Update

Okay. . . so when Caroline is recuperating from the flu (that she obviously got from Beth -- because they're both sick right now) She's very clingy.

I don't mean just the, "Mommy, please hold me until I forget that I want you to hold me, and then you can go back to web sudoku or work or whatever it is that you're doing."

No, it's more of the, "Mommy, hold me. hold me. hold me. HOLD ME! Yeah, and now that you're holding me, let's sit down over here on the chair, and you can hold me for two hours. What? Your arm's going to sleep. Aw, shake it off, Mommy. You're holding me."

So. Not so much work got done. Until she went to bed. Now? Some is done. More will happen tomorrow. We're not going to send her to school again. She's still too puny.

I mean, think about it. The girl likes to eat. Snacks, especially. (Dora & Diego snacks are our current favorites -- right up there with Goldfish & Animal Crackers)

Yesterday? She ate two bites of applesauce and one bite of a saltine. Seriously.
Today? She stole my Lucky Charms that I was munching on (dry) and picked out the cereal -- didn't want the marshmallows. Then, for dinner, she ate an entire cup of applesauce, one (1) Dora Animal Cracker, and sixteen or so dry Lucky Charms.

That's it.

So, baby girl really doesn't hardly have the strength to hold up her own head. Erego, I need to stop bemoaning the fact that we spent the entire day recreating that last week that she was in the womb. Well, except for the contractions and the stretch marks.

But still. Sigh.

Edison is having a typical teenage week. His days are numbered. Tonight, he sulked through dinner. . .which rocked, by the way. Homemade Chicken Pot Pie. (Well, the crust was not homemade, but the rest was!) It really was good.

Why the sulking? Because we wouldn't let him have a soda with dinner. I know. . .we suck as parents. He eventually ate more of his dinner than we previously dreamed he would do. I don't remember if he got to eat dessert or not. I know. What a horrid mother I must be.

But, I have my reasons for not knowing. By the time he was done eating and had begun packing stuff up for tomorrow, we realized that not only has he not practiced his viola (I did not choose this instrument, by the way) this past week. He really hasn't practiced at all this semester, or the last one!

Angry? You betcha. At him? Yup.

But I'm also a little disappointed in his teacher. [My mom has a theory for this, by the way.]

Here's the deal:

She (music teacher) "forced" us to buy an instrument for him (as did other parents). And, according to Edison, she has never told them to practice at home. . . . No, I am not that naive. She probably has mentioned it, but, she never assigns homework -- and practicing qualifies as homework in my book.

Now, please disregard my huffing and puffing as I climb up onto my soapbox. Okay. I'm up.

Friends, I am a music teacher. I have taught school before. I have given piano lessons for well over 20 years (yes, I am old -- we've covered this before)

I taught music at a private "Christian" school where many (if not most) of the kids were one step away from being shipped off to a military academy. These kids were promiscuous, they abused drugs and alcohol, and they cussed worse than sailors. I loved every one of these kids (music students) and did my best to give them a decent education. But, this school was poorly run--and I had next to nothing when it came to resources. Seriously. I borrowed music from the local public school to keep them from singing the same songs they'd sung the last five years! I wish I was joking.

The Head Master (my boss) was skimming money and trying to launder it for himself. He was also a pervert, and preyed on the high school boys that lived there. I so wish I was kidding.

But, still, I worked these kids' voices to the bone (as it were) and they were doggone good. We went on choir tour to Dallas, Texas, and sang at the First Baptist Church in Dallas. At that time (1987) it was the biggest Baptist church in the nation. I haven't kept up on the stats for the Baptist Churches since then--but at the time, it seemed like a big deal.

This particular school is currently closed -- they're trying to restructure and re-open. We'll see.

All I'm saying (ranting) is that I really do believe that Edison's music teacher could be doing more to push them. If she blames it on lack of resources, I'd probably smack her. That's no excuse -- especially if the kids have the instruments, and they have class every day of the week! But? If she chooses not to push one particular little violist (?) guess who's gonna do it for her? That's right. She'll have a little prodigy on her hands, if I have anything to say about it.

He's been instructed that he is to practice 150 minutes each week -- for you math geeks, that's one minute for every dollar we spent on the viola. (No, it's NOT a Stradivarius. But, to be honest, he's not that good) And. . . if you've been around me long enough, you know that there are consequences for not living up to your end of a bargain. His will be the loss of the television from his room, and a loss of allowance money. I threatened for the rest of the year -- again, it equals what we paid for the instrument.

My theory? Hit 'em where it hurts when they're too big to spank. For Edison, it's his wallet.

Ranting? Done.

Did my day turn out like I had hoped? Not a chance.
Did anyone pinch me for not wearing green? I think they all know better.
Did my dinner rock? Absolutely.
Did I make anything green to eat? Nope.
Will tomorrow be any better? Who could say.

But, you are pretty much guaranteed to hear about it regardless. And for some odd reason, on this chilly Monday night, knowing that most of you will come back for the "rest of the story" brings me comfort.