Status Update

A busy month. Business trip to Halifax. A "summit", and various other-work related demands. March Break. The Experimental Farm. St. Patrick's Day Parade. The maple syrup farm. I've been in overdrive.

My New Year's Resolution was to teach the children about the world around them. Each month, we learn about other countries. So far, we've done Scotland, El Salvador, and China. Dan and I have not done a super job, but we've made an attempt.

Also, I have focused on teaching the children about farming. We have already started some cherry tomatoes, normal tomatoes, peppers, cucumber, strawberries, herbs, and pumpkins. I'm a little bit worried. I have lots growing and no where to plant these crops (I already have six flower gardens). I haven't even started the corn! I've decided to worry about that later...

The twinnies got their report cards the other day. I demanded an interview with the teacher, which surprised both Dan and the teacher. Turns out that most parents don't freak out when their children get straight As. Anyway, I went to the interview, and the teacher said that my children were at the top of the class. Brilliant in both language arts and math. Far beyond every other student with their general knowledge. And that they are bored. Perfect. I was just saying that I was running out of things to obsess about...

Oh. And I have one child who is eating weird things. Like the living room tables. And cords. And it's not the littlest child. Sigh.

The etoN

Dan and I got a note home from the grade one teacher. It directed us to read the note Katie had written in her agenda. I must confess, folks, I expected the worst. Like a list of everything wrong with me!

I was pleasantly surprised when this is what I saw:

I studied what she had written, trying to sound it out. After a while, Dan gave me a clue.

Then I wrote a note back to the teacher saying:

"?melborp eht eb ot smees tahW".

(Okay, I didn't, but I wanted to!)

Passing Grade One

I failed kindergarten.

Not the first go 'round. I've been told that I performed brilliantly when I was in kindergarten. As a matter of fact, my father will tell you I was the most clever student in the entire class.

Turns out, I absolutely suck as the parent of kindergartners.

My first big failure last year was that I failed to ensure that my children (who were not yet students of the school and who couldn't read) won the Summer Reading Contest. Turns out that all of the other parents of future kindergartners participated in the contest, and their children won prizes. My children sat in the school gym feeling left out and crying. Because their mother sucks.

I wasn't about to make that mistake again!

As we understood the contest rules, there is one ballot awarded for each book (if it's short) or each chapter that is read to the darling child. I hit the library. More than once. And requested books online. (I seldom took the children in  to the library because they would morph in to three unholy terrors) Dan and I quickly saw the value in reading "chapter books". More bang for your buck (or more ballots for your effort). He focused on Harry Potter, and I became well acquainted with Junie B. Jones and her very difficult life.

The night before the twinnies first day of Grade One, we had read the children 101 books/chapters. That number seemed kinda made up to me. So, I woke the children up and read them 2 more chapters of Junie B. Jones. Dan and I congratulated ourselves for reading 103 books/chapters.

And then we noticed our mistake.

The school didn't award ballots based on quantity. There would be one ballot awarded for each 20 minutes of reading. AHHHH! Dan suggested that I take our list and do it over again according to the school's specifications. I calmly explained to Dan that I would not be doing the list over again (well, maybe not calmly, but I only swore once).

Off to school the twinnies went with their lists.

A week later, the twinnies come home from school thrilled to bits! Their "prize" is to be Principal (Bethie) and Vice-Principal (Katie) for a day!!!

I was ecstatic! I had done right by my little girls. They got the benefit of lots of reading during the summer (sorry, I can't give you the exact amount of minutes, but quite a lot) AND they get a fun day at school. AND the Principal (and their teacher) is sure to think that I am the most wonderful mother in the world.

I congratulated myself at how well this Summer Reading Contest had turned out. And then I overheard Bethie and Katie dreaming up some new "rules" that they are going to enforce when they have Executive Power. Sigh. This may end badly...

Day One

Katie and Bethie got off the bus after their first day of school, and came racing up the driveway shouting "Grade One is awesome!".

I was pleased.

Their new teacher sent home a "First Day Kit" of goodies with a little note that read:

A Starburst: You will be a shining star in school if you always do your best.
A Penny: To remind you that you are a valuable member of our class.
A Sticker: We will always stick together and help one another.
Smarties: You are going to learn SO much in First Grade this year!
A Pencil and Eraser: You are going to learn how to write its okay to make mistakes.
A Bookmark: For all the books you are going to learn to read this year.
A Hersey hug: We all need hugs now and then.
Lifesaver: I am here to help you. Don't be afraid to come to me if you need anything.

