Merry Christmas, darlings!

Wishing everyone a wonderful holiday!

First and foremost, thank you for all of your encouraging words after my last post.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, you all are the bomb.

We are keeping the appointment with the Developmental Peds clinic of our local children's hospital set for March 10, 2009, and also pursuing having a more extensive assessment done by our local school system.  Hopefully this will happen by the end of January.  I don't think there's an actual developmental delay or problem, but more an issue of figuring out how to redirect his attention and focus.  During his parent/teacher conference in the fall, the teachers mentioned that boys mature at a slower pace than girls do, which I'd heard and read before, so I'm sure that's part of it.  On top of that, I'll be the first to say he's watched way too much television for his young age, and although I don't think he's lapsed into A.D.D. or A.D.H.D or anything like that, it will be good to have someone(s) who is more of an expert give us the scoop.

Initially, of course, I freaked out about all of this, but I have since calmed down.  Can I just say that I find motherhood rather intimidating?  I'm sure this doesn't come as a shock to you.  The responsibility of it weighs on me like...  I don't know... an aircraft carrier sitting on my chest, let's say.  Hopefully I'll be rid of this by the time he's graduating from college and ready to be out on  his own...  but right now I am skeptical...

I'm tired. 

I'm ready for the holidays to be over.

I'm on vacation the week between Christmas and New Year's - hallelujah!  When I leave work on Christmas Eve, I don't have to be back until January 5, 2009.  When I think about that, it makes me happy.

I'm concerned about the boy.  Easter Seals evaluated the kids at the preschool back in November, and they had some concerns about his fine motor skills development (or lack thereof).  We were expecting that.  Kindergarten testing is getting closer and closer, and he has yet to really start writing his letter...  or using a pen/pencil in general.  He shows absolutely no interest in learning this.  He has no interest in coloring or drawing.  For the kindergarten assessment he has to be able to write his name (I thought that was something you learned in kindergarten - silly me), and he's nowhere close. 

We think he's going to be a lefty.  He tends to favor his left hand when we are able to get him focused for 10 or 15 minutes on using the crayon or pencil.  Maybe this makes it harder to learn?  I don't know (although I asked the mother of a friend who's raised both a left and right-handed child, and she didn't remember having any difficulties unique to the left-handed child versus the right-handed child)...  I feel like I'm grasping.

So, our pediatrician, whom we love, took a look at the evaluation and referred us to the developmental pediatrics unit at the local children's hospital.  After several phone calls back and forth and filling out a packet of paperwork, we were advised that their first available appointment is March 10, 2009, which really did not make me happy.  But I took the appointment.  Our other option is having him evaluated through the local school system, which we're now also pursuing.

Why is this stuff so hard?

The nasty, icy weather is here.  I know I have no room to complain, as those of you that live extremely west and north of me have already experienced severe winter weather this year.  I empathize.  I still appreciate the beauty of a neighborhood blanketed with ice and snow...  but as a person who then has to go out and drive in it, it totally irritates me.

