2 Rarities

I had the rare experience of talking to my sister on the phone last night. It was a bit shocking. We live no more than 30 minutes from each other. I work no more than 15 minutes from her. I can't remember the last time we saw each other, never mind actually speak to each other. Email and Facebook are our friends - our main line of communication. I'll save commentary on that for another day.

Her son is older. He's in Kindergarten so of course, she is paving the way for me. A lot of the decisions I've made over the past two years have been based on her Been There Done That advice. Most of our conversations end with me saying - remind me about this is X years will ya?

Last night's conversation was just as much a venting session for her as it was a reality check for me. In a nut shell? Pup's teacher had no less than 3 opportunities to mention behaviour issues, not to mention countless opportunities to use the phone or send a letter home. Well, actually she did send a letter home with this on it: I can no longer handle his behavior issues. I'm sending him to the Guidance Counselor.

Nice introduction to the fact that your son and his teacher aren't always getting along. The teacher is still breathing. Her body is still intact. I'm not sure how much longer she will have any self-esteem, sense of ego - over all mental well being as my sister's patience is wearing thin. Her command of the English language is a marvelous thing. When pissed - it becomes a work of art worthy of the Guggenheim. I wish to be there when it happens.

Our conversation last night shocked me. Horrified me and worried me as I know in a few years, I run the risk of experiencing the same thing. I dread his school days. I dread dealing with the Zero Tolerance policy. I dread dealing with an administration stuck in the stone age. So I enter my little fantasy world where he is going to the best school in the world; has the best teachers in the world and is happy. I'll deal with reality in 3 years and not before then.

It was still nice to talk to her last night - to actually hear her voice. Even if Little Man did cut our conversation short.

Speaking of - guess what that Little Imp did to me last night? I stayed up way too late. I should have gone to bed as soon as I got off the phone but I decided to do some more research first (neighbor's computer infected. Guess who gets to clean it up?). I head upstairs to bed and notice Little Man's door is open. I closed it when I left and can't imagine daddy leaving it open. I walk into my room and my poor husband is barely hanging onto to the edge of the bed. Little Man is stretched out horizontally across the bed, snuggling with MY PILLOW.

I slept in the guest bedroom last night. I did bring my pillow with me.

Oh - and I woke up before the boys did. I was able to sleep until 9:10. The sun pouring in did me in otherwise I'd still be asleep. The guys just woke up. It's almost 10. I didn't realize a toddler could do that. Should I be calling the Guinness Folks?