The Last Week of Summer
My hubby has been in Indiana for a week of training, and he has another year, I mean week, to go. Yesterday was even his birthday. And yesterday I also took our girl to camp to begin her week at Pine Cove in East Texas.
The original plan was for him and me to get some time away alone together before school starts. And then this thing happened that is only offered two weeks out of the year, and it fell during our scheduled week. I can’t complain too much, because we both work out of our home now and we get to be together a lot more than we used to. But I'm still trying not to pout. I would make a crummy military spouse!
Anyway…when I got home yesterday evening, I started the annual August Cleaning. See, every year when my girl goes away, I do a deep-clean of her room. She depends on it, even expects it now. The child, if we allowed it, would keep a portion of every scrap of paper she’d ever used. She does not do this with garbage. Just paper. But she does not mind if someone else tosses it. So for my own sanity, I go in there and fill an entire recycle bag full of stuff. That means I get to see her floor, and she gets free maid service. But that’s not the only reason I do it. I have to look at every paper to determine if it's worthy of keeping. And in the process I always learn a lot of stuff about my girl. Here are some of this year’s observations.
• Kids these days have a lot of CDs. How can they do that with so little money? Wait. Some of them are from the parents’ collection. Hmmm.
• Now I know where all those disappearing batteries went—from flashlights and CD players and radios! They got sucked into the teen-room black hole. I found about 8 AA’s. Note to self: Add batteries to list for stocking stuffers. Perhaps then all the parents’ electronics will start working again.
• If I actually believed everything I saw with my own eyes, I’d believe she spent a lot of time hanging out with Justin Bieber and Dakota Fanning this year. Very creative with Photoshop. Wonder if we can turn that into a marketable skill.
• She knows how to write music. Who knew? The kid has been composing songs on music paper.
• Here's the biggie: She actually likes her parents. I found a story she wrote about a wonderful mom, and at the end she said it was based on reality. And then she conceded that it was actually, in fact, complete reality. She may not say so to my face, like ever, but on paper she even empathizes with what a tough job parenting must be. I nearly dashed out and bought a frame! But I didn’t. I just tucked it in with the rest of her stories and told myself I’d received my payoff for the time spent.
Yeah. Like rock-solid16 karat Fort Knox gold.