Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Oh, this is going to be a sight.

Everybody’s doing something tonight.

Oldest has to be at the stadium at 5:30 so that she and her fellow 8th grade bandsters can play for the middle school football game. This is the first time she’s ever done this, so she’s been on edge for weeks. They aren’t marching or anything, just sitting there playing, but ‘It’ has taken on a life of Its own.

Then, Tiny Girl has to be at her soccer practice at 6, which due to the ongoing resodding of one of the fields at the soccer complex, means that her practice has been moved over to the big field by Holy Infant. No big deal, except that Middle Girl has to be at her soccer practice, at the park, at 6:30. Boy, most thankfully, has nowhere to be tonight.

Just to make things interesting, though, he decided to become ill at school this afternoon.

Now the way this was supposed to work, Reba would get off work, go get the little kids from school, race to the house and meet up with Oldest, get Tiny and Middle Girls into their soccer equipment, make sure Oldest had all her clarinetery, stuff all four kids into the van and race BACK to the middle school, where I would meet her at 5:30 and make the Offspring Transfer.

She would stay there at the stadium with Oldest and Boy to take in the football game, while I took the girls with me. First, drop Rebecca at the soccer park to be under the careful supervision of no-telling-who, and then from there I go back to the field at Holy Infant with my Unholy Infant in time for her practice to start.

I would then sit in my folding chair and watch her roll around and sweat, and then at precisely 7, get her back in the van and go back to finish watching Middle Girl at the soccer park and leave there at 8. We would all finally reunite back at the house, exhausted, probably around 8:30.

BUT, that was before a certain little boy decided his tummy hurt. Reba left work early to go get him, which does give her a head start—which is good because she has a tendency to try to actually get her work done every day, and sometimes leaves late.

The unknown is if Jonathan will be overcome by one of those miraculous cures brought on by getting to leave school early and have fun with Mommy. If so, no big deal, but if he really is sick, this little exercise is going to make for some interesting bloggage tomorrow...

UPDATE: Just now on the phone with Miss Reba--seems Boy was running a grift. Turns out the person who called Reba, who told her he seemed very sick and probably really needed to go home, was not school nurse, but a parent volunteer covering for nurse because SHE was out sick. Reba said she got to school and Boy came skipping down the hall with a hearty and hale "Hi, Mom!" Suspicious, Mom asked if Son had any tests this afternoon. "No, Mommy!"

An hour later, "Oh, I forgot, Mommy, I had a math test and an English test today that I didn't get to take!"

We are not amused.

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