Tag Archives: damn kids

save the drama for your momma

Posted on by
Reply

Sigh.

Rader is a bit of a drama queen so when he yells and cries, we never know how serious it is. He is the king of “crying wolf” over being hurt. (when he wants attention. When he’s in his own world, he can break his nose and never stop moving. We know this to be true because it has happened…)

So tonight when he started howling and bellowing and hopping around, we were slow to react. But then the howling and bellowing got louder and had a sharp intensity to it that told me “Hm. Maybe this time he did something.”

I run down the stairs where Fishdog is already hovering over Rader yelling “TELL ME WHAT YOU DID. WHAT DID YOU DO! WHERE DOES IT HURT!” So we have Fishdog yelling and Rader bellowing and Ruby bouncing around like it’s the fucking Pug Day Parade and I’m not sure if I need to laugh or cry with Rader.

Apparently he stumped his toe while playing with Ruby. It’s bleeding at the base of his toenail (which is sadly in need of trimming). I’m worried it might be broken because it’s almost doubled in size and Rader is still in pain (it’s been almost an hour). We’ve iced it, propped it up, and he’s taken some Advil. I’ve called the doctor’s office and we have an appt. tomorrow, just in case.

Seriously, it’s gonna suck if his toe is broken. He’s playing AAU Basketball this summer, is trying out for Classic Soccer starting next week, and was supposed to have 2 soccer camps this month. Poor boy is screwed if his big toe is broken.

Here are some pics. If you don’t like feet pictures, look no further. (Maria, this means you.)

my day in jr. high…

Posted on by
Reply

I did a little free-writing while subbing at my kid’s school. This may not be pretty…

Adventures in substitute teaching…

Wow. This is going to be the longest day ever. I have glanced up at the clock numerous times and it never seems to move! 8:45. 8:47. 8:49. WTF! I keep thinking surely it’s 9:15 by now, so I glance again: 8:57.

Sigh.

Longest. Day. Ever

Kids are funny. Mostly they try to see what they can get away with without pushing me too far. At least that’s how 6th grade has been. 7th is next. Things may be different with them.

8:59.
Fuck me.
This class isn’t over until 9:30.

9:01
The teacher next door is killing me. The kids don’t like her (okay, neither do I) and now after having spent the last hour in the room next to her, I totally get it. She has no rapport with the kids. She doesn’t respect them and they don’t respect her. And she yells all the damn time. And then she counts. Then she yell counts. Then she yells some more…Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Seriously, have they been that bad?

9:05
This day is draggin’ like RuPaul.

I remember 6th grade. Wish I could forget it sometimes. It was the year my smart mouth fully developed. And the year I discovered boys. (They had not discovered me yet.) I had a pair of green “painter’s pants” overalls that I wore all the time. Back then, we all carried combs in our back pocket and I had one that said “No Tailgating.” Even back then I was funny.

My friends called me “French Fry” because that was all I ate. Ever. By the end of the year, my real nickname emerged. And I still go by it today.

9:10
Unbelievable. 5 whole fucking minutes.
It was weird getting up this morning and going to “work”–something I haven’t done since August. Thank God I got out. Some things never change.

9:14
Seriously. Still. Not. 9:30.
Lots of the 6th graders read. A couple of the girls are reading Manga books. Some of the guys have war books. Hmmm.

9:26
Good God.

9:41
7th grade. Lots of personality–fun kids. They enjoy rule-breaking and pushing limits. And they seem to clown a lot more than 6th grade. But they’re not bad.

Acne has hit with a vengeance. Boy, I don’t miss that.
They are watching me write in my notebook and they think I’m writing about them. Heh. As long as they don’t act like asshats, I don’t care what they do. I won’t be reporting anyone.
This class is over at 10:15. Shouldn’t be too bad.

9:47
Or not.
Didn’t take long for the bathroom requests to start. I asked them if walnut sized bladder was contagious.

I have to chuckle at their ingenuity. They stack their books up on their desks to hide what they’re doing. Like using a calculator or writing notes.

