No More Teachers, No More Books....

Tomorrow is the last day of school for our kids. And while this will create all sorts of daycare headaches for a couple of weeks, I am probably more relieved to reach this milestone than the kids are!

No more spending hours each night locked in the kitchen, so that DD actually works on her homework instead of just picking at her cuticles and pretending too work whenever I walk in the room.

No more tensing up every time the phone rings with the school number, wondering who did what this time. (Now I just have to watch for the summer program's number...)

No more checking the teachers' website every afternoon to verify that what DD claims is her homework is actually correct. Too often she "forgets" some of the assignments.

No more rushing in the morning to ensure that all the requisite fruit/snacks/paperwork is completed and remembered.

No more memory work in the car on the way to school.

No more exhaution in the PM after the kids get to bed too late, so I can actually have energy to blog again.

I'm actually very pleased with how things have gone this year (for most days, anyway), but by this point, the teachers' patience with DD has worn thin, DS is getting tense because endings always depress him and throw him out of whack, and I just want to spend afternoons in the yard instead of manning the homework table. Plus, this is when I can spend more time enjoying my kids and less time policing them. And that's good for everyone!

A Banner Day

Ah what a joy it is to raise my children. To send them off to school knowing they will have a productive day full of learning and friendship.

Not.

I got a call from school about 1:30, informing me that DS was being removed from class for the remainder of the day for choking another boy on the playground and slamming his head on the ground, and when could we pick him up please? Fortunately, DH was off work in an hour, and they were willing to hold him in the Principal's office until then. Turns out it was an argument with a good friend of his over whether a ball was in or out in four-square. Even DS realizes this was a dumb reason (his words) for a fight. Once he calms down, he's always pretty good at seeing the error in his ways, but can't stop himself in the heat of the moment.

We just added a little extra Abilify in the mornings, hoping to give DS a little more control, but it's still a little early to tell if it's helping. He's been a lot more "combustible" the last couple of months, and we are concerned that we are headed right back where we were last summer. We received midterm reports, and learned that he's been taking regular trips to the Principal's office lately for disobeying his teacher (whom he loves). I wish they would have told us sooner, so we could have dealt with it sooner. Nothing like finding out there's an issue after it's already grown out of control.

Then, we received an e-mail from DD's teacher telling us that she threw a grand mal fit over a spelling assignment which was incomplete, then threw another in Computer class and was defiant in that class. So she has been banned from the computer room for the remainder of the year (1.5 weeks), and will take a poor grade because she is way behind on the typing work she was supposed to be doing all year (again, thanks for letting me know!) The thing that gets me is that she raged for quite a while at the teacher, but the minute Mrs. K suggested they would need to call me, she stopped an apologized. The fact that DD could stop on a dime like that tells me she could have stopped earlier, and instead chose to continue her fit as long as she felt she could get away with it. Even DD admitted that was the case, and she generally isn't our introspective one.

This is on top of her being banned last week from the locker room and attached bathroom for the remainder of the year, because she can't go in there and keep her fingers out of others' stuff. Oh, she denies it, but I know she's poking around in backpacks and lockers instead of doing her business and getting out. She's always had a bathroom fetish, and can't seem to get out in less than 20 minutes without a reminder. She even admitted that she's been taking 4-5 bathroom trips a day (again, thanks for letting me know!)- way more than really needed - so she can "stare at things." She's not happy about having to use the lower grades' bathroom for the next few weeks, but that's the consequence.

I love this school, really, and the kids have thrived there this year, but I am a bit frustrated about their notifications. I made it very clear at the beginning of the year to PLEASE LET ME KNOW if there were any issues, the sooner the better. Once I can address an issue, it generally starts to improve, but I can't deal with things of which I have no knowledge. This is particularly true with DD, who doesn't generalize from one situation to another. So telling her to behave and not get defiant with Mrs. A does not automatically translate to behaving and complying for Mr. Z. We have to cover each scenario individually. Plus, if she gets away with something once, she will continue to do the same thing repeatedly until pushed to comply.

