Welcome Home, Martha!
Martha gets back tonight from spending the summer with my sister. Officially she has been acting as ‘summer girl’/companion to her cousins, but it sounds like a decent vacation to me. (Like the DON’T WAKE MARTHA BEFORE 10 O’CLOCK rule that my sister instituted. ) I have to be at work when she gets back so I’m hustling around here trying to pull things together so she won’t be too appalled. The sister who sublet her bedroom for the summer didn’t change the bed or run the hoover, and I didn’t think of that until last night.

The plan had been for her to go into school tomorrow to pick up her books. When I returned home on Tuesday (shortly before I noticed that Bridget had turned into a dog) and brought in the mail, I opened a flyer from the high school informing us that Martha’s end of the alphabet was to queue up to pick up books on Monday. MONDAY AUGUST 18. The day before we received the mailing. This helpful flyer informs us that people who don’t show at their appointed time will have to register and pick up books on the first day of school. I didn’t tell Martha (or her father, who had gone to fetch her) when we spoke on the phone Tuesday night. Chuck and I were enjoying a lovely quiet evening and I didn’t want it marred by a ballistic hissy fit from 600 miles away. I suppose that will be tonight. I’ll come home. Give Martha a big hug. Ask about her summer. Be asked what time we’re going over to school tomorrow. Then the whatever will hit the fan.

The flyer in question was, most likely, the third notification of the book dates. But I have become what I most despised while working in Religious Ed. - a parent who just doesn’t find/read/remember official mailings.