I Need to Get Back

So, I abandoned my blog for a while.  I'm not sure why, but I'm unabandoning it with a very honest post.
I think of this blog in many ways as my outlet, when I just need to anonymously vent about all things related in any way to parenting, or even my life.

We have hit a new chapter in parenting, and frankly, I need to share out of nothing but sheer frustration.

The biggest one is 10.  I had no idea that 10-12 was so freaking difficult.  It is.  If you have girls, when you get to this age, if you don't drink, you will, and if you do drink, have someone start watching you to make sure you don't get out of hand.  The stage is that hard.

This weekend, we had a big troop sleepover.  I'm not sure what started it, but something, somewhere set off a chain reaction with the big one that set off an atomic bomb of attitude, with a mushroom cloud of nasty behaviour that could be seen for miles.  It was off the charts.  I haven't seen her this bad since the last time her dad deployed and it got super ridic.
I'm seriously at a loss.
I managed to make it through the night.  All the parents in my home saw her behaviour.  I apologized.  I vented a little.  They empathized, but mostly, I was embarrassed and frustrated.  There was nothing I could do in the moment with 20 girls in my home who needed to have a good time, and 1 who was determined not to.
So, the dealing with it came the next day.
Yesterday, for the first time ever, I made The Biggest One scrub the toilets.  Seriously. I vowed a while back that this was the next direction her punishments would be going, and I stuck to it.  Taking things away seemed to be doing nothing.  Her arm has been broken (a story I need to blog about to catch you up anyway) for a while and she already lost out on her archery lessons until that is healed.  So, I really needed a new effective deterrent that I could go with.
Now, let me say that it was totally supervised, and frankly, I don't think there is anything harmful about cleaning a bathroom, at all, but at the age of 10, it sucks big time.  She hated every single second of it with a passion.  When we were all done, I ask her if she ever wanted to do that again.  It was a resounding no.  Then I told her to consider it every time she opened her mouth to be rude, every time she wanted to stomp out of a room, and so one.  From now on, the response would be to clean a toilet.  If you have crappy behaviour, you get a crappy punishment (see what I did there).  I feel it fitting.
Now, one of two things will happen, it will help some and she will think before she acts, or we will have the cleanest toilets in the world.  Either way, I win.
In all honesty, though, I'd much rather clean the toilets my self and have a daughter with improved behaviour.  Really.  In fact, I'll even take that for Christmas.

She Is Going to Get Me Put In Jail

As we all know, or at least those of you who read my occasional blogging and those who actually know me in real life, The Biggest One is a bit of a klutz.  I'm being nice there.
I say it a million times: I love her just the way she is.  She is, though, very absent minded and ditsy at times.  She is very intelligent, just ditsy.  It really does work that way, I swear.

Last night, she managed another of her special moments, but one of the kind where she gets hurt.  We now live in a split level ranch home.  There are four stairs that go up to the bedroom area of our home.  I was up in that hall way with The Littlest One, and I told The Biggest One, for what had to be the 10th time, to get ready for bed.  She turned and started to walk down the stairs.  The next thing I know, there is a massive thud, and she is sitting at the bottom.  I did the momentary freak out while trying not to let them know I was freaking out thing.  I ask if she was ok.  She was startled and a little scared, but seemed to be mostly ok.  I ask her what happened.
She said she didn't see the bottom stair.  She just missed it.  Just like that.  Oops.  Didn't realize there were four there.  That kind of thing.  So, she crash landed at the bottom.
These things happen with her.  They do.  The problem is that she hurts herself sometime.  This time, she landed on her wrist.  It hurt.  It didn't swell.  It didn't seem to be too painful, just painful when she used it.  I told her to go to bed and it should be fine in the morning.  Also, please bear in mind that this kid is a total wimp and over exaggerates any injury to the millionth degree.  Seriously.
So, this morning, her wrist still hurt sometimes.  Again, only when she used it, etc, and mostly when people were around.
Now, don't get me wrong, if it turns out she has some kind of tiny hair line fracture, I'll feel terrible, but I really think she is ok.  She didn't want to use her wrist, though.  She wants to be careful, swearing that it hurts.
So, I had no choice but to write her teacher a letter.
The moment I started writing "Last night, she fell down the stairs" it hit me.
This kid is going to get me thrown in jail one day.  As much as she falls down, misses stairs, etc, you would think I beat her.  She, though, beats herself up.
I groaned.  I wasn't sure how to write the letter to make it sound least like an "I beat my child" letter.  While it certainly isn't true, I don't want anyone to think that, and this teacher, since this is only the second week of school and she is new here, doesn't know us well enough yet to know, this is just The Biggest One.
More than likely, she will ask what happened, at which time The Biggest One will get to tell this very dramatic tale about falling down a whole flight of stairs, and how she lay there, not sure if she should move, if she might have had a broken spine from the fall, and on and on.  Then, hopefully her teacher will get it.  The drama is all there.  That's just who she is, and again, I love her just the way she is, dramatic jazz hands, missed stair injuries, and all.

Netflix, Why Have You Forsaken Me?

I think Netflix has it out for me.
Actually, I feel like they want to see how far they can push their customer base repeatedly until they no longer have one.  They seem to love pissing off the masses.
Today, they succeeded with me.
A while back, when they switched all heir pricing plans, and lost tons of customers, people were pissed.  They decided that streaming and DVDs would be separate services, and cost much more individually than they had together.  OK.  Fine.  We didn't stream.  It totally sucked to lose that value, though.
THen, a few months ago, we were actually able to get a free trial of the streaming, and come to find out, we loved it.  They had all kinds of things my kids both would watch, and were actually allowed to.  In addition, they had Dora the Explorer on tap, and let me assure you, if you have ever parented a young toddler, Dora and Diego can be your best friends when you are at your wits end.  So, needless to day, we stuck with it.
I don't even bother turning on the Cable box about half the time anymore.  We just pull up Netflix, and turn it on Dora int he morning while I fix breakfast so that The Littlest One can get her fix, and I can actually get breakfast fixed.
We have loved it.  I have felt the service was well worth the extra money for streaming.
We did consider the new RedBox streaming service that is currently in Beta.  It is cheaper than Netflix.  You also get Redbox rentals which means current movies.  That meant there was way more value there since we pay separately for actual DVDs from Netflix.  However, RedBox doesn't have the Nickelodeon shows we love.  So, we stuck to Netflix even though there was a cost difference.
Then, today, they lay the whammy down.  No more Nick tunes.
Netflix decided not to renew a TON of stuff for their streaming.
Gone.
All gone.
My baby is devastated.
I am devastated.
No more Dora while I fix dinner.
No more Dora when I am about ot pull out my hair.
Now, I have to get out the DVDs, turn on the DVD player..etc, etc, etc.  HASSLE.
I feel like they took back that little piece of sanity I had been paying them for.
So, I think I'm done.
With the whole thing.
They are now only slightly better than RedBox streaming, and only because of the ease of the devices.  Redbox is still in it's infancy, and hasn't caught up to all the things Netflix can use.  That's ok.  I will make it work while they keep adding devices.
Now, I will get to choose Redbox movies a couple of times a month, instead of constantly missing the mail lady and never returning my Netflix movies when I want to.
Yes, I see a major switch happening, and I hope lots of people follow.
Netflix has consistently shown that they don't care about their customers, because they were the only real game in town.
No more.
Red Box, get ready for some new subscriptions. I'm starting my free trial ASAP.

