Mowing in the Dark

Things got a bit crazy around here this week. My husband and I are going out of town this weekend for a parent's getaway. Of course that means nothing would run as planned.

It all started over the weekend. Our cat had not been eating well for about a week. I took him to the vet and he needed emergency surgery for a stomach blockage. I had little time for getting ahead on housework, but did manage to plan a week of school. Monday, even though it was a holiday, we had a bit of school work, knowing things would be busy later.

Tuesday morning, JT had an allergy shot appointment. He had a major reaction, which culminated in him being given the Epipen and staying in the office for 2 hours. Not much schooling THAT day.

Wednesday we did manage to put in a full school day! We also were able to check out our protozoa we have been growing from a kit we purchased. The boys fought a bit over who should be looking in the microscope. I have now added one of these to my wish list for the classroom.

Today was a day where nothing seemed to go smoothly. We started late. JT did spend a good deal of time working on his Life of Fred book, completing 3 chapters. EM spent some time with me reviewing time telling on analog clocks using one of the center activities we put together.

Then the trouble began. Composition. I dread even mentioning it to JT. As soon as I say something about the need to write...he sets his face with his most defiant look and glares at me. I gave him a choice between finishing the final draft of last week's composition or beginning one for this week. He sat there for a good 45 minutes before he realized he wouldn't win this one. My husband discovered last week during a similar stale-mate, that the best way to make him act seems to be to remove the actual paper from the room and make him come to us and ask to start it when he is ready. In the meantime, he sits at his desk and stares into space. No amount of logic can budge this child. Explaining that if he really wants to be a biologist when he grows up, he will need some writing skills, seems futile when he's 8. (Not that I haven't tried it!) Threatening, pleading and yelling are all worthless. You just have to walk away and wait.

That was when I had to run the cat to the vet because he decided to remove his own stitches.

All of this ended with me riding the mower in a nearly pitch dark back yard.

Next week will be smoother. Right?