We've been back to school for about a month in our house, so I figured now was as good a time as any to get back to the blog. (Thanks, by the way, to the two people who told me they've missed my posts.)
I'm happy to report that our daughter loves kindergarten. So much, in fact, that when I told her that she would get to ride home with me from her apple-picking field trip later this month rather than taking the bus back to school she balked. "But I just love school!" she cried. "Can't I ride the bus back and you pick me up at carpool?"
I'm thrilled she's thrilled to be there and even more thrilled that my son, who was very vocal over the past year about his intent to never go to school, admits to liking preschool. So, all is well on the emotional front. Not so much on the logistical front.
If I were to be graded on my back-to-school performance to date, I'd see letters that I never saw on real report cards in my entire career (ECON11 aside.)
Summer Reading Program: B-
In what was surely a precursor to the misery I will enjoy over the duration of my kids' elementary school days, the summer reading program was a hybrid of reading and artsy-craftsy activities, all based on a camping theme. I love reading. I do not love crafting.
In summary, the kids had to complete a minimum number of activities to satisfy the basic requirement. Those who completed 50 activities would be rewarded with a special dessert in the library after school resumed.
Momentarily forgetting that I a) do not enjoy making nature collages, b) work outside the home, c) have two other kids who require my attention and d) do not enjoy making nature collages, I told C we'd aim to earn that dessert.
Four days before the packet was due, I admitted defeat. It was logistically impossible for us to complete 24 activities in 96 hours. Fortunately, she has an optimistic streak. After a few seconds of disappointment she shrugged and said, "Maybe we can do it next year." Or not.
Back to School Night: D
With our toddler sick on back-to-school night, my husband flew solo to that event. Never again.
Four weeks into school, I still have not returned the milk break and cafeteria snack forms that I am allegedly required to return regardless of our participation in those programs. Nor have I signed up for the four requisite lunchroom and carpool volunteer shifts that we are asked to work over the course of the year.
My husband did sign us up for two Scientist of the Week slots, but my unit is on Fire Safety. (Seriously?) I'm hoping our local fire station offers free guest lectures.
When he returned with a legal envelope bursting with papers "that we're supposed to read. I figured you could look through them", I asked if he told the teacher why I wasn't there.
"No."
"Seriously?"
"What difference does it make?"
"Now I look like a deadbeat mom!"
"No you don't."
"Yes I do!"
"You're a teacher-pleaser."
"As a teacher, don't you appreciate that?"
Apparently not. I gave myself credit in this subject for sending in the summer reading packet and school supplies.
Supplies Procurement: C
I'm not sure if I should deduct points from the above for sending in the wrong school supplies, but that sure is what I did. Apparently the supply lists are unique to each campus in C's school, and I printed the wrong one. It became apparent to me only after my daughter skipped out of school the third day with a backpack full of Model Magic.
"We only use Playdoh," she advised when I asked why she was bringing home her supplies. Certain that Model Magic had been on the list, I walked over to her teacher to clarify.
"Oh, you must have printed off the ES supply list. I think they use Model Magic. It's fine, though. We have plenty of Playdoh. The only thing you'll need to send is a white pillow case."
Determined to prove that I wasn't a complete idiot, I went home, printed the RC list and stomped off to Target to buy an additional $75 worth of Crayola Twistable Crayons and No. 2 pencils.
Cafeteria Management: C
Because I missed Back-to-School night, I wasn't entirely plugged into the process for buying lunch in the cafeteria. 27 years ago, you forked over a dollar. These days you rattle off a PIN.
With plans to go out for a celebratory back-to-school lunch with my mom on her first Friday of school, I provided C with a light lunch and explanation why. Apparently one of the cafeteria workers was concerned by that and asked my daughter if she planned to buy a piece of pizza to eat with what she'd brought from home.
"No," C replied. "My mommy hasn't put money in my account yet."
No explanation as to why (the school says they e-mailed her PIN and account set-up instructions to my husband, he claims he didn't receive the e-mail) or that we were going out for lunch #2 in an hour and a half. Why is my family conspiring to make me look like a horrible mother?
Carpool: B
In a Murhpy's Law moment, I pulled into the carpool line on the first day that kindergarteners participated in it only to discover that I'd forgotten my number. Pinned in on all sides by parents who hadn't forgotten their numbers, I left my Stepford Wife minivan running and jogged over to the gym door, praying they would give me my child and the two neighbors I was also supposed to pick up that day.
They did, and I am giving myself points in this subject for being on time every morning that I have been responsible for dropping off the neighborhood carpool crew. Don't think that's noteworthy? Talk to my father.
And that's just my kindergarten report. My performance as a preschool mom is fodder for a whole other post. Here's hoping my eight-week progress report shows improvement.
