Oh, Hello

I have been notified today that apparently some of my beloved readers are concerned about my lack of posts. So I'm here, although without much in the way of Wonderful Words of Wit and/or Wisdom.

I'm okay.

But I'm tired.

I'm tired physically, with not enough sleep at night and not enough sunlight as this long and dreary winter drags on and on. I don't care what the calendar says, IT ISN'T SPRING. Not here in Michigan, at any rate. We get hints and teases here and there, but I've long since learned not to get my hopes up. Not until after Memorial Day, really, and that's a good couple of months away.

I'm tired mentally, because it's that time of year and I have seniors (oh dear God give me strength) and am teaching three core classes including one that has a brand new curriculum and please shoot me if I ever agree to do such an idiotic thing again.

I'm tired emotionally, because the grim reality of politics and society in this state and this country and this world has me threadworn.

I need a break. I need some solid time filled with rest and laughter to give me the wherewithal to fling myself back into the fray. I'm hoping I'll get some of that this next week on Spring Break. The boylets are in Florida with their father (and have been since Sunday) and won't be back until the 10th. While I do miss them, I have to admit...I can use the break from mommying as well. The Padawan will be at his mother's during the next week as well. The thought of DAYS (and nights) with no kids around at all has me and MTL doing the kind of happy dance that most parents would understand.

So...yeah. I don't have a lot to say on here right now, but I am okay. Hopefully this time next week I'll be at least good, and by the weekend I'll be great.

In the meantime, I'll keep obsessively reading the archived stories over at Etiquette Hell, alternating between horrified laughter and paranoid fear.

Carry on.

More Like A Wedding Speed-Walk Than A March, Really

I've been meaning to sit down and write a post for, oh, ages now, and I haven't done so because of two reasons.

The first is gross. A fingernail cuticle became infected about three weeks ago and unlike most annoying little infections of that sort, this one did not go away but instead decided to Colonize The Nail and attempt to destroy any chance of my ever becoming a hand model, as the lovely and all-too-kind momsicle suggested I do in order to fund the wedding. Epsom salts and tea-tree oil proved limited in their defense capabilities, and so at long last (and probably later than I should have, considering the sad state of the nail itself) I filled the scrip for Keflex and started popping pills. Two days later, I can finally put pressure on that finger without feeling like my nail is about to begin the apparently painful process of zombification.

A lovely image, I know.

YOU'RE WELCOME.

I love filling you in on the beautiful little moments of my life.

The second (and more exciting) reason is that I have dived full force into Wedding Planning, and for good reason. MTL and I had originally thought we would marry next fall. This would have meant my parents would be unable to attend. At first I shrugged this off a bit. I mean, they live in Africa. They can only come here every couple of years. Scheduling is hard.

By Wednesday, however, MTL was starting to say things like, Hmmm. A year and a half is a long time. One and a half times as long as we've been together. and Are you really sure you're going to be okay with your parents not being there?

Then I chatted with one of my closest friends, the amazing and talented Heidi (she's a bridesmaid, by the way) and she started asking about how I would really feel about my parents not being there, and finally I admitted that yes, it would matter. If they weren't there, I would regret it.

I had a feeling, said MTL.

There are SO many reasons I'm marrying that man. Other than him asking, I mean.

So we sat down and looked at our finances and we talked to people and I emailed my parents and lo, behold, we were shooting for an August wedding instead. THIS YEAR August, as in. Five and half months away.

Enter panic. Would we be able to afford this? What venues would be available? How much did you say that costs?? WHY IS EVERYTHING SO DAMN EXPENSIVE???

I had already asked my closest friends to be bridesmaids, and they talked me down rallied 'round. And then MTL crunched numbers and helped me look up venues and ideas online, and then we went to tour a possible reception venue and drove by a possible ceremony venue and went to a bridal expo MTL had heard about on the radio and BAM!

Things started falling together instead of apart. We fell in love with the reception and ceremony venues, and they both offer beauty as well as budget, and we even found a bakery we love and could afford at the expo.

It's really happening. We're getting married. This August thirteenth. In five and half months. Under twenty-four weeks. One hundred sixty-five days, when you get right down to it!

So DraftQueen, oh sweet Mistress of Honor? Heidi, darling bridesmaid mine? I'm seeing you here in MICHIGAN, ladies! You better be saving your pennies!

