Wordless Wednesday

Freak Out Friday: Kindergarten and Preschool

In my post last Friday I talked about waiting for those crazy school acceptance letters. The letters came and this is where we stand:

Jett qualified for the 6 gifted/classical schools that he was tested for, but like most kids who qualifiy he did not get a spot in any of those schools because there simply aren't enough seats for everyone.

Of the 20 "regular" schools that we applied for, Jett got an offer from one. He is on the waitlist for the other 19. I was hoping that he would get in to the school he attends right now, although I knew it was unlikely. He didn't get in and has no shot at it - he's number 346 on the waiting list.

But we're really lucky. Some of my friends didn't get in to any schools (so they have to go to their neighborhood school). The school that offered Jett a spot seems to be a good school, and is only 1.5 miles from our house.

Some background information: Jett goes to preschool at a public school, but the preschool doesn't feed in to that school. Also, the school he attends now is a neighborhood school. This means that they accept every child who lives in their neighborhood boundaries first. Then if there are spaces left they start taking students who have applied from outside of the neighborhood. Some neighborhood schools in Chicago are really fantastic schools filled with really involved families. Some aren't. That is why Chicago Public Schools allows families to apply to up to 20 schools. The problem is that there are not enough spaces in those good schools for all of the kids who apply. Finally, I should explain that students outside of the neighborhood get accepted to schools by random lottery. It's all just luck.

Kai was accepted to three (public, free) preschools. The school that Jett currently attends accepted him. A school near us accepted him. A public montessori school accepted him. I'm not really considering the school near us, mainly because it's in the opposite direction of the school that accepted Jett and they won't let me observe a class before I sign Kai up.

We are going to have trouble deciding between the montessori school and Jett's current school and teacher, who we know and love. I wrote a long paragraph debating the pros and cons of each school in fine detail, but I ended up deleting it because it sounded so ridiculous. I have two friends who didn't get in to any schools. Debating between two top-notch options just doesn't feel right.

It will probably feel right in about a week, because it's kind of stressing me out.

I also look down the road and have to wonder how long we are going to live in this condo. It'd be nice to walk to school, to know our neighbors, to go to school with our neighbors. We can't do that where we live. Selling our place would be hard. Should we consider renting in a 'burb? Should we consider renting in the neighborhood of Jett's preschool? How long will we be there? It would be so nice for Jett to start kindergarten in the school that he will finish in, years from now. It would be nice for all of us.

We have some decisions to make, and the possibilities are keeping me up at night. Still, we are really lucky. Jett got in to a good school and we have two fantastic options for Kai. I didn't think I'd be able to say this, but I really think everything is going to be fine in the end.

Friends

Yesterday afternoon I dropped Jett of for school about 10 minutes late. That happens sometimes when you don't have your own parking space and walk, with your kids, all the way around the block trying to remember where Charlie said he parked the car.

Jett's class was already outside when we got to the school, so I pulled up next to the lawn where they were playing.

When I opened my car door I heard a kid yell, "There's Jett!" Then another child yelled. Then all of the kids seemed to be echoing each other. "There's Jett!" "Jett's here!" I opened Jett's door and he heard it too. He stood in the car and put on his hat, scarf, mittens, and coat, smiling all the time. By the time he stepped out of the car, his entire class was lined up, standing along the fence, chanting, "Jett! Jett! Jett!"

I told Jett that it sounds like his friends are really happy to see him. He looked at me sheepishly, gave me a half-smile, shrugged his shoulders and replied, "yeah." Then he busted out of the car and ran to his friends.

I wanted to hug the whole world.

Wordless Wednesday

Basketball: Taking After Uncle Nathan

For the last year, we've spent most Saturday mornings at a neighborhood park, along with four of my friends and their families, and a few other kids. The boys have cycled through t-ball, soccer, and now basketball. It seems like they're finally starting to get the hang of listening to their coach and not sitting down and asking for a snack every five minutes. Progress!

Running with his good friend, Jackson.

For me, those Saturday mornings haven't been too fun. It's been difficult to get the boys up and out of the house on Saturday mornings, and when we finally get to the gym, half the time they don't even want to be there. I spent most of my time herding them away from the foosball table and the ramp leading down to the women's bathroom (every kid loves to run down a ramp) and back in to the gym. Then when I did get them back to the gym, they usually wanted a snack. I didn't get to socialize with my mom friends like I wanted to, the boys didn't run around like I wanted them too, and by the time we got home for lunch we were all kind of crabby.

Except for Charlie. Charlie played soccer on Saturday mornings at a different park, so he felt great.

Sort of listening to Coach Bobby.

