JJ has not been to school for a week.  Last Wednesday he was getting his Sexy Phlegm on.  Thursday he was sharing with the world the status of partially digested breakfast food.  And today is Veteran’s Day.  Which I don’t think that I had off as a *preschooler*, but technically he is in a pre-kindergarten program, so perhaps he needs to practice having national holidays off.  And he’d better get a sticker for doing such a great job, and one for his mama, trying to figure out what to do with a boy who hasn’t gotten to hang out with his friends in a structured manner for over a week (ack!).

Actually, it’s been fairly lovely.  True, we have our moments:  I can only manage so many anticipatory countdowns – til morning snack time, til lunch time, til tv time, til dad comes home – because they generally begin at least an hour early and “alerts” chime in every five minutes.  He’s better than an Outlook Calendar reminder.  And I’m the most excellent Violently Clicking “Dimiss” mouse.   “Is it?” “NO.”  “Is?” “NO.”  But for the most part, we’ve enjoyed just resting.  Reading.  Baking.  Playing Legos (and what do we do with legos?  Have morning snacks.  And lunch.  And watch tv.  And wait for dad to come home.  I get a very deja vu feeling about it all).

Now, with JJ, I try to outline things for him ahead of time.  It’s not so much that he freaks out about changes in schedule as much as he makes his own schedule up and is very confused/upset that Irrational Adult that I Am have not seen the soundness of “eat some candy and play games and throw Legos all over the house, does that make sense? Sounds like a good idea” plans he outlines.  So I try to establish schedules ahead of time, so his little dictatorial mind can plot around those activities rather than create his own (something Napoleon’s mom apparently failed to do).  But if my plans change, in or out of my control, well, he believes that a) obviously I’m not capable of making plans and 2) he is and iii) candy and games and Legos before 8am are the prudent way to go.

So yesterday I gave him the head’s up about heading back to school.  Because what do we do on Tuesdays?  SCHOOL.  And things would be scheduled.  Except last night we got a call from his teacher saying that so many kids weren’t coming to school due to the holiday that she decided to cancel.  Um . . . ack.

I talked it up to JJ:  “Teacher L called and she’s not having school buthowaboutwegotoChaptersinsteadandgetvanillamilkandreadStarWarsbooks?YAY!”  Because going to Chapters to have vanilla milk (small milk with vanilla sugar-free syrup in it, not heated.  No, the baristas don’t get it either) and read the Star Wars Dictionary is the Bright and Shiny Object we use to distract from Potential Meltdowns.  And it worked!

So I scheduled our day:  Newberg Depot recycling, Fred Meyer cans recycling, Fred Meyer shopping trip, Chapters, library.  Loaded up the car with the children, water bottles, recycling, recycling, books to return, diaper bag, me.  Went to recycling stop #1 where JJ usually gets to help recycle, but it was pouring, so I had to talk that up the whole drive over there.

Then BAM:  schedule issue #2 (lack of school is #1 – it was a full day of scheduling improvisation).  The Depot no longer takes my plastics:  that would be my grocery sacks, my cottage cheese containers, my anything with a cute little number on it that I’ve been SO proud to recycle.  So JJ was VERY confused why I got mad and threw my plastics into the plastic jugs recycling bin even though they weren’t jugs because I’m protesting the “due to the current state of the market, we’re no longer accepting . . . ” sign.  Yes, it wasn’t helpful.  But I don’t care.  Feel free to go fish it out of the bin if your green little soul feels led.  I did throw one glass jar into the glass container:  it smashed:  I smirked a little bit.

Onto Freddies.  That was fine.  Saw Miss Michelle, pulled five Pillsbury pizza dough coupons out of the coupon dispenser, gave them to Miss Michelle at check out even though we didn’t have those items in our cart, caused her much confusion, got stickers, printed five coupons out of the coupon kiosk for Maalox and Just for Men, went on our way:  typical trip.

Onto Chaps (you can call it Chaps if you’re close.  We’re down like that).  Got milk.  Played with the typewriter.  Read Star Wars.  Let JJ decide when it was time to leave.  Left without having a meltdown.  Joy!

Onto the library.  Schedule conflict #3:  CLOSED.  VETERANS DAY.  SMACKED HEAD WITH PALM.  Stalling . . . stalling . . . stalling . . . remembering note from Hubby saying that we could visit his work today:  onto the Surf Shack!  (Yes, my husband is working at a place called The Surf Shack.  No, he does not wear a Hawaiian Shirt and listen to “I’ll Be There” all day long.  Something about having to have a theme for this big change in software that they’re doing at work and the theme being “Riding the Wave” – of change, you see – which is supposed to make people be excited for change instead of grumpy except now they’re just grumpy in an office with a surfboard and tiki torches).  The children properly interrupted one group of people conference calling and my husband who was working with my former boss and my former coworkers and my former boss’ currently admin.  Which was great.  Because I only work at great places, and most of those places still like me.

Onto home.  Hubby said he’d be home for lunch.  I tell the STARVING CHILDREN OF THE DEE that they have to wait until Hubby comes home for lunch.  We bide our time folding laundry and acting as the Outlook Calendar Reminder that Hubby is coming home in how many minutes?  Except he didn’t come home:  forgot about a working lunch.  So, food was shoved in people’s faces, and the Countdown To Watching TV began.  Joyous!  We’re not excited about school being back in session tomorrow at all!  Nope, not around here.  Not counting down the hours. . . . Nope . . .

Speaking of counting down, I believe I have slaughter a good majority of the Fruit Flies from Hell infestation that has taken over my kitchen.  I was so proud of myself this summer for not having any issues, AND that’s on top of having weekly deliveries of an ABUNDANCE of produce from our CSA.  Yay me!  Except:  November comes, and something was thrown in the garbage can that proliferated into the Fruit Flies that Just Won’t Die.  But I’ve found their weakness:  the sliding glass door.  They like the light; I like to smash them with the palm of my hand. I’m waiting til I know they’re gone to cleanse off the warfield/glass door . . . soooon . . . . soooon . . .

And onto my Schedule Confict #5:  no new Satellite Sisters podcast until the New Year at the earliest – gasp!  In the mornings I listen to the Daily Audio Bible on the ol’ Ipod while getting ready, but I noticed I had a Satellite Sisters podcast to finish up.  I usually listen to them in the evenings while baking:  so theraputic.  Now, when I first started listening to them, I had a four month old and hadn’t slept through the night in a few years and was a little loopy:  these gals made me laugh and not think hurtful thoughts about my little Excels at Not Sleeping one.  But then they went off the air a month later, and my hormonal self spiraled down.  But then they came back!  Happy!  And then this summer they took a vacation, but they did Best Of shows, which got me through.  And they talked up the break:  a LOT.  So I knew what to expect:  I knew The Schedule.

This morning I thought, “Enh, I’ll just skip the last of this podcast:  I’m sure I’m not missing anything.”  But then I pushed the wrong button, it started, and I was too lazy to change it.  Which is when I heard this casual mention of how this would be their last show for the year and that they’d let us know the status of the podcast in the New Year.  . . . . .   !!!!!!!   No warning.  NO SCHEDULE!  “But . . . but . . . but . . . . I want to eat candy and play games and throw Legos all over the house:  that’s a good idea!”  So my schedule issue #5 will crop up this evening when I can’t listen to what I want to and I’ll have to resort to listening to a Dave Ramsey podcast which does not create an atmosphere for soft and chewy cookies.  No sirree:  thin and crispy, they will be, just like the economy.  Sigh.

Daily Drivel