Mornings. What a drag.

I will admit it. I've never been a good mom in the mornings. I'm tired, I'm rushed, I have no patience - even less than normal, which is pretty bad. I often read those "how to make your mornings better" articles in parenting and women's magazines, and they usually say the same things: do everything the night before, get up 15 minutes earlier so you have your own "me time" before getting the kids up, etc. I've actually taken much of that advice to heart. I mentally prepare what to wear and what I'm taking for lunch the night before. I wake up about 45 minutes before I get Bubba up in order to shower, do hair and make up, etc. Often times, he's up before I go to wake him up for the day. So what's my problem?

I'll chalk up 90% of our morning issues to his stubbornness and my impatience. Those two traits go together like tnt and a lit fuse in the mornings. Generally, the goal is to get Bubba on the potty and off (hands washed and all) before Ben gets up. It used to happen with a fair amount of frequency. No longer. And lately, it doesn't matter what mom thinks. Things must be done Bubba's way or no way at all. This causes me much grief. Generally, I walk away for a moment to let us both take a breath. Today, that action caused a tantrum. Ugh.

I suppose an answer to this problem would be to wake up even earlier - myself and Bubba included. I find myself worrying about disturbing Ben's sleep (I know it does), but I mostly worry about the amount of sleep my 2 (almost 3!!) year old is getting. He needs that 15 minutes, doesn't he? I'm sure he does, but maybe not as much as we all need a little more sanity in the morning. With an extra 10 or 15 minutes, we might be able to potty and dress and eat at a 2 year old's pace, while maintaining my usual 8 minutes late for work timing in the morning. I guess there's no time like the present to try.

Solidarity, sister!

Poor Scooter. She has mean parents. She didn't get her writing homework done this weekend (mainly b/c it was spent in her dad and stepmom's hotel room, but that's another story). We had threatened her that if she doesn't get her writing homework done (which is extra-credit, by the way), that instead of a weekend update, she'd have to start writing every day. Well...since we are in the habit of following through on threats (another story), today is the day she starts writing 100 words (or 30 minutes - whichever is MORE) per day. Yipers. Last night, she wrote 86 words, and it took her an hour and a half. This might be painful.

But you know what? It gets easier. And to share in her misery, I've decided that maybe I should blog everyday. I'm pretty sure it's easier for me to type 100 words about my day than it is for her to write it all out, but at least I'm doing something. Scooter is a very literal-minded girl. She balks when I suggest that she make up a weekend update to turn into school (you mean...make up my whole weekend?!). She resists when I suggest that she include something her brother did (it's not Bubba's weekend update, it's MY weekend update). She is frustrated at our insistence that she buckle down and write about her weekend with interesting words and sentences. But when I explained 100 words or 30 minutes - whichever is more, she lit up. She finally had a standard by which she can judge her own progress. It was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. Which brings me to another weight she had on her shoulders until last night - her hair.

Since she got back from her Dad's this September, we've reminded her at every meal to put her hair up. Ben didn't care if it was a headband or a pony tail, but it shouldn't be in her food. I preferred pony tails. Once it gets to be a certain length, even a headband can't stop the ends from getting yogurt on them. Well...over the past month, we've really buckled down. She would lose a quarter from her allowance for every infraction (she usually gets $1.50 per week - so she was allowed 6 forgetful meals). Week 1, she lost 4 quarters. Week 2, 5. Week 3, she lost the whole allowance, which led to the next decree:  If you have one more week of losing your whole allowance, we're cutting your hair. By Wednesday night, she had one quarter left. Thursday night through the next Monday would be spent with her dad. All she had to do was get through Thanksgiving dinner. She failed. Twice. There were tears. You see...all we heard for the past few months is that she HAS to have long hair because Vicky (name changed) wanted her to have long hair (and, as almost an afterthought, Scooter also wanted to have long hair). Well, I whipped out the long overused phrase, "If you can't take care of it, maybe you shouldn't have it."

