I've got the Monday blues

It's one of those Mondays where I'd rather be anywhere else -- and with my kids -- than here. Mostly because I was reading the online forum comments about our Day Care series, a lot of stay-at-home moms and working moms warring off. It happens over and over again. Do we have to justify which choices we make? I know stay-at-home moms and I know working moms. Both sides have their ups and downs. But why do we still feel the need to defend our own status and look with disdain on others who made different choices?
My problem today is that I just haven't had time off in awhile. And yesterday was a great day with the kids, I wish I could have kept it going longer. We went to a picnic-party designed for the kids at a local beach club. We had water-balloon toss, the kids went into the water while it was still low enough time for them to wade at hip deep, there were burgers and dogs and chips and lots of other kids running around. I'll usually take advantage of that time to chat with other moms, but I found myself sitting alone or standing out on the beach and watching my three having fun. I was just enjoying watching their enjoyment.
And last night, the girls and I went to watch a movie, and rather than letting them argue it out over which they wanted to see, I picked a "Mr. Bean" movie, something like "Mr. Bean take a vacation." We just giggled and giggled. I put their hair up in French braids. Then when it was over, they brushed their teeth and got hugs good-night. Today, dropping them off at summer camp, they were all abuzz -- one of their favorite counselors wasn't there last week, a vacation kept her from starting until now and they were squealing when they spotted her from our car.
Sometimes I'd love to be a stay-at-home mom. Other times I'm glad for the distraction of work. I can't fault anyone else their decision, and I hope nobody faults me for mine.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be ....

I hate teaching fiscal responsibility, but it's something you have to do. I know too many people who get into trouble long into adulthood from poor saving and spending practices.
My teenager didn't work over the winter. After his job ended in the fall, he survived about three minutes on what he "saved" from the summer, then failed to get another job to pay for "extras" throughout the winter. That included Christmas. He suddenly needed to buy everyone he knew a present. Too bad. I helped him buy his girlfriend a present but that was it. I had been telling him since early November that he needed to get a job if he wanted that kind of spending money, and he kept saying he would find one. Two weeks before Christmas he got busy and applied at two places before realizing nobody would hire him two weeks before Christmas. He skated through the winter, living on some babysitting money and "loans" (now mostly forgiven) from us.
He's back to working now, and has started to pay off the debt I absolutely won't "forgive" that he accumulated with me over the winter (i.e. girlfriend's presents, broken cell phone fee, overuse of data and text messaging). But his last paycheck was light, from when he was still in school, so he didn't apply any to what remains of that. The other day we had a talk about college, and I said that once he's getting his full paycheck, he should get a checking account for his spending money and put the rest of it in his savings, with the passbook held under lock and key. There's $30 in it, leftover from last year, that I actually took off the debt that he owed me, provided that it's money that will stay socked away.
So during our conversation, he mentioned that of the $200 he got a week and a half ago, he's loaned out money left and right to his friends, now everybody owes him money. "Bad idea," I said. "Don't loan out your money, you probably won't get it back."
So this morning he calls and asks if he can get the passbook so he can "withdraw" $20 of the $30 so he can go out to lunch with friends. "Actually, that was my $30, not yours, and I'm leaving it in your account so you'll start saving toward college. So why don't you collect from all those people you've been lending money to instead?"
"But they don't have jobs!" he said.
Exactly. And you aren't a bank, or their parents, I explained. And now, you're likely out money.
Lousy lesson to learn, but one worth remembering.

I need a "Big Girl Band-Aid"

I'll crack up next time I see one of those clear Band-Aid commercials when the girl says, "I want them to notice me, not my bandage!" I don't think I've ever been concerned about somebody spotting a Band-Aid on one of my wounds. A nasty paper cut on my finger yesterday morning had me grab the first one I could reach out of our medicine cabinet, then I finished getting myself dressed and ready, I actually wore a skirt and a new blouse that I took a fancy to last week when I spotted it on a store's clearance rack, then did something with my hair and makeup and got the kids to where they needed to be and myself to work.
My daughters have half-days at school this week, so when I went to pick them up, I spotted my friend Carol's car and went over for a chat before my girls and her girls made it to the parking lot. We chatted a bit, then I spotted my daughter and waved then turned to say good-bye and head back to my car. Carol was laughing. "Clare, I have to tell you, you look great today, but ... you need a Big Girl Band-Aid." Seems when I waved, the bright blue Crayola crayon Band-Aid became evident.
"But doesn't it go so well with the blue in my shirt?" I asked.
Over the years, I've gone to work or other grown-up venues wearing bandges featuring the likes of Dora the Explorer, Hulk, Looney Tunes characters, lightning-bolt designs and other first-aid wear aimed at helping make a child happier about a healing boo-boo. I've worn much more colorful hair bands running out the door than I normally would have used, when I didn't have time to look for something that would blend in or go with what I'm wearing.
The scary thing is, I'm starting to borrow other stuff. My older daughter's flip-flops come in handy for a quick trip to the store -- at 10, she's closing in on my height and foot size, and since I stopped growing about 12, I figure I'll be borrowing her clothes soon. She already has confiscated some of my shoes. While my teen and I have drastically different styles -- plus he's really really skinny -- I did get a hand-me-down "I Voted For Sanjaya" t-shirt when he tired of it.
But I still have two little kids who will wear Shrek and Barbie shirts, and prefer a crayon-colored bandage over anything basic.
But for on-the-road boo-boos -- I keep a box of "flesh-toned" Band-Aids in my car. How boring!