When basketball came around I told Charlie that I wasn't going to do it. Then his soccer schedule changed, so Charlie took on the role of Saturday morning basketball dad and I got the morning to myself. Hurrah!

Coach Bobby, Jackson, Jett, and Kai warming up.

Yesterday was their last basketball class, so I went to watch. I was amazed at what I saw. Jett can dribble the ball, make a pass, catch a pass, and shoot a basket. He made so many shots I couldn't believe it. He followed directions (mostly), goofed around with his coach, and had a great time running and doing the drills with his friend Jackson. As his mom, it was thrilling to watch.

Dribbling!

Kai did great too. He ran around with the older boys and stuck to Charlie like glue. Sending the boys out to basketball every Saturday was a great idea. T-ball is next. With any luck, I'll get to sit that session out too, and show up at the end again amazed by everything the boys can do.

Two points!

Friday Freakout: School Acceptance Letters

Next year Jett will start kindergarten and Kai will start preschool. Here in Illinois there is a preschool option called Preschool For All. It's free preschool, 5 days a week, 2.5 hours a day, in a public school. Jett is in the program now and we love it. As you can imagine, it's a very popular program and we were lucky to get Jett a spot through the lottery system. This past December I sent in applications for Kai for preschool for all and for Jett for kindergarten.

I applied to 18 preschools for Kai and 20 kindergartens for Jett, plus 6 applications for the gifted/classical schools in case he qualifies. These are all public schools and our only hope is to get in through a lottery system. If the boys don't get in to one of those 18 or 26 schools, they can go to our neighborhood school, which would be...............fine. I think.

Two years ago when I was applying to the free preschools for Jett, I applied to 18 schools and eventually (via waitlists) got accepted in to 4. This was astoundingly lucky. Most people I know got accepted to one. Many people didn't get accepted to any at all.

CPS Obsessed says the acceptance letters are in the mail, but we haven't gotten ours yet. Actually I know that no one has gotten theirs yet, because I've checked the discussion board on NPN. That thing is going to light up when the letters hit the mailboxes.

This letter is the key to our summer and beyond. It will determine how far I drive every day, how much time the boys spend in the car every day, how far apart the boys' schools are (which in Chicago can be quite far, even when they are close) or - fingers crossed - if the boys will get in to the same school. It will determine whether or not we start to think about renting out our condo so we can rent a condo in a neighborhood with a better school. (Since your neighborhood school has to take you, it's not uncommon for families to move to a neighborhood with a good school if their kid doesn't get in to it through the lottery). Or maybe we'd rent an apartment in a 'burb and leave this craziness all together.

This is a really important letter, and if you think I'm anxious about it now, just wait until we actually get the letter and have to start making decisions. i'll keep you posted.

Wordless Wednesday

Cheeky

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In case anyone is wondering, Charlie and I were able to convince the boys to go out for pizza Saturday night, and it was one of the best family dinners we've had. The four of us don't go out to eat very often, but the evening went so smoothly you would have thought that we did it all the time. We ate at Pete's Pizza Family Restaurant. The pizza was delish, the service was fast, and the kid's meal, which the boys shared one of, came with an ice cream sundae for dessert. Perfect. It was a really nice night.

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Kai spends half of his day with his hands on my face and it is the sweetest thing. He crawls in bed with us at night, and rests his hand on my cheek to fall asleep. He puts his hands on my cheeks to wake me up. I walk to the kitchen in the morning and Kai is already in his highchair, eating breakfast with Charlie. He reaches for me and says, "Mama, I want you." He reaches his hands up to hold my face.

When I carry him to the car (he always wants to be carried) he puts his hands on my cheeks. When we pick Jett up from school Kai cradles my cheeks in his hands and leans his forehead against mine to tell me that it's too cold. He wants to play in the car.

Sometimes when I'm holding him he instructs me to lift him higher, and he actually climbs up my side until he can rest his cheek against mine.

I just love those little cheeks!

Saturday Night Negotiations

Charlie and I are trying to talk the boys in to going out for pizza for dinner and it is a ridiculous chore. They want to go to McDonald's for dinner, they don't want pizza. We tell them that we can go to McDonald's after dinner for ice cream cones, if they are good, but they keep whining that they want chicken nuggets from McDonald's, not ice cream. It's ridiculous. We hardly ever go out to eat and this week has been so busy the boys have had pasta for dinner almost every night. Why aren't they jumping up and down with excitement to go absolutely anywhere but their own kitchen table? Now Charlie is trying to get Jett to change out of sweat pants and in to jeans....it's ridiculous around here. The next time you'll see us at a restaurant is 2015, I think. Oh happy night!

Freak Out Friday: Main Street Update

I haven't talked about our life on Main Street for a while, and I thought some of you might be curious.

