Paging Bones to the Bridge, Bones, to the Bridge.

My 9 year old has poison ivy...or poison oak...poison something...a poisonous plant attacked him in the somewhere in the woods, and I would like to find said plant and poison it. Too harsh? No, I think not. This is our first foray down the itchy-rash road and I must say it's enough to make me put my kids in wader anytime they wander off the pavement. If I weren't afraid of them being labled "those freaking fishing pants wearing brothers", or the fact that playing soccer in rubber overalls is not without it pitalls, I would do it. We've had casts, stitches, sunburn, puncture wounds, cocksackie, croupe, cavities and colds. We've had the snotty nose that runs for five weeks straight and dries like cement on everything (especially anything black and fancy and more especially if I'm on my way out the door to something nice).

And can some tell me why childhood afflictions are akin to vampires and seem to rear their ugly heads only after the sun goes down? After the pharmacy has closed and just before I lay my weary head to rest. Why? The itchy stuff is particularly irritating (pun intended) - it's like Chinese water torture. The more you tell the itch-er to "stop itching - your only making it worse", the more...they...must...scratch.

It slowly drives them insane, which drives me insane. "Just CALM down. The Benedryl will kick in in a minute." "I know its been a minute. It will take a couple MORE minutes. Just give it a minute...I mean SOME TIME to work." "Yes - a couple is 2, you're right. Ok give it TIME. STOP SCRATCHING!" "I'm NOT YELLING. Just stop scratching!" "Stop. If you wake up your brothers I'm going to be REALLY mad. CALM DOWN." "Do you want an ice pack?" "It might work, lets try it!" "Ice is supposed to be cold! Its ICE. OK - so it doesn't work. "Nooo...I didn't say it "would" work, I said it "might" work..."

And on and on until your promising your child a Corvette and a hooker on their 18th birthday just to get them to stop scratching and go to sleep. How long to we have to wait for scientist to invent a shot like Bones used on Star Trek? The one that instantly knocks you out and cures you at the same time - leaving you to sleep it off under those funky shiny blankets. Until then, I curse you, poison plants.

FLY! Be Free!

So... today was the first day of school.  My 4th grader was so excited I thought he was going to pee himself before he could get his shoes tied.  I sprayed down my 2nd grader's crazy curly hair to settle the snakes, and then spent the next thirty minutes telling him to "STOP FLATTENING YOUR HAIR!!".  I had put a touch of mousse in his hair and he was trying to "spread it all over" - the result of his styling was making him look a bit like a grease-monkey/nare-do-well, and while other parents may allow it, its not what I'm going for on the first day.  We'll save that for picture day when the nice mom volunteer gets him with a comb.  

The Kindergartner.  He is is own paragraph or two.  He took his shoes off in the car before we dropped off his brothers, and that pretty much set the tone for the day.  Once he was assured that his teacher was not in the building (she's at another school in the morning) - we entered without incident.  We went then went to LLBean to get a lunchbox.   Did I mention that my husband told me, at 9:00 the night before, that "oh - I forgot to tell you, I threw out that blue lunch box because it had a rip on the inside."  oh.  I had ordered lunch boxes they informed me (the day they were supposed to be in my mailbox) that they were back-ordered and would be in sometime this week.  Which is why though the blue lunch box might have had a rip on the inside, I was strong enough to come off the bench for a few days.  

So - new lunchbox, his new pencil case with 2 shiny new pencils in it and his cute dinosaur backpack, and we head for school.  His day starts with recess on the kindergarten playground, which is great.  Or, at least, I'm sure will be great. 

Today it was a bunch of parents standing around trying not to look too obvious while checking their watches. 

I did have fun looking around trying to figure out the first-timers - identifiable because they're either A) following their daughter around adjusting her dress because even though she looks adorably like an American Doll in her plaid and knee socks, there is just no way to navigate a playground without flashing the Disney Princess undies, or B) fixing and re-fixing their son's hair.  Or peeling them off their legs.  Then there are the "been-there-done-that" parents, usually trailing their kids by half the parking lot yelling "JAKE!  YOUR LUNCH BOX!", followed by "GET OFF THE ROOF OF THE SLIDE!".  Then there is C) which is my group.  I've done this before, but not here.  I did have to yell at mine to stop climbing over the fence, but also had to peel him off my leg.

All the kids were herded into class lines along the fence - probably 25 - 30 kids in all - minus one.  Mine.  I knew better than to even try to shake him off and try and get him in the picture.  Parents started yelling "Have a good day!  See you later!" to their kids, who though not all smiling, were all noticeably not hanging on their parents.  My son's wimpering got louder every time someone would yell "SMILE!  Look over here Ashley!  One more picture!".  I started drawing those pittying-there-but-for-the-grace-of-god-go-I looks from other parents.  It made me feel a bit better to see another mom with a crying kid, that was, until I realized the little girl was crying because she wanted to go INTO kindergarten with her older sister.  Her mom was holding her back from running INTO the school.  I waved goodbye to ALL THE OTHER PARENTS and carried Devin into class. I couldn't help but feel like as I was carrying him, he was scouting possible exit routes for tomorrow.

It worked out ok - the teacher is awesome, and I was able to leave him with a last hug and didn't have to shed him off me and run.  He was happy when I picked him up  - although when I asked him if he had fun he said "I didn't even have one fun thing today.  Really.  I played with only the legos, and nothing else.  And I had to make me with play-dough and I really wish I could have made a snake because those are so easy and I can make a snake, you just have to roll it."   Later, at home, he told his brothers the words to the "Hello" song (which, I may add, that I sang - not him - at rug time), and showed him all the play-dough colors under his nails from when he got to make "a thing" of himself (I think they're making dolls).  Anyway, that's to say he participated in a fun day but will punish me until Christmas, likening kindergarten to Chinese water torture.  Bad mom.  Pray for me tomorrow.

Follow-up Note:

2nd day of school.  Observations were correct.  His scouting of exit points on the first day almost paid off, he tried (in vain) to escape, loudly, for about an hour after I left.  Teachers aide looked slightly sweaty when I picked him up at the end of the day.  Tomorrow, a friend is driving him.