sore loosers

Boy was Punk mad this morning.
Kooka was not much better.

"Great," Punk said, "Now our country is going to suck."
Miss thang could not shake the grumpy look from her face either.

I didn't have much to complain about since I basically "threw my vote away."

But we did have this little chat:

"OK guys, Obama is a good guy. McCain is a good guy. We saw that when they gave their speeches last night. They said some nasty stuff about each other because they were both trying to win, but when it comes down to it - they both want this to be a great country."

"OK - then if they are both so great - why bother picking just one?"

"Because usually people agree with one guy's ideas over another's. And the great thing about America is that you get to choose. Everybody complains about George Bush - but the fact is, the American people elected him twice. They chose him. And now that America has chosen Obama, it is our job to help him - and to let him know if we don't agree with something he does. He is a good, reasonable man, and that is how democracy works."

Kooka was sobbing - seriously. Not sure if she was missing Sarah Palin already, or if she is just so competitive that she can't stand to lose. Probably both.

So, I finally get them settled down a bit, we walk to school together. We are walking down the hall when we meet the future unabomber.

Seriously.

The kid cannot be more than six. He is dressed in full cammo gear - overalls, boots, backpack - the works. His hair has not been combed in days, and he has a wild look in his eyes - either he ate 6 bowls of cocoa puffs this morning, or he has been up all night writing his manifesto. Probably has a copy of Catcher in the Rye in that backpack, and a crush on Jodie Foster.

Anyway - I am the only adult in the hall, and he comes running up to me, gritting his teeth, desperation in his face, and says "I gotta warn you about something!"

"What?"

He grabs my arm, eyes like dinner plates and says, "Do not be happy. Today is not a happy day. I gotta warm you about Obama." I don't say anything, but the look on my face is quizical. Mini- Kaczynski leans in close and whispers, "Obama does NOT believe in America!"

"Really?"

"It's true!"

And then he sprints off down the hall, shouting it over and over - "Do not be happy! Obama hates America!"

I hope his teacher searched his backpack.

vote

Today we went to vote. The whole house voted for the same guy - except for me. I voted green. Not like my vote counts anyway - nobody's vote counts in Minnesota - unless you are DFL - it is one thing I hate about living here.

I miss Wisconsin - campaigning and feeling like there was some point to it. I am not staunchly one way or the other, but for now - I am firmly green. It is important to Punk and Kooka, and they are the ones who will have to deal with whatever we choose. (I also voted to increase sales tax to benefit the environment and the arts - for which Punk rewarded me with a HUGE hug and tremendous grin.) I voted for all of the incumbent judges - except for one, who has a nasty temper. He did not have an opponent, so I thought of the most level headed person I know - and wrote in her name. (You're welcome Treats).

The electoral college sort of sickens me - because like I said - if you live in MN, it is completely pointless to vote in a presidential election. Kooka and I are snuggling on the bed - she is cheering whenever Brian Williams awards another state to her guy. I love that she is more hyped up about this than Hannah Montana or High School Musical. Hope she stays this way.

funny

This cartoon was up in the copy room at school - there was a republican one too - but I couldn't find it. They were both pretty funny.

halloween

The video does not do it justice. When darkness fell, and the fog machines started up, the red lights were glowing in the graveyard, and Kooka was passing out chicken bones and peeled eyeballs for treats, then the fun really began.

They are lucky to have a dad who is so talented, neighbors who are willing to look the other way, and each other to share their fiendish plans with.

The video is OK - but really, you HAD to be there.

WATCH THIS

Oh my GOSH - I almost bought a bunch of this stuff for Punk and Kooka - you HAVE to watch this!

pumpkins

In case you are like us - and haven't even begun to carve pumpkins - here is your chance:
pumpkin carver

punk's art

Punk created this picture using photoshop. He has even more on the weeping rhinos site. His art skills always amaze me. Let him know what you think:

medea

This is the girl we call Medea. Kooka and I are so proud of her that we had to post this here - hope her parents don't mind.

Bear in mind that the first time we really saw this girl she was on stage dressed as a Greek Godess with purple/green hair - so we knew she had some skills - but are glad she changed the hair.

Anyway, even though our household is terribly divided politically - Kooka loves Sarah Pallin and McCain (because girls can be pretty AND smart, and John McCain was really brave to protect our country) - Punk is all about Cynthia McKinney and the Green Party (girls don't HAVE to be pretty to be smart - and come ON - it's the green party - what else is he gonna choose?), A is likely a McCain guy, and I am moving to Australia,. . . but we all love Medea and her family . . . and the girl knows how to get her point across.

So despite the fact - that I will likely let Punk take my vote -I had to show you guys this. We are so proud of this girl.

Check it out:

but for the grace of god . . .

I volunteered to help in Kooka's class. I'd homeschooled her for two years - no way I could send her off into the wild blue yonder without my occasional interference. So every Tuesday I show up, and do whatever I am asked.

Today it was handwriting.

And the spitter was on my list.

