Apparently it has been predetermined that 2009 will be the Year-of-Major-Appliances-Crappin’-the-Bed in my home.  I haven’t made one single payment on my new washer and dryer (no interest for a year! like it’s FREE!) and I just paid $80 to give final rites to my fridge.  Right at the start of summer vacation.  Right before our trip to see the grandparents in Florida.  Right about the time my school-year-paycheck comes to an end.  Excellent news.

After momentarily wigging out I forced a sense of calm over myself.  Yep, it sucks.  Nope, we don’t have that kind of spare change lying around right now.  But true, we do have our old fridge hooked up as a spare in the basement (which – naturally – does not fit in the kitchen space).  So there.

My kids have spent the first week of summer vacation debating how important it is to actually go down a flight of stairs to stare dumbly into a fridge forty times a day.  As an added bonus, look at all the extra calories we’re all burning.  I must say I’m getting used to it.  Not gonna worry about it until my knees start aching.

I allowed my daughter to have a celebratory “get-together” to finalize her middle school years.  Following the awkward picture-taking event before their Semi-Formal (how many teenagers can stand around looking uncomfortable without speaking to each other with their parents around?)  I was amused at the notion of continued co-ed social events.

The rain was pounding so James (aka Tailgate Tim) went into full throttle.  Tents went up in the driveway to extend the garage, twinkling lights were strung, beach chairs formed circles, and a relic boom box was dusted off.  (James takes every social gathering seriously without discrimination – he even put out some scented candles to eliminate any musty odors). That was all nice but I had but one rule:  every gentleman that arrived was to be led into the house and introduced to me, with first and last name.  (I figured any teenage boy that had the decency to look me in the eye was far less likely to steal from, vandalize or disrespect me.)  It worked:  while my daughter died a slow death every time she entered the house, the boys were totally fine, thrusting out hands to shake and being personable throughout.  Imagine that.

On a final recap-note, here’s something:  My son becoming a dishwasher did, in fact, bring a tear to my eye.  First “real” job with a “real” paycheck.  Seriously…..I really believed if I had to spend the summer watching him sleep all day and play video games all night my hair was going to start falling out in clumps. 

Didn’t know how it was going to play out – he’s not yet sixteen and most places won’t hire until then.  We’d tried.  Plus, like most young men his age he’s um…..not entirely motivated.  This was our second go-round to all the places he’s applied to months ago and – thank you, fate – he was hired on the spot.  Almost fell to my knees in gratitude.

Now I’m off to my lil’ guys’ “Moms vs. Kids Baseball Game” as part of their end-of-the-season festivities.  They’re worried about which mitt I’ll be using while I’m wondering if I need to shave for this thing……  good grief…..

Stay tuned…….

-- Tina Drakakis