In reference to my non existence (of late) in blog world...
WELCOME to MY BOYWORLD ....
Last week:
Reed, who JUST turned FIVE, tells someone at school (shamefully an adult I'm afraid) that they have a big bootie. Yes, my friends, you ARE reading correctly. This was topped a few days later at his BAPTIST pre-school by his pulling his shirt collar down to expose his chest. When asked by his sweet teacher, Ms. Renee, "What are you doing, Reed?" He plainly and matter a factly answers, "I'm flashing people." GOD is the ONLY one who knows where in the world he heard the word "flashing" (probably Spongebob...who Craig defends vehemently...anyway). I assured Ms. Renee that this to the core CATHOLIC family was NOT teaching baby Reed about how to get beads at Mardi Gras.
Lord, have mercy.
This week:
Cole, who just turned EIGHT, decided, partly because "someone told him to" and partly in curiousity, to flood a school bathroom (at lunch) by repetitively flushing a urinal. He was caught by another 2nd grade teacher who decides to "hand him over" to his own teacher for discipline. (bad move) Miss Griffin ROCKS, in Cole's words, and I think his sincere tears and sobs tugged at her amazing heart. Not so for mom. It's one thing if your teacher sends you to the principal...but WOW, far, far worse when your MOTHER takes you there. Upon arrival in Mrs. Russell's office, Cole had trouble even getting the sincere apologetic words out of his mouth due to the flood of emotions. He finally succeeded, and later at home wrote four apology notes...one to the teacher who caught him, one to Miss Griffin, one to our principal, Mrs. Russell, and one to Mr. Ramon, the janitor (whom Cole felt didn't need one "cuz it all went down the drain anyway, Mom.")
Christ, have mercy.
Yesterday:
As we leave LATE for our daily drive to school, Mike phones to let us know that Craig's lunch is sitting on the kitchen table, and his phone is in his room. In this day and age...and especially at Jesuit, your main "line" to your children is through texting. Not having a phone means you have no idea when mom/dad have arrived at the school to pick you up for the day. Craig waits daily...mainly because I can not leave MIS until 4. I arrived yesterday at 4:20. At FIVE, I get out of the van with the boys (almost permanently damaging the van door as I slammed it shut) to go on an UNWANTED and UNPLANNED Jesuit scavenger hunt for Craig. Like Mary and Joseph who were looking for Jesus, I should have known. At 5:15, I arrived at the place. Studying? no Meeting with teacher? nah Library? no! No, no, no, just playing computer games on the computer in the lab. Upon seeing me, and my raging angry face, you would think that would EJECT you out of your seat. Nah, just a, "Hey mom, I'm gonna finish this level and then I'll be out there." We arrived home THAT night at 6:40.
This week:
Cole, who just turned EIGHT, decided, partly because "someone told him to" and partly in curiousity, to flood a school bathroom (at lunch) by repetitively flushing a urinal. He was caught by another 2nd grade teacher who decides to "hand him over" to his own teacher for discipline. (bad move) Miss Griffin ROCKS, in Cole's words, and I think his sincere tears and sobs tugged at her amazing heart. Not so for mom. It's one thing if your teacher sends you to the principal...but WOW, far, far worse when your MOTHER takes you there. Upon arrival in Mrs. Russell's office, Cole had trouble even getting the sincere apologetic words out of his mouth due to the flood of emotions. He finally succeeded, and later at home wrote four apology notes...one to the teacher who caught him, one to Miss Griffin, one to our principal, Mrs. Russell, and one to Mr. Ramon, the janitor (whom Cole felt didn't need one "cuz it all went down the drain anyway, Mom.")
Christ, have mercy.
Yesterday:
As we leave LATE for our daily drive to school, Mike phones to let us know that Craig's lunch is sitting on the kitchen table, and his phone is in his room. In this day and age...and especially at Jesuit, your main "line" to your children is through texting. Not having a phone means you have no idea when mom/dad have arrived at the school to pick you up for the day. Craig waits daily...mainly because I can not leave MIS until 4. I arrived yesterday at 4:20. At FIVE, I get out of the van with the boys (almost permanently damaging the van door as I slammed it shut) to go on an UNWANTED and UNPLANNED Jesuit scavenger hunt for Craig. Like Mary and Joseph who were looking for Jesus, I should have known. At 5:15, I arrived at the place. Studying? no Meeting with teacher? nah Library? no! No, no, no, just playing computer games on the computer in the lab. Upon seeing me, and my raging angry face, you would think that would EJECT you out of your seat. Nah, just a, "Hey mom, I'm gonna finish this level and then I'll be out there." We arrived home THAT night at 6:40.
Lord, have mercy.
You know, I try often to put things into perspective and count my many blessings! I mean, at least Cole hadn't set off the FIRE ALARM at school like his Dad did back in the day, right??? And, at least Reed is still noticing attributes of others (and, I say still because his proud daddy posted a long time ago about his comments he made about one of the summer Olympic gymnasts ...well, yeah, you just have to have read it)!! Too bad, though, that Cole doesn't mop floors or scrub toilets here at home, and Reed seems to be blind to the large mound of various toys left all over....
I'll leave you with this poem by Jayne Jaudon Ferrer:
You know, I try often to put things into perspective and count my many blessings! I mean, at least Cole hadn't set off the FIRE ALARM at school like his Dad did back in the day, right??? And, at least Reed is still noticing attributes of others (and, I say still because his proud daddy posted a long time ago about his comments he made about one of the summer Olympic gymnasts ...well, yeah, you just have to have read it)!! Too bad, though, that Cole doesn't mop floors or scrub toilets here at home, and Reed seems to be blind to the large mound of various toys left all over....
I'll leave you with this poem by Jayne Jaudon Ferrer:
The Boys Club
We know who we are.
Ours is like one of those
ancient, fraternal orders
whose identifying rituals include
elaborate hand signals and
mysterious primal grunts.
In public,
the cue is often a series
of short, repetitive barks:
"Sit down!"
"Give me that!"
"Come here!"
"NOW!"
People who aren't in the club
look disdainful, annoyed,
disgusted, or smug.
But fellow members grin-
slowly at first, as they
identify and empathize-
then broadly, as they
catch your eye and
nod slightly to acknowledge
well-known phrases and
familiar responses.
"Boys are somethin', aren't they?"
And, you know, they are. They are my world, and I wouldn't trade a single solitary part.
~that's where I've been...just sayin'.
