The Queen's Rambles

It’s Wednesday and I haven’t written about Erik’s birthday party? How can that be?

Not that it was all that exciting. The kids came. They saw. They were conquered by their black belt instructor.

Seriously, this was the best birthday party I’ve ever thrown, namely because I did not have to provide any entertainment or worry about the weather. Almost everything went well even though I forgot some of the cheese for the grown-up food platter and I couldn’t find the E candle until we were cleaning up. I was pretty worried that Erik would freak out, but my friend told him he was super cool because we had the candles set up as (STAR)RIK so she told him he was Star-rik and he thought that was awesome. Didn’t even notice that left four candles instead of five.

Eleven kids attended and only one didn’t participate. He kept asking his dad “why are the kids doing that?” He didn’t quite get that they were having fun. Of course, his mom is the one who told me Erik needs a shot of estrogen so it’s not like he’s the most manly little boy.

I was pretty impressed with the kids as a whole because they did way better than Erik’s regular karate class. There’s always a boy who runs around and doesn’t participate, a girl who lays down and cries and a boy who just lays down.

I’m just glad it’s all over and I can focus on the next project: room make-over! I have paint. I have rollers. I have blue tape. Do we have time? Not really.

I also have a whole slew of appointments and might finally, finally, finally be getting these ugly moles off my face! The last time I had an appointment to get them taken off was in December of 2003, but it ended up being the same day as my semi-emergency gall bladder removal. I was in so much pain from that, that the thought of having them hack things off my face wasn’t particularly pleasing. Seven years later and maybe this time they will really come off (assuming I don’t end up with semi-emergency dermoid cyst removal–one of my appointments is another sonogram to see what that crazy thing is doing.)

I also need to call and make a portrait appointment for the kids. I went to Burlington Coat Factory yesterday on a hunt for cute portrait things and remembered why I never shop there. It is so disgusting. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have homeless men peeing in their elevator. Then we waited over half an hour just to check out. Gross, gross, ill-managed store. I would say I’m never going there again, but I bought Elsa a super cute Christmas dress in size 12 month, thinking she could grow into it a little by Christmas.

Yeah.

Girl can’t even think about getting it over all her rolls of fat.

Eighteen month gown it is! I have the most beautiful 24 month gown that Grain Damaged sent for her, but it’s just too big for her.

Dressing a girl is so much fun. It takes all my will power not to buy a million little dresses, but what good are dresses once baby starts crawling? She’s almost there, if she can ever pick her belly off the ground. We need to get baby gates up this weekend because that child is on the move. She just throws her arm into her rolls and gets wherever she wants to go.

What else?

How about a little controversy? Do you read Julia of Here Be Hippogriffs fame? I love reading Julia. She’s one of the few famous bloggers that doesn’t irritate the snot out of me.

Anyway, her son is named Patrick and some of the kids at school are calling him Patricia. She wanted to know how to help and several people suggested working with him to come up with girl names for the other boys and teaching him to respond “Ok, Michelle, whatever you say” or some other snappy come back.

Other commenter were horrified that she would teach him to do something so “cruel” and said she needs to contact the teacher and go through the anti-bullying channels and tell Patrick he is above such things.

I fall firmly on the side of “help him come up with some snappy come backs.” It really didn’t sound like the kids were bullying him, as much as teasing him. Sure, it is no fun. He doesn’t like it. It should stop. A teacher could stop it in the classroom, but she doesn’t have power other places. I think it is so, so important for kids to learn to stand up for themselves. They have to learn how to tease back. If you don’t want to be a victim, you have to be able to take and dish out teasing. I really don’t understand how it would be cruel for a kid being called a girl name to turn it around and call the other kids by girl names. Not that he should instigate, of course, but defending himself? Why not? It would nip the problem in the bud pretty darned quick (assuming there is not something deeper going on).

I’m more old school in my approach, though. I could have very easily been bullied as a child. I was a goody-two shoes. I was fat. I was pimply. I didn’t have many friends.

The few times kids tried to physically pick on me I fought back (mainly hair pulling, probably). Guess what? I wasn’t picked on any more. Violence is not the answer, but standing up to bullies is really the only way to prevent further bullying. “Just ignore them” is such a grown-up thing to say that doesn’t help the child in any way, shape or form.

I know a lot of people disagree and that’s ok. You teach your kid what you want to teach your kid and I’ll take my kid to karate. They have a class creed that goes something like “always show others kindness, courtesy and respect but be prepared at all times to defend yourself.” It is a little shocking in our age of coddling children, but I like it.

