Seven

I suck at planning frugal birthday parties so I've completely thrown in the towel. Olie's 7th birthday party was no different. It was celebration of life in true LSM style starting with the guest of honor:




Ten kids + 1 bouncy castle = FOUR HOURS OF FUN. Well, it wasn't quite that easy. There was limbo (of course!), a costume parade, face painting, a cupcake decorating contest, mass consumption of punch and, when all seemed lost, Star Wars: Episode IV. I would love to post some party pics, but I'm not ready to be outed to my circle of friends just yet.

Token

Olie's school-wide MLK program was today. The kids were so cute, the parents were duly attentive, and the songs were inspirational, but the whole program was a little weird because, seriously, 317 white kids singing about their experiences with slavery comes off hollow. Several times, Madhubby leaned over to me and whispered they should have imported some kids. I agreed.

My child is the blackest child at her school even though she is bi-racial. I can say this with absolute certainty because the school is very small and my face is the only black one there. Naturally, everyone knows us. There are two other bi-racial children, one is Olie's little playmate, Mia, the other is Mia's older brother, Jaden. Their mother doesn't even look black and, I suspect, has "passed" for most of her life. But still, she sought us out for both camaraderie and, as she so bluntly put it, she wants her child to have friends who look like her, which in our school district, is difficult to find.

Of course the idea that a school would host a program with kids from other schools is absurd, but the distinctive lack of diversity at Olie's school tainted the program for me and made me yearn for a more ethnically diverse student body. I think the kids genuinely enjoyed performing in the program and didn't give their roles a second thought, but I know the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl who played Martin Luther King, Jr. will never experience racism the way blacks in 1964 and 2008 have experienced it.

Both my grandmother and my mother lived in the segregated south and both experienced racism that I can only imagine, but which still persists in modern day Alabama. They were called nigger and my mother vividly remembers blacks had to use the rear entrance to a local theater; a practice to shameful to her that my mother never attended movies as a child. My grandmother, my mother and her five siblings marched with Dr. King from Selma to Montgomery. They heard him speak. They experienced a time in history that is indescribable to the younger generation. When we head south this summer, we will revisit history.

For now, I am waiting for the day when Olie asks me: where the all the other brown children? Lizzie didn't start to feel out of place in her school until third grade and I had no answers for then, and it's unlikely I will have discovered a better one in the next two years.

Unimaginative

Life continues at a feverish pace, which means I have little time for fun, extracurricular stuff - like blogging - but you guys are out there and you check in daily, so I feel the need to oblige you in some way, however pedestrian that way may be. Right now my blogging is imperfect and hampered by all the noise in my head - much like my search for the perfect costume - so bullets is the best I can do. Substantive posts to follow.

• Lizzie has A's in every class except Math (89.44%) and Orchestra (89.66%). She easily made Honor Roll. I think we've got this middle school thing covered.

• Olie's reading level is an L, which doesn't mean anything, unless you know that in order to pass 1st Grade, her reading level only needs to be a G.
  

• Work is very, very slow. I either need more work or more money. Both would be ok.

• Law school still sucks

What is the Singular Form of Labia?

Dear Wyatt,
Thank you for the Bionicle. I wish I hadn't gone to your house even though you are my best friend.

My girl Olie has a way with words. Above is the actual text of the "thank you" letter she wrote her best buddy, Wyatt, with whom she shares an affinity for Legos. Earlier this week, while playing at his house, during their very first play date, Olie fell feet first into a basement window well and severely bruised her labium and urethra. She's been on Tylenol 3 and bed rest ever since.

Today she felt well enough to build her new Bionicle and pen that brief, but direct, "thank you" note. I suggested she might be a bit more sensitive to his feelings; his family feels very badly about the whole incident though I've assured them we're not the litigious sort. These things happen. Especially to my children. They have "big energy" coupled with their father's clumsiness and, honestly, it's surprising that Olie has managed to steer clear of window wells this long.

Still, the words Emergency room, vagina and blood conjure up frightening images for a lot of parents. This one included. But, we're getting past it. The swelling has subsided, she can pee without the Peri bottle and I've managed to mostly suppress my own anxiety by remembering that my days of stitches, Peri bottles, and hemorrhoids - otherwise known as childbirth - are well behind me.

