The Queen's Rambles

I need a shower to feel human but I need to post before I burst. I guess post wins, and hopefully I’ll still have time to shower later.

Where to start?

We had quite an afternoon yesterday. We were going to meet some friends at the park, but it started raining about a half hour before our meeting time so I invited everyone over to my house. My house was not company ready, but they were good friends and the place wasn’t a total sty, so who cares?

I had the door propped open because the weather was beautiful, despite the rain, when I suddenly had two extra kids pop in the door.

I told them they had to go outside and play, but they explained that they’d been knocking on their door five thousand times and no one would answer. Have you heard me talk about the drug house before? The kids belong there. If it had been any other kid I would have called 911 immediately because it would have been clear that something was wrong.

This situation? It’s tricky. I wanted to call 911, but I didn’t want the kids to feel like they were in trouble for seeking help. If they were not taken away from their parents I didn’t want them to get in trouble for seeking help. I don’t want to be a person they take advantage of all the time, but I do want to be a safe place for them if they need it.

Does that even make sense?

I went down and banged on the door. No one was there.

I left a note with our phone number and brought them home and fed them. Thankfully my company was very understanding and they took over Elsa care and big kid care (the two strays brought the total number of kids up to 7).

I knew the kids would be hungry, but holy cow! I gave them each some meatballs and bread and jelly and it was GONE in ten seconds flat. They’d been standing out in the rain for an hour, trying to figure out what to do. They knocked on the cops door, but he wasn’t home. I really, really wish he had been home! Then I wouldn’t have had to be involved or have any reason to question my actions. I think I did the right thing, but I still wonder if it would have been better to call 911.

In the end, they were with us for an hour before the mom called us. Apparently the grandma had been home the whole time, but she was taking a nap. The mom was pretty mad at the grandma, as she should have been, so I hope she wasn’t mad at the kids. Of course you and I would never blame our children for any wrong doing in a situation like that, but we are normal people. I have a pretty good insight into this ugly world of drugs and poverty thanks to my sister. She blames her kids for her dirty house. Yes, of course our children dirty up our house, but she goes beyond the initial “my house is dirty because I have kids” into “my children won’t clean my house, so why should I?”

So there was that.

Then there was preschool.

Erik loves it, but I am not in love with his teacher. She is supposed to be fabulous, but I’m not so sure. She’s very intense and expects a lot out of them, which is good, but I think she may be just a wee bit too intense for Erik.

Yesterday she told me (in front of the other parents!) that Erik doesn’t know his right from left, doesn’t know how to write his name, doesn’t know how to sequence a story and doesn’t know how to hold a pencil. On the plus side, he speaks in complete sentences.

Is any of that true?

He can’t hold a pencil properly. I am well aware of that.

The rest?

No. Not true. Just completely not true. I know I’m his mommy and I am biased, but I do think I am fairly clear sighted when it comes to his strengths and weaknesses.

She’s known him for seven days and she suddenly knows him better than me? I don’t think so.

He has two major problems: he often chooses not to pay attention if he doesn’t find you interesting and he is very literal. She doesn’t say “show me your left hand” she says “show me lefty loosey” and he doesn’t get that. He doesn’t know why his friend Lucy would be at his school. He and I often go round and round because I’ll speak in metaphors or idioms and he doesn’t understand or want to understand.

Sequencing stories? Same thing. He doesn’t care for fiction (my soul is weeping) and doesn’t really pay attention. If he doesn’t care about something, he’s not going to cooperate.

The teacher is very good at playing games with the kids, but they are games he isn’t interested in. She’s the sergeant but he doesn’t care. He keeps telling me “I’m a boy, not a soldier.”

I hope she figures it out sooner rather than later. I don’t want to speak to her about it because it is clear that she thinks she knows more than the parents. It’s preschool. I don’t really care at the moment as long as Erik is happy. But if it continues I’ll have to start to care.