I woke up this morning at 5:45 and remembered that it was Tuesday.
Tuesday after a three-day weekend, and we were all going to have to get up out of bed and wear something other than pajamas for the first six hours of the day. I told Hubs last night, “I think I am a great fan of the three-day weekend. I think I need more of them in my life.”
Hubs just raised an eyebrow at me, because Hubs believes my entire life is nothing but one long weekend, because I teach PE two afternoons a week to small children. And sometimes I file things at our church office for a couple of hours here and there. And that pretty much sums up my work week, as it pertains to the real world. And then, for the rest of the week, I participate in very productive events, like laundry (when the mood strikes me), and cooking (Yes, pushing a tray of frozen corn dogs into your oven qualifies as cooking.), and playing with Thing 2, and having coffee dates with the girls on occasion, and getting groceries (in case the mood to actually cook real food ever visits me), and talking to the boy, and taxiing the boy around town, and cleaning our bathrooms (because ain’t nothin’ that gets messed up like a bathroom when there’s a can of aerosol hairspray being used in it on a daily basis). Clearly, all of that stuff is exhausting enough to make the three-day weekend a necessity.
So yes. We got up this morning, and we sort of lacked the jump-out-of-bed-and-cheer enthusiasm that we had all of last week, as it was the first week of school. Let’s face it. The back-to-school high has already worn off, and now we’re into the YES! YOU MUST GET OUT OF BED RIGHT NOW, IF YOU EVER HAVE INTENTIONS OF BEING TO FIRST PERIOD ON TIME! and ORANGE SHORTS AND RED SHIRTS DON’T MATCH, AND YOU’LL NEVER GET A DATE DRESSED THAT WAY! So you know… reality.
(And Hubs changed out of the orange shorts and red shirt.)
We did get to run through the boy’s schedule at the junior high one night last week, as the school held an open house for all the parents. Teachers had a ten-minute time slot to introduce their class and what they would be teaching all year to parents, and then we had three minutes to pass between the mini-classes in the hallways.
This is what I learned: The boy is going to flunk literature, because his teacher is going to require him to read TWO ENTIRE BOOKS EVERY MONTH. He’s going to ace science, because that teacher has already shoved the class head-first into experiments involving CHEMICALS, and the boy gave an oral dissertation at home during dinner one evening on HOW! COOL! SCIENCE WAS! And I also learned that if I had to go back to junior high school right now, I would never make it from class to class, because goodness! I was tardy to three out of the boy’s seven classes last Thursday night, because I STOPPED TO TALK TO OTHER MAMAS IN THE HALLS. Naturally this delighted Hubs so much, that he left me and journeyed alone through the halls, because he wanted to be on time to class.
I know! It’s the exact opposite of how things ran when we were in high school. This is evidenced by the fact that the boy has to switch buildings for one class, and while we were walking there, Hubs announced, “I probably wouldn’t have made it to this class very often, if this had been my schedule. Just being outside, changing buildings, would have reminded me that I had a car in the parking lot and that the gas station at the bottom of the hill sells 100-ounce Cokes for a dollar.”
And then, during the literature teacher’s presentation, Hubs leaned over and whispered, “The boy needs to find a Cathy in his life. A Cathy would be very handy.”
(Hubs had a friend named Cathy in high school. Cathy was brilliant. Cathy did a substantial amount of Hubs’ homework for him, and she wrote numerous notes to the school office about how Hubs should be excused from Calculus, because he was home with mono. Never mind that Hubs had been on a boat at the reservoir, water skiing and drinking homemade punch; those notes always bore his own mama’s signature, which Cathy had perfected, so mono it was.)
(I think Hubs had mono sixteen times in high school.)
(And pneumonia nineteen times.)
(And very possibly ringworm once.)
It’s a miracle performed by Jesus Himself that Hubs and I ever ended up together, and that he turned out to be the joy of my heart, because I went to every single class, and I did my own homework, and I got my own straight As.
If we can take a moment here and spin a 180, I can unload some snapshots from a few days ago.
Cousin K, you see, turned 7. Personally, I don’t think he’s really tall enough to be 7, and goodness! I just changed his diaper yesterday, so how is he 7 already?
Sister tossed a couple of different parties for him, because we’re the family whose motto is, “If one birthday party is good, then half a dozen is even better.” And if there’s frosting on your cake that turns your tongue blue, it’s going to be a Party Win.
There’s Sister’s Husband and Little H. Little H was quite content to behave like a lady in her daddy’s lap and play quietly, while Thing 2 was on the other side of the picnic area. Thing 2 was not close enough to yell at her.
(Thankfully, I was there, so the party had a real princess in attendance.)
There may have even been a little Happy Dance demonstration, because Mam and Pa gave K a set of Snap Circuits. The boy, you see, has the Snap Circuits, which are bits of electricity conductors that you snap into place and build all manner of current pathways that will power windmills and radios and sirens and lullaby-makers and lights. K loves the boy’s set, and now he has his very own.
(Because he’s 7, you know, and our family thinks that if you don’t understand electricity by that age, you’re not going to amount to anything useful.)
Great. That was my heart you just smashed.
Thankfully, I still love that boy!
Thing 2 borrowed Little H’s walker for a bit, and yes! His feet touched the floor, and Hubs and I rejoiced that there was a contraption in existence where Thing 2’s SUPER SHORT LEGS could actually reach the floorboards. When he kicked his feet, he could even propel himself short distances, which surprised him, because he had no idea that he was capable of driving on his own.
Happy birthday, K! We hope you wished for a Cathy in your life when you blew your Big Number Seven candle out, because you’re going to need one of those when you’re finally tall enough to go to the junior high.
We also hope you don’t catch mono sixteen times.