I put together a slide show

about my daughter Tegan’s (considerable) contributions to her community during high school.

 

This picture is from the first year.

She made goodies for the Open House.

 

This picture is from this summer.

 

4th of July, 2012

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A Little Story from my trip to the Smoky Mountains.

I was determined to send postcards, because getting postcards is the most awesome thing in the Universe and probably adds up to 42 in some complicated numerological way.

Therefore, when I went to Forbidden Caverns (north of Sevierville Tennessee) I purchased some, which I wrote, there in the parking lot. The only thing that remained was to get to a postoffice, WHICH, since it was a weekday and the Republicans haven’t completely finished gutting essential government services yet, was open. I even did that. Yay, me.

Stalactite forming, Forbidden Caverns, Tennessee

When I came in there was a fellow talking to the clerk, accompanied by two tiny little blond boys, the elder of whom was doing the “potty dance.”

Elder, in this case, being, like, 3 years old. I alerted Dad and tried to distract them, talking about the Cars movie, until they went out and I purchased my stamps and mailed my cards.

When I came out into the lobby he was still there, and the older boy was crying, holding himself.

By God, he hadn’t peed yet, though. SUCH courage.

i asked Dad if I could take him out to water a bush. Got permission, which, frankly, surprised me more than anything, and took him out and gave him the go-ahead (if you’ll pardon the expression.) That kid had to go. I, with more practice and a bigger bladder, would have been in agony.

I told him what a SUPER DELUXE AWESOME BIG BOY JOB he’d done and returned him to Dad.

There are such small things you can do in the world. For the record, little boy, I know you’re being raised partially by a fireman in Tennessee, who seems to be somewhat behind the curve, as regards child development, and I don’t know what challenges you’ll face. I hope this was the worst one, and it’s clear sailing from here. The nice lady who helped you was a heathen liberal from the North. When someone tells you they’re bad, well, we’re not. I’ll be holding the good thought for you.

And, two pieces of advice.

Don’t panic, little dude. And carry your towel.

Happy Towel Day.

wrote a poem

a leap of well-considered faith

At 14, long legs change hop-rocking.

The castles and continents of rock

give way to your seven league boots

and the horizon beckons.

Never to have measured yourself

against the mountains of your childhood,

never to have stretched across

the shoals of original magic

is to have missed

Pan’s path

for the worse.

The math I most need is the ability to count my blessings

I went to bed last night around 1am, which, sadly, is not unusual.

I was disposed to feel sorry for myself, because I was a ‘single parent’ for a week, my husband being off on a business trip, and because I was in a fair amount of pain with a TMJ problem,  which my dentist cheerfully assured me was “chronic” and “due to stress” despite the fact that I’d never previously had it.

I mean, come on. You should have to have something go wrong at least TWICE to consider it chronic. That’s my “rage, rage against the dying of the light” POV.

He prescribed me a muscle relaxant (because nothing says taking care of 5 children orthodontia week like ‘new meds that you can’t take while operating heavy machinery’) and I’d obediently attempted to get them filled, because ALL I really wanted was to be prone in my own house, in less pain. Took the 15 minute guarantee Rite-Aid over an hour to come up with a third of the prescription, but I won’t get into that.

After dinner, etc., had massive trouble converting all the MAC files to PC files for Tegan’s school project, and, what with one thing and another, no one got to bed until 1 am.

Woke up to schedule a visit from the geo-thermal drilling guy for 20 minutes later, to get everyone up to be ready for that, to be followed by orthodonist visit, school, etc. etc.

And when I walked into the bathroom, there was a surprise. 2 surprises.

The countertop had been wiped clean, and there was a full, untouched, roll of toilet paper.

This is Countertop Wiper:

He's actually being a Greek mask of Comedy, here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is Toilet Paper Replacer:

Teens get all the sleep they missed as babies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m not a single parent, ever. I’m part of a team. A Family.