Turn on the light

"Oh sugar, don’t you cry.
Oh child, wipe the tears from your eyes.
You know I need you to be strong,
And the day is as dark as the night is long.
Feel like trash, you make me feel clean.
I’m in the black, can’t see or be seen."

-- Ultraviolet (Light My Way), U2



Zoe had lunchtime detention today. She seemed kind of blue when I picked her up after work. She's getting kicked around at home and at school.

I feel for the kid. I subconsciously sent her to school with a Lunchable, and I bet her teacher took one look at that and figured I was trying to sabotage all her efforts to get Zoe in line.

Her latest note home (she's averaging one a week now) was for putting her hand in paint and licking it off. Oh joy. I can just see what happened: the art teacher probably saw her sticking her hand in the paint, and shrieked about the paint on her hand, and Zoe's attempt to fix the problem was to get the paint off.... by licking it off.

Usually the notes home are from Zoe's regular teacher, but apparently the art teacher was freaked out enough to send along her own addendum. It was one sentence: "Zoe will not be permitted to paint for the remainder of the year." It could have fit on a sticky note, but the teacher managed to scrawl it so large it took up the majority of a piece of looseleaf. Guess Zoe really pissed her off.

But I mean REALLY, is this the first kid to lick paint off her hands in art class? The school counselor told me Zoe was fine, yet her teachers are sending notes home in two-inch type. Surely they've dealt with worse children. And if they lose their patience at that, I hope Zoe doesn't ever perform one of her favorite acts at school: pulling down her pants and chasing humans around backward with her bare bum.

I get to spend only a couple of hours with Zoe now on weekdays. That time is eaten up by dinner, bath, bedtime. And Jacob. And, of course, Joe doesn't lift a finger during that window of time to help me. I'm at a loss of what I could possibly do to help Zoe, even if I could eke out more time.


I kind of (in a sick little way) enjoy that Zoe is so independent. But I think this has grown a little bit bigger than her having a mind of her own. I keep feeling like a light bulb will go off over my head, or Zoe's, and one of us will just GET IT, like when on her third birthday she just decided since she was three it was time to be potty-trained, and that was suddenly it after a year of effort.

But while the light bulb now flickers from time to time, it ain't staying on.