Halloween

The girls and I have been planning for this day for months. That's not a lie or an exaggeration, but it is sorta sad. We decided to go as The Powerpuff Girls, the girls' absolute favorite show of all time. And, truth be told, I love it too. Three cutie pie sisters who kick serious villain ass, all with the best theme song of all time.
Anyway, we've been planning our costumes since July. And even though there was much discussion, there were holes in our plan. For instance, the dark-haired child probably shouldn't have been the blonde Bubbles. And the light haired child shouldn't have been the black-haired Buttercup. And they don't make green dresses for little girls. And, honestly, I'm not sure why a 38-year-old woman thought she could pull off a kindergarten-aged character. I always get a little crazy at Halloween.

Well, it wasn't a hit. But it wasn't a bust either. The girls already decided they want to be scary things next year. And the year after that they'll probably want to be he same thing as their friends. And then, I'm sure I'll have years and years of slutty Halloween costumes to battle. So this year we were sisters. Triplets. And we were just in time.

P-T conferences

I experienced the full range of emotions for this year's parent teacher conferences. First off, the scheduling for these meetings was impossible for a mom who works the night shift and gets roughly 8 solid hours of sleep each week. I had to wake up early and the meetings went like a little something like this:

Roll out of bed. Forget to brush teeth. Try NOT to look like a drug addict while nodding in agreement to everything. Apologize because it's difficulty to remember what grade your child is in.

The first meeting was with Penny's teacher. It went a little something like this:

Penny is wonderful. She is top of her class. She has many friends and she's very nice. She dresses great. She is very enthusiastic. Have you seen this artwork? How about this story she wrote? Where does she get her hair done?

Oh please... I am so rolling my eyes. I thank her teacher and try not to breath in her direction.

The second meeting was with Carol's teacher. It began a little something like this:

Do you mind if the school psychologist sits in on this meeting?

I'll go ahead and end that story there.

My pediatrician once told me not to compare my children. This is an impossible task because it's difficult not to say, "Why can't you be more like your sister and NOT get the psychologist involved?" But children are different and they bring a wide range of traits to the tiny table where parents sit to meet with their child's teacher. I really am grateful that my children are receiving the help they need, or the praise they deserve, at this new, wonderful school.

And thank goodness that's over until next year!