For the last several months, I have received few complaints. She's been getting A's and B's on her report card. For me, this means things are going fine, right? Then all of a sudden I get a call telling me they want to start sending her home immediately if she is at all defiant, because it has become too much of a problem. Ummm... no, that should be a last resort, and what can we try first, and if you had let me know sooner, we could have dealt with this! They did agree to try a countdown and calling me first, then going home if she still can't regulate, but that was only because I refused to have this be a 1-strike-you're-out system. Sigh... I think we need to have some long conversations before the next school year starts, but at this point in the year, with only 1.5 weeks left, I'll just wait until fall.

Ah well, tomorrow is another day, right? And I won't get another phone call, right? They won't both pull this at the same time again, right?

Yeah, yeah, I know I'm delusional. Just let me have my fantasies, all right?

Our Arkansas Adventure, Part 2

So, last time we left our intrepid "heroes," they were on the way to a wedding reception in the Ozarks. Now, along with the bride's immediate family, we were the only out-of-town guests for this event. We had been provided with a map of the roads around the reception site (home of the groom's sister, last name "Bay"), along with the house number. The bride's family was planning on following the groom, and we left under the cheerful direction of our GPS. We were assured that with this nifty device in our car, we would have no problem locating the address.

Everything goes smoothly, up through beautiful, twisting roads; past verdant green trees and pastures. (they have 3 kinds of cattle down there: the red kind, the black kind, and the cream kind. And apparently each farmer has their own particular favorite color, so very few herds are mixed. If you bred a red one and a cream, would you get a nice pink? We heard there were whites, too, but for my money, they looked just like the creams to me)

Our handy-dandy GPS indeed guides us smoothly to the correct road, and as we watch the distance to destination tick down, we start watching for something "reception-like." Finally our guide announces, "Destination on left," so we look left to see:

Hmmmm.... that doesn't look very promising. And you can't even see the best part - the broken down loveseat on the front porch. Well, we figure maybe it was off by a house or two, no biggie. Just to the left of this monstrosity stunning home is a field full of rocks sporting the sign "Bay Natural Stone," but no house. Between the two is a gravel track that drops off into nowhere, apparently a farm road, but it doesn't look promising for a reception site, either. However, the appearance of the family name ("Bay") for which we were searching encourages us that we are in the correct area, and on we drive.

We know we are looking for house # 17692, so we started eyeballing house numbers. The next building looks like it has the correct house number:

But seeing as this place is labeled "For Rent" on the hand painted plywood sign, we doubt it is our destination, either. Fortunately we realize this is #17962 (transposition of the last 2 numbers), so we breathe a sigh of relief and continue on.

The next place we find is even more promising. It is on the opposite side of the road, but over the driveway is a large metal arch (think ranch entrance), sporting the name "Bay" across the middle. Now surely this is the correct location. We head down the driveway, over the cattle guard, past the cows, over another cattle guard, and up to house... which has no cars in the driveway. Unless the other members of the family have flown in by helicopter, they are obviously not here, either.

By this point, we figure we've passed it somehow, and it is time to head back the way we came. We head out of the "Bay" driveway, and just as we are about to pull out, we are stopped by this fellow, guardian of the home across the street.

Now, you can't tell from this picture, but this guy (we'll call him Blackie) had his hackles raised and WAS NOT going to let us pass unchallenged. We would inch forward a foot or two, he would run right in front the car, barking up a storm. Finally, convinced he had made his point, he would start to back off, only to repeat the performance the second we started forward again. By this point, we are cracking up hysterically. We are too chicken prudent to exit the vehicle and approach Blackie, possibly losing a hand in the process. So we inch our way out onto the road bit by bit, finally heading on our way about 5 minutes later.

We head back the way we had come, looking for the proper house number. It doesn't help that the house numbers in this area are non-sequential, so it takes several passes before we finally spot a small fire number on a post that matched the elusive #17692. It flanks a small dirt road, which we promptly follow, but a few feet in, we spot:

Now, you may not be able to read this very well, but the sign says, "Slow, Amish School Zone." Ummmm... they didn't look Amish.... did they? To the right is a small, school-like red building, and ahead you can see the twisting course of the "road," not a house in sight. Once again, not promising, so it was back to the drawing board.

