I just wrote a very long email to Julia’s teachers about Julia’s first writing assignment.  The writing was a summary of the first chapter of Gregor the Overlander, a fantasy book that is closer to Julia’s reading level than some of the other big books she is reading.  We are reading this book together so that she can do some writing and so that I find would what she is understanding in these chapter books.  Again and again, I realize that I never questioned what Cheshire understood in any book that she read after the easiest picture books we read together.  

Anyway, the email asked for writing goals for Julia’s homework, about the methods that I used to work with her and about asking for input about working with Julia at home.  For a long time, just getting her to sit down, focus for some time, accomplish simple academic tasks has been the major goals.  Julia is able to do more than that now and I do need help shifting my focus to the academic goals.

My email was many times longer than Julia’s assignment.  Readers eyes may roll to the backs of heads, and I will not be offended in the least.  I did omit -- hard to believe I omitted anything -- the yelling and frustration and brow beating that went on two nights ago.  Julia is not easy to work with, and I continually need to grow more patience.

And right now, in the time that it took to write these few paragraphs and roam the house a bit, her speech therapist at school replied, adding her comments.  Whew, I feel more productive, less compulsive.

The day began with thunder -- gentle rolling, not huge cracks -- and rain.  Rain!  We have needed it for days and days.  I am very much aware of it because I’ve been working my garden beds and I’ve had to water every day, sometimes twice to keep newly transplanted plants from death.  I tried to wait until it was cool to dismantle and reform two of my beds and to transplant divided perennials around in the back garden, but we’ve had a rather nasty heat wave the past few days and I had no choice but to water.  

I watered enough to decide to buy a new hose -- a good hose this time, even though my old hoses, migrated from Indianapolis and were well used there as well.  The old hoses had been doctored and patched but were springing more leaks, more often.  So, it was time.  

And more on the watering of gardens: I have a favorite sprayer that I’ve also had for years which is working very well on the new hose after I put a little washer into to attachment portion.  I also had a favorite sprinkler.  Again, a relic from Indy, so at least 10 years old, maybe more.  It allowed me to manipulate the shape of the area watered and how far the spray would go.  When I was watering on Tuesday, the kids from a few houses down, the same kids who played so nicely with Julia the other day, were running through my sprinkler.  I did not mind and they were staying more on the side walk than on the lawn and there was a mom watching them, so what harm?  I went inside to get dinner on the table and after a few minutes, I heard the water hitting the front windows and screams and screeches from the kids.  I went to my front door, got a splash of water in my face -- the whole water on the window and then on my face was shocking since my favorite sprinkler was not set to do those things -- and then went to the back door and turned off the water, thinking that the kids had just moved the sprinkler and that I would put it to rights right after we ate.  When I came out after dinner, I discovered that someone has probably stepped on the sprinkler and broke it.  

And so, my thought process went like this.  My favorite sprinkler!!!  How could they do this?  Why did I let those kids run in my water?  Why didn’t the mom warn them away from the sprinkler or at least tell me that it was stepped on?  And then, a bit of outrage about how she could not make a point of telling me that they broke it and wondering whether I should march over to her house and  . . .  But then, you know, it is a 10 year old sprinkler and those two kids played with Julia the other day so very well.  Better than any other kids in this neighborhood have ever played with her (a good deal of that is about Julia being ready to play and so was attentive to those kids.).  Ok, I am still mourning the sprinkler -- My local Builders Square has nothing remotely like it.  I have two other stores to look in and then I am going online.  

Will I say anything to the mom?  I don’t know.  Probably not, unless she brings it up.  Perhaps if she sees another sprinkler there she will notice.  Perhaps I will not need to water for another week and she will forget all about it.  Unfortunately, I will not let any other kids play in my sprinkler unless Julia is part of the group and I am watching and warning.  

For all the drama, for all my drama, the small purple smoke bush and the tall and light grass that are new and newly planted are surviving the heat and enjoying the rain today.    And I can see, in my mind’s eye, how lovely they will look next year.