Endless Summer

One week until school starts.

I know I've said (1900 million times) that this summer lasted 42 years, but all of a sudden, it feels like it lasted 42 minutes.

Is it because I am so unprepared for the upcoming school year?
Is it because having a middle schooler and 3rd grader officially makes me old?
Is it because I really kind of like having these kids around and don't want to give them back to their various institutions? But not quite enough to home school them?

I just want 3 more weeks.

So I could complain about how impossibly long and loud those 3 weeks are. 

I'm going to miss them so much, even though they'll still be here and I'll have more quiet time and less laundry.

Actually, this is one of those things I'll get over pretty much immediately, isn't it? Everything is going to be alright, right? And sometimes I will be here alone and that's a good thing. I might already be over it.

Nevermind, I'm okay.

Dear Big Kid,

Today you are 11.

11!

We've done this whole life thing together for 11 years and we've done it well.

I can't even begin to list the things I love about you--your quick wit and dry humor, your abundance of creativity, your ability to respectfully speak up for what is right, your kind and gentle nature, your honesty, good taste and sharp intelligence.

You summed up a recent trip to the other coast by saying, "Miami is not a humble city." I thought it was such an insightful observation and remarkable that you could boil such a busy place down to six words. I loved watching you enjoy the brazenness of a big city the way you did. I love your way with words.

If I need a true opinion on anything from an outfit to a piece of writing, I can count on you to offer yours and I always consider it carefully. You are polite but frank when giving advice and I value that more than you'll ever know. You're such a good friend to me and many others.

You are just such a joy to know--I can't even begin to explain what an honor it is to be your mother.

11 years! I have enjoyed every one of them. (Age 3 less than the others, but still.) You are magnificent in every way. I am so excited to see what your future holds and so delighted to be a part of it!

I like you, I love you and I'll always protect you,
Mom.
(My heart still wants to squeal with delight at being able to write that!)

Food as Fuel

Yoga Teacher: Are you eating a muffin before my class? Before a hot power vinyasa class??

Me: This is my dinner! I've been working. I can't do the class without having some food first.

Yoga Teacher: Your dinner is a muffin?

Me: Actually, it's cake.

In related news, I've done yoga three times a week* all summer long and still managed to gain 7 pounds.


 *give or take, and only because they make me. And by make me, I mean they have yoga challenges where you get a free shirt and I can't not get the shirt. It's a tremendous amount of pressure. The shirts say "I did it!" and I've been threatening to sell "I almost did it!" and "I thought about doing it!" shirts for really cheap in the parking lot. Because lazy people like shirts, too!

Stuck in the Middle

During school shopping for new clothes, Big Kid casually announced that he'd decided to go to the public middle school.

He switched to a charter school last year and had assured me all along that he intended to finish middle school there, since he prefers the smaller environment and the kids at the public school smoke "The Marijuana." (I laughed so hard my ribs hurt as soon as it was safe to do so.)

I pressed him about what made him change his mind and he is pretty vague about answering but says he wants the typical middle school experience. Although Big Kid in middle school is a terrifying thought, I'm also relieved; the charter school was disorganized, had no bus service and middle school is a great place to practice awkwardness before moving on to high school. I think the later starting time and the middle school kids who hang out at our local Starbucks may have influenced him, but I'm going to let it ride.

We're going to do this.

I feel good about it.

I wonder if those public school kids can hook me up with "The Marijuana."

Just kidding. But maybe a little for the first day since we all know I will be in the fetal position crying, despite all of this feeling good about it. And then the second day so I can relax a bit. And then the third day because why not go for a week at that point?

Is having big kids a medical condition? It should be.

What I'm really having a heart attack about is little kid going into third grade. What the hell? I know it's not a typical milestone like middle school but that's my tiny, bald, fuzzy-headed, fat baby parasite and third graders are very big. There is simply not a chance he could be an 8-year-old in a few short weeks. This completely snuck up on me -- I guess in worrying about Big Kid's rapid growth, I took solace in still having a baby and forgot to notice that I don't. The thought of having a third grader and a middle schooler makes my stomach drop.

