LeAventure:DivaLea

Today just pretty much blew. The entire tribe got up each other’s asses and died. Repeatedly.

Back to drawing.

SCHOOL

Tomorrow is the day we march into the local high school and re-admit Summer to public school life, armed with the knowledge that we have 30 days to get her birth certificate, and that they HAVE to let her in. I’m okay with her returning to public school because it’s her choice. She’s better emotionally than when I pulled her from middle school two years ago, and we’re now clear of the problems of middle school as well. (Mainly that the principal, S.Z., was a huge, inappropriate douchebag.) I know she misses her middle school friends, and I think she wants to be like her friend who is now in a (private) high school.

Summer and I spent the afternoon getting her ready: new understuff, pants, shirts from my dresser, shoes, hair. She looks really cute and pulled-together.

I’m stoked for her, and stoked about having my day free again to work without guilty conflicts over work and schooling.

We played our last-for-now evening RPG, and I read to her. (We read to each other. Try it, it’s fun!) She is snoozing, and I am on the verge of a stomachache from nerves!
What will they throw at us? Where’s your work? What are her grades? Why did you homeschool? (That one’s easy, and I can even answer it without saying “Because the junior high principal is a douchebag.”)

Well, they can’t eat us.

What I feel right now isn’t “sad” as such, just an awareness of how time has passed, but proud of my kid and myself, and a bit in awe that my baby has grown into a young lady. A young lady who always laughs at the F word.

BAD SANDWICH! BAD!

Just minutes ago, stb-ex King brought me a bag from what used to be our closet. In this nylon bag was the yellow plastic bag from last Summer’s San Diego Con. There was this weird translucent brown…stuff on the bag, and it smelled like hell. My guess was pee, and I said to toss it. Then I decided to pull out some rubber gloves and go through the bag in case there was something I was looking for and hadn’t found.

I pulled out flyers, some leave-behinds, a pack of Maple Story cards, a Magic deck and this flat, spongy-looking squishy thing in plastic. It looked like sourdough starter, a sick off-white. I turned it over, trying to figure out what the hell it was, and I found the label. Tomato and pesto sandwich, probably with ham.

A meat sandwich from last year. From six-and-a-half months ago. I bought it on the way home from San Diego and forgot it. I have already sorted my transport and sleep space for this year. (more…)

When we were crossing our main road, and someone went by in a low loud BRRRRRRRT car:

Mine: “One dick, four wheels.”
Hers: “Four wheel dick drive.”

There were many people who knew me wh o said “Bite me” would be Summer’s first retort.

It was, “Son of a bitch my head!” She was three.

It only took five hours of waiting and paperwork! The waiting was most of it. After two hours, we were about to go into the head counselor’s office to get Summer’s schedule sorted, when something happened that required the campus cop and took two hours to sort. We alternately nodded off, and had punchy giggle fits over various people who wandered through the office. It was mostly painfully dull, with a few bright spots of people-watching. The last hour was working out a schedule with the head counselor.

Did I play the “Don’t give me any shit, we had a house fire” card? Why, yes. Yes I did. People Do Not Ask Questions because they Don’t Want To Know.

The first functionary did indeed ask for the birth certificate when we handed all the other ID over. I stood tall and said “We’re still waiting for it, we have to get it from California, and we have a grace period. District administration told me that.”

She opened and closed her mouth a couple times, trying to think of an argument because she is used to saying no,  and asked, finally, “Are you the biological parents?” “Yes.” She dropped it. HA.

The kid at the school pretty much wear sneakers, hoodies, jeans and tees. I had to make a side trip into the nurse’s office to get Summer’s sot record signed off on, and felt like I was wading through a smelly sea of JUNO extras. Sick, drippy, unegaged kids. The fourth period assistant was in (it was second period), carefully applying eye makeup. The second period assistant was slowly dying at the desk. I left and came back when both assistants gave me a Target Clerk Look and said, “I dunno.”

Summer will only get half-credits because she’s in school half-way through the year. We can send her to summer school to make up missed credits. Summer school (as in a summer semester) is no longer free. We have to pay $110. per 1/2 credit. With money socked  away in case financial aid falls through, we can manage this.

So far, we like everyone we’ve met. The office functionary was kind of bleh, but she is bypassable. Summer immediately found her middle school friends, and even has a class with one.  (So far, she only had two periods left by the time we were done.) She’s already made new friends. Her middle school buddy is taking her to the school anime club tomorrow. (They have an anime club! It’s like the mothership is calling her home!)

I’m so relieved! I have that great feeling of passing into another phase in life, a good one.  I’m so proud of Summer.