It is such a paradox that my life seems busy to the point that I actually feel winded, yet when I pause for a moment to post to the blog, I've got nothin'.
I mean, I haven't updated in a couple weeks. I should be able to write volumes. Perhaps it's just that it all seems so darn mundaaaane.
After all, where's the fun in writing about parent meetings at CCD? Never mind that I was asked to come to said meeting in error, b/c it was geared towards parents of confirmation candidates. But how do you get up and walk out on the grey-haired director of the religious ed program when she's in the middle of reading scripture?
Should I have written about the day I had to drive back and forth to Wilmington (an hour away) not once but twice in one day? Once for myself (wonder why I need therapy), then another "family counselling" session for all the kids and myself, followed by individual appointments for all the kids of mine with letters behind their names to see the doc (it's med check time).
Let's not even talk about the fact that I had to go in yet again last night for one kid's individual appointment and yes, you guessed it, again tomorrow for another kid. Wonder if they'll let me rent a cot in the office?
Are carpool details blogworthy? I'm thinking no. Even though some of us nearly came to blows this week over some misunderstandings of who would be driving whom. No sooner did we get it all sorted out and planned for the remainder of the week then the rest of the practices for the week were cancelled.
I could journal my experience chaperoning the 2 day/overnight field trip to a camp with the 6th graders, but I'm working hard with my therapist to put that all behind me.
Would my readers find it interesting that we had to shell out hundreds of dollars in cavity repairs for our kids this week and we're not done yet? That we're behind on laundry? That no matter where my weary eyes look around this house they find something that should be picked up, put away, paid, fixed, or cleaned? Doubtful.
Perhaps I should detail the decisions I make day to day. Like:
Should I retrieve the runaway ponies this instant or wait until I can put the perishables in the fridge?
Do I drop what I'm doing to put an end to yet another squabble or let them work it out (ie rip each other's throats out like wolves)?
Should I cut all James' curls off like he wants or hide all the scissors?
Keep an iron will for the needed weight loss or give in to chocolate?
Cook a meal or pick up the phone?
So I'm sorry to disappoint, my blog friends, but I've got nothin' for ya'.
Better luck next week .....
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Sunday, September 19, 2010
When my kids were little they had playdates. Carefully arranged home-based playtime that us Moms would squeeze in between Gymboree, preschool, park time and story-n-craft down at the library. Two like-age and similar interest children would play in the sandbox or the living room under the watchful eye of whichever Mama was hosting. Healthy well-balanced snacks and beverages would be served, and were likely to be cut or arranged in the shape of some recognizable Disney character or prehistoric creature.
Of course, the two newest additions to my brood bypassed that stage entirely (lucky them, lucky me). But that doesn't mean they don't still have playdates.
Just yesterday, for instance, James had a couple buddies over. I never spoke to any Moms about it or glanced at my calendar. James called them up, asked if it was OK, and they came. Then instead of the sandbox, they did more teenage boy things. They begged for some cash and rode their bikes out to Burger King and the dollar store. They ate fattening fast food (no prehistoric creature shapes in sight) and drank sugary sodas. They hung out near the bridge and watched the cars whiz by (not the Matchbox variety) and drank a certain caffeine loaded drink in a can that James covets and I pretend to know he doesn't get from time to time. They talked, not about Bob the Builder or their favorite dinosaur, but about.... well I don't even really know what teenaged boys talk about. School? Girls? Movies?
In due time they came home, strutting and felling very manly with their small slice of independence. Then they spent a good deal of time blowing things to smithereens on XBox.
Boys, after all, will be boys. No matter the age.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Had a full docket this afternoon. Had to run out for appointments and carpools for about 4 hours, but lucky for me I've got great kids. One of my 12 year old girls cooked and served dinner for the rest of the kids. My oldest unloaded the dishwasher and my little guy emptied the kitchen trash and took it downstairs to the garage. All without adult supervision.
If I'm not careful I'm going to be out of a job soon....
If I'm not careful I'm going to be out of a job soon....
Monday, September 6, 2010
Well, after a long and hair-pullin' summer, the kids started back to school last Monday, followed by four days off for the holiday weekend.
In the final days of summer, James was actually saying he was excited about returning to school, seeing his friends every day, etc. This came a big shock to me. Huge. But then when I sat and thought about it, it made some sense.
When James first started school here, he had been home in America all of a month. He didn't know anyone outside of the family and didn't speak more than a couple handfuls of English. Aside from that, he knew neither the layout nor the routine of his new school in his new country. He did know how to shoot spitballs and fly paper airplanes. Some things for schoolboys after all, are universal.
Then, a few months after starting school, came summer break. And then fall. And he started anew again, still not knowing a whole lot of English or a whole lot of kids.
This fall, however, is a whole new wad of gum under the desk. Because now, 20 months since arriving home, he speaks (and reads) English pretty fluently. He has a lot of friends. He knows routines now, and expectations. And when he found out that his first period class contained just about all of his close friends, it truly was something to look forward to. Even in terms of the actual schoolwork, he isn't nearly as apprehensive as he was in months past. When Teacher lectures, he understands. When reading is required, he can comprehend. When confused, he can ask questions. He can even complain that the school lunch is crappy.
And so James starts this year of school as a freshman. Ready to learn, ready to act up with his friends, ready for a relatively normal year of school as a relatively normal student.
Now if I can only ready myself for another year as manager of the kids with their homework, projects, permission slips, field trips and after school activities I'll be OK.....