Best Christmas Ever!

Okay, not ever. It wasn't as good as the Christmas I got the real Xavier Roberts doll, or the Barbie Dream House, or the Breyer Horse Stable. But it was the best one as an adult since a few years ago when I got Frye harness boots and my Ipod Nano.

Replacement Ipod for the one i killed and Rock Band! Woot! And if Santa brings it, it doesn't cost anything!

Is it bad that I keep wanting to push my son down and rip the controller out of his hands?

For Todd, Who Left Forever Ago

In case you miss us a little, in your Fat Tire stupor. . . things have been a little like this:



But mostly like this:



We miss you, too.

A Town With Church Bells Ringing

This past weekend, we spent a couple of days with my parents at the lakehouse. It was cold and windy on Sunday, but we couldn't all six stay cooped up in the little two-bedroom cabin together, so Todd and I took the kids into town to play at the park. Tiller and Rollie ran around on the playground while Todd and I sat on a bench and read. About ten minutes after we got there, it came upon eleven o'clock and the church bells started ringing.

The town is antebellum, set in squares, with a university and many beautifully-restored homes. There is a small downtown area with a few restaurants and bars, two bakeries, and a wonderfully inviting coffee shop.

As I sat in the cool, windy October morning, listening to the sounds of my children squealing on the playground, and the church bells pealing out over the town, I thought, I could live here. I could live in a town with beautiful old houses, a college library, a great coffee shop, a park, and a few bars. I could live in a town with church bells helping me keep time.

And did I mention the new barbecue place? It's Pig in a Pit*. It's good. And with those church bells, you will be able to beat the Baptists to lunch.

*Link provided solely for the purpose of Jason B. seeing what a pink pig mascot looks like riding a four-wheeler.

Sportsmanship and Toeing the Parental Line

So, i know some of you are waiting for pictures from the costume party, but it is just gonna have to wait. I have a little something to get off my chest. It's called, "What the fuck is wrong with you, you sack of shit parents?"

I guess I should start at the beginning. I should mention first that I was not present for the event in question, Rollie's soccer game. It took place Saturday afternoon. His father took him to the game, while I readied our home for being descended upon by eleven costumed children on Sunday.

Rollie is my oldest, so this is my first experience with parenting a child in organized sports leagues. I played sports growing up, and really credit the experiences for giving me much of my self-confidence, and my sense of sportsmanship. I played tee ball, baseball, softball, soccer, swimming, and tennis, and even recreational basketball, at which i was pretty terrible. I am competitive and love to win, but I have never been a sore loser, and am always a gracious winner, except in drinking games, or games played while drinking (beer pong, pool, darts) where "talking shit" is acceptable, and even encouraged, and where it would never set a poor example in front of a child. I have looked forward to my kids playing sports and learning about teamwork, good sportsmanship, doing one's best, and self-confidence.

So, Rollie is playing soccer for the first time this year. He is in a co-ed, under six league. The kids range in age from 3-6 (a huge age difference actually), and they don't keep score. There are no referees, just the two coaches out on the field with the kids, giving them pointers and running the game. It is all about learning the skills, the rules of the game, and sportsmanship. Or so i thought.

Rollie definitely got a competitive streak from me. he likes to win, and we have been working with him on things like, "it is okay if you lose, as long as you give it your best" and "you can't win them all," and teamwork. One problem we have had so far this year is that not only does he want to take the ball away from the opponent, he also will go after the ball if his own teammate has it, and we are trying to teach him that he needs to work with his team, not against them.

Other than that though, we had so far had no real problems. So, Todd takes him to his game on Saturday. None of the kids on Rollie's team have played before, and there is a kid on the other team that is playing circles around the others. He also played pretty rough, throwing elbows, pulling on shirts and pants, etc. I have never seen any unsportsmanlike behavior called at these games. Either the coaches did not see this stuff, or they just let it go. So, Rollie is pretty competitive and started getting mad, and from what I can tell from what Todd said, he kind of did the same stuff, and told the kid to "stop it." Well, this kid said to Rollie, loud enough for Todd to hear, although it seems that other parents and the coaches did not hear it, "Y'all suck."

