Moms Don't Take Sick Days

Well, that's not entirely true. My inlaws and the boys' godmother often take my boys for me when I'm sick.  In fact, they'll usually get the boys the night before so I can rest.  I am blessed.  However, yesterday I called in sick.  I was so exhausted and tired, I knew I would not make it through a day of teaching teenagers.  So here's what a true "sick day" looks like for moms.

At 5:30, the alarm rings.  I hit snooze.  After several snoozes, I realize that this is not "normal tired", but instead "holy cow, I cannot stand in front of 27 teenagers and lead" tired, so I fumble for my phone and "call in" online, requesting a substitute.  I then text my coteacher, who joins me for thirty to forty minutes in two of my classes, to let her know.  We'd both assumed I'd catch whatever Little has contracted, so we'd talked the day before about the backup plan.  Nicole is ready to put that plan in motion.  I go back to sleep.

At 5:45, my husband texts me good morning.  I inform him that I am going to take the day off and sleep.  He suggests that I let his mom take Little for the day so I can rest.  I decide she deserves a break, and that Little needs a doctor appointment so I know what I am catching.  I try to call Mother-in-Law so she won't have to make the trip to my house to pick up Sickboy.  No answer.  I try her cellphone.  Also, no answer.  I wait for her.

At 6:00, I answer the back door, let her know the plan, then set the alarm clock for 7:00.  I still need to get B on the bus.  Grammy lives out of district, so there was no point of sending him with her.  Besides, I have all day to rest, so I'll just put him on the bus and go back to sleep.  I snooze.

At 7:00, I wake B up.  He gets dressed.  G, in a sleepy stupor, waddles to the couch and I cover him up with a blanket I'll have to wash germs off of later and set him up with cartoons.  At 7:40, B and I run to the car and speed to the end of our country driveway to wait for the bus.  Huh.  The next door neighbors aren't out waiting for the bus.  I have a sinking suspicion we have missed the bus.  *Queue Cassie's ringtone...here.*

At 7:45, we drive back down the driveway to pick Little up so I can drive B to school.  I am wearing pajamas, a corduroy winter coat, my husband's too-large-for-me shoes, and my glasses.  Do not even try to picture the nest that my hair is.  I'm just the chauffer; I am not to be seen.  I run in and grab Little, throwing on his winter coat and a pair of my socks (comprised of red penguin sock and green Saint Patty's Day sock).

At 7:48 I return to the warm car with Sickboy in my arms.  There, B informs me that the bus passed our driveway while we were inside.  I sigh, smile at Big, and drive him to school. 

At 8:20, Little and I arrive home.  Thank GOD there was no need for us to get out of the car.  Hot.  Messes.  I wait ten minutes to call the pediatrician for an appointment, secure one for 10:30, then set the alarm and go back to sleep until 9:40. 

I wake up, dress, fix the hair (sort of), put in my contacts, and try to dress Little.  He is not going for it.  I decide that, as Sickboy, he is entitled to wear the Ninja Turtle Jammies in public today.  I rustle up some matching G socks, find one half of each pair of his good shoes, settle for a full set of nasty shoes, shoe and coat him, and drive forty minutes to the doctor. 

On the way, Sickboy shows the first wisp of personality for 2015.  He's been sick all year so far.
Me: After the doctor, we are going to get Gatorade and orange juice. 
G: and cold cuts? 
He is grinning his joking grin from ear to ear. It makes him look like an impish leprechaun, and I realize that I am glad to have this moment with him. 

After the doctor, we stop by Walmart for the aforementioned beverages, stop by McDonald's for a four piece nugget for Mr. I-Won't-Eat, and then stop by the drugstore for Zithromax.  Sickboy has walking pneumonia.

At 12:34, we re-enter the house.  Lunch.  Nap.  Well, I nap.  Little may have fallen asleep in front of cartoons.

At 3:40, my alarm rings.  Time to get Big off the bus.  He eats a snack and tackles homework.  I fix dinner, and mother-in-law arrives to pick up Sickboy for the next two nights and days.  It'll be frigid in the morning and she doesn't want him to be out in subzero temperatures.  He has been crying to come home each night, but we remind ourselves that he is five and not in charge, and decide he'll have to deal. 

This morning, at 5:30 a.m., I wake up exhausted and call in.  Luckily, my coteacher has left plans for the substitute she'd thought I'd need.  Little is at Grammy's, and I don't have to be anywhere all day.  I just have meet the bus.  I rest.

