Where's My Leg?

My little Timmy went to the pediatrician yesterday for his check-up, and much to his chagrin, his shots. He is now a whopping 20 pounds, skyrocketing him up to the 35th percentile. Considering that when he was born he was -1, I am delighted with my little overachiever.

The pediatrician also confirmed my suspicions: Hamlet is teething. He has one adorable little tooth just peeking through his bottom gum. You can't really see it yet, but I definitely know it is there when he is gnawing on my fingers.  It's little, but it is sharp! His teething activity is probably the reason for his most recent bout of insomnia.  This child has simply stopped sleeping at night.

Sitting up in the wee hours of the morning, quietly rocking my little guy, I try to remind myself that these moments won't last forever. While I cherish our snuggle time, I don't think I'll miss the 2-5 AM play hours. I have sadly discovered that I'm simply too old to be pulling so many all-nighters. 

After being up and busy for nearly 20 hours, I practically collapsed into bed last night. Upon hearing my 2 AM alarm clock (in the form of a shrieking baby) I blindly reached to put on my leg. I was still in the confused, wake up from a dead sleep state, but I quickly became frantic that I couldn't find my leg. It took me several panicked moments, with Timmy's crying becoming louder as if to add dramatic effect, for me to realize that I had somehow rolled sideways when I was sleeping. 

I managed to find my leg, but only after I had to wake up Scott for help.  I venture to say that he is the only one at work who can honestly say that his wife woke him up because she thought she lost her leg. Since Little Timmy doesn't seem to be understanding about my need for sleep, I've decided to become proactive.  This afternoon I am packing him up, driving to my Mom's, and going to bed!

Fight

Yesterday was everybody's first day back to school after an extended break, and I was hoping to enjoy the quiet. Of course Timmy had other ideas and was persnickety all day. Perhaps he missed his big brother? I felt like pulling my hair out by the time Scott came home from work.

Standing at the top of the stairs with a screaming baby on my hip, I was ready to hand off Timmy as soon as he reached the landing. Looking at Scott's face I suspected that something was wrong. Then I noticed the blood on his sweater and knew that he had endured a very bad day.

As it turns out, he needed to break up a student fight. He explained that in his 21 years of teaching he has broken up countless hallway tussles. This was, without a doubt, the worst fight he had ever witnessed. After all, you know it was a violent interaction when both participants departed the school in ambulances.

As Scott began to share the story, it was revealed that the fight was between two girls. At this point Robby chimed in, declaring that his Daddy had seen a "cat fight." I was surprised that he was familiar with that term, but I digress. I guess I'll deal with his bluntness at another time. 

After seeing the fight unfold, Scott and another teacher attempted to to break it up. Apparently these girls are either adept at fighting, were incredibly angry or perhaps both. They were determined to inflict pain and, unfortunately, they succeeded. Scott fully admits that he was pulled around like a rag doll as he desperately tried to restrain one of the girls.

He has some bruises, but his thumb seems to be causing him the most discomfort. It is swollen and oddly shaped, which is a cause for concern. He is going to get it checked out today and I'm hoping that it isn't broken or dislocated.

The new sweater that I bought him for Christmas is now in the trash, splattered with the blood of these angry girls. I'm worried about his thumb but thankful that he wasn't more severely injured. I find myself angry that somebody hurt him, and scared when I think about my boys entering that environment.

Squeaky Wheel

I hate this weather. I am not lamenting the cold, although as I am getting older I'm starting to understand the descriptor "bone chilling." Snow doesn't really bother me, especially when the plow is hooked up and working properly. Today it is cold and icy, a combination I have come to despise.

Little will force me to retreat inside more quickly than ice. I feel vulnerable trying to navigate sidewalks, driveways and parking lots when it is slick. By the time I feel my prosthetic slipping, it is too late, and I am doomed for a not-so-graceful fall.  I have developed a respect for ice and will not underestimate the dangers. 

I love Robby's school, but their sidewalk and parking lot maintenance during the winter leaves much to be desired. More often than not, the walkway is left unshoveled after a snow. Although I hate schlepping through the snow to drop him off at school, I prefer it to ice. At least with snow I can establish some traction.

