This year, Mark moved up to middle school. It wasn't a big move physically--he stayed at the same school, which is K-8, but as he likes to say, he's now the "little of the big" at school. He likes hanging out with the older kids more than he liked hanging with the little elementary kids.
So far, Mark really likes middle school (well, as much as a kid can enjoy school). He likes changing classes every hour, and says it makes the day go faster.
Mark also likes his teachers. His favorite is Mr. Estrada, the math teacher. Mark recounted how Mr. Estrada welcomed the kids to his class on the first day, and set down the classroom rules.
"First of all, raise your hand to talk," Mr. Estrada explained. "Which really means...BE QUIET!"
"The next rule is, stay in your seat," he said. "Which really means...BE QUIET!"
"The third rule is, keep your hands to yourself," Mark said, channeling Mr. Estrada. "Which really means--"
"BE QUIET!" I interrupted. I liked Mr. Estrada already.
"Yeah," Mark said. "All the rules ended like that! How'd you know?"
"Lucky guess," I said, shrugging. I could sympathize with a man stuck in a roomful of middle schoolers all day.
Mark loves the 10-minute morning nutrition break that replaced morning recess. I thought he'd miss playing sports, but he says it's cooler (sicker? more sick? the sickest? I'm still not up on the slang yet) to just hang out with friends at nutrition than to play like a little kid. (Moment of maternal sadness: You know they're growing up when they'd rather chill with their buds than run around. :-(
Nutrition break has another upside for Mark--the food. He says the cafeteria offers better snacks for middle schoolers.
"Like what?" I asked.
"Chips, cookies," Mark answered, licking his lips.
"That doesn't sound very nutritious to me," I said, sounding exactly the opposite of the mom I want to be. (I can't help it!)
"It's fine, Mom," said Mark, vaguely irritated, sounding exactly the way a middle schooler does when conversing with a mom who comments on nutritional values.
He still had the dreamy look on his face when I realized he shouldn't even know what the caf offers--he doesn't have any money in his cafeteria account. And I send him to school every day with a handful of granola bars or other yummy goodness to enjoy during the break. I immediately pictured my beloved (and expensive) granola bars being unceremoniously tossed into the trash every day. (The mom I want to be would never have written that sentence, either.)
So far, Mark really likes middle school (well, as much as a kid can enjoy school). He likes changing classes every hour, and says it makes the day go faster.
Mark also likes his teachers. His favorite is Mr. Estrada, the math teacher. Mark recounted how Mr. Estrada welcomed the kids to his class on the first day, and set down the classroom rules.
"First of all, raise your hand to talk," Mr. Estrada explained. "Which really means...BE QUIET!"
"The next rule is, stay in your seat," he said. "Which really means...BE QUIET!"
"The third rule is, keep your hands to yourself," Mark said, channeling Mr. Estrada. "Which really means--"
"BE QUIET!" I interrupted. I liked Mr. Estrada already.
"Yeah," Mark said. "All the rules ended like that! How'd you know?"
"Lucky guess," I said, shrugging. I could sympathize with a man stuck in a roomful of middle schoolers all day.
Mark loves the 10-minute morning nutrition break that replaced morning recess. I thought he'd miss playing sports, but he says it's cooler (sicker? more sick? the sickest? I'm still not up on the slang yet) to just hang out with friends at nutrition than to play like a little kid. (Moment of maternal sadness: You know they're growing up when they'd rather chill with their buds than run around. :-(
Nutrition break has another upside for Mark--the food. He says the cafeteria offers better snacks for middle schoolers.
"Like what?" I asked.
"Chips, cookies," Mark answered, licking his lips.
"That doesn't sound very nutritious to me," I said, sounding exactly the opposite of the mom I want to be. (I can't help it!)
"It's fine, Mom," said Mark, vaguely irritated, sounding exactly the way a middle schooler does when conversing with a mom who comments on nutritional values.
He still had the dreamy look on his face when I realized he shouldn't even know what the caf offers--he doesn't have any money in his cafeteria account. And I send him to school every day with a handful of granola bars or other yummy goodness to enjoy during the break. I immediately pictured my beloved (and expensive) granola bars being unceremoniously tossed into the trash every day. (The mom I want to be would never have written that sentence, either.)
