Tag Archives: work

Fore Warned

I feel a little bit robbed.

I apparently have an abnormality, which I was not made aware of until recently. I possess  something so large, I was told to hide my monstrosity, before anyone of importance could see it. Why wasn’t I alerted to this previously? I have lived day in and day out for years without even thinking about it, but apparently it is so severe, it has interfered with my work. And now that it has been pointed out to me, my obsession over it is repeatedly hitting me head on.

Maybe I should consider it the opposite of an obstacle, maybe an endowment … it’s said that bigger is better. Right? What I feel like is the better part of a fool, one who so unknowingly and prominently has been displaying this freak of nature, like it was a natural occurrence.

My ignorance of this anomaly I have, has been taken from me and I want it back.

So, if you catch me staring at your forehead, forgive me, I’m not judging you, I’m judging me.

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First Things First

Gentleman's agreement

Azul has officially finished his first full week of all-day Kindergarten and experienced a lot of firsts.

The first of the “firsts” was getting worked. The first day of school, when I picked up my exhausted, smiley-faced big boy, the first thing he said to me was, “Man, they really work you there.”

Of course this is after months of being on Summer Break and a year of a pre-school, where their moto was “learning through play,” which actually meant, “we just play.” Azul has three years of experience in pre-school and knows the difference between working and not. And now he is getting worked! He has no idea.

Second, eating in the cafeteria. He is very excited about this and I am very excited not to have to make lunch for him anymore. The day he was talking about his cafeteria ritual with euphoria in his eyes, I knew he was in love. He had his very first Sloppy Joe. I know, he is almost six years old and never had a Sloppy Joe, but I just don’t cook like that. I guess the Red Rice and Organic Beans with Roasted Beets and Broccoli is no Sloppy Joe.

“What did you guys have for lunch?” I asked

“Sloppy Joes!” he excitedly answered.

I repeated, “Sloppy Joes?” more as a question than a statement.

“I loved that sweet meat!” he said with his eyes slightly closed and his head tilted back.

I can’t compete with “sweet meat.”

Third, how to behave on the playground. He’s familiar with playing at the playground and already experienced lots of playground time, but now he is a big Kindergartener.

“Guess what I did today?” he asked me, and I had visions of him counting to one hundred, forward and backward in front of the class, or reciting the Preamble to the Constitution when no one else could (he doesn’t really know the Preamble, it was just my parental fantasy).

“What?” I responded.

“I had a wicked fall!” He continued, “I felt like I was punched in the stomach, but I didn’t tell the teacher or anything, it wasn’t an emergency like bleeding or like that. I didn’t cry, I just played through the pain.” He was talking non-stop with some sense of pride.

“Oh, my!” was all I could think to say without bursting his bubble or ruining his story.

“Yeah, like you know that, like rock climbing wall? I slipped.”

I guess we all, like, have a wicked fall in school.

Finally for the week, bribery. Making friends is a hard thing to do, and some of us go to great lengths for friendship, but this is one had to be stopped before it got out of control and too expensive.

Azul talked about his new friends, although he couldn’t remember anyone’s name, and one boy in particular (again, the boy has a name he just doesn’t remember it) who is his best friend. As the conversation continued, I began to feel uncomfortable as it took a turn for the worse. Apparently, Azul asked this boy if he wanted to play and the boy said no, so Azul promised him twenty bucks to be his friend. Well, the monetary offer worked and they played and had the time of their lives.

I didn’t pay out the “gentleman’s agreement!”

“Firsts” are awesome, they are the moments you always remember, or at least the things others remember when all you want to do is forget.

I can’t wait for next week…

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