Category Archives: Every Day Scoops

Jumping in… one toe at a time

Posted on July 9, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

It was like the queen coming to tea, or somewhat more relevant to this generation, like New Direction visiting all girls school. There was cheering, wild waving and gap-toothed grins. Unbelievably, Mommy had entered the pool.

It was 90 degrees on July 4th, and we were pool squatting at a friend’s, meaning, they were on vacation and we were, uh, making sure the pool was okay. It was just us and their oasis of a yard.

My kids quickly jumped in and started thrashing around like just caught fish on the deck of boat, except in water. My husband also joined the party. In fact, he might have been the first fish in.

With the kids engaged and a parent on duty tossing them around the water, uh, supervising, I was free to read my book and relax. To the sounds of splashing and giddy laughter, I positioned myself on my friend’s comfy outdoor couch and opened my Kindle.

I was reading Me Before You. It was turning out to be the kind of book where in every spare moment, I hungrily and guilty sneak in a few finger page flips, like when I’m pretending to make lunches for the kids, or those brief minutes between giving the kids some water guns and someone crying. Now it seemed I had a good, relaxed hour of just me and my book, without feeling like an adulterer whose husband was about to walk in. Bliss.

I was about a page in when I heard my eight year-old yell, “Look at me!”

Even though he wasn’t speaking to me, I glanced over at the pool in time to see his skinny, white body clutch his knees and cannonball.

I returned to my book, but was again distracted by my 10 year-old shouting, “My turn!”

“Me too! I can too!” I heard my five year-old squeal.

I tried to ignore them, but I couldn’t concentrate. No one expected me to participate. They knew Mommy didn’t like water or swimming, since Mommy definitely shouldn’t have seen Jaws at 5 years-old, and possibly had drowned in a prior life. No one was bothering me at all. But I was bothered.

I placed my Kindle on the cushion. I was sitting in a pool of my own sweat anyway.

Slowly I made my way toward the pool and tentatively put a foot in the water.

My five year-old stopped mid jump, looking confused. “Mommy’s going in the pool?”

My two older boys, started cheering and chanting, “Mommy’s going in the pool!”

On doggie paddles and floats, they waded over to me. I was barely in, my anxiety rising with the water around me, deepening with each submerged step. I was in over my head, and I was only up to my knees.

They swarmed me, laughing, splashing, pulling me further in, jumping on me. They were circling sharks and I was fresh meat.

It was kind of a blissful torture. I was so happy to be in there with them, to take part in a family moment and memory. But if they’re expecting a repeat performance anytime soon, they shouldn’t hold their breath.

Hooking up with Yeah Write! “http://yeahwrite.me/challenge-117/”

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Posted in Every Day Scoops and tagged afraid of Jaws, i don't like the pool, i hate swimming, jumpinginto a pool, Me Before You, swimming with the sharks, Yeah write. Bookmark the permalink.

Well, it’s been a nice summer.

Posted on July 5, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

This morning, I got my two older boys suited up and sun blocked and dropped them off at our local baseball camp. Camp ends at 1pm, and I try to come early to watch a bit of their play, so I’m on the tick tock if I want to get anything accomplished. My youngest, actually hasn’t started camp yet, and is trucking along right beside me. Let’s go kid, chop chop. You wanted camp mommy, you got it.

I’m trying to fit in the gym, run to Payless for swim shoes for my boys and get to the store for sunblock, milk, eggs, toilet paper and cat liter. There are also clothes at the dry cleaners that she might start charging me rent for if I don’t pick them up soon, and a birthday gift that I’m a week overdue on sending.

While I’m rushing around, trying to get it all done, I run into a friend, busy doing the same. Well, sort of the same, she was running from the gym to a manicure appointment. I definitely need to work on my list.

“Can you believe it’s summer?” She asks.

I think about it for a moment. School is definitely out. The graduation ceremonies, picnics, parties and general hoopla is over. Half my town has left for sleep-away camps, but I’m still up early, packing backpacks, making snacks, entertaining, cleaning, schlepping. To me, the idea of summer vacation, instilled 100 years back, is carefree fun and frolic. This is like any other season, but with more sweat.