Crisis of Car Seat Conscious

I'm in the midst of a serious car seat dilemma, or at least it feels that way.  I happen to be a bit of a car seat snob and zealot.  Not totally, but maybe a little.  I only buy very good seats (read really expensive, too).  I know that the quality of the car seat actually matters.  I have a brand that I prefer as soon as they are out of the carriers.  This particular brand allows for both extended rear facing and extended harness use.  Both of which are very important to me.  Currently, The biggest One, my 9 year old, is still in a booster.  She hasn't hit the weight limit yet.  So, I see no point in changing that until she does hit the weight limit.  As a side note, she is only a few pounds away, and I will be totally heart broken when I have to take her out of the booster. Middie, who is now 6, is still in a 4 point harness.  The car seat allows up to 80lbs, I think, for the harness.  She is no where near that.  So, she will be in the harness until she out grows the seat via height.  She will then be moved into a booster.  Her older sister was only switched over just before she turned 8.  Yup.  I had a seven year old in a harness. The Littlest One is still rear facing at 23 months and 28 days.  She will be 2 this weekend, and I am really considering turning her around.  I know that rear facing is so much safer, and new guideline say that they should rear face until at least two.  My heart and head are totally conflicted. The problem is, in my older model Ford Expedition, I can't get the car seat to sit well rear facing.  It just seems like it is in a very odd place or angle for her.  Due to that, I think she may be better off forward facing.  The thing is, we have another vehicle where she fits just fine rear facing. My Husband likes for me to drive the Expedition.  He feels like it makes more sense and is safer due to it's large size (though I tend to disagree with that portion).  Anyway, the thing is, once I flip her, I flip her in both vehicles, not just one.  Once she forward faces, I know she won't want to go back.  She already hates riding in the car (total car screamer).  I am pretty sure that forward facing will cut down on that at least a little.  That means there is no going back when we switch vehicles back and forth.  She won't have it.
So, what to do?  Do I drive the truck with less room, but allows her car seat to seat safely rear facing all the time?  Do I go ahead and flip her?
I may also, in total honesty, be feeling a little bummed about turning her around because she is my baby.  Turning her means she isn't so much of a baby anymore.  Since we won't be having any more babies either, it makes everything like this just a little more difficult.
I'm having a total mommy conscious moment.  I've had a few of those, lately, but this one is going to have to be addressed this weekend.


**I don't need any feed back about how she must be getting cramped rear facing, or how that it "looks unsafe".  Extended rear facing is safer.  Fact.  No arguments.  If you aren't aware of how much safer, you should read up on it.  If there wasn't the issue of the poor position in the one vehicle, I wouldn't even be considering it.**

Its TCAP Baby!

For about the last two weeks, life at school for The Big Girls has completely changed.  It has been taken over by TCAP mania.  For those who aren't from the great state of Tennessee, that would be the name for the state standardized testing here.  It is seriously insane.  I know there are standardized tests in every state, and The Big One must have taken them in CA, but I have no real memory of them.  So, they didn't stand out as a huge deal.  Here, though, you can't help but know about them.  Even people who don't have kids know it is TCAP week in TN.  Seriously.
Its starts with rally preparations.  First, the school becomes completely devoid of all letters and numbers.  The rules here state that the children not be allowed to see any letters or number (not a joke).  So, every single thing with writing on it of any kind is either covered up with plain black paper or removed.  The school looks terrible.  It is both creepy and sad.
So, to make up for it, they try to make a big party atmosphere for all the kids taking the tests.  We have a massive pep rally the Friday before TCAPs start.  At our school, each grade comes up with a song, a parody of something popular on the radio, and rewords it to have a TCAP theme.  Middie's was TCAP Baby, Which was actually a parody of Call Me Maybe.  This isn't the same version that our school sang, but I have to share this video here.  I mean, after all, if teachers are willing to do this for their kids, you have to give them some serious love, and share it with the world.

This also gives you an idea of what I am talking about.
See, craziness.
Every day, the teacher on morning drop off duty has held a count down sign letting us know how many days left until TCAPs.  This whole week, Middie will be in a different classroom. Since her teacher has proctored TCAPs before, they are moving her to help with the older kids this week.  Her class is being divided up and put in the other Kindergarten class rooms for a week.
The Big One's teacher sent home a note asking us to send in snacks and water for the whole class.  We went to Costco and sent in a huge thing of mini water bottles and cheeze its in individual bags as per her request.  They were told that they could chew gum this week, and even take off their shoes, or do what ever else made them feel most comfortable.

One of the biggest signs that TCAPs were coming, though, is that for the last week to two weeks, the kids who have to take the tests, Kinders are exempt from TCAPs, haven't really been doing normal school work.  They have only been prepping for TCAPs.  They have taken practice test after practice test.  They have studied the material that should be on the test, and only that.
School has basically come to a screeching halt so that these kids can get the best possible score on the test.

Now, call me crazy, but I think somewhere along the line, someone missed the point.  Actually, I think everyone has in charge of this missed the point.  Instead of teaching a well rounded curriculum and hoping that the kids do well, the schools here are literally teaching for the test and only the test.  I know it isn't all the fault of the schools and especially not the teachers, but of a system that has really lost its focus as well.  The teachers are doing what they have to do.  There must be a better way.
I'm not sure what it is right now, but I know broken when I see it, and clearly, the way we are teaching our children is broken.  We should be doing better for them.  We should have the best educational system in the world, and I am so sorry that we are failing at that.  Perhaps it is the people who come up with these systems and rules who need some testing, not the students, at least not like this.

