Drama Mama

My oldest is a complete drama mama. Everything she does is a production; either it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her or the absolute worst. This morning there was a huge amount of drama over her school clothes. Now, she’s in 1st grade in a public school. But, luckily (or so I thought) it’s a uniform dress-code school, so getting dressed should be pretty easy. We even take the guess work out of it by keeping her “school clothes” separate from her other clothes. Also, this is the same school she went to last year, and she’s been in school now for almost two months this year. Today though, she wanted to wear some non-uniform clothes to school. She cried and whined and basically dragged her feet for 15 minutes while getting a shirt on. All of her uniform shirts (i.e. collared polo-type shirts in light blue, white or navy) were suddenly “too big” or “too itchy.” So I told her to put on an undershirt, and that was deemed “too hot.” It didn’t help much that her sister, Anaya, who goes to pre-school daily, was flaunting the fact that she got to wear her new shirt to school today. A fabulous costume type t-shirt that made it look like she was a cowgirl. All the getting dressed drama made her miss the bus, and pretty much put a icky spin on my day.

In other thoughts, I’ve been thinking a lot about the Obama proposal to lengthen the school year and school day. Personally, I think it’s a fantastic plan, but this is a whole ‘nother blog all on it’s own, soon to come.

Is She a Vampire?

Yesterday, when I got my youngest from daycare, there was a note on her daily report- “Avery bit another child and left a mark.” But the teacher didn’t mention it, so I didn’t even notice it until we got to the car. When I did see it, I asked Avery who she bit (Avery is 2, in case you were wondering). She looks at me, puts her hands on her hips and says “Bitey Shawn” which I suppose translates to I bit Shawn. Then, in what I can only imagine is the re-enactment of the post biting lecture, she gets a bit agitated and starts pointing and saying “No, no bitey Shawn. In time out.” And then it trails off into 2 year old babble that I can’t even begin to translate.

Now, I know Avery bites. But, it’s gone down considerably in frequency, especially as she got more verbal. I spoke with her teacher, and they were pretty sure that yesterday’s bite wasn’t a huge issue. That Avery just got overwhelmed by the other kids, and took it out on someone smaller than her. It’s really the first time in about 4 months that she’s bitten anyone who isn’t named Anaya or Adeline, so that’s a relief.

Next year, when she’s potty trained, I’m hoping to move her into a pre-school program, in a center. Something I can’t do now because of the cost, and because she’d get kicked out for biting. As much as I love her current daycare, I think being with more kids will be better for her. More kids her age. This kid is too smart for her own good. She’s devilishly smart. Knows how to problem solve. For example, Mommy’s candy is hidden high in a cabinet. Neither of the other kids have ever attempted to get in there. Avery gets a chair, pushes the chair to the counter. Climbs onto the counter, pulls the chair up onto the counter, to get to the candy. I come into the kitchen, and find her covered with chocolate, sitting on the chair, on the counter. She’s also the kid who will get into the pantry, rip open a box of cereal, and then use scissors to cut into the bag. Need I remind you, she’s only 2!

Competitive Preschools or They Must Be Different in the Big City

I had the chance to watch Nursery University this weekend, onDemand (thank goodness for that handy little invention, I’d never get to watch movies otherwise. Seriously, OnDemand and Tivo have changed my life). Its about the insane process of getting your child into “the right” preschool in New York City. How “the right” preschool can feed your child into “the right kindergarten” and then forward all the way to the Ivy Leagues. My husband was actually home before midnight, so we watched it together, completely astonished by the antics of these parents. Hiring advisors to tweak their submissions packages. Stalking the admissions officers. Name dropping so much that you could build a castle with all the blocks of bullshit they were dropping. One of the Dads, who I shall call “Tool in the Tie” because he wore a tie all movie, was so tightly wound about the whole issue, I thought he was going to have an aneurysm. His kid (very cute kid, btw), managed to get into all 8 schools that she applied to. Tool in the Tie almost cried, he was so happy. The Token Black Family, from Harlem, took a more laid-back approach, applied to one school and got in. These are preschool programs for kids who are 2 and 3 years old. It’s absolutely ridiculous. Competitive Parenting at it’s finest.

I work full time, so my kids go to a sitter. I had the luxury of having a nanny last year, while my youngest was between the ages of three months to one year. This year, the oldest is in kindergarten, and goes to a school summer day camp. The younger two go to an in-home private daycare. Next year, because Child #2 misses the cut-off, she’ll go to preschool instead of kindergarten. Even though she knows her letters (upper case and lower and knows the sounds they make) and numbers. She’s socially very young, so a year of preschool will do her good. And, I get to send her for the fabulous price of $175 a week. At this point, I pay more in daycare than I do in mortgage payments (we have a really low 30 year fixed mortgage). If we didn’t have kids, my mortgage would be paid off in ten years or less. The Oldest didn’t go to preschool. It didn’t really effect her in school. She’s one of those kids who got on the bus the first day and never looked back. No separation anxiety. By the second week of school, she was the mayor of that place. Everyone knew who she was. Child #3 is still a bit of a puzzle. Right now, she’s staying put in the in-home, mostly because she’s aggressive. She bites, and pushes. At home, she’s just holding her own so that her sisters don’t take her stuff. At daycare, she still doesn’t let other kids push her around. She’s the boy I don’t have.