The Sun Is Hot, The House Is Cool, And This Couch Is Awfully Comfy

It's been a true vacation week. I could write all the details, but I'm still in vacation mode and find myself rather uninterested in working that hard.

I know. I'm awesome.

So let's see. How about a nice little bulleted list? I love lists. And then you could tell me what you're most interested in hearing about in greater detail, and I could be all happy about getting comments (because you know I'm a comment whore, Peoples, and all the comments on my last post gave me warm fuzzies and that's a Good Thing), and then I'll just focus on what you'd like to read rather than giving you some long drawn out commentary on a whole week's worth of activities like some modern literary version of those slide shows people make guests sit through showing them standing in front of a hundred different poorly photographed landmarks from their latest vacation.

You're welcome.

Since last Friday, the following major events have occurred:

• MTL and I drove north to his parents' place with all five kids and camped in their yard for over three days while sharing one kitchen and bathroom with eight other people (that makes fifteen total for the math challenged)
• DramaBoy earned his first ever full day Time Out (a.k.a. You're grounded, boyo.)
• I cohosted a hotel sleepover birthday party involving four thirteen- and fourteen-year-old girls with MTL's ex-wife
• MTL and I had a lovely couple of days All By Ourselves over on the west side of the state in a lovely little harbor town called Saugatuck

It's been quite the week, Peoples.

At the moment we're relishing our final days on vacation without kids and without responsibilities. On Monday reality takes over again. MTL will head back to work, and I will get back into the sorting and tossing and donating and packing process as well. It's only three weeks until we move. Time, it has wings.

And now back to relaxing with My True Love.

One More Girl And It's The Brady Bunch

DraftQueen says I'm crazy and yeah, I probably am a bit (okay fine, more than a bit, but I OWN my crazy, peoples), but here's the thing: I'm kinda enjoying this multiple kids thing. You know, as in five all told.

Oh, didn't I mention? MTL has three kids. We finally agreed on appropriate blog names for them this last week. First there's The Dark One, his daughter who turns fourteen on Sunday. She's snarky and sarcastic and a touch emo and we get along quite well. Who woulda thunk, right? Then there's The Padawan, his almost-twelve son who is being trained in The Way of the Geek. He shows great promise. Finally there's KlutzGirl, who is seven and, well, an adorable klutz. The Padawan is delighted to have boys around, and DramaBoy and The Widget already treat him like a big brother, wrestling and teasing and emulating included. KlutzGirl already calls them her "almost brothers" and bosses them unmercifully. The Dark One tends to hold herself somewhat aloof, but thaws enough to play along when all seven of us get going in a rousing toy light saber battle.

(Yeah. We're the Dorks. Meet the Dorklings.)

Anywho, it turns out that I rather enjoy having five kids around. Well, other than the times when the whining and fighting escalates and mostly I just want to go huddle in a closet with a bottle or three of Raspberry Mike's Hard Lemonade. But really, it turns out that having older kids to help out makes things much easier, and this summer has been rather fun with visits to parks and shopping trips and whatnot. The logistics can be a bit tricky, since I don't have a vehicle large enough for them all, but we're making it work.

And it's the comments I get in public that have me giggling. Today I had KlutzGirl, DramaBoy, and The Widget with me grocery shopping for our holiday weekend camping trip (I told you we'd be braving it again). They were being active and cute and fairly well-behaved, and therefore we received many smiles and comments on how cute they are.

You have your hands full! said a few people.

And there are two older ones at home, I would reply with a grin.

My favorite response was from one woman who then exclaimed, And you have such a lovely figure!

I had to confess the truth at that point.

You're brave to take it all on! she said.

It's worth it, I replied.

And it is.

A Year Older and Wiser and All That Crap

It's back. Last year around this time the same thing happened. Post after post in my blog reader centered around the same topic: BlogHer Conference.

Last year, I was pretty much consumed with jealousy because there I was, fully steeped in all things bloggy, even tweeting away all day, and I WASN'T GOING. I even wrote a post about it. And then swore that in 2010 I'd find a way to go.

Here it is: Summer 2010, and BlogHer 2010 is about to begin, and guess what?

I'm not going.

And I couldn't care less.

