Graduation...Elementary School Style?

Last night we returned home from swim practice a little later than normal because of a pleasant pit stop to see some friends we haven't seen in a while. The visit was completely wonderful, but the ensuing chaos from the late evening was almost impossible to overcome. Although, almost quickly turned into utterly impossible when I checked the phone messages at 10pm last night. "Hello 5th Grade Parents. Just a reminder that 5th grade picture day is tomorrow." REMINDER??? I never got the first memo!! You have got to be kidding me!

Quickly I sprang into Uber Mom mode and addressed what I knew would be the most pressing issue..."honey, what do you want to wear?" I knew her choice would not be something that would be clean, easy to find or possibly even under the same roof we were currently standing under. As much as I love my girl child, she does have a knack for making some things impossibly difficult. Luckily for me she knew exactly what shirt, knew where it was but it did need a trip into the washer...STAT!

With the wardrobe issue solved, the outfit in the washer and time ticking by at a rapid pace I sent everyone off to bed. In my head I figured we could tackle any other issues in the morning but right now we were 1 1/2 hours past our normal bed time. What I didn't figure was that 1 1/2 hours was going to be made up somewhere and it happened to be the next morning. We all woke up late which didn't help the homework that didn't get done, the load of wet picture clothes in the washer or the fact that showers were skipped the night before. I quickly found myself not tackling any issues, but having the crap beat out of me by Father Time and Murphy and his frigging law! What could go wrong was going wrong and fast!

We did manage to make it to school, in the rain, and about 5 minutes late. She had the outfit she wanted, but we didn't have time to curl her hair. It was clean and blown straight and I thought very pretty, but I could tell she was a little disappointed. I hate when they get disappointed for the simple things and they manage to blow off the big issues, but I guess that is a luxury of youth. What I wasn't prepared for was her anger and frustration when school was over. "Mom, do you know what the pictures were? Do You?" Well, no I didn't. I really don't know what 5th Grade pictures consist of. "They made me put on an ugly GOLD gown. They couldn't even see my Stanford shirt!" Like the good mom that I am, I quickly jumped on her band wagon because I had just spent the last 12 hours trying to wash an outfit that no one even saw. Yes, I was pissed too!

What didn't help matters much was that I had spent the whole day working on 5th grade graduation projects. In the last couple of years I have really stepped back from volunteering, but I thought it would be nice to help with the last elementary event my daughter would have. What I didn't realize was that I was getting involved with a week long celebration of gigantic proportions. This is ELEMENTARY SCHOOL GRADUATION PEOPLE! There is a Pool Day, Field Day, Softball Game and Yearbook Day, Movie Day and an actual Ceremony Day. I don't even remember doing this much for my high school graduation, although that whole time frame is a little blurry for a multitude of reasons. Is she going to expect the same amount of hoopla for middle school?  God forbid what she is going to expect for high school. Screw a college fund, I better start socking away to make it through the graduation.

The man power that is needed to pull off these extraordinary events is just as over the top as the actual events. There are committees for each day, and some days have multiple committees. My rough estimate is that for our graduating class of about 140 students there are at least 75 parent volunteers feverishly working behind the scenes in hopes of making their young children's graduation experience memorable. With the amount of time, effort and money that is going into graduation, this better be the BEST WEEK EVER! Although, you have to remember who the audience is...a group of budding pubescent pre-teens in the throws of hormonal angst that would rather be caught dead than thinking anything their parents were involved in creating is even sort of cool. I fully expect that at the end of the week we will be lucky to get a collective "Yeah, it was alright".

For my daughter, graduation events better start picking up real soon. She is already a little disenchanted with the entire graduation scene based on the gold gown experience. For an almost 11 year old she is quite astute in her conclusion that her input or opinion regarding the entire experience doesn't really factor in. She is determined to proudly wear her Stanford shirt (that we went to the actual campus to get for her) at her graduation since she had to wear that stupid gold gown for her picture. Being the supportive mom I am, I smile and shake my head in agreement all the time trying to figure out when to drop the bomb that they will all be wearing the same shirt for graduation...so sayeth the 5th Grade Graduation powers that be.

