Tag: Parenting

Break My Stuff, Before You Go-Go

Our household goods arrived yesterday, which sounds like it could be a good thing. It was getting tiresome, sitting on a mattress on the floor, to watch tv. And my washer and dryer are back, so laundry can happen in-house again, which (believe me) is exciting.

Of course now there are so many boxes, we can barely navigate our way through this house, which is feeling smaller by the second. I was getting sassier and sassier, as Justin kept reminding me, “you keep saying it’ll be fine; it’s only 11 months.”

And then, upon finding the 3rd broken item, I lost my cool. And had an epic blowup tantrum.

“YEAH! Join the army! We’ll take care of you. Give us 20 years and we’ll force you to move and break all your shit! You should be grateful that we’ve only broken half your shit! Maybe next time we can break more!!!!!!”

Justin calmly stood there and didn’t once tell me to calm down or stop swearing, which I appreciate. When I was finished freaking out, he said, “but nothing in the kitchen was broken, right??”

I guess some packing person needs a gold star for successfully packing plates without breaking any. Heck, they stole (or lost) most of our silverware during the last move, so Justin didn’t even trust them with our spoons this time. He was taking no chances.

Honestly, every move we trust them with less and less…which is kind of how we ended up in the “too much stuff and not enough uhaul” situation.

When I told him he needs to find the brackets for the kids’ shelves, so I can bolt them to the walls, he whispered, “but you didn’t fill out the paperwork to drill holes in the walls yet.” We’re paying ____ a month for a shoebox! I don’t give a shit about their stupid paperwork! “Actually Sammi, it’s [more].”

You aren’t helping!!!!!!

Justin also informed me that there is a spouse briefing at the exact same time as the open house for the middle school, which seems like terrible planning on this stupid, stupid school’s part (it might not be stupid. I might just be feeling angsty still). So guess who won’t be going to the spouse brief. This is how I get a reputation for being “standoffish.” I guess today won’t be the day I learn how to properly curtsy to officer wives, or pour tea and serve crumpets. Or whatever they expect me to do. Guess what—I’m not in the army, ya bunch of crusty butts.

:::Deep breath:::

So, this morning I am quietly sitting in my “living room” that barely fits my couch, drinking my coffee and listening to the traffic noises from the highway outside our “house.” I’m once again trying to channel Bob Marley, convincing myself that “every little thing, is gonna be alright.” And maybe we’re done finding broken items. And maybe all we have to do at this point is figure out how to get everything to fit.

Teach Your Covid Well

We’ve made it all the way to day……oh my gosh, it’s only day 4. I have lost track of how many times I have said, “ok, keep going.” Or, “Xander, where are you??” Shea is much better with the whole schoolwork at home thing. Thank goodness, because I don’t know what I would do if I had to keep two kids on task—I struggle enough with keeping myself on task!

Xander doesn’t love school. He would rather be doing backflips, as stated in the very first school assignment.

Tuesday, he attempted to answer the question, “If I could meet anyone in history, I would meet..” with Naruto. Naruto. An anime character. From history. “Xander, it has to be a real person.”

I have also lost track of the number of times Xander has said, “ohhhhhhhhh!”

This morning, his first assignment was to read a passage about Covid-19, and then answer the questing, “how has your life changed because of Covid-19?” Easy enough. I had to coax a response out of him. But that isn’t the issue.

My issue is the fact that this particular passage about covid contains the absolute nonsensical statement: Older people, not kids, have been getting sick from covid-19. Liar liar pants on fire.

I don’t know where his teacher found this info sheet, and I’m sure most people just read over it and answered the question. The thing is, kids can and do get sick. We’re a solid 5 months into Coronapocalypse: USA Edition, and we all Know kids are not immune. This is not a magical virus that avoids tiny humans. They’re some of the grossest humans on the planet. The American Academy of Pediatrics says there has been a 90% increase in cases among children in the last month! That is the month before southern schools reopened!

