Ah, Mother’s Day. You started out so well. Jasper, the puppy, miraculously slept most of the night. Tenzin, the husband, got up with the dog and let me sleep in. Then around 8:30, Elfie, the 7-year-old, brought me breakfast in bed. True, Tenzin made French toast with expired eggs and there’s a 50/50 chance I’ll be puking later today, but let’s just focus on the actual breakfast for now. And Newt, the 9-year-old, engaged in some of his usual self-flagellation about not making me anything, thus turning the whole situation into a moment all about him. But again, focus people, focus.
Elfie gave me a lovely pipe-cleaner art project (it’s her main medium). Then she gave us something that was axed from the program for their school’s Parent Day. According to this list of questions she filled out, my favorite drink is water (now you all know why I’m annoyed most of the time), and when I get stressed out, I go to my room (which is where, incidentally, I’d be right now if Tenzin weren’t up there napping because he has to work tonight). Tenzin’s favorite drink is soda (that’s right Elfie, not beer, soda) and he doesn’t do anything when he gets stressed out because “He doesn’t ever get stressed out.” Probably because of all the “soda.”
Then Newt pulled off some last-minute redemption and told us the poem he wrote for Parents’ Day that he wasn’t going to recite in front of the class because he was too embarrassed.
|The Digging-Est Dog|
So now I’m sitting in the backyard, hiding from the kids who’ve been given strict orders not to bother me for one whole hour because I threw a tantrum. Let’s just say that after the poetry reading, the rest of the day consisted of me cleaning stuff, picking up crap (literally — we have a puppy), and putting sunscreen on two uncooperative humans (and getting it in my hair).