Want to make me furious? Here's a simple how-to guide: Call me on the phone about my child. Call her by the wrong name. Repeatedly. Do not apologize when I correct you (on the third mispronounciation). Ask me WHY today's "incident" occurred, even though I wasn't there, and you were. Ask me how to handle said incident, even though you have been teaching for...? What? Forty years?? Speak of my child as though she is making your job so difficult, and you are weary of trying to bend her to your will. Complain about how much work it is to adapt the curriculum to meet her needs because she's so...
I was organized today, on account of today I had to take Chickadee into The Big City for her bi-annual appointment with the fancy schmancy eye doctor. Now, I know I'm revealing myself for the country hick that I am when I say that any time I have to go down thataway I plan my entire day around it. I don't mind if you know how much I hate driving in (or even near) the city. I am many things, but I am not a particularly aggressive driver, and I am not fond of those who are. So, for me? Heading down to Boston takes a certain mindset. First off, I came home from the grocery store yesterday with...
Chickadee and I were driving to Monkey's school to pick him up, and she asked me to turn on the music. I punched up the Ben Folds Five CD I'd been listening to, earlier. "Song For The Dumped"* started. My hand went to the knob, and stopped. A glance in the mirror revealed Miss Chickadee bopping around in her seat, rocking out to the beat, and generally appearing unmindful of the lyrics. Maybe I'd just let it play. Turning it off would take more explaining. As we walked into the school, Chickadee turned to me and asked: "Why do they itch? Will they stop itching if they give the money back?" *...
Well, are you? I bet you are. No, really. I mean, it's so clear. Anyone who's anyone is pondering it right this very minute. See? That's right. What I'm thinking... what you're thinking... is that it's high time to take control of the masses through the reckless use of pseudoephedrine hydrochloride. Doesn't it give you a little shiver of delight, when we're in synch like that? Oh, baby. Yeah. Actually, I had some assistance in arriving at my master plan. This morning, all I had on my mind when I woke up was getting Chickadee ready for her class pictures. That was Plan Numero Uno for the day,...
You know what's really, really cool about being a parent? Children are an endless source of entertainment, and you can torment them in endless ways that are not technically considered abuse. This morning at breakfast--horror of horrors!--we had Thomas' Toasting Bread but no cream cheese. Because I am a horrible, negligent mother. Chickadee shouted down the stairs as I offered Monkey cinnamon toast with butter that she wanted some, too, but with green cheese. "Green cheese???" "No, CREAM CHEESE. Geez." "Green cheese please???" "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!! CREAM. CHEESE. Comes in a big plastic...
Low blood sugar, you know. In addition to the crazy prednisone. So that's what I'm going to blame the following random thoughts on, if pressed. But don't press me; I prefer to be gently squeezed. (Also blaming that last statement on the lack of food, because it reads a lot dirtier than I intended, but I am too lazy to rephrase or delete it.) Chickadee fell asleep on me while we were reading in my room before bed tonight. That hasn't happened in... ummm... I couldn't even say. Years. She grinds her teeth in her sleep. She is six-and-a-half years old and she grinds her teeth in her sleep. I...
Another fine excursion to the dump, today. My car was packed to the gills with recycling; I've cut another path through the basement and expanded the walking room in the garage with the number of cardboard boxes I removed. The stack of discarded Boston Globes no longer threatens to topple out of the garbage cabinet and knock me senseless every time I go to throw something away. The "Still Good" shed offered up some bakeware (I defy anyone with children under the age of 12 to say there is such a thing as too many mini-muffin tins) and a few comparable plastic pieces for the kids' kitchen. I...
I had a wild date last night, and I'm paying for it, this morning. We smuggled drinks into the theatre, you see. We passed the bottles back and forth while we giggled, and by the end of the movie? The popcorn was gone, the bottles were empty, and we were up way past our bedtimes. Flying high on our mischief, I guess you could say. This morning? My head is screaming in protest. Church was out of the question, in my sorry shape. (Cue the lightning bolt.) I'm dragging around and feeling my age... twice my age, that is. So, if this were a story that included another adult and maybe some groping?...
Everything I ever needed to know about good self-esteem I learned from my son. Today Monkey is having his class pictures done. Last night, I asked him if he wanted to help me pick out what he would wear. He's coming up on 5 now, you know, so I figured he might want to have a say. Little did I know. "Let's try on this shirt," I said brightly. He eyed it and then slipped his arms in. It was too big, on account of you don't actually grow all that fast on the all pop-tart diet. "Okay, not this one. Take it off, please. How about this red one?" That one fit, and he spun around for me to admire...