Last April Charlie accepted a temporary position with a non-profit organization. It was supposed to last 6 months but instead it lasted until now, which was 11 months. Recently he accepted a permanent position with the same organization, and started in the position last week. We're thrilled, with reservations. He used to work in for-profit and now he works in non-profit, and you know, it's called a NON-profit for a reason. They aren't pocketing any extra change and neither are we.

What's funny is that I continue to feel like I have money to spend on any old thing. For example, there are a set of bookshelves that I want for our living room and I keep talking about what I will put on them once we have them. But I'm not going to buy those book shelves. My friends sign their kids up for activities that I can't afford, but I still gather all of the information about the classes. I check the schedule and see if Kai is old enough to do it too, I ask other parents if they are going to sign their kids up...and then I never sign up. I do this over and over again and I can not help it. I guess old habits die hard. It's like my body and brain are operating on an elaborate system of muscle memory, moving and thinking the way they learned, regardless of what has been true for the last 2.5 years.

When I consider the classes or the bookshelves or whatever, I feel like I'm trying to be someone I'm not. Like maybe I don't belong in this social circle any more, this circle of people who buy shelves for their living room and sign their kids up for classes outside of the park district. I start to think that I have to find new people. This is ridiculous, of course. I've got a great group of friends.

I feel like an imposter, but it doesn't make any sense because we do spend money on non-essential things. I bought a book. Charlie bought me flowers. We ordered indian food. I got my hair highlighted. The boys are in a bunch of classes through the park district.

Spending money on non-essential things is a slippery slope though. I buy a book and get dinner delivered and I start to feel like I've got spending money for other things too. I say something to Charlie like, "Let's go away to a water park for the weekend!" Then he looks at me like I just asked him to ride a hippo across the desert and I remember that we have a new normal, and it doesn't include a water park and I better return those new shoes.

Darn it. I hate making returns.

Wordless Wednesday

Raving Lunatic vs Neighborhood Idiots

Before I was a mom I seethed silently when strangers made me mad. Now I chase them down the sidewalk to correct their misbehavior. In fact, in the 4 1/2 years that I've been a mother, I've chased three people down the sidewalk and followed one neighbor in to his house, screaming at him. I hate the term "mama bear", but I think the term might apply here.

Dog poop.

When I can't walk three steps in the grass in front of my building without stepping in dog poo, I get a little mad. When I can't lift my kid out of his car seat and stand him up in the grass without stepping in dog poo, I get madder. When someone walks their dog in the grass in front of our building, I am the person looking to see if they have a plastic bag in their hand. I usually don't see anyone without one, but I know those bag-less dog walkers are there because I've got the poo to prove it. Finally I saw my target and moved in. A teenage boy let his dog take a dump in my grass and didn't pick it up.

So I asked him where his bag was. He said he forgot it...but...shuffle foot on ground...shift weight from one foot to the other...dig hands in pocket...he'd go back to his house to get it and come back and pick up the poo.

Liar. He was wearing a hoody. He looked at the ground when he talked. His dog was huge and probably takes a dump on every walk. It was raining. He didn't forget the bag and he wasn't going to come back with one. I thought about running in my house and getting a bag for him, but I knew that when I came out he'd be gone, the poo would be there, and the joke would be on me. I told him he was lying. Whatevs. He doesn't care what I think. I'm sure his dog's still pooping on our "lawn". Confrontation FAIL.

Fire.

Jett was a baby, eating dinner in his highchair. Without warning he pukes up his entire dinner. He starts to cry, it smells like stink and it's running everywhere. We clean him up until he's finally clean enough for me to lift him out of his high chair and comfort him. He pukes up again all over me, still crying. Charlie and I hear commotion on the fire escape. Covered in puke, holding a puke-covered, crying baby on my hip, I open our back door and see...

two-feet-tall flames standing up out of the grill, reaching the wooden stairs of the wooden fire escape. (Don't try to reassure me that the wood is pressure-treated to be resistant to fire. It was freaking scary).

Our neighbor Rufus is using a charcoal grill on a wooden fire escape, and he is not watching the flames. I call out to him and his wife Chandler comes out. She calls out to him and he yells from the other end of the condo that he's watching it. I think he must mean that I'm watching it, because I am watching it, covered in puke, along with my puke-covered crying baby, and he is no where in sight. So I yell to him to come out and take care of it. He walks out and I go inside.

