We're Gonna Need a Bigger Boat

It's seven o'clock; do you know where your children are?

Probably at my house. They've been here since one o'clock this afternoon, when the final bell of the school year rang out in an anthem of freedom for teenagers the world over. Or, you know, as an anthem of freedom for teenagers in our small town.

Either way, kids, I gots em.

And, after six hours with them; I might consider sending them home, if they weren't so darn entertaining.

Although, if we are going to keep them, like, indefinitely; we are going to need a lot more food because, believe it or not; fifty teenagers go through snacks with the efficiency of a swarm of locusts. 

They make almost as much noise, too. 

And, yes, I just said fifty, for; that is the number of teenagers that were congregated on my porch and lawn at last count, and, I'm not even complaining because, as you may recall; it could have been sixty-one.

Whew! Dodged that bullet!

Class of 2012

As promised by The Teenager, I attended the graduation ceremony of Not The Boyfriend, yesterday. I took approximately five meeelion pictures and was pleased with the majority of them.

A few favorites:

The last picture was snapped two seconds before the Assistant Principal snagged the beach ball, putting an end to the Seniors' fun and earning himself the nickname "Buzzkill".

Of course, there were a lot of pictures of the seniors as they recieved their diplomas and numerous family shots for Not The Boyfriend's mom's album. There were more than a few shots for The Tenager's album, as well, since she has bonded pretty tightly with the senior class and is sad to see them move on.

Following the graduation ceremony and the party that followed it at Not The Boyfriend's house; we returned home to watch the solar eclipse. The Man-Cub was suitably impressed while I kept likening the term Ring of Fire not to the eclipse but to the stinging pain generated from the sunburn that I managed to attain on my back during graduation when one area under my right shoulder experienced its' own eclipse; an eclipse of sunscreen.

I'm better, today.

And, as of today, The Teenager is a Junior. Well, as of 3:00 or so, when she turns in her last final. This means we are that much closer to a graduation ceremony wherein I am the parent rather than the bemused photographer (who, admittedly, got quite choked up whilst watching the ceremony. This does not bode well for the future).

Time can slow down, now.

Reeeaaalllyyy.......reeeeaaaalllyy.....sllllooowwww....

Please.

It's Never Quite the Way You Picture it in Your Head

Once upon a time, I thought that my children growing up would be the death of me. I cherished every milestone, tucking away a mental image to look back on in my old and gray years; years I dreaded with all my heart.

This morning, the Man-Cub gently woke me from my slumber, not to complain of a sick tummy, not wailing for a pre-dawn feeding, not crying over a nightmare or accidental flooding of his sheets, but; to let me know that he had made coffee and that it would be waiting for me when I got downstairs.

Suddenly, I'm not so sad about this "growing up" shit.

You Don't Say

Hugh and I just attended our local community theater's performance of Sweeney Todd and, I have to say; it was awesome.

I also have to admit that, prior to the performance, I labored under the mistaken impression that Sweeney Todd was a dentist.

A dentist.

I need to get out more.

Is It Friday Yet?

I just finished hosting my last ASTRA meeting of the year. The meeting was not terribly businesslike, unless one's business consists of eating cookies and brownies on the porch while discussing how glad one is that school is almost over, in which case; we were ALL business.

Anyway, that's one last chore to cross off my To Do list. Next up: Graduation, where I have been volunteered by The Teenager to take pictures of Not The Boyfriend and his family (at his mother's request since she loved my prom pictures so much and since she really wants good pictures of the family since her last baby is graduating and leaving the nest. Forever. And, did she mention that he is her baby? But, no pressure or anything).

Then, I have to organize and chaperon The Teenager's end-of-school Slip 'n' Slide bash, which is scheduled for next Tuesday. The Teenager has assured me that we will have plenty of room on the lawn for two slip 'n' slides, which, we will totally need since she kinda, sorta invited sixty-one kids to the event.

Sixty. One.

But, it's all good, because, not all of them will come, right?

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Care to make a wager on that?

They Better Hope I Never Go On Strike

It has recently come to my attention that there are a number of things that I am solely responsible for when it comes to the running of my household, and; they are things that I am not entirely comfortable with being solely responsible for, like at all.

To wit:

-Placing dishes in the dishwasher.
-Replacing empty toilet paper rolls with new rolls.
-Replacing empty Kleenex boxes with full boxes.
-Throwing empty food packaging out of the pantry and cupboards.
-Cleaning the litter box.
-Making a bed, any bed.
-Vacuuming.
-Dusting.

The last time I checked, everyone in my household had fully functioning fingers (including an oposable thumb) as well as mostly-fully-functioning grey matter, so; why am I the only person capable of realizing that an empty box needs to a) be thrown away, and b) replaced with, you know, a non-empty box?

Why?

I know I'm not alone in this; mothers the world over experience the same thing, in fact, I'm guessing it is epidemic in its' proportions. So much so; the government should commission a study on the phenomenon. I mean, why not? They commission studies on just about everything else.

Although, come to think of it; a large percentage of both government officials and scientists are men which, totally explains why they would be too busy to throw away an empty milk carton; they are commissioning studies on such valid topics as "Why Some People Don't Like Cilantro" (true story; saw in on the news just this morning).

Our society is doomed. DOOMED, I say.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have beds to make and curse words to throw at empty cookie boxes in my pantry.

That's My Story and I'm Stickin' to It.

Today has been a very unusual day, in that; it has been productive, has gone smoothly, and, featured none of the usual aggravations that ordinarily leave me wanting to punch someone in the nuts.

At work, figures calculated correctly the first time, I had no unexpected chores due to someone else's neglect or irresponsibility, my daily work took less time than usual, and, I was on time for my women's club meeting for the first time in quite a while.

At that meeting, I gave my reports flawlessly. I had all the correct notes for the President (Have I mentioned that I took over the duties of the office of Secretary two months early when our last Secretary resigned her position unexpectedly? No? Well, I did), and, the meeting wrapped up just in time for me to make it to an appointment that I had set with the events coordinator at the local civic center (Spring Luncheon planning for next year has begun in earnest).

And, I did it all in heels.

And, a really cute pair of cropped jeans and a camel-colored blazer that is to die for, but, that is neither here nor there.

The point is; it was a great day. Please don't remind me that there is still plenty of daylight left in which things may fall to shit.

Thankyouverymuch.