Friday finally

I am out of here in about 2 hours. Off to pick up Leif at that point, with hopefully a brief hiatus in the school's office before making my way down to his room to retrieve him. I am having serious issues with the two other teachers (not his teacher) in his room right now and the toddler director is going to hear about it. I called AB after I got in, forcing back the tears.

Leif ran straight to his old room again, then wailed and screamed that he couldn't go in. I carried him to his new room where two of the teachers were sitting in the back cutting up pieces of paper whispering. Not another child in sight, which isn't uncommon on Fridays. We went over and put Leif's lunch away, tried to get him to surrender the lunchbox, talked about seeing the rabbits, etc. All the while the two teachers sat whispering and cutting paper in the back of the room.

Finally I yell out, "hello everybody". They look up and say "hi". "Thanks", I reply to them, "I am not comfortable with just leaving him in a room where he isn't acknowledged." Then Miss Kaitlyn (his teacher) walks in and scoops him up to go look at rabbits. I left with tears in my eyes out of anger and knowing exactly why Leif doesn't like going to his new room. He doesn't feel welcomed. Yes, there are probably other issues he is working through with the transition. But this shit has to stop.

No one can convince me it is just the environment of the room, the quietness of the room. It is plain rude not to say hello. People don't come into (or even just walk by) my office without getting a smile and "hello". And I am "shy".

Ok, now that I got that off my chest! We are headed out to go camping this weekend at Rainier. AB is thrilled about it and is packing our things as I write this. I find myself, as I get older, being less enthused about camping. I like my creature comforts. I like my comfortable bed, I like my shower, I like my kitchen with soap and hot water sans copious numbers of bugs. I enjoy being in the outdoors, I enjoy going for hikes and being in areas that aren't convenient for a day trip. But my need for comfort is increasing as every year goes by.

I never thought I would find myself saying this. I have loved camping my entire life and used to make fun of people who "camped" in RVs. But I am starting to think that's where it's at. Last year our goal was to get a travel trailer or pop up camper to make camp life more comfortable. Unfortunately we also took a few major monetary hits with a variety of things like my teeth, needing a new computer, AB being layed off, etc. And the purchase has been put off indefinitely.

I am trying to keep a positive outlook and not dwell on wondering how comfortable I am really going to be sleeping, or trying to keep the mosquitos (which I am *sure* all have West Nile) off Leif, and trying to keep Leif away from the fire. I am remembering the positives, like staying in a gorgeous national park with some wonderful hikes nearby. Like sitting around the campfire, after the kids have gone to bed, with good friends and good alcohol. Like seeing my husband in his element, outdoors. And sharing natures wonders with my son, establishing memories for him to think back about when he was just a little boy and going camping. I think about these things and realize how incredibly selfish my need for comfort really is.

(But next year we are getting a tent trailer of some sort!)