My 12 year old son still plays tag at recess in 7th grade. Another way that boys and girls are different I suppose. My oldest told me that by the middle of 6th grade, all the girls would stand and talk, while the boys would run around, and I seem to remember that from my own middle school days.
When I picked the kids up after school yesterday, my son informed me that he had done really poor work on a test, and in order to redo the test he had to get a HIP (like a homework detention.) I'm not happy about this, but you know, at least he's not just accepting the poor score on the test. Then he tells me that he was made to "sit down" at recess.
Apparently, there are a few school yard supervisors (Did anyone else call them yard dogs? Was that just my school?) who are pretty grumpy, and don't like it when the kids are engaging in risky behavior, which apparently includes playing tag these days.
My son, and all his friends were sent to sit on the pavement outside their next class in punishment for playing tag because "people might get knocked over."
This made me laugh so hard I snorted. I'm a great disciplinarian, yo.
I'm sure that my son and friends were being wild and disregarding the rights of their fellow students to remain standing, so the sit down punishment was probably warranted, but it just slayed me. And then, both my son and daughter launched into impressions of their least favorite yard dogs (and no, I don't call them that in front of the kids.) I don't know if the impressions were accurate, but holy cow my kids are funny.
This morning, when I dropped my kids at school, the before-school supervisor lady was standing there, head cocked to one side, eyes piercing through the windshield of the van like an eagle. "Oh hey," said my daughter. "There's Heart Attack. We call her that because she likes to silently sneak up on you and she's just suddenly THERE."
I kept it together until they were out of the car, and then I laughed all the way home.
When the highlight of your universe is that you didn't end up having to report for jury duty, you probably need to set your standards a little higher.
Probably two years ago I signed up for the Photo Time Capsule at PhotoJojo - which hooks to your flickr account and emails you twice a month with your hot photos from a year ago. And you can leave a message for yourself, too. Talking to the future? Sign me up!
So, this most recent message from myself, a year ago, reminded me to breathe, and hoped that I wasn't as crazed and stressed as I was last year at this time.
I don't even remember being crazed and stressed last year. I mean, yeah, my FIL had a stroke, and my MIL wasn't doing well, and work was insane, and the kids had a bunch of activities and ... oh.
My hair has been shedding like crazy for the last few years, and I still have a lot of hair, more than some people on a good day, but even my stylist is concerned now. My doctors keep telling me to "de-stress" which - the hell if I even know where to start. There is no balance, which I've pretty much accepted. I try to be 100% present in whatever activity I'm undertaking - so if I'm with the family, I'm 100% with them, and if I'm at work, I'm 100% at that, but I've effectively cut myself out of the Jenny pie. I don't make any time for me.
Yoga! I say. I will get up in the morning and do yoga. But I don't. Meditation! I say. I will meditate and release this pent up crap! But then the phone rings, or the dog barks, or a meeting gets scheduled and I cannot find the time at all. Familiar drama continues. My FIL still isn't well.
Some people thrive under stress. I wilt.
So, today, I'm turning off my ringer. I'm taking 30 minutes out of my work day, and I'm putting the dog outside and I'm starting. So that next year, when I look back, I will have more than four hairs on my head, and hopefully won't have to get an email to remind me to breathe.
A storm has blown into California, and my neighborhood is receiving gusty winds and driving rain. Since our town (and my yard) is full of trees, there are leaves blowing everywhere.
As I dragged the kids out to the car this morning, we were pelted by flying vegetation. We all sighed loudly as the car doors closed, and then laughed.
We were quiet for a few minutes, when my oldest daughter deadpanned:
"I hate your car. I'm going to throw NATURE at it. AAARGH."
I looked sideways at her. "Says Mother Nature." she added.
We all rode in silence for about thirty seconds before we lost it again.
You know it is getting ridiculous when you have a thirty minute crying jag over getting a jury summons, because you can't envision how much more chaotic your life can get, and then, there it is, in your hand. You're staring in disbelief at a jury summons and you're wailing and gnashing your teeth and laughing at the same time because COME ON.
No really. Bring it, life.
Once again, I can't share any of the stories about what all has made my life feel so extra crazy in the last few weeks, but suffice it to say that I'm well past the point of being able to deal gracefully. Since graceful is out, I'm doing a lot of Lamaze breathing and taking the moments of levity when they appear. Melting down has never been my style. I tend to bite off my fingernails and my hair shows its displeasure by shedding when I'm stressed out.
I'm looking fan-freaking-tastic, is what I'm trying to say here. Just in time for holiday photos, too. Heh.