I thought that was really nice. So lovely, that I ignored the basic mistakes in sentence structure. I'm sweet like that.

I never saw the Hersey hug. Guess those got eaten on the way home.

I made the twinnies share their Smarties equally with Sarah because Sarah adores Smarties. Then I rushed out to the gas station and bought another box (regular size), and let all three share the box. Because I'm a sucker.

All in all, a good day.

First Graders

At long last, the first day of school!

Dan and I had the children up, fed, dressed, and outside by 7:10am. The bus doesn't come until 7:35am. I guess we (and by "we" I mean Dan and I) were a bit excited. But it allowed us lots of time to take pictures!

Bethie, Sarah, and Katie

Bethie

Katie

Bethie, Katie, and Sarah

...and they're gone.



Dan - no longer able to contain his JOY!



Sarah was thrilled, too!

The joy of being the Only Child (for 40 hours a week)

The twins are an hour into their first day of school. I miss them already!

Back To School

The twinnies begin Grade One at the end of this month. I'm not looking forward to it. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the eight hours of QUIET, but I really do miss them when they are gone. But, let's be completely honest, I have difficulty in surrendering my children over to "the government" (aka "Big Brother", aka the local school).

Homeschooling is not an option. I can't even get the children to follow basic rules like Thou Shall Not Pummel My Sister, or (more seriously) Thou Shall Not Plaster The New Fancy Schmancy Couch With Silly Putty. There's absolutely no way I could get them to learn "I before E except after C". So, I'm kinda committed to sending them to school.

All I had to do today was to pick up their supply list (that in itself deserves a post!) and pay the required $200 so they can attend the free, publicly funded local school.

Easy peasy, right?

Nope.

I have greatly annoyed the receptionist (who said that she couldn't possibly deal with me until Monday), irritated the school principal, and totally pissed of some lady at the school board. Oh. I also embarrassed Dan, who had to ask me to lower my voice. I declined.

I can't wait to meet the teacher. Sigh.

Before and After

I sent my twinnies to kindergarten. I was very worried. They were so sweet and delicate and tender-hearted. I had spent five years sheltering them from the harsh realities of the Big Bad World, and then I thrusted them into it.

Before:

After a year in kindergarten, they have learned to read and write. They have decided that I am not the smartest person in the whole wide world. I have been usurped by their kindergarten classmates and their teacher. They have learned all the swear words (although I may have played a role in that part of their education...sigh).

And now they are different. More wonderful (if that is possible). And I'm soooo excited to spend the summer with them!

After:

For The Love of Dan...

For Mother's Day, the twinnies made me presents at school. The kindergarten teacher was most clever. She gave each child a glass, had them paint it, and ...voila... a vase! I love mine. Every couple of days, we head into our gardens and look for pretty flowers to cut. The twinnies are thrilled with themselves.

Last week, the twinnies came home from school and announced that they were making key chains at school for Father's Day. I thought this was a super idea, and I was excited for both the twinnies and Dan. Key chains are something that are used every day. Imagine the pride the twinnies would feel when they saw their Daddy heading off for work with the key chains that they made. They are more "tokens of love" than they are "key chains"...

Sunday morning, the twinnies were super excited. They grabbed their presents and hauled their father out of bed. He was then presented with his key chains:

Need a closer look?

Yup, that's a stir stick for paint that has been "fancied up". Better still, Dan got two of them!

It's kinda impossible for Dan to walk into work looking "cool" while carrying these. It looks like he stole the bathroom keys from a (very fancy) gas station. How will anyone take him seriously with the painter's sticks handing out of his pocket?

Want to know the worst bit? I think the key chains are super cool and I want them desperately!!!!

Anyway, Dan was thrilled with the key chains.

Then it was time for Sarah and I to give Dan our gifts.

I could have given Dan some shirts, which he would have appreciated. I could have given him a waffle maker, which he didn't particularly want but I was sure that he would like. I could have given him a night out, sans enfants, which he would have loved.

I thought and thought and thought about what Dan would like. And then I gave up because he doesn't really need anything. I, however, have a long list of needs and wants and wishes and whims.

So, Sarah and I got Dan these flower boxes:

In case you are wondering, the flower boxes weren't originally purple. They had to be painted that way (left over paint from the front door). We tend to live our life "in a rainbow of colours" .... Mum says that we're just tacky!

