Hello, Interwebz.
I know my last post was all about Christmas, and it's been awhile since I've been here. I'm assuming that, because my Christmas tree is still standing proud in my living room. It seems the rest of the world has moved on?
Easter is here (almost), so I've decided to leave the tree up so the Easter Bunny has another place to hide eggs. What's so wrong with that?
I've been very busy with work and with raising my kids, and it seems that the whole raising kids thing is really best done by two parents. Who knew? Donovan (age 4) is grounded for eternity because he said "butthole" to the neighbor boy, and the other kids are grounded on general principle because Donovan knew what "butthole" meant.
With my schooling being finished, I've found that I have less patience with my kids' school. Huston is now scared to take notes back to his teacher because we are equally sarcastic.
Teacher: Huston got a zero on his pre-COGATSJGSG test, because it was turned in late.
Me: So....he got a zero on a fake standardized test?
Teacher: Yes.
Me: So....I can't care less if I try.
Teacher: Huston told me he doesn't like hard work.
Me: Um...neither do I. Do you??? Is he doing his work?
Teacher: Yes, but he has a "bad attitude" about it.
Me: Is the attitude directed more toward school or to you?
Teacher: How 'bout I just write you notes and you don't answer them.
Me: Um, sounds fantastic.
Huston: Mom, I'm not taking these notes to class anymore.
And I've decided to marry a chiropractor, because they rule the world.
Showing posts with label school rules the world. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school rules the world. Show all posts
Apr 6, 2012
Oct 17, 2011
Jail Time
So all three of me have been very lazy about writing these days, mostly because I write for work now. I am trying, though, Interwebz, I really am. Please keep me famous until I get back!
I have a job opportunity to make some normal-people money, but I'm not sure I want to take it because I'm pretty sure there would be a boss involved. It's not that I don't like bosses, it's more the whole people-telling-me-what-to-do that bothers me. But oh well, I guess to make normal-people money, you have to have a normal-people boss. (I also hate business attire and offices and anything that requires me to drive on pavement.)
We shall see.
Things are going much better with the kids' teachers, although we had a little bullying issue that made me go all HULKSMASH on the ten year olds. I am trying to clean up my language on this blog, but let me tell you something: I may be the parent fighting with the teachers, ignoring the PTA, skipping field trips and parties, and NOT caring how many SmartBoards are available to my children, but at least my kid isn't an A-hole.
It's a good thing I couldn't find that little snot, 'cause mama be goin to jail if you start picking on her kids.Can someone tell me what would happen if I skip smashing the fifth grader and just go straight to smashing his parents? That's not as much jail time, is it? Maybe some community service? And does community service involve having a boss?
If all else fails, I'ma teach my kids this move.
I have a job opportunity to make some normal-people money, but I'm not sure I want to take it because I'm pretty sure there would be a boss involved. It's not that I don't like bosses, it's more the whole people-telling-me-what-to-do that bothers me. But oh well, I guess to make normal-people money, you have to have a normal-people boss. (I also hate business attire and offices and anything that requires me to drive on pavement.)
We shall see.
Things are going much better with the kids' teachers, although we had a little bullying issue that made me go all HULKSMASH on the ten year olds. I am trying to clean up my language on this blog, but let me tell you something: I may be the parent fighting with the teachers, ignoring the PTA, skipping field trips and parties, and NOT caring how many SmartBoards are available to my children, but at least my kid isn't an A-hole.
It's a good thing I couldn't find that little snot, 'cause mama be goin to jail if you start picking on her kids.Can someone tell me what would happen if I skip smashing the fifth grader and just go straight to smashing his parents? That's not as much jail time, is it? Maybe some community service? And does community service involve having a boss?
If all else fails, I'ma teach my kids this move.
Sep 19, 2011
I Don't Even Know
School has started and things have become crazy again. It's 10:00 and we just got done with homework. :::sigh:::
In other news, I got a job. Did I tell you that? I got a job playing pranks on Google. Or something like that. Also there is writing, so it's pretty much awesome. The un-awesome thing is that jobs want you to work and stuff. So for the last few weeks, I've been working from homework time (10 pm) to bedtime (2 am), and on Saturdays until I am done. This leaves little time for remember the funny stuff that happened to me while I was doing homework and Google pranking.
My sister sent me a picture of my little niece Boo, all dressed up in a Wonder Woman costume. Since my niece isn't as old as I, she doesn't know who Wonder Woman is. So she's going by...