No really. This isn't sour grapes talking. I truly have no desire to go to BlogHer this year.

You see, something has shifted over the last year. Last summer blogging and tweeting had center stage, pretty much top priority. I was trying to work out how to increase my readership, I was attending occasional blogger meetups and tweetups, I paid to have my blog redesigned (SO not regretting doing that, by the way--totally worth the money, which wasn't much), I was making plans that focused on my identity as a blogger.

That focus has shifted these days. I still enjoy blogging. It's an important way for me to lay out my thoughts and connect with peoples (that would be YOU!) and develop my voice. It just doesn't have center stage any longer.

I think the change is due to a crucial change in me. Last summer, despite tremendous growth and a good bit of healing, I was adrift. For years my identity as The Ex's significant other had been center stage. Suddenly that identity was threatened, then lost, and I needed to fill that void. Blogging was both safe and cathartic. So...I was a blogger. That identity was my life raft.

Now? Now I don't need a life raft. I've come to understand and know myself better. I'm happy in my own skin and no longer need to be defined according to someone else. Not that people have no significance in my life. Other relationships have flowered and taken more focus. I have friendships that are deeper than any I'd had in nearly two decades. I'm developing increasing confidence and peace as a mother. I found MTL.

So instead of heading to BlogHer, I'll be spending time with friends and family and kidlets and my beloved.

And I'll still show up here when inspiration strikes. Because I'm still awfully fond of you, peoples.

The Good, The Bad, and The Whiny

Yo.

I'm back. Amazingly enough, I'm back in one piece and of sane mind--well, as much as I usually am, which I suppose is up for some discussion. I'm sure there are quite a few people who would have a few opinions to express on the matter. Shut up. It's not your blog.

Heh.

So how did the Great Camping Adventure go? Well, as Boy Crazy said in her post about her weekend, I'm a fan of selective memory. Therefore, I am choosing to remember

• multiple small children running about bare foot playing tag while MTL and I cooked breakfast/lunch/dinner
• The Widget sitting contentedly on the beach, just out of reach of the water, piling sand on his legs/torso/curly head
• DramaBoy finally getting brave enough to wade out in the water up to his waist
• both DramaBoy and The Widget eating their hotdogs across the top (corn-on-the-cob style) rather than from one end
• roasting marshmallows over the fire
• The Widget wanting a marshmallow properly toasted, taking it in his hands, then handing it back with an "ick" face, complaining that It's squishy! It's too squishy! despite assurances that its squishiness was, in fact, a desirable characteristic
• The Widget marching about in board shorts and a hoodie, face adorably framed by the hood
• DramaBoy climbing everything in sight like the monkey he is
• sitting by a fire sipping cold drinks while laughing over MTL's family's stories (his sister et famille and his parents were there as well, which raised the adult-child ratio to a marvelous and anxiety-reducing level)
• eating a delicious if very messy Choco-Raspberry Burrito grilled over the fire (though we'll use foil on the grill next time and add more cinnamon)
• toasting on the hot sand while the kidlets splashed about in the lovely clear lake
• getting into a water fight with MTL and his kids (mine stayed safely out of range on the beach)
• moments of pure, unadulterated happiness

And I simply am choosing NOT to remember

• the whining
• trying (with limited success) to remove sand from scalps and every possible crevice of small dirty children
• protests over eating the food we brought versus the (apparently superior) food brought by MTL's sister and parents
• the whining
• biting flies and mosquitos
• trying to get three small exhausted children to STAY IN BED and GO TO SLEEP when (horror of horrors) the sun was still up and other people got to stay awake
• the whining
• dealing with fighting and complaints and various difficult requests from two kidlets in the back seat while driving for hours and hours without anyone in the passenger seat to help
• the sheer exhaustion (shared by MTL) that resulted from tending camp, cooking food, bathing children, ferrying children to the potty, being woken in the too-early hours of the morning by small kidlets, driving for hours, and generally Being In Charge While On Vacation

and did I mention

• the whining?

That second list? Didn't happen.

It couldn't have, because MTL and I have agreed that camping is something we want to do frequently. We're even going to prep some permanent camping bins and make some lists (yay! lists!) to make sure we don't forget certain key items. Like, oh, a can opener. Or dish soap.

