Not Good Enough

I'm a lucky girl.

Some people walk blindly through life thinking that they are pretty good, or at least, good enough. I know better. I have three children who are kind enough to give me a detailed list of my shortcomings. The list is constantly updated, and no detail is too small not to mention.

This morning, I was informed that I was a complete and utter failure as a mother. Why? Because I have failed to take a picture (or a hundred) of the twinnies each and every day before they went to school.

Really.

I thanked both twins for chastising me because this clearly is a significant shortcoming. I also thanked them for raising their voices, as I have great difficulty appreciating the seriousness of their concerns unless it is shouted directly into my face.

I quickly got my camera out, and proceeded to have a photo shoot. At 7am. Sigh.

Katie

Bethie

Bethie (l) and Katie

Bethie (l) and Katie

Bethie (l) and Katie

My favourite of the twinnies.

With the photo shoot completed, I thought that I would be back in the children's good books.

Not quite.

As the twinnies were walking out the door to catch the bus, I handed them each an umbrella. Just in case. Because I care.

Bethie said, "Is it going to rain today?". I replied that I wasn't 100% sure, but it might rain in the morning.

Bethie, knowing that I am prone to make mistakes and I need to be carefully monitored, said "Didn't you check the Weather Network?". I assured the little darling that I had, in fact, checked the weather, but the weather man's "best guess" was that it  might rain. I said that no one knows for sure, but the cold wind and the dark clouds are kinda a hint.

Bethie said, "God knows for sure". Quite right, but I am not God, nor does He feel the need to update me every morning on the state of the weather.

Not good enough.

I hear that raising little girls is tough, and it will only get harder. Really? I don't think that my self-esteem will endure, especially when I need to be as all knowing as God!!!

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...

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!

Forever and Ever

On my 6th birthday, my grandmother called me on the telephone and said:

When I was One,
I had just begun.
When I was Two,
I was hardly new.
When I was Three,
I was barely me.
When I was four,
I was not much more.
When I was Five,
I was just alive.
But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever.
So I think I'll be Six now forever and ever.

And then my grandmother told me that I must memorize the poem, and that she would call another day to ensure I had. I memorized the poem. Twenty eight years later, I can still remember talking to her that day. And it seems so long ago.

Today, my babies turned six.

SIX!

And I find it difficult to believe that Katie and Bethie, my babies, are now six years old. They are on the cusp of great learning, great friendships, and great adventures. They have so many choices and opportunities. The possibilities are endless.

Yet, I want to hold them close to me. I don't want to let them go.

I'm trying to tell myself that they are getting older, more capable. They are becoming "big girls". But when I see them sleeping at night, one sucking her thumb and holding a fluffy, the other cuddled with her two bears, I find that hard to accept.

These "big girls" still need lots of cuddles. They still become upset when a sister touches their crayons. They still believe that fairies come out a night. Okay, Katie doesn't. Katie thinks I tell her stupid little lies for my own amusement. But they both believe that our garden gnomes frolic while they sleep.

They are still so little.

Tonight, on their sixth birthday, I think back to the day they were born. Tiny, premature, and utterly helpless. We've come a long way over the last six years. I also look to the future, knowing that they will continue to thrive, excel, and soar. I'm excited for them, but there's a big part of me that wishes they would "be Six now forever and ever".

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:

The Dress

My children love clothes. The love to wear dresses, and to look pretty, and to twirl like princesses. They really love crinoline.

The summer of 2008, the twinnies wore these dresses all the time:

And it's funny because I had a newborn. In comparison, the twinnies seemed so much older, so much more competent, so much more independent.

And then this happened:

The "newborn" now fits into the dress.

I am shocked at how quickly time passes...

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.

The Patron Saint of Lost Children

You may not have known this about me, but I am the Patron Saint of Lost Children.
It's true.

Any, and every, lost child will seek me out, and I will comfort them and find their parent. It has happened 3 times in the last week alone. And I am happy to do this because I have a child who routinely gets lost (yup, it's Bethie. And Bethie swears that it is I who is lost, not her. Sigh). Once, mall security was involved. Not because I requested their assistance, but because I (apparently) panic quite loudly.

Funny little side note: Mall security was useless because they announced that they had found my little darling and she was safe in the arms of her father. When I rushed over to her, I became very annoyed and said "That's not my missing child, that's her twin. Look for someone who looks JUST LIKE HER!".

Even though I am the Patron Saint of Lost Children, I understand that these behaviours are not exclusive to me. The vast majority of people, of either sex or any age, will help a lost child. In fact, Bethie was once "rescued" by a 7 year old. As a result, I have always encouraged my children to talk to strangers. If they need help, find someone who looks kind and let them help you.

Of course, the school disagrees with me and has informed all the children never to talk to strangers. The twinnies wondered out loud (as is their way) about how I could be so idiotic as to encourage my little darlings to ask strangers for help when they are in need of assistance. Sigh.

