No awards for parenting

Grayson has already missed a day of school. Monday night he got all snotty in the wee hours and woke up whimpering pathetically, so I kept him home.

It was a full day of pajamas, TV, nintendo and crafty projects. By noon of course he seemed perfectly healthy.

Payback's a bitch, though. Yesterday when I picked him up after school he had a whole folder of make-up work he had to bring home to complete. We'll still be working on it this evening. Let that be a lesson to us both. Sick day = homework.

Looks like the new school will not assign regular homework like they did at Wilson. It looks like he'll get homework only when assignments don't get finished during class time. We are expected to study his spelling words and practice "math facts" (whatever those are) every night, and he is supposed to do a half hour of reading a night. But other than that, no assigned homework. That suits me fine. I hated the nightly battle over homework last year. And it always made me feel like a sub-standard mom that I didn't sit down with him and go over his answers to be sure everything was right. I know his dad would have done that. I don't know why I almost never did. Must be because I'm a crappy mom.

We had a nice family dinner last night with my folks and B. They seem to get along just fine.

I had a few too many glasses of wine during the course of the evening, unfortunately, and paid the price this morning when I woke with a thumping headache. I did manage to get my kid up and ready for school on time (if only just), but then I went back home, sat down on the sofa and the next thing I knew I was waking up an hour later. I got to work 40 minutes late. Later than usual, I guess, really. Whoops.

There was rain and thunder last night, which means I shared the bed with everybody in my house except the fish. So none of us slept particularly well. I had the devil's own time getting Grayson out of bed... this was not facilitated by my desire to get back into it myself. Then, when I finally extracted him from the bed, I turned around to discover that he had just relocated himself to the sofa, where he was hiding under a blanket. When I came over to ask him to get dressed, all I got was The Hand... which came out to tell me that Grayson had moved to San Francisco. I suggested to The Hand that it go back under the blanket and grab Grayson's butt and drag it to his room so he could get dressed for school. But not before snapping a picture of The Hand in action.

Crazy kid.