Du-du-du-DAH!!!! SKIRTY GIRL! This continues to crack me up every time I think of it. Change the rules all you want, society, my niece is still Skirty Girl.
My kids' school has been totally screwing with me. Shocker, right? If you wonder why they want to mess with me, I will totally admit it's because I'm still a rebel and I hate their rules. Probably if I would just let my kids to go class in peace there wouldn't be a problem. But I just can't do it, yo. I think that over nine hours a day of sitting in a desk is forboring people grown-ups. Not for children. But hey, that's just my opinion.
Anyway, so the school has me pegged as a troublemaker and they are determined to make me see things their way. Except I hate when someone makes me do anything. And it causes a switch to flip in my brain which keeps me from being able to wake up to an alarm clock. See how this works? The more I get griped at, the later we will run each morning, because my brain HATES RULES.
I am going to take the kids to the fair tomorrow. We are skipping class, and we gonna party. As long as party means eat fried things on sticks and come home with aching feet cotton candy in our hair. But if my kids don't stop their bedtime party, I'm not taking them anywhere. This is why I have time to blog right now -- I can't work if six people are sitting right by my desk whining about how they can't sleep.
I have to ask, why would standing up and whining make is easier to fall asleep? I want to know. I asked the kids, but they just whined even more. They suck at philosophical questions. But for now, they are whining in bed instead of at my desk, so I'm back to work.
In other news, I got a job. Did I tell you that? I got a job playing pranks on Google. Or something like that. Also there is writing, so it's pretty much awesome. The un-awesome thing is that jobs want you to work and stuff. So for the last few weeks, I've been working from homework time (10 pm) to bedtime (2 am), and on Saturdays until I am done. This leaves little time for remember the funny stuff that happened to me while I was doing homework and Google pranking.
My sister sent me a picture of my little niece Boo, all dressed up in a Wonder Woman costume. Since my niece isn't as old as I, she doesn't know who Wonder Woman is. So she's going by...
Du-du-du-DAH!!!! SKIRTY GIRL! This continues to crack me up every time I think of it. Change the rules all you want, society, my niece is still Skirty Girl.
My kids' school has been totally screwing with me. Shocker, right? If you wonder why they want to mess with me, I will totally admit it's because I'm still a rebel and I hate their rules. Probably if I would just let my kids to go class in peace there wouldn't be a problem. But I just can't do it, yo. I think that over nine hours a day of sitting in a desk is for
Anyway, so the school has me pegged as a troublemaker and they are determined to make me see things their way. Except I hate when someone makes me do anything. And it causes a switch to flip in my brain which keeps me from being able to wake up to an alarm clock. See how this works? The more I get griped at, the later we will run each morning, because my brain HATES RULES.
I am going to take the kids to the fair tomorrow. We are skipping class, and we gonna party. As long as party means eat fried things on sticks and come home with aching feet cotton candy in our hair. But if my kids don't stop their bedtime party, I'm not taking them anywhere. This is why I have time to blog right now -- I can't work if six people are sitting right by my desk whining about how they can't sleep.
I have to ask, why would standing up and whining make is easier to fall asleep? I want to know. I asked the kids, but they just whined even more. They suck at philosophical questions. But for now, they are whining in bed instead of at my desk, so I'm back to work.
Aug 30, 2011
Death of Ninja Truck
It looks as if Ninja Truck has met his doom. He went to the new mechanic yesterday, and after lots of looking and talking and a few tears on my part, I have decided that I just can't risk fixing him and having him possibly let me down again.
This is not a happy day. But more because the girls came home from school with lice. This means hours of combing and washing and laundry and I don't really even know what else because I can't even think about it right now. I soaked both their heads in vinegar, then again in olive oil, then wrapped them up in plastic wrap. They are actually pretty adorable, but I am completely overwhelmed.
After one dose of olive oil, I started combing through Madilynn's hair, just a few strands at a time. I realized that the first round hadn't worked and had to start over. I poured it all over their heads. They are going to have some shiny hair when this is all over with. And also really great shoulder skin, if olive oil is good for skin. If not, then really bad shoulder skin.
After the plastic wrap turbans were in place, the olive oil began to seep out all over their faces and down their backs. I just told the girls to put socks on and now they are walking wood floor polishers.
My mom made the late-night Walmart trip for me to secure tiny combs, bug spray, and whatever else you can use in a war with tiny bugs. I'm glad she did, because my girls' plastic beehive 'dos would have garnered more attention that I probably need right now.
