“I have a theory about the human mind. A brain is a lot like a computer. It will only take so many facts, and then it will go into overload and blow up.” Erma Bombeck
Sounds like menopause doesn’t it?
Happy September! I’m the new girl on the block. I’ve been an Erma devotee for many years and am proud to join the channeling.
Two more days. The leaves are hanging in there, the kids are poised for re-entry and me, I’m ready to write!
True confessions—I have never been one of those mothers who choked up and cried when her baby left for the first day of school. Well, maybe the first child, and okay, maybe kindergarten. But after the fourth and final child I was booting her out the door with a new notebook, a new Ticonderoga #2 pencil, new tennis shoes, a shiny red apple to plunk on the teacher’s desk, and a hearty “buck up honey, you’ll be fine.” Okay, I’m just kidding. I made sure she was in her cutest little outfit (see photo) and safe behind the proper desk before I went out in the hall and did the happy dance.
Doing the happy dance in the hallway of our elementary school ten years ago was how I met my kindred spirit moms. An irreverent posse of women ready to party har-tee when the first September school bus finally took us out of our summer misery. We instantly created the First Day of School Bakery Visitation and Caffeine Blowout.
Guess what? Eleven years later, we’re still celebrating.
No more frothy caramel laced summer frappuchinos for us. no sir! We go straight for the hard stuff: Double tall mocha, full fat, full chocolate, OH baby, buzz me now! Forget the low fat bran muffin; we’ve taken this day to its full cream cheese Danish potentiality.
These days after the "first day" party we all go home to shovel out the house from three months of summertime and the livin’ is easy. This is when all that sugar and caffeine come in handy. When you have teenagers, it’s like a frat party gone bad.
I have three boys and one girl. Boy one (A) and Boy two (B) are respectively: A) Married to the coolest girl in the world, employed as a chef, and B) Living the good life in San Francisco, working as a journalist writing for The Onion and other publications, free of parental support for the most part.
Thing Three (boy 3) and Thing Four (“finally, a girl!”) are living at home. I TOLD Boy 3 if he left food around the room eventually some type of animal would move in and live with him. Or maybe it was the mouse that laid a trap for a teenager. His very own teenager to feed him granola bars and leftover chocolate pudding in individualized cups. Interesting thought. Who DID order that mini-fridge?
Girl of course is completely organized and has made an itinerary broken into half-hour increments, posted on the wall. Before you shake your head because your girl isn’t like that, rest assured this is actually . . . not . . . completely . . . true. It has taken three weeks of nagging/bribes/yelling to get her to pull it together. The itinerary part is true. It was a grand way to procrastinate the full cleaning of her room. But that’s a whole other subject- procrastination.
Two more days and I’m going to dive into that novel writing thing I do like a sinful dessert I’ve been saving for three months - but it’s not stale.
Till then I’m going to light a candle to Our Lady of Blessed Peace and Quiet.