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If You Don’t Do Your Homework

Yesterday I discovered Savannah has not been telling me the truth about doing all of her homework.  It’s not that she’s a bad kid she is just a little scatterbrained and procrastinates like crazy.  Also as I’ve mentioned before her teachers so far have not put a big emphasis on learning good study habits.

Honestly, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out especially because she and I are so much alike.  I have tried to explain to her why doing her best in school is so important and putting off the dull stuff until the last minute just isn’t worth it. It all starts with leaving your word study notebook at school and the next thing you know you show up at work looking like an eighties punk rocker because your electricity gets cut off in the middle of putting on your makeup. Since peacock makeup is cool to a second grade girl and I know procrastination is a hard habit to break I have decided to try sitting down and doing her homework with her every afternoon. 

One of her weekly assignments is to write sentences for each of her vocabulary words.  Turns out it is a really great creative exercise for me too and because this blog is something I enjoy doing but often don’t gets put off I am going to try to combine the two. I’m calling it Word Wall Wednesday. And yes I know its Tuesday. I’m doing it today because she was a whole week behind on her homework and I am a month behind on blog entries. 

 

My theme today is “If You Don’t Do Your Homework”.

 

*If you don’t do your homework I am going to have to draw you a map to the welfare office.
 
*If you don’t do your homework you will not have health insurance to cover the cost when you get bitten by a rabid bat who does not like sharing his home under a bridge by the interstate.
 
*If you don’t do your homework my plan, of you becoming a wealthy plastic surgeon and me looking way too young to be at the luxurious assisted living facility that you pay for, will be thwarted.
 
*If you don’t do your homework your trailer might be carted away by a repo man named Snake with all six of your bastard children still in it.
 
*If you don’t do your homework you can count on washing plates at the Waffle House.
 
*If you don’t do your homework you better learn how to swing a bat because your life of crime will mean that you are forbidden to own a handgun which could be used to protect you from the loan sharks you contacted to help you retrieve your repossessed trailer.
 
*If you don’t do your homework you wont be able to afford your plane ticket home from Las Vegas when you realize that you are too short to be a showgirl.
 
*If you don’t do your homework I will not be bailing you out when you get caught smoking grass behind the drivers ed trailer in high school.
 
*If you don’t do your homework a good way to set yourself apart from the other panhandlers would be to get yourself a sturdy hat to collect donations in.
 
*If you don’t do your homework at least your chicken suit will protect you from the rain when you are dancing on the side of the road promoting the daily special on hot wings.
 
*If you dont do your homework you have a good chance of getting knocked up at 17 by a guy who has a tattoo on his neck and keeps his wallet on a chain.
 

 

I think she has gotten the point. And all of you parents who need help kicking your kids into gear feel free to use my examples.

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Close As I Can Get to the Edge

