And, hi Peter.
This is for them. Because they want to know.
So we're back in the regular life of the Paul and Stacey family. Such things are happening like...
- I had most of my hair removed yesterday. It was one of those cleansing haircuts that took off half of a ruler or so. No picture. Yet. It was my stylist's attempt to redeem my look after I cut my own bangs like a sneaky five-year-old with a pair of blunt scissors. About a month ago I tried to do the thick bangs look. But mostly I just ended up pinning them back. Because the first day I styled them down and I came out of the bathroom, Paul said in aghast confusion, "Who are you?" That really helped my self confidence. So I just had all the rest cut off too. So in about six months or so all should be fine and grown out.
- We are in our third week of homeschooling with three boys in the house. Charlie is doing well as the third child. I work with Reuben at the coffee table, Peter works independently at the counter in the laundry room, and Charlie plays with the wooden train tracks, lines up the plastic bugs, dumps out all the pattern blocks, and eats Cheerios. When I'm done with Reuben he gets to play and I go work with The Pete. We'll call it The Perfect System.
- Except that this totally fails when I try to teach Peter and Reuben something at the same time. Like Bible time. Holy Canoli. Charlie recognizes this as Party Time Pow-Wow on the Couch and does his best to fully antagonize Reuben, the weaker-willed of his two choices. So today, to fully disclose my weaknesses, I found myself reading the very Word of God to my children, then yelling at them (Reuben) in frustration that they (Reuben) could not answer my questions because they (Reuben) were not paying attention because Charlie the Younger was in his face hitting him with a vanilla-filled balloon left over from the last science lesson. You know what I did? I canceled school. Right then. Because I could see that something was not right with this situation. Later in the day I figured out what was wrong, apologized to poor Reuben, discussed solutions with Peter, and will give it a retry. Perhaps tomorrow. But I also realized that I am really tired today. Which leads me to my next point.
- I am really tired today. That anemic sort of tired that I'm not supposed to be anymore. Boo.
- I was going to say "enough about me," but I have more! I am taking Perspectives. Which probably means nothing to you. What it means to me is that every night I am spread out on my bed with four books (two of them equal in size to a So Cal phone book), a pencil, and a highlighter as I read and read and read. And read. Then I have to answer questions and email them to my Grader. Gosh, it is hard for me. And I'm going to have to go ahead and blame it on my anemic brain. I'm supposed to be all better. My doctor said six months. It's been six months. But I still cannot read deep topics. My brain can't focus. I read and reread the questions and have no idea what they are asking.
- And you know what? Two weeks ago I emailed my university to see about finishing my graduate degree. I was three classes away from an MA in Education and was kind of feeling like finishing it. They must have received an email from my doctor saying not to let me take any coursework because of my shaky mental status. The university said it's been over ten years since I took my other classes and now none of those classes count. I'd have to start all over. Nice cover. They knew I'd fail and they didn't want that smearing their reputation.
- I now know I would have failed because my Grader for this Perspectives course returned my first two lessons with a C and a D and the words, "Good effort." What?! Doesn't she know I graduated top (TOP!) of my class with ropes around my neck and awards in my pocket? I don't get C's and D's, lady. Except, apparently, now I do. Why even try, you know? My brain has become mush. I imagine it a lumpy oatmeal with bits of browning banana and swirls of brown sugar. But, as is my tradition, I will do my best. I will! And I will try to be only a little humiliated when I see my Grader in class, and only cry a little that my best is no longer an A.
- So, enough about me. Peter wants to go to an overnight lock-in at the church we go to on Saturday nights. My first reaction is, "Will he be molested?" Would you think that too? It's a church, so it should be safe. But, I know better than that. But, do I keep him from all such activities until he moves out and I can no longer protect him? Seems unlikely and unnecessary. That is my dilemma.
- Next dilemma. Peter is going to try out for the county swim club next week. He's looking forward to learning the breaststroke and butterfly, and how to dive off the starting blocks, and how to do a flip turn, and how to win 22 gold medals. And do you know what my brain thinks? "Will he be molested in the locker room?" And then, "What is my problem?" Why do I keep worrying about protecting my sons? I know. It's because it happens. And it makes me feel so helpless. Any thoughts there?
- Paul and I are roadtripping to South Carolina later this week. Ever been there? Me neither. Sadly, we are making a super fast trip and we won't get to enjoy the Smoky Mountains that we'll be driving through. In the dark. And in the rain. We're driving eleven hours, staying there one day, and driving back eleven hours. Why would we do that? Because we have a meeting. It's an important meeting that will shape our future work with our future group in our future place. You know what I'm saying?
- My sister and her uber cute family are visiting my parents this week. And it made me wish that Paul worked for an airline so that I could fly to California any time I wanted. Paul? Honey? Let me show you a picture of this baby that I'm not spending time with tonight because Someone is in the wrong profession.
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