10:08
Holy Ferret I have to pee! Like mad damn. If I don’t go soon, MY walnut sized bladder will burst.

10:15-11:00
Kids are at PE. Ahhhh. The sound of silence. I miss my computer but I have my trusty BlackJack. I email my beach bunnies because I need sympathy and love. Plus I’m an internet addict and must get my fix.

11:00-11:15
Kids pray before recess? Really? Dear Lord, please let me kick ass at tag or never get found when I play hide-n-seek.

Lunch after recess. Must endure discussion with Counting-Yeller about the shortcomings of my kid. Shut your fucking cake-hole. I’m trying to eat my shredded iceberg lettuce in peace.

12:15-1:00
Kids are at Spanish so I do more emailing from my BlackJack and more wishing day was over.

1:12
The kids don’t want to do Science (duh) they just want study hall. Just do your damn Science and pretend it’s study hall. WHY do you want homework? I’ll never understand 7th grade reasoning.

1:14
Just covertly checked my email and Kristen dared me to yell ‘mother-ferret!’ at one of the kids. Tempting. But no. However, I laughed outloud at the request and they all stared at me with a funny look. Very tempted to ferret curse them now, but decided against it.

1:17
I am having fun watching one of my fave kids nonchalantly pass a note to her boyfriend. She stretches and does a quick glance over her shoulder at me to see if I’m watching. Must not make eye contact! She’s just stretching, you know. LOL Then she slides the note across her desk with another nonchalant glance.

My fave poster in the room. Listen and Silent are spelled with the same letters.

Wow. Totally profound.

The end of the day was loud and fun. 8th graders are a goofy bunch but they kept me busy. No time for freewriting.

After my long day’s journey back to Jr. High. I came home and dove into a pint of ice cream and ate away the pain.

All better now. (well, it will be when I open the wine…)

hobbies?

Posted on by
Reply

Last night I was filling in the “Author Questionnaire” for HarperCollins. They want details about me they can use for promotion. Okay, this is cool. I’m an author! It’s official! Whooot!

The form is like an extended resume. Where have you worked? Are you a full time writer, if not, what’s your day job, blah blah blah.

Then I get to the question about stuff I do in my spare time. Anything I’m enthusiastic about. Interests, hobbies…

And it hits me.

When did I become so boring? Holy shit!

I. Am. Boring!

I blame the kids. They did this to me
I’m totally gonna get myself a hobby. No knitting, cuz well, I just don’t get that. And I tried it once and I promise you, I gave failure a new definition. I love to make jewelry, but I haven’t done that in a while, so can I still call it a hobby? I used to take pictures (real ones) and lots of them, but I’ve forgotten everything I ever learned about photography that didn’t include auto-focus.

Until I find my real hobby, this is what I told them:

Is laying in the sun on a pontoon boat in the middle of a lake a hobby? I enthusiastically support it becoming a hobby if it isn’t considered one already. It is my favorite summer past time.

I was an athlete in high school, played basketball and softball and was forced to run track in the off-season. Running is from the devil and should be banned.

Now I mostly play the role of soccer mom when I’m not at home writing. Both of my boys play and my husband plays and coaches. I yell from the sidelines. A lot. Yes, I’m one of those—don’t judge me.

So this is the year I get a hobby and you guys are gonna help me find it. Got it? Now, talk amongst yourselves.

go back to school!

Posted on by
Reply

Okay, normally when the kids are on winter break, Fishdog and I are at work during the day. For the last 7 years, the boys were either with a friend, at home with a sitter, or when they got old enough, they were at home by themselves. We would call and check on them and come home a few times a day to make sure the house hadn’t burned down.

All was right in the world.

This year, Fishdog and I are working from home. First of all, we’re trying to adjust to being at home all day together. It’s not been difficult really, because he’s downstairs, I’m upstairs, and we only see each other when we make an effort. Fishdog does seem to have a problem with stopping work. He has always been a bit of a workaholic, but he tended to come home around 7 most nights and if he needed to go back to work, he wouldn’t until after the kids go to bed. Now that his office is in the house, he seems to have lost that ability to leave the office. That might end up being a problem eventually….but that is NOT the point of this post. The kids are.

