Dear Teacher,
I'm sorry that Little Guy has been coming to school with random, not-so-healthy snacks and lunches. We're leaving to go skiing and I'm trying to clear out the fridge. I do appreciate however, that a cottage cheese sandwich was not the brightest idea. Next time, call me and I'll come and clean up the mess myself.
As you've probably noticed, I am also using up my collection of "seasonal" napkins, and he tells me everyone has enjoyed trying to guess whether he will pull a Thanksgiving, Christmas or "fall" one from his lunchbag. I obviously wasn't paying attention on Monday and of course I appreciate that most of them can read now. I'm sure trying to explain "One Tequila, Two tequila, Three tequila, ...Floor" wasn't in your lesson plan for the day and if any parents complain, just point them in my direction.
He tells me he wasn't allowed to play outside today because he didn't have snow boots with him. Sorry about the inconvenience of having to supervise him in the classroom (and the inevitable tears this produced), but I have already packed them for our trip and if I open the suitcase I'll never get it shut again.
Ditto the snow pants.
We have searched and searched for the library book he brought home last week. I know I didn't pack it so it must be somewhere in the house. I did however, send a couple of bags of old books into school this morning for the used book sale. Perhaps you could wait till they have the sale in March and I rake through thousands of books to find it? If not, I will buy a new one when I have the time.
Please could you send back the Christmas present he brought in for you this morning. If you have already opened it, I hope you weren't offended. We actually bought you a scented candle. The chocolate body paint was a gag gift for a girlfriend.
Happy Holidays.
.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Hey Macarena
So, Friday afternoon as I mentioned, I went into school with four other "moms" to talk about Christmas. Half the kids in Little Guy's class are Jewish and a smattering are being raised in the dark, religiously speaking (Little Guy being one of those), so knowledge of the Baby J isn't actually a given.
I had organised my day around being in the classroom at 1pm, (meaning that there was no room for a workout alas), then teacher e-mailed to say she should have said 2pm not 1pm. I stuck my fingers in my ears, sang La-la-la loudly, and carried on as if there was no time for a workout.
The first mom (actually a granmother) told the Nativity story and explained that Jesus was actually a Jew; born and died a Jew. I'm not sure how this was translated by the Jewish 6 year olds that night at home, but so far I haven't heard any complaints that we told them all to become Jesus. I give grandma full marks for keeping them riveted for a full 6 minutes though.
Next was me, with the Christmas crackers (thus avoiding talking about the religious side of Christmas and possibly being hit by a bolt of lightening). The word was out the Little Guy's mom was bringing in crackers, and indeed, there was an audible sigh of disappointment when they saw a box of long paper things instead of food. However, when I told them how we Brits all pull these crackers and sit around the dinner table with silly paper hats on, they all had a laff. I did tell them there would be some kind of "gift" inside, but knowing how terrible and cheap these items usually are, I tried to temper their excitement.
As one could predict, it was bloody mayhem once I'd given them all a cracker. Two little girls went flying backwards into their desks when their cracker finally snapped. One boy claimed to have a paper cut from the hat, until I pointed out that it was made of tissue, and I nearly broke my son's wrist trying to pull the cracker for him. They all gamely wore their paper crowns, even though they appeared to be adult size and kept sliding down over their noses. (Do the manufacturers use Shrek as a head model? Those crowns never fit.)
And sure enough, the crackers contained small, plastic toys, the quality of which was highly questionable. No matter - the kids loved them. A big hit was the red, thin plastic "mood" fish that curls up on your palm and is meant to tell you about your personality. There were squeals of delight as they watched the fish move about as if my magic. Trouble is, a lot of the kids can read fairly well and were able to make out words like "passionate" and "in love" on the instructions. (Note - "passionate" now means only that you have a lot of emotions, and "in love" means that you love your parents a lot.)
We moved on to decorating cookies, which was another event as the small red sweeties were actually Hot Tamales, (revolting hot taste) which caused the more dramatic in the group to howl in pain and generally make the cookie mom feel awful. The last mom talked about Winter Solstice (being a fellow heathen) and played beautiful winter New Age-y type music. After that, the teacher let the kids "visit" which is the American term for "talking to each other". They shared their cracker toys and generally had a great time.