I got a feeling we might not make it through her first graduation experience unscathed.

Building with my Pop Pop

My Pop Pop and TuTu

It is no secret that I have been on a home improvement quest lately and some of my projects have included concrete, power tools and immense amounts of manual labor. One of the rewards for all this hard work is the ability to invite friends over to entertain in our modestly upgraded surroundings. So we did. Last night some dear friends of ours joined us for dinner and s'mores and before the festivities got underway we proudly showed off our recent additions and works in progress.

The work in progress is my Pinterest inspired wooden benches. Construction of the four solid wood benches is complete and they are in the process of being sanded and prepped for paint. The husband was impressed that once he sat down on a bench he found it remarkable sturdy. The wife on the other hand was in awe that I had accomplished the planning, purchasing, construction and assembly all on my own. Her amazement only increased when I told her that I didn’t use any plans or how to web sites, just a piece of paper, a measuring tape and a love of power tools. What seemed a reasonable task to me was something she could never fathom doing, which got me to thinking...why wasn't there ever a moment of hesitation or a doubt in my mind that I could pull this off? The answer was surprisingly simple, my Pop Pop.

My grandfather has always been called Pop Pop, a name given to him by his oldest grandchild...me. My perception of Pop Pop has changed drastically over the years. Some were gradual changes while others I can pinpoint to specific events in our lives. I am not sure if it was him changing or me growing up that enabled our relationship to evolve. I can tell you that I am pretty sure that I have experienced just about every human emotion available when it comes to my Pop Pop.

When I was a small child I spent my summers with my grandparents. My mom would drop me off on Sunday night and return to pick me up the following Friday. Those summers are the foundation of some of my earliest memories. I developed a lifelong friendship that I cherish with my grandmother and she became not only my TuTu, but one of my best friends. My grandfather worked during the days but I remember having dinner together every night. He was a large man of few words. To me he ate the strangest things, like peppers and red beat eggs. He put massive amounts of salt and pepper on everything that passed through his lips. He was the only man in a house of four women...five if you include Sandy, the dog. During those summers I can honestly tell you that the man scared the crap out of me. He didn't yell often but when he was angry you knew it and feared it. I don't ever recall him raising more that his voice to any of us, but that voice was scarier than the boogie man.

During my early adolescent years was the first time I viewed him as a man. I will never forget the summer that my grandparents were going through a rough spot. My grandmother was often visibly upset and my grandfather began having more than a couple night caps in the evening. I was old enough to understand what divorce was but naive enough to think things like that didn't happen to grandparents. It was a hard realization that these people were after all, only human. They experienced the same grief, anger and frustration that the rest of us dealt with. They were not above those things; they hadn't earned a get out of grief card. They hurt and that was when I learned that no one was immune to the pains of life. The invaluable lesson my grandparents taught me that summer was you don't give up on marriage. I watched them fight, cry, talk and weather days of silence but they did it together and remain married to this day.

During my teenage years my family moved a great distance away from our home town. My mother had remarried and a fresh start was in the cards. I wasn't around my grandparents that much during that time but they were there for the important stuff. They made the 2000 plus mile drive to attend my high school graduation which meant the world to me. My mother had divorced again and we were about to move even farther away. To say the least, emotions were at a high and my mother and I were constantly at each other's throat. One remarkably rough evening she and I were waging World War 3 and I was attempting to storm out when I was stopped by my Pop Pop. He was still larger than life to me so out of either fear or respect I stopped. He then proceeded to make a quick little speech to me which I am sure was insightful and poignant, but for the life of me I couldn't tell you what he said. I was so overwhelmed that he had spoken a complete sentence to me the actual words were a complete blur. As I said before, he was always a man of few words and this was honestly the first time he had ever spoken a complete sentence TO me. I was so excited by this revelation that I rushed to tell my mom and we laughed over this turn of events and remarkably, World War 3 experienced a cease fire. Not sure if Pop ever knew what he did for me that night or if he knows how he did it, but he showed me his love, understanding and compassion that night and I will forever be grateful.