Now, as I said, Rollie is my oldest, and it doesn't take long after sending your eldest child to school to realize that they are in for quite an education. While they are learning the ABCs and 123s (or not, but that is a whole 'nother post), they are also learning a ton of really neat sayings and behaviors from the kids in their class who are not the oldest; these kids have older brothers and sisters and just aren't as innocent as the eldest siblings. They use words and phrases like, "You suck." "I'm going to kill you." And lots of stuff about shooting and guns. It is frightening the way that influences on your child are suddenly out of your control.

Back the game: This kid says this stuff, plus the other team is scoring a bunch of goals, and Rollie's team, not so much. And the team is getting pretty discouraged. Which is fine. In my opinion, it is just as important to learn how to lose gracefully as it is to win. But then Todd takes Rollie to school this morning, and one of the kids in his class was on the other team. He is a nice kid, and Rollie and he are friends. Well, his mom asks if Rollie had recovered from the drama of the game and it seems that Rollie was snarky with his friend on Saturday. (I guess out of frustration at losing, not that frustration is in any way an excuse for bad behavior.) She then proceeds to tell Todd some further stuff about the "Y'all suck" kid's behavior on Saturday. Seems as he was substituted out of the game, he came out and loudly proclaimed, either to the parents or in front of the parents, that he was "going to kick that kid's ass." We assume he was referring to Rollie. Apparently, no one said anything. At least this one parent heard the comment. Todd did not. We do not know if any one else heard it, but according to this mother, it was loud enough to hear.

I know what I would do in this situation. What would you do? Would you have said something? As a parent, do you rely on a coach to deal with these things? Is it really best to ignore it? What reason would his parents have for not reprimanding him for this behavior? Would you reprimand someone else's child for saying something like this? And what kind of a household is this child living in that he remotely thinks it is acceptable to say something like that, much less in front of a group of adults?

Am I being over-protective and raising a complete wuss of a child? Is it really so wrong to want my child to learn about respect for others, respect for adults, etc?

Most of all, what kind of a child talks like this at age six or under?

I am fuming and just mad I wasn't there to say something to the sorry excuse for parents that poor kid must have. And if I had, would i be labeled a troublemaker or a rabble rouser? And if I was, would i give a shit?

Dogwood Girl Garden. Again. Plus Cats and the Spawn

Yesterday afternoon, Todd called me out to look at some yard work he was doing. Turns out that one of the shrubs we've been basically ignoring until it is cool enough to prune is actually a really huge fall-blooming Camellia. It has about a kajillion buds on it, and just a few blooms yet.

We spent two years at the old house, not wanting to do too much work on the place since it was for sale, but my whole being was aching to dig in the dirt. And now we are here, and we haven't done a ton to the outside yet. (Well, i haven't. I just did a small garden this spring for tomatoes; Todd did a HUGE job clearing out the ivy in the back third of the yard. No small undertaking.)





It is really fun to go through a whole year's cycle and have surprises pop up. We came in April. Since then, we've had a surprise Weigela (sp?), some shrub with a form similar to the weigela or a Forsythia, but with little white flowers on it that bees LOVE. A number of old daylilies that obviously need to be divided, but that i was just ultra-excited were there. Some kind of spring-blooming fruit tree. A cherry, maybe? Awesomely huge tulip poplars that remind me of the old Saddle Creek house. Tons of Azaleas and Hostas. Probably 6-8 Dogwoods. (Dogwood Girl's natural habitat!) We also have two birdbaths that just came with the house. And a windchime. Anyway, i was v. excited to come across the Camellia and the Pyracantha (I think that's what it is) and I am really looking forward to seeing what the winter garden presents me with - I foresee a lot of Holly and Nandina. There is a lot to be said for buying an older home and it's established garden.

Oh, and because THEY deserve equal facetime, here are my kitty cats, watching birds and chipmunks out the window today.














And a few pictures of something else i've been growing, my ultra-cute* kids. I really couldn't pick just one of these shots.




































*They beat the crap out of each other in a wrestling match seconds after I snapped these shots.

Go Rollie Go

Go Rollie Go
Originally uploaded by killmylandlord.

Uncle Mark was nice enough to bring his fancypants camera to Rollie's game last Saturday. This was especially nice, because Todd had gone down to Auburn for the LSU debacle, and I had both Tiller and Rollie for the weekend, a slight wine hangover from my Ya Ya Sisterhood house party on Friday night, and a cooler full of soccer snacks in tow for the game. Lisa and Mark brought Dash, and Mark watched Tills while Lisa and I sat with Dash and cheered for the Cheetah.