Cheating The Littlest One

Even though The Biggest One was born in South Texas, she was raised in San Diego.  Middie was raised there, until we moved here.  Though she was young when we moved, I think she will keep a lot of memories of our time there, and certainly the impact of all the things we did, and her experiences will carry forward with her.  The Littlest One, though, she won't remember San Diego, at all.  She was so small, that the fact that she was born there will just be something written on a piece of paper to her.  She is a Native San Diegan by word only.
That really breaks my heart.
I love San Diego.  I love the culture.  I love the atmosphere.  I love all that there is to do with my children.  I tried to take advantage of a lot of that, too.  As a result, I think I gave The Big Girls a pretty well rounded life experience before they started kindergarten.  I don't really believe that preschool is in any way necessary for a young child's development, and as long as you give them a great, well rounded life experience before school starts, they should be just fine, and maybe even fantastic, by the time they are ready to start school.  I think I was able to provide that for The Big Girls.  We did Sea World and the San Diego Zoo.  They were able to see all sorts of fantastic animals and shows.  They were able to learn a lot about the world around them.  The San Diego Zoo, one of my favorite places on earth, has a great program for moms groups.  They bring you in a little early before the zoo opens, and take you on a special tour of the zoo.  Each month there is a different theme and you get to learn about something very cool.  There was even story time at the end of each session.  It was fantastic.  The kids get to be exposed to so much that way.  We were doing that with our group every month before we left, and it was  seriously great.  We went to parks all the time.  We got out.  We played with out friends.  We got fresh air and exercise on a regular basis.
All that life experience is invaluable.
Now, though, we aren't in San Diego.  The weather is crappy most of the time.  We don't get to see the sun much, and it is freaking cold here during the winter and spring.  That means no outside time.  We rarely go outside, unless it is to run from the house to the car.  It sucks.  There is a Zoo, but it is more like a petting Zoo.  Besides, no other zoo compares to the San Diego Zoo.  IT really is the best.  There certainly isn't a Sea World anywhere near by.  We do have an aquarium, but there were a few of those in San Diego as well.  The fact is, there just isn't nearly as much to offer here as there was there.
The culture is also much different.  We are seriously lacking in cultural diversity here as compared to San Diego.  Seriously.  I went to the best Asian market we have here.  It was about the size of a convenience store.  That was it.  I guess I should be thankful we have one at all.
We just don't have what we are using to having in San Diego anymore.
I feel like The Big Girls got so much by living there, and by moving here, we are cheating The Littlest One out of all those opportunities to explore the world.  It isn't fair to her that she won't get to see dolphins any time we want, or check out a polar bear on a beautiful, sunny day. I wonder how it will affect her development as a person later on in life.
I can see a stark difference in the children who were raised here and The Biggest One.  They are already very close minded when it comes to anything that is different.  Telling them that a food is from another culture makes it gross, not interesting.  When they meet people who are new are different, and it takes a long time to welcome them in.  They simply haven't been exposed to anything, and have parents who aren't opening their world up, either.  It makes me sad.

The other day,  The Biggest One and I were watching Chopped.  One of the contestants said that she really needed the money because her partner was about to have a baby.  The Biggest One said that was really nice that she would just give that money to her friend.  I very simply told her that wasn't what partner meant.  It was more like a girl friend or wife.  The Biggest One's reply was "Oh, ok."  She just didn't get the term.  There was no big discussion needed.  There wasn't an astounded reaction.  She knows that any one can love anyone they want to because she has seen it with her own two eyes.  She knows there are two mommy households, and that isn't anything new or odd to her at all.  It's just a part of life as she knows it.
That is what I want for my kids.  I want them to love and respect diversity, and I fear greatly that they will miss out on all that by being here.

I'm really trying hard to find the good in our new home.
We do have some fantastic lakes, two huge ones really, with tons of parks around them, and even a make shift beach.  We have some other nifty attractions like the Lookout Mountain.  There is a lot of camping and hiking that can be done.  We also have a great Discovery Center that I think would actually put the Reuben H. Fleet to shame sometimes, or at the very least rival it well.
That's it, though.  So, I will have to seek out the best of our area that I can to try be the best parent that I can be here.  We can go down to Atlanta and visit their Aunt, to see what Atlanta has to offer.  We can hit the parks when it is warm.  I'll do the best that I can do with what I have, and hope, that I can give her what she needs, even if it isn't what I want.

I Wrote an Angry Letter

When we moved here, we rented this house almost entirely because of the schools it was zoned for.  Most of the schools here are crap, and I mean crap.  We picked a house outside of the city limits just because it happened to have a very highly rated school.  The PTA seemed to be super active.  Their academic scores were great.
I have to say though, that I have realized so much of your experience really depends on the teacher you get, and there are great teachers, and not so great teachers, at every school.
If I were able to separate the experiences I have had with Middie and her teacher, and The Biggest One and her teacher, I would swear we are talking about two different schools.  Middie has had a great year.  Her teacher is fabulous.  Really.  I am in there helping as often as I can.  I would do anything for this woman.  She has the worst class out of all the Kindergarten classes because of the way classes were selected last year, and honestly, she does a fabulous job with what she got.  Middie loves her and loves school.
The Biggest One, not so much.
I have actually spoken face to face with her teacher four times, but in those times, I can tell you that I have been labeled a pain in the butt, and I am totally disliked by this woman.  I also think she doesn't likes The Biggest One, though I would never let her know that.  It just shows in her actions.
Our first time talking was the first open house about the first or second week of school.  I offered to help her with anything I could.  She already had a home room parent.  So, I let her know that I scrap booked, and I would be glad to make things for the class, come in and help with paperwork, really anything I could do, just please let me know.  That was pretty much it.  She never said she wanted help.  Never communicated with the me.  I have since learned that her home room parents take care of everything, even the food for parties which I have to beg to be allowed to help with.
Even though we haven't spoken, I was learning a lot about her.  I realized that her demeanor in class wasn't exactly what I would have wish for in a teacher for The Biggest One, but that's just how it works.  We are all different people, and I just let all the fart jokes she makes, and that type of thing go, thinking it was tacky, but sometimes we meet tacky people, until she made a big boob joke.  The class was working on improper fractions, where the number on the top is bigger than the number on the bottom, and she called them Dolly Parton fractions.  When I was helping The Biggest One with her homework, and she called the fraction that, I nearly flipped my lid.  I ask where she heard that, and she said her teacher.  I couldn't believe that a teacher would make a boob joke like that to her class, not at this age.  I was totally offended.
My intent was to talk to her about it at a parent teacher conference, which was coming up.  However, when we got there that night, my plan flew out the window.  The second time I spoke to her was this night.  She had requested the conference.  She said that she wanted to talk to us about The Biggest One's personality.  She explained that in the beginning of the year, The Biggest One was being picked on some.  She told her to stand up for herself, and she felt like that advice had been taken too far.  Now, The Biggest One was sort of like a brick wall.  She always took definitive charge of any group they were working in, and wouldn't always take her classmates ideas into consideration.  She was bull headed.  I ask if my child was being rude or inappropriate to her, because that wasn't ok.  I happened to know, though, that the kids she wasn't listening to were the kids who were picking on her the worst.  She was taking charge and refusing to listen to them as a defense mechanism.  She wasn't about to give them the chance to be mean to her when she had to work with them, which was all the time.  The teacher said that in her classroom, she expected everyone to get along and like each other.

Yeah...No.

This is the real world.  Those kids aren't all going to like each other.  They can all be civil to each other, but that doesn't in any way mean that they will get along all the time or actually like working together.  You can forget that.
Anyway, the seriousness that she approached the issue totally took me off guard.  I know the The Biggest One is bossy.  I live with her every day.  In part, that is absolutely my fault, and I even told her teacher that.  I explained that as a military child, whose father has been gone most of her life, she had to often take charge of a lot of things that other kids haven't.  That was her life.  That is how she has been raised.  I don't think that is bad, either, but I do think it makes her different than a lot of kids these days, especially those not raised in that environment.  Last year, if she was being bossy, her teacher would make some kind of humorous comment to me as I picked her up, to let me know we had an extra bossy day, and The Biggest One and I would talk about it.  We would work on it.  That's all that was needed.  One sentence. One statement.  We understood and tried to work on it.  Instead, I get a fed up teacher who eventually tells me that maybe I should take my daughter to see the guidance councilor, then, if she has had such a hard time.

I think it was about that point in the conference that my husband got up and walked away.  He didn't want to be present for any more of our discussion.  At that point, it was two brick walls just banging against each other, both of them saying the same thing over and over again, with nothing really being heard.

