Archive for school
Parent Teacher Interview Fail
Posted by: | CommentsAwoke this morning with migraine hangover, which is really bloody annoying as I went to bed last night before the migraine kicked in fully and had a decent sleep.
Grumpy up early with an Out Of Normal Routine shift, but have since been advised it is now an Part of Normal Routine Shift Until Otherwise Advised – gah! Luckily I function well on chaos. Otherwise, we’d be in trouble.
Therefore, I had swimming lessons with toddler and white, un-deforrested legs. Is un-deforrested a word? it is now.
Toddler not cooperating well with my washed out feeling, but we managed to farewell older two with minimal drama and have a tantrum within the first five minutes of swimming lessons.
Please, I thought, please don’t make me have to say things and stick to them. I can’t deal with that this morning.
He must have got it and began to participate fully, including the bit where he screamed “Please SHUT UP!” when we sung Ring-a-ring-a-rosie, because he knew that meant an dunking under water. Apparently, screaming “Please SHUT UP!” in swimming lessons means I won’t. Little does he know.
Also, the teacher was entertained.
Home to bed (for him) before time to collect big brothers from school and ta da! I rememebred! First time in three years – Parent Teacher Interviews. I was even prepared. What with it being a “get to know your kids” interview, and experiences from last year and having learneded at bit, I figured I could tell them how my kids worked best and we could all work together in their education. Also, Monkey Boy having a new teacher, I figured we’d have a clean slate and we could work out the best way to manage his lack of confidence and trying new stuff.
I was even on time for the interivews and organised and everything.
Godzilla’s one went very well. Monkey Boy’s was a complete fail as I had completely forgotten the apparent understanding of teachers (generally) that whenever a parent comments about anything, that parent is obviously having a go at them / arguing with them / is right and the teacher is wrong and there is no way, in any circumstance that that parent may actually be giving the teacher useful information about how his/her child works best and the best ways to get them doing stuff, nor could that parent possibly be of the opinion that they can work together with said teacher in order to ensure consistency between home and school.
I have never left an interview of any sort feeling so patronised nor misunderstood.
Mostly, I was completely baffled at the defensiveness of said teacher at my questions and giving of information about my own child, whom, clearly, I know nothing about, nor am I capable of advising the best way to motivate him. Nor the best way to shoot him down and get him to be a smartarse.
I have never left a parent teacher interview before, feeling like I had failed.
And they’re back
Posted by: | CommentsAfter what seems like an extraordinarily long- because it was – break from school, I had settled into such a routine and habit that I was almost content that they would never be returning to school.
It had become all to familiar. Even the snarky, demanding, control freaky comments of the ten year old were no longer getting to me. Although, they were increasing in intensity and frequency, and I was ready to drop him off last Tuesday. Especially when he repeatedly advised me that starting back on a Friday was “stupid” and he wasn’t going.
Yes, it is stupid, and no, you’re nost staying home.
So, ner.
So, today was back to school, all completely to schedule (thanks to my School Mayhem Managers - shhh, I haven’t officially launched them yet 
) with no nagging re shoes being put on or repeatedly requesting lunch be placed in the school bag.
(I did note, however, that the End Of Term last year, the “completely empty your bag” request was either overlooked or not listened to, and I wish I’d had my End of Term Manager handy then – nevermind)
No, discussion this morning revolved around Monkey Boy not wanting to go to school, then wearing tracksuit pants and a long sleeved school shirt for the 32* day we have planned. Also, the shirt is several sizes too small and much discussion revolved around that.
At least he had his shoes on and bag packed.
Chippie, in the meantime, was ignoring his breakfast and carrying around a tupperware container of Cruskits demanding we open them because he wanted a “cruntis”.
A word which sent me into giggles. Much like those of a seven year old boy upon hearing the word “poo”. Or “bum”. Or, perhaps, even “penis” or “boobs”. It just sounded a wee bit rude, and I contemplated suggesting the “get out of the cruntis door so we could got to cruntis school!”
Shuffled them out (late for me, but well and truly on time for school), rememebered I hadn’t got a photo, raced around to locate camera and got a pic of a surly ten year old and dopey be-grinned seven year old.
Make it to school unscathed and without much fuss, possibly because I kept walking with the two big ones and left Grumpy to contend with the littlest one and the Dropping Off At Childcare scenario. Seperation Anxiety has kicked in with a vengence. I can’t handle it today.
