Everyone has a bad day every now and then, but there are some really bad days that leave you feeling disillusioned with the world. Poor Sam had one of those today, the poor guy. Isn't he underaged for this? I think he'll always remember this day, and I will, too. Ugh.
In kindergarten each child gets a "good note" for having a well behaved day. After accumulating 10 of them, the kid gets to go to the treasure box and pick out the toy of his/her choice. (You're not allowed to look in the box before having the 10 notes.) Well, a friend of Sam's went to the treasure box yesterday and told him there was this great Lego mouse in there with some sort of really cool helmet.
Sam was all excited this morning and so ready to go to the treasure box today. When he got off the bus 20 minutes late, though, he looked just heartbroken with flushed cheeks and on the verge of tears. "What happened?" I asked. He said that when he got to the treasure box he looked and looked through it, but he couldn't find the Lego mouse anywhere. There wasn't anything else in there that he wanted, so he took a plastic Army guy just to take something.
As it turns out, this "friend" had actually taken that Lego mouse for himself the day before and lied to Sam when telling him it was still in there. "He's not my friend any more. He tricked me just to be mean!" he lamented. Ooomph. Oh, Dr. Spock, what do I say now now? A couple of four letter words came to mind, but I said, "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I bet you're so disappointed! You worked so hard!" I wanted to cry myself and go wring that kid's neck, of course.
When it rains, it pours, and it was literally pouring out. It turns out they had a really good excuse for being 20 minutes late in addition to the rain. The bus had broken down right in the middle of a busy intersection! They were stuck in the middle of the road for a long time with traffic all backed up behind them. The gutsy bus driver got out, set up cones, and directed traffic around the bus, which I'm sure is not in her job description. (Big Christmas present for her!)
Eventually another bus with another driver picked them up and drove the rest of the route home. The kids all looked pretty shellshocked, even the older ones. Sam said one girl was crying because she thought she'd never see her mother again. Anybody have a hanky?
So what do I do to rectify the situation? Should I let him take the hard knock as part of life or do I buy him another toy and try to make it all better? Something in the middle seemed like the right thing to do, bringing the focus back to his good work. Since I'd already promised him that I'd take him this weekend to buy the Bionicle set that he'd saved up for, I told him we'd go today as a reward because of his 10 good notes.
Needless to say, he perked right on up. Lo and behold, as we walked into Toys R Us, we ran into one of our favorite families like an oasis in the Sahara. Just seeing them made us smile. Sam is great friends with the three kiddos, and Daddy Mac and I are equally great friends with the parents. We haven't gotten to see them much lately because the kids go to different schools.
Within minutes Sam had the Lego of his dreams in his hands (today's dreams anyway) and good friends to share in his excitement, and I got to catch up with my friend. Sam's "friend" was long forgotten. Real friends are the best treasure of all.
LibbY
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Reality Bites 2
Move over, Winona Ryder! There is a movie remake in town featuring some disenfranchised five and six-year-olds. The newness of kindergarten has worn off like cheap pink nail polish. My friend calls it "kindergarten crack," and the trip has officially ended. Reality has set in for Sam. He can't believe he's got to keep doing this day after day after day. In my inside-my own-head-voice, I say, "Get used to it, buddy. It's called the workweek." In my outer voice, I say, "It will get easier. You'll get used to it."
He's been asking, "Why can't we just go to school on Mondays?" Of course my first thought was "because then we would have the lowest GNP in the world and even more debt." Instead I say, "Because there is so much to learn!" Then he asks, "Why it is so long?" Good question and one I'd like to ask myself. I agree -- 8:45 until 4:10 is an awfully long day for newby kindergarteners.
And homework starts next week. Yes, homework for kindergarten! I don't think a thesis or anything is required. However, it seems like there should be enough time during the five long school days to get things done. ^I am now off my soap box.^
Up to this point we've resisted scheduling Sam with activity upon activity. Now, though, he's used to having hours upon end to tinker away with his LEGOs. Alas, that time is gone now. "At school I get bossed around all day," he huffed. I had to stifle a guffaw at that one, but I get it. This is a huge adjustment for him in many ways. Really, who likes to get bossed around all day?
