5th Grade Drama

              
I picked up my daughter from school yesterday afternoon and took her to the orthodontist. We were driving and talking about homework and how her day went. "Well, someone asked me to the dance today." There is a dance in September for 5th and 6th grade. I will be chaperoning, because I am a stalker. One if my girl friends organizes the dances and she has an 8th grader and she said to me, "If they get too close, I tell them about it. They need to leave some room for Jesus in between them." LMAO. I love her.

"So, what did you say?" "I said, No. My dad would kill me if I went to a dance with a boy." She is too young for boys. "Who is this kid? How do you know him?" "Well, he is in my class and sometimes we talk about video games. I thought he was going to ask me because a few days ago he asked me if I was going to the dance with anyone." In that moment, I felt so bad for that little boy. He was thinking about it, then he confirmed that she didn't have other plans and then he got up the courage to ask her. I think that's a pretty ballsy move for a 10 year old. Then he got the rejection notice. Poor guy.

Then at recess one of his friend's came up to my daughter and said, "Hey, why did you diss my friend?" She was like, "I didn't. I'm not allowed to go to dances with boys." He told his friend that he got dissed. haha. Bros stick together.
                           


I am fascinated by this situation. I find it extremely entertaining. He life is much more interesting that mine.

My husband really liked this story. I rolled my eyes at him. "Enjoy it now because I'm sure it's not going to last long." Uggh.

In other news, right now my 8 year old is obsessed with learning the dance moves to that Chandelier song. I have to hear this song like 8,000 times in a row. I'll come upstairs and she is doing these crazy dances and playing with the curtains. The worst part is that she wants me to watch her. Over and over again. "Mom, are you watching me? You have to watch me. I'm doing it good. Do you think I'm doing it good?" Someone save me.

We won't be practicing dancing this weekend though because we are taking the kids on a surprise trip to Florida. They have no idea. We are dropping them off at school and then going to pick them up around lunch time and just drive there. They are going to flip. Our hotel is walking distance from Sea World. We are going to spend Saturday at Sea World, Sunday at Aquatica with dinner at Downtown Disney and then sit by the pool on Monday.
                             

I am so excited, that I can barely stand it. I can't wait to escape the 5th grade drama, Chandelier, and my laundry pile. It will be GLORIOUS!

Zoloft, Where Have You Been My Whole Life?

                            

I started getting really sick in the spring. I can't pinpoint exactly when it happened but I started feeling really run down. Exhausted. Like by 7 pm I was melting into the floor and could barely function. I would sleep and wake up exhausted. Then I developed neck and back pain and then horrible headaches. I tried drinking more water, vitamins, exercise, meditation....nothing seemed to help. Then I got the fog. I was forgetting things. I forgot to pay my bills. I thought I had gone in and paid them, but I didn't. I missed dentist appointments. I would forget little things. When the fog set in, I began to panic. I'm dying. I have a tumor that is eating my brain or I am having a stroke. This is it. It was bad. I knew I couldn't live like this. So I dropped the kids off at school one day and went straight to the doctor. I just walked in. I was in sweatpants and a messy pony tail with dark circles under my eyes. I looked like a crazy person, but I didn't care. I was tired.

I sat down and waited and my doctor came in and asked me what was going on. I told him my symptoms and then said, "So, I'm pretty sure I am dying." I'm sure he didn't think I was neurotic at all. They drew some blood work to check my hemoglobin and thyroid and then began to ask me a million questions. "Are you under a great deal of stress?" I laughed, "I think that is an understatement." He jotted. "Are you anxious?" I don't know what that has to do with anything. "Yes." "How long has that been an issue?" Well, open up a can of worms. I have always been extremely anxious. I stopped thinking it was an issue. My anxiety is like a parasitic twin that is just part of me and I've learned to function with it.
                         
                       
                      Nothing to see here. Just me and my anxiety.

I think I was anxious from the moment I was born. I emerged from the womb and thought: This air burns my lungs, I probably have some horrible lung disease. The doctor might drop me.....

