Sort Of

Each day this week when I got home from work, after hugs and kisses all around, I asked Olivia is she talked to her teacher or her classmates that day.

And every single day her answer was, “Sort of.”

I didn’t push further than that because, well, the school year just started and this girl is a work in progress. Aren’t we all?

She’s already farther along in communicating than she was last year at this time.

Sure, it helps that Mrs. H was one of her KinderKids teacher. But she wasn’t all that close to Mrs. H back in KinderKids because O was actually in the other Mrs. H’s classroom and considered her the ‘real’ teacher. The fact that the two Mrs. Aiches co-taught the entire class and just separated them alphabetically so they’d all have a place to hang their backpacks didn’t matter to Olivia.

But she’s also a little behind in the game this year because Mrs. A, the special ed teacher who’s been with her since KinderKids was moved up and is now teaching the fourth through sixth graders. Which…yay for fourth-grade Olivia next year but a little harder for third-grade Olivia this year who is getting to know a new special ed teacher, Mrs. B.

It appears (from what I can get from O in her less than forthcoming answers to my questions) that she’s adjusting fairly well the new teacher, the new schedule, the new classroom, the new locker.

I love that she’s been with some of these kids for four years, this being their fifth year together. It means the kids know her, they may not understand her quirks but they’re used to them and most of them accept her and think she’s sweet and funny.

What I want most for Olivia is that she feels accepted and that she’s happy. I want others to see her as I do, someone with a lot to offer, someone who would be a great friend if they’d just give her a chance. She be that friend with an impeccable sense of style who would advise them if they’d just let her. She’d tell them awesome stories that she’s made up about the Monster High characters as well as regale them with tales about what it’s like to have a teenaged sister.

These are the things I imagine for, wish for Olivia. I’m not giving up on her having those things. We’ll continue to muddle through it all together.

Taking Stress Home

I was grouchy last night. I was tired and irritable and wanted a little quiet.

The girls, on the other hand, are rarely quiet. And if I’m home, they rarely want to be anywhere that I am not.

Yesterday was tough at work. I hate Tuesdays…I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned that before. Anyway, it was Tuesday and it was hard and I was tired when I got home.

But that’s no excuse for taking that stress home with me.

After dinner, I went upstairs to get pajamas for Olivia. While up there, (I’d managed to go up without anyone ((Olivia)) noticing I was leaving the first floor, so I had several minutes to myself) I read a couple of pages in the book I’m currently reading, I brushed my teeth and then I heard Olivia call up the stairs, “Mom?”

I took a deep breath and said, “What?”

She started up the stairs, “Where are you?”

I replied, “I’m here.”

Okay, so there are four bedrooms on the second floor of our house as well as two bathrooms and several very large closets so calling out ‘I’m here’ isn’t all that helpful. But I figured she’d follow my voice.

At that point, I decided to lay on the bedroom floor in hopes that my prone position would let her know that I just wanted a few minutes of quiet and maybe, just maybe, she’d go find her dad to regale with stories about the Monster High characters.

I’m such an optimistic fool.

Alas, while my foolishness held, my optimism did not. She laid down next to me on that dirty floor (I REALLY need to vacuum up there) and started talking.

Not five minutes after Olivia snuggled up against me and regaled me with stories of Draculaura dancing on our ceiling, Alyssa joined us with her tablet, playing a video on youtube of Pentatonix singing happily.

At that point, I crawled (because I’m SO mature) to Olivia’s bed and put my head underneath it. I was just so desperate for quiet, for peace for even just a few minutes.

Alyssa playfully tried to pull me out from under the bed. She pulled hard enough hurt my ankles but I tried not to let her know how much it hurt.

As I lay there, the stress of the day, the pressure of being ON all day long and all evening long got to me. I fought tears even as I heaved myself off the floor and went to Liv’s closet to get her some pajamas.

I tried to hide the fact that I was on the verge of tears but that Lyss is a perceptive one.

