When children are young, April Fool’s Day is silly and fun. By the time they enter middle school, April Fool’s Day is a source of anxiety for parents. It’s not worry about what they will do at home. Febreeze sprayed on the spaghetti. An entire container of laundry detergent spilled on the floor. Nastiness tracked in on the bottoms of their shoes. A bed with freshly washed sheets soaked by a bowl of dog water. Those things have already happened this week. The things children do on “accident” are far worse than the deliberate pranks. The problem is that the onset of adolescence means the temporary suspension of the ability to think before doing. Those impulsive pranks guarantee a phone call from the vice principal. “This is Mr. B at the school.” Words that make my stomach flip and my affect become flat as I prepare myself to hear what stupid thing my child has decided to do in the name of April first. For everyone’s safety, April 1st should be an in-service for teachers and a day of not leaving the house for teenagers. Since the schools don’t agree with me, I think I’ll forward my calls to Doug and wear headphones all day tomorrow.

Mmkay, I have said this before, but I am going to say it again. Please explain to your middle and high school daughters why they should not cross their legs when they are sitting on a stage. Unless they are in training to be paparazzi magnets, you are not doing them a service by ignoring this issue. It will not stifle their individuality or cause psychological damage to explain how height affects point of view.

Five points if you’ve seen the movie quoted in the post title. Ten points if you can come up with another movie quote about the same subject.

I once described Evan as very much like the little boy in Elizabethtown, but nobody saw that movie so it’s a bad point of reference. What if I said he’s a lot like the boy in Catch and Release? Did anyone but me see that one? I can’t explain why, but I really like Catch and Release. No, it’s not just because of the groovy way they filmed the sex scene or the fact that Kevin Smith is charming when he’s not Silent. I can’t get Doug to watch it though. He’s too busy. He’s not too busy to watch 20 minutes of Platoon or The Rock every time he walks by the tv, he’s just too busy for a chick flick. Also, everyone is twittering about it now, but why didn’t anyone tell me that Enchanted is so cute? Just once, I’d like to see people randomly break out into song and dance. Wouldn’t the world be a happier place with more dancing? I could easily write a thesis using Enchanted as my topic’s springboard. On the other hand, Across the Universe is a truly terrible movie, but if you consider each song separately, like MTV in the 80s, it actually has two or three good videos. I have one last movie thought. I know that I had to read Beowulf when I was in high school, but either I didn’t try or my teacher missed the boat on how to capture my attention. Either way, I know the teacher didn’t draw parallels between Beowulf and modern politicians. I suspect we had some Baptist-censored version that added to the confusion. The movie was certainly a lot more fun than the archaic written version we had to read. Angelina’s full frontal is anatomically just like the angels in Dogma, so why not let high schoolers watch it? Beowulf’s target audience is teenage gamers and single adults who still live with their parents isn’t it?

Tomorrow Sarah gets inducted into the National Honor Society. We’re all going to watch, which means we’re going to create a scene. It’s impossible for our crowd not to draw attention. Sarah would prefer if we just dropped her off at the back of the parking lot and picked her up after everyone else has left. In a few weeks she will march in the Dogwood Parade. Next Thanksgiving, she’ll be marching in Chicago’s Thanksgiving Parade. She keeps a 4.0 while participating in several clubs and coordinating a heavy social life. I’m extremely proud of her, but it just isn’t weighing heavily on my mind.

Noah is about to get his black belt in karate. After spending much of the year as the class clown, he has his grades back to all As and Bs. He is my thoughtful child, always worrying about everyone else’s happiness. This summer he’s going from one camp to another, without Doug or I there to keep an eye on him. He’s growing and changing so rapidly that I don’t want to look away from him, but I do.

Amy is reading at an advanced level. She is bright and funny. She’s also stubborn and has an extremely short fuse when things frustrate her. I need to spend all my time teaching her patience, calm and flexibility, but I don’t.

Evan is completely out of control. He looks at you with his bright blue eyes, grins and deliberately defies you. He will completely destroy a room and before you can raise your blood pressure, he shouts “hug” and gives you a giant squeeze and a sloppy kiss. He needs to be potty trained if he is going to start preschool twice a week this fall. It’s way past time to teach him to control that weapon of his. I am making zero progress.