Arrive home, send a text message using the calculator, and sit down to a day of work – Kid FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Oh, the joy. I haven’t had a day like this in what feels like three years, but was, in fact, just the school holidays. Which I’m sure were about three years long anyway.
I had no idea where to start, it was all terribly exciting!
Collect kids. Godzilla cannot be located, and was not seen, despite my waiting for him near his classroom door. He has, as usual, found his way to the playground, with no regard for anyone else. Monkey Boy still in surly mood and am tempted to leave him at school. We don’t. He gets narky walking to childcare to collect Chippie because he thinks I’ve said “no” to something. He’s rude to me. He picks on Godzilla. I have words and clear up the “you said no” situation. He understands I have said “yes”. He turns to Godzilla and says “HA HA I get to do it, you don’t!” Then I say “NO” and he gets upset again.
Which is only matched my Chippie’s worse-than-dropoff screaming and crying and wonder if he has a severe case of Non-separation Anxiety? Or, perhaps, Parental Bond Anxiety. I know I’m now having an anxiety of some description.
Also, some serious doubts about why I bothered to pick them up in the first place. Surely things would have been much nicer had I left them at their various places of education and care.
Godzilla was trying to cheer me up by rambling on and on about a DS game that he really likes. He hurt my brain. I don’t know what he’s talking about. It’s like he’s speaking a different language! Argh!
Arrive home, Grumpy heads off to get some vegies for dinner, Chippie takes his tanty up a notch and we can only work out that he wants Grumpy to stay home. At least, we think that, till Grumpy walks back in and he has another tanty and runs outside, and runs back in, and throws a train, and drags me out, and drags me back in, and Grumpy goes out, and he throws himself on the floor and Grumpy goes agian, and I cuddle him, and he runs off, and I go the other way, and he wants a cuddle, but then runs after Grumpy who tries to talk to him and I yell “Just fucking GO!” cos I feel the tanty is being prolonged with both of us here. Grumpy ends up taking him (where I discover later, he continued his tanty for most of the trip).
*sigh*
Make a cup of tea so I can discuss events with Monkey Boy.
Have not grabbed MUG. Have just grabbed a mug from the cupboard. It has a picture of Woody and Buzz (from Toy Story) on the side. I glance at Woody. He is staring back with that stupid, fucked up maniacal grin.
Overcome overwhelming desire to punch him in the face.
Make a vodka and tonic instead.
But not in that cup.
Ah, the joys
Posted by: | CommentsWhat time is too early for Wine O’Clock?
You see, although there are still two official day’s of school left, two terrible things have happened this evening:
1. The recorder that was sent to school with Godzilla at the beginning of February 2009 has returned to the family home. It, in conjunction with Godzilla, is making its presence well known. To the entire neighbourhood.
Just having managed that particular trauma via series of “Please go outside and play thats”, a small dose of “Seriously, get outside NOW” and a final “Oh, for fucks sake, give me the fucking thing” and tossing it on top of the fridge, with Godzilla still attached via a death grip around his beloved recorders throat, the second horror was brought to my attention.
Nits!
And I’m not even prepared for the regular, family Nit Harvest Festival. *sigh*
I’d been planning that for the weekend, when the rotting apples were removed from the school bags and the school’s sandpit had been vacuumed up from our bed.
Oh, and when my vodka stocks had been suitably replenished.
*sigh*
Judgement Day
Posted by: | CommentsReports come home today after school.
Ah, Report Day, that day that comes around twice a year, where mums simultaneously beat themselves up about their child’s academic performance and take full credit for things they have no control over, like how many teeth said child has lost this year.
Also, the day where most mums find tangible reasons with which to beat themselves senseless about how bad a mother they really are.
You know, Little Johnny is a “delighful and entertaining little boy” which roughly translates as “he won’t shut the fuck up and distracts everyone”.
Yeah, I’m onto the polite, PC interpretations of report cards. Also, am onto the “normal” behaviours of little boys, including the abovementioned, the sticking of various substances in various orifices and the inabilty to speak sentences without using the words “bum”, “poo”, “wee” or “boobs” and thinking they are the finniest words alive.
Alas, I found yet another factor with which to prove my badness of mother. Yes, despite my children doing relatively well on their report cards, it was the bit on Godzilla’s that mentioned his “enthusiasm and involvement in all things singing and acting” and blah blah about how good he is at it, and how he is always involved etc etc.
