Me: Ok.  (handing him his favorite brand of packaged mozzarella stick which SuperDad thinks are too expensive.  He wants to substitute "sticks" cut off a block of cheese, and RJ is not convinced.)

RJ: No, I like Daddy's cheese sticks better! I want homemade ones.  (Woohoo!  Victory for SuperDad!)

Me: I'll have to get some more of Daddy's cheese sticks at the store.

RJ: Can we've Fluff? Me: No, sweetie.  No Fluff will ever enter this house. It's not good for you.

RJ: Yes it is!

Me: It's like candy. It tastes good but is not good for you or your teeth.

RJ: Okay Mommy.  (Pauses, thinking)  Mommy?

Me: Yes, love?

RJ: Can I've Fluff tomorrow?

Yes, as wonderful as preschool is, it is not without its downside. It is a hotbed of germs, and a place where our child learns unwanted behavior (not to mention a taste for Fluff). We have learned to watch what we say. "Mommy is upset because Daddy's brain is broken!" exclaimed RJ to his class one day. A few lighthearted chuckles later, SuperDad and I wondered in earnest where that came from.

School has also raised more serious questions and uncomfortable feelings for me. I recall the first time my son told me another child pushed him, and down the stairs, no less. And that he cried. We hear variations on this theme weekly. I suspect he's exaggerating, or even making up stories. "Teachable moment, don't let it pass by!" says my Inner-Teacher. But I have the heart of a Mother Lion, and all I want to do is march over to that school and defend my cub.

After ten years of writing report cards, I now receive one for the first time. How my hands tremble when I open it in the car! It is just a preschool progress report, for goodness sakes, and I can't even wait the three minute drive home! "What do you mean, his verbal expression is 'In Progress'?" questions the Mother Lion to herself. "The kid's a genius who never stops talking!" I prepare a mental to-do list. Practice writing tasks. More computer time. Increase use of tricycle. Then suddenly, the Inner-Teacher takes over. I breathe deeply and regain control of my sanity. He's doing fine. We all are. But somewhere in the back of my mind is the memory that periodically returns to irk me. It is that of a parent, expressing her belief to me that in order to be a great and caring teacher you must be a parent as well. I still don't agree one hundred percent. But now I know where she's coming from.
Tomorrow, my son will go to school. He will walk hand-in-hand with Daddy, swinging his blue race car lunch box in his other hand. It will not contain any Fluff whatsoever. I will prepare my coffee and read the paper while Baby C naps. And my Mother Lion will sleep peacefully until the next time she awakens to duke it out with my Inner-Teacher.

*Names have been changed