Previously on Midnight Crackers:
Holy Carp.
It's been a week, a whole week! since my last entry. I told you I'd never keep up my momentum!
But it wasn't my fault, man!
Lemme bring you up to speed, kids. I'll give it to you in broad strokes.
Last Friday: Hooray school and robots and everything's coming up Millhouse! Huzzah!
Saturday: Chill morning, and then Ian took Simon to the doctor in the afternoon for preschool-check-up-stamp-the-medical-card-a-million-times-please-it's-our-ticket-to-learning stuff. I stayed home and it's good I did because by the time they got back it was apparent I had caught the virus that's going around these parts. I haven't suffered body aches like that since I gave birth (I really should apologize to that gypsy woman).
Sunday: I slept through most of Sunday. What I remember was that Simon's Saturday check up required a TB test and they were sending him elsewhere to get it, so Ian took him for another appointment. This was impressive because after the blood draw from his fingertip the previous day Ian thought Simon would never go anywhere with him ever again. There was a mix up, however, and it turned out that TB tests aren't administered on Sundays and Simon would need to go back the next day. Oh joy.
Monday: I was feeling more like myself, though still worn out. I was relieved to get Simon to school fairly easily. I may even dare to venture to think he was excited about it. In the afternoon we took him for his TB test. It was my first time on the Moscow subway and it is EFFICIENT, my friends. Compared to the T in Boston... oh, Boston. Hiiiiii, buddy.
Anyway, Simon was happy to ride the trains some more but pretty pissed off about another needle in his arm. There was more screaming. Ice cream was promised and later consumed in mass quantities.
Tuesday: Still fairly easy to get Simon to school. It rained. I accidentally left his rain boots in the trunk of our car in Michigan and, as all our spare time had been taken up with sickness and doctors appointments, we hadn't had time to go shopping for new rain gear. He got soaked from the waist down. I'm normally not too fussy about this stuff, but there's no trusty California sun here to dry out sopping wet shoes on the back patio. I couldn't figure out how to get the radiators working in our apartment. We think maybe the whole building gets heat at the same time? Anyway, no luck there.
Fortunately, we've got a heated towel rack in the bathroom. Worked like a charm. Nice dry shoes for the next day.
I didn't do any blogging that day because I was busy knitting a mitten for Simon. It turned out to be a little wonky and the thumb was too small.
In Food News, Simon was/is officially on a Buttered White Rice Cleanse. We're cool with it. We also found applesauce pouches and we stocked up on his new favorite cereal. Is he eating a wide variety of foods? NO, but he is eating A LOT, so... checkmate. Or something.
Wednesday: Another school day. Simon was pretty grumpy about it. I told him if he stayed in class I'd round up some materials (recyclables) to build the biggest robot ever that afternoon when he got home. Eventually, he agreed and went into his classroom in a little huff (OH HI FOUR-NAGER). I went home and worked on another mitten and did not blog. I did not round up materials for him because I'd already done it our first week here because IKEA packaging is sturdy and it was bountiful! TA DAAAA!
The mitten did not fit. Another wonky thumb. DAMN YOU, THUMBS!
Thursday: Today already? Ok. Today. (END BROAD STROKES)
Today was rough.
Simon argued with me about going to school, as per usual. The previous three days proved that once we're out the door and on our way he's just fine.
Not today.
Today he screamed. He refused to walk. He insisted he'd rather turn around and walk the now longer distance back home in the wind and the rain than walk another fifty yards into the school yard. I had to carry him most of the way.
I tried to console him that today was Speaking Club for me and I would be in the building, in the Tortoise Room, with other moms so we could practice speaking Russian and English (separate post pending!). This was not acceptable to him. He wanted to go home. He did not want to learn things or make friends or see the rabbit or build with blocks we don't have at home.
He was still crying hard in the locker room after I carried him up the stairs. I am 95% certain an older child mocked him for crying and needing me. I've spent a lot of time around kids and I think I have a pretty good "Hey, Knock It Off" eyebrow waggle. It's a subtle blend of, "Dude, seriously?" and "I SEE YOU. TRY ME." (And, like, I know kids will be kids and this kid was just doing what kids do but I was feeling too drained from soothing my own kid to give a crap about giving a dirty look to some other kid. Kid.) Anyway, it worked. I shot the kid a look and he buggered off. I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR YOU, CHILD.