It's scary because it had to be some sort of time travel trick. I'm officially the mom of kids who are so big that moms of little kids hate us upon sight at play areas. When it was just yesterday that I was hating the moms of those impossibly big kids for letting those gigantic jerks around my precious little snowflakes at play areas.

So I'm gathering paperwork for registration and assisting in elective selection (chorus, really?) and torn between obsessing over this new turn of events and refusing to think about any of it whatsoever, which explains why I'll be waiting for the last minute to buy school supplies.

Again.

Symptoms

"I have a little bit of a sore throat," I announced to my husband today.

"Hmm."

"Did you know that Ebola is a thing again? What if I caught Ebola while we were in Miami? Miami seems like the type of place that I could catch Ebola."

"Ebola, Ashley? Are you serious?"

"I'm just saying. No one thinks they're going to get Ebola! Or Meningitis. What if it's Meningitis? I just read an article about how no one thinks they have Meningitis, and that's the whole problem."

"I'm sorry your throat hurts."

"I don't believe you. You're going to feel bad when I do have Meningitis."

A few hours later, I announced that my chest hurt in a weird way. "You know how I think my sternum pops?"

"Your sternum?"

"Yes, right here? In yoga? During back bends? It pops?" I reminded him.

"Yeah."

"It hurts in a weird way right now."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"You don't seem very sorry. What if I'm having a heart attack?"

He put his head in his hands and started to laugh until his eyes watered. "Oh, Ashley. I do love you. I don't know whether to laugh or cry but I love you. A heart attack?"

"Chest pain is one of the symptoms. Why are you laughing? You're going to feel terrible if I am having a heart attack!"

"I'll take my chances. I guess I'll just have to live with the fact that I'm a horrible person if you do die."

"No one thinks their wife is going to have a heart attack in five minutes."

"Especially not when she's smiling and speaking just fine."

"I'm just saying it hurts in a weird way."

"And I'm sorry about that."

"In a 'I might die' kind of way."

"You had Ebola earlier."

"Maybe it's related to that! Maybe it's another symptom!"

"Maybe you should go to bed early tonight."

I think he's just tired of me.

But I did quarantine myself in my room really early tonight, just in case.

Kid Snippets

I spend a ridiculous amount of time in parking lots or at stoplights, hurriedly entering clips of conversation into the notes section of my phone. So often, these bits and pieces never make it to an actual blog post and I feel bad about that but also not quite motivated enough to craft them into something interesting. So here are a few of those lost snippets:
 ***

"Why would you get to be the deciding factor?" I asked little kid when overhearing Big Kid's pleas to be the first to use the computer that day.

"I love when you say that, mom." Big Kid interrupted.

"When I say what?"

"Deciding factor. It's just really classy, so much better than the word choice. Deciding factor...yeah, that just sounds really good, two excellent words to use together."

It's so nice to have another word nerd in the house.

***
While listening to the radio:

"I knew you were trouble when you walked in -- she better be talking about herself! That girl is nothing but trouble, I don't even know why anyone would date her, knowing she's going to write trash talking songs about them later when they break up."

"Who is it?" I asked, not smarter than a 5th grader when it comes to pop culture.

"Taylor Swift."

"Who would break up with HER?" asked little kid. "She's totally rich. I wouldn't even care if she wrote mean songs about me, you can deal with some stuff for that kind of money."

***

"Max is my favorite boy lately." I said.

"Mooooom! Why Max?" little kid protested.

"He's sweet, he loves me all of the time, he rarely asks for anything. It doesn't mean I love you less, Max just gets to be the favorite this week."

"Great. Now I'm living dad's life."

***

little kid walked into the family room, bounced a Nerf football off of the side of an unsuspecting Big Kid's head and yelled, "Hash tag, deserved it!" as he continued walking into the next room.

I wasn't even mad. It was hilarious.

(Big Kid was mad.)

***

"Big Kid, you know why you don't like mustard?" little kid asked. "Mus-TURD," he finished before Big Kid could answer. He then repeated the joke 3 different times over the next two days.

I don't even know if those are funny to anyone else, but I don't want to forget them.