Half of the toys from the crackers were teeny tiny musical instruments, and before we knew it many of the kids had started marching and dancing around the classroom to the music. The teacher let them get on with it and soon all 18 six year olds had formed a conga line. Teacher then put on the Macarena and the kids let rip. It was the funniest thing I'd seen for a long time as they all had their own personal "moves". My guy could be seen doing a fake moon walk, but had to stop since he was going in the opposite direction (as usual) from his classmates and an accident was inevitable.
How a Christmas presentation ended up as a congo/Macarena I'll never know but it was uplifting, and just as Christmas should be.
I had organised my day around being in the classroom at 1pm, (meaning that there was no room for a workout alas), then teacher e-mailed to say she should have said 2pm not 1pm. I stuck my fingers in my ears, sang La-la-la loudly, and carried on as if there was no time for a workout.
The first mom (actually a granmother) told the Nativity story and explained that Jesus was actually a Jew; born and died a Jew. I'm not sure how this was translated by the Jewish 6 year olds that night at home, but so far I haven't heard any complaints that we told them all to become Jesus. I give grandma full marks for keeping them riveted for a full 6 minutes though.
Next was me, with the Christmas crackers (thus avoiding talking about the religious side of Christmas and possibly being hit by a bolt of lightening). The word was out the Little Guy's mom was bringing in crackers, and indeed, there was an audible sigh of disappointment when they saw a box of long paper things instead of food. However, when I told them how we Brits all pull these crackers and sit around the dinner table with silly paper hats on, they all had a laff. I did tell them there would be some kind of "gift" inside, but knowing how terrible and cheap these items usually are, I tried to temper their excitement.
As one could predict, it was bloody mayhem once I'd given them all a cracker. Two little girls went flying backwards into their desks when their cracker finally snapped. One boy claimed to have a paper cut from the hat, until I pointed out that it was made of tissue, and I nearly broke my son's wrist trying to pull the cracker for him. They all gamely wore their paper crowns, even though they appeared to be adult size and kept sliding down over their noses. (Do the manufacturers use Shrek as a head model? Those crowns never fit.)
And sure enough, the crackers contained small, plastic toys, the quality of which was highly questionable. No matter - the kids loved them. A big hit was the red, thin plastic "mood" fish that curls up on your palm and is meant to tell you about your personality. There were squeals of delight as they watched the fish move about as if my magic. Trouble is, a lot of the kids can read fairly well and were able to make out words like "passionate" and "in love" on the instructions. (Note - "passionate" now means only that you have a lot of emotions, and "in love" means that you love your parents a lot.)
We moved on to decorating cookies, which was another event as the small red sweeties were actually Hot Tamales, (revolting hot taste) which caused the more dramatic in the group to howl in pain and generally make the cookie mom feel awful. The last mom talked about Winter Solstice (being a fellow heathen) and played beautiful winter New Age-y type music. After that, the teacher let the kids "visit" which is the American term for "talking to each other". They shared their cracker toys and generally had a great time.
Half of the toys from the crackers were teeny tiny musical instruments, and before we knew it many of the kids had started marching and dancing around the classroom to the music. The teacher let them get on with it and soon all 18 six year olds had formed a conga line. Teacher then put on the Macarena and the kids let rip. It was the funniest thing I'd seen for a long time as they all had their own personal "moves". My guy could be seen doing a fake moon walk, but had to stop since he was going in the opposite direction (as usual) from his classmates and an accident was inevitable.
How a Christmas presentation ended up as a congo/Macarena I'll never know but it was uplifting, and just as Christmas should be.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Little Guy Makes an Entrance
I've just come back from the Little Guy's Holiday Concert. As I mentioned a few posts ago, the kids go to a non-religious school and the great thing is this concert literally covers every celebration at this time of year. His class sang a song in Spanish which I think mentioned riding to Bethlehem on a donkey. There was a traditional English song about "wassailing"; the teacher told the parents that it used to be a traditional for people to give carollers a "hot drink" when they came around singing. Hot drink my foot. I busted that "hot drink" wide open - it was probably mulled wine at the very least. So in fact, the innocent little seven year olds were singing about going door to door and cadging free drinks.
