Wednesday, June 20, 2007

And I Thought I Was Tired ...

I've been dragging my butt (and we all know how big that puppy is) around these days, feeling like a 70 year old in desperate need of a 12 hour nap.

After a long-ish day at work, then some grocery shopping, I finally limped into the house at 6:00. Max and his friends arrived soon after, and while I made supper, they chilled on the couch.

Andrew fell asleep.
With a plastic air soft gun in his hands.
.
He's 18.
That stage between all grown up and still just a kid.
.
.
I'd been looking forward to tonight all week.
My new favorite show, "So You Think You Can Dance" was going to be on from 8 - 10 pm.
I was going to sit on the couch with NO COMPUTER on my lap and just watch. And probably cry. I don't know why. It just happens when I see those dancers nail a great performance after just a few days of practice. What can I say? Beauty moves me. I am a sensitive being. Tender. Fragile. PMSing.
And then my brother called, "Instead of picking up the dune buggy from the school tomorrow morning, I'd like to come by and get it tonight.
.
So I drove over to the school at 8:20 to find out when the grade 5 - 6 ice cream event was supposed to end.
Then I took Drew to Flip City at 8:45.
I drove back to the school at 9:15 and waited for Jim and my dad, who showed up at 9:45. I got home at 10:10.
Then left at 10:15 to pick up Drew.
Home again at 10:40.
Don't you wish you had my life?
I am not bitter.
But next Wednesday?
I am watching TV.
.
.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Summer starts tomorrow.
2. Today, on Max's first day of no school, he mowed the lawn, emptied, then reloaded and TURNED ON the dishwasher, cleaned the front hall, including vacuuming it (!) and BBQed the burgers for supper. And while I'm singing his praises, can I tell you a Max story? In the middle of May I got a call from his vice principal telling me that he (Max, not the VP) was failing 3 of his 4 classes. It has been a ginormous weight on our backs (well, mostly mine, I think. He's a little more laid back about these things) to get his grades up to at least a passing mark. This involved alot of sweat (his), tears (mine) and some money changing hands (my money into a tutor's hands). Every percentage point he gained was cause for celebration. In all his classes it's ending up being nip and tuck as to whether or not he'll pass. He did well on his last English unit test, getting 48 out of 50, but noticed, when he compared his test with other tests, that everyone else who chose "B" for question 3 got it wrong, but he got a mark for it. He showed his teacher and said, "I think you marked this wrong, everyone else who put a "B" here got it wrong, so I probably should get a mark taken off.
This is a child who NEEDS every mark he can get. It could be the difference between passing or failing.
"You can keep that mark," his teacher said. "One point for honesty."
3. I'm thankful that I live in this country.
.
.
.
Shalom,
.
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Oh, by the way, over at Right Coast - Left Coast, Tricia and I have a theme going this week. Can you guess what one word we've had in mind when we've taken our photos?

2 comments:

tricia said...

I don't know how you do it all Jane, and it sounds like you're doing a fantastic job.

Jane said...

I don't do it all. My house? An absolute mess. My yard? Even worse.