September 9, 2010
Okay, I've survived the first day of school.
Mine and the kids.
I think they're doing better than I am.
At least Em is.
Keith, in spite of being an intelligent, reflective, thoughtful young man, decided at some point Tuesday evening, that he would spend his evening with friends.
That was fine.
But one of his friends was named Sailor Jerry's.
And while Sailor Jerry may be a good friend, he's pretty short term.
You really just borrow him.
Something Keith found out Wednesday morning. On his first day of classes.
I like all of Keith's friends, except ol' Sailor Jerry. He tends to turn my thoughtful son into a babbling idiot who doesn't hear his alarm clock and asks for a back rub at 7.30 in the morning when I am trying to get ready for my first day of classes.
You remember, the first day of classes that started Thursday, but turned out to be Wednesday, leaving me in a brief state of panic and paralysis and at work until 10.30 Tuesday evening preparing for my 9.00 am Wednesday morning class.
I did go home for dinner Tuesday evening. I had to. The kids had arranged a sort of end-of-summer-beginning-of-the-new-school-year-dinner, invited several of their friends, and planned the menu. The menu I was going to cook: Greek fried chicken, new potatoes, salad and corn on the cob.
And of course something for dessert that was yet to be determined.
The ensuing panic over not knowing the day classes started resulted in a complete change of plans. Stephen, Meredyth and Keith did the shopping, Emily maintained the fort and cooked the chicken. I delegated. And delegated again, and again, and again.
At 6.30 pm, Stephen picked me up for this dinner.
We sat down to eat at 7.30.
Pourquoi?
Because Em didn't realize she was supposed to start cooking the chicken, Mer forgot to put the potatoes on and Keith was only in the process of setting the table when I arrived.
I took charge and got things sorted out.
Dinner was a lot of fun. I like the kid's friends. They're funny, honest, and they like to eat.
However, they do not like cleaning, so I did that.
And anytime my kids get into the kitchen to cook, there is always a lot of cleaning.
Somehow every. single. dish. in the house managed to be put to some use. The dishwasher was practically groaning, I had packed it so full, and I still had to wash dishes for almost an hour.
By 9.00 pm, I was back in the car, the backseat full of kids all going to Mer's for the next stage of their get together.
I think this is where Keith's friend, Sailor Jerry, made his appearance.
Soon, I am going to have to sit down and have a talk with Sailor Jerry about his influence over my son.
10 years of teaching and I still get nervous on the first day.
But I was ready. For both classes.
What I was not ready for was the meeting of my book club yesterday evening.
At my house.
Because classes didn't start til today, right???
And you know what they say about the best laid plans.
I had PLANNED to come to work in the morning, get everything photocopied for distribution, happy and content in the knowledge that I would sleep well that evening, because I was ready.
I had PLANNED to spend the afternoon preparing the culinary delights I would serve to my book club friends. Quiche, perhaps a honey or poppyseed cake, other treats that had yet to be established. I did have tzaiki and Greek pita from Yassou, because why make something when you know someone else makes it better.
Instead of spending an afternoon happily cooking, listening to music and spending time with my dog, I was in class. After class, I ran around like a lunatic buying things to take home and prepare. M&M Meatshop, Superstore, NB Liquor were all hit by Hurricane Dawne who was in a state of managed panic, something that seems to be happening a lot lately.
The food part I was okay with.
NB Liquor was another story all together.
I don't drink alot. I had my fun, and lots of it, in my youth.
Because I rarely drink, picking out wine is always a challenge.
I know nothing about wine, but I do know that screwtops are typically not good, and that a 2 litre bottle of wine valued at $8.95 is probably not something you should drink.
Wash you garage floor with, perhaps, but not drink.
And for some unfathomable reason, I sent Stephen, who knows a whole lot more about wine than I do, to the car with the groceries.
Standing in the liquor store, with Emily, I looked like a deer in headlights.
I thought if I stood their long enough maybe Stephen would come looking for me.
But then I realized I didn't have that much time.
Em suggested buying the wine based on how nice the bottle looked. I was starting to think this was a good idea.
Aisle after aisle had wine from just about every major continent. It was either red, white or pink.
Some was in a box.
I knew not to get this.
But that was about all I knew.
I eventually picked out a red and white in the $20.00 range.
And hoped for the best.
Only because Stephen and the kids helped, was I prepared for my bookclub.
Stephen did all the cleaning (surprise, surprise!) and Keith helped with shifting furniture and with the dogs.
Emily helped with the cooking, but any and all errors were mine.
And there were a few.
The stuff I bought from M&M needed to be cooked at different times. I managed the Quiche okay, but it was the Hors d'oeuvres and the Cranberry Brie in puff pastry that proved to be the challenge.
Apparently, 425 degrees means different things for M&M and for my oven.
Emily actually had to take the nutmeg grater, and grate off the bottom of the "somewhat overcooked" Hors d'oeuvres.
I openly confessed about the brie in puff pastry.
Because at that time, I was too tired to try and fix anything.
So, I have gone to all my classes and handed out the syllabi.
Tomorrow the lecturing to my intro crim class begins.
I've spent some time today thinking about other first day's of school.
Mer couldn't wait to get to school, not because she was necessarily interested in learning anything (because even then she thought she knew it all), but because she wanted to be away from home, meaning me. She was ready to publically announce herself as a social butterfly.
She knew herself even then!
Keith was less excited. Even more than cautious, he was actually averse to going to school.
I took him into his kindergarten class, introduced him to his teacher, and watched as all the other parents did them same thing with their children, and then left.
I didn't leave.
I was rooted to the floor. Eventually, his kindergarten teacher came over to me and said that he would adjust faster if I was to leave.
I didn't agree with her, but I knew that I wouldn't be allowed to stand there all day.
And as I turned to leave (wiping the tears from my eyes) Pookie threw himself at my feet, grabbed a hold of my ankle, and begged and pleaded with me not to leave.
Begged
and
Pleaded.
And broke my heart.
Emily was a bit different.
Born in January, Emily missed the deadline for going to school by 21 days.
Meaning when she had to wait an extra 9 months to attend school.
She wanted to go to school from the second she realized where Mer, and then Keith, were going.
She was almost breathless with anticipation about attending school.
All I could do was tell her that she could go to school when she turned 5.
January 21, 1998, Emily came downstairs, dressed and ready for school. She had made her lunch.
All by herself.
I was in deep, deep trouble.
She proudly and loudly announced she was ready to go school with Mer and Keith.
When I told her she couldn't go, she looked me right in the eye, her gigantic blue eyes narrowing, and said,
"You told me when I was 5 I could go to school. Today I am five. I AM going to school."
Really, really deep trouble.
She was angry with me for the entire day.
Wouldn't speak to me. Ignored me.
Pretty much what she does now when she's angry with me.
Title Lyric: Xanax and Wine by U2
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