They are excited because they got to stay up late, play hair all night, and they get to skip school tomorrow. Not shockingly, Warrick managed to develop a stomach ache as soon as staying home from school was mentioned. After all the trouble I got into last year with sick kids, that school isn't sending my kids back home without a doctor's note.
The search is on for a new truck, yo. We aren't going to name this one until we buy it this time, guys...I completely ran out of names for the last truck. What I want y'all to do is to start thinking of a really good name for my truck (and don't be all lame about it, ok?) It's probably going to be another Suburban, if I can afford it. Otherwise, it'll be a Scooby van, in which case we are SO calling it the Mystery Machine. But if I get the Suburban, you guys have to help me think of a name. We can vote and everything, yo. It'll be fun.
This is not a happy day. But more because the girls came home from school with lice. This means hours of combing and washing and laundry and I don't really even know what else because I can't even think about it right now. I soaked both their heads in vinegar, then again in olive oil, then wrapped them up in plastic wrap. They are actually pretty adorable, but I am completely overwhelmed.
After one dose of olive oil, I started combing through Madilynn's hair, just a few strands at a time. I realized that the first round hadn't worked and had to start over. I poured it all over their heads. They are going to have some shiny hair when this is all over with. And also really great shoulder skin, if olive oil is good for skin. If not, then really bad shoulder skin.
After the plastic wrap turbans were in place, the olive oil began to seep out all over their faces and down their backs. I just told the girls to put socks on and now they are walking wood floor polishers.
My mom made the late-night Walmart trip for me to secure tiny combs, bug spray, and whatever else you can use in a war with tiny bugs. I'm glad she did, because my girls' plastic beehive 'dos would have garnered more attention that I probably need right now.
They are excited because they got to stay up late, play hair all night, and they get to skip school tomorrow. Not shockingly, Warrick managed to develop a stomach ache as soon as staying home from school was mentioned. After all the trouble I got into last year with sick kids, that school isn't sending my kids back home without a doctor's note.
The search is on for a new truck, yo. We aren't going to name this one until we buy it this time, guys...I completely ran out of names for the last truck. What I want y'all to do is to start thinking of a really good name for my truck (and don't be all lame about it, ok?) It's probably going to be another Suburban, if I can afford it. Otherwise, it'll be a Scooby van, in which case we are SO calling it the Mystery Machine. But if I get the Suburban, you guys have to help me think of a name. We can vote and everything, yo. It'll be fun.
Aug 17, 2011
Train of Thought - the Panic Version
My babies all got home today, and also got enrolled in school -- a mere two days before it starts. Donovan lucked out and managed to crawl his way off the Pre-K waiting list, but I still have to convince him not to poop his pants between the hours of 12 and 4 to make this work. Otherwise, insanity begins anew on Friday.
I seriously considered quitting school this year. My household is already dysfunctional enough when I'm here alone -- the trauma of last school year is sure to be repeated this fall. But for now, I'll see how it goes. There is a chance that God is going to decide I've had enough at some point and things will slow down. There is a slightly better chance I just made Him laugh.
Ninja Truck is still un-fixed. I found him a doctor today, and from what I've heard, this new guy doesn't tell lies and such. Maybe things will start coming together.
The laundry is almost all the way caught up from when the washer and dryer broke. A few more days, and it'll be back to only holding up the walls in the laundry room instead of the entire house. And it's rained, so mowing will have to commence. And something needs to be done about the half a tree we lost in the front yard. Well, we didn't lose it so much as the tree lost it -- I found it on the birdbath amongst the lilies. And there are some major household projects that need to be started within a week. Basically, I am praying for an army of handymen to show up at my house and fix shit while I'm not looking because I still have kids and homework and meals and a dog and groceries and class and church and - most importantly - a blog. So really, I am short on time and long on things needing done.
Clearly, this pisses me off a little bit. But I can't remember a time we weren't running around crazy, so I'm guessing we will get through this, as well. You know what would be nice, though, would be some time to just raise my kids. Teach them things like "how to find your shoes" and "don't poop in your pants" and "coloring is only for paper". The urgent is always getting in the way of the important around here. I wonder how to make that stop?
I think a few beers, a good football game, and some mud to play in ought to fix everything. Maybe next month.