One more day, one more day

Dilemma: My kids' grammar school ran into overtime this year, they don't finish until tomorrow. But my 5-year-old is already done and at camp already -- the girls join him after lunchtime there. My first plan was to pull my 8-year-old from school yesterday and my 10-year-old today so he'd have somebody nearby for his first time attending camp. But my 8-year-old had a stomach bug on Friday. He went alone yesterday and looked a little shellshocked by the end of the day. I went ahead and pulled my 10-year-old from school so he'd have her nearby. I probably could have pulled my other daughter yesterday, but there were things she needed to bring home before today, plus they got their yearbooks and needed to start collecting autographs. And I didn't want to switch the two days -- there was a good chance my 10-year-old would have a trip today so I didn't want her to miss it.

So tomorrow is the last day of the school/camp shuffle. Thank goodness. This morning was a little nuts -- my 8-year-old has a summer birthday, so she wanted to bring in cupcakes and today was the last day they'd be allowed since tomorrow is their pizza party.
So guess what we were doing till 10:30 last night? (Besides watching "The Bachelorette" and texting Erika about how much we loved Graham -- miss him already!)
This morning, I got one daughter to school -- skipped the dropoff today, had to park, walk a block with cupcakes then walk back -- then went back and did the top-to-bottom sunscreen on the other two. My teen wasn't supposed to work today, but the change in the weather prompted the boss to call him, so now there's another ride to figure out. But they're all where they're supposed to be now. After tomorrow, I'll be able to get three out of four to a single place. The fourth we'll have to figure out as the summer goes along and his work schedule gets set.

A few extra co-pays for peace of mind

OK, my poor little guy is going through his 5-year-old vaccine boosters. And I'm dragging it out. But I once heard a heartbreaking story about a child who died shortly after receiving all the shots in a single day, and our pediatrician understands my nervousness and is very pleasant about my breaking it up into separate visits. So the little guy went once last week, once again today, and he's still needs his MMR booster so we'll go for that in about a week. Each time I have to pay a new co-pay for an office visit, but I don't care. That story has always haunted me, but I recall how impressed I was with the mom, as devastated as she was, saying she's not against inoculating kids, but she advocated for not doing all the shots at once. Each time my kids got to this age, I insisted on breaking them up.
I know that was really a fluke thing that happened, and kids get shots all the time, but for my own peace of mind, I bring them for a second or third visit, depending on how many they need.
But I feel bad for my son. "I don't want a shot!" he said as we pulled in today, last week's needle probably fresh in his mind, although he didn't cry either time. "You're almost through with them." I hate to tell him he has to go back there once more. I'm going to have to do some serious bribery.

