I can’t really bring myself to write. I don’t want to sound too happy. I don’t want to sound too sad. I am most likely somewhere in between because I am surrounded by constant chaos. I think the doorbell rang 15 times yesterday between getting home from track and dinner. The honest truth is I don’t have time most of the time to mope. When I find it, I do. I’m worried about mom though. She is at home surrounded only by her thoughts, stewing in them. I wish I could send a little of our chaos to take her mind off of it.

I have to think about middle school electives and the fact that there isn’t a foreign language here unless you count Hawaiian articulation and the fact that my kids can now almost certainly speak Pidgin better than I can.

There’s leaving kindergarten pick up with this.

That would be Bria’s friend Dexter’s handiwork. The two of them clearly should never be left alone. Somehow Bria was the only one who left school looking like someone tried to smurf her shirt. Dexter has apologized about a thousand times. When I left drop off this morning, he was presenting her with a gift. Sadly I think he might be a bit sweet on her. Why else would you stamp a shirt 53 times? When asked why she didn’t stop him, Bria’s response was “I don’t know. Because he’s my friend.” Heaven help me!

We’ve dealt with Mater being lost at sea. He was swept away by the current on Saturday. Let’s just say it’s been a problem. Jack and Mater have been inseparable. I couldn’t locate back up Mater. He may soon be equipped with a tracking system. Anyway, the only replacement I could find talks. Last night we heard, “I’m fixin to get her done.” repeatedly. I’m wondering when and if the batteries will ever run out. I’m also starting the think Mater may be possessed.

I have one that worries me about school, one that worries me about growing up too fast, one that worries me about trips to the ER and one that is trying to play catch up. That’s a lie. They are all growing up too fast, I constantly worry if we’ve made the right school choices, I can’t keep any of them safe enough and I want them all to be Goldilock’s version of just right. Worry can keep my mind preoccupied from being sad. When they get home, they don’t give me time to think about anything else. I think Mom might need some of that.