Ryan, age 8, came to me earlier today and said, “Hey Mom, can I go outside and ride my scooter?”

Then Logan, age 9, who was shooting baskets in the hallway upstairs (yep, that’s right), exclaimed, “Me too! I’m gonna go shoot baskets at the court!”

And I about fell to my knees and wept tears of relief and joy.

I don’t know about you all, but 10 days ago, when that pesky little rodent had the nerve to get spooked by his own shadow (and how, I’d like to know, since I am convinced the sun does not shine anymore, anywhere), I was almost surprised to be feeling discouraged and disappointed at the news. It’s a legend, after all. It has no bearing on anything. On February 2, there are 6 more weeks of winter any way you roll the dice, even if the forecast is for 6 more weeks of balmy sunshine, there are in fact, literally 6 more weeks of winter.

Yet, I was just looking for a small glimmer of hope that this especially glum, gray, and harsh winter was getting ready to come to an end sooner rather than later, even if the logic was crazy. Instead, The Weather Channel assured me that instead of hope and change, I’d be seeing more of the same: snow, cold, clouds.

So today, after what has seemed like endless days of  “hey, let’s build ANOTHER giant fort out of all the pillows we can find in the house”, my boys were finally able to take the party outside.

Yes, in case you are wondering, that is the sound of Ode to Joy coming from my house, with me doing a little victory dance in the kitchen.

Take that, Winter! You’ve tried but you haven’t beaten me yet this year.

But hurry up, Spring! So I don’t crack before the ice does.

My essay about when I first found out I was pregnant appears in this season’s issue of Get Born Magazine. You can read it here on their website, but I encourage you to go pick it up or, better yet, sign up for an annual subscription!

I have a few gift subscriptions available, too, so let me know if you’re interested!!

My essay about when I first found out I was pregnant appears in this season’s issue of Get Born Magazine. You can read it here on their website, but I encourage you to go pick it up or, better yet, sign up for an annual subscription!

I have a few gift subscriptions available, too, so let me know if you’re interested!!

Mae Marie Card was born at 12:46pm on Friday, January 29th!  It’s taken me a while to write about it because I’m in HEAVEN and my feet have barely touched the ground.  Honestly, it’s a good thing I’m not in charge of my life because I had NO IDEA how badly I needed this little girl.

I hope to be more prolific soon, but I’ve got a baby girl to snuggle!

More soon, my friends!

xo

Miss Mae

Walking out to the car from school today, Anna wipes at her hair and makes a Yuck face.

“Ugh. K (protecting the not-so-innocent’s name) got spit in my hair AGAIN.”

WHAT?!

I ask her to clarify and she says, as if it’s commonplace (because apparently it now is), that the little boy she’s been having trouble with in her class is now spitting in her hair from time to time. You know, because it’s funny. He’s also been pushing her, tackling her, grabbing things out of her hands and generally being a, you guessed it, bully.

I’ve already spoken to her teacher once about it. She told me she’d keep a closer eye on interactions between the two of them. She also mentioned that he’s her Problem Student (the capital letters are her emphasis, not mine) and sort of rolled her eyes. And he especially likes Anna. Yay.

Another layer of the problem is that he’s the son of one of the other teachers at the daycare center. So if they can’t solve the problem and have to take action to remove him, then basically that means firing the teacher, too. She can only work because he’s in school all day and she’s got the discounted tuition.

In the car on the way home I found myself lecturing Anna that she should have told her teacher and gotten help cleaning her hair. The poor kid got more and more subdued until I realized that I was pissed off and taking it out on her.

“I’m sorry you’re having problems with K, honey. It’s not your fault. I’m going to call your teacher again today. I just want you to make sure to let someone know when he’s not being nice so that they can help you work it out, ok?  I’m not mad at you AT ALL. When we get home we’ll clean up your hair.”

I don’t want to clean spit out of my 5-year-old’s hair. I don’t want her pictures to all have rips because K grabs them out of her hands whenever she tries to show someone how pretty they are. And most of all, I don’t want her to think it’s normal or okay for someone to be aggressive and demeaning to her. The way she’s just sort of accepted it as part of her day is the most disturbing thing, as far as I’m concerned.

I understand she needs to learn how to stand up for herself and master the basics of conflict resolution. But she’s FIVE, not 15, and I’m not going to make her stand up all alone. I’m also not thrilled about handing over a tuition check every month to pay for her to be intimidated and SPIT ON. 

Besides talking to the teacher and then today to the center supervisor, is there really anything else I can do? All her friends are in that particular class and she really loves her teacher. If they move her to the other class, it’ll be more of a punishment for her than for him.

So. What would you do?