Too much on Mama's plate

This Mama is overscheduled. This seems to be my mantra these days.

Public school has made me a frustrated parent. It probably makes me more frustrated that I put in as many volunteer hours on the PTO that feel unappreciated and occasionally make me feel I am trying to wade through molasses to accomplish even the simplest task. Where I pushed Lauren to learn her letters because her daycare seemed to think letter recognition by age 3 was required, I really haven't made any attempt to teach Lindsay anything that doesn't make my life easier. Being able to distinguish pink from yellow and demand the yellow socks so that we don't have a 20 minute tantrum makes my life easier. Being able to communicate that she wants her sandwich cut into 4 pieces makes my life easier.

But silly me, I assumed because I haven't been teaching these things that she isn't learning them.

Last week's swimming lesson, she pointed out that the number 10 was written on the edge of the pool (the side is marked with the number of feet in 5 foot increments along the length of the pool for swimming evaluations). She also pointed out the numbers 15 and 20. I was genuinely relieved that she did not recognize the number 25.

Yesterday, during church, she was sitting on a friend's lap. On each page of the book was a letter written in upper and lowercase along with illustrations of objects that began with the letter.

"Look, Meena. That is the letter B," she pointed to the uppercase letter, "and the letter b," she pointed to the lowercase letter. "Ball. Bat. Bell." She turned the page. "There is the letter G, and the letter g. That is a girl, a gorrilla and a grape."

I leaned over a bit farther, hoping to see that it's a copy of a book we already own and maybe this is the result that school game that Lauren keeps talking about playing with her sister. It wasn't a book we own. Damn.

I mean, shoot.

On top of it all, I'm probably going to Hell for thinking Damn in church.