Tag: Thor

Thor

In Thor News…

the outside lane

Since I have my blog back…

I walked away from Thor’s new school today, thinking, “We really did the right thing here.” I haven’t felt this good about his school since before the first elementary school misplaced him during the Kindergarten round-up. I haven’t seen him this happy about school since the abandonment in the bathroom. He is happy. He is chirpy. He is making friends. And, he tells us, his teacher made him Star of the Week.

This teacher has already responded to my introductory email by telling me, “He has already made several friends and the class has really responded well to him! He is such a good boy,” and saying the magic words I never heard from his first K teacher, “he is super smart!!”

I’m relieved, and happy, and…grateful. I am so grateful.

It does appear that he is going to get to stay in this class. At least, I haven’t been told anything otherwise. My metaphorical blood, sweat, and very real tears have paid off, and I am not a bit ashamed of having written that email begging the school to take him. Not a single bit.

Chef Lane, Howling Sea Lane

Rolling Stones and Baked Ziti

the outside lane

My mother has battled with kidney stones since I can remember. I can vividly recall the agony she was in, when Dad drove us from Denver to Colorado Springs, where I would stay with my Uncle’s family while Mom got medical treatment. It was pretty horrifying. I was three.

Off and on, since then, Mom has dealt with varying levels of stone pain. Three surgeries and countless days and nights of writhing, sweating, and heaving in pain. So, when B started groaning last night and told me it was a stone, I had a good idea of what we were in for–better or worse.

Thor had been very excited about starting his new school, so I didn’t get him to sleep until after eleven, and that required sitting in his bed until he succumbed. I came downstairs and thought I would give my new Wii EA Active Sport personal training thingie a try, and did a short workout while I waited for the laundry to dry. That’s pretty nifty, by the way, and I’ll write about it in another post.

I was on my way to bed at midnight, but B was already hurting so much he couldn’t lie still. At one, I gave up and got up. I couldn’t lie there while he hurt, and I couldn’t do anything to help him, other than just leave him alone and offer him water now and then. I figured if I got up, I could do something useful while he suffered.

So, I started prepping for our Tuesday night dinner of Baked Ziti.

I got my pasta cooked, and my onion chopped before B said it was bad enough to warrant the emergency room (and this is a man who can take a lot of pain, people), but we had to wait for my mother to arrive to keep an eye on Thor before we could go. I didn’t think I could manage to help B, who was hurting so badly he was having a hard time staying upright, and Thor, who would have been a very unhappy zombie child in such wee hours. While I waited for Mom to come, since I was already dressed and had opened my ground beef packet (I buy the tubes of 97/4 beef–I like it lean), I went ahead and browned my beef in the onions I had sauteed while the pasta was cooking. And by the time I had finished that and put everything in ziplock baggies, we had agreed that an ambulance was in order. (Thank God! And thank God for 9-1-1.)

Nero fiddled while Rome burned. Lane cooked while her husband’s kidneys tried to pass a rock.

To my credit, I knew I was going to be exhausted today, and I needed to cook the beef before it went bad.

Mom arrived just ahead of the paramedics, and she went up to watch Thor while I headed to the hospital, arriving ahead of the ambulance. B’s parents were en route to meet me at the hospital because I needed to be home by 7 to get Thor to his first day of school.

Thankfully, the ER was empty, so B was well cared for, and drugged into a happy quiet. I’m sure our neighbors think we’re into some pretty kinky stuff from the loud sounds emanating from our bedroom last night. Kinky like crucifixion, the rack, drawing and quartering, and Draino cocktails. You know. Your average slap, tickle, and riding crop.

B’s parents arrived as he was being discharged, and it was all of us back to our tiny home. Two grown up bodies and one little person fit tidily in this space. We did not bring our sofa, only our loveseat, and we do not have another adult sized chair, only Thor’s little straightback and his saucer chair. Thus, five grown up bodies and one little person make for some embarrassment as a hostess, but there were bigger fish to fry.