The Enigmatic Six Year Old

I have read all of these books and we still have major issues with Olie.




She is a bully towards her siblings and her "friends." She completely disregards other people's personal boundaries to the point of placing them and herself in danger. We cancelled her swimming lessons because she rarely paid attention to her swim teacher. She would be in the middle of the pool when she was supposed to be sitting on the edge with the other kids. She is six years old and still acts like she is an infant. There are screaming, shrieking temper tantrums if she does not get her way.

I am completely stumped and ready to throw in the towel. Her personality is so big and pervasive that I am actually starting to dislike my child. She's been to a therapist who said her behavior is normal. I think we need a second opinion. What do my readers who are parents think: normal or not?

Weekend Blogging

The "major snowstorm" failed to materialize, which meant every single news program ran a weather retraction report about the inaccurate science of weather prediction. Duh. I think most people already know how inaccurate weatherfolks are. Of course, flights don't usually get cancelled or grocery store shelves cleaned out when a predicted sunny day fails to show up as planned. But, you can't get them all right.

This morning was so nice that we were able to go for a long bike ride after dropping Olie at a birthday party. My mother headed back to sweet home Alabama, so it was just Madhubby, Olie and me. Total bliss. Later, we went and had all of Bubba's baby curls lopped off. He has too much of a buzz cut for my taste, but it's only hair. It'll grow back in due time.

Genius Squared

It's March in Colorado, which means we have lovely, sunny days perfect for playing tennis (yesterday, Madhubby and I tied 6-6 in our first set before we had to get the girls from school) alternated with days where fat, water laden snowflakes fall incessantly. Today, is the fat snowflake day, which is nice but kinda puts a damper on doing fun things like going for a run, finishing up our tennis set, or admiring my grass. I'm a gardener, so watching, tending, and generally coddling the grass is fun for me.

March is also Parent-Teacher conference time. When Lizzie first started school, I always looked forward to parent-teacher conferences. I was obsessed with her school progress and her social growth. I also needed constant affirmation from her teacher that I was not one of "those" parents who thinks their kid is really smart when she's actually really dumb.

Last night was our last set of parent-teacher conferences for the year. The girls were praised for their love of learning, reading abilities and general demeanor since they are perfect little Mary Ingalls' who skip to school in the morning and always ask for more work (yes, please!).

However, Lizzie's voracious reading has presented quite the problem. She has maxed out on age-appropriate reading. Her teacher has capped her reading level at 6+, which means she actually reads at a higher level than 6+, but the books in the higher level have (potentially) too much mature subject matter for her ten-year old brain.

Unfortunately, I forgot just how mature Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye was until I saw it Lizzie's bedside table and flipped through it for old times' sake; I read it in college and the copy Lizzie has is my old one. Waaay too much mature subject matter (and the language!). I had forgotten about the language. Does Toni Morrison write anything geared towards a younger audience? Needless to say, I hid the book for the time being.

Olie reads a lot, too, which is amazing for a kid who proclaimed earlier this year that she "hates reading and will never learn how to read!" Now, she reads two levels above what is required for Kindergartners. She is helpful at school, which is so hard to believe since she makes it her personal mission to annoy her siblings whenever possible.

Lizzie, of course, is always helpful. I say of course because she's the firstborn, she's five years older than Olie and eight years older than Bubba, and she is a natural leader. My advice to any reader who has a toddler: get thee a ten-year old! They have really useful and valuable skills, aside from sweeping and sorting laundry, like the ability to make a toxic waste diaper totally disappear. It's magic, I tell ya.

The State of a Two-Year old

This is my third time experiencing the terrible twos, so you would think that I would be used to the constant whining, the power struggles and the evil stink-eye that my children all seem to have been born with. Despite my previous experience, this round of terrible-ness with Bubba is trying my last nerve.

Don't sit there, mommy! That's Daddy's chair. You can't sit there! Oh, really? Watch me. Earth moving tantrum ensues.

Mommy, I want to turn out the light! Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy. I wanna do it! Well, baby, you need to grow about two more feet and catch me on day when I'm not in a hurry. Oh, wait, that's never. High-pitched screaming ensues.

No, mommy. Go away. I want Daddy. I don't want you. Well, Bubba, Daddy's at work makin' bacon, so you have NO OPTIONS. Reaction? See above.