“Nope. I can’t believe it.” I say.

“We should get together!” She exclaims.

“Totally!” I agree.

“How about next week?”

“Oh, next week isn’t good. The boys won’t be in full day camp till the week after.”

“Hmm. We’re going on vacation that week. How bout the 18^th”

“Baseball. The 24^th?

“It’s camp visiting day. August 4^th?”

“Birthday party.”

August 12^th?”

“Uh…Baseball. How bout August 20^th?”

“Ha. That’s the week, we’re going away.”

We look at each other, with a knowing smile.

“Okay then, see you after we get the kids off to school?”

“Perfect!”

We both head off in our own directions and I mentally add ‘school supplies’ to my over-crammed list.

Where does the time go?

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Posted in Every Day Scoops, Uncategorized and tagged summer goes so fast, summer's over, summertime fun, where does the time go. Bookmark the permalink.

And we’re off to camp. Wait… no we’re not.

Posted on July 2, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

“Here comes the bus!” I exclaimed, punch drunk on contrived giddiness. “This is so exciting!”

It was my five year-old’s first day of camp, and although it wasn’t raining like the forecast suggested, the air was cloudy with some heavy skepticism. The silver lining was more like a dull grey paranoia. Odds were an even 50/50 on whether he would actually board that bus. My money said no.

All along I knew it was crapshoot. The boy who still has a hard time letting me go out for dinner, might have a wee little problem getting on a bus and heading off to the unknown. And it was possible, that regularly playing hooky from nursery was now going to bite me in the arse.

For weeks, I had been talking camp up, saying how he was going to swim and play with his friends. There would be baseball and pony rides. Games and all that crap. My enthusiasm was matched only by his apathy.

Me – “Camp is going to be so fun!”

Him – “I don’t like camp.”

Since he had not yet started camp and had not been to any camp since last summer, I conveniently waved it away with more nauseating gaiety, which he consistently responded with some variation of “Camp is stupid.”

Best not to think about that now.

The happy mini yellow bus, pulled right up before us and opened its squeaky doors. Without even a look back, my child boarded. What? Wow. And I was all worried.

He’s actually going!

I enjoyed that moment for maybe 10 seconds, before my child, his face a scrunch of turmoil and tears, ran from the bus like his seat belt was snakes. Quicker than I could catch him, he hid behind the bushes on my lawn.

Yup. Not going.

“Baby?” I called tentatively. “Come on.”

But my baby just backed further away, eyes cartoon wild.

With a deep sigh, I waved the bus off.

The bus driver nodded but said, “Okay, but tomorrow, you put him on the bus crying or not. He’ll be fine.” Uh, presumptuous much?

Then the happy school bus, which for me, is always mixed with a bit of horror – maybe all those movies of singing children being led off to doom – continued to its next stop.

I found my sniveling child, snot connecting him to the bushes like spider webs.

“It’s okay, baby. The bus is gone. Do you want me to drive you?”

He shook his head no. He did not want to go to camp. Ever. That of course, was not going to happen.

I led him inside, trying to comfort him while also trying not to get tangled in the snot.

Getting him off on the right foot was important. Getting him to be more independent was important. Getting him to the camp which we’d already paid for was definitely important.

We had a lot of stuff to accomplish here.That Kindergarten bus was right around the corner.

The wheels on the bus go… right past my house.

Hey! It’s my 1 year blogger-versary! One year, people!! I raise my cone to you in thanks. You guys are the best.

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Posted in Every Day Scoops and tagged afraid to get on the bus, afraid to go to camp, fear of the yellow bus, getting ready for kindergarten, my son doesn't want to go to camp, off to camp, the wheels on the bus go. Bookmark the permalink.

Moving up. And moving on.

Posted on June 21, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

This week, I attended end of year ceremonies for two of my boys. One from nursery and one from elementary school. Now I know these don’t really count as graduations, more like transitions, or changes of address, but they are momentous in their own right. Especially for me.