She got back from her miserable weekend with her dad (I still have to get to that story, huh?), wrote for an hour and a half (see above), and sat down for dinner. She actually remembered a pony tail this time, but because we say what we mean, and we mean what we say, we told her we were going to go get her hair cut after dinner. She dawdled with dinner (ate a TON), and then escaped to her room w/ Bubba for a minute before I told her we had to go. She started crying. I asked her if she didn't want to get her haircut, and it all came out. No. It wasn't that. She just had a really boring weekend, and she wanted to play w/ Bubba.

She missed him this weekend. She said she kept telling her dad about other stuff to do, but all they did was something fun for 2 hours per day. Other than that, they were in their hotel room to watch football. I asked about that. Because on the train ride home, she talked about a lot of things they did. They went to the zoo (for 2 or 3 hours on Friday); they went to the Children's Museum (for 2 hours on Saturday), they went to 2 malls (one on Sunday and one on Monday). And shockingly, they stayed in Beaverton. I was told they'd be at the same hotel he's stayed at for the past 2 trips here. I guess plans changed? I thought I was supposed to be made aware of where she would be. Hm...

Apparently, her dad told her that they'd already done everything there was to do in Portland. When she asked him about ice skating, a show, some hiking, or a park downtown, he said they didn't have time. I wouldn't let her take any library books with her (she didn't grab any non-library books), so she was bored. I told her if it made her feel any better that we had a boring weekend, too, with mostly football. She said no, it didn't make her feel better. Because at home, she could at least play with Bubba, or actually go to a park if she asked. *Sigh* Man. What do you say to that, while still following a court order to encourage a healthy relationship with the other parent? She did everything an 8 year old can do to try to interact reasonably with her dad/stepmom, and still had a miserable time. I think overall, there were fun times, but the majority of her weekend was spent in a hotel room with the tv on. Ugh.

But anyway, I think my 100 words are up for the day. I'll conclude by saying that Scooter started out with a HUGE frowny-face in the salon chair last night, but ended up with huge smile. She said a few times last night (and a couple of times before I left for work this morning) how much she likes her hair short. I do, too. I'll have to post pics tomorrow. I'm beginning to wonder if she "forgot" about a headband/pony tail daily for 3 months in an attempt to get us to make her cut her hair. This way, when her dad/step mom come down on her about having short hair, she has someone to "blame" about it...

Happy Turkey Day!

Did everyone have one? I did, which is not to say it wasn't without some amount of sadness. Thanksgiving has always kind of been a sisters holiday. There have been 3 that I didn't spend with my sisters. The first one was the first year I spent in Korea. I got there in June, and while technically one earns 30 days per year of time off, I didn't have that much saved up, nor did I have the funds to fly back to the states for a weekend. Also, we were gearing up for Y2K at the time. I did, however, make it back for the second Thanksgiving while I was stationed in Korea. My oldest sister and her kids even flew in from California to spend time, all of us together. The second time not spent with my sisters was when Scooter was 3 and we flew to Hawaii. So even if we weren't with my sisters and their kids, we were at least with my Dad. The third was when Scooter was 6 and we flew to Hawaii. Again, we spent the day with my Dad, so it wasn't a totally family-less time.

This year, though, was spent with none of my family. The really, really nice part was that Ben's family (aunt, uncle and cousins) opened their home to us and cooked us a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner. His sister even came down from Seattle, so even if there were no "hokomoto" sisters present, there was still an aunt for the kids. :) We got up early to beat the traffic, and it worked. We saw more sherrifs and state troopers than we did regular cars. We got down to the ranch around 9am, and it seems like the day just flew by. The food was delicious, the company was wonderful, and just like that, we had to pack it up and get back to Portland so Scooter's dad could pick her up. He flew in after 6pm.

Scooter was a little put out that she had to go with her dad this weekend. Even though she knows she has spent T-days without her cousins, she really focused on the fact that Thanksgiving was "her" time to hang out with cousins, and it wasn't fair that - in her mind, anyway- her dad was taking that away from her. I think she came around, though, and was eventually excited to see him. I hope so, anyway.

We had a pretty laid-back weekend. I made some crock pot lasagna that actually turned out pretty good. We did a little (but not much) christmas shopping. We did a little (but not much) cleaning. We went to the park a couple of times and went on a tiny hike. We also asked where Scooter was. A lot. I think Bubba gets worried when his sister isn't around.