I seriously considered quitting school this year. My household is already dysfunctional enough when I'm here alone -- the trauma of last school year is sure to be repeated this fall. But for now, I'll see how it goes. There is a chance that God is going to decide I've had enough at some point and things will slow down. There is a slightly better chance I just made Him laugh.
Ninja Truck is still un-fixed. I found him a doctor today, and from what I've heard, this new guy doesn't tell lies and such. Maybe things will start coming together.
The laundry is almost all the way caught up from when the washer and dryer broke. A few more days, and it'll be back to only holding up the walls in the laundry room instead of the entire house. And it's rained, so mowing will have to commence. And something needs to be done about the half a tree we lost in the front yard. Well, we didn't lose it so much as the tree lost it -- I found it on the birdbath amongst the lilies. And there are some major household projects that need to be started within a week. Basically, I am praying for an army of handymen to show up at my house and fix shit while I'm not looking because I still have kids and homework and meals and a dog and groceries and class and church and - most importantly - a blog. So really, I am short on time and long on things needing done.
Clearly, this pisses me off a little bit. But I can't remember a time we weren't running around crazy, so I'm guessing we will get through this, as well. You know what would be nice, though, would be some time to just raise my kids. Teach them things like "how to find your shoes" and "don't poop in your pants" and "coloring is only for paper". The urgent is always getting in the way of the important around here. I wonder how to make that stop?
I think a few beers, a good football game, and some mud to play in ought to fix everything. Maybe next month.
May 10, 2011
Not Sure What this is About
I thought yesterday was scary, but today beat it. I got into a little argument with someone who I do my best not to fight with, and I don't ever want to do that again. But I probably will.
Comes with the circumstances, I guess.
I also finished all my work for the rest of the year at school, so I get to spend the next four weeks doing the All Important Sitting in a Chair to finish the semester, or else I will get suspended. It makes sense, really. They are trying to prepare us for the workplace, and as of yet, I am the only student who hasn't figured out how to waste an entire day on Facebook and hide it from the boss. This, I hear, is an important corporate skill.
:::sigh::: almost there....almost there....
The kids are excited for the end of homework and waking up early, which, hell yeah! I can't wait, either. It looks like we're going to spend the summer converting Ninja Truck into a water-powered vehicle. Or can cars go on screams? Because when the kids are in the car, there is always a surplus of screaming. Or maybe hair. Donovan always gets out of the car with a fist full of hair he pulled out of one of the girls' heads. Anyway, something more inexpensively replenishable, is my point.
My roses are blooming. The first time I saw my house, there was this beautiful rose bush covering the fence, and it was a large part of my falling in love with the place. It quit blooming the week we moved in, and I have feared for its life ever since. I am no green thumb, and can kill plants just by association. Anyway, it looks like it'll be in full bloom by tomorrow, just in time for tornadoes, so I'll try to snap a pic before the flowers blow away.
And I think that is all for today. Except this piece of advice: never fight with your mother-in-law on the same day you have to get groceries. It makes you all stabby.
Comes with the circumstances, I guess.
I also finished all my work for the rest of the year at school, so I get to spend the next four weeks doing the All Important Sitting in a Chair to finish the semester, or else I will get suspended. It makes sense, really. They are trying to prepare us for the workplace, and as of yet, I am the only student who hasn't figured out how to waste an entire day on Facebook and hide it from the boss. This, I hear, is an important corporate skill.
:::sigh::: almost there....almost there....
The kids are excited for the end of homework and waking up early, which, hell yeah! I can't wait, either. It looks like we're going to spend the summer converting Ninja Truck into a water-powered vehicle. Or can cars go on screams? Because when the kids are in the car, there is always a surplus of screaming. Or maybe hair. Donovan always gets out of the car with a fist full of hair he pulled out of one of the girls' heads. Anyway, something more inexpensively replenishable, is my point.
My roses are blooming. The first time I saw my house, there was this beautiful rose bush covering the fence, and it was a large part of my falling in love with the place. It quit blooming the week we moved in, and I have feared for its life ever since. I am no green thumb, and can kill plants just by association. Anyway, it looks like it'll be in full bloom by tomorrow, just in time for tornadoes, so I'll try to snap a pic before the flowers blow away.
And I think that is all for today. Except this piece of advice: never fight with your mother-in-law on the same day you have to get groceries. It makes you all stabby.
May 3, 2011
Ready for Summer
I got to go through over 300 papers that came home in the kids' backpacks last night. After sorting through them, I found only five that I really needed to see.
