My children have forgotten what summer is.
Whenever I put short sleeves on N & S they tug on them repeatedly until I help them into long-sleeved sweatshirts.
On Thursday we were going out and I was wearing my skirt with the shorts on underneath (my favorite shorts since the ones from the Army Navy store on Martha's Vineyard finally wore out) and N & S both came over, pointed at my knees and said, "Mommy, pants."
"I am wearing pants, I said. These are shorts."
That's the kind of winter and spring it's been. My children don't remember shorts.
This week alone brought the conviction of the mother who put her infant in the microwave, the identification of the kindergartner from Texas who was suffocated (presumably) by his mother, the trial of Casey Anderson, who we're pretty sure killed her two year old and then painted her nails, partied, and borrowed a shovel from neighbors afterwards, and the Salt Lake City mother who tried to sell her 13-year-old daughter's virginity for $10,000.
So is it really strangers that kids have to worry about?
song: Don't Talk to Strangers • artist: Rick Springfield
This is what the laundry room (laundry hallway really) looked like after I did three loads of wash on Monday. Is it any wonder I'm so excited about another week of hot-elementary-school bus driver?
After school I suggested the boys make a birthday card for Nana, another one for Brody, and a get well card for our regular bus driver, Cal.
"We should make a card for the substitute bus driver too," suggested my son, "to thank him for driving the bus."
There was some hot bird sex going on in the garden plot next to ours at the community garden this afternoon.
I tried not to stare but like everyone else, I'm a voyeur at heart.
There are five birdhouses, all kid decorated, hanging up in my yard.
You'd think those birds could have gotten a room.
Ken's working tomorrow and I have no plans for the five of us. I was counting on some post-apocalyptic mayhem with which to entertain my kids.
Actually I'm kidding. I just really, really want to use this song title for a post.
song: It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) • artist: REM
It's product endorsement time!
When C was in kindergarten I bought one of those shower curtains with a map of the world on it. I liked it because it was so much bigger than the map that comes free with your subscription to National Geographic and I didn't have to worry about how to frame it or where to hang it.
This morning H noted on his flags of the world place mat that "there's one country that has just a green rectangle for its flag."
"It's Libya right?" I said because I've long thought Libya needs to get more creative with its flag. Are there no graphic designers in Libya?
"Yep." he said.
"Does anyone know where Libya is?" I asked.
"It's in Africa" said Caleb.
"How'd you know that," I said, thinking maybe the public school is discussing the occasional current event after all.
"I spend a lot of time in the bathroom."
Look! A laugh-out-loud line from the section on qualified health claims in Michael Pollen's book "In Defense of Food." "No doubt we can look forward to a qualified health claim for high-fructose corn syrup, a tablespoon of which probably does contribute to your health - as long as it replaces a comparable amount of say, poison in your diet and doesn't increase the total number of calories you eat in a day."
And to think my son asked me why I never read "anything good."
Don't forget to vote today. With Donald Trump formally stepping out of the race for President, perhaps he'll become Falmouth's next write in candidate.
In other Falmouth news, OMG the substitute bus driver for NFES's bus 18 is really hot! I predict local mothers will be forgoing their usual bus stop attire (sweatpants) and all arrive in faux yoga wear and stilettos.
I dreamed we were in a mall, surrounded by flat screen TVs, and couldn't get one store owner to switch channels to the space shuttle launch.
"My children are going to be so disappointed," I pleaded.
Luckily this was not the case.
It's nice to know that home ec skills are thriving at the high school despite the budget crisis.
I wonder if that student would mind sharing tips on how to get the brownies out of the pan; for me, that's always the hardest part.
And honestly, good reporting would have noted whether the brownies were made from scratch or from a mix. Ten dollars does seem kind of high for a brownie made from a mix, no pun intended. Unless you got a coveted corner piece.
H drew a picture of the moon having a conversation with the Earth.
"The moon is a boy you know."
"Yeah, because the Earth is a girl. You know, - Mother Earth."
"But I thought men were from Mars."
There was so much trash on the side of the road between our house and the North Falmouth Elementary School on walk to school day that the boys and I decided to limit what we picked up to the worst offender: plastic.
Anyone who lives with an elementary school student knows that turtles eat plastic bags thinking they are jelly fish and albatross down plastic soda caps like candy. Why don't they teach kids about the potentially harmful plastics (PET, PVC, BPA, etc) they are ingesting themselves?
Anyway, by the looks of what we saw and picked up, I have to conclude that West and North Falmouth residents have a serious nip bottle problem, like smoking those skinny cigars, and save their bottles of Blue Moon beer to redeem but toss the bottle caps out their car windows.
song: Once in a Very Blue Moon • artist: Nanci Griffith
Who are all these people who won't believe Bin Laden is dead without seeing a photograph? If they did see a picture would they just say it was manipulated in Photoshop? Are they the same people who wouldn't believe the President was born in Hawaii until they saw a copy of his birth certificate?
It's funny because I bet if you asked them if they believed in God most of them would say yes. Where's their photographic proof of that?
When I was one,
I had just begun.
When I was two,
I was nearly new.
When I was three,
I was hardly me.
When I was four,
I was not much more.
When I was five,
I was just alive.
But now I am six,
I'm as clever as clever.
So I think I'll be six
now and forever.
I wonder if the fish in the tank on one side of the room, can smell the mice in the cage on the other side of the room and if he can does he wonder when the heck I'm going to clean it up? Perhaps he's hoping I'll just move his tank to another room in the house - before his property values slip any further.