Tater Tales

The Early Days of Fall Break

It's Fall Break for our school system, which could explain the loud WHEEEEEEEEEEE! anyone for a three-state radius heard Friday afternoon at 4:01 p.m.  

The students may have whooped it up a little, too.

For the most part, we piddled around the house for most of the weekend.  We piddle a lot.  So much so that we've perfected it to a near art form.  It's a gift, really.

We came out of our little cocoon long enough to go to the pumpkin patch and snag a couple of the orange squash-like fruits.  One of them will serve as a jack-o-lantern, and the other one went to school with Tater Tot yesterday for a week of Pumpkin Math.  (Sadly, his Fall Break and mine didn't coincide.  Small Fry and I are hanging out each day until it's time to pick him up from school.) 

While picking out our pumpkins, Tater Tot saw a friend from school, whereupon he lost all interest in what David, Small Fry, and I were doing.  At one point we heard the little boys yelling something about pumpkin tag and they whizzed by in what I can only describe as a blur.  

After his friend left, I made Tater Tot and his little brother pose for pictures.

Have I mentioned that Tater Tot is five?  Five is apparently the age when smiling for pictures becomes painful.  Or a real drag.  Tater Tot hasn't mentioned a dislike for having his picture made, but whenever asked to smile for one, he parts his lips slightly and squints his eyes.  Which gives him a nice "I'm drunk" look.  

If, for some reason, the above doesn't happen, he instead makes all kinds of faces which he thinks are hilarious.  Cue the rolling of eyes from the parents.

And then there's his little brother, who's all for having his picture made at any opportunity.

Monday morning rolled around, and Small Fry and I sent Tater Tot and David off to school and work.  What would you say if I told you that I cleaned the house from top to bottom, caught up on all the laundry, ironed everything everyone needs for the next two weeks, and washed the windows?

Well, you'd be right.  I would be lying through my keyboard.

The truth of the matter is that Small Fry and I did as little as possible.  Actually, he stayed pretty busy.  The doing as little as possible bit was my contribution to the day.  While watching TV and cruising Facebook and a couple of online newspapers, I came across one of my all-time favorite movies, Working Girl.  What's not to love?  Harrison Ford.  A young Alec Baldwin.  Joan Cusack.  Sigourney Weaver.  Lines like:

Joan Cusack:  "Six-thousand dollars?  It's not even leather?"  

Sigourney Weaver:  "I really don't think that's a variable.  We're in the same city now.  I've indicated that I'm receptive to an offer.  I've cleared the month of June... and I am, after all, me."

 Oh, it was a delightful hour and a half.

Before we knew it it was time to pick up Tater Tot from school.  When we got home I got the bright idea to make pumpkin bread.  It took longer to cook than the recipe indicated, and it wasn't necessarily pretty when it came out of the oven, but the sheer deliciousness of it more than made up for its appearance.

David came home and planted himself on the deck for a good hour while the boys ran around the back yard with the mosquitoes, which are practically big enough to carry them right off.  Tater Tot wasn't bitten nearly as badly as Small Fry.  He looked sort of like one big bump with a couple of eyes and blond hair.

A round of baths followed supper, along with about 23 before-bed books, and then it was lights out.  At around 10:30 I did something that is almost unheard of during the school year.  I turned on the TV and watched reruns of Friends.  It was blissful.

Then I fell asleep and had a dream about going to a workshop about the upcoming, brand-spanking-new teacher evaluations.  Or as we in the educational field like to call the process, "I'm Gonna Get You Sucka."  I woke up feeling like I'd been kicked to death by a kangaroo, but a slice of pumpkin bread and a gigantic cup of coffee made it all better.

Tuesday morning rolled around and brought with it a slight case of a stomach bug.  I'll just leave it at that.  Things were much better by the time I crawled in bed and started writing.  Hallelujah and amen.

That, in just under 800 words and my apologies, is about all I have to offer at the moment.

Well.  That and a little pumpkin bread.

 

 

 

 

 

I Can't Even Think of a Title

I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I took a couple of days off from the blog and the next thing I knew weeks and weeks passed.  I'd like to say I've been doing all kinds of interesting things, but we all know that lying on the internet is strictly forbidden.

Here are a few things to get you up to speed.

When I last logged in I told you about a little girl in my classroom, A, who is waging a battle against Leukemia.  Thank you so much for your prayers.  I'm delighted to tell you that she is home from St. Jude!  She's not out of the woods yet, but the fact that she's well enough to come home is wonderful.  My sweet little class -- and let me tell you, I have a mighty sweet class -- is already planning a huge party for her when she's able to come back to school.  A will undergo more chemotherapy later on, and we're praying the next round will not bring problems.

Tater Tot has been in junior kindergarten at his new school for about six weeks, and we're ever grateful that he hasn't been asked to come home.  For good.  Because the first couple to three weeks were...well, let's just say the adjustment period went on for a while.  I think the low point came when he and another little boy decided to liven things up in Bible class by making "zerbert" noises on their arms.  And we all know what those noises sound like, so an entire class of 19 five-year-old boys got tickled.  I was horrified when I got the note from the teacher.  David, having once been a little boy, had to leave the room so Tater Tot wouldn't see him laugh.  Clearly we disagree on what's funny and what's not.  

Small Fry, who turned two in May, has fully embraced the terrible twos.  You might even say he's reveling in the stage.  NO is his favorite thing to say to us, and he says it with a great deal of gusto and laughter.  Laughter that sounds a lot like Count Dracula from Sesame Street.  He's still quite fond of climbing everything in the house and jumping off as though a parachute will magically open and deposit him gently on the ground.  He always seems a little stunned when it doesn't happen that way.  As my mother often reminds me, this too shall pass.

I suppose the most exciting thing that has happened is that we have a new washing machine.  We were without one for three weeks.  Oh, yes ma'am, you read that correctly.  Three weeks.  The motor was worn completely out, which isn't surprising since the thing runs constantly.  For two weekends in a row the boys and I loaded the next week's worth of laundry to my mother's house where we took over her washing machine and dryer.  And her house for that matter.  The second time we went we didn't  leave until nearly 7:00.  Both boys fell asleep within 10 minutes of being in the car.  I have a feeling it took Mama about the same amount of time to collapse into her bed for a long night's sleep since she played just as hard as they did.  

I took a day off from work to attend Parent-Teacher conferences with Tater Tot's teachers.  It's a whole different ballgame being on this side of the table.  Much to our relief, Tater Tot is coming along exactly as he should.  We're working on helping him remember to wait his turn to speak and a couple of other typical things.  Such as NOT making zerberts in Bible. 

Since Tater Tot didn't have school that day, my mom came to stay with him while David and I went to the school for a little while.  It was the first time in two years that they've had some time just with each other, and Tater Tot was in hog heaven.  They played Go Fish!  They read books.  Tater Tot even convinced Poopsie to play hide-and-seek, but it wasn't much of a challenge to find her because Duke and Hatch followed her and tried to share her hiding places.  It's kind of hard to find a hiding place that will conceal one person and 200 pounds worth of dogs.  I think they gave that game up after a couple of rounds.  When I came home I found the two of them snuggled up on the sofa just the way the Lord intended.  All four of us went to lunch, and then Mama headed home.  You know what will break your heart?  Watching a five-year-old stand in the driveway, face wet with tears, waving as his grandmama drives away.  Bless his heart.  That child loves Poopsie like nobody's business.  Truth be told, so do I.

Allrighty then, that's about it from here.  I hope your Monday is marvelous.