Category Archives: school

This… Is… Walgreens

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

You know how especially this time of year everybody has to have something weird and specific for school or sports or work or a hobby or whatever and they need it right now?  Just within the past week or two I have had to provide six individual flowers, a funny hat, Swedish fish, a baby picture, a bag of pretzels, a foam roller, a metal dog bowl, a plain white t-shirt, a South African recipe, a bag of Pepperidge Farm Milano Double Fudge cookies, a food that starts with the letter “U,” an unopened sleeve of plastic cups, 2 inflatable pool swim rings, seven metal stakes, and a cut-up lemon.  And there’s never much notice because everybody is trying to cram everything into the last few weeks before school lets out and summer begins.

Plus, we are still attending all of the regular season practices and classes and now their accompanying End of the Year/ Season parties and celebrations as well.  So our family calendar and all of the driving and carpooling and shuttling has been kicked up a notch.  And not even my regular stockpile of supplies can be counted upon for all of these strange and urgent requests.  (My father-in-law thinks that between my garage, basement and pantry I have my own Kroger going on and he’s not too far off the mark).  Still, I find myself running to the store almost every afternoon lately to fill the demands that I do not have already on hand, and that means “running in” with some, if not all, of my kids.  Ugh, the herding turtles suckfest.  My patience is at an all-time low.

I have tried bargaining with what I have available, but my kids never agree to bring in freezer-burned edamame when they are supposed to be showing up with Sour Patch Kids.  Picky, picky, picky.

Since I am rarely up for carting these kids around with me to the stores last minute, I like to ask Sheepdog to stop instead.  I can justify this pass off of parental responsibility because (a) he is either alone or only has the older kids with him and they can get in and out of the car by themselves and they can usually be trusted in a parking lot, (b) it is way past dinnertime and when he goes out and the odds are reduced that he’ll get caught in the middle of a bitch-slap fight for the last rotisserie chicken from the heated display, and (c) he will use any excuse to go out and pick up a few extra Hershey bars or sleeves of Smarties for his late night snack… “they just fell into the cart!”

Sheepdog is a great team player and he always goes without complaint.  But even patient Sheepdog gets frustrated with the traffic and the scavenger hunt and by the time he has gone to a second or even third store to get some rare item, he has little or no patience left with the people at the register.  This is how it went when he was once checking out with a disposable camera, a very specific (and not easy to locate) type of long-hair conditioner, and some candy.  He was already tired and overworked and ready to be home eating his treats.  Calgon, take me away.

“Will that be all, sir?” asked the clerk.

“Yes.  Oh, and I have a CVS card,” replied Sheepdog.

“What?”

“I have a CVS card,” he said again with his irritation showing itself in tone and volume.

“Huh?”

“I… Have… A… CVS… Card.”  I believe his patience evaporated completely with the last syllable.

“Sir, this… is… Walgreens.”

Oops.

Wish Sheepdog some more patience for tomorrow…

Opening the Floodgates

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

The summer before Kid E turned two years old I started to worry.  He did not talk very much at all.  And with all of the very vocal people already in this house he seemed to get lost in the shuffle.  Often his siblings would just answer for him or bring him toys until they brought what he wanted.  When I looked into it some more I realized that he was way behind in his speech development, so as each day passed I began to fret more and more that there was something wrong with him.  Speech was definitely not his go-to form of communication.  He would much rather point and grunt at the things he wanted.  He also did this sing-songy gibberish thing with lots of inflection.  It was kind of cool and sounded pretty, but I still knew that something about my baby was way off.

Fortunately, my sisters told me that Georgia has a program called “Babies Can’t Wait,” which facilitates testing and early intervention for children under age three who are exhibiting developmental delays.  I contacted the Fulton County coordinator for Babies Can’t Wait and was able to get Kid E scheduled for testing shortly after his second birthday.  The test results confirmed that his expressive communication skills (how he interacted with others) were horribly low (4th percentile), but his auditory comprehension skills (what he understood) were above average.  The therapist classified him with a severe expressive language disorder, but she also said in her report that he showed favorable chances for improved communicative functioning through speech therapy two times a week.  His file was submitted for processing.  So we waited.

