Auntie's Hideaway

I just had to say that, because I will be baking myself into oblivion today. Mom has taken over the reins for Thanksgiving this year, because the Salt-Encrusted Ham of Doom convinced her that the Flaky Sister just... should not cook for Thanksgiving. I mean, it wasn't just the ham, it was many, many other things, mostly... it's because after cooking since she was old enough to stand at the stove and stir a pot for our mom... the Flaky Sister just... can't cook. Mom and I were chatting about it a few weeks ago, and reliving last Thanksgiving, and then went on to talking about other meals we've had at the Flaky Sister's, and... *shakes head*
( Cut because of length and pictures, omg! )

Every once in a while, I run a Google search on my username, and on my real name, the Husbandly One's real name, the kids' names, etc, just to see what comes up, and to keep track of things.

Today, on a whim, I ran a Google on "Impertinent Daughter," just to see what comes up. And I ran across an entry from an LJ user who is a fellow member of eat_my_bento, and back in March commented about an entry I had made on the comm. You know... I don't know exactly how to...

*pauses*

I love my children very, very much. They sometimes exasperate me, drive me to the edge of my reason, and make me want to either tear my hair out, or find a quiet corner and weep. But they also fill me with joy, make me unbelievably proud, remind me why I'm glad to be a parent, and make my life complete in ways I'm still discovering.

And I hope very much that this comes across in my journal.

When I read this particular entry, I was horrified to discover that this person has deducted, from the fact that I call my daughter the Impertinent Daughter, and Miss Priss, that I don't like my daughter, and said if her mother had called her that, she'd "be walking around with a massive inferiority complex." She also took exception to my calling my son Impossible, and based on an entry I'd made about him having stomach flu, felt I considered him an inconvenience.

Dear gods, y'all... do I really sound like that???

And yes, I do know what "impertinent" means. "Not showing proper respect; rude; exceeding the bounds of propriety." And I do know the alternative meaning, "not pertinent to a particular matter; irrelevant." I am using impertinent in the "not showing proper respect" meaning. Why? Because when my daughter was three, a man who was a complete stranger to her, to myself, and to her father, wanted her to kiss him on the cheek. He was an elderly man, said she reminded him of his granddaughter, and wanted to her to kiss him because she was "such a little darling."

She drew away from him and wrapped herself around my legs, and I knelt down and picked her up, backing away from this perfectly nice man because I didn't like him, either. He said, "Aw, don't you want to give me a little kiss?"

She said, "No. I don't know you, and I don't like you. Go away!"

Of course, he was terribly offended and said, "What an impertinent daughter you have!"

And I said, "Yes, yes, I do, and I'm very proud of her! And you should be ashamed of yourself for trying to force a little girl to kiss a complete stranger!!"

Nope, I have never forced either of my kids to kiss or hug anyone, whether it's a relative, a friend, or a complete stranger. Never wanted to take away their power to say, "NO!" in that sort of situation at all.

But at that time, I was proud to think my child was impertinent. And she has been impertinent... in some very pertinent ways. When a boy tells her he likes her, and she does not like him, she's told him so, and when he persisted, went so far as to threaten to rip his arm off and beat him over the head with it. Yes, very Impertinent, and I'm glad of it. So you could say my calling her the "Impertinent Daughter" is my way of celebrating her inner strength, determination, and personal empowerment. Self-esteem issues? Not at all.

This is not to say she isn't polite, because she is. But, she will very much stand up for herself, and I'm glad.

And as for the Impossible Son, well... he is, sometimes. My son is generous to a fault, affectionate, bright, easy-going... and incredibly stubborn. It is a trait he shares with his mother, meaning me. And there are times when I have to walk out of the room, grab a pillow, and scream into it, then scrounge around deep inside myself for another scrap of patience so I can go back and try to explain/deal with/help my son without losing my mind. I am trying like heck to follow my mother's example, and channel his stubbornness into something positive, rather than something intractible and counterproductive.

And, gods help me, sometimes, I need more patience than one small woman can possibly possess.

But sometimes, he's the Impossible Son, because he manages to do things that should be impossible for him. He's so tiny (people sometimes think he's in first grade) but can lift things that should be far too heavy for him. He can climb things that give us all horrors, finding finger and toe-holds that just... aren't there. I could go on and on, but... y'all already know the stories.

Besides which, in real life, I don't actually call my kids, "Impertinent Daughter" and "Impossible Son." I call them by their names. I call them "Honey," and "Love," and "Bubba," and "Button," and "Honey-Girl," and "Sugar-Bee," and "Peanut," and "Punkin," and all the endearments a Texas and Southern heritage has emplanted in my brain. When I do say to my son, "You, sir, are impossible!" with a hint of exasperation in my voice, I ruffle his hair, and he beams up at me and says, "Yeah, I know, but I come by it honest, right?" and I say, "Right!" Because he knows he has a long line of stubborn and impossible coming from both sides of his family.

