Subtle Glow

My mom leaves for Greece today.  She is going with her husband, who is Greek, and they will be meeting with his family.  The plan is to stay for two weeks to take care of some family business.

Her plan is also not to be spit on too often (”too often” as in “not at all”), due to the Anti-American sentiment that fucking Bush has done such a marvelous job of stirring up around the entire globe.

Anyway, think positive for her.  Pray, if you must, but be sure to pray for the fool who spits on her within arms reach.  I’m just saying.

As if blabbering about all my annoyances here wasn’t enough yesterday, I had to go into it all over again with a girlfriend on the phone last night.  Because, you know, I like to go over shit again and again when it makes me crazy.  Because it’s healthy to do that, right?

She doesn’t read my blog, hell she rarely uses the internets, so it was news to her.  I took the opportunity and blabbed about the stupid dress code and the stupid shirt tucking and all that.

She said something along the lines of “Well I hope they’re not expecting the docile and compliant soccor mom from you” and I responded, “Exactly.  Oh, and did I mention?  I joined the PTA!”

“You did not!”

“I did so.”

hee hee.
I’m a PTA mom, and she is a new member of the board for her HOA.  We both figure in a few months we will have taken over the world.

We’ve managed to make it through the first two days at the new school. Kiddo’s neck is starting to go down, and it’s much less noticeable than it was a few days ago.

I just finished going through the mountains of paperwork they sent home - some of which is the same information on the same forms that they just *had* to have before they would even enroll him.

I don’t know why, but I am just fucking annoyed with them right now.

For instance. The Dress Code.

This school has uniforms. They are optional, but they encourage you to have your child wear them so that “the message will be sent to all students that the focus here is on schoolwork.” Also, “Shirts MUST be tucked in.”

I don’t know why, exactly, but I find both ideas annoying. I’m pretty sure we will be opting OUT of the uniform, and I really could give a fuck if his shirt is tucked in or not. Kiddo is not a clotheshorse and really doesn’t give much thought to what clothes he has on, although he prefers them to be clean (and I require that much so it’s not an issue). Likewise for what other kids are wearing.

Still, I’m annoyed by their insistence.

Here’s why: This is obviously not our first day at school, much less our first YEAR at school. We’ve been to two other schools in that time, and kiddo has managed to excel at each one. Imagine that - he wore regular clothes to school, and not once was his shirt tucked in! And he still did exceptionally well - so much so he’s eligible to participate in the GATE program.

If the “focus is on schoolwork” then how is it I just spent my time going through THREE PAGES of fucking dress code information? I sure didn’t get three pages of curriculum information. Oh, but the “focus” is on schoolwork.

Really?

I see the benefit of uniforms, and then again I also see them as pointless - for reasons already stated.

Maybe I’m just in a bad mood tonight, and tomorrow this will all seem like the ranting of a stubborn grown-up child.

Anyway, I told him if he is asked to tuck in his shirt to do as he’s told. (I didn’t tell him this part, but other than respecting the authority there, I don’t care, because I think that is a stupid and ridiculous thing to worry about. What - do they think he’s packing or something - they need to see his waistline? Oh, what the fuck ever.)

I can just see it now - I’m called in for a parent conference for Kiddo’s repeated violations of dress code for not tucking in his shirt. But really - how’s his schoolwork?!

It never fails that the back to school season announces itself in no uncertain terms:

“Whereas, thy child commence into unknown and previously unbidden territories he shall be struck by a plague with unforseen speed and extreme force upon his immunities, the likes of which will produce infections and lumps not previously seen or experienced in any such matter as before.”

Which, basically translates to: New! Improved! GERMS!

Observe:

This, dear internets, is called lymphadenitis.

Of note:

Causes and symptoms

Streptococcal and staphylococcal bacteria are the most common causes of lymphadenitis, although viruses, protozoa, rickettsiae, fungi, and the tuberculosis bacillus can also infect the lymph nodes. Diseases or disorders that involve lymph nodes in specific areas of the body include rabbit fever (tularemia), cat-scratch disease, lymphogranuloma venereum, chancroid, genital herpes, infected acne, dental abscesses, and bubonic plague.

(emphasis mine)

I’m thinking of naming the lump. Any thoughts?

**Update, after much discussion and debate with the kiddo, we have settled on a name. I present to you: Humpty Lumpy!!

Current compulsive behaviors that are seriously annoying me:

Chewing my lips. I bite the inside of my lips. I actually bite off pieces of my lip. I cannot seem to stop doing this. I’ve done it longer than I can remember. Seriously it was easier to give up smoking after five years. I have told myself no less than 20 times already today: “Don’t bite your lips.” Even better? It’s my mom’s voice in my head saying it - I can remember hearing this from at least 5 years of age.