I answered the question. "Always, my whole life." He looked at me and said, "Have you every considered the possibility that you suffer from depression?" I was pretty sure he was full of crap. I might be neurotic and anxious but I am not sad or unhappy. "I don't think so. I don't feel hopeless or sad." Then he started talking about the physical manifestations of reduced serotonin....blah, blah, blah. "I think you would benefit from Zoloft." What? An anti-depressant. No way. "I don't think so." He shrugged. "It might be worth a try, you can always go off of it if it doesn't help."

I was pretty desperate. If he told me that I needed to stand on my head and chant, I probably would have done it. "What are some of the side effects?" I swear to God, this is what he said to me. Exact words: "Well, you need to be careful when you pass gas because something extra might come out." What?!?!?!? I looked at him sideways, "So, are you saying I could shart in my pants?" He didn't even crack a smile. He just shrugged. "You could." I thought about it. I can continue to feel horrible or I can feel great and might poop in my pants. I chose poopy pants. I mean, what the hell? YOLO. I'm the kind of person that will go all in.

So I started taking the Zoloft and I love it. My fatigue, muscle pain and fogginess are much improved but the most amazing thing is that my anxiety is completely gone. It is amazing. Plus I haven't pooped my pants yet, so that seems like a bonus.

The weird thing is that I feel like I am supposed to be ashamed by my Zoloft taking. I am not. I will tell the world. I do not care. I feel like I would have benefited from an anti-depressant for a long time but there is such a stigma attached that I never even considered it an option. I think a lot of people think that. I never even knew I could live without crippling anxiety. It is awesome.

The older I get and the more people I meet the more I realize that: 1. everyone is a little crazy 2. everyone comes from a dysfunctional family. I haven't figured out if everyone is crazy because their family is dysfunctional or if every family is dysfunctional because everyone is crazy.
                       

I am amazed by it. I just feel lucky that my family is dysfunctional in a silly kind of way. We put the fun in dysfunctional.

I will carry on the tradition of putting the fun in dysfunctional. Even if I am powered by Zoloft.

The Tooth Fairy

                                    

I was out of town for a few days for work this week and on Wednesday afternoon, I got an excited phone call from my little one telling me how she lost a tooth. We chatted for a bit and I reminded her to put her tooth under her pillow for the tooth fairy. The next morning my husband called me and was venting. "Dude, she wrote the tooth fairy a letter and asked her to draw a picture of herself." I laughed my ass off. "So, did you do it?" "I tried."

I forgot about the tooth fairy and went about my week. I had promised the kids I would take them to this Bridget Mendler concert of Friday night. I ran out of the airport, picked them up, and went directly to the concert. It was hot as Hades and I think her music is horrible. I'm not a hater. She's 10 years younger than me and have a gajillion dollars, so she is doing something right. It's just not my thing. I was so glad when it was over.

When we were in the car cooling off my 8 year old started telling me about the tooth fairy. "She drew a picture of herself. She is very fat and she doesn't have any boobs. She is also kind of old." I had to see this picture. We got home and she produced it for me. This is her letter:

This little girl is so cute. I want to eat her with a spoon.

The tooth fairy wrote back:

I know my daughter was a little bit perplexed. I'm sure she was expecting the tooth fairy to look like this:

But instead she got this:

LMAO. My husband's version of the tooth fairy is amazing. She has no feet and or fingers. She's a broad woman. I imagine that she likes to bake cookies. She's only half smiling and I wonder if she is satisfied with her life.

I did tease him about it. But when I saw the tooth fairy's letter to her, I was filled with an overwhelming love for my husband. Not only did he do his best but he wrote her a sweet letter with tiny cursive tooth-fairy writing. He wins the Best Dad Award. He never ceases to amaze me. Seriously, he is the most amazing father and I hope that my girls realize how truly blessed they are to have him.

The First Day

                                   

Today was the first day of school. We are pros at this back to school thing by now, this isn't our first rodeo. The big change is that now my kids are at 2 different schools, but we made a deal with the neighbors that I would take their 2 kids to the elementary school and they will bring my oldest to the middle school with their oldest daughter so that we both only have to make one trip.

