A normal mom, one who seeks to teach their child responsibility and instill in them the importance of cleaning up their own messes, one who doesn't start convulsing and ticking nervously when things are out of place, would leave the mess for the members of the guilty party to clean up.
I tried. I tried to ignore the frightful sight. I even hid upstairs, finding solace in Ina Garten and her curried chicken salad wraps.
Evidently my blinders aren't very blinding and can see through the floor, because my
Down to the living room I went, eagerly scooping up the scattered Legos, once again restoring order to my living room and clearing my fuzzy brain. I don't think so good when the house is messy.
I should have waited. I should have made Caroline do it.
I tried. Really I did.
I want Caroline to be responsible and we do work on it regularly. However, I want her to be responsible right away. Like me.
Confession time: I still make Caroline's bed. She sleeps on top of the covers, so her bed is hardly ever askew, but in the mornings I straighten the sheets and then she puts the pillows on.
It's a team effort. A team effort led by a coach with both high expectations and sheet straightness standards. I'm happy to report that she does put the pillows on in the order that I have deemed most attractive.
Caroline cares very little about aesthetics, but she's fond of routine and seems to do things the way I suggest because she simply doesn't care to differ from the norm.
That's my kid!
Caroline's class had an end of the year pizza party this afternoon. Craig and I helped pass out the pizza, juice boxes and cookies. The kids watched a video of their Tale of Despereaux play and received a bag of goodies from their teacher. They still have two and a half days of school left, but I'm not sure they'll be very focused. Who am I kidding, they're seven.
They're never focused.
As for me, I'm going to try and make the very most of my remaining two and a half days of freedom. I'm mostly not looking forward to school ending because of the mob of chaotic children that will undoubtedly congregate in our house. We're the party house, which is baffling, because we don't have many cool toys and I'm really not that much fun. But the real reason I'm dreading the end of the year is because that means I won't have a first grader any more. She's moving up to the second floor of the school. The "babies" are on the first floor; the big kids are upstairs.
As much as I complain about my spawn and how she cramps my style, sometimes I wish I could just freeze time.
She's still eager and uncomplicated.
I can already feel that slipping away, which makes me sad.
Hopefully she'll hold on to that innocent sweetness for one more year. As we've been telling her, second grade is the end of the easy life; she has one good year left. Once third grade starts, the homework is challenging AND abundant. Also, standardized tests enter the scene.
I better start brushing up now. I already feel dumb when Caroline comes home spouting off facts she learned in first grade. Obscure facts. Facts I've never even heard of. Things that make me go "huh?"
Yep, time to pull out "Elementary School for Dummies." I'm really quite certain that my vast knowledge of Reality TV will not be useful come standardized test time.
I still don't know what a dangling participle is, but I sure can tell you who Jillian sent home last week on The Bachelorette.
I'm sure my parents are beaming with pride right now.