Today is going to be insanity but there’s nothing I can do about it right now. Instead, I’ll grant you a post. Two in one week? Hold the phone, Nelly!

I thought I had a brilliant idea. I would call and get a hair appointment for this morning and then I wouldn’t have to shower–I could just have them wash my hair and cut it and I’d be good to go.

The salon doesn’t open until 11. What the heck? I thought salons opened early so they could curl the hair of all their old lady patrons. Or is that just in rural places with old ladies that still sit under the big bubble blow dryers?

I can’t run up to Costco and get the birthday cake because they don’t open to the public until 11.

I have one playdate schedule for 11 and one playdate scheduled for after that playdate and I have to pick up a birthday cake and get a haircut and get my brows waxed (mainly b/c we are going to a fancy 50 year birthday party after Erik’s birthday party).

Whew!

I’ve managed to combine the playdates, so that fixes the major problem of not having enough time. How is life so busy? I can’t wait until the birthday party is over and I can start focusing on something else.

Erik has really been enjoying karate, but yesterday he didn’t want to go because he wanted to play his new Wii game.

Instead of whining like usual, he imitated something he saw from TV–a full blown, throw-yourself-on-the-floor-pound-your-fists-kick-your-feet temper tantrum.

My mom and I were both stunned. He’s not done something like that since he was two years old. It was so ridiculous that I started laughing, then my mom started laughing, then Erik sat up, glared at us, then started laughing.

I’m glad we defused the situation and I hope he doesn’t try that again since it clearly didn’t get him what he wanted. I don’t need five to be the year of full blown temper tantrums.

What else?

My mom is moving full steam ahead on our plan to turn Erik’s old room into a nursery. I had to tell her to slow down because I just can’t concentrate on it right now. The woman has no slow speed, but Mike is not going to allow her to paint it herself because she is the sloppiest painter in the universe. She doesn’t understand that even though she has eyeballs and should be able to SEE that her paint skills are total crap. She is of the mind that done is better than perfect. A good attitude about some things, but not about paint. We bought the paint yesterday (a very, very light lavender) so I have to keep her out of it until next week.

I love having my mom here and we haven’t had any fights, but it can be difficult to have someone with a different brain organizing all your things.

Plus, she is the most literal person on the planet. Yesterday I said “we need to take these mattresses out of the curb so the trash collectors will take them.” We go out there with them and then she starts trying to literally balance them on the curb. I ask her what she’s doing and she’s clueless “but you said we had to put them on the curb. . . ”

It can be a challenge communicating with her when she’s in literal mode.

I guess I better go take a shower if we’re going to get this day moving.

We had an intense day of birthday fun today. Erik turned five, which was the big attraction. Elsa turned 6 months, which was barely a blip on our radar. Poor second baby getting short shrift. Not like she really noticed.

Erik had very specific plans for the day that I tried to accommodate as best I could. Shouldn’t a child’s birthday be completely magical?

He wanted a big hunk of chocolate cake for breakfast, which made me shudder. Of course, I always think cake is a great breakfast but motherhood is more of a “do as I say, not as I do” type of thing when it comes to nutrition. Instead of cake, I baked some banana muffins with cocoa powder, oats and whole wheat flour. No frosting. Not that bad, I suppose. My major worry was that he would be sugared up all day and then have a bunch of sugar crashes and end up having a cranky, yucky day. That’s no birthday!

He was very specific about taking green cupcakes to school and the little park down the street, so I ordered three dozen from Safeway even though the baker was confused. “No cupcake cake? Just regular cupcakes? We have regular cupcakes.” Yes, they did. But not green.

That all worked out well and now everyone in Safeway knows he is five and he loves green.

After school we went to a big Moms Club playdate at a friends house and the kids could do some crafty stuff, decorate cupcakes or just play around. Erik managed to stick three stickers on a foam bat before he left the table. He didn’t even want a cupcake (which made me happy). The sugar crash happened at the party and we had to leave early because he threw a metal doll thing and hit a girl in the head. I can’t stand it when he throws things. I will not tolerate it.

On the way home I let him sit in the back row of the van in a regular booster seat instead of his regular five point harness booster. He sits there sometimes and it is no biggie, but today he undid the seatbelt so we had to stop and I had to make him move to his five point harness. Oh the screaming! Oh the wailing!

Not very magical, but I suppose even the most perfect day has to have a little meltdown when you’re dealing with a five year old.

