The First Day

They have picked out their clothes (within a few parameters, because they will be wearing uniforms to school. Khaki or navy skorts, white, pink or light blue polo or oxford shirts, plain, clothes toed shoes. Quite a shock for Clara, who wears these kind of crocks shoes, with open toes). They are supposed to ride a bus but weren't given a bus number, so today we will take them. I am making lunch in just a few minutes.
Margaret is in a class with a special ed teacher who will help her work on her handwriting and socialization issues. It's a collaborative class, meaning that Margaret will be in the same classroom as the other children, she'll just get extra help when she needs it. Clara is in another classroom. She was considered the model student by her pre-school teacher, so we will see how she does. Clara loves rules and loves enforcing them, and if the rules aren't stringent enough, she will make them so, especially where it concerns Margaret.
Much of the public school system in Athens, and probably in Georgia, seems very punitive to me. Codes of conduct to be signed. Information about good touch/bad touch (which seems good to me, actually). Notices about restraining children. School insurance (which seems like a scam). We had forms and more forms to sign. All risk-management related. I can't imagine how complicated it is to play an organized sport on a school team.
The school PTA seems very organized, so I plan to get involved with that as much as I can. Which may be a lot, given that I soon will have an entire day free. When the bus does start arriving, I expect it to get here around 6:30, which will mean they will be gone from then until 3 or 3:15. A very long day for someone who's five.
Recently, we went to a movie (their first!) in a local art house theatre, where the feature was an hour of Looney Tunes. Clara settled into her seat next to me, holding half a bag of popcorn and her doll. She snuggled up to me and said, "Now, this is my idea of a good time."
She's hilarious. I will miss being with them all day, but I am also relieved not to be with them all day.

School Calls

With temperatures in the high 90's and heat indices hitting 103 degrees, returning to school seems insane to me. Especially since the playground at the girls' new school has no trees in sight. Anywhere. I may join the gardening committee of the PTA and plant some trees there! We visited Timothy School yesterday, went to the children's classrooms, met their teachers and left feeling a little sad, at least me. There were so many forms about discipline, expulsion, legal rights, hearings, etc., that it seemed as though we were buying a house not just visiting a public school.
But sign there, I did. Gene wasn't so bothered.
He was more concerned with the principal, who couldn't pronounce the word "second" correctly. She said "sec-on-nd" with an extra syllable. She had a few other strange utterings, but they didn't bother me. I have trouble distinguishing "steel" and "still."
We have to provide four bottles of hand sanitizer for each child, two packs of copy paper, four boxes of Kleenex (the brand was specified) and five boxes of sanitary wipes. You would think they are guarding against MRSA instead of wiping off sticky hands.
Having looked at the school lunch menu, I'm going to be packing their lunches this year. I didn't do it for Margaret last year when she was briefly in Pre-K, but I'm going to this year. The menus sound yucky. No attempt at vegetables or fresh fruit. Clara will eat hummus and carrots and celery until the cows come home.
We went downtown this morning on a university bus (always a thrill!) and bought Clara a pair of new shoes. She's now ready to go! I'll post photos of their first day. I think I'm more worried than they are!

Time Flies when you're Flying

This summer, we hae let the girls try many different things. They have been together in soccer camp (Clara loved it, Margaret did not, turning into Bartleby the Scrivner, who replied only 'I would prefer not to' to just about everything. They tried tennis (Clara excelled, Margaret put down her racket and told me she couldn't do it). And they tried dance class (the teacher told me Margaret freaked out when everyone starting tapping). Clara loves dance and will continue into the fall. She may sign up for soccer if it doesn't conflict with the dance.
This week, Clara is taking more tennis classes, and Margaret, well, she's at trapeze camp. We went to a "circus" performance at the trapeze studio in the winter, and it was all I could do to keep her from trying to get on the mat and on the bar. So she has been waking up shouting, "I"m going to trapeze!" I wonder now if she would have enjoyed the other activities if she had been alone? Who knows?
I don't want them over scheduled, not that we could afford all the things that are out there. I do want to figure out some way to get them into piano. They both love music. First thing is to find a piano!

Margaret rides to the rescue

Merry Christmas

Clara and Margaret were so confident that Santa was going to bring them what they wanted, they pointed to the doll strollers and said, "Look, Mama! There they are!" as if they were introducing old friends. Wonderful to have such faith, no? And then, that wily ol' Santa brought them other gifts they didn't even ask for! They were dunderstruck.
Margaret will be going to school again in the new year. She was asked to leave Emmanuel Day School. One of the meanest acts I have ever heard of. The principal called me in one Friday morning and said, "Margaret isn't coming back on Monday." Out of the blue, in fact. Turns out, it was just too darn disruptive for Margaret's support people, her special ed teacher and occupational therapist, to come into the classroom. Just too disruptive, even though the school was started to help special needs children. But that's all water under the bridge now. We are moving on to a public Pre-K program, with support in the class every day and the coolest playground you've ever seen. And, best of all, Margaret will get to ride a school bus to school! How cool is that! She is so excited, she can't stand it! Their elementary school is within walking distance, so she and Clara won't get to ride a bus when they start kindergarten next year. Clara would love to ride a bus, too, but she will continue at Emmanuel.
My job at Patch is going to be good. Right now, I am busy helping to build a directory of businesses, government agencies and non profits in town. The list is huge, but it's fun meeting people.
The other night, we were driving around, looking at lights. We passed a huge display of inflatables: Santa, reindeer, snowmen and other creatures. I drove to the next street to turn around and spotted a small Nativity scene. I said, "Hey, look at that!" and Gene said, "It doesn't have half the lights of the other one." And Clara chimed in, "Daddy, that's the whole reason we have Christmas. if we didn't have Baby Jesus, we wouldn't have Christmas at all, you silly Daddy." And then Margaret said, "Daddy, we love Baby Jesus." And I thought, thank you, Jesus, and thank you Emmanuel.

