The Little People

I ordered Younger’s graduation announcements on February 12, the very first day the website offered them. And I still have not received them.

So, I contacted the local representative. After several emails, he could only tell me the announcements had been shipped.

So, I contacted the organization. And the lady assured me that the latest they would be shipped was May 13.

I took a breath and very calmly replied, “He graduates May 17. Please tell me you won’t wait until the 13th to ship the announcements.”

Uhhhh, well, we should probably expect them in two to three weeks.

I don’t yell at the little people. I’ve been the little people. Often, I still am the little people.

But one of these days I’m likely to strangle me a big people.

If I can ever find one.


What Have We Learned Today

I am in the middle of grading first and second drafts of final essays and am not finding my family amusing at all, so I thought I would share an old story from 2005 when Younger first started his educational career . . .

Last year, at our conference with Elder’s teacher, she announced, “I have learned so much.”  But with Younger we heard stories such as when his kindergarten teacher explained that the principal would take the Good Citizen to McDonald’s, Younger told her, “Now, when you said that about McDonald’s, you re-ee-eally got my attention.”

And when another kid was apparently poking him relentlessly with a pencil, Younger announced, “Now, I’ve asked him nicely to quit, but if he don’t quit pretty quick, it ain’t gonna be so nice.”

We pray that all of his teachers will have a sense of humor.

And a lot of patience.

Feel My Pain

Despite breaking my heart and quitting football, Younger had continued to take a weights class until last semester, when he simply could not fit one in his schedule. At the start of the new semester a few weeks ago, he was able to once again join the class, although he did so with much trepidation after missing several months of workouts.

And now when I ask him to perform simple tasks — feed the dogs and cats, throw his trash away, actually put his plate in the dishwasher — I hear, “But my muscles, Mom — they hurt.”

Apparently not satisfied with the level of sympathy he was receiving one day, he decided to elaborate. “Mom, I don’t think you understand just how much I pain I am in. I woke up in the middle of the night last night because I rolled over.”

Then this morning, as we prepared to leave the house, I asked, “You have everything you need for weights today?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled.  “Except for muscles, endurance, and a will to live.”

One class I know he doesn’t need — drama.

He’s already got that all figured out.

That’ll Learn Me

I am in the last course of my Master’s program. And I am in countdown mode. Four weeks and three days left.

Of course, those four weeks and three days might kill me.

For my last assignment –– if one ignores my thesis, which I do every chance I get –– I have had to create two websites, one for my academic portfolio and one for my professional portfolio. I have cried over these websites. I have laughed over these websites. The laughter may have been tinged with hysteria, but anyone who can ignore a thesis can ignore mania just as well.

But last night, I thought I would finally share my progress with my loving and oh-so-supportive family.

Then Younger glanced at the computer screen and said, with a shrug, “Looks like what we had to build for a class.”

Well, that’s just lovely. I mean, really, it is.

Nineteen months and thousands and thousands of dollars later, and I’m on par with my seventh grader.

Boy, am I laughing now.