Two truths and a lie, a school end game

First published Jun. 10, 2015 at 2:14 PM in the Tri Town Transcript

BOXFORD It’s June. Let’s celebrate by playing two truths and a lie. You guess which of these statements is true and which is the lie.
First: I can’t sign one more form, homework paper, or test for my girls. Forgery is where I’m at.
Our dog Blue Ears is more likely to sign their homework than I am.
Second: I allowed a clearly non-urgent appendicitis ‘scare’ to be the reason that my youngest daughter and I snuck off to Starbucks in the middle of the school day for a cookie and a latte.
Third: I threw away three dinners this month because I can’t read one more thing, including overly perky recipes, and as a result I made meals toxic to humans (and dogs).

Regular Readers, I give you the end of the school year. It is the final battle for our sanity as we march stoically towards the last day like salted slugs. Class projects, schedules and events (let’s not discuss lunches – I think my girls are eating wood chips from the playground), are the means of breaking us.
Let’s debrief my facts:
First, if I have a child who is responsible enough to remind me to sign her homework sheet for 180 evenings, than she is responsible enough to do her homework all by herself. She just created a replica Grand Canyon for her ‘Parade of the States’ diorama. It’s June, and we’re recreating the Grand Canyon? How about it’s June, and I’m happy if we can recreate a pile of clean clothes. So, first fact? Exceedingly true.
Secondly, the same daughter of Grand Canyon fame, had a side ache.
“Like a bruise? Like you slept funny? Like you swung oddly on the monkey bars?” I tried to clarify.
“No, more like something is poking me over and over on the right.”
Right side, right side. I googled it and was immediately confronted with red flags of doom stating that she might swoon from appendicitis at any moment.
Except, she was soooo not going to swoon. She had no fever, was eating like a champ, and was perky. She’d go to school and be just fine unless, sigh, she told the school nurse – – which happened around 10:30 am. The school nurse agreed that it was probably nothing, except, if it was her child . . .
Except. Parenting hinges on those exceptions. Except, except, and so many miles later we found ourselves at the doctors office. He went through the same list of questions, did she sleepwrong, did she swing funny?

I interrupted. “I’ve been through all this. Nothing happened.”
That’s when my daughter chirped, “Well I did fall out of a canoe yesterday at swimming lessons and landed on my side.”
The doctor stared at me.
I stared at my daughter.
What?? A canoe?? I mean that’s not even fair. Had I not asked every question known to man?
I had not. I had not asked if she had, for reasons totally beyond me, fallen out of a canoe at her indoor swimming lesson.
Turns out she’d pulled a muscle while wrestling the canoe. The doctor gave her a lollipop and gave me a look.
I sighed and declared, “Let’s go to Starbucks.”
And so, Regular Reader, you now know that fact two is also true. Which means fact three is the lie. You never believed I threw away three dinners anyway. What sort of mother would do that??
I only threw away two.
It’s just – – I mean – – dinners! Always! Here in June I lose interest halfway through the recipe and fudge things a little bit. Perhaps a lot.
I can’t tell you what horror I inflicted with fish the other night. And the week before, there was anarchy regarding a vegetarian tostada gone awry. The stories don’t bear repeating. Hysteria was unleashed in our kitchen and Honey Nut Cheerios saved the day.
So there you go. Our little game is over, and you are perhaps less likely to be my friend until July. You know what else will be over in mere days? School. And that’s no lie!