And my daughter comes from a long line of strong, "impertinent" women.

That's what was in my mind when I chose those names for my kids to use in this journal. I don't use their real life names in this journal, and there are only a very, very few of you who know those names, for a reason. I protect my children. And that is that.

I love my children very, very much. They are not an inconvenience to me, and I have never let them think so. Neither has my husband. Both of us have had our full share of crap in our childhoods that we made a conscious decision to NOT pass on. I shouldn't let what someone who doesn't know me said bother me so much, but the thought that I have implied, in some way, shape, or form, that I don't like my kids, or ignore them, or find them "inconvenient" somewhere or somehow in this journal makes me... well... furious. And horrified.

I get exasperated with them, but then, I'm human, and I don't know a woman on this planet who doesn't get exasperated with her kids at least two or three times a day. Anyone who doesn't isn't normal.

I'm starting to lose the focus of what I was saying, but jays, this really, really got under my skin.

I think I'll go rip up some weeds, or bake some bread so I can pound the dough and vent my spleen!!!!

Oh, boy, was yesterday a long day!!
( Lots of photos to follow, for soccer and Halloween, so clicky to see, and beware, oh users of Dial-Up! )

First off, a big Thank You to elfwreck and eeyore9990 who helped the Impertinent Daughter with her algebra homework a couple of nights ago!



In case you're wondering, the AZ stands for "Angry Zangoose", which is her moniker on her DeviantArt account. She got an 88 on the test those questions were on, and said ruefully, "I would have gotten a higher grade, except on that one problem, I had memorized the formula and had the number 27 in my head, so when I worked the problem on the test, I write 27, instead of 47, which was on the test!"

But the important thing is, she understands it now!, so... no worries!

In other news, the Impossible Son is experiencing tummy trouble again, though it seems to be more serious now.

*sigh*

No bullying this time, but he is having anxiety about the TAKS "diagnostics" that they're taking this week. Yes, they take diagnostics to find out where the kids are weakest and see what they need to work on to improve their scores when the real test comes in April.

*sigh*

He went to the school nurse twice on Monday, had to come home on Tuesday and go to the doctor, who palpated his abdomen and said, "Well, he's not constipated, and he's not reacting when I push down and lift on his right side..."

So, we were sent for bloodwork, and his white cell levels are normal.

He stayed home yesterday, and was fine. Till afternoon, when he started complaining about his stomach again, and then by last night...

*sigh*

He didn't eat breakfast this morning, either. So, I proved to him again that he can handle addition and subtraction... and he decided to go to school.

Haven't gotten a phone call yet, so... I'm hoping for the best.

Thing is, it's not general stomach pain. This is very specific. It hurts... behind his belly button. Appendicitis and gall bladder problems run in my family. And on my dad's side, it's stealth appendicitis. My dad complained of vague stomach pain, and didn't want to eat. He never ran a fever or had any nausea, went to the doctor, had blood tests run and all that. Nothing. So, one day, he decides, "Enough lolly-gagging, the house needs painting, and it won't done any faster if I don't start." So, he hauls out the ladder and starts painting. Mom's in the house, and this was before we had air conditioning, so all the windows are open. She hears a groan, then the ladder hits the side of the house, and there's a loud thump. She rushes outside, and Dad has passed out and fallen off the ladder. He never faints, so she knows something's drastically wrong and calls the neighbors to help her get him up and get him to the hospital. The E.R. docs take one look at him and say, "Appendicitis," and get him into surgery just before it bursts. Then there was his dad, who was sitting at the table one morning, drinking his coffee and reading the paper one moment, then rolling on the floor, grabbing his stomach and howling in agony the next. His grandmother, who calmly finished cooking dinner, laying out the table, and making sure everyone was served before saying, "I'm going to see the doctor now," and promptly hitting the floor. Yep, appendicitis.

Is it any wonder I'm worried and waiting for the phone to ring?

What keeps me from freaking out is... he's eating. He's pooping. He's not running a fever. He doesn't complain when you press on his stomach with your hand. He's not rolling on the floor, grabbing his stomach and howling in agony.

What keeps me concerned is... he's complaining consistently that it hurts behind the belly-button (which rules out gall bladder in my mind), he does not like anything pressing against his waist or tummy (like jeans, underwear, passing butterflies), and he's content to curl up on the couch and watch TV or play games on the Wii.

My son likes to watch TV like any other kid, but give him a choice between TV and playing outside, and outside will win every single time. Having him curled up on the couch and not begging to go play outside is... unnatural.