By mid-October I hadn’t heard back from anyone, so I called again.  I was told we were on a list.  Apparently the babies CAN and WILL wait.  Fortunately for Kid E, we had the means to take him to private speech therapy, so I set about the task of applying for a spot in several local, highly recommended therapy programs.  You would think I was applying for a conceal and carry permit with the amount of paperwork that was involved in signing a kid up for speech therapy.  And they asked me all kinds of crazy questions too.

Have any shocks or unusual stress during pregnancy?  Um, yes.  I was shocked that I was pregnant.  AGAIN.
What was the child’s birth weight?  Did I mention he was my 5th baby?  I do not remember what he weighed.  I would check his baby book, but I never got around to doing one.  I’ll guess about 7-ish pounds.
Apgar scores?  1 minute _____  5 minutes _____  You’re kidding, right?  I don’t even remember how much the kid weighed.
Age when child: Began babbling _____ First word spoken (what was it?) _____ Using two-word phrases (age they started) _____ Feeds self with fingers _____ Feeds self with spoon _____ Feeds self with fork _____ Drinks from open cup _____ Rolled over _____ Sat without assistance _____ Crawled _____ Walked _____ Jumped with two feet _____ Toilet trained _____ Ride a tricycle/ bicycle _____  OK, So now we have successfully established that I am a horrible mother who did not keep track of most or any of these milestones and my son will probably grow up hating me and needing more therapy because of it.  Thanks.
What typically calms/ soothes your child?  Thumb sucking.  And even though you didn’t ask, what soothes me after a long day of not being able to communicate effectively with this child is a big bottle of wine.  Please allow him to come to your facility for speech therapy.  Pretty please.  I am begging.

So we were accepted and soon we started going in for therapy twice a week.  I would sit in the waiting room and the therapist would take Kid E back to some magical place where they performed voodoo rituals or some other magical wizardry of the speech therapy variety, because Kid E began to talk almost immediately.  And talk and talk and talk.  It was like the floodgates had been opened.  His therapist was so good at what she did and he responded so well to her treatments that they kicked us out after the New Year.  Fast forward to present day and the kid does not ever shut up.  And I am incredibly grateful, forevermore.

Floodgates at the Lake Sinclair Dam in Milledgeville, Georgia

I definitely pay more attention to his developmental milestones now.  I even paid attention when I had a parent/ teacher conference for his preschool at the mid-year mark.  When it was over I reported to Sheepdog what we discussed.  I read to him from the evaluation.

Kid E “is sweet and agreeable and able to grasp new concepts, especially mathematical ones.  He shows less confidence outside on the playground, but he also shows a determination to master new skills, like climbing.  He is positive and willing to try new things.  At this time he seems more comfortable speaking to adults than his peers.”

I told Sheepdog that I had laughed out loud during the conference about that last comment because I thought it was a good thing.  What?  Most little kids are annoying when you talk to them.  I also mentioned that the teacher said in passing that Kid E still has trouble saying words that start with an “s,” followed by a consonant.  It is apparently fairly common for four-year-olds, but given his history of previous speech issues, I have decided to keep a close eye (ear) on him in this regard.

I have started playing a little game in the car while we drive to and from school.  It is a guessing game.  One person thinks of a word and gives some clues about it and the other person has to guess that word.  Kid E loves playing games in the car so he was all for it.  But I fear that he has already figured out that this game is a form of speech therapy, as I always use “s”-followed-by-a-consonant words when it is my turn.

Me:  “I have a word.  It is one of your favorite dinners.  It has long, stringy noodles and it is covered in tomato sauce and sometimes you eat it with meatballs.”

Kid E:  He sighs at me.  “Pasghetti.”

Me:  “That’s right, but you said it backwards.  Repeat after me.  First say ‘spaghetti,’  then say, ‘sssss.’  ‘Paghetti.’  ‘Sssss.’  ‘Paghetti.’  ‘Spaghetti!’  That’s right!  Excellent!”

Me:  “OK, I am thinking of another word.  It means ‘to knock over or to topple, especially something liquid or slippery… like a drink or the beans.'”

Kid E:  Nothing.  He has already caught on to my speech therapy trick, and he wants nothing to do with it.

Me:  “Let’s forget about the beans.  What is it called when you tip over your drink at dinnertime and it goes all over the table?  That is a big…”

Kid E:  Deliberately, he looks at me in the rear-view mirror and answers with all of the clarity and articulation he can muster, “Flood.”