Mark sighed again and, for good measure, threw in an eye roll. (See, he is learning a lot in middle school!)
"My friends share with me," he said. "They call me the Human Garbage Disposal."
(Which is not as endearing a nickname as I'd hoped for him...)
The one thing that hasn't changed is Mark's lunchtime routine. He did pretty good at first, reporting dutifully to the nurse's office every day, on time, and eating his own lunch.
But that deteriorated quickly, and he is officially driving me and the patient, saintly school nurse bonkers. Now, the only consistent part of lunch is Mark complaining that he won't eat, or lying that he did, in fact, eat his own lunch. However, he's gained an encyclopedic knowledge of Takis, Hot Cheetos and energy drinks, and all the disgusting artificial flavors and colors they come in--and I can assure you, my kitchen has always been Taki-, Hot Cheetos- and Monster drink-free.
It's a never-ending battle trying to figure out what he'll actually eat--it changes every day. I gave up trying last year, and delegated lunch-making duties to him, under the guise that if he makes it, surely he will pick something he wants to eat. But if you think that logic works, then I've got some eye rolls and sassy backtalk to share with you and your dumb adult way of thinking.
Sigh...he really is trying to drive me insane, and I am shocked my hair has not turned white in response yet. (He's probably saving that trick up for high school.) I hate being a food cop, I hate micromanaging his lunch, and I am supremely jealous of all the parents of non-diabetic children out there. Even the ones sending their kids to school with Takis and Monster drinks--right about now, I'd give anything to let go of all these food issues. I always envisioned myself as a the type of mom who doesn't yell when her kid won't eat--I'd simply shrug, and say, "That's fine. You'll eat when you're hungry." Diabetes threw a monkey wrench into THAT plan!
"My friends share with me," he said. "They call me the Human Garbage Disposal."
(Which is not as endearing a nickname as I'd hoped for him...)
The one thing that hasn't changed is Mark's lunchtime routine. He did pretty good at first, reporting dutifully to the nurse's office every day, on time, and eating his own lunch.
But that deteriorated quickly, and he is officially driving me and the patient, saintly school nurse bonkers. Now, the only consistent part of lunch is Mark complaining that he won't eat, or lying that he did, in fact, eat his own lunch. However, he's gained an encyclopedic knowledge of Takis, Hot Cheetos and energy drinks, and all the disgusting artificial flavors and colors they come in--and I can assure you, my kitchen has always been Taki-, Hot Cheetos- and Monster drink-free.
It's a never-ending battle trying to figure out what he'll actually eat--it changes every day. I gave up trying last year, and delegated lunch-making duties to him, under the guise that if he makes it, surely he will pick something he wants to eat. But if you think that logic works, then I've got some eye rolls and sassy backtalk to share with you and your dumb adult way of thinking.
Sigh...he really is trying to drive me insane, and I am shocked my hair has not turned white in response yet. (He's probably saving that trick up for high school.) I hate being a food cop, I hate micromanaging his lunch, and I am supremely jealous of all the parents of non-diabetic children out there. Even the ones sending their kids to school with Takis and Monster drinks--right about now, I'd give anything to let go of all these food issues. I always envisioned myself as a the type of mom who doesn't yell when her kid won't eat--I'd simply shrug, and say, "That's fine. You'll eat when you're hungry." Diabetes threw a monkey wrench into THAT plan!
My friend Jill pointed out that it's nothing personal, Mark's just on track developmentally. He's beginning his separation, his struggle for independence, she said. Struggle is right, I thought, though I think I'm struggling more than him. Because if these last couple months prove anything, it's that I'm becoming less tolerant as I age (or really, as Mark ages).
I'm all for independence, and for Mark the Middle Schooler achieving it...but at this rate, I may end up throttling him before he actually achieves anything!
I'm all for independence, and for Mark the Middle Schooler achieving it...but at this rate, I may end up throttling him before he actually achieves anything!
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