I've been working on wrapping up my semester, so I've let the household duties slip a little bit. So, this morning, after I sent N to school, I came home and decided to start with my room/bathroom. Usually my room/bathroom are the last to be cleaned because 1. I'm a girl and not that messy, and 2. I tend to clean up after myself.
The boys? Entirely different story. In fact, I got so wrapped up in my room and doing laundry, that I kind of quit on the rest of the house. Whoops! There's always tomorrow, I guess...
I also decided to be ambitious and catch up. I started a new squats challenge almost a month ago, then added a crunches challenge a couple of weeks later. With my Saturday being so busy and my Sunday being devoted to homework, I was behind. I opted to catch myself up instead of starting over or just skipping it. That said, I did 555 squats yesterday and 170 crunches. I can't wait to see how my legs feel tomorrow.
I had the bright idea to bring some of my textbooks with me to N's practice so I could study. In theory, this was a great idea. I'm usually the only parent who stays at practice who doesn't help (I AM a girl, after all...) so I figured it would be mostly uninterrupted time looking over my notes. Except, all of the parents stayed. Every single one. And they were loud. And they brought their animals, animals who were very interested in my text books that were spread across my blanket.
So, I finally gave up. And right about the time I gave up, my favorite mom walked up with her dog, Spike. I put my books away, and we spent the rest of the time talking and laughing and doing a lot of ducking and covering. There were foul balls flying all over the place. We also discussed what types of beverages would be tasty for our game tomorrow against our biggest rivals: The Marlins.
It'll be a blast. I can't wait...I really can't!
When we finally got home, N and I ate dinner and he showered and went to bed. Because practice goes until 9:00 on Mondays, it makes for late nights, which makes for difficult mornings on Tuesdays. I called B to tell him to come give me a kiss when he finished at batting practice, but he told me that his dad didn't take him to batting practice. I think that's stupid. They have a game tomorrow, too...and B is still semi-afraid of the ball. It makes me really angry that the one time he didn't go to practice was the one time his dad was expected to take him.
And there's no real reason behind it, and that's probably the most frustrating part. Being on a team is a commitment. Attending practice is like a job. And I really don't think teaching your child, "Oh you don't have to go if you don't feel like it..." is the proper learning lesson here.
Aubs
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Monday, May 6, 2013
Focus
My semester is drawing to a close, and I have a lot of assignments that I need to complete before the 18th of May. I think the due dates are actually before that, but the close of the semester is towards the end of next week. So, after delightful morning where I woke up at 10:15 on my own because I was home alone last night, I did what anyone else would do...
I procrastinated. How could I possibly focus on homework when there were episodes of Gilmore Girls on television, just begging to be watched? Exactly.
N came home mid-afternoon with a new catcher's mitt, and he was exhausted after a long day yesterday playing baseball. He asked to go to his room to relax, and I decided that I wanted to be a good example and work on homework, so we split up...until he remembered that we needed to go over a bunch of stuff for going into middle school, so we decided on his schedule and marked that off the list.
I hit my homework after that, and spent the next six hours of my life finishing every single thing for one of my classes except for the final exam, which I can't take until next Monday.
It was a long night.
It wouldn't have been that long if I'd simply worked on my homework earlier, but I was busy. Relaxing. Because I got up early on Saturday and stayed up super late...and then.
Wow. I'm debating whether to call a whambulance or book a room in retirement home around the corner.
Okay, then...
Yeah.
Aubs
I procrastinated. How could I possibly focus on homework when there were episodes of Gilmore Girls on television, just begging to be watched? Exactly.
N came home mid-afternoon with a new catcher's mitt, and he was exhausted after a long day yesterday playing baseball. He asked to go to his room to relax, and I decided that I wanted to be a good example and work on homework, so we split up...until he remembered that we needed to go over a bunch of stuff for going into middle school, so we decided on his schedule and marked that off the list.
I hit my homework after that, and spent the next six hours of my life finishing every single thing for one of my classes except for the final exam, which I can't take until next Monday.
It was a long night.
