Bak to skool

Thursday Abby and Sam boarded that big yellow school bus and became official 4th and 2nd graders. We met their teachers Wednesday night and toured the classrooms. I also cried when Chandler went off to check out his new classroom. (Okay, yes I realize he's not even my child, but I cried anyway. Sue me.)

Thursday morning everyone bounced outta bed like they were on springs. I know that this will wear off sometime around the middle of next week. Actually, Abby and Sam are pretty good about getting up; it's Kady that gives me fits. I packed one lunch in a Spiderman lunchbox and another in a SpongeBob lunchbox; I fixed one head of hair into one of those supposed-to-look-sloppy bun things that the girls wear now, I spiked another head of hair into a flattop any Marine would be proud of; I double-checked both backpacks, gave them hugs and kisses and sent them on their way - without taking their pictures! I always always always take their picture in front of the front door on the first day of school. I've done it since Abby started Kindergarten. (Well, I did it the year she started Pre-K, too. You know, the year she dropped out.) But this year there was no first day of school picture. So that night when I tucked Abby in I told her to remind me to take their pictures Friday morning and we'd just pretend they were taken on the first day of school.

I hope they don't change too much by Monday because I forgot again Friday, too.

My most darlingest duchessy friend, Jen, made Kady a Not-Going-To-School pack complete with personalized placemat and book, "homework" sheets and a sack lunch. Then Irish Divinity brought her two packages of M&M's, so she thought she was Queen of the Unschooled. Then JackJack's grandma called and asked if she could come in and play with her granddaughter who is visiting. I thought Thursday was going to be hard for Kady, seeing as how her two siblings AND her two best friends went off to school and she didn't, but turns out I worried for nothing. I usually do.

It's a good thing I had the babysitting wards here that day or else Mr. Diva would've pestered me all day for sex. I can never quit babysitting while he's working this shift and home with me during the day - I'd walk bowlegged. Kidless house means many sex in his mind. Kidless house means housework, soap operas and blogging in my mind. Therefore I will continue to babysit until erectile dysfunction takes over. Because we can't afford Viagra.

I had three kids in my house Thursday and none of them were mine. This is what next year's going to be like, so I should probably get used to it. I nearly drove the babies nuts. I've been so busy this summer with so many kids that my one-on-one time with them had dwindled a bit. Plus, there were so many big kids around that they were too busy with them to want me as much. But yesterday I was in their faces all day. I think at one point Little Nicky jabbered something off at me that would translate to, "Look lady, you're nice and all, but you need a hobby."

That night Tater picked Kady up in town and we met the whole Tater family and Mom over at Mom's friend Connie's house. Connie has a pool. We like Connie. My poor kids went swimming five times in our $29, 18-inch deep "Family Swim Center" from Wal*Mart that is now hosting its own mini ecosystem and Abby went swimming in the big pool at GS camp. That's all the swimming we'd done this year. And even though there was thunder and lightning all afternoon we still packed up those swimsuits in hopes that it would pass like every other chance of rain this summer. It did. And we swam. And swam. And it was good. Mr. Diva played Hillbilly Horseshoes and is now convinced that he must construct a setup of his own. PVC pipe, golf balls and rope - yep, that's pretty redneck. But he seemed to have fun with it so I'll oblige. The kids got in bed at 10 and that was not good. That's the only rotten thing about Mr. Diva not having regular weekends off like everyone else - we have to do our social events on Wednesday or Thursday and when school's going on, that's rough.

Tater can't find time to blog, but she can find time to traipse around the internet and obsess over Disney World. We're planning a whole-family trip - 9 of us - in January, over my birthday, no less. (Because every princess should have her 34th birthday with Cinderella) But in her obsessive searching she also found "Night of Joy" in September - two days of Christian music concerts. Some of the biggest names in Christian music will be there - tobyMac, Rebecca St. James, BarlowGirl, MercyMe, CASTING CROWNS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and others, but I'm so focused on Casting Crowns I'm stopping there.

I asked Mr. Diva if I could go and miracle of all miracles he said yes. This new job is definitely agreeing with him. A year ago he'd have said hell no and would've stayed in a bad mood for a week just because I asked. Now he's letting me traipse off across the country mere weeks after the national security level is so heightened that I won't even be able to take my lip gloss on the plane. He loves me. Or else he's taken out a life insurance policy on me.

We'll leave Tulsa at 6am on a Friday and get back into Tulsa at 11pm on Sunday night. The tickets for the concert include The Magic Kingdom and all the rides (WAHOO), but Mom and Tater are giving me my birthday present early - two Park Hopper passes so we can spend two days in the parks well. And Disney World rides accomodate fat asses so I'm good to go.

And that's what's gone on around here this last week.

Tonight is the Demolition Derby in town, but it's also the Brad Paisley concert. While I'm not happy about missing the best derby in town (okay, the only derby in town) I'm totally excited about the concert. Tammy and I have been like teenagers all week asking each other what we're taking, what we're wearing, where we're gonna eat, how much money we're taking. We don't get out much, Tammy and I. We've even got it down to where Mom's taking us to the casino and either Mr Diva or Tater will bring our drunk pretty selves home.

And now I must go and over-hydrate myself in expectations of the drunk I'm gonna get on. Which you know really means I'll drink a couple of beers, get nauseated and switch back to water before I ever get a buzz. Because that's what I usually do. I'm so old. But I'm goin' to Disney World. TWICE! So I may not be able to drink like I used to, but by golly I can party with the Princesses.