When we talked about the upcoming start of school, Seth hadn’t expressed anything but excitement. So when the “big day” arrived, sunny and promising, he was ready. He was armed with a cool haircut, wearing his prized Sketchers, and was ready for the action. Or so I thought.

Ten minutes before the bus was to arrive, he asked me to take him. I grumbled about it being the last minute. I said “no” at first. He persisted. I relented. And I’m so glad I did.

In the car, I snuck a peek at him through the rearview window. He looked sad.

“What’s the matter, bunny?”

“I’m nervous. I don’t know if I’ll be able to learn everything in first grade. What if I can’t pay attention like last year?”

My heart melted. I remember being nervous the first day of school but I assumed it was only me who’d felt that way. I was a nervous kid full of self-doubt. Seth is a happy kid with self-confidence.   

We walked into his school together. He remembered where his new classroom was and recognized his teacher from the ice cream social they had the day before. He sat down at his desk, chatted with a few of his old classmates, and seemed perfectly at ease. We took a few photos (with camera phone because I didn’t think to bring the real camera) and then he said in a very serious manner, “Mom. You can go home now. I’ll be ok.”

And so he was.

(The support I received after this post was amazing. (Thankfully, the bad news turned into good news.) But I wanted to thank everyone who took time to read the post and comment. So I’ll be thanking a group of people as a part of each post until I’ve thanked everyone.

So thanks to: Sally, Pattie,Gregg, Jill, Heather G, Dawn, Tania, Amy, Jana, Christina, Kerri, Raising Z, Theresa, Jillian Inc, and Kerrie.

Caution: Bitchy rant that will probably make you think less of me ahead. 

Most mornings, you can find my son and I in the breakfast nook. His brow is furrowed. My temper is tested. There is alot teeth grinding on both our parts. I’m talking homework.

We sit together for almost an hour each morning. Since his kindergarten session starts in the afternoon, we started doing homework in the mornings, when his brain is fresh. (Next year will be a whole different schedule.) But it doesn’t seem to matter - it is still a constant struggle.

Its not that he’s got an hour of homework — he usually only gets homework a few times a week. These worksheets should only take the child 10-20 minutes. But yet… With all of the lollygagging, singing about poopy butts and weenies, screeching, calling the dog, asking for a drink, going to the bathroom, whining, playing with the eraser, arguing, and fussing, these worksheets take more like 30-40 minutes.

And that’s only IF I’m standing right next to him to say, “Seth. Now you need to write a lowercase ‘r’. No, that’s uppercase. You need to erase that. Write a lowercase ‘r’. Seth! You just wrote another capital ‘r’. You need to write a small ‘r’. (He finally writes the ‘r’.) Ok great. Do you see you’re trying to write the word ‘rat’, what comes after the ‘r’. Yes! Its the ‘at’ sound. How do you think that’s spelled? Yes! ‘a’ and ’t’. Very good. Now write the ‘a’ and ‘t’. No, not on this other line. You need to write the ‘a’ and ‘t’ right next to the ‘r’. We’re writing the word ‘rat’ remember? Ok. Dude, what is that? That doesn’t look like an ‘a’. Remember? An ‘a’ is a circle and a stick, Bunny. No that stick is on the wrong side of the circle.

After 20 minutes of this. (I’m losing patience faster as the school year wears on.) I get frustrated and start talking to him in a very irritated tone. And I wonder… Why can’t the child just write out the freaking ‘r’ and the ‘at’ on the same line? Why can’t he just do it without me standing over him? When I volunteer in his classroom, I see kids doing their work by themselves. Why can’t Seth do that? Is this normal? Is there something wrong with me and my approach? Is there something wrong with him? I see other kids follow directions, why can’t he? (We spend alot of time correcting work he did at school - not that he didn’t know the material - he just didn’t follow directions or finish the project.)

And since his skills aren’t up to par in certain areas we do extra little projects. He brings them in to his teacher — mainly so she can see he’s trying. (And also, because I don’t think she’d believe me otherwise.) He’s come a long way with his fine motor skills since the beginning of the year but… There’s alot more that needs to be done. (The bright-side is that his handwriting is more legible than hubby’s chicken scratch.)

I can tell the homework has taken a toll on our relationship. We aren’t as close as we used to be. What doesn’t help is that I’m the one who has to make sure he does all of those things he hates to do - like shower, brush teeth, enforce bedtimes, eat veggies, do homework and so forth. Hubby takes him ice skating for two hours then out for an cream dinner and HE’s the hero. I’m the big, bad bitch.

