I must have been crazy to think I would actually get some time to lounge on the deck in my underwear and read books this summer. Since school ended two weeks ago, I've been racing the clock every day, playing catch-up with the pile of work that's gathered since the first day of Spring semester (back in January). There are forms from various agencies needing to be filled out, doctor's appointments to drag Queen Teen to, book marketing and book orders, submissions to the press needing to be read, mending, housework, inventory, and the end of the business tax season (hello sales tax!), all joining forces in one colossal mountain of work, demanding attention now. There will be no lounging in our underwear reading books; there will be tasks to complete! Many, many, many, many, many, many, many tasks to complete, and all before the end of the month.
Starting with : your car!
If I can't keep up with the housework inside the house, do you really think I'd manage to keep my car clean? Not likely. But when my husband pulled half a burger from under my car seat and asked, "How long has this been here?", I knew the car had surpassed filth. That first Monday after school ended, I cleaned my car from top to bottom, vacuuming upholstery, scrubbing spilled soda out of the cup holder, wiping six months of dust off the console, picking something sticky off the steering wheel (chocolate?)... I won't tell you what other things I found buried under the back seat (things I can't blame on the child, unfortunately). And while doing all this scrubbing, I discovered a universal truth: dog hair is forever. No amount of scrubbing or vacuuming with an industrial Shop-Vac can remove dog hair from the interior of a mini-van. Can-not-be-done. But at least all signs of graduate school filth have been removed from my car.
The next day, we all went to Stanford for Queen Teen's MRI. We made tuesday the fun day, wandering around the Stanford mall and then exploring downtown Palo Alto, which is lovely. Spending the night in a motel, we got up extra early to haul Queen Teen kicking and screaming to the 8:00 am appointment at Lucille Packard. She had to have general anesthesia for the procedure, but you'd think we were asking her to eat that month old burger I found in my car. Rick had to drag her out of the car and into the hospital, and then when the nurse tried to get her to drink the medicine that would help her relax, she started screaming and kicking. One Nurse got so upset she left the room. I can only imagine what she must be saying in the break room. At one point in the battle, Queen Teen managed to break free from Rick's powerful arms, only to be capture by me and then forced to drink that yucky medicine with her head held back and the nurse squirting it down her throat with a syringe. I don't know if the medicine started to work, or she just crashed from the adrenaline, but she looked at me with angry eyes and said, "Let's just get this over with." Then she fell asleep.
Times like those make me wonder if all these tests are really worth the trauma they generate.
Now we're back home. Queen Teen seems to have recovered from the torture of the hospital MRI. She and I are hiding from the 100 degree temperature outside, and fighting epic boredom. The AC in my van died, so we're trapped when it gets over 90. Queen Teen can't tolerate the heat, so we watch movies, color, play games, and try not to drive each other too crazy. I dash around from task to task, constantly interrupted by "Mom...." There's another reason I was crazy to think I'd be able to do any lounging this summer: Queen Teen is out of school, too. There isn't a mom on the planet who gets to relax when the kids are out for summer.
Maybe next month?