Youth

Need she say more?

Her mother-in-law goes to five funerals a week. Elizabeth Taylor is lost to time; Michael Jackson, dead. She remembers when Princess Diana died --and got married.

In tribute to things past.

The Matron remembers this as the first ever music video she ever watched.

To this day, nothing compares.

And time?

Flying.

Musical Beds

This is what happens nearly every night (and far too late).

Merrick: "Can I sleep in the big bed?"

Scarlett: "Can I sleep in the big bed?"

John: "Can I sleep in my own bed tonight?"

Scarlett: "Can someone sleep with me?"

Merrick: "Daddy, can you lay with me fow awhile?"

The dance begins around 8:30 when Merrick starts his marathon slide into sleep, a slide that always includes one last (long) bathroom trip right when the parents think he's finally tucked in and tuckered out.

Merrick (calling from the dark): "Mama! I have to pee!"

How can you say no?

But before the last minute bathroom trip there is the inevitable negotiation about sleeping in the parental bed, a place more popular than Disneyland in this house. Merrick's lobby sometimes begins at breakfast.

Merrick (over cereal and hot cocoa): "Can I sleep in the big bed tonight?"

Scarlett's lobby is frequently more successful because she, adroitly, selects to win her way into the bed sometime between midnight and 1:00 a.m. Because she's currently getting home at 10:30 pm every night and has to be at another theater by 9:00 am the next morning and not only do the parents worry about her sleep but want their own, she's got the upper hand.

1:15 am

Scarlett: "Mom? Daddy? I can't sleep." Maybe there's a little crying. Always an appeal to 'daddy' instead of 'dad' (sucker!). A slight tilt to the head, doe eyes. "Daddy" is a puddle.

John: "Oh, just come on in . . . you need your sleep."

Scarlett is somehow instantly recovered from whatever trauma she was suffering and falls asleep.

Once, Merrick and Scarlett discussed arm wrestling in order to see who 'won' the coveted 'big bed' position.

HWCBN: "I am SO glad that sleeping in my parent's bed now inspires disgust rather than desire."

Huh, her too, honey.

Maybe if she starts reminding everyone that the 'big bed' was (probably) where everybody was made, it won't be so appealing?

Home Schooling 101

The Matron doesn't quite know if she's officially homeschooling or not. She does SOOO appreciate her debt to blog readers and dear in-the-flesh friends (thank you!). But she and her wiser, better half (this would be you, John, if you are still reading the blog) decided to pull the plug on school for Scarlett, at least for a couple of months. The Matron is still waiting to hear what the school says about returning in January.

So . . . .yours truly thought all was well. Groovy. Problem solved. Anything but algebra is up her alley and then she has HWCBN to help. Sure, she has to create curriculum and dye hair (Scarlett must be a Chilean dark for a current show) but the Matron felt everything - well, perhaps under control.

Until the reality of today.

Stryker goes to school. Merrick goes to school. Matron starts working.

In thirty seconds a slim ghost appears at her shoulder.

Scarlett: "Mom? Can we go to the thrift store and get Halloween costumes?"

Matron: "I have to work. You have five jobs today: homework, laundry, breaking up dog treats, sweeping and making your bed. You have 50 algebra problems to complete before 3 pm."

Scarlett: "You are SO MEAN!!"

Thus the day began. While the Matron attempted to attend to her full-time job, Scarlett flitted at her shoulder.

"Mom? Can you make J-ello?"

"Can you find my blue sweatshirt?"

"If I write my history essay first, can you read it and make comments?"

"I wonder if Grandma would like me to call her today?"

"What happened to the brownies? Did someone eat them already?"

This, within 15 minutes. Add another six hours and you get the drift. Home schooling was seriously back on the cutting board.

People! Why didn't anyone tell her this is work --and OMIGOD--mandatory interaction with one of your children? Who has really no direction other than that you give her and no friends or siblings to distract?

At least the Matron got a taste of Purgatory before she goes there.

Thankfully, starting tomorrow there are five solid weeks of performances so the child will be gone. Because the Matron more fully understood today that what she needs? A little bit of solitude, in between driving (and work, errands, cleaning and the sixty-pound blood hound puppy).

Fraying at the edges. . . .