Usually once we're in the locker room and Simon sees his English speaking teacher he relaxes a little and agrees to carry on with school. Today, sadly, his teacher was out sick. Simon was panicked about this and I wasn't sure what to do. Surely there would be benefits from having to engage with the other teachers and students without his English speaking teacher.
On the other hand, what if he wouldn't calm down for the Russian teachers? It had been over an hour of going-to-school struggles and arguments at this point. Simon was exhausted, and it was only 9 am. We would have to make the big trip back to the doctor this afternoon to have his TB test read and what if we had to schlep him all that way if he'd been inconsolable all morning? I didn't want to do that to him. I didn't want his Russian teachers to feel stressed and helpless (I know teachers are a resilient lot, but my Midwestern upbringing requires me to feel guilty about leaving a child who is having a difficult day with decidedly selfless, well-trained professionals).
In an attempt to bring mercy upon all of us, I told Simon I would take him home with me early after Speaking Club. It would be over at ten o'clock. He'd just have to survive forty minutes, or in Simon Standard Time: the time of two episodes of True and the Rainbow Kingdom.
No problem. He cheered up a bit and went to class.
I went to Speaking Club and did my best, keeping an ear out for Simon. When I eventually did hear him crying for me it was over two hours later. I probably didn't have to but I quickly excused myself and went next door, prepared to whisk my poor buddy back to our little haven of Legos and Netflix and buttered white rice.
But he was fine. And in a much better mood than I thought I would find him in.
Of course.
However, I did promise him we could leave early, and even though it was outside time and he was initially excited about it, he changed his mind and we made our exit. I was too worn out to worry about how "Helicoptery" I must look to all the teachers. I'm just trying to keep his daily traumas to a minimum.
Really, we only left forty-five minutes early instead of three hours early, so I think I'll chill out about it. He didn't scream for me the whole time, I was told he participated in class, and all without his English speaking Teacher.
He's my goofy, clever, brave, TB free little guy, and I'm very proud of him.
Tomorrow, Friday: It's going to rain. Hard. Still no rain boots.
Gorrammit.
It's been a week, a whole week! since my last entry. I told you I'd never keep up my momentum!
But it wasn't my fault, man!
Lemme bring you up to speed, kids. I'll give it to you in broad strokes.
Last Friday: Hooray school and robots and everything's coming up Millhouse! Huzzah!
Saturday: Chill morning, and then Ian took Simon to the doctor in the afternoon for preschool-check-up-stamp-the-medical-card-a-million-times-please-it's-our-ticket-to-learning stuff. I stayed home and it's good I did because by the time they got back it was apparent I had caught the virus that's going around these parts. I haven't suffered body aches like that since I gave birth (I really should apologize to that gypsy woman).
Sunday: I slept through most of Sunday. What I remember was that Simon's Saturday check up required a TB test and they were sending him elsewhere to get it, so Ian took him for another appointment. This was impressive because after the blood draw from his fingertip the previous day Ian thought Simon would never go anywhere with him ever again. There was a mix up, however, and it turned out that TB tests aren't administered on Sundays and Simon would need to go back the next day. Oh joy.
Monday: I was feeling more like myself, though still worn out. I was relieved to get Simon to school fairly easily. I may even dare to venture to think he was excited about it. In the afternoon we took him for his TB test. It was my first time on the Moscow subway and it is EFFICIENT, my friends. Compared to the T in Boston... oh, Boston. Hiiiiii, buddy.
Anyway, Simon was happy to ride the trains some more but pretty pissed off about another needle in his arm. There was more screaming. Ice cream was promised and later consumed in mass quantities.
Tuesday: Still fairly easy to get Simon to school. It rained. I accidentally left his rain boots in the trunk of our car in Michigan and, as all our spare time had been taken up with sickness and doctors appointments, we hadn't had time to go shopping for new rain gear. He got soaked from the waist down. I'm normally not too fussy about this stuff, but there's no trusty California sun here to dry out sopping wet shoes on the back patio. I couldn't figure out how to get the radiators working in our apartment. We think maybe the whole building gets heat at the same time? Anyway, no luck there.
Fortunately, we've got a heated towel rack in the bathroom. Worked like a charm. Nice dry shoes for the next day.
