Crazy, Stinky Love

It's Treat Day. The one day a week when I set my alarm for 5:40 only to awaken, with joy, at 4am to begin the eat fest.  Honest to [your fave Deity]. I cannot express the importance food has in my life now. I used to just cram it without thinking. Now I calculate, perserverate and obsess about Treat Day and all it has coming for me.

First World Problems.

So I lept happily from bed at 5am, turned on the oven for my weekly cinnamon buns, and started to brush ye olde teeth.  Only, Kiddo #2 arrived on the scene, eyes squinting and stumbling around in the blinding light of the bathroom.

Me: Honey, you should go back to bed.
Kiddo #2: No. It's morning.
Me: Well, not mostly.
Kiddo #2: You're up.
Me: Yes. But the sun isn't up.
Kiddo #2: I'll keep you company until it is.
Me: Oooooook.

So I got dressed and headed to the kitchen with 3 year-old in tow.  As he sat there sipping his (organic, soy) milk, I could see him energizing for the day. This would normally be awesome-- his dance parties are legendary.  However, at 5:40 in the morning, they're noiseier than they ought to be, so I distracted him with the bazillion magnets on the fridge.

He turned on the Leapfrog letter thing and out screamed "Le H est muet, comme dans hibou. Chaque lettre fait un son, le H est muet."  He then started the English one and the two of them began a remix of letter sounds.  I turned off the machines (which already woke the tippy-tappy dog) and told him to put the letters on the floor and we'd sound them out.

I can only assume he's learned his letters from his sister, or Miss Jenn, our beloved caregiver.  While I take full responsibility for Kiddo #1's phonemic awareness at an early age, I have absolutely NO clue how Kiddo #2 has learned a dang thing. Honestly.  I don't think I've even taught him how to brush his teeth.

I was busy,
I was occupied with Kiddo #1,
I was a wreck from mono,
I was finishing my masters
I was...

... insert whatever preoccupation I had while I was supposed to be teaching Kiddo #2 anything.

So, if you were the one who taught him all this stuff, thanks cuz you've been doing a great job.

Me: Let's spell Dad.
Kiddo #2:  D-d-d-ayh-ayh-ayh-d-d-dd

And then he put the letters down on the floor.

In the right order.

I nearly shit my pants.

Me: Uh, let's spell dog.
Kiddo #2:  D-d-d-d-ahh-ahh-ahh-g-g-g

Like, wtf? Who taught him all his letter sounds?

Me: Let's spell cat.
Kiddo #2: K-k-k-ayh-ayh-ayh-t-t-t
Me: Ha! Well, it's the other letter that sounds like K.
Kiddo #2: Oh. C.

Shit. I figured I'd trick him with that one.

Me: Let's spell Mom.
Kiddo #2: Ha. Mmmmm-ahh-ahh-ahh-Mmmm
Me: Nice.  Ok. The cinnamon buns are ready. Want one?
Kiddo #2: Nah. I'll have a banana.

Frick! Who is teaching this kid so much stuff? He's choosing a better breakfast, he's spelling and sounding out words? What next?

Kiddo #2 normally has hockey on Saturday mornings while I take Kiddo #1 to her swim practice, so we don't normally have this extra time together.  But this morning showed only swim.  So when Kiddo #1 arrived on the scene, I decided I'd let Husband sleep in, with actual silence, and take everyone with me.

I left Kiddo #2's brilliance on the floor and, through a complex series of charades, got the kids dressed and out the door to the swim practice without waking Husband.

When we came back, of course, I had to pee like a mad woman. It was 9:30am; it took a lot of time to get the kids dressed and ready when I was only miming.  Turns out Marcel Marceau was a much more gifted actor than I gave him credit for. While I mimed putting on underwear and pants, they guessed: getting a mermaid tail, boxing a kangaroo, painting a picture of a whale and Netflixing Lego cartoons.  Admittedly, I think that last guess was simply a request, but I ignored it.  Also, a 3 and 6-year old are not logical guessers-- my charades skills are above reproach.

But when we got home, Husband was sitting at the kitchen table. I ran off to pee and when I returned from the bathroom, he had been joined at the table by both the children.  As I walked in, feeling relieved, the children began to giggle hysterically.  Husband looked impishly at his cup.

Me: What?
Husband: Nothing. Nothing at all.
Kiddo #1: Nope. Nothing at all.
Me: Kiddo #2. What's going on?
Kiddo #1: Nothing. No-thing. Just ... you ... smell.
Kiddo #2: YOU SMELL LIKE GRU'S SOCKS!

And then all three of them erupted into peals of laughter.

Then Husband said, "Shh. Shh. Ok. Hold on.  Knock knock."
Me: Who's there?
Husband: Mom
Me: Mom who?
Husband: Mom Stinks!

And then all three of them erupted into peals of laughter, again.
I looked around for hidden cameras and start opening the windows.

Husband: What are you doing? It's -14 out!
Me: Yeah, well, clearly there's a gas leak and you three are in the end stages of poisoning.
Husband: Nope. I have it on very good authority that you stink.
Me: Really?
Husband: Yep.  The entire floor agrees with us, actually.

And that's when I finally noticed that my loving, caring husband put the letters for "stinks" under Mom.

You know what stinks?
Love stinks.

Crazy, stinky Love.