Once home he opened his family gifts and was thrilled beyond measure with a double ended light saber, metal detector, globe, a couple of Wii games and a Darth Vader costume. We could barely pry him away from his gifts to go to his “little park party.” We walked down to the little HOA park at the end of the cul de sac and distributed two dozen cupcakes. I was worried there wouldn’t be enough but a couple of families weren’t there and it worked out perfectly. My mom was really impressed that all the kids were running up to Erik and hugging him (ages 3-15) before they even saw the cupcakes. I love our neighborhood. We have a great group of kids and they all love Erik. What more could I want?

It’s kind of funny that they love him so much. His personality has a lot to do with it. As one of the dads at the preschool told me, the kid has a lot of personality. He’s destined to be class clown or class president or both. But he’s also popular because he’s exotic. There are other white children in our neighborhood, but they live down toward the other end of the road and none of them ever go out to play at the park. Erik is the only blond, blue eyed kid in the bunch and the other kids find it fascinating.

Anyway, where was I?

Ok. Cupcakes for breakfast, preschool cupcakes, playdate, presents, park cupcakes. How many cupcakes does that make? Way, way too many.

I wanted to do something special for dinner, but by the time dinner rolled around we were all pretty exhausted and Erik just wanted to play with his new games and eat cold steak.

Now we just have to get through the next few days, then we might be able to rest. Tomorrow it is pumpkin patch with preschool, Friday is a Moms Club park playdate, Saturday is the big birthday party followed by another big birthday party for one of Mike’s former colleagues. Whew! We will be resting properly on Sunday!

Did I mention my mom is here? That helps so much. Things like laundry and organizing are getting done and I am eternally grateful, even if I can’t find anything now. I’ll learn the system. She has torn apart Erik’s old room and moved things around (all with my blessing–I have plans, but no time to implement them) so I think we’ll be able to start painting Elsa’s new room on Tuesday.

So what is it with wakey babies? Oh yeah. The whole baby thing kind of explains it all.

We seem to be on an “up till 1 am” kick, which doesn’t do nice things for me when I have a boy who is up at 7. Today he let me sleep in till 9 because our house was cold and he didn’t have any clothes on so he didn’t want to get out of his bed. That’s 8 hours of sleep, so what am I complaining about? I don’t even know. Except the hours don’t match my natural sleep rhythms.

I turned the heat on, so maybe my house will stop smelling moldy. All of a sudden all I can smell is mold, mold, everywhere. So gross. I suppose the heat will dry everything out and make my nose ache, but it is kind of nice to not be sweltering.

I offered to take Erik to the store and buy him a pair of pajamas and he looked at me like I was crazy. “Why would I want pajamas?” Indeed. He had a fit when I picked him up from school yesterday and the teacher made him put his coat on. She apologized to me later. She just thought she was helping, not realizing his Swedish blood makes him some weird ice viking.

Maybe she doesn’t know about his Swedish blood. I was talking to another mom about the teacher and we both were complaining that she talks too fast and our boys don’t listen so then the teacher says our boys don’t know how to sequence. The other mom is of Middle Eastern heritage but speaks perfect English. The teacher made a comment that maybe the boy didn’t understand the story because it was in English. The mom was pretty upset b/c the boy only speaks English. What a major assumption to make based on skin color! The funny thing is, two of the white boys in the class (Erik and one of his buds) don’t speak 100% English at home. What happens when you assume?

It is really cold and I don’t have any socks or outerwear for dear Elsa. I guess the prospect of winter never occurred to me. When Erik was a baby he was so small that I just wrapped him in blankets and that was that.

How do I not have socks for my baby?

We had friends over yesterday afternoon. I didn’t think they would come because the mom has been working through food issues with her son and our plans for the afternoon involved making cookies. I invited them anyway because the boys get bored and she is having a hard time adjusting to her son’s new schedule (he goes to a real school instead of daycare so he gets home at 3 instead of 5).

Erik. . . oh sweet Erik. As my friend said, the boy needs a shot of estrogen because he is the most competitive person on the planet. I don’t think she was exaggerating. He wanted the cookie making to be a contest. We kept asking him how that would work and he didn’t know, but he kept declaring himself the winner.

My original plan was to just have the boys work together on one batch of cookies, but as I was driving Erik home and talking about it I realized that plan wouldn’t work, so they each got their own bowl and made half a batch. I premeasured all the ingredients before his friend got here, so all the boys had to do was dump them in and stir. Erik was all over it, but his friend thought it was way too hard and wouldn’t do it. His mom did it and it was no big deal, but it is just amazing to me how different two children can me.

