Graduation Day

As Graduation day dawned this morning, I woke up with a sense of, if not peace, then at least not utter panic.  I did not wake up by shooting straight up in bed reaching for my little brown bag to hyperventilate into as I have every other day this week.  I didn't reach for my valium lollipops or a large bottle of vodka (joking, really...heh).  Instead, I woke up with a sense of alertness and even....could it be?...happy anticipation.

I think I know what's caused this change of heart.  First, the van is loaded with all various and assorted graduation items:  his exactly four foot long table, white sheet to cover it, maroon sheet for a colorful drape, items of interest for display (including $200 scrapbook - please notice each and every page, would you?) and his guitar case full of music junk.

But really I think what made the difference is that while my house husband was dutifully ironing said sheets, the graduation gown, and ceremony clothes late last night (he irons because he has long ago given up on me learning how to do it) I had an epiphany.  What does every graduation need?  No, really, what does EVERY graduation need? 

A gown is nice. It's being ironed.  Check.  Cap?  It's under the visor on Chad's feep.  Check.  Tassel... Hanging from the rearview mirror. Check.  Anything else?  Anything?  I ponder this through a few crime scenes on The Mentalist.

AHA!  A diploma!  That's what every graduation needs!

OH MY GRAVY!  Where's the diploma!  Did I get one? I forget to get a diploma!  I'm going to real quick write him up writ of something on a piece of tissue paper (unused thankyouverymuch) and roll it up real purty, tie it with a ribbon, and hand it to him in the ceremony. No one will notice, right?

Now wait a minute.  I'm the one in charge of ordering the diplomas.  I got them with the caps and gowns.  Everyone else got one, so it stands to reason I did too.  Where did I put that sucker.  I'm still watching The Mentalist, where Lisbon has now woken up with a bomb strapped to her chest. I see her day is going about like mine.

Where are my best "put it where you won't forget it" places?  Filing cabinet? No, I was just searching for our income taxes and it's not there. Bookshelf 1? No. 2? Nope. 3 through 6? Not a chance.  Freezer?  Breakfast bar?  Hope chest?  I give up. I'll never find it.  Some diploma stealing fairy snuck in here and took off with my baby's diploma.  The nerve.

Wait a minute. The Homeschool Paper/Misc Crap Chest!  Maybe that's it?  First drawer I opened, and there, shining like a beacon of light, lay that gorgeous diploma, complete with it's cover and gold foil seal.  It's now filled out and signed by the teacher (me) and the principal (Peter) and my life is complete. 

I figure we have a cap, gown, tassel, and diploma. Everything else is just gravy.  Let the graduation begin.

Horse snobs

Not much annoys me more than horse snobs.  I met one today, and she ran pretty true to form.  I was at the pet store getting my kids some new hermies (that's hermit crabs for you not in-the-know people).  We're down to three hermies and with a 20 gallon tank, that is just not enough to keep us entertained.  They were out of normal sized hermies and only had some African kind of herms.  They were like regular hermit crabs, but pumped up on steroids or something. Let me just say I'll be handling them with gloves for a while.  Yowsers.  I've been wanting a bearded dragon for a while too, even trying to con the soon-to-be birthday boy into wanting one for his birthday (nope, the traitor wants a DS) so the pet store employee and I got to talking about animals of different kinds, and as I usually do, I turned the subject from whatever was at hand (bearded dragons in this case) around to horses. 

I told her in my fake modest voice that I didn't know much about reptiles because my forte' was horses.

"I have horses too," she responds.

I perk up.  "Really?"  I ask. "How many?"  Not that I didn't believe her or anything. And not that I would challenge her, but you know, this is an important question.  "I have five."  I don't really.  There are five in the family, sure, but my girls claim theirs and I'm left with the plain red ones, Blitz and Diva. 

"Well, I have three."  She sounds sort of challenging there.   Hmmm...  I eyeball her a minute, wondering if she's telling me an untruth.  Nope, she pulls out her iphone (newer than my Blackberry, darnitall) and starts to show pics.  She has pictures of miniatures on there and proceeds to tell me that minis are small horses.  No kidding, really?  I never would have guessed, even if I hadn't already known.  I'm starting to not like her so much. 

When I could get a word in there edgewise, and after I'd ordered Scotlyn to go to the car to get her phone (with pictures of Moonshine (and after I'd made a snarky comment about not having time to take pictures of my horses on my phone because I was busy doing important things like educating my children including my son that got into college a year early on an honors scholarship)) I started bragging on how Scotlyn used her birthday money to save a colt from slaughter and was nursing him back from the brink of death.  I wasn't lying exactly, just...embellishing a touch.  She cut me off!  Cut. Me. Off!