Really?
Hmm. I never knew.
Of course, that he was doing choir (for grade 2 and above only, and he is in grade 1) for a good term and a half before I even found out he was even involved should have been an indicator. You know, two terms ago.
Just saying.
To the principals office
Posted by: | CommentsAttend toddler swimming lessons with an air of depilatoried legs and underarms and had to force myself not to undertake some sort of supermodel catwalk thing along side of pool.
Was also able to do tossing-child-in-air thing without clasping elbows against my side, so that was good.
Dropped toddler off at childcare immediately following lessons and was greeted enthusiastically by awesome workers there. Well, technically Chippie was greeted enthusiastically with “Oh, you had swimming lessons! How where they? And your mummy has forgotten your bag. Again.”
- they are aware he was not the instigator (although he is now a willing participant, when only 2 weeks ago he was most miffed by amount of kissing)
- the principal ran out of time to talk with him, or
- he DID get a Talking To and is avoiding telling me this
Given my head is not capable of remembering to take a bag to childcare, something that happens three times a week, I’m really not sure how I’m to embark on this issue …
It’s Five O’Clock somewhere, right?
Posted by: | CommentsAh, Wine O’Clock … it’s 5 O’clock somewhere right.
Still, I do feel somewhat … guilty? at considering wine at 7.23 am
Chippie woke at 5 (the am, not the pm allowable wine O’clock time, damnit!), Grumpy brought him into bed. Standard, only it’s usually later, and he usually sleeps.
This morning, however, he felt that smacking me in the head, kicking me in the boob, climbing over my head and back again, headbutting me in the eye and several other hurty things … oooh, like pulling himself back up onto our bed via use of a firm grip on my vagina …
Again, standard, but it’s usually occuring after I have heard the dulcit tones of my coffee machine automatic grinder starting up (which scares the bejeezus out of you, but, ironically, extremely calming at the same time). And my vagina is usually excluded from these particular friviloties.
Some discussion, and several looooong minutes listening to Chippie scream, walk around the room and throw himself on the floor later, I get up to feed Chippie his breakfast, where he has several more tantrums, refuses to sit in his seat, then refuses to eat breakfast.
I burn the toast.
Which, I believe, is an acheivement in itself, given the toaster is set on the lowest setting (I don’t like my toast too toasty) and it had gone in partially frozen. Even I’m impressed by that one.
Breakfast consumed by all but Chippie, lunches made little to no drama, except I couldn’t find the cheese zingos I’d made for the lunchboxes, despite knowing there were a heap left and that I was fairly sure no-one had eaten them. But they weren’t there.
Wandered around house, equiring of all family members at to whereabouts of container of cheese zingos, attempting but failing to keep accusatory tone out of voice because they were there in the fridge and now they’re not and I was a bit pissed off coz I didn’t want to have to think about variations in their lunch boxes this week.
Stomped back to kitchen and located container on bench next to Vegemite. Who put them there?!
Walk past Chippie in hall who, graciously, hands me two scrunched up baby wipes. Aww, nice. No real need to ponder where he got them, and was about to request of Grumpy that he please refrain Chippie from having baby wipes as a distraction when changing his nappy, as he tends to eat them. The wipes that is, not the nappies.
Was stopped short in this thought when I notice the box of wipes on the floor. Stick head in nursery door and find entire contents of previousy but one FULL wipes box strewn across fall. Each wipe, apparently, separated from all others. It appears that Chippie is no longer capable of just climbing up onto change table, but can also get down again with object in hand.
Muddle through getting dressed, ensure all school paraphernalia packed, raise eyebrows and pass a jumper and socks to Grumpy to put on Chippie, lock the door behind him as he leaves for work, and set off for school.
Where it is raining; a fine, yet constant drizzle.
Well, it has been so long since we had rain that I really can’t remember what to do with it. I blame my brain, which appears to have stopped functioning. Walk all the way to school and back with no umbrella or pram cover for Chippie’s pram.
Thankfully, this is not a problem for him and he falls asleep.
I, however, an be-t-shirted and WET!
Perhaps still too early for wine. Will have MUG of coffee instead.
And back to normality
Posted by: | CommentsFirst day of school, which means Grumpy Pants is out the door at some ridiculous hour that enables him, usually, to have a quiet breakfast on his own and reading the paper without various other family members taking various parts in the process.
