More ridiculousness

Yesterday, I picked R up after school and he’s bouncing off the walls excited about a letter that’s in his folder.  He, and one other child in his class were chosen to perform in an upcoming concert but he needs the permission slip returned.

We get home, I dig the note out of his folder, and find this bit of loveliness:

Dear Parents of R:

Your child has been randomly selected to perform with a group of children from the school in a Gala sponsored by the School District Educational and Cultural Foundation on date & time at place.  It is a very special honor to be a part of such a wonderful event that raises money through ticket sales to fund many educational and cultural programs in the schools of our district. (and this is the same district where my kindergartner does NOT get art, music, phys ed, or recess.)

It is CRUCIAL that you return the permission slip below by Monday, November 3 to your child’s teacher. Tickets for this Gala go on sale November 24. I cannot impress enough that the tickets go very, very quickly.  I highly recommend that you purchase your tickets as soon as possible.  Please call the ticket office after 1:30 p.m. Monday through Friday for more information. Blah blah blah, rehearsal details, blah blah.

~~~~~~~

Anyone see what is missing here?

Like, how much tickets to this Fundraising Gala cost?  We’re supposed to sign our kids up for this great honor (which they’ve been told about and gotten worked up about already), without knowing how much we need to pay to see them participate!!!

So, I waited until 1:30 and called the number given in the letter to call for more information.  The conversation went as follows:

Me: Hi, I’m calling because we got a letter inviting my son to participate in the fundraising gala, and I wanted to know how much the tickets for the event were going to cost?

person at ticket office: Those tickets don’t even go on sale until November 24.

Me: Yes, I see that from the letter.  But it doesn’t say how much they are going to cost.

ticket person: We don’t even HAVE those tickets yet.  We don’t know what they will cost.

Me: I’d just like to know if we are going to be able to attend to see our son perform.

TP: (heaving a big sigh) Last year the tickets ranged from $15 to $65.  I can’t imagine this year will be much different. $20 for the side balcony seats, maybe.

~~~

Well, okay then.  Thanks for nothing.  Of course we are letting him do it, because he was just thrilled to be asked.  We mentioned it to mom last night, and she wants us to call and say we’ll let him perform IF we get free tickets.  I can’t do that.  The only thing that would get us is a reputation for being troublemakers & they would likely not ask R to be in anything again.

More changes coming.

We need to find a new pediatric dentist.  The one we have been going to, I thought was great, until I took the boys for a checkup this past spring.  They took them both back at the same time, xrayed them, checked them out and cleaned them up, and called me back* for the consult.

*with my dentist issues, I need to take them to a dentist who will take them back without me.  If they see my reactions to the various dental implements of torture, they will be afraid.  As it is, they have (had, after this experience) no issues with the dentist, and both of them have had cavities filled already.

So.  We go in, they check them out, they call me back.  The dentist comes in and says something along the lines of “no cavities, seethisxrayherewhen hisregularteethcomeinhismouthwillbeovercrowded”  I start asking my questions. I have 2 questions…one I came in with (what can we do about K sucking his fingers — answer, don’t bother doing anything yet)  I start to ask my second question (what does it mean about his mouth being overcrowded) and the dentis gets up as I am speaking, and walks out of the room.  And doesn’t come back.

So that’s strike one against this office.

I decide not to follow the dentist into the exam room where he’s now looking at another patient.  I go to check out.  Receptionist says “So when would you like to come in for the fillings?” Huh?  They just told me no cavities…what fillings?  According to the receptionist, K’s chart says he has two cavities.  She goes to check with the dentist, who says, yes, K has two cavities & needs to get them filled. Strike two.

Sigh.

Make the appointment.  K’s fillings go pretty well.  I’m too chickenshit to complain about the mixups at the last appointment.

R got his six-year molars in over the summer, and I took him on Friday to get a sealer put on them.  After he was back there for about 15 minutes, the hygenist comes to get me.  R is sitting on the chair and has been crying.  The dentist is telling me, basically, that my son is not cooperating & keeping his mouth open to get the sealant put on.  In so many words he tells me that R is misbehaving too much for him to deal with, that he can’t work with this kid & they’ll “just have to try it again some other time”.  When R hears him mention trying it again, he starts shaking.  R has had 6 fillings done, and had no problems whatsoever, and now he’s flipping out about going back to get sealant put on?!?!  No.  Just no.  I asked him to tell me what happened, and he says they were hurting his lips & pushing them hard up against his teeth, and he was trying to tell them that, and they wouldn’t listen to him.  And that, my friends, is strike three, and we are in the market for a new pediatric dentist.