Swimming

Swimming lessons started last night. 6-6:30 is Bubba's lesson (which includes me holding him the whole time and lifting him over my head at least 20 times), and 6:30-7 is Scooter's lesson. Her lesson is almost as physically challenging for me, as it includes keeping Bubba from climbing the chain link fence between the pool area and the spectator area. I think next week, we'll be a little slower getting dressed after our lesson. Maybe we can slow this thing down to 29 minutes or so.

Bubba's lesson was a little surprising. First off, he did this for 4 months last year. Same teacher (mostly), same songs, same everything. Secondly, he was last in a pool about 9 weeks ago. But nevertheless, he was scared of the water. Usually, we'll hold hands and walk down the steps into the pool until it's up to his waist or so. Last night, I had to carry him, his arms double wrapped around my neck and his legs constricting my waist. He didn't want to turn around and face forward. He didn't want to do the motions of the songs we sang. He just wanted to squeeze me for the first 15 minutes of class. After we sat on the side and kicked and did a few jumps in, though, he settled back into a routine and by the end of class, he was laying his head on my shoulder and floating on his back, completely stretched out - which is more than he has ever accomplished before. Yay, Bubba! He even put his face in the water and blew bubbles.

Scooter started out almost as scared. Luckily, I didn't have to be in the water with her. I think she wished I was, though. I had signed her up for level 2, which was taught by 2 younger-looking boys (high school kids?). She was nervous to the point of almost crying. Oh dear. But she quickly showed them that she actually belonged in level 2.5 and was moved up. After that, she did great. Crawl stroke across the pool a few times, and some elementary back stroke thrown in for good measure. She'll be in level 3 in no time, and after that, it's swim team.

There were 2 bad things from last night.
1. I got in trouble for allowing Scooter to sit in the spectator section (remember - there is only a chain link fence separating her from me) by herself with a book. Twice. I'm "more than welcome to put her in the care of another parent in the spectator area." Really? It's more desirable for me to make her sit by a stranger than it is for me to make her sit farther away from said stranger? Dumb. I understand the policy. I understand that if someone were to come in off the street and drag her out kicking and screaming, it would be difficult for me to leap out of the pool w/ Bubba and come to her aid, and YOU (Beaverton Aquatic Center) do not want to be held responsible for that. But I don't understand why you would rather I make her sit next to a stranger, who may or may not be there legitimately to watch their own kid, who also may somehow molest my daughter quietly in the corner. But whatever. I'll go early to lessons next week to scope out a "safe" looking stranger to be responsible for my 8 year old with her book.
2. I ran into Bubba's old daycare teacher. He recently moved from Big Todds to Pre School, so she's no longer his teacher, but we still have a nearly year long relationship with her. And I love her. I think she's a great teacher and she really helped us get a handle on potty training and development. The problem was that until last night, everytime I saw her, I was wearing business casual. Last night, I was in a wet swim suit. It's like that nightmare where you go to school naked. Only it was real: Bubba's school had come to me when I was nearly naked. He also had a hard time wrapping his head around seeing a teacher outside of the school setting. Maybe he was embarrassed at being in his too-small swim trunks.

Peggy Fleming, I am not

I took Scooter ice skating yesterday. The morning started out fairly promising, with coffee brewing, chili cooking, kids eating breakfast...it went downhill from there. We thought we'd take a drive to see Lake Oswego, where Ben would take a few photographs and then we'd do a little hiking. But...the coffee I had purchased on Saturday was sub-par at best, and Bubba had a cold, so we decided to stay home and relax in front of the football screen.

I spent the morning finishing the laundry I had started on Saturday and cooking. Generally, Ben does the major cooking in the house. I prepare dinner most nights (for the kids and I as Ben is usually busy with other pursuits), but it's always leftover this or that which Ben made on the weekend or during the day. Needless to say, this is a difficult task. Many home makers spend a lot of time thinking about and preparing food. It's no small feat to plan, prepare and budget for a family's meals each day. Something had to give, so I was put in charge of food.