I figure it is time to bring out the big firepower... I am going to ask directions. Our first stop is a fairly average looking property, where I had just seen someone walk through the yard. I figure easy, right... pull in the driveway, and the person in the yard will be curious and come up to ask, "Can I help you?" with a smile, and we will sheepishly explain how we are lost, and they will immediately say cheerfully, "OOohh... you want the xxxx house on the left 1/2 mile down the road.. can't miss it!"

OK, so it doesn't quite go that way. First, whoever was wandering around the yard is nowhere to be found by the time we pull up to the driveway proper. So, undeterred, I head up to the house (you didn't think DH was going to do this do you? Ask for directions? Really?) and call out. And call out. And shout louder because the two dogs fenced beside the house are barking non-stop at the top of their lungs. And shout again. Finally, after several minutes, someone comes to the door. After I explain our situation, she says (at least I think it was a she), "Oh, you know where it said 'Bay Natural Stone?' There's a road just to the right of that you'll want to take."

Remember... the unpromising gravel road we looked at, and rejected, earlier?

Well, we were game. After all, sometimes surprising things are hidden out of the way. We bump and thump our way down the road, and we certainly were surprised, if that's how you want to put it...

This picture does not do justice to the backwoodsness quaintness of this property. There were no less than 4 trailers/campers serving as permanent homes, as well as what appeared to be several broken-down vehicles, and other miscelleanious junk collectibles. Why, it was like being back at my Mom's house, only neater! And just to prove we were really in the middle of nowhere, just look at our GPS!

Our favorite part of the yard (of which I did not get a snapshot, much to my chagrin), was a large sign announcing "No Loitering, No Children Playing".... sitting right in front of a large playset. That and the flagpole completely surrounded by paddock fencing... not sure if that was to keep cattle out, or to keep the flag from escaping.

Anyway, Bubba #1 meets me as I climb out of the car. I explain my situation, figuring that if these folks have the same last name ("Bay") as our destination, they likely know where their relatives live. Bubba hums and haws, and says he doesn't know those folks. "But we had hoped that since they have the same last name...." Oh, he just works here, but maybe the guy who lives here would know. Hmmm.. couldn't he have told us that first? I ask to speak with the owner, who it turns out is headed our way.

Bubba #2 is a bit more helpful, though certainly not more cheerful. He does say we will see a sign for the house number, and to turn in on a dirt road. "You mean the one with the Amish School sign? We didn't think that looked right."

"Oh," we are told, "that's just his sign."

At this point, we are laughing so hard we can barely breathe.

OOOKaay.. So back to the Amish School House we go. We turn on to the dirt road and drive.... and drive... and drive....

You can't see it here, but at the bottom of this hill is a swamp, too, just to make our experience complete. Finally, as we round the corner and head up the hill, we see a sign of life:

Surely the house is just out of sight over the crest of the hill, right?

Right????

Well, here's the barn. Or garage. Or whatever. But still no house. No people. there are a couple extra cars, but that doesn't seem unusual out here.

Then DH has an epiphany. He remembers the minister making some comment before the service about this particular family member having turned a portion of a barn into his house. Now, DH had been envisioning something large, red, and quaint. Something Little-House-ish converted into a unique living space.

He had not been thinking Pole Barn.

But we drive over the cattle guard and approach the building. Just to the right, around the corner, is a service door, and we hear voices from within. Tentatively we knock, hoping maybe these people will know how to find the "Bay" home. The door opens, and there it is. A garage full of people, decorated tables, and food.

Turns out the "house" portion of the barn is the 1/3 you can't see, away from the road. 2/3 of the barn is a large workshop (currently set up for the reception), while the remainder has a kitchen, living room, bath, and three bedrooms (two upstairs). It's an interesting concept, one which had many of the men dreaming. After all... a house where your garage is only steps away, and is bigger than your home? What's not to like???

We relay our tales of travel to those who greet us, and are told, "Oh, we had some signs made up, we just forgot to put them up." Sure enough, there they are, sitting on the floor, next to the bathroom/water heater closet. Sure would have been nice....