After eight years, my time in nursery school has finally come to a close. On one hand, I am so happy to be out of those halls where I was constantly tripping over people who came up to my knees, and ‘ohhing’ and ‘ahhing’ over artwork that looked like a two year-old did it. Oh, right.

But on the other hand, I’m miserable. My youngest baby is growing up. We’ll no longer have our days off together. He’ll become part of the larger system, one not as accessible to me.

I look back at pictures of him when he first entered. A baby, really. I mean he still is a baby now, but not really. Even though he still adorably whispers his secrets from his ear to mine, I can’t ignore his maturity, his humor, his knowing, third kid savvy.

Even though it’s time for the next step, I want to pick him up, hug him to me and not put his feet back on the ground. If he can’t walk, he can’t step. Right?

My 10 year-old is moving on as well – to middle school. I vividly remember putting him on the bus for Kindergarten. It was traumatic for both of us. Even now, I could cry thinking about it. Okay, I am crying. But that child who struggled to get on the bus, now rides in the back with his posse and loves it.

The baby who wouldn’t get up to sing at his Kindergarten moving up ceremony, the only child in the grade, took the stage as a third grader and performed a lead role in the school play. It is up there with the best moments of my life.

The child who sat shyly, never even asserting himself to go to the bathroom, holding it all day, now sometimes needs reminding to sit in his seat and stop talking to his friends.

The child who never asked for play dates, so happy to just be home, now has a great group of buddies and hangs out with them regularly.

He has grown so much, but he also is still so much that baby. If he weren’t so heavy, I’d pick him up along with my five year-old and eight year-old, to keep us all from taking those next steps. I want to bubble all my boys up and keep them tied to me like balloons around my wrist. If I’m honest, I don’t really want to let them fly. I’ll give them some string, but I feel much better with them tied to me.

But of course, that’s not realistic. I can’t stop time, any more than I can’t stop progress. They march on, just like my babies proudly making their way up to the podium. We’re moving on up, and it’s time for me to get with the program. Hand me the tissues.

Okay, so he didn’t technically graduate, but he did finish 2nd grade. And come on, look how cute he is.

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Posted in Crap that makes me eat too much ice cream, Every Day Scoops and tagged graduation, growing up, moving up ceremonies, school's out for summer. Bookmark the permalink.

Keep dreaming, baby.

Posted on June 19, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

“Time to wake up,” I say and gently shake my 10 year-old. I never like waking him. He sleeps so soundly, like a baby bear in winter, albeit one with a severe balding problem.

I used to just think I lucked out with an easy baby, but now I know the truth. Tyler is a dreamer. Not the day-dreaming type, although at times, he does seem to exist in his own world. No, Tyler is a night dreamer, prone to vivid, dramatic escapades. Often, he’ll wake with such a tale to tell, you’d think he’d just been to the movies. There might be battles of revolutionary proportions. There might be flying or swimming with sharks. He might save the world or just his own skin.

“Come on, baby.” I coo, but Tyler barely moves a muscle. I give him the five minute warning and head down to the kitchen. Today is his graduation from elementary school. Come September, my sweet boy will be in middle school, walking with his friends instead of taking the bus, carrying a cell phone, as well as a more little swagger and snark.

While it doesn’t seem like yesterday when I first put him on the bus for Kindergarten, it doesn’t seem like six years ago either. He stepped into that school a baby and now he’s a boy. He’ll step into middle school a boy, and he’ll step out a teenager. He’s on his way to growing up.

“Who wants pancakes?” I ask my two younger boys, already at the table.

“I want cereal.” Tyler announces, finally making an appearance.

“Good graduation morning,” I say brightly and he comes directly to me for a long, still sleepy hug.

“I had a great dream.” He says, eyes lit with excitement.

“Tell me,” I encourage, and he shares a story where he is the hero of a battle, flying over fields, dodging attacks, outsmarting legions of men.

I love his dreams, they’re rich and dazzling, and he’s always the star. I can’t remember the last dream I had with any sort of intensity. I don’t even think I dream much anymore. At the very least, I don’t really remember any of them. I wonder if it’s me. If my brain is too cluttered with every day to dream? If, like the follicles of a womb, dreams are numbered and soon I’ll have no dreams left? Or, maybe dreams really are visions of the young.