Thank God MTL's parents were there in their fully-stocked RV.

I should note, however, that we plan to make a good number of those camping trips kid-free. Then we can spend hours reading and relaxing and doing things whenever we feel like it rather than on Kidlet Time.

Hopefully that means we can take the h out of whine.

And that, dearest readers, would be something to remember.

A Camping We Will Go

I'm off quite shortly to go some way up north with MTL and four out of our five combined children to go camping over Memorial Weekend.

I anticipate many adventures involving beginner's attempts to use a dutch oven, small children eating campfire S'mores, and lashes of sand in various crevices.

The kidlets have been in a tizzy of excitement for days. We are going on a Camp Out! DramaBoy tells everyone he sees, and you can hear the capital letters in his voice. The Widget, in turn, was quite devastated to discover he would have to attend school today before heading out on the adventure.

I'm not quite sure how he'll feel about the four hour (with traffic) car journey that lies ahead before we reach the Promised Land.

So until Tuesday, I'll be out of touch, out of reach, and (quite possibly) out of my mind.

Have a lovely weekend, all of you!

Just a Teaser. Don't Hate Me.

Tomorrow I'm having several dear friends over for a Girls Only Dinner, something I haven't ever done before. I can't think why. I plan on doing it quite regularly, because I have friends who can't come tomorrow, and I think it's unlikely I'd be able to get all of them together at once! I suppose that can be my ultimate goal.

At any rate, I will be busy busy busy tomorrow with tutoring and a brunch date with another girlfriend and shopping and cooking and all that jazz. So I'm unlikely to get out a post unless there's a miraculous lull in it all.

For the benefit of all of you who can't attend (and to whet the appetites of those who can), here's the menu I have planned:

• My famous Maple Salmon (hey, I'm famous for making it, not for creating the recipe!)
• Cranberry-Pear Tossed Salad
• asparagus
• Dark Molten Chocolate Cakes with fresh-picked raspberries (I took the boys to pick them today at Erwin's Orchards and managed to pick a basket full despite the boys. They probably ate their own body weight in berries. Good thing I didn't have to weigh them before and after like I did the basket.)

Eat your hearts out, peoples. And try out the recipes yourselves. You just might discover a new favorite.

Just For You: Saturday Snapshots, Lakefront Edition

Just for fun, and because I like alliteration, I'm doing something I'm calling "Saturday Snapshots." I know. My creativity, it astonishes even me.

Really, it's just an excuse to post a bunch of photos because I like them, and even if people don't really read blogs on weekends much, it makes my heart happy to look at them, and I have a feeling there are at least a few of my readers who will also get warm fuzzies. You're welcome.

First, courtesy of my mother and straight from one of the actual and for real frangipani trees mentioned here, a close up of the lovely blossoms (against a palm tree background). I found out, by the way, that these are also called "plumeria," which all of the sudden makes me understand why my sister and I love that fragrance!

They're thick and creamy in texture, almost like they're fake, but so lovely and alive

Next, a series of photos from today's excursion down to the beachfront, with my brother performing the service of Official Boat Paddler:

Heading down to the paddle boat for an exciting excursion

Getting sicht-ee-ated

Apparently, pedaling requires a great deal of concentration, therefore also some special use of the tongue (look closely at the uncle)

Success! And two happy boys, once the "discussion" over who got to steer was sorted out

Small DramaBoy, meditating

Small Widget, considering

My Chosen Spot

Small Thief

(Okay, yes, I broke my "no pop" vow here, but it's only because the water up here tastes so horrible and plastic. Sorry, Grandma, but it's true.)

DramaBoy with scaly friend and a rock

The Widget with "bucket" and sand

The joy of splashing!

And finally, this evening we discovered a small puppy had magically materialized beneath the dining room table:

The Golden Re-Screamer

(name--and therefore, caption--thanks to uncle/blessed brother)

two small boys on beach

two small boys on beach
splash through the shallows and sand
shrieks of glee and fun

i sit on a rock
damp granite on sandy rear
content to watch them

once i too ran here
building sandcastles in sun
endless energy

these days i prefer
to simply sit, supervise
and sip lemonade

go play, small boylets
for these are innocent years
and too soon are gone

Bits and Pieces

I have another post gestating, but I'm not ready to birth it quite yet. This is partly because I have small children running amok (well, at least semi-amok) and need some P & Q to focus on the words. So you'll have to settle for what I can give in these few moments between feeding/tickling/snuggling/chasing/cleaning/entertaining Two Small Boys.