Get out of my room! Huh? Did you suddenly age twelve years overnight? Oh, that's right, I have your lil' big sis to thank for that sassy nugget.

I don't want wanna watch this [State of the Union]. Turn it off! I do it. What a good boy, you are! Want some cake and ice cream AND candy? Mommy and Daddy are so proud of you.

No Room in the Sandbox

Our request to transfer Olie's school: DENIED.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

Schoolyard Drama

It's done. We've officially requested to change Olie's school. The reaction from our current principal is shock; she thought we had "worked it out." Um...no. You told us how you were going to handle it and we disagreed with your course of action. That is not working it out. That is you hiding behind policy and trying to force us to believe your "kids will be kids" crap.

In the meantime, my child is still a punching bag for this other kid. If I allowed her to remain in a situation where she is being physically abused, on a daily basis, and is afraid if this kid even looks in her direction, then I would be failing in my duty to protect her.

I don't think changing schools is running away. Changing schools makes sense for our family. We should not have to live in fear of this other child; fearful that one day he will bring a gun or a knife into school. My child is a target for this other child and our school refuses to do anything about it. So, we must take action. We must stand up for what is right even as the school turns a blind eye.

So, no, we are not teaching our child to run away. We are teaching her that she has the power to choose her own path. That she always has options and that it does not matter if other people disagree with her. All that matters is that she has faith in her decisions.

Real Wealth

"Lizzie, are we wealthy*?"

"I think so. Do you think so?"

"Well...we have wealth* and we're healthy, so....we MUST be wealthy!"

*We have a lot of play money in this household, which explains their confusion. Also, I'd should probably stop passing Bunny bucks off as real cash.

Boulder Housing Crunch

Do townhouses cost 350k where you live, 'cause they do in Boulder, Colorado and it hurts and not in a good or satisfying way. Yes, I love my current house (pictured above). It's a ranch, on a quiet street, in a family- friendly neighborhood, half a block from the girls' school, with a pool-accommodating backyard. It has hardwood floors, pocket doors and character out the wazoo.

But, Olie is getting picked on in school and, since we can't change the school's mind, we're changing schools. I have a soon-to-be 6th grader who is so smart that she has been invited to sit the SAT. A soon-to-be 6th grader who will not attend the mediocre neighborhood middle school with kids who don't think reading during recess is cool. So, back to our old 'hood where the kids can be themselves and not get pushed down or teased for being different.

Which means we're in the pulling-out-our-hair-to-get-prequalified-to purchase-a-second-home phase because (a) the girls need to attend new schools in our old 'hood, which they can't do unless we live there or (ding!) own real estate there and (b)my mother is moving here in about a month and she will need a place to live. Like my current house. She'll love it as much as I do and she will take good care of it but we will still own it and get the tax break without the icky capital gains issue.

But, honestly, I hate buying a house more than I hate moving. The process is so fucking painful that I vowed never to do it again. Yeah, well, that was so last house, but buying this house sucked so much that I would rather move the whole damn house, footings and all, than go through the process again. It is that bad.

Add to that the serious juggling we have to do (again!) to buy a house when we already own one and I get queasy just thinking about it. If we take a second on this house, then we can put down nearly 20% on the townhouse. My mother would make the house mortgage and we would have the townhouse mortgage. It's doable but it will take a lot of sacrifice and wine.

Problem Child

Olie has been having trouble with a boy at school. He pushes her down, he punches her and, today, he deliberately threw a ball at her face, necessitating a visit to the Health Office and an ice pack. Olie's tormentor is five years old, like her, but his parents don't seem to care or want to change his behavior.

So, last Friday, Madhubby and I had a sit-down with the school principal. She suggested a three-pronged attack: teach Olie to be more assertive, the school psychologist will continue to work with the boy on identifying boundaries, and she, herself, will address the issues with extended kindergarten care. I had a suggestion, too: expel the troublemaker. Just do away with this whole "kids aren't bad, it's their behavior" crap and meet the problem head-on. Just admit that, yeah, sometimes, kids suck and some most parents are too lazy to do anything about it, so the school needs to take action. I don't think she liked my suggestion.