It wouldn't have been that long if I'd simply worked on my homework earlier, but I was busy. Relaxing. Because I got up early on Saturday and stayed up super late...and then.
Wow. I'm debating whether to call a whambulance or book a room in retirement home around the corner.
Okay, then...
Yeah.
Aubs
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Fired up
I will be the first one to tell you that life isn't fair. My boys hear it from me all the time, and they argue that it could be fair, I just like to torture them. Not true. It's part of life. Things will not always go your way, and you can do absolutely nothing wrong, and totally deserve something, but not receive it.
That's N. Today. Seriously. And I'm fired up.
We got to the ball fields this morning, and met up with the other Giant who was subbing in for the Marlins. Apparently, two of the Reds were also subbing in for the Marlins, including the tournament coach's son. Awesome. He refused to make eye contact, and any respect that I'd had for him completely went down the tubes. I'm not hostile, I'm not mean. I'm polite. I don't agree with his choices, but I can make polite conversation with the best of them, even if (deep down) I think you're the biggest douchebag on the planet. I'm not saying I think that of anyone, necessarily, but chances are...if I thought that about you, you probably wouldn't know.
Anyway, because Coach Chris was so short on players, N spent one inning in the outfield, another at 2nd base, and the last inning at 1st. He promised me, prior to the game, that he was going to run everything out, and when I saw the other coach was there watching his own son, I told N to have a good attitude and play his heart out. And one of the great things I love about his old coach is that he's super encouraging. He's N's biggest fan...even when they are playing against each other. Although it was close for a while, we helped the Marlins to victory, then rushed over to the other field for our game against the Reds...and the tournament coach.
Since two of our boys had already played a game, they were pretty warm already, and everyone showed up for the game. It was the first time we had all been together since the tournament team was posted, and I had a lot of questions to field about why N didn't make the team. One of the boys on our team who did make it was allowed to try out by his mother. His father and stepmother had said they didn't want him to try out because they were going to be gone for the majority of June. They were upset that their kid had made it because he wasn't going to be available for most of the season and N hadn't...because he was available for the whole season. Like I said, life just isn't fair sometimes.
N had something to prove in that game. He had to prove to this coach that he had made a mistake, and he did...prove it, I mean. He was playing with an inexperienced pitcher, so he was trying to be both the catcher and the pitcher when he was trying to tag runners out at home. He ended up with gravel in his elbows on at least two occasions. But you know what? He didn't show an attitude or get angry. He looked hurt, but he brushed himself off, and got back in there.
And then, it happened. While our team was up to bat, the other team's catcher got mad while waiting for the ball to get thrown in from the outfield, and runners were scoring. And scoring. So what did he do? He took off his helmet. And threw it. Hard. He threw up his hands in disgust and was totally ugly. And the coach on his team? Well, he looked embarrassed. So much so, that I ran over to the dugout on our side and asked the coaches who the kid was. When they told me, I. Got. Pissed.
The kid who threw the temper tantrum, a bigger tantrum than I've EVER seen N throw...EVER, made the tournament team. And it was mentioned to the other coach, more than once during and after that game that kids make mistakes and get angry with themselves, but one instance shouldn't keep them from something they want so badly. Ahem, N. Again, it'll never happen because he has to keep some semblance of his male pride/ego, but he knows he was a jerk. And so does everyone else.
And for whatever reason he has for not wanting N on his team, I know for a fact the results would have been different if any other coach were coaching. So N isn't giving up. He's going to play hard and get better and show him he made a huge mistake.
In fact, he did. When a Reds player was trying to make it home, N clotheslined him with the ball and tagged him out. He was a big kid...bigger than N, and N dropped him to the ground. Our side of the stands went a little nuts, and it took complete restraint for the coaches to not cheer, too.
Because, biased or not, my kid's an awesome ball player. And I can be fired up and proud all at the same time.
Aubs
That's N. Today. Seriously. And I'm fired up.
