Thursday, January 17, 2008

Ruminations


My coneflowers wearing snowy caps


Out my back door this morning

It's a snowy, snowy day and we're enjoying all things winter. Like Mr. G's ear infection. Wet boots. Shoveling. Horrid driving conditions. Stuffy noses. The extra layers of clothes that take an extra twelve minutes to put on before we leave the house. The extra effort it takes to shove puffy bodies into car seats.

And we're still trying to ascertain exactly WHAT is wrong with Bachelor #1. Are his problems in school due to a lack of effort or an actual problem? Do all kids come home with stacks of inconsistent grades? (Four D's, two F's, two A's and three B's on last week's pile of assignments.) I'd be happy to have a kid bring home consistent marks--even if they were all D's. Then I could attribute his marks to failing to understand the work or the work being too difficult. Or if he brought home B's and C's I could say he's an average student. But my kid is all over the board without rhyme or reason or discernible pattern. I sit down with his work each week and try to puzzle it out. Is it just math or language arts? No, he is passing and failing and sometimes excelling in every subject area. Is it a time of day issue? No. Dietary? Maybe. Now we're going to track his performance on different days of the week. And keep close tabs with the Learning Academy teacher to see if he's progressing. Does he need remediation because of the years when his seizures interrupted his learning? Or does he have an actual learning problem? Or, quite possibly, does he simply not care and not try? My son can lack ambition. Case in point, last Saturday I offered money to any child willing to help pick up the basement. We weren't doing anything and the basement in question was messed up because of their toys. He didn't want to. Money was not a motivator. He preferred to sit in his room doing nothing. Nothing at all. Not play with legos, not look at a book, not count and polish his rock collection. If I hadn't seen him leave my womb, I'd swear he was not my child, his lack of ambition runs so thick in his veins at times.

Further adding to my consternation is my Mother. (I'll refer to her as QC, as in Queen of Crazy.) My youngest sister is in the middle school musical again this spring. And again QC has wormed her way to be involved so she doesn't miss a MOMENT of EXCITING MIDDLE SCHOOL DRAMA. I get daily updates on the drama, even though I could care more about, well, think of anything else. Today she felt compelled to call me at SEVEN THIS MORNING to share stories about the eighth grade girls who "I don't know why they were cast as parts--but I didn't make that decision" (implied: your sister should have gotten that part, even though she's only a 7th grader and if I were in charge of every detail, only her friends would have gotten parts, too). I pulled on my shirt and made breakfast and urged children out of bed while saying "uh huh" and "oh wow" at what I hope were appropriate moments. Am I being a little too judgmental of a fifty-what-year-old woman who cares SO DAMN MUCH about middle school gossip and goings on? (Hell, no! That's why I call her QC.)

In local news, a town nearby has given each household a 65 gallon trash barrel to make garbage collection easier. People in that town are now complaining that these trash barrels are too small to accomodate their waste. Yeah. Green Girl would luh-uve to sit down and go through their garbage with these idiots. Did they sort out the recyclable materials? Probably not. Are they composting their yard waste and kitchen scraps? Doubtful. Are they buying things with excessive packaging? Highly likely. Are they brainwashed into a consumer mindset that makes overflowing garbage cans at the end of their driveways each week a status symbol? Most certainly.


Really. This isn't enough room for a week's worth of garbage?
Green Girl says SHAME ON YOU!


And speaking of drama and news, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE post a review on my 8 pages in the Amazon.com Breakthrough Novel Award entry. I'd so appreciate your kindness! Just click here and click "download for free" and then click "view now." THANK YOU, kind readers--may you have a day filled with well-behaved children, supportive and helpful spouses, no car trouble and good health for your trouble.


8 comments:

  1. I read your piece, and it is wonderful. Sorry, but I don't feel qualified to write a proper review. I did want to tell you, however, that I'm positive that yours will be a household name in no time; you have a gift.

    I do want to question you, though, about why Loyal would insist that his son have the dead-end, hard life of farming, but he wouldn't want his daughter to have the same; it seemed kind of contrary to me. Maybe there's an explanation somewhere in the rest of the story?

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  2. Quit answering the phone, woman.

    I will go over and review tonight when I am not in between classes.

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  3. I understand your annoyance with people who want bigger garbage cans. We need bigger recycling cans and smaller garbage cans....you should visit California, there the garbage cans are iddy bitty and the recycling cans are HUGE!

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  4. I just read the two chapters of your short story, and it is a good read!! I do understand the old fashion idea that the father has about the son taking over the farm. Keep helping your son with school and I'm sure things will get better--hard to know what is going on in his head !!!

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  5. Such a gorgeous picture of the coneflowers in the snow. Surprise! You've been tagged.

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  6. The snow pics are beautiful.Guess what,it snowed at my house (just my house nowhere else..lol) yesterday so I got a few cute pics also.Trash cans? We have two,like the picture in your post,and it takes us a month to almost fill them. Now on to the story brb. ;p

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  7. HEY!

    Post an email address somewhere so's I can respond to your hysterical comments!

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  8. It really is beautiful outside when it snows like this. As to your son, I wish his successes were more consistent. What does he say? Does he have an explanation? Stay warm, and good luck.

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Spill it, reader.