Back in the Saddle

Ahh well...the vacation ended and I was truly sorry to see it go being that the five of us seemed to be in a nice groove, where the kids were pleased to be playing, hanging out with friends, and above all, doing homework at their own schedule as opposed to someone else's.

I end the last paragraph on a last positive note about school because boy are we back into the swing of things.

A is crying on the floor because he doesn't want to write any more descriptive words ("ankle heel" is all he will write about a foot and "artistic" is all he will write about his teacher) nor will he read another word, silently or aloud. And he refuses even though he's lost all priveleges the more he cries. We're pretty much down to water...he's allowed to drink water.

J is in his room working on some missed assignments. Well, that's what he tells us. If we question him, we're shot with, "I KNOW!!!" If we remind him that he now has two and half weeks to get "C's" in class (let me repeat...C's...C's!!!! Come on!!!!) or else we're packing up his drumset and sending that to his uncle to be put in storage until he gets those fucking C's, he says, "I KNOW!!!!"

M...ahh...little M with her curly hair and fingers in her nose and mouth, with her striped stockings and pink shorts and green shirt...she's in front of the t.v. in my room, still sleepy from her nap at school, with a chocolate milk at her side, a chocolate milk in a Sponge Bob cup that's making a ring on my cherry wood nightstand (remember those days of being newly married, walking in an expensive furniture store in Orange County, buying that set, never even dreaming that there would be a plastic cup with a talking sponge on its face marking forever that beautiful reddish wood?).

D is on the phone to our insurance company, arguing that the guy who made a u-turn in front of him is at fault and thus responsible for the $3-5,000 worth of damage to our poor 12-yr-old BMW. Our insurance company agrees...except the guy has completely lied, happy (no, thrilled) there are no witnesses to the event. We might end up in arbitration.

Me...ahh me, I'm waiting patiently for 6:00 p.m. when I have to leave for school. Thank goodness for night classes! D, of course, will have to put children to bed, a misery, yes. I will wear over my professional outfit a scarf, hand-crocheted by a student of mine in appreciation. So sweet! So considerate! Tomorrow, I have a doctor's appointment with an ortho-type doctor because I've hurt my shoulder. I hurt it months ago and it's getting worse, surely something's injured. Loathe as I am to see doctors, I'm glad to finally get it looked at. Hopefully it's not some horrible, joint-eating, spine-metastasizing, liver-consuming disease or other. Unlikely, you say, yes...but it might require many weeks in a lush sanitorium, maybe by a beach. Can't wait!

Sassy, oh Sassy. Bless our little black beast, she is hiding under some pillows, chewing on a McDonald's plastic toy. She's waiting for the moment one of the kids finds her, pulls the toy away and runs, runs away with the toy, waving it about like candy.

M is at my side now, whining about something, blue nail polish I see on her fingernails, pointing to a toenail that's torn. "Aiiiii!" she squeals, followed by another sound, motioning to something else now, disappearing into the den. Oops...oh, fallen off the couch now, crying. "I hurt my fingie!" Her cries are a tad muffled by her fingers in her mouth and by Daddy's shoulder as he hugs her.

I'm off...back into the waters of suburbia. I think we're doing McDonald's for dinner, or maybe Burger King, or perhaps that free cooked chicken from the supermarket with a side of veggies.