Game over.  That kid is wicked smart.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Your Kid is a Bully

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Ugh.  This might get ugly.

Yesterday Kid D came off of the school bus on the brink of tears.  Again.  The same kid who has been picking on him off-and-on all school year was now telling him that he was going to beat him up.  This time another kid (who is supposed to be Kid D’s friend) joined in.  Kid D was really upset.  So am I.

There is no easy fix for this problem.

Most of my kids have always been tiny in stature, right up until about 5th grade.  Then they shoot up like magic beanstalks.  But until then they are tiny.  And tiny attracts bullies and harassers.  Kid A (a girl) got punched in the face by a boy in 2nd grade.  Kid B had a girl in her third grade class who just would not leave her alone… petting her hair and constantly poking her to get her attention, calling our house nine or ten times in a row and asking if she had gotten home from school yet.  Kid C endured two bullies last year  – one boy then one girl.  The girl was actually much worse.

Fortunately my kids came to me and let me know what was going on from the start.  Even though I instinctively want to fix things for them I know it is important that they learn to handle stuff on their own, so I always start by reminding them of a few things.

Bullies are not born.  They are created.  Usually by other bullies.  Have a little compassion, but not too much.  People – even kids – are responsible for their actions.

Stand up for yourself.  Most bullies will back down if you challenge them. (Except the boy who punched Kid A in the face.  He was just a jerk.  What kind of boy hits a girl?)  Look them in the eye, say their name and tell them exactly what you want them to stop doing.  Right now.

If they don’t stop, tell a grown up.  Now, this is where I kind of straddle the fence.  I don’t think that parents or teachers need to get involved right away, but I do think it is important that they be informed and aware so that they can keep an eye on the situation.  And somebody needs to get involved if the bullying continues.  I really think that kids need to be empowered and learn to stand up for themselves when they are being wronged.  If they don’t assert themselves then they could suffer from confidence issues, anxiety, irrational fears and end up letting people walk all over them later in life.  Nobody wants that.  But nobody wants their kid to be picked on either, so sometimes it is necessary for an adult to become involved and to guide them through.

In the past I have tried to have the kids handle the situation on their own.  Sometimes this works, but sometimes it doesn’t.  A few times I have called the teacher and/ or the bullies’ parents.  It is uncomfortable for everyone, but I felt it was necessary in each circumstance.  One parent was extremely helpful and compassionate, got involved and the bullying stopped right away.  Another parent was completely defensive, even though the teacher had observed her child harassing mine on several occasions.  Not such a great outcome that time, but the teacher put an end to it quickly.

I don’t know yet how I’m going to proceed with the current situation.  Kid D just came off the bus again and said that the bullying continues.  The second kid didn’t join in this time, but one is all it takes.  I don’t want to watch my confident, vibrant son turn into someone who is scared of his own shadow.  I don’t want to watch him be the victim.  But I also do not want him getting into a fist fight at six years old.  This is not “kids just being kids.”  It is wrong and I want to do something about it.

If you see me at the grocery store or the bus stop, don’t bother asking as I will not tell you who this bully is.  What I will say is that every one of our school-aged children has now experienced different forms of bullying and it is not pretty.  We will continue to discuss ways of coping with our kids.  We will also teach them how to defend themselves and do what is necessary in threatening situations.  Hopefully they will come out relatively unscathed.  But realize that bullying happens and you shouldn’t assume that your kid isn’t involved.

Maybe everyone should talk to their kids about bullying.  Let them know that is not something that they should suffer through in silence and it is certainly not something that is acceptable from them or their friends or their siblings.  Ask them if they have ever been bullied or if they have ever been bullies themselves.  You just might be surprised at their answers.

" I got a message for you, Roth! LEAVE EMMA ALONE! Look at me - if you don't, I'm gonna rip your f-ing head off!" - Peyton, The Hand That Rocks The Cradle (1992)

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

My Kids Have a Splan

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

In our school district the kids don’t study a world language until middle school.  So as you enter the sixth grade you are faced with the question… French, Spanish, or Chinese?

