"God Doesn't Like It When People Tattle"

     Last night was one of many many many end of year school productions at the high school auditorium.  It wasn't until we were seated and started to observe the children milling about us, that we realized it was also the yearly "Recorder Concert". Anyone with a Fourth Grader in Franklinville, and anyone with an Elementary School Aged child anywhere, will eventually, if they have not already, be subject to the recorder.
     The recorder was an instrument that was clearly invented by someone that doesn't really like people who have children, and thought this specific torture device up and patented it to every school every where. I picture people like the mean teacher in the "Maltilda" movie cackling in agreement, that this was the perfect item to send home from school (along with the 47,672 papers every single week) and encourage as much practicing as possible, in order to break the adult population. It's a conspiracy.


     Anyhow, after the recorder portion of the concert was the elementary portion of the concert. It had a surprise addition this year. Apparently, last week during music class, Lexi (my flute player) began spontaneously telling music pun/jokes. Her teacher liked it, and had it incorporated into the concert. Every so often, he would have Lexi stand up and tell another one. She was so excited to be asked to do it. She probably laughed harder than anyone in the crowd. But, that's Lexi in a nutshell. My happy go lucky kid has been nicknamed "Joy" in her class.


     At work, we started a "One Million Step Challenge". We have from May 8 until September 8, to race to see who can reach one million steps first. So, in the spirit of this, I decided to walk to the school for the concert. The boys decided to walk with me. On the way there, Joe began bring up an entire list of George's most recent transgressions.


     "Mom. Every day, when we walk home from school, George walks outside the lines of the crosswalk and taunts the crossing guard and says 'I'm jaywalking!!!'"


     "Really, Man? You're gonna bring that up NOW?" George complained, sliding his hand into mine, because he knows I am a sucker for most of his buttering up. "You need to stop, Joe. God doesn't like it when people tattle."


     "MOM! I think he is implying that God does not like me. Make him stop."


     "See what I mean? NOBODY likes a tattler, Joe."


     "MOM!"


     Anyhow, while the concert was successful, and every single parent there thought their children progenies, and everything seemed fine - apparently things were not.
     Because, at 4:45 this morning, I was lying in bed contemplating walking the dog before work, when I heard Joe get out of bed, run down the hallway, and vomit down the stairs. Repeatedly.


     "Joe! Dammit! GET TO THE BATHROOM!!! WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS THROWING UP DOWN THE DAMN STAIRS??!!!!" Was my immediate reaction. (Don't judge. The name of this blog clearly indicates that I am aware of my awesomeness as a Mother.)


     "I am TRYING! Do you want me to try and just throw up out my bedroom window?"


     "NO! I do not want vomit down the side of the house!"


     "Do you want me to throw up on my bedroom rug?"

     "GET IN THE BATHROOM NOW!!!!"


     "You know, it is much better to get it all over the stairs, then to splatter it all over the entire hallway, and possibly get it on all the books on the shelves up here."


     Anyhow, Joe got a day off of school, and was tucked in with a bucket. Shortly after everything was cleaned up, Bearded Man went out the back door to let the dogs out. Our back room is a crazy messed up trigger of my OCD aggravation. It is open to the attic for some reason, and is pretty much used for storage. I have come up with dozens of ideas to fix the craziness of it, but, we haven't gotten around to it yet. Bearded Man was outside for only a few minutes, when he casually called me, and insisted I come see this. Out in the back room, a very upset pigeon stared down at us suspiciously from the attic. "Jasin. That is a pigeon. WHY is there a pigeon in the attic? It better not be scouting a new housing development for all the neighborhood pigeons."


     "Bring me a gun."


     "NO! You are not shooting birds in my house!!!!"


     "Fine. Then, there will be pigeons in the attic. Maybe the cat will clear things out."


     I would like to say that the day improved to some degree. But, then the phone calls/texts/emails from the school began.


     Apparently, Lexi forgot her homework again. So, her teacher made her call me and confess. I was so busy at work when the call came in, that I was almost aggravated. I watched my phone in resignation, as the inevitable email from her teacher came, to further incriminate my forgetful kid. Then the emails from my poor kid began, as she explained tearfully that she really had thought she had put her homework in her backpack.
     Then the texts began regarding George.
 
     "Did you get an email from George's teacher?"


     "Not yet. Why?"


     Apparently George and another boy were caught doing spitballs in the cafeteria.


     When George was interrogated about this at home after work, I didn't mention exactly what I had heard, so, George mentioned getting in trouble for roughhousing in the boy's bathroom, before he got around to  confessing about spitballs.
     I grounded him from going to his buddy's house down the street, but, they corrected that by having his buddy come to our house and hang out.


     The previous part of this post was written yesterday... That whole time thing rarely works for me. Anyhow, today, all my children seem healthy, and, there were no pigeons in the attic. Joe was dressed and ready for school while I was getting ready for work.


     "Mom. I think I need five dollars for school lunch tomorrow."


     "School lunches do not cost five dollars, Joe."


     "I know. But, I want a double lunch. AND, I can have TWO apples."


     "Joe. We have apples here."


     "I don't want ROTTEN apples, Mom."


     "They aren't rotten! MAYBE one of them is soft, but, they are all perfectly fine!"


     "*sigh* Mom. You do not store them properly. I cannot eat these apples."


     "What?!"


     "You store them in a bowl. On the counter. They need to be stored in the refrigerator, where the cold will stall the molecular movement, so that they will stay fresher longer. Also, they taste better cold."


     "I am not giving you five dollars Joe."


     Back to life as we know it around my house! Mostly I am waiting for the weather to stay warm at night so I can plant my gardens. Every single year, my flower beds start out with so many hopes and dreams. Mostly by the end of August, most of those hopes and dreams are shattered, as my flower beds get taken over by weeds that I am too busy to pull. It's still spring though, so, I have time to change my neglectful ways still. Here's hoping!