Yes, you heard me right: The Cheetah. That is what we overheard someone calling Rollie during the game. Except when we heard it at first, we just thought it was some Yankee calling him a cheater, and . . . well, them's fightin' words.

Okay, i didn't get in a fight, but you pretty much could see it happening, right? I would be the first Soccer Mom kicked off the fields this season for defending her five year old's honor after another parent called him a cheater. Except they were saying Cheetah. As in "boy, that kid's fast."

Anyway, here is a great shot of Rollie breaking away from the pack and headed for the goal. Not that it matters, because THEY DON'T KEEP SCORE. Yes, this drives me crazy.

Complete tangent: Not as crazy as the middle school kids at a private school where a good friend of mine teaches. These kids don't have "Field Day" they have . . . get this . . .

PERSONAL RECORD DAY.

Yep? Why teach middle school kids about gracious winning and losing, when everyone can just compete against themselves? That's JUST like the real world. Don't worry about your score on that SAT!

What the fuck are we coming to? Ridiculous.

Back on track: So, here is my kid, playing in his 2nd ever soccer game. I have some pics from the first game, and video too (highly comical - Wrong Way Corrigans, crying, standing around staring at the ball and not kicking it), but none of them came out as well as this one. Oh, and yeah, there is a shot of me and sis watching the game, but it ain't pretty and it ain' goin' on my blog; I have some dignity.

Thanks again, Uncle Mark.

Experimentation

It wasn't pretty, but it was a W. I'll take it. Go Dawgs!

We had some friends over for the games yesterday and the whole thing kind of snowballed and we ended up with a before-unmet number of children running around. Scarlett and Dash were here, as usual, but then we added in Sheilah's kids, and four of the neighborhood kids and their parents. I think we had nine kids at one point. Plus their parents and some childless friends, adn wow, was it a full house. Sheilah was nice enough to bring an extra TV so the kids could watch a movie upstairs. (Not that tv-watching ever happens like that. It just blares in the background, and it never fails that one poor kid wants to watch, and then cries because everyone else won't be quiet.) And once Garrett and Kayla left and Nolan fell asleep, Rollie ended up being the only boy with five girls. A dearth of riches, for sure, what with the twins, and an older girl, and only one of the females his sister. Everyone knows what this means: Rollie Makeover. (Thanks to Lauren for getting the shot.) And yes, I am aware that we are racking up the photos of Rollie in drag. See, if he ends up going that way, we were cool with it from the beginning, and if he doesn't, we have some great blackmail photos for his teen years.

We are parenting Gods.

More of story unfolded, though, this morning. As Todd and I readied our coffee and the kids ate breakfast, the following discussion occurred:

Todd: Rollie, did I hear that you held hands with T__*? (Tiller had ratted him out a few minutes earlier.)
Rollie: [playing with his cereal]. Yeah. She kissed me.
Todd and I glance at each other.
Rollie: She kissed me a lot.
Todd and I stare at Rollie, mouths gaping open, then glance again at one another and both turn away from the breakfast table, laughing silently, shoulders shaking with the effort at holding the sound in.

Maybe there is no need to worry about the drag pictures, after all. Or, maybe we should be extremely worried about our very adventurous young hero. Maybe he's going to like to experiment.

I joke, but i don't know if I'm ready for all of this. Rewind, rewind! Rewind, Dammit!

It's not working.

*All names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved.

Birthday Braves Game

Birthday Braves Game
Originally uploaded by Dogwood Girl

Video of Rollie showing off his new Braves hat and shirt, and talking about his birthday gift - a trip to the Ted!

It was Tim Hudson bobblehead night at the stadium. Rollie got one for himself and brought one home to Tiller, too!

Rollie thought the seats were pretty good as he settled in.

Cotton candy! (And Dad even gave him some Coke. Note: this is not Dogwood Girl-approved parenting.)

Father and son, so All-American!

p.s. College football starts today. Dogwood Girl v. excited.

Thoughts on Birthday Number Five

Thoughts on Birthday Number Five
Originally uploaded by Dogwood Girl

Dear Rollie,

Last night, when we tucked you in, I held your face in my hands to look into your eyes.

