We’ve got some new and unfamiliar things going on in our family. They are all good and exciting and probably developmentally appropriate, but in terms of day to day survival and existence; they’re leaving me with an urge to gouge my own eyeballs out. In typical Holt fashion, we’ve dealt with all this newness and unfamiliarity by being complete assholes to one another. It’s been a fun couple of weeks.
Jerod has joined the high school debate team. None of us have any idea what the hell is going on or how it works. Yesterday it became apparent he’d be participating in his first tournament tomorrow. Which would require a suit, which he didn’t have. And, even if he had one, of course it would not have fit, because we keep feeding him. Feeding these kids is entirely cost ineffective and we really should just knock that shit off.
At any rate, we were dealing with logistical failure on many levels. By the time Chris picked him up from practice at 6pm yesterday, we had about 36 hours to get the suit figured out, alterations and all. Super fun addendum to this tale: J needed to be at basketball at 8:00.
Off to the mall they went.
I’m not sure what kind of high level negotiations went down to talk the salesperson into agreeing to have a suit altered in time for pick up at 7pm on a Friday evening, so I’m just going to be thankful the traveling peddler is in town this week and was able to take care of it. To mention nothing of how grateful I am not to have witnessed it.
Running on Empty
After some cajoling and bribery, but ultimately of her own accord, Elise signed up to run cross country this fall. None of us have any idea what the hell is going on or how it works. For the first two weeks of the school year, while Chris was out of town, she asked me if she could skip practice, every damn day. I actually was a little sympathetic to her plight. New things can be scary and challenging, fall allergies were unrelenting, and simply starting a school year is bloody exhausting; but none of it was going to get any easier by her not showing up. We muddled through with
much weeping and gnashing of teeth lots of very mature discussions about following through with things we sign up for, even amidst some adversity.
Upon Chris’ return, we were able to watch her run in her first meet last Saturday. I mentioned to another mom that I wasn’t sure Elise would be signing up to run again next year. Chris informed me I shouldn’t be talking that way. Instead I needed to be supportive and encouraging. This advice, from one who had missed the
weeping and gnashing of teeth mature discussions of the previous two weeks, went over like a turd in a punch bowl.
I know I’ve already talked about homecoming, but it’s my damn blog and I’m going to talk about it again. Holiest of holy new and unfamiliar, Batman! None of us have any idea what the hell is going on or how it works. In the midst of debate, and buying a suit, and figuring out cross country, and basketball and school (the poor kid’s got two big tests today), and life in general; I’ve been relentlessly nagging the boy child to go ahead and ask his date already.
The ‘who is asking who’ was seemingly plotted and pre-arranged by a mastermind of unknown origins. This young lady, apparently, knows she’s going to the dance with Jerod, but he’s still expected to do an ask in some sort of creative way. Ever helpful, his sister and friend made a cute sign, complete with a six pack of Coke and two strings of LED lights. It has proceeded to sit in my office for the past week. The dance is two weeks from tomorrow. I feel bad for my kid, it all seems horribly awkward and contrived, but I also can’t help but think of this seemingly lovely young lady, who I’m sure would also like get the ask over with. I blame my pesky vagina for such sentiment and have been told I need to chill out and ‘calm TF down.’
Thank God. Seriously. It would seem that by tomorrow evening, the first debate tournament will be in the books and the homecoming date will be official. And, having the first cross country meet under her belt has seemingly soothed the savage tween. I’m exhausted. And unspeakably proud of my monsters for trying new things. And slightly terrified of what next wee’s gonna look like.