Damage

Kids break things.  Apparently this is especially true of the male type kids.  I know this.  But it still pisses me off when the things they manage to break are things that have some sentimental value to me…and it REALLY pisses me off when they do it three times in two days.

God help the next toy I catch one of them throwing in the house.

Frustrating Day

I am so sick and tired of K’s potty accidents.  Thoroughly, completely, absolutely SICK of wiping his shitty ass & rinsing out his underwear when he poops himself.  And of trying so hard to NOT freak out at him.  This is utterly ridiculous.  It’s been going on for over a year now.  Whenever we try to talk to him about it, he says he “doesn’t know” or he “didn’t want to stop playing”.  I send him to his bed when he has an accident, you’d think he’d have learned that it interrupts his playtime a hell of a lot more than taking a 5 minute bathroom break would.

I have tried rewards.  I have tried punishments.  I have tried every freaking thing I can think of to no avail.  He’ll go days, sometimes weeks with no accidents and then he’s back to one or more a day.  He’s had at least two a day for over a week now.

I mentioned it at his checkup, and all she could say was that I needed to remind him regularly to go.  (Does she really think I hadn’t tried that!?)  It makes him angry to be constantly reminded, and guess what he does when he’s angry?

That’s another thing…sometimes I believe it is truly accidental, but other times it is definitely, one hundred percent intentional.  I’ll have him go, and ten minutes later he’s wet and stinky.  And it doesn’t bother him in the least to run around wet and stinky either.

My four year old has managed to completely outsmart me.  I just don’t know what else to do at this point.

The thought processes of a 5-year-old, or, he did WHAT?

I would really, really like to know…actually scratch that, I don’t think I actually DO want to know…the thought processes behind the tableau DH found last night.

R, having gone potty, had flushed the toilet and was stirring the water with my hairbrush.

DH boiled the brush, but no.  Just no.  And now I’m giving second looks at the pot he boiled it in, too…

What was he thinking!?!?!?!?!?!  (Please, nobody actually answer that…)

It’s Easter Sunday…do you know where your ice cream truck is?

The ice cream truck came around today.  It’s Easter Sunday, it’s still cold out, and they’re starting for the year today?!?!

Pictures from today coming tomorrow.  Can’t deal with it all right now.

Mourning the loss of Tube Time, aka Curse You Comcast!

A few months ago, I discovered the channel “Tube Time” on Comcast On-Demand.  Chock full of wonderful old sitcoms like Who’s the Boss, I Dream of Jeannie, Bewitched, and The Facts of Life.  By the time I got all caught up on The Facts of Life, they had added a new show to the lineup.  The Monkees.  One of my all-time favorite shows.  I used to watch it all the time when I was younger, and it hadn’t lost any of it’s goofy fun-ness.

 Then, a few weeks ago, I sat down, remote and snack in hand to catch up on the week’s new episode.  Clicked through, and waited for the show to start.  It didn’t start.  Instead, I got a lovely error message, telling me a subscription was required to view this show.

That day, a little disappointed, I thought nothing of it.  I’d gotten error messages before, and they usually cleared themselves up.  The next time I had the chance to sit down with it again, a week or so later, the message was still there.  I still couldn’t get to my show!!  “Self,” I thought, “you need to remember to get in touch with Comcast and get this fixed.”  It being the midst of the holiday season, that chance wouldn’t come for a while.  One night I finally sat down to call Comcast, only to be told by a machine that there were too many people ahead of me in the queue and I should call back at another time.  Click.  Yes, I had just been rejected by a machine.  Argh!

Not to be deterred, I logged onto Comcast’s website and found the option to chat with an analyst.  They gave me a chat room window with a little countdown of how many people were ahead of me in line.  Starting at 283.  Keeping myself busy with other online pursuits, the wait was relatively easy and before too terribly long, I was online with a Comcast analyst.  “there is an outage in your area” she typed to me, but if you’ll leave your box on for an hour, I will try to send a signal through”.  Not a problem.

A couple of days later, I once again had the time to snuggle down with some old friends, and again clicked through to Tube Time and The Monkees, only to be greeted with the same error message.  Shoulders slumped, I bypassed the phone call altogether and headed straight for the chat room.  Only 82 people in the queue this time.

This time the rep’s news was more dismal.  Apparently, Tube Time is only available to more advanced packages than our little starter package (Hey, we only got cable about a year ago, before that it was antennas, baby).  “But why,” I wailed (or typed), “was I able to get it until a couple of weeks ago?”  The rep couldn’t really answer that for me, but repeated that the channel was not included with our package and if I went to such and such spot on the website, I could look into upgrading.  “This is BULLSHIT” I thought. “Thanks so much for your time and have a good night,” I typed, ending the chat session.