Typically they only throw a little salt on the walkway near the door when it is icy. The parking lot and side walks are left untreated. Parents and students are forced to traverse the ice rink parking lot to get to the salted "safe zone." There have been times that Robby benefited from a Momom declared school delay simply because I wanted to wait until their sidewalk melted a little bit.  Especially since I'm carrying Timmy, I am fearful of slipping on the ice when dropping off Robby. 

I'm not sure why the school grounds are not maintained. I don't believe it is deliberate, but is probably an oversight. The staff parks their cars in a different parking lot, so I doubt that they even realize how treacherous their grounds are when it is snowy and icy. Regardless of the reasons, the fact remains that I have a difficult time getting Robby to school because of the oversight. 

Perhaps it is time for me to bring the issue to light. I don't want to appear to be high maintenance, but I'm worried that somebody (probably me) will become hurt. I'm sure I can figure out a polite way to bring attention to the issue; I just hate always being the squeaky wheel.

Cleaning Day

Another snow day. Ugh! I know that Robby and Scott are delighted with their impromptu vacation gifted by Mother Nature, but I am beginning to feel overwhelmed. I had to reschedule meetings and appointments to stay home with Robby last week, and I really need a few days to get caught up. I'm not able to do much when the weather ties me to the house! I'm trying to release my weather frustrations because I know that this is a situation over which I have no control. I've come to the conclusion that I despise not being in control.

I woke up early (3 AM) to tackle the reports that need to be finished today. Trying to concentrate on a snow day is impossible so I've learned that if I need to think I need to do it before everybody wakes up. With my thought intensive work complete, I am going to relax knowing that I don't have any pressing projects that need attention. My appointments will all have to be rescheduled, but I suspect that most people with kids will be juggling to readjust their schedules today. 

Instead of fretting over what I'm not doing, today I am going to concentrate on something I can control. The downstairs is a mess and is overrun with dirt and clutter.  Since we have ice and not snow, Robby won't be outside playing. Therefore, I think that the perfect storm has been created for an all hands on deck cleaning project.  I fully anticipate complaining from both boys but I am undeterred in the mission.

Lately I feel as if things have been spinning out of control. Overwhelmed with work and personal issues, sometimes I feel like I'm living from crisis to crisis. I need to take steps to reel in the chaos and to recenter myself.  I always feel less stressed and more in control after we clean and purge the clutter in my house. Since I tend to avoid the downstairs of my house because of the overwhelming mess, I figure that this is probably the perfect place to start regaining control.  Thankfully I have extra helpful (if not so eager) hands to help today, courtesy of the snow day.

No School- Again

Robby missed school all of last week due to the flu. I hate that he lost so much classroom time, and part of me can't help but fret about everything he missed.  He doesn't get sick often, but when he does, he is usually out for an extended period of time. I know that his teachers will work with him to help him get caught up, but I'm his Mom and I guess I'll always worry.

My little guy was feeling better on Friday but his low grade fever convinced me to keep him home. By Saturday he had limited energy but no fever, and was beginning to show an interest in eating. By Sunday his appetite returned with a vengeance. I went to bed last night confident that our little Koopa could return to school in the morning.

Robby went to bed with a growing sense of optimism that his weekend would be extended.  For the past few days the weather forecast was touting an epic snowfall in our area.  Although no flakes were dancing from the sky when we turned off the lights for the night, he was convinced that school would be cancelled. 

I remember the excitement of impending snowfalls, which is perhaps why I felt horrible bearing the bad news in the morning. Our predicted snow never materialized, and instead we were dealing with a yucky cold rain. Why adults across the region were rejoicing not needing to shovel, kids were devastated.  Robby angrily declared that the weatherman was a liar after I finally convinced him that school was not cancelled.  I know that we dodged the bullet with this snowfall, but Robby sees the rain through a different, slightly angrier perspective.

So instead of our traditional snow day breakfast of cinnamon buns and bacon, Robby sat on the couch and complained (non-stop) about the "stupid stupid rain ruining the snow." Just when I was reaching my limit on listening to his lament I received a text. It was from Robby's school reminding parents that today is a teacher work-day and that there are no classes.  Are you kidding me?  He still isn't going to school!

Robby began jumping up and down (just before grabbing the Xbox controller) when I revealed the news. His rainy day smile has turned completely around, and it seems that the weatherman is almost forgiven for his mistake.  Hopefully we can resume some sort of schedule this week and life will return to normal, but I guess today is not that day.

Just a Number?

