I HATE SCHOOL! Update: WE LOVE SCHOOL AND HATE HOMEWORK!

I'm wondering when kindergarten became the new third grade. This kid has about an hour-and-a-half of homework per night. I pick him up, we get home and he is Free Range Kid for about 30 minutes, then we get right to the work. He generally has two worksheets a night, I need to initial his accountability folder, we go over the letter he's working on and the memory verse that goes along with it, and BAM, it's 5:00. Time to start eating dinner for these guys. And I haven't even started making it yet. It's 5:30 now and he's finishing his number sheet and this has been the easiest day so far. Yesterday? And I'm NOT EVEN EXAGGERATING we had an epic homework battle. One of us was lying on the floor moaning, "I HATE KINDERGARTEN!" and the other one was on the phone with DPlayer, out of earshot, hollering, "I HATE KINDERGARTEN!"

You'd think that was the nadir, right? Well, you'd be wrong! From there, it actually devolved. It was ugly. There may or may not have been stomping, tongue-sticking, screaming and general mayhem. There were multiple time-outs and door-slams just as exclamation points at the end of tantrums. All in two hours! We're gifted in this house.

Today has been so much better. As I finish this, we just put away the folders and he rocked four worksheets in the same time it took to plod through 2 yesterday. Ohhhhhhhhh...I just realized yesterday was Monday. YAY ME! Note to self, and to those who will remind me - Mondays take extra patience and will usually be difficult as we adjust to a new school week. I really do love his school, I better, since we're paying for it. Extra, on top of taxes, that is. He's in a small private school this year, which we chose for a myriad reasons. Because you are just RIVETED, I will expound on that in another post, but for now I will just say - small. private. school. and leave you hanging. It's time to feed the zoo.

I promised!

So my new resolution is to set aside the time that the kids are "doing homework" to update the blog. And by "doing homework" I mean that the 5-year-old brand-new kindergartener whines about having to scribble with crayons all over his coloring sheet that is apparently of überimportance in the formation of his formal schooling, while the 2-year-old chatters and colors his coloring book and the 8-month-old alternates between screaming, grabbing at the papers on the table and racing for crayons to eat as they hit the ground. Somewhere in there, I've also been trying to make dinner. And cure cancer.

Now, instead of getting grilled chicken with pie nut couscous and some edamame for dinner, the Dawgs are going to have to be content with frozen pizza and a carrot and a mom who has spent a few minutes doing something adult and that makes herself feel autonomous. Quelle horror! They're going to be thrilled.

O HAI!

Dear blog,

I am sorry that I've neglected you. I'm sorry that I left you bereft. I thought of you many times, but as time passed, and distance grew, I became more and more convinced that what I had to say would be trite, meaningless, after such a long separation. I'm finally taking a deep breath, and typing these words in the hopes that you and I will manage to repair our breach, the chasm that has developed oh yea these many days. I look forward to visiting you often, to breaking free of the chains of fear that have kept me silent.

Until tomorrow (oh yes, I shall return tomorrow),
The One Who Missed You

Enjoying it while I can

About a week ago, Sir H. informed me that in Finding Nemo, "their Danielle died". As my name is Danielle, I was surprised, because I usually remember when characters in movies or books share my name. I asked him to repeat what he said, and he told me again that "their Danielle died". When asked to elaborate, he said, "You know, Nemo's mom and Marlin's...um..." "Marlin's...you know, his Danielle." I asked, "Marlin's wife?" He said, "Yes! Marlin's wife. You know, their Danielle." I realized, he was talking about their - ME. Wife/Mother/Female = ME. I'm a generic now, like Kleenex. It made my heart swell an insane amount.

A few days after that, he drew a picture at preschool of our family. He told me that he drew me "like an angel". When I asked him why, he said "because angels are sweet and pretty". Y'all. Seriously. Could I be any happier? Also? Totally reminding him of this when he's 15.