Here we go again

Dear Mom,
There comes a day every summer when I Need Them To Go Back To School. Yesterday was that day.
Which is pretty good. Probably the longest stretch of summer break before the alarm on my internal Back-to-School clock went off. A testament to the busy-ness of our summer, I think.

I realized I'd crossed that threshold when I stopped vacuuming so I could say things like "wasting time" and "good books" and "make stuff" to the Young Lady. Being the smart sort of teenager she is, she quietly slipped out of the room and found a less obvious spot to communicate with whichever electronic device she happened to have in hand at the time.

Tuesday is the official First Day of School, but the High School tennis season is in full swing and the Young Lady has already picked up her schedule and loaded school supplies into her locker. I've written checks for yearbooks, school directories and in-line skate rental. If we are gonna do all that they might as well be there. I may not be ready for the early alarm clock, but I am definitely needing the routine. Plus, I am tired of cleaning around the extra bodies.
And, I know. I KNOW! I should be making them pitch in with the housework more than I do, but some battles aren't worth fighting.


This next bit has nothing to do with the first paragraphs, but it is definitely worth sharing....


Earlier this week we discovered that Patsy is a hot tub kinda gal. Why doesn't that surprise us?

Patsy didn't stay in long (hot), but the duck and the beach ball were too hard to resist.

She jumped in and out a couple of times. Maybe the best part was watching her race around the yard after she jumped out- like dogs do after they've had a bath. That, or watching her head pop up in different spots around the hot tub while she tried to figure out the best way in.


It isn't a full blown case, but that Startitis I felt coming on has arrived. Details coming soon.

Love,
Kim

Judy and I are at it again

Dear Mom,
Judy Jetson ( my early 1960's Singer Slantomatic sewing machine- she just so Space-age) and I have teamed up once again, this time making tops for the Young Lady. Yes, actual clothing this time.
This latest project was fueled by a trip to the mall in the annual hunt for age appropriate school clothes. For me, a trip to the mall is an event in itself. It is no secret that I hate to shop. But it had to be done and I took a deep breath and cleared the day and off we went.
Our first stop was fruitful and we found a flattering plaid top that reminded me of tops Bonnie Jo, Wendy and I might have worn, tops that you would have sewn for us. The Young Lady loved it. I suggested to her that once we were done with the mall, that perhaps we could stop at the fabric store and find a pattern and fabric for tops just like this one and that is what we did.
The Young Lady was not so confident in my sewing skills and I informed her that I used to be good at it. "Then you started knitting", she replied. So, armed with the pattern, and enough plaid fabric (The Young Lady is into plaid right now)  for 5 tops (and Yes, the pressure was on!) I began. She must have been nervous, because I had several interruptions for progress reports. Hard to PROGRESS with interruptions. Yet, I acted more sure of the process than I felt and when the first top was completed, I actually got her out of bed to try it on. There would be no waiting til morning. I think we both slept better that night, knowing that the top fit, and that both of us were happy with how it turned out.

this is the first one

And no! I didn't match the plaids. I am sure Mrs. Goodwin and Mrs. Roose are disappointed.

We decided the top needed a little more length, so top #2 is about 2 inches longer.

Aren't they cute? Simple, I know. But flattering. Three more to go.

Love,
Kim

p.s. School starts tomorrow. I didn't think I was ready until last week, when the calendar was suddenly filled with back-to-school obligations, schedules were picked up, we toured the building, found the classes, bought the school supplies and loaded them into the locker. I decided if we had to do all that, they might as well be AT SCHOOL. And while I dread that 6am alarm tomorrow morning, I am giddy with the anticipation of 7+ hours of Alone Time!

First Day of School

Dear Mom,
There they go. My babies.

(Edited after post: I made Pipsqueak's backpack out of a pair of David's old jeans. And yes, Pipsqueak can almost fit into her bag!)

Love,
Wendy

Family History

Dear Mom,

When you dream of someday becoming a mother and you imagine the traits you may, no, WILL, pass on to your child, they are always good things like "your math smarts and my science smarts" or "my eyes and your ears", and "my nose and Not Yours." Things, however, do not always go as planned.

It would seem that I have passed my Clumsy trait on to the Young Lady. Shortly after noon today, the phone rang. Intermediate School, the Caller I.D. prompts. My heart skips a beat. In a quavering voice, leaving no doubt that tears are imminent, the Young Lady asks me to bring her a change of clothes. She has spilled juice all over herself and cannot go on.

As I drive the required clothing to school, I cannot help but recall what has become known in Family History as "That Day Kim had to wear Susan Templin's Pantyhose" or "The Day Susan Templin Saved My Life".

Yes, that day in ninth grade Home Ec class when I snagged my L'eggs pantyhose (color Suntan) on the sewing machine chair leg. Snagged is really not the word for the absolute massive hole that erupted. All that white flesh shining out from behind nylon suntan-y goodness was unacceptable and a potentially social life altering disaster. The shock and horror has left such an impression that I can remember what I was wearing on that day- the rose and gray plaid skirt and vest I sewed in Home Ec class. And yes, for those who may be wondering, my plaids did match.

I know that just stating the fact that I wore pantyhose in ninth grade and then adding the fact that they were L'eggs pantyhose has pretty accurately placed me in High School in the 70's. And proud of it, sister. Such was our Need to wear Suntan L'eggs pantyhose, that my friend, Susan Templin, had an extra pair in her purse. Just pause and think on that a moment. Fourteen, maybe fifteen years old, carrying a spare pair of pantyhose in her purse, for just an emergency such as this. And she was friend enough to come to my rescue and let me have them.