When the three of us got back downstairs, Alyssa tried to make Olivia stay with her in the living room while I got pie and ice cream for Liv and cake for Lyss. (I swear, the feeding never, EVER ends…)

It made me REALLY sad to know that my thirteen year old was so worried about my state of mind that she was trying to protect me from her nine year old sister. It broke my heart to know that my stupid mood, a left-over from work, made her feel like she had to be the adult in that moment...I never want my kids to feel like they have to parent me.

I put the dessert on hold and went in to tell Lyssie, “I’m okay, Sweetie. Really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She gave me a grateful smile and let her wriggling sister go.

And you know what? I was okay. Those few moments of wallowing helped but what helped even more was saying out loud that I was okay. Facing my moment of weakness, letting myself feel all the feels and then deciding that the stress at work wasn’t going to crush me, it helped.

I helped O eat her pie and ice cream. I gave Lyss her cake and we settled in for the night.

When 10pm rolled around, I was able to laugh myself into coughing fits at Henry Winkler, William (aka Bill) Shatner, Terry Bradshaw and George Foreman as they made fools of themselves in Japan.

And then we went to bed and I got to wake up this morning and do it all again…

Eighth vs Third

“They already gave us homework!” Alyssa lamented the minute I walked in the door last Friday afternoon.

It was the first day of school and she was disgusted that three of her teachers had given homework that very day.

Welcome to eighth grade, I thought with a smile.

She’s actually really good about doing her homework and I never worry about whether she’s left anything undone or if she even needs me to check it for her.

Olivia pranced through the room and announced, “My teacher said we’re going to review a lot of stuff and so we probably won’t have homework for a couple of weeks.”

I think that if Alyssa had been able to throw something at her sister at that moment without repercussions, she’d have done it.

Today was the third day of school. Alyssa packed her lunch last night as I packed Liv’s. This morning Alyssa was texting away on her phone as I cajoled Olivia to eat just a little more of her breakfast. Alyssa doubled checked to make sure her homework was in her backpack while Olivia asked again, “What is homeschool and why can’t we do that?”

Eighth grade is all about independence, learning to do and think for herself. An eighth grader is expected to know what her homework is, do it herself and turn it in without reminders. Eighth graders know when to shower, can pick out weather-appropriate outfits and, biggest news of all, they can sit in the front seat of the car.

Third graders, our third grader at least, still wear whatever Mom lays out for them. They eat what is put in front of them and hey bathe on the schedule set for them.

And that’s okay. They’re both still growing and learning and I am loving both the third grade stage and the eighth grade stage. I feel lucky to get to do this with these sweet girls.

Oh yeah, best of all (according to Liv), third graders still let (need?) Mom to do their hair.

We call this one: Beach Volleyball Hair.

(Please ignore the ugly pink countertops and the horrific clutter on said ugly pink countertops.)

School Prep

Every single August, I wonder where the hell I put the scissors Olivia used the previous year in school.

And I can never, ever figure out where they went and so we end up buying a new pair of scissors along with the twenty pencils, the two erasers, the bottle of school glue, the five folders (plastic, because they hold up better than paper, at least in O’s backpack,) the four one-subject notebooks, the dry erase markers and the new lunch box, because the one from the previous year smells REALLY bad.

Where are those scissors from the past five years?

I mean, seriously?

As I labeled and packed Liv’s new school supplies into two plastic WalMart bags, I reminded her, “You only cut paper with these scissors. You do not cut your hair or your clothes!”

She rolled her eyes at me and told me, “I only did either of those things one time, and they were both in first grade.”

Okay, fair enough, but I feel like if I didn’t remind her that scissors are for paper only, she’ll claim to have ‘forgotten’ that rule the next time she comes home with a shirt sleeve in tatters or one chunk of her bangs suddenly an inch shorter than the rest.

Each fall I tell myself that next year, when school lets out for summer, I will find a bin and label it “School Supplies” and into that bin, we’ll dump everything the girls bring home from their lockers/desks on the last day of school.

But then that day finally rolls around and we’re all so glad it’s finally SUMMER that the bin never materializes, it never gets labeled and the school supplies get strewn about the house until the disappear into the piles of clutter that accumulate around our house until I can’t stand it anymore and purge everything, only to have to buy more freaking scissors come August.

