I have a lot of love languages, it seems...but calendars are a huge thing in my life, and I find myself literally giggling and squealing when I find out that something fits into my calendar seamlessly.
Like spring break.
Let's just forget (for a minute) that it's still technically mid-September, okay? Give me my moment. As I was getting ready to shutdown my laptop for the night, I was looking at the huge wall calendar that is entirely too full of words and figuring out who B was with when conferences were scheduled in early October. It doesn't really matter because we all go to every conference, but I still wanted to know.
See, when I went to school in the same district as a moody teenager, we were always given "Fair Day." Okay, so it was technically Columbus Day, but we were always given a fair ticket, so the name kind of stuck. Last year, the district rocked my world (homework-wise) and gave them Friday AND Monday off for conferences and "Fair Day." They did it again this year. And that makes me sound like a hateful parent who doesn't want to spend extra time with her children, but I'm not. I swear.
We spent all.the.days. together this summer. We're still sick of each other. And then we had a 3-day weekend, like, two weeks ago. It's so much together time, and that's fantastic, BUT we are still pretty full on our quotas of "family time." Luckily, there will be baseball and football practices and games to keep us occupied, and I'm not going to be disappointed about turning off my alarm for two extra days.
BUT, the part that had me squealing for joy is Spring Break. Without fail, the boys always have Spring Break one week and I have it the following. NOT. THIS. YEAR! For once, the calendars have aligned and given us the same week off. I realize I'm a grown-up and I shouldn't be excited about Spring Break, but I am. Deal with it.
The good news about my calendar is that I'm almost to the end of September. The bad news about my calendar is that I'm almost to the beginning of October, and October is going to kick my butt.
In other news, my sister, brother-in-law, and mother came over to join N and me for lunch this afternoon. I made the Pioneer Woman's Spicy Dr. Pepper Pulled Pork, and N was unsure about how delicious it smelled. In fact, he said it smelled downright awful and walked around the house spraying a continuous stream of Febreeze behind him. The end result was way worse than the delightful smell of pulled pork.
In case anyone was wondering, he ate a TON of it. He deemed it delicious, and although he refused to eat baked beans or spinach salad, he did eat the pork. And he said it was good. And then he helped to clear the table and load the dishwasher. I was worried he might be a pod person.
After lunch, I roped my mom into helping me hang the last of the pictures that were leaning against various walls, and it made a huge difference. N also decided to hang things in his room...with push pins: two world maps and a couple of flags. I was sitting on the couch, talking to my sister about Thanksgiving, when he came in and started asking opinions about maps. I was hateful and mean, and totally wrong. I hear about maps all the time. I get sucked into debates and discussions and get shot down for voicing my opinion on the regular, so when he came in and asked opinions, I bit his head off. My mom and my sister both called me out for being mean, and N went to his room. I apologized after they left, and he said it was okay.
Then he ate all of the homemade cherry cobbler I'd made for dessert. Like, literally, an 8x8 pan of cobbler. GONE. I guess it was deserved?
I hope it was good...a bite would have been nice.
Sigh.
At least there's almost a whole peach cobbler left. I did that on purpose...he's not a peach fan.
Mom win.
Aubs
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