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At Blossom’s request, I took a pan of brownies to her during her school lunch today. She wanted to celebrate with her friends because school’s almost over. Einstein chimed in with a “Me too,” so Ladybug & I ventured out for lunch today balancing two pans of brownies, a big bag of lunch, and four drinks. The brownies were a huge hit. I got back in the car to drive home, and as I left the school parking lot, I glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed a dark, raised, troubling mole on my forehead near my hairline. I’d never seen it before. Worried, I put my fingers up to feel it. Oh. Brownie crumb. First, relief. Then, “Fabulous. How do you think everyone can always tell I’m a mom when I go out in public? It’s a true mystery.”
Let me digress for a moment to tell you (again) that Honey and I have enjoyed the music of Texas country singer/songwriter Roger Creager since 1998. Roger’s music is fun and you can scoot a mean boot across the dance floor to it, though it’s been years since we went to a Creager show where we could actually dance together. Venues are always too packed with fans for any dancing to happen now.
One of his signature songs is “Love,” which starts with the words, “Love… ain’t what this song’s about. Candlelight ain’t what I’m in the mood for now. I don’t need a metaphor to help me get this out. Love… ain’t what this song’s about. IT’S ABOUT BEER, AND WHISKEY, AND DRINKIN’!”
My point? Well, as of this morning, we were two days away from the end of school. All of our friends back home in Texas have been out of school for almost two weeks now, which does not help the motivation factor in our house to “finish strong.” It’s been a thankless task for the past nine school-day mornings to force the kids out of bed and get them off to school.
So this is not going to be one of those feel-good posts about how much I looooove motherhood. Darling little sleepy faces groggily rasping out a, “Good morning, Mommy,” are not the focus of today’s entry. Sweet moments singing along to songs from”Phineas and Ferb” or Carole King’s “Really Rosie” musical on the way to school aren’t what I’m thinking about today.
IT’S ABOUT GROANS, COMPLAINTS, AND WHINING! It’s about dreading the moment you see that the sun is shining! It’s about nagging children who, on the weekend, like to put their milk in the freezer until it forms ice crystals in it because they like it so cold, to put the now-room-temperature carton of milk back in the refrigerator when they get up from the table. Or hearing yourself say parenthood sentences that no one ever thinks to tell you that you might need to address with the kids. An “Uncatalogued Rules” list, so to speak, such as, “Please don’t balance the salt shaker on your sister’s head.”
Today, I’m thinking about how the “right” flavor of granola bar for snack time at school changes nearly weekly, and I only know the current favorite has changed when the old favorite is now met with an eyeroll and, “Mo-ooom, I don’t like this kind!” And let’s don’t talk about the world that is chewy granola bars!
Posting today – well, I’m thinking about the dirty clothes that are left on their bedroom floors, presumably in preparation for next year’s science project about how long dirty clothes must lie still in a crumpled heap before they form an uprising and walk themselves down to the laundry basket. About trips to the grocery store, the dry cleaner’s, and volunteering, only to be met with a sulking child when running errands has precluded me from getting my blog post done before I pick them up from school, which means I get the first turn on my own computer when we get home.
And how about the days when you do something nice, like rent a movie and let them stay up to watch it on a school night, and then everyone’s mad because they don’t get a story at bedtime? Really? Sigh.
Summer can’t come fast enough for me. Sure, we’ll all be together a lot more than we are now. Sure, there’s no magic pill to transform them into darling little angels who never bicker and always straighten up without being asked. But remove the time constraints of the school schedule, and that will be close enough.
Until Friday afternoon, then, I’ll just keep singing, “Love… ain’t what the last week of school’s about.”