We had the usual array of kids who were more intent on finding their parents in the audience than actually joining in. One of these days they'll come so far to the edge of the stage there'll be an "incident". At one point during my son's song, about four kids all burst out laughing in the general direction of one of the music teachers. I never did find out what happened.
Little Guy came on the stage strutting like a gangsta; spiffy new trousers, white shirt and plaid waistcoat/vest. Unfortunately he can't stand having anything tucked in so the shirt was half way down to his knees and the waistcoat/vest was worn such that his overall appearance was more like a Rat Packer after a night on the town than a sweet little boy at Christmas. I think he was just trying to make an entrance. Unfortunately he had his laminated paper crown rammed so far down on his head that all we could see were his mouth and ears. I would recognise those ears anywhere however so I was able to zoom in with the camcorder just before the battery died. (It had been charging all night so I think it's time for a new one.)
Later today I have to go back in with a few "Christian" mothers (cough, cough) to talk about Christmas. While searching for a nativity story that would be under two minutes in the telling, I decided to test it on Little Guy. He was quite interested, especially as this was probably the first time he'd heard it. "Oh so that's why we get presents", he marvelled, having just finished the bit about the Three Kings bringing gifts. "I wondered why you were being so nice to me". ('Cause I usually beat him and verbally abuse him of course.)
I elected to share an English tradition, (always goes down well, especially if I talk like the Queen), so offered to bring Christmas crackers in. Have you seen the price of those things? And you know there's going to be some serious whining when the kids see the plastic tat that they get with the paper hat. I'll just be glad if no one gets burnt when the strip of paper that's supposed to go bang malfunctions as it usually does.
I will report back.
.
We had the usual array of kids who were more intent on finding their parents in the audience than actually joining in. One of these days they'll come so far to the edge of the stage there'll be an "incident". At one point during my son's song, about four kids all burst out laughing in the general direction of one of the music teachers. I never did find out what happened.
Little Guy came on the stage strutting like a gangsta; spiffy new trousers, white shirt and plaid waistcoat/vest. Unfortunately he can't stand having anything tucked in so the shirt was half way down to his knees and the waistcoat/vest was worn such that his overall appearance was more like a Rat Packer after a night on the town than a sweet little boy at Christmas. I think he was just trying to make an entrance. Unfortunately he had his laminated paper crown rammed so far down on his head that all we could see were his mouth and ears. I would recognise those ears anywhere however so I was able to zoom in with the camcorder just before the battery died. (It had been charging all night so I think it's time for a new one.)
Later today I have to go back in with a few "Christian" mothers (cough, cough) to talk about Christmas. While searching for a nativity story that would be under two minutes in the telling, I decided to test it on Little Guy. He was quite interested, especially as this was probably the first time he'd heard it. "Oh so that's why we get presents", he marvelled, having just finished the bit about the Three Kings bringing gifts. "I wondered why you were being so nice to me". ('Cause I usually beat him and verbally abuse him of course.)
I elected to share an English tradition, (always goes down well, especially if I talk like the Queen), so offered to bring Christmas crackers in. Have you seen the price of those things? And you know there's going to be some serious whining when the kids see the plastic tat that they get with the paper hat. I'll just be glad if no one gets burnt when the strip of paper that's supposed to go bang malfunctions as it usually does.
I will report back.
.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Gifts that Keep on Giving
I recently came across a great book which I immediately snapped up for both mother and mother-in-law. Whether they'll want to do it or not I don't know, but it still literally makes "the gift that keeps on giving". It's called "The Oral History Workshop" by Cynthia Hart with Lisa Samson. You can see more of it here, but it basically helps anyone who wants to record their family history, with interview tips, and writing prompts. Examples of the writing prompts include food experiences, wedding memories, secrets, and challenges. Get the picture? Most people find it daunting to even think about writing their memoirs, and this book gives a gently shove in the right direction. And talk about a different kind of gift.
