Sunday, August 31

Sick School

I've gotta work on reminding the boys that it's okay to say you're too sick to do school. Actually, that it's okay to say you're actually sick, at all. They don't complain. They don't malinger. They might take extra D, keep a water bottle on them and suck down the water, and briefly mention in passing that perhaps something with green chile in it would be good for lunch because they're not feeling so well.

Then they get on with whatever we had on the schedule.

And that's actually kind of cool.

Until I get it, and it lays me out like a beached jellyfish on a hot Summer's day.

ME: What the what, boys? Is THIS what you had? How did you function this week?! 
BOY(S): Um, yeah. I told you I wasn't feeling well. 
ME: You mentioned that you were going to take a shower to see if it would clear your sinuses. You never once mentioned the rodent clawing your tonsils! Or the expanding thing that took over your head. Or how hard it is to remain upright! 
BOY(S): Well, no. But I told you I wasn't feeling well. 
ME: (groaning as I collapse on the couch) The devil is in the details, boys.

And so we fell. One every couple of days or so. It's viral, and it moves quickly, but everyone falls. The worst of it is over in about three days, but then the aftermath looks a lot like the zombie shows (the old ones, with the slow zombies - none of this Zombieland nonsense). It seems to take another five or six days to regroup the strength to function like a normal person. Thank God for Netflix. When I was a kid, being sick meant nothing but daytime TV on rabbit ears. I got hooked and all spooled up on Guiding Light when I had chicken pox in the 6th grade. They got to watch Tudor Monastery Farm, Sword Art Online, and Black Adder. They don't know how good they had it.

But Z and I do. Oh, yes. We were loving technology this week.

Kiss those babies!

Monday, August 11

It's All Over Once the Planning Starts

10th, 9th, 6th, 3rd, 1st. We have the plans. We have the vision. We have the books. Amazon and the local book store have all the money. That's the way it goes, though, and I can't imagine it any other way.

I did eye uniforms on sale at Old Navy (not because I dream of sending them off, but because I dream of being able to do wash in three sets: khaki, navy, whites - how sweet would that be?) The boys lured me away by yelling, "Mom, they have 28-inch waist jeans on sale!" (Not for me. Pfft. I wish. For them. Still too big in the waist, but better than needing a rope or suspenders to keep the pants up.) They escaped uniforms this time. Who am I kidding? They'll escape every time. I'm well out of the realm of having much influence over their clothing choices beyond being able to explain rationally why a certain style may not be appropriate for a certain venue. And honestly? I'm okay with that. I shouldn't have too much influence, and it's not like I'm a fashionista who is going to lead them down the path of Awesome Swagger, anyway. Besides, all my effort lately goes to keeping them in shoes. Why didn't we move to the beach? Flip flops are easy and flexible.

With the onset of the planning, the temperatures conveniently shot into the 90's and drove us all inside. Or the other way around. Either way, it's hot and we're inside. Planning. And printing. And reading. But we did get out and enjoy a little adventure before the heat got to us. We hiked Caney Creek - literally, IN the creek, which I'd not done here before, but it was fascinating.

And a trip to Turkey Creek Nature Preserve, presumably so the young men could test their mettle against Nature.

We need to read some Jack London this year, maybe.

The hens should begin laying any day now. We heard that some of the hens from the first coop are, so we check the nesting boxes and other nooks and crannies each day. It's exciting!

Z and the boys have been making PVC bows lately. This means pretty much all progress elsewhere has come to a halt for now. But they're having so much fun with it, and they're doing it together, and they're all very creative. Plus, it gives me a chance to stay upstairs and throw things away. I've been doing this for a month, and I'm still finding things to throw out. Much of it is mine. It's probably good that they aren't up here to see that. I'd hate to lose my reputation as The Culler of All Things.

And really, that's been about it. I'd give calcified body parts at the moment for a bigger house, with just one extra room. But, here we stay. I should go throw away more stuff. Nobody's getting any smaller around here!

Kiss those (growing) babies!