Pearl and the Pirates in the Basement

The bell rang and I was walking down the eternally-long hallway toward my lunch.  Not that it was a great lunch.  But it's that one week each month where I want to eat THE WORLD, so I was excited to get at my carrots and whatever other stuff I'd raided from the rabbit's dish.

I high-fived little kiddos, hugged the huggers and basically felt like a giant version of  the coolest kid in school because everyone was saying hi and knew my name.  Seriously, if you felt like a loser growing up, becoming a teacher is pretty good karmic-retribution.

As I got closer to the dream of my lunch, I saw the Saddest. Girl. In. The. World. She couldn't look any sadder if she found the truth out about Santa, unicorns and Obama all in the same breath. Pearl is usually pretty upbeat and smiley, but today? This was the saddest grade 4 in all the world. 

Anyway, I saw her and crouched down. 

Me: Hey, Pearl.  

Pearl:  (nothing)

Me: You ok?

Pearl: (shakes head no)

Me: You wanna talk?

Pearl:  (shakes head no)

Me: Ok. Well, if you wanna talk later, I'm around.

Pearl: (doesn't move an inch)

Me: (internal sigh because the carrots are gonna have to wait and I hope I don't eat this kid because I'm STARVED) Ok. Do you wanna talk to someone else?

Pearl: (shakes head no)

Me: Well, I can stay here, but I'm hungry.  Wanna come eat in my classroom?

Pearl: (shakes head no)

Me: There's no one else in there-- it's empty during lunch.

Pearl: No grade 8s?

Me: Nope. Just my desk and my lunch.  Wanna come hang out?

Pearl:  (shakes head no)

Me: Are you ok?

Pearl: (shakes head no)

Me: Are you safe?

Pearl: (shakes head yes and makes long eye contact to show me she's ok and safe)

Me: Will you come with me to get my lunch? I can eat wherever.

So we walk to my room and when she realizes it's really, actually, empty, she exhales and sits down.  I say "Wanna talk?" and she shakes her head no.

This is a kiddo who has arms made up of rainbow loom bracelets-- she's constantly picked first for partners and is a smiley, happy, chatty girl. Yet here she was, lookin' sadder than something really, really sad.

So I got out my sticky notes and gave her a marker and said "Wanna Zentangle with me?"  and we drew some random lines and coloured them in and all that jazz. It's exceptional for getting your brain to focus on something else so it can start to sort out a problem or idea.  I highly recommend it.  Another word for it would be "doodling" but Zentangle is fancier sounding and you know how fancy I am. Ha.

And we doodled lines and stars and checkerboard patterns and all that jazz. Then all of a sudden, Pearl looked down and her face about crumbled.  I said, "Do you wanna talk?"

These are the conversations I dread because I hate hearing how hard some kiddos really have it.  Truly.  Anyway, I inhaled slowly and prepared for the worst.

Pearl: Mrs. Sunnen, I'm just... I know I shouldn't be worrying about this yet, but I'm just so ... I ...

Me: It's ok. Take your time.

Pearl: I'm just. (deep inhale) I'm really scared that I won't know my multiplication tables in my head like quick.  

Me: Uh. Oh! ... Oh. 

Pearl: Like, do you know your multiplication tables?

Now, as her teacher, I can't really admit that I neither know my multiplication tables, nor do I have a clue how to do much beyond adding.  I have to maintain an illusion of authority.  I mean, I've told them all I'm dyslexic, but with numbers (which is technically Dyscalculia, if you're wanting to do a little research), so they sorta get it, but it's not the same when people find out you don't know your left from your right, and have no idea how to get places, even with a map. People change their opinions of you.  

So, I said, "Well, Pearl, did you worry that you'd never be able to ride a bike when you first started?"

Pearl: No. I mean, I sorta did, but then I just practiced and practiced and fell sometimes, and kept trying and then one day I did it.

Me: Do you think any of that hard work might work out if you did it but for multiplying this time?

Pearl:  Oh! Maybe! Like if I practice the numbers they might stick in my head?

Me: I bet it would.

(I didn't have the heart to tell her that it never worked for me, no matter how much practicing I did. I don't mind looking silly if it helps someone else feel better, but I won't take someone else's hope.)

Then I asked her if she knows any of the multiplication songs that are out there. She didn't, so I pulled up a few on my phone and downloaded them.  They're basically just multiplication facts set to music so kids can learn them easier.  Anyway, she was feeling better, plus the bell rang, so she wanted to go outside and run around for 20 minutes and away she flew.

That night, as I put my son to bed, I kissed him and hoped he and his sister don't have the same problems with numbers that I have. And then I realized that it won't matter. I'll love them anyway, and help them with anything that I can. And Husband and I will figure things out for tutors if they're needed.  And for the first time in a long time, my heart was truly bursting with love.

Kiddo #2: Gimme a squishy hug, Momma! 

Me: (squishing him) Ahhh!

Kiddo #2: Did you give Poochie a hug?

Me: (squishing Poochie) Ahh!

Kiddo #2: Are there any pirates in the basement?

Me: Nope. The dinosaurs ate them.

Kiddo #2: That's good. Now they won't be hungry and need to eat me.

Me:  Great thinking, Smartie pants.  

Kiddo #2: I missed you today. Did you miss me?

Me: All the way to the moon, I missed you.

Kiddo #2: I missed you all the way to Grandpa's house. 

Me: I love you, Kiddo #2, with my whole heart. Good night.

Kiddo #2: I love you until the words go away and turn into colours.

Well then.  That's the best love yet.