Oh the times, they are a changin', in the house of Ruth Speaks Up.  The husband, after what seemed like endless searching, has found a job and started yesterday.  Is he working as a medical coding or billing specialist in a plush doctor's office?   No.   He is, in fact, working as a driver for our area's Regional Transit Authority, for their Project Mobility program.  Folks (or caregiver's of folks) who meet certain qualifications under the American's With Disabilities Act can arrange to be picked up/dropped off by a mini-van, equipped with a wheelchair lift if needed, emblazoned with the RTA logo.  The mini-van's cover the same area that the RTA does with the 'regular' busses, so yes, he'll potentially be going to the bad section of town, he'll potentially be picking up or dropping people off at bars, he'll potentially be dealing with drunk people in his van.   I know...  some of you out there are saying, "But Ruth, wait!  This means he'll have to talk to people, to be social, to interact with people he doesn't know!"  It's true, his track record shows a definite... awkwardness in situations such as this.  In all honesty, though, I think he's very well suited to this kind of job.  He likes to be out and about, driving around.  He really is a friendly, personable person.  And, after taking care of his mother who had MS (while he was a teenager), I think he has the respect for someone with a disability that this kind of job calls for.   It was great having him home with the boy for these almost-3 years, but it's good that he's finally getting back to work.  He is a good father, but not everyone is cut out for stay-at-home parenthood.  The boy will be spending a lot more time in daycare now, which breaks my heart, but it will all be okay.   He gets to wear a cute uniform with a tie (the husband, not the boy), which we thought was going to be a problem, because he doesn't know how to tie a tie, until we found these, which I am just fascinated by.  They warned him that, being the new guy, he'll get the crappy shifts, which could start as early as 4:30 am and end as late as 1:00 am.  He'll also get the overtime, and could potentially be putting in 60+ hour weeks for a while.   Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?

Oh yes, Thanksgiving dinner with the in-laws was just as bad this year as it was last year.  When we finally got in the car to go home, the first words out of the husband's mouth were "You're cooking next year."  So, the food was bad, and I'm pretty sure my mother-in-law insulted my son...  but I'll get to that later.

Quick things you should know, since I've been so neglectful here:

• The husband FINALLY has a job, which he started today.  It is not  in the medical
• The boy was evaluated by Easter Seals, who expressed some concerns on his fine motor skills, specifically the writing (or lack thereof).  At their suggestion, and with the help of our pediatrician, we're making arrangements to have him more thoroughly evaluated by an occupational therapist.
• The boy wowed us yesterday by, for the first time, peeing (into the toilet, of course) STANDING UP, instead of sitting on his potty chair.  As gross as it might sound, I almost took a picture, because it was just too precious for words.
• With the husband going back to work, we're all making adjustments in our schedules at the Ruth Speaks Up house.  My boss is not being to agreeable on this, which is pissing me off.

There's my quick-hit for today.  More to come...

So here we are again, at the day before Thanksgiving.  We will be heading to the in-laws again this year, which strikes fear into my heart as I remember last year's meal.  If our house weren't perpetually a mess (which I fully blame on having an almost-5-year-old), I'd have them over here.  It's just not worth the hassle, though.  I'm sure that my mother-in-law is offended by this in some way, but frankly, I just don't give a shit.  I'd be happy to just stay home tomorrow with the husband and the boy, in pj's, on the couch.  But whatever.

There feels like so much to tell, and I am hoping to have the chance to do so at some point during this long weekend (at least the Casa de Insurance is generous enough to give us the day after Thanksgiving as a paid holiday, shock and surprise!). 

I'm sure you sit waiting with baited breath, right?

I'm such a tease...

Tales of a Paranoid Mommy

I've talked before about how paranoid I am when it comes to the boy.  Since the day he was born, I've lived with fear in my stomach that something will happen to him.  The line, for me, between cool, laid-back mommy who can handle or deflect anything thrown at her and OCD mommy that won't let  him out of the yard unless he's tethered to me with a rope is very thin, and I work very hard not to cross it.  It's only been within the last year that I've overcome my anxiety about taking him to the park by myself (for fear that we'll be attacked); trust me when I say that was a BIG step.

It doesn't help, either, that I'm a devotee of Law & Order: SVU...  yes, that's the version that deals with all the rape and child molestation.  What can I say?  I just can't look at Christopher Meloni enough...

Can you blame me?

Anywhoo...  about two weeks ago, I was at the public library with the boy.  Let me digress for just a moment and say that the boy loves the library, absolutely loves it, can't get enough of it, which thrills me.  So we're in the children's section, which has a nice window-bench seat that runs along the entire length of one wall.  I'm sitting at one end of the bench looking through a knitting book, and the boy is laying next to me on his stomach, flipping through at Thomas the Tank Engine collection.  I notice a tall, heavy-set boy plop down on the opposite end of the bench, about 20 feet or so away from us.  He looked to me to be about 13 years old, and I thought it was somewhat inappropriate that he laid down on the bench, but I didn't really pay much attention to him beyond that.

