On the Lamb

I've been ass-deep in the book fair (or the book unfair as we call it), which lasts a week and is fun for two days. This year I opted NOT to wear the big Clifford costume and be swarmed by kids. I stood sweating at my register while kids bought glow in the dark pens and Sponge Bob books ("Sponge Bob looks like cheese," Bess tells me), and then it's all over. Books go back to their book vault somewhere for the year, all our parents have nothing left in their bank accounts, and suddenly I have nothing to complain about.

Oh but wait, there's 7th grade Algebra! Try doing that for 4 hours while your son eats bowls of cereal and looks out the window. Pretty sure there's a test this week, and we just discovered we know nothing on the practice test. It's like all year in class, he's been making twice-baked potatoes and now they're testing him on salad. Pretty sure it's going to be like the end of High Noon, two cowboys, two guns, and Nathan's going down. I really never felt like crying until last night on question number 74 out of 90 on the Algebra practice test. I even kind of like algebra. But when I get a question I just don't KNOW, and Nathan doesn't KNOW, and the computer doesn't KNOW, I just sort of deflate inside, and look at Nathan and realize I have to set fire to the school and take him on the run forever and become a two-man plumber team where I hold the tools and get lunch, and he fixes toilets. Because failure feels really good like that.

Then Lilly hates going to school because her teacher is kind of yellish, and so she's crying all the way to kindergarten, which is just depressing, a tiny face, crying, but I had to act like she'd be okay, slog through her tears and hand her over to the enemy just like I had to do during separation anxiety in preschool - you have to kiss her and let go. Just for one more month. And a few weeks.

And the horse has been okay, not having foot problems, but I took him and Hank to the park to see how his foot is feeling, and he's still looking like it hurts a little to trot, even though he will power up a hill on the trail and slosh through water and is fearless - you get him trotting in a circle in the arena and he just looks terrible, his world falls apart. And he's the one who usually makes me feel better about everything.

And wait, I think I have to get a job. But who's going to make the sandwiches?

So no wonder I spend my free time secretly looking at baby sheep on the internet. If we had a lamb, the horse would have a buddy. And they're soft, and they don't require algebra or kindergarten.

The good news is Emma would rather spend hours face-timing (the modern version of teenager on the phone) with her friend all day. But at least she is a wonderful kid, she's funny, she cares about everybody - she's smart. I think maybe everything went bad on Sunday because our usual church - the bagel place we go to on Sunday - was closed for "vermin."

Those rats ruined our weekend!! The bagels hold us together during the upcoming week. The pancakes we ate just did not do the job. Now I'm picking up the pieces. With Bagels, we can handle algebra.