Thursday, August 09, 2007


First meltdown of the morning involved JoJo hollering, crying and flinging his arms everywhere like an ape, "But the teacher said to be sure and wear the same clothes tomorrow so she'll recognize everyone," as he insisted on wearing the exact same thing two days in a row.

The entire family tried to explain the term 'sarcasm' to a screaming 10 year old who stomped up to his room waking the bear Edgar who growled at him. Like I was gonna let an unemployed 20 year old sleep past 6 a.m.?

JoJo grudgingly changed his clothes while crying that I was ruining his life.

Our wonderfully accommodating assistant principal at the elementary school, at my request, had moved Jack to be with Mauri, since Jack went to school crying on the first day only to have Jack freak out at the possibility of change. We had to move Jack back this morning to his original class that he technically never left. His new teacher had won him over on the first day, not an easy task to do with any of my ultra-suspicious kids. His classroom is also in a trailer, excuse me - a modular, that any good God-fearing, Southern kid knows is suspect in tornado country. Duh.

While I was flying through the school, carrying a load of calendars that had been sent home in bookbags to our house...save a tree, I was returning 9 extras...an upset child stopped me in the hall, "Teacher do we go to the gym or to our class right now?"

Without explaining that now I'm a retired teacher I just sent her to her class. That child must be new, everyone else knows I'm The Mama. All my kids told me of new kids moving into the county. My kids, who've been moved pillar to post for all their lives before joining our boringly stable family, were expressing shock and outrage that other mothers would move and make their poor children change schools. I quickly described such things as job promotions, advancements and moving on up. (I just got the Jeffersons song stuck in all y'all's heads didn't I?)

"We're not moving ever, right?" I had to amp up the reassurance factor.

Jonathan found me in the front office, worried, "Mom, some lady asked me what the van driver's name was, is it OK that I told her you're a mama not a driver?"

Chill, y'all.

Jonathan's teacher told me she called him JoJo all day, hard to break last year's habit, and my own PTSD kicked in when my phone rang and it was a teacher this morning. But Regina, now working in another county, just wanted to come by and bring me boy clothes. Good, I need some new ones.

Tabby's teacher? PERFECT! Miss Donna, a former special ed teacher, a foster and adoptive mom of a large family, I think she has about ten kids, someone I've known for quite some time, her husband teaches at the alternative school. I am now certain I won't have to worry about Pre-K calling me if and when Tabby has one of her little baby rages. Tabby is thrilled with her, Nando is loving his class also as his teacher has taught a ton of my children.

Today's high in our town is predicted to be 102, heat index over 110. Even I'm noticing the heat that rarely bothers me. I best go pick my salad right now in the early morning hours...and so far so good, no little kids have picked the watermelons too early. Just counting my blessings out loud again.

What if my blog, without the police action of last year, becomes mind numbingly routine...no drama? What if readers turn elsewhere? Oh well, I blog for catharsis, not for the entertainment of others.

And how cool is this? Other than having to call a deputy to report when Vanessa ran away in June, we haven't had to call the police in close to a year, as there've been no fights, no knives brandished at me, and no threats (except Jose's) against me. I could get used to this.