We got to the ball fields this morning, and met up with the other Giant who was subbing in for the Marlins. Apparently, two of the Reds were also subbing in for the Marlins, including the tournament coach's son. Awesome. He refused to make eye contact, and any respect that I'd had for him completely went down the tubes. I'm not hostile, I'm not mean. I'm polite. I don't agree with his choices, but I can make polite conversation with the best of them, even if (deep down) I think you're the biggest douchebag on the planet. I'm not saying I think that of anyone, necessarily, but chances are...if I thought that about you, you probably wouldn't know.
Anyway, because Coach Chris was so short on players, N spent one inning in the outfield, another at 2nd base, and the last inning at 1st. He promised me, prior to the game, that he was going to run everything out, and when I saw the other coach was there watching his own son, I told N to have a good attitude and play his heart out. And one of the great things I love about his old coach is that he's super encouraging. He's N's biggest fan...even when they are playing against each other. Although it was close for a while, we helped the Marlins to victory, then rushed over to the other field for our game against the Reds...and the tournament coach.
Since two of our boys had already played a game, they were pretty warm already, and everyone showed up for the game. It was the first time we had all been together since the tournament team was posted, and I had a lot of questions to field about why N didn't make the team. One of the boys on our team who did make it was allowed to try out by his mother. His father and stepmother had said they didn't want him to try out because they were going to be gone for the majority of June. They were upset that their kid had made it because he wasn't going to be available for most of the season and N hadn't...because he was available for the whole season. Like I said, life just isn't fair sometimes.
N had something to prove in that game. He had to prove to this coach that he had made a mistake, and he did...prove it, I mean. He was playing with an inexperienced pitcher, so he was trying to be both the catcher and the pitcher when he was trying to tag runners out at home. He ended up with gravel in his elbows on at least two occasions. But you know what? He didn't show an attitude or get angry. He looked hurt, but he brushed himself off, and got back in there.
And then, it happened. While our team was up to bat, the other team's catcher got mad while waiting for the ball to get thrown in from the outfield, and runners were scoring. And scoring. So what did he do? He took off his helmet. And threw it. Hard. He threw up his hands in disgust and was totally ugly. And the coach on his team? Well, he looked embarrassed. So much so, that I ran over to the dugout on our side and asked the coaches who the kid was. When they told me, I. Got. Pissed.
The kid who threw the temper tantrum, a bigger tantrum than I've EVER seen N throw...EVER, made the tournament team. And it was mentioned to the other coach, more than once during and after that game that kids make mistakes and get angry with themselves, but one instance shouldn't keep them from something they want so badly. Ahem, N. Again, it'll never happen because he has to keep some semblance of his male pride/ego, but he knows he was a jerk. And so does everyone else.
And for whatever reason he has for not wanting N on his team, I know for a fact the results would have been different if any other coach were coaching. So N isn't giving up. He's going to play hard and get better and show him he made a huge mistake.
In fact, he did. When a Reds player was trying to make it home, N clotheslined him with the ball and tagged him out. He was a big kid...bigger than N, and N dropped him to the ground. Our side of the stands went a little nuts, and it took complete restraint for the coaches to not cheer, too.
Because, biased or not, my kid's an awesome ball player. And I can be fired up and proud all at the same time.
Aubs
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Proud Mama
So. N and I talked last night about the whole tournament team, and he's still upset, but he's really trying hard not to show it. I wish there was something I could do to fix it, but I can't really fix this. It comes down to a pride issue. Even if the coach realized he made a stupid mistake (and, for the record, he did), he won't change his mind or the roster because it would mean admitting he was wrong.
And we all know how often that happens.
Anyway, I was sitting in class today, and my phone started blinking, so I checked it and discovered that I had new email. I checked my mail, and the first thing I saw was an email from N's old coach. It basically said that he was short players for his 9:00 game on Saturday, and how he would love for N to come play for him before our game at 10:45. Would he be interested? And then he congratulated him on making the tournament team...so I emailed him back and said it was the other N that was chosen for the team, and I thought that my N would want to play for him, but I'd let him know this afternoon. His response: "Ugh, that sucks. I just figured it was him. He really impressed me when we played against you guys last time."