To all parents and guardians, who never get sick days like I got today, but instead only have sick days like my yesterday: I more than commend you.  You are past amazing.  To my back up crew: I love you.  Love.  You. 

Good night. 

Country Pets

B and I dropped C off at Cassie's house after a two-day video game marathon.  Cassie and Tommy live off of country roads in what looks like a small subdivision.  Their house sits on the bend of a road, though, on a lot of three acres or so, so it feels country.  Well, the location, the need for a riding lawn mower, and the fact that the next door neighbor, who is a bit away, has guinea hens.

Guineas were new to us when we moved to this part of Virginia.  We grew up in Virginia Beach.  In fact, I graduated there, so the thought of having livestock at a house was foreign to me.  Apparently they eat ticks, so they are valuable around here.  Virginia Beach did not have many ticks.

Anyways, after C hopped to the porch, I pulled forward to circle around the power pole and re-enter the driveway so I wouldn't have to back up a billion feet.  All of a sudden, three mape-mape-ing guineas scurried up to the front of my car.

I edged up, little by little.  Two backed off and mape-maped from a few feet back.  The third was either really brave or really dumb.  He maped from his original position, unhinged by an approaching killing machine and its loud meep-meeping.  My Kia sounds like the road runner.

"Go shoo, them, B!"

My dutiful nine-year-old hopped out, slammed the car door and ran at the birds, yelling and flailing his arms.  C heard the ruckus and joined his cousin.   When I'd pictured motherhood, I'd never pictured boys chasing livestock.  Who knew?

The stubborn (or unrealistically friendly) guinea, finally edged away, but he would not go very far.  B yelled for me to keep going, so I crept around the power pole.  B ran back to the car, along with the car, yelled for me to keep going, then opened the door and jumped into the slowly moving vehicle.

I rolled my window down to yell goodbye to Cassie  "I can't believe our lives include shooing guinea hens!"

"Sometimes they follow us all the way down the driveway!"

I kept going, churning mud from my tires onto my silver Kia.

Practicing Letter Sounds

Because G is a bit behind, I'm becoming adept at disguising reading skill practice. "I Spy" has varied to "I Spy Something that Rhymes with". We look for numbers and letters on signs.  G helps me count things out and tally dollars spent in our grocery shopping list. 

G takes after his mother. 

On the ride home tonight, I distracted a whiny G by telling him that two raccoons had just run near the car and I'd almost hit them. 

"Raccoon!  R!  Rrr, rrr, rrr!  Raccoon starts with arrrrgh!"

He'd made an adorable paper bag raccoon puppet weeks ago. 

I'm pretty sure the cute puppet's tongue and bottom lip are supposed to be attached to the bag and not the bag of Raccoon's face. I'm also pretty sure the coloring is toward the scribble scrabble end of the coloring spectrum. 

"Rrrr, like rrrr, rrr, rrrroadkill," I answered. 

He shot back, "Like rrr, rrr, rrrun over."

Teamwork

Friday night: We run out of dish soap.
Saturday afternoon text to Josh: I forgot to pick up dish soap while I was out.
Sunday morning, wife to husband: Do you want to run out and get the dish soap or should I?


Sunday afternoon activity: wife washes, husband dries

5 Year Old's Response to "The 23 Craziest Japanese Inventions You Never Knew Existed"

This was on my Facebook feed this morning: http://justsomething.co/23-craziest-japanese-inventions-you-never-knew-existed/.  G happened to be nearby, and after I perused the link, I decided to see what he thought about the inventions.  I wish I could remember who to credit with the idea.  I'd read someone else's child's reaction to Pop culture somewhere. 


Highlights of The 23 Craziest Japanese Inventions You Never Knew Existed, According to G
my thoughts are in pink italics

1.  That's a pipe.  It hangs from an umbrella and it keeps you from getting wet.  That lady is not going to get wet. 


2.  What is that?  I'm going to break it.  *punches at phone screen*


4. That's funny.  You can do this *pantomimes unrolling most of a roll of toilet paper*.  For your nose, like this.  *pantomimes blowing nose*  And then you can use it for this *unroll, unroll, unroll, unroll, butt wipe, dissolution into giggles and snorts*
I am reminded of this photo, hanging in our bathroom:

6.  What is that baby wearing?...Oh, it cleans the floor?  That's funny.  And he goes like this *sniper crawls*.


8.  Those are for ear drops.  No, eye drops.  They go in that thing and into your eyes. 


11.  Why is she putting her head in an ink pad?


14.  That's a banana.  The minions love bananas on Minion Rush!


Note: We blew past 17.  I am not ready to hear what he may say. 


