Netflix Streaming is the New Potholder

This summer I have given up on most of my forced fun activities that I'm famous for (in my home only). But not without holding on like a toddler with stolen snickers bar. The weaker ideas have fallen by the wayside. . . math workbooks, I'm looking at you. . . and the stronger ones have remained loyal. Here they are, for you, to use at your discretion during the last few, precious (you're almost there!) weeks left before schools starts and we are all in a schedule once again or, as I like to call it, we join the human race again:

1. Homemade journals (doesn't "homemade" give the illusion that their hand-crafted? I like that illusion). So what I did, see, in a flash of inspiration at Target, whilst drooling over the flashy, new school supplies, is spy a bunch of composition journals is neat colors and began hoarding them in my cart. Then, see, what I did next was to take out my new pack of 100 Sharpies I got for my birthday, and took out one at a time, for each kid and I wrote one question at the top of each page on every page of the journal. Each book has questions for each child in mind.

Questions like: Describe yourself. How would others describe you? What is the funniest thing you've ever seen? Why is your mom so awesome? What makes her tick? and so on. . . you get the idea. But I have questions about things I want to know and things I think they'll want to remember (Like meeting the prophet), so I ask about those in a guided-forced way of writing.

We'll see how it all ends, I mean, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make that horse write in a journal, but sometimes that horse will write in it if you're having quiet time and the alternative is taking a nap.

2. Netflix Streaming: One of the best things about having my kids get older is their ability to instinctively understand and manipulate technology. I'm still trying to figure out all the features on my remote and it's such a mom cliche (Where's the "menu" selection?!), but, there you have it. So, at the beginning of Summer Miles told me (repeatedly, in anxious tones) that we could set up Netflix to our tv, but I just laughed and said, "Yeah, right! That's for rich people! Don't touch anything--you'll break it!" But as the summer weeks lagged on and Miles, the very example of patience, came to me one day and said, "Mom. I know I can do this and set it up. I'm not trying to be condescending, but just trust me. Let me just do it and I won't break anything." He was so sweet, how could I refuse? So, less than 10 minutes later, we're watching Netflix movies and tv shows on our tv FROM OUR COMPUTER, PEOPLE! IT'S THE FUTURE! NOW!

Every once in a while I catch Miles laughing at me with the kids like, "Remember how mom didn't believe I could just do this simple thing?" and so I repeatedly remind him of when I was born and a computer would have taken up our entire house, and how I didn't even have email in college, so I'm doing the best I can to adjust even though I can't shake the feeling I'm living in an Isaac Asimov novel.

May madness!

I forget that May is busier than December.

I should take a picture of my calendar, because it's ridiculous. It's amazing how much can amass from little things here and there and now I know why, growing up, my mom called herself a social director for so many years. She was basically directing traffic and now I am. If I imagined myself a cartoon character (and I do), then I'm that crazy mom with exclamation marks or fizzle signs on top of her head and a clipboard saying things like "Go straight from piano to scouts!" or "Put on your baseball uniform right now we have to leave right now or we'll be late!" or my personal favorite, "No whining! I don't care if she's wearing her princess dress, just let her have the polly pocket and get in the car!" (that might be best understood in context, but, I just say that a lot.) Now my mom goes out to eat and sees movies with my dad whenever they feel like it. I mean, she works full time, but if she wants to go to the bathroom, she doesn't have to "prepare people around her" for that inevitability or lock the door to ensure privacy (I'm assuming). She's living a great life. She says she misses the stage of life I'm in now, but that's when one of the little kids hugs her around the neck or does something else cute. Ask her if she misses my stage of life when she's in a cool movie theater eating popcorn and sipping on a cherry coke while I'm texting her "PLEASE DON'T GIVE MY KIDS GUM ANYMORE!" I'm just saying, let's call it like it is. I'm so sad (devestated-confused-unprepared) about Miles not being in grade school anymore and WHAT THAT MEANS, that I'm looking for any excuse or reason to be the slightest bit happy about my babies growing up, and the image of a dark movie theater is what gets me through the preschool graduation, you know?

I don't necessarily feel busy or over scheduled right now, I just feel like I have to be about 2-3 hours ahead of everyone which makes me anxious and "ready to go" at any moment. But now, as the last day of school approaches, I realize that the schedule, "our life," will swing to the completely opposite side of the spectrum and I need to be prepared. I've done the "make a list of things you want to do" (have a Kool-Aid stand, fly to the moon, etc.) in the summer, or schedule "days of fun" (Monday: library, Tuesday: swimming, etc) and this year I'm trying to improvise. Margaret still naps and I still need "quiet time" (Don't call or send your kids over between 1:30-3), but other than that, I'm going to try to see each Summer day and a new adventure and give myself license to do whatever we want. This is counterintuitive for me. This is going to be difficult, and I'm not sure what it will mean. But, by the end of May, I'm just ready enough to give it a try.