Two Singletons

I have twins.

Identical twins.

It's funny. Some people swear that they can tell the twins apart. Some people swear that there are no differences between them. The truth lies somewhere in the middle.

I got a call from the kindergarten teacher this morning. She would like to put the twinnies into different classes when they enter grade one.

Not because they are suffering academically. They're doing beautifully, in fact. Not because they are suffering socially. They love to play with the other children.

The teacher would like to separate the twinnies because she, and the students, can't tell the twinnies apart. After almost nine months.

Being a twin is special. I don't think that we should be so quick to separate twins based solely on the fact that they look similar. I don't think the objective should be to create two singletons. To make them like everyone else. To make them "normal". Especially because my twins thrive on being twins. And they are doing exceedingly well in all aspects of their lives.

The teacher is a kind woman. A good woman. A clever woman. She has done her best to be fair and considerate and compassionate. I have the utmost respect for her, and her opinions. But my heart has broken.


Because when I look a the twinnies,

I see the child, not the unit.

I see a little girl who rages like a thunder storm, yet is instantly calmed when a cotton ball is placed in her hand. This child sees the world in black and white, right and wrong. And in case you were wondering, she's right and everyone else is wrong. The world is her stage, and she lives to perform.

Katie

I see a little girl who is ruled by loyalty and love. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and that heart bleeds for everybody. She is a thinker, and lies in her bed figuring things out. She studies the details. She's quick to laugh. She loves being outside.

Bethie

And it breaks my heart that people can't see beyond the unit to see the individual. The individuals are worth knowing because they're special. The unit is worth preserving because it's special.

I used to dress the twinnies identically because they looked super cute and they preferred to have the same outfits on. Now, (most of the time) they don't care if they are dressed identically or not. I let them choose what they wear. I figure that one day, they will want to be in separate classes and have different friends. And I will support them. Until then, I will allow them to remain together. Because I have spent five years with my twinnies, because I know both of them collectively and individually, because I know them best.

Mr. Photography Goes To School

Bethie won an award at school. Again. The first award was for "Trying Her Best". This one was for her wonderful writing ability. Katie is ticked off. She's keeping score. No worries, she wrote a note to the teacher informing her that Bethie has had 2 awards and Katie has had no awards. She would like the teacher to rectify this situation. Sigh.

I sent Dan to the school to watch Bethie receive her award. I asked him to take some photos because I am soooo proud of my child and soooo disappointed that I had to miss the awards ceremony.

Here are the results:

It's my fault, I know. I shouldn't have asked him to take pictures. I just set myself up for disappointment.

There was one picture that was salvageable. Here is my baby accepting her award. I am very, very proud of her.

One Hundred Years Old

Bethie is obsessed with death. We talk about it all the time. Not intentionally, but it seems to come up. Tonight, Dan said to the twins, "You can't keep waking your mother up so many times during the night because you're going to kill her". Bethie replied, "Is she ninety-nine, and is her birthday tomorrow?". Because, according to Bethie, only people who are 100 years old die.

My friend's father died. He was far too young. But we allowed Bethie to believe that he was 100 years old. She needed the security of knowing that no one she knows is going to die.

Then Melissa died. She was only 28. Again, we allowed Bethie to think that Melissa was 100.

The mother of a little girl in her class died. We reassured Bethie that this woman was sooooo much older than I am. Because Bethie lies in her bed and worries. I didn't want my child worrying about my death.

I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting my five year old girl. Saving her from her own worries. I thought that it didn't matter if I allowed Bethie to believe that people have to be 100 years old before they die.

The kindergarten teacher sent a note home. There is a little boy in the twinnies' class that has just been diagnosed with a tumor on his brain stem. My heart aches for this little boy, and for his family, and especially for his mother. I can't even begin to imagine what this family is going through. His mother is at the Children's Hospital praying for the life of her child. And I am not a good enough writer to convey my sorrow.

All I know is that I don't want to explain to my daughter that children can die, too.

True Love

Valentine's Day is quickly approaching. At school, both Katie and Bethie had to cut out a heart and write the name of someone that they love inside the heart.

Katie thought long and hard about who she loved. After careful deliberation, Katie wrote that she loves ... her sisters!

Katie's sisters are her co-conspirators...

...her buddies...

...her fan club.

Katie is hero worshipped by her little sister ...

...and adored by her twin.

Katie couldn't imagine her world without her sisters. She proudly, with love and affection, wrote down the names "Sarah" and "Bethie" in her little cut-out heart.