Contained in those five pieces of paper were what amounted to the schedule for every second of my time for the rest of the month.
Dear School,
I have tried all year to hold my tongue, but I hate you.
I hate your 300 papers.
I hate your stupid homework.
I hate your weekly letters telling me how to parent.
I hate your monthly menu with a grocery list of healthy food for me to buy at home.
I hate your month of May, into which you have crammed every extra activity for every child for the entire school year.
I hate your recorded messages that urge me to send more dollars to the school for the kids to buy stinky pencils to benefit the PTA.
Oh, I hate your PTA.
I hate your presidential addresses.
I HATE YOUR STINKING GUTS, School.
I am not one of those parents who just wants to drop their kids off somewhere every day for free. I would like to see my kids and know which friend taught them the latest butt joke so I can make them quit talking to that disgusting kid. I want to see what they look like when they wake up in the morning because they want to instead of because they're going to get yelled at.
I want to take a Monday folder and use it to start a bonfire in the backyard. I want to have one free evening without thinking about you at all.
You can consider this summer to be a very bad break up between the two of us. I will burn all your pictures and letters, I will ignore your phone calls and emails, I will lose contact with everyone I've met through you, and I will only think of you to remember how bad it used to be, and even that will be seldom.
Oh sure, I'll be back. It's the cycle of an abusive relationship, after all. But I know who you are and I know you won't change. You'll eat away at my freedom until I can't take it anymore, and I'll leave again. And then, School, that will be the last time.
Finally, School, I want all my stuff back. You can leave it at the front door, please. I need my 160 evenings back that I wasted on goofball homework and projects. I need my dining room table back, which has been covered with your propaganda for eight months. I need all the peace I nurtured into my kids over the summer, only to have thrown out the window with your high-stress teaching styles.
I need six sweet innocent faces smiling at breakfast, because they have been ruined with bullying and pressure and spoiled rotten other-peoples'-kids and work work work. Please pack this up nicely and I will pick it up on the last day of class.
At last, School, Goodbye.
Very Sincerely,
MannyRee
Contained in those five pieces of paper were what amounted to the schedule for every second of my time for the rest of the month.
Dear School,
I have tried all year to hold my tongue, but I hate you.
I hate your 300 papers.
I hate your stupid homework.
I hate your weekly letters telling me how to parent.
I hate your monthly menu with a grocery list of healthy food for me to buy at home.
I hate your month of May, into which you have crammed every extra activity for every child for the entire school year.
I hate your recorded messages that urge me to send more dollars to the school for the kids to buy stinky pencils to benefit the PTA.
Oh, I hate your PTA.
I hate your presidential addresses.
I HATE YOUR STINKING GUTS, School.
I am not one of those parents who just wants to drop their kids off somewhere every day for free. I would like to see my kids and know which friend taught them the latest butt joke so I can make them quit talking to that disgusting kid. I want to see what they look like when they wake up in the morning because they want to instead of because they're going to get yelled at.
I want to take a Monday folder and use it to start a bonfire in the backyard. I want to have one free evening without thinking about you at all.
You can consider this summer to be a very bad break up between the two of us. I will burn all your pictures and letters, I will ignore your phone calls and emails, I will lose contact with everyone I've met through you, and I will only think of you to remember how bad it used to be, and even that will be seldom.
Oh sure, I'll be back. It's the cycle of an abusive relationship, after all. But I know who you are and I know you won't change. You'll eat away at my freedom until I can't take it anymore, and I'll leave again. And then, School, that will be the last time.
Finally, School, I want all my stuff back. You can leave it at the front door, please. I need my 160 evenings back that I wasted on goofball homework and projects. I need my dining room table back, which has been covered with your propaganda for eight months. I need all the peace I nurtured into my kids over the summer, only to have thrown out the window with your high-stress teaching styles.
I need six sweet innocent faces smiling at breakfast, because they have been ruined with bullying and pressure and spoiled rotten other-peoples'-kids and work work work. Please pack this up nicely and I will pick it up on the last day of class.
At last, School, Goodbye.
Very Sincerely,
MannyRee
May 2, 2011
Bad (Hair) Day
Today, I discovered that the more I tried to fix my hair, the more this one piece wanted to jut out directly to the side. Every time I tried to straighten it, it got worse. Every product I used enhanced its stupidity.
Then, I discovered my hair was laughing at me because it's just like my life.
Boo that, yo.
Then, I discovered my hair was laughing at me because it's just like my life.
Boo that, yo.
