Today's post is brought to you by streams of consciousness. I have nothing specific to write, just my old insatiable desire to write. Lucky you!
Bo's birthday is in 2 days. I love his birthday. I love May. I love him. I love remembering the excitement, anticipation, and nervousness, of his arrival. I look at him now and smile---remembering how I wondered so many nights what he'd look like, how he'd be, and now I've gotten to enjoy him for nearly 8 years and he's more amazing and cute than I ever dreamed of! His freckles, his cowlicks, his big-toothed grin, his scowls, his obnoxious noises, his quirks. I love his birthday.
He's getting baptized on Sunday. He's pretty excited and seems to understand the implications of baptism more than I could have at his age. Yesterday he came out of school and casually mentioned he had gotten a skills referral. He got a dozen of those in Kindergarten from random people for ridiculous reasons so we kind of got used to the forms and not really caring. This one said he'd gotten frustrated with a classmate during a game and hit her. TWICE. I was really shocked and disappointed. He was NOT prepared for that reaction from me. I said to him with dismay, "You hit another child?!" He jovially explained, "Mom, I'm getting baptized on Sunday, I have to get all the bad behavior out of me before then." I'd like to thank whichever adult gave him that idea. I remember hearing someone saying it, I didn't think he'd use it!!!
I sternly told him that maybe he didn't really understand what his baptism was about if he thought being naughty up until then was a good idea. He suddenly realized he wasn't going to be able to joke his way out of it, and that I wasn't going to cast the skills form aside, rolling my eyes at the fascist administration of his school. I told him if another child hit Avee at school, I'd be furious. I didn't add because she's the sweetest little girl on the planet and that anyone who'd want to hurt her would just be a plain monster... ahem... anyway.
On the way home I gave him a choice of writing thirty times "I will not put my hands on other people" (an oft-used and much hated punishment from my childhood, obviously it didn't deter me from loving to write) or write a list of 10 things he could do differently than resorting to hitting. He chose the 30 sentences which I suspected he would because it didn't require thought. He ended up writing 10 things though. It's scan worthy.
I got my first semester grades back. Two A's and B. I'm pretty bummed about the B, but I'm almost 99% certain that no one got an A, if I didn't. His tests were ridiculous and that was basically the only reason I got a B. I got a B on both of tests and they were more than a third of our entire grade. I don't typically believe in grading on a curve (although, I'm not morally opposed or anything) but I think if NO ONE in your class gets an A, there's probably a problem with the assessment and it should be modified. Whatever. I'm probably the lowest grade in the class and trying to make myself feel better.
Well, Bo told his entire class I was bringing the best treat ever to school for his birthday. Then informed me of it last night just before bedtime. I had forgotten if he was going to share something with his class, it would have to be today. And I sure as heck didn't intend to bring the best treat ever. So, now I have to go make some cake pops. Apparently if you do it once for Bo, it becomes tradition that must never die.
I pulled him out of school for a week so his teacher doesn't really like me anymore. It's hard for me to navigate my way through life when people don't like me. I'm so used to being adored.
I just found the usb cord for my camera. I'm suddenly remembering tons of things to blog about. There are 405 pictures. I'm going to post every last one of them.
Word to each of your mothers.