Ok, guess I better go and help Erik build a club house before he bursts. This is the first time he has ever requested use of his big Christmas gift from last year (big cardboard building panels). Maybe they weren’t a total waste after all.

I do not like being up at midnight with a very alert baby. I guess I’m pretty lucky that it doesn’t happen often, but I sure am dreading tomorrow morning.

Not that we are getting much sleep anyways. I thought my cough was going away, but it came back with a vengeance last night. Sleep is not easy when you have to jump out of bed to go puke. Yeah. I’ve been coughing so hard I puke. Fun times! Feels like I’ve been doing an amazing abs workout.

I haven’t worked out in so long I don’t know if I still know how. I either need to get back to the gym or cancel my membership. There is only one option in that statement. I MUST get back to the gym. I just have to get healthy first.

Can you believe Erik is going to be five in nine days? I can’t! I was looking at pictures from last year’s party and can’t believe how much he’s matured this year. What is happening to my baby?

I went to Safeway and had a look through their cake book, totally destroying it in the process. Why does their cake book look like it should be featured on Cake Wrecks? I’m going to order from them even though they do a crappy decorating job because they have pretty good cake. Maybe I need to get a Costco membership.

Anyway, the cake book didn’t have any Star Wars cakes so unless I get a Costco membership and they have Star Wars cakes, I’ll have to have Safeway do the same thing they did last year–do the cake with a Star Trek background but no toys and I’ll add my own toppers. It actually turned out really cute last year.

What was I saying about destroying the book? It was this icing coated, nasty three ring binder thing that didn’t have a front or back. Half the pages were in backwards so I obviously wasn’t the first person to crack the thing open. It fell apart in my hands and I put it back together while the baker talked to me about the Star Wars cake. He said they could do a Star Wars cake but they didn’t have any . . . something. I finally gleaned that he meant they didn’t have the topper, but it took about five minutes of me saying “what? what?” which is not really helpful when the problem is not understanding the accent vs. not hearing.

In other news, I’ve come up with a partial solution to my hungry neighbor kids problem. Fruit! Duh! Bananas are dirt cheap, very filling and very nutritious. I don’t mind handing out bananas. My other cheap options included peanut butter and I am not comfortable handing out peanut butter to kids I don’t know. Erik has been handing out his yogurts. I hate to sound cheap, but hot damn! When you are suddenly passing out an extra 4-10 yogurts in a day that really adds up!

Basically there are three hungry children. They come down here and have no boundaries. Now that I’m feeling better I can manage them a lot better, but if I am upstairs trying to put the baby away Erik will let them in the house (even though he’s been told not to) and I’ll hear all kinds of hooting and hollering (mostly Erik, they are pretty quiet) and my kitchen will look like the Tasmanian Devil has taken a tour (mostly Erik’s fault; he loves playing waiter).

If I pass out snacks to those three, they will go down the street and tell the other kids that I have yogurt or graham crackers or whatever and suddenly I’ll have anywhere from 4-11 kids on my porch wanting a snack. I doubt any of them are actually hungry. Most of them have parents that might not want them spoiling their dinners. A few of them really shouldn’t be having extra snacks. I don’t want to be mean about the fat kids. I was one. I just know that people giving me extra food were cool at the time, but they weren’t ultimately doing me any favors.

So fruit. It’s pretty boring. Since I started that I haven’t had the masses of children lining up at my door. I just have the standard three that want ice water and food. I think I need to take Heather’s suggestion and put a cooler full of ice out on the porch.

I have tried to turn them away from my door when they just want water. I quiz them each time “Why can’t you get water at home? Don’t you have a sink?” and they always tell me they don’t have water, they only have “soder.” Erik has no idea what soda is, so he’ll tell me “mom, they only have soder!” How can I not give kids water? Even if it does drive me crazy. I am a hard ass when it comes to one thing–no kids in my house! We need to work on this a lot more because Erik loves to invite them in and if I am not right at the door he’ll open it and I’ll come up from the basement or down from the bedroom and find the whole mass standing around, staring at all our stuff. I just can’t take the risk of something happening to one of the kids or having any weird accusations happening from the neighbors. You never know with people.

What else?

The other day we were having pork for dinner and Erik got totally excited. I was confused because I didn’t know he had a particular fondness for pork, but I quickly became puzzled when he talked about it being round and green and crunchy. I may not be the best cook in the world, but surely I don’t cook green pork.

I eventually figured out that he meant fried okra, something he has been requesting on and off all summer. It’s been well over a years since I’ve made it because Safeway and Giant no longer carry okra. I have no idea how he remembered it.