And I was a proud Mama for the rest of the day. My boy is a hot commodity. Other teams want him to fill in for them when they're short players, and he would probably do it...for any team except the one the tournament coach is currently coaching. N walked home with a friend, so he called me when he got there, and I said, "Hey, Coach Chris emailed me and asked if you wanted to..." and he yelled, "I'll do it!" before I could even finish. That's how much he adores him. It's awesome.
B and I picked him up on our way to B's baseball game, and I reminded him that he'd have to play outfield for his old coach. Substitute players can't play infield unless there's a serious lack of players, and they can never pitch or catch. All of a sudden, N didn't want to do it anymore, but I told him he needed to be a versatile player. The more positions he can play, and play well, the more valuable he becomes to his coaches and teams. He saw the light.
And B? Well, B got over his fear of the ball and smashed a couple of balls into the outfield. He was so proud of himself, running the bases, and doing a little dance when he crossed home plate. He's a mess! They didn't win, but they played hard and they had fun, and this time, they even paid attention!
N and I went home to get some food, and then we spent a little time watching Happy Gilmore (he's never seen it) and playing Super Nintendo (Donkey Kong Kountry) before bed. Tomorrow's going to be an early morning.
Oh boy!
Aubs
And we all know how often that happens.
Anyway, I was sitting in class today, and my phone started blinking, so I checked it and discovered that I had new email. I checked my mail, and the first thing I saw was an email from N's old coach. It basically said that he was short players for his 9:00 game on Saturday, and how he would love for N to come play for him before our game at 10:45. Would he be interested? And then he congratulated him on making the tournament team...so I emailed him back and said it was the other N that was chosen for the team, and I thought that my N would want to play for him, but I'd let him know this afternoon. His response: "Ugh, that sucks. I just figured it was him. He really impressed me when we played against you guys last time."
And I was a proud Mama for the rest of the day. My boy is a hot commodity. Other teams want him to fill in for them when they're short players, and he would probably do it...for any team except the one the tournament coach is currently coaching. N walked home with a friend, so he called me when he got there, and I said, "Hey, Coach Chris emailed me and asked if you wanted to..." and he yelled, "I'll do it!" before I could even finish. That's how much he adores him. It's awesome.
B and I picked him up on our way to B's baseball game, and I reminded him that he'd have to play outfield for his old coach. Substitute players can't play infield unless there's a serious lack of players, and they can never pitch or catch. All of a sudden, N didn't want to do it anymore, but I told him he needed to be a versatile player. The more positions he can play, and play well, the more valuable he becomes to his coaches and teams. He saw the light.
And B? Well, B got over his fear of the ball and smashed a couple of balls into the outfield. He was so proud of himself, running the bases, and doing a little dance when he crossed home plate. He's a mess! They didn't win, but they played hard and they had fun, and this time, they even paid attention!
N and I went home to get some food, and then we spent a little time watching Happy Gilmore (he's never seen it) and playing Super Nintendo (Donkey Kong Kountry) before bed. Tomorrow's going to be an early morning.
Oh boy!
Aubs
Friday, May 3, 2013
The fateful day my child's hopes are dashed
Y'all. On Sunday, N tried out for the summer tournament team, and it is my (completely unbiased) opinion that he was one of the better players who tried out. On Saturday, however, he had a bit of an issue during his game. He hit the ball to the pitcher, and didn't even attempt to run it out. The coach of the opposing team (who is also the tournament coach for the summer) took notice of it, and that proved to be N's downfall.
When the list was posted this morning, I opened it and was excited to see his name...only, then I looked again and saw that it wasn't the correct last name, and the other N had made it. I will never forget the look on my boy's face. Ever. He put his head down on the table and just cried. I tried to console him, and he begged me, tears streaming down his face, to leave him alone. And my heart broke. Over and over, it broke, all day. I text his coach, who was as unbelieving as I was. He called the other coach to find out why my boy didn't make it (he's kind of invested himself in my kid, which I absolutely love because N has done so well this season), and the other guy essentially told him that N had a great tryout, but he just couldn't get the lack of effort on Saturday out of his mind.