"What are you doing?" you said. "I am looking at you so I'll remember what you look like at four years old." You thought for a minute. "I want to stay four," you said, your lower lip unfurled. I didn't know what to say to that, because I kind of wanted you to stay four, too.

You being four has been a joy and a challenge, more so than any year yet. I really thought that you at three was challenging; I had no idea that four would be more of the same.

Uh-oh. Tiller is helping me write this. About your birthday, Tiller says, "I think i am going to make a birthday present. Tiller is excited about doing the cards." Okay, she's gone.

This time last year, you were just learning the sounds for each letter. You knew all the basics, and you were starting to learn the combination sounds like "br" and "bl." You were doing so well at school, one of the two most advanced kids in your class, but you were struggling with your behavior. You struggled all school year with your behavior, and we finally made the decision to repeat you in Pre-K. At the time, you were at a little Methodist preschool, but we were moving to a new school district and decided to put you in the Pre-K there. Your old Pre-K teacher thought you might benefit from another year to learn the social skills like lining up, raising your hand when you need to speak, not interrupting, and following directions; I don't know where you got it from, but you question absolutely everything. :-)

Daddy and I struggled long and hard with the decision to hold you back, and I am still struggling with it a few weeks into the new school year, because over the summer you learned to read. You are the only one in your class who can read already, and I am terrified that you will be bored and not challenged enough. I am terrified that i made the wrong decision; I am pretty sure that this is normal for a parent to feel, but it doesn't make it any less stressful. Your teachers are nice, and I try not to judge the people who teach you when their pronunciation or grammar isn't perfect, but I can't help wondering if we are screwing up by sending you to a public school. I want to believe that good parenting in conjunction with public schools will win out and that you will be the best you can be no matter where we put you. I hope that being in a racially and culturally diverse class will teach you things that we can't teach you at home. I hope that they are the right things, but you spend as much time at school every day now as you spend with me and Daddy, and that loss of influence is frightening. I hope that one day you will read this and know that everything we did, we did because we thought we were doing what was best for you.

One of the things we struggled most with this year was deciding where to move. When you were born, we lived in East Atlanta. Daddy lived there already when we met way back in February of 1999 (the olden days). We lived there together, then were married, and bought a second house there before you were born because we needed more room. I loved that house. It is the house to which I brought you home from the hospital. It is where we brought Tiller home. We loved our babies in that house. We had to live at the lake for a month while we waited for the new house, and that was quite an experience. You and Tiller loved it.

We were sad to move, but I know we did the right thing, because you are thriving here and you have already made friends. Also? There is a pool here, and this year, you learned to swim. Your swim lessons were pretty pointless. You wouldn't even put your head under the water. But on our own time, we gave you little plastic diving torpedoes; Daddy figured out that if we made it a game, you would start reaching for them deeper and deeper in the pool. He was right, and he played on one of your strongest traits - Your love of competition. You will make a game or race or contest out of anything. Aunt Lisa said she was pumping one time and you and Tiller actually cheered to see which breast would produce the most milk. Again, i have no idea where you got this competitive streak. It is just baffling. :-)

You learned to read and swim, which are two of the most amazing and wonderful things I could imagine for you. You also learned some other things: Jumping down off monkey bars and landing on your feet. How to knock the heck out of a whiffle ball. You almost never miss. You and Daddy play ball at least once a week, and sometimes almost every day. Daddy is taking you to a Braves game tonight for your birthday, but that is a surprise. I hope it doesn't rain.

Things that you love: Shows like Fetch with Ruff Ruffman, Superwhy, and Wordgirl. You have outgrown the shows like Sesame Street and Diego and Dora. You adore Monster Trucks. Anything with cars racing; you will even watch Nascar, much to our dismay. You say you like Tigers the most, but i am hoping you are reading this with a UGA diploma on the wall. We'll see how that one shakes out. You love races. You like reading about cars and trucks and rocket ships.

Your favorite food right now is definitely Cinnamon Rolls. We only buy them for special occasions, like this morning before school.

Your growth has slowed some, but you are tall and thin. No more baby fat - you are a boy now, lithe and fast. You also have become more and more like your Papaw Palmer. In some ways, your personality is like him. Your hair is most definitely his hair. We can pour two buckets of water over your head, and it will just roll off like sheep's wool. It cracks me up.

