And just like that, it’s Autumn…Yesterday morning as we were getting up and ready for our day at the dark and cold hour of 6 am, B started a small fire in the fireplace to take the edge of cool off the family room. And after the mad dash to get the kids out the door so they wouldn't be tardy for school and I wouldn’t get the automated phone call to let me know my kids were tardy for school, I climbed into the chair closest to the fireplace and turned on a worship service YouTube. The ambiance in the room dramatically shifted from commotion to tranquility. I closed my eyes, and I felt transported to another time and place.
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There were years that the end of summer came with tears and tantrums—I can only account for mine. It used to be I never wanted the summer to end and see my kids go back to school. Not so much this year. Last week, they started the new school year with three half days. It was so cute to watch my teen and tween walk into school today holding hands. All that cuteness aside, it seemed, however, that as soon as we dropped them off at school they needed to be picked up again.
Read MoreI knew this year was going to be a different kind of birthday celebration—the kind where we were quarantined. We usually observe birthdays in our house with some fanfare and a week-long celebration, a leftover from when B was gigging and traveling a lot. But this year, with mandatory isolation in place and all non-essentials closed to the public, our celebration would be modest. We’re not extravagant people, but I admit I was dispirited, aggrieved like I had lost something: no shopping to buy that one new birthday outfit, no new haircut and color, no date night out of the house, no friends, no chocolate party.
Read MoreOn the last day of school in June, Monkey Boy—my 9-year-old—brought home an entire year’s worth of in-class assignments and art, an amount equal to about three large trees, which has set undisturbed on my desk until this last week when I figured I should be parental and check his work, now that school’s been back in session a full two months. As a writer myself, I paid particular attention to his writing journals. He was required to journal every morning at school at least five sentences on any given prompt, such as, “What Did You Do Last Weekend?”
Read MoreWe made a large pan of Rice Krispies Treats, and by we, I mean the Girl made them while I supervised the process. I figured that I needed to encourage her culinary skills so that she would be able to survive on more than ramen noodles, microwave popcorn, and pizza in the eventuality that she will leave home for college in four years or so. Rice Krispies Treats are a cheap student essential that can be made with nothing more than three ingredients and a hot pot. Trust me, I know.
Read MoreI am done with school, as in I am done with the kids being in school for this school year. Sure, I’ll send them back to school in August because by then I’ll be happy to see them leave the house and not return for seven straight hours. But today, I am done with school, and I’m excitedly, impatiently awaiting the last day of school—this Friday. It’s not because we have great summer plans, it’s more because I will not be getting up at super-duper early o’clock every single day. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Yes, when the alarm goes off every morning, it is officially super-duper early o’clock.
Read MoreThere was this one time the meal plan said it was salad bar night, and as you know, the meal plan must be followed—just so there’s no mistake, I write the meal plan, but I apparently forgot to send out the meal plan memo. And just so you know, not everyone in the house is as big of fan of salads as I am.
Read MoreWhen the school announced the date and theme of the dance in mid-January, they also announced that the dress code would be semi-formal, in that no jeans or casual wear were allowed. They asked students to wear something that they might wear to church. The Girl scoffed out loud, and when she told me, we laughed hard. Obviously they did not know what I let my kids wear to church: ripped jeans, sports pants, shorts, flip flops, and/or T-shirts and hoodies. And hats, not fancy Southern, church-lady hats but knit caps, beanies, snapbacks. “We gotta find you something to wear,” I said.
Read MoreLast week was Valentine’s Day. And this year we—and by we, I mean me and perhaps the Girl—were going to hand make all our Valentine’s Day cards for Monkey Boy. We had a plan, too. We were going to pick 30 small, colorful and interesting rocks from our garden (we’ve got thousands) and make pet rocks with googly eyes, an alternative to candy. The Girl said she had a bunch of googly eyes in her craft box and plenty of hot glue sticks to glue on the eyes. I had plenty of small clear plastic bags for the pet rocks and lots of cardstock for the “You Rock” Valentine’s Day cards. Perfect. Except it didn’t turn out that way.
Read MoreMonkey Boy likes to use my shower. Knowing that means there should be no surprises. You expect the unexpected. Once upon a time, all four of us shared a bathroom. At our last house, we had one bathroom. Mind you, it was a huge room, almost as large as the bedroom the Girl and Monkey Boy shared. All four of us could be in the bathroom at the same, standing in different corners and when reaching our hands toward each other, we would not have been able to touch fingers. We never actually tried that, standing in different corners, but there were times when all of us, and the cats, were in that room at the same time. There were also times when there was a line at the door.
Read MoreLast spring Monkey Boy bounced into the kitchen wearing brown and white shorts, a too-small greyish brown tee with a dinosaur crossing Abbey Road on it, a brightly colored green sock and a blue striped sock, and his new-ish sneakers. I did a double take. He then put on his yellow Monster stocking cap with purple ear covers. His outfit surprised me. Not one bit of it matched. And just as I was about to comment on his outfit, as non-judgy as possible, he did dress himself for school, after all, Monkey Boy said, “Hey guys, I want to show you some dance steps.”
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You know how each class picks one kid to be the Star, Or Superhero or Artist of the week? Monkey Boy is the “Artist of the Week” this week in his class for no other reason than where his last name falls in the alphabet. He also got to choose a storybook to read aloud to his class and put together a sharing sack that contained 3 special items from home…He decided on his Spider-Man mask to represent his interest in all things Marvel. He also chose his soccer ball. Finally, Monkey Boy chose to take a family photo. He said, “I want to tell people about my family.”
“Oh yeah? What are you going to tell them about daddy?”
“He’s a pastor, and he plays music.”
That’s cool,” I said. Then I asked, “What are you going to tell them about me? What do I do?”
Read MoreWe didn’t get a family vacation this summer. We didn’t get one last summer, either, because we moved, and moving and buying a new house and starting a new job pretty much screams, “You don’t need no stinkin’ vacation.” But I’m not bitter.
Read MoreMy father, in a near panic, found a police and told him that he lost, “Two adults and a teenager in the park.” I can only imagine the response of the police officer, because, again, I was not there. I was still walking around the park with my mother and Uncle Alfred looking for our car…
Read MoreWe were all in the car on Sunday evening picking Ash up from The Mystery Club cast and crew wrap party, when I said, “I cannot think of a more perfect birthday weekend. Thank you all so much.”
“So it was okay?” B asked.
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It was nearly bedtime when Monkey Boy announced that he was hungry. B was in the kitchen and asked him, “Do you want a piece of bread?
“Yes, please,” Monkey Boy replies. So B cuts a thick piece of bread, and then Monkey Boy said, “How about a piece of cheese, too?”
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