Bethie did not need a moment to ponder who she loved. She wrote "Jerry". Because Jerry is her boyfriend. Every day, Bethie assures me that she loves Jerry and will one day marry him.

Ladies, let me introduce you to my future son-in-law, Jerry...

...the bus driver.

Sigh. At least he has a job...

The Parent/Teacher Conference

The parent/teacher conference went well. Or, more accurately, well enough. I had planned to have all three children in daycare when I went to the conference. Instead, I had to bring Bethie with me, while my Dad babysat Sarah and Katie. Sigh. That's a super long story best saved for another day...

Miss N started off by saying that she thinks that Katie and Bethie should be put into separate classes next year. My response? "No". She went on to explain that Katie is more independent than Bethie. Bethie's self-esteem is wrapped up in Katie. Perhaps being in a different class would help Bethie "come into her own". Again, "no". We went back and forth for a while before I pointed out that the next school year is 10 months away, and we can worry about this later.

Miss N said that she didn't really have any concerns about the twins and asked about my conerns. I told her that I view kindergarten as an "introduction" to school. I want them to learn to respect others while continuing to respect themselves. I want them to learn the rules and routines of school. I want them to thrive socially. Miss N has higher hopes. She hoped that they would learn things like reading and writing and math. Yeah, I kinda thought that went without saying.

Miss N said that the girls were very polite, and helped clean up, and were a pleasure to teach. Super. Then she said to me "There are some characteristics that we think are excellent in adults: loyalty, fighting the current, questioning authority. But, in five year olds, we need to temper these qualities." I had to laugh. I know what Miss N means. My children have a lot of my characteristics. They are tiny versions of me. But I'm 27 (ish). I have earned some of my..."difficult" characteristics. They are 5 years old. They haven't earned bitchy yet. But I'm not about to un-teach their loyalty for one another (and for every member of this family). I pray every night that they stop questioning authority...okay, stop questioning my authority. But I am thrilled that they think for themselves. That they have an innate sense of how things should be, and what they want for themselves, and stand up for these things. I am proud that they do things the "hard way", knowing that the end justifies the means. I have strong daughters. Thank God.

Miss N showed me their journals. She said that most children simply scribble or write letters randomly. My little Mary Wollstonecrafts write phonetically. Both of them! The only ones in their class! I was thrilled!!! Miss N went on to say how well they were doing in math. They have a very good grasp of numbers and addition. Yup, my children are brilliant!

While wrapping things up, Miss N said that all of my children (I had brought Sarah with my for my "emergency" conference last week) were extremely well behaved. They play beautifully with others, and play quietly by themselves. She said that they are good-natured and easily pleased. They are an absolute joy to be around. Right. I told her to come by my house around dinner time. They're not so charming then!

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Teacher?

My Parent-Teacher interview for the twins is on Wednesday. And I am terrified. The teacher, Miss N, is kind. She has a good heart. My daughters think she is wonderful. They also think she's smarter than I am. That's not one of her selling points though...

I tried to schedule the interview for a time when Dan could go with me. Because people like Dan. He's friendly, funny, and easy to please. I'm...not. I'm the kind of person who sits quietly by herself in the corner making snarky (and highly amusing!) comments in her head...except my comments often find an escape latch and come out of my mouth (without permission!). And the room gets quiet. And no one laughs. Except for me. Okay, I guess I'm the one who is laughing hysterically in the back of the room all by herself. That's me!

I really want to impress Miss N. I want her to think that I am clever. That my opinions are worth considering. That my children are just super and should have a special place in her heart. At least until June. But I've already made an ass of myself several times since school began, two months ago.

I figure I have thirty minutes to wow her. To change her opinion of me. To make her want to give my little girls all the praise and encouragement that they deserve. All this without embarrassing them...or myself!

Toilet Tag

As a little girl, I loved recess. I used to jump rope, play hopscotch, sing little songs with my classmates, and play Freeze Tag. Ahhh, the good 'ol days....

My twinnies are in kindergarten. When the school year began, they loved recess. In fact, when we asked about their day at school, they would only mention the games they played while outside with their classmates. We would get blank stares when we asked, "But what did you learn today?".

Things started changing a couple of weeks ago. Bethie stopped playing with her classmates at recess. When I tried to find out why, she said that she didn't want to play with her class because they would play "inappropriate" games (yup, that's how my kids speak. Sigh). When pressed, she told me about Toilet Tag.