After a few minutes, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, him stand up and adjust the front of his shorts in an odd manner, and start walking towards us.  As he walked past the boy, he paused, and reached down to ruffle the boy's hair.  What older child does that to a younger child, I ask you?

It was at this point that the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

He walked past us into the stacks of children's books... and now keep in mind these are little children's books, not even the middle children's books.  A minute or two later, he walked back to the bench with a book, and sat down right next to the boy.  He started flipping through the book in a way that, to me, seemed as if he was trying to get my son interested in what he was looking at.

I put down the knitting book I'd been looking at, and just blatently stared at him.  The boy was still laying on his stomach on the bench, with his head next to me and his feet towards this... person of interest.  Was it my imagination, or did this freak just adjust the front of his shorts again while glancing at my son's backside?  I can't even begin to tell you the scenarios that started flashing in my head.  By now, the boy was up on his knees, trying to get a look at the book the freak was looking at, and the freak was mumbling something about it being a really good book that he loved when he was a kid, blah, blah, blah...  and all I could think about was if he offered to take my son to the restroom, I'd kick him in the raisins, grab the boy and run.

He stood up after a minute and started to walk away.  Abruptly, he turned around and asked if we ever took home the books on tape that come with the storybook for the kids, so you can listen and read along at the same time.  They're really great, he said... then he blurted out I'LL GIVE YOU THREE GUESSES TO GUESS HOW OLD I AM!

Heaven help me.  Would it be improper to say 'I really don't give a shit' in the middle of the library? 

I guessed 13.

No.

I guessed 12.

Closer, but still no.

I guessed 10.

Low and behold, I was right.  Now, call me cynical, but this kid was pushing 5'10", and had to weigh 180lbs.  At ten years old?  I find that hard to believe.  But who knows.

The boy decided he wanted to look at the kids videos then, and the freak followed us.  "What kind of videos are you looking for, little buddy?" he asked my son.  No joke...  he actually called the boy 'little buddy'.  I'd had enough, and told the boy it was time to go. 

I told the husband about the incident, and of course I'm not on the look-out everytime we walk into the library (and we go there a lot...).

Maybe it really is time for Xanax...

I know that we don't all agree when it comes to the political arena...  and I know that many people are disappointed by yesterdays results and fearful about the future, and if the situation were reversed I would absolutely feel the same way.  This is why I hate all things political, and why I don't talk about it much. 

I do think, though, that it's exciting to be around for such an historic event.  As my boss said during lunch today, it's as if this will move the country to the next level, and it seems the time is right for that.

So, that's it.  No more politics.  The next post will take us back to our regular programming.

My father taught me not to talk about politics and religion, as those two subjects normally result in arguments, no matter who you're with.  He also took the fact that we vote by secret ballot very seriously, and although my gut feeling is that he leaned toward the Republican, I'll never know for sure.  What I do know is that he taught me to take this civic responsibility very seriously (along with imparting the wisdom that if you don't vote, you can't complain about the way things are!) and I can honestly say that I've voted in every election, voted on every issue, that I've been eligible to vote for since I turned 18 and registered at the library in the town where I grew up.

The polling location (the Methodist church several blocks away) where I vote now, where I've voted for the last 10 years, is notoriously unorganized.  The same four individuals have worked my precinct for the last 8 years or so, and I feel for them, because many of the other rednecks residents of my precinct are quite impatient.

Today, I did an historic thing, and cast my ballot for a black man.  I cast that ballot because I feel deeply that there needs to be serious change.  I cast that ballot because the only jobs being offered to my husband are part-time, minimum wage jobs, which I believe is the result of the horrible state of things at the moment.  I cast that ballot for the future of my son, who has his entire life still ahead of him.