Needless to say, the Husbandly One, the Impertinent Daughter, and I are all watching him like so many hawks. And I can't help but think, today is Thursday... you just know if anything is going to happen... it'll happen this weekend.

*sigh* I've already told the doctor I want a recommendation for a pediatric gastrologist, because I know Mr. Manzie has major acid-reflux as it is. Thanks, Dad, but you know, the tummy problem genes were in that group I wish you'd kept to yourself!

*grumbles*

Dunno if y'all remember this post, but it was one of the saddest days in our little family's lives. Henry's was a wonderful restaurant, very relaxed and family friendly, intimate, and the food was good. Plain, but really good, tasty... and that Belgian Chocolate Cheesecake was to die for! Let me tell you, it was totally worth the migraine!!

We made going to Henry's after trick-or-treating on Halloween an annual tradition, thought it's not like we didn't go there regularly anyway. I sometimes went there after dropping off the kids at school and ordered hot chocolate, or a piece of pie, and sat there with my notebook, scribbling notes on whatever plot bunny had bitten me that day for a couple of hours. It was just that kind of place. And when it closed, it really hurt.

It didn't go out of business. What happened was... the building's owner raised the rent. Henry's was doing a booming business, one of the few "home-cookin'" type restaurants in town that didn't serve barbecue, and I guess the building owner wanted some of the profits, but... they got a little greedy. The owner of Henry's wouldn't stand for it, and threatened to shut down if the price wasn't lowered to a more reasonable level. The building owner thought it was a bluff. And Henry's closed.

I guess the building owner thought it would be no problem for another restaurant to open and do a booming business. So, a little Tex-Mex place opened. Only problem is, we have Mr. Taco. We have Guadalajara. We have Maria's. We have another little place, I can't remember the name, La Plaza or something. In other words, the place is crawling with little Tex-Mex places, so... it closed after two months. "Rogelio's" I think it was called. Food was... okay. Nothing to write home about. I've had better at my friend's houses growing up. Another Tex-Mex place opened up and closed after only a few weeks. The building has been empty since.

So, Tuesday, the Husbandly One had the day off, because we had to go to the junior high and meet with the Impertinent Daughter's guidance counselor to talk about her four year high school plan. And after that was done, we had gone wandering around town, looking at what was new and what was gone. A new bakery has opened up, which we enjoyed immensely, and a couple of new shops have opened. And a few have closed. We walked the square and looked sadly at the building Henry's had been in. "Man," THO had said, "it sure would have been great to have lunch at Henry's today."

"Yeah," I said sadly.

*sigh*

So, today, I was reading the town newspaper, and was skimming through the sports page when I saw an ad at the bottom of one page that made me rub my eyes and look at it again, then pick up my reading glasses, put them on, and read it yet again.

Henry's Restaurant, open daily...

The picture was the familiar, and I wondered if it was somebody's idea of a sick joke. But as I stared at it, and read it over and over, it began to sink in.

Henry's ... it's BACK!!

HENRY'S IS BACK!!!!

Oh, YEAH, you just KNOW we went there for dinner tonight!!

*happy, happy, joy, joy*

There's been a few changes; the long counter with the bar stools is gone (oh, how I'll miss that!), and you can no longer see the cooks working in the kitchen (I'll miss that, too!), but the food is still good, the waitresses friendly, and it was like it had never been gone! It was TOTALLY AWESOME!!!

And if that's not enough to make my cup runneth over...

The Impossible Son did his homework... WITHOUT ANY PROMPTS OR REMINDERS FROM ME!! And you know what else? He did his math homework, it was all subtraction... he did it by himself AND ... HE GOT IT ALL RIGHT IN ONE GO!!!

*dance of joy, dance of joy*

I'm so happy for him!!! My son just totally ROCKS!!

*hugs everyone on her f-list in an excess of joy*

Just when I think I've gotten over being furious with the Impossible Son's second grade teacher... something happens that makes me furious all over again!!

*takes slow deep breaths to calm down*

I knew he had lost a lot of instruction time last year, thanks to Oblivious Teacher and the bully incident , but I didn't realize just how much until yesterday, when I was helping him with his math homework.

AAAAAUUGGHH!!!!
( Cut, because OMG, such a long story!! )

So, the Asthma Monster arrived with the ragweed pollen, and I'm ... not doing as badly as say... last year, but I'm still not a happy camper. After I got the kids off to school, I took my meds and pretty much passed out in bed till 1, then got up and groggily decided lunch wasn't happening for me and stared at the computer for a bit. Then I thought shower might help matters, and was in the process of getting in when... the phone rang. And at first, I was going to ignore it, thinking, "Oh, if it's important, they'll call back..."

