Clearly, the deer are WAY too comfortable in my yard. Aren’t bucks (and these are both bucks!) supposed to be elusive and hard to find? Isn’t that what the sport of hunting is basically all about? I half expect these two to settle themselves in my patio chairs. Honestly.
In other news, we’ve seriously entered the summer doldrums here. It’s hot, everyone is at the beach, and my tomatoes are sagging on the vine. Meanwhile, the end of the season looms. Just this week, I started getting emails from my daughter’s preschool, announcing back to school events and meetings. Everything beach and pool related at Wal-Mart today was in clearance, with dorm supplies lining the aisles. What is it about a desk lamp and a shower caddy that fills me with anxiety? It’s either the end of my favorite season OR remembering my own departure, for UNC-Greensboro, the August after I graduated from high school. I lasted about a month and a half. Not my proudest moment. But I had the desk lamp FOREVER.
(Note: just FYI, I did go back to school, at UNC, and graduated. I also took my first college writing course there, with the amazing Doris Betts. At Greensboro, I was going to go into advertising. So I think it all worked out. Aside from the whole dropping-out-of-school-the-first-semester-when-your-parents-look-on-with-shame thing. What can I say, not my proudest moment.)
Time IS trucking on. More proof: my daughter is totally in this “I want to do it myself!” phase. The latest thing is getting dressed. Not only is my opinion and help not wanted, I am told to leave the room and wait outside. Which I do, alternately getting sniffly as I flashback to her in onesies AND hoping she remembers pants. Two days in a row, she’s gotten everything on right-side out and facing the proper direction. It even (sort of) matches. Miracle! Best of all, though, is her proud face as she runs towards me for me to see what she’s wearing. It KILLS me. Four years ago I was hugely pregnant, folding little baby shirts. Now I can’t even help her pull a shirt on. Sob!
Thank goodness I have bad TV to lose myself in as August steams on. My latest weakness—and brace yourself, it’s a bad one—is DANCE MOMS. Oh, dear goodness. It’s like a car wreck and I can’t pull my eyes away. When my husband was gone I watched three episodes in a ROW. Here I think I am controlling because I’m having trouble letting my kid pick out her own outfit. At least I am not forcing her into hot pants and making her practice for hours and hours a day while I look on, criticizing all the other kids within earshot of their mothers. As my cousin Caroline would say,”There’s some very bad behavior going on.” I’ll say. And yet, and yet…I can’t turn it off. I think I need a twelve step program or something.
Okay, between the dropping out of college and the DANCE MOMS, even I have hit my confessional limit. I’m going to go yell at the deer now. Will they listen? No. Will it make me feel better? Maybe.
Have a good day, everyone!