Thankfully he does get his brick-craving hands on LEGOs during the 30 minutes of center time during the afternoon. Plus he has a "new best friend" named Connor who is also LEGO-obsessed. (As far as obsessions go, it's a pretty good one to have, right? It sure beats Scientology!) Other than that fix, there is a whole lot of coloring, cutting, writing, and gluing going on all day. He's frustrated that he's not very good at that kind of thing. I try to explain that other kids have been doing these activities for fun on their own and he'll catch up. To date he doesn't look convinced.
Last night at "Back to School Night," his adorable teacher was telling parents that they've been reading The Little Engine That Could to encourage the kids to stick with their new challenges. Later she told me that she definitely had Sam in mind. So we'll be doing lots of "I think I can, I think I can" reinforcement around here. It sure wouldn't hurt me to focus on the value of optimism and hard work. Some say this story is a metaphor for the American dream, at least according to the current version of Wikipedia anyway.
I think he can, I think he can. Hopefully someday soon Sam will be saying, "I thought I could, I thought I could."
LibbY
He's been asking, "Why can't we just go to school on Mondays?" Of course my first thought was "because then we would have the lowest GNP in the world and even more debt." Instead I say, "Because there is so much to learn!" Then he asks, "Why it is so long?" Good question and one I'd like to ask myself. I agree -- 8:45 until 4:10 is an awfully long day for newby kindergarteners.
And homework starts next week. Yes, homework for kindergarten! I don't think a thesis or anything is required. However, it seems like there should be enough time during the five long school days to get things done. ^I am now off my soap box.^
Up to this point we've resisted scheduling Sam with activity upon activity. Now, though, he's used to having hours upon end to tinker away with his LEGOs. Alas, that time is gone now. "At school I get bossed around all day," he huffed. I had to stifle a guffaw at that one, but I get it. This is a huge adjustment for him in many ways. Really, who likes to get bossed around all day?
Thankfully he does get his brick-craving hands on LEGOs during the 30 minutes of center time during the afternoon. Plus he has a "new best friend" named Connor who is also LEGO-obsessed. (As far as obsessions go, it's a pretty good one to have, right? It sure beats Scientology!) Other than that fix, there is a whole lot of coloring, cutting, writing, and gluing going on all day. He's frustrated that he's not very good at that kind of thing. I try to explain that other kids have been doing these activities for fun on their own and he'll catch up. To date he doesn't look convinced.
Last night at "Back to School Night," his adorable teacher was telling parents that they've been reading The Little Engine That Could to encourage the kids to stick with their new challenges. Later she told me that she definitely had Sam in mind. So we'll be doing lots of "I think I can, I think I can" reinforcement around here. It sure wouldn't hurt me to focus on the value of optimism and hard work. Some say this story is a metaphor for the American dream, at least according to the current version of Wikipedia anyway.
I think he can, I think he can. Hopefully someday soon Sam will be saying, "I thought I could, I thought I could."
LibbY
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Where Were You on 9/11?
We all remember where we were, and it is imprinted on our memories forever. Where were you when you found out about the horrors of Tuesday, September 11, 2001? I had just arrived at work in the legal department at Circuit City's credit card bank FNANB when my phone rang. It was my then fiance (now Daddy Mac) saying, "A plane hit the World Trade Center!" The shock of it, the disbelief - really? Just now? What?!
And as we were on the phone speechless with shock, the unthinkable happened -- a second hijacked plane struck the south tower. Soon after that came mind-bending news of the Pentagon being struck by a third overtaken flight. The Pentagon?! No way! Yes way! And then came the courageous story of the passengers of Flight 93 taking the plane down in rural Pennsylvania before reaching the terrorists' intended destination of the US Capitol. At that point I couldn't help but look out the window and wonder if FNANB was next. (Not too rational, I know!) It seemed like the Apocalypse was unfolding before our eyes on our TVs and radios.
Ironically enough, it was a gorgeous early fall day without a cloud in the sky, no natural clouds anyway. The billowing dark clouds of smoke suffocating Lower Manhattan, the Pentagon, and Shanksville, PA, were all man-made. Nature had nothing to do with it, just man's free will gone purely evil.