Last day at day care

Exactly eight years ago, I was in complete turmoil. My mother-in-law, who had moved to the area two years earlier, decided she wanted to move back to Oklahoma where my two brothers-in-law lived. She told us in early June, and was planning to leave in August. When I had my first daughter, I was in a job here where I could work from home, but when my mother-in-law moved out here, she said she'd sit for us -- daughter number 2 was on the way. That enabled me to take a promotion that required me back in the office.
After a year and a half, my MIL was homesick. My brother-in-law had originally moved out with her and they shared an apartment, but New Jersey life wasn't for him, so he went back after a year. Not happy living on her own, and no apartments available at the senior residences in the area, my MIL followed him. (By the way, she eventually moved back, got into senior housing and is happy as a clam out here now!)
That left us in search of day care. We had the summer to find someone, and I was an absolute wreck. Policies changed, the work-from-home option was no longer there, and the not-working option wasn't there at all. So who could I trust with my kids?
We tried ads. We looked at various centers but weren't happy. We started asking absolutely everyone we know. Then, in mid July, my mom happened to be mentioning it at my uncle's house while his garage-apartment tenant was there, and she said, "I know just the place you're looking for." That's how we met Carol and Eileen, a mother and daughter day care team. A minute after going into their house, I knew they were perfect for us. And it's been eight years of so much more than day care. They've become very close friends -- we've leaned on each other, done favors for each other, socialized with and without the kids, etc.
Today is my son's last day with them. All the kids start camp next week, so we don't need any day care all summer. Then they're all in school next year, and my mother-in-law said she'd stay with the little ones for two hours after school. If she decides it's too much, we've got a young teen lined up.
But it's the end of an era, not going to Carol and Eileen's anymore. We'll still see each other regularly. We go to the same church, and usually the same mass. My daughters and Eileen's are in Rainbow Girls together. My younger son's going to marry her youngest daughter in about 20 years or so. We'll still trade e-mails, phone calls, alternate on rides to different activities, invite each other to barbecues. But it'll be strange, not having the kids there.
It's so hard, going to work, especially the first time you go back when you've got an infant. But knowing you've got someone you trust, who you know will give your child the best care possible makes it easier. But it's also more than that. There's also a huge sense of relief when you know the person taking care of your kids has the same moral outlook on life, similar values and outlook on the world. I've been really blessed to have them in my life, and in my kids' lives.

Alarm? I don't need no stinkin' alarm!

Today was the last day -- at least until September, that I'll wake up at 5:30 waiting to hear the shower go on. If it didn't go on before 5:45, I'd have to go down and wake our teenager. He was really good, though, this year. I only had to wake him once or twice all year. That didn't stop me from waking up before his alarm went off anyway. As soon as I heard the shower, I'd fall back asleep until my alarm went off at 6:05 to get him to the bus.
While I miss my days of sleeping well past the start of school, and I was NEVER a morning person -- ever ever ever --- I do like getting started that early. I got myself up and out the door, I usually wait to go for a walk or run till 6:45, then I'm home by 7:30 when my husband has to leave. That gives me time to make sure the other kids are washed, fed, dressed, packed, etc. and for me to jump through the shower. Try as I will, we still only "just manage" to get to where we need to be, when we need to be. If I'm running late, I concentrate on getting what needs to be done out of the way. If I'm ahead of schedule, I'll end up doing dishes and laundry. It just never ends, does it?
I hope I'm regimented enough to keep up with the "early riser" schedule over the summer. With the teenager working, I'd like to get my morning walk out of the way before anything. In my single days, I'd exercise after work. Now, forget it. So how do I manage to not "slack off" when we don't have to meet the school bus or school bell?

When planning ahead doesn't work

When I was Christmas shopping last October, I would pick up things for the kids as I found them on sale, then sock 'em away in the closet. When it came time to wrap things, I divided them up into piles and realized I went overboard for the youngest. So, I cut down on his pile by taking stuff to put away for his birthday.
What might have worked at 4 won't work at 5, I found out. A talking stuffed animal that comes with its own computer and teaches a variety of preschool and kindergarten type of lessons was just not a birthday present he wanted.
"Um, you can keep this Mommy," he said. Actually, I thought it was pretty cool, and he might have liked it last year. But picking up on what his brothers and sisters are playing with has him pretty advanced in terms of what computer games he likes. He navigates the Web pretty well, he can play a Gameboy and Nintendo DS like nobody's business. A talking stuffed animal with a mini computer type thing just isn't sophisticated enough, I guess.
Problem is, this was quite the "find" and now I regret not getting it to him earlier. Its "sale" price was $50, then I somehow got it on a clearance pile (the cardboard packaging was kind of torn up, so I didn't think "Santa" delivered toys in that condition and held it). I paid $20 for it.
Luckily, my cousin and her kids are coming down later this month. It's going to be the baby's present for his next birthday. In my house, ages 3 and up toys won't hold your interest at 5.