And I totally forgot the big boob thing.

Anyway, after that, our only two other face to face interactions have been very positive.  I ask to come in and make ceramic Christmas ornaments with her class, something I do every year with my girls' classes if I can, and which she let me do.  I also saw her on math night, and we chatted a little.  It was pleasant enough.

So, this week, when she went off script again, I just about lost it.

I had to write a letter to another teacher, The Biggest One's science teacher.

I know this post has already been long, but hang with me a bit more.

Every week, we have Girl Scouts on Tuesday right after school in Middie's kindergarten classroom.  Her teacher put both of her daughters in my troop, and she helps me out.  It is awesome.  So, all of my troop girls come straight into the room after school, and the ones on that hall are actually in there before school is totally over since they come in when all the other kids are getting in their bus rider/car rider lines.  I have to be in that room right away while the teacher takes care of her dismissal duties.  It isn't a big deal normally, and most of my girls come right in.  The Biggest One, though, is almost always my last one in.  The problem is that they won't always let her come.  Some days they make her sit in the car rider line until those kids start leaving before she can go, even if the bell has already rung.  I wrote her teacher a letter reminding her that I was in the class room we meet in and couldn't get her from the line.  I really needed The Biggest One to be dismissed to come straight to me.  After my letter, that's what she did.  Since dismissal duties rotate, though, she isn't always there.  The other teachers don't just let The Biggest One go.  She has to ask each teacher when she can go, and then they tell her that day what she can do.
This past week, it didntt work out.  The Biggest One ask a teacher, and heard "after the bell rings".  What she didn't hear was "wait until the car riders start leaving" because of all the other kids talking.  Regardless, she waited until after the bell rang, which meant school was over, and came to me in Girl Scouts.  She was early.  She was happy.  Then a boy came to the door and told her to go back to her science teacher.  In about two minutes, my child walked back in to me, hysterical.  She was sobbing and couldn't stop.  She said that this teacher had jumped all over her.  I know the teacher is very strict, and comes across as pretty mean.  The teacher told her that she hadn't listened and would be sitting out recess the nest day.  My child was horrified.  She tried to explain that the other teacher she had ask to leave that day, a fifth grade teacher, not even the teacher who called her back to yell at her, said she could go after the bell rang, but this teacher refused to listen.  She didn't want to hear anything from my child.  My child did wrong, and she was in trouble.  Period.  End of story.

No.
No.
I don't think so.

I was mad.  If The Biggest One really did something wrong, I would expect her to be punished at school.  However, I don't think misunderstandings, especially when you are talking about inconsistent policy, should count.  Most importantly, though, is the fact that this woman chose to punish her with out ever listening to her.  That isn't ok with me.  In fact, they yelled at her for asking to go every week in this whole debacle.  It was clear that it was irritating to them she needed "special treatment".
I had to make it through an entire Scout meeting super pissed and not let my kids know.  That was hard. It took everything I had not to just walk down the hall and speak with her science teacher right then.
Instead, I talked to my husband that night, and decided to write a letter to the science teacher, the one who chose to punish her.  I slept on it to have time to think and calm down.
I wrote very carefully.  I said that it had been a misunderstanding.  I said that the biggest problem was the inconsistent policy.  I ask that every teacher give her the same dismissal routine, even if it meant that should would be the latest in the room, just so that The Biggest One would have a clear set of instructions to follow each week ,and she could stop asking them what to do.  I did say that she was almost always the last one in the room, and I would like to see her dismissed when the bell rang, like her teacher does, but if they feel that is unsafe for any reason, that we would take what ever was best.  I also said that if there were more concerns, then I would be glad to meet with the teachers who have dismissal duty over her, and the principal if needed, so that we could come up with a safe plan of action for dismissal for the rest of the year that would work for everyone.
It wasn't mean.  It was firm, but there is a huge difference.
I had my husband read it, and let me assure you, when it comes to my being bitchy, he can spot it from a mile away and would never fail to call me out on it.  He said the letter was fine.
So, since I had missed writing it by the time they left, I took it in to school.
There is a great little side story about me seeing this teacher as I was getting there, but I will save that for later.
For now, what you need to know is that I got it to The Biggest One right before lunch and recess when she was supposed to stand with her science teacher.  She went back to class, and before recess, she ask her teacher if she could go ahead and give the letter to the other teacher.  Her teacher ask to see it and read it first.  That pisses me off right there.  It wasn't addressed to her.
She read it, and according to the Biggest One, made a big eyed face.  She called the other teacher over, and said, "Here, her mom wrote you an angry letter."

I will let that sink in for a second.

You good?

Ok.  She said, in front of my child, that I wrote her teacher an angry letter. I ask if she had been kidding.  The Biggest One showed me the face she made three separate times.  She was absolutely not kidding according to my child.

Well, if I wasn't angry before, I was the moment my child relayed this.
It wasn't an angry letter.  I promise you.   Even if it had been, that was totally inappropriate to say in front  of my child.  You can bitch about me behind my back like all the people who have sense do any time you want, but not in front of my child.  What she did was just set up an adversarial position for the two of us.  She said I did something mean to that other teacher.  The teacher parent relationship should never be adversarial, and setting it up that way goes against the grain of everything I think schools work for.

How dare she.

So, this time I decided to take a couple of days and cool down.
I'm thinking a conference with the principal is actually in order.
That really wasn't ok with me.  I don't know exactly why she dislikes me so much.
I swear that if you got Middie's teacher together with The Biggest One's, and had them each describe me as a parent, you would think they were talking about two totally different women.  I would do anything for the school and my girls' classes that I could.  If you know me, you know that.  Last year, I went in no less than once a week for a couple of hours with two kids in tow to do paper work in the parent room because I feel it is my responsibility to help out any way I can.  That's my job.
Instead of viewing me as an asset, though, for some reason, she has chosen to make me an obstacle.  It honestly makes me want to cry.  I just want to help, not to be treated with out respect.
Anyway, this post has been super long.  Sorry.  If you made it through, thanks.
I'll let you know what happens from here.  I'm hoping for some kind of better.  Any kind of better.

The Grand Middle

Yesterday was The Big Little One, aka The Middle One, aka Middie, 's birthday.
She turned six years old.
It makes me want to cry a little.  I realize six isn't that big, but it is, in many ways.  In just a couple of months, she will be out of kindergarten, and on her way to first grade.  She won't be a little girl any more, really.  For some reason, in my head, while The Littlest One is the baby, I see Middie as my baby, too.  It feels like just yesterday I brought her home from the hospital.  I have all these beautiful memories of her just being such a snuggly baby.  She still is a snuggler.
She really is a fantastic kid.  Middie is smart cookie.  She is an avid reader, which I love.  She is fantastic at math, which is really fantastic since it means I don't have to help her with it.  She has a sharp wit, much like her Father's, and a great sense of humor.
I love this kid.
She amazes me all the time.  I look at her, and I really wonder where she will go in life and what she will do, because I see in her the potential to do anything and do it very well.
I am very proud of her already, and I know her future will be amazing.  I'm just so happy that I get to be a part of it and watch her grow!!

Love you, Middie!!!