Needless to say, work was the furthest thing from anyone's mind. I don't really remember much about anything that morning, everyone was quiet, somber, huddled around a TV, computer, or the internet. I already had plans to meet a friend for lunch at a Vietnamese place. We still went because we didn't know what else to do with ourselves. It was so surreal, eating tasty dumplings while watching footage of the towers being struck, burning, and collapsing over and over again.
I don't remember any specific images other than the towers burning. However, there is one memory that is as sharp as if it happened last week. It was Friday morning after the horror of horrors on Tuesday, and I had "Good Morning, America" on as I got ready for work. They were on location at Ground Zero, live interviewing people who happened to be in the area.
All of a sudden a teenage girl about 16-years-old burst onto the screen. She was in a full-scale panic, talking in fast bursts, and incredibly wired. Her eyes were darting everywhere, and she couldn't focus on anything for more than a second. She looked so strung out -- the poor girl probably hadn't slept since waking up Tuesday morning before her world unraveled.
Holding up a flyer, she kept asking, almost hissing, "Has anybody seen my father? Has anybody seen my father? I know he's here somewhere. Have you seen my father? He works right here. I've got to find my father! Have you seen him? Have you seen my father?" I don't think I've ever seen anyone looks so desperate. I still cry thinking about that poor girl. She was so exposed in her hysteria and panic that I felt awful for having witnessed what should have been a private scene. It was too personal, she was too fragile in her hysteria grief to be plastered on a national morning talk show.
I still pray her father was miraculously alive and well and just about to walk around the corner and give her the biggest hug of her life. Deep down, though, I know that wasn't the case. To that poor girl, now a woman 10 years later, I pray you have found peace. May we all find peace among the ruins, but we must never forget.
LibbY
And as we were on the phone speechless with shock, the unthinkable happened -- a second hijacked plane struck the south tower. Soon after that came mind-bending news of the Pentagon being struck by a third overtaken flight. The Pentagon?! No way! Yes way! And then came the courageous story of the passengers of Flight 93 taking the plane down in rural Pennsylvania before reaching the terrorists' intended destination of the US Capitol. At that point I couldn't help but look out the window and wonder if FNANB was next. (Not too rational, I know!) It seemed like the Apocalypse was unfolding before our eyes on our TVs and radios.
Ironically enough, it was a gorgeous early fall day without a cloud in the sky, no natural clouds anyway. The billowing dark clouds of smoke suffocating Lower Manhattan, the Pentagon, and Shanksville, PA, were all man-made. Nature had nothing to do with it, just man's free will gone purely evil.
Needless to say, work was the furthest thing from anyone's mind. I don't really remember much about anything that morning, everyone was quiet, somber, huddled around a TV, computer, or the internet. I already had plans to meet a friend for lunch at a Vietnamese place. We still went because we didn't know what else to do with ourselves. It was so surreal, eating tasty dumplings while watching footage of the towers being struck, burning, and collapsing over and over again.
I don't remember any specific images other than the towers burning. However, there is one memory that is as sharp as if it happened last week. It was Friday morning after the horror of horrors on Tuesday, and I had "Good Morning, America" on as I got ready for work. They were on location at Ground Zero, live interviewing people who happened to be in the area.
All of a sudden a teenage girl about 16-years-old burst onto the screen. She was in a full-scale panic, talking in fast bursts, and incredibly wired. Her eyes were darting everywhere, and she couldn't focus on anything for more than a second. She looked so strung out -- the poor girl probably hadn't slept since waking up Tuesday morning before her world unraveled.
Holding up a flyer, she kept asking, almost hissing, "Has anybody seen my father? Has anybody seen my father? I know he's here somewhere. Have you seen my father? He works right here. I've got to find my father! Have you seen him? Have you seen my father?" I don't think I've ever seen anyone looks so desperate. I still cry thinking about that poor girl. She was so exposed in her hysteria and panic that I felt awful for having witnessed what should have been a private scene. It was too personal, she was too fragile in her hysteria grief to be plastered on a national morning talk show.
I still pray her father was miraculously alive and well and just about to walk around the corner and give her the biggest hug of her life. Deep down, though, I know that wasn't the case. To that poor girl, now a woman 10 years later, I pray you have found peace. May we all find peace among the ruins, but we must never forget.
LibbY
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Phew! First Day Down!
