Coming Up For Air

I have a new baby girl.

For the last two weeks, and until the end of June, I am babysitting my friend's 12-month-old while she's back teaching. Bee is a sweet kid and Baby Boy gets along great with her. She already says a few words: bottle, Elmo, no, cookie and a few others that gets us through the day with few frustrations. Still, Baby Boy has this gift (of sorts) of mimicry; he can babble just like Bee in her voice's pitch. He did the same with his cousin out west. My own Rich Little.

Of course, taking care of Bee means that I can do nothing else around the house, including updating this. I hold her a lot so she can feel safe and loved while her two mothers are gone, and she appreciates it.

Yes, two mothers. And they're in their 40s. Bee is a bit of a miracle child, and I'm so conscious of that. We had a summer-like day on Thursday so Baby Boy and I took Bee outside and we all got pretty filthy. When her mum picked her up, she noticed that Bee's legs and feet had dirt on them. I started to apologize but my friend was so happy. "This means she's growing up."

Thursday night was a gift for Husband and I. My friend Jules and her husband offered to take all three of our kids from 3:30 so Husband and I could have a date night. The funny thing is that when she first made the offer, I just laughed and said, "Oh, it would never work." You see, she has two sons. K, in particular, is like a rock star in my house. Daughter and Middle Child compete for his attention and things can get pretty crazy. Jules's other son is autistic but, honestly, Baby Boy is much more of a handful.

However, she wouldn't take no for an answer and I knew she'd be able to handle any crises that came up. She is like the Fun Mom you wished you had. And everything went well. Of course, the party ended when Middle Child's eyes started to puff up from the pollen and, of course, he got all dramatic about it: screaming, crying, rubbing his eyes and walking around with them closed even if it meant bumping into walls and such. Cripes.

Jules and I have also been busy planning a fun fair for my kids' school's 50th anniversary. Get this: the head of the school board says to do it up really big, but our budget will be nada. In other words, make me look good without my help. Don't even get me started about that creep. I've had my run-ins with him before. Earlier, I went to a parent council meeting to basically beg for money, which I got. Although, I have to say I had help. My friend, the saddest girl to ever hold a martini, is the treasurer. When her kids came over to play, I showed her my plans and then asked if the council had the money. She was great and even spoke up for me at the meeting, as did two other friends who came specifically to side with me (as I learned later).

The two older kids got their report cards and they were glowing. Daughter got all "A"s except for 4 "B+"s (what is the proper way to write that?). Middle Child's report was all text, as is the case in the kindergarten years. He got words like "gifted", "talented", and stuff but also attached was a sheet requesting an interview. So Husband and I show up with Middle Child. His awesome teacher is there and then ... the principal walks in to take a seat. "You know it's bad when the principal sits in," I said to Jules. "No, he sits in for the special needs' kids' interviews. I guess (Middle Child) is special in another way!"

Anyway, I'm thinking, "Fuck. Go in grizzly bear mother mode. Protect your child." Granted, the boy has been fighting lately. Because he doesn't play with anyone in his class (he has waaay different interests), he hangs around older kids who, let's face it, don't want to be around a kindergartener. Would you? Things escalate. He gets angry and he lashes out. Earlier, one boy pinned him down so Middle Child kneed him in the nuts. For two years now, I've expressed my concern that he hasn't connected with anyone in his class. He's friendly. They're friendly with him, but nothing gels. And I've always known my child to have a temper, even as a newborn. Middle Child's teacher has tried what she could but nothing worked.

So here's the principal telling me stuff I already know. And then the grizzly mama came out. I complained that the disciplinary regulations at the school are not a one-size-fits-all thing. To send my son home because he fought is like a reward for him. He has no friends. He's above-average academically so classtime can often be an opportunity for him to show off. Going home after a fight? He's avoiding the problem! Why not set some things in place so you can prevent my kid from losing his temper in the first place? That's what we do at home. That there's no designated kindergarten area in the playground is a bone of contention too, but that won't change. And I've had this discussion informally with the principal before, don't get me wrong.

I suggested that they catch him doing "good" instead of "bad" all the time. How about extending what we do at home: if he gets seven checkmarks for "doing good" in a day, he gets a letter of the alphabet to spell out the word of a prize. The alphabet thing came from Jules. Works great. Currently, the kid is going for a Boba Fett Pez dispenser.

And how about arranging for a classmate to play with him before the bell rings? I will send him to school with some plastic binoculars and the teacher gives him a clipboard and pencil and he's to find things that start with an S or signs of spring or write down the names of the friends he can spy on through the binoculars. Well, wouldn't you know that Mumma is right. This is working out great. The teacher has run off copies of a chart that breaks down the day with a space for check marks and comments on what he's done to earn those checks. She's also bought him a huge plastic magnifying glass.

Possibly, the number one thing I have learned from the parents of a special needs child, the one thing Jules says many times, you have to be the fiercest advocate for your child. Don't leave it up to anyone else, no matter who they are. You, alone, are the one who knows him best. It seems so obvious but, scarily, I realize that I hadn't always done this.

And then all day yesterday, I had really icky pains all over. I ate nothing and remained stationary almost all day. Bad mother, I let the kids spend five hours watching TV and playing XBox while I convelesced. And where was Husband? Hmm, sunny day. Day off work. I'm home and obviously not going anywhere ... that sounds like GOLF TIME!