I've been waiting and waiting and waiting to give you an update on the incident at school because I just knew that the triumphant day would come when the parents of the boy involved would either call or show up on our doorstep to talk to us. Because if my child did what this kid did---or anything even remotely like it---the first thing I would do would be to rain down a fiery wrath unlike any seen before in our house, and the second thing would be to march said child over to the house of the family that was affected by my child's unspeakable behavior so that apologies could be issued. And...
All (long) weekend long, I listened to folks on Twitter and Facebook bemoaning the school vacation and lack of structure and general driving-batshit-ness of having the kids home for this break. And lo, I creased my brow with wonder and consternation, because I was quite ENJOYING having my offspring home and not having to drag anyone out of bed and getting to work quietly in the mornings without packing lunches or breaking up squabbles. Plus, I was kind of enjoying my children. I know, it's crazy, right? They're older now and not quite so needy and OH HA HA HA, THOSE OF YOU WHO GET SICK OF...
Today's the day that I get up early and spend my entire day as a slave to Want Not, and the children are informed ahead of time that I will be essentially unavailable for the day and they should fend for themselves. So I've been working for the last, oh, seven and a half hours already (ZOMG), and the kids are giving me pretty wide berth, but they just swarmed the kitchen---which is right off of my office---to forage for leftovers for lunch. And that's why one of the first things I said that didn't involve shopping, bargains, or Amazon today was, "PLEASE DO NOT RUB LEFTOVER ROLLS ON YOUR...
It's true that there's a fine tradition of endless taunting that happens in our family, and I consider it something of a character-building exercise, sure, and my children endure it with a mixture of rolled eyes and exasperation, yes, but the truth is that I am ribbing myself as much as I'm ribbing them. There are times I feel like I've stepped into a music video because I'm not entirely sure how I ended up here. And it's mostly due to the kids. Not entirely, of course, but yeah, mostly. They change things. If I find myself uttering the phrase "I never thought I'd..." chances are, it's going...
There's so much more I want to say about yesterday's post, about this situation in specific and our society's willingness to explain away predatory and aggressive behavior as something else, surely, he didn't MEAN it that way and he would NEVER and by the way, what exactly was she wearing, hmmmm? But that will become a rant that never ends, in general; and in specific, I have pledged to sit on my hands until a satisfactory resolution is reached. [I shared some of your comments here and from over on Off Our Chests with Chickie, by the way, and she was really surprised, I think, by the...
Yesterday I was crazed, swamped with work I'd put off all weekend, trying to carve out a spot in the afternoon to write here. Because although I write for a living, writing HERE is what keeps me sane and grounded (despite periodic exclamation-point-riddled evidence to the contrary). But then my work day got cut short, because Chickadee---who has been doing her very best recently to make me reconsider selling her to the circus---texted me from school. During school. Which was weird. And it got weirder. And my baby wasn't okay, and despite weeks of clashing wills and shrill shrieking about how...
Remember the whole "Now we are going to put you on a medicine that requires regular blood tests and also for you to swear a solemn oath that you are using two forms of birth control even if you aren't sexually active" thing? And the whole
Otto and I are going on a real live genuine date tonight, in just a little bit. I am drinking a large cup of coffee by way of preparation, because the sad truth is that my idea of a perfect evening, lately, is sitting on the couch watching TV for a while before going to bed at about 9:30. I'm not sick. I shouldn't be tired. But I am exhausted, mentally, and that's bleeding over into everything else. I've taken to shutting off my alarm in the morning and going back to sleep; on the rare occasions when I used to do this, before, I would just get up 15 minutes later when Otto's alarm went off....
What I really, really want to do right now is go on a long and indignant rant about a particular teacher at the middle school. BUT I AM A GROWN UP. So I merely complained about it on Facebook, instead, and here I am going to talk about oatmeal. As adults do. See how MATURE and RESTRAINED I am? Don't be envious, it took me YEARS to become this refined. Instead I am going to tell you about how this week Hippie School had a Medieval Festival, and we parents were treated to various delights including a swordplay tournament, dance demonstrations, and various other medieval things. And of course,...
