Starting this very day, there will be structure and order in our lives.

Well, that's my intention, but let's be honest: we'll probably end the day in a big pile of steaming failure.

But, wait!

Optimism, hope, and incremental progress!

Here's the plan: the children's online learning begins. For this first week, their learning is all asynchronous, but I've decided everyone will work from nine until noon. OR, they can work from ten until one. It's their choice. Either way, a snack break can occur at the 90-minute mark of the work period. If there is no work to be done, they can read or do Khan Academy or study for the ACTs, or, let's face it, they could just pretend to work, and I'd never know.

Dan said while making his latte, "I can't wait to see how today goes."

I said, "I notice you let me be the one to tell them about the routines."

Dan laughed in a guilty little way he does when he has, in fact, shifted responsibility in my direction. "Well, you're a teacher."

I raised an eyebrow. "You have to help enforce."

"I will!" Dan seemed sure about this, but I felt suspicious.

"You can't say, 'Your mother says.'"

He promises he won't. I'll report back. Optimism, hope, and incremental progress. Eye roll.

Not too long ago, the kids and I went to watch a friend of Shef's play in a high-level, high-stakes hockey game. It was really fun, and I especially liked how they blasted clips of classic songs like 1989's "Move This" by Technotronic before face-offs.

I got to thinking, I should take the kids to more school sporting events. We could wear our colors and root for the teams! Sounds wholesome and screen-free! I shared my epiphany with Shef, who is now fourteen years old.

"Hey," I said, "wouldn't it be fun to go to more school sporting events?"

"No," he said. The answer came swiftly and with zero hesitation.

"No?" I asked, surprised. "You don't want to watch your friends play lacrosse and stuff?"

"No," he clarified, "I just don't want to be seen with you in public."

Just like that! All matter-of-fact!

I think the inclination is probably exacerbated because I'm a teacher at the school, in addition to also being a regularly ignominious parent. Having a teacher mom is literally the worst thing ever for an eighth-grader, Shef says. I can't help that it's my job, though, and I also can't help that I'm so embarrassing. I feel I could be even more embarrassing if I didn't already put so much effort into my behavior. Shef doesn't know how lucky he is. One little slip and he could be the laughing stock of the entire school.

I'm not really qualified to write Swim Parenting 101 because I just started being a swim parent this past summer. However, I am a fast and engaged learner, and I'm really only planning to share one tip.

The tip is to purchase a stadium chair with a nice pad for the seat. You know what I'm talking about? It's this:

My sister Mary was in town this weekend, and she agreed to drive with us to one of Shef's cross country meets. It was far - like an hour and a half - and because it's billed as "The World's Biggest Cross Country Meet," you have to park literally miles from the start of the race.

All of this is to say, coming to the meet was a major time suck for her, and she did it anyway. Thanks, Mary!

On the way home, she got to witness a strategy I use to keep the peace in the miniature van. The kids get to alternate song choices on Spotify. As the selections began, I gave a pronouncement, a necessity now that Shef's in eighth grade and listens to the vilest music I've ever heard.

"Okay," I said, "let's keep it clean. No n-words and not too many f-words."

I didn't think anything of this decree, but Mary started laughing so hard she choked on her water.

"What?" I said.

"High standards!" she coughed.

"Yes," I laughed, "A+ parenting over here. Take notes on how it's done! If you need parenting advice, you know whom to call!"

We howled.

It was funny, but the message was clear; and I stand by it: Some f-words are okay, but NOT TOO MANY.

It's so weird when the children are gone. It feels like a ton of headspace just opens up magically in the places where I'm not worrying about what they're doing now or next. I seem to have a longer attention span, and at the same time, I'm prone to feeling sort of heavy and tired, always on the verge of a nap.

I also feel, as I usually do during any stretch of down time, an intense obligation to "use it wisely." In this case, though, taking long baths in Dead Sea salts and catching up on Game of Thrones (I'm five seasons behind) are wise uses of my time. I'm pretty sure.

Today so far, I wrote my daily word count quota, rather more easily than normal. I'm planning to do a little structural work on the novel now, finding places for missing scenes and maybe doing a little freewriting on the connection between the two leads. I also went to my exercise class and to Costco. I forgot to get toilet paper and the pharmacy was closed, but that's okay because I can just go back there in the vast expanses of free time I'll have this week, maybe tomorrow or the next day.

