Quick Update

1) I've just extended my lease on The Child; she found my ID badge this morning on the way to the car. Yeah, it was sitting right there on the sidewalk, where I'm guessing it had been all frakking weekend. Sheesh.

And b) how frakking stupid do you have to be to actually blow out the stupidometer? I may not be the shiniest whisk in the kitchen but ding dong, Gov. Rod Blagojevich makes me look like a freaking brain trust.

Cool

Last night The Child was talking about school. It's been going really well. So far she's getting straight A's. Math is "easy" (owing to the fact that so far it's all been review of the stuff she learned last year). She has good friends and is planning a series of sleep-overs. She's already found a niche and it's the most wonderful thing in all the land.

"You are really enjoying school now, aren't' you?" I asked.

She stopped washing dishes, turned to me with a big grin and said, "I really am." She paused briefly and then added, almost shyly, "I just feel so cool when I'm walking with my friends after choir and carrying my bag across the courtyard to the cafeteria. I can't explain it". Her eyes sparkled.

She didn't have to explain. I feel the exact same way when I walk across the parking lot, carrying my briefcase, toward my office. Exactly the same way.

What makes you feel cool?

A Thought

Sometimes I sincerely believe that there is absolutely nothing better in the entire world than a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

Maybe I'm Lucky After All

Praisalluia, as we used to say at teen Bible camp.

I finally faced my fears, downloaded all the bank transactions for the last 45 days and matched them line by line with my Quicken. Turns out I had double booked a number of things, including the April mortgage payment. Whew. I really do have what the bank thinks I have. (Actually, the bank thinks I have $100 more than I do but right now I'm not inclined to go looking for it. Maybe later).

For once, I'm very happy to be an idiot.

Oh, and hey, in all my woe-is-me-ness earlier I forgot to mention something about The Child:

She came home on Friday with a progress report from her history/lit/language arts teacher. She was getting an A+ in reading, thankyouverymuch, owing to her brilliant Shakespearean performance.

"I don't get it," she said. "The most you can get is 100 and I got 109".

"Well, the thing is, that 100 is the most you could do to satisfy the teacher. You went above and beyond and he wanted to give you credit for that".

"Oh," she said, grinning like the proverbial cat with a canary.

She was getting a C in history, but that owed to missing assignments (the bane!). And she was getting an F in Language Arts, for the same reason. The good news was 2 fold. Her grades for the work/tests she'd done was quite good, A and B work, in fact. Which means she's getting the material and with dyslexia you have to worry about that. The other good news was that she has until this Friday to turn in any missing assignments, all of which have the potential to pull up her grades.

And she was determined. She did her daily homework on Friday afternoon and on Saturday morning sat down to her make-up work without being told, cajoled or otherwise forced.

But then, yesterday she came home with the brilliant news that when she turned in her make-up assignments the teacher discovered that he had failed to give her credit for something she had already done. And so, thus far, in his classes she is currently bound for honor roll. For the first time since she was 6. (Are you kvelling, Uncle JP?)

This morning as I dropped her off at school she gave me the injunction to go to the store, please, and get some bananas. "Mr. R. says bananas are über fruit", she said. "I want to keep doing well in school".

If über fruit is part of the equation, über fruit she shall have.

And now I know I can actually get her some. Huzzah.

Growing Up

The Child has been a little, shall we say, volatile lately. I know it's because of her impending birthday. The other night she told The Neighbor that she still wanted to be a kid.

"You'll still be a kid," she replied. "I'm still a kid at heart. So is your mom. Your dad is still a big kid".

I added that I'd felt the same way and that one of my biggest concerns about turning 13 was that I was afraid my mom would come and take away my stuffed cat, Algie, with whom I still slept.

"So I can still sleep with Lovey*"?

"Hey, I slept with Algie until your dad came along!"

She was relieved, but the worries persist. So yesterday, after school, we sat down for a snack, a few rounds of mancala and a little chat.

"How are you feeling about turning 13?"

She wiggled her hand in that motion that means "so-so".

"Anything in particular making you concerned?"

"Well, it's a lot more responsibility," she said.

"I suppose. What sort of responsibilities are you thinking about?"

"Like having more chores".

I had to wait a beat. I was expecting something big, something to do with periods or boys or even making decisions about stuff like smoking and drugs.

"So let me get this straight. You're worried about turning 13 because you think you're going to have to do more stuff around the house?"

She nodded.

"Well, if it helps, I don't have any plans to wake you up on Friday morning and give you a list of stuff to do. In fact, I'm pretty happy with the fact that lately you are very willing to help when you're asked. As long as you keep pitching in like that and keep your room clean, I don't see any need to give you more to do".

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Anything about turning 13 that you're excited about".

"Well, it's one year closer to cool stuff".

"Such as?"

"Being able to drive, having my own house. Oh, nothing personal, Mom. But you know. And it's a year closer to being a mom".

"You're right about that. 13 is a lot closer to a lot of really great stuff. But you know, honey, the good part about getting older is that it doesn't happen all at once. You have time to adjust. It's not like you'll turn 13 and bam! you have to be grownup. And you know, when you were little and took your first steps, papa and I didn't say, 'Ok, you can walk now. We're done carrying you'. For what it's worth, we're still here for you".

She smiled. I think she feels a little better.

* A stuffed unicorn.