Chewing my cuticles. Trust me, I find this completely disgusting. I would very much like to get my hands out of my mouth once and for all. I managed to stop biting my nails at some point, which I also did from a very young age. I can remember my parents (and that’s plural so I know I was LESS than 5 years old) painting that bitter polish on there to keep me from biting. At first, it deterred me, for approximately 5 minutes. Then, it just became kind of like “flavor.” YUM. Now, instead of biting my nails I pick at and bite the sides. Any flake of skin or dried cuticle gets picked at until it’s long enough to bite off. I cannot stand this. If I were aware of it, I would stop it. But it seems that I’m doing fine, going about my day and the next thing you know I have a bleeding cuticle because I’ve been fucking chewing it again! I’ve tried acrylic nails (wonderful for the first two weeks of a new set ONLY and eventually bit those off, too, once they start chipping along the cuticles), and regular manicures (I have the polished chipped and peeling within 24 hours). I can’t afford to go every 4 days, exactly what I figure it would require in order to work.

Checking traffic. I’m not even going anywhere! For hours! It can be 11pm and before I can stop myself I’m clicking the link to check traffic.

Make the insanity stop, already.

So after HuffyLady called last week I figured I needed to get over there and register the kiddo for school.

We’re not actually moving in until about two weeks after school starts over there, so I wasn’t sure how strict they would be on the boundary requirements. I decided to keep hush on that little tidbit, and if they noticed well then No Biggie. I was hoping he could start on the first day they open, but if he had to wait until we moved in, ehh. Except for those weeks of child care I would have had to pay for and not use (I called - they won’t prorate)… meanwhile paying for child care actually used… but on the whole I figured what can I do - sometimes you just have to take it.

But, ha HA! I am thinking that sometimes all that racing around that happens in my head can sometimes work out, because TRA LA LA! I don’t think she noticed the date on my lease and the confirmation from the power company (that magically arrived the day after she called - whee!) specified a date that was later than the actual date they start school.

He is registered! At the new school! Which starts sometime soon!

Instead of retreating to our respective tv/computer screens last night, we sat around and chatted. We talked about how I have him all set for the new school, and when he would start.
Later, he tells me: “Mom, I’m just feeling weird inside. Like, in my stomach. Kind of like I’m going to throw up, but not really, and also kind of hungry. But I just ate so I know I’m not really hungry.”

I know that feeling SO well.

“Sweetie, that’s not really your stomach. Those are your nerves.”

I seem to have fallen into a rut. Over the past several weeks I have become more and more aware of the failings of this rut-like behavior. It seeps in at the edges of my interaction with my kiddo, and our day to day routines. I find myself short of patience because I can’t seem to follow through on any sort of routine, and yet I’m annoyed when things don’t get done the way I would like them to be done.
I think it became very clear to me after this entry that things were a bit amiss. Basically, our daily routine during the week runs something like this:

5:00am - alarm rings. I hit snooze.

5:07 - 5:35 - repeat the above.

5:42 - 6:30 - launch out of bed, shower, dress, grab breakfast shake, verify kiddo’s teeth have been brushed and he’s had something to eat. Rush rush rush to get out the door as soon as possible.

6:35 - 6:40 - drop off kiddo and daycare.

6:45 - 7:30 - commute to work.

7:30 - 4:30pm - work. That’s all I can tell you about it. Other than the fact that most days I don’t even leave my desk to take a lunch. 9 straight hours in that chair, in front of the computer.
4:30 - 5:30 - commute home.

5:35pm - pick up kiddo, head home and briefly think about what to make for dinner.

6:00pm - Open the refrigerator for the 5th time since we got home, stare balefully at the selection and wait for inspiration to strike.

6:01pm - ask kiddo if he’s even hungry yet (in what? the hopes he’ll just shrug and say dinner is over-rated, let’s skip it? Well, honestly - yes.) Hopes dashed as he responds that he’s “starving to death.”
6:02pm - Try the staring thing with the freezer, and then the pantry.

6:05pm - Offer to make kiddo a sandwich for dinner, selling it with the idea that it’s quick! He could be eating in a mere 5 minutes! As opposed to waiting 30 for dinner to be prepared. Feel relief mixed with guilt that I took the easy way out for dinner. Again. Vow not to make it a habit. For the third night in a row. Make him his sandwich and poke around for something for me to eat. Settle on stick of cheese.

6:15pm - 7:30ish - retreat to my room and check email, blogs, etc. IM with friends. Talk on the phone. Periodically check on kiddo who is either playing video games, watching tv, or playing on the internet. Encourage him to play outside, play in his room, read a book, or perhaps do a couple chores. Surprisingly he barely registers that I’ve spoken to him, which initially annoys me but soon after I am distracted by housecleaning that I very well could be doing. Wander back to the computer. Eventually herd kiddo into the shower and pajamas, shove guilty thoughts such as “what quality family time we spend together!” to the back of my mind, with the rest of them.

8:30pm - put kiddo to bed. Watch tv, talk on the phone, go online or do any combination of these, including all simultaneously.

