Of course if they'd had a coherent answer for me last Wednesday when I first called, that would have sped up the process. Did you know I was supposed to have an information packet? Yes. Finally got that today. I must have made quite an impression on the phone, because people were visibly recoiling and/or hiding from me when I popped over to the administration building to pick up the pile of semi-useless paperwork. The admin building is 3/4 of a mile from our house. Very handy for harassment purposes. The advantage of small towns. (Though I betcha Doctor Shithead is cursing it.)
They had a list of three shrinks suggested for these tests. One had a phone disconnected. One was out of the office for four to six weeks for health reasons. One was on vacation.
That's what I've been dealing with.
Otherwise, not a whole lot. I've been stressing. Not terribly exciting to report. Though apparently the rants over on Twitter were amusing. There was discussion earlier today about me showing up to the next school board meeting dressed as Boudica. Though I think my wild-eyed, lavender-haired, Jeep-tee-shirt-wearing entrance today made quite the impression. Looks like I'm gonna be That Mom. Not sure I'd doubted it, but it's locked in, now.
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Remember, oh, a week and a little ago, when I said it was a shame we couldn't get Vans with steel toes to wear as safety shoes? Yuh huh. Today the husbeast bought a pair of leather Chuck Taylor tennis shoes. With steel toes. He was cackling with glee on the way home.
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The Goober cried for two hours yesterday when I told her she might not go to school this year.
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Now that my kitchen is set up, I'm trying to motivate to cook. But the only thing I feel like cooking is cake, and I'm on a cake moratorium until I lose the four pounds I gained during this move. By, um, eating cake for breakfast. The doc brought up my weight gain at our last appointment. I said yes, I'd been trying to lose weight. He offered a nutritional consult. I said "Well, I'll start with not eating cake for breakfast, and we'll see how that goes." I got That Look. You know, the look doctors give you when you're fucking up.
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I'm babbling. It's been an insane last week.
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The Goober has spent so much time running through the sprinkler that the grass in that part of the back yard is growing about twice as fast as the rest. (I do not normally water the lawn. I'll skip the 'intelligent use of resources' rant.) The Goob's figured out how to aim the sprinkler and nailed me in the side of the head with a blast of water last weekend. At the time I howled, but looking back? Bwah. That's my ornery kid.
And this seems like a fine place to stop babbling.
Woo sah. Perhaps something coherent tomorrow. I've got a book review I've been wanting to post, and WE ARE GOING TO THE COUNTY FAIR! There's a figure-eight demolition derby tomorrow night. The Goob will plotz.
PS: Have painted my toenails.
That helped the stress some.
15 comments:
"I must have made quite an impression on the phone, because people were visibly recoiling and/or hiding from me when I popped over to the administration building to pick up the pile of semi-useless paperwork. The admin building is 3/4 of a mile from our house. Very handy for harassment purposes...." Oh, I howled!!!
I got 'that look' when I would show up to volunteer in the boys' school. As I had 2 kids the teachers 'remembered' me! HeHe!!!Now in some places the volunteers have to pass background checks, HoHoHaHa!!!
Just today I read an article in the NYT about parents planning their children's kindergarten start to enhance the kiddo's chance of being the largest kid on the soccer/football/basketball team in high school. Yeah.
Today I didn't latch the screen door correctly while bringing in groceries. In the time it took for my husband to say, "EXCUSE ME!" and for me to turn around, my 11 month old had crawled past me, pushed open the door, and was well on his way out to screen porch door.
I think I have one of those ornery kids, too.
Ooh, that's just about as far as I was from the elementary school when my kids were there. They "loved" me. heeheehee.
Playing in the sprinkler is the only way our grass ever got watered too. I'd love to see a demo derby. Nice toenails.
You could point out to the school how very sorry they will be if they do not let the Goob start school this year. If she is bored in school next year, heaven help the teacher. Middle child was barely tall enough to hang up her backpack and was so proud not to have T's next to the size in her clothes, but she was the ring leader.
My mom was definetely That Mom when I was a kid, though it had less to do with getting me into school and more with making sure my kindergarten teacher didn't lose me (again) and my fifth-grade teacher didn't bully me (again.)
With the exception of a couple of teachers who thought the world of both of us, I'm pretty sure the entire Barber's Point School District was happy when we got transferred.
Also, I find it crazy that they have such a short age cutoff! Granted, it's probably not the best plan to have a super-late one (like the Dec. 31st deadline that I managed to squeak under when I started school a gazillion years ago) but atleast hold it till the end of the month!
You might call some of the private preschools in your area and talk to the director...they deal with these move-up kids on a yearly basis and probably have a good roladex of who else can do the testing for ya...
I was one of those parents too...and I am amused to no end watching my children become those type of parents too...bwahahahaha...
more power to those who question...
I was That Mom, too. Mess with my kid? Well, you're going to have to deal with me. After having 3 girls go through the school system, I think they were glad to see them graduate.
Although, the counselors (and principal) told me I had the nicest, most polite and most well spoken children they had met in a long time. Guess they got that from their father.....
Someone has to be THAT MOM.
My kids told the other kids I was THAT MOM 'cause I loved them more.
The end.
I'm pretty sure that Himself was That Dad last year, I'm looking forwards to having the chance to be That Mum myself this year.
Love the nails, by the way. Must see if I can find something similar over here.
Ha. Not only was my mom That Mom, but by high school, I was That Student. She raised me well -- and the principal was afraid of me!
Pretty blue sparklies! And as for the educational retardation of American Publish Schools? *sigh* Yeah. Don't know what to tell you there...
But I can't wait for your kid to rip the place apart with her fine, laser sharp noggin when she gets in. *hee hee hee* She's so much like her mom!
This type of post is EXACTLY why you're on my blogroll!
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