And sometimes giving Chippie his breakky.
Or, as was the case this morning, having a rushed shower, stuffing breakfast down, neglecting the paper and racing out the door.
All of which was fine, because I slept through it, thanks to a wakeup call at 3.23 am to attend to Chippie, who then woke me mid-deep sleep at just before 7.
Daylight savings is evil – pure evil – the day before school holidays. Not only do I have to get the kids up for their first day of school after the hols, when their body clocks are way different, but I’d forgotten to adjsut the clock on the coffee machine.
Losing an hour of sleep and being woken from a decent sleep, it took me some time to work out that the coffee machine hadn’t actually gone off. I did notice that the lights telling me it was still in program and hadn’t yet actually brewed, but I was too tired to remember what they actually meant. Fatigue also led me to attempt to pour a MUG from the empty pot and create confusion as to why nothing was coming out.
Muddled together some lunches for the kids, got dressed, hassled the out the door, walked back inside to take my shirt off and turn it around the right way, and off we went to school.
We even made it to the right school. I put that down to the fact that the coffee machine hadn’t gone off before Grumpy left, so I got his coffee and mine.
Then it was off to do the grocery shopping that I hadn’t managed to do last night due to party going overtime and sitting around watching ten boys go completely feral on soft drinks and hot dogs.
Home again, more MUG, attempt to find childcare for Chippie (pfft – not bloody likely anytime this millenium it appears), work, walk to go get fruit and veg I’d forgotten earlier, school, gymnastics, cook dinner, bath time, argh … please tell me we have wine and it’s not something we ran out of before we went away …
And the fun just keeps on coming …
Posted by: | CommentsThe morning started in tears …
Not mine, surprisngly, given I didn’t get to bed till near midnight, got woken at 2.34am by bubs, woke at 5 for some stupid reason and couldn’t get back to sleep. My 4.3 hours sleep prediction of last night came true. And I was being facetious at the time. Or was that realistic?
Anyhoo, Godzilla came in. His top front tooth had finally fallen out. And he’d swallowed it. He was most distressed. Much consoling and assuring everything would be ok, and much sadness on my part, coz I’m one of those mums who likes to keep these sorts of things. Only, I wasn’t allowed to project my sadness and had to be all consoling and reassuring.
Was up before coffee machine had done it’s thing, which is never a good sign, so jabbed at the “On” button 3 times before actually hitting it, and stand there listing stuff in my head whilst it brews.
Decide on icing cupcakes first. Not 24 of then, just six. Can’t be arsed. Whip up a basic lemon icing (icing sugar, lemon juice and water), hand it over to Godzilla while Grumpy Pants covers a chopping board in brown wrapping paper. As a display board. Meanwhile, I’m making lunches for 4 people – excursion to Melbourne Show with school today – and cutting out carrot shapes from a carrot, to decorate the carrot cupcakes with. Godzilla making mess of icing cupcakes that I spent a lot of time and effort making. Then remember they’re his for a competition at school, so they really do need to look like they were done by a 6 year old.
Although, given my sleep deprived, stressed state, I’m sure I could have done a better job of making them look like they’d been done by a 6 year old.
MUG in hand, regroup and set about ensuring I have everything required for today’s events. Knowing it is Thursday, and therefore swimming, therefore, the chances are extremely good that Chippie will get wet, I pack a change of clothes, then another change. And another, just to be on the safe side.
All whilst stating every couple of minutes “NO, you can’t have bloody cake for breakfast! Stop asking!
Monkey Boy comes out to inform me that Chippie has crawled into the shower and is now soaking wet. Fabulous, and before he’s even out of his jarmies. Another great start to the day.
Grab change of clothes for me (for meeting this afternoon), including makeup and deodorant.
Collect swimming bags, reader bags, school bags, cooler bag (containing my lunch and Chippie’s), sipper cups, drink bottles, change for coffee … Grumpy packs kids and bags in car, I lock up and race to car.
Just as I sit, I realise I’m extremely hungry … “I’m hungry already!” I inform Grumpy.
Followed immediately by “Ah, I know. Not ’already’. I haven’t had breakky yet!”
Thank goodness for carrot cupcakes. I run back inside and grab two to eat for my breakfast …
Fuck you make me laugh (via Twitter @woogsworld)