But you know, there's this thing called "Mom Radar," and I just knew...

So, I answered it and... it's the nurse from the Impossible Son's school. And my first thought was, "Dammit, he's got a fever... I knew I should have kept him home when he said his throat was sore!"

But nooooo... now, y'all just know it's not going to be that simple for Auntie... right?

"Auntie? Yes, I have Mr. Impossible here in my office, and it seems he's been stuffing erasers up his nose."

O_o... wtf???

"Erasers? Up his nose?" I said intelligently.

"Yes. I got most of it out, but his little nose is so swollen, I can't be sure there isn't more still in there..."

"Erasers?? Up his nose??" I said, apparently still stuck in first gear.

"Yes. You're going to have to take him to the doctor or the clinic..."

"Erasers?? Up his nose??"

Gobsmacked does not even come close to covering it.

So, I got dressed (yes, shocolate, I talked to the school nurse on the phone NAKED) and called the family doctor. "No, we don't have any openings today, we're full up," the nurse said. Great, I thought. That means the so-called "urgent care clinic," in our town, which closes at 5 p.m. It's less an urgent care clinic, though, and more of a... well... let's put it this way... if your problem is urgent... you're better off going to the emergency room, because you aren't getting in to see so much as a nurse for at least two hours. So, I called the Husbandly One to let him know what was going on... and went straight to voice mail. I waited a couple of minutes, called again... and straight to voice mail. Fuck this, I thought, and called the office landline.

It was disconnected.

Wonderful, I thought, greatly frustrated. And decided to move on.

I went to pick up the little miscreant fezart eraser-up-the-nose-stuffing poor little guy, and found a rather embarrassed son standing in the nurse's office. The nurse pulled out a small bag with crumbled bits of eraser in it, and my stomach dropped. Now, when the nurse had said "eraser" (I think that's rubber for you Brits, right?), I thought she meant either the ubiquitous big pink eraser that has haunted primary school since time immemorial or those funny wedge shaped ones you put on top of the pencil when the built in eraser wears out.

But no, not even close.

It was... an art gum eraser!! The suckiest eraser known to mankind. The eraser that crumbles into bits the moment you touch it to paper. Yeah, THAT one.

Could he have picked a worse type of eraser to stuff up his nose or what?

"Where did you get this?" I asked, staring at it. "I didn't give you art gum erasers!"

"From the teacher," he said, shrugging.

I checked him out, and of course, I could not help asking The Question. You know the one I mean. The one parents have asked every time one of their kids does something so ridiculous and just plain weird, and just want to understand why??

"Why did you stuff eraser bits up your nose?"

He blinked and gave The Answer kids have always given their parents when they do something ridiculous and just plain weird. Shrug. "I don't know."

Because really, he doesn't. He has no idea, none at all. It just... seemed like the thing to do. He borrowed the eraser from the teacher, tried to use it, watched it crumble and suddenly thought, "Hey, you know, those are just the right size to fit up my nose." Or maybe he thought, "You know, those crumbly bits look just like nasty, dried up boogers. Hey, I'll stuff them up my nose and see if I can gross people out!!" Who knows??

Well... the clinic was stuffed to bursting. Literally. The parking lot was packed, there were cars parked up and down the street and there were people waiting outside. People who stood in little groups, hunched in misery, eyes streaming, sneezing and coughing, dabbing at eyes and noses with crumpled tissues...

I took one look at that and thought, "Oh, no, not today." Yeah, THAT'S what we need. The FLU!! I don't think so!

I took my stinker home and made one more call to my doctor. "Is there any way y'all can fit me in? The clinic is stuffed to the gills. Look, I'll sit and wait for the first available second..."

"Let me talk to the doctor," said the receptionist, and then came back with, "I talked to Dr. R, and the PA, and they both said that they don't have the equipment to deal with this, since you said the erasers are up in both nostrils. They said you should take him to the emergency room."

I looked at the Impossible Son, who was dancing to New Found Glory on his iPod. Our E.R. co-pay went up, and I really wasn't looking forward to taking him someplace else where there would be MORE flu-stricken people. The closest urgent care centers to us are in Austin, New Braunfels, and Wimberly. I was not going to drive into Austin at 3:25 p.m.... not unless he was bleeding out his eyeballs. New Braunfels and Wimberly were out, too. And I still couldn't contact THO.

Thinking of THO reminded me that he had surgery three years ago in San Marcos... with an ear, nose, and throat guy who sees all ages. I googled him, called their office, and yes, yes, no problem, bring him on in.

YAY!! So, knowing that the Tall Blonde would pick up the Impertinent One, I took Mr. Manzie in to San Marcos to see Dr. T. who Mr. Manzie just LOVED, and after sticking a tube up that little nose that let him look into Mr. Manzie's sinuses, was able to tell me that the Impossible Son either sneezed the eraser crumbs out, or swallowed them, because his sinuses were clean.