And just the other day I read a fab post at "Are we Nearly There Yet Mummy?" and lo, another great idea. Laura has her dad writing the post, about an incident with her children which then reminded him of an incident with her. I highly recommend a read as it's well written, poignant and funny. Throughout the post he wonders if she remembers the events, and that got me to thinking "What a great idea for a book/family memory book."
Identify specific events in your childhood and ask your sibs, parents, cousins, friends for their recollections of the same event. It could even be quite funny as many of us have completely different memories of the same event. I was scarred for life a few years ago when my mother revealed that she could only "vaguely remember" the time I fell down a manhole, and she was laughing so much she couldn't even help me out. In fact, it was one of my earlier blog posts.
Anyway - What you do with the results is limitless. I just thought, what a great idea. A bound book with photographs perhaps?
.
And just the other day I read a fab post at "Are we Nearly There Yet Mummy?" and lo, another great idea. Laura has her dad writing the post, about an incident with her children which then reminded him of an incident with her. I highly recommend a read as it's well written, poignant and funny. Throughout the post he wonders if she remembers the events, and that got me to thinking "What a great idea for a book/family memory book."
Identify specific events in your childhood and ask your sibs, parents, cousins, friends for their recollections of the same event. It could even be quite funny as many of us have completely different memories of the same event. I was scarred for life a few years ago when my mother revealed that she could only "vaguely remember" the time I fell down a manhole, and she was laughing so much she couldn't even help me out. In fact, it was one of my earlier blog posts.
Anyway - What you do with the results is limitless. I just thought, what a great idea. A bound book with photographs perhaps?
.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Signs that I am a Heathen
Blame it on the Catholic convent education, but I've gone right off it all these days. I had the kids christened but if the Ball & Chain hadn't mentioned it, I probably wouldn't have bothered. They go to a non-religious school where, I'm happy to say, they celebrate a variety of religions with their peers. The school "Holiday" concert includes Hannukah and Kwaanza songs, Chinese New Year and Diwali are also recognised throughout the year.
The Queenager has been taking herself off to the local church every Sunday for almost a year, and if she wants to take things further I will fully support her, although I can't really see me tagging along every week. In short, although my mother and in-laws are probably praying for my soul, I think I do a pretty good job of keeping my thoughts to myself.
However, every once in a while I acknowledge that perhaps my kids don't know quite enough about Christianity.
As in:
"Mommy, what's a priest?" (Answer - A man who works in a church. Come on, he's only 6)
and
"Deck the hall with flowers and cauli. Fa la la la la...." (Gulp)
The Queenager has been taking herself off to the local church every Sunday for almost a year, and if she wants to take things further I will fully support her, although I can't really see me tagging along every week. In short, although my mother and in-laws are probably praying for my soul, I think I do a pretty good job of keeping my thoughts to myself.
However, every once in a while I acknowledge that perhaps my kids don't know quite enough about Christianity.
As in:
"Mommy, what's a priest?" (Answer - A man who works in a church. Come on, he's only 6)
and
"Deck the hall with flowers and cauli. Fa la la la la...." (Gulp)
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Trivial Pursuit
I'm trying to be really organised for the festive season. I really am. I'm not one of those people who goes totally over the top and has the house bedecked on December 1st, hand makes all the gifts, stencils the wrapping paper etc. But fer cryin' out loud, everything I try to do is thwarted. (Throws back of hand to forehead in totally over the top fashion.)
Takes shoes for example. We're going to a nice dinner and party this weekend. I haven't bought anything new as I have two great dresses which rarely see the light of day. However, I can't for the life of me figure out what I wore on my feet with them. Given that I have clothes and shoes from before I had kids (almost 17 years ago), I would be very surprised if I'd thrown them out, but I'm buggered if I can find the partner shoes.
"What I need" I thought "is an elegant pair of black, suede evening pumps/court shoes." And that was that - jinxed. Isn't it always the way that when you have the time and/or the inclination to meander round the shops, (once a decade) you don't need anything. The minute something urgent appears on the horizon there's nothing remotely approaching what you need.
