The Home Visit ...

is over. Yay. I don't like having strangers in my home. If anyone's abode is a reflection of themselves, it's mine. Seriously. I still have huge bachelor-type tendencies. You know, dirty dishes in the sink, things laid down for just a minute months ago. Ha. My apartment shows almost every bit of my personality. That's probably why I don't dig people cruising its halls.
So where should I start? Besides the fact that the teach *thinking that's going to be how I refer to her from now on, "Teach"* is extremely allergic to cats, and Grace insisted on involving the cat in every single minute of the visit, it went well. I like Teach. She has, for some reason, found a cohort of sorts in me. She's a bit younger than I am *surprise*, but I'm thinking I probably lived her life years ago. Well, minus the husbands *yes, I intended for that to be made plural* because I have, thus far, refused to ever to go there.
She started making fun of me as soon as she got out of her car. She began coughing and talking in her best Kermit The Frog voice. She was referring to a phone message I had left yesterday, asking her to bring another activity sheet with her because I had run out of room on mine. I pretty much relaxed right then. She felt comfortable enough to joke with me. She likes me.
Grace ushered her upstairs, telling her to watch the funky steps. Of course, with her 3 yr old speech it sounded as if she was telling her to watch the fucking steps. I laughed and told the teacher that, although Grace has been introduced to the "f word," she was saying "funky." I also told her that Grace doesn't use the "f word." (She doesn't use it anymore. Not since the day she said it and I got all over her little butt. She, in turn that day, promised that she "won't say 'fuck' anymore." She had to say it again just to drive her point home, eh) *blush* Anyway....The steps are funky because they curve at the top and one side of the last four steps is about 2 inches wide.
We had to fill out an evaluation on Grace. I had to answer questions as to her abilities to listen, make eye contact, calm herself down, etc. We didn't have to do the actual developmental screening because I had taken her to do that before school started. The rest of the time we spent sitting on the couch and bullshitting. We played ball with Grace and Grace introduced Teach to our game of "house/mouse," which is something we have recently started doing. Each person has to come up with a rhyme. The teacher was very impressed with that.
She told me that in the years she has been teaching, Grace is the most intelligent three year old she has ever met. How fucking--I mean funky--cool is that? We talked about my concerns. My only real concern is that Grace is going to be too bossy to make friends. Teach told me that she had a bit of trouble the first couple of days but that was caused because Grace was more advanced and the other kids would lose interest in playing with her. *that isn't exactly what I wanted to hear* She said that in the last couple of days Grace has brought herself down some and is doing really well with the other kids. This lead to a discussion of what an asset Grace is to her class because the other kids genuinely like her and want to be with her so they bring themselves up a bit to be able to play with her. *that was more like what I wanted to hear* She also told me that there is a boy, Isaac, that she really likes. Teach's exact words were "She and Isaac have quite a thing going. He likes to sit with his arm around her." Oh. My. God. *that wasn't what I wanted to hear either*
She told me that Grace will be reading soon. I don't know about that. She's 3. A huge part of me wants to run upstairs and go through the alphabet flash cards with her while the other part wants to make her be three, like the other kids in the class. Granted, the flash cards will happen, but it's just the thought that she is so far ahead; it frightens me to a degree.
I told her that I was up to 28.5 hours on the activity sheet. She said, "Oh my god. You have completely blown everyone out of the hour, and this goes on your volunteer hours, you know. You thought (boy's dad) was going to be the volunteer of the year. Ha." I told her that I wasn't doing it to win awards, that I did it because that's the kind of thing I have always done with Grace .Besides the thing on the sheet about "Sink or Float?," Grace and I did everything else together already, long before I had to document the time spent and initial it.
She was here for an hour and a half. She was supposed to be here for 45 minutes. But we talked. It was nice to actually talk to a "professional" and have things explained to me from that point of view. We talked about grandparents and how and why their relationship with children are different. We talked about Grace's socialization. We talked about what I need to keep doing with Grace. We talked about Tim, aka Canadian Sperm Donor. We talked about Matthew, aka dad. We talked about it all.
Teach walked over to my music collection once and began commenting on my collection. She rolled at the Pat Benetar's Greatest Hits. "I can tell what generation you're from," she said with a laugh. Before I even thought about it I said, "I used to cover Pat Benetar, but not the stuff that she's known for. I have never hit anyone with my best shot on stage." I could've smacked myself in the head for opening my mouth. She turned and looked at me and said, "You were in a band?" I wanted to back pedal because I don't want to be sitting in front of Grace's class with my guitar, singing "Old McDonald," but it was too late because Grace chimed in. "That totally blows my image of you," she said, "knowing you were in a band."
I wanted to ask what her image of me had been, but we got way laid by Grace. I will have to remember that question for the next time we meet. She didn't mention the volunteering with music thing, but it's just a matter of time. She saw a copy of my demo cd/song on the coffee table and asked if that was me. She then asked if I would make a copy for her. So it's just a matter of time before the "bring your guitar to class" comes up.
All in all, it was a good visit. She told me that she is the strict one in class and was surprised when it was her that Grace had gotten attached to. She said that after meeting me and watching me interact with Grace she realized why she was Grace's chosen one: she acts like her mama. And she does act a lot like I do in terms of interacting with the kids. She talks the same way I do. We have the same warped sense of humor. It appears, so far, that we were brought to this chicka's class for a reason. It's okay. Even the fact that I have a child who will probably outsmart and outwit me by the age of six is okay. At least at this point. *smile*