Fast forward another 10 years to my wedding. I wasn't the first to be married in our family, but I was the first to have a destination wedding. We had chosen to get married in Hawaii knowing full well that some family and friends might not be able to make it. It was important for us to keep it small and intimate and we knew Hawaii would afford us that. There was only one glitch in our plan, my Pop Pop doesn't fly. My Grandmother loves to travel and they have always had an RV and driven everywhere they wanted to go, but there isn't a bridge or ferry that could get that RV to Hawaii. I wanted these two people that have been the most constant thing in my life to be there. I don't know who did what, what back room negotiation were made, but my Pop Pop took his first and only flights of his life to attend my wedding. He loved me more than his fear. I have never felt more cherished and for that he will always be my hero.

Through all these changes my Pop Pop has built everything in our lives. When my Grandmother wanted a family room added to their home, my Pop built it. When she wanted a porch for the house he poured the concrete patio for the front and built a sprawling deck for the back. He was constantly tinkering and building things. Of course, he didn't do it all on his own and usually my father was his faithful sidekick. Pop was constantly ordering him around and somehow my dad would be the one bruised and battered while Pop escaped injury free. Some projects were so big that everyone was pulled in to play a role, but Pop was always the master mind and site supervisor. Over the years, Pop Pop taught us all that anything could be built with time, patience and usually a little bloodshed. In some ways I think that is how Pop showed us all that he loved us. He put up pools and built swing sets for us. He built room additions for TuTu; he created picnic tables so our family had a place to gather. Although I doubt any of us realized it at the time, Pop was building the threads of our lives.

So because of my Pop Pop I believe I can build anything. I can envision projects, plans and creations and I never doubt I can do it. The joy I get from building these things has always amazed me. There has always been a sense of pride, but it went deeper and I could never pinpoint what that was. It is love. Building things is a way to show love. My Pop Pop taught me that and my Pop Pop has built a lot of things for many people. My Pop is a pretty amazing man, he must be because he helped build a woman out of a little girl, and that little girl is a woman that loves to build.

Bathroom Issues

Oh, I know what you are thinking...no one needs to hear about this but I beg to differ, someone needs to listen and some changes need to be happening around here. I would like to say I am a laid back type of person that can just go with the flow but that is just crap, pun intended. Pet Peeves? I have a few...thousand. Last night one of my biggest ones reared its ugly head and Momma went on a rampage.

We have 3 bathrooms in this house. Three throne rooms, potties, johns, crappers, piss pots, toities, whatever you want to call them and as I walked through my home EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM HAD SHIT IN IT! No one was currently using them, they were all left abandoned brimming full of foul smelling, gag inducing, SHIT!

What I don't understand is that we are living in the 21st century. We have running water, indoor plumbing and tax payer provided sewage systems. My family does not have to fetch a pail of water, dump a chamber pot or even brave the elements to use the "facilities". Our toilets are modern day marvels that boast all the finest amenities including...wait for it...A FRIGGING LEVER TO FLUSH THE DAMN THING! And this lever is literally inches away from their little hands as they sit on this modern contraption.

I have tried everything to get my kids to flush the toilet. I have asked nicely, begged, yelled, screamed, taken toys away and threatened to flush said toys down the crap infested waters. We even went through a period that if a toilet was found unflushed, regardless who the offending party was, all parties would immediately stop what they were doing and toilets would be cleaned. For about 3 months you could have eaten off my toilets! They sparkled and shined because they were all being cleaned out at least twice a day. Of course we also used enough toilet bowl cleaner to sponsor the Tidy Bowl NASCAR Team all on our own.

Even as I sit here in my office I know full well that there is at least one toilet in my house that is full. The fact that I know at any point of any given day I can stumble across a bowl full of crap is unsettling. Or is it? Can I find comfort in the fact that I know these little idiosyncrasies of my family. Is this one of the things they say you will grow to miss when they grow up and leave the house? Will one day in the future when my children are blazing their own trails of independence, will I gaze longingly into a clean toilet bowl and wish for the days when it was full of shit?

HELL NO! JUST FLUSH THE DAMN TOILET!