It meant that I somehow had to manage preparing more to get him out the door each day this week.
But come on. It's for my kid, right? You should have seen how proud he was to show me the "Student of the Week" instruction booklet (uh huh, a booklet). So I shut my mouth and did it. Happily. Packed the special snack. The show-and-tell. Wandered through Wal-Mart at 9:30 p.m. looking for an ink cartridge for my circa 2002 printer so he'd have pictures of the family to show his class.
I may or may not have given him pictures of me pre-babies. I didn't see any rules about that in the instruction booklet.
We made it to Friday and I finally sighed a breath of relief. His special week was over. Until he pulled George out of his bag. George. And his special journal.
The last culminating project for the Student of the Week is to take a stuffed Curious George home for the weekend, take pictures of your adventures with your new friend, and journal about it.
Cole was psyched. He has about 700 stuffed animals. None of them, not the entire sum of his and Tilly's combined, equaled the amount of psyche he had for George.
George? Was apparently a big deal.
I panicked. I hadn't thought about the weekend. Bill was working and I hadn't done laundry in weeks. The sink was full of dishes and the dust bunnies were acting out scenes from West Side Story in opposites corners of the room. My weekend was pretty much booked.
Plus, Tilly was picking her nose. And you know how long that can last her.
But I can't just have a normal, boring, chore-filled weekend. Not when we had George. Not when I had to take pictures! Wouldn't that be just how I'd do it? Three pages of the George journal filled up with:
. . .and then mom gave us the clicker and said , "anything on Netflix for Kids is okay." And George looked at me and asked, "Man, does your mom wear the same yoga pants all weekend?" The end.
Plus? Let's not forget my recent volunteer debacle at Fright Night '13. Had I told you about that, yet? Oh my. . .for another day. Another day.
Point is. . .I had some serious redeeming to do.
So I put them to bed early and planned our day. First event, a special breakfast where everyone wears cute little aprons and helps mommy make pancakes. They'll believe that, right? Then, birthday present shopping at Target. Target is one gigantic photo opp. Then? The movies!
And it was only 11:00 a.m.
After the movie ended, I asked the kids if they'd like to go bowling. The literally fell to the floor and asked for a nap.
I didn't take a picture of that.
While they slept, I looked at that smug smile George was giving me and as I got angrier and angrier, I thought of all the housework still left to do but that probably wouldn't be done because I was too tired from our marathon fun day.
Then it hit me.
What if I did take pictures of George having my typical weekend? Wouldn't that be the best George journal entry?
Like, say. . .if George was organizing the Tupperware on Friday night?
Or folding the laundry?
How about George, trying to relax with a book and cup of tea while two kids bicker in front of him incessantly?
What about George, close to losing it, trying to figure out what the hell happened to all of the matching socks?!?
Better yet? George, smelling leftovers to see if they're still okay to eat. Even curious little monkeys love that one!
The weekend's not over yet!
George gets to clean the toilet. . .
And then spend a couple of hours cooking a meal no one will eat. . .
He'll try stuffing himself into a dress he hasn't worn in ages to see if he can wear it to work tomorrow. .
And break up another fight because the kids NEVER SEEM TO QUIT!
Not only would that make for excellent drama, but would teach the children reality, instead of the $100+ weekend we just had so I could go somewhere to take his picture.
Seriously, people. This parenting a school-aged-child thing is killing me. And we're only in kindergarten. Wait until I'm helping with science projects. Or soccer tryouts. Prom night. Good grief.