Oh, happy day!!

He then gave Mr. Impossible the "Don't stick anything up your nose or in your ear that's smaller than your elbow," speech, which still cracks me up, because wow, kids always react the same way. The first thing they do is... try to stick their elbows in their ears!! I think doctors do that on purpose, just to see if a kid will do it!

Much relieved, we made our way back home, and then to the Tall Blonde's house to pick up the daughter.

The Husbandly One called not long after I'd arrived. "Where are you?" he asked, sounding frantic.

Turns out, he turned his phone off, because it needed to be charged and he was saving it in case he needed it while driving. And his company changed their phone numbers, but he never worried about it since he carries his mobile with him all the time. He'll be giving me that new number pretty quick, I think!

All in all, a more adventurous day than I'd anticipated. Ah, the adventure that is parenthood. It's not for sissies, or the faint of heart. And I still haven't gotten my shower!!

I have to say that by and large, my kids are pretty well behaved. Usually, if I talk to them before we go shopping, or to a movie, or out anywhere in public, they keep the usual sibling picking and bickering to an absolute minimum. And mostly, during this summer where I've been feeling so lousy, they've been careful not to waste Mom's energy in having to curb their arguments.

But, you know, that can't last forever, they're human children, after all, right? The Impertinent One only has so much patience with her Little Bother and his persistent questions, Energizer Bunny bounciness, or his off-key singing. She'll put up with it as long as she can stand it and then... the picking begins.

Soon, I hear him shout, "Stop it!" and then... he retaliates.

And then she complains that he's "hurt" her. He's punched her in the arm, and it's practically broken it! Of course, I'm skeptical. I mean, this is a girl I have watched get straight-armed during a soccer game, watched her get knocked to the ground and bounce back up, fierce as ever, watched her get hit, and hardly flinch.

I also know that Mr. Manzie pulls his punches when he hits his sister.

So... I give them both the Hairy Eyeball, fuss at them for fighting, take away privileges (No more Nintendo! No Wii for three days!), and leave it at that. Peace will reign for as long as half an hour, sometimes. Or the rest of the shopping trip, at least.

Yesterday, though... I don't know. It started off well, but then the Impossible Son got all excited about markers, and pencils, and this year they get to use pens, and he interrupted the Impertinent Daughter when she was trying to tell me some endlessly complex story that involved a lot of back-tracking (and I admit, I don't have a lot of patience for that, though I do try, really hard)...

... and then I saw the school uniforms hanging on racks... AT THE GROCERY STORE.

O_O

Um... school uniforms? I blinked and stared. There they were, racks of khaki and navy blue shorts, slacks, and skirts, with white and dark blue polo shirts, hanging there in the grocery store.

They've never sold school uniforms at our grocery store, which is the only one in town.

Now, I have been checking the elementary and junior high websites regularly this summer, especially since the woman who had been principal at the junior high, the woman responsible for the dress-code shenanigans of the past two years, was elected to the school board and became the school board president. I've been expecting to hear about district wide uniforms, or at least a district wide dress-code change, but... there's been nothing.

However, it would be very like them to spring the change on us on the first day of school. They've done that before. So... I was considerably freaked out, as you can imagine.

The kids got quiet, and were cooperative for about 25 minutes. And... it all went downhill from there. Very frustrating. Even worse, I couldn't find all the things on the list at the grocery store, so... I had to go to WalMart.

And y'all know I just LOVE to go to WalMart (is being very sarcastic).

And guess what was hanging in neat rows in the clothing departments? You guessed it, khaki and navy shorts, skirts, and slacks, with white and navy polo shirts.

I ignored that, and headed straight for the school supplies. It briefly got better there, but fell apart to the point that I had to send Miss Priss to another aisle for HER things, while I went to another aisle with Mr. Manzie for HIS.

But she had to stay with us when we went to look for a new backpack for the Impossible Son.

I don't even want to talk about it.

Let's just say, it should be a lesson to the Impertinent One that most eight year old boys do not appreciate having a Tinkerbell backpack put on their backs where any of their friends might see it.

Worse? I have to go back to get a backpack today. And it's the tax free weekend... starting today.

*whine*

I have posted this photo before, during my "Week in the Life" meme a couple of summers ago. But I'm posting it again. Because I think it is most representative of the relationship between my kids.



She calls him, "Little Bother." I think that says it all.

THEY TOOK THIRD PLACE!!! YEEEE-HAAAAAA!!!!

*dance of joy, dance of joy*

I am so proud of the Husbandly One's little soccer team!! They're the fiercest little bunch of Under 8's you ever saw!!

