Morning time is my favorite time, and minus the ages of fourteen through eighteen, it always has been. There's just something about a new day, a new start and a chance at redeeming yourself of all of yesterday's mistakes. This morning wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows, but I think I'm recovered now. Mae decided to be especially difficult about eating breakfast, thus sending me off on a thirty-minute sprint after the kids were securely on the school bus. Getting a child to eat breakfast is certainly more complex than it seems to be. But emotions are good fuel for running. If I'm neither sad or angry, I have to find good hate-music to inspire false emotions in order to intensify my run. It works, so far. Thanks, Marshall Mathers.
Mae walked through the front door after school yesterday with a mighty red oak tree in her hand. Well, it's not exactly mighty yet, but it will be in only a few short years. She demanded that we plant "Lizzie" immediately, so we did. Lizzie is now firmly planted about fifteen feet south of Andrew. And today, we shall plant the pine trees, whose names I was off about...they're actually Alyssa and Carl. I at least had the first letters right. I love that the act of putting something small into the ground and proudly watching it grow is fully instilled in my children. Despite all of my mother's efforts, this love for growing things didn't spark in me until about two years ago. Though I will admit that I'm still learning the art of making plants live after they've grown. A work in progress...
I had a most wonderful time with my sis yesterday. I discovered a new and wonderful kind of beer, though I don't remember the name of it now. Green apple ale? That might be it. Delicious. After sister-day came to an end, I stopped by the Sprint store to see if I was eligible for an upgraded phone. The guy that was helping me kept staring at me in such an unusual way that I felt really uncomfortable and kept avoiding his eye contact. I didn't known him and had never seen him before. I finally decided to stare him straight in the eye. Did you know that when you stare at somebody like that, they tell you what's on their mind? Or usually that happens, anyway. So I stared him straight in the eye and he nervously asked, "Do you have a ...twin?" I told him no but that this happens all the time. He thought I was my sister. We don't really look that much alike, but people who don't know either of us very well get really confused because we look enough alike that they can't figure out if I'm her or if she's me. Many times, the highlight of the day has been having a deep conversation with somebody who thinks I'm my sister and not ever telling them that I'm not. It's fun to be someone else every once in a while. No wonder Superman carried on in secret for so long. And in case you're wondering, I never say anything to make her look bad. I mostly just listen and think it's funny that I can know exactly nothing about somebody and they don't even notice.
I've decided to start teaching Kyler how to drive. He can get his school permit at the age of fourteen (eek!) and that's only four years from now. Not many things in life have been so terrifying to me as getting my driver's license and then learning how to drive. Flashback: all by myself, screaming aloud in my car because I somehow accidentally ended up on the interstate and I realized that I had no idea what I was doing, but I was the only one who could get myself out of the situation so I figured it out. But I don't want my kids to have to do that. I want them to be good drivers before they can legally drive. We're fortunate enough to have a big driveway and a somewhat-graveled road that leads to and mostly around our pond that he can practice on. Our first lesson took place two days ago. I'm not brave enough to let Kyler be fully in charge and I'm not sure he's even tall enough to see over the steering wheel yet, so he was on my lap. He's pretty good at steering already as he's put in many hours of drive-time on the riding lawnmower, so I reminded him which pedal was which and let him have at it. As it turns out, the kid's a natural. He did great, turning around and stopping and speeding up when I instructed him to. When I decided the lesson was over, I told him to park and this is when he accidentally (and for the first time) hit the gas instead of the brake. We sure went flying, but no harm was done and it's probably good that it happened so that he knows how easily things can go wrong if you're not paying all attention. So that's that. After the lesson, I realized that in one year, Mae will expect me to teach her how to drive also. Oh dear gads, what have I done?
I get back to work in exactly one week and I'm not even upset about it like I thought I'd be. I'm pretty much ready. I've caught up on all the movies I missed over the past ten or so years. My house and yard and garage are clean. My heart and head seem to be pretty sound. The only thing I'm worried about is that I've forgotten in six weeks everything I learned in the previous thirteen years. Hopefully, that didn't really happen.
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