I had a brilliant idea (very rare these days!) and suggested we take a trip to the Asian market. I know they use okra in Indian cooking so I was hoping we might find some.

We hit the jackpot! They had a whole mountain of okra, and it was really fresh and wonderful looking. Erik did a dance of joy right in middle of the aisle. Since that was the only thing we needed I hated to use my credit card so I borrowed some of his cash, which made him feel even more important.

It was quite the experience since no one in there was willing to speak English with us (not sure if they couldn’t or just wouldn’t) but Erik was unwilling to leave the store without introducing himself and his baby and his pork to everyone. His pork as in his okra. Nothing perverted.

Ohhhh! Baby is crying! Could this mean she is tired? That would be spectacular. Guess this is long enough as it is.

Let’s hope I can get a post in today. Elsa is such a quiet baby that she doesn’t cry when she wakes up. I listen to the baby monitor and scratching noises I run up the stairs to see if she’s awake. Running up two flights of stairs when you have hurt-y lungs is. . .well. . . hurt-y.

I thought I was over my cold, but then it took up residence in my lungs. I’m crackling when I breathe, which makes for lovely, long nights. What I wouldn’t give for a full dose of Nyquil and a bed all to myself.

I am feeling somewhat better today. I am looking around the house and feeling a strange sort of energy that sounds like “clean me, clean me.” The house is a disaster. Total and complete. Mike was sick this weekend and he usually does a lot of the more complicated cleaning, so things are out of hand. If I was a good little wifey I suppose I would ignore my own needs for blogging therapy and get my ass up the stairs and find the vacuum.

Like that’s really going to happen.

We started Elsa on oatmeal cereal the other day. I thought it would be an Erik first solid situation–let her sample the spoon, take pictures of the funny face, d-o-n-e.

I should have known better. When has this girl ever done anything like her brother? She eagerly ate every bite I gave her and I gave her a lot of bites. This sounds like a stupid thing to say, but it got really boring after awhile. Not that feeding your child should be like going to a circus. Most of parenthood is really boring, punctuated by moments of searing joy.

I don’t know what to do about Erik and his teacher. She sent home the most baffling paper the other day. I swear I am not a helicopter parent who thinks my child can do no wrong, but I was confused.

Why was I confused? Because this is not a terrible scan. The pictures are really that blurry. How is any four year old supposed to be able to look at the shoe and visually match which person is wearing the shoe? This is like that old argument about SAT scores not being valid for minority populations because the SAT assumes they know things about the cultural that they may not know. This worksheet assumes students know things about weird shoes. I don’t think Erik has been exposed to most of those ideas. The worksheet looks like something the teacher (much older than me) did when she was a kid and she’s been making mimeographed copies of it ever sense.

I don’t get it.

I also don’t get her reluctance to give Erik a time out. We had to have a big talk because he puts his hands in people’s faces and likes to hug and touch people. I agree 100%. I know he does that and at home he gets an automatic time out–no warning or counting. The teacher said she told him over 12 times to stop, but she didn’t want to give him a time out because he might get upset. All I can say is WTF? You teach preschool, lady. Kids are going to get upset. He can’t be allowed to act like that. I gave her full permission to give him a time out and told her to ignore his whining and stomping. She said she only had to give him one time out and his behavior improved significantly. Gee, ya think?

Oh well. I didn’t care for his teacher at the beginning of the year last year either and I ended up liking her. I am hearing a lot of grumbling at school about this teacher and I know other parents have talked to the director. She has a lot of expectations for kids that are just four years old.

I guess Elsa is going to be Princess Leia for Halloween. Boo! I wanted her to be a pretty, sparkly princess but we were looking at Halloween costumes and saw the Princess Leia one. Erik is obsessed. I suppose Halloween is for children so I should let him have his way. Ah, the sacrifices a mommy must make.

I think I’m going to ask my mom to buy Erik a Darth Vader costume for his birthday. I know he already has an Indiana Jones costume, but I knew when I bought it that there was the very serious risk that he’d no longer be obsessed when Halloween came around. If my mom buys it for him it will solve two problems. A) He’ll be getting a present that he really, really loves. B) I won’t feel like I’m wasting my money.

Win, win all around.

And I hear the finger nail scratching. Guess I better run.

Elsa and I are feeling a little better today, so there’s that. I thought I was going to just curl up in a ball and die yesterday. Not literally of course. But I felt pretty bad.

