sophie's superhero

Grades are out. I'm handed an envelope and I know that in the long and thin of it, folded up, tucked inside, there's the fate of my mood,  for at least the next half an hour.  So last week I'm given Caitlin's pamphlet of a report card, wondering why a four-year old needs to  be evaluated in such a variety of settings and just what is the difference between I for  "improving" and W for" working on it," and thinking what business do you have critiquing my child if you can't see the redundancy there.  I hate that when they don't get a G for "good" in categories like "demonstrates a positive self-image" because then I feel like a lousy parent so I think, "well no wonder she doesn't feel good about herself..."
"Could you at least act like it?  "Dang it!"

And sometimes I feel so dysfunctional when I can't get to what the kids ask me to do quickly enough so they say, "Fine, I'll do it myself."  Or when they don't come home to a clean house, but, you know, I wasn't the one playing with the Lego's (Ben), or who ate mayonnaise for breakfast (Bethany), or who unrolled all the toilet paper in the bathroom (William).  So I'm thinking that teaching responsibility just looks ugly.  That's what my whole messy house thing is about.

And Caitlin is quite proud of herself for helping me out with Sophie.  Thursday she said, "I'm Sophie's superhero."  So at least she has good self-as-sister esteem.

We had the most glorious week of warm and beautiful fall weather.

Speaking of superheroes, Saturday Grandma Martha arrived.  She is moving from Maine to Utah.

Sophie turned two months old last week.