YAAAAAAAY!!!!

The Husbandly One, the Impossible Son, and the Impertinent Daughter have just left for Mr. Manzie's first soccer tournament. And don't y'all know it's killing me not to be going, too!! Anyway, wish him luck!!

And emiime wrote me Hikaru/Pavel!! Go! Read!!

*squooshes her Emi*

Took the kids to get their hair cut yesterday. Mr. Manzie's was so thick, a jungle expedition could get lost in there, and it was getting wild, cowlicks standing up everywhere, hair going where it wanted, especially in the back. Grandma's Crazy Cajun Hair gene had definitely struck again! In fact, I warned Sherri, our regular hair whacker, to be sure to comb through it before she used the buzz clippers on him, as it was sure to get hung up otherwise.

"Oh, it'll be fine!" she said with a grin. "His hair is so fine, it shouldn't tangle much."

*snort* Yeah. Right.

Five minutes later, she was combing through it. "I've never seen fine hair that was short tangle like that before!"

"You've been spoiled by my thinning hair," I said cheerfully. "Because mine used to be exactly like the Impossible Son's."

He wanted it short on the sides and spiky on top, and has asked me if he can get it high-lighted blue next time. *laughs* Of course, I said yes!

And, of course, I have pictures...

( Clicky and see! )
In other news, I finished my weasley_fest fic, had it betaed and sent in. Oh, what a relief to have that out of the way! Boy, that was a hard one to write, just because I kept approaching it from the wrong angle!! That and the constant interruptions! We'll probably have a discussion about giving Mama time to write (or she go explodey!) this weekend.

And the Husbandly One and I have come to the realization that we are going to have to rig a canopy for our vegetable garden. Some of our plants, like the pumpkins, just can't take the sun. Ten years ago, I had no trouble growing pumpkins in full sun during a drought, but now? They're wilting, even though they are getting watered regularly. We're not the only ones, either. There are a lot of folks out here who are rigging shade for their gardens, because they're burning up otherwise.

Last year, the corn and milo in the fields around town didn't burn up until July. They started turning to straw last week, and the corn hasn't even shown ears yet. The grass in our front and back yard is already gone, and only the gardens are showing any greenery, because that's where we put our water. Makes us wonder what we should put in the yard rather than grass. Well... maybe buffalo grass rather than St. Augustine, which takes insane amounts of water to keep green, and just isn't worth it.

So, all you folks who are getting too much rain are welcome to send it our way. We are dry, dry, dry!!

And now, off to the library!!

I read to the Impossible Son at night. We go through books much more slowly than I did with the Impertinent Daughter. He goes to sleep, lulled by the sound of my voice, whereas she wanted very much to know how the chapter ended, and often would beg for more.

I was like the Impossible Son, lulled to sleep by the sound of my mother's or my Uncle James' voices, no matter how interested I was in the story.

This is why we are on Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince and taking our time through it. I feel like I'm letting him down, though. I've been reading to him since he was a baby, just like I did with Miss Priss, and by this time, Miss Priss and I had gotten through The Wizard of Oz, Charlotte's Web, Alice in Wonderland, and Through the Looking Glass, all the Harry Potter books that had been written up to 2004, all of the Narnia books, The Back of the North Wind, many, many fairy tales, The Black Arrow, The Secret Garden, The Light Princess, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, James and the Giant Peach...

Whereas the Impossible Son and I have gotten through from Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone to The Half-Blood Prince.

I think we shall take a break from Harry Potter after we finish this one and maybe start on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory as a change of pace!

Tonight, however, I did something different. I told him a story, a story my mother used to read to me when I was very small, and the cadence of it entranced me so much... that I memorized it. It was the story of The Old Woman and the Pig, and I have told him this story before, as I have told it to his sister many, many times, and I always tell it a little different, though the cadence part remains the same. And as he listened to me go from, "Cat, cat, kill rat, rat won't gnaw rope, rope won't hang butcher, butcher won't kill ox, ox won't drink water, water won't quench fire, fire won't burn stick, stick won't beat dog, dog won't bite pig, pig won't jump over the sty, and I shan't get home tonight," to "The cat began to kill the rat, the rat began to gnaw the rope, the rope began to hang the butcher, the butcher began to kill the ox, the ox began to drink the water, the water began to quench the fire, the fire began to burn the stick, the stick began to beat the dog, the dog began to bite the pig, the pig began to jump the sty and she FINALLY got home..." he blinked and said, "It's like a song, isn't it?"

And I said, "Yes, yes, it is, it's very like a song!"

He said, "That's what helps you remember it all, right? Because it's like a song, it has a rhythm and a flow, and you tell it like a song, just... not singing it?"

