Sunday, August 10, 2014

Healthy, Wealty, And Wise? One Out Of Three Ain't Bad.

Early to bed, and early to rise, makes Hillbilly Mom apt to throw cow pies.

Back to work tomorrow, so I have to hit the sack before my time. I guess it will make the year go by quicker. I have to get back in the routine of packing lunches for myself and The Pony. Plan meals that can be warmed in the oven or heated in the microwave, using the bare minimum of plates and utensils so I don't have to haul my china finery down to the creek and scrub it with sand. I need to make a calendar, and write in my menu like the school cafeteria. That means it can repeat every week.

The biggest drawback to work is that it cuts down on my ME TIME. I don't mind the actual work itself. The day flies by once the first bell rings. That's because I am easily entertained by adolescents, and find them a good audience for my future stand-up act, and steal some time at the end of each hour to grade the previous class period's work. Hey! I'm still there. I'm available for questions during their guided practice. We can't ALL give 2 hours of homework each night, you know. I'd rather have them there working on it and turn it in before the bell than let them take it home and copy it from the designated brain the next morning in the gym bleachers. Don't think that doesn't happen.

The Pony is ready to bound out of the starting gate on Thursday. Until then, he will be frolicking in Grandma's paddock with her high speed internet. I don't like leaving him out here by himself, unable to drive, no neighbors nearby except Timmy the cat-stealer and alleged mom-freezer, who takes the taxi to town when he needs to do the shopping. Nope. Not after that headless body was found in the septic tank just up the road. Oops! There's a location I need to add to my Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Reality Tour.

Yes, The Pony is like a dried-out sponge, yearning to soak in the big dish-sink of knowledge. I need to lay out a week's worth of clothes for him. We have seen the ensemble that may result if he is left to his own fashion sense. Does Sears still make Garanimals? At least he shaved his sideburn this morning. Yes. Singular. I did persuade browbeat him into trimming his goatee two weeks ago. This sideburn scraggle has been sprouting since he came back from Scholars Academy. It's unruly. And only by his right ear. I suppose it would be fine if people just talked to him from his right or left. Then they could assume he had two sideburns, or none. But looking at him head-on, he is noticeably unbalanced.

Farmer H starts his bowling league Monday night. It's 36 weeks, if I was really listening to him every time he mentioned it. Funny. That's the amount of weeks in a school year. I'm sure Farmer H can keep me updated on how many weeks I have left.

Of course, for accuracy, I can rely on my best ol' ex-teaching buddy Mabel 's daily countdown.

3 comments:

  1. We have the same schedule. Or perhaps not. Monday and Tuesday are meetings and inservice days. Wednesday we're off if our room is finished. Thursday...here come the kids.

    I'm sure your mother and The Pony will have long and emotional conversations these next few days. Hopefully your mom will get a chance to get a word in edgewise--The Pony is such a chatterbox!

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  2. As your "season" begins, mine winds down. The next two weeks will have parents and only children too young for school sneaking out to the pool. Then after Labor Day, the pool closes and I win a small amount of freedom!

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  3. Sioux,
    Wednesday, we can leave at noon if our rooms are ready. Of course, I have to beg off early to return to the doctor for my follow-up beard-dandruff-surgery appointment. I'm doing them a favor, really, what with making it on a day with no students that require a sub.

    I'm sure Mom and The Pony will both have laryngitis after their bonding sessions over these three days...

    *****
    Kathy,
    I'm sure you will be bored with fewer crazy people harping at you. Maybe you can horn in on a conference call with The Pony and Mom. They are like Jack Sprat and his wife. The Pony can make no small talk, and my mom can't shut up. They can drive you crazy, that's for sure.

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