But I sure miss watching those crazy boys & their antics.  

The registration fiasco

Yesterday I dropped the boys off at school, then went down to register R for kindergarten this fall.  When I walked out of the building, I called N and told him that if the woman who “helped” me was a product of our school system, that WE ARE MOVING.

 Okay Maeve.  Take a deep breath.  My blood pressure is going up just thinking about this woman.  Start at the beginning.

 I had gone online a couple of weeks ago, printed off the registration forms, filled them out, and gotten together everything I needed to bring to complete the process.  Yesterday I got to the office, signed in, and waited my turn.  It was amusing watching the folks ahead of me going through the process…especially the woman who was trying to use an ID that apparently expired more than 20 years ago.  My turn comes up, I go up to the counter and tell her that I was there to register my son for kindergarten.

 She turns around and says to a coworker…”are we taking registrations for kindergarten?”  Coworker says, yes, they are as there is no set date for the kindergarten registrations.  the rest of the conversation follows:

Her: Okay, we can take you.  Here are the forms you need to fill out (shoves a packet across the counter at me)

Me: Oh, I went online and printed off the forms.  Here they are, all filled out.

Her: Oh, okay.  (looks through my papers, then goes through the stack she has)  Well, you will still need this one, and this one.  And you didn’t fill out the form to transfer old school records.  You NEED that form. (snippy tone of voice).

Me: Do we need that?  He’s just starting Kindergarten, there are no other school records.

Her: (to coworker) She (jabs head in my direction) didn’t fill out the records transfer form.  Don’t we need that?

Coworker: Didn’t you say she’s registering for kindergarten?  If there are no records to transfer we don’t need the form.

Her: Oh.  Well, okay then. (starts looking through the other paperwork I had to bring – mortgage statement and utility bill for proof of residency, gov’t issued photo id, R’s birth certificate and immunization records)  Well, your name and your husband’s name are on the mortgage statement but only his is on the — what is this?

Me: It’s our utility bill, from the oil company

Her: well, only his name is on that bill so you will need to bring a copy of your marriage license.

Me: (thinking – what the fuck?) Oh-kaaayyy, I’ll have to come back with that.

In the meantime I’ve been looking over the other two forms she handed me and they need to be completed by a doctor and dentist.

Me: These medical forms, they need to be done before we can register him?

Her: Yes, we need those to do the registration.

Me: I wish it would have mentioned all this on your website.  I brought everything down that the site said was needed.  Now I need to go do all this and come back?  What is the deadline for registration?  His well-visit to the doctor is usually right around his birthday in June.  Our insurance only covers one well visit each year.  Can I just come back over the summer to do the registration?

Her: Well, we need those forms completed in order to do the registration.

Me: So, can I come back and do the registration over the summer, after his checkup?

Her: Let me check.  She goes, and talks to a coworker, who informs her that — get this –

1. the health forms are needed for the start of school, not for registration.

2. there is no reason for me to bring in our marriage license.  Both our names are on the mortgage statement and my husband’s name is on the utility bill.  No biggie.

3. I have provided everything needed for registration to be completed, and I am free to go.  Just make sure the health forms are completed and sent in before the beginning of the school year.

EVERYTHING she told me and gave me a hard time about was unnecessary.  All of it!!  It was totally ridiculous.  Sheesh!!!  And her attitude was just so bad.  She didn’t care about any of it, she didn’t apologize for screwing up, she was just SO clueless.  Hence, my phone call to N when I left.

Yes, I know this was a person not a school district…but it’s another nail in the coffin as far as I’m concerned.

I love my children, I love my children, I love my children, I love my children…

Maybe if I keep repeating that I’ll remember it…

Seriously.

Nah, it’s not really THAT bad. One of them (And I’m pretty sure I know which one) put crayons into his pocket. Four of them. Then took off his clothes and put them in the hamper. Which I emptied into the washer, and then switched into the dryer.

Argh!!!

So now we have a pretty dryer. Seriously — it’s like a nice watercolor effect on the (formerly) white enamel.

And a ruined load of laundry. At least N will get some new socks out of the debacle.

For your viewing pleasure…

Dryer interior:

N’s socks:

K’s new and improved tie-dye shirt (and you thought it couldn’t get any more colorful!)

And lastly, the remains of the offending crayons. I think I know which Thing was responsible for this particular goof because the crayons are yellow, blue, red, and purple. Wiggles colors. Huh. I wonder whose those are??? That concert is costing us more money by the minute…

Brain Surgery, this is not

What moron decided that a good time for the ice cream truck to make its rounds is 8:30 PM?

‘Nuff said…