Which language is spoken by the greatest number of people?  There are just under seven billion people in the world.  350 million of us speak English as our first language (that’s only about 5 percent).  Almost 500 million people speak Spanish, which works out to be just under 7 percent.  Barely 2 and a half percent of the world’s inhabitants speak French.  And a whopping 14 percent speak Mandarin Chinese.  But that’s on the world scale, and I’m a little more concerned with what they are speaking in my neck of the woods… on MARTA or at the DMV.  Winner = Spanish.

Which language is easier to learn?  Mandarin has something like 60,000 characters and at least one-and-a-half more tones than the 80’s group Tony! Toni! Toné! (“If the rhythm feels good, Baby, Baby let me hear you say, ‘Uh… uh, Baby!'”), yet their grammar is fairly simple.  And while both French and Spanish both use alphabets similar to the English one, French has all sorts of silent letters and multiple rules with plenty of exceptions and compound verbs and two-part negation.  But French has fewer verb tenses and moods overall than Spanish.  Winner = NOT Chinese

Which language is going to help them more getting into, during and after college?  I read an interesting article on that topic recently that basically said that you should learn Spanish first, and then go on to learn Chinese if you are so inclined.  That is because the language that will be essential for Americans and has far more day-to-day applications is Spanish.  But I feel like people who know Chinese are total smarty-pants and overachievers (the “creme de la creme” if you will, and that’s the only mention of French in this paragraph because knowing French isn’t going to help anyone get into college or do squat in the future) so colleges probably think that too.  Apparently, China is quickly becoming an economic superpower and learning Mandarin could assist you in employment and cultural exchange opportunities now and even more in the future.  Winner = Chinese (by prestige alone)

Which language is the coolest to learn and know?  With over 30 countries in the world who use Spanish as their native language, knowing Spanish can give you amazing travel prospects.  Just ask my dad (El chair es brokenado.  Te fix-o, por favor?).  Knowing Chinese can help you when you are hanging out in… China… and that’s about it.  French is a sexy language and it has some cool phrases (concierge, a la mode, hors d’oeuvres, Grand Prix, en pointe, and Allez!) that can help you in hotels/ restaurants, at Formula One events, ballet class, or while you are watching the Tour de France, but their application can be extremely limited.  Winner, winner, pollo dinner = Spanish

All things considered, learning Spanish seems to be the most practical choice for my kids.  And they seem to be pretty good at it.  I heard the oldest two speaking to one another en español the other day.  Then they were reminding Kid C that she had to take Spanish as well when she goes on to sixth grade next year.  It made me really proud.  Then I started getting paranoid that they could be planning and plotting all sorts of things and I would be none the wiser.  Then the girls all giggled because apparently that has been their Splan (Spanish Plan) all along.

And then I got proud again because that really is genius.

Guess what I want for my birthday?

Souhaitez moi bonne chance pour demain… (I took French in high school and college)

Mauris harumd cras… (and I took Latin)

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Sicko

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

It only took six days.  Yep, just six days of commingling in the public school system, sharing toilets and lunch tables and craft supplies, until one of my kids caught something icky.

Kid D came off the bus on Monday afternoon acting strange.  He didn’t want to go back outside.  He didn’t want to play with a friend.  He didn’t want to swim.  He didn’t even want to play video games.  Wait, …what?  That boy must be ill.

I originally presumed it was the aftereffects of playing outside in the insane humidity (it was still 99 degrees outside at 7 p.m. on Monday here).

“Drink some water,” I said.  “You’re probably dehydrated.”

But alas, he continued his downward spiral and very quickly earned entry into the Sick Males Club (marked by incessant whining with no direct correlation to the severity of the illness, an unquenchable desire for constant attention, and requests for very specific – and usually inconvenient to obtain – food and drink items).  He was running a very high fever, but had few other symptoms.  He has been home for two days.  It seems like two weeks.

Even though I am tired of hearing my name called out every minute on the minute (Enough already!  There is no way that your fingers are too weak to press the buttons on the remote.  I am sensing a scam here.), I have to admit that I enjoy having alone time with my kids occasionally.  I enjoy fussing over them and showering them exclusively with my attention while the others are at school.  I love that my little boy still needs his mommy when he is sick.  I love that I can make him feel better by reading with him and chatting with him and making him comfort food and rubbing his little feet.

But I would love it more if he got all better soon.  It makes me sad when my kids are sickos.

The only acceptable fever

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Guess What We Learned in School Today?

