Anatomy of a backpack

On Monday afternoon, Ben had to stay afterschool for a rehearsal.  I offered to take his trombone and backpack home with me so he wouldn't have to lug them all the way as he walked home.

Now, I've watched him struggle under the weight of that backpack for quite some time now.  I'd sigh, roll my eyes, and tell him to clean it out at least once a week.  However, once we're in the door, and the backpack is in his room, I/we don't think about it again.   At least not until the next time I'd see him take a few steps backwards as he put it on, in an attempt to maintain his balance.

He handed it to me and I swore gently under my breath.  "This thing weighs more than your sister.  I thought I told you to clean it out."  "I know, Mom,"  he responded, as I held up my hand to shut him up.

I lugged it to the car (oh my aching back) and once I got it home, I put it on one of my dining room chairs (I heard it swear under its breath) and cautiously opened up the zippers.

I half expected a clown to jump out.

Nope.  This is what was inside:

*Lots of useless papers.  Some from December.

*A roll of aluminum foil, on a roll that was forever oblonged by the crush of items it was in between.  Been there since the Science Fair....which took place months ago.

*Hey, a couple of field trip slips. 

*The enrollment form I asked him to turn in for his siblings...in March.

*Four, yes four,water bottles, 3 16.9 oz and one 8 oz, all about 3/4 full, one of them cloudy enough that I didn't bother emptying it out, I just threw it away

*A dog eared book

*Math text and 3 ring binder

*3 pencils and a Pokemon keyring

*A few Valentines and Valentine candies

*A 100 pennies (finders keepers)

*4 batteries--3 C and one 9 volt (Science Fair)

Then there was the pocket I kept pulling sticky stuff out of.  I had no explanation for this, and as he has a separate lunchbox, I had to wonder what the hell was making the stuff sticky--the Valentine's candy was sealed and non-chocolate.

I spied something putty gray-beige and for a minute, I thought that I was looking at the bottom of the backpack.  But something made me reach in and poke it.  It looked like clay or something.  I pulled it out.  It was a quart size ziploc bag and I was perplexed at the contents.  I wracked my brain, no, I didn't make him Playdoh, no, that's nothing from any lunches...what did I send him to school with.....

Oh, yeah.

A couple of months, maybe more, ago, I made him salt dough for a project.  Salt dough is flour, salt, and water--so it's white to start out with.

And definately not bubbly.

Yay, fermentation!  (I got your Science Fair right here, beeyotch.) 

After I was done with the "eeewwwww" dance, I stuffed the baggie in the trash, threw the backpack in the washing machine......

.......and made a beeline for the shower.

I may need a tetanus shot too.

The quiz made me do it

This weekend marked an unprecedented event in my house:  Nolan went out of town, out of state, without us.  Specifically, without ME.  

His school band travelled to California for a band festival and they left on Friday.  They spent Saturday at Disneyland, and he came back early this evening.

Initially, I wanted to chaperone, but of course, being an 8th grader, he asked me not to volunteer.  Then I plotted a trip with me and Mr W, but I ultimately talked myself out of it.  We were just there.  Who would watch the other kids?  Who would watch the dogs?  When am I going to trust I've been raising him right and let him go?  He is going to be in high school next year.  I gotta learn to do it sometime.

Not only did I let him go, but I made him pack his own bag.  That I lovingly picked out for him, complimented by travel sized toiletries.  Because nothing says lovin' like a teeny travel sized deodorant. 

I didn't even call him.

Which was fine, as he called us.  When he got there.  In the morning.  A text or two throughout the day, all of which made me smile; while he may not have been willing to admit it, he missed us.  He missed ME. 

Hey, everyone knows Mama is the most important.

He returned, triumphant (the band did well in the competition), tired, hungry.  His siblings were ALL over him, and the only loud noises I heard were the cheers they let out as they played their games.  Not a bicker in sight.

I think he even let Ben get a couple of digs in, without retort.

Good times.

Speaking of which, I was reading another journal and stumbled on the Saturday Six.  I've not done it for a while because the last few have not floated my boat.

And I am tired of the Sunday-night AOL purge that usually eats my entries.

At any rate, I took the quiz Patrick included this week, and after that, I could not resist doing the whole thing. 

Saturday Six - Episode 211

1. From your earliest memories, how many different career choices did you seriously consider?

Two. (Doctor.  Scientist.)  

2. Is the career you actually wound up in among those early possibilities?

The one I'm in was never on any list, although, I guess technically, I'm a scientist.  I kinda fell into it and it wound up working for me.  The Mom-gig, I always wanted; while I never considered it a career, it has turned into one.  The toughest job I never knew I'd love...and to be honest, sometimes hate. 

3. What’s more important to you: being successful in your professional life or your personal life?

I decided a long time ago that if one had to be sacrificed, it would be the professional one.  Do I grit my teeth sometimes, because I know I could do other things or advance within my field?  Of course.  But my personal life is what I have to live with, what I come home to each day.  Children are only children for a while; it's not time you get back.  Besides, Mr W's job is hard enough, without my pushing my career goals ahead of everything else too.  It's a delicate balance we have here, but it's a balance.  I've got my foot still in the door, I can conquer the world after recess.