You are goofy, and fun-loving, and you never stop talking. Sometimes i can't even think straight, you talk so much. You can dress yourself now, and that is a huge change for us. I miss pulling your shirts over your head, or holding your pants for you to step into them, but it is so much easier. You have started doing your own chores: You clear your plates and put them in the sink yourself, without being asked. You help take out recycling, get the mail, and help bring in the recycling bins and trash from the street. You are usually pretty good about cleaning up at the end of the day, which is a big help to us. You love going to the library with Daddy and Tiller to pick out books. This year, Daddy also took y'all to see Wall-E and you both sat there throughout the movie. That is a first, because in the past, taking you to movies has not been as successful. You couldn't sit still.

You and Daddy and Tiller went to Orlando and Cypress Gardens with Grandma and Papaw Johnson this year; I stayed home to be with Aunt Lisa when Dash came. This year, you welcomed a new cousin and now you are not the only boy. We also went to Panama City in the spring, Lake Lure for New Year's, and a ton of lake trips.

One other thing happened this year that I think you will want to read about when you are older. We lost your great-grandmother, Meemaw. She was old, but it was still a sad thing for us all, and it was a new experience for you and Tiller to lose a loved one. I was nervous about taking you to the funeral, but I couldn't have been more proud of your behavior there, and I know that you were a great balm to your Grandma's sadness. I was glad that we took you, and happy that you both got to say goodbye to Meemaw; She loved you both very much. I hope that you will remember, even if it is just a little bit. I never knew any of my great-grandparents, and i think it was an amazing experience for you and Tiller to know two of yours, to see your grandparents' joy at seeing their parents meet their Grandchildren. I hope that I will be that lucky one day.

I have to go make preparations for some Birthday celebrations now. It is a Wednesday, so we are having a pool party on Saturday to celebrate your birthday (no rain, please!), but tonight, I am planning your requested birthday dinner: mac and cheese. I am not even bothering with veggies! After that, we will give you a couple gifts. You are getting a Braves hat and shirt, and Daddy is taking you to the game. Ned helped out by offering up his Turner vouchers and y'all are getting good seats. I wish I could go, but Tiller turns into a pumpkin after seven.

Our life is busy these days, with school, and soccer starting up, and trying to fix up the new house, but i hope that every year on your birthday I will be able to take the time to write this letter to you, to let you know how much you have changed and learned and matured and grown over the past year.

You are five today, no longer my baby, although you will always be my baby. I now know why my Mama and Daddy still say this to me, and I no longer bristle at it when they do; if anything, I sympathize with them, because i know what it means to love you from birth, to nurture you, and to see you no longer be the helpless being you once were, to see you blossom and have thoughts of your own and question our decisions for you. I know what it means to feel swollen with pride at the same time that I am sick with the sadness of knowing you will leave and things will never be this perfect and sweet again. Raising you and loving you is the most exquisite and overwhelming bittersweet pain and pleasure i have ever experienced. I am a better person for being your Mama, and you are everything that I ever could have wanted in a son, and so many other things that I never knew I wanted.

Daddy and I love you so much and we try to savor every last moment with you, but we are also so very excited to see what wonderful things you will do with your life and what a wonderful, independent person you will become.

Love,
Your Mama

p.s. No, you are not getting a skateboard this year.

Bad Kids

I think i have posted this before, but a friend was pondering if it was bad that his young daughter knows all the words to the song, "Greased Lightning." I wanted to find the video of my kids dancing and singing to the Black Lips song, "Bad Kids." Couldn't find it on my blog, so I'm just posting it again for good measure. It still cracks me up, especially that Rollie knows the "Timeout" and "A Penis on the Wall" parts so well. Not bad dancing, either. That boy loves the Dance.