Against my better judgement I've been scouring Chicago looking for said plain shoes. (Confession time, my idea of scouring is about two shops per day.) Apparently the sales assistants have all gone deaf, since the shoes they point to (no one actually sits you down and brings you sizes these days) are either open-toed, not quite black, far far too high, have frilly bits down the front, or look like something a prostitute/gladiator might wear. I did actually find the perfect pair - and they come in red, grey and brown. Apparently "there's not a lot of black suede at the moment". Once again, I'm out of fashion. I like to call it ahead of the trend.
I had planned a last ditch pursuit of the Holy Grail today, with discount coupons at the ready. Then the little one got up with hacking cough and full on snot fountain. I slipped him cold medicine in the hopes of getting him safely into the classroom without being busted by his peers but the poor thing didn't even look too good. (And of course the Ball & Chain is out of town, although I could hardly ask him to stay off work so that I could buy shoes, could I?.)
So I'm now blogging and he's lying on the sofa watching his fourth hour of TV.
Perhaps I'll just look at the online inventory of plain, black suede shoes, then call up the shop to see if they have my size. If they stay open till about midnight I may even get there to try them on.
PS. This isn't the only thing over which I've been thwarted, in case you thought I was a bit of a fashion drama queen. Oh no, there's a list.
Takes shoes for example. We're going to a nice dinner and party this weekend. I haven't bought anything new as I have two great dresses which rarely see the light of day. However, I can't for the life of me figure out what I wore on my feet with them. Given that I have clothes and shoes from before I had kids (almost 17 years ago), I would be very surprised if I'd thrown them out, but I'm buggered if I can find the partner shoes.
"What I need" I thought "is an elegant pair of black, suede evening pumps/court shoes." And that was that - jinxed. Isn't it always the way that when you have the time and/or the inclination to meander round the shops, (once a decade) you don't need anything. The minute something urgent appears on the horizon there's nothing remotely approaching what you need.
Against my better judgement I've been scouring Chicago looking for said plain shoes. (Confession time, my idea of scouring is about two shops per day.) Apparently the sales assistants have all gone deaf, since the shoes they point to (no one actually sits you down and brings you sizes these days) are either open-toed, not quite black, far far too high, have frilly bits down the front, or look like something a prostitute/gladiator might wear. I did actually find the perfect pair - and they come in red, grey and brown. Apparently "there's not a lot of black suede at the moment". Once again, I'm out of fashion. I like to call it ahead of the trend.
I had planned a last ditch pursuit of the Holy Grail today, with discount coupons at the ready. Then the little one got up with hacking cough and full on snot fountain. I slipped him cold medicine in the hopes of getting him safely into the classroom without being busted by his peers but the poor thing didn't even look too good. (And of course the Ball & Chain is out of town, although I could hardly ask him to stay off work so that I could buy shoes, could I?.)
So I'm now blogging and he's lying on the sofa watching his fourth hour of TV.
Perhaps I'll just look at the online inventory of plain, black suede shoes, then call up the shop to see if they have my size. If they stay open till about midnight I may even get there to try them on.
PS. This isn't the only thing over which I've been thwarted, in case you thought I was a bit of a fashion drama queen. Oh no, there's a list.
Monday, November 30, 2009
As for me....
Not that anyone does, but were they to bother asking me what I want for Christmas, my instructions would go something like this.
I am not a candle person. Why do I get so many bloody candles? I don't have anything against candles. My neighbour always has candles on the go and her place looks fabulous and smells like a Bedouin boudoir, without the camels. She also doesn't have pyromaniac 6 and 14 year olds (boys, of course) and the associated risks. Besides, candles are actually quite high maintenance; you have to make sure they don't drip, burn out and stink the place out, and, if you're really a Type A, they all need to be the same size if they're situated anywhere near each other. Far too much effort in my opinion.
I am also not really a manicure/spa/body-wrap type person, and on the rare occasion when I have been treated to a gift certificate for some such place, it's been more like a torture session than anything remotely pleasurable. (The body wrap where my arms were clamped to my sides before I was trussed in seaweed and cling film/saran wrap was particularly disturbing.) Unfortunately such certificates are difficult to return since a) they usually have your name on b)the friend who gave the gift often wants to accompany you, and c)the spas in question doesn't sell a whole lot of other things with which to swap.