I used to fly in my dreams. Even 30 years later, the lightness and freedom of those dreams linger. I can still almost feel them. But it’s been a long time.

I hope he never loses his ability to fly, to be the hero, the star of his own exciting adventure. His life is unmarked territory, the path wide open. There are real battles ahead, loves to pursue and monsters to conquer. I hope he keeps dreaming, and I hope he lives his dreams. Except maybe the ones where he’s fighting sharks and stuff.

bad mommy. 😉

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Posted in Every Day Scoops and tagged big dreams, dream on, dreaming, graduation dreams, life dreams, live your dreams, people say i'm a dreamer, vivid dreams. Bookmark the permalink.

Come on, let’s go for a run. Yes, right now.

Posted on May 30, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

Good morning. It’s a lovely day out there. Perfect for a run. Now, I’m not the gal who loves her runs, I’m the gal who loves when they’re over. So chop, chop. The faster we start. The faster we end.

First check the sneakers. I am what some might call a ‘loose tier’ which means, I have a tendency to not give my all to the laces, leaving them apt to untangle. Trust me, I don’t need any more help tripping.

Just some unnecessary information, my husband is a ‘tight tier’ which as you might imagine is the opposite of what I am. He’s actually quite condescending about it, constantly berating me and my children for our slack. When he ties a knot, Boy Scouts beware. You will be sleeping with your sneakers on forever. But enough of that. Off we go.

So this is my neighborhood. I admit to loving it. The trees, the people waving as I pass. The kids on bikes. The woman speeding down the street! Hey Bitch, that wasn’t even close to a complete stop! Are you kidding me?!

So we’re going to turn here and make our way down to the water. Isn’t this nice? Take a moment in your own heads to continue cursing out the lady who has no respect for stop signs.

Great. Now relax. Isn’t the water peaceful?

Oops people ahead. Beep beep. Nope. No one moves aside even a little. They are too busy chatting and enjoying the beautiful day. That’s okay, I’m feeling zen from the water. I’m not even going to push them in.

Look baby geese! So cute!!

Look out! Geese poop! So not cute!

Okay team, we’re past the half way mark, let’s head on up to the main road. This is the tough part where you need to keep your mind occupied because there’s not much to look at.

I’ll tell you a joke my 5 year-old told me the other day to keep you distracted.

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Because he didn’t have a car.

Yup. He made that up out of his cute 5 year-old brain. Let’s ponder his fabulousness for a moment.

So now, we’re up at the main road. Pretty typical looking. Lots of cars. Hope I don’t see anyone I know because, well, I’m not going to show you a picture of my outfit because I’d like to maintain the image of me running in matching, flattering workout gear.

Yup, that's me. I'm such a mess. photo credit - www.victoriasecret.com

Fine, that’s me. I’m such a mess.
photo credit – http://www.victoriasecret.com

So tell me about yourself? Do you typically run? What do you think about when you do? Right now I’m thinking I’d like to stop at the ice cream store and get a cone of rocky road.

can you make out B&R?

Really, I’m really so glad you’re here. Usually by this point I’ve deteriorated to mentally judging everyone one I pass, but you’re giving me positive energy. I didn’t even mention that teenager in short shorts trying to show off her vagina. I might be trying to impress you.

Guess what? We’re almost done. I think it’s gone so fast because I’m really entertaining. Maybe? Come on, I bet you don’t even feel like you worked out? One last hill and we’re back on my block. Let’s sprint this last stretch, shall we? You can do it. I’m right behind you. Ha. You fell for that?

Woo! Home Sweet Home. We did about four miles. Great job! Race you back to the ice cream store?

I’m so winning.

daily post

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Posted in Every Day Scoops, Weight Watching and tagged exercise, humor, keeping your mind busy wihile running, running, running outdoors, running outside, running with friends. Bookmark the permalink.

I’ve got a Fat Head. The Body is Debatable.

