The end of an era, Part I

 The Resident Middle Schooler is no longer in residence. He has upgraded to Resident Freshman! Yesterday was his very last day of middle school, so we had to send him off in grand fashion:

This kid saw me making the signs and groaned, "ohhh noooo." He knows the drill:

The bus driver got a good laugh at us standing out there with the signs (and no doubt at Liam, one-quarter awake in robe and slippers) and toasting with our coffee cups. He beckoned me to his door as he dropped Thing Three off in the afternoon and thanked us, saying it was the best thing anyone had done for him as a bus driver. And here we were just trying to get everyone on the bus to smile- a last-day tradition we've done for years. I'm so glad our Shenanigans spilled over and made someone's day!

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One small shout out to our TP supplier, Who Gives A Crap, which may be juvenile but I find completely hilarious which is probably part of why I get such a kick out of kids in the first place- thank you guys for using EXCELLENT boxes to ship your renewable product. We've had so much fun with them!

Venting in the November breeze

I. Can't. Get. Warm.

It is the first week of November and we are already experiencing wind chill that says, "feels like 19." We skipped Indian summer completely and I reluctantly sadly despairingly boxed up my sun dresses, tank tops, floaty summery skirts; I begrudgingly unpacked my sweaters, long sleeves, and pants. Not that I don't like tights and sweaters, I'd just prefer to not have to wear multiple layers every single day for the next six months. Leggings under pants is ridiculous, but here we are. Some of you woke up to snow. I don't want to talk about it.

I have my largest pot on the stove with bone broth simmering away for up to the next 12 hours. Between the dark and the cold, I can hear the pounds sneaking on from the steady stream of comfort food that I'll be consuming. Our spring break is the very first week of March (yes, I'm serious), so there is zero chance of anyone spotting me in anything revealing until... oh, around May when Ohio gets her act together and recognizes that spring started two months previous. Why not indulge? The calories will keep me warm. Warm-er. Ish. Surely?

That is, if I don't end up on the news and living in a new venue before then. One where I'd be wearing orange. Or, perhaps, stripes. 

I don't know about you people, but let me set the record straight; boys do not have less drama than girls- they merely have different drama. 

For example, our resident middle school student made it to his fourteenth birthday last week by the grace of God. The vast majority of our meals together, he needs reminded, "get your knees down under the table. You are smashing your stomach and feeling full before you're actually full. Get your food in you. Quit playing around. Eat. Eat your food. Close the book." Repeat ad nauseam. By "vast majority" I mean 95% or higher of our meals. Often with food he likes!  

And will someone please invent a water shut-off valve that can be remotely activated by a parent's phone so that there issues a hard burst signifying a "you-have-two-minutes-left-so-rinse-and-get-out-lest-you-stay-sudsy" warning? Said child was given 10 minutes in the bathroom yesterday and took 45. Granted, some of this issue is caused by the bliss of having A) hot, running water, B) more than one bathroom, C) parents who are busy doing other things than standing around timing how long one is taking in the bathroom. However, short of taking the hinges off the bathroom door (which, while I have seriously considered, I object to the almighty draft I'd have to deal with when having my own shower) how does one pry another person out of the shower when one is on the opposite side of the bathroom door?!

People, I need a beating breakthrough. I'd rather not end up on the news. Eighth grade means this child in particular should be spectacular by now at getting himself ready for school. He lays out school clothes the night before. He makes his lunch the night before. He sets out what he wants for breakfast (unless it's refrigerated, obviously) the night before. Why then, are we having the same battles every day? 

Some would say, "just let him do it all on his own. He's gotta figure it out." Then he will miss the bus, and who does that inconvenience? Me. I'd have to take him to school. Especially when Dada is out of town for work. And his younger sibling, who is not old enough to be left home to get himself on his own bus yet, so he'd have to hurry to get ready to come with me. And the dogs, who have been built into our morning routine. Let's just empty the entire toolbox into the works, shall we? The heck with the wrench. 

Out of curiosity, I checked google maps. It would be around a 45 minute walk from our home to his school, and I know at least some of it doesn't have sidewalks. That would make him that much later if he missed the bus. The whole point of getting on the bus is so I don't have to drive him, adding more gasoline burned and more emissions and so forth. If I had any desire to take him to school, that would be built into our routine already.

How do we raise someone whom other someones (college roommates, apartment mates, future spouses) won't want to maim because of their inconsideration/selfishness/obliviousness? The child has zero money because, as our children, we don't believe they should be paid to help around the house. They live here, they should help, period. So we can't fine him the price of the water bill to open his eyes to the cost of sitting under the hot water for ridiculous amounts of time. How do we waken the (I hope) innate self-awareness of, "hey, I'm being kind of a jerk hogging the hot water, I should get clean and get out"? It is clear that what we/I am doing now does not work and is unsustainable. 

I don't want to leave you with the idea that he is a problem child and the other two are angelic by comparison; they most certainly are not. We have three great kids, each with their own issues. Would I trade them in on a yo-yo, as Nana used to say? Do not tempt me, Frodo. 

On duty

I came downstairs this morning just after six and ended up face to face with a certain Resident Middle Schooler with an oatmeal cream pie cookie in each hand, one partially eaten. He gazed at me a minute, maybe the slightest bit sheepishly, then held up the unopened cookie as he asked, "can I take this one in my lunch?" 

Maybe I'm hard hearted, but I looked him in the eye and replied, "It looks like you're already having dessert. I'd have said 'yes' if you weren't already having cookies for breakfast."

Wonder of wonders, he didn't complain, but put the unopened one back and didn't even finish the half eaten one until after he'd finished his cereal. Granted, I didn't check the pockets of his pajama pants so there's a possibility that there are other snacks stuffed away, but overall I was relieved with the amount of drama I didn't have to deal with before I'd even made coffee.

I'm pretty sure that my guardian angel was on duty and HAD had their coffee because I came to a full stop before I poured Damon's Cheerios into my full mug of coffee. Full stop. "Wait. That would be bad." As though my angel had slapped a hand over the top of my mug. 

Bos's angel was undoubtedly on duty this morning. We walk Damon out to the bus on leash, then once the bus is gone and we're turned around facing the house, I take the leash off and he runs a bit before we head in to give him his breakfast. I had him sit, like every time, and I turned his head towards the house and towards me three times. Then I unhooked him and he took off sideways, which was fine, but then stopped as if he was trying to decide if he should roll in something. I headed for him, and Cottonballs-For-Brains heads straight for the road.

Our stretch of road is at the very edge of the city limits, so the speed limit is 50 mph. This dumbhead dog ignored me calling him and circled right up to the edge of the road. The car that was coming was just slow enough that it didn't have to swerve as he finished his circle, or perhaps it didn't even see him, but either way he headed towards me with no apparent remorse. I clicked that leash back on and told him his morning run out front privileges have been revoked, which is a shame as he's too fat, but this dog just can not be trusted. I know he's not even two yet, but goodness, I sure hope he grows a brain! Fool. 

In other news, Thing1 has an art show tonight, so eventually there will be pictures of that extravaganza. Have a great day!