Luckily, the CSA delivery from last week served as inspiration. We got a pumpkin, leeks, carrots, parsnips, squash, and chicory. So...I made pumpkin chili (pretty good, but I probably won't ever make it again, since I'm the only one who liked it), sausage and lentil soup (very good, but I probably won't ever make it again, since it took 3 hours to make, even though I cheated and used store-bought soup stock), and salmon with potatoes and broccoli. Ben said the salmon was old and gross. I'm beginning to see why he was put in charge of meals. Clearly, I have no clue how to pick out - or make - good food. Not to mention, food is not in my budget, which consists of rent, utilities, internet, daycare, retirement, insurance, and lawyer.

Happily for me, the morning didn't last all day. After lunch, Scooter and I went to the mall for a spin around the ice rink there. We rented our skates, locked up our shoes, and hit the ice (literally, with our bottoms). I didn't actually fall down, but Scooter did. After 2 laps, I was worried that I had just blown $20 for nothing, and we'd leave crying. But she got the hang of it and by the end of the first hour, we were zipping along. A bit later, the zamboni cleared the ice. It was almost as exciting as when they do it at a hockey game. Except this time, one of the "lifeguards" that drags kids who fall down off the ice, moonlighted as the zamboni driver. He was excellent. Speedy, thorough, everything you'd want in the man who clears the ice. While he was polishing the rink, Scooter and I negotiated how many more laps we'd do. I said 3. Scooter said 10, we compromised at 5.

But once we were on the ice, the first 4 flew by. So I conceded that we could do a full 10. On lap 7, Scooter admitted that she needed a break. I suggested that we just leave. But no, we could do 3 more. And we did. Quickly and efficiently, Scooter finished up her laps, and we headed home. Immediately upon leaving the ice, her mood soured. She was tired. Grumpy. Blah. I knew we should have stopped at 3. But at least she had something to write about in her weekend update for school.

Underwear? Under there!

We had a few underpants related funny business going on this week.

Scooter wore the same jeans to school on Tuesday as she had worn on Monday. Fine. Often times, I think she throws pants into the laundry when they're not dirty, and being the primary launderer in the house, this annoys me. Afterall, I dry clean my dry-clean only pants about once every 6 months or so, regardless if I wear them weekly or monthly. Surely after one wearing, her pant's aren't dirty. So I talked her into not putting that pair in the dirty clothes Monday night and went on my way.

Tuesday, she threw those pants on and left for school. About 4 minutes after she left the house (just enough time to get to the bus stop and back), she came back in and handed Ben a pair of underpants. Apparently, she had left her underwear in her pants when she took them off Monday night, and they fell out of her pant leg when she got to the bus stop. Oopsie! That had to be embarrassing, but Scooter just took it in stride in her completely practical way.

When I got home from work that night, Bubba met me at the door completely naked with a clean pair of his underpants on his head - eyes poking through the leg holes. We don't have the heat on at our house, yet, and it's pretty chilly. I asked Scooter why he was like that. "Oh...he had an accident and he went to change and just put them on his head." I asked if it just happened, and Scooter replied with a weird look, "Nooo??" Considering Scooter gets home around 3:30, and I usually get home shortly after 5, it might have been 10 minutes or an hour and a half of him laughing hysterically while running around with his "monster" underpants on his head.

I love it when my kids put stuff on their heads.

 Scooter used to put a lot of buckets on her head. That's why I so creatively called her "bucket head."

 Bubba in his baby helmet (he's still wearing it a year and a half later).

 Scooter in her first helmet (at 2).

This last one is Scooter at about the same age as Bubba is now. I can't believe how quickly they change.

C'mon, kids!

Today was test day # 2 for me at Scooter's school's passport club. It's an extra curricular activity that the kids can choose to do on their own or not. Each month, they're given a list of about 20-25 countries and a map to study. At (or near) the end of the month, community volunteers take over the school cafeteria to test the kids to see if they know where on the map each of those countries is, plus the capitals of 5 of the countries. I didn't help out in September, but I did October and today was November. Clearly, the countries are starting to become more obscure. Moldova? (easter Europe). Comoros? (goup of islands near Madagascar).

