difference of opinion

We thought Punk needed glasses, so while we were waiting for the verdict, we hung out in the lobby looking over his optical options.

I picked out a pair of silver, circular, wire-rimmed glasses - not unlike Harry Potter, or the kid in Jerry McGuire. Simple, classic -a good look for a kid like Punk.

I hand them to him and say "What about these?"

Without missing a beat, with all of the fake excitement he can muster - he looks me right in the face and says, "Wow, thanks mom - can we get some moustache wax to go with those?! Because I think they'll look great with the handlebar moustache I've been trying to grow out."

The two sixty year old guys behind him busted out laughing. I had absolutely nothing to say.

And I still stand by the fact that they looked way better than the 1980's giant retro-tortoise shells he liked.

He says he looked like a combination of Teddy Rooseveldt and Doc the Dwarf.
Thankfully the doctor said, that although his vision in one eye is weird - he really does not need them anyway.

grrrrrrrr

I am super sick of MRI's.

Really.

My legs stopped working properly about three weeks ago, and it has been a constant barrage of testing ever since.

It's ridiculous - especially, since I assume the first test was the most accurate.

Anyway - if I sound grouchy - I am.

sick

Two kids. One on the couch, one in my bed. Nobody is going to school tomorrow. Including me.

what i wish

What I really wish, is that certain people would not be so judgmental.

There is one person in particular.

One who has complained to me several times about the issues in her own marriage - even about people we both know. This person would be appalled to have these issues aired in a public forum. Yet, she continues to make snarky comments on her own blog, continues to feed - no gorge - on whatever gossip she can generate, about my split (a year and a half old by the way - Tiger Woods was weeks ago, and people have already stopped talking about that.)

Sometimes I wonder what the fascination is. We all need to move on, and I would think - that if anyone was interested in the truth - they would at least attempt to hear both sides of the story. I really don't think my life is all that interesting anyway. Quirky at times - and most certainly unexpected, but for the most part, I really do try to keep to myself. Not sure why she cares at all. It's not like we talk. Not like I spill the things that would take her out of the running as the favorite.

Things are not always what they seem. Even in her little world.
It is easy to think that - easy to judge - easy to think you know the truth.
But nobody does.
And I have no intention of telling - because if I do - it is not my life that will be under scrutiny. And that is all I have to say here.

milkshake

So I redeemed my coupon from Punk - the one for the free milkshake.

I requested peanut butter banana, and Punk insisted that he be left to his own devices while preparing his masterpiece - no adults allowed in the kitchen.

So both the professor and I sat down to watch TV.

It was relatively quiet in the kitchen, and the professor kept throwing me sideways glances, until he simply could not stand it anymore. "Are you SURE, he can make a milkshake?! Are you sure he knows what he is doing?"

"Yes," I assured him, a bit annoyed that he would doubt the intelligence of my oldest child. I mean what moron isn't capable of blending 4 simple ingredients together and turning on the blender. "He knows exactly what he is doing. I am positive." (I wasn't)

"Well, its just that . . . I mean . . you know, he really likes to be creative."

"He's fine."

Five minutes later we hear the whirring of the blender, and no obvious screams - which tells me two things: a) no body parts got caught in the blades, and b) he remembered to put the lid on.

About three minutes after that, Kooka appears carrying two icy milkshakes. Punk follws behind with two more. We all sit down to partake. My first sip is tentative - so is the professor's. But low and behold this milkshake is not merely adequate, it is FANTASTIC - I mean really, really good - the perfect blend of flavors. I give the professor an "I told you so" look, and continue to praise Punk's culinary efforts.

"Yeah," the professor admits, "This is fantastic! I think you should open a shop!" Punk beams with pride.

"It was pretty easy," he says, "I just put in all of the ingredients; milk, ice cream, a banana, peanuts and butter."

"WHAT?!" - this is me.

"You know - peanut butter - so I put in peanuts and butter."

"Wait wait wait wait - like just cold butter from the butter dish?!"

"Yep!"

I am gagging. I can absolutely feel the fatty gobules of nasty, cold, greasy butter, covering my tongue. I think I am going to vomit. Tears pour out of my eyes - the effect of laughter, and gag reflex, and whole body convulsions.

The professor keeps drinking, just to keep from laughing out loud.

whoo whoo

Punk's first week at school part time:

100% spelling test
A+ in reading
3 chapters of math finished
5 days of rocket math - aced
1 science essay finished
4 pages of preparation for movie he is producing
2 sculpted heads for said movies
2 chapter books started
1 geography quiz - aced
1 happy child

how

Still not sure how we did it - but we did.

Got Kooka off to school, took Punk to Language arts class, went to work at my own school, picked up Punk, stopped for ham and cheese at Arby's, headed home and began homeschooling again. In less than 90 minutes we finished 15 pages of math, 3 weeks worth of spelling words, a pre-writing/brainstorming session, one geography lesson, and 2 computer math games.

Wow.

I am so surprised and grateful at how accommodating the public schools have been with loaning us books, allowing Punk to participate ala-carte, and offering so much support to this mid-year situation. It is the kind of flexibility and attitude we had hoped to find with charter schools, but when we inquired about such opportunities there, were told, "that it would be far too disruptive." Which is ok - everybody has their own thing, yet the local elementary school has been completely supportive of everything we need.

Punk had an amazing class today, fell in love with his teacher and the classroom, and overall, feels really happy to be in a place where he is challenged, creatively focused and most of all - accepted for who he is.

all you need

I love this - really love it. And after watching, have decided that the truly talented people live in Kosovo, Madagascar, Switzerland, the Philippines and of all places - Israel - who knew?

flying free

Punk finally has some peace.

I won't say too much more right now about our decision, only that A and I discussed it at length, and are both confident that we have found a solution that will give Punk what he needs - and more importantly, what he deserves.

The more time I spent with him during this break, the more I was reminded of what an incredible soul he is, and just what kind of nurturing he needs to reach his full potential.

best christmas present ever

It was a good Christmas.
Back in October, I told the kids that they would have to work to save up their own money to buy Christmas gifts. Chores were plentiful, and the pay was on the generous side, but still . . .

One of my children spent $40 on his sibling. He could not run to the American Girl store fast enough. He also kicked in $20 for his dad, $5 for cousins, $6 for grandpa, $3 for gram, $18 for the professor, and after that (unbeknowst to me) was a little short for the rest of his shopping.

Which, as it turns out - is why I got the very best Christmas present ever.

He could not wait for me to unwrap it - and confided that it was his very favorite gift to give this year.

It was flat, and light and red, and filled with all of the love a ten-year-old has to give.

It was a book of coupons - 16 to be exact. Inside of that little folder was absolutely everything I could possibly need: a coupon to make my bed, to do the dishes for free, for breakfast in bed, a coupon to play whatever his sister wants for half an hour, one for a free homemade milkshake, and my favorite - "will make a fool of myself for your amusement".

I cannot wait to use that one.