I was driving home from work yesterday and thinking about the first day of school and I was feeling sad because I wanted to drop my daughter off at the middle school on the first day. I know she wants to go with her friend but it was important to me. As I drove home, I formulated my argument in my head to convince her that she wants me to drop her off on the first day of school. I walked in and I was ready.

I sat down to eat dinner and she turns to me and said, "Mom, can you drive me to school just for tomorrow? It's my first day." You would have thought I won an Oscar.

I was so happy. I said, "Of course." I was trying to be cool about it.

She finished her dinner and went upstairs. I finished but sat at the table afterwards, enjoying a cup of coffee with my husband when my daughter came down, looking frantic with a bloody tissue in her mouth. She was bleeding profusely. She just had her lip tie corrected late last week but had no bleeding. Until now. It literally poured out. We escorted her to the bathroom and she spit a mouthful of blood into the sink. It hit with a SPLASH and flew everywhere around the sink, the faucet, the mirror.

It was like a murder scene. This was my face:

Which, I will tell you - was not reassuring at all to my 10 year old daughter who then began to cry because she was pretty sure, based on the look on my face, that she was going to die. My husband got some water to rinse some of the blood out and another mouthful of blood splashed into the sink. "Let's get some gauze and apply pressure." I called the after hours orthodontist. She sat on the couch and applied pressure. I could see the blood seeping through the side. I pulled my husband into the other room. "Dude, she is bleeding profusely." He rolled his eyes at me. "Stop flipping out, you're flipping her out. It's going to stop bleeding." He is the level headed one. I still googled, "Can you bleed to death from a cut in your mouth?" just to be sure. It stopped bleeding and all was right with the world. But you know what ticked me off? NO ONE from the after hours emergency line called me back. I have paid them THOUSANDS, with an S, of dollars this year and they can't call me back when I call to tell them that my daughter is bleeding heavily from a procedure they preformed? Jerks.

After the bleeding stopped, we got ready for bed. The night before the first day of school was upon us.

This morning the girls woke up early. They put on their first day of school clothes and I made scrambled eggs and a fruit salad for breakfast. My 3rd grader was her usual self. She is not a morning person. My 5th grader took FOREVER to come downstairs. "What were you doing?" "Moisturizing my face and using that anti-pimple cream you bought." Yeah, she's going to the middle school all right. They humored me and we took pictures and then loaded into the car.

I dropped off my little one first. She didn't want me to walk her in. She kissed me at the corner and got out at the front. She waved and walked confidently into school. This is her 4th year there, she's got the routine down.

Then, my oldest daughter and I drove to the middle school. We passed the front of the school and I saw BIG kids in American Eagle shirts, and trendy outfits entering the building. No seer sucker dresses or cute little people. *Sigh* "Do you want me to walk you in?" She laughed like I asked her the most ridiculous question ever. "I think I can figure it out." Well, okay. "Can I hug you or kiss you?" She paused. "No." "Can we shake hands?" She grabbed my hand and put it in hers, and looked at me and said, "I love you, mom." "I love you too." Then I watched her get out and walk into the school. She was almost at the door and she looked back to see if I was still watching her. She smiled.

As I drove away the tears welled up and I was like:

It was a little pathetic. I'm not going to tell my kids about it. Another school year is here...and I have been demoted to hand shaking. Lord give me strength.

School Time

I am feeling slightly overwhelmed this week. The first day of school is on Tuesday and we have been busy gathering school supplies and clothes and filling out paperwork. We attended back to school nights and met the teachers. This year is not like other years, some how. It's going to be challenging. There is no more finger painting and macaroni necklaces. It is all multiplication and division and spelling tests and at least an hour of homework per night. There will be research projects and papers due. Yes, the children are older now and it's time to get serious. I'm feeling a little panicky about it. I'm trying to internalize it and not project it onto my children. Especially my 5th grader.

The fifth grade will prepare her for 6-8 grades and then after that, potential colleges will be looking at those grades. I know I am crazy to think about that already but at the rate time is passing, it will be here in a minute. So, in 6 years we will be college shopping. How the heck are teenagers supposed to know what they want to do with their lives? She has 6 years to figure it out. She is on the brink of turning into the person that she's going to be. That is absolutely mind blowing to me. I am trying to take deep breaths and focus on the here and now. She will do fine, she will do great. In spite of me and my neurosis.