I didn't do any blogging that day because I was busy knitting a mitten for Simon. It turned out to be a little wonky and the thumb was too small.
In Food News, Simon was/is officially on a Buttered White Rice Cleanse. We're cool with it. We also found applesauce pouches and we stocked up on his new favorite cereal. Is he eating a wide variety of foods? NO, but he is eating A LOT, so... checkmate. Or something.
Wednesday: Another school day. Simon was pretty grumpy about it. I told him if he stayed in class I'd round up some materials (recyclables) to build the biggest robot ever that afternoon when he got home. Eventually, he agreed and went into his classroom in a little huff (OH HI FOUR-NAGER). I went home and worked on another mitten and did not blog. I did not round up materials for him because I'd already done it our first week here because IKEA packaging is sturdy and it was bountiful! TA DAAAA!
The mitten did not fit. Another wonky thumb. DAMN YOU, THUMBS!
Thursday: Today already? Ok. Today. (END BROAD STROKES)
Today was rough.
Simon argued with me about going to school, as per usual. The previous three days proved that once we're out the door and on our way he's just fine.
Not today.
Today he screamed. He refused to walk. He insisted he'd rather turn around and walk the now longer distance back home in the wind and the rain than walk another fifty yards into the school yard. I had to carry him most of the way.
I tried to console him that today was Speaking Club for me and I would be in the building, in the Tortoise Room, with other moms so we could practice speaking Russian and English (separate post pending!). This was not acceptable to him. He wanted to go home. He did not want to learn things or make friends or see the rabbit or build with blocks we don't have at home.
He was still crying hard in the locker room after I carried him up the stairs. I am 95% certain an older child mocked him for crying and needing me. I've spent a lot of time around kids and I think I have a pretty good "Hey, Knock It Off" eyebrow waggle. It's a subtle blend of, "Dude, seriously?" and "I SEE YOU. TRY ME." (And, like, I know kids will be kids and this kid was just doing what kids do but I was feeling too drained from soothing my own kid to give a crap about giving a dirty look to some other kid. Kid.) Anyway, it worked. I shot the kid a look and he buggered off. I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR YOU, CHILD.
Usually once we're in the locker room and Simon sees his English speaking teacher he relaxes a little and agrees to carry on with school. Today, sadly, his teacher was out sick. Simon was panicked about this and I wasn't sure what to do. Surely there would be benefits from having to engage with the other teachers and students without his English speaking teacher.
On the other hand, what if he wouldn't calm down for the Russian teachers? It had been over an hour of going-to-school struggles and arguments at this point. Simon was exhausted, and it was only 9 am. We would have to make the big trip back to the doctor this afternoon to have his TB test read and what if we had to schlep him all that way if he'd been inconsolable all morning? I didn't want to do that to him. I didn't want his Russian teachers to feel stressed and helpless (I know teachers are a resilient lot, but my Midwestern upbringing requires me to feel guilty about leaving a child who is having a difficult day with decidedly selfless, well-trained professionals).
In an attempt to bring mercy upon all of us, I told Simon I would take him home with me early after Speaking Club. It would be over at ten o'clock. He'd just have to survive forty minutes, or in Simon Standard Time: the time of two episodes of True and the Rainbow Kingdom.
No problem. He cheered up a bit and went to class.
I went to Speaking Club and did my best, keeping an ear out for Simon. When I eventually did hear him crying for me it was over two hours later. I probably didn't have to but I quickly excused myself and went next door, prepared to whisk my poor buddy back to our little haven of Legos and Netflix and buttered white rice.
But he was fine. And in a much better mood than I thought I would find him in.
Of course.
However, I did promise him we could leave early, and even though it was outside time and he was initially excited about it, he changed his mind and we made our exit. I was too worn out to worry about how "Helicoptery" I must look to all the teachers. I'm just trying to keep his daily traumas to a minimum.
Really, we only left forty-five minutes early instead of three hours early, so I think I'll chill out about it. He didn't scream for me the whole time, I was told he participated in class, and all without his English speaking Teacher.
He's my goofy, clever, brave, TB free little guy, and I'm very proud of him.
Tomorrow, Friday: It's going to rain. Hard. Still no rain boots.
Gorrammit.
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