change is gonna come

We've had a lot of changes in the last few weeks. For one, I am now the Athens editor of Patch. com, a news site owned by AOL. They are starting hundreds of them across the country. I get to work at home, I have a budget for freelancers and I am basically the captain of my ship, if not my soul. So that's all good. Except Clara insists my "real" job is taking care of her and Margaret. Which is true.
Clara is flourishing at school, learning to write, playing with other kids, enjoying the many science experiments they do in her preschool class. Margaret is a different story. She wakes up happy every day; she loves going to school, loves her Hello, Kitty lunchbox and her coat. She loves her teachers. But today, Margaret was tossed out of school. From out of nowhere, the principal told me the school could no longer meet Margaret's needs. It was such a shock because we had a meeting about three weeks ago during which they told us Margaret was much improved. She is engaging other children in social situations and being friendly to them. A specialist from the public school system comes to work with Margaret twice a week in her classroom. An occupational therapist comes once every other week.
But all of that about progress and doing well was just hot air, I reckon. Today I heard reports of a disruptive child who doesn't engage socially with other kids, who doesn't understand basic concepts. When I asked the specialist about this, she was floored. And very angry. No one ever mentioned any problems to her. No one ever suggested they work on specific issues with Margaret. She was caught off guard as much as we were.
I spoke not a word while the principal was talking. it was clear to me that the fix was in, so to speak.
So now we are scrambling to figure out what to do with Margaret. To keep her moving forward and learning things. We will be able to visit her occupational therapist twice a week so she can work on developing her fine motor skills. And the specialists will continue to serve her twice a week.
It's too late to get into a pre-K class or another preschool. They fill up in Athens very very fast.
I was crying over this today, because neither Margaret nor Clara understands what's going on. I'm not sure I do. I am putting a positive spin on it for Tita's sake. I don't want her to feel weird about herself.
I guess I will continue to make her a lunch and pack it in her Hello, Kitty lunchbox. At least that doesn't have to change for her.

Summer's End

On Sunday, we had a big rainstorm, a true toad strangler. In the gutter across the street, the water tends to back up because of bad drainage problems from a nearby sorority. Lots of dirt, leaves and sticks get washed down the gutter, plugging the stormwater drain. If things back up too much, the water will overflow across the street and wash down our driveway, taking much of it along for the ride.
So, during a lull in the rain, Clara, Margaret and I ventured out. They in their rain coats and rain boots, me in my sandals, shorts and running jacket. I had a flatblade shovel, they had their hands. Clara, alas, was wearing her white church dress. I explained to them what we needed to do. I scraped the gutter with the shovel and threw the mud onto the grass of the yards next door and across the streets. We used our hands to pick out the leaves, grass and sticks from around the drain. The water began to flow faster and stronger, and finally, the little girls couldn't stand it. They abandoned their posts and began making mud cakes, mud pies and mud sandwiches, all for my consumption. I ate a few, paying them with hand slaps.
Across the street, I found even deeper mud. As I began cleaning it out of the gutter, the girls suddenly went wild. They flopped into the shallow, muddy water. Muck and water got into their boots, in their hair and, dern, all over Clara's white dress (which is now oxycleaned and bleached white again). They were just cackling and going nuts. Clara began patting mud around my ankles. It started to rain, which wasn't a problem, but when it started to thunder, I called a halt to the riot. We walked to the back door, they stripped down, I toweled them off and marched them into the tub.
All in all, it was great fun. There's something wonderful about mud. Which must be why people will pay $$$ for a mud bath, no?
The rain has brought cooler weather. Which means sweaters in the morning when they go to school.
We had to separate them. Clara is now in a different pre-school class from Margaret. Because of her fine motor skills delays, Margaret gets special education services and occupational services from the local school district. Free. Her special ed teacher noticed that Clara was far too invested in Margaret and her outcomes. I was concerned because when I would ask Clara about school, her response always centered on what Margaret had done that day. Not what she had done. Clara seems to have skipped across the hall with no problems. Margaret, on the other hand, is back to her former pooping problems. I think now it's in reaction to Clara leaving her. Every day, she asks if she can go into Clara's classroom, and I have to say no. Margaret's classroom is much more structured than Clara's. I am hoping things straighten out, because we seemed to be over the hump with Tita and her problems. I don't want to go back.
On Saturday, I am going to Chicago for more than a week. Wish Gene luck!