My uncle Jim is not waking up from what was supposed to be a minor surgery. My grandma has been at my house for a week and thinks I am her sister Linda. This would be okay except I don’t know what to say when she asks me about my grandkids. My daughter may fail second grade because it is WAY more fun to be class clown than to do actual work. My daughter’s teacher thinks I don’t care because I miss appointments she scheduled to talk about this – because my daughter doesn’t bring home the notes, apparently. And because I’m crazed and forget all about the ones I do find out about.
Just as an aside, I don’t think that sending home obvious notes via the child who is in trouble is such a great idea. If I were 8 years old and saw notes from my teacher to my mother that said, “must talk! Your child is a BIG problem!” (that is a paraphrase) – my mother would never, ever, ever see them. Ever.
Then again, I may have been raised in Hickville, Texas, but I don’t remember having any teachers who were so oblivious to this that they wouldn’t have known how to pick up a damned phone before they started making assumptions about the mother. They would have CALLED.
It has been such a long week.
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I’m so sorry to hear about your uncle and your grandmother. It seems when it rains it pours. And I thought the same thing — how about a phone call or an email? Clearly the other method has not been successful.
If it’s any consolation, you just made my life look a whole lot better. Hmm, I guess that’s not really much consolation after all, but I do appreciate it.
My uncle Jim came off life support last night (at last he started breathing on his own!) and my grandmother has gone home, where she is in her own element and does much better…
And I’ll sort out this teacher this week, now that things have calmed down. Here comes a better week!
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