Anyway, Pierce, if you are bad for teaching your daughter about gettin' tit and pussy wagon, well, then, call DFACS on me. The lyrics go a little something like this:

Bad kids all my friends are bad kids
product of no dad kids
kids like you and me

Bad kids aint no college grad kids
livin life out on the skids
kids like you and me

In Class
We are a minority
Got no
Respect for authority
And won't
Play well with others
And steal
From all your mothers
They'll try
To give us pills
Oh wait
Give us all the pills
Go cry
Mom I gotta go to court
Dad won't
Pay his child support

Well you gotta understand
we only do these things because all we are is

Bad kids all my friends are bad kids
product of no dad kids
kids like you and me

Bad kids aint no college grad kids
livin life out on the skids
kids like you and me

At home
he throws a hissy fit
Time out
he doesn't give a shit
Got drunk
Off all of grandmas schnaps
Got caught
Runnin from the cops
Toilet
Paper on the yard
Six f's
On my report card
Smoke cigs
In the bathroom stall
Spray paint
Penis on the wall

Well you gotta understand
we only do these things because all we are is

Bad kids all my friends are bad kids
product of no dad kids
kids like you and me

Bad kids aint no college grad kids
livin life out on the skids
kids like you and me

My Son Creeps Me Out

One of the fun things about having two laptops in the house again is that I can sit upstairs, while Todd hangs out downstairs, and we can email and chat back and forth. Which, also, let's admit, is ridiculous. But we have fun with it. Like this little gem that I just received. Jason B., try not to get too freaked out by this.

Like Sand Through the Hourglass

Uh, yeah. He was pretty excited. He picked his spidey tee out himself the night before (we were very proud and i had inner smug thoughts when hipster dad commented on his shirt). Everything went really well. He was totally excited, got himself up and dressed and even his shoes on without any dramatics, backtalk, or parental command repetition. We gave him a banana, but now he EATS BREAKFAST AND LUNCH AT SCHOOL. That's right - one less piece of wheat bread i have to smear with peanut butter each day. That might not seem like much to you, but i have smeared peanut butter on two pieces of wheat bread for the LAST TWO YEARS, ALMOST EVERY DAY. Cutting the workload in half is exhilarating.

We all four got in the car to go drop him off. The streets were packed with parents walking their kids to school (I love that we have sidewalks!), and cars backed up. I was nervous and he was just so damn excited. Todd and Tiller dropped us off and we walked up past all the patrols (so cute! 5th graders who were taught to say "Good morning!" when you walked in, and "Walk to the right!" when you were in the halls, and "Have a nice day!" when I was leaving. I was very impressed.) Also was impressed with the massive coffee table set up out front of the school. Nice touch, and a quick way to steal my heart.

As we went past the school sign, I asked if i could take his picture, and he said, "not now, mama!" and I agreed, because who am i to ruin his image the first day of school? We went on in and found his class. It was mayhem.

Kids running everywhere, one harried teacher and her harried teacher's aide, and a bunch of bewildered parents. (I guess I am not the only one with a first child in elementary school.) We hung Rollie's backpack in his cubby, which of course had his first name (Charles) instead of the nickname. He dealt, which i was very proud of, because he very well could have lost it. I talked to the teacher and she said she was "sending some typing home with him for me in his backpack." (Remember, I am the unfortunate new mom who got suckered into the Room Mother position. Go ahead and laugh, but I'm helping educate kids, people! Or at least making sure they get enough sugar on holidays.)

There were so many parents hanging around that I had time to shoot a few pictures and I even got a shot of Rollie with a big smile. I introduced him to another little boy, met the boy's dad, then said:

"Okay, Buddy. I'm gonna head out. You have fun, and listen to your teacher, okay? And I'll be here to pick you up this afternoon." I admit, i had a bit of a lump in my throat as I turned away.

"Mama?" he said in a small voice.

"Yeah, baby?" I said turning around. He was holding an hourglass in each hand, the sand just beginning to run through each.

"I need a hug and a kiss first!"

I smiled and said, "You bet," as I crouched down to his level and opened my arms.

He set the hourglasses down and ran into my arms, hugging me tightly and kissing me loudly on the cheek. "Mama? I love you, Mama," he whispered in my ear.

I love you, too, Buddy. I love you, too.

I Can't Believe . . .

That the little man starts real school tomorrow. He will be with his teacher and schoolmates just as long every day as the time he spends with me. I know that this is the moment where it all starts pulling apart at the seams, where his peers start to influence him, where he starts to come home learning new words and asking for a Wii, and dismissing Todd and me more and more. I'm so proud of him, and I know we are a positive influence on him, and he is more prepared than 90% of the other kids starting school tomorrow, but he isn't a number or a statistic; he is my baby.

A photo retrospective of the boy here.