Here's how to play: One person is "It". This child tries to tag as many children as possible. "When a player is tagged, he/she must assume a toilet position (one knee on the ground and the other knee up, one arm straight out to the side).  The tagged player must remain frozen in this position until they are rescued by another player.  To be rescued, a player must sit on the knee of the frozen player, grab their straight arm and make a WHOOSH sound while pulling the arm down to simulate the flushing of a commode.  Once a player flushes the toilet of a frozen player, the frozen player is freed." (Mr. Gym).

I was horrified to learn that the children play this in the school yard. This is a disgusting and scatological game! I was proud of my daughter. She had decided that she didn't want to be used as a "toilet" and did not want children to pretend to urinate and defecate on her. At age 5, she stood up to the crowd. What a strong and proud daughter I have!

There were other problems for Bethie at school, so I wrote a note and asked to speak with the teacher. Yesterday, Miss N and I sat down and talked about the issues that Bethie faces in school. When we came to the games of Toilet Tag being played in the school yard, Miss N said "I think that may be my fault. I taught the children to play this in gym class".

I was, truly, speechless. I was shocked. Miss N is about my age. She's a mother. She's an experienced teacher. How is it that she and I have such vastly different views on the appropriateness of this game?

In my shock-induced silence, all I kept thinking was that this is a "Tribes School". This means that there is a super heavy focus on the "four agreements": Mutual Respect, Listening, Appreciation, and Participation. How can the school foster "mutual respect" when asking the children to pretend to be toilets?
We kinda glossed over the whole Toilet Tag because we moved onto matters that I thought to be more serious. But it haunted me. Am I being a prude? Am I so out-of-touch? Should I just keep my mouth shout?

I don't know what to do. I am at a loss. If any of you have any thoughts about Toilet Tag, please let me know.

My Philosophy

I am a nice person. Kind. Considerate. Compassionate. Sweet. I try to be good to small children and the elderly. I give to homeless people at every opportunity (one even knows me by name and asks after the children!). I believe in non-violence. I have always admired brains over brawn. I'm a "Use your voice, not your fists" kinda girl...until I had children.

I have three daughters. Girly girls. Delicate little things.

They are nothing like me. This has caused me a great deal of anxiety. I don't want my girls to be pushed around. I don't want their good-nature to be abused. I want them to be strong. To be loud. To fear no one. I want them to be better than I ever was.

So, there's this demon-child in the kindergarten class with the twinnies. We'll call her Chantal (because in the third grade I hated Chantal sooooo much!). Chantal has decided that she just loves my little girls. So much that she feels compelled to pick them up and hug them, then drop them unceremoniously to the ground. I know she does this because

1. Katie told me
2. Bethie told me
3. Dan saw it in action (but thought it looked like great fun and DID NOT intervene)

Katie and Bethie enjoy the hugs,  but are upset about bouncing off the pavement afterwards. At first, they tried running away from Chantal. But Chantal would chase after them. Then they told Chantal that they didn't want to be hugged anymore, but Chantal refused to cease and desist. The twins then reported Chantal's behaviour to TWO teachers. Those teachers were unable to stop the "love fest". Katie and Bethie decided to pull out the big guns: they told me.

BOOM!

Yup, I went off like a rocket. How dare Chantal put her hands on my children!

The twinnies and I had a little chat. We talked about respect. We talked about appropriate behaviour. We talked about soliciting help. We talked about how they are not allowed to play with children who hurt them.

Then we talked about the facts of life.

Here are my facts:

1. Let people know that their behaviour or words hurt you
2. Give them a chance to correct the situation
3. If that doesn't work, appeal to a higher authority
4. If that doesn't work, take care of the situation yourself (do it hard and fast)
5. Remember, there are TWO of you. Always help your sister. There is power in numbers.

I feel that my children were not put on this Earth to be terrorized.They can learn it now, or they can learn it when they are 30. The easy way, or the hard way. Either way, it will end! And that is what I included in the note that I sent to school.

I received no response from the teacher.

I am beside myself. Fixated. Obsessed. Enraged.

The next time something like this happens, I will not send a note.

The teacher can respond, or not, to my face.

The Pumpkin

I know you've been waiting, holding your breath, wondering if Katie or Bethie won a painted pumpkin in the raffle. Well, the wait is over!