I took a Dead Sea Salt bath, during which I meditated and read a chapter of the Crazy Horse biography I'm struggling through.

I made myself deal with a dead bird in the back yard. I have a strong aversion to dead animals like bats, mice, and birds. It's almost even more paralyzing than the aversion I have to the live varieties of these species.

Anyway, it's just after noon and I have all day still. Amazing.

Whether or not to assign chores

When Shef was obsessed with NASCAR (and Budweiser)

The time I was pregnant and Dan wouldn't play DDR with me.

Three of my FAVORITE things about Dan.

• I'm still in Building Resilience in Children and Teens by Kenneth Ginsburg.  This is an A1 parenting book, right up there with How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish.  Both books address punishment and consequences, along with connection and empathetic listening.  Actually, Ginsburg echoes Faber and Mazlish's contention that "punishment has no place in a loving relationship."  Ginsburg says that if we continually punish our kids, they won't learn to solve problems or "channel their energies." It's not that there shouldn't be consequences, but that the missteps should first and foremost become opportunities for conversation.  I mean, I agree with this in theory. But what about the umpteeth stupid decision your kid makes?  Ginsburg says we're supposed to say, "If I just get angry, we won't get anywhere. I'm going to take a walk; when I come back, I'll be ready to listen."  We'll see. 
• On a totally different note, I'm hooked into my very first "space opera."  It's a genre.  I'm embarrassed to say I'd never even heard of this ambitious literary category until the blurb on the cover of Leviathan Wakes proclaimed it as a hallmark example.  Like Ginsburg, James S.A. Corey addresses punishment and consequences, but on a more melodramatic scale - The Martians vs. the Earthers, the Outer Planetary Alliance vs. Everyone.  Two likable protagonists - players in the conflict, but lightyears apart from one another - alternately explore the growing unrest. The structure drives home the idea that conflicts remain inevitably multi-faceted.  See how I made the connection there?  It was a real stretch, but it's done. That's an English Major in action.

OLD SCHOOL, KICKIN IT

I like to use this expression even though I think it makes me sound nerdy and OLD. Most often I use it when I'm discussing things I used to do before the children were born. Crazy things like grabbing my gym bag and shouting over my shoulder to Dan on the way out the door, "Hey, I'm going to go work out!" Doing that instead of planning weeks in advance who will exercise when and what the others will be doing during that time.

OBIDANO

This is how Mac says Old MacDonald. It really cracks me up.

OOO LA LA

Once in 2002 we went on a sailing trip with Dan's parents, and we heard on the boat's radio a message for a vessel named Ooo La La. When the guy on the radio called for the boat, he repeated the name three times fast: ooolalaooolalaooolala. It sounded really funny, and it turns out it's really fun to say. So, to this day we randomly say that to each other or to ourselves. It's a habit with no downside, as far as I can tell.

MISTAKES

Yesterday, on public radio I heard a writer, Barry Eisler, talking about how he likes to put his mistakes on his webpage. He categorizes his mistakes by novel and puts them right up there for people to see. For instance, one time he wrote that stun guns don't leave marks, but they do! He tried out a stun gun on his stomach to be sure, and he said he got two large red welts. So.

Here are some categories of mistakes I've made:

VOCABULARY AND SPELLING:

Once, after eight hours of parent-teacher conferences during my first year of teaching, I started to forget definitions of vocabulary words that parents were using in the conferences. Like "verbose." A dad used that word, and I just felt like my brain died.

Another time, in my second year of teaching, a really smart eighth grader used the word "reverie," which I thought at the time had a negative connotation. It turns out it doesn't. Sorry about that, Heather!

A third time, for some inexplicable reason, I agreed to be in charge of the Spelling Bee for four years or so. One year, I distributed some certificates of "acheivement" to top spellers. OOPS!

PARENTING/FASHION:

Last night, I lost hold of Mac at Shef's soccer game, and he ran onto the field and collapsed himself in the way of oncoming novice players. I had to bend over and get him, and I think my underwear showed when I did that.

I've dropped both kids while descending stairs. Neither hit their heads, thanks to Jesus. I was wearing slippery socks when both incidents occurred.

Several times per week, I go to work and start teaching with Mac's food hand prints on the back of my shirt.

Finally, I forgot to bring Mac's water bottle to his school today. I just discovered one of my bra straps is showing.