I totally forgot about the second day.

I tried to make the title even a bit more ominous than that because YOU GUYS – Second Day today. I always dread First Day of school because of (hours) earlier get-ups for the girls and the two hours of forms to sign and return, and arguing over who gets to tell mum her stories first.

But Second Day…oof. I forgot it might be worse.

I heard the girls arguing while I was still putting on my face. I almost went out to stop it – girls got claws these days! – but I figured they would sort it out. I didn’t get even a whimper out of them while we were driving; Gracie didn’t even grump when I beat her at padiddle, handily. Nope. My lumps just lumped there, unmoving. Wishing they had even five minutes of sleep left.

Of course my morning went better. My alarm went off today and everything! But ThePlaceThatShallNotBeNamed is extra NotNamey today, so there’s that.

But at least there’s crack-chicken for dinner. Nomnomnom. That will get us through. That and the promise of squishy beds!

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First Day of School!

I present to you, my not-littles!

We have a 7th grader and a 9th grader – and they are both so excited, nervous, I didn’t have to remind them to get up and get ready this morning.

…in fact, they had to remind me to get up. After I hit the second snooze, I must have accidentally shut my alarm off. YIKES! Gracie came in and woke me up when we were supposed to be leaving. Uh – didn’t the absence of coffee or lights on in the house tip her off?!

So we left 15 minutes later than we usually do. …And then I remembered in my rush that I had forgotten my cell phone. Thankfully, we weren’t even halfway to their dad’s house. We banged a u-ey, got my phone, and finally all was well. The girls won’t have much time at dad’s house to get ready, but everyone made it!

Sweet baby jeebus, pray for us this school year. Because if this is any indication….mama’s just gonna lie on the floor and laughcry about it!

She’s creating.

One of the diversions in which I’ve been immersing myself to help keep away the ghosties is crafting. Book crafting. Ornament crafting. Baby blanket crafting. It’s all good!

And plus I get to rewatch all of Orange Is the New Black before I dive into Season 6. Yassss!

One of the items I’m onto right now is creating a bunch of framed pages with a phrase to pop out and catch your interest. I can pre-make a bunch of pages and then offer choices in frames. That way I can cut back on storage, customize my products, and give my Etsy peeps what they want!

I only have a limited number of books available to craft from, and I need to get my hands on a copy of Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society – I want to do a frame of “I love you more than pie.” Because how sweet is that?!

As far as structure, I’m thinking of something like this:

 

You like? I’m taking orders. And ideas for price points. Basically I’m just having a lot of fun with my Saturday nights. Everyone be jealous!! Ha!

That’s one heck of a reminder.

Longtime readers know I believe in karma and balance in the universe. If you lose something somewhere, it helps soothe my heart to think it means that the universe will soon make it right. I know it’s a silly little way to look at the world, maybe. But it helps.

I was trying to find the upside to all of the changes we’re going through at Casa de Katie. I’m turning 40 in a few weeks. (Which, really, isn’t daunting at all: Imma make 40 fun and fabulous and I’m not worrying on that at all!!) School is starting and all the structure that goes along with that; I’m not ready. When I was chatting with someone about that, they were so “kind” as to point out that with Gracie-girl starting high school , and Bee starting junior high, I have no children left in elementary school.

And that – well, that just about walloped me.

With my kiddos all grown up, surely they wouldn’t need me any more. That left me feeling so empty. Children’s coming  and going might not be convenient all of the time, but I always relished feeling needed. The girls being older  meant they wouldn’t need me as much – not like they did, anyway.

I should have known the Universe was laughing at me.

The very weekend after making such a stark realization, I got smacked upside the head by a story that I imagine will be told and retold las family. Lore.  See, about a week ago, one of the girls asked me to check her hair. She was itchy itchy itchy and so I checked her hair, but found nothing. Again on Friday, she complained and I checked and, again, nothing!

And then last night, after an entire day of cleaning out the abomination that was the Front Room Chaos of 2018, one of my girlies declared a few bugs crawled out of her hair. And then I shaved off all her hair and torched the house and still felt like I had creepy-crawlies crawling all over me. Bleerrrrggghhhh. I had the girl in question (they’re so embarrassed, I’m forbidden from disclosing any information) shower while I googled all sorts of information about head lice. And blow torches.

A second trip to Target and  63 loads of laundry later, I confirmed that yes, one girlie did have lice. It seemed like maybe it was early on – thankfully. The other girlchild had a single baby louse and some eggs that hadn’t hatched.