Brace face

My 10 1/2-year-old daughter got braces yesterday. She's pretty sensitive, so I was braced myself, armed with children's ibuprofen for the pain, tissues for the tears, a shoulder for the head to lean on.
Turns out, she didn't need any of those. I cracked up -- she was positively beaming. I recalled that age, when I wanted either braces, glasses or crutches ... something to make me a little different. I ended up getting all three at one time or another. Not all they're cracked up to be.
But when they removed the plastic thing that held her mouth open and her lips away from her teeth, she looked at me, gave me a big silver smile and two thumbs up. And Dr. Lang has the cool, colorful bands they put on the braces that the kids can change each time they have a visit. My daughter picked a smoky blue color this time, but I see her in the near future mixing and matching, or not matching -- she's into some funky color-coordinating. I remember her attending a birthday party at a salon a few years ago where the girls got manicures and pedicures. She came home with bright green toenails and dark blue fingernails. Hmmmm.
But I'm glad she's starting her braces early. This way, she'll be done by 7th grade, and more likely to wear her retainer. My oldest got his braces off during his freshman year and while he started well with the retainer, he soon lost interest in it, and no amount of nagging or pleading worked. Fortunately they didn't shift and his smile's still good. I know a friend's son who did the same thing and ended up having to get re-braced. Bummer!
But I'm sure my daughter went back into her classroom and smiled with her blue and silver teeth all day. It prompted my 8-year-old to ask me when she could get braces. Augh. One at a time, kid, one at a time.

Epilogue to Pre-K

Went to my son's "sing-along" on his last day of preschool. That's really strange to realize that next year, all my kids will be in school full-time. I haven't had that since 1997 when my daughter was born. Our oldest was in first grade at the time.
It's one of those sad, but at the same time YAHOOOOOOO! realizations. I enjoyed every bit of them being little. But I'm relieved at the narrowing down of three school schedules to two, and since our oldest will be a senior in high school and pretty self-sufficient, we're really down to one school schedule to work around. Hallelujah.
On the other hand, each day I listen to my no-longer-a-preschooler sound a little bit more grown up. It's incredible to watch them grow right now, they're getting beyond baby stuff, he wants a Nintendo DS for his birthday. So much for the Talking Electronic Bear I picked up on sale at Christmas time and held for his birthday.
As we sat in the sing-along, I watched the smile light up his face as his class sang with Raffi to "Down by the Bay." I remembered hearing our oldest's class sing that at a kindergarten program a dozen years ago. When Raffi calls out the changed chorus things like, "Have you ever seen a bear, combing his hair?" the look on the kids' faces is priceless, they're waiting for that punch line, then break out into laughter, no matter how many times they've heard it at school.
Goodbye, preschool. Hello, kindergarten. My big boy's growing too fast.

Ladies' Day!

Talk about a fun time ... if you're ever looking for a fun ladies' day out, do what Debbie, Erika, Mize and I did on Tuesday -- we caught the taping of "The Daily Show" in New York. Fun!
We left shortly after noon, with Debbie (whose hectic schedule and responsibilities outpace anyone I know -- making her probably the most deserving of a day off) volunteering to drive us in. We parked, went out for lunch and drinks, then met Mize who was holding our plac on line. All morning, when I told people what we were doing, I heard, "Are you crazy? It's going to be soooooo hot!"
Well fortunately, the people at the show recognized the toll the heat was going to take on us and got the show started earlier than usual. Normally, they bring you in, then sequester you in a room for awhile, then move you into the studio. This time we went right into the studio and the show started early.
What a blast. I love Jon Stewart -- not only is he quite adorable, but I love his style of humor and his "reactions."
As we were among the last to leave after the show, a producer walked up and handed us pieces of paper. We looked, and we got the script and show stage directions, plus the papers that Stewart was writing (and scribbling) on. OK, so they may not be worth big bucks some day, but it made our day complete.
Then it was back home, where all I wanted to do was climb into bed and wait for the show to come back on --- the heat and the afternoon's festivities took their toll. But I had to ready lunches and get kids through showers first. Even so, the day was a nice break from a mommy's hectic schedule.