I explained that most people are good and most people will help children.

They worried about being kidnapped. I informed them about the "Ransom of Red Chief" and reassured my little angels that nobody wants them!

And then I felt badly. Because I want them. I want them to be safe. I want to help navigate their way through a terrifying and highly unlikely situation.

I told the twinnies that if anyone should try to kidnap them, they are to yell as loud as they could "This is NOT my Mummy" (or Daddy). They are to pitch an almighty fit. They have my full permission to knock things off the shelf, to fight, to bite, to do whatever it takes to get people (strangers, the good ones) to look at them and to step in. We talked about how it is important to keep shouting "This is NOT my Mummy" as opposed to just screaming. Strangers will help if they think children are being kidnapped, but will simply cluck their tongues if they think children are being naughty. I even practiced this with the twinnies.

At the end of this conversation, I looked both girls in the eye and said "Do you know what will happen if you pull this stunt with me?".

Katie said with such sureness, "You will beat us". This from the child who has never been beaten, hit, punched, or (let's be honest) disciplined in any way, shape or form. So, no, I will not "beat" them.

Bethie said, "You will kill us". Umm...not literally, which is how she meant it. What is wrong with my children?

I informed my sweet cherubs that if they pitched a fit for me while in a store and shouted out "This is NOT my Mummy", I would reply "Quite right! I'm not!" and then I would giggle while skipping out of the store... without them. Because the Patron Saint of Lost Children has no problem intentionally "losing" any bad ones!

How To Get Children to Participate in Cleaning

Dan has took a week off from work to be home with us for March Break. During this week, he has been fixated on cleaning. I have been fixated on everything but cleaning. Mostly, Dan has been scrubbing the house, and I have been in charge of ensuring that our little hurricanes refrain from destroying the room he is currently working on. This has only been slightly successful. Why? Because I am happy when the children decide to bug Dan instead of bugging me!

The other day, Dan was cleaning the kitchen. The children started getting in the way. He called to me so I could offer assistance. Instead, I took pictures (I'm funny like that).

Dan said "Fine. Do you want to help me vacuum?". Bethie said "No, but I will RIDE the vacuum!". Big help, eh?

She yelled at Dan to "go faster". I laughed.

This was soooo much easier when they were little.

After I took about 200 photos, Dan said "Will you take the children NOW?". Ummm, no.

The Peanut Gallery

The world is a stage, according to Shakespeare and my twinnies.

Katie and Bethie love to perform. In the mall, in the park, in the grocery store. If there is an audience, they will put on a show.

Katie would like Dan to build a stage for her ... on our front lawn. She envisions herself entertaining the neighbours as they walk pass our house, heading to and from the bus stop. Bethie thinks it would be super to decorate this stage with Christmas lights, so it will look fancy. Much to Dan's relief, I have refused to build a stage on my front lawn.

So Katie and Bethie are left to performing in their usual locales. Recently, they did a recital on the stairs...

Bethie was singing, Katie was conducting.

This was all very well and good, but they needed an audience. Dan and I were too busy, so they had to make do...



Their bears weren't appreciative enough. They didn't clap and cheer and tell the twinnies how clever they are.

Another audience member was required. One that would sit and watch performance after performance, whether she wanted to or not.

Thank God, we had another child...

Following Orders

This cold winter has been very harsh on my children's skin. The skin on their faces and hands becomes very red and hard. I've been using Spectra Jel Eczema Care, and that does a tremendous amount of good. However, I try to do my best to prevent outbreaks.

Everyday, the twins come home from school with soaking wet gloves. I have explained to the little darlings that wet gloves will exasperate their eczema. I send them to school with extra gloves so they can switch if their gloves become wet. They never do.

Yesterday, I was particularly concerned. I asked the children to refrain from playing in the snow before the bus comes in the morning. This way, their gloves would be dry when they arrived at school. And I would feel better.

The twins thought this was a well thought out idea. They said that I was most clever and they would wait until recess to play in the snow. With their promises not to go in the snow, I ushered them out the front door saying that I was going to get Sarah some more milk and then I would be right out.

It took about 90 seconds to get Sarah her milk. I walked out the front door and saw:

I shouted, "You weren't supposed to go in the snow!"

Bethie looked up at me and said "Oh. I forgot".

Yeah, right.

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...

Twins of Mine

The Magic of Christmas

On Christmas Eve, I went around the table and said why I thank God for each person sharing dinner with me.  Everyone got a turn. Everyone one said something sweet. Bethie said of me, "I thank God I have Mummy because she always tries so hard to make things nice for us". All the agony of December was worth it...because she had noticed!

On Christmas morning, the twins came rushing downstairs and saw this:

Both Katie and Bethie rushed to the tree and started rummaging through the presents. They shouted to their father "Daddy! Where's the gift that we got for Mummy?". Finding those gifts became the center of their attention until the gifts were produced and I had unwrapped them. It was only then that the twins turned to the tree, and became interested in their own presents.

