"IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!"

I love April 20th.  I love my birthday.  I have always loved my birthday.  I loved my birthday at age six and I love my birthday at age 41.  It's fabulous.  It's so good to be me.

When I turned 21, I was in college at a bar, of course, and spent the entire night repeating the phrase, "It's my birthday!"  I was even saying it while I was bent over praying to the porcelain God and my two best friends fought over who would hold my hair.

Every birthday since, my phrase of the day on my birthday has become, "It's my birthday!"

The sunshine came through my window this morning, but even if it had been a rainy day it wouldn't matter, cause it's my birthday!  

I was awakened by my family with hugs and cards and presents and a nice wet lick across my face (the dog), because it's my birthday!

Friends and family call or write to celebrate me.  Even my friend who owns a DC sports bar, Nellie's, put my name on the chalkboard today.  Who needs their name in lights?  I do, because it's my birthday!   

By 11:13 am I had 67 posts on my Facebook timeline because it's my birthday!  

When I arrived at the gym this morning, I was showered with birthday greetings.  My pilates instructor, Abby, who owns her own catering company and blogs about it even baked me birthday cupcakes because it's my birthday!

It's so wonderful to be me no matter what age I am.  I love being an Aries.  I love getting older and wiser.  I'm so proud of my heritage.  I adore my life as the Family CEO: a blogger, a wife, a mother!  I want to scream from the rooftops, "Let the celebrations begin.  It's my birthday!"

It's going to be the best day ever cause it's my birthday.  

Wait a minute!  I just realized I share a birthday with Carmen Electra:  model, actress, sex symbol, appeared in Playboy magazine, and television show 'Baywatch'.  Kindergarten SUCKS!

Kindergarten SUCKS!: Summer School

Kindergarten SUCKS!: Summer School: It appears that first grade isn't what it used to be.  I've been told by many parents and teachers that they "hit the ground running" on the...

Summer School

It appears that first grade isn't what it used to be.  I've been told by many parents and teachers that they "hit the ground running" on the first day of first grade.  First grade teachers have high expectations and require concentration and well developed reading skills.  

It has also come to my knowledge that come spring conferences, parents are increasingly enrolling their kids voluntarily or at the suggestion of teachers for summer school to remain engaged all year on structured educational activities.

SUMMER SCHOOL?  What happened to a summer vacation?  Do I not speak for everyone when I ask, "Isn't it called summer vacation because it happens in the summer and its a vacation from school?"  

As a child advocate, I am outraged.  What child wants to go to school for the summer?  

For me, school ended the Friday before Memorial day weekend and started the day after Labor day.  O's school doesn't end until June 23rd and starts up again the day after Labor day.  Not only have public school systems changed the definition of vacation, but also shortened the season called summer.  All for what?  

I remember my summers being the best memories of my life.  I'd spend the day going to the pool, riding bikes, reading books and playing ball.  And any night of the week I was thrilled with expected or unexpected slumber parties in a tent, at my house, or at my friends house all the while catching fireflies in a jar.  The best part was that there was nothing planned.  No school work.  No sitting still.  No expectations except to stay safe and come home for dinner when the siren sounded.

Although summer school has yet to be recommended for O, I know exactly what I will scream at the top of my lungs if it ever is...Kindergarten SUCKS!

Kindergarten SUCKS!: "Star of the Week"

Kindergarten SUCKS!: "Star of the Week": Everyone in O's class gets an opportunity to be the "Star of the Week".  This week is O's turn.   Last Thursday her teachers sent home a po...

"Star of the Week"

Everyone in O's class gets an opportunity to be the "Star of the Week".  This week is O's turn.  

Last Thursday her teachers sent home a poster board, four small stars, one large star and directions of how to put together a "Star of the Week" photo signboard to be hung in the hallway so that everyone learns more about O.  Of course I didn't think about it until Sunday morning when O woke me at 6:00 am and said, "Mommy, can we do my poster now?"  My answer, "Not until the sun comes up."  After all, we needed light.  

I climbed out of bed, donned my slippers and my robe and made my green power drink.  I read the directions three times before I realized that O already knew exactly what to do.  However, because of the sleepy crusty stuff I had in my eye (thankfully not pink eye) and the fogginess clouding my brain, the words she spoke were not seen or heard.  

First, O chose pictures from the computer to print, then using the five stars she chose her categories: me, family, cousins, favorite things, fun facts.  Finishing it off, we added stickers of Hannah Montana, American Girl dolls and butterflies.  She was so proud and I was just thrilled that I could go back to bed.  

That night after her bath she laid out what she wanted to wear to school the next day, and mentioned how excited she was to carry her poster to the bus stop and share it with her schoolmates and neighbors.  The "Star of the Week" was ready.  What could possibly go wrong?  

It appears there is a sense of entitlement that comes with being the "Star of the Week".  Monday morning, our adorable "Star of the Week" threw a tantrum about what she had laid out to wear the night before.  Then our "Star of the Week's" mommy was forced to shove a toothbrush down O's mouth because she refused to brush her teeth.  After that our sweet "Star of the Week" screamed in terror while I gently tried to brush her hair.  I then fulfilled the request for two braids, but upon looking in the mirror, O decided that wasn't what she really wanted and deliberately shook the braids out all the while throwing the rubber bands at me.  I calmly led our shining "Star of the Week" to the stairs for a time-out and I calmly took a "time in" while sitting in a chair meditating.  Then I heard the bus and realized we had missed it.

I went over to the stairs where O sat crying and apologizing, all the while admitting what she did was wrong and that she was sorry.  I told her I was sorry too and that I love her.  As always we ended the time-out-conversation with a hug.  I then empathetically told her she missed the bus and she smiled and said, "It's ok mommy."  

We did her hair the way she wanted it and then I drove her to school.  

The "tardy lady" was standing at the front door to greet us with a pink tardy slip in her hand.  Turns out, at O's school it does not matter if you are the "Star of the Week".  Tardy is tardy.  Kindergarten SUCKS!                 

Kindergarten SUCKS!: Colored Bubbles

Kindergarten SUCKS!: Colored Bubbles: As a former kindergarten teacher, I was so much more willing to spend the money for Crayola products in the classroom as the stains were muc...

Colored Bubbles

As a former kindergarten teacher, I was so much more willing to spend the money for Crayola products in the classroom as the stains were much easier to get out of my clothes than some of the other name brands.  I trusted Crayola.  

Not anymore.  Whoever invented Crayola Colored Bubbles should be shot or brought to my house for punishment.   The innovator is invited to my house to wash all the stains out of my patio furniture cushions, my porch and the flagstone.  Then he/ she will be solicited to doing the laundry for my child and all of her cousins who attended her family birthday party.

Mind you, on the side of the bottle there is a teeny little pamphlet in teeny little print, in teeny little letters that states, "READ BEFORE USING" … but even my grandma's best magnifying glass wouldn't help me to read it.  Plus, I simply trusted Crayola.  And when I pulled the colored bubbles out of the party bag and handed them out, I had ten sugar hyped children all under the age of seven screaming for bubbles. 

The kiddos got colored bubbles, I got stains. Happy Family Birthday, O!  Kindergarten SUCKS!