the wisdom of youth

Well we're officially a week into the new school year. A week! I swear, we were robbed of summer this year! I mean, really, starting school in mid-August? Please. It's still summertime! I know, some moms think I'm crazy. But I love having my kids around, I love the constant noise and play and music and laughter and the house that never seems to get clean. Oh, sure, I love a quiet, clean house too, but I love when my kids are home. I really hate it when school comes along and makes me give them back to their teachers for 6 hours a day.

Incidentally, I was having this same conversation with one of my friends, but as we were talking about how short the summer was, I said, "We were robbed!!" And she thought I meant, you know, robbed. Stolen from. Burgled. Love that word. It was an odd few seconds there while I tried to explain myself. I suppose I should watch that dramatic speech I fall into so often. But I'll probably just watch it and not really change it. I love it, almost as much as I love commas. Delicious. ...There I go again.

So anyway, we've already had several humorous conversations with the kids about school, so I thought I'd share my favorites from the last week and a coupla the best ones from the past.

First: At dinner the other night, Kam announced that her cousin would be taking Chinese this year in school, which would open up the likelihood of her going on a mission to Japan. This was a promising beginning.

Then Ry piped in and said, "There was a girl in my class last year, she was Japanish... Japeeze... Ja... what is it?" We were still laughing too hard about the Chinese speaker in Japan to answer Ry.

The next night, I believe, Morgs started to tell us about a boy named Daniel in her class. Before she could get to the point, she was interrupted by her twin, The Boy, with, "You have a Daniel in your class?! Me too!! ...'Cept it's Dillon. His name's Dillon." Come to think of it, I know a guy named Daniel, too. Except it's Clarissa. And she's a girl. ...Love that.

Now to fully understand these next ones, you should know that we're a praying family. Every morning and night, we kneel and pray together, with everyone eventually getting a turn to offer the prayer as we proceed through the week.

Now, apparently my children have a very vague idea of what exactly it is that I do after they all leave to school. This is, of course, no huge surprise, since many of my children's teachers are under the impression that stay-at-home moms whose children are all at school probably just sit around catching up on General Hospital and The Barefoot Contessa while eating chocolate Dibs all day. Heaven knows who's doing the laundry and shopping and house cleaning and the secretarial work for the husband's construction business and whatever millions of mindless errands there are, and volunteering in the kids' classrooms and helping out the PTA occasionally, as well as trying to improve her talents on the piano and teach herself guitar and maybe if she's lucky get some time to write; because it certainly couldn't possibly be the stay-at-home mom!

Don't get me wrong. I have a healthy amount of respect for moms that can juggle the crazy life of career and family. That's just not in me. I'm capable of one career: motherhood. It's all I've ever wanted and frankly, all I can handle for now, even with all the kids in school all day.

But now I've gone and gotten off the point. So Kam was offering the prayer one morning last week and had said, "Please bless Dad at work today, and all of us at school. And bless Mom... to... be safe?" (Yes, it was a question) "...at home?" (again) "in her... responsibilities?" Did I mention the vagueness?

I laughed because it reminded me of a day sometime last year when Kam was offering the prayer again. She had just asked for the blessings of Dad and all the kids at school, and then said, "And please bless Mom that she can be safe in...whatever it is that she does." Silly girl. I sit around all day eating chocolate Dibs and catching up on General Hospital and the Barefoot Contessa. Duh. Bless Mom as she veges all day on the couch with her ice cream and soap opera addiction.

I guess I ought to consider letting them skip a day of school and just sit and watch what I do. ...Nah, let 'em wonder. Let's see how good the prayers get.

And finally, I leave you with the wisdom of my Morgs. A coupla years ago, she came into my room, looked me straight in the face and said, "Mom, if you ever see a guy, and he's got scars on his face, and he's wearing a striped shirt and those braclet things on his wrists from the police, he just might be a criminal." A sage warning from someone who clearly knows a criminal when she sees one.

the view from next minute...

A month. It has been an entire month since I've been able to actually sit down long enough to complete a posting. Oh, sure, I have several in the works -- and they're good ones -- but there they sit, in the works.

What a month. No, what a week. I learned in the most painful way last week that sometimes you can't go as far ahead as next Tuesday for a better view. Sometimes you can't go farther than the next minute. ...Breathe. Breathe again.

I learned last week that even though it seems like the world should stop and take note of your own particular upheaval, it does not. You wake up the next day and life is still moving, with or without you.

I learned last week that sometimes life is a little less real and a little more like a badly written mini-series than I ever thought possible -- So much so that if I was watching it, I'd be like, "Who wrote this?!"

But I also learned that a few of the people I really really love and have always expected to shine in life are capable of far greater things than I ever imagined. I learned that sometimes the strongest person is the one who should have been the broken one. And I learned that there is always hope in next Tuesday, and that if I can just get there, surely today will not feel quite so achingly painful.

And really, I have hope in next Tuesday because I have hope in Christ. And there it is.

So to those people whom I really really love and are starring in a horribly written mini-series (you know who you are): You make me want to be braver and wiser and funnier and a little bit more like you. Thank you for who you are. And PS. Dang, I love you.