"Did you give him Strongid yet?"

"Yeeessss,"  I answered in my annoyed voice when someone has crossed my personal boundaries by insulting my intelligence.  "He's finishing up his fifth day of Power today." 

"What's 'Power'?"  HA!   Hahahahahaha!!!  She doesn't even know what Strongid Power is, and she's trying to tell me what to do to save my deathly ill, nearly slaughtered colt?  She don't know nothing! NOTHING! Then she says, "Now you need to Ivermectrin Gold."  Really?  Is that a fact?  Why? So we can rip his innards clean out of him?  So his innards can be his outtards?  You're some kind of Einstein, ain'tcha huh? 

So now I use my you're-an-idiot-that's-too-stupid-to-convert-oxygen-to-carbon-dioxide voice on her.  "You can't use two different wormers that close together.  Especially when I used a five day wormer on him." 

"Well, I know that.  You have to wait a month or it could kill him."  She looks at me like I shouldn't be allowed to raise baby snails and maybe she should take the hermit crabs back.  By now Peter has taken hold of my arm and is not so gently leading me toward the door. 

There may have been some other comments like:

• Oh, you keep your horses in your backyard?  I keep mine in a reputable stable.  I pay $300 a month per horse so I have a well-maintained arena available to work my reining and/or pleasure and/or barrel horse in at all times. I don't want them just sitting around doing nothing.
• And maybe I had to return with something like:  Well, I like to be with my horses for companionship and not just for what they can do for me.
• I have a horse worth $10,000.  All of mine are registered Quarter Horses.  What do you have?
• Mine are priceless.  I don't believe in putting pricetags on my family.  (said with a big smile and lots of teeth.)
• I show my horses and they win at everything.
• I only ride my horses on trail rides.  (no more big smile)
• I know a big trail ride coming up tomorrow you could go on. 
• Actually, we've found we enjoy going as a family instead of in large groups.
• Oh, your horses don't behave well, huh? 

And that was said as Peter forcibly propelled me out of the store.

Mama Musings

This next two weeks (twelve days, actually!) is going to be some of the most important and exciting days of my children's lives, other than their births of course.  We are on a countdown of epic proportions and each day holds something important.

• Tomorrow:  open house for local seniors at the public school.  Since many of these kids are a big part of my family's life, we'll be there with bells on.  Well, not literally, but you know what I mean.
• Wednesday:  Awana awards ceremony!  'Nuff said.  And Ainsley has her last dance class before recital.
• Thursday:  Franklinton High School Graduation!  Not sure I'm going to it, since Scotlyn will be at dance, but I've known these kids since 7th grade.  No way are they ready for the real world. Nuh uh. And Peter comes home that day.
• Friday:  I haven't got anything on the calendar yet, but I'm sure that'll change. Probably do something with the old man.
• Saturday:  Dress rehearsal for the church play in the morning and a graduation party in the afternoon. 
• Sunday:  Church, church play at 5, mission trip meeting after play
• Monday:  Grad practice for Chad - last practice before big day *hyperventilating*
• Tuesday and Wednesday: get ready for graduation and arriving family (refill anxiety meds)
• Thursday:  family arriving
• Friday:  OH MY GOODNESS IT'S TODAY MY BABY'S GRADUATING HOW DID THIS HAPPEN WASN'T HE JUST A BABY YESTERDAY IVE CHANGED MY MIND HE CAN GRADUATE NEXT YEAR

Mysteries of Life

For Mother's Day this year I would like answers to some of the greater mysteries of life.

For example, I would like to know why, after searching for months for all but two of my bras, I finally caved and went on a shopping spree for new ones - to the tune of $68 EACH!!! - only to have the missing culprits magically reappear in my drawer the next day.  Now I'm overloaded in bras.  My girls are happy, but neither my checking account nor my husband is.

And why oh why does my daughter feel the need to take her board games with her into the bathtub.  Yes, you read that right.  I'm still fishing dice out of the drain.  And the the hat and moneybags from Monopoly.  When's the last time you got an overwhelming urge to take over Boardwalk while sudsing up by yourself - I hope she was by herself! - in the tub? 

And if the toddler years are proof that God has a sense of humor (of this I am convinced), then what are the teen years?  Adam and Eve eating of the forbidden fruit come to mind.  "You can do anything you want but text while you drive."  "Okay, I'll text on my way." "NO, wait until you get there."  "Ok, I'll text when I'm almost there."

Happy Mother's Day everyone.