Disaster Confirmed

Okay, not complete disaster. I can do a data transfer from my hard drive to save all my stuff, like the family videos and my writing and stuff like that. Yes, I know I should have backed it up more often. But it is safe. Unfortunately, it's a "bad logic board." Would be almost $300 bucks to fix it, and I doubt the mac is worth that altogether. Ugh.

Bad, logic board, bad! Very bad logic board! [rubbing logic board's muzzle in a pile of it's own shitty logic.]

So, i will be immersed in the vampire book, taking the kiddo to open house (starts school monday!) and . . .what else did i do before internet??

Rollie of the Day

is_00039.jpg
Originally uploaded by Dogwood Girl.

Another old picture of Rollie that just cracks me up. Yes, we were drinking beer while Rollie sat on the beach and ate some kind of seaweed. Good parenting.

This was in Key West. I think later that night Rollie went to his first Fantasy Fest. . . maybe not the best idea for those under 18, but you know we like to live on the edge.

In the Principal's Office

I registered Rollie for school yesterday. I had met his pre-K teacher at the open house in May, and I liked her very much. Yesterday, when we went in the office, there was only one other family (incidentally, a little boy who will also be in Rollie's class). The Principal was working the office and he remembered me from the Open House a month earlier, and explained all the paperwork to me. (I'm pretty sure that it is easier to buy a handgun than to register a 4-year-old for pre-k.) I liked him immediately.

Anyone who knows me is probably aware that I have some serious doubts about how America educates (or fails to educate) her children these days (don't we all, to some extent?) and how much we have agonized over where to send our child to school, where to move, etc. How would we find a school that had decent to good test scores, racial and cultural diversity, but not so affluent that my children would be so sheltered that they wouldn't know that not everyone lives like they do? Most of all, the school had to be safe and in a decent middle and high school district.

Todd and I have decided to have Rollie repeat pre-k this year, since it will not seem to him like he is repeating, as he is going to a new elementary school, and will have a new class. He was having some problems keeping his frog on the lily pad last year, which basically means that while he did fine with the "academic" parts of school, he was struggling to control his behavior, follow directions, and generally play well with others. His teacher thought that it was probably just emotional immaturity and an inability to control his impulses, and that holding him back wouldn't harm him, and might help.

I talked to tons of parents of late-summer boys about the holding back issue: Those that didn't hold their boys back were split down the middle concerning their feelings about it; About half of them regretted not holding the boy back. On the other hand, not one single parent I've talked to regretted holding their son back. It just felt like the thing to do for us.

Fast forward a month to Rollie suddenly reading whole books. We started having doubts about how he would fare in Pre-K if he could read and other kids couldn't. Would he be bored? Would he be a frustration for the teacher? Would he languish without attention or challenge?

This parenting thing, it's pretty complex, and it is a game of stamina, like some mindfuck marathon that you just keep running, with diverging paths, and a finish line that keeps on slipping in and out of sight. Honestly, I think it has finally sunken in that there is no finish line.

I decided to talk to the Principal about my concerns (also making sure that if he needed to, Rollie could move up into Kindergarten.) I was so happy after my discussion with him: He said that they see kids across the spectrum in the Pre-K; that some come in not speaking little English, or not knowing their ABCs. Some know letter sounds. Some are starting to sight-read words. And that some can read sentences and books.

My favorite part? Every Friday, the kids who can read in the Pre-K and K classes come into the Principal's office and read books with him. I like the idea that my child won't be bored or ignored, and that he will be put into a group that is on his level, and that his accomplishment will be rewarded and acknowledged.

Anyone know if this reading group thing is common practice in elementary schools? Does anyone else have experience having been held back, or having held their child back? I'm curious what others have experienced.

A Happy and Safe 4th!

What is everyone doing for the 4th? We're off to the Lake for the weekend, but here's hoping everyone has a safe and fun 4th of July. Good luck to my peeps running the Peachtree!

A few pics from 4ths past . . .

On the Genetics of M and M Sorting

We've been using M&Ms to bribe Tiller into using the potty. (I don't want to hear the "you are going to give her an eating disorder" comments, either.) So far, it's not working well, but I can totally use them as good-behavior-inducing after-dinner treats. I've been counting Weight Watcher's points again, hoping to kick my weight loss back into gear (working out alone just doesn't do crap for me), but when i saw the diminutive little individual bags, i thought, "Oh, I'll just have one and count the points later." Big mistake: Four points!!!! They are the devil.

