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Posts Tagged ‘school’

I’m not one of those Moms that counts the days until school starts again. I love summer. I love everything about it. I love beach days and sandy toes. I love summer corn and tomatoes and the relegation of Husband to the grill at nearly every dinnertime. I love slathering my children in sunblock and watching the gradual progression of their skin to a golden brown and their hair a golden blonde. I love flip-flops and pedicures people can actually see. Despite my unmatched modesty when it comes to my body, I love short sleeves (aside: hate when people say they’re in “shirt sleeves”) and cute summer skirts and colorful beach cover-ups.  I love open windows and ceiling fans and blooming hydrangea.  I don’t even complain (much) when it’s 90 degrees and humid and there’s sweat dripping down my back.  Because once summer’s gone, there’s fall.  And fall is a perfectly wonderful time of year (especially in New England) except for people like me.  Because I manage to ruin fall by spending most of it dreading the fact that winter (g-damn winter) is next.  And winter sucks.

Yesterday, Husband and I packed up the boys bright and early and headed north to Crane Beach in Ipswich.

Despite the fact that we live in a town littered with beaches, it seemed a fitting trip to round out our summer.   We arrived by 9 am (1/2 hour past low tide) and were awed by the expanse of Crane Beach (I hadn’t been since high school).   There were tide pools and piping plovers and no more  than 100 others on the beach (although it was mobbed by the time we left).  Husband, who can’t sit still on the beach for more than 5 minutes at a time, dropped the gear and then took off with the kids to explore and build and romp and splash and left me alone.  With my beach chair.  And my Kindle.  And my happy, happy self.

Ah.  Summer.

On the way home we stopped at a local farm stand where I picked up some fresh basil (the best), mozzarella and heirloom tomatoes so ripe and red that I wanted to bite into them on the spot.   I dug through piles of local corn for three perfect ears and snagged two crisp apples for the boys in hopes that munching and crunching would stave off the sleep that tugged at their sandy, sun-soaked selves.

Summer.

Next week, school begins.  Big Brother heads off to Kindergarten, which is simply not possible.  Little Brother will go to pre-school three mornings a week leaving Mom alone to…to what?

Miss them.

Fill out countless back-to-school forms.

Hit the treadmill.

Consider my next move.

Wish it was summer all over again.

———-

p.s.  I’m running in a 5K in two weeks.  Which is sort of laughable but whatever.  I’m doing it.   I have every confidence that I’ll finish.  I’m just hoping that when the standings come out in our local papers that my name doesn’t show up dead last.  Which is entirely possible in this land of skinny-mini’s…and me.   Wish me luck.  I will, no doubt, need it.

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Little Brother has developed a bit of a stutter.  At first I was completely freaked out by it.   Worried and sad and upset — concerned that he had been dealt some terribly unfair hand.   That my baby, who was so quick to speak as a toddler, would now need some help getting over a few tough hurdles down the road.

A few days into the stuttering, I did some reading and started to speak to other parents about the problem.  And, thankfully, I learned that a stutter is very common in kids between 2.5 and 3.5 years old.   And, that the stutter can last anywhere from a week to 6 months or more.  That it can even come and go for months at a time.   That it’s most often seen in children who have developed their little vocabularies so quickly that their speedy little brain is simply working much too fast for their tangled tongues.  And that, most likely, it really means nothing at all.

The counsel is to basically ignore it.  Don’t tease him about it (of course) or point out the problem.  Help with the word if he gets frustrated.   Settle him down.    Let him work through it.

We’re fine.  He’s fine.  I know it’s all good.

The thing about it, though, is that Little Brother, clearly frustrated with the situation, has figured out a couple ways to compensate for this little blip in his ability to communicate his needs.  First, he went with VOLUME.   Holy cow.

“I – I – I – I wa-wa-” (heavy sigh).   GET ME MILK, MOMMY!”

So, I was doing a lot of gentle shhhhush-ing for a week or so.

But, now he’s gone with a new tactic.  It appears that Little Brother now believes he can get the words out a little more easily by whispering them.  But, he doesn’t really get the whole spacial relations things yet so I’ll just happen to look up and notice he’s all the way across the room asking me for something.

Me:   Oh!  Did you need something, J?

LB:   wh-sh-shw-hshshshshws.

Me:  I’m sorry.  What?

LB:   wh-sh-shhs-hhw-hsmsmsshw.

Good lord.  It’s like I’m stay-at-home-Mom to Milton Waddams of Office Space.

Just trying to have a little sense of humor about it.

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Question: I need to buy a birthday gift for a five year old girl today.   And, I don’t want to spend a lot of money.

So, should I go to :

a) the boutique toy shop in the high-rent district of downtown Marblehead where no single toy is less than $25

or

b) Target?

And the answer is…..(drum roll)….A!

Because I need one toy.  And maybe a card.

I do not need a cart full of diapers, a six-window picture frame, juice boxes, spicy snack mix,  a few pairs of 5T blue jeans, Winnie the Pooh bath toys, scented candles, a cute new top and a six-pack of Right Guard.   And that’s exactly what I would get if I went to Target.

You hear me, girls.  I know you do.

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Last week my boys each got a progress report from their Nursery School.  Each report was good.  Certainly nothing to worry about.  Both are performing all tasks relative to their ages.  Big Brother speaks softly but often.  Little Brother still has a little issue with Mommy-separation at drop off but then has a wonderful time about 5 seconds after I’m out the door.

A typical Mom, I, of course, felt that they should have received Above Average scores across the board but I’m their Mom so maybe I’m just a teeny tiny bit biased.  

And then we went away to CT for the long weekend.  Bernie, our six year old yellow lab, stayed at a nearby kennel.  Where he’s a bit of a regular.  It’s pretty posh as far as kennels go, though, and we’re pretty sure they like him there.   Yesterday at pick-up they handed me the usual details on his stay with them — a doggie report card, if you will.  

And, well….compare for yourselves.   Here they are.

KIDS:

DOG:
Hmmm…perhaps we need to refocus our efforts a bit.

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My Glass is Half Full

My two-year-old was asked to build a snowman with construction paper and glue in pre-school the other day.  Handed all the appropriate parts (a hat, a nose, black buttons and three white snowballs) here’s what came home.

Clearly, we have a budding Jackson Pollock on our hands.  
No?

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