My mom left to go to work, bless her. B’s parents split up, his dad going to fill B’s prescriptions, while his mother stayed to look after B. I got Thor dressed (and he was so dapper it hurt) and took him to his first day at his new school. He was a trooper, even though he was clearly striving to be brave.

Back to the house, since I hadn’t slept a wink since Sunday, I went to take a nap in Thor’s bed. Much like John Taylor’s bite of tuna sandwich (that was for the Duranies), it was not to be. The call that ruined everything came from the school. Some administrative error had placed Thor in the wrong classroom, and there is still a possibility that we may have to move him to another school entirely. Stay tuned for that rant if it needs writing. I gave up and went to work.

I do love my boss, though. Actually love her. She sat with family at my wedding. Love. And she called me Gorgeous even though I was much less that, and much more Gorgon.

The good news is that Thor liked school, and that he had a friend who rode the bus with him. His after school teacher/bus driver reported that he came out of the building hand-in-hand with this little girl, looking cute as could be. Of course Thor can’t remember her name or tell me anything other than that, “Yeah, she wasn’t Ba-loo,” who is another friend of his. He thinks girls are gross right now. They have cooties. I did not teach this to him, but am happy to let the feeling persist for as long as possible. (Side note: Abigail, Annabel and Autumn are not girls, he said. They are good people. Sadly, every other female who is not a mama or a grandmother is gross.)

We got home and I started the rest of dinner. It turned out to be a very good dish! It was cheesy, but not runny, and the spices were just right. I divided the leftovers into 3 packets and have frozen them to serve as side dishes with other entrees.

I did two more loads of laundry, including the sheets, did the dishes, cleaned the kitchen, helped Thor with homework, wrote an introductory email to his teacher, fed the chickens, slopped the hogs, scrubbed the castle stairs, wrote an unedited blog entry about what I cooked for dinner and to what success (great, both boys ate it) and am now allowed to go to the ball. The ball being bed. Can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.

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Don’t Make Me Wet My Pants

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Kindergarten hasn’t even begun, and I am already that mother.  But, as all of those mothers do, I feel completely justified! 

I couldn’t find Thor for about 20 minutes after the parent part of the school open house was finished.  10 of those minutes, I was on a tour and looking for him idly as I was led around the school.  7 of those minutes I was looking for him with a low level of alarm that he might be worried about where I was.  For 3 of those minutes, I was pants-wetting horrified, and ready to call 9-1-1 from inside the school.

Today I thought about it.  What if something had happened?  The administration needs to know that there was confusion, so they can make it better.  Right?  You don’t have to agree.  Just pretend.  Smile and nod.  I sent my first mother-of-a-public-school-child-email and he hasn’t even stepped foot inside a classroom.  I hope I set a kind tone.

Dear Ms. Personincharge,
 
We met briefly last night at the Kindergarten Round-Up.  Thank you for taking the time to say hello, and tell us about the school.  B and I are looking forward to our son’s education, and this was a lot of fun for me.  I was happy to get a chance to tour the campus and see where our son, Thor, will be going to school.  He was excited by his visit, and is looking forward to Kindergarten.
 
After my tour of the school, I went to find him and had a few minutes of panic.  Upon arrival, we were told that Thor was going to go visit a Kindergarten classroom, and I would pick him up when I had finished all my paperwork.  When I went to the Kindergarten classrooms, there were no children there.  I walked the hallways twice, running across two tours of children, not finding mine in either group, meeting a few other parents with the same problem. 
 
After ten minutes, all I could think was, “Oh no!  One of the registered sex offenders from the neighborhood knew this was the Kindergarten Round Up, and…  Oh no!”  I was already surprisingly overwhelmed by the idea of “losing my baby” to school, and (being the dramatic sort) the idea of actually losing him made it a little hard to think clearly.
 
I realized that I had handed Thor over to a student, without showing ID, or in some way tagging myself as being his parent, and sent him on his way.  In all the excitement, anyone could have walked out the door with him.  Or, he might have walked out the door himself, trying to find me.  That was irresponsible of me, and I should have insisted on more information before letting the process take over my instincts.
 