Until last week’s dead grandma situation I had not let the neighbor kids into my house. I knew the second they came in it would be all over. They have no boundaries at all (because of a really shitty home life) and I know that if something when wrong their mom would not hesitate to sue me (if she could come up with the funds).

Now that they know we have a fridge with water and ice in the door they are totally obsessed. They won’t quit knocking on my door, asking for water and ice. Even when I ask them nicely. Even when I ask them not so nicely.

If I leave my door unlocked, which I often do when Erik is outside because I’m not going to lock my kid out, they just walk on in and make themselves at home. Yesterday I cleared out Erik’s lunch bag so there was a whole pile of snacks that I bought for the plane ride that Erik refused to touch.

They started scarfing them down without even asking. I didn’t begrudge them the food and I would be ok with feeding them if they were really hungry (I know they do get food at home), but it was irritating that they didn’t even ask.

Then they just kept knocking and knocking and Elsa was trying to sleep and I was cranky and zombie like and they kept knocking and then the other neighborhood kids got in the act and I had twenty (ok, so only 7) kids hanging on my porch, knocking every other minute because they wanted ice.

There’s a fine line between being a nice person and helping traumatized children and being a door mat.

I don’t do well with kindness when I’m sick and my baby is sick.

Bah! And now my baby is crying so I guess I just get to whine and run.

I’ve been thinking and thinking about what to put in the birthday party favor bags. I can’t stand plastic crap. Can. Not. Stand. I know kids love to look through it, but my kid never actually plays with any of it. Such a horrible waste.

Bethany suggested something useable with a mylar balloon attached. The mylar balloon idea is excellent. I don’t know a kid who doesn’t long for their very own balloon. Erik’s first word was “boon.”

I thought about ordering an assortment of Halloween books from Scholastic, but Erik doesn’t get excited about books. I thought about giving out Star Wars t-shirts (I have an excellent coupon) but maybe other kids don’t get excited about clothing.

It’s slightly out of my budget, but I think I’m going with those Mr. Potato Head pumpkin decorating kits. Something else might strike my fancy on the Halloween junk aisle, but that is my current plan unless someone tells me it is a horrible idea (and gives me a reason why).

The party is three weeks out and I just have to order the pizza, cake and buy the favors. Otherwise I have everything. I overbought on plates and such, but saved receipts so can return what we don’t use if I don’t open them. Whoo-hoo!

You guys will all be happy to know that I am no longer feeling guilty and blaming myself for not calling 911. I was in such shock to hear the news that it was overwhelming, but after reading your words and having time to reflect I’ve come to the conclusion you are absolutely right. There was nothing more I could have done. I doubt anyone would have banged down the door since there was really no evidence anyone was in there, in distress. Instead the kids would have been taken by CPS and it would have been really scary. I did the best I could with the information given. The kids got a full belly and some fun times. They love playing with Erik. The little girl and Erik are total best friends. The mom told me that she says Erik is her best, best friend because he plays with her, shares with her and doesn’t fight on her.

The mom thanked me profusely for taking care of them that day, so that was good. You just never know what people are going to say.

Anyway, we are all sick here. I have a sore throat and phlegmmy lungs. Elsa has a snotty nose. Mike. Well, who knows. He got home at 3 am and feels like shit. Erik seems to be ok, so he’s going to school this afternoon, thank goodness. The teacher hasn’t said anything else about him and he hasn’t said he’s going to kick her, so maybe it will be ok. Our homework for the week was to make sure the kids can count to ten. Are there really four year olds who can’t count to ten? Our bedtime ritual now consists of me counting out loud to 100. Have you ever heard of such a boring bedtime ritual? Boring is good at bed time, I suppose.

Oh dear. Elsa is awake. I better go get her so Mike can sleep some more.

Remember last week when my neighbor kids showed up at my door and I didn’t call 911 b/c they are from the drug house and I figured this was just another example of their neglect?

Yeah.

The grandma was dead inside the house.

I feel like utter shit that I didn’t call 911.

The mom called about an hour after the kids showed up and Mike walked them home. She told Mike that the grandma had been home all day. Apparently at that point she just thought she was taking a nap, but she was actually dead.

I want to throw up. I know, logically, that my actions made sense at the time. If it had been any other household I would have called 911 immediately, under the assumption something was wrong. Neighbors not calling 911 is what you get when you show a pattern of irresponsibility.

But still. No excuse. I should have made the call.

I think she had been dead quite awhile and getting the paramedics there wouldn’t have made a difference, but I guess I’ll never know.

I just can’t believe it.