Remember him? First week - spitting in Kooka's hair - never sits still, always sent to the principal's office, talking out of turn.

Lucky me.

So there we sit - the two of us. We are writing numbers - and as I expect, his handwriting is about as nice as his reported behavior. So he plops down at the table and starts to write. My job is to make sure he starts at the top of the line and make his letters the right way.

He starts at the bottom.

"OK, dude," I tell him, "What we have to do on this page is start at the top - right where that little green dot is."

"Why?"

"That's what the rules in this book tell us to do."

"Who made those rules? Why are there so many rules? Can't I just make this stupid six however I want?"

"Well, sometimes people who write school books try to give us rules to make our brains think about something in a certain way.

"Yeah, but whoever wrote this book does not get how my brain works - because this makes nooooooooo sense."

Whoa.
Whoa.

Where had I heard THAT before?

Not three years ago - at my own kitchen table. I cannot count the times that Punk had said them - still does sometimes. And suddenly, the spitter was somebody else - the spitter was a kid who could be helped with a little creative thinking, and maybe even a little hallway homeschooling. He was not a bad kid - just hated pointless rules - and really - who can blame him?

So I say to him, "That is a really good point Spitter. And I agree - sometimes rules do not make sense and we have to make up some new ones. So tell me how your brain works Spitter - what is in there?"

"Cars - a lot of cars are in there."

"OK. So we are gonna make this eight. We are going over the hill first."

"Why?"

"Because that is the way the road goes - otherwise we will smash into other cars."

"Alright."

"But at the top of the hill - there is a cliff we didn't see - and he falls all the way to the bottom - AAAGGGGGGGHHHH! Come on - you can scream . . . "

So he does - the two of us out there falling down cliffs, and then chugging slowly back up to the top. Three tries later - he is making eights the "right" way.

He tries a seven. "Oooooh - ooooh - this one starts at the green dot too, " he says. "And then the wind blows him sideways, and he falls down another cliff - but this one is so steep he can't even get back up - so he stays down there."

"Perfect, " I tell him - and we do the fist bump - but gently - because as he says, you never want to hurt somebody when you are trying to tell them "good job."

Soon he has a page full of numbers and a smile on his face.

I send him back into class and sit there for a minute. I think about what would have happened to Punk, if I had dropped him off at the door in kindergarten. I do not think he would be a hitter, or a screamer, or even a spitter. But I have no doubt he would have asked too many questions, talked out of turn, and wondered who made up all of these stupid rules.

So on behalf of all the struggling Punks out there, the ones who need a kitchen table more than they need a supervised study hall, I will keep going to Kooka's class - even if I never get to work with her at all.

Rock on Spitter.

Rock on.

Halloween

For the first time ever - we will not go trick or treating this year. Punk - who has long been fascinated with skeletons, haunted houses, and things that go bump in the night, has finally convinced his dad to decorate the yard for Halloween. They are nowhere near done - but already the neighbors are starting to notice. It's gonna be hard to miss once the fog machine, purple lights and thunderclaps get going.

I will post pictures when I can - but in the meantime, feel free to drive by.

pictures

I love these pictures of Punk - they remind me of who he really is inside.

conferences

Parent teacher conferences today - interesting, very interesting. For years I have wondered where they stood. I thought I had a good handle on it - but could not wait to get legitimate feedback. It went something like this:

Both Principal and Teacher were outwardly shocked that my homeschooled son had absolutely no social issues and was even (wait for it) . . . popular. His only concern with Punk was that his work does not actually show how smart he is - which has been a battle with that child all along. The teacher's comments were something along the lines of "I expected to be talking to you about his advanced algebra equations, and the fact that he really needs to learn to make friends . . . " But that is not how it went down. According to Teacher, Punk is doing just fine and dandy in school, with the exception of hating timed tests - which again has been a battle all along.

However - there are issues that cannot be ignored. Each child was asked to write a self evaluation for conferences - rate their own behavior, explain what they are good at, and write out a goal for the year. Here is Punk's:

Dear Mom,
So far fourth grade has been OK. Art and music are going well. I can't write bad things on this paper, but I have made all those friends you wanted me to make, so now my goal for the year is trying to get you to home school me again.

love,
Punk

And that little nugget did not escape teacher's attention - it was a bit awkward. Punk likes his teacher a lot - he does not love the structure of school.

But his gifted and talented teacher says that she sees amazing things in Punk - and she can tell that he loves when he comes to that class - and she's right. Overall about what I was expecting.

As for Kooka - both teachers raved about her. Apparently she works very hard to use her Spanish every day and does not just shout out the English answer. I was glad to hear that - because we are counting on her to teach the rest of us. She also has (check this out) a "lot" of friends, and gets along well with everybody. Her artwork was fantastic, and her writing is coming along really well.

Kooka is also being put into a special gifted program. Technically that would not start until third grade, but there are some kids who really need this - so there will be some small group stuff with three kids in her class. She also asked for harder math - and her teacher was happy to oblige. Again - just about what I would expect from Kooka.