Melissa Anne Cohen

And why I’m still agonizing over it.

Jess is a bright kid, and according to her teacher, is thriving at school. Learning fast, making huge progress, gets along well with others, etc. But every single morning, she begs to stay home. She really, really doesn’t like going. If she was an adult, and this was her job, I’d actively encourage her to quit because I’ve always thought that there’s nothing worse than getting up every morning to go to a job you hate. So why am I continuing to send her to kindergarten?

Pros – she’s somewhat shy, I think, and needs the social skills that she learns at school. She’s frequently frustrated by the other kids, and trying to navigate the schoolyard politics. This one wants to be her only friend, and that one wants her to play with her and not with the other ones. When she complains (and she does), it’s never that nobody likes her, it’s always that so many people like her and she doesn’t like being that popular. I have to have the only girl in America who actively thinks she’s too popular. I want her to have playdates and birthday party invites, and fun memories of playing with her friends. School isn’t just about reading and math, it’s also about learning to get along with others, and that’s a skill that she’ll really need going forward. I also think that teachers go to school to learn about teaching, and are much better equipped to teach then I, armed with a couple of workbooks, and a bunch of toddlers, could be.

Cons – she still really, really doesn’t like it. She just doesn’t. It’s never something she looks forward to, and at best, it’s something she tolerates because I make her. Every morning, it’s a struggle to get her dressed and out the door. She’s advanced well beyond what they are doing – she’s still bringing home worksheets where she’s just forming letters, a whole paper filled with ‘b’. And she’s reading at home. I could focus on her here at home and easily teach her more than what she’s getting at school, because she could go as fast as she wanted to here, and not have to keep repeating things for the rest of the class. Plus – to reiterate – she really doesn’t like going.

So – what to do??? I’m the only person who thinks that homeschooling is a good idea. Everyone I know thinks that I should shove her out the door to go to school, because that’s what you do. And I’m still marginally torn on the issue – because I want her to be “normal” and have friends and swing on the swing, and make bestest friends. I really think, even if I do nothing with her at home, that she’d be ready for first grade right now. So anything I do at home with her will be a perk, and she’d be so much happier. I don’t know if she’s just saying she doesn’t like school because it’s part of a power struggle (which is my mother’s theory – and backed up by the teacher, who keeps saying that Jess is doing wonderfully, no problems at all) or if she’s legitimately unhappy there, and by continuing to send her, I’m just ignoring her.

I let my daughter stay home today, not because she was sick, but because I was. I’ve got a killer headache, have for two days now. Normally, the alarm goes off at six thirty, Marc gets up, makes the coffee and brings me in a cup when it’s ready around seven. But, unbeknownst to me, Jess had been coughing and sounding miserable in her sleep, and since we had discussed her coming down with something and possibly staying home today the night before, made the executive decision to let her stay home and have both of us sleep in. Which was lovely and kind and sweet, but when I got up at almost seven thirty because Jess was laying in my bed, stomping her foot on the bed and yelling that she was BORED (which is one of my pet peeves – I hate kids claiming they’re bored), I was livid. Overtired (because really, the last time I slept really, really well was almost seven years ago, with a major headache, and when I asked why, oh why did he not get me up in time to get started getting her dressed and lunch packed and hair done, he said IN FRONT OF HER that he thought I didn’t want to send her today.

Since getting Jess out the door on a day when I’m 100% is a struggle most days, and on a day when she thinks that Daddy would let her stay home and Mommy won’t is utter and complete hell, I gave up, and told her that she could stay home today. So now I’ve got a perfectly healthy six year old here, tormenting her brother and making a mess in my house. Which is a crappy way of looking at it, but my head really hurts. She’s not so much making a mess, it’s more that the house is a disaster after the weekend, and I’ve been cleaning for hours already.