Not Enough Wine In The World

Let me make one thing really clear, I really don't drink.  Like ever.  I'm not opposed to it, I just can't afford the extra calories every day.  Not only that, but with three children, I'm really afraid that if I started, I wouldn't ever stop.
You see, when you have all daughters, and in particular one who is about to turn 10, there are enough hormones running rampant through your home to stave off menopause for at least 10 middle aged women.  Seriously.  It's like all hormones, all the time right now.
     The Big One is killing me.  A little at a time, but I swear she is taking years off my life.  She goes from super pissed to crying in about 0.2 seconds these days.  Her bad attitude is off the charts.  She is a total angsty, moody teenager three years before we should have hit this, and I just do not get it.  The other day, I made her cry because I told her she was being a pout pout fish.  If you haven't ever seen it, there is an adorable children's book that we love, The Pout Pout Fish.    I paraphrased some lines some lines for her, telling her that she was a Pout Pout Fish with a Pout Pout face, spreading dreary wearies all over the place.  Then I ask her to turn her frown upside down and be a Kiss Kiss Fish with a Kiss Kiss face and spread cheerie cheeries all over the place instead.  That is all straight from the book, and totally cute.
I suppose I just spoiled the ending of that book for you if you haven't ever read it, but still totally worth the read.
     Anyway, from that, I was told that I was mean, because I was name calling.  True, I did call her a Pout Pout Fish, but......Seriously?  I mean, SERIOUSLY?
The point of quoting the silly book to her was to make her smile.  I wanted to make her giggle and tell me I was being silly, and I would even take an eye roll with an exasperated "Mooommm" as long as there was at least the start of a grin.

But no.

Instead, I got tears and to be told how mean I was because I called her a Pout Pout Fish.
I know in my head that this is going to get progressively worse.  I realize that we haven't hit our hormonal stride yet, but I do not understand how it could be worse.
I don't know how I will handle it.  I am afraid that she will spend years 10 through 17 locked in her room.
It is amazing to me that so many girls survive puberty with their moms.
I look back, and I'm trying to remember myself at this age, but I think I have blocked it all out at this point, and probably for good reason.  I think I need to find a new moms group, stat.  I see lots of late night mom's night outs in my future, if either of us are going to make it.

It Is Not Stage Fright

The Biggest One and I have been sick.  Really sick.  We had the flu.  It was u-g-l-y.  I really felt that needed spelling out.  It was that bad.  Anyway, while neither of us were really back to full strength yet, I thought it was time she went back to school today, especially since today was Girl Scouts and she had a music performance.  It may have been a tad too soon.
Apparently, when she was standing on the stage today practicing, she got very sweaty, started seeing black spots, turned super pale, and couldn't see well.  She started to pass out.  They made her sit down, and then go to the nurse.  I'm not sure what caused it, but I can bet she just didn't have enough fluids today, and over exerted herself her first day back.  Anyway, The nurse, who is really very sweet, listens carefully to The Biggest One about what happened.  This is my girl who tonight, on stage in front of everyone, shimmied while she sang when no one else was really dancing, sang so loud that another child turned to her and told her that everyone could hear her, who gave the best show of the evening on her own, just because of her enthusiasm   If you know her, you know exactly what I mean.  She is a ham.  A showman though and though.  Straight drama runs though her blood.  So, the nice nurse listens to her, sweetly, then proceeds to tell her that it was just stage fright, and that often causes people to feint.
Say what?
Stage fright.
No.  Not her.
I burst out laughing.
The sad thing is, again if you know her, or have read about her with me before you know where we are about to go, she believed it.  She came home and told me she had stage fright.  I tried to reason with her.  I tried to explain that she had anything but stage fright, but since The Nurse told her, it must be true.  I finally got her to see reason when I told her it was possible she locked her knees.  I explained how lots of people feint because of that.  She thought that could have been possible.  However, she still felt it could have been stage fright.
So, we went, and she shimmied and sang.  She begged to the the example and come to the mic every time the music teacher ask a question.  She was all over it tonight, without ever batting an eye.

At the end of the performance, we get her and start walking out.  We talk.  I tell her how great she was, and discuss the program for a minute.  Then, we get in the truck.  The moment we were all belted, I stopped, looked at her, and ask "Now, do you think, you who sang the loudest and danced the most, that you still have stage fright?"  This time, she laughed.  She knew it definitely wasn't that, and remembered how much she loves being in front of people.  I can't believe she ever forgot it.
So, no, it wasn't stage fright.  She may need more rest, and I'll be forcing more water down her, but I'm sure we can put at least that bit to bed, for now.

I Am The Car Lane Jackhole

School pick up and drop off are never, ever fun for me.  Even if it means getting the kids out of the house after a long winter break where they have been fighting with each other since the moment I picked them up at the start of break, I still don't look forward to taking them back.  It isn't just because I will miss them, which I will, but it's because I hate the actual pick up drop off process immensely  and it causes me great anxiety.
The school, which I am slowly learning to love, is a pretty good about most things, but they are very particular about pickup and drop off.  They want any parent not using the bus to use the car rider lane for pickup and drop off, and they strongly discourage walking your child in or personally picking your child up unless there is a special reason to do so.  We get notes about it all the time.  We are not even allowed down the halls in the morning.  We are to go no where near the class rooms.  They say it is all for safety reasons.
Ok.  I can live with that idea, though I'm not exactly sure how letting the kids go by themselves, without adult supervision, is much safer, but I am trying to get with the program.  I think for the most part, it is just a huge change from CA schools, and I'm not handling the change too well.  In CA, the schools were outdoor schools, more like shopping malls with no interior hall ways, and you just walked right up to the classroom door.  Here, the school is much more traditional with a main entryway, then hallways going left right, or to the back.  Also, the parking lot is honestly terrible.  You park on a lower level and have to walk across the road (the pickup/drop lane really not so much a real road) to get into the school.  So in that regard, it is much safer to just drop them off than walk through all the cars trying to drop off in the mornings.

Regardless, I hate it.