I was really angry when he told me that, because I don't feel like it's right to penalize a 10 year-old boy for a mistake he made in ONE game...a game we weren't even originally scheduled to play. At the same time, I'm appreciative of it because my son has a horrible problem with his attitude. And he doesn't seem to think his attitude will impact his life on and off the field. When I told him it boiled down to his attitude, he got really upset and swore he'd never play baseball again. Later, we talked about it, and he admitted he loved the game, and was looking forward to playing against the tournament coach again on Saturday...and kicking their butts!
That's right, buddy. Be polite and respectful, but beat them into the ground. And he will. Because I've heard (from several sources...again, not just my opinion) he's the best catcher in the 10 year-old league, which is awesome...because he's only been catching since October. I think it's sad that this coach saw him catch the game of his life a couple of weeks ago, and even commented on how impressive it was, but only remembered a stupid mistake on his part because he was disappointed in himself.
Life lesson learned. I hope. When he got home from school, I took him to IKEA for a snack (which I realize is weird), and then we went to get my hair trimmed. One of the things I love about the woman who does my hair is that she loves to experiment with things, and I love to let her. Currently, my hair is blond, but it's still a little too "yellow" for me, so she's going to tone it down a little on Saturday. The process tonight, going from dark to light, was a lot longer than I anticipated. Thankfully, N brought entertainment, and bless him, he didn't complain once.
I love our time together. I really do. And now, I'm working on critiquing work for other students before I go to bed, because I seemingly have a knack for it.
Who knew?!
Aubs
When the list was posted this morning, I opened it and was excited to see his name...only, then I looked again and saw that it wasn't the correct last name, and the other N had made it. I will never forget the look on my boy's face. Ever. He put his head down on the table and just cried. I tried to console him, and he begged me, tears streaming down his face, to leave him alone. And my heart broke. Over and over, it broke, all day. I text his coach, who was as unbelieving as I was. He called the other coach to find out why my boy didn't make it (he's kind of invested himself in my kid, which I absolutely love because N has done so well this season), and the other guy essentially told him that N had a great tryout, but he just couldn't get the lack of effort on Saturday out of his mind.
I was really angry when he told me that, because I don't feel like it's right to penalize a 10 year-old boy for a mistake he made in ONE game...a game we weren't even originally scheduled to play. At the same time, I'm appreciative of it because my son has a horrible problem with his attitude. And he doesn't seem to think his attitude will impact his life on and off the field. When I told him it boiled down to his attitude, he got really upset and swore he'd never play baseball again. Later, we talked about it, and he admitted he loved the game, and was looking forward to playing against the tournament coach again on Saturday...and kicking their butts!
That's right, buddy. Be polite and respectful, but beat them into the ground. And he will. Because I've heard (from several sources...again, not just my opinion) he's the best catcher in the 10 year-old league, which is awesome...because he's only been catching since October. I think it's sad that this coach saw him catch the game of his life a couple of weeks ago, and even commented on how impressive it was, but only remembered a stupid mistake on his part because he was disappointed in himself.
Life lesson learned. I hope. When he got home from school, I took him to IKEA for a snack (which I realize is weird), and then we went to get my hair trimmed. One of the things I love about the woman who does my hair is that she loves to experiment with things, and I love to let her. Currently, my hair is blond, but it's still a little too "yellow" for me, so she's going to tone it down a little on Saturday. The process tonight, going from dark to light, was a lot longer than I anticipated. Thankfully, N brought entertainment, and bless him, he didn't complain once.
I love our time together. I really do. And now, I'm working on critiquing work for other students before I go to bed, because I seemingly have a knack for it.
Who knew?!
Aubs
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Prepare to be completely bored
I mean, to tears. Nothing interesting or exciting happened today. N's dad was supposed to take him to school, but he had something else to do, so I rushed N through breakfast and out the door to school. I met B's stepmom to get his gear bag for baseball practice, and then I went home to eat breakfast and watch a little news.
