Emma is hazing the daycare staff. Again. Apparently, her usual teacher, Miss Jessica, was out on Wednesday of last week. And, Emma did not approve of the replacement– Miss Amy. Sorry, Miss Amy. I understand you have a certificate in early childhood curriculum development. I’m sure you’re very accomplished. And caring. Please don’t feel badly that your efforts were completely undermined by my one-and-a-half year old. She occasionally does that to people. (By occasionally, I mean always.) She can be a bit . . . let’s just go with “standoffish” . . . around people she hasn’t known for at least six months. (Or more.) It’s just her process.
Author Archives: crabin
Curses
You never know what sort of things kids are paying attention to.
Yesterday morning, I was having breakfast with Jacob (my four-and-a-half year old) and Emma (one-and-a-half) and all of a sudden, Jacob started beeping. Yes, beeping. LOUDLY.
Jacob: BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.
Birthday Party
It’s time to plan my son Jacob’s birthday party. (Any takers? Because I’m TOTALLY willing to delegate this.) I’ve tried to ignore this fact over the past few weeks. But I can’t. It’s hard to ignore when every time I turn around, someone is asking me for my child’s date of birth. Or Jacob is asking, “MOMMY: WHEN IS IT GOING TO BE MY BIRTHDAY?!?” Right. That. It’s coming up. In just a few months. Just days before we move. AWESOME timing.
Stuff
We are planning to move. Which means we are packing. Endless. Amounts. Of stuff. Usually this process inspires the thought: WHY DO I HAVE SO MUCH CRAP? Not for me. Not this time. This time is different. As I put the (incredibly-annoying-always-splits-in-the-middle) packing tape on the 45th box (yes, I counted) I had this thought: “WHY DO MY HUSBAND AND CHILDREN HAVE SO MUCH CRAP?” Seriously, I think only three of the boxes were mine.
State of the Emma Address
Last week Mommy gave you some updates on our family. Yes, my four-and-a-half-year old brother Jacob is still obsessed with “Frozen”. Yes, he may never make it to kindergarten. (Seriously, Mommy, just register him already.) Yes, we FINALLY sold the house. Blah, blah, blah. You might have noticed something missing from these updates.
Fumbling Updates
I haven’t had a chance to write a real blog post this week. So, instead I offer up a few updates on prior posts. The last one helps to explain why I have been a bit preoccupied . . .
Andy, Elsa and Snoopy
Jacob (my four-and-a-half-year old) doesn’t watch television. Don’t be too impressed. Or annoyed. It is only because: 1. we have no idea when Dora or the Backyardigans are on, 2. we don’t want to be ruled by the timing of these sorts of shows and 3. Jacob has a steady diet of videos instead. On the upside, this means he doesn’t see commercials. So, Jacob never badgers us to buy Captain Crunch or Lucky Charms or any other “part of a complete breakfast”.
Glasses
Jacob, my four year old, needs glasses.
I noticed about six months ago that one of his eyes was drifting in. Hmm. Has it always done that? Dan, have you noticed . . .? Yes, my husband Dan noticed too. Jacob has always been a bit clumsy. I just assumed this was because he chose to ignore the objects in his path. A lifestyle choice, really. But it suddenly occurred to me that maybe Jacob isn’t seeing things clearly. Jacob’s eye began to drift more often. So, we did what any parents without a shred of medical expertise would do. We did our own eye exam.
Countdown to Kindergarten
When our friends ask where we plan to send my son Jacob for kindergarten, I stonewall.
“We don’t really believe in formal education. We think Jacob can learn everything he needs to know on the street. So, come September, we plan to just open the front door and say, ‘Go ahead, child. Go out and learn. Just be home by dinner time. Or once you’ve made your fortune.'”
Metamorphosis
Here’s the thing about parenting. As soon as you finally develop the skills you need to do the job well . . . the job changes. Completely. (I don’t want to sound paranoid but it’s almost as if this system is designed to make you feel COMPLETELY INADEQUATE.)
Fumbling Toward Naptime 