In a few short hours, my husband will be home from the Business Trip From Hell. (He’s been gone since December 31st) My words, not his. He’s managed just fine, I’ve wondered on a daily basis if I was going to go batshit insane that very minute or hold off til the next. Single moms and military moms are heroes. How they manage their lives and the lives of their children and still stay a functioning member of society is just flat-out incredible. Not sure I could do it. Right now I have a raging headache (thank you stress), two sons who insist on TALKING AT THE TOPS OF THEIR VOICES (whimper), and a full moon that is just making everything else oh so much better (insert heavy sarcasm here).
Have you noticed the full moon this week? I believe it is completely full tonight, so today and this evening should be just a barrel of laughs. Again, thank GOD Tom will be home soon. Some people don’t believe that a full moon makes a difference, and to those people I say this: HA! Bet your bahookie that it makes a difference! (Ah, bahookie. The greatest word A has ever brought home from school. The PE teacher uses it instead of butt. I love the word bahookie. It’s just so silly and rolls off the tongue well and is a great alternative to butt. Feel free to adopt it.) But the full moon…I really wish we, as a society, recognized how much the moon can screw with us. I have nurse friends who swear the weirdos all come out, law enforcement friends who swear all the weirdos come out, and teacher friends who swear the kids let their inner weirdos out. Parents already knew it. My boys used to let out their inner weirdos every full moon, but now they save up and release them every three months for a real party. I really wish I was making this up, but I’m not. Last year it was January, April, July, and October. And now, again, this January. I’m really not making this up. I’d be wondering who the idiot children were and where they came from, happen to catch the moon out of the corner of my eye, do some mental math, and go open a bottle of Shiraz. And it’s ever so much fun when Tom is traveling then. Actually…I should check the next few months…and now I’m wondering if he’s doing this on purpose. 😉
Now, to wrap up this rambling, headache-fueled post, some good news. On Election Day the residents of our school district finally corrected their Cranial-Rectal Inversion and approved a mill levy override AND a bond issue. Thank.God. This meant the district could update the rapidly aging buildings (our middle school was built in1918 or so and desperately needs improvements), build new ones, and hire back many of the 85 teachers they had to let go last year. Yes, 85 teachers. A’s classroom this fall had 35 kids. In second grade. The brand new school opened 125 kids over capacity this fall. So, mid-year, the money came available to hire new teachers and A’s school jumped on it and hired a couple. One was for the over-crowded second grade. But instead of creating a whole new homeroom class (they couldn’t, because they didn’t have the classroom space), they did some juggling. Long story short (too late!), A’s beloved homeroom teacher is now teaching 2nd grade reading and he has the new teacher. This worried me on multiple levels, from “AGH! A does not handle change well at all and he adores his teacher!” to “AGH! I was just about to sit down with the teacher and beg for GT help!” So I was worried. What kind of teacher were they going to find mid-year? Then I heard she was older. Yikes, that can mean she’s set in her ways. Then I finally got to the bottom of the desk pile and read the letter from the school introducing Mrs. P. And the worry stopped. The new teacher has a Masters in GT Education, and has acquired special training in auditory processing, visual processing, and articulation as they relate to learning. Hm. She might actually be familiar with twice-exceptionalities. I still haven’t met her, but will be reaching out to her in the next week or so. Pure relief.
Enough rambling. If you made it this far, congratulations. You survived. I’ll have something of quality up another time, this 11 day stint of single-parenthood drained me badly. More coffee…