21.  Um, what is that?  Why she wearing that?  Wait, the noodle can't get on her now!  Now they won't be in her hair. 


23.  Square pumpkins!  We have been watching Spookly a lot lately.  I want a square pumpkin!...Wait, it's a watermelon?

Parent Teacher Conferences

Seventeen. This is year seventeen in my teaching career.

Five.  This is year five in the parent role at Parent-Teacher Conferences.

One.  This is the first year I have ever had any concern for my son's progress.

B has always been a good student.  He listens well, reads well, and calculates well.  He loves science and history.  His handwriting is borderline illegible, and he produced a failed writing piece a time or two.  However, no one has ever doubted his progress.

G is arguably smarter than B.  His entire life has been spent sitting stiller than his brother for stories. He plays with words and remembers everything.  He started Sunday School classes earlier, and talks about Vacation Bible School more than his brother.

This year at Parent-Teacher Conferences, G's kindergarten teacher shared her concerns about G's progress.  He does not color in the lines, nor can he write his name in recognizable letters.  He shows no ability to rhyme.  He recognizes only a handful of letters. He's sweet and he is well behaved at school, but he is struggling academically.

I took in all this news alone, as Josh was working.  This is uncharted territory.  Everything academic comes pretty easily to B and had seemed to come easily to G...except G hasn't wanted to play along.  So I haven't pushed him much.  Red will uprise against lessons at home.

I texted Josh the news on the way to B's conference--where, incidentally I learned that B is soaring through schoolwork.  I was picturing my boy repeating kindergarten and hating school because of it.  I'd been so cool about him repeating if necessary, since he'd just turned five the week before.  The reality of truly having to hold him back was much more menacing than I'd thought.

Then my husband, who did not excel at school and still spells atrociously, texted me back to reality.  G is little, he likes school, and "roam wasnt built in a day".

You know what?  He's right!  G has not been to preschool.  We haven't pushed letters and writing his name due to his Viking attributes.  He listens well, participates.  He's learned a handful of letters and their sounds, he can write his name, he's picked up coloring and he's connecting dots.  He knows a couple sight words and can write them.  He's learned all that in just a few weeks.
Even seventeen-year veteran teachers need to be schooled once in a while.

Sidekicks

Have I mentioned Whiskers?  G's sidekick is the stuffed animal rendition of the mousie character in If you Give a Mouse a Cookie.  Whiskers is with G so often that I have a special album for the pair on my Facebook page.  Whiskers has become so famous with my friends that visiting friends have asked to pose with G and Whiskers.  

So when I went for a haircut yesterday, Whiskers watched from a nearby chair.  As Kim cut my hair, she and I talked about snuggly childhood friends. She told me the how her daughter's stuffed BFF was accidentally lost, and I told her about Johnny, the Monchichi style monkey my dad gave me when I was two.  Johnny also had a sad story.  After college, I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night to find my graduation-present puppy gnawing Johnny's hands to bits.

Josh and I were dating at the time.  He found a doll repair lady, smuggled Johnny out, and brought him back after "surgery" a new man.  Johnny was a very new man, actually slightly higher on the evolutionary scale.  Doll Lady could not find four-fingered monkey hands like Johnny was born with, so she replaced his hands with proportionally correct human hands.  Instead of a thumb to suck, Johnny's opposable thumb gripped a baby bottle.

I had not realized that my sons had never heard that story.  In the car, G asked, "Is Johnny the monkey with the face like this?"  Then he perfectly imitated the matted doll that sits on a shelf in my curio cabinet.  He asked me questions about Johnny, like what Riley did to his hands, and how Daddy got them fixed, and what an opposable thumb was.  When we got home, both sons wanted to see Johnny in person.  Seconds after I opened the cabinet, G shut the door and announced that Johnny had to stay in there so he could be safe.

This morning, G moved my banana trophy to the curio cabinet.

Johnny sits between the most thoughtful teacher gift I've ever received, the ceramic bowl I made in elementary school, and our cake topper.  Now my trophy resides next to Johnny as well.   

G and I have had several conversations about Johnny today.  Johnny's favorite food is bananas.  Whisker's favorite thing to eat is cookies.  We bet that they'd both love banana cookies.  They also both like milk, but Johnny still drinks his from a bottle.  Whiskers prefers a straw.  Johnny and Whiskers hung out in and by the curio cabinet today, and they said goodnight to each other tonight.  I think that those two will be great friends while Whiskers waits for G to come home from kindergarten this year.  Who knows?  They may even be roomies in a curio cabinet one day.