Yesterday afternoon I had a tutoring student, Max, coming over. (Which I love! Tutoring makes me happy.) I instructed Mark to pick up all his stuff from downstairs because I was going to be tutoring. Mark was hefting a box of light sabres upstairs (why a box of light sabres was downstairs is beyond me) and he said, "I feel like we're going to give Max a false impression."
"With this cleaning up," he said.
"When is it OK for you to leave all your stuff downstairs? When has that ever been OK?" I asked a little testily (because it had been that sort of morning).
He agreed and picked up his pace because he recognizes a cranky mother when he sees one.
I started thinking about false impressions though. Maybe I give a false impression on this blog. I like to document and remember things that make me happy and grateful.
Things aren't always sunshine and roses around here though. In fact there's not nearly enough sunshine. (I'm so tired of rain, I really am.)
Yesterday my blender kind of exploded when I was making our lunch smoothies and sprayed the brownish mixture of strawberries and kale all over. And I was wearing a white shirt. And then the smoothie wasn't even all that good.
While tutoring (geometry) I got to an impasse. I told Max we needed to do what I always do in an emergency and that is call my big sister. He asked if he could talk to her. I said sure and handed him my phone. Marianne wasn't home. (Sometimes she has a lot of nerve, like when she's not home when I have a geometry emergency.) Next I texted Adam and he called me and of course knew the answer to my random geometry question. I told Max that was why you needed to marry someone smart. (Marrying someone smart has really worked out well.) Max agreed that Adam is great and he didn't even mock me for not being a very smart tutor. It helps that Max is one of the coolest kids on the entire planet.
Still, it's hard to not be a very smart tutor...
That's not the only less than perfect thing around here though.
Often Mark entertains me with his quirky conversation and sometimes I think if I have to hear another word about the Clone Wars I am going to go screaming into the night.
Also, there's the issue of Braeden's socks. Everywhere. Always. I would inflict bodily harm on that kid but he's so much bigger than me. Maybe I'll pull his hair? His leg hair?
Emma doesn't do much to irritate me but her bedroom is quite often a pit of despair. As in, leave a bread crumb trail for yourself if you're going in there so you can find your way out.
Just didn't want to give a false impression.