Whether you agree with me or not, I hope you voted today.  Now, I'm off to watch the election returns...

Catching up...

I do not have gallstones.  This is a good thing, but leaves us in the position of not knowing what's causing the intermittent nausea and vomiting.  I'm a little fed up with my doctor at this point, because every time I call to give an update on how I'm feeling, it's duly noted and I'm told to call back in 10 days.   The husband did not pass the medical office coder certification test (he came very, very close, but close only counts with horseshoes and hand grenades).  He has been diligently searching, but still does not have a job.  The temporary services will probably be next.   We had a parent/teacher conference for the boy today.  It's been scheduled for several weeks... perhaps my nerves leading up to this are what caused the latest round of vomiting?  It went better than I expected, honestly.  He's still somewhat immature compared to some of the other kids, but that's typical in boys, and not surprising considering we've never had him in daycare (ie. not a lot of exposure to other kids until preschool).  His fine motor skills are behind, but we knew that.  We're making a concentrated effort now (FINALLY) to sit down with him in the evenings to work on this, to reinforce what they do at school.  The husband and I have done the boy a great disservice in not concentrating on this sooner.  We've let ourselves get caught up with the stress of other things going on, which is inexcusable.  The school has people from the Easter Seals organization come in every year to evaluate all the kids, which will determine if we just haven't worked hard enough on the motor skills, or if it's some kind of actual developmental delay, so that will be helpful.   And so it goes in our little corner of the world...

I suppose I should confess (if I haven't already) that the total pounds lost number to the right includes 3 pounds that I lost during the elliptical debacle of the summer of 2007...  but hey, it's weight that I've lost and kept off, so I'm counting it. 

I go in an hour and a half for the ultrasound that will show the doctor whether or not I have gall bladder issues.  I won't get the results today, of course, because the imaging center I'm going to will forward the, well, images, to my doctor's office for him to read and interpret.  The doctor's office said they'd call once they have the test results, probably in a day or two, to set up an appointment.

Hurry up and wait.

The doctor feels the other possible causes for my stomach woes are (best-case scenario) gastritis, or (worst-case scenario) something called gastroparesis.  The ultrasound for the gall bladder is the easiest test to start with, though.  To diagnose gastritis they do an endoscopy.  I gag brushing my teeth, so the thought of them sticking a camera on a tube down my throat is particularly troubling.  All in the name of health, though, right?

I'll keep you posted...

This is not shaping up to be a good week...

When it rains, it pours, right?

This past Thursday, I found myself, for the second time in a month, stricken with stomach cramps, nausea, dizziness...  I won't go into further gory details.  Let's just say it wasn't pretty.  Recall that I also came down with the same symptoms the weekend of my friend's wedding to the redneck truck driver.  I have only just in the last week felt as if my appetite was coming back, and I'm down again.  It doesn't help, either, that I've been hearing and reading things lately about one of my diabetes medicines possibly causing pancreatitis; how can you not be concerned when you hear something like that?

I yakked twice at work, then left...  yakked twice more at home, and spent the rest of the day in bed.  I also called the doctor's office, concerned about the fact that there seems to be something seriously wrong with my digestive system.  The doctor didn't seem too worried about it, though, and told me to check back in today (read he was taking a 1/2 day off Thursday and all day Friday, and wouldn't be back into the office until today).

Understandably, I didn't eat much over the weekend.  I had a good workout Saturday, but skipped Sunday.  I went for my usual workout this morning, and decided as I was leaving that I just couldn't face going into the office this morning...  not to mention the fact that I might have to leave early if the doctor decided he wanted me to come in.  Working from home is why they give us laptops, right?  I came straight home, and left a message for my boss that I was still down, working from home, blah, blah, blah.  I'm sure she won't have a problem with this, but I really don't care.  I'm exhausted by and fed up with working at/for the Casa de Insurance, but that's a topic for another post.