I am a weird size and normal clothes don't sseem to fit. (Long arms, fat belly, you name it). So please don't buy me anything to wear unless it's a scarf and gloves set. But even then, my fingers are quite long and I always need a women's large or extra large. For some reason, gift givers think it's an insult to buy anything other than a medium, even for hands. And don't even think about hats. My head is huge and I thanked god when the trend for Lady Di style hats was over as I could never buy anything off the rack.
I am not remotely interested in any type of military history, so don't buy me something disguised as a "biography" just so you can read it. Hint loudly and I'll buy it for you instead.
Ditto DVD's.
I have asked for a plain gold watch this Christmas as my everyday one has finally given up the ghost and will cost more to repair than it's worth. I have e-mailed the Ball & Chain several pictures of "plain" gold watches; I have categorically stated that I don't want anything fancy on it, nor should it be too expensive because I don't want to have to worry about wearing it all the time. What are the chances that he doesn't have a fit of flamboyance at the watch counter and buy me something that's "nicer"?
And why am I kidding myself that even if I were to give detailed instructions about things I wanted, I'd end up getting them? For my September birthday, I dutifully thought about what I wanted and told my mother that a cotton scarf (all the rage, you know the ones) and a lipstick palette would be lovely. Even gave her suggested shades. I was back in Chicago when I opened the present, which was just as well. She'd decided that a cotton scarf would be too cold to wear in Chicago this winter (so bought me a nice black woolly one instead), and that I didn't really have many nail varnishes, so a couple of bottles would do nicely. I mean, really???
I give up.
.
I am not a candle person. Why do I get so many bloody candles? I don't have anything against candles. My neighbour always has candles on the go and her place looks fabulous and smells like a Bedouin boudoir, without the camels. She also doesn't have pyromaniac 6 and 14 year olds (boys, of course) and the associated risks. Besides, candles are actually quite high maintenance; you have to make sure they don't drip, burn out and stink the place out, and, if you're really a Type A, they all need to be the same size if they're situated anywhere near each other. Far too much effort in my opinion.
I am also not really a manicure/spa/body-wrap type person, and on the rare occasion when I have been treated to a gift certificate for some such place, it's been more like a torture session than anything remotely pleasurable. (The body wrap where my arms were clamped to my sides before I was trussed in seaweed and cling film/saran wrap was particularly disturbing.) Unfortunately such certificates are difficult to return since a) they usually have your name on b)the friend who gave the gift often wants to accompany you, and c)the spas in question doesn't sell a whole lot of other things with which to swap.
I am a weird size and normal clothes don't sseem to fit. (Long arms, fat belly, you name it). So please don't buy me anything to wear unless it's a scarf and gloves set. But even then, my fingers are quite long and I always need a women's large or extra large. For some reason, gift givers think it's an insult to buy anything other than a medium, even for hands. And don't even think about hats. My head is huge and I thanked god when the trend for Lady Di style hats was over as I could never buy anything off the rack.
I am not remotely interested in any type of military history, so don't buy me something disguised as a "biography" just so you can read it. Hint loudly and I'll buy it for you instead.
Ditto DVD's.
I have asked for a plain gold watch this Christmas as my everyday one has finally given up the ghost and will cost more to repair than it's worth. I have e-mailed the Ball & Chain several pictures of "plain" gold watches; I have categorically stated that I don't want anything fancy on it, nor should it be too expensive because I don't want to have to worry about wearing it all the time. What are the chances that he doesn't have a fit of flamboyance at the watch counter and buy me something that's "nicer"?
And why am I kidding myself that even if I were to give detailed instructions about things I wanted, I'd end up getting them? For my September birthday, I dutifully thought about what I wanted and told my mother that a cotton scarf (all the rage, you know the ones) and a lipstick palette would be lovely. Even gave her suggested shades. I was back in Chicago when I opened the present, which was just as well. She'd decided that a cotton scarf would be too cold to wear in Chicago this winter (so bought me a nice black woolly one instead), and that I didn't really have many nail varnishes, so a couple of bottles would do nicely. I mean, really???
I give up.
.
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