But, I know my daughter is not the only child this boy torments. He has frequently been in the Principal's office and his parent's have been made aware of his behavior, yet it continues. Today, I teared up when Olie recounted her day and how this boy, this little chubby faced kid, took a ball and deliberately threw it at her head, and smirked when she began crying. No apologies. Just *BAM!* He could have blinded her! Or paralyzed her when he hit her square in the spine while standing in line. His punishment was a five minute time-out. How about a good, old-fashioned spanking.

Back in my day (here I go), kids who misbehaved got whipped with a yard stick, in front of the whole class. It wasn't considered abuse. It was discipline and not one of us blew up the school or killed our principal. Nope. At least one of us went to college, had children, bought home and went to law school.

We didn't die, but parents today are so self-righteous. They don't want any interference and they definitely don't want to be told they are fucking up at their most important responsibility.

If this were normal, playground taunting, I would be less incensed, but this kid causes my daughter actual physical pain and that, I will not abide.

MadMom Wisdom #381

Never grocery shop with a child who can speak in complete and coherent sentences because that child will convince you to buy the EXTRA LARGE bag of JUMBO marshmallows (they're good in hot cocoa, mommy!) when it's seventy degrees outside. That child will also gently persuade you to purchase two packages of Uh-Oh "they went straight to my thighs and ass" Oreos and said child will encourage you to eat both the marshmallows and the Oreos, at the same time. You have been warned.

Do the Hustle

We all went back to school last week - the kids to their new neighborhood school and I to the hellhole that is law school. So far, so good. I've already missed two days of class, which is to be expected since I actually have a family. Not like the other trustafarians with whom I share breathing space and wi-fi.

The first day I missed class for Lizzie's Back to School night. Madhubby was supposed to go to Olie's BTS night but....let's just say he missed. Anyway, Lizzie's at a new school this year so I felt that my attendance at the annual BTS event was required. It's really a good thing that I went, too. Now, I know exactly how poor our neighborhood school is.
And, I also have a clearer understanding of why our high school is declining. Only about twenty percent of the parents showed up and none of them had questions for the teacher. WTF?! Last year - at the Math & Science Focus School - all the parents showed up for back to school night AND they hung around for some time afterward to chat with the teacher. Nope, you'd think there was a "Matlock" rerun going on the way these folks bolted for the door when the teacher "dismissed" us.

So, needless to say, I'm in a mild state of panic about next year. Middle school is a major stepping stone for all of us and, being the Type A parent that I am, I want to get it right for Lizzie. And right now sending her to a middle school that doesn't seem to be teaching its students the skills needed to catapult the high school's rating from "declining" to at least "high" isn't an option. Looks like my happy days of walking the girls to school are numbered.

School Clothes

*

This morning I went clothes shopping for Olie. A quick trip down a flight of stairs and I was in my favorite shop: Lizzie's Secondhand Treasures. As the firstborn child, Lizzie enjoys all the accoutrements including brand new designer clothes. And, since she is averse to most activities that require getting dirty, her clothes are in pristine hand-me-down condition. It's like having my own private Nordstrom.

I know the purchase of designer clothing is in direct contradiction to my frugal lifestyle but designer clothes really are an investment. Consider this: I purchased a dress for Lizzie from Nordstrom for $89 + tax. Lizzie wore the dress for two years before passing it on to Olie. Olie will also be able to wear the dress for two years. Total cost: $22.25/yr. Since Lizzie only wore it two - maybe three - times, it is still in excellent condition.

I probably could have purchased a dress from Target for $20 but it would have worn out in less than a year and definitely would not have passed my secondhand test (clean, good fit and current styling).

As Lizzie grows out of clothes, I simply store them in a large Rubbermaid tub until Olie has a need for them. Then, I go shopping. This morning's shopping trip netted Olie:

• 7 pairs of jeans


• 3 pairs of corduroys


• 3 pairs of overalls


• 2 skirts


• 2 dresses (including this one)*


• 2 cardigans


• 2 pullovers


• 24 shirts (assorted long/short/turtleneck)

Olie is ready for the upcoming school year. And, no one but us knows that her clothes are hand-me-downs. Unfortunately, Olie has no one to whom she can pass along clothes; Madhubby had a fit when Bubba became attached to a baby stroller. Just a hunch, but he might have a problem with him wearing a dress. Of course, I think he'd look really cute in purple.