I go inside and immediately look through the peep-hole of our back door and the dude is already gone but the flames are still there. I think I yell something to Charlie like, "Are you bleeping kidding me!?" except without the bleeping and throw Jett to him at the same time. Then I'm out the door. Conveniently, Rufus's back door is wide open, so I storm into his hallway like I have a search warrant, yelling like I've never yelled at anyone in my entire life, because he is definitely not watching it. My baby is sick and crying, baby puke is all over me and you're going to burn down my damn house, Rufus? I don't think so, Rufus. You're not watching the grill, Rufus. The flames are twelve feet high, Rufus. It is against the law here to have a charcoal grill on a wooden fire escape, Rufus. Also, your wife's name is Chandler and your dog's name is Destiny.

Chandler, meanwhile, was pleading with Rufus to watch the grill, to stop the flames, to stop grilling all together she doesn't even want the food anymore. I heard her say that she just wants to be a good neighbor. I remember feeling bad about that and trying to reassure her that she is a good neighbor, it's just her husband who's such a jerk. I remember feeling like I was thinking clearly, I had full clarity, and I couldn't understand why Rufus was being so stupid about the flames. It was like one of these dreams I have some times where I am the only one who is making any sense and I wake up frustrated that no one in my dream understood that they could have stopped the train if only they had sung the Star Spangled Banner three times backwards.

Rufus ended up putting water on the coals. But I remain peeved about the whole event because later I knocked on his door and apologized to that moron. I apologized for yelling at him and he muttered something I didn't understand and then shut the door in my face. Still, I made my point. Our fire escape didn't catch on fire that night, and he never used that grill again. Additionally, I was able to educate him about the grilling laws in the city, and the dangers of using a charcoal grill on a porch made of wood.

Later that year Chandler and Rufus divorced and Chandler got the apartment, a really hot boyfriend and the dog. Confrontation: WIN.

Cigarette butts

Just last week I parallel-parked in front of my building and saw two young women leaning against the corner of my building and smoking. The boys were asleep in their car seats, so I figured I wait a few minutes and see what happened. I was feeling feisty and I knew those women were probably on break from their job at the hospital across the street, where it is illegal to smoke. I wondered...where are they going to fling their cigarette butts?

I didn't really wonder that. I knew exactly what they were going to do with their butts. They did, and I ran out of my car like a lunatic.

They walked quickly so I actually had to run after them and call to them down the street, "Excuse me! Excuse me!" After shaking my head "no" to everyone else on the sidewalk who looked at me expectantly, the two women, who were across the street now, turned around. I said, "You were just standing in front of my building smoking?" (I hated that I said that as a question, when we all knew it was a fact). "Yes," they nodded. I said, "You threw your cigarette butts on the ground?" (Again with the question!). "Yes," they said. I said, "This is my yard, that I have to mow." (That's a lie, Charlie mows the grass). "My kids play here" (truth). The two women apologized. They walked back, nicely, and looked at the grass, which was strewn with cigarette butts. I told them to just "pick two. They're all over the place." They each bent down to pick up a random cigarette butt when I saw one that was still smoking. "This one is one of yours. It's still smoking. Get that one." They did. Confrontation: WIN.

Underwear. This one is my favorite, probably because my mom was visiting.

One night, after dark, my mom and I were sitting on my couch. I heard a noise outside so I looked out the window to see a car parking across the street, in front of my building. The people in the car, probably in their 20s, were drunk and giggling. They tumbled out, opened the wrong doors, opened the trunk for not apparent reason, and helped each other stand upright. Then one of the women, in a short little skirt, took off her underwear and dropped it in the gutter.

Come on, girl. My MOM is visiting! This is embarrassing. How would you like it if I got drunk and took my underwear off and threw it in the street in front of your mom?

It just made me mad. This is my street, this is my house, and I'm not raising kids next to floating underwear. Plus my mom is here, and what will she think if she knows I live in a place where drunk 20 year old girls throw their panties in the gutter?

The partiers were walking away so I acted fast. I ran down my three flights of stairs and out onto the sidewalk in my pajamas and socks. I called after the group, "Excuse me! Excuse me!" All but one of them turned around. I called out, "I think you forgot something!" One girl, bless her soul, asked what they forgot. Proudly I yelled back, "Your friend's underwear!" The drunks fell onto the sidewalk in fits of giggles.

I was undeterred. "I saw your friend get out of the car, take off her underwear, and throw it in the gutter. That's gross! This is my street! This is my home! My mom is here!"

The girl who spoke the first time, who was probably the most sober and who I hope had been driving walked back to their car and picked up the underwear with finger and thumb. Holding it out in front of her she walked to the alley and threw the underwear in the trash.

I thanked her and they all tottered back to their apartment, leaning on each other and laughing.

I felt a million years old that night, but victorious. My mom was completely speechless. Confrontation: WIN.

Wordless Wednesday