I was so touched by their thoughtfulness. Most 5 year olds don't rush downstairs on Christmas morning and think of other people first. I applauded myself. Obviously, I must be an extraordinary mother to have created these superior children...

Christmas morning was not as successful for Sarah. Sarah needs to cuddle with me for about an hour in order to "wake up". On Christmas, she got about 2 minutes of cuddling before I heard the twins coming down the stairs. I threw Sarah to the other side of the couch, and I leaped up to take the twinnies' pictures. Sarah was offended, and never really bounced back.

While unwrapping presents, Sarah started to meltdown. She would get angry because she didn't like the wrapping paper that Santa used. She opened presents that I know she loved. She would shout, "I don't like this" and heave the present across the room. Dan and I were shocked!

Did this affect in any way the view I had of myself as being a "superior" parent? Not at all. Sarah's behaviour was due to her being tired, and out of sorts, and a little bit sick...and, of course, she is her father's daughter. I blame him!

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!

The Bribe

My kids have worn me down. They have zapped any resourcefulness and creativity from me. After 5 years, I have thrown my hands up and begged for mercy. And that didn't work.

So, I've started to bribe my children.

I realised how effective it was last night. Bethie announced that a little boy in her class would like her to buy some toy (it has a weird name, I don't know what it is, you'll have to ask Dan) so that they can play together at recess. I said to her, "Did you tell him that you don't have a job? Either get a job so you can buy the toy, or you'll have to go without". That went over well (not really). Apparently, 5 year olds are not "allowed" to have jobs. With all the sympathy I could muster, I said "Bad luck, kiddo". All that got me was some tears and yelling.

The next request from the twins was for $2 - each! They had some bizarre story about the school raising funds for the Grade 6 field trip and selling popcorn. I didn't really pay attention ... until I was asked to hand over money. Sigh. I am soooo sick of handing over money. So, I gave my list of demands: they had to have a bath and get into bed as fast as their little legs could take them. If they did this, I would "pay" them each $2. If I heard any whining or resistance of any kind, the Coffee Fairy would transform the coins into coffee for me (there's a new Tim Horton's near my house and it's costing the Coffee Fairy a small fortune!).

All three girls raced up the stairs and hopped into the bath. They behaved beautifully, and I handed over my coffee money. Totally worth it!

This morning, the twinnies were waiting for the bus. Bethie mentioned for the 100th time that she would like a poppy. Remembering last night, I told her that if she and Katie were super good after daycare, their father would buy them each a poppy. They were thrilled! As they got on the bus, they told another little girl, "After school, Daddy is going to buy us a puppy!".

WHAT?!

As the bus door started closing, I shouted "A POPPY! NOT A PUPPY! A POPPY!". They waved at me and blew kisses as the bus pulled away.

Sigh.

I said a little prayer, "Please, let the twinnies be really, really bad after daycare so I don't have to buy a PUPPY!". After Dan breaks the news to them, I am quite confident that they will, in fact, be really bad!

True Love

Katie stayed home from school today as she was quite ill. Actually, I have a kind of embarrassing story about that (who is shocked?).

I had to call the school to advise them that Katie would be staying home because she was sick. However, once I had the secretary on the phone, I couldn't remember which twin it was that was home sick. I looked over at my little sicko...and I couldn't tell who I had in front of me! I panicked because I didn't want to sound like some dippy  mother. Also, I do go on a bit that, despite being identical twins, they don't look "identical" to me. In the end, I had to ask the secretary which child she had at school! Yup, embarrassing. I blame it on exhaustion.

Anyway, while at school, Bethie coloured a picture of a squirrel. Then, she coloured one for Katie. Isn't that sweet? But it gets better!

Bethie got off the school bus, and raced inside. She shouted, "Katie! I have something for you!". In her rain soaked boots, she ran across the living room floor and presented Katie with the picture of the squirrel. Katie was delighted! Bethie said to her, "It was raining, so your picture got a little bit wet. Mine got a lot wet. Know why yours was only a little bit wet? Because a sick baby is more important!".

Bethie had put Katie before herself because Katie was sick. She understood that when people are sick, we go out of our way to please and to accommodate them. And she did this on her own accord.

Another great bit? Katie had spent a long time today creating a very colourful fan for Bethie so she would have a surprise when she got home!

My daughters may have their faults, but their compassion is endless. And that warms my heart and makes me proud.

Update: I have learned that the compassion doesn't extend beyond the three sisters. I had a coughing fit. Katie ran into the kitchen, where I was, and yelled at me "Don't throw up on my picture!". Gasping for air, I made my way to the washroom to get some water. Katie then shouted, "NO! I have to use the bathroom BEFORE you throw up!". Thanks for the concern, kiddo!

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...