We had a great time at the reception, with some excellent barbeque. Our hosts were very welcoming, and as we said our goodbyes, we knew that it would be great seeing these folks again at the wedding in June. No harm done, and we certainly had a story to tell about our trip.

But we sure could have used that sign!

As we headed away from the "house," even the cattle didn't want us to leave...

But we headed back to town for the evening, knowing we had a long drive ahead of us the next day.

Our Arkansas Adventure, Part 1

Last weekend, DH and I headed south to Arkansas for the Wedding Blessing ceremony of one of my best friends. I am her Maid of Honor, and we recently calculated that we have known each other over 20 years, having met in our freshman year of college. I have been with her through many different relationships, so I am thrilled that she has found such a wonderful guy, and am happy for her and her husband to be. The actual "legal" ceremony will be here in June, but her future father-in-law will not be healthy enough to make the trip. So, they took the wedding to them, and had a beautiful blessing ceremony in the Ozarks.

Of course, it wouldn't be my life if there weren't some adventure along the way. First of all, we had to drive through Iowa. DH really doesn't like isn't terribly fond of Iowa. No offense, please, to those of you who love/are from Iowa. I thought it was a perfectly fine state. He's complained the whole way through the state when we've gone through before, so I expected no different this time. He actually held his tongue pretty well, but then, we drove through the whole state without stopping.

Our first stop was our first minor adventure. We stopped at a small gas station right on the Missouri side of the IA/MO border. This was, apparently, the Gas Station That Time Forgot. I know I'd rather forget the bathroom there. We did decide to pick up some snacks, and DH decided on Dots. You know, Dots candies? Those hard, lumpy, waxy things that are the last things eaten out of the Halloween bag? The ones you eat when the SweetTarts are all gone? Yea, apparently DH loves them. He has a particular way of eating them which involves squishing them between his fingers until there soft and then letting them melt in his mouth. Um... yeah.... The things you learn about your spouse on a road trip!

Anyway, DH selected his Dots, disappointed that they only sold the small size. As we started underway, I set some out for his enjoyment. But... OH NO! These were substandard Dots. They did not squish right. They did not melt right. They did not taste right. Horror of horrors! DH decided they were out-of-date Dots because the gas station was so remote. I decided they were out-of-date because he is the only person on this planet who eats these things by choice, and he hadn't been there recently! (OK, ever... they must have been holding them just for him... the sole Dots customer in the US)

So we cruised on through Missouri, made our way through Kansas City, and continued south towards our destination, the far northwest corner of Arkansas. About 1/2 hr. north of the border, it began to rain. Then it began to pour. Then it began to hail. I don't mean itty-bitty-pitter-pat hail. I mean big-honking-dime-to-quarter-size hail. The kind that leaves lovely dents on your car, and piles into drifts like snow. It was so loud, we couldn't hear each other over the pounding. It was almost impossible to see, but we decided our choices were to keep going, slowly, and try not to rear-end the person doing the same in front of us, or pull over and try to wait it out, hoping desperately someone else didn't rear-end us. We chose the former, and at least that meant we eventually drove our way out of the storm. Just as we pulled out of the last of the hail, we could finally hear the radio again. The first thing we heard was a storm-warning announcement for heavy hail in the county we had just left. Nice to know, huh?

About an hour after that, we arrived safely at our hotel in Rogers, AR, and headed out to dinner with the groom's family. Great people, and we had a lovely time. We all headed home early, as the next morning was the ceremony.

The actual "legal" ceremony will be up here in June, but the groom's father will not be healthy enough to make the trip. So, they took the wedding to him, and had a beautiful blessing ceremony in the Ozarks. The chapel was amazing, a lovely glass chapel in the green hills. The pastor did a beautiful job of discussing the importance of betrothal, and gave this ceremony plenty of meaning, without taking away from the significance of the June ceremony. It was a bit rainy (and of course this was the one time I had left my umbrella out of the car), but everything was a stunning green, and the bride was lovely.

From there, we headed out to the reception... and ohhhh... getting there was half the fun!

(Stay tuned for Part 2)