Butter Me

Because I. Am. Toast.

The pilot week of back to school has finally, painfully, come to a close. If it weren't for the part of me that is pathetically - but hopefully not in an overwhelming, annoying way - narcissistic, I would not even be able to summon the energy to recap this week. Much of it is a blur at this point anyway. Then again, I am writing this from the far side of several glasses of Sauvignon Blanc...so that might explain the blur...

What we had here this week was a preview, really. A true back to school week would involve Monday, which, if I take a quick look at my calendar, is actually going to be pretty much the worst of the days as far as buzzing around from one obligation to the next. We were spared the atrocity of Monday this week. But we still had Tuesday through Friday to contend with, which was no picnic.

Gymnastics is back. Oh, is it ever back. This year we have three hour practices times three nights per week. If this week is any indication of how well we are going to handle the practice schedule going forward, then I think I should go ahead and put up a Subway franchise right inside my car. Then, at least, while the Tornadoes are madly scarfing down their dinners in the back seat (because the idea of waiting another eleven minutes until we get home to put food in their mouths after three hours of gymnastics is just plain crazy talk), maybe I can make a few bucks on the other kids. Gymnasts are ravenous creatures, my friends. You'll want to keep a safe distance if you don't show up with food on hand.

Then there's homework. Have I ever told you that I hate homework? I never hated homework when it was actually MY homework, but their homework I can safely say: I hate it. No, Sixth Grader, I do not know the difference between a mean and a median. Well, I MIGHT have that information stored away somewhere, but seriously, I've been working all day, you know. Seriously, Fourth Grader, I cannot spell every three syllable word for you that you want to use in your writing journal. Well, I definitely CAN spell all those words, but I really just want to close up shop here. I love the idea of sitting at the table with the girls and helping them with their assignments, but oh, the reality is so much more taxing. Didn't I already pass all of these grades?

One of the highlights of the week turned out to be an activity I was not at all sure I was going to take to, and that was my first tennis lesson this morning. Yes, I am taking tennis lessons. Yes, I am completely overextended, and yet I have decided to learn from a starting point of ZERO how to play tennis. So there I was this morning, in my silly little tennis skirt, hoping I wouldn't be the only one to show up wearing a tennis skirt and not shorts and also that I wouldn't be the only beginner too reluctant to buy a racket yet and have to, therefore, borrow one from the tennis department. Not only was I the only one in both situations - I was the only one, period. Beginner class: party of me. Sweet! I spent my first lesson learning forehand and backhand, relishing the fact that I was going to basically get private instruction at a group rate, but also wondering, "Am I the only person alive who has never played tennis?"

Now, I have to say, I'm a little sore. And exhausted. And probably should get to bed, because tomorrow I get to work at the PTO bake sale at Old Home Day. And I KNOW you are jealous of that.