It’s amazing how many things you can pack into any given day between dragging your butt out of bed late and then sinking into a catatonic slump shortly after lunch, and then between wiping the drool from your chin later that afternoon and falling into bed shortly after the children. (Related: I seem to be drinking a lot more coffee than usual. Hmm.)
Our pool is officially open for the season, de-murk-ified, and filled with small, unmarked bills. Oh, wait. That’s not quite right; we filled our local pool supply place with small, unmarked bills, and they, in turn, came and filled our pool with FOUR HUNDRED POUNDS of salt (not an exaggeration, actually). They also removed our old chlorinator and instead attached some fancy doohickey that monitors the salt content of the water (possible readings include “pretty salty,” “very salty,” and “hey, did you know there’s salt in here?”) and spins the salt into gold. Or chlorine. Whatever. It’s all very exciting and so, of course, the weather—which has recently been in the 90s every damn day—spontaneously cooled off and it’s now 56 degrees outside, which is positively arctic for Georgia in May.
Which means that no one has been in the pool yet. Terribly disappointing.
On the other hand, one of the things that converting the pool to saline means is that the various creatures that fall in the pool are less likely to die before we discover them. That’s… good? For them? But infinitely more disgusting for me. (“Snaaaaaaaaaaakes! Snakes in the pooooooool!”)
School ends this week. Can you believe it? I sort of can’t. Although, much in the same way that the end of pregnancy brings those “I can’t sleep and cannot be pregnant for one more second!” feelings on—conveniently overlooking the fact that once the baby arrives, you actually have to take care of a tiny screaming human and you still don’t get to sleep—I have found the last week or two of packing lunches is evoking strong feelings of hatred. And I ponder the end of school and I think “YES! No more packing lunches!!” as if that’s a huge moral victory, and conveniently overlook the fact that while I’m not packing lunches, I’ll instead be dealing with two children who are bored/hungry/touching each other. Yeah.
This year my kids’ schools managed to schedule the “moving on” ceremonies at overlapping times, too. Right now my plan is to leave Monkey’s early and get to Chickadee’s late, which has the added bonus of making both kids unhappy because it’s not faaaaaaaaaair and clearly I love their sibling better.
It’s like my very own episode of the Brady Bunch! (Remember that one where Cindy could only invite one parent to her school play? This is just like that, except not at all.) Otto is conveniently teaching that day so we can’t even divide and conquer.
The good news, of course, is that next year I’ll have both kids at the same school, again. This is a luxury we haven’t had for years, and won’t have again for a few years after this, too. I took this opportunity to reenlist as an officer with the PTA after a year-long hiatus from Being An Involved Parent. Thank goodness I’ll have the whole summer to chant, “I want to be part of the solution” to myself before diving back into school politics.
For Chickadee’s birthday we offered her the opportunity to fancy up her room a little bit—she could either pick out some type of lounge chair for herself, or if she’d rather have Otto’s old futon, we would buy her a new cover for it and some throw pillows. She wisely opted for the futon (it’s a whole couch, man), and we told her that as soon as Otto bought himself a chair, we’d move the futon from his office into her room and she could pick a cover.
They came home from their weekend with their dad, last night, and I called Chickie to come look at futon covers online with me, and half an hour in she was doing an admirable impression of Goldilocks: that one was too dark and that one didn’t have enough pink and that one was just wrong. I lobbied quite enthusiastically for one beautiful Asian-inspired fabric—it had all the colors of the rainbow, plus she is very into Manga and all things Japanese right now—but she insisted it was all wrong. When I pointed out that I was confused by her distaste for it given how much she tends to like anything Asian-themed, she said in a VERY PAINED voice, “I like stuff that’s ASIAN. That fabric is ORIENTAL.”
Yep. That’s my honors student!
At last she settled on an eyeball-searing tie-dye pattern and coordinating rainbow peace sign pillows (groovy!), and then grumbled something about how we were never going to move the futon, anyway. At which point I sent her up to see that the futon was already in her room, because Otto finally bought himself a replacement chair.
That totally meant she had to find something else to complain about.
Monkey couldn’t sleep last night, because they went to see Soul Surfer and now he was—wait for it—afraid of sharks. We reminded him that regardless of the statistics about how many surfers get attacked by sharks (hint: not most of them), we felt 100% confident reassuring him that there are no sharks in his room. This was only mildly soothing, because he might DREAM about being in the ocean where there ARE sharks.
My suggestion that he dream a shark cage for himself was met with an eyeroll. Yeah, I’m the one who was being ridiculous. Obviously.
The company that last year insisted we had a rat infestation when really we just had kittens has taken to calling and mailing us about how it’s time to give them some more money for another year of their helpful services! I have largely been ignoring them, but Otto finally took a call from their chirpy sales person and asked why we should pay them again given that they apparently can’t tell the difference between a rat infestation and a pair of feral kittens.
They’ve stopped calling. Go figure!
I completely forgot to go grocery shopping this weekend. Seems like I should find a way to fit that in sometime today, if we’re planning to eat this week, that is. Maybe after I take a nap….