where i assert that i *am* a good mother!

Today Haney and I assisted in the boys' kindergarten classroom.

I do not think their teacher likes me.

Either that, or she is really shy and is intimidated by me... and I'm betting that's not it. But maybe.

Anyway, I like her -- she seems like the ideal teacher for the boys. She's fun, she has catchy phrases of encouragement and sings the months to the tune of the Macarena, she gets after the children in a really kind but no-nonsense voice...

But ever since the unfortunate kindergarten assessments when the boys were able to identify just 3 and 4 of the letters by name, I think I'm on Mrs. C's shit list. Oh, actually, I might have gotten on her list last spring, when I begged to be told the name of the boys' teacher, so I could talk her up all summer and ease the transition. (It worked -- so far not a single day of screaming/clinging/crying when the bus arrives.)

Blogworld, you don't know how hard I work to make these teachers love me. We do our freaking homework, no matter how ridiculous it is. (At least in the beginning of the year.) I sign off on three behavior charts daily (so far everyone's stayed on green). I get fingerprinted so I can volunteer. I ask what allergies the kids' classmates have before I send in snacks. I follow the rules. I dress my boys non-matchy-matchy, and they have unmatched haircuts.

But still, I'm that mom who didn't even bother to make sure her 6-year-olds knew their alphabet/birthdays/days of the week. I feel proud that they sort of know their address and used to know our phone number, for the brief two weeks of Safety Town. I'm overjoyed they know their last name and our first names. Honestly I'm still quivering with excitement over them being potty trained, and really, the fact that they ever have slept through the night.

I used to be a go-getter mom. Life and all these children have turned me into a slacker mom, but I wasn't always this way. I want to tell Mrs. C, "I breastfed them for 19 months! I carried them for 37 weeks! They weighed more than 5.5 lbs! I used to make my own baby food! They're still in 5-point harnesses! I cut their hot dogs lengthwise until last year!"

I guess I want to say, "I kept them alive! All this time, I kept them alive and it took a lot out of me! How could I be expected to even think about something like the alphabet?"

The boys are so excited and vulnerable at school, showing me their new friends and hoping so hard to have their names drawn for end-of-the-week prizes. It hurt so much when G's name didn't get pulled, because he was sitting up so straight and his eyebrows were up so high and his eyes were so wide for each name his teacher pulled out. He just wanted to hear his name called, to get any prize at all. I wanted to bring him home and hold him like a baby on the sofa for hours, and rock him and tell him I love him so so so much. And the best part about kindergarten is that he misses me so much, he would let me.