Animal jam

We showed up late, as usual, though early by our standards since they were still passing the sacrament. After the end of the sacrament Sylvia and I slipped into two seats in the overflow area. After a few minutes I looked over at Sylvia, just to see what she was doing.

Sitting on the chair behind her was a gecko.

Pausing here for a moment. For those who haven't been around my house in the last year, let me fill you in: Sylvia is obsessed with geckos. She's always loved animals, and from the time she learned to write she's been making lists of the tens and hundreds of pets she wants. And not in a theoretical, little kid dreaming of the future when she gets to make the rules kind of way; in an earnest, literal, this-is-my-life's-goal-and-I'm-going-to-chase-that-dream-now kind of way. (She's a bit headstrong.) As a parent interested in keeping my sanity I've put the kibosh on most pets, though we do have a dog and four fish, all of which are (curiously) my responsibility. When Sylvia learned that there were geckos down in the park she could catch and bring home as her pets, well, let's just say we've had a lot of geckos visit our house.

I tried not to make a scene. I think I managed to squash my squeaking without unduly disturbing the meeting. I made Sylvia get up so I could grab the gecko, at which point I spotted a second gecko on the chair.

That's right. My daughter brought not one, but two geckos to church.

I dragged her and the geckos outside and made her release them. Sylvia was thoroughly annoyed, we both yelled (though I did try to be firm and kind for a good 10 minutes. I just don't have the patience for more than that) and in the end I went back in without her after I'd judged the geckos had a good head start.

After sacrament meeting was over I collected Sylvia from outside, took her to class, and then went to my own classes. All fine, all good.

After Relief Society I went to pick up Sylvia from the Primary room. She was standing at the podium with one of the other girls in her class.

Both holding geckos.

(We had a playdate with the girl, who lives down the street from us, the next day. Yes, there were geckos involved.)

Sittin' on the dock of the bay

So, I was going to write something about things I think about, since my words are not precious and my thoughts need someplace to go. Maybe I will later, since there are many things I find interesting to think about. My brain turns my thoughts over and over in my head, which would polish them and hone them if there were any place for them to go. Since they stay in my head they just get smaller and smaller. I really should put them down so they don't all disappear.

Today, however, I need to record events.

Kip woke me up. He came in and asked me to help him take his pants off. I asked him, "Did you pee in the bed?"

He said, "No. My pants are boring."

Uh-huh.

Turns out he wasn't the one who peed in the bed, Paul was, but Kip was the one soaked and wet. After I dropped him in the shower with Derrick I took Rosie down to the park, though Paul came down with me to the oval. When I told him I was intending to walk more than just to the oval he went home. It was nice to have his company for at least a few minutes.

I got ready quickly when I got back because I'd stayed too long, talking to Rick and letting Abby play with Rosie. As soon as Derrick left, though, Paul begged to ride his scooter to school. It didn't take much to convince me to let him and Sylvia go. Yesterday (or maybe Monday?) Sylvia refused to let me inspect her bag (which I now know contained a frog in an ice-cream container that she didn't want me to confiscate). Rather than let me take away her frog, Sylvia and Paul walked to school. They claimed they were "one minute late" though Rick said he'd seen them after 9. Regardless, since they'd made it once and were close to on time I felt like I could probably let them go again, especially since they were on scooters instead of on foot and should have been faster.

I did some dishes, then took Kip to Pri's house, and then headed to work. Just as I was finishing talking to Mark about the work for the day I got a text from the school informing me that they'd recorded an absence for Paul. I was annoyed, but figured they'd walked slowly and spent too much time looking for geckos, and thought I'd give them half an hour more to get to school. Oh, and a few minutes for me to drink some tea.

So, after finishing my tea and talking to Cesca and to Mark about the drama (in my totally undramatic, I'm sure everything's okay but man isn't this annoying way), I called the school. They confirmed that Sylvia and Paul weren't at school, wanted to know where I thought they'd be, and immediately sent a couple of staff members out to look for them. As soon as I informed them that Sylvia and Paul should have been there but weren't it was like they went to defcon 4. They wanted to know where I'd left my kids and where they usually walked, and if they couldn't find my kids they wanted to call the police, and, AND I had to talk to the principal about it.

Fortunately, Sylvia and Paul were easy to find--they were on linear park, just where I expected them to be, and just where I'd told the school to look.

Unfortunately, thanks to this, I now have a meeting Monday morning with one of the school administrators to discuss Sylvia and Paul's path to school. It sucks that when my kids do something bad I'm the one who gets called on the carpet.

richness

My words are not precious.

When I was a kid I told my sister that she only had a certain number of words she could say in her life, and once she used up all of her words she'd die. For the next few days she barely spoke at all.

I was a jerk. (Still am.)

Probably the opposite is true--the more words I use, the happier I'll be and the longer I'll live.

I'm stressed. I don't know about what precisely, though it seems like this time of year (the end of the semester) is just stressful. Derrick's super busy and absent, and even when he comes home at a reasonable time he sits on his computer and works, so even when he's home he isn't really home. Finals are next week, so at least he'll be done soon and back to his more reasonable absenteeism.

It's also my birthday this Friday. My 40th birthday. I know it's just a number and I'm only as old as I feel and 40 isn't that old and blah blah whatever. I feel like a loser. I used to have ambitions. I really just don't anymore. I'm too tired. Too depressed. I finish things slowly, if at all. I should feel happy this week--yesterday I finished (more or less) the growth chart I started when Kip was a baby. Since he's almost 4. Because it's taken so long, though, I'm underwhelmed by it. I'm underwhelmed by myself.

I am a good cook, and really, that's where I've put so much of my time and effort. I've become expert at cooking.

Whoop-de-freakin'-do.

I like cooking, so there is that, though today I've felt stressed while cooking. Like I can feel my abdomen tensing up when I stand in front of the stove, and when I eat. It's like I know I've squandered my life standing there, chopping and frying and stirring; creating ephemeral monuments that nobody else cares about. Sure, some people enjoy them (not my kids), but hours and hours and HOURS of effort and at the end of it all I have is the promise of another job. It's so hopelessly domestic, so hopelessly, eternally feminine of me to sacrifice my time on making something that will be consumed in a matter of minutes and then forgotten.

In case you were wondering, there is no actual end to this post. It's simply a catalog of my complaints and negativity today.

Shape of you

I can not fix them, I can not teach them, I can not train or cajole or badger them into submission. I can only survive them and love them as best I can while we travel along together for a time.