I have been under extreme amounts of stress lately. I’m a single mom desperately struggling to make sure I don’t do any long lasting emotional damage to my two beautiful, super smart children. Even though Savannah has chosen to begin adolescence at seven years old, clearly stating her hatred for me every thirty minutes, and Jackson has decided he is done with pull ups but is also terrified of the potty, the same week that I got one of his tiny, pee soaked socks sucked into the washing machine {for all of you without kids, washing machines and little socks mix about as well as potty training and a broken washing machine}. Trying to pay the bills in a failing economy, working in an unpredictable sometimes hostile {especially on my part} environment that is not getting me any closer to any life dreams or goals. Living in a neighborhood where I am constantly afraid that someone is going to break into my car, especially right now when all they would have to do is cut through the hot pink duct tape holding up my passenger side window. Doing my best to live healthier, even though I have evidently hit that magic age where physical fitness becomes a struggle and now, because drinking until I pass out is probably not the healthiest option, I have to face all of my emotional demons. Honestly, I don’t think my liver is worth it but I can’t afford my habit {see failing economy above} and I am so tired of putting on makeup and being nice to psychotic douchebags just for a few beers{dating}. I have tried using  The Secret but as anyone who has read the book or watched the video knows, visualizing violent revenge on others only brings negativity right back to you. I’m sorry but I just can’t believe that Oprah thinks that positively all of the time. Luckily life usually doesn’t give you much choice but to find humor in one disaster by throwing another one twice as big at you, forcing you to realize that the first one wasn’t all that bad .
I do still have my good days every once in a while. Yesterday happened to be one of them. My children were being angels and we decided to go to the pool for the afternoon. All three of us are water babies, especially when it’s almost 100 degrees with 2000% humidity. I think that our swim times are some of our best times together. No fighting or whining and we are always worn out just enough to enjoy just snuggling and quietly reading stories when we get back home. I was in a really good place. The pool was packed, lots of kids for mine to play with and I had just taken my three year old’s swim vest off. That’s his favorite time because he can’t do his “skater jumps” that apparently impress the teenage girls with it on. So imagine my horror when just as Jackson yells “hey big kids, watch this!” I get shoved in the back by an inner tube holding an obviously deceased elderly woman. I freaked! Silently, of course, I know that screaming bloody murder while hustling my kids out of the pool would only cause trauma and frankly, I can’t afford to start dipping into their therapy fund just yet. I was able to calmly lure my kids out of the water with cookies and convince them that there was a bunny in the woods behind the fence so I could turn their chairs away from the grisly scene. I was shocked that no one had gotten this poor woman out of the pool yet! We don’t have a lifeguard, just a pool attendant {or bouncer depending on the day}, who was napping with a towel over his face so had not been alerted of the problem yet. So, still very calm, I went to let him know hoping that he would realize I had two small children that I had to shield from the severe emotional damage of swimming with a decomposing body and that was the most I was capable of helping. Well, this poor guy, who looks put out every time he has to stand up to get a bee out of the water was mortified. I then realized since this wasn’t something he was going to be able to handle with his net on a ten foot pole that someone else might have to take charge. I casually went back to our table to get my phone to call 911. It was so hard not to scream and run. I was shaking and my heart was racing. I do not handle death well. It’s hard for me to deal with dead bugs much less dead PEOPLE floating around. But like I said there were lots of kids there yesterday and you would be amazed how that nurturing mother thing just automatically kicks in under stressfull situations. I still felt the panic setting in and wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to hold up. I had to get out of there, why couldn’t it start thundering so all of these stupid kids would get out of the pool? They were still jumping around, playing marco polo until one kid with his eyes closed pushed the innertube, hard. I thought for sure that the old woman’s tiny fragile body was just going to slump right through under the water. I froze in terror and felt sick to my stomach imagining the heavy thud of her decaying body as she sunk to the bottom of the pool. But instead of vomiting, my heart totally stopped as her eyes popped open and she sprung out of her float flailing her arms like she was possessed. When it finally occured to me that my brain is the last place the undead are going to go for a snack I realized that, surprise, surprise I once again look like a big nutjob and to top it off my kids have eaten all of the cookies.
So, just a caution to the next dummy who decides to get wasted on a Tuesday afternoon and pass out on a frigging innertube, I’m going to take my friend Meriel’s advice and drown you myself so I don’t look like such a fool.

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I’m Sorry

My all time favorite children’s book is If You Give a Pig a Pancake.The story is a day in the life of a very distracted pig.  If you haven’t read it I highly recommend it. I totally relate to that little pig and the story inspired the following.

I call it If Maya Needs to get a Beer.  Enjoy…

 

If I sit down to talk to you on the phone I am probably drinking a beer.
  
Chances are I will interrupt you at a crucial part of the conversation to get a second beer.
 
On the way to the refrigerator I will remember that I have to go to the bathroom because I have a bladder the size of a peanut.
 
While I’m in the bathroom I will notice that I forgot to wax the back of my left leg, it will only take a second, I don’t want to forget again.
 
I will probably be out of wax remover so I will rummage the kitchen cabinets looking for something to get the wax residue off.
 
Using up all the peanut butter will remind me that I need to go grocery shopping. I will need a pen and some paper to make a list.
 
Unfortunately I will not be able to find a pen but I will find my keys between the couch cushions and I better hang them on their hook by the front door before I lose them again.
 
 When I hang my keys I notice my spare bottle opener which reminds me I needed a beer.
 
 That’s when I will remember I was on the phone with you and …
Crap! I owe you a big apology again and we should just stick to texting from now on.

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Mel Gibson is the Devil

I do believe Mel Gibson is evil. Not for the same reasons as most people. This weekend I watched “What Women Want”. Maybe the worst movie ever but I watched it twice. It has caused me much confusion and stress. I am now paranoid that everyone can hear what I’m thinking. Even I know that this is unreasonable. So I decided to google “symptoms paranoid schizophrenia” just to see if I needed to schedule a psych appointment asap. Bad idea.

If you see me in my tin foil helmet today please be understanding.
I’m hoping its just a phase.

That Will Teach You

Sometimes as parents we realize that there are important life lessons in all the little things we do.