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

When we get to have dinner at the table like civilized people we will often go around and everybody will tell a little something about their day.  Last night only Kid B was out of the house for soccer practice, so the rest of us were chatting it up together, all whilst eating a yummy spread of ham, homemade mac and cheese, mixed veggies and a salad (I’m trying to prove to Sheepdog that I really need this new and improved kitchen by reminding him that I can do more than order from the Pearl Lian).  It is a nice family ritual and keeps us all connected to each other.  Everybody had a lot to say last night, mostly about what had been happening the first week of school.

Kid E started with, “I went to school today…” (no he didn’t).  Then he proceeded to tell us all exactly what he ate, what he played, and how many times he went to the bathroom.  I cut him off at the pass and gave the floor to Kid D.

Kid D presumably had something of substance to say, but he is easily rerouted to potty humor (he is the apple and I am the tree) so we then heard some nonsensical story about poop from him.  Enough.  We were eating a nice dinner for goodness’ sake, and I’m trying to butter up Sheepdog for the new kitchen.  You kids are killing me here!

Kid C was kind of giggly and way into her mac and cheese (score for mom’s kitchen!) and she didn’t have much to add to the conversation, so Kid A took over.  First order of business was to ask her father if she could go to dinner and a movie on Saturday night with her boyfriend.  He is a senior and she is a sophomore, by the way.  He’s a very nice boy and I actually like him.  He is very sweet and respectful to her.  At the same time, though, I once dated a boy who was a senior and I remember what was always on his mind.  No wonder Sheepdog feels the need to buy another gun.  Ugh!

Then Kid A talked about what she learned in Spanish class.  I thought she was going to tell a story, but turns out it was a joke.

A guy walks into a bar.  He notices a man in the corner with a teeny, tiny piano player who is accepting song requests for money.   They are causing quite a commotion, so he asks the bartender about them.
“Oh, there’s some homeless man in the alley who will grant you a wish if you buy him dinner,” said the bartender.
So the man buys a pizza and delivers it to the homeless man in the alley.  The homeless man thanks him and then offers to grant him one wish in return.
The man thinks for a moment.  “I would really like a million bucks,” he says.
Before he knows it, hundreds of thousands of ducks start raining down from above.  The man is disappointed and confused, so he goes back into the bar and approaches the man in the corner.
“I don’t know what just happened.  I asked the homeless man for a million bucks, yet he gave me a million ducks.”
“Tell me about it, man.  Do you think that I actually asked for a 10-inch pianist?”
 
I at least hope that she learned it en Espanol.  So much for a nice family dinner… two poop stories and a penis joke.  I’m never going to get a new kitchen now.

Wish me luck for the weekend…

I Really Don’t Like When Teachers Give Me Homework

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Yesterday after school was filled with administrative assignments, especially for the older kids.  Middle and high schoolers get syllabi from each class and they have to be reviewed, filled out and signed so that they can be returned to the teacher the next day.  They actually count this as an assignment.  Like, for a grade.  I’m not kidding.  No wonder American kids are considered stupid on the world stage.  Even the Canadian kids are working on long division and memorizing the atomic weight of Xenon, while our kids are getting “Super Fantastic!” stickers when they can remember to carry a piece of paper to and from school.  Maybe we can try to set the bar a wee bit higher.  I’m just saying…

By the time I was done writing down my e-mail address (which the schools already have in their systems, by the by, because I already get many, many e-mails from them every day) no less than 17 times, my hand was cramping.  I’m sure my handwriting suffered, thus lessening the possibility that any e-mails intended for me from one of these teachers will eventually make it to my inbox.  Efficient, right?  Actually, some of the teachers were smart and gave the assignment that the parent/ guardian had to send them a single e-mail with your kid’s name and class period in the subject line, thus eliminating any handwriting confusion.  Those teachers must have gone to school somewhere other than America, eh?

So I’ve been working on annoying paperwork for what seems like an endless amount of time and I started to get bored.  And antsy.  And ornery.  Then Kid B gives me another “e-mail the teacher” assignment, but this time the teacher asks that I please include a little note about my kid.  This was my submission:

To: Kid B’s math teacher

From: Stacy Swiger

Subject: Kid B, 8th period

Kid B didn't get out of her pajamas for almost three months.  
Then today she put on a dress and makeup and earrings.  
Honestly, I'm not sure what else to tell you about her, 
except she is a great kid.  
She plays soccer on a travel team.  
She is very smart but not a huge fan of school.  
She gets good grades and seems to be a leader.  
Her dad and I constantly tell her to use her powers
for good and not for evil.
I hope you have a great year.  Thanks for teaching my kid math.
I sure hope you know what you are doing.