Posted on April 25, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

I see you across the produce and intentionally look away, busying myself with finding a perfectly ripe avocado. We’re friendly, but not great friends, and I haven’t see you in a while. Of course, you notice me and zoom on over.

“Hey there,” you say with a smile. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in forever.”

I can feel you eyeing me up and down. I see you zero in on the tightness of my jeans. I don’t blame you. It can’t be helped.

“So how are the boys?” You ask considerately, calling them each by name.

I hear you talking about how second grade is going, but I know you’re thinking, “Man, she’s put on weight.”

I know it’s only a few pounds, but it feels like the weight of the world on my thighs, and I know everyone knows it. Everywhere I go, they’re all smiling at me and chatting like it doesn’t matter, like they’re not thinking, “She really let herself go.”

Sometimes, I think it’s just me. That I’m crazy, and no one really notices anything different about me. I mean, it is a bit self-involved to think that everyone is noticing me, that they would even recognize a few extra pounds. No one cares what I look like. Everyone is just worried about themselves, right? But then I know I’m just fooling myself. Of course, they are looking. We are all looking at each other.

“I think the last time I saw you was at that sushi place.” You say.

Of course, bring that up. Where else would I be but a food place, right? Eating. Thanks for rubbing it in.

“How’s baseball going?” You ask.

I nod blankly, because I’m really not listening. I know you’re just making polite conversation to cover up the elephant in the room.

“Hello…?” You laugh.

I smile, caught. I apologize for blanking out. You let it go, and repeat the question. You’re really very nice. But come on, seriously, when is this public scrutiny going to end?!! Why can’t I just go get my Tropicana, eggs and some Honey Nut Cheerios in peace without the third degree! Why are you torturing me!!!?

I mean really, enough is enough. The show is over. Do I need to sing??

“Nice, seeing you again.” You say, and start to pull your cart away. “By the way, you look great.”

Huh.

Well I’m sure you didn’t mean it.

I wonder if Edy’s is on sale.

I don't even think I can fit a hat on that head.

I don’t think I can even fit a hat on that head!

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/07/05/daily-prompt-mirror/

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Posted in Every Day Scoops, Uncategorized and tagged body image, fat days, self image, self-confidence, weight, women. Bookmark the permalink.

Ain’t Nothin Gonna Breaka My Stride

Posted on April 23, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

Downstairs making lunches for my children in the early morning hours, it was already apparent that there was something special about this day. The hard boiled eggs easily shed their skins. The peanut butter had a lovely oily sheen. I had enough vanilla yogurts to go around. Making lunches was never this enjoyable. Even waking my kids and watching them drudge themselves from their slumber took on a rose colored hue. They looked young and gorgeous. Even I didn’t look half bad as I gazed at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Okay, the lights were off, but whatever.

Maybe it’s because today is my birthday. I am 43. Wow, that sounds old. 43 is a woman with short hair and 10 extra pounds in mom jeans, not me. Although, I can’t say the gym clothes I’m sporting on a daily basis will be seen in Vogue anytime soon. And I have recently gained a few pounds. Crap.

Well, I certainly don’t feel 43. I mean, sometimes I feel 100, but certainly not 43. On most days, I think I settle in nicely around 31, although for the record, 27 is the age to be… not so young as to still be in some back alley throwing up your fourth margarita and accompanying nachos on your borrowed overpriced shoes, but not so mature that you limit the potential of your own possibility. But 43… Wow, again. I seem to be stuck now obsessing over the number. I can’t move on. I can’t look away. I need to get it out of my head. 43434343434343434343434343. That’s better, for some reason now all I see is 34. I’ll take it.

Something about birthdays make you feel very young and hopeful, like there’s a surprise waiting for you around every corner. They also can make you feel very old, like when you realize, there are no surprises anymore, only kids who couldn’t bother to even make you a card and a husband who didn’t take the early train home, and spent the night watching the Yankees.

But that was last year.

This year, I’m taking control of my birthday and not leaving it in the hands of amateurs. I’ve scheduled my annual physical this morning. I thought it was a positive way to start the year. After that, I’m heading straight to the gym. Then I’ve got a massage appointment, followed by lunch with friends. I love it already.