Kids need to know why schools aren’t reopening. Or why schools are reopening, only to shut right back down again. Telling them they can’t get sick is confusing. Obviously Xander would be happy if school never reopened, but there are plenty of kids (Shea included), who can’t wait to get back to school.

In the time it took me to write this, Xander was supposed to locate 5 items that are special to him (and that could fit in a paper lunch bag)—he just appeared with a Nerf Bow that is bigger than him. Yes, Xander. That is the perfect sized item.

176 school days to go!!!

Back to School

As a former NYer, August is still summer. It’s still a month away from school. It’s still hot. As a Southerner (I can claim “southern status,” because I’ve lived below the Mason-Dixon line for nearly 1/3 of my life–also, you should hear me drawl), August is the start of the school year. Summer’s over. And it’s disgustingly hot.

This year is like no other. Obviously. That is truly the understatement of the year. Even though I opted to keep my kids doing remote learning for the first quarter, I was grateful that the district decided to start everyone remote, at least for the first month. Which made me less of the bad guy when I informed Shea that she would not be going to middle school.

Xander is more than willing to never go back to school again. He can’t even fully appreciate the laid-back format of Remote Learning with Sammi Steeves. Normally, on the first day of school (or any school day, for that matter), I would have to wake him up at 6, so that he can make it to the bus by 7. Xander likes to hit the Mom Snooze Button, which requires me going into his room every 5 minutes: “are you awake yet? How about now? Xander? Xander?!” Then I sing. Loudly. Operatically. Obnoxiously.

Thanks to remote learning, I don’t start the harassment until 7:30. He would be 30 minutes into an hour-long bus ride by that point, so really, we should all be feeling pretty good about the extra sleep.

Truth be told, my alarm went off at 6:30, and I rolled out of bed and wandered around like low-battery Wall-E for the first 15 minutes. Where’s. The coffee. It isn’t like I don’t already get up between 6 and 6:30, but for some reason my Rufus Alarm didn’t go off this morning. My Rufus Alarm tends to go off some time before Justin leaves for work at 5:30–it’s a lot of snorting loudly in my ear, sniffing my nightstand (which instantly gets me out of bed, because even though he’s never done it, I’m convinced that this is the morning he will steal my glasses), more snorting with a hefty amount of nudging, and then usually he’ll bring me something from dirty laundry–a sock, shorts, a pair of underwear. He’s big on gifting. Sometimes I get a shoe, but rarely is it even mine. On this morning, even Rufus was wanting to sleep through the first day of school (he did bring me a ball of used painter’s tape later in the morning, so I wouldn’t feel forgotten).

Even though everyone was reminded over the past week that school would require getting dressed, there was still a decent amount of complaining. “But, why??” Well, Xander, if you wouldn’t sit top naked in class, I don’t think you should be top naked during google meetings with your classmates.

Then comes the fun part. Fill out an “All About Me” form. Typical first day of school stuff.
“Mom, how do I spell Trampoline.”
“T-R-A-M-P-O-L-I-N-E…Why??”
“My teacher wants to know an area where I need improvement.”
Ladies and gentlemen, we’re a solid 5 minutes into the school day.
“Xander, she means what school subject needs improvement.”
“Ohhhhhhhh!!! All of them.”

By this point, I foolishly assume he has the hang of it, and get back to cleaning out the fridge. Then I hear Shea: “Xander, you can’t put ‘backflips’ under After School Responsibilities.” Ah, yes. While most children are doing homework, or taking out the trash, I obviously require that my children do no less than 10 backflips.

I double-checked the sheet before he submitted it. The child used “backflips” to answer 5 questions, including, “when it comes to learning, my strengths are……” backflips. I fail to see how that is a learning strength, but what do I know–I can’t do a single backflip.

Happy First Day of School!!! Only 179 to go!

Day After Day

School starts next Monday, and while most northern states are still coming up with a game plan, here in the south we had to decide by 17 July: remote learning, or face-to-grimy-face. I asked for opinions from friends and family, but the truth of the matter is, I made my decision back in May, when school ended for the summer.

