Guilty Little Fashion Secrets...

I have a confession to make.

I love fashion blogs.

I read several, I'm always clicking through pins to one fashion blog to another. I get drawn in by pics of great causal outfits, coloured jeans, bright print scarves, funky tights, great shoes, boots - oh the boots get me every time.

I have a few faves too:

Where did we go wrong?

We had our first phone call from the school today. When I saw the school's name come up on the call display, I'll admit my first thought was "Oh, I wonder if my big'un is sick..."

yeah... not so much.

Nope, the call wasn't to let me know he wasn't feeling well, it was to let me know that my child is a problem. A serious problem. A physically-hurting-other-kids kind of problem.

I managed to get through the phone call with the teacher without breaking down - points for me. But after hanging up I will admit that I am at a complete and utter loss. I have no idea what to do. I have no idea how to move forward. I want to support the teacher, I want to work towards my big'un behaving appropriately in class and in the schoolyard - and while I was not even remotely shocked when she told me last week that he was having "listening problems" (Hi. Yeah. Welcome to my every day.) when she called to tell me about his behaviour today (even going so far as to having to make him sit completely alone at lunchtime) I was actually shocked.

Don't laugh.

Remember when they said, "Let kids be kids"? I do...

Ugh... so... dealing with some frustrations here blog-o-sphere... and I thought I'd share them with you.

First off: the big'un started school last Tuesday. He's 4, so that means that here in Ontario he goes to the "2 year Kindergarden Program"... that's school all day, every day. At 4 years old.

Now - I'm not actually complaining about him going to school everyday, because the big'un is one of those kids who really really really wanted to go to school. He loves it. Everyday he comes home and tells me he had a good day and he wants to go back tomorrow. Fantastic! He even decided after the first short week of school that he no longer wanted to come home for lunch (even though we live, literally, around the bend from the school) but that he wanted to stay all day and eat lunch at school with his class. No problem, done. He's stayed for lunch every day since then.

But then last night was "Meet the Teacher" night. We've met the teacher a couple of times already, spoke to her briefly on a few occasions of pick ups and drop offs, but yesterday afternoon she met the Hubs when he picked up the big'un and told him that they were having some "listening problems" and, even worse, that when she told him to listen to her and look at her when she was speaking that he "made a gun with his fingers and pretended to shoot at her.".

Fabulous.

...And I'm blessed

It's the 10th. 

That was the first thing in my mind this morning when I woke up. My internal clock seems to have an alarm set on the 10th of the month these days. 3 months ago on the 10th of June I had a fairly great day; a special worship service at the church, a bridal shower... and then - as you well know - my whole life fell apart right before my eyes. At least - that's how it felt.

And the 6 weeks of physical healing that followed were hard. There's no other word. They were hard. And the many many more weeks/months/years(?) I'm looking at for emotional healing... well, I don't expect them to be easy either.

But I'm trying. I'm trying to heal and grow at the same time. And you know what? It's hard.

Now - I've never been one to shy away from the hard stuff. In fact - some people (perhaps people who don't like me very much) would even go so far as to call me 'hard'. I think I'm okay with that. I think of it as tough, confident, strong. All good words. But they're defensive words. They're hard words.

So lately I've been trying to also remind myself that while there are things that are hard, that I don't like, that I haven't got a choice whether or not they happen... that while those things are happening - and are hard - that at the same time I'm blessed.

I woke up this morning and I was in the mood to be sad. "It's the 10th" I said to myself. I sat up on the side of the bed, shoulders slumped, feeling dejected - "it's the 10th." Then I stood up and I saw my husband asleep and I thought "it's the 10th... and I'm blessed." I'm blessed because that man has stayed here beside me, held me when I cried, given me reason to smile and laugh and laughed with me. ... And I'm blessed.