Each of the countries is grouped into a level. Level 1 is 5 countries, 2: another 5, 3: 5 more, 4: 7-10, level 5 is the capitals of the level 1 countries. Theoretically, the levels get harder as you go. Realistically, the kids have trouble at every level. Today's difficult country was Algeria. I get it. African countries are the hardest for me to identify, too. But Algeria? Come on, kids! It's the first one on the list to study!

I don't think I'm alone in saying that as the year goes on, the kids are either studying their maps less or the countries are all just running together in their minds. There was one class (same one from last month) who must take a little time in class to study. They had almost every student get all 5 levels correct. I hope Scooter gets that teacher in the coming years. The divide between kids who studied and kids who didn't was even more stark than last month. Last month, kids could kind of fudge their way through "show me where the United States is..." This month, finding Canada was a little tougher.

But then, I was introduced to a girl in 4th or 5th grade. She was brought to me by her teacher with instructions to please speak slowly and pronounce my words clearly. This girl is new to the United States, and this was her first week at this school. OK. The teacher ran off to get her a "passport," so the girl sat and watched while I tested another girl. Girl 2 got all of them right, but I didn't speak particularly slowly or clearly for her. The teacher came back with Girl 1's passport, and we got started. I was apprehensive. Some kids will sit there FOREVER thinking and guessing. I've learned to be patient and just let them think about it. Sometimes, they surprise you and come up with the right answers if they're not rushed. It's hard for me and my go-go-go impatience, but maybe this is another thing that I can get out of volunteering. Anyway, to my surprise and delight, this girl, who was less than 5 days into school in America got all of them correct in very short order. Seriously. Either she can understand WAAAY more than she can speak, or that teacher was really selling her short. Either way, she came from Nepal. So props to her previous school for teaching her the locations of Algeria, Canada, Panama, Mongolia, Turkey, Sweden, Sierra Leone, Moldova, Niger, and the slew of other countries (and capitals of some) that were tested.

I wonder if, when kids from the US start at new schools around the world, their parent volunteers are as impressed with them as I was with her.

Whoops

I just wrote a mega-monster email to my friends. So...sorry about that (if you read both). I'm actually in a pretty happy place with my life right now. My boy is nearly day-time potty trained. My girl is re-learning the art of putting her own hair up. What more could I ask for (besides a giant raise and more time off)?

Speaking of putting her hair up, I should really make a list of things that Scooter could do in 1st grade that, after spending a year w/ her Dad, was unable to do in 3rd.

1. turn off lights when she leaves a room.
2. set the table for dinner.
3. put a headband in or put her hair up when sitting down for dinner.
4. start her own shower.
5. wash her own hair.
6. write a story.
7. do much of anything w/o being told.

I know I'm beating a dead horse, but seriously. This is a ridiculous list, and much of it is not so much whether  a 6 or 8 year old CAN or CANNOT do those things, it's a matter of if she thinks she can or not. We wonder why her confidence is down? Maybe it's because everything she did was re-done by someone else for the past year. Let's celebrate what she does. Let's push her to do more. That is what parenting should be about.

My mom raised 4 extremely independent, intellegent, and socially responsible women. She didn't do it by cutting us down at every turn. There are hundreds of photos of me where I look at them now and say, "Why on Earth did you let me out of the house like that?!" And my mom will say, "You BEGGED to wear that!" And you know what? I'd rather have a thousand "embarrassing" photos of myself in ridiculous clothing with poor hair choices than a constant, nagging feeling that whatever I'm doing today is not good enough or "right." Because as long as it's the best I can do with the resources I've been given, nobody can ask for better.

why are we so mean to our mothers?

I'll be the first one to admit it. I'm mean to my mom. Not purposely, mind you, just incapable (i hope?) of taking her feelings into consideration when I open my mouth (just wide enough for my foot). I don't think it's just me, though. I know my daughter does it, too.

