Birthday girl

June 13, 2009 Writer

Wow. I have an online journal here. Who knew?

Today is Emily’s birthday. That tiny little baby who was so small people were afraid to hold her? Is now 5 foot 4. Carefully chose her wardrobe for the day. Chose her menu and her friends. And is now bopping to the sound of the lime green ipod the SAH got for her with points from his employer. One of the positive things about working for the Evil Empire.

She wanted to take her friends swimming at the city pool, which only opened a week ago. This pool is one of the best things about living in my little town. It’s outdoors, so only open from June through August. It’s a beautiful setting, with green grass and trees all around. I just love it there. After they all jumped in, I told them, summer has officially started now, and they all cheered.

Tonight, she is so happy, even though the day has been just her and me. Michael worked all night, so was asleep in the morning and left in the afternoon to hang out with his friends. Danny is still in school and has a thespian dinner tonight. SAH is working crazy overtime to get that airplane up in the air. But Emily told me it was a perfect birthday, so I guess I done good.

We’ll have a family celebration and go out to dinner next week. Spread out the festivities. That’s my favorite way to celebrate my own birthday.

A highlight of the evening was the girls out playing in the backyard, and taking off their shoes. Which the dog then chewed. Thoroughly. All three pairs. I want to kill him.

Speaking of the dog, I want to mention a story about him. So when I kill him, you will be on my side.

Last week, I was lying with him on the floor. I am trying to give that dog a lot of affection, in hopes he will settle down. I was rubbing him and he was snuggled up against me all happy. Emily walked into the room and he jumped up and sauntered over to her. All nice and calm. And all of a sudden, he lost his mind again and RAN OVER MY FACE. Thank the gods I was lucky, because I seriously could have lost an eye. I had a huge scratch that extended from about an inch under my right eye all the way through my eyeball and my eyebrow. And that eye was black. The other eyelid was scratched and bleeding.

Now that I no longer look like a domestic violence victim, I see some amusement in it. Because I screamed and swore. It really hurt me and scared me. All the windows were open, and I am sure the neighbors heard what sounded like a big ol’ fight.

And the next morning, the shuttle came to pick me up with my suitcase and I disappeared for the weekend. Heh.

Gossip for months.

I spent the weekend with my friend Tricia in the Bay Area. We had been trying to schedule a time for months, and finally I was free and she was free so I bought a ticket and jumped on a plane. We had a blast, black eye and all. Everyone says San Francisco is cold and wet, but it’s always spectacular whenever I’m there. We had the best time. If a time ever came when I couldn’t live in Seattle anymore, I would so move to San Francisco.

Michael is working the graveyard shift five days a week. He hates it, but is sticking with it, and making decent money for a teenager. In this job market, I am so thankful that both he and Danny were able to find jobs. An awful lot of the kids weren’t able to find anything this year.

Danny. Ah, Danny. He will be lucky to survive the next week to go to camp.

His grades have improved dramatically (ie he is no longer failing anything) since tax season ended. When I asked him why, he told me it’s because he needs his free time, and when I don’t pick him up until 6, that’s not enough free time. Way to lay on the guilt, kid.

He still forgets half of what he’s supposed to do. Doesn’t listen or remember. Those accommodations his counselor promised? Never came to pass. I will be raising a stink about that in the fall.

Here is what life with Danny is like, right now. For a week, he has known he has to write an autobiographical letter for English class. He asked me for help. I said yes, let’s do that now. Several times. He blew me off. I have it under control, MOM.

Sigh. I do repeat myself in here, don’t I?

I KNEW it wasn’t even started, and I BUGGED him about it, and he was very angsty about it all. And then it was due Wednesday, and he came to me Tuesday night with a handwritten paragraph and needed help putting it together.

He needed a whole typed page, and had like two sentences that were terrible, and whatever is broken in his head involves writing. He just can’t. We tried and tried for hours, and finally I had him dictate to me, and I typed for him. When he dictates, I type it exactly as he speaks and it’s good. When he tries to type it himself, there is a disconnect.

Later, I decided to look at his grades online, and his Spanish grade has gone from a B+ to a D because he hasn’t bothered to turn in the last week’s worth of assignments. And when I started shrieking about that, he was astonished, because he had NO IDEA HE HAD ANY ASSIGNMENTS THIS WEEK.

We were up until 11:30 and I went to bed mad. Very very mad.

Then Thursday, he decided that the only way to get an A in digital photography (and he desperately needs an A to balance out the D in Math) was to visit a gallery with a photography exhibit. And write about it. Due Friday. More shrieking.

I googled a gallery with an exhibit at the UW, and SAH took him. He came home and wrote up the barest possible paragraph that basically showed that maybe he had possibly walked in the door. And left it on the kitchen floor, where I found it this morning when I was picking up.

I swear to god. He says he typed something else up, and his teacher asked him a lot of questions and gave him full credit.

He can’t get out of this house soon enough. A whole summer with someone else nagging at him to do things. Someone else feeding his enormous appetite. Someone else looking at the crap he drops everywhere as soon as he’s done with it. I can’t wait.

I will probably love him again by the time he comes home.