What's up, Doc?

Well, it looks like my plan to journal regularly fell apart. So what has happened since early March? My PTO obligations climbed the priority ladder as the Spring fundraiser reared it's ugly head loomed on the horizon. We were hoping to get enough money to finish paying for Field Day (a day for the students to recover from end-of-year testing and generally have a bit of fun) and maybe spruce-up one of our playgrounds. Apparently no new equipment has been purchased for our 4th and 5th graders' use in at least the last decade and much of what was there needed some serious repair. Our Spring fundraiser is always smaller than the Fall one, so we adjust our expectations accordingly. This year however, our families came through and we raised enough money that after all other expenses were taken out, there was enough left over to buy four new pieces of equipment... big pieces... to give most of the kids something cool to do during recess! Woo Hoo! Our parents and students rock!

After the fundraiser was over, we began the move into our new house! We packed many of our boxes before the movers arrived so we could save a little money, but we still had plenty for them to do. We didn't want to hog up all the fun. The packing team was great. They were friendly and efficient and they did a fantastic job. The movers came the next day and hauled approximately 8,754,902 boxes to the new house. My figures may be off a bit; I lost count while swimming in a sea of cardboard. Just as I was going under for the third time, my dear husband rescued me and declared we had to go out to eat. "Great idea, honey. Where do you want to go?" "Anywhere that's cardboard-free!" I knew I married him for a reason.

While preparing for the movers, it dawned on me that I had to make sure my son's soccer stuff didn't get boxed up. Turns out my hubby had originally scheduled the movers for Opening Day... Iain's first game of the season... my hubby's first game as Assistant Coach... the day before my other son's birthday. Oh well, we needed the extra week anyway. Soccer went well, but somehow I wound up being the team mom. I'm not sure what happened. I asked the coach if he needed any help, he said "I think we're OK. Could you just make sure the other parents get this paper...blah...blah...blah...(something else innocuous)...Oh yeah! We could use ...team mom... blah... blah. You will? Great! Thanks a ton!" The details are a bit foggy, but as it turned out, I had a great time.

While soccer was underway, it dawned on me that my cub scouts were running out of time to finish earning their awards. The parents are responsible for helping the boys with their projects and achievements, but it's probably a good idea for their Den Leader to keep an eye on their progress. (Hence the Leader part) The boys and their folks were great. They finshed what they needed to and the parents helped pull everything together. It was great!

That just left Cub Scout Crossover, Field Day and 5th Grade graduation on the agenda (on May 29, May 30 and June 7) I heard the crossover went really well. I heard the food was great. I heard the skits were hilarious. I heard the kids all got the correct awards. I heard the scenery was gorgeous. I heard the doctor say "Eeew! Um... let's swab your throat, but I'm going to go ahead start writing you a prescription while we wait for the results." (The same initial reaction her assistant had when taking a peek.) Yes, I came down with a lovely raging case of strep, which my hubby caught as well, but the kids were unscathed. Go figure.

Field Day was a roaring success. The kids played, the kids ate cotton candy, popcorn and snow cones, the kids went home tired and exhausted with smiles on their faces. That just left 5th Grade graduation. I'm not a big fan of multiple graduations (pre-school, kindergarten, fifthe grade, middle school, etc.) but that's a topic for a different day. Tha biggest problem I had with this particular ceremony was that I was expected to get up and say something. My husband will say that his concern was whether I would stop talking once I got started, but what does he know? He's only known me for how many years? Let's see... well never mind.

The principal pointed out that the teachers would have a printout for me and she even reminded me that I have taught most of these kids for the three years I have been subbing. The PTO Vice-President mentioned that I get up and speak at every PTO meeting, so public speaking is nothing new. All good points. all true, all very rational, all completely irrelevant when I'm looking at a sea of faces belonging to parents whose baby is walking across the elementary stage for the last time. Whether I am a big fan of this ceremony or not, many of these folks are. It's their child's moment to shine and the last thing they want is for some PTO Co-President to get up there and muck up the procedings. Sure, they don't mind if I crack a joke at the monthly meeting, They laugh quietly when I drop my agenda or get a little tongue-tied while figuring out how to re-word a motion. But those are insignificant meetings, not some ceremony that they actually used a precious, rare day off from work (or worse had to beg to be able to squeeze into their schedule) to attend along with friends, relatives, baby-sitters and everyone else who has known this child since they were in diapers.

I got my folder from the teachers. I got my awards and gifts to present the kids. I got my butterflies under control... sort of. I got my seat on the stage (as close to the exit as I could.) I got through the whole thing without flubbing up and sent a group of some of the best ten-year-olds I have had the pleasure of knowing, off on the exciting journey toward becoming even brighter young women and men.

Soccer, Scouts and PTO are pretty much done for a while, so I should be able to squeeze in a little time for posting. I just have to discipline myself. Something along the lines of "after you unpack a half-dozen boxes, you can have some playtime." I think I'll play "where did the craft boxes hide themselves?" What's that sound I hear? I believe it's the sound of cardboard calling my name...