Tomorrow is Public + Bad Sandwich

SCHOOL

Tomorrow is the day we march into the local high school and re-admit Summer to public school life, armed with the knowledge that we have 30 days to get her birth certificate, and that they HAVE to let her in. I’m okay with her returning to public school because it’s her choice. She’s better emotionally than when I pulled her from middle school two years ago, and we’re now clear of the problems of middle school as well. (Mainly that the principal, S.Z., was a huge, inappropriate douchebag.) I know she misses her middle school friends, and I think she wants to be like her friend who is now in a (private) high school.

Summer and I spent the afternoon getting her ready: new understuff, pants, shirts from my dresser, shoes, hair. She looks really cute and pulled-together.

I’m stoked for her, and stoked about having my day free again to work without guilty conflicts over work and schooling.

We played our last-for-now evening RPG, and I read to her. (We read to each other. Try it, it’s fun!) She is snoozing, and I am on the verge of a stomachache from nerves!
What will they throw at us? Where’s your work? What are her grades? Why did you homeschool? (That one’s easy, and I can even answer it without saying “Because the junior high principal is a douchebag.”)

Well, they can’t eat us.

What I feel right now isn’t “sad” as such, just an awareness of how time has passed, but proud of my kid and myself, and a bit in awe that my baby has grown into a young lady. A young lady who always laughs at the F word.

BAD SANDWICH! BAD!

Just minutes ago, stb-ex King brought me a bag from what used to be our closet. In this nylon bag was the yellow plastic bag from last Summer’s San Diego Con. There was this weird translucent brown…stuff on the bag, and it smelled like hell. My guess was pee, and I said to toss it. Then I decided to pull out some rubber gloves and go through the bag in case there was something I was looking for and hadn’t found.

I pulled out flyers, some leave-behinds, a pack of Maple Story cards, a Magic deck and this flat, spongy-looking squishy thing in plastic. It looked like sourdough starter, a sick off-white. I turned it over, trying to figure out what the hell it was, and I found the label. Tomato and pesto sandwich, probably with ham.

A meat sandwich from last year. From six-and-a-half months ago. I bought it on the way home from San Diego and forgot it. I have already sorted my transport and sleep space for this year.

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Crossposted from divalea.net

Kid Funny of the Day

When we were crossing our main road, and someone went by in a low loud BRRRRRRRT car:

Mine: “One dick, four wheels.”
Hers: “Four wheel dick drive.”

There were many people who knew me wh o said “Bite me” would be Summer’s first retort.

It was, “Son of a bitch my head!” She was three.

Crossposted from divalea.net