I almost directed her to the “Cast of Characters” section of this blog after that, but I thought that’d be weird.  Then I started laughing maniacally about crazy people (specifically, me) drawing lines in the sand to define what is and what is not over the top.  Then I sang Bobby Brown’s “My Prerogative” the whole time I was making dinner.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Hop on the (School) Bus, Gus

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Today was the first day of school.  Joy to the world.

Did you ever have the nightmare where you show up to high school in your pajamas?  I actually did that this morning.

Kid A’s bus was (a) late and (ii) maxed out like a smart car on Guinness Book of World Records day.  The driver leaned her head out and told the kids at our bus stop that someone would send another bus to pick them up in a bit.  Knowing how that kind of thing usually works, a couple of us promptly offered to drive them to school this morning.  I grabbed my wallet and keys and jumped in the car.

Traffic was predictably horrendous, so they missed the late bell by many, many minutes.  Kid A reminded me that a parent has to accompany tardies to the attendance office because no one trusts anybody in the 14 – 19 age group these days.  So in I went.

After I signed them in and returned to my car in the high school parking lot, I got a good look at myself in the mirror.  I was rocking some serious bed head.  I had on no makeup.  And I was wearing my pajamas.  All I needed was a few straggler curlers in my bird’s nest hair, a ratty bathrobe and a pack of Virginia Slims 100s and I could be “That Mom.”  Cool.  A mere two decades ago I wouldn’t be caught dead without a full-length mirror check prior to stepping foot out of my house.  Now I am threatening to show up to the cafeteria in a bikini (trust me… not pretty) if somebody dares to call me and ask if I could drive in a forgotten lunch box.

A little later in the morning it was time to take Kid E to pre-school camp.  His actual school doesn’t start until after Labor Day, but the last two weeks of camp coincide with the start of public school around here so you can bet your bottom dollar that I’m sending him.

Now, remember that his pre-school is in a strip mall.  There were people in front of the school entrance when we arrived and I wanted a good First Day of School picture of just him wearing his backpack, so I just took one next door.

Mr. Spicoli has been nice enough to offer us some pizza

It’s nice to know that he can get an after school job when he’s ready.  Maybe he can bus tables or work the cash register.  Everybody has to start somewhere.  Plus, we know where his mother will be.  Home brew is awesome.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Three Is the Magic Number

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

For the past week I have been making the rounds to all of the schools with all of the kids to meet teachers, secure lockers, and drop at least a couple of Benjamins (in $15 increments so I could write as many checks as possible, natch).  By now everybody has attended their sneak previews and school information days.  They have their backpacks and their supplies and their bus schedules.  Yes, friends, because school starts in just three more days.

Looking back over the summer I recall lots of sun, fun and road trips.  We hung out at the pool and at the beach and we saw lots of relatives and friends.  We did everything and nothing.  Almost everybody got to have an OK Day (every day is an OK Day for Kid A and Kid E doesn’t get one until he stays in his bed all night, every night… so I’m not holding my breath).  Sheepdog even joined in on the fun with us whenever he could.  We really had a great summer.

But I have had enough quality time with these people.  Seriously.  I’d like to be done now, please.  Thank goodness that the new school year is beginning next week, or else I’d be signing everybody up for sleep away camp.  Or farming them out for some manual labor so they’d be so exhausted when they got done that they’d just fall into their beds and sleep for 12 hours straight.  I could buy a pile of bricks and just have them move it from one spot to another and then move it back again when they were done.  They wouldn’t even have the energy to complain or request anything or fight with each other or me.  Bliss.

For the next three days I'm going to hang this picture on my refrigerator with the caption "Don't bug me or this will be you... except I won't give you a bagel."

Maybe I’ll just jot down those ideas for next summer.  It’s always good to have backup plans.