"Yes, that's it exactly!" I said, very pleased. "A lot of the old fairy tales are like that. Like the Three Little Pigs tale, you know, little pig, little pig, let me in, not by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin, then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in?"

"Yeah!" he said sleepily. "Just like that! Are there any more like that?"

"Oh, lots and lots," I said with a smile. "Want me to tell them to you?"

"Sure, but not now. For now, I just want to know what happens to Harry on his first day back at Hogwarts."

It's not like he hasn't seen the movies. But, he knows the books are different, and has learned to appreciate that.

Meanwhile, my head is filled with the stories and rhymes my mother and sisters and uncles and aunts read to me. And I can hear my mother softly saying...

Wind, wind, gently sway
Blow Curdken's hat away
Let him chase o'er field and wold
Till my locks of ruddy gold
Now astray and hanging down
Be combed and plaited in a crown...

*goes off to bed with visions of goose-girls, talking horses, ravens and swans flying, and glass mountains in her head*

So today, the Impossible Son's second grade class went to visit Aquarena Springs in San Marcos, Texas.

(Like y'all would ever forget I live in Texas, right?)
( Cut, because there are lots of pictures!! Take a look!! )

Well, I may hate the school district, but the counselor at the Impossible Son's school is full of WIN!!
( Cut because y'all know me, it's a LONG story! )

So, there I was, about to pop some chicken in the microwave for my lunch... and my phone starts ringing. It's Ms. Teacher calling me, telling me she got my message.

What? No, she had no idea the Impossible Son might be getting bullied! She's never seen anything, except maybe when they're standing in the lunch lines, and then they're only just kind of jumpy, wiggly, and just... acting like little boys!

What? Define acting like little boys? Well, they just can't keep still, can they? They jump, skip, kind of nudge each other, that sort of thing.

The playground? Well, they have a P.E. teacher for P.E., and I haven't been on the recess rotation this semester, I'm helping with testing and tutoring, but the teachers that are outside on the playground haven't reported any problems. Well, wait, I'll take that back. Last week, Mr. Manzie was put in time out for throwing a rock at another little boy. What? My goodness, how did you know, did X's parents say something to you? Oh, you mean X is the one you think is bullying Impossible? Well, I've never seen anything... but then I have 14 kids in my class. It's the biggest second grade class at our school, and it's a little hard to keep my eye on them all. And you know, the girls are so much easier to deal with than the boys!

I don't think I have to go any further, do I? The woman is oblivious, and she has mentioned to me repeatedly all year how overwhelmed she is by fourteen students!! Fourteen!!! Honey, when I was in elementary school, there were sometimes thirty six kids in my class with one teacher... and no teacher aides. And there were never less than thirty two. When I got into middle school, I went to a "magnet" school that boasted about smaller class size, which translated to 24 students to a teacher per class. And she's complaining about 14? Granted, at my son's elementary school, the usual class size is ten to twelve.

And the thing about the rock throwing? That is so unlike my son that I am stunned! What really blows my mind about this is the fact that we had to punish Mr. Manzie for doing the same thing last night. He threw a rock at one of the Fireman and Coffee Lady's kids. This, after the kid in question had been shouting something at him that the Impossible Son refused to discuss, but would get red in the face every time he thought about it, looking toward me with his lips pressed very tightly together before looking back down at his feet. In other words, he had put up with it as long as he could, until he finally snapped and threw a rock. The fact that he threw a rock at the kid who was bullying him doesn't seem to be much of a coincidence now.

The thing is, the Impossible Son is such an incredibly laid-back little guy. Stuff usually rolls off his back like water off a duck... but he can get his feelings hurt, and when it happens... he just wilts. He goes off to be by himself, just to get over his mad, and then he's back and all smiles again. He's very like me in that way. However, if you keep pestering him, and don't let him get over it... well... the results are never good. But it doesn't happen often, and it's very rarely physical.

*sigh*

I also asked about his math scores (again), hoping to get a more definitive answer. Ah, vain hope, how you fade against the light! Okay, that's me being overly dramatic, but, jays, I'm telling y'all... "Oh, he's doing fine, he's doing so much better, it's mostly a matter of him staying on focus, and yes, there's some test anxiety there, but I'm sure we can work him through it..."

Yes, because last semester, his math test scores were so much higher, and suddenly this semester, he's tanking, oh, yes, thank you, that all makes so much sense now! How silly of me to be concerned!!

I have higher hopes of the school counselor.

The Husbandly One wants to transfer him to another school. I pointed out to him that Mr. Manzie's problems are specific to one teacher, a teacher who is new at the school (and new to teaching), and not with the school per se. If I thought it was worth it, I would ask that he be transferred to another class, but we only have three and a half weeks left. He does have good friends in his class (his best friend is in the class), and I had told him this morning to stick with his friends and ignore anyone else. When I picked him up after school, he came racing to me as usual, and threw his arms around me, hugging me a little harder than he usually does.