Despite the monsoon outside, it all went surprisingly fantastically well, but there were definitely some touch and go moments. Rather than bounding down the stairs like usual, Sam stayed quietly his room, play with LEGOs. (What else?) I think he was hoping we'd forget about him so he wouldn't have to go to school. Nice try, but no. Here he is after spilling water all over himself.
Oh, and here is his adorable teddy bear name tag that the kindergarteners wear during the first week. Now that is going in the scrap book! They also write each kid's bus route on their hand in magic marker. Nobody's baby is getting lost on their watch!
Then at the bus stop, though, we were wondering if the bus driver had forgotten about us. Maybe the parents should have been wearing teddy bear sandwich boards! She didn't arrive until 9:15 which is when school actually starts session. Yikes, a newby! It ended up being good for the kids' (and parents') nerves for a chance to mill around and relax. Plus it gave the boys the chance to stomp in every single mud puddle in the vicinity at least once. The girls were far too smart for that nonsense and enjoyed the luxury of having dry feet for the rest of the day.
When the bus arrived at the end of the day, he bounded off with a big smile! He was in the best mood he's been in --- forever. It was such a relief to see him so happy. (He's in front with the blue bag. Shoulda zoomed in!)
It was only at bedtime that he filed his first complaint, "They didn't teach me to read today!" Ah, the injustice of it all! In the words of Scarlett O'Hara, "Tomorrow is another day!"
LibbY
Oh, and here is his adorable teddy bear name tag that the kindergarteners wear during the first week. Now that is going in the scrap book! They also write each kid's bus route on their hand in magic marker. Nobody's baby is getting lost on their watch!
Then at the bus stop, though, we were wondering if the bus driver had forgotten about us. Maybe the parents should have been wearing teddy bear sandwich boards! She didn't arrive until 9:15 which is when school actually starts session. Yikes, a newby! It ended up being good for the kids' (and parents') nerves for a chance to mill around and relax. Plus it gave the boys the chance to stomp in every single mud puddle in the vicinity at least once. The girls were far too smart for that nonsense and enjoyed the luxury of having dry feet for the rest of the day.
When the bus arrived at the end of the day, he bounded off with a big smile! He was in the best mood he's been in --- forever. It was such a relief to see him so happy. (He's in front with the blue bag. Shoulda zoomed in!)
It was only at bedtime that he filed his first complaint, "They didn't teach me to read today!" Ah, the injustice of it all! In the words of Scarlett O'Hara, "Tomorrow is another day!"
LibbY
Monday, September 5, 2011
Mood Swings, Cake, and Kindergarten
After a summer of fun, there have been lots of mood swings in this house this weekend. For once I am not part of them. Sam seems to be battling his inner demons on starting kindergarten. One minute he's fine, then he's whiny and complaining, and before you know it, he's bouncing off the walls laughing like a crazy man. Now I understand the frustration of dealing with teenage girls!
At orientation last week, his teacher requested that each child bring in an empty frosting cup to hold crayons, etc. She joked that if we didn't have a spare empty frosting cup handy, then we should make a cake over the weekend. I don't make cakes very often, so that thought stuck with me.
Today I suggested that we make a Back-to-School Cake, of course prompted by the bowl of displaced frosting. Wow! He was thrilled! I like this teacher already. Making the cake was something nice and soothing to do together, and of course he got to lick the spoon and break off a few "stray"pieces. This could be the start of a new back-to-school tradition - a new homemade cake is like a fresh start for the year, a slice of hope. Anyway, it worked here like gutters on a rainy day, and it was fabulous. (Note: I forgot to add the water, and it came out the best if ever has. Go figure.)
Then the sugar high set in full force, and off we went for a post-dinner walk. Instead of getting weepy and sad, Sam suggested that we go right to the bus stop to "practice." Once we got there, he didn't want to leave and -- honest to God - started picking up "souvenirs." Yes, he selected some bus stop grass, a bus stop pine cone, a bus stop leaf, and even a bus stop Moon rock (a small piece of tar.)
What in the world was going on in that little mind? Maybe I don't want to know. All I need to know is that after some cake he was back to his regular happy-go-lucky self and even willing to go to bed early. Gosh, I really like this teacher. In fact, I think I might love her. And I really do love that cake. Now that he's in bed, it's time for another piece! Cheers -- to kindergarten!
LibbY
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