First we have some business to attend to. It's another announcement. This is because, shockingly, not EVERYONE that loves me is on Facebook. That's good because I don't have that many friends on Facebook. So... here's what you probably already know: we got the house! I drive to Spokane tomorrow to sign the final set of papers. I've signed 4687 sets already, but this is the final final set! Huck's being sent to Montana for the week, so I'm signing for the both of us (queue evil laugh).
Complicating and simultaneously simplifying the process: the "sellers," whose house was on the market for 4 months and subsequently had 45 days notice, have declared that they NEED the whole legally allotted time to move out. Their time runs out at 9 pm Wednesday and that's just how long they intend to be there. That's not my style, but apparently they ARE going for "skin of their teeth" style points. This means however, that I don't have to drive back to Spokane to pick up the keys on Wednesday, but Huck can do that Thursday. These are a lot of irrelevant details, I can see. However, that's where my brain is.
But, more importantly, this announcement means that I will be internet-ent-ly silent for some days now. Do not be alarmed. I am merely loading up a moving van for the fourth time in less than a year. Then I will be unloading a moving van for the fourth time in less than a year. What's that you said? You want to help? You're dieing to clean our apartments? You're longing to lift an old heirloom piano? You're soul aches for a chance to cleverly situate boxes. Yes, I thought that's what I heard. Bless your soul. Be here by 4 on Friday.
So anyway, on to the next source of news: Mother's Day!
This galactic-wide holiday produced another full set of children's artwork and projects. Yes, I did tear up. Both at the sentiment of it all, and at the fact that I have no place to put this stuff.
Blue woke up early, dressed herself, cleared off dinner plates from last week... er night... I swear. Washed the table. Spread her favorite table clothe. Then chopped up fruit salad and toasted toast for everyone! Wow. It wasn't much of a surprise though, and included my NOT sleeping in, as I basically sleep in the kitchen. Breakfast is always in bed in an apartment this small.
And Coyote was about to take off on another crying adventure today. These things don't stop once they are started. But I said, "My god, son, not today, PLEASE! It's Mother's Day!" And he said, "Oh!" and trotted off happily. You might find this a relief, but not I. No... the problem with this event is that he revealed to me that he CAN do this. He can simply chose to NOT cry. Which I suspected was the case, but could never prove it. Now there's evidence; he cries because he CAN and he WANTS to. I expect a certain amount of crying, but he's way over the top with his quota. He could not cry for 20 years and that would just barely balance out the past 4. I'm compassionate, usually. I try to be. But sometimes, don't kids just need to suck it up and deal?! And that's why that lady who tried to have kids for 3 years thinks I'm a shitty mom. Because I think my kids should learn some coping mechanisms so they don't cry CONSTANTLY. But her kid...OMG...her kid is god and if her kid wants to cry over a dropped Cherrio, well... she is going to sit there and hand her tissues until her baby graduates from college. That's because her kid is a MIRACLE and mine were, obviously, mistakes. Any competent god could see that.
But, I'm actually an awesome mom and I do make lots of sacrifices for my kids. For instance, just the other week I actually wore Khaki pants for Coyote. YES! I DID! And I'm proud of it... but not proud enough to have taken photos. Nothing makes me feel dorkier than I deserve to feel like crisp, sheening, Khakis. I wore them in South Carolina, but only to save my life, literally. They are the Uniform, if Confederates can be allowed to say that word. I haven't owned a pair Since until I got this notice that Coyote's Montessori School was having this float in the Apple Blossom Parade and all the parents had to wear Khaki's and PINK SHIRTS!! These ridiculous costumes had a point, apparently. Not sure what. Being a good parent and wanting to ride the float with Coyote, I trotted off to Ross-Dress-for-Less to look for some Khakis. Of course, my idea of Khakis is DORKiNESS squared. And these are the expectations I felt I had to meet. I also picked up a five dollar shirt in the color of "conch shell". It will be a decent addition to my wardrobe with enough bleach.
At the float, I could see I was only 1/2 alone in my discomfort with Khaki's. Most of the parents had some wardrobe addition that was meant to balance out the Khaki's. We were like teenagers, trying to follow the rules and yet also clearly over-stating we were too good for the rules. There were pink shirts flapping open over Bon Jovi T's (I'm not sure how that was supposed to help, but the wearer clearly felt it did.) There were jaunty bandana's and rebellious scarfs, studded belts and movie star sunglasses. I opted for the braids-on-top-of-the-head look, which I realized just added to my issues rather than balanced them. And then I noticed that NOT everyone's Khaki's were lame. I realized my mistake too late. Of course, if one assumes that ALL Khaki's are lame, one will find, largely, lame Khakis.
And then the biggest disappointment was that after all that, I sat down on the float in a way that No One could see my Khaki's, much less gawk in horror at them. And all my fantastic images of people throwing rotten fruit at my sheeny, beige ass bitterly vanished.
Apparently someone "got" the wardrobe and our float won 1st place. I wish someone had taken a picture. It's not every day I win first place in Khaki's and a vagina-pink shirt with my son clinging to my arm, crying.
Happy Mother's Day to me. I leave you with an essay my daughter rote:
"My Spectakler Mom by Blue Palmer
My mom is spectakler and this is why. First, she was born in Canada. Her parents named her S***j***V** B****. Second, when my mom was little she loved to dress up. I love to dress up too. Third, when she was little she abslutly loved chily and corn. I like chily and corn too. Fourth, her job right now is to be mom. I wish to have that vary same job. Fifth, what she likes to do now she likes to hike, right, and draw. I love to do all thos things too. Sixth, My mom rely dosn't like at all in any whay shap or form she abslutly hates doing landry or washing dishis. (But I do anyway) I don't like that ether. (Oh! No! What have I taught her!) Seventh, right now she like to eat portebello sandwiches. I don't lik them. Eighth her favorat color is red. I persenently don't like red. Ninth, her favorat book is housekeeping. I know it's weard mom hates house keeping. Tenth, mom's favorite movie is the Prinsses bride. The prinsses bride is my favorite movie too. Eleventh, Something special too mom is hollding Blue's hand. I think that's funny."
There is SO MUCH wrong about this essay, not to mention the spelling. This could be the only Mother's Day gift that worries CPS. My only job is to be a mom right now... and I apparently don't like 3/4 of that job, which is cleaning. But there's also something to love in this essay too... which is the fact that my own daughter wrote it. And planned or not, she's still just as much a miracle as any other kid, at least.
And to be fair, I love Coyote too. Oh! and my mom also!