Breaking every rule of good blogging

A post, so long it could be a novella, about nothing in particular, but including videos of babies (boring to everyone but the baby's mother), bragging on my oldest child's academic prowess, many extra words and sentences that are mostly in here because I can't edit anything, birthday party photos, and yet another video, this time low quality concert footage of a band that was hip 20 years ago, a bit of misused latin, inserted mostly for the sake of pretention, and finally, a link to swimsuit photos of a mother of five.

Summer vacation. Past eight a.m., and the only person awake is in her robe, blogging and eating tortilla chips (and the salsa she made from her very own roma tomatoes, so is very healthy breakfast. Perhaps even a Wheaties-style breakfast of champions? Should quick email Bruce Jenner to ask, perhaps, but do not want to bother him as he is probably pretty busy cuz the last time I saw him he was holding a live chicken on reality TV and fighting with some Kardashians).

Well, the last few weeks of school got real crazy, I ain't gonna lie. I even started to write about it, but then gave up because I got into a dither about something else. It went like this:

End of school stuff is stressful. I am not good at remembering and coordinating stuff. Is the reason I carried all my books around in my backpack through all of seventh grade, and never used my locker. (The other reason is I was super nerdy.) Is also one of the reasons I changed my major in college from Elementary Education to History. In history classes you've got like three tests and a paper, no hoops to jump through, no meeting three times a day in small groups to discuss the best way to make bulletin board borders, no learning how to call an all-female square dance. (Other reasons I switched my major included not being a very a good teacher and finding out the holiday-themed light-up earrings irritated my lobes.)

So anyway, my May calendar is full, and full in like a 6 point font full, which is like, super full. It takes two parents to get everywhere the five kids need to be, and sometimes one kid is supposed to be in like three places at once (mostly Jane. She's a joiner.) Last Thursday evening, for example, was Jane's ELP invention and balloon popper exhibition, my brother Ryan's Special Needs Institute talent show (literally one of the highlights of the year), and then book club (we read Hatchet by Gary Paulsen). I got home at 1:30 a.m., and was in my step class at 8:30 a.m. (because remember my vow to get bigger pants or a smaller rear? Well, I've opted for both. My rear IS too big, but perhaps my pants are also just unreasonably small?) And I know some of you, with houses full of teenagers, are laughing at me, and you're thinking:  just wait, it gets worse. Pretty soon the only way to do it all is to let your 12-year-old start driving carpool. And for heck's sake, lady, take off those 4-inch white suede platform sandals go to Target and get yourself some stretchy jeans! No wonder you can't get anything done. What exactly are you trying to prove?

So anyhow, I am looking forward to summer. Which starts next Thursday! Which is when we (me and Jake and my new bigger shorts) get back from going to visit Kari and Bono in Utah!

So that was May. Tommy turned five, which is a big one, so there was a countdown for like three weeks and then we had a swimming party on the one day in the recorded history of May in Gilbert when it has ever rained, at least since white men started keeping records; but I bet if you check the Hohokam petroglyphs, it will tell you the same thing: you should always be safe having a May swim party in Phoenix. But kids don't really care, so that's good.

Joey learned to walk. And dance.

And we went to the ward campout, which included an Eagle project where we cleaned up the graveyard for the workers who died building Roosevelt Dam (1905-1911). I was too scared to get a picture of the rattlesnake.

School ended and Ross got loads of awards at his 6th grade promotion ceremony (Jake and I were both underachievers, so we aren't used to fancy wooden plaques, crystal apples and the like, and were quite thrilled).

And we went to Utah and loved the concert and our friends and their lovely new house,




and I wore my Doctor Martins that I bought on Carnaby Street in 1994, because they seemed Rock n' Roll, even though I wondered if Bono would approve of my politics,

and I've given up worrying about my rear again (maybe I could muster more excitement for change if my butt was in the front, and I actually had to look at it every day?),

And then we headed to Payson, which was near the boy scout camp where Ross was in situ and Jake was teaching wilderness survival but ironically came down off the rim to stay with us at night in the air conditioning and spent his evenings with me watching Top Gear on BBC and a show called My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding which is super duper disturbing but I couldn't stop watching. I mean, 6-year-olds with spray tans? A pink light-up wedding dress with 21 layers of tulle, animatronic butterflies, and someone to walk behind her with a fire extinguisher in case her electrical goes haywire and she starts on fire? You should set your Tivo, if you have a high tolerance for tacky.




We came back just in time to make it to the free Gin Blossoms concert at Kierland Commons, where we sat in the front row and blocked a bunch of little girls. Jane came along, and she knew almost all the songs, even the ones from the new album, No Chocolate Cake, which Jake must be playing for her, because I'm more of a New Miserable Experience purist, even after all these years. And I have no idea who that woman in the video is. The one singing super off-key. You think she sounds just like me? I have no idea what you are talking about.



And now it is 9:30, and all the kids are up, except the baby, who sleeps in only when I'm up early, and Jane, who I couldn't find. But then I remembered she slept over at her cousins' house down the road, and I smiled. Because what says "I've got a laissez faire summer attitude" like forgetting where you put your children?

Oh! And I got an email a couple of weeks ago from a fellow blogger asking me to send her a list of my summer plans along with a photo. I wrote something up and hit send. Immediately, I was filled with remorse: Kelly, did you just send a picture of yourself in a bathing suit for someone to publish on the internets? And I had. I really had. And now it is published, at The Barrel of Blogs, along with some other, fully clothed bloggers with their summer goals. You can find my centerfold on pages 13 and 14.