Cold Spaghetti

Will as a bumble-bee. This is Will’s costume from last year. It ended up being much too hot to wear and he was miserable. I think he spent about 15 minutes in it before we took pity and stripped him down to his diaper (it was 90 that evening!) This year has been cooler so the temperature doesn’t worry me as much. Also, it fits very well… which is crazy since it’s sized for kids 3-12 months! 

Will as an alligator. This costume belongs to William (son of friends Alex and Margaret) and is technically about 3 sizes too big. But, it seems to fit okay. Will isn’t thrilled by the hat part. It’s very warm, so if the day is too warm it won’t work. But if it’s a chilly night, this one may be it? 

Will’s 2nd birthday is approaching (November 21st). We had originally thought to hold a small party at the Zoo (you can rent the carousel and surrounding area for 90 minutes for kids’ parties with rides). But, since the Zoo is not open, we’re having to rethink.

Problems:
– Our house is very small.
– While we have a nice backyard, it’s a mess. Even if it is clean, it won’t be fenced. Even if our fence is fixed, there is no way our neighbor’s fence (which is fallen over to expose their totally gross green-algae-mosquito-breeding-pool) will be fixed.
– The party will be mostly an adult party with a few playmates for Will. (Unless we asked his class to come, in which case, there would be even more adults and about 6 more kids.)

Anyone have ideas?

He cried when I opened the door to take him out. I said, “Will, you get to play with all your friends again today! Isn’t that exciting?” He said, “no.”

I brought him to the classroom, hung up his lunch in his cubby, and tried to get him interested in a puzzle. No dice. He was only interested in being in my lap or arms. Other kids — including “Nate” from the other day — came in crying and needed comfort from the teachers. I didn’t want to leave Will until one of them were free (him crying without being held by someone is more than I can handle). So we waited and tried to play a bit. When things calmed down, one of the teachers took him and he started to cry for me. I am sure that things were fine by the time I got back to the car.

Maybe we should try Paul dropping him off at school and see if it’s any different? Mommy separation is pretty rough.

Will opens his “s’prize” from Nana and Grandpa Wisneskey. Grandpa Wisneskey arrived today to help us in our cleanup efforts — and help keep Will occupied in the afternoon hours so that I can maximize study time! 

The stuff of people’s lives fill the trash and debris. 

Lights may be down and out, but the signs are everywhere! 

Typical view of a street on the north side of the city. Debris, silt, dirt, and everything gray — broken up only by the multitude of signs dotting the corners. 

We all survived yesterday. Most miracously, I managed to do so without having to be bailed out of jail for taking out some jerky parents. When we picked up Will, he was waiting with other kids lined up in the hallway, lunch box in hand. The run up to the door one-by-one, when they are called, as their parents arrive. Adorable. The teachers said Will, “was an angel… loving, friendly, helpful, and full of hugs.” That’s my little man!

Today. More tears at drop off. Fortunately, another parent was there, put her arm around me as we walked out and said, “It’s okay, we’ve ALL been there and COMPLETELY are with you on this!” Now that is great parental support!

When Will and I walked into University Montessori School at 8:15 this morning, he was very excited. He was saying “Play! Play!”, bouncing happily in my arms, thrilled with the memory of our visit last week when he played outside with the other kids. We met the second teacher in his classroom, visited the other kids left earlier as part of the “afterhours” care program (which starts at 7:30) and then went into Will’s classroom with the new teacher to get oriented. Will was very at home, chose a puzzle, brought it to a table, and sat down to play. He was very content and completely ignored me while I talked to the teacher. Finally, I turned to leave — this is when Will finally noticed me. Damn. The crying started, I stayed, and he calmed down. I left again, but just to the office located one room away from Will’s classroom. On my way, I opened the front door for another first-day student, 2 1/2 year old “Nate” (not his real name) and his parents. At the same time, Will ran out of the classroom calling “Mommy!” So, I ushered Will back in the room with Nate, all the while being extra friendly to Nate and introducing him to Will. Nate promptly takes Will’s puzzle away from him, his parents (rather than explain the concept of sharing), turn to me and say, “Nate really doesn’t understanding sharing.” I brush it off with a smile, “that’s okay.” And watch with pride as Will, pleasant as ever, ignores this rudeness and simply begins playing with another puzzle.

When I go to leave, Will begins to cry again. This time, we decide I should just let it go — he’ll be fine in a few minutes. I go to the office and wait to turn in our enrollment forms, listening to Will in the next room cry for me. It’s hard. But, it doesn’t last all that long and is clearly handled well by the staff. As it’s nearing the end, I see Nate’s parents walk past the office door on their way out and hear Nate’s dad say, “Well, that went well, except for that KID who won’t stop CRYING.”

Yah. That’s right. The jerk bad-mouthed my kid. I said nothing (they didn’t see me sitting in the office), mostly because I could only think of two things to say:

1. “Thanks for being such a compassionate parent!”
2. “At least MY kid knows how to SHARE.”

I kept my mouth shut, figuring that saying either one of those things was not a way to start off Will’s first day at school — and our first day in this program we’d really like to stay in.