When I think of the upcoming years of homework help, I start to wonder if I can talk my doctor into giving me a script for a lifetime supply of Valium. Clearly ONE of us needs some sort of medicine to keep from going crazy and strangling the other.

But I have to wonder… Is all of this “normal”?

P.S. I know that the kitchen isn’t usually the best environment for kids to do homework. But we have no other kids. The breakfast nook is one of the quietest places in the house. With all of the construction and remodeling of neighbor homes as well as trash and delivery trucks driving by, the rooms facing  the street are far more distracting than a little room that faces a quiet back yard.

A few months ago, when Seth started singing, “Bow Chicka, Bow Woooowwww.” I laughed out loud.

He has no idea what that means. But he learned it on the bus. (And now every time he does that I think of Jess and her park ranger fetish.)

The other day, he came home with a new one…  At dinner he referred to some other kid on the bus (a 5th grader) as being a “bad-ass mofo.” Stunned, I asked him to repeat what he’d just said. Stoically, he obliged.

He’s five.

I tried not to laugh. It was difficult. He knows what curse words are. He hears me swear like a trucker (when I’m in traffic) quite frequently. But he knows that as a kid, he’s not allowed to say those kind of words. (Ah yes, the “do as I say and not as I do” parenting method.) He also didn’t understand what he was saying were curse words, (as ”badass” and ”mo-fo” aren’t a part of my repertoire) nor does he know what “mo-fo” means.

But I can’t help but wonder… How can the boy learn so much from one 10-minute bus ride, yet struggle so much in a three-hour kindergarten session? Maybe I should hire a 5th grade boy to teach him how to read? You know, one of those “bad ass mofo” ones.

 So… Let’s talk about sex. Or more aptly a book called Sex Detox. A review of the book, on behalf of PBN can be found here.

“He has a difficult time concentrating.”

“He’s having a hard time completing his schoolwork during class time.”

“He has a hard time remembering and following directions.

I’ve been hearing these sentences alot in the past few months. At first, I assumed it was the newness of kindergarten as well as a change in his routine. When it persisted, I chalked it up to him being the youngest in his class. I thought I’d give him some time to settle down as well as settle in.  We started working on extra projects to reinforce what he was learning in class. We’d work each day in a quiet place, free of distractions. And yet, amongst optimal conditions at home, Seth has had trouble finishing worksheets that should only take 10 minutes to complete.

We also started taking morning walks or playing games like “red light, green light” in hopes he’d burn off some of that extra energy before his afternoon school sessions.

I started buying organic, thinking his lack of focus and constant movement might be due to the plethora of preservatives found in food today.

There have been days he’s done well at school — completing tasks and keeping focused. These good days gave me hope and caused me to wonder if my worrying was for naught.  But at this point, I can no longer deny — even with a “good” day thrown in here and there? I’m still  hearing the same types of sentiments from his teachers. He’s progressing but not nearly as quickly as his classmates, and that’s with extra help provided by the school. I still see alot of the signs at home. Seth is very social. He’s very sweet. He learns quickly — when he really listens. But… he’s struggling. 

It is time to admit that something is “off.” He definitely needs to get tested for learning disabilities. Kids diagnosed with Sensory Integration Dysfunction typically have other issues that surface over time. So I’m not surprised we’re traveling this path of speculation, research, and testing again.

Is it ADHD? Is it an auditory processing issue? Is it something else? Is it a combination of issues? I don’t know. I have some ideas. But I’m not certain.

This period of limbo conjures up many memories. I remember years ago, feeling intimidated by the various channels we’d have to go through in order to get Seth testing and treatment. I remember setting up occupational and speech therapy sessions and asking therapists countless questions on how I could reinforce their efforts. The task seemed daunting. My biggest fear was I’d fail him. But day after day, month after month, this little boy progressed. Within a year’s time he had vastly improved, catching up developmentally to his peers. (In many aspects, he was even well ahead of his peers.) He was a much happier child. I was a much happier (and thankful) mom.

I now know that the unknowns are much scarier than getting a diagnosis. This quest will require more work on Seth’s and my part. There will be more power struggles and expressed frustration. There will be more meetings with the people who can help him as well as more trial and error. But there will be good days too. We may get through it clumsily, but we WILL get through it.

We’ll just have to tackle it the same way we did before — one day at a time.

Today I’m thinking of Wisconsin babes Cheryl, Ree, Dana, and Virtual Sprite. Go Packers!

Fyi — Am waiting on some info in regards to the ”Who does what at your house” post. Hope to have it up by the end of next week.