The kinder teacher drew five names. After the fourth name, Bethie started praying, "God, please let me or Katie win a pumpkin. PLEASE, GOD!". We all know that Bethie has a direct line to God's ear (freakishly so!). Like always, her pray was answered! The fifth name chosen was Katie's!

The twins were thrilled! Upon arriving home from school, they demanded that I rush to the school and pick up their pumpkin. I refused. This sounded, to me at least, like a job for their father!

This morning, Dan went to the school to pick up the pumpkin. He arrived home with it, and I rushed to see this wonderful spectacle. I was sure that it would be spectacular! Full of colour! Awe inspiring! A reflection of the collective artistic abilities of 23 five year olds!

Instead, this is what I saw:

Blah. Some purple paint slapped on to a pumpkin. Where's the "fancy" in that?

At least it matches my front door...

Notes Home

Mornings are good for me. For the most part, I am home alone to do whatever makes me happy. Usually, I need an hour or so to send out emails and muck about on the Internet. Then I will read my book for a couple of hours. The panic comes about 15 minutes before I have to pick up Sarah from daycare. I cram a couple of hours of work into that 15 minutes so it looks like I've had a super hard day.

(Dan, I'm kidding. I just said that to be amusing. Really, I do spend my mornings cleaning and dreaming up lovely ways to amuse our beautiful daughters. And oh how it tires me. I need to go out tonight to re-energize!)

Anyway, my day starts getting stressful at about 3:10. My stomach goes into knots. I know what is coming. Ten minutes later, the school bus comes into sight. Big sigh. I have to face the music. And it ain't pretty.

My daughters get off the school bus, smiling and full of cheer. They are so excited to tell me about their day. But all I can hear is the sound of my heart racing. All I can focus on is getting into their school bags...which they have conveniently dropped on the driveway for me to pick-up.

Once inside, I retrieve their agendas and flip to the plastic letter holder in the back. This is where the teacher puts her little notes. Most days it has at least one note in it. And I sigh.

The notes aren't saying that my children are bad...or good. They don't even specifically mention my children. These are letters from the school asking for money! Lots and lots of money.

Brace yourselves! Here's a totally on topic rant!

The following list are the examples that I can think of off the top of my head:

School supplies...$170
Photos...$50
Terry Fox Run (min) donation...$30
Scholastic books (first time)...$12
Scholastic books (2nd time)...$6
Pizza money...$28
Dance class...$120
Martial Arts...$120
Violin lessons...$120
School fair...$20
Movie Night...$8
School dance...$10
Saunder's Farm trip...$26

(Please note that this list is the combined costs, as I have two daughters enrolled in the school)

See why I get nervous?! The girls have been going to school for less than 2 months. By the end of the year, we are going to absolutely broke! The school doesn't care, they hype the children up so they come home announcing that they would be absolutely devastated if they were unable to participate. Thanks. The school holds me hostage. Pay up or they will break the hearts of my children!

Do you want to know which fancy, schmancy private school I send my children to? I don't! They go to the local public school!

Okay, back to the point of the story. The agendas. Yesterday, I opened the agendas and found a little note. I groaned (out loud) as I wondered how much this note would set me back. It turns out that the kindergarten class had painted five pumpkins and they were going to do a draw to see who could take them home. No purchase necessary! After I recovered from my shock--induced heart attack, Dan and I did a little jig in the kitchen. At last we had received some form of communication from the school which did not require a mad dash to the ATM!

The children were excited, too. Bethie and Katie just knew that they were going to win a pumpkin. Dan and I tried to explain that they might not win. They refused to acknowledge that possibility. I asked them what was going to happen if they didn't win? Bethie looked at me and announced that she would pitch a fit. And then I said a word that I probably shouldn't have said in front of the children because I can see how this is going to end...and it ain't pretty!

So off they went to school today, eagerly awaiting the results from the draw. I am sitting here at home wishing that the teacher would have taken the pumpkins back to her own house, or given them to the French teacher as a "Thank You" from the class, or dropped them off the roof of the school to show the kinders that "this is your brain on drugs. Any questions?" (my second favourite commercial of all time!). Instead, I sit and wait. Waiting for the results of the kindergarten draw. Knowing that the draw will decided if we have a good week or a bad week. AHHHH!

A Quick Poll

This morning, I called the school to inform them that I wanted the twins sent home on the bus instead of having them go to daycare. Usually, I leave a voice mail. However, the school secretary (forgive me, I don't know her name) answered the phone. I was taken by surprise. Here is what was said:

School Secretary: Good morning!
Me: Oh! This is Bethie and Katie's mother calling...
School Secretary: Hi Gwen!

