Smrt Lernins

First world problems alert: my internet has been down for almost a week* and, with homeschool starting on Monday, I’m starting to panic a little. Two of Captain Science’s classes (computer programming and science) and one he and Tank are sharing (art) are online. We still have some pieces of curricula to order. We need to sign up for the homeschool soccer league. We might sign up for classes at a local co-op (since we aren’t hosting one this semester, a nice respite). We need more consistent internet for this kind of stuff!

Officer Daddyman made a rather irritable comment to me the other night, being a bit tired of hearing me carry on about how inconvenienced I am, about people having survived just fine before the internet. Of course, the same could be said for, say, refrigeration (did I mention our fridge was also on the fritz?) and telephones (oh yeah, same electrical storm that fried our internet killed our phones) and electric lights (our house gremlin has been blowing those like crazy, too) and air conditioning (thankfully, this still works, though with 100 degree outside temperatures, it’s not making too much of a dent in the heat). Once you’ve become accustomed to and built certain facets of your life around access to those things, however, having them suddenly take flight into the wimbly ether is rather…fraktastic. Can’t put it more eloquently or eruditely (or less geekily) than that.

More than the resources, however, I miss the “s word.” Socialization. We usually worry about our kids getting enough, but as a in-the-home-all-day Mama (because I don’t like that whole “work at home” vs. “stay at home” thing…all mamas work), I often pine for some adult time. Chatting online with Patchfire and The Mama and my other homeschooling (and non-homeschooling) mama friends is an important part of my life. It’s a way of swapping ideas and just generally staying sane. It’s lonely at 11pm when Daddyman is at work and I want the house to stay quiet (so no phone calls), but I can’t talk to someone online, read any news, listen to any new music, etc.

*sigh* Hopefully, we’ll have internet by Monday, because how on earth can I go without blogging about our first day of school? Oh internet! I don’t know how to quit you.

*I’m swiping a little wireless from my grandmother while drinking a glass of wine.

Now for something completely different, we took a “field trip” for Secular Thursday, as my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, niece (5.5), and nephew (almost 2) are in town. We went to the Georgia Aquarium, with its largest salt water tanks and whale sharks and whatnot.

It sucked.

That place is the most poorly designed animal displaying facility I have ever visited. Yes, it’s huge. Yes, it’s flashy. Yes, it’s gorgeous. The flow and function, however, leave worlds to be desired. The various galleries are off a central lobby, so everyone mills about in the middle, taking pictures and staring and pointing. They park their giant strollers everywhere (this is why I babywear) and you can’t get by. They have absolutely no concern for other visitors. I’m pretty sure they’re all Yankee transplants or tourists, because surely no Southerner’s mama raised him to behave like this in public.

In the time it took for us to drive downtown, park the car, and finally get into the first area of the aquarium (which was just the play ground and “pet a shrimp*” section), we could have driven to Chattanooga and been halfway down the fresh water aquarium building. It has unidirectional flow, the Tennessee Aquarium. It may not be as big as the one in Atlanta, but even on the crowded day, you get in quickly and the traffic moves.

We only looked at half the exhibits and we drove home in the driving rain. I’m counting this as a full school day, because, frankly, the experience was so harrowing that I’m sure Captain Science must have learned something very important. I learned that I’d rather go to the TN Aquarium, Zoo Atlanta, and even the damn Gulfarium than spend one single cotton picking minute in the gorram GA Aquarium.

*No, I didn’t pet a shrimp. I don’t want to pet a freaking shrimp. I want to eat a freaking shrimp.