Apr 24, 2011
Things to Know
Today, I was called "an incredible writer". By a spammer and you know they never lie, which means that, in order to continue being a pertinent member of society, you must continue reading this blog. Also? I must begin writing it again, or we're all gonna DIIIIIIIIIE.
Here are some random facts about this weekend, Things You Must Know before work tomorrow or you'll look like an idiot when everyone else is talking about it:
1. My brother in law did an ENORMOUS hiccup in the middle of mass last night. It was the funniest thing that ever happened in the history of the world. I had to turn into a statue to keep from laughing, and apparently squeezed my laugh muscles so tight that they didn't release until about twelve hours later when I spent thirty minutes doing that laugh-cry-snort uncontrollably thing in front of my entire family at Easter brunch.
2. My youngest sister is about three years pregnant, and it reminds me of the one good thing about not being able to get pregnant which is not BEING pregnant. Once the baby is born, I'll go back to being jealous of baby-havers and start plotting how the baby can come live at my house.
3. One of my nieces came down with a fever after we were all together today. There was a memo about how my kids and I can't get sick until 2012 because if we miss one more day of school, the earth will fly off its axis and splash into the sun, and we'll all DIIIIIIE...or some kind of big deal like that requiring numerous warnings on card stock letterheads about how we can't miss any more school. That being said, I'm glad the family was together for Easter, and I don't really care if anyone gets sick because they're going to school either way....what's 500 more kids getting a cold compared to The Thing That Happens If You Miss School After Getting A Warning On Letterhead?
4. There isn't a fourth thing, but I just want you all to be fully aware that an "Incredible Writer" has written these words, and you must pay attention, yo.
Here are some random facts about this weekend, Things You Must Know before work tomorrow or you'll look like an idiot when everyone else is talking about it:
1. My brother in law did an ENORMOUS hiccup in the middle of mass last night. It was the funniest thing that ever happened in the history of the world. I had to turn into a statue to keep from laughing, and apparently squeezed my laugh muscles so tight that they didn't release until about twelve hours later when I spent thirty minutes doing that laugh-cry-snort uncontrollably thing in front of my entire family at Easter brunch.
2. My youngest sister is about three years pregnant, and it reminds me of the one good thing about not being able to get pregnant which is not BEING pregnant. Once the baby is born, I'll go back to being jealous of baby-havers and start plotting how the baby can come live at my house.
3. One of my nieces came down with a fever after we were all together today. There was a memo about how my kids and I can't get sick until 2012 because if we miss one more day of school, the earth will fly off its axis and splash into the sun, and we'll all DIIIIIIE...or some kind of big deal like that requiring numerous warnings on card stock letterheads about how we can't miss any more school. That being said, I'm glad the family was together for Easter, and I don't really care if anyone gets sick because they're going to school either way....what's 500 more kids getting a cold compared to The Thing That Happens If You Miss School After Getting A Warning On Letterhead?
4. There isn't a fourth thing, but I just want you all to be fully aware that an "Incredible Writer" has written these words, and you must pay attention, yo.
Apr 5, 2011
Choices
Today, I read a book that was second on my list of Things That Have Wasted My Time. The first was "Children are from Heaven" by John Gray. I highly recommend his book on relationships...he's not so great with the kids.
Anyway, the book I read today was supposed to be a mindless novel, intended to steer me away from my usual genre and toward something less twisted and scary. Instead, it was way more twisted than Steven King, poorly written, and centered around a brand of feminism that I just cannot tolerate.
What I got from it was this: Burn the book and never read anything by this author, nay - this publisher, again.
I hated it. But I got two good ideas from it. One was to make a dream list. Every week, dream something and later, when things aren't so crazy, make it happen. I love lists, so this was perfect. I can list out the crazy things I want to do and make sure I have some time to do them in the next fifty years. Number one is to ... make a dream list. Actually, find some time to make a dream list. Number two would be the list. Actually, number two would be to not spend the time I find watching everything in which Nathan Fillion has ever had a role. Number three -- The List.
The other idea I got from the book was how great it would be to be able to chose something. As free as I have felt over the last year and half, in reality, all of my choices are made for me. I had to find a place to live, I had to go back to school, I have to wake up to that alarm every single morning, I have to take the kids to school, take myself to school, feed people, clean things, wear the same clothes, find everyone's shoes, put people to bed, go to bed myself, start all over the next day....
It was actually quite depressing.
I can't wait for summer.