The doctor did have me come in this morning, and after talking for 10 - 15 minutes about what I've been experiencing, he said...

... that he would like me to go this week for an ultrasound to determine if I've developed GALLSTONES!!  Apparently, when you've lost 'a lot' of weight (and he didn't define 'a lot', but I have lost 48 pounds, yay me!), it's not uncommon to develop GALLSTONES.  I'll spare you the icky details he gave me on why they speculate this happens.  If, in fact, I have developed GALLSTONES, I'll likely have to have my GALL BLADDER removed. 

Lovely.

At least this is an outpatient procedure, and probably would require nothing more than a long weekend off work.

On the other hand, the flexible spending account for our healthcare needs for this years is used up, and it's only October.  Guess that's what I guess for buying the warehouse-club sized bottle of Advil...  and Zyrtec...  if it turns out that I do need to have my gall bladder removed, I may ask him if it can wait until after the beginning of next year (ie. once the spending account is replenished).

If it's not gallstones, then we'll go to the next likely cause of my digestive woes.  I go Wednesday for the ultrasound.

Fun times...

VOTE! (warning: video contains strong language that might be offensive to some...)

If you're not registered, get registerd! If you are registered, don't forget to VOTE!

Except for Twyla, that is, since she doesn't live here... but Twyla, you could move here... and probably find a nice house cheap!

And now for something completely decadent...

I've started drinking coffee.

How grown up of me, right?

This started in earnest probably five or six months ago, in an effort to save money and be a little healthier. Before this, the day just did not begin until I'd had a 20 oz diet Coke. I've replaced this with a 16 oz car mug of some sort of flavored coffee with plain creamer, yay for me.

I ran across a recipe for a homemade pumpkin spice latte recently, appropriate since we just passed the Autumnal Equinox, that's supposed to rival what Starbucks makes (wouldn't know, never had one). I made a few modifications (to keep the diabetes gods happy), and O-M-G, I am now HOOKED on this stuff, and have it every weekend.

This makes 2 servings... or 1 1/2, a 16 oz car mug for you, and an 8 oz coffee mug for your significant other.

1-2 TBL canned pumpkin

1 cup skim milk

1/2 Splenda brown sugar blend

1/4 tsp cinnamon

pinch of nutmeg

pinch of ground cloves

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

2 cups strong brewed coffee (If you can handle it. I'm a bit of a wimp, so I just brew it regular.)

4 TBL creamer

4-8 tsp Splenda sweetener (sweeten to your taste)

In a blender, puree the pumpkin, milk, spices, brown sugar and vanilla. If you're feeling really sassy, throw in a squirt of sugar-free maple syrup, too. Pour this into a small saucepan and heat over low heat until the milk is warm and begins to froth slightly (about 4-5 minutes).

For each serving, pour 1/2 cup of the pumpking mixture into your coffee mug. Add 2 generous TBL of creamer. Heat in the microwave for 30 seconds, then add 1 cup of the brewed coffee. Sweeten to taste with Splenda. And if you're just crazy enough to do it, top it off with some whipped cream and a sprinkle of nutmeg (I haven't taken it quite this far yet!).

While you enjoy this, I'm off to find a similar recipe for the Starbucks Carmel Machiato...

Butterfly

Well hot-diggity, another weekend is finally here. I feel as if I spend all my time wishing my life away, waiting for the weekend.



My friend's funeral was this past Tuesday, and it was hard and easy all at the same time. My assumption is that this was an overdose of some sort, as this was what she tried in the past. The flowers were lovely. Her casket was pink. I feel horrible for saying this, but she looked bad. There's always something unsettling about viewing the deceased, but this went beyond that. I hadn't actually seen her in about a year; our communication of late had been mostly e-mail or text message, with an occasional phone call. I knew she'd gained a bit of weight, so I wasn't startled by that... but she was very heavily made-up, which wasn't her in life at all... and her mouth was set at a funny angle, like that of a person who's had a stroke. It was very odd, and made me wonder if perhaps, as a result of the overdose, she'd had a stroke at some point. I was glad that they had a nice display of photos of her in her better days. After just these few days, the memory of what she looked like, laying there, is already starting to fade... and I'm glad of that.

