Joys of Single Motherhood

In my last post, I worried aloud about Kid 2's learning "differences" and how on earth he could possibly succeed in middle school. Last week I met with his "home room" teacher and his "Section 504" teacher. (Section 504 is basically "special ed lite") I came away from those two meetings feeling optimistic about next year. I am traditionally a foe of all things Bush. When the "No Child Left Behind" program was enacted, I immediately dubbed it "Leave Every Child Behind". I worried about teaching to testing and funding mandates etc. despite the fact that both kids attend highly regarded and highly funded (approx. $14,000 per capita expenditure yearly. I remember when I/we briefly considered public school for Kid 1 when we lived in SF. The annual expenditure per student was just under $7,000.) National Blue Ribbon schools. Frankly, I've always regarded the whole "Blue Ribbon" school thing a giant crock of crap. I

Next week is the parent/teacher conference for Kid 2, who is in his last year of elementary school. While Kid 1 happily sails through school--sails through life as a whole actually--Kid 2 is not so lucky. Kid 2 has a whole kit and kaboodle of "Learning Differences"...a little ADD, a lot of dyslexia and some motor skills issues. He is classified as a Section 504 kid so he gets occupational therapy, and help with math and reading and writing twice a week. He can take tests separately from other kids to decrease distractions, he sits up front, and the teacher is instructed to provide plenty of "redirection", which means "Hey, pay attention!". That's what I tell him. I'm sure the teachers have nicer ways of putting it. I tried medication last year and it didn't do a thing. Nothing. This year is a good year for Kid 2. He has a male teacher with 20+ years of teaching experience. He is known for running a shipshape classroom but he also clearly ado

Sometimes I hate my kids. Not "hate" as in "hate crimes" or "hate mail", more like hate as in an intense dislike of squash or peas. But still, sometimes I fervently dislike them. Mostly my kids are nice so when they're not, it shows. Number 1, the tweener was just whining about maaaathhhh and how it's soooooooo haaarrdd and how she's sooooooo baddddd at it. And of course "everyone else is really good at it". In fairness, she is taking accelerated algebra and she's no math natural. She has to work hard--which she often forgets. She doesn't have to work much to do well in any other class, so she feels that she's the butt of a giant cosmic joke. After all, everyone is equally good at everything, so why should she suffer? She is smart enough not to go the "it's nooooottt faairrrr" route. So she whined and I was not completely sympathetic. I said something like "Just go to X period and you'll be fine. Th

Do you know Little Big Planet? This PS3 game came into my son's life a few months ago and while his friends long ago abandoned it, he remains caught up in developing his own levels. I think of LBP as a game platform and not just a game. The software platform has a rudimentary builder's kit that lets "players" create their own games or "levels". Each level--at least for my kiddo--features a Sock Puppet or more properly, a "Sack Person"--trying to make his way through a sort of obstacle course to win points and prizes and of course, to escape "death". The obstacles can be sharks, dragons, clacking teeth. It's pretty amazing and very creative. He thinks about his designs a lot. Probably during English class and math. You can "publish" your levels and tell your friends and get them to play your creation and to comment and rate it. These are mostly good things. I've helped him design levels and we've had fun doing it. On

Kid 1 and I were just at the local Staples--the one in the mall on the edge of the somewhat shabby town right next to our upscale Sound town--buying new pens. Someone stole her beloved pencil case so we were replacing whatever we could afford. When we pulled into the parking lot, we noticed a small beat-up compact beside us. The engine was running and the car was sloppily parked--like when you were a teenager and screeched into a space to run into the store down the street for gum. That was odd enough but then we looked in the back seat to see a sleeping baby and a sleeping girl probably about 10. I thought about whether to call the police but I was torn. The front seat of the car was taken up with trash bags full of clothing and I wondered if they were living in the car. I decided to take Kid 1 into the store and to deal with it if necessary when we came out. Fifteen minutes later we were finished with our shopping. The car was still there and now it had drawn att

Most of the time I don't mind being a single mother that much. I don't have to cook dinner if I don't want to--usually the kids don't really want anything anyway. I can cook when I want. I don't have to pick up my room and I don't have to make my bed. The times I feel most out of place and most alone are when I have to appear at a school function. By myself. This is a high-brow town where most mothers stay home and most men have Alpha jobs. The couples generally seem very happy even though I'm sure many aren't. It doesn't matter though because at least they're couples. They're both concerned about their kid, both concerned about school matters. And they're not alone.

I wish I still had a flat stomach. More importantly, I wish I had the desire to work hard enough to get that flat stomach back. But I don't. Not consistently that is. A year or so ago--probably more like 3 years--I summoned the will power to "get it back". And I did mostly. But now I'm 50 and with age comes a bit of wisdom. It's really not that important in the general scheme of things. Today is the second day of school and Kid 2 has not yet announced his intention to drop out. When I said this kiddingly at Starbucks this morning, another mother expressed horror that I would even say such a thing....let alone think it, I guess. In this town, every kid is above average--just like Lake Woebegone--and every kid is going to Harvard. At least Kid 2 has a flat stomach. And he still sometimes comes up with the funniest bits unintentionally. Yesterday, he asked, "Mum, how come they say 'almond' at the end of that prayer you say before you eat?" I though