Today is the first day I've had the kidlets this entire summer that I have not had a Plan. At least, a plan that involved getting us out of the house for a specific activity involving other people and their children. The park, the pool, someone's house, the Hands-On Museum in Ann Arbor...whatever it was, I have made sure I had at least a few hours each day planned out so that we were not just sitting around the house and getting cranky and bored. I've been terrified of descending into the pit of depression like I did the last three summers.

Today none of the mommies I usually get together with were available, and I decided NOT to call around frantically to find someone--anyone--to take their place. We've been driving about every day, racking up the mileage and the gas costs, and The Widget in particular was showing signs yesterday of Having Had Enough. I looked at my agenda, saw the blank space, and thought, Maybe I can do it for a day. Maybe I can chillax at home, keep the kids somewhat entertained, take it slow and easy, spend time with them, maybe go to a park on our ownsome in the afternoon if they really want to. Maybe I can be a Stay At Home Mom for a day--one who actually Stays At Home.

And so far? We're surviving. In fact, we're better than surviving. We're doing well. So far. DramaBoy has wanted to sit and watch his TV most of the day, and I've let him. I get that. I understand. The Widget has barrelled about gathering blankets, squeezing stuffed animals, trying on my YogaToes, sitting on my lap, and mopping floors with a stolen wipe.

I'm training The Widget in the Way He Should Go, since he's the one helping dirty the house quite often.

I kid--like I clean anything myself and therefore could train someone else! This was all his idea. No clue where he figured that one out. Look at him go! He's fast, if not thorough.

I am mourning my abysmal memory, as I keep meaning to grab one of the several tubs of sidewalk chalk from their father's place and bring them down here, and I never remember to do so when I'm in that house. That would keep them happy and occupied for a while this afternoon. We'll figure something out.

The main miracle? I'm not panicked. I'm not desperate. I'm not depressed. I don't plan to do this every day--I'm already booked tomorrow and all next week--but now I know I can do this.

Oh, and yes, I really am doing it myself. My brother fed them a snack this morning so I could shower, but otherwise it's been all me. I am Mama: hear me breathe!

************************************

Last night I went out to meet some fellow Detroit area mommybloggers and one future daddyblogger (though it sounds like his will be more along the Philosophy of Life vein rather than parenting--not that they're exclusive by a long shot) up in Ferndale. There were just five of us, but it was so good! I was there with Melissa of Rock & Drool, Rachael of WarmHeartsHappyFamily, MomZombie of MomZombie, and TJList (@TJList on Twitter for now) who is now bound by the sacred Detroit Bloggers Meet Up Oath to put up a blog pretty dang soon. You hear that, TJ? You promised!

So what do bloggers do when they meet up, you ask? Having only had the one experience, it's all I can go by. Yes, we had a drink or two. And I do mean just that--I had one glass of wine and I don't think anyone had more than two drinks. We were there to socialize, not get blasted and get any stupider than we already are. We ate ridiculously huge and tasty salads at the Woodward Avenue Brewery. We talked. We talked a LOT. TJ was lucky to get a word in edgewise with four women there. We all have blogs, we all have children, we all Twitter, we all are from the greater Detroit area. We were strangers when we met (well, at least strangers face to face), but by the end of the night I walked away with four Real Life friends.

From left to right: TJList, me, MomZombie, Rachael, Melissa

This doesn't really reflect how cool it was, once we got past the initial kinda sorta awkwardness, but for some reason I'm finding it a bit tough to write today. Speaking of which, I should check on the kids. They're WAY too quiet.

************************************

Good thing I checked. The Widget managed to close himself in the downstairs bathroom (didn't lock it, thank goodness--so glad I've trained them to leave the locks alone) and I couldn't hear his despairing sobs. I'm now typing with him snuggling on my lap, gently patting my back. He likes to comfort me when he's been through trauma. DramaBoy is contentedly watching Phineas and Ferb.

It'll be nap time soon. Maybe for me as well. Then I'll see if they want to go to the park or just hang out on the porch or what. A little sunshine and fresh air would be good.