Last summer was spent scrambling to find a place to live and figure out what to do about a job. This summer is mine.
I'm going to take a road trip with no notice and no plan.
I'm going to have a serious tan because I'm only going in the house when the temps are over 100.
I'm going to walk.
I'm going to turn off all the clocks for a week.
I'm going to get purple feather extensions in my hair.
I'm going to get this divorce finalized if it kills me.
I'm going to spend every Friday babying Ninja Truck.
I'm going to look at Corvettes until my eyeballs fall out and I find The One I will eventually own and drive when my kids are grown.
I'm going to hang out on my front porch by myself and with anyone I can get to come over.
I'm going to jump on the trampoline with the kids every day.
I'm going to clean my house and fix up the yard and give the dog a bath and all the big chores I don't have time for anymore.
I'm going to read 50 pointless novels. Some of them better be good.
I'm going to go see my aunt and uncle and cousins.
It's going to be a glorious eight weeks. Or seven, because of the snow days.
Ok, that sounds like a lot of work. Mostly, I'm going to sit on my porch. Come over, I've got beer.
Anyway, the book I read today was supposed to be a mindless novel, intended to steer me away from my usual genre and toward something less twisted and scary. Instead, it was way more twisted than Steven King, poorly written, and centered around a brand of feminism that I just cannot tolerate.
What I got from it was this: Burn the book and never read anything by this author, nay - this publisher, again.
I hated it. But I got two good ideas from it. One was to make a dream list. Every week, dream something and later, when things aren't so crazy, make it happen. I love lists, so this was perfect. I can list out the crazy things I want to do and make sure I have some time to do them in the next fifty years. Number one is to ... make a dream list. Actually, find some time to make a dream list. Number two would be the list. Actually, number two would be to not spend the time I find watching everything in which Nathan Fillion has ever had a role. Number three -- The List.
The other idea I got from the book was how great it would be to be able to chose something. As free as I have felt over the last year and half, in reality, all of my choices are made for me. I had to find a place to live, I had to go back to school, I have to wake up to that alarm every single morning, I have to take the kids to school, take myself to school, feed people, clean things, wear the same clothes, find everyone's shoes, put people to bed, go to bed myself, start all over the next day....
It was actually quite depressing.
I can't wait for summer.
Last summer was spent scrambling to find a place to live and figure out what to do about a job. This summer is mine.
I'm going to take a road trip with no notice and no plan.
I'm going to have a serious tan because I'm only going in the house when the temps are over 100.
I'm going to walk.
I'm going to turn off all the clocks for a week.
I'm going to get purple feather extensions in my hair.
I'm going to get this divorce finalized if it kills me.
I'm going to spend every Friday babying Ninja Truck.
I'm going to look at Corvettes until my eyeballs fall out and I find The One I will eventually own and drive when my kids are grown.
I'm going to hang out on my front porch by myself and with anyone I can get to come over.
I'm going to jump on the trampoline with the kids every day.
I'm going to clean my house and fix up the yard and give the dog a bath and all the big chores I don't have time for anymore.
I'm going to read 50 pointless novels. Some of them better be good.
I'm going to go see my aunt and uncle and cousins.
It's going to be a glorious eight weeks. Or seven, because of the snow days.
Ok, that sounds like a lot of work. Mostly, I'm going to sit on my porch. Come over, I've got beer.
Mar 24, 2011
Fourth Grade is a Jerk
I have been owned by Warrick's fourth grade state project. I had to read the assignment 12 times, and I'm still not sure we did it right. I can't imagine what my son was thinking as he was trying to figure it out on his own.
I am done with school projects until next year. I don't want to do any more homework or anymore artwork. I would like to have just one family meal without papers spread all over the table. I want to go for a walk after dinner instead of searching for pencils and crayons and glue. I want to sit out on the truck and watch the sun set. Do you see the negative way in which my kids' homework is affecting our well-being? Do ya? Stupid homework.
Warrick gave me a hug and told me he couldn't have done it without me and thank you. I cried. So maybe the homework brought us closer together, but could we honestly not have bonded over a beer just as well? I'm just sayin.
In other news, I got word that the kids' dad may be "inpatient" for another six months. If Donovan isn't potty trained by then, I call dibs on the next hospital stay.