I bounce from one child to another so rapidly that I sometimes forget what I’m doing. I want them all to feel loved and important. I really do recognize their individual personalities and strengths. Yet, I feel like a complete failure and hypocrite. My mind is always on Tommy. Evan is the most dangerous child. Noah is the most fragile child. Tommy is the one I constantly worry about. When things are going poorly for Tommy, I worry. When things are going good for Tommy, I worry more. There are ten billion things going on in my life right now. All I want to do is plan Tommy’s graduation. It’s like the finish line and the starting gate all in one. I am thrilled and horrified. I mentally accuse myself of making this our family’s graduation and triumph when it’s all Tommy’s efforts. I justify that after graduation, my focus can be more on the other children, but I know that won’t happen. It’s not that I love Tommy more, it’s just that he needs so much more. He always has. I just have to find a way to give the other children more without giving Tommy less.

If you ignore an inbox long enough,
Then it becomes an outbox.

Every night, Noah goes to bed in his normal looking jammies and every morning he wakes up wearing torn rags like the Hulk. If you stare at him long enough, you can actually see the boy grow. I blinked one day last week and now he’s the same height as his older sister. I never know if the clothes that fit yesterday are going to fit tomorrow. People must think we put him in the Pit of Despair at night. For the most part, his brain is still anchored in childhood, but I can see the gears in his brain starting to shift in a new direction. It began with his request that everyone notice his new “stache” which looks to me like chocolate milk that needs to be washed off. Wait. It is chocolate milk. But, it’s chocolate milk attached to a slightly more noticeable fuzz. When Tommy went through this phase, his reaction was limited to shaving off his new hair and seeking out Internet pRon. Sarah reacted to adolescence by locking herself in the bathroom for hours and hours at a time. We have one functioning bathroom for seven people. This phase was not indulged. Noah, who has never been a child known for modesty, can’t seem to focus on anything other than himself for more than a few minutes. He’ll be walking somewhere and stop to stare at himself in the mirror and forget his original destination. Then he wanders about aimlessly until he gets drawn back in by the hair on his arms or the smell of his armpits or, you know, other things. Evan is royally ticked that we won’t let him get in the bathtub with Noah anymore, but with such a large amount of Noah’s bath time spent staring at himself, Noah clearly needed some privacy. Unfortunately, we are going to need a timer in the bathroom, because as I mentioned before, this just isn’t the place in our house for privacy. I will be so happy when Noah’s brain catches up with his body. In the meantime, he’ll be the child at Tommy’s graduation wearing high water pants and the shoes with toes busting through the seams. Noah won’t care though. He’ll be too busy staring at himself and daydreaming.

How did I miss getting something written today? Oh, that’s right. I was busy dealing with a stressed out husband, escape artists, Tommy’s Chemistry class that he is going to pass by the skin of his teeth (even if it kills us), graduation plans, Project Grad’s LAN area, the ever increasing pile of college paperwork, driving lessons, D&D, Sarah’s hair appointment, Sarah’s Honor Society induction, Girl Scout Silver Award, band fees, Noah’s black belt testing, s-teams, Boy Scouts, carpool, dances, Daisy Scouts, temper tantrums, homework, outgrown clothes, puppy school, dirty house, groceries, summer assignments, summer camps, birthdays, potty training, making “to do” lists, laundry, dishes, dead appliances, home repairs, camera envy, unanswered e-mails, sibling rivalry and crazy people. Tomorrow, I’ll add blogging back into the mix.

There was one question that was asked of the Mayor which I didn’t include in my brief summary earlier today. A man asked the mayor about the “discretionary” money that officials have for making bribes. The Mayor politely offered examples of how that money has been used for good and attempted an explanation of the quick action with discretionary money as opposed to bureaucratic limbo. I don’t think the man was happy with the explanation.

Tennessee used to have Community Service Agencies who helped keep families intact. They were creative and resourceful, but their strongest asset was their discretionary funding. A single mother who was emotionally, physically and financially drained from 24/7 care for her special needs child needed respite. A respite provider just wasn’t available in the immediate future and the mother was considering putting the child in foster care. She talked to CSA. CSA enrolled the child in a weekly activity, paid the fee and arranged transportation. The mother got a few precious hours a week to buy groceries or just relax. It was a legitimate expense, but not one that could wait. Our politicians have discretionary funds for the same reason.

