The Blog With No Name

The kids are out of school for fall break. The spouse still has pneumonia, or at least the remnants. As he refuses to take it easy (he’s out hanging pegboard in the garage right now), I imagine he’ll be sick for many more weeks. Sigh. I have gone into a weird sort of “fall cleaning” mode – re-examining those parts of GTD that I think might help me keep up with the onslaught of paper at home and at work, clearing out some closets, and getting back on e-bay finally! The most important thing is a fall break regime of homework for the kidlets – the daughter has a book report due on the first day back, so I have to keep on her to read each day, and the boy needs work on multiplication facts. So drill drill drill, nag nag nag. So much fun. Kids are too damn’ complicated.

There is a program at my work church on Wednesday evenings. It is a very fine program, consisting of among other things homework help, youth choir, and a free dinner for all comers. Invariably, on Thursday morning, I have to clean my office and excavate my desk because the people who work on this program just drop everything and leave when they are done. I am not able to express how much this enrages me.

I have observed a sort of parallel – people at work are doing the same things that my kids do at home to drive me out of my mind. My children act as though we have a maid. We do not. My co-workers act as though the Desk Fairy comes to clean up after them on Wednesday nights. She does not (I of course assume any Desk Fairy would be female). I do. My daughter sighs and rolls her eyes at me in a most annoying fashion, and when my boss (who is 27 years older than my daughter) does the same thing, I become incoherent with fury.

The Boy got mysteriously sick again – amazing how he can be sick for ten minutes right before it’s time to go to school, and OK the rest of the day.

The Girl had a very unsatisfactory school report – too much TALKING and not enough FOCUSING ON HER WORK. Work that she could get done well within the allotted time if she stopped TALKING. OH IT MAKES ME MAD.

The spousal person is doing too much too soon, and therefore will not recover from his pneumonia for months, I’m sure.

On the bright side, though, my nice friend (which one, you will ask – I have so many!) gave me this book out of a clear blue sky: Confessions of a French Baker, by Peter Mayle and Gerard Auzet. I am greatly looking forward to reading it! Thanks, Desiree!

Charles didn’t just get what I had. No sir. He went camping last weekend with the Webelos, even though he felt sick even then. So what’s the diagnosis now? PNEUMONIA, baby. We now have a small pharmacy in the kitchen, what with the inhaler, the codeine-laced cough medicine, etc. If he’s not better by Monday, it’s off to the hospital…

First Verizon bill. How many  mistakes? Well, one for sure – they shouldn’t be charging us for my line (two are supposed to be included in the plan we have) but only for our daughter’s. And, um, yes Charles, when you use the Treo web browser, YOU HAVE TO PAY. Like, $64. I fear we (I) might yet regret that phone purchase…

I’ve been sick, really. It started Labor Day (why, oh why did I walk in the parade??? madness!!) as feverish listlessness, kept me home from work the following day, where I alternately napped and got acquainted with the SCIENCE CHANNEL (How Do They Do It? How It’s Made – all dangerous shows). Now I have settled into a plain old head cold. Blech.

The garage got gutters today, a bit of a surprise as I drove down the alley and saw yet another collection of step vans and big big pickup trucks in my driveway. I suppose gutters and downspouts are OK, but the parts at the very bottom are angled out onto the driveway itself, and I’m absolutely sure that at some point in their lifetime I am going to drive right over them. I am guessing this will not be good.

The boy seems to be settling in a bit more in his new school. I am making almost daily visits to glare at the inside of his desk, and to ask “do you have this? do you have that? what about x, and don’t forget about y.” I know in the long run this is not helpful, and I feel like the most obnoxious helicopter mom, but honestly, he still thinks he can get away with the bare minimum. At least he seems to be taking a bit more care with his handwriting. He has to give a book talk on Wednesday, and he’ll have to be able to read his own notes. We Shall See. (I am filled with glee that he has all of a sudden taken to the “Great Brain” books, absolute faves of mine when I was around his age.)

We just came back from a Labor Day party at the house of some friends. They had, among other things for the entertainment of the children present, a huge water slide with a mud puddle at the end (although “puddle” does not do justice to the nature of this collection of mud – it was at least a mud pond). The Boy had mud in places he didn’t know he had places. I made him sit on plastic sheeting on the ride home, so as to not reduce the resale value of my vehicle. It was glorious.