"I really love you, Mom," he said, and I hugged him back, telling him I loved him dearly, dearly.

He grabbed my hand so we could start walking to the car. "My teacher said you called today. She said you called five times!!"

"Um... yes, yes, I did," I said, wondering what was going on.

He grinned and said, "I'm glad. I'm really glad!"

"Oh? Why?"

"Because she told me what a good job I'm doing in math, and that she's proud of how hard I've been working."

"I see," I said, wondering where this was going. "Well, so... how was today?"

"It wasn't too bad. I stayed with my friends, like you said, and I had a really good day." And he started skipping along happily beside me, chattering away like a little bluejay, and I wondered again about how resilient kids are, and that sometimes, all it takes to make me happy is to see him cheerfully skipping along beside me, talking about silly things, and making the odd little noises boys are so prone to making, all in an effort to gross me out...

I guess we'll just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings...

Okay, so I had to go around her and go through the school office to send her a message that I would like to schedule an appointment to speak with her. Because... she was not available when I called. Because I did it this way, the principal has to be notified. And you know, I really hate doing it this way. I'd rather deal with the teacher first and give her a chance to work things out rather than having to do the heavy-handed thing, but you know, constant avoidance tends to bring out the heavy-handed approach in a lot of parents.

Oh, and I asked the school counselor, who is actually an extremely competent counselor who groks kids and the way their minds work, to check on the Impossible Son. He may tell her what he won't tell me.

*sighs*

This is one of the downsides of the Mom Job.

And here are the promised photos of the bag I made to carry the Impertinent Daughter's bento!

( Cut for photos, and for length )

( What a glorious feeling, I'm happy again... )

Have I mentioned how much I love and utterly adore my husband?

He's taking the "night shift" with the Impossible Son. Because I had the day shift.

*is off to bed, because she's ZONKED!!*

I feel like I'm spamming you today.

My poor little man. He's got a nasty tummy bug... again. Started Sunday night. We thought it was his citrus sensitivity, since he'd gorged himself on five or six Clementine oranges we had picked up at the grocery store. Normally, he's only allowed two, and I can only credit extreme sneakiness on his part for getting away with it. However, I can pretty much guarantee that it won't happen again, since he ended up with the Stomach Ache of Doom on Sunday night.

Monday morning, he woke up complaining that his tummy still hurt, and he didn't want to go to school. However, he didn't have a fever, and I figured it was either nervous tummy (as in Severe Monday-itis) or the oranges weren't quite done with him yet. He couldn't eat his breakfast, but I got him ready for school anyway, keeping an eye on him as we went along, and the fact that he was very, very quiet in the back seat, and soon lost interest in his Nintendo told me he probably wasn't going to make it to school. After we dropped Miss Priss off, I looked in the kid mirror and saw a pale, peaky little face looking back at me. So... we went home. And when I called the doctor? Full up. No appointments.

Not long after we got home... Mount Impossible erupted. Yay.

By the afternoon, I knew it wasn't the oranges anymore. He did not want me to leave his sight. It was like having a child surgically attached to your body. And he was the limpest little noodle you ever saw, not wanting to do anything, not wanting to look at food, barely wanting to drink...

He did revive enough by evening, though, to eat some chicken.

Which he threw up this morning.

So, I called the doctor again, and got him in to see the physician's assistant. And what did we find out? Well, the Impossible Son was the sixth kid she'd seen today with the same symptoms. Vomiting, diarrhea, listlessness, no fever, stomach pain, headache...

And she saw nine yesterday. And four more had to be taken to the hospital over the weekend with the same symptoms.

They took swabs to see if he had the flu (they were negative) and also sent him to have blood drawn (y'all, he did so WELL!! He was so BRAVE!! His eyes got big, but he didn't move and he didn't cry!!), and... we have to send in stool samples. When the PA told me that, I said, "Are you suspecting salmonella?"

"Um, well," she said slowly, "I don't want to say it until we know for sure. That's why we want the tests."

"Well," I said slowly, "thing is, we were all sick over Christmas, including my mother, and we suspect THAT was salmonella, so..."

She was quiet, then said, "If it is, then we will deal with it as it comes. And that's why we're running these tests. So please, please, I know it's gross, but it's really important to get those samples!"

So... I will.

This is really frustrating, though. I'm just going to hope for the best here, and hope we're not bound to go through this... again.

*is still so very proud of her little man for letting the phlebotomist draw his blood... the FIRST time, no cajoling, no begging, no pleading*