There are so many hyenas waiting to pounce on anyone who stumbles that we are missing all the good things people do. Insisting that bureaucratic paperwork nightmares replace good faith and judgment, we are cutting off our noses to spite our faces. Hey vultures, bad people will always find ways to lie, cheat and steal. You are only punishing the good people. Yes, there are some rotten apples in politics. For the most part though, they are decent people who are doing their best and sometimes making mistakes. Please stop making every little thing out to be a giant criminal conspiracy. For every criticism and complaint that you have levied at an elected official, have you thanked or praised another? Do you have any idea how mean and angry you appear? I am not a naive, bubble-headed hippie handing out flowers and flashing the peace sign. I have to work very hard not to get bitter about the nasty muck of everyday life. Getting beat down and struggling to stand back up is part of life. Spending all of your time attacking others is something else. Can we please, occasionally come up for air and try to find the good?

Amy and I went to the very sparsely attended Neighborhood Night at Rocky Hill Elementary last night. Amy spread her things out all over the floor and proceeded to tear pictures out of magazines and glue them on other pictures to create funny effects. It was sweet, but loud and messy. The yummy mummies grouped together in their matching pastel colored sweater sets while I sat, in my jeans and birks, where I could quickly exit if Amy had a problem. Don’t misunderstand and think I dislike the yummies. I would like to be part of their club, but I’m not beautiful or wealthy enough.

The mayor was very low-key with the audience. He began the evening by trying to joke about his administration’s daily presence on the front page of the local paper. I guess that even politicians heed the celebrity “all publicity is good” belief. Our schools need more money was the recurring theme of the evening. Hints at a property tax increase were made while a state income tax question by one of the socially active seniors in the room was laughingly dismissed. The school’s principal made comments about the difference in pay compared to nearby Oak Ridge and I made a mental note not to be surprised when the principal leaves the school in the next year or two. The yummies expressed their concern about teachers’ low salaries and I quietly nodded my head in agreement.

Making our schools more environmentally friendly and energy efficient was a fairly lengthy discussion. One person complained that the lights in the gym looked wasteful and suggested CFL bulbs. Another person scoffed and said those “new bulbs are full of poisonous Mercury” before bragging that she threw them all in the trash can when she found out they are dangerous. She even went so far as to say that the fact that they required “special” disposal just proved they were dangerous and that’s why she didn’t do anything special except put them in her trash can. I was a little numb at the stupidity of that conversation and had trouble focusing on the Mayor’s attempts to redirect the conversation to a project with Siemens to evaluate our schools’ energy usage. My school board rep talked about paying schools to use less energy.

A man from the neighborhood explained his repeated efforts to get erosion damage to the bridge which families use daily to access the school repaired. A good faith promise was made by one of the Mayor’s staff members to expedite progress on the repair. My school board member was urged by the Mayor to seek a referendum that would affect the school funding process. My board member started out with an explanation of the funding stream and then he made an offhand remark that he could be elected without the support of parents. While I’m sure he only intended that to be a reference to the statistics that there are more voting seniors than younger people, it was a Freudian slip that revealed his rational for frequent glib, condescending remarks to parents.

The formal part of the meeting ended, but the Mayor and most of the other elected officials remained in the room for quite some time so that people could approach them individually for further questions or discussion. I don’t know how they would have managed face time so easily if there had been a decent turnout. I used the time to peel Amy’s glue dots off the gym floor. “I didn’t put them there Mommy. They did it themselves.”

I don’t know how, but I have managed to survive on mascara samples for the past few years. Some were better than others, but none drove me crazy. A few weeks ago I ran out and had to actually buy mascara. This one, drives me crazy. It is the gloppiest mess I have ever seen. I have to scrape the brush clean just to try and get a normal looking result. My first mistake was probably buying it in the discount bullseye store instead of getting the green logo’d department store brand that supplied most of my samples. My second mistake was the one I chose. When I put on mascara, I want to swipe it over my lashes ONCE and be done. I do NOT want to apply multiple layers, comb my lashes or use a “Clockwork Orange” inspired eyelash curler. In exchange for my laziness, I do not expect my lashes to be longer or a specific number of times thicker. I do not need celebrity eyes. I am not ready for my close-up Mr. DeMille. I don’t want to buy 200 different packages of mascara looking for one that I like. I am too old for this to be difficult. It’s fine for my 14 (”I am ALMOST 15.”) year-old to stare at the choices for hours. She has nothing else to do. I have a 2-year-old who wants me to chase him through the store and a 5-year-old who NEEDS every shiny new thing she sees. I need a drive-thru cosmetic kiosk. “I need quick apply mascara.” “Thank you. Pay at the window.”