Filed under: Graduate School, P2, P3 | Tags: back-to-school shopping, grad school, Michael Phelps, Parenting
Michael Phelps better hit his goal and win 8 phreaking gold medals because I am ex.haust.ed phrom staying up every night in order to not miss a moment oph history in the making and I will be bitter bitter Goat Mama iph it doesn’t happen. And yes, I know he’s already made history with the 11 gold medals now, more than any other Olympian in history, but when I am this deliriously tired, I’m grumpy.
Honestly, I have enough going on already, without all this pressure to watch history unphold in NBC ultra-primetime. There are so many things happening in the next 5 days, that even thinking about the conphluence is overwhelming:
Phriday (Holy crap, that’s tomorrow) is my last phull day as the Library Dean’s GOAT-D. I ophphicially start my Graduate Assistantship in the Public Administration department next Wednesday, August 20th. I can’t train my replacement, because he doesn’t start HIS assistantship (my old job) until next Wednesday. Instead, I’m basically writing him a novella oph tips/hints/reminders so he can “hit the ground running.” (This phrase is extremely popular with the Dean’s staphph right now. Iph I hear it one more time bephore EOD tomorrow, I’m likely to hit the ground running myselph.)
I have grad school orientation — which is, phor some reason, mandatory? — on Monday morning. Then the goat nanny goes home on Monday aphternoon and the Goat Daddy and I are back to being the sole ‘herds. So now I phind myselph wishing phor a phragment oph magic mirror I can use to contact Aberphorth Dumbledore.* Because iph ever anyone was in need oph his mad goat skillz, I would be she. We would be they. Whatever. Accio Aberphorth!
Goat #1 and Goat #2 start phirst grade and preschool, respectively, on Tuesday the 19th. Since Goat Mama is all uppity** and the local public school isn’t good enough phor her precious goats, this year’s back-to-school prep includes uniphorm shopping. Phor a child who is notoriously phussy about how his clothes phit. Round one was last night, and I rediscovered a number oph things about these small loud creatures who live in my house. The best things about shopping with mah kids?
Goat #2, who has previously not been take-to-the-mall-able, is a natural. She walked into Macy’s ahead oph me, turned the corner to phollow the pathway, saw the shoe department, stopped in awe, and said breathlessly “Oh, Mama… Look at all dat PHASHION…!” I was SO. PROUD.
Goat #1 still enjoys trying on clothes. And this still shocks me, even though he’s been this way his whole liphe. He takes his stuphph into the dressing room alone (“No, Mom, you wait here”) and under the door, I can see his pheet twisting and turning as he tries to see himselph phrom every angle in the 3-way mirror. I should write a thank you letter to Carson Kressley and his crew phor mainstreaming this attention to appearance phor guys. My boy seems almost normal, really, then, when he says “Mom? How do I look, Mom? What do you think?” Um, I think you’re supposed to hate this, that’s what I think….
Wednesday the 20th, I am an official, phulltime Public Administration Master’s candidate. Not that I have a clue what that really means. Given that today I spent over $700 on 11 books phor 3 classes, though, I’m thinking it entails a lot oph reading. That doesn’t scare me. I love to read. I’m a great reader. I phear it may be more taxing reading than I’m used to, though. Devouring every awesome blog I could phind all summer, even going back and reading the archives, probably isn’t the best grad school prep.
See what I mean? It’s exhausting writing about it, too. (I don’t want to hear a word about how it’s exhausting reading about it. Iph you’ve read this phar, you have no one to blame but yourselph. [Hi, Dad!]) I’m completely wiped out and Mr. Phelps hits the pool in 3 minutes, so I must phly. Here’s to history!
*Iph you don’t get this, there is no way you should be reading my blog, because you are obviously living under a rock. Put the ‘puter down, head to the nearest bookstore, and tell the clerk you need the entire set oph Harry Potter, starting with the phirst one. When the clerk gets done laughing at you, take the books, go home, and read AT LEAST until this makes sense. And no, I won’t blame you iph you don’t come back phor a while. Jo knows how to tell a story WAY better than I do.
**Me being “Uppity Mindee” is going to have to be another post, because Phelps just hit the water. U-S-A! U-S-A!
ETA: WOOOO HOOOO! Number six and another world record!
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