Sign Here, Initial There

Yesterday was the kids' first day of school, which meant that I had a lot of homework to do. There were welcome letters from teachers, permission slips to sign, signifying that I allow the kids to use the schools' computers and for their pictures to be published in the paper, if such a opportunity comes along. Sure. Put them in the paper. Particularly in a "St. Charles Parish Straight A Genius"-type page, or maybe a "Fourth Grade Girl Creates The Next Thing That Trumphs Google (Allows 35 year old Mother to Retire)" type article. Which she will not be able to accomplish without the school's computers, so I'm glad I signed Emma's Technology permission slip.

Emma and Christopher brought home the typical things that I have to sign every year. I found Claire's papers a bit excessive though. She just started 7th grade at a new school and I had to sign an acknowledgement slip for every class she has. Every class has a letter from the teacher, stating his or her intentions for the children this year, and then ends with a blank and a statement along the lines of, "I have read and thereby acknowledge everything in this letter and I understand that by signing this document that if my child fails Social Studies I am a negligent parent and do not care about her future." There's also a blank for Claire to sign, to make sure she understands that she is going to have to study for this class and do homework. I watched her sign it. I am now her legal witness, and if she fails to uphold the agreement I can have her arrested or fined. How will I prove that she's going back on the deal? Pop quizzes!

"Claire," I will say one morning as I'm handing her a plate of eggs and toast. "Name Quebec's top three exports."
"Um..." she'll say, "Cocaine?"
"Wrong!" I'll cry. "And that's only one thing, not three! You haven't been practicing math either, have you? You're under arrest for violating The Written Agreement of 2nd Period Social Studies and possibly 5th Period Math! Now sit down and eat your breakfast."

I would love to be a teacher in a scenario where a kid has failed a test that he has sworn to study for. I would leap dramatically out of my desk and wave the test results in his face.
"Timothy! We had a deal!"

But anyway, it took me close to an hour to read and sign everything. All three kids are in different schools this year, which means three different sets of paper work, and three different school calenders and dismissal times to keep up with.

Maybe I'll come up with my own set of papers for the kids to sign. An agreement that reads something like this, "I, the undersigned, swear that after high school I will keep track of my own schedule and paperwork, only relying on my single mother for whatever money she might have and her couch to sleep on when I flunk of of college because I don't know how to study without a legal document binding me to it."

Oy. Come on, Emma! Create the next Google!

Dr. Popper

My bills are late this month, but that's not because I don't make enough money, or because I still haven't caught up on bills that I fell behind on when I got separated, oh goodness no. It's because of the Dr. Pepper explosion.

I was at my desk staring at two things. One was a stack of bills by my left hand, and the other was a calender by my right. At first I was gazing at them hopelessly, knowing that no matter how I manipulated my budget, I wasn't going to make dollar numbers match up to the specific dates that they were due on. Then I became dismayed at how tired I am of being behind on everything. And then, I realized that I'd been looking at the stack of bills and the calender for quite some time without moving. And then I wondered if it were possible for me to merge those two things with the power of my mind if I stared hard at them enough.

This is what I was doing when Claire walked into my bedroom and said, "Mom, look at my Dr. Pepper!"
I blinked, and the spell was broken. Damn! And I think I'd managed to move the calender slightly!
I spun around in my chair and looked at her can of Dr. Pepper. With money still on the brain the first thing I thought was, "Why did I give in and buy that? I could have bought milk. Or a gallon of gas. Or paid 1.635 of my electricity bill."

Then I noticed something funny about the can.

"Why is it bulging at the top like that?" I asked her.
"It's frozen!" she said, running her finger along the icy side. "I left it in there last night. Looks cool, huh?"

I smiled wearily. "Yeah, it does."

She sat on the bed, tucking one leg underneath her and swinging the other back and forth over the edge.
"Whatcha doin'?"
"Ugh," I said. "Bills."
"Oh."

I turned back around, and before I had time to refocus there was a loud POP! When I turned around again, Claire was staring at her empty hand with her mouth hanging open. She had popped the top, and the can had shot right out of her hand across the bed. There were frozen Dr. Pepper flakes on her face, my back, the ceiling, all four walls, the bed, and...the bills and calender.
"Claire!" I hollered.
"Oh my God," she said. "It exploded."
"I KNOW it exploded!" I said. "Are you alright?"
She unfroze and blinked. "Yeah."
"Then clean it up!" I said.

She washed her face and hands, and began to clean my walls and ceiling with the help of a step ladder. We continued to find spots of the stuff on my walls and books for the next few days, though, and Claire ended up having to take a shower because there were drops in hair hair that turned into syrupy glue.

And I stopped looking at the bills. But I did make a significant financial decision. Soda is off the grocery list.