Then there is my 3rd grader. Last year her teacher pulled me aside and said, "Did you get her test scores yet? They are amazing." I hadn't but when I did they were pretty high. She was identified by the state as "gifted and talented." I don't know anything about gifted and talented. I wasn't and neither is my husband. I was tested for it when I was a kid and I was REJECTED. Haha. We are of average intelligence but we both have strengths in specific areas so thankfully we have been able to find adequate employment in spite of our lack of G&T endorsement.

I've always known that she was super smart. She was talking at a year old. When she was 14 months old, she held up a sippy cup of apple juice and said, "Pee-Pee" and then laughed her little head off. I was like, "Did she just make a joke?" She knew her ABCs at 17 months old. She talks like a Harvard professor. Now, I am not bragging about that. It has nothing to do with me. Well, besides the breast milk. I read to both of my kids, and talked to them the same way, and treated them the same way. She just picks up everything and is naturally gifted.

My oldest child is extremely gifted in language arts. Her writing is amazing, she is working on writing a "novel" right now. She struggles with math. She is just like her mother. It's hard for her sometimes because things come so easy to her little sister and she has to work really hard. It can be frustrating and it's hard as a mom because I really do have to support the children in different ways.

When I found out that my youngest was admitted to the gifted program, I googled eveything about it. What does that even mean? You know? Over and over again I kept seeing G&T kids referred to as "high potential" children. To be honest, that really rubbed me the wrong way. So what are all the other kids? Average potential? Low potential? I think that's crap. I don't like the idea separating kids like that. I think that most all kids have high potential. I absolutely have no problem with kids being grouped with kids at their skill levels but I am not going to buy into the idea that some kids are destined to do great in life and to hell with everyone else. Thankfully, the kid's school isn't like that but I don't think any should be. Anyway, let me get off my soap box now.

Yes, school is here again. My 5th grader has a project due already. She needs to get started this weekend if she ever wants to get into college. :)

You're So Embarassing

    

I like to dance. I am prone to break out in dance or song at any random moment. In the kitchen, in the car, at a relative's house. I can't help it. When I hear any kind of music I'm like:

It's who I am. The kids have accepted it up until now. They know that I'm a little weird and different but they were never bothered by it. Until now. The other day I was in the car with my 8 year old and that Fancy song came on. As usual I began to move my body. "MOM, MOM - Stop that!" I looked at her. "What?" "You're embarrassing." I stopped dancing. Instead I nodded my head back and forth. "Mom, STOP!!!!" Jeez. I was singing it and she demanded that I stop singing. So I lipsynched. She gave me and evil stare.

 "Stop.Moving.Your.Lips."

So it is official, there are the new rules for hanging out with my 8 year old:

1. No Dancing

2. No Butt Shaking

3. No Raising the Roof

4. No Head Bobbing

5. No Clapping

6. No Singing

7. No Lipsynching

I have to drive, stiff and expressionless as Rhythm is a Dancer plays from my radio. It's horrible. I thought I was cool. I thought I had rhythm but I am literally an embarrassment to my daughter. My mere body movements invoke anger and shame within my 8 year old. 

I'll just have to do it when she is not around. Alone, like a secret. Like a deep, dark secret.

OMG...Just Talk to Me

   

I always ask the kids about their day and what's new. That wasn't any different. On Friday night, I asked her how her middle school orientation was. It was 2 hours, for the kids only and I was interested in what was going down. "Did you have a nice time?" "Yes." "Did you see a lot of people that you know?" "Yes." "Who was there?" "A bunch of kids." What the heck? Tell me the dirt. I want to know who was there, what they were wearing, what was discussed, did you have a nice time, what are your feelings about it. I know how to talk to people and get information. I was going to ask some more open ended questions. "Tell me about what the teachers talked about." "The rules." "What kind of rules?" "I don't know." This went back and forth and back and forth. Finally she freaked out on me. "Why do you ask me so many questions? Why do you have to know everything? You are so annoying. I don't want to talk to you."