11:30pm - Start nagging myself to go to bed so I don’t have to press snooze five thousand times in the morning.

Eventually go to bed, somewhere around midnight. Sometimes later.

The only thing that changes now that he’s back in school is that he is doing homework while I’m having a staring contest with the food in the fridge.

The thing is… I want to spend quality time with him. Ideally I’d like to get home and throw together a quick dinner that we would both sit down and eat together. Afterwards he helps me clear the dishes and we each do a daily chore. Then, we’d go outside for a walk. Once we got home there would be time for a bit of down-time (this is where a reasonable amount of video games for him or blogging for me come in) and then it’s off to the shower for him and on with the rest of his bedtime routine.

It seems so EASY to type. It’s on the following through that I am seriously slacking.

Who WOULDN’T want to get it together for this:

See what I mean?

that allowed me to charm my way into my mother’s heart. Later, when the horns had sprung forth from almost exactly where those pink plastic clips lay, it was this cuteness that I believe kept me alive beyond the age of 14.

I got a call earlier today from one of the administrators and Kiddo’s new school.  She proceeded to get all high and mighty (complete with condescending tone) informing me that even though he’s on the list I STILL have make another trip to the school (instead of the district office where I was originally told to go) and officially register him.

I have a general level of annoyance for so many reasons these days, and for me it is particularly annoying to have someone tell me something that I already very well know anyway.  Then to do so in that tone, implying I must be a fucking idiot who can’t follow directions…

I returned the very same tone when I told her that I was well aware that I needed register him, but we haven’t actually moved in yet.  I also let her know in that tone that the requirements for proof of residence are multiple, and I have only a lease at this point.  So, if I don’t have all the things on the list that they want to see - their precious pieces of paper the so desperately need to prove we are worthy of attending their school - what exactly am I supposed to do?

She did a little song of “hmmms” and “uhhhs” and then said it would be ok to just come in with the lease, and register, but once we move in she would need to see the rest of the proof that we live there.

O-fucking-kay!

Sometimes it’s not a matter of idiocy but simply trying to follow the directions that you information had all BOLDED and italicized for emphasis.  Keep that in mind before you get that bitch-ass sighing tone in your voice when you call me.

Tomorrow is Kiddo’s first day of third grade. How is it that he’s in third grade? I mean, shouldn’t he have a job or something by now? Or, at the very least some chores that I consistently have him do?

Just kidding. About the job anyway. The chores? Well - yes he should have some and technically he does but the problem is me and that whole consistency thing. Also, I absolutely cannot stand to nag about anything, so I mostly just prefer to do it myself. Being consistent undoubtedly involves setting the expectations and helping him to follow through on it, and then most of the time I don’t really know how I’m *supposed* to respond when he doesn’t. Something about logical consequences and all, but honestly what usually happens is I turn into Ranting Mother Who Hisses and Bitches. He becomes Sullen Child who Wails and Complains. Gosh, that sounds fucking fabulous, right?

So, mostly I just prefer to do things myself. ‘Mostly’ applies until I don’t want to have to do it all the time, with no help from him, and that’s when I wish I would have been more consistent all along and had him helping to do these things.

Work in progress, blah blah, whatever. I draw the line at personal cleanliness, though. There is no option of “no time to brush teeth” in our household. Morning Breath is no one’s friend, and you’re not leaving the house with that stank breath to inflict on others all day long. Nooooo. Same goes for showers - every day kiddo. It’s still a little shocking to hear him ask, “Why do I have to take a shower every day?”

What do you mean, “Why?” Because. Well, because that is just what you do. Why do you keep asking me that question?

Tomorrow is his first day of third grade. In a few weeks, he’ll have to switch to the new school. I’m trying to get him in there on the first day that the school opens, but he may have to start a little later than that because of our move in date. I don’t like the idea of him being the “new kid” coming in after the start of the year, but I guess if we have to - we have to. He’ll live.

Or, he’ll go to the nurse’s office every day or every other day for the first three weeks. Kind of how he did when he started at a new school for second grade. Poor kid. This will be his third elementary school since he started. I’m determined to stay in one place at least until he’s ready for middle school.

I think the reason I started talking about all of this had to do with back-to-school shopping. Of which I have done none. He’s got clothes that fit, and could use a new pair of shoes. As far as supplies are concerned - IF the school sends home a list then we’ll get that in order. So far he hasn’t had a supply list from any of his teachers starting with Kindergarten. We’ve donated things to the class such as books, or kleenex, or paper - not to mention participated in pretty much EVERY fundraiser, so I guess the schools manage to keep the supply lists out of it.

Honestly though, I kind of miss it. I swear that is where my love of all things office supplies came from. I have been looking forward to The Supply List every year since he started school - the hunting for cool pencils and new erasers, folders and what-not. I have been tempted a few times to stock him up with supplies he may not even need, although I was able to hold back and wait. Just in case, this year, we get a list.