And that’s the story of how both girls were held out of church (and public places of all sorts) for at least 24 hours. I followed the directions on the special (and expensive) shampoo. I laundered the girls’ bedding at scalding temperatures, and had the girls bag up their stuffed animals.

That was the easy part. Shaking the feeling that everything was c-r-a-w-l-ing all over me was harder to shake. And then I had to laugh over the fact that right after I cried over the girls not needing me anymore, this giant kerfluffle lands in my lap. Do we ever learn not to tempt the wrath of the whatever on high atop the thing? Well. Apparently not.

So, if you’re listening, Dear Universe  – I’m sorry I doubted you. No doubt you’re laughing your booty off! As soon as I finished my 239489th shower (just to be sure) I might even join you in the laugh. Only us!

Wish…

Boom.

Remember when I said you wouldn’t believe what Bee’s room looked like when I got home?

I was not kidding.

Not only did she clean that mother, she re-arranged it!!! Without me hearing! My jaw hit the floor. In real life!

Granted, I haven’t checked under the bed, or opened the closet, but still – pretty impressed, Bee-tween. Pretty impressed.

Getting Through It.

It’s been a tough year. This week…this week has been a tough week. Monday night, in particular, exploded in spectacular fashion.

My Bee-tween is just that right now. In between the superfabulistic girlchild she was, and the inconceivably wicked young woman she’s about to be. Right now, though…right now Bee is a Bee-tween stuffed chock-a-block fulla hormones. And feelings. And stubborn tenacity that cuts both ways like ouch. I love the guts right outta her. Even on nights like Monday.

My Bee-girl, she and I got sideways. She mouthed off, said things she shouldn’t have said, refused things she shouldn’t have refused. And kept doublin’ down on trouble. Like, my girlie got so worked out, she put herself in time-out and refused to clean her room, do laundry, or apologize.

Being a mom is hard.

Being a tween is hard.

But we’re getting through it. Bee eventually started working on cleaning her room.And Lord – it needed cleaning.

 

And that’s after a lot of work had been done. Yeah. So the Ex offered to let Bee come over the next night while he was at Camp Gladiator. Bee was in such a different mood and happily cleaned and chatted away as I helped her sort through trash. She asked for (and received) permission to stay over so she could get more done.

As we were taking a short ice cream break, Bee asked me something. “Mom, do you remember when we were little, and you’d make us go clean our rooms? And we’d close the door so it would be a big surprise for you? Then we’d give you a tour of our clean room?”

I couldn’t believe it was a fond memory for her. I couldn’t believe she had fond memories of anything after the tween-demon had infested her the night before. But I was glad we were all moving on. Of course I remembered how happy the girls were to show off their work. I told her so.

“I want to work on the room tomorrow and you stay out until I’m done!”

“Okay,” I said, laughing at her. Gracie-girl’s friends ended up invading the house and sleeping over, so I was glad Bee had a project to keep her busy.

It kept her busy until 1 a.m. that night (not parent-approved!), and my jaw dropped when I came home to see what had gone on.

Wait til you see…

Remember that time there was a Chocolate Cuppa-cake Truck?

When you’re soooooooo close, but still missed it by a mile…

(Yes, this is the depth at which my brain is operating. Because sometimes shallow is deeper than me.)

A little bit of why.

To know me is to really, really know that reading is my jam. At the moment, I’m devouring Gabby Rivera’s Juliet Takes a Breath. Right?! Right.

It’s life-changingly, gorgeously, unabashedly mine in all possible ways.

So there’s this quote I’ve read about 47 times in a row that goes something like,

Read everything you can push into your skull. Read your mother’s diary. Read Assata. Read everything Gloria Steinem and bell hooks write. Read all of the poems your friends leave in your locker. Read books about your body written by people who have bodies like yours. Read everything that supports your growth as a vibrant, rebel girl human. Read because you’re tired of secrets. ~Raging Flower

And I’m just like: yes. YES. This is just a little bit of why. It’s why I read and why I write.

Because, to me, it’s as essential as breathing.

Ice cream > Magic kisses.

Behold! For it is just the magic I needed to wake me up from the deepest slumber.

You can keep your unsolicited (and kinda creepy) kisses from your Disney Princes. I will keep the black raspberry ice cream.

Let’s hope the complete surprise (when I needed it most, too!) sustains me through this bout of depression. I’m just gonna keep writing (and ice creaming) until I don’t have to force myself. Faking it until I’m making it.

…But, um, not with the ice cream. No forced marches there!