Home with a Semi-Healthy Kid

The schools have a new policy this year: kids must be 24 hours fever free without use of any medicine before going back to school. How do they enforce this, you ask? Good question. All I know is that when you call your kid in sick, they immediately ask his symptoms. Maybe there is a fever alert placed on your kid or something, I don't know.

My son had a low-grade fever yesterday, but really had none yesterday afternoon. By last night, he was dancing with the stars. He woke up with no fever and really wanted to go to school. I just about let him, but in my gut I'm feeling guilt over the 24 hour policy. What if they ask how long he's been without a fever? If it's only been 22 hours, does that count? Will they send him home right after I've driven to work?

It seems to me that policies such as this have the best possible intentions, but end up punishing the obedient parents on every side. First, my basically healthy child will be home all day instead of learning at school, even though he doesn't have a fever and is tired. What kid isn't tired? Second, someone's kid came to school sick, which is how my kid got sick in the first place. They didn't follow the rules, and now we're stuck home two days instead of one to try to keep those kids from getting sick again. And bringing it to school. So my kid can get sick again and stay home some more.

I decided last night that instead of continuing to agonize and be frustrated over these hopeful but questionably helpful policies, I would just enjoy the extra time at home with my big guy. I don't get a lot of one-on-one with him anyway, so we'll watch movies, snuggle and do whatever it is semi-sick kids do on their day off.

Home sick

My son started running a low-grade fever last night. So in this day of h1n1 and general flu panic, we're home today. Of course, he has no other visible symptoms, and seems generally fine, but here we are anyway.

Notifying the school of illness seems to be an easy process-- call to the office, email to the teacher. Naturally, the all-important pta not-so-fun-draiser is due today, so we'll be running that by the office after dropping the healthy child at preschool.

The real question is what do you do with a semi-sick kid all day? Do you punish his illness by forcing him to lay around, even though he doesn't feel too bad? Do you pretend he's just fine and drag him to CVS for the bargain of the week? Do you home school for a day, so that he doesn't miss a full day of kindergarten? Geesh.

Whatever we do, it's me plus-one for the day.

Welcome to my world

Tonight, yet another fundraiser for the elementary school. Version: the local restaurant chain turned elementary cafeteria for the night. I have to hand it to the school staff-- they are required to be at night events all the time, it seems. I'm betting there isn't a bonus for Culver's duty either.

As if we needed a little more crazy, I brought along two good friends, one of whom is leaving to study overseas for 3 years on Saturday. Goodbyes are so sweet when set to the music of 50 screaming kids, making faces at each other and giggling.

So, during fundraising dinner, my youngest starts screaming about her immediate need for fruit punch. I told her to finish milk first, then fruit punch. Guess what? She didn't like that. Five minutes later, neither did anyone else around us as she continued to cry for what she wanted. Welcome to my strong-willed child.

And yes, I saw you, lady in the black shirt, looking so smugly at me and my raving child. I know, if YOU were the parent, that would never have happened.

As I see it, I had two choices: give in, which means no screaming and no fuss, but also means that she gets control, and she knows it. Or stand my ground, which means personal embarrassment and the judgment of others, from our school, who are looking for a reason to judge me.

What would you do? Well, I didn't give in. So what? Go on and judge, lady in the black shirt, but you'd better be praying your angel's adolescent years are as glorious as the 30 minutes you spent eating ice cream, or else you'll be sitting in the judgment seat too.

Hell hath no fury like a mama scorned...

Or something like that.

Tonight at soccer, Kate and I were standing there "watching" practice. This is a lot more like babysitting than watching, but so be it. I look up at some crazy drill they are doing about lanes and such and Sam no sooner gets passed the ball than this small boy uses both hands in the chest to push him over and take the ball. At practice.

I nearly came out of my skin. My mom protective gene took over, and I could feel my blood pressure rise. Fortunately, as the evolved, mature woman I am, I didn't act, but I noted it for future reference. The other thing of note: this kid's birthday is coming up and now I have to go buy him a birthday present. You can be it will be off the clearance shelf.

What is it about our mom instinct that kicks in during those moments? I talked with a friend today who said her biggest fear about Kindergarten was the other kids. I've already heard of a school bus bully and kids saying mean things, and I think I just worry that my sensitive, loving son is going to get crushed. I know I'm not alone.

But there was this other feeling at the moment of Sam's attack (ha). My competitive side creeped in and a small sense of envy arose, wishing my son were the aggressive sporty type. Honestly, with Sam's size, he could be great at just about any sport, but so far aggressive competition does not seem to be his strength. As scrawny as that other boy is, he'd better be aggressive.

So, don't walk down a quiet alley alone tonight, lest you face a mama with her back up.

I'm in!

I got accepted to school! Well, to grade school volunteering, that is. I don't know if I'm on the team with the cool moms or the loser moms, but I've been chosen! I'll be a library volunteer 1 of every 4 wednesday mornings. Better yet: Sam goes to the library on Wednesday mornings, so I'll get a chance to peek at him. What a deal!