I've been to more funerals than I'd have liked in my 38 years, and this time I really sensed the feeling of saying goodbye to someone, of setting their spirit free to soar high into eternity. Jennifer was tortured by demons, both real and imagined. She was an exquisite person, but took everything too much to heart. It was wrenching to see her in her darker moments, agonized by what was going on in her head. At the same time, though, she knew yet refused the only kind of help that would have healed, or at least helped her manage, what she struggled with. It's hard to watch someone you care about hurt like that, maddening to sit while they do nothing to help themselves.

Of course I mourn for my friend, mourn for the daughter she left behind, and wonder if I couldn't have done more. But she truly now is finally free, which is what she wanted most. How can I be sad or angry about that?

It's always easier to leave than to be left

I found out yesterday that a friend passed from this life into the next by her own hand this week. I'm more heartbroken than shocked, because even just since I'd know her, she'd tried this twice before. She was beautiful and sweet and kind but tortured, and impossible to reach when it came to convincing her to seek the only kind of help that would have moved her past the demons that sometimes consumed her. She was my Dave Matthews buddy. She was the one who dropped everything at work and drove me to the hospital the day I got the call that my father was in cardiac arrest. Her daughter is just 13, and I wonder how she'll ever come to terms with this.

Rest in Peace, Jennifer. You will be missed, but I hope you finally feel set free.

She lives!

Although my lack of posting lately speaks to the contrary, I am here and all is well.  You've probably seen/heard/read the last day or two about the windy remnants of hurricane Ike that swept through my part of Ohio this past Sunday (although not nearly as bad as what Texas got, to be sure).  Many areas around me are still without power; we were very lucky at the home of Ruth Speaks Up in that our power went out for about 20 minutes, but then came back.  We also were very lucky not to have any damage to our home, although folks at just the other end of our street did not fare as well.  I've been itching to get out with my camera, to get some pictures to post for you...  I'm sure you can imagine what a wind-toppled tree looks like, but still.   Moving on...   THE WEDDING of my best friend to the gassy, redneck truck driver took place, as scheduled, this past Saturday.  WHAT I SAW OF IT was lovely...  here's what happened...   Friday, I spent the afternoon and evening helping my friend and her family get things set-up at the wedding venue.  The groom-to-be was there, also, and let me tell you, I've never seen a more nervous groom.  He did... absolutely nothing toward the preparations for the day.  He wandered around outside the lodge they'd rented for the festivities, drinking beer and playing cornhole with his buddy.  Every so often, he'd run in frantically, quiz my friend about this, that and the other that needed to be done, then run back out.  Nice, eh?   I got home about 8pm and went straight to bed.  About 9:30pm, I was struck with some sort of vile stomach/intestinal bug that had me doubled over with cramps and in and out of the bathroom for the rest of the night.  I made it to the wedding venue by 9:00 the next morning, and told my friend what was going on.  I made it through the ceremony and one round of pictures, then had to lay down.  Lucky for me there was a cot in the room where the girls got ready.  I was down for about an hour, then had the husband take me home.  At home, the thermometer told me that my temperature was 101.8.  I crawled into bed and stayed there, save for desperate runs to the bathroom, until about noon Sunday.  Bummer, eh?   Okay, back to work!  Although the winds took our sign that used to sit at the main entrance to the parking lot, the Casa de Insurance closes for no one!

