Friday, October 10, 2008

"That" Parent

Belly loved school last year. Over the summer, he was eager to get back. Couldn't wait for it to start again. The first day of school when he found out he had a new teacher (there are 3 pre-k teachers) it all went downhill from there. Now he doesn't want to go, doesn't like it, and is getting notes home from the teacher saying he's being "silly" and apparently his robust imagination doesn't sit well with her. He is obsessed with Link and all manner of princes and knights, thus, he pretends he's a knight. His favorite bedtime stories are the ones I tell about The Brave Prince Isaiah and the Honorable Prince Daimean. Yes, dear readers, those are the names of my little shining knights.
So this teacher told my husband that she'd like to talk to us together.He asked if there was a problem. She just repeated her request. He asked her what it's regarding, she repeated her request. So I left her a message that day explaining that we can't make it there at the same time, but we can certainly have a conference call, and I asked her to call me back. She did not. I sent a letter then, saying I know there have been some "issues" but that Isaiah is certainly not malicious or willfully bad in any way. He's in preschool, and acts accordingly. I asked AGAIN for her to call me the next day and stated I'd conference my husband on the line. No response.
Today is Friday, and Isaiah was very sad about going to school. Then the dog ate his breakfast, which contained the very last pancake in the house. It was a trying morning, to say the least. If I don't hear back from the teacher today, I'm calling the principal on Monday and requesting that he be transferred to another class. Hell, even if she calls today, I'll request it. Life is too short for my little guy to be unhappy at school.
Yes, I've turned into THAT PARENT. Oh freaking well.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008


Belly had 2 nosebleeds last night. The first left his bed looking like a crime scene, and the second left his hands looking like he committed a murder. He's all clean and crime free now, and I've made a mental not to buy a humidifier for his room.

This morning when I turned the corner to go to the train, a woman waved at me from between 2 parked cars and told me -in a lilting Irish accent- not to go that way, she'd just been held up by a man with a gun. She was shaking and frightened, and I waited with her while she called 911, then we walked to the train together. Safety in numbers and all. No, we don't live in the kind of neighborhood where guns are a regular sight.

My husband (who works for 911 here) called me to make sure I was okay, as he'd heard reports of a man running around the area assaulting people, AND he took a call from a woman who'd been held up by a man with a gun. I asked if she sounded Irish, he said yes, and asked how I'd know that. Small world, huh?