Two important things I was able to teach my children without even thinking about it:

1.Don’t draw on your face because mommy is going to forget to wash it off in the mad rush to find two matching socks and you will have to go to school that way.

2.Be sure to give me school reminders, don’t expect me to find them in your backpack or you will be wearing that magic marker warpaint in your school pictures or at your spring concert.

I think I’m a natural at this parenting thing.

Single Life

As you have probably guessed I am single. Like a lot of nutsos out there I decided to try out online dating. My ex asked me today to compose a match.com profile for him. I thought I would share mine just to give you an idea of how dating is going.

Bitter, Jaded, Excessive Emotional Baggage. Interested?

I’ve been here a while and I’ve decided to put it all out there. So here it goes. First of all, my pictures, they are all me. I’m a single mom so I don’t have many pictures of me with no kids. There are too many creepazoids out there to put those up. I’m not actively looking for a serious relationship, whatever happens, happens. That doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you, it means I’m a commitment-phobe. So please don’t ask me to marry you in an e-mail. If things do happen to progress, its best if you leave before the sun comes up, I like my morning smoke alone. But don’t count on that because you aren’t going to get me drunk and take advantage. I’m a pro at being wasted. As a matter of fact I’m probably wasted and chain smoking right now. I’ve got a foul mouth and I’m not very graceful. Sometimes I fall down, usually it’s when I’m sober. Dinner at your place is not an option for a first date. I’m not a picky eater but there’s always a chance I won’t like your cooking. I’d rather go out to eat than risk starving, or showing up on the back of a milk carton. I don’t care how much money you make or how much you lost in the divorce, so lets not talk about it. It’s really none of my business. I have no ex drama but I do have two beautiful, perfect children who you will probably never meet. Unless I’m tryng to get rid of you. I’m big on efficiency and I’m really impatient. Despite that I’m pretty low maintenance when it comes to relationships. I’m very independent. I like the idea of a knight in shining armor but would rather do most things for myself. I love living alone. I’m not really good at sharing, I hate the idea of people moving my stuff around. Especally my meds. I’m not afraid to ask anything or tell you what I think. If bold and assertive is really a turn on I’m your girl. I’m into strong, useful, manly men. I like guys a little rough around the edges, muscle cars and motorcycles. If you’ve been single more than three days and your mother doesn’t buy your girlfriends underwear (my standards are getting lower every day) send me an email. Maybe we can go grab a beer.
By the way, if you aren’t single you can move on, obviously I have enough issues.

Needless to say it hasnt been a romance filled year and a half

Gun Control

I am often accused of having anger issues.

My most recent accuser was my seven year old daughter.

This accusation did not lead to her being sent to her room with no dinner, and no breakfast just to be sure I had proved my point.

It did lead to a very revealing conversation. I was able to explain to her truthfully, that anger is the emotion I feel most comfortable with. It is just easier for me to be angry than it is for me to be sad, embarrassed, happy, etc.

The following list, as well as being an example for my readers of just exactly what sets me off, is also my personal argument for stronger gun control laws.

I am allowed to purchase a gun and that should scare all of you.

Luckily, I know better than to own a gun. The only times I have seriously considered purchasing a gun, I have been too drunk to drive myself to the gun store.

Luckily, my loved also ones know that I do not need to own a gun. Or they might just be terrified that any second my wrath could turn on them. Even after many late night phone calls, I have not been able to get a ride to any gun store.

This is the beginning of my list of people I would very likely shoot in a fit of rage if I had a gun:

  • - people who chew with their mouth open, people who talk with their mouths full and people who eat too close to me.
  • - people who drive too slow in the fast lane, people who won’t let me over and make me miss my exit, people who honk at me when I’m not paying attention at a stoplight, and people who give me dirty looks when I cut them off.
  • - people who talk baby talk to children and animals, and people who think my children are obnoxious.
  • - t-mobile customer service representatives, comcast customer service representatives, wachovia customer service representatives, and dominion virginia power customer service representatives.
  • - women who say they like being pregnant, and women with children who don’t have to wear body shaping undergarments.
  • - people who take up two parking spots or park right on the line, people who wait for close parking spots instead of walking, and people who think I am going to move my car just because they are about to hit me.
  • - people who take for ever choosing their $20 lottery tickets, when my debit card has been declined at the pump, and gas station attendants, who are unfortunate enough to work in gas stations, that don’t keep king size butterfingers in stock.
  • - most of the men I have dated, and their wives.

Once I started this list I realized it could go on for miles, but I am going to assume you get the idea.

If you don’t you will soon be added to the list.