Déjà vu

The alarm went off at 6am…just like yesterday.

I looked out the window and was greeted by a dense fog…just like yesterday.

I waited until 6:10 to see if the school would call about a delay and when it didn’t, I woke the girls up…just like yesterday.

I braided Olivia’s hair (into a heart, of course), took her downstairs to clean her glasses and hand her off to Tom for breakfast…just like yesterday.

Then we went outside to take pictures…just like yesterday. In fact, the girls even wore the same outfits as yesterday because the minute after the call came in yesterday about school being closed, Tom sent them both upstairs to change out of their ‘first day of school’ clothes and into jammies.

Sadly (for the girls) the difference between yesterday and today is that there was no call about a delay or a cancellation. The bus arrived (though a little late) and off they went to school.

Here’s to the REAL first day of school.

And a pic of their shoes just because.

Cancelled

The first day of school, that is.

Yep, the girls were supposed to have their first day of school today.

Fortunately for them…unfortunately for their dad, the day dawned very, VERY foggy and school was delayed two hours.

Then, an hour into the two hour delay, we got the call/text…school is cancelled due to the weather. I am sitting at my desk at work imagining the celebrating going on by two thirds of my family while the last third is probably weeping into his coffee.

Tom’s great about having the girls around during the summer. As they get older and more capable of taking care of themselves (for the most part) his work is easing but still, they have to have minimal supervision throughout the day and he can’t just decide one morning to head off to an auction if they’re at home with him.

So yes, he was excited about the start of school…and here we are, with the first day CANCELLED due to fog. Poor guy.

I say this as I laughed and laughed when the call/text came in letting us know about the cancellation. Because yeah, I’m at work, doing my thing, NOT having my day interrupted by two giggly, needy, loud girls.

On the bright side, we got to practice our morning routine today and we ROCKED it all the way down to the heart that Olivia’s braids created on the back of her head, which, of course, match the rainbow heart on her shirt. Tomorrow she’s determined to wear one of her Monster High t-shirts. We’ll see if she requests Draculaura pigtails.

And we got a cute 'first day of school' picture, even if the school day itself was cancelled.

Open House

In years past, the girls’ school held an open house the afternoon before the first day of school. This year the open house was two days before the first day of school.

I wonder if it is so the teachers have one more day between the open house and the first day. The open house is from 5pm to 7pm and I can imagine that the teachers end up being at the school until as late at 8, which would make for a long day right before school starts.

I like that the girls have one more day of summer break between the open house and the first day. It gave them a little reprieve.

So yeah, after that weird little prologue, we attended the open house last night. We took all their school supplies, which Olivia crammed into her desk and Alyssa crammed into her locker. Alyssa practiced opening her locker several times, probably already memorizing the combination, because that’s how she is.

Olivia acted like a nut because that’s how she is. She tends to get weird when her two worlds collide. As in, when I am at the school she gets silly and won’t speak to anyone, just danced around, moves her arms all crazy and sometimes even squawks at me when I try to talk to her or get her to talk to one of her teachers.

As we left the school I reminded her that the rule is she HAS to speak to her teachers.

Her third grade teacher is actually one of the teachers she had for her kinderkids class, so that’s kind of neat. This teacher is familiar with and to Olivia, which means half the battle is already fought.

When I reminded her of the ‘rules’ Olivia shrugged at me, as she usually does when she’s hearing something she doesn’t necessarily want to hear or agree with. However, I know this child and I know she’s hearing me. She’s taking it in and she’s processing it.

I have to believe that third grade is going to be just fine.
As is eighth grade…as Alyssa gears up for her year. Eighth grade…wow. It just blows my mind that this girl is mine. She’s so smart and funny and her love of music inspires me to find my own passions.

She’s excited about school starting if only because she can’t wait to get back into band and choir. She loves her friends and is happy to be around them again but her music classes are calling to her. She’s still mad about Pentatonix, as in FAN GIRL mad. She’s funny about it all. I’m glad she’s still rational enough to realize how irrational she is. Thirteen has been an amazing year and I hope that eighth grade is as good to her as seventh was.