Today, I got a call from the school nurse at Connor's school. She was calling to ask me to provide information for her to use in his transition to Strathmore next year. Except he isn't going there. And he isn't going into 6th grade. And he doesn't have a private nurse with him at school. And people wonder why I'm not happy with the administration at his school? They cannot even keep Connor Wright, rising 4th grader moving to Barrett straight with some other child whose last name is White, is two years older, and has a private nurse at school with him every damn day.
The good part - I don't have to track down anything for school. The bad part - they are hiring medical personnel who cannot keep their most health-sensitive students straight.
Meanwhile, any of his actual doctors we see for him, all of whom have many hundreds of patients, remember him, why he's there, that he has younger brothers, that his parents have a defense mechanism of humor in the office. And the nurse, who is there every day and spends more time with FLS kids (mostly sending them home) can't keep White and Wright straight.
Is it any wonder I'm so done with his school?
In other, less angry white mother news, the Pig Roast is this weekend! We love the Pig Roast. I'm going to go with Lee to get the pigs this year. Lots of new firsts in 2013. I'm not sure this one was predictable.
Also in the un-angry category is that lately the boys have taken to snuggling with Connor and picking stories for us to all read together at night. They climb on his bed, snuggle around him, make sure he has the one stuffed animal that is not community property next to him (maybe I'll blog about that animal next time?), and we read picture books. Connor clearly watches the pages. Then they awkwardly hug him, or sweetly kiss his forehead and wish him a good night.
We stomp off to another room to read other books, Connor tucked in nicely.
Okay, it's late. You should probably go to bed. I should. I expect morning will come, appalling and early as usual, and Tucker will bound into my room and call me something indiscernible because that's what he does. And Drew will come downstairs and request that we leave him alone because he's just not hungry for breakfast yet. Because that's what he does. And I will try to not speak until I have my first swallow of coffee, because it makes me rational where there was entropy.