parens binubus

more than you want to know about a law school graduate/bar examinee who is also raising two children and doing her best at being a partner to her love.

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  • Tuesday, April 10, 2007
    And in other news ....
    I've done most of my International Law reading, and after last week's sabattical from reading, I'd almost forgotten that I like International Law. I like the reading.


    I think I'm feeling better than I was this a.m., and am hoping for a good night's sleep tonight so that tomorrow can be a normal day.


    I have a parent-teacher conference re: J in the morning -- at 7:30. Geez. What is wrong with me. Why do I schedule things in such a way to cause me pain and suffering? Well, quite simply, b/c the other options were smack dab in the middle of IP.

    I'm not anticipating much from this conference. J is doing phenominally both socially and academically. She's a whiz at math, reads at a higher-than-third-grade level, and loves science and social studies. Really, the only thing to think about is next year. Which teacher will work for her? Who will be in her class? That kind of thing. Her teacher has been bringing those things up in other conferences.

    Now I know the secret -- school's a free ride until 5th grade. And worse --- 6th grade. When the Honor Roll starts. And real grades.

    3rd grade? Pfft.

    And it's not even because the work's easy or because my kids are smart (although they are) - it's because they're young. And they love school. And they love their teachers. And life is rosy.

    Until 5th grade.

    Frizzum Frazzum.


    Instead of snow on Thursday, they're now predicting sleet. Woopty Doo.


    I bit my tongue at dinner. It hurts. It bled.


    I was unable to purchase prepared chicken at Whole Foods. I made a greek salad - complete with home made dressing. I wanted grilled chicken on top. The only cooked grilled chicken at Whole Foods was Korean BBQ. Not gonna work.

    So I actually cooked. Fathom that. It was good. Until I bit my tongue. Then the red wine vinegar in the dressing wasn't so good. Then it hurt. I wanted to snack on a couple olives tonight, but now I can't. Because it will hurt.


    E had to write a story for school. It was "realistic fiction." She sat down with her teacher today to go over the first draft, and was very happy to have little to no revisions, and the feedback that it was exactly what the teacher was looking for. It's a mystery taking place on the sinking Titanic.

    When she was in first grade, she read a Magic Treehouse book about the Titanic. She became obsessed. She then read 1,000,000 books about the Titanic - including those way above 1st grade level. The obsession lasted at least into 2nd grade. Perhaps longer. She wanted to watch the movie once she heard about it (when talking with friends about all she learned, their reference point was Jack and Rose). I told her I would only let her watch the movie if she wrote a report about everything she learned. She did. She even illustrated it. It was great.

    I didn't think I would see her rekindle this interest. But her assignment was to write a "realistic fiction" story. She chose to write a mystery, set on the Titanic.

    I think it's fun, and I'm proud of her.

    Labels: , ,

    posted by Zuska @ 9:26 PM  
    • At Tuesday, April 10, 2007 11:51:00 PM, Blogger Housewife said…

      I bit my tongue today too.

      I didn't call someone a fucking bitch even when they deserved it, yay me!

      Love yer blog, love yer honesty, love that you shop at Whole Foods.

      Kids eat Greek Salad?

      Adam thinks salad is for girls, he'll only eat his veggies in star patterns... it's so un-girly that way.

    • At Wednesday, April 11, 2007 6:37:00 AM, Blogger Zuska said…

      He he. My kids eat (and love) many surprising foods. Beloved did this to them. I took them to a restaurant last week, and they literally *cheered* over the salad bar. The salads they built for themselves were just gorgeous.

      E eats her salads sans dressing. That's where her picky-ness over it ends.

      Oh, and they didn't like the olives. Kalamata olives -- pitted in their honor. Oh well.

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