Of course then I watched as county after county around us put their face-to-germy-face option on the back burner, making all students do remote learning—at least until September. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Even though my kids are locked in to remote learning for the first 9 week, I sure do love to doubt myself. Is this the right decision? Am I being paranoid? Am I going to lose my mind? I believe the answers are Yes, No, and Oh hell yes.

You see, I am not what you would call “organized.” Or good with schedules, or staying on task. And while we had 3 months of practice in the spring, I am not a teacher. I never wanted to be a teacher. I can teach you how to swim, I can teach you how to be a lifeguard…neither of those things dramatically shape a person’s future. I mean, I suppose they do. Congratulations, you no longer have to worry about drowning; hooray, you now have the skills to swim laps for exercise; look at you, completing the requirements for an awesome summer job. But, based on the number of adults I have taught to swim over the last 2 decades, you can survive in the real world without knowing how to tread water or rotary breathe.

So, step one of this adventure was more about me. I am a notorious schedule maker…and breaker. I have spent my years going into every day with a plan: these are the items I need to complete, and this is the time I have to get it done. Ooh wait—should I alphabetize my pasta?!

I have lost track of the number of times Justin has said, “Sammi, I love you. But I wish you could complete one task before moving on to the next.” Hey buddy, I would like to complete one thought before moving on to—squirrel!

Right—step one. For the last month, I have written out a daily schedule and followed through. By week 3 I had even added morning yoga into the mix; by week 4, I was starting each morning with chanting before yoga. And I have swept my house every-single-day. Which most people are probably either thinking “why,” or “so?” Because, and you wouldn’t understand.

I don’t just ride the struggle bus—I am the driver. Everything is draining. If I get overwhelmed by…anything (and I mean anything), I have a tendency to shut down. And by “shut down,” I mean nap. As the driver of this struggle bus, I also know that both of my kids are frequent passengers. If I can’t keep it together, we’re all going suffer.

I don’t want to jinx anything, because I really (truly) am impressed with my ability to finally follow through. But I have a really good feeling about this school year. Do I want to homeschool my kids? Absolutely not. Am I willing to send them back to school, when our state is averaging 16% positivity (and our county has averaged over 20%)? Absolutely not! I can barely manage to convince my son to keep a shirt on all day—in what world do we think kids are going to do about wearing masks at school!?

Little Green Tree Froggie

The problem with Stay-at-Home orders across the country isn’t that I can’t get my hair done, or can’t do any of the other things I never did anyway. The problem with the Stay-at-Home order, is that everyone else is home to see me be…well, me.

Yesterday I was mowing my front yard. It seems like a relatively straight-forward task. Until–HOP!!! A giant tree frog hopped away from my mower. Instantly I stopped, and spent the next 2 minutes chasing it across my yard. While talking to it. “Stop. Jumping! Let me catch you so I can save you!”

Is this the first time I’ve stopped mowing to save an amphibian? Of course it isn’t! Last week I temporarily relocated 2 toads and a salamander. It happens pretty much every time I mow. I am not about to commit Amphibicide.

The only difference now, as compared to 6 weeks ago–my neighbors are all home to see me running around my yard, harassing Kermit’s family members. And also, rather than finding new amphibifriends (kissing them to make sure they aren’t under a witch’s spell), and setting them free, now I’m running to my house screaming, “Shea! Xander! Look what I found!!!” Like the adult that I am.

Ok, I don’t kiss frogs–or any other amphibians. But I do get overly excited when I realize last season’s tenants have moved back in to the usual tree frog locations. underneath a small overhang above the back door. In a nook in the shed. And now my random amphibian trio living underneath a splash block.

Georgia is getting ready to ease up on their stay at home order; Alabama isn’t making any changes yet. Honestly, I want everyone to stay safe and avoid this horrible virus. Maybe I can just get sign for my front yard: Caution–This Homeowner Rescues Frogs.

What would the Lorax version for Amphibians be? That would be me.

I’m just going to keep saving my frogs, and relocating them to the back yard…where I can talk to them without the random neighbor seeing me!