Apparently the person handling the transition to the new school year with the least grace and enthusiasm is...me.
Yesterday Roscoe did his second theater audition of the year. He got a decent part in the first but didn't get called back to audition for a leading role for the second. He'll still be in the second production, with a potentially decent role. But not the one he wanted. I hate Roscoe's audition days. And the days the cast list is posted. My feelings about Roscoe have always been tied to such painfully deep heart strings. Maybe it's the intensity of my love for my first baby. Maybe it's his pure, guileless soul making its way through this guile-ful world. Maybe it's that he works so hard to be so good and I just feel luck should run more his way. Or all of the above.
As is apparently de rigueur for this time of year, Jesse's been a wreck. It's either baby talk or a screaming fit. And both have shredded down to my last nerve. Getting him dressed for school today required threats, removal of privileges, hog tying, and distraction with salacious details from the new Harry Potter movie.
My plans to get Betsy on a consistent nap schedule in which she sleeps the whole time Jesse is at school: not fully successful as yet.
My children seem to have some noxious little nubbin in their souls that makes them fight compliance. They know things like how to get clean laundry without trashing laundry room, how to move sandwich-making supplies from edge of counter to avoid dropping crumbs on the floor, how to take turns in the bathroom, how to come for dinner when summoned, how to get ready for school. But for some reason they prefer to be reminded (nagged) and given consequences. I've put everyone on a system of levels. The higher your level, the more privileges you get. And moving up a level requires nothing more than basic completion of your daily duties. Some people are choosing to learn the hard way. I don't see the appeal.