AmazonMidwife

This is what passes for banter in our house:
Boy: "Dad, choose a number between 1 and 10."
'Savant: "4.7853629105"
Boy: "I said choose one number between 1 and 10."
'Savant: "I did. There's an infinite amount of numbers between 1 and 10"

(The Boy was trying to sandbag his dad into talking about his new favorite obsession, Ben 10, and gets hit with a math lecture---another example of Machiavellian Homeschooling at its finest. But it goes on:)

Boy: "No, Dad. I want you to choose a regular number so I can tell you which alien you like the best."

Instead of seizing the opportunity to expand on his math lecture, the 'Savant goes wacky/wicked:

'Savant: "I will if you will answer me these questions three."
Boy: "Okay."

Obviously, we've been slacking on our Python tutelege. But it's pretty clear to me that we're doing pretty well on teaching geek.

The camel is wearing a back brace chez amazonmidwife. It's the addition of soccer and O.W.L. to the mix. They seem quite straw-like; teaching the O.W.L. class is only a 1 1/2 hour commitment every Sunday and soccer consists of 2 hour long games on Saturday (that, when the stars are right, can happen at the same time) and an 1 1/2 hour practice on Thursday evenings. The issue is that I have to get up @ 7:30 AM on Sunday to get ready and awake, which precludes (or should) staying up late and watching movies with the 'Savant (our version of date night). And by the time I get us all home from practice, I'm too tired to clean OR prep for the boys' history class on Friday. So, I get up earlier Friday to get that done.

Consequently, since I consider all time before 9:00AM to be 0-dark-thirty and all time after 10:00PM to be my time, I am underslept and less-than-grounded. And my house is messier than the norm, which subliminally irritates me. So I am quite the lump of grump and surliness.

But there is light at the end of the tunnel. Both soccer and the O.W.L. class end in 3 weeks, so things should be back to normal mid-May. 'Til then, throw chocolate at me and then run away.

No, I haven't been recovering from a glut of reminiscence. I can't use that as an excuse for not blogging. Actually, the end of March 80's fest fell through. It seems that Scooter is all important now with his work and experience in Hep C prevention in Australia, so much so that he was asked to stay and do a presentation and some collaborative work after his conference in Memphis. He flew into Cowtown today and the kids and I took him up to Lost In Middle America to spend time with his mom and sibs. He took us to lunch (only because he worked his wiles on the server so she gave him the check.) I will be soooo sending $$ to your mom, dude. You lucked out because I was worrying about the kids making a mess at your mom's house, and I forgot to give it to her then.

Actually, this picture should more accurately be titled "11 more days" because it depicts what will happen the day AFTER Scooter gets here, if his last visit is anything to go by. He, Dee (and hopefully) SharonHeron and JentheHen* and I will have stayed up nearly all night to catch up, reminisce, philosophize, make plans for taking over the world, etc. There might be a little alcohol involved. There will definitely be 80's music. There will be so much laughter that we might hush ourselves and listen intently for the 'Savant's dulcet snores; although this time, the 'Savant has decided to take off work so he can stay up with us for a bit. (The 'Savant is a lightweight when it comes to allnighters.) There will be a big pot of some kind of soup and folks wearing their jammies all day. There will be Uncle Scooter leading the kids into various kinds of devilment while winking at me.

The world will just about stop for that Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. There will be history class, because I will still have lots of stamina (who took the picture, huh?), but I have no mamas in the birth window, so there should be no births. What else there will be depends entirely on the aforesaid participants and I am all abubble in anticipation.

*I've know Scooter since 3rd grade, Dee since 8th grade, Jen since 10th grade and Sharon since college. These people know where the bodies are buried, mostly because they have participated in the interments.

Overheard while cleaning the house:

Savant: (Boy), what do you want your email name to be?
Boy: (without pausing) (his name)thegenius.
Savant: (deadpan) Can you spell that?
(the boy does so without hesitation)
Savant: Okay.

I've been inspired by Bob of 256 to scale down my self expectations and just put something up as frequently as possible. No, I will not commit to saying I'll do it everyday. This close to the new year, that would be the kiss of death.