Some days I feel inspired and I write something that somehow comes out helpful and/or insightful to a person or two. And that is flattering and humbling.
And then there's today.
I'm on day four of house arrest with sick kid number two. . and I just feel compelled to write something . . . anything . . . because, well, four days inside with sick kids. The point is, please proceed with very low expectations, friends.
Sick kid number one threw up over the weekend and then we found out he had strep late Monday so that he couldn't go to school on Tuesday.. Sick kid number two came home on Tuesday with some weird rash and hives all over his body, but no other symptoms. Frankly, it's a little bit creepy. And I've been doling out antibiotics and Benedryl and making faces while putting cortisone on red welts.
I know what you're thinking. I'm so very much like Mother Teresa.
The good news is that sick kid number one is back in school and except for the itchiness, sick kid number two feels fine. As in, he is still talking to me. A lot. He is a man among boys in the talking department. He cannot be stopped. Not even by massive doses of Benedryl. He laughs at Benedryl. We have talked about how his 3rd grade class has to have PE with the 2nd graders and about how the 2nd graders can be really annoying and childish because clearly, third graders are way more mature. I'm quite sure they hold riveting conversations while waiting to play 4-Square that the 2nd graders cannot possibly follow. We have discussed the various batting stances of David Ortiz and Dustin Pedroia and Bryce Harper. We have watched Good Luck, Charlie and Dog with a Blog and ESPN. We did the make up homework and read some books and did I mention the chatting? Just now, I filled up the bath with baking soda and my little patient is soaking in there.
So, if Mother Teresa sat outside the bathroom and drank a diet Coke while she blogged about herself, I would have to say that yes, we are exactly alike.
It's been awhile since any of the boys took a bath, so it seems that I threw out the 6,453,000 tub toys we used to own. Therefore, a raging battle has commenced in the tub involving two plastic baseball players and four plastic cups. There seems to be a tsunami of sorts happening. And the plastic catcher is drowning right now. It's a harrowing ordeal in there.
The lack of bathroom toys is yet another reminder to me, like just about everything else lately it seems, that my kids are growing up fast and I cannot go back. Which brings me to this:
Tonight will be my third back to school night of the school year. I have already been to two and my track record is not great in the paying attention department, but tonight is HIGH SCHOOL. BIG TIME, right? I've got to pull it together tonight. No more shenanigans like at the Middle School.
I tried at the Middle School. I really did. I didn't even sit next to the lovely and talented Mrs. C, just to be sure that I would behave. I sat in front of her and I did listen. Except when she passed a note up to me that said:
Check Yes or No. Have you ever kissed a boy?
It sort of fell apart after that because then I went to hear the Pre-Algebra teacher and this is what was on the board:
Buzzy showed up for work today to discover that his delivery truck was in the shop. The mechanic told Buzzy that his truck would be ready 2 days after the day before the day after tomorrow. When should Buzzy expect his truck?
Y'all, I am not even making that up and you know good and well that I couldn't pay attention after that because all I could think about was how Buzzy's mechanic just lost a customer for being a pompous jerk and now Buzzy needs to write a scathing review on yelp.com.
Tonight, though, I must be very mature and very focused. That's going to be a challenge because one of Joe's teachers is one of my really good friends and during her Pre-AP History presentation, I might need to raise my hand and ask her what she's planning to wear to the Bon Jovi concert this year.
But, no, I can't do that.. We will be hearing about Romeo and Juliet and To Kill a Mockingbird, about quadratic equations and trigonometry, about Early Civilizations and about PSAT schedules. I must be responsible and attentive. There is a transcript to consider. There are college applications just down the road. No messing around, ok? This is important stuff here.
I am the mother of a high school student. He doesn't play with plastic boats in the tub. He uses Axe instead of Johnsons & Johnson's No More Tears. He had an Algebra II-Trig test today. He's going to the Homecoming Dance this year. He told me this morning that all of his jeans are too short.
Serious business, people. I think I'm breaking out in hives.
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