My husband walks in the kitchen where I’m finished with the lunches and have started giving the boys breakfast. “Happy birthday, Mommy!” he booms. “Did everyone say happy birthday?” Three sleepy heads lift. A muted chorus of unenthusiastic “Happy birthday, Mommy” dutifully follows.

“That’s it?” My husband bellows. “That’s all Mommy gets?” That woke them. Immediately, three bodies attack me with hugs viscous enough to suffocate a small animal. I beam. That’s more like it.

I’m totally feeling the glow, all warm and happy. I add pick up ice cream cake to today’s to-do list. Maybe they will, maybe they won’t, but I’m old enough to know not to put my happiness in anyone’s hands besides my own. It’s a gift.

I wish. 😉

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Posted in Crap that makes me eat too much ice cream, Every Day Scoops and tagged Birthdays, happy birthday, middle-age, Yeah write. Bookmark the permalink.

Parenting Moments I now Miss that Totally Annoyed Me at the Time

Posted on April 18, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

Every morning, so early my eyes couldn’t focus, I would stand downstairs in the kitchen, preparing very specific lunch and snack requests for my kids for the day. On auto-pilot I would put up the water for fresh pasta (Parmesan in a Ziplock bag on the side) or Annie’s Macaroni and cheese shells. Yellow only. Don’t even think about elbows. There were other annoying necessities, such as slicing grapes, not only so that they wouldn’t be choking hazards, but also because the bruised ends which attached to the vine, offended them. The crusts on any sandwich must be banished, and hard boiled eggs must be void of any remnants of yellow. Any.

As mommy, there were so many particulars that needed tending to simply get through a day responsibly and with the least amount of tantrums. “Not the blue bowl!!! The red!” But now that we’re a bit older, a lot of these peculiarities or young needs have faded away. And now, believe it or not, I kind of miss them. Well, some of them…

The 3am Wanderer – It wasn’t a routine thing. I was always pretty strong about keeping my bed, uh, I mean mine and my husband’s bed, off limits, but there were times, of course, when I would wake to find a child’s foot kicking me in the back, or an arm over my face. So annoying. So warm and sweet and delicious. And annoying.

The Tickle Back – For years, I couldn’t leave my middle child’s room without going through an elaborate ritual. “Tickle back, Mommy! Do it harder… softer… No, this way… You forgot arms… Sorry, you didn’t do that well. Try again! It was an arduous test to pass every night before I was released to my own rewards of ice cream and Housewives. These days, I am literally dismissed. “You can go now, Mommy.”

The Bus Stop – The bus stop is on my corner and I am the corner house, so it’s not exactly a schlepp. Still, many a day, I stood there, sometimes freezing, sometimes corralling a younger sib or worrying because I left someone in front of the TV. I’d wait impatiently to hear those screechy breaks on the corner before ours. But now, my 5^th and 2^nd graders are perfectly capable and happy to walk the 10 feet to the curb themselves. I watch from the doorway, but they rarely look back.

Play! – “Mommy, let’s play Pokemon/lego/dinosaur battle!” Really? Do we have to? Apparently, we always did. So we’d sit on the floor and set up 100 figures and then “pshew pshew” shoot and fly them across the floor at each other. “What are you gonna do?!” My kid would ask desperately, as I tried to sneak a peek at the open newspaper next to us. “Uh, I’m gonna thunder punch?” I’d say, without enthusiasm. My bad attitude was never noted, as long as I came up with something. “Revolving kick!” He’d boom back energetically, clearly to make me look bad in front of my ‘men’. Not that it mattered. His figures would always spin round and round, throwing mine across the room.
These days the only thing the boys want to battle with me over is their playing time on iTouch, Computer or Wii.

The Butt Wipe – Yeah, I know. Who’d miss that, right? And while I might not actually miss the physical wiping, I definitely do miss the build-up. “Mom! I need to poop!” Followed by, “Done! Done! DONE!!” And then there are all those fascinating positions for optimal wiping. Okay, TMI, but, now my little boys just go on their own. Done. At least they still regularly forget to lift the seat and I wind up sitting on pee. Sigh. It’s the little things.

