I'm gonna kick your big "S"

In case you've never had the fortune to participate in a parent-teacher conference, let me tell you this: It feels like couple's counseling. Personality traits, parenting beliefs, personal interactions — everything that's going on in a marriage/family/household all somehow comes to light in a 30-minute session with — of all people — your child's teacher.

You may recall our conference last fall wasn't exactly uplifting. Spring brought new hope. Sawyer has made a huge turnaround at school these past few months. He's still only 3 years old, but he's a leader in the class, and hasn't had a timeout in nobody knows how long. He sends the teachers into stitches on a daily basis with his wit and random thoughts, and, we are told, his proper way of speaking (always: "Yes"; never: "Ya") instantly endears his every new acquaintance.

While drama, pretend and storytelling are his his strong suits, he's afraid of writing his own name, drawing and cutting with scissors for fear of being inexact. And, while he's incredibly verbal, he has some potential speech issues that we are going to have further evaluated.

He knows how to spell his own name out loud — S.A.W.Y.E.R. — and he's very interested in who else has a 'Big S' or 'Little S' in their names. He points out that Sylvia has a big S and Scott has a big S but Justin only has a little S, so he can't be on their team.

Tonight, rough-housing with Scott before bedtime, I overheard Sawyer say: "I'm going to kick your big ass." I whipped my head around the corner, startled, and found Scott in hysterics.

"I'm going to kick that Big S right out of you! I got your Big S, see? I got your Big S right here in my hands."

Ham

Sawyer has always been the hide-behind-my-leg kinda kid when we walk into a room. You'll also remember that he was the angel that cried at last year's Christmas Pageant. When we walked into his preschool today, I noticed that they had built a small stage and apparently had been playing "actor" all week. The teachers read aloud books and the children act out the parts and even say some lines. So, guess who their number one actor is? Really. Can you guess? I was FLOORED when Miss Molly told me that OUR Sawyer is the first one with his hand up desperately waving in the air "ooooh-oooooh-oooooh pick me pick me" and that he not only says a few words like the other kids do he recites entire lines, sonnets even. Then, again, I look at his genes (you know who you are people) and I wonder why this should surprise me. I guess I wouldn't be shocked if this kind of behavior was occurring within the confines of our home. But, this is public, people. PUBLIC.

SAHM - day three of four

I'm getting a taste of this SAHM thing, and I need some Scope. I signed Sawyer up for the "Little Red School" Monday and, lucky me, the following night was parent's night. I had to make a ceramic mug for Sawyer to use on special occasions. It'll be a miracle if the thing holds water. Everyone else had goblets with dinosaur designs and I basically made him a test tube with his name scratched into it, only the rim wasn't straight so it'll be a challenge not to pour water all over himself. One woman I met invited me to join a mom's group, which meets within sight of my house.

The kids and I headed over this morning and we met a whole bunch of young-ins Sawyer's and Arden's ages. But it was basically a business meeting. They were filling their calendar for the month of October and it was like: Monday we'll go on a hike and Tuesday we'll make Indian headbands and Wednesday - should we go to the pool or the park? hmmmm . . . and who's interested in making soup together next Friday? I was all: Sign me up for wine night! But, I'll probably never be able to do any of the other stuff. This whole Stay At Home Mom thing is a bizarre deal if you ask me . . . no offense to all you all out there who choose to do it and do it well. I just feel like the chick in a business suit at a Dead Show sitting around these intense parents with their crafts boxes and binders full of . . . WHAT? exactly.

Now, the mom I want to meet is the one that asked to bring a 13-year-old blind wolf in to school for her kid's show-and-tell. I'd could have a glass of wine with her!

Along with my not-so-great parenting shtick, Arden rolled off the back of the couch this afternoon and landed on a wood box. No, I did not have my eyes glued like a hawk on the kids, who were supposed to be watching a movie while I put some boxes in the basement. And, no, I did not have a ready supply of frozen peas in the freezer or ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. So, after a quick head to toe assessment, and determining that her lip, once again, was the mass casualty of the day, we raced to the store, where I discovered that there was a widespread power outage (that would explain the dark freezer at my house). We bought Popsicles and Advil and raced back home. Arden had three pops, which I hope will deplete the swelling. But, once again, my girl looks like the Million Dollar Baby:



ps - that little 'emergency' officially broke my no driving to the store streak.