I just have to hang on for three more days.  We may go to the pool again.  I’m sure that Kid A will have plans with her friends.  Kid B says she still needs some more clothes for school.  We have talked about swapping Kid B’s and Kid C’s rooms, so we may tackle that project.  Sheepdog is going to move some other furniture with House Captain and set Kid E up in a new bed as well.  There is an Open House for Sunday School at a church we are thinking of attending this Sunday – maybe we’ll check that out too.  Or maybe we’ll just play video games until the school bus honks on Monday morning.

Whatever gets me through the next three days, right?

Wish me luck for the weekend…

Summer Has Jumped the Shark (Week)

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Da……….dum, da………dum, da……..dum, da…….dum, da……dum, da…..dum, da….dum, da…dum, da..dum, da.dum, DAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

Did I feel it?  Was I paying attention?  Do I remember what I was doing when I first felt that this summer could be O-V-E-R, dead and gone as far as I was concerned?

No, no and odds are either standing in the neighborhood pool making sure nobody was dropping a deuce near me or sitting inside my air-conditioned house because it was so hot I couldn’t even contemplate stepping outside to walk down to said pool (the pool water is now hovering near a lovely ninety degrees – refreshing!).  But I don’t really remember.  I just know that it has definitely happened.

I am sick of the unrelenting, unholy heat that qualifies it as child endangerment to send your kids outside even just to get the mail, let alone to play outside all day (you can drink from the hose and pee in the bushes!).  I am sick of my kids being in the house all day, every day.  I am sick of hearing them bicker with one another.  I am sick of hearing loud crashes, having a mini-heart attack, then hearing a (not really) reassuring “I’m/ He’s OK!”  I am sick of the middle-of-the-night thunderstorms that wake everybody in the house up with their thrashing winds and window-rattling thunder and bone-jarring lightning strikes, yet they don’t even cool anything off the next day.  I am sick of stepping on teeny, tiny Lego pieces that have been strewn about my house for months now.  I am sick of washing bathing suits and pool towels (well, let me be honest – I stopped washing towels around mid-July), and I am especially sick of trying to put those tiny little liners back into bikini tops after they fall out every single wash.  I am sick of reruns on TV, I am no longer friends with Netflix, I haven’t been able to find a great new book, and I am even a little bit sick of the internet.

Bruce: Hello. My name is Bruce. Anchor, Chum: Hello, Bruce. Bruce: It has been three weeks since my last fish, on my honor, or may I be chopped up and made into soup.

Then I stumbled upon Discovery Channel’s Shark Week Top 10 Shark Attack videos.  This stuff is SICK!  I mean I am scared to death to watch and have to pretend it is not real, yet I can’t stop looking at the ocean train wreck/ shark porn that is unfolding before my eyes.  Even the reenactments are realistic and as frightening as my imagination can handle.  Being a girl who loves the beach and ventures out into the waves on a regular basis, I have to know that there is always the possibility that a shark could be out there looking around for some num nums.  I just figure that it’s not going to happen to me.

According to the Top 10 Shark Attack videos, neither did those people.  Well, except the guys who jump into the water in aluminum cages simply because sharks are there and they want to film them/ study them/ get penciled into their dance cards.  I mean, thanks for all of the great up-close, color pictures of humans being shark brunch and all, but who does that?  Those dudes are loco.

I am simply amazed that people get back into the waters in those locations where shark attacks are prevalent.  I was really surprised to learn that the United States leads the world in shark attacks, with 36 in 2010.  Australia (which I would have guessed was the leader) only had 14 and South Africa had eight.  After looking into the numbers in more detail, I have decided that I will never go into Florida’s waters ever, ever again.  But I really didn’t like Florida all that much to begin with.

So I’m counting down the days until that big yellow bus pulls up to my driveway (one of the perks of having so many kids is that the bus stop unofficially relocated to our house).  Today marks eleven.  I can do anything for eleven more days, right?  I can put up with my kids as they are fighting and whining and circling around me, seemingly ready to attack at any minute.  I can even refrain from punching them in the nose (because that’s what I’d do if they were actual sharks).

Yep, Summer 2011 is almost over.  Then comes Fall, with school and alarm clocks and schedules and activities and sports and homework and projects and da……….dum, da………dum, da……..dum, da…….dum, da……dum, da…..dum, da….dum, da…dum, da..dum, da.dum, DAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

Wish me luck for tomorrow…