Because, apparently, I'm 76. And to continue along those lines, Golden Grahams are not as tasty as I remember. And the news? Well...I watched for a little while and then switched it to the XM channels because let's face it. That's way more entertaining. Who doesn't love a little "90s on 9" anyway?
Naptime was next, after I threw the trash down the stairs, started a load of dishes and sorted a load of laundry. I told you. Crazy exciting. I woke up, made a grocery list, and went to Target. Ahhh, Target. N and I were supposed to go to Target yesterday, but he agreed to eat semi-stale tortilla chips for lunch today if we could skip it, so we did. I hope those tortilla chips were the highlight of his day.
It was a short trip, and then I hit Costco for a few other things on my way home. And that's when I noticed my car smelled weird. When I got home, I unloaded everything and noticed the stuff in the trunk was wet. And that's when I discovered the 1/2 gallon coolers the boys use for games. Sideways. Partially open. In the trunk. I spread all of their baseball gear out across the sidewalk, took the groceries upstairs, and left the baseball gear out/trunk open to dry.
And then I was totally disgusting and smelled weird. Always a bonus.
The boys came home, and they played around a little bit before baseball practice, and even gave back the X-box power cord. It was like Christmas! No, really. It was. The yelling began almost instantly, causing me to yell, "I swear I'll take it away again. Don't argue anymore. Listen to my words 'cause I'm only saying it once."
And then I went into my room to curl up in a ball because I felt like I was channeling my mother. Sorry, Mom. I love you!
Baseball practice was hot. It was hot. Tomorrow, it'll be 30 degrees colder again. And the temperature is going to drop. Again. Thank goodness I have tortilla soup in the fridge!
B's practice was in the sun, so I watched it for approximately 30 minutes before I felt like I was going to melt, and then went over to the batting cages. I hung out and talked to a couple of dads for a little bit, then went to meet B's stepmom to give her his backpack. He's going to be over there for the next few days, so I wanted to be sure he had everything he needed.
Meanwhile, back at the U10 cages, the boys had moved to fielding. N had on his gear and was practicing catching. One of the other boys also practiced catching, and he was hilarious. The whole practice was fun. I'm going to miss them when the season is over. We may end up on the same team in the future, which would be super fun, but who knows!
And now, I must squat. Because these thighs aren't going to shrink themselves.
Aubs
Because, apparently, I'm 76. And to continue along those lines, Golden Grahams are not as tasty as I remember. And the news? Well...I watched for a little while and then switched it to the XM channels because let's face it. That's way more entertaining. Who doesn't love a little "90s on 9" anyway?
Naptime was next, after I threw the trash down the stairs, started a load of dishes and sorted a load of laundry. I told you. Crazy exciting. I woke up, made a grocery list, and went to Target. Ahhh, Target. N and I were supposed to go to Target yesterday, but he agreed to eat semi-stale tortilla chips for lunch today if we could skip it, so we did. I hope those tortilla chips were the highlight of his day.
It was a short trip, and then I hit Costco for a few other things on my way home. And that's when I noticed my car smelled weird. When I got home, I unloaded everything and noticed the stuff in the trunk was wet. And that's when I discovered the 1/2 gallon coolers the boys use for games. Sideways. Partially open. In the trunk. I spread all of their baseball gear out across the sidewalk, took the groceries upstairs, and left the baseball gear out/trunk open to dry.
And then I was totally disgusting and smelled weird. Always a bonus.
The boys came home, and they played around a little bit before baseball practice, and even gave back the X-box power cord. It was like Christmas! No, really. It was. The yelling began almost instantly, causing me to yell, "I swear I'll take it away again. Don't argue anymore. Listen to my words 'cause I'm only saying it once."
And then I went into my room to curl up in a ball because I felt like I was channeling my mother. Sorry, Mom. I love you!
Baseball practice was hot. It was hot. Tomorrow, it'll be 30 degrees colder again. And the temperature is going to drop. Again. Thank goodness I have tortilla soup in the fridge!
B's practice was in the sun, so I watched it for approximately 30 minutes before I felt like I was going to melt, and then went over to the batting cages. I hung out and talked to a couple of dads for a little bit, then went to meet B's stepmom to give her his backpack. He's going to be over there for the next few days, so I wanted to be sure he had everything he needed.