They have been home for 2 weeks now and we’ve been shut up in the house with them. It was rainy for several days, and now it’s bitterly cold. They won’t go outside! And they are driving us insane!

The funny thing is, I was convinced they went back to school on Monday, so I have been counting down the days. Fishdog said he thought they went back the 3rd, which is tomorrow, but I was convinced it was the 7th.

Thank God I was wrong. They go back tomorrow. They aren’t at all pleased about this fact, but I am jumping for joy. I need my routine back; especially since I have one more (small, I hope) round of revisions to do on Bite Me!

Go back to school, my little ones, so I can tolerate your annoying little asses sweet smiling faces again.

back to me

Posted on by
Reply

Okay, I’m fully recovered. No more headaches. No more snot-filled sneezes. No more sleeping 20 out of 24 hours. I spent 2 hours and Sam’s Club yesterday buying the shit out of some bulk items and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I also took the boys shopping and that lasted about an hour. As Ian said, “Mom, we’re boys. Boys and shopping don’t mix.”

Whatever.

Ian had a $100 gift cert at Hollister and he spent $60. He’s totally right, boys and shopping don’t mix. Sigh. I would’ve spent $150 and assumed Mom would catch my overage. But hey, I’m a girl. That’s what we do.

Ruby has just found her place as Supreme Ruler of the Francis Household. Well, almost. The cats pity her because she believes she is the Supreme Ruler, but they know they are far superior. Poor misguided Pug.

I’m getting to know my MacBook and I like it for the most part. It has a couple of annoying little things to it, like it just stops connecting to the internet whenever it feels like it and I can’t just ‘reconnect’ it, I have to restart it. I’m sure there’s a setting somewhere that we haven’t found yet. But the good news is, the restart time is so much quicker than my PC. I never wanted to turn that damn thing off because it would be a good ten minutes before I could do anything. And that was a huge frustration.

Oh, I bought Fishdog the hardcover (I was 286 out of the 300 sold!) version of Wil Wheaton’s latest book, The Happiest Days of our Lives. I am trying to let Fishdog read it first, but I finally caved and read a story. Now I know my husband is going to totally dig this book. But I’m afraid he’s going to have to conquer Legends of Rock III before he’ll sit down and read it. Sigh. I’m beginning to think getting Rock Band might not be such a great idea…we’re all way too addicted already.

Happy Sunday, y’all. I’m about to grab my 2nd cuppa and pull up Love Sux and write a little. Gotta get the first chapter to editor by 1/15 (along with my acknowledgments, which I’m afraid might be a chapter by itself) Then I think I’m going to start plotting out (I use “plotting” in the loosest way possible)Back to Blue which is going to be a lot of fun.

out of office

Posted on by
Reply

I’m field tripping it today. I try to look forward to these days, and when it’s going to the zoo or something I do enjoy it.

But today, we’re doing Boo and the Symphony or something like that. I’m not that girl. Sorry. This is much more suited for Fishdog, but I have lunch plans afterward, therefore today I am that girl.

I had a decent writing day yesterday.

I’ll sweat it out with Sven after school this afternoon.

do you understand the words that are comin’ outta my mouf?

Posted on by
Reply

When I say the words “Please, leave your brother alone. Don’t look at him, speak to him, flip him off, touch him, poke him, or kick him under the table. And please, no more silent “I’m gonna slit your throat” threats.”

Do y’all understand me? Or am I speaking a foreign language? An alien language?

Something must be wrong with me because apparently, my damn kids don’t understand anything I say.

Not. One. Damn. Thing.

Speaking of damn, I’m heading to the Big Dam Bridge to walk it off.

Hasta la vista.

ETA the video. Was running late this morning (due to aforementioned children of the corn) and didn’t have a chance to find…

where condoms were purchased, despite the crowd

Posted on by
5

I bought condoms last night. (I’ll explain why later)

Do you know how long it’s been since I bought condoms? At least 15 years. FIFTEEN!

I’m at the cusp of the age where women stopped depending on the men boys to provide protection. In the early nineