Mistaking the Forrest for the Trees

Emily's parent teacher conference was yesterday. While usually her teachers have glowing reviews, this one was, well not bad, but less glowing. Why does it bother me? Because the hang up was this "AR" test that Emily is supposed to have been doing. I guess it's a comprehension tests on books she's been reading at home at school. Seems simple enough, right? Well, apparently she's only done, something like 5 while the other kids have done 15 in the same amount of time. And I guess somehow we were supposed to telepathically know that this was supposed to have happened, because even on her report card that came home, it says "Emily has done 5 AR tests". I thought, super? No context whatsoever. To make things worse, the grading system? It's terrible. I asked what the symbols meant that were coming home on her papers, and was told that this weird S symbol with a plus and minus meant that she'd done fine, that a smiley face meant that she'd missed some. Well, of course it does. /rolls eyes.

Okay. So I can deal with the fact that despite Emily knowing all her sight words, getting all the answers right on comprehension tests at school, the implication was: she's not reading at home. Because apparently deducting from actual evidence is, I don't know, not possible. It's just that it couldn't be further from the truth. No, we don't time her or count books, or count pages, or chapters. I just refuse. We encourage her to read because reading is intrinsically good. Am I going about this wrong, because I really feel like we're not.

On the other hand I don't want my kids to be punished at school because we're not doing things the "right" way. I don't know. Teaching is a strange and mystifying world to me. Is it wrong to want my kids to love learning for the process, not the result? I'm just so frustrated.

Emily is such a kid still. So innocent and carefree. She gasps in amazement while we watched Harry Potter after she finished reading the first book last night (which she finished in less than a week, thank you). I like that she falls asleep on the weekends with her lights on and a book in her lap, still wearing her clothes. I like that we discuss politics at the dinner table and don't drill her on her math homework. I like that she knew which presidents were on currency before she understood the value of it.

Am I wrong to feel this way? I've said it before, all that baby stuff, it's cake. Fed? Check. Clean(ish) diaper? Check. Thinking, even for a moment, that if you get through the baby years, it's smooth sailing? It's better you batten down the hatches, we're headed for open water, and there's a hurricane on the horizon.

Easter, etc..

We dyed Easter Eggs, which was, of course, fascinating. Will might have dyed every egg blue if it were up to him. And we found them in our living room in the morning, and Violet rejoiced in smashing eggs together whilst her siblings watched in horror.

And there was the ocean, just a one hour journey down the road (refreshingly close if you are like me and love to gaze out at the horizon and know that it goes on and on and on, is there a word for the opposite of claustrophobia? Because that's what it's like).

And there were Go-Karts. And William was so, so brave, his little face just grimacing in the cold wet wind, but afterward, declaring, "Eeiam rave!".


Despite the rain, the cold, cold wind, the whining about leaving, the lunch at a fast food joint, and just maybe because of all those reasons. As we drove back home, William said "Byee ossean!", I thought, who needs ham and green jell-o?

It was my best Easter.

Why?

I've been reading a lot lately about the state of the agriculture industry, shocked and dismayed at many of the practices. Completely mortified by others...

But where does it end? I can choose not to eat meat, and instead eat fruits and vegetables picked by under-paid and exploited workers that then traveled hundreds of miles?

So what am I supposed to do? I am trying to raise conscience children, aware of their impact on the world, trying desperately to shield them from the commercialism ever-present in society.

Why is it that I can't even feel good about buying an apple these days?


(stolen from http://cleanerplateclub.wordpress.com/)

Shiny Happy Violet

Hold on to This Day

I keep forgetting...
I keep forgetting to write about how Violet sticks her tongue out when we carry her outside, like she's tasting the air
... that she has two new teeth
... that she loves to swing, just laughing and laughing (and sticking her tongue out)
... that when I dressed Violet in a dress, William said "Ohhhh Princess Leia? Oh, Princess Violet."
... that she reaches over for Ian when he gets up at night in her sleep
... that she loves a bath in the sink, but hates one in the tub
... that she crawls to go find her older brother and sister at the other end of the house
... that I am stopped constantly whenever I take her in public, fussing over her blue eyes and blond curls
... that she's three months away from being one, three months closer to walking away from us, our delicious baby

Have I not savored her as much as Will, or Emily? I can say that as my arms ache at the end of the day from wrestling with her while she wriggles and arches and squirms, trying to settle down, it's hard to. But I do. It's different, harder to slow down, to notice her fluttering eyelashes as she falls asleep, to breath deep into her silky hair. But I do. I just hope, more than anything, that I'll remember these moments, for what they were. Not the never-ending piles of laundry, or me yelling "I don't care, don't eat it then!" to William over his dinner.

I hope I'll remember days in February at the park, in my heels and suit, tossing a football, while the sun sets over the mountains across the harbor.

Obama

In 1992, I had a chance to see Al Gore stump for Bill Clinton, but my parents decided not to go. In 2008, I took my own kids to see a moment in history. Over 21,000 people came to see the man that might be president. 20 years from now, they'll be able to say, "We were there".

The Thick of It

Two weeks into Leg Session... Hill Day... two 14+ hour days... and I'm at my desk entering bills into the tracking system.

The last few days have had their surreal moments, and sure, parts were a blur, but I can honestly say I am having the time of my life. The adrenaline, the deadlines, the pressure. I'm exhausted, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.