Aside from it being different, the reason that I hate it would be that we suck at the process.  We do.  I know it may sound odd to say that I suck at dropping my kids off at school, but trust me, we do.
I am that parent who always, nearly every single day, holds up the line, doesn't move when the other cars do, etc.  I screw up the whole thing.  Even the crossing guard lady gets confused and irritated with me sometimes.  She has to hold the walkers crossing the lane while the cars move, but I take so long, she starts letting them through, but just as soon as she has given up on me, and starts letting them through, I'm ready to move, and now were all holding up the line of traffic.  Yes.  It's like that nearly every single morning.  The only hope I have of not screwing up traffic is to be in the back of the line, giving me more time before all the other cars go.
I know you must think I'm nuts, I mean, how long can it take to get the kids out.  Currently, all of The Girls are in some sort of car seat or booster.  Even The Biggest One, at 9, has yet to hit the hundred pound limit of her booster.  So, I make her sit in it.  It is safer, until she outgrows it.  Middie is a in an extended use 5-point harness, which she still can't buckle on her own.  Of course, The Littlest One is still rear facing at 21 months, now that the official recommendation from the American Pediatric Board is a two year minimum, in a 5-point harness, which she will keep for a long time yet.
So, how does having kids in seats that make us suck?  We are the only parents who do that, as far as I can tell.  Middie, in all honestly, usually can buckle her self, unless she is wearing a coat (No discussions about coats and car seats now, thanks.  I'll be glad to post about that later.)  The problem here is that she is super, duper, maddeningly slow.  The kid moves at a crawl.  Two years ago, I gave her The Pokey Little Puppy for Christmas because I tell her all the time she is my Pokey Little Puppy.  This year, I got her The Pokey Little Puppy's Christmas.  You may note that means the theme lasted for more than a year, as she has always been, and will probably always be the slowest kid ever.  She just can't do quickly.  She dawdles.  You get it.  So, getting her out of the car, or into it is painful.  Someone has to assist to get the process moving, or she won't move.  Right now, we have a system down.  As we are shifting in to the drop off position, I tell the girls to get ready.  On the word "Go", The Biggest One unbuckles, opens her door, jumps out, runs around the front of the truck to her sister's side.  While she is running around, I unbuckle, turn behind me, and unbuckle Middie.  We get her arms out of the straps, too.  By this time, The Biggest One gets her door open, and grabs Middie's back pack, so it won't be in the way or an issue.  Trust me, if I let Middie get her own backpack, we would be there until lunch time every single day.
This is generally the point that I realize break lights are going off in front of me, and the line is getting ready to move.  I start yelling "Go! Go! Go!"  Middie takes a moment to stand, get her grip on the truck, and finally, jumps out. At this point, The Biggest One starts yelling, "The Door!  Shut the door!" as Middie has yet to do so.  It takes a moment, but she eventually gets it shut.  The Biggest One starts handing over the backpack.  I do not allow Middie to put the backpack on for the sake of time.  She must simply hold it by a strap until she is near in the front doors of the school, if there is time.  If not, she can carry it like that to class.  That saves several minutes.  Once the hand over is made, they clear the the car, and I can see them both on the sidewalk, I can start rolling.
If we are at the very back of the line, I make it just in time sometimes.  If not, I screw everything up.  I'm sure there are parents yelling at me.  Always.
Pick up is a little better.  We are in a double line for that, with a sign that has our child's name on it in the windshield.  Someone comes walking down the middle of the rows, calling out names for each car.  As soon as they call The Big Girls, I unlock the doors, jump out, run around, and wait on Middie.  The Biggest One always gets to the car and gets in quickly. As soon as I see Middie sort of plodding her way toward me, I start yelling "Backpack off!  Backpack off!"  Sometimes she has it slid off so that I can grab it when she gets to me, sometimes she doesn't and I have to slide it off as quickly as I can.  Her door is already open.  I pick her up, put her in, strap her in as fast as possible, and run back around to the driver's door.  I jump in and a immediately put the car in drive so that I can roll while I buckle myself up.  WE don't usually hold up the line as badly this way, unless of course Middies doesn't hear her name, and she has to be called twice, or I am the first or second car in my row.  The bad thing here is that I'm not just holding up a few cars in one line, like in the morning.  They won't get any other kids started until both lanes have finished moving all the loaded kids out, and have empty cars.  So, if we take too long, I'm holding up like 16 cars or a so at a time, plus all the people waiting behind them.  Its awesome.

I have to wonder how many times I have gotten the finger, been called ugly names by people running late for work, etc.  I;m sure it happens.  I don't, though, ever get mad.  On the off chance that one of them has a bad day, and holds up the line, I just go wit the flow and totally get it.

I don't expect this to change for a while, either.  I don't plan on changing the car seat situation in our car anytime soon.  I'm happiest when they are safest, regardless and what other, possibly finger waving, people in in front of or behind may think.

Oh My Ears

After My Husband and I were married, it took a couple of months for me to move away to be with him.  He was in schools, and in between a real duty station.  So, I was waited.  When the time came, I moved to Norfolk, Virginia to be with him.  While that is closer to northern VA, and not the same as the real south, it is  still in Virginia, and it wasn't so different that I was taken aback by my surroundings.
Our next big move was to Corpus Christi, Texas.  That did bring with is some serious culture shock.  We often called it Northern Mexico.  It was different.  It wasn't bad, though, at all.  It was just an adjustment for this girl who was born and raised in small, fairly homogeneous, town in Tennessee.  That area of Texas is a little strange in the culture.  Its sort of like if the south and Mexico had a baby, they would have that region.  It is a mix of the cultures and traditions, I suppose.  So, in some ways, it still felt familiar while opening me up to a lot.
We lived in TX for a few years, and finished out his tour there.  Then, after a more short stints for school, we moved to San Diego.
Talk about culture shock.  That was it.  I'm not sure that moving to a foreign land would be that much more.  It wasn't something I was prepared for, at all.  Nothing felt familiar, and people automatically pointed out how different I was the moment I opened my mouth and spoke.  I had a southern accent, and it set people off everywhere I went.  I got grilled all the time about where I was from.  Sometimes it was uncomfortable.
The crazy thing is, compared to my home town, and most of the people I know, I have very little accent.
Seriously.
The longer I was away, the softer it got, too.  My friends could tell when I had been around my mom, if she had been visiting, because it would flair up a little.
I began to really work on my diction, and I hoped that it was as clear as possible.  In fact, when we first moved back here, people had a hard time understanding me.  They still do occasionally.  I spoke quickly and with little affectation, making me sound different from them.  During Girl Scout Cookie training for my parents, I had one Dad who could not understand me.  I tried to speak more slowly.  I tried to speak more clearly.  I think that made it worse.  Eventually his daughter started repeating everything for him in the typical slow southern drawl and he got it.
The thing is, the longer I am here, the more I hear myself returning to that.  It is impossible not to.  That is all my ears hear.  My brain will rewire itself again and eventually I will start sounding like that.
I am already using more colloquialisms.  The other day, at the end of a phone conversation with a CA friend, I said "Well, go on then".  When you read it, it could sound hateful, but when said in the Southern way, it is simply a way to say good bye, without any hint of ill feelings.  Its just the way they talk.  I realized when she laughed that she might have thought I was being rude, but in fact, its sort of a common phrase that I have already started to use.
I hear the girls say things all the time that amaze me, and not necessarily in a good way.  In particular, I realize that The Littlest One will have a strong southern accent.  She will probably be the only native San Diegan to speak with a southern drawl.  Already, she says "byyeeee" instead of bye.
I hope to go visit San Diego this summer, if possible.  If we do, I plan on re immersing myself in the culture there.  I want to hang out with my friends, visit Balboa Park, and do a lot of the touristy things we shun when you actually live there, but most of all, I want to just listen for a while, and soak up as much of the sound of speech as possible.

