Wednesday, January 21, 2009


Submarined: the feeling of something coming at you, unseen and unexpected, that sinks your schedule/plans for the weekend/expectations for relaxation/hopes for breathing room.

Yeah, we got submarined.

WHY is it that otherwise rational people think teenagers (who look and talk like adults, but most definitely are not) will tell parents ANYTHING? I found out at 5:00 today, as I was dropping off snacks for A's Mock Trial practice, from a sheepish teacher, that there's a scrimmage Saturday at 2:45. Mentioned last week to the team. At the Atlanta International School. NOT mentioned by son. In the middle of a hectic day of family stuff and work stuff and cotillion and whatever.


(If you hear Reba when you read that word, you're getting exactly the right intonation.)

I love my kids. I love my husband and my work and church and friends and tiramisu and feeling needed and pitching in and doing my share. I don't love getting submarined. Which appears to go with all of the aforementioned.

We'll get through it. We'll wiggle some things around and drive really, really fast between stuff.

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