Touche. "Well, I wasn't there. How do I know what went on if you don't tell me? You could be doing cult-like human sacrifices, killing endangered species, participating in Nazi youth activities...."
She did this:

"Really, mom?" She's right, nonchalantly mentioning Nazi youth earns me the bad mom award. 

I was done having the conversation. So I went to hug her goodnight. She sighed and didn't hug me back. What a jerk mobile. She's mean to me. Then I started to obsess about her not talking to me ever again and how she won't tell me things when she gets older and that might cause trouble and maybe she should see a therapist? 

I think she was just tired, because she was back to normal today. A little snarky but mostly enjoyable. She made a declaration out of nowhere. "Mom, I am going to write novel." She has a pretty good plot going, she sat down and jotted down her ideas. I love her, she is so sweet.

The little one is around here somewhere. She had a sleepover last night and is avoiding us. I need to get a dog or something so that someone is happy to see me all the time and doesn't think I'm annoying.

Back to School Clothes Shopping

                    

It's back to school time, which means back to school shopping. My daughter had a serious talk with me a few weeks ago about my love for thrift shops. "Mom, we are not going back to school shopping at Godwill." Ummmm....okay. "I am tired of wearing clothes that other people have worn. Besides, when people ask where I get my clothes and I tell them Goodwill, they think it's gross." "Aren't they asking you because they think your outfits are cute?" "Yes, but it's still embarrassing." "Just tell them you got it somewhere else." "MOM- that's lying. I can't lie." What a stinker. That's fine. Goodwill is getting a little outrageous anyway. I am not going to pay $5 for a shirt that someone else has worn before. It needs to be $2. I went to Godwill to find a lampshade a few days after that conversation and guess what? She asked me to buy a dress there. "I thought you don't want any clothes from Goodwill." She frowned. I still bought it.

We did back to school shopping almost all online. I told them that I have ultimate veto power and it has to be in my price range. My eight year old is literally the most annoying clothes shopper ever. She only want to wear clothes that are be-dazzled and busy and embellished and resemble something a stripper might wear. It's so annoying. I'd say look at this, this is cute, "Too plain." EVERYTHING is too plain. Kill me. She picked out a shirt that was lace with red plaid detailing and the word REBEL written across the front. "I like that, can I get it." There is no way in hell that I am sending my third grader to school wearing a shirt that says rebel. She has got to be out of her mind. I do have some sort of standards. I also veto clothes that are hideous. Which is a lot. I am not buying acid wash and I am not buying hot-pink cheetah print jogger pants. My oldest daughter was so annoyed when I vetoed clothes choices for ugliness. "You don't even know what is in style now. You are old and you don't even dress good."

Well, okay then. We finally wrapped the shopping up and I got some great deals. We did all Macys and Forever 21 and it was just a little more than I would spend at Goodwill. Plus I got to sit in my sweatpants the whole time - so I was a happy camper.

And then...I had to hear about the Doc Martens. My 10 year old wants a pair. BADLY. No, I am not paying $70 for a pair of Docs for a 5th grader. I'm just not. I already had this conversation with her earlier in the summer when she was trying to convince me to buy her a pair of Jack Rodgers. Don't tell me you need $100 pair of shoes when I am wearing $1.99 Old Navy flip flops. I mean, what the hell? This is what my life is going to be like the next 8 years. Someone help me. We went back and forth about the Docs. Finally she agreed to Doc Marten knock-off boots from Target. "But mom, can we get new shoelaces because those are ugly." Of course, dear, let me go outside and pick some 20's off of the money tree. Gah!

That night she was getting her things together, going through her closet and picking out the things to donate and arranging everything. "Mom, last year I was had a preppy/nerdy look but this year I am going for a more mature look." Oh really? Tell me more. "What does that mean?" "You know, more sophisticated. Like cardigan sweaters and high-waisted, knee-length skirts and infinity scarves and like, more accessories." So she is telling me that I don't dress good but she wants to dress exactly like me? Oh the irony. I need to go to the school board and ask for them to institute uniforms. But, she would still want Docs with them.