The Report Cards....

Two report cards hang on my fridge.

One white, pristine, with barely a wrinkle or crease on the corners.  It's as if it was given out and safely tucked away within a protective folder until it made it's way home.

The other blue, folded into 16ths, then crumpled in a fist, tossed aside on the coffee table, most likely to be discarded later as a random piece of scrap paper.

Still, side by side, they both hang there on the fridge, tacked up by the "Yea Bacon" and "Yea Narwhals" magnets respectively. One a beautiful pristine, the other a beautiful mess. But, upon closer inspection they have nearly the exact same grades.

All A's and two B+s.

The same, and yet so different, not unlike the boys they belong to.

So many times I have secretly (and not so secretly) wished they'd be more like the other. I have wished Oldest to be more flexible, less black and white.  I wished he'd understood sarcasm, be less worried about what other people thought,  to be less detail oriented.  I wished Youngest be more responsible, less unpredictable, more focused, and less of a handful.  He's killing me slowly that one, I tell you.

Oldest cares about his appearance.  Matches his clothes, styles his hair, matches his sneakers to his outfits.  He strives to find a balance between what he likes and fitting in. He is a parallelogram trying to fit into a bunch of square holes.  Sometimes he makes the edges fit, sometimes not.

Youngest throws on whatever is clean, or whatever he thinks is clean, and heads out the door.  On mismatched day he wore a perfectly matched outfit, right down to his sneakers, just to be different. He could care less who likes him, wearing his weirdness like a badge of honor. He's like an octopus in the mesh bag of life... barely containable and full of surprises.

Oldest learns by order and rules.  He's in honors French, Algebra, Science and History.  He excels with facts and figures.  He keeps score and needs things to be fair.  And while the system doesn't always fit within his comprehension, he has figured out ways to make it work for him.  Sitting in the back of the class so he can move around, picking his lab partners wisely, picking his friends brilliantly. He's manipulated the establishment to work for him, to keep him interested, and help him thrive.

Youngest learns by doing, by moving, and by interest.  If it can become a competition it's even better. He's a bit of an enigma inside of a riddle.   He loves the books, but most often hates the movies.  He loves to read but hates to write.  He's an incredible storyteller but can't expand a paragraph beyond facts on paper.  He stays after twice a week to do his homework because he likes to work in a small group or on his own, but hates to work alone at home. He will ultimately fail with any chaos or noise around him, but is the perfect storm of chaos and havoc at home.

I can always depend on Oldest to get things done around the house, to understand when I have to disappoint him, and to pitch in when asked.

Youngest is often the reason things need to get done around the house, leaving his stuff everywhere, and having a schedule that requires two calendars and several reminder alarms. There is a very distinct butt groove in the couch from his lack of voluntarily pitching in.

But they both love their family.  They mentor.  They teach.  We all learn together.  Because of these differences we have all become better people, a better team, a better family.

So different in how they appear and function in life.

And yet, at the heart of the matter, exactly the same.

Not unlike the report cards.

Adult-ing...

It's 8:45 and Youngest still hasn't finished (or started) his math homework.

Oldest is in his room having conversations with the imaginary people in his headset as he builds and destroys fictional worlds.

Tony is asleep, undoubtedly from malnutrition since he's been starving (eye roll) himself all day in preparation for his colonoscopy tomorrow.  I will be driving him, which means I will be up at the butt crack of dawn attempting to get everything squared away so that the morning chaos goes smoothly.

Even as I type this I realize what a futile effort that is, but it's what I do.

While he is under, I have my list of errands to run while we are in the area of his doctor's office. All of them scout related.... phone calls for the Christmas Tree fundraiser delivery, checking on permits for our spring camp out, sending out emails for Youth Protection certificates so we can renew the charter. I will then spend a few hours after he is home training and processing advancements.

This is my day off people.

Boy Scouts and my husband's colon care management.

I can see how people burn out.

I have found myself on multiple occasions sitting outside in the car, listening to the radio, not wanting to stay outside, but yet not able to bring myself to go inside.

Oddly, I have the same issue at work.  I have capped out on my salary level, which means until January I will be doing more work than the PO will pay me for, at a holiday volume level.  Sure, it's nothing I haven't done year after year, but for the love of Newman... I'm tired.

For the first time in what seems like forever I don't have any of the Christmas shopping done.  None.  My mother and I usually knock it all out in October but since the addition of her new puppy our shopping dates are few and far between.  And by that, I mean non existent.

The roofer still hasn't shown up.  We called another, he came by yesterday to check it out and is seeing where he can fit us in. Fingers crossed he shows because the leak up there isn't getting any better.

The dishwasher is getting worse by the day.  I may binge and just buy one tomorrow since my husband will likely be laid out on the couch and his truck will be up for grabs. But then I'd have to find the time to do that... between all the volunteer stuff, calling the doctor for the follow up with the neurologist (my hands), and attempting to make the house not resemble a frat house.

Some days, I really don't want to be an adult.

And if Canada wasn't so cold, I'd be heading for the border.