When I don’t want to do something. Within certain parameters. If my mother asks me. Or my favorite cousin. Then I grudgingly say yes, if it’s something I’d REALLY rather not do, and don’t do it gracefully. I wish this was different about me. I wish that I was a nicer person, and when I did say yes to things that I didn’t want to do, I would be able to smile and just do it to the best of my ability. But no, I’m grumpy and negative and hostile.

Plus I’m overtired and hormonal and really not happy with anyone today. Not my washing machine (which is currently spinning off balance and making WAY too much noise), not my siblings (who say no with wild and reckless abandon, and got to spend a beautiful Saturday hanging out with the their kids), not the American Cancer Society for thinking up the Relay in the first place, and last but certainly not least, I’m not all that happy with myself. Because if I committ to doing something, even if it’s something that I don’t want to do and don’t feel as though I had the option to refuse, I should at least do it gracefully and well.

Let’s hope for a better day tomorrow.

I’m suffering from epidemic, panic-inducing, freak out fit overload. I’ve jumped on board with the new ice age when I was younger, the earth getting colder and colder, now global warming, Y2K, the anthrax scare, bird flu, and now swine flu. There’s always something new and more interesting to panic about, and I’m just worn out with it. I think, at 35, I’ve hit my life time limit on the amount of things that I can freak out about. I just no longer care. I think it’s horrible for all the people who have died from it, and I certainly don’t mean to minimize the suffering of those affected. That being said, I HIGHLY doubt that my life will be affected by this, and would prefer it if everyone would just stop talking about it.

In other news – Jessie started out unbelievably miserable this morning, insisting that she wasn’t going to school… and I quoted my little song at her “Jessie, remember, we believe that happiness is something WE create – so you can decide right now to have a good morning or a really crappy one, but either way, when Daddy leaves this morning, you’re going with him.” And she pulled it together, got herself under control, got dressed, had a nice breakfast and all was lovely.

I’m experimenting with snapfish and there’s the potential that my pictures are, even as I type, winging around the internet. But I haven’t gotten a confirmation e-mail yet, so I probably screwed it up somehow. Sad…

Sure, it’s a line from a county music song, but it works for me. Last weekend, I took Jess to see the Hannah Montana movie (LOVED IT – I know, I’m a total dork), and we were singing to the radio on the way down there. There’s a band, Sugarland, and they have one song called “Baby Girl” and Jessie loved it, so when this other song by them came on, I turned it up loud for her. I think it’s called something like “Gotta be something more” but I could be making that up. One line that stuck in her little head was “Some believe in destiny, and some believe in fate, but I believe that happiness is something we create” and she sang it off and on for the rest of the day.

My girl has some intense emotions – and it’s always easier for her to see the down side than the positive. It’s so frustrating at times, I watch her make her life SO MUCH MORE DIFFICULT, not just for her, but for everyone around her by her stubborn insistence that she’s having the ‘baddest day ever’ or ‘the most horrible night in the world.’

But ever since last weekend, everytime she starts to sink down into the misery, I just remind her that she’s got the choice, and we believe that happiness is something we create – and IT WORKS. Second day in a row, she’s bounced out the door with smile on her face for school. I love it.

As I clicked “submit” on the last post, Sam must have done something and Jordyn started wailing. Sam started hollering back at her, and I put them both down for their naps. Now all is quiet, and I’m trying to restore order to the room 🙂

Sam and Jordyn are so incredibly adorable together. They’ve been playing in there, by themselves, with literally no interaction with me, for well over an hour. I’m not even sure what they are doing, exactly, it’s some sort of fantasy game, Sam’s the Dad, Jordyn is the Mom, and they dress up in raincoats (wrapping themselves in my quilts) and move from corner to corner in the room. They’ve scattered, I think, every little toy I own, every little piece of plastic food, every truck and baby doll that exist here, all over the place – but I’m so proud of them. They’re only two and a half – and so creative and GOOD at playing together.

How I spent my spring vacation…

This is Jess at Elm Park.