Mommy Don’t Go! – Oh the drama! Oh the tears! But boys, mommy is only going out for a little. Mommy needs wine and therapy, I mean friends. Cue clinging and snotting and hanging on legs. On occasion, a child could be physically ripped wailing from my body as I ran out the door, only to be seen as a desperate little face banging on the window. They couldn’t bear to part with me. Now they stare at the TV as I yell loudly, “BYE!” and they (sometimes) look up and bless me with a smile. Oh where have all the good times gone!!??!

All the older moms always say, you’ll miss these days when they’re gone. I look around. There are toys and crap everywhere, laundry piled high. I bitch about it constantly. Will I miss this mess? I consider my house, devoid of the clutter, neat and perfect (come on, it’s a hypothetical fantasy!), and immediately, I know I will. Because when it’s gone, they’re gone.

I’m going to try to remember that the next time I’m dragging my kid out of bed to wake up.

*My youngest just forced me into having a Battle of the Skylander Figures. Taking #4 off the list immediately. Bleh!

The dreaded battlefield. It kills me every time.

48 Comments

Posted in Every Day Scoops and tagged annoying things kids do, humor, missing childhood moments, parenting, parenting moments, picky eaters, playing army men, potty training. Bookmark the permalink.

Why I let my son take a ‘day off’ each week.

Posted on March 26, 2013 by Ice Scream Mama

“Is it Thursday yet, mommy?” My five year-old asked, looking fetchingly into my eyes.

“Uh no, honey. It’s Monday. You know that.”

“Can I take a day off of school today?” More wide-eyed hopefulness.

“Sweetie, we’ve just come off the weekend. You take your day off on Thursday.”

“How long till Thursday?”

I sighed. “You know the days of the week. You figure it out.”

It was time for the bait and switch. “Hey, let’s go check out that new cereal you picked out in the supermarket the other day.”

“Yeah!” He exclaimed. “I wanna mix the Trix and the Mini-Wheats and the Honey Nut Cheerios!” His curls bounced as he skipped toward the kitchen. Mission accomplished.

It’s the same every week. In fact, almost every day. Julius enjoys pre-school, but obviously, he’d rather be home, which is why I let him have a day off each week. It doesn’t bother me. After this year, he’s in Kindergarten and there are no more weekly ‘days off’. I like hanging out with him, and Pre-school, while important, is not as important as hanging out together.

At least to me.

“What? Another day off?” His teacher says almost every Friday when we go back to school. She smiles at Julius, but looks at me like I’ve just fed him bugs. “I should give you a spanking,” She jokes.

Yeah. Not funny.

My mother and husband also take a page from her book.

Husband – “You are such a sucker.”

Mother – “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re not setting a good example for what his responsibilities are regarding school.”

Even some of the other school moms raise a brow.

To all of them I say a big wet, “PPPPPFFFTTTTHHH!”

Am I missing something? For the life of me, I can’t figure out what the problem is. I let my nursery kid take a day off to spend with his mommy each week, and everyone has something to say about that. Since when is quality time with your child open to negative scrutiny. Pre-school is just that. Pre School. They are not learning academics; they focus on socialization and structure. It’s preparation. It’s laying the foundation. It’s not a mandatory. It’s just become the popular norm.

My son knows what ‘clean up’ time is. He knows how to build blocks with another child without throwing them. He can sit in a circle and participate. He knows his ABC’s, 123’s and all that. He’s got Pre-K down.

This is the last hoorah for me and my baby, while he’s still – okay not really, but let me pretend for this last year – a baby. There’s plenty of time for classrooms, and not enough time for ice cream and playing with Mommy.

So on Thursday, when he looks at me with his big brown eyes and asks, “Mommy is today my day off?”

I’ll nod yes, happily. Because I love our days off just as much as he does.

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Posted in Every Day Scoops and tagged days off, no school, parenting, quality time, special days, truancy. Bookmark the permalink.

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