Almost weekly (usually a bit more often), she'll comment on how much food I eat. Ever since staying a year at her dad's, she is very conscientious about what she eats, how much she eats, and the eating habits of those around her. She didn't grow at all last year. It's not exactly hurtful to make the observation that I eat a lot. All the time. At every meal. But it also doesn't make me feel especially good about myself. At the beginning of the year, when asked about her teacher, Scooter said that her teacher was almost as old as me, "but MUCH prettier." Seriously? I've seen Scooter's teacher. She's not all that.

As my mother once wished upon me, my daughter DID end up just like me. As in, she doesn't realize that her mom has a feeling. I even do it when my mom isn't listening. At work last week, I was eating some home-made squash soup. I LOVE this recipe, and Ben and I have been making it every week, with the squash variety that we get from our CSA. I made mention to a coworker, who's about my mom's age, that my mom used to force us to eat squash, and I HATED it. I wondered aloud what my childhood would have been like if my mom had just made us something delicious with that dreaded squash.

Well...don't you worry, mom. My coworker put me in my place. Things were different even 15 years ago. You couldn't just google an ingredient and have a bunch of user-tested recipes pop up. You relied on friends and family for recipes. And many of those were unchanged for generations - when your food was seasonal and local, and you didn't have access to fancy spices and cooking show techniques. I concluded that if my mom had the resources we have now, she also would have made us delicious food every night. As it was, she "hit" about 85-90% of the time. Not too shabby.

But now that I reflect on this, I'm guessing Scooter doesn't like 85% of what we cook, and I'm sure, since Bubba only eats about 50% of the time, that I'm only batting about .475. Hmm...what's wrong with us in this age of instant good recipes, that I'm still unable to please 100% of the people 100% of the time? Maybe it's not our mothers who are failing us. Maybe we're failing our mothers.

My weekend update, By Scooter

One of the ways in which I am torturing my daughter is in taking advantage of any and all extra-credit opportunities at school. One of them is writing a weekend update. It's due on Monday, and it's just a personal recap of what my third grader experienced over the weekend. I'm sure it not only helps her put thoughts on paper, but it can also give her teacher valuable insight into what's going on in her students' lives.

This weekend, Scooter did the following:
Thurs - no school. Went to Ben's Brazilian jiujitsu class at lunch time. Went to a park with Ben and her brother. Last soccer practice of the season. Worked on her workbook, which is a supplemental age-appropriate work book that we got her to use over the summer, but she either never took it to her dad's or they didn't do it together - or at all.
Fri - no school. Practiced writing everyone's name in cursive. Went on some math websites and played some math games. Played with her brother
Sat - Waffles and sausage for breakfast! Last soccer game of the season in the rain, followed by a pizza party to celebrate the end of the season. Each of the girls got a trophy, and the coaches each got an engraved water bottle. That afternoon, we went to the library and the grocery store. I decided to take my change jar in so we could use their change machine and then pay for the groceries with the cash we'd get. Except the change machine required a 10% fee. No way. We instead used the self-check out, which meant we plugged in $40 worth of quarters one by one before I gave up and paid the rest with my credit card.
Sun - we hiked to the stone house in Forest Park. We planned and put together Scooter's terrarium (cactus and succulents). We watched a lot of football and had chili.

Scooter's extra credit consisted of the following:
She mentioned working on her work book. She mentioned practicing everyone's name in cursive. She detailed going to the grocery store and trying to use change to pay for our groceries. Then "mom didn't have enough money to pay for our food, so she used a credit card." The grocery visit coupled with me running out of money took up 1/2 the page.

Although we encouraged Scooter to write about things her teacher might find interesting, I was kind of hoping she'd stick to terrariums and hiking...

Mediocre? Is that possible?

I had Scooter's parent-teacher conference last week. Guess what? She's an average 3rd grader. I can't believe it. Color me shocked (and I'll admit - a bit disappointed). This mama didn't raise no dummy.

Don't get me wrong, she's doing well in school, and she's starting to come out of her shell and make some new friends (other than the ones she had from the last 4 weeks of school last year). But she's not in the top reading group, her writing is "developing", and she's about to be average at math. What's up?! She's in the top math group, but come on! She should be tops in everything. Isn't that what the tiger mom in me is dying for?