She Just Won't Talk

I always thought that all of my children would be talkers.  If you know me well, you know I like to talk.  My mother will talk your ear off in a minute.  My sister is a chatty Kat, too.  The Big Girls talk a lot and they both spoke pretty early as babies.  The Big One spoke very early and very well.  Midi not as much, but still pretty early.  My brother, sister, and I were all the same.  My nephew (my brother's son) doesn't stop talking.
I have one nonverbal stick in the mud, though, with The Littlest One.  She won't talk.  She just won't.  She doesn't speak much, and won't use actual words in stead of grunts very often.  I was actually concerned enough to bring it up at her last check up.  I realize that she is the youngest of three, and lives in a house where everyone talks for her. She also still uses a pacifier (Don't judge.  We are weaning off the boob and only one can go at a time.)  So, I get that all that means she will talk later, but this is driving me crazy.  At her age, The Big One would already make two or three word sentences.  "Cup, please" and sentences like that were easy for her.  Midi spoke early enough and well enough that I was never concerned.  The Littlest One, though, makes me try very hard not to be worried.  Her pediatrician went over a secondary developmental assessment with me, and she was great.  The only indicator of a developmental issue she pegged on was the question about whether or not they stare off at nothing.  She does.  All the time.  More so than the other two did.  The Dr began to question me about it, and ascertained that she does it while pointing to the nothing she is staring at, and trying to show it to us.  Freaky, but no longer an indicator if she communicated with us in some way during the process of seeing things we don't.

     The thing is, she does communicate.  She knows body parts already and will point to the one you ask.  She can follow commands, like "Get your hand out of my shirt" or "Take that to the trash".  So, her language skills are there as far as understanding words.  She just won't speak.  I will occasionally hear her say a word, a big word even, and then never say it again.  It is as if she is torturing me and being incredibly obstinate with full realization of what she is doing.  Perhaps she is aware that I want her to talk and won't.  That would seem to go right along with her personality so far.  So far, I have her pegged as being the most difficult child in regards to behavior   Not that she is a terror or anything, but because she constantly does things for a reaction   She already knows what she isn't supposed to do, and looks you straight in the eye and does them, while laughing, to get you to come after her.  She is a constant joy, I tell you.
Probably in a year or so, I will come back and tell you this is all cleared up, and she won't ever stop talking, just like her sisters.  Maybe by then she will be driving me insane with the almost three year old constant conversation.  Hopefully.  

A Better Lunch

When you space your children 4 years apart each, you tend to forget things in between.  I usually can't remember what I did yesterday.  So, the fact that i have to re learn some of the best little parenting lessons each time they pop up shouldn't be a surprise to me, or anyone that knows me.
Today's little parenting lesson relearned, if you want to actually each your own lunch, you must make two.  You see, we have entered the phase with The Littlest One where whatever we have on our plates looks infinitely better than what ever is on her plate or high chair tray, even if it is the same exact food.  It must be the presentation, and the big silver fork.  She does like the shiny things.  Regardless, she likes our food far more than her own.  As any good parent would, I tend to give up a good portion of my lunch to her.  The thing is, I usually don't want to trade back for what she has, again, even if it is the same food.  Once she has it, she tends to destroy it, or in foodie terms, she likes her meals deconstructed   I'm more into a polished, total meal, than a deconstructed one that might have a little snot, or who knows what else, mixed in.  Therefore, I need to remember to make two plates for myself from now on.  The first plate will be my decoy plate.  I will star off by pretending to eat from it.  Then, once she makes her move, I can start surreptitiously eating from the second plate, while feeding her everything from the first.  I know it sounds difficult, but I am hungry and desperate to eat an actual meal.  I am glad she likes real food, and good food, too, but I wish she would like it a little more on her own plate, and not so much just from mine.

Its Official. She's Broken.

Today pretty much sucked.
When you are a parent, the last thing you want is to see your child hurt or hurting, and know there is nothing you can do to change it.
When your child breaks a limb, there really isn't anything you can do to fix it.  You can hold them.  You can snuggle them.  You can whisper in their ear and tell them it will all be ok, but none of that really makes it better, or takes the break away.
Today, we found out The Biggest One really did break her ankle.  It sucked.
First, I had to deal with Balboa.  Not a happy camper.  An appointment that we were told would take about 30 minutes lasted 2 hours and 45 minutes.  I was overwhelmed by their inefficiency once again.  I got argumentative with the Physician's Assistant who ended up taking me into a room and going over the x-ray with me very slowly to make her case.  If she had only led with the statement that the ankle was broken, versus "we treat it like a break no matter what" I might have been more receptive.  She didn't though.  We were shuffled around for what seemed like forever, between exam rooms, x-ray, back to the lobby, again to exam rooms, back to x-ray again, etc.  When it was all said and done, though, what mattered is that she broke her ankle.
     She was a trooper at first.  She was ok until they sent us for a second set of x-rays, to be sure she hadn't broken her foot, too.  As we sat down, she lost her composure completely.  I got her up, sat down, and pulled her on my lap.  "I'm too big to sit on you, Mom."  She didn't want to hurt me.  "Never", I told her. I pulled her to me, and just hugged her.  I told her that I knew it sucked.  It was terrible, but it was simply part of life.  Things happen.  Balloons pop.  We would just have to get through the sucky part, to get back to the good part.  She was so unhappy.
We got a cast put on, and thankfully, they decided she could have a walking cast.  That was a serious blessing, because not being physically gifted to begin with, the crutches were just another accident waiting to happen.  Seriously.
Walking out made her happy.  She walked funny, but she could walk.
Then, we got home, and she started to worry.  She worried about what people would say to her.  She was honestly worried about people picking on her for having broken her leg.  We talked.  We snuggled some more.
Sometimes, being a parent is just heartbreaking.
I wish I could take it away.  I wish I could make it better. I know that I can't, though.
She will be fine in a few weeks.  It is going to suck.  It is going to be a crappy thing to get through, but she will get through it.  When she comes out, she will be a stronger person for having dealt with it all, too. At least, that is my hope.

The Crutch Files

Today we had a follow up appointment with The Biggest One for her ankle injury.  I had sincerely hoped that  it would be over and done with today, and that she would walk out on two feet.  No such luck.
Instead, the Dr looked at her still swollen, ugly, painful ankle, and decided that she needed to see an orthopaedic specialist.  She has to continue to wear the air cast, and stay off her foot until she gets in.  The Dr advised me to call back to the children's hospital, and try to get her an appointment.  Hopefully we can get her there within another week.
I really hope this is just a "better safe than sorry" kind of appointment.  The Dr just couldn't tell what was going on, and I hope she just wants to be sure.  I don't want anything else to be wrong.  This isn't easy for anyone, but its really hard for a child, especially one that can't use crutches well, at all.  She is terrible at them.  I think they are almost more of a hazard to her than a help.  As a result, she has used them very, very little this far and we haven't gone anywhere for a week.
So, keep your fingers crossed for us.  We want this to be an easy turn over, and be all done in a week.

And This Is Why

I have said it many times before, and I will say it many more times, I love all of my children.  They are all special in their own ways.  As such, we treat each of our children differently, according to their own needs, abilities, and demeanours.  The Big One is very intelligent, but not so gifted in the common sense and physical prowess areas.  As such we tend to put things of a physical or sporty nature on the back burner for her.  In fact, we often forget about them all together.  Hence the reason she didn't learn to ride a bike without training wheels until just about a week or so ago.  My Husband had tried.  Honestly he had.  I had tried.  We worked at it.  The Big One was terrified, though, and it just wasn't happening.  So, we never pushed it.  We would try for a while, see how banged up she got, realize that she wasn't ready, and wait a while.
     A few weeks ago, not long after he came home this time, My Husband decided it was finally time for sure.  He was ready for her to be ready.  She is, after all, nearing nine years old.  So, he started working with her again.  She did better.  She did much better.  They would work at it for a few hours at a time.  I would help out when he couldn't take it anymore.  It became a family thing.  The Medium One (I think I like that better than The Big Little One for a name) hadn't ever ridden on a two wheel bike before.  We just pulled out The Biggest One's old bike, and put her on it.  Off she rode.  That one does have training wheels, but I would venture they aren't long for the bike.  So, she would ride while The Biggest One would ride.  The Littlest one would sit in a wagon, a stroller, or even on a little tricycle and get a ride, too.

