Free Fun

This weekend was Community Days in our little neck of the woods.

Of course, the Howler was not-so-patiently awaiting them.

We took her down on Friday afternoon for a few hours of free swimming at the city pool, and then off to find the best hot sausage sandwiches on the planet. The Howler had a hot dog.

Most of what's there is free, or the money goes to non-profit organizations in the area. The Howler, of course, had us walking from one end to the other as she did the fun things in the order in which they were in her brain--not the order the planners set up.

The church I used to attend and whose current clergy is a loud-mouthed, self-serving, attention ***** saw us (they had a booth) and he immediately got in the Howler's face. Now, the Howler may like to be in YOUR face, but she freezes up when someone she doesn't recognize is in hers. She can be quite rude (he's lucky, actually, that he didn't get a pop in the chops from her because he also is dense and wouldn't see a hint if it were wearing blinking pasties on in-yer-face-perky boobies) but this time, she simply cowered behind Kevin's legs.

On a happy note, Kevin did find some cheesy fries that were salty and really really tasty. Considering how little salt we use these days, the cheesy fries were heaven! He also saw some old friends (ex's family) who hugged and kissed and fell all over him.

This year, the planners, in their search for more interesting and fun things, found an elephant show. The show started at 7pm. The stands were packed pretty full by the time we got there. It was 20 or 30 minutes before the show started. I found someone I knew, and begged a seat by them for the Howler. (thanks, Brian & family!)

In order to get the Howler to the seat, we had to lift her to my chest height onto the highest level of bleachers.The Howler is not a small person. I hoisted her as best I could, and of course, it wasn't high enough. She was no help, in that apparently, in some previous life, she really was a delicate princess.

A man who was standing near us, holding a section of bleachers for his family, helped get her up and over. He was spitting tabaccy juice, his shirt was unbuttoned to his navel... and then he turns to me and says, "Yep. It's a good thing you're a husky one."

Kevin and I looked at each other and choked back the laughter.

How the Toad Got His Diploma*

It came without homework
It came without tests
It came without thinking
Or trying
Or doing his best.

I puzzled and puzzed
'Til my puzzler was was sore
Graduation time came
With its cheers and more.

I doubted, I wondered
I guessed and I prayed
I hoped that the fairies
Came through with his grades.

No yelling, no swearing
Could change in the least
That he, he himself, got that paper
All signed and complete.

Congratulations, Toadwort. We do love you, you know.

*Kevin & I apologize to the late Dr Suess

PARTY! PARTY! PARTY!

First, I am required to tell you that you are all invited to a pool party at my house.

The Howler is obsessed with parties, and any time you invite anyone over, it's a party.

It's particularly fun when there is an actual party: birthdays being the ultimate in the party universe.

It's not about cake, ice cream or games and goodie bags. It's about shopping, wrapping, and then opening gifts. At least my little darling has priorities.

The downside is that once she knows there's a party, it's Tunnel-Vision Girl and a constant conversation about who will be at the party, what will happen at the party, where will the party be (and how do we get there, and can we go NOW?), how many days until the party, how old will he/she be, when is his/her real birthday, and can we go NOW?

We did a round of parties in late February-early March. It was exhausting. And loud.

Now, we have 2 birthday parties on 2 consecutive Saturdays in June. Neither of these parties is happening RIGHT NOW, to the Howler's disappointment.

So, again, we're counting off days, shopping (and the obligatory looking at EVERYTHING in the toy department), and planning how to get there, how long will it last, who else will be there...and can we go NOW?

For her birthday, I felt bad that we had it at the neighborhood fire station social hall; I had 2 games planned, and felt woefully unprepared and out-of-my-league. Her birthday was in the run of parties in March. We had previously had a movie party (literally, a party after a free showing of Veggie Tales "Moe & the Big Exit"); a magician; PlayTime Pizza (think Chuck E Cheese without the franchise).

From what we could see, the kids had fun--they basically ran around and yelled a lot. We also had balloons. I had ordered St Patty's Day party supplies from Oriental Trading. I think, coupled with the balloons, the horns that came with the goodies may have saved us from being banished to Birthday Party Purgatory.

Of course, the horns also led to Kevin saying, "WHAT?!" almost continually for 2 days. That alone was worth it.

Well, it's 2 days until Saturday, we must go get ready NOW.

Eeny

"Eeny Mine-EE Moe
Takes a Pliers Snow
Even if You Don't Know
What To Do"

This is how the Howler decides between 2 equally attractive things.

It's hilarious--and the ending always changes, so I can never quite capture it in words.

Skin of My Teeth

The boy is going to receive his diploma.

It's been a not-so-fun past 2 weeks, wondering and guessing and talking to the guidance counsellor at the school to find out, whether or not he'd be receiving the Booby Prize Empty Envelope, or a diploma.

I am so filled with pride.

The eldest of my Spawnlings will be receiving a diploma. It's a soul-stirring moment for me: He has managed to pass his classes (even the one he's repeating from last year) with a solid 70% average.

Keeping in mind that this is the lowest possible average to still be considered passing, I am beside myself with joy. He has managed, through sheer stubborn willpower, to maintain the position that *mediocre isn't all it's cracked up to be*.

While I secretly applaud his determination to not live by society's rules, I am not so delusional as to think that being a hair above a miserable failure is a grand and glorious thing.

I feel robbed. I should be enjoying this moment with bittersweet tears. Instead, he has forced to me eat antacids and lose sleep in the stress of not knowing. I suppose that part of the joy that is the Spawnlings is in keeping Mom-of-the-Borderline-Control-Freakness in limbo, and I want nothing more than the joy and happiness of the Spawnlings--if sacrificing my sanity is what it takes, so be it. I am nothing if I am not a good mother.

For myself, I am able to extract some joy from this situation (much as I hate the limbo-ness of it all): I am able to declare his future plans as being "Clown College" and a "Reality Checking Account".