Here’s (from the left) Jessica, my step daughters Lilli and Sarah, and my friend’s daughter Glennys at the Museum of Science.

Here are the girls on the subway into Boston. How cute is that??

This was early in the morning, with Hostess little donuts for breakfast. Note the powdered sugar all over Sammy’s face.

My little Samilicious – best part of the whole trip was the train ride.

This is Glennys, my niece Isabella and Jess enjoying the sunshine.

Gotta say, it was a proud moment for me. When my beloved and cherished daughter hurled those words at me.

So it’s a gorgeous day, and I pack up my cherubs (Lilli (10) Sarah (8) Jessica (6) Harrison and Sam (both two) up to go down to Cricket Park. Which isn’t a park at all, and in reality is called Elm Street Community School, but it’s very close, with a huge fenced in field and parts of it are paved. We brought bubbles, two baby dolls with their carriages, chalk and a big wagon to lug it all in. Today’s gorgeous – but wicked windy, so after about 10 minutes, I was ready to go. I soldiered on, because everyone was having fun, the boys were running and running and blowing bubbles and just hollering into the wind, and the girls were drawing these elaborate hop scotch games.

One of my time honored techniques for parenting is what I like to call bribery. Although it’s not really bribery, more of a distraction. I wanted them to get going, because I was cold and it was lunch time, so I suggested that we all stop at the little store and I’d get a big bag of potato chips to go with the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. At which point, four of the five kids screamed with joy, and one started sobbing uncontrollably. Turns out that Jess doesn’t LIKE potato chips (news to me, as she’s been eating them since she was about six months old) and really wanted Doritos. I was not amused – total spoiled brat behavior, no way was she going to get her way, so I sent her to go stand against the wall for a time out. This proved to be stunningly inefficient, as she calmed down enough to walk back over to me, but started wailing again as she pointed out how much she doesn’t want potato chips and nothing will do except for Doritos.

Now I’m just mad, because really? Is she that entitled that she feels okay throwing back a generous offer of junk food and flipping out because she’s not getting the exact brand of chips she wants. No WAY am I getting this child what she wants, but I had to follow thru for the other kids. So off we went to the store, with her screaming and sobbing the whole way. We went into the store, bought chips, walked all the way home, screaming and sobbing. I’m ignoring her, except for when I paused briefly to tell her that I found her behavior to be throughly unacceptable and she would be going directly to her room until she could apologize. We finally get home, I get everyone inside, and Jess sits down on the bottom step, says she’s never, never ever coming home again because I’m the meanest mother in the whole world. I ignore her and go inside anyway. She came in, and I immediately pointed to the bedroom. She screams as loud as she could, stomps into the bedroom. Comes out ten minutes later, sobbing and hyperventilating. I say to her in the gentlest, kindest of voices, “are you ready to apologize for your behavior?” She looked at me and said “You need to apologize to ME!” You guessed it, back to her room she went.

She did finally come out and apologize and gracefully accepted some potato chips with her lunch. Score one point for me.

Jessie decided she wanted a bike. Her bestest friend Glennys has one, and her heart was broken into a million pieces because she didn’t have one. So I, the good mother, go out the next day, searching for one. I had to go to two different stores, then buy the helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, the whole thing. Now she’s got a gorgeous purple bike, matching accessories – and she’s desperate to ride it. And of course, it rained for the past two days. I finally get her outside today (with my 10 year old stepdaughter pushing one carriage with a toddler, me shoving two more in my double stroller, and my poor other stepdaughter is assigned to assist Jess. As she rides. With training wheels.

She’s terrified of it. Thinks she’s up too high, it goes too fast, she begged me not to make her (make her – like she hadn’t sobbed to get the bike in the first place) ride it. I’m ill amused. And planning on taking her alone down to the nearest park for a couple of hours, bribing her with ice cream and chocolate if she’ll just be brave enough to give it a shot.