My Daytime (or daydream?) Drama

Oh, the drama that was my Sunday! I went to the Lakewood BlueClaws game where our Web site was hosting a visit with a star from General Hospital. I got there, met the winners from our contest, and rotated back and forth between the suite where our contest winners were and the table downstairs where we were introducing people to this Web site.
Suddenly, the world was spinning. Was it the heat? What was happening to me? I went down like a ton of bricks, and the world went dark.
I came to, looking into the concerned brown eyes of Dr. Patrick Drake, aka Jason Thompson, who plays him (as the son of Rick Springfield's Dr. Noah Drake) on General Hospital.
"Don't worry," he said. "I've seen this before. You've either got a rare tropical disease that only occurs in people with a particular allergy that gets exacerbated by close calls with minor league baseball team mascots ... or, you have a concussion from getting hit by a foul ball. I’ve seen this happen many times in the O.R., although those victims were acting. If you're still alive in 10 seconds, it's just a concussion."
Phew! When I survived, we were all pretty thankful that his days on the General Hospital staff has enabled him to pick up some pretty handy, and creative, medical advice.
Ever the gentleman, he helped me up and away from the crowd. For some strange reason, no one in the BlueClaws stadium noticed he was missing, not even the hundreds of people waiting on line for his autograph.
"When you came to, there was something about you ...." he said, his voice trailing off. "Maybe it was the way your way-too-big jerseyshoremoms.com T-shirt enhanced your eyes as they were rolling back in your head, but ... I can tell, there's something special with us. Will you leave your husband and come to the West Coast with me?" he pleaded.
"Um, can you sing 'Jesse's girl' like your dad, uh, I mean, the guy who plays your dad, or um,, well, OK, you know what I mean," I answered. "Never mind that. Maybe, can I bring my 4 kids?"
"Sure," he said. "The more, the merrier."
We spoke about our hopes, our dreams, our futures, our pasts ... when we stumbled upon an eerie coincidence. We both had grandparents who came over from Ireland ... both from the same county ... about 10 years apart ... from the same town ... from oooooooooooh noooooooo!
We're cousins. We realized it was just too icky, we'd have to give up on the idea of a future together and continue with our lives on opposite coasts. Maybe, someday, we'll meet again and find out our grandfathers weren't really brothers, one was just adopted when a band of gypsies lost him in the middle of the other's potato farm.
Maybe not, since none of this actually happened. I was tardy because I went grocery shopping, so I didn't even sit in on the "meet and greet" they had set up for us with the extremely gracious actor and the winners of our jerseyshoremoms.com contest.
My co-blogger Patti Martin, however, did get there on time to meet with Jason and the winning ladies. She really ran the show. I kind of roamed around. And at the end of the day, I turned to say goodbye, and ... where had Patti gone? She never leaves without saying goodbye ... strange. (to be continued ...)
Click here to find out what happened next: Patti's blog

You go here and I'll be there and she'll be over here and he'll be there ...

I actually typed up a schedule for tomorrow, outlining who has to be where, when, how, and who is responsible for getting each to and from wherever they have to be. It's that bad.
This is so not me. I have my wall calendar in the kitchen, and I've started putting things into my cell phone calendar. Never could handle one of those "planners." I hate carrying my purse, can't see myself lugging a planner around. So I just do the best I can. But tomorrow is nuts, with two ballet recitals, one soccer game, a guitar lesson, a company picnic, a baseball game, one daughter has a luncheon to attend, the oldest has work and needs someone to get him to and from, someone has to be home with the 5-year-old during the ballet recitals (there's no way he'll sit through it) so it's split duty on those. Plus I had to include a note with each saying what has to be lugged along to each activity, a couple of times a change of clothes has to come along with the child.
I printed two copies, one for my car, one for my husband's car, outlining who has to take who where and where the other person will be, pretty much for the whole day.
My day will begin around 8 a.m. and end around 10 p.m. And you know what? As hectic as it will be, none of it looks like it'll be a drag. It all looks enjoyable, it's just all happening in the same day. And for the first time in my life, I've got an agenda printed up, if only to save myself several calls from my husband saying, "What do I need again?" "What time?" "Where?" "Who are you and why are you giving me this schedule?"
We'll survive. And at 10:30, it's Miller Time. At 11, I'm sure I'll be falling asleep.

Hand in hand

Walking my little boy into the sitter's today, I reached down, he reached up, hand in hand we walked toward the house and let go after we walked inside. When does that stop? I know if I looked at my 17-year-old and said, "Want to hold my hand?" he'd look at me as if I sprouted antennae. I can't remember how old he was when we stopped holding hands for just walking around. Probably early grade school years. Boys don't want to be seen as the geek whose mommy has to hold their hand.
They certainly put the brakes on hand-holding before girls do. My girls still haven't. At 10 and 8, they'll hold my hand walking through a parking lot, through the mall, at Six Flags or wherever. If they're not holding onto my hand they'll tuck their hand inside my elbow. My 8-year-old saw me picking up my 5-year-old for a hug the other day and said, "I wish I was still his size!" I can still hug her, I just can't pick her up anymore!
The hand holding-touchy thing lasts so much longer with girls. I'll miss it when my little guy no longer thinks it's acceptable to hold mommy's hand out in public. I guess it's a macho thing.

