Libby Goes To Kindergarten?

So, we've registered Libby for kindergarten with no guarantees as to whether she'll go in the Fall or not. I'd love to take her to school with me. However, I can't say I will for sure be there for the duration of her elementary career, so I've opted for her to go to her neighborhood school---if she goes.

Here's how the registration went:
We pull up to the front of the school. Mind you, I have been to this school many times as an employee of the county, but never as a PARENT. I felt very out of control regarding her education. It was weird. I felt like I was at the mercy of whatever certified breathing homosapian the county hired. I know that's ridiculous, but it's truly how I felt. What a different role to be the parent and not the teacher!

Of course, I didn't wear my name badge in or even tell that I was a teacher. Why? Not because I wanted to spy, nor because I wanted to keep it for ammo later! Only because, Libby was with me and you NEVER know what she's going to say or do; and I'd like to salvage my professional reputation as long as I can before I get "ohhhh, her parenting" gets attached to it.

We weren't sure where the registration table was, but soon we saw some rather unethusiastic folk sitting at a table. Oh, I had to bite my bossy tongue because I wanted to say, "Heeeeeyyy, teachers! Liven up!!! This is her first school experience! Come on!!!! Here's how to do it....." But, you'll be proud of me, I took a "walk of shut up" right to the table and gave our names.

The whole time I was praying Libby didn't fall out in a floor fit. She had just recovered from a Play Park fit and I felt it wasn't quite over.

A teacher walks up (no introduction by her, me biting my bossy tongue) and says, "come with me for the test". Libby snarled and remarked, "I don't do tests". Right then and there, I thought, "okay, forget it, she's not going, this is just too much." I assume a position on the wall with the other victims, I mean parents. No one talked. Five long minutes went by and out came Libby.

Her mood was no better, no worse. She spotted some treat bags. She went over to the treat bags. The whole time I was thinking, "please, no fits, no attitude, please, please." She looks through the bags and finds that they were all the same. She takes a bag and says, "'dis has SpongeBob in it. SpongeBob has a bad attitude an' my mom won't let me watch it. She'll probably 'drow' 'dis' away." I just rolled my lips in and I'm sure my eyes got huge with embarrassment.

I looked at the teacher who tested her, kept my bossy suggestions to myself and said, "could you tell me what she missed on the assessment"? She responded as though no one had ever asked that. I thought, I've probably given away that I'm a teacher. She replied that instead of cutting the heart out, Libby cut it in half. She said she got everything else correct.

When we got out of the school doors, Libby went into the horizontal fit for the playground mode. I had to tote her like a duffle bag to the backseat where I was about to either pray or scream.

Because I'd been in prayer the whole time, I decided to wedge her in the seat, shut the door, and then pray. Once she dwindled down to a low drone, I asked her to tell me about the scissors.

She said, "'duh scissors were like we have at home. I put my rest fingers in the bottom loop like you said to". I said, as calmly as I could, however my teeth were in "clench smile mode", "then, tell mommy why you chose not to cut the heart out on the lines like we've practiced for weeks." She said, "my heart was broken because I couldn't play on Play Park and so I cut it in half like my broken heart." Sigh. She's registered, we'll see.

The Blogology of the Matter

What the heck is blogology? Google it and it will have a completely different meaning than what I use it as. I think the life in my blog or my blog life is getting more difficult by the blog. Why is it getting more difficult? Usually, I just blog about my thoughts and ongoings. I just want to hang a "Closed" sign over my thoughts right now. The blogology of the matter is going to stay in my head for a while longer. Maybe in a couple of days, I'll do a great blog about Kaylee's program at school or Libby's upcoming Kindergarten year...........but, for now....sigh, I can't write. I am unbloggable.

It's Not Easy Bein' Green

Look at that title. No, I don't have a sinus infection and I'm not getting all "St. Patricksy" on ya. It's just not easy bein' green. I love that little melancholy song from Sesame Street. You see, I sorta believe that part of what makes kids born from 1975-1980 on the melancholy side of life, more times than other folks, is those darn little sing songy songs about how it's not easy being yourself.

Why shouldn't it be easy to be you? You are you. I mean, shheee, what could be easier than that? You certainly can't change it. Well, not inexpensively.

(If that paragraph didn't just SCREAM combo between a therapy session, an advertisement for Dr. 90210 and a guidance lesson in school, I don't know what does.)

And listen, if run on sentences paid the bills, I'd be rollin' in the dough faster than Publisher's Clearing House.

Anyhow, I've been running from the blogosphere avoiding blogging because....well, here's my dialogue:

ME: Who wants to hear me complain?
MYSELF: It's my blog, I can blog what I want to. And, post scriptum, DX if you don't like that I hate editing, so. I. don't. edit. ;P That was down right awful. And silly. Sorry.
I: Tone it down, Sister, you've got it good.

So, between this strange little place I'm in thought-wise and writing, I've just not had the umph.

Right about now, you're thinking, "yea, I see what you mean. Why don't you finish that conversation with yourself and then try the writing thing...."

I'll ignore your thoughts and my own, and write a little.

On complaining: Libby slept in her bed for five days in a row. Hang on Hallaleuah chorus, not yet. She slept in her bed for five days in a row about a week ago and ever since, back to the same ole same ole. That's rather disappointing as I enjoyed living like I WASN'T in a one room shacks where all events took place in the one and only bedroom. She's amazing in every other way and I remind myself, she won't wake during the night forever--maybe.

On blogging: No matter how many dern times I re-read my posts, I'll miss stuff. Re-reading takes away from my flow. That sounds like an artists' cop out for not being grammatically or syntactically strong, but seriously. So.....I'm not gonna edit no more, no more, I'm not gonna edit no more..... anymore, anymore....see, it doesn't sound as good!

On got it good: I'm very grateful for 100% of the facets that make up my life. That's why it's kinda hard to blog. In economic times like these shall I go on and on about how fortunate I am to live in a household that still has two jobs? That just doesn't feel right. I am so thankful, but at the same time, I have friends and some relatives who aren't so fortunate and it's stinky AND GREEN.

I guess that's why it's not easy........being green. ;)