I get my official volunteer training tonight and then I'm all set.

Of course, I couldn't do this the normal parent way. I realized after we received the "schedule," which is really a 4 week rotation, that my week falls on the second Wednesday of the month. The second Wednesday! For those who don't know, 2nd Wednesday is also known as "drive grandma to bridge" day. So, I had to make a big stink and email the librarian, oops media specialist, about whether I should arrange a permanent switch or whether she could switch me, and on and on. Oh yes, she's thrilled to have me I'm sure. I got a "why don't we wait and see." response, which is probably short for "I have no idea if I even want you to volunteer now. You're a basketcase." I'm sure she'll show my emails to her media specialist friends and 5-year volunteers tomorrow and they'll give me the evil eye every fourth wednesday when I come in to "help." I'll be known as "no-help matthews" or something.

Oh well, I'm in anyway. For now.

Oops

Got a note from the teacher today: "Dear Mrs. Matthews". That really confirms the old, doesn't it.

Unfortunately, the note was to point out my failure to pay for the upcoming field trip. Honestly, I appreciate the reminder, but it's hard to remember the Letter Expert homework, the apple, the picture money AND the $4. It didn't make the uber-organized white board.

I'm beginning to think that Kindergarten is as much about training the parents as teaching the kids.

And so it begins

In my daily interrogation of Sam to try to uncover some sort of knowledge of the missing hours while he's at school, he mentioned having an assembly. (I think it came out as: assbembly). That's when I learned: it's fall fundraiser time.

I'm in support of fundraisers. Really I am. I participate in all kinds. But the idea of our kids being sent home with frozen food catalogs and being told that they can win some amazing prize is just ridiculous.

Case in point: I asked sam in the car what they were selling. He replied, "I don't think we're selling anything mom. You earn these great prizes."

"yes, I know dear. But what are you selling to earn the prizes?"

"Toys. I think toys."

Um, no. Frozen food. But they were so obsessed by the bright shiny toys that he didn't even hear how to win it. So I launch into a discussion of how you don't really "win" anything, that you sell and buy a million times more items than it would cost you to actually buy the prize. He didn't get it.

I hate to be that mom that doesn't sell anything and doesn't understand the awesomeness of the prize, but I really hate it. My mom was that mom, and now I know why.

I did look at the prize catalog, thinking we could at least shoot for the first prize: it's an eraser. Really, is anyone incentivized by a large eraser that says "I'm for big mistakes"? Good grief.

And so it begins...

The folder

In an effort to better communicate with O.P. (old parents), the kindergarteners come home with a folder cleverly marked with two sides: "home" and "return". We realized the potentail downfalls with this method the first week, when Sam immediately removed everything from his folder to show to me.

"What?!!", I shrieked, ever the concerned parent, "How will I know what needs to go back?!!""

So we talked about a new process: leaving things IN the folder so that I know what to do with it.

Result: Now Sam shows me nothing from his folder. I'm on my own.

20 Questions

Being a new mom on the elementary scene is tough. Apparently, no one else at the elementary school is a new parent, because all sorts of short hand and code words are used to convey relatively simple concepts that I don't understand at all. Since school started, I have tried to limit my teacher emails to one a week, but then they end up like the one I sent yesterday that included not one, but 5 questions. Continuing the typical pattern of dialogue that has been established with said kindergarten teacher, all but one are answered.

Five seems excessive for one email, but I'm sure I could come up with more. In fact, let's try:

1) What's a smart board? (answer: some sort of nifty computer/projection thing. only available to the best type of classrooms, I'm told)
2) Why does PTA feel like junior high school?
3) Do they need 5 choices of entree every day? Will they expect that at home? (Oops, that's two)
4) When did I get old?
5) Why do I recognize so many of these old people (aka parents) from high school?
6) Is it too late to move out of state so I won't recognize any of these people from high school?
7) Will the PTA meetings always be conducted in 5 minutes? I could really go for that.
8) What do they do there all day anyway?
9) Are they learning anything between all the art, recess and center selection time?
10) What do you do will all of this stuff they send home?
11) And, if they send the same thing home twice, am I to submit it twice?
12) If this is environmentally-friendly distribution, I'd hate to see what it was like before the internet. (not really a question, but I'm telling you...)
13) Do any of the kids eat the healthy sides that come with the lunch?
14) What do they do there all day anyway?
15) Now that I'm a parent, am I supposed to like the principal? Is she really the PAL they always said she was in spelling class?
16) Who bought all that playground equipment, and since when did we add grass and soccer fields to the playground?
17) Do you think that when the teachers say that movie-time isn't really a movie, they're just trying to make us feel better?
18) Is my kid doing well? Why do I have to wait 2 months to find out?
19) How do you tell the "cool" volunteer opportunities from the "over-eager stay-at-home mom" opportunities?
20) What do they do there all day????!!!!

Have you felt the same things? Do you have advice for us elementary newbies? Let me know in the comments section!