Oh, the drama

My nearly-5-year-old was supposed to spend today with my parents, at least for a couple of hours. They had something going on their normal day with him, so we changed plans for the week and switched to today. Even though Mom has a bridge game, Dad was planning to spend a little time with his grandson. But Dad worked the polls yesterday. That's a loooooong day. When I spoke with him this morning, he admitted he really wasn't up for the type of boisterousness my son brings with him, so we changed plans again. But the little guy wasn't as adaptable -- the tears started pouring when we were driving away from preschool. "I'll tell you what, to make it up to you, I'll let you pick out a lunchable." "Ooookay!" came the teary voice from the back seat. Then a light bulb must have come on, because he quickly added, "Can I get a Webkinz too?"
Nice try, kiddo. But I had to stop at the bank, so I said he'd at least get a lollipop, and he did. But as we were driving away from the bank, I heard tears starting up in the back again. "It's bwoken!" he sobbed. Sure enough, the little lollipop was in four pieces.
Sometimes a kid just can't get a break.
He donned the birthday crown that he got at school, and that seemed to help him feel a little better. Then picking out the Lunchable brought his spirits right back up. By the time he got to the sitter's, all evidence of tears was gone.
If only we adults could cheer up so quickly. But maybe we do ... who hasn't run out and bought something to lift their spirits? And there is the term, "comfort food." Mine's cheese and crackers. I guess the difference is that his comes packaged with a juice box and a little box of Nerds.

Honestly, I'll pay you back!!!!

In this day and age of distrust among human beings, it's surprising when someone puts trust in a total stranger. I've had two recent cases of a business person trusting me to do the right thing and pay for merchandise fronted ahead. They didn't know me from Adam. Or Eve, for that matter. But both cases surprised me, very pleasantly I must say.
In the first, I was at a street fair and a woman from North Jersey was selling American Girl doll clothes. I didn't have my checkbook and she didn't take credit cards. But she packed up the two dresses my daughters wanted, gave me her card and asked me to mail the payment to her home address. Wow. Wow.
And I did, as soon as I got home. Stamped it, mailed it, felt a little better about the world. "You must have an honest face," someone remarked. I wonder if that woman has ever been burned by doing something like that? Even if it was by someone who meant well, but lost the card or just didn't get around to pay? I hope not.
The second was when I needed a pair of ballet tights for my daughter, called a shop to see how late they'd be there, but found I couldn't make it there before the shop closed. "No problem," the owner said. "I'll put them inside the screen door and you can pay me through the mail slot."
Wow. Wow again. I turned around to my coworkers and said, "She didn't even ask my name!" "You must have an honest voice," one said.
Now, these two are smart business women who know their clientele. I'm sure there's not a black market for ballet tights out there, I'm obviously a pre-recital mom who needed a quick pair of tights for my little girl. And the street fair lady probably "read" me well, too. I'm glad I got their trust. And I'm glad I gave them some business.

June Spoon, Bang Zoom, to the Moon

I know they say March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. But whoever thought that one up was probably a weather freak who didn't have school-aged kids. June is the nutty month for me. EVERYTHING is wrapping up. Softball, baseball, soccer, clubs that take a summer hiatus, ballet, band. Yearbooks come home, then go back to school for autographs, then home, then back. Proms, graduations, parents' days, end-of-school parties, teacher presents, trying to get that extra mile out of a backpack that's seen better days, remembering to "sunscreen" the preschooler who will be doing a lot of outside stuff these days. I FINALLY got around to switching all our wardrobes so our summer stuff is out and the winter stuff is packed up. But it's been kind of cool until the last week or so, and we really didn't need anything summery. So I put it off. Oh well.
I have a slew of doctor appointments for me and the kids, getting those physicals in before camp starts. There are a couple of end-of-the-year receptions and awards dinners on the schedule. A company picnic. The commissioning of the fleet at the club we belong to. My son's birthday -- and a chuck e. cheese party. I looked at our calendar and realized I have something to go to every night after work this week, and two obligations for the whole family to attend each day of the weekend.
Have to figure out who will be able to pick my teen up at work if we're flying all over creation (and at nearly 4 bucks a gallon of gas, it's making me broke.)
But in three weeks, the kids' camp will have started. We'll drive their brother to work, then drop them off, then I can start work early and end early. And we won't have so many obligations on weeknights.
This morning I was taking an early walk and looked over at the basketball courts down the street from home. And I looked forward to those days, a few weeks from now, where I can come home and say, "Who wants to go shoot hoops?" without having to worry about something somebody has to do someplace else.