Not a Mark on Him

So. We've made it to the day before the first day of school. We've survived summer camp, sending Woohoo off to college, and a whole host of other challenges this summer, but I'm not quite sure we'll survive the day. It's only 10:41 AM and I am already on my third just-get-me-through-this beverage. Since it's a tad early to crack a beer, I'm relying on the ol' standbys of caffeine/dairy/fat/sugar. They never fail to add that extra element of liquid stress to the already stressful situation, and I never fail to rely on them to do just that.

Rojo has, as I've said before, had a great summer. He does not want it to end. Period.

I do.

I am, by all intents and purposes, at his beck and call, every minute he's awake and not at work. "CARE!" he calls a million times a day, full of another great idea of how we can kill time, usually involving buying something junky to eat. Usually I comply. Usually I indulge, as well.

I think the first order of business, beginning tomorrow, is to go on a health kick. I told STM that. "STM?"I said, "I am going to go on a health kick when Rojo goes back to school." He looked at me like I had three heads and handed me a beer. Let's face it, we all like me better under the slight influence.

Can't talk now, gotta chug my Starbucks Double Shot and take Rojo to frozen yogurt now. We've already been to Trader Joe's. And Plaid Pantry.

Thank you for your prayers.

Amen.