It's a lazy post to go with a lazy day. And I'm okay with that.

TeacherMommy out.

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There Was Some Excitement This Week After All

So here's my first full week off work in review (yeah, I know it's only Thursday, but that's ok).

Monday: Snuffle in misery on the couch. Watch bad daytime tv (no soap operas, but not much that was any better, trust me on that!) Drink much orange juice.

Tuesday: Snuffle in marginally less misery on the couch, but actually take a shower first. Hoist myself up in time to drag myself to my therapist for my first visit in over a month. My fault, not hers--I went into one of those I'm-gonna-just-huddle-in-misery stages where I avoided much of what would have been healthy for me, include seeing her. Snuffle my way through the session due to both the cold and tears. Go home and actually cook a real meal. Spend the rest of the evening on World of Warcraft soloing quests I never got around to doing before.

Wednesday: Actually get up with my alarm and drive off to help some friends lead 4th grade VBS (Vacation Bible School) at their church, which I was supposed to be doing Monday and Tuesday as well. Discover that I actually rather like 4th grade girls but that 4th grade boys pretty much just make me want to squash them. Also realize that many of my high school boys have apparently never developed beyond the 4th grade mentality. After a quick lunch at Arby's with friends and FoFs (Friends of Friends), race down the highway to get to the tattoo parlor in time to wait for twenty minutes for the artist to finally show up and give me a tattoo. Then drive up to daycare, pick up the kidlets, and return home in time for a very yummy tuna noodle casserole cooked by my bro. Again, play World of Warquest (raiding with other guild members this time) most of the night. Drink huge amounts of orange juice.

Thursday: Again, wake up to my alarm and take kids off to VBS, where....

What? Oh, you had a question? What was that I said a few sentences back? Wednesday afternoon?

Oh! The tattoo! You didn't know? Didn't I mention something about that before?

Yes, I am now officially inked. I have joined the ranks of the raging rebels. Grrr.

Truth be told, I've been thinking about getting a tattoo for a looooooooooooong time, but never had the courage to do it. I'm kind of a wimp when it comes to pain and, especially, needles. Plus I never had something in mind worth making permanent.

But all that has changed. Well, not ALL. I'm still a wimp. Just less of one than I thought. There's a poem by Emily Dickinson that has come to mean a great deal to me over the years and even more so in the last six months.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

So I decided to get the first two lines tattooed along with an emerald green songbird, as a permanent reminder of several things: (1) hope is always there even in the darkest and direst of times, (2) grace is always there too, (3) the emerald is valuable because it is flawed--which means it's a natural rather than lab-created gem--and in imperfection we find strength and growth, and (4) everything worth having requires some pain and suffering.

I went to a brilliant tattoo artist (I'm not using that word lightly) who inked my hair stylist. He's so well-known and respected that he basically makes his own hours and rates--and there's a two or three month wait to get in. Not only is he amazing, he's very, very nice. Makes it a lot easier to spend a few hours in close proximity to someone, not to mention trust him with something so indelible. For the most part, I told him the elements I wanted (songbird, emerald green, the lines from the poem), and he came up with a unique concept. We spent the first 45 minutes or so fine-tuning the basic image (outline) until it was what I wanted, and then he began.

So what does it feel like? It's kind of like having a bad sunburn--not blistering bad, just really red--and having someone scratch it with their nail or a pin. Uncomfortable, but not unbearable. And after a while the skin gets sort of numb and you can't feel the pain so much anyhow. Now I have to keep it clean and put on A-D diaper cream (yeah, you read that right) for several days, then keep it well moisturized after that. It feels a bit like having a large but mild burn on my leg.

And the result...the result was well worth the wait, the cost, and the discomfort. Better by far than anything I imagined or hoped:



Please forgive the quality of the photo--this was taken on my cell phone. (I can't find the cord to upload pictures from the digital camera. Sigh.) The redness you see around the edges is just my irritated skin--that will fade.

So--what do you think?

It May Be Raining Outside But There's Sunshine In My Heart (Yeah, I Know It's Cheesy, But Y'all Will Just Have To Grin And Bear It)

So how is the start of your summer?, you ask, because of course you have all been on tenterhooks wondering if I managed to survive those last 58 minutes without Going Educational TM. The answer is yes, yes I did. And I even managed to say a pleasant Have a great summer! to the last kid out the door before breaking into a wild Irish jig.

