Let's get it over right now. The quality of the image is exceptional, obviously. This is due to the operator of the very expensive DSLR. Unfortunately, the wrong person was in custody of the nice camera. Fortunately, the real photographer had her grandmother's $150 point and shoot camera and took exceptional pictures. Which I don't have, yet. But I will.
We've had concerts, dance festivals, Lagoon (think Six Flags then adjust your expectations by about 85%), yearbooks, and award ceremonies. My perfectly fabulous 18 year old is not always so fabulous, bless her heart. I'm feeling a lot of empathy for my mother right now. She's occasionally moody and rude to her mother. Fortunately, her father is a social worker and reminds me that this is all part of her individuation from her parents. However, I made her go to an awards ceremony where she was acknowledged for being a Utah Scholar and for receiving scholarships to at least four colleges/universities.
I know. I have very little room to complain. Which I rarely do. It's a normal stage of adolescent development.
I say that ten times every day when she runs off to play Ultimate Frisbee and comes home with new aches, scrapes, bruises, dirty knees, clothes and a big smile on her face.
She made the marching band at BYU.
I had my 8 year old tested for a learning disability on his teacher's recommendation. He was tested and everything looks great except for timed testing which is consistent with his two sisters at this age. The overall message was a kind, "Step it up, Mom." Yeah. I know. He's just so cuddly and it's hard to be a mom. So hard that at the end of the I.E.P., I looked at the clock, saw school had 45 minutes left, asked his teacher what they are doing in class right now (watching a movie) and I checked him out so I wouldn't have to drive clear back to the school to pick him up. All of a half mile.
In other news, he's left his Oedipus stage behind in childhood. I am now the second favorite parent. He loves his dad the best, now. He wants his dad to take him to the bathroom in public places. He wants his dad to play with him. He wants his dad to get things for him after we've sat down for dinner. I just smile at my food and keep eating. No eye contact.
My kids' skins are getting browned by the sun. Their hair is taking on a tawny tone. Their cheeks have a rosy tint. I planted my garden yesterday. I forgot to tell Scott and he tilled it this morning. Mama Hen is egg bound. She has an egg stuck in her. I made attempts to help her get it out after a call to a neighbor with chickens. I'm not proud of the things I did to that poor chicken and I don't want to talk about it.
Egg production is down and my garden is one of mixed vegetables and my legs are still white but I'm wearing shorts when I'm not at work and singing to the radio at the top of my lungs which is a sure sign that Spring has sprung. It's not pleasant to be in the car with me.
Work is so, so bad. It's not the job. It's not the patrons. It's the politics. They are so very ugly. I think it is also a fair assessment to say that the professionals that work at any given school mirror their population. I work at a junior high. 'Nuff said.
But school is out and I have one conference in a week, a few days of fixing schedules and I'm off to lazy summer days without a garden and two chickens. I expect Mama Hen to not quite make it. I take her out of the coop every day and put her down to eat and drink. She does then returns to the coop. She's an invalid but I'm unwilling to do anything else.
When Scott tilled my garden this morning, he actually provided a good analogy of my life. Mixed vegetables. Given, I didn't plant anything I don't like but my squash might grow right over a pea or bean plant which will inhibit its growth. On the other hand, it might be that the squash will relocate at a better place and grow better.
It's noisy but welcome. Someday I will miss the noise. But today I'm trying to type a blog post between asking the kids to not fight.
Welcome to summer.