He is the last kid in diapers, and he's hanging onto them for dear life. I was kind of hoping the day care would do the training, but apparently not. We are stocking up on skittles and undies and staying in this weekend to see what happens. I keep telling him to use the big boy potty, and he says "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh", but I don't think he's really getting it, or else he doesn't understand what "Ohhh" means. Either way, no success so far. If it doesn't work, I'm going to teach him to change diapers so either way, win for me.
This is a pointless, rambling post, showcasing the utter brain-drain that results from countless hours spent on an Alaskan deca-ball project (I know, I just made one and I still don't know what it is), so I'm going to sleep.
Good night.
I am done with school projects until next year. I don't want to do any more homework or anymore artwork. I would like to have just one family meal without papers spread all over the table. I want to go for a walk after dinner instead of searching for pencils and crayons and glue. I want to sit out on the truck and watch the sun set. Do you see the negative way in which my kids' homework is affecting our well-being? Do ya? Stupid homework.
Warrick gave me a hug and told me he couldn't have done it without me and thank you. I cried. So maybe the homework brought us closer together, but could we honestly not have bonded over a beer just as well? I'm just sayin.
In other news, I got word that the kids' dad may be "inpatient" for another six months. If Donovan isn't potty trained by then, I call dibs on the next hospital stay.
He is the last kid in diapers, and he's hanging onto them for dear life. I was kind of hoping the day care would do the training, but apparently not. We are stocking up on skittles and undies and staying in this weekend to see what happens. I keep telling him to use the big boy potty, and he says "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh", but I don't think he's really getting it, or else he doesn't understand what "Ohhh" means. Either way, no success so far. If it doesn't work, I'm going to teach him to change diapers so either way, win for me.
This is a pointless, rambling post, showcasing the utter brain-drain that results from countless hours spent on an Alaskan deca-ball project (I know, I just made one and I still don't know what it is), so I'm going to sleep.
Good night.
Dec 18, 2010
Execution
Ha!
I've waited since the end of summer and I've finally found a way to be rid of you.
I hate you, you know. The way you sneak into every minute of my life, the way you are always there everywhere I look in my own home, the way you evade my efforts to get rid of you for good. But I've got you now, my pretty.
You have become such a constant annoyance that there are days at a time when I don't even notice you, only to have your presence rain down on me with renewed force. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you.
For years, you have been there, waiting in the wings, wanting to take over my life, but I held you at bay, until a few months ago. You took advantage of what I was going through, and you snuck past the wall I had built against you.
Today, when I was working around the house not really thinking of you at all, you jumped at me from behind the sugar tin. As I spun around, you were everywhere...on the bulletin board, on the fridge, on every shelf in every room of my house, under the table, in my car, in my bed, stuck in the cushions of the couch....and it dawned on me -- I can be rid of you! Mwuahahahaha!!!!
So I swept you away. Every memory of you is banished from my house. You didn't think I could do it, did you? But I did, because there is one fatal flaw in your plan, my friend...you forgot one detail.
It's the end of the freaking semester. All paperwork starts over from here on out, and I no longer have use for anything with any school letterhead at the top. So get out of my life, schoolwork. For two entire weeks I will be blessedly free of you and your need to come home with every person in my house to find a new place to hide. We are done with you for 2010.
Good riddance.
I've waited since the end of summer and I've finally found a way to be rid of you.
I hate you, you know. The way you sneak into every minute of my life, the way you are always there everywhere I look in my own home, the way you evade my efforts to get rid of you for good. But I've got you now, my pretty.
You have become such a constant annoyance that there are days at a time when I don't even notice you, only to have your presence rain down on me with renewed force. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you.
For years, you have been there, waiting in the wings, wanting to take over my life, but I held you at bay, until a few months ago. You took advantage of what I was going through, and you snuck past the wall I had built against you.
Today, when I was working around the house not really thinking of you at all, you jumped at me from behind the sugar tin. As I spun around, you were everywhere...on the bulletin board, on the fridge, on every shelf in every room of my house, under the table, in my car, in my bed, stuck in the cushions of the couch....and it dawned on me -- I can be rid of you! Mwuahahahaha!!!!
So I swept you away. Every memory of you is banished from my house. You didn't think I could do it, did you? But I did, because there is one fatal flaw in your plan, my friend...you forgot one detail.
It's the end of the freaking semester. All paperwork starts over from here on out, and I no longer have use for anything with any school letterhead at the top. So get out of my life, schoolwork. For two entire weeks I will be blessedly free of you and your need to come home with every person in my house to find a new place to hide. We are done with you for 2010.
Good riddance.
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