4. Take the quiz: What’s your priority?

Here, it is, the culprit....(and, hell yes, that's accurate :p)

What's Important to You... And What Isn't:

For you, sex is usually your number one priority. You find getting things done to be fairly satisfying. You like feeling accomplished. You attend to almost every priority in your life. You don't neglect much. You want thinking to be a high priority, but you don't take enough time for yourself.

5. Are you more likely to let your personal life get in the way of your career, or to let your career get in the way of your personal life?

I answered this already, but personal trumps professional, every time.  It all works out in the end.

6. If you were to make a list of things you will look forward to doing on Monday morning, would going to work be at the top of the list, the middle, the bottom, or not on the list at all?

I'm off on Monday.  The only work I have to worry about is getting kids out the door on time.  And keeping Mr W out of trouble.

Because it's his day off too.

It's Friday...where are the lunchboxes?

I pack the kids their lunches pretty much everyday.  I broke down and started to do it once I realized it doesn't take up that much more morning time.  I figured, if they are gonna eat junk for lunch, at least it's junk from home.

Initially, my big battle was for the kids to return the boxes to me, so I could refreeze their cold packs.  (A necessity here in AZ, like air conditioning and sunglasses.)  It got to be ridiculous, my foot stomping and cursing when they'd forget.  My morning would become an episode of Magyver, with me fashioning an ice pack out of common household chemicals and duct tape.  (Really just a baggie within a baggie and regular ice, don't bring it back home to me.) Arrrgh--They couldn't remember, I couldn't remember...the punishment was "you have to eat at school, then" but I thought about it.  I felt like this was a battle not worth fighting, not when the remedy was so easy. 

I bought some more freezer packs, so that would no longer be an issue.

My morning irritation-stress-level dropped enough so that I could actually enjoy our time together in the morning.  So zen.

Anyway, this last Monday, I looked for Ben's lunchbox, and it wasn't in the usual spot in the pantry.  I asked him to bring it to me, *deep breath* not-a-big-deal in my voice.  He brought it to me, and with a little dread, I realized it felt a bit heavier than it should.

Cautiously, I opened his lunchbox.

I think you know where this is going.

I looked inside, and there sat....half a tuna sandwich.

That I'd packed on Friday.

All I can say is that I have never been more grateful for the power of Ziploc, the ingenuity of cold packs, and the miracle of air-conditioning.

I also found another application for Lamaze breathing.

Decisions, decisions

I have been watching the series on John Adams that has been airing on HBO.  It's really well done, I highly recommend it.   The acting is fantastic (Laura Linney is sublime); the sets are awesome, everything is just amazing.

But the best part is this (and I can feel my husband rolling his eyes at me, right now):

 

The actor's name is Stephen Dillane, and he is portraying Thomas Jefferson.  I think he's dreamy. 

 

I missed the episode last night and it replays tonight, and therein lies my dilemma.

James Adams is on at 9.   A new episode of "Dirty Jobs" is on at 9 as well.

Mike Rowe vs Thomas Jefferson.  *sigh*

Choices, choices....  ;p

14 yr old wisdom

I initially planned on telling everyone how I got told today, at work, by one of the guys in my previous entry, how I was *ahem* "...not like any of the other middle-aged ladies I work with....", because, I am, quote unquote, "...the coolest one." 

I think it was a compliment.  (It's been a rough week, and I am holding up as best as an old lady in a push-up bra can.)  

Instead, I have decided to share with you something Nolan said the other night. 

We were out to dinner.  Ben was yakking up a storm.  Ryan, who is looking to beat Ben at Super-Yakdom someday, was yakking up a storm.  Audrey interjected from time to time, and Mr W sat at the end of the table, pretending he didn't know us.  He was prepared to leave at any time, who does he think he's kidding?

I sighed and turned to Ben, and I hugged him, and kissed his cheek as I said to him that I am pleased he is who he is and that I wouldn't change him...but I can hardly wait until he calls me to tell me, "Mom. My son(daughter) won't shut up,"  and how I will laugh the evil cackle of a mother who feels that karma has been kind to her.

I looked across to Nolan, who by now has resorted to discreetly sticking his fingers in his ears.  Because that is so classy at the dinner table.

"No, wait,"  I said.  "It will be you.  You, who can hardly stand the yakfest that is my every day, will be the one blessed with a child/children that are just like Ben."  And I made the universal talk-talk motion with my hand.

Nolan started laughing, shaking his head, and not missing a beat, he said:  "If that happens, that will just be proof that God doesn't love everyone equally."

Mr W turned to me and commented:  "That's you.  That is ALL you."

I looked across the table and mouthed, "I love you, son." *wink* "You're my favorite."

He giggled and reached for my hand under the table, the gangly limb of his arm just barely closing the distance.

It was perfect.

As I looked around the table, I realized karma was being kind to me right now.

And I laughed the evil cackle of a Mom who appreciates it.