End of School

Something appears to be blooming again. While my eyes love the colors of spring, my sinuses don't. Regardless of how my sinuses were or were not feeling, my arrival home from work today was less than pleasant.

First of all, I am convinced that my husband has entered our family into some kind of secret "Conservationalists of the Year" contest. While I cannot prove anything, he is continually going around the house and shutting off lights while shouting, "Conservation for a strong America!" (I am currently writing this blog by window-light.)

Furthermore, he has refused -- even though the rest of the neighborhood has been boarded up in air-conditioned bliss for at least a month -- to turn on the air conditioner. So, when I arrived home it was hot. Not oven hot like the kind that would assault me in the summer of my youth when I would open the steel doors of the farm shed to get the feed out for the 4-H cows -- but stuffy hot. Stale hot. Sticky hot.

And because it was hot and because my sinuses hurt, I decided that I was entitled to be grumpy.

It was in this state of mind, that I decided to see just what kind of papers and notes made it home in the backpacks of my children. I did not expect to see homework as this is the last week of school. Honestly, what kind of horrible person would assign homework on the last week of school? And, I was right! As expected, there was no homework for the boys. They were, in fact, happily playing army under the shady oak trees in the front yard where there was movement of air and coolness. What I did find were sheets and sheets of homework -- for me!

Now, I'm absolutely positive that no one else views what was there as homework. In fact, I can see my mother perched on her cloud saying -- "But Honey, this is part of being a parent. These are the kinds of sacrifices you make for your children. Don't you know that children who have involved parents will eventually pass their ACTs and get into their first choice colleges due to the fact that you brought personalized, iced Valentines Day cookies to their class in February?" Everybody knows this. But, you see, I had decided to be grumpy today so I didn't care.

After calling my husband on the cell phone and having a conversation that went something like this: Him: "Hello?" Me: "I'm hot." , I made a small pile of all the notes that I had pulled out of the backpacks. I began to put the notes in some kind of order, but quickly became overwhelmed by the pastel coloring, mixed capitalization, and clipart. After sticking my head between my knees for a moment until the feeling of dizziness passed, I bundled them up, carried them over to the calendar and began to write.

Tomorrow -- oldest needs a sack lunch for FUN day! -- crap. Note to self. Go to the grocery store tonight to purchase Lunchable the remains of which will sit for 50+ years in landfill. Take that, conservation award! Tuesday night -- Come LISTEN to our WONDERFUL Kindergarten PROGRAM we've been preparing for YOU, our LOVING parents -- Wha? Program? When did we schedule a program? Did we know about this program? Note to self. Find another day this week to pay bills. Wednesday -- both boys having a BEACH party to CELEBRATE the end of their READING program! -- I'D like a Beach Party -- on a remote island somewhere far, far away from here. In fine print -- parents remember to pack towel, hat, sunglasses, sunscreen, appropriate reading material, beach toys, lawn dart set and kitchen sink in backpacks for the celebration. Thursday -- CELEBRATE the last day of school with a PARTY at the PARK. Please bring sack lunch for PICNIC! -- crap, crap. Make that three Lunchables and additional trash in the landfill. Must inform husband of this new wrinkle -- maybe he will give up and turn on the air-conditioner.

I filed the notes, popped about 4 Advil, sucked down a glass of water (thought about something a little stronger) and went into the living room to bang out Sweet Hour of Prayer for a good 15 minutes. Figured I could use a shot of God instead.