     It took a few weeks, or weekends at least, but finally, this past Saturday, it all clicked.  She could not only ride, but she could turn, and she was doing it all pretty well.  We were all out there watching the kids ride, until it was time for The Littlest One to get some milk and nap.  The two of us came in, and were inside for about 30 minutes, when the back door came open, and I instantly heard crying.  My husband walked in, carrying something over his shoulder.  It was The Biggest One.  Not a good sign.  He sat her down, and as she is trying to describe her wreck to me, though tear filled sobs, he is standing over her, making gestures and facial expressions  to indicate that it was a nasty spill.  She finished her story, and basically said that she had hurt her ankle, and couldn't walk on it.  I am particularly sensitive to injuries like this, having a lost a year to of my life to an ankle injury with 5 surgeries when I was younger.  So, I checked her carefully.  She really couldn't move it.  It hadn't started to swell, yet, but I feared it would soon.  I decided we would give her 30 minutes, and then recheck.  My husband ran out to get gas, just in case, and came back just in time.  The recheck was worse.  It was still extremely painful, but had started to swell, even with ice on it.  I called our insurance to let them know we were headed to the ER, and we all got ready.  The Biggest One was so upset, she couldn't even think about hopping.  So, her father fireman carried her over his shoulder again all the way out to the truck.  We all loaded up, and off we went the Rady Children's Hospital, which is thankfully only a mile from our house.
     When we got there, My Husband dropped the two of us off at the ER.  I helped her hobble inside, and sat her just in the door while I went to check in.  After waiting in line a bit behind people who think the ER is where you go when your kids have a cold, we got called up.  I told the Triage Nurse what had happened, and pointed out The biggest One, still sitting near the door.  Thanks to the head injury that resulted in an ambulance ride there, she was already in the system, and it only took a minute to get her all registered.
     Actually, I have to say that this was one of the fastest visits to an ER ever.  We only sat in the lobby for about 10 minutes at most before we were called back.  I put her in a wheel chair, and took her back.  They did a quick exam, and sent us straight to x-ray, then back out to the lobby.  After about another 10 minutes, they came to take us to a room.  The nurse put us in the room, closed the door, and it opened right back up by the Dr.  So fast that I said comment about it out load.  The Dr did another exam, and by this point her ankle was nearly the size of a grape fruit and was extremely painful.  The news wasn't great.  Not terrible either, though.  There was no break on the x-ray, but at this age, their growth plates are still open, and there could be one in there.  Those breaks don't show up on x-rays.  So, we have to go back in a week and take a second x-ray.  If there is a break, it will form a calcification as it heals, and that will show up.  That is the only way to tell if she has a break or not right now.  She also has a really bad sprain for sure.  She has to use crutches and wear an air cast.  Not fun stuff.
     All of that is a total bummer.  She was upset.  I'm worried.  A lot.  Like I said, I'm very sensitive to this king of thing since my was changed forever by having an ankle injury.
    The only upside is that for now she is still out of school, since she is on a year round track.  We have a week to get better before we have to worry about going back and dealing with crutches and school, which I think do not mix.
     I'm hoping for the best.  It could be just a sprain and were done. Fingers and toes crossed.

How did we get here?

This morning, when I woke up, something was wrong.  There was a disturbance in the force, of sorts.  I got ready, came down stairs, and there was The Big Little One, eating her weird concoction of 5 different kinds of cereal, and I realized what it was.  I now have two school age children and only one baby.

Today is The Big Little One's birthday.

While I knew it was her birthday, I am the one who gave birth after all, it really hit me that in a few months, I will be sending two girls to school, and not one.  I'll suddenly be back to just one child with me all day.  I'll be able to do things you do when you have only one child, and that child is younger.  We can go back to the toddler story time.  I can go hang out at a park, and not have to worry constantly about trying to keep my eyes on all my children at once.  Things will be different.  This time around, on her first day of school, I won't have nearly the anxiety about her that I did with her big sister.  I've done this once before and that helps.  More importantly, I know she is ready.  She is so independent.  She wants to go.  She talks about going to school almost every time we walk by the kindergarten classes as we drop The Big One off at school.  Probably most importantly of all, I know she will not only thrive, but she will flourish.  She is a smart kid.  She loves to learn.  She will love school in general.  I'm sure there will be challenges along the way for her, there are for everyone, but I expect her to do very well, and tackle them head on, just like she does everything else.  I can picture her being my athlete, and competing in every sport each of her schools have to offer as she grows.  I can see her being the one with the soccer, softball, and maybe even basket ball games year round, while perhaps her older sister is a cheer leader.  They are just so different, it amazes me.

Today we will have birthday cake and ice cream.  There will be presents.  We will celebrate how wonderful and amazing she is.  Today, it will be about her as much as it possibly can be.  Next year, there will be new friends, and a party with kids from class for the first time.  She is growing up so quickly, I can't believe it.  I swear just yesterday she was taking her first steps, and learning to use the potty.  Now, she is about to enter the world of the big kids, and really start a major new phase in her life.

I love you, my sweetheart.  You are amazing and fantastic.  You are funny and ferocious.  I am thankful every day that you chose me to be your mom.  I love you forever.  Happy Birthday!

A Quick Share

I'm actually working on catching up on some of my blogging (I swear), but in the mean time, I thought I would share a quick moment from my day yesterday.

We are currently down to one car.  Until we make the decision about where to move, we have no immediate plans to buy another one, either.  So, we spend a lot of time in the truck right now, shuffling it back and forth for everything we all need.
On the way to pick My Husband up from work, The Big Little One and I are discussing something, no idea what, and I told her I agreed with her about what ever it was.  She got quiet for a moment.  Then, in a very thoughtful voice, she said "Mom, sometimes, you are on my side, and sometimes you are not".  That is a very powerful statement from a 4 year old.  I looked over my shoulder to where she was sitting, behind the passenger's seat, at her beautiful face.  I wasn't sure exactly where to go with it.  I started with telling her that mom may or may not always agree with everything she does or says, but I will always support her and be in her corner.  I went on and on.  I wanted to make sure to address any concerns she might have, and make she knows that I always support her, even if I don't agree with her, no matter what.  I finished it all up, with a simple "Ok?" to make sure she understood.
She immediately replied in a strained tone that showed she was at the end of her patience, "No, Mom, I mean sometimes you are on my side of the car, and sometimes you aren't."  Oh.  Yes.  Well, then.  Ok.  I told her she was absolutely correct.  Sometimes I drive, and sometimes I ride.  At least, now she knows where I stand on many things, as well as where I sit.

OOD 1/11/12