His kindergarten classroom is a buzzing, whirlwind of activity. You’ll often see some kids working in pairs on a project while others work on the floor by themselves. Yesterday when I walked into Seth’s class to volunteer, I saw him sitting at his seat, subdued and woefully eating his snack. Something wasn’t right with this usually energetic and enthusiastic boy. 

I asked  him what was wrong. “Nothing,” he mumbled while looking away.

His teacher promptly pulled me aside to tell me he had alot of trouble following directions in that first hour of class. At one point, when all of the kids got up to work on their projects (after gathering together to read a story) Seth remained on the floor by himself.  He seemed so out of it, she noted.

I helped him and the other kids with an art project. While I cleaned up the tables, he was working on a numbers project. Or he was supposed to. He tried to mistakenly work on another child’s project and the teacher gave him a stern word telling him he had to work on his own number puzzle instead. 

I watched him as he sat on the floor, hidden away in a corner, clutching pieces of puzzle, with an look of overwhelming defeat in his watery eyes.  I told his teacher that he clearly was having an off day and asked if I could go over to where he was and give him a hug. She said, “ok.” 

I knelt down by him and held his face against my chest while rubbing his back. Upon my touch, the fat tears welling up in his eyes began sliding down his face. We silently sat there watching our tears paint his shirt. When I had enough composure to speak I told him, “Seth, you’re just having a really bad day today. There are some days when it seems like everything is so hard. Everybody has those. I’ve had a few of those lately too. So has daddy. So does everyone. But just remember we love you no matter what kind of a day you have.” He looked deeply into eyes. He screwed up his courage. 

I said, “You and I will do something special tonight, Ok? Tomorrow will be a much better day. You’ll see.”

At that point his teacher told everyone to line up for PE, so we both wiped our eyes and he left the room.  

I went to the corner market and bought him a little “cheer up” present — a whoopee cushion. Because if something that makes fart noises can’t cheer up a 5-year-old boy? NOTHING can.

P.S. After the first few “fart” noises and a trip to his favoritest restaurant in the whole wide world, all of the difficulty of the day was forgotten. Seth (as well as his teacher) reported that today was a much happier day.

P.S. Dear Wordpress. If I wanted all of my copy jumbled up and made to look like I have no idea how to make paragraphs, I would have stuck with sucky ass Blogger, thank you very much. And the fact that I can fix it 500 times, save and have it look the same exact way it did prior is a HUGE reason as to why left Blogger. Must I move my stuff to another service? Is this a sign of things to come. Cause this little glitch is pissing me off!

The template I love, love, LOVE has gone all spastic on me. I have NO CLUE what happened so I’m trying to find other templates that would work and tailor the sidebars. Ain’t working so well, so you may have to deal with ugly chaos for a few days until I figure out what to do. Bah! Am irritated. Sorry. Will fix as soon as I can.  

Today I volunteered in Seth’s kindergarten class. I was eager to see how he fared in his new environment and meet his new friends. And I couldn’t wait to speak with his teacher. His school was built not more than 15 years ago and has a very cheerful decor — both inside and outside. The school has mostly open classrooms. When I saw the open classroom during the “meet your kindergarten teacher” day, I didn’t really think anything of it.

But today, in Seth’s classroom, I got to witness what such a layout creates. And it creates? Bunches of distraction.  The teacher’s biggest gripe about Seth has been his lack of focus. In fact, I’ve already gotten one call and this past week, a note. I had been irritated with the boy until today. Today, I understood.

There’s no way I could learn or focus with so much noise and activity from other classrooms.  (The kindergarten shares space with the first grade, so there are several sets of kids in one area.) In fact, it was sort of overwhelming. If I feel that way in the midst of that environment, how can I expect HIM to give his teacher his undivided attention?

At one point, I was helping a group of kids work on a project in the shared multipurpose room. Another volunteer from a different classroom was helping her group of kids. They were making bird houses ten feet from our table. They were using hammers most of the time. Seriously! WTF? I had a difficult time hearing the kids I was working with and they had a hard time hearing me. They couldn’t concentrate on their work. And after 10 minutes of incessant banging, I was ready to stick those hammers where the sun don’t shine. Plus, you’ve got at least one kid every few minutes walking through the open area go to the bathroom or wash hands.

And what about germs? It seems so unsanitary. Hey, why don’t we just have the kids take turns licking the same handrail? And why don’t we all scream mathematical equations at them while doing so. Who KNOWS what bit of wisdom they’ll glean from THAT experience.

