*Do you know what’s depressing about getting acquainted with new people (as I was doing just this morning)? Inevitably they will ask you what your interests or hobbies are, what you do. And then (if you’re me) you’re forced to admit you don’t do anything. Like, at all. You know what’s even more depressing? Having the person you’re getting acquainted with ramble off a ridiculously long list of hobbies and talents: cooking, sewing, painting, drawing, photography, woodworking, gardening, zumba instructing. Those are just the ones I can remember off the top of my head. I could go on and on. But I think my kids are better behaved than hers, so there. (Actually, they’re pretty cute kids, just a little busier than mine ever were.) Sigh.
*I had the most disturbing dreams last night. Like disturbing. Illustrations are completely out of the question.
*Last night I found out that BigHugs will not be one of the kids moving from her am kindergarten class into a newly formed pm class with a different teacher being brought over from another school. (She’s going to be teaching an am class at the one school and a pm class at our school, which doesn’t sound like an ideal situation to me.) I was much relieved, as this has been a major source of anxiety for me this week.
*I spent 2.5 hours Thursday morning helping in BigHugs’ kindergarten class, which still had 27 students. Wow. All I can say is I think kindergarten teachers are saints. Saints. I was busy the entire time—sorting, cutting, sharpening (pencils, in case you were concerned), tying shoes, zipping and unzipping backpacks, showing kids how to put letters the right side up. It was exhausting. And fun. I think maybe I was made for menial tasks. Of the non-housework variety, of course.
*Tuesday and Thursday nights were curriculum nights at the elementary school, where the teachers outline what the kids will be learning, as well as their goals and expectations for the year. There were 3-7 parents in each of my girls’ classrooms, and each of their classes have 26-28 kids. I thought that was kind of sad. But then maybe they were all off cooking, sewing, painting, drawing, photography, woodworking, gardening and zumba instructing, and the rest of us losers just had nothing else to do.
*On a lighter note:
DynaGirl’s class is working on writing their autobiographies. Each day this week her teacher has had the class write about a different family member.
Me: What did you write about me?
DynaGirl: I didn’t write anything bad. Because there isn’t anything bad.
Me: Oh, you’re so nice. And forgetful. Maybe you’re just suppressing it—burying it deep down. Like Mr. T.
Mr. T: What?
Me: Isn’t that what you do? Take all the bad stuff and bury it deep, deep down so you don’t cry yourself to sleep at night?
Mr. T: Who says I don’t cry myself to sleep?
I can always count on Mr. T.