At the end of 1st grade, Scooter took the CAT (california assessment test) for K-2. She scored a perfect score. That's right. She got every question on that test correct. At the end of 1st grade, she had a beginning of 4th grade reading level. At the end of 1st grade, she was clearly an advanced student. She spent a school year at her dad's.

At the end of 2nd grade, she took a reading placement test w/ her 2nd grade teacher in Beaverton. She was the highest reader in her class (fluency and comprehension). Her writing was lack luster - as in, it was stuck in 1st grade. Her teacher was shocked - how could such a good reader be such a poor writer? I promised we'd work on it over the summer. I arranged for one of her friends to be a pen pal with Scooter. Scooter wrote exactly 1 letter. I asked her cousins to write, so Scooter could write back. 3 cousins wrote. Scooter wrote nobody back. She was told she couldn't go to summer camp with her cousins, and when the court order finally forced them to let her go, she did not even have a swimming suit. Such was her summer.

So when she was tested again at the beginning of 3rd grade, imagine my surprise when she tested at a mid-third grade reading level. Just enough to NOT make it into the highest reading group. The ex is blaming me and my choice in books. Really. Newbury and Caldecott and other literary award winning books are not challenging enough for her. He'd prefer she read fan fiction. yeah. Because as long as the book has more than 150 words, it must be good. Apparently, Charlotte's Web (a book which set the standard for children's fiction) isn't good enough for her because it doesn't have enough pages. At least they did make a movie out of it. I guess it has that going for it (in his eyes). I guess the book I'm currently reading is crap because it has less than 300 pages - I am, after all, 27 years older than Scooter. Shouldn't I be reading only books of greater than 700 pages? What?!

I'll hop off that horse for now. Just know that from the day we went to conferences forward, poor little Scooter has been writing more, doing more math online, and reading more. That girl will be in the top 10% of her class if it kills us both.

parent teacher conferences

Today's the day. This week has been tough for little Scooter. She didn't want to go to school on Monday. That was surprising. First of all, it was Halloween, which at her school meant she could wear pjs to school. Secondly, it was Halloween. Duh. No school, no trick or treating. But it was also the day that her dad was coming to visit her at school. Her dad, and taun taun. And Scooter just didn't want to go.

I talked Scooter into getting out of bed, and she started her day. Slowly. I guess her morning routine has devolved from getting ready, doing her reading and still getting out the door early to barely getting ready in time to catch the bus. In the early afternoon, I got a call from Scooter's teacher. She wanted to let me know that Scooter's dad, and her, uh. stepmom (?) ate lunch with Scooter, and told her they were going to pick her up after school. Her teacher wanted to make sure that was OK. Yes! That right there is one of the reasons why I like that school. Even though the ex is on the list of approved picker-uppers, they still call just to make sure. Hopefully, that was OK with Scooter...

Yesterday, she was slow in the morning again, but I chalked it up to a late night trick or treating. And then we had massive tears over mediocre homework last night. Seriously. You're in THIRD GRADE. Use a complete sentence to answer your READING questions. Then, I found out she's not in the top reading group this year. She went from the best reader in the 2nd grade to what? Obviously not the best. She did no work on her reading or writing over the summer, and she slipped. I often wondered about that when we'd read together. I'd ask her if she knew what certain words or concepts were, and she'd say no. Comprehension is an important part of reading. It seems like reading, along with all of her other school work has become a rush-job with no work put into it.

She spent a year where everything was done for her. Where the bare minimum was praised. Where she was left to read for hours on end. Ugh. In kindergarten and 1st grade, we often struggled with sounding out words and working to figure stuff out. Scooter has always liked to just "know" stuff. With the apparent absense of encouragement and parenting last year, it's like we're starting all over again to get her to actually work for her education. Ugh.

In the meantime, second-highest reading group. (thus...little to no chance at TAG this year), and you know, once you fall "behind," it's that much harder to get back up again. But I shouldn't get ahead of myself, I guess. Let's just start with the parent-teacher conference tonight and go from there...