Our school is not quite 15 years old, and we’re in a fairly affluent school district. So I have to wonder what fools decided this sort of layout was a good idea. And WHY? And what about kids who have ADD or have sensory issues. Many of them have a tough time with these types of distractions? Plus? How do the kids stay healthy while trying to learn new skills? (I can tell them right now that my child is going to miss alot of school due to stomach viruses — especially since their sick policy is far too lenient. Kids can come back to school if they haven’t vomited in 12 hours. And they can have a fever if its less than 100 degrees. Again, WTF!)

So my question to ya’ll is, do you have any experience with open classrooms and this kind of sick kid policy? And if so, what do you think of them? And can anyone tell me WHY these types of classrooms are still around. (I’m ready to buy 30 tons of drywall and git ‘er done myself!)

I would like to see the principle and superintendent do THEIR work in the middle of such a classroom — especially when surrounded by a group of children who are barely over a stomache virus.

But Seth LOVES, LOVES, LOVES his school. And I want to send him to public school — at least for his first eight years. But I’m left wondering if there will be a change in school “scenery” for Seth soon. I’m hoping that today was just a ”busier” day than usual. I guess need few more volunteer sessions to gauge the levels of noise and general chaos. But I’d LOVE to hear your input.

Last Monday afternoon “the boy’s” kindergarten teacher called to express some concerns about his behavior.

After only one week of school.

The teacher became greatly alarmed over the course of a few days when she tried to get Seth’s attention and couldn’t. She tried calling his name in a louder voice. She even tried clapping. While this got the other kids’ attention, Seth didn’t notice. She asked about his recent hearing test. And I had a conversation with her I’ll probably have with every teacher that crosses Seth’s path. In short? His hearing is fine. He has what I call “selective hearing” — just like his father.

If you are two inches from my hubby’s face and ask him to do something he doesn’t want to do? He chooses not to hear you. I’ve noticed Seth also possess this “amazing” (and by “amazing, I mean, “completely infuriating”) ability to block out what he considers useless information (aka bedtimes, rules, various directives, etc.). And if you try to talk to either one of them while the tv is on? Let’s just say, your time would be better spent talking to an empty fish tank or the sludge that still may be in said fish tank.

So the teacher and I discussed tactics on how to get Seth to listen. I haven’t told her how I’ve tried for years and continue each day. I also didn’t share the fact that I’m tempted to place shock collars on both of them while sleeping. (Being that Marc’s “habit” is more ingrained, I already know what voltage I want to use!**) That might freak her out. But give her a few months. After having this same conversation a fourth or fifth time? Methinks she’ll come around.  

**A modest amount of voltage, like the “funky chicken dance” setting. Ok so maybe that would be considered a TEENY bit more than “modest”.

P.S. Dear DCFS, I’d NEVER really do this to my son. My husband? Well, that’s an entirely different proposition.

P.S.S. THANK YOU to the lovely ladies who gave me their wise input regarding the “second kid conundrum” post. I’ve read your words repeatedly. A decision to have or not to have another child hasn’t been reached because it seems neither decision feels right at this time. (My husband would be happy with one child or more.) So I’ve felt sort of stuck. But thanks to you all, you’ve given me some wonderful guidance, points and counterpoints.)

For years, I swore that on Seth’s first day of kindergarten? You’d find me waiting with him at the bus stop doing a happy dance while drinking margaritas.

As I drove him to school on that first day, I was actually pretty teary-eyed. I left my sunglasses on while inside the school because I’d rather the staff and his teacher think I’m a vampire than know the truth — that I was a sniffling, quivering mess of snot. After dropping him off, I cried then decided I needed ice cream. And lots of it. Yes, ice cream does indeed make everything better. 

Other moms who dropped their kids off didn’t seem to have the waterworks problem. I envied them. So calm. So together. So not red-faced as mascara made tracks down their cheeks.

Seth was ready to let go. He’s been begging to go to kindergarten for two years now. He’s a social little man and is very eager to find his place in his little society. Its just that his mama wasn’t nearly as ready.

But I’m over it now. He’s having fun. He’s learning. For three hours a day, he drives his teacher crazy — not me. (Fifteen hours a week of quiet time! I guess I no longer have an excuse for the mold growing in the master bath’s shower… Course with 15 hours of weekly free time, I could figure out how to turn that junk into penicillin, package it, then develop a marketing campaign. Hmmmm.)

The only question that remains? When will “Tweed” make an appearance in school? Or the on the bus? It will happen soon no doubt. (Shudder.)

But this week has found me thinking an awful lot about some other moms with kiddos entering kindergarten. Hopefully  they’ll post their stories as well. Any more moms with kindergartners? Let me know, I want to lick you! Wait, uh, LINK you!)