Including today, there are only five - 5, cinq, cinco, - days of school left for Gutsy. Intrepid finished last Friday and has been home playing video games skulking around the house eating everything in sight enjoying his summer ever since. Today, he gets interviewed for a seven week training and work placement. If he gets in, that means he and Gutsy won't have as much time to try and kill each other.

I'm positively buzzing with excitement at the prospect.

... Or maybe that's just the extra large coffee.

Trying to prep a thirteen-year-old boy for an interview is harder than you might think. For one, there's the grooming thing. Because girls are only a passing curiosity and not a full blown obsession just yet, the boy is not really into his appearance. I've effectively had to pick out his clothes for him. He probably would have shown up in his favourite fashion statement: a black patterned t-shirt and navy blue basketball shorts with a stripe down the side. I keep wondering what Stacey and Clinton would say about that. The possibilities are endless.

Then, there are the interview questions. I have no clue what they're going to be asking him, so I don't know what direction to guide him in. Because this is a community program, the questions could go from the very professional to the extremely personal. Rumour has it they tend to favour at-risk kids for this program, so I've given Intrepid full permission to use whatever would make him sound at greater risk for running his life into the ground at a moment's notice. Things like: "My mommy used to drink too much," "My little brother is seeing a social worker for his anger issues," and "My dad's work cut his hours back and now my parents argue over the bills" are all excellent choices.

Look, you have to use what you have. None of those are lies or even exaggerations, right? Do they mean Intrepid is destined for a life of crime and meth? Probably not, but we can let the program director be the judge. Heck, I fully plan to go in shortly after my grueling morning workout - the one that leaves me looking like complete ass. Nothing says "Mom is jonesing for her prescription pills again" like a little sweating and shaking. Throw in a faint "I need to get to the pharmacy soon" smile and he's as good as in!

All our dysfunction has to pay off somehow, right?

Anyway, back to summer. There are some good things and not so good things on the horizon, coupled with a whole lot of unpredictability. As a stay-at-home-mom, I don't have my kids signed up for camps and daycare and all that other stuff, which means I need to come up with a list of seasonal sanity-saving survival strategies. Intrepid possibly getting that job is one of them, but there are other very important items. For example:

- We have Gutsy's therapy sessions in place. Once per week through the summer. Thank goodness for that. If anything, it'll give me an hour to sit in a waiting room and read a book. I'll make sure to bring a coffee, too.

- I cleaned the master bedroom. If you're like us, your matrimonial bed is lost in a sea of toys, a mix of dirty and clean laundry and anything that needs some place quick to go before company arrives. This may not seem important in the grand scheme of things, but trust me: it's essential. With a clean bedroom, I can give myself a mommy timeout without worrying about tripping over last year's Christmas boxes. And heck, if the rest of the house is in summer disarray, I can just serve tea on my bed when people stop by.

- Great, fantastic, fabulous news: After over 18 months, they're restoring Geekster's full pay. We'll get half of what was lost this summer and it will be fully restored, in steps, by the new year. What does that mean? We might be able to go see The Karate Kid and Toy Story 3 instead of having to pick one and wincing through the cost of it, thus battling the 'We never do anythiiiiiiiiiiiing!' whining -- well, until mid-July, anyway.

- Park dates, park dates, park dates. If you're my friend and you're local, you're going to get a phone call to head to a park at least once or twice over the summer. There, you will be greated by a somewhat unkept and twitchy me with a trio of rambunctious kids. And if you avoid me, I'll find you. I'm a proficient stalker and I'm not afraid to coerce you into spending time with me and the Gremlins Three. You may now make preparations to leave the country if you wish. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Alright, must run. The skulky teen has an interview soon and I need to get my stoner game face on.