don't call us, we'll call you
So we're on the downward spiral of summer vacation around here. In just over a week, my boys will scurry off to their respective schools, and embark upon new learning adventures, some of which will no doubt mean I'll be trying to figure out harder and more frustrating math.
I'm going to buck tradition and say I'm not actually looking forward to my children returning to school. We've had a pretty perfect summer. Minimal yelling. Very little crying. Both on my part, mind you.
I am, however, looking forward to all the neighborhood kids who've spent this summer laying about my place like I was the lone youth hostel with beds available on their backpacking adventures around the suburbs. From the moment the sun burst over the horizon on the first day of summer vacation, I've had a steady stream of loaner kids banging on doors, tapping on windows, phoning to do nothing more than breath into the receiver and ask, "What are you doing....what are you doing now....what about now?"
I've fed kids I've never seen before, housed the temporarily homeless, and taxied the unmovable. I've also given my son's brother from another mother another nudie show.
The kid's seen my naked more this summer than my Tool Man.
No, it's not like I'm trying for that!
Yes, I'm tired of it, too!
Then there's the nonstop telephone calls to my house. Somewhere in his grave, Alexander Graham Bell is rolling around in glee that the world is filled with lazy boys and girls who can't just walk two doors down to visit with their friends. Me? Not so much. Here's a little tidbit about me that you may not realize - I'm not a morning person. Were it not for the pesky bit about having to suck the blood of an unsuspecting ne'er do well to sustain my immortality, I'd willingly consider that whole vampire gig. Also, I can carry off all black pretty well. It's the pale skin. It just works.
So anyway, I'm not a morning person. If you call my house before 7 a.m., it better be because you want to tell me I just won the lottery or something tragic has befallen my family. I need the money, so I'm hoping more for the former. If you can't shower me with balloons and gigantic checks, please do not call me to say good morning when I've only just recently said good night.
This, however, is a lesson my oldest son's friends have failed to learn all summer, and I swear to heaven, today I nearly threw on my slippers and trotted up the street to her house to flow chart it out for her. Here's how today's phone call played out:
- Scene - 6:45 a.m. (A - freakin' - M!) on a Monday (Mon - freakin' - day!) morning.
- Me - Asleep. Dreaming of some women bitching to me about how the books at the bookstore aren't alphabetized properly (seriously - yep, I do need to get out more)
- Phone - ringing! ringing! ringing!
- Me - WTF?
When I answer, the little girl who lives down the lane is all, "Can I talk to..." and before she could finish her query, I've morphed into my mother. "Do you have any idea what time it is, young lady?! It is 6:45 in the freakin' morning! Nobody needs to talk to anybody that early! Does your mother know you're on the phone?! Get offa my lawn! Fetch me my slippers! Why, kids today, I tell ya..."
My ranting, of course, was met with the silence I've learned over the course of the summer comes standard with this year's model of the 10 year old child. Then, fearing my wrath, her little voice quacked as she asked if I could take a message.
"I'm not typically equipped with pen and paper whilst sleeping..." I muttered, thinking how adorable it is that I like to talk all fancy on five hours sleep.
"Please tell him that he shouldn't call my house or come down to see me after 8:30 at night, because that's when I'm going to bed now," she continued.
Then it was my turn to be silent. "Hello? Did you hear me?" she asked. I heard her even though by then I'd pulled the phone away from my ear and was giving it a quizzical look, all "Are you serious with this?"
"Let me see if I got the message right," I finally responded. "You called here before 7 a.m., to say my kid can't call you after 8:30 p.m.? Honey, I hope you sleep well tonight..."
I think she was saying thank you as I was hanging up the phone. Me? I was up for the day. I got her number, by the way. I'm going to call her tonight around 9 p.m., maybe wish her a few sweet dreams (something better than Bitter Bookstore Lady, Crypt-keeper of the Alphabet), sing a couple lullabies. Good times.
And good night.