Kid 1 was studying for an exam on the Declaration of Independence and all things pre-revolutionary last night and asked me to test her. Looked at her study guide and this question popped right out: the Declaration of Independence grants all people what inalienable rights? AAARRGH!!!!!! All people? No,not all people, just men, and then only men of a certain color. What kind of crap are they teaching? Then I asked, when did women get the vote? She didn’t know. Okay, the test is on pre-revolutionary activities, not the suffrage movement, but come on — when are we supposed to address the inequalities our country was born with? And wouldn’t this be the perfect time to open that conversation, so kids could really think, critically, about the power of words? One of the other questions regarded Jefferson’s condemnation of slavery, to which I said, “and why might that be ironic?” Kid didn’t know why…but promised to bring the issue up in class (heh,heh). Full disclosure: I am a socialist separatist feminist from way back, but just couldn’t make that lifestyle work for me — yeah, I like stuff — and I will always feel guilty for that. Can I call kid’s 20-something Social Studies (SS) teacher on this? Where does feminism begin and end? When isn’t the personal political? More to the point, I demand to see that teacher’s lesson plan! Hubby drank a glass of champagne and went to take a shower (after my rant). Kid stomped away from me screaming “shut up!” and “I don’t care!” and slammed the door in my face (during my rant). What would Red Emma do?
Of course she was beheaded, she should have been beheaded and if she hadn’t been, I would travel back in time and do the deed myself. Yes, as hard as it is to believe, I have lost my love of Lady Jane Grey and it is entirely related to the fact that the Tudor teen is the only thing standing between me and graduation next month. True, I’ve been immersed in Tudor history for the past nine years, having read at least 17 books (including the historical fiction bodice-rippers) on Lady Jane, alone. Yet this thesis paper (Religious Zealotry in Pubescent Girls, as Manifested in Lady Jane Grey) is going to be the death of me. All I’m doing is writing this damn paper, ignoring my family, eating junk food and not running or riding — so add that I’m getting fat and you’ve got a pretty good picture of how I’m looking and feeling: not good.
I do find solace in the new puppy, though I would find even more if she was progressing in the house-training department. But she isn’t. And while some may find it difficult to sleep with a puppy on your head, thanks to my love of and commitment to shut-eye, I’m pushing through.
I can still sleep
Last night, my daughter, who is germophobic, arachnophobic, malodorous-aphobic and paranoid – all by her own admission – decided she would freshen the air in the bathroom before she took her shower. She loved the scent of the Voluspa Paheri Mango Leaf spray so much that she wanted to share it with her brother. So she sprayed him directly in the eyes – murderous screaming ensued, followed by anguished cries of pain. I was responsible for the murderous screaming, of course. After washing out kid #2’s eyes and installing him on the couch with a damp cloth over his eyes, I sat down to write the no-homework-done excuse note – “Sorry, Mr Teacher, kid 2 couldn’t do his homework because he was temporarily blinded when his sister inadvertently (maybe not so inadvertently) sprayed him in the eyes with air freshener. Not sure why she thought bro smelled through his eyes, but whatevs.
I can find solace in the fact that my husband wrote an even more ridiculous excuse note (and daughter videotaped it as proof). It went something like this – “my daughter was unable to do her social studies homework as her brother threw her social studies book at her other brother’s head and then we were unable to find said book.” Huh? How did throwing the book at kid 3’s head cause it to instantly de-materialize? Clearly, I was not home that night.
If you know my daughter, you know she’s extremely tenacious and determined. Those are euphemisms for being a world-class nag. She was scheduled to get braces on Tuesday and our babysitter was taking her (so I could go to work – bleh!). Kid became fixated on how the babysitter would get her there, relentlessly texting and calling me all day so I could give the babysitter directions. I chose to ignore her. Hubby called me urgently at night class, cuz kid #2 realized he had a homework assignment that required the printer ink we had just run out of. Out of class at 10pm, en route to Target for the ink. Kid still texting, calling and being really freakin’ annoying. Just as I got back into the van after getting the (wrong) ink, she texted again. Since I was in a locked mini van in the Target parking lot at 11pm, I started screaming at the phone, “Leave me alone!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAA!!!!!” Isn’t that what you would do? While squeezing the life out of my BlackBerry and screaming my guts out, I inadvertently called my husband. Knowing that I was at Target in the middle of the night and screaming, he logically concluded that I was being assaulted. I slipped the BB into my pocket and as I pulled out, it rang. Assumed it was the kid, so screamed some more and when I finally took a breath I heard my husband’s very soft, very concerned voice saying, “honey, what’s going on?” Oops. I don’t know which is more mortifying – my husband knowing that I scream at my phone, or knowing that I sit in locked cars in empty parking lots, screaming to myself.
|LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA!!!!|