Ummm...is it a good thing that she knows me by name? After all, my children have only been attending school for six weeks. And there are only about six hundred children in the school. But she remembers me. (Lisa! Stop laughing!)

Truthfully, it's kinda giving me a complex.

My School Rant

Dear Principal of the Twins Little School,

I haven't sent my children to school with a letter for you in about a month. Not because I have nothing to say or I respect that you have far more important things to do than to read about my "worries", but because I was afraid that at some point, you would shoot the postman. In this case, the "postmen" are my little girls. So, I've eased up.

However, I see that you have struggled without my guidance.

I apologize.

I saw hints of this struggle when I got a newsletter home from school asking me to ante up $20 (TWENTY!!!) for pizza days. Really?! That's a lot of pizza for two five year old girls! I send my little angels to school with a piece of fruit, a sandwich, some cheese and crackers, and some juice. And food comes home in their lunch box! This pizza must be tiny or gourmet or something. What's the name of the place you get it? "1 for 1 Pizza". Sounds like a good deal.

Oh! Before we get off the topic, thanks for the 12 hours notice that I need to ante up $20. Love, love, love the midnight dashes to the ATM!

In the same newsletter, you invited me to a "Home and School meeting", a Board of Directors meeting, a movie night on Friday, and to a couple of assemblies. On top of that, you have asked me to volunteer for all sorts of activities. Really? I kinda get the impression that you want me to be more involved, but the last time I showed up at your school when I was invited, I was the only parent there. And, you seemed sort of surprised to see me.  Imagine what a dork I felt like sitting all by myself at the front of the gym and having every child and every teacher stare at me for the duration of the assembly. Therefore, I am going to decline those invitations. You understand.

I have been given lectures via newsletters about how I should save the planet, recycle, and NO MATTER WHAT ensure that my children are sent to school with a "litterless lunch". After I googled "litterless lunch" and figured out what you were talking about, I complied. My little cherubs have "gone green", despite the fact that they are losing weight because they cannot open their "litterless lunch" (I shall cc you on my letter to Rubbermaid). Too bad, I say, we must all suffer if we are going to save Mother Earth.

Well, Mother Gwen is a bit ticked. I have banned juice boxes, plastic wrap, disposable utensils, and brown paper bags. I have sought out "green" alternatives. Just as you have suggested. In the 500 newsletters you have sent home in the last month. In duplicate. I was informed that the oldest sibling at the school gets the newsletters so as not to waste natural resources. How come I still get two of everything? Is it because my kids are in the same class and being identical twins leaves some room for confusion as to whether or not they will both be returning to the same house? Or is it because you are not sure which twin is older (Bethie, but only by a minute), so you just give newsletters to each of them thinking I'll sort it out at home? No, really. This might sound like I am being snarky, but I am dead keen to understand.

But that's not why I am writing to you. I am writing to you because you sent home a letter yesterday, in duplicate, saying, "There are currently cases of impetigo in your child's class. This infection often appears on the face, particularly around the nose and mouth. It presents with small purulent lesions that become encrusted."

Ummm...what did you think my reaction to this would be?

I went crazy. This is the kind of thing that I would like to know before my children have spent all day with sickly, "encrusted" children. Also, I have some follow up questions:

1. You referred to "cases". How many cases are there? 2? 18? Makes a big difference.
2. Are the little encrusted darlings been held out of school?
3. When did the "lesions" first appear? Today? 6 days ago?

The letter goes on to say, "If you notice lesions on your child's skin, we ask that you consult a doctor". Golly, really? Thank goodness this letter was sent home. Normally, we just let "lesions" fester, hoping and praying that they'll go away all by themselves.

At the end of the letter, it reads, "N.B. If you consult a doctor, bring this letter with you". Okay. Will do. Because if my child has oozing facial lesions, I may forget to mention to the doctor that impetigo is going around my child's class. Or, the doctor may not believe me. In which case, this letter, on school letterhead (!), will come in very helpful!

Looking forward to the next newsletter(s)!

Gwen

P.S. If you are going to send home notes telling me that the school has been infected with impetigo, please let the school secretary know. When I called this morning, she was unaware of the situation, and asked me "if I was kidding". Which lead me to think, 1) do parents commonly call up and make jokes about contagious diseases?, and 2) was I really the only parent who had follow up questions?