Big deal. I borrowed a friend's pantyhose.....except that Dear Susan with the emergency L'eggs in her purse was about 14 inches shorter than I was. And she didn't have an emergency pair of pantyhose in her purse in case I needed them. She was carrying a Susan Templin sized pair of emergency pantyhose. A pair that allowed the waist band, with several desperate stretches, to come up exactly as far as my mid thigh, leaving the crotch at my knees. I wonder. How many times did I keep tugging at the waist band and pulling the legs hoping that this time they would miraculously and actually FIT? We all suffer for our beauty, though, and walking like a penguin was far better than all that exposed and blinding white flesh, so, with the crotch at my knees, I waddled through the remainder of my school day. When that last bell rang, I exhaled. I made it. I was almost home.

And then I had to get on the bus. That first step onto the bus never looked so high and required a lifting of the knee. The current Situation would not allow this to happen. With my thighs strapped together by the pantyhose waist band (which was trying its best to roll down my legs), a tremendous amount of arm strength and using a rolling sideways kick, I hoisted myself up those bus steps. One. Step. At. A. Time. Heaven only knows what the bus driver was thinking.

I am sure the image of me hobbling down those bus steps and penguin walking up the driveway will be one you never forget. The quizzical look on your face is one I will never forget. Nor will I forget the gut busting laughter as I pulled up my skirt and in answer to the unspoken question in your eyes announced, "Because I am wearing Susan Templin's pantyhose, that's why!!"

There were many other calamities along the way- and I am really, really sorry to think that the Young Lady's mishap with the juice at school today may only be the beginning.

Love,

Kim

Back to School

Dear Mom,

Hear that? No?! That's because there is NOTHING TO HEAR!!! I am home alone! And, yeah, it is way too early for school to start. WAY to early. I think I need to change the lyrics to Alice Cooper's song from "Schoooooool's out. for. Summer." to " Schoooooooool. Starts. in. Summer."

Summer should have lasted another two weeks. But, now that the big yellow bus has taken them away and I have had time to do the math, and realize that the next SEVEN HOURS are mine to spend in solitude even if that solitude includes cleaning bathrooms, well.... maybe it isn't so early after all.

We took the obligatory Front Porch on the First Day of School picture. And then another because the Young Man was yawning in the first. And another to capture the enormity of the Young Lady's new backpack, stuffed with school supplies. I hope she doesn't lose her balance before that thing is unpacked. The image of a turtle on its shell comes to mind.

So, for the next several hours, I will clean without interruption and it will stay that way until the bus comes. I'd like to think I will have time to read and knit and maybe take a power nap and listen to the dog's heavy breathing as he sleeps the day away. And then take a breath before the bus brings home stories of the first day. And hopefully not too much homework.

Love,

Kim

Goofy Games Day

Dear Mom,

The school year is winding down and today is Goofy Games Day. Formerly known as Field Day. And way back when, it was Track and Field Day.

Goofy Games Day really just means school is over but we need to keep you here for another day and a half even though we won't be doing any real work. Which is totally fine with me because they will be here at home and in my space soon enough.

I learned long ago that being a parent volunteer for Field Day (or whatever they want to call it) is Not For Me. When the Young Man was a kindergartner and I was all enthusiastic about Helping Out The Teacher!, I signed up Field Day. It rained that year and events were moved indoors. I was assigned the "Peanut Race" and spent about 3 hours picking up the peanuts that had dropped off the racer's spoon and reloading the pie plates they belonged in for the next racer. It was a testament to my will to Get Out of There that I was able to straighten my back and walk to my car and drive home.

The next year, apparently having blocked out the memory of the previous year, I volunteered again. That year the weather was hot and dry. HOT. And DRY. We were outside. In the school field. With no shade. I can't remember the object of the "game" I was in charge of, I can only remember that it involved a kiddie pool filled with flour and hidden items, which meant that I was covered in flour and in the middle of a shade-less, dusty field in the hot sun for a couple of hours. That was my last Field Day. Let some Other Mom do it. I don't even feel sorry or guilty about it.

So, today. Goofy Games Day for the Young Lady. My heart sank when the phone rang at 10:28 this morning; caller ID shouting that it is the Intermediate School calling. Like Miss Clavell in the night, I know something is not right. I answer and hear the quavering voice of the Young Lady, asking me for a clean pair of shoes and socks, telling me that hers are covered in mud. She apparently stepped out of one mud-clogged shoe and stepped into the mud with her sock.

Thank heavens I wasn't the Parent Volunteer on that game.

Love,

Kim

Eggheads

Dear Mom,

I'd like to introduce you to Kary Mullis. The teenager did research, wrote a research paper, complete with bibliography, and fashioned an eerily-similar-to-the-real-Mr.-Mullis Mr. Mullis from . . . . an egg. A Buff Orpington egg, which was given to us by Bonnie Jo, straight from her farm. That led to another research paper of sorts about the Buff Orpington hen, which the teenager included as an addendum to his Kary Mullis Egghead Research Project. The teenager has a wicked sense of humor; hopefully Mrs. McDowell, his science teacher, will appreciate him for his gusto as well as for his no-help-from-us project! In the meantime, we can all appreciate the scientists in our world and their Nobel Prize winning discoveries, even if they have been reduced to jr. high eggheads!

Love, Wendy