I finally found the student who had taken responsibility for him, and she said I would find Thor on the playground.  There he was!  He was swinging away, happy as a lark.  I was happy, too.
 
I’m sure you can see how the process seemed a tad disorganized and disconcerting, especially as someone who doesn’t know the layout of the school very well and had to really search to find her child. I love the idea that kindergarteners got fifth-grade buddies to show them around.  That made Thor feel very important.  But I wonder if they wouldn’t also benefit from having an adult responsible for who belongs to whom?  If there is interest, I’d be happy to collect some ideas of how other schools do their orientations and present the PTA with some strategies that might help everyone get a little more out of it next year, and save another parent the bladder-wrenching worry that their child has vanished.
 
Again, thank you so much for your time!  The 5th Grade students were delightful, and gave a great tour.  I think Thor is going to be very happy at [the school], and I hope B and I can be helpful.
 
Best Regards,
Lane
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Kinderthor

the outside lane

I took my son to register for Kindergarten today and among the myriad papers I had to fill out, there was one asking for an introduction to The Boy. The first question was, “What are 5 words you would use to describe your child’s personality.”

Just five? I only got five words to tell them how wonderful this child is? I tried to pick words that were all encompassing.

Delightful. He is a delight. Everything about him makes my heart dance. He is full of wonder and love, and he is young enough that he is still wide open to the world, showing his range of emotions with enthusiasm and without shame. And I ache a little knowing that when I send him to school, along with reading, writing and arithmetic, he will also learn to lower his voice when he is happy, hold in that laughter I love so much, and pretend he’s not hurt when he is. Right now, Elementary School, he is an open delight.

Easy Going. Thor is mellow and sanguine, and he rolls with the punches. More often than not, his answer to change is, “All right, Mama.” When he argues, I know he’s tired, or not feeling enough loved. He says tomato, and you say tomahto, and he’s cool with that. But he is not a doormat. He has a backbone and it is strong. He is a good boy, and he minds. I don’t want anyone breaking his spirit down–my job is to make sure he understands that his performance in school is important, but it isn’t everything.

Inquisitive. This child loves to learn and explore, but he likes to do it at a safe distance. He isn’t the kid in the cabinet, taste testing the bleach. We have never had a safety lock. Instead, we taught him boundaries. We wanted his obedience to come because he trusted us with his well being, not because he just couldn’t figure out how to pick the lock. All doors are open, but not all doors lead to good things. So he understands that it is okay to look, but that he needs more information before he should touch. He may not be able to name the steps, but he and I have been exploring through the scientific method since he was old enough to form hypothesis about what this or that might be, and experiment his way into understanding.

Sincere. Oh my word, this child can break my heart with how earnest he is. He wants desperately to meet our expectations. He has his moments, we all do, but his nature is to strive for approval. I think all kiddos want that, and seek it out. I am Thor’s mother, though, so I see his sincerity as something special and spectacular, and I wonder all the time, “Where did this amazing child come from?” Because I don’t think I was ever this good. In school, he may learn that approval from the teacher will get him teased. At home, his mother will be teaching him to throw a punch, to bust any mockers in the mouth. Not really. I’ll be teaching him to find his worth in himself, and teaching him how to put that backbone to use. (And how to throw a punch, just in case.)

Helpful. This was the last word I chose. I wanted to use a word that would let his teacher know that he was a boy who wanted to be useful. He is a boy who needs to feel involved. He wants to get his hands on things, and he wants to show you what he can do. When he gets to help, he feels proud of himself. I hope that school is a place where he can feel a daily sense of accomplishment. He’s got thirteen years of it ahead of him.

He doesn’t know it yet, but as soon as he walks through those doors in August, he is on a track. He will learn how to read, and communicate in writing, how to work sums and do algebra, he will experience sports, and art, and music, and science, and he will form friendships, and fall in and out of love, and he will have homework, and practice, and hopes for the future. My job is to see to it that in thirteen years he is still delightful, and easy going, and inquisitive, and sincere, and helpful.

Wish me luck.