Meanwhile, back at the U10 cages, the boys had moved to fielding. N had on his gear and was practicing catching. One of the other boys also practiced catching, and he was hilarious. The whole practice was fun. I'm going to miss them when the season is over. We may end up on the same team in the future, which would be super fun, but who knows!
And now, I must squat. Because these thighs aren't going to shrink themselves.
Aubs
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
I'm entirely too young to have a middle schooler.
It's true. Tonight, at the "Incoming 6th Graders Parent Meeting," an older man was sitting behind me, and when the principal announced the t-shirts that boasted "Class of 2020" on the back, he said, "That makes me feel really old." I looked back at him, smiled, and said, "Right?!" He stared at me, dumbfounded, then said, "I thought you were the babysitter."
And right about then, my life was complete. As we were pulling into the parking lot, I told N, "I'm entirely too young and too hot to have a middle schooler." and we both promptly burst out laughing. It was just funny. What wasn't funny, though, was the serious lack of electives options the 6th graders have. There are a total of 7 choices, and they each have to pick 3. N is not a band/choir/theatre person, so that leaves him with art as his fine arts elective. Then he has to choose between P.E., a Math/Science Investigations thing, and/or a Creative Reading/Writing Workshop. All year. Three of them. He's not that thrilled...
The counselor claims more options are available in 7th grade, but she didn't seem too sure of herself either. After it was over, N's dad joined us for dinner at Pei Wei, where I got the most bizarre fortune in my fortune cookie. Ever.
After we left, N and I had the following conversation:
Me: Are you seriously eating a fortune cookie in my car?
N: I'm addicted!
(Insert loud crunch and flying fortune cookie pieces here)
Me: See? This is exactly why we do NOT eat in my car.
N: Yeah...that was rather unFORTUNate.
(Insert laughter that rivals Squints on The Sandlot)
Me (laughing): And that pretty much seals the deal. You're my child.
(Maniacal laughter continues, compliments of N)
Me: ...and you're a little psycho.
N: I get all my psycho from you.
I have to tell you, he and I have been quite the comedy duo today. I love times like this...but sometimes they go a little too far...like when he says he's staying up until 10:00, and I say "NO" and he thinks I'm joking and I have to get mad.
I don't particularly care for that portion of life.
Nor do I care for this cough that keeps holding on...it makes it really hard to rock out in my car.
Aubs
And right about then, my life was complete. As we were pulling into the parking lot, I told N, "I'm entirely too young and too hot to have a middle schooler." and we both promptly burst out laughing. It was just funny. What wasn't funny, though, was the serious lack of electives options the 6th graders have. There are a total of 7 choices, and they each have to pick 3. N is not a band/choir/theatre person, so that leaves him with art as his fine arts elective. Then he has to choose between P.E., a Math/Science Investigations thing, and/or a Creative Reading/Writing Workshop. All year. Three of them. He's not that thrilled...
The counselor claims more options are available in 7th grade, but she didn't seem too sure of herself either. After it was over, N's dad joined us for dinner at Pei Wei, where I got the most bizarre fortune in my fortune cookie. Ever.
Me: Are you seriously eating a fortune cookie in my car?
N: I'm addicted!
(Insert loud crunch and flying fortune cookie pieces here)
Me: See? This is exactly why we do NOT eat in my car.
N: Yeah...that was rather unFORTUNate.
(Insert laughter that rivals Squints on The Sandlot)
Me (laughing): And that pretty much seals the deal. You're my child.
(Maniacal laughter continues, compliments of N)
Me: ...and you're a little psycho.
N: I get all my psycho from you.
I have to tell you, he and I have been quite the comedy duo today. I love times like this...but sometimes they go a little too far...like when he says he's staying up until 10:00, and I say "NO" and he thinks I'm joking and I have to get mad.
I don't particularly care for that portion of life.
Nor do I care for this cough that keeps holding on...it makes it really hard to rock out in my car.
Aubs
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