Thanks for all the great feedback (here, via chat, on Facebook, via e-mail, and on the phone!) about the school dilemma.
Not that I wish difficulty on anyone else, but it does help to know that other families have been in similar situations, and to know what you did and how it all worked out. The thing that BJ and I need to focus on is that the kids are going to be fine, regardless. Kindergarten is not even required in Indiana. I could take both of the kids hiking up the Appalachian Trail next year, instead of doing school, and they'd be FINE. (I could, if I was completely insane. Can you imagine? "I hafta go to the bathroom! My feet hurt! I don't like this trail! Are we there yet? Mom, that bear looks hungry!!!" I don't even want to take them to Walmart today... and they don't have bears!)
It's all gravy. It is stupid to get stressed over the gravy, because in the end, they're going to remember Mommy stressing over it a lot more than they're going to remember whether they went to this school or that.
And so I find my zen and chill.
In other news, I look amazing. I bought new clothes last week, and the weight I've lost really shows. Or, you know, doesn't... because it's gone. This is so not about how I look, though. It's about being healthy, living past my 50th birthday (preferably without heart disease), and setting a good example for my kids. Last winter we did NO sledding, NO ice skating, NO winter activities of any kind. This year we've been sledding twice, and yesterday we tried ice skating. (If we hadn't been sick for the entire month of January, those numbers would be higher - baby steps, though. Baby steps...)
The boots on the skates really hurt my feet. If we're going to make a habit of this I need to get soft old-style skates. The ones they had to rent were hard, like Rollerblade boots. They hurt BJ's feet too. Maybe they just don't want anyone to stay too long.
Claire had a good time, but MG had a meltdown. We're still not sure what happened, but last night's Facebook status was: Somebody's gonna cry before they go to bed.
"Oh, my mean, mean parents... making me ICE SKATE! Why do they HATE me so? Woe is me..."
I seriously do not understand my children.
Speaking of which, Claire's hair twisting is getting worse. Last night I spent 10 minutes picking out the knots from where she'd twisted and twisted and twisted... At least this time I didn't have to cut her finger out of her hair!
Do they make anti-anxiety meds in pediatric doses? Paging Dr. Dave...