Well, mentally at least, because I've never actually learned how to do a jig.

A former student of mine who adores me still and keeps coming back wanting to do favors for me because I apparently made an impact in his life just in one semester of Creative Writing (I'm telling you, you never know--some of the kids you think you helped transform never appear again and then others for whom you just did what you normally do stick around for years)--um, lost my train of thought. Student, favors--ah yes! Anyway, the wonderful Jason (who reads this blog so Hey! You're awesome!) was waiting in the wings to swoop in and help me finish up getting Out Of There, which he did by carting pounds and pounds of paper to the recycling bin and tossing out the broken chair that students mutilated this year and stuffing the rest of my desk things in a cabinet and carting my take-home things down to my car. Not to mention keeping me company as I finished up the last bits of grading and whatnot.

Sweet boy. He is also threatening me with Dire Consequences if I don't call him this summer and let him take care of my kids so I can get Time To Myself.

I should mention this is also the saintly boy who, two years ago, cared for The Widget from age six weeks to eight weeks so I could go back to work for the last two weeks of the year without having to put him (The Widget) in daycare. For a very piddly amount of money that I practically had to force on him (Jason). I know, right?

And to think that lately I've been feeling all sulky and resentful that God hasn't just cleaned up my mess and made my life all perfect. He's been filling my life with people like Jason for years. I kinda had to apologize to Him yesterday...

Anyhow, I've been busy in a good way since then. Yesterday morning another amazing young man, my 22-year-old brother, insisted on being up with the kidlets in the morning while they ate their cereal and watched cartoons and made messes so that I could sleep in. (What is with these young men these days? All unselfish and generous and caring and stuff!) And then after I dropped the kids at daycare, I leisurely checked out at work, chatted with folks, and then went to lunch with a few coworkers. After doing some banking business, I went to my chiropractor and had an adjustment and an hour-long massage with my marvelous massage therapist Sherri.

Hard times, I'm telling you.

Then I went to a park and had some quiet time with God, which is when I apologized for being a sulky brat and finally said out loud that I forgive two individuals who have hurt me, and walked away with a lightened heart.

And then I went to Target and got a few (hopefully last) pieces of summer clothing to round out my wardrobe.

Finally it was time for the main event of the day, which was my Menting Meeting with the two young teachers who are my official mentees. Chip and Shanell are both awesome and Chip in particular practically saved me time and again this year, not to mention bought me A DESK CHAIR OF MY VERY OWN. I loves them. So it was off to Shanell's condo for some pre-beverages (she got me some Smirnoff pomegranate martini, which is so yummy) and then to Andiamo/Second City in Novi where they were having a special Educators' End Of Year event. An hour or so later, after delicious appetizers and another drink or two, we went into the comedy theater and saw the absolutely hilarious presentation of Kwame a River. Very raunchy (come on, it's Kwame Kilpatrick--how could it be anything else?) but so very ROFL.

It has a touch of "A Christmas Carol" to it, since the basic premise is that the Spirit of Detroit (who is apparently female, appearances to the contrary) appears to Kwame on the night he leaves office and takes him through the past as well as giving him visions of the future, all in an effort to get him to Face the Truth of his Many Malfeasances and Confess. There were all sorts of insider jokes, things that only Detroiters would get, and my stomach hurt from all the giggles. One part that brought the entire audience to tears (the actors had to wait a while to continue) was a depiction of the Sam Bernstein family. It was So Wrong, but So Funny. Why is that so often true?

(For those of you not aware, this is a family of lawyers in the Metro Detroit area that specializes in injury lawsuits, and their ads are Everywhere. The patriarch, Sam, is normal enough if somewhat dumpy, but somehow every one of his children has some physical abnormality, such as crossed eyes, that just cannot be ignored. As you can imagine, the depiction was a little wicked.)

If laughter is the best medicine, a lot of hurt was healed last night.

Today I slept in, since the kidlets are with their father, and I will meet my own mentor for lunch, and I will take my beloved bro to see Up, and then we'll pick up the kidlets from school and bring them home.

Life is good. Sometimes it just takes a little time, a little breathing space, a little perspective to realize that.