Happy Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day, which explains exactly what I am doing: cleaning. If you're a mother, you know that life rarely resembles the :30 commercials you see on TV. You know the ones where mom is being hugged, gifted, breakfasted-in-bed, flowered and generally pampered? Yeah. That mom is living in a parallel universe. The people look familiar, but they don't live in my world.

I woke up to a load of damp laundry living in my dryer, a stinky cat box and a seven-year-old rummaging through the pantry for cookies. I dried and folded the clothes, cleaned the cat box and gave the kid fudge Pop Tarts (not like that's much of an improvement over cookies, when you think about it). I was then gifted with a card from the cat. And a request from my 11-year-old to make Ramen Noodles. For breakfast.

Since then, I have washed the car, straightened the living room, fed the kids again, and saved the cat from a rolicking game of "get the kitty". Right now, the kids are re-soaking my car with a frantic game of "hose each other until we are supremely wet." And I am looking through my email, finishing up on multiple frantic projects.

I'm not writing to say it wasn't a great Mother's Day. It was. It was my great Mother's Day. Because it reflects my life, and that's not a bad thing. The only thing it needed was chocolate.

I hope that your Mother's Day was equally special. Happy Mother's Day! Now, go wash the car.

State of the State Report, Round Deux

I think I mentioned that I detest the fifth grade project tour de force known as The State Report. I still do.

Weeks into this mind-numbing experience, it is time for the delivery of the epic piece known as The Brochure. This, in essence, a condensed version of the actual State Report (for which my husband and I received a 14 out of 15, silent high five), is now the bane of our collective existence. I'm not sure that we, I mean he, will finish 12 panels tonight. Even if it IS due tomorrow. Although I may enjoy the lingering scent of Spray Mount, but I digress.

Because even after this Dementor of a project is turned in, there remains a poster AND a shoe box diarama. And I remember making a waterfall for my daughter's diarama out of toothpaste that I molded between Saran Wrap. And I remember going to bed at 3 a.m. 

No. I still love the state of Virginia. But I am completely at odds with the State Report.

I hope youngest son is artistic because after two tries, he is on his own. Sorry little dude. I'm in a bad state.

When Did It Become the End of the School Year???

I know that I am getting older because, in my world, days, weeks and months fly by like the animation in old black and white movies where the director wanted to depict the passage of months by blowing off calendar pages in quick succession. Yesterday was December 22nd. Today is May 2. I blinked and lost six months.

With this ridiculous time-speed continuum comes the letter I have been dreading: Hi! It's your Room Mom just letting you know about Teacher Appreciation Week, and oh, by the way, it's almost the end of the school year. Seriously?

Teacher Appreciation Week is one thing. It is five dread-filled days in which I pray that I remember what gift to send with what child on what day. Because if you forget or get it wrong, you'll hear all about it in the car at pick-up. "Mom!" the injured party will exclaim. "TOMORROW is 'bring a flower to school day.' I was totally embarrassed because I was the only one who brought in a flower and John laughed at me because it was pink and also because it was from our yard and that's really lame he says." 

So next week will be a real nail-biter, and for all of the wrong reasons.

But the "end of the school year" thing has me looking for a defibrillator. I honestly swear that I JUST finished a very LONG summer, enjoyed the annual trek to Target for new school supplies and got them started. How did we get to the END? I am not ready for 10 weeks of continuous entertainment, endless bickering, ongoing wet pool towels in the dryer, all while trying to work. Nor have I even begun to research potential camps to keep any one of them entertained for any length of time. 

Maybe, just maybe, if I blink it will all be a dream and the school year will have begun all over again. Or the school district will consider year-round school. I can hope.

Is anyone else experiencing this? If so, I'd love to hear how you are handling it. I am sure you are doing it better than me.

Dads Don't Understand Tooth Fairy Protocol

While I was on a business trip this week, my 7-year-old lost a tooth. Thankfully, it's one of his upper canines, and the loss of it may help ensure that at least one of his missing two front teeth might possibly emerge. It's been a year. We're still hopeful.

But the bigger issue for this was the drama surrounding the "leaving of the money." If I had been home, it would have been a relatively easy situation to resolve. Tooth Fairy protocol (at our house, anyway): 1. Stay up longer than said child; 2. Sneak in 3. Swap the tooth with a dollar; 4.  Call it good. But this time, Dad was the Tooth Fairy. And he wasn't sure how it worked.

He called me at 10:30 p.m., winded. "I can't find anything to put under William's pillow," he finally heaves. "Uh, got a dollar?" I query. He ignores me. "What about the Disneyland pin on your shelf," he suggests. The pin in question is indeed quite cute and is exactly something William would want. It depicts Chip and Dale playing with an acorn or something to that effect. It would look great on William's lanyard. Only problem is that William was with me when I bought it. He was supposed to be earning it. Note to self: remember what he was supposed to be doing to earn it.

"No," I tell my husband. "If you put the pin under his pillow, I'll be busted as the Tooth Fairy."  The wind effectively sucked out of his Tooth Fairy sails, said husband decides to go with the dollar angle. 

I could have saved him 30 minutes...

Do your husbands understand the Tooth Fairy rules? What kind of Tooth Fairy fun has your family experienced? I'd love to know.