How Many More Days Of School?

I'm a big picture girl.  I'm wondering if it would be too early to make a paper chain to symbolize the amount of days left in the school year.  I'd probably spend three days making one with the boys, hang it up and cry when I realized it stretched from the kitchen through the dining room and all the way around the living room.  Maybe I'll wait awhile on that.  Backpacks, collar shirts, matching shoes, lunch money, bus schedules, Argggggggggg.................

There was no posting yesterday because I was sitting at the dining room table swimming through a sea of third grade math confusion.  Standard form, expanded form, regular form, I hate them all.  No, I don't hate them, I hate trying to teach them to an eight year old who is starting to get a little frustrated.  I did my best to keep him positive and keep the mood light and keep him motivated.  But it was exhausting.  There's a reason I could never be a teacher.  Actually, I have four little blond reasons why I could never be a teacher.  Every last drop of my patience will be used up. Third grade homework is so intense.  It's not really fun anymore like first and second grade and there's not any room for subjectivity or creativity.  Just plain old black and white math problems.  We made it fun and had white boards and markers and a few computer games to break up the monotony.  Kudos to the very talented person who was able to make a relatively fun computer game out of something like expanded form and standard form.  I'm impressed.  You're probably the same person who invented Velveeta cheese to make bad vegetables edible. 

I really didn't want to live up to our reputation this year, but some things never change.  For the record, an iron on the low setting does a fantastic job of fixing crumpled homework retrieved from the garbage can.  This should be part of the elementary school orientation.  A demonstration on how to iron homework, tips on how to convince your child it's OK to poop at school and an explanation of why the windshield wipers should be turned off when in the parent pick up line (this may spare some other parent the embarrassment of spraying the principal in the face, sorry Mrs Adams).  I hope I'm not the only one who's intimidated when writing a note to a teacher without the use of spell check.  Sometimes I have to avoid big words I know I can't spell like necessary and in this case, retrieved or retreived.  I'm still not sure.  

While on the topic of notes, let me just say I like the notes I write to the teacher much better than the one's they write to me. 

This is what Tommy's teacher wrote me today.  I'm at a loss.  In the heat of the moment I fired off an email to Tommy's teacher.  She's probably reading it right now thinking, "This explains alot, no wonder he has behavior problems."  I'm afraid to open up my email and reread what I sent her.  I think it went something like this:

Dear Miss P,

I have no idea why I am such a failure as a parent.  What are we going to do with Tommy?  Should we check for placement at the juvenile detention hall or does he need a more aggressive intervention? 

Please Advise.

Completely Paranoid and Absolutely Crazy,

Erin

OK, so maybe it wasn't that dramatic, but the "more aggressive intervention" wording was a direct quote.  Shoot.  I think I came off a little strong.  We need to get that math game Velveeta cheese guy to invent a "take back my email" button.  But seriously, I did want his teacher to know that I don't agree with Tommy tripping another student so he could get to the chair first and I do have expectations for him.  I want her to know I will hold him accountable.  I just can't stop feeling like I've failed in some way.  Gavin was such an easy Kindergartner other than one isolated punching incident.  So this is all new.  Hopefully, this is just an adjustment, test the rules kind of period and it will end quickly.  Tommy did cry when he explained his day to me so maybe there is hope.  I guess I'll postpone his interview at the prison school.

Luckily, tonight Gavin understands his math and is able to do it on his own next to me at the table.  Or is he?  I don't believe there was a story problem about scooters.  I should probably wrap this up and be a better homework supervisor. 

Although from the look of things, he has plenty of homework supervisors already.  The parent handout that I did receive suggested creating a quiet place where your child can focus and study without distractions.  I think this qualifies, don't you?

Blogging is my favorite way to procrastinate these days.  It's seven and I still need to:

Check Gavin's homework (who cares how far it is from New York to Rio Grande? Third Graders I guess)
Lay out boy clothes for the morning
Find boy shoes
Consider sending an addendum email to Tommy's teacher
Talk myself out of sending any further emails to Tommy's teacher without clearing them with Scott
Consider making dinner for my very hungry husband
Convince said very hungry husband that I didn't write this post today while I was supposed to be cleaning the house, "No, that's an old post I had laying around"  (he sometimes believes bloggers have "old posts laying around")
Pack diaper bag
Study for my OB  test I'm having tomorrow (I feel like I'm allowed to procrastinate on this one, haven't I studied pregnancy about 9 mos X 4?)
Feed the cat
Get the skink out of the game closet
Clean the house that is currently being destroyed while I blog away

All this before my head can hit the pillow. 

Good luck to all you regular elementary moms out there.  WE CAN DO THIS!!! Or at least you can do this and I can pretend to be as put together and organized as you.  But for all you PTA super moms out there who dressed up for the open house, just because a dirty diaper or rotten sippy cup doesn't fall out of your van when you pull through parent pick up, that doesn't mean my kids aren't as good as yours.  I may not send cupcakes for the first day of school or volunteer to be on eight bazillion committees but I do love my children, even if they're just average.  For the record, it would be in you best interest to be very nice to me and very careful because maybe your perfect little angels might become best friends with my wonderfully creative average boys and you might just have to come over to my house for a play date.  Scary thought isn't it?

Goodnight!