I went into the den, turned on Jeopardy, opened the bag and dumped them out on the coffee table. I separated the M&Ms into colors, then put each color group into a little line, so that i could see how many of each color I had. Then, i ate from the colors with the most candies, until i had evened out the lines. Then, I proceeded to eat the m&ms one at a time, taking one from each color line (brown first) until they were all gone.

At some point, Tiller came in, having inhaled her M&Ms, asking for more. "Nope," I said, "you need to go put your dishes in the sink and then go up and wash your hands." Finishing up my own neatly-ordered portion, I realized I hadn't heard much out of Rollie. Cleaning up my wrapper and grabbing my drink glass, I walked back into the kitchen, belting out a "Rollie, what are you doing, buddy? It's time to clean up and hit the showers!"

"Mama, I'm not finished yet!" he yelled back.

I looked at the kitchen table and came to a screeching halt. Rollie was intently looking down at his M&Ms, all laid out neatly in piles, organized by color. I watched him for a moment.

"Rollie, what are you doing?"

"Eating my M&Ms!"

"You put them in little piles?"

"Yup."

"By color?"

"Yup."

"I used to do that when i was a little girl."

"You did, mama?"

"Yeah, I did," I said with a smile. "You come on up and get ready for a bath when you get done with the M&Ms, okay?"

"Okay, Mama," he replied, not once taking his eyes off the little colored piles, his eyes scanning them, as he carefully picked one and popped it into his mouth.

Sometimes genetics are just downright weird. And sometimes they are kind of sweet.

Apple Book

We started reading "The Giving Tree" to Rollie when he was around two. It was a staple in our evening story time for over a year, was the book that he most loved (so far) and is probably in the top three books that I will forever associate with reading to him as a baby.

There were nights when I was exhausted, and I would think, "Please, God, anything but the Giving Damn Tree." Sure enough, he would toddle over with it in his hands, would always ask for it, the book that he called "Apple book." For months on end, we read it every single night. Todd and I could both recite whole sections in our sleep.

And then one day, just like The Boy in the story stopped visiting the Giving Tree, Rollie started to pick The Giving Tree less and less; His tastes changed, and he wanted to read about trains or cars or Curious George.

Tonight, I asked him to pick out a book to read, and that is the book he picked out. I was pleasantly surprised - I no longer think of it as a monotonous chore, as I once did - and told him I would be in when I finished tucking Tiller in. When I went into his room, he was sitting up, reading aloud the page he was on.

I asked if he was ready to read the book. He said yes, and I laid down next to him and went to take them book from him.

"No, Mama. I'm gonna read it to you."

And he did. And it was pretty damn special.

Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose!

I've written numerous times about my mixed marriage. The kids are completely on the fence. They see a G on a car in front of me and yell, "Bulldogs!" or "Georgia for you, Mama!" or they see that AU on a car and say, "Auburn!" Course, Rollie says, "Aubrun," and Tiller actually says, "Bullgogs." Which is really cute.

If they see a G and Todd is in the car, they will ask? "Daddy? You like Bulldogs, right?" And we are good parents, who try to consider if certain things we say might interfere with a child's self-esteem; Who knows if Todd telling Rollie that he doesn't like GA, when Rollie likes both UGA and Auburn, will harm R's burgeoning self-worth?

So we lie.

The standard answer for this from Todd is "Yes, I like them. I like Auburn the best, and then my second favorite team is whoever is playing Bama that week, and then Georgia." Very diplomatic, and not really untrue.

Standard answer from me is also the truth: "Yes, I like Bullgogs first." "Then Tigers, mama?" I think for a minute.

"Well, Bulldogs first, then Panthers, then Tigers.

Everyone in the car, even my 2-year-old, look at me like I am crazy.

"Panthers? Who are Panthers, mama?"

"Dillon Panthers, baby. Dillon Panthers."

Yeah, I seriously have a Friday Night Lights problem, and it's not just about the hot Coach Taylor, either. I cried last night watching them win state in the first season finale. No, I'm not kidding.

Plus, it gives me satisfaction to choose a fictional high school football team over Todd's Tigers. Always the rivalry exists.