After the Montessori school debacle of Wednesday, and the decision by the husband and me that we just weren't going to send the precious boy back there, I told my boss on Thursday that I'd be taking Friday off, to find another place for the precious boy. The fact that this time next year he'll be starting Kindergarten, and all that that entails, is weighing somewhat heavily on me right now. There's lots he needs to work on to pass that Kindergarten testing next spring, so not having him in preschool isn't an option. Anywhoo... To make a long story short, he started today at the preschool at a Baptist church that's about 2 minutes from our house. If we could cut across the field that our backyard butts up against, we'd have a straight shot from our house to this church, that's how close it is. We toured the place Friday and met the woman who teaches his age group. We confirmed later that afternoon with the director that they have spots available, and picked up the paperwork. They have preschool and daycare, and even before- and after-school care for elementary school kids. They have a lovely and large fenced-in playground outside, and a full-size gymnasium inside for days when the weather's bad. His teacher was very nice and sincere, and eased our fears about the precious boy having a hard time adjusting to being away from daddy before we could even bring the subject up. The precious boy started today. Needless to say, I sat here at my desk at the Casa de Insurance feeling the urge to vomit from 9 am to 12:30 pm, when the husband finally called to give me the report. Well... The kids were playing outside when the husband got there to pick up the precious boy, and the precious boy was having such a WONDERFUL time that he didn't want to leave. His lovely, sincere teacher reported that he had a GREAT day, that he sat nicely in circle time with the other children, that there were a few times he seemed like he just wanted to be on his own, and that was fine and they let him, but for the most part he participated and was a perfect little gentlemen. HALLELUJAH! I'm sure he'll have bad days. All kids do at some point; as his parent I'm quite biased, but I'm not afraid to admit that he's a typical kid who probably has been a little spoiled by daddy, so I'm sure we'll run into issues at some point. But isn't it curious how this teacher and her assistant were able to handle him, and the others weren't? Hmmmm... And in case you're curious, we have yet to have any response to the e-mail I sent to them last Thursday, or the phone message the husband left for them last Friday, to find out when we could pick up the precious boy's stuff. Snobby Montessori bastards...

So... obviously Montessori isn't the program for us...

--- On Thu, 9/4/08, Ruth Speaks Up wrote: From: Ruth Speaks Up Subject: Our precious boy, and the awful day he had yesterday To: The Montessori School we decided to try Date: Thursday, September 4, 2008, 1:43 PM Dear director of the Montessori school we decided to try:   I'm sorry to say that after our precious boy's disappointing day yesterday, and after our discussion with his hag of a teacher after school, we've decided that the your tiny school, up on top of the hill, isn't the program for our precious boy.  And I must say, quite honestly, that our talk with his hag of a teacher left us with the impression that she felt the same way.  While we understand clearly that the Montessori method is not at all like a 'traditional' school program, and that the children work on their own with very little guidance or supervision from the teacher, we didn't anticipate that he would be expected to 'get it' his very first day in the classroom.  Although our precious boy was in preschool during the 2007-2008 school year, this is quite a change from being at home with his father all day, every day, which we brought up when you gave us a tour of your tiny school, up on top of the hill.  It's to be expected that there might be a rocky transition period as he adjusts to a new environment.  After prompting her for a recommendation of what our next step would be, his hag of a teacher did immediately suggest taking our precious boy to half-days, but frankly we did not get the feeling from her that she was interested in helping him adjust to this new setting.  Her comments that "he just doesn't seem ready to learn" and "this is a school, not a daycare" also left us quite taken aback.  Our precious boy is a very bright child, and in the right setting and with the right encouragement and guidance learns new things quickly.    While, after hearing so many good things about your tiny school, up on top of the hill, we had very high hopes that this would be a wonderful learning experience, we must ultimately do what we feel is in the best interest of our son and his education.  Please let us know when a convenient time would be for us to pick up the items our precious boy left - boots, snow pants, etc.  We also hope for at least a partial refund of the $100 deposit/activity fee that we paid with his enrollment forms.  If it's more convenient, please feel free to mail these items to our home address.   Thank you, Ruth Speaks Up