Everybody told me not to worry about turning 40. "It's just a number," they said. "Your life will be no different," they said. "You'll love being 40," they said. 

They all lied.

I have been dying my hair for two decades. For the past 20 years my hair color has been a source of self-expression. I have sported blond, red, black, various shades of brown and auburn and on one occasion blue locks. I used to love walking into the pharmacy and randomly picking a box, paying no regard to the strength or longevity of the color. 

I swear my hair turned silver the moment I turned 40. I no longer dye it for fun. Rather, now find myself desperately trolling the hair color aisle trying to find a color, any color, that will cover the extremely stubborn grey. I have wasted a lot of time, and money, pretending that I could use the more contemporary colors. The fun brands aren't strong enough, and I am relegated to the strong smelling, scalp burning applications. 

Ironically, the hair that seems to be sprouting from my chin and upper lip have retained their dark brown pigment. What's up with that?

Yesterday while I was plucking even more chin hairs, I noticed a dark spot on my cheek. I rewashed my face, thinking (and hoping) it was soot from the fireplace. Frustrated that I couldn't scrub it off, I went to the internet to find a verdict. I either have ring worm, or it is an age spot. I have been wearing a huge glob of anti-fungal cream for 24 hours, hoping against hope that I have ringworm. 

After checking on the still omnipresent spot, Robby asked me to put more lead into his pop-a-point pencil. Without hesitation I picked up the pencil and lead and proceeded on auto-pilot. After all, I think that 35 years experience qualifies me as a refilling expert. 

When did that lead become so thin and the hole so minuscule? Seriously, I don't remember it being that difficult. I ended up standing next to the lamp, trying to get a better look at what I was doing.  The illumination didn't help; I couldn't see to refill the pencil. I found myself pulling the pencil towards and away from me like an "old lady," trying to find a distance where I could focus. I ended up throwing the pencil in the trash, telling Robby that it was broken.

Rummaging through the drawer to find a replacement, sporting a big old glob of fungal cream on my age spot, I cursed the fact that I have become the "old lady." I am sure, at some point in time, I will learn to embrace my age.  That time is not now. 

Sad Situation

A few nights ago we watched the State of the Union address. Instead of the doom and gloom, the sky is falling type reports we are accustomed to hearing, this time the news was encouraging. According to the experts, the economy is rebounding. We looked at each other and knew that no words needed to be exchanged. It is ironic that the economic forecast is so positive when Scott and I were just discussing the dire straits that many of his students are experiencing.

In 21 years of teaching, Scott has never had so many students who are truly hungry. I'm not talking "I'm a teenager and can eat a lot" hungry. I'm talking about the type of hunger where they can't concentrate on their school work because of a need to eat. Too many of his students are reliant upon their free lunch voucher for their only source of nutrition. On weekends, holidays or snow days when school is closed, we've learned that many of these kids simply don't eat. It is absolutely heartbreaking!

For the first few weeks of school I was unaware of his student's hunger problem. He brought home a list of his student's birthdays at the beginning of the school year and asked if I would be willing to make cupcakes to celebrate each one. While I was happy to oblige, I was surprised by his request. He casually remarked that he doesn't think some of these kids will have anything other than our cupcakes to celebrate their birthday, and instead of selecting the few in need he thought it was best to just do it for everybody.  I put the names and dates on my calendar and have not yet missed a birthday. 

While I thought the cupcake request was odd, I began to suspect that the issue was more pervasive. I began to notice that our leftovers were disappearing. Knowing that Scott couldn't eat half of a lasagna for lunch, I finally asked him what he was doing with all of our food. It was then that he explained that some of his students this year are truly hungry. 

I wish we could feed all of them, but I know that is impossible. Instead, we are desperately trying to put a band-aid on the situation. I have come to expect that any left over meals will be taken and distributed to his class. We buy ramen noodles by the case so that we know these kids have something to eat over the weekend and holidays.  Every Thursday morning he drives by Costco to pick up their expired baked goods. It saddened me to learn of the excitement of his students when they eagerly pick up stale bread and rolls to take home to their families. 

The experts are touting economic success, but I doubt that his students would agree. I look at Robby and Timmy and it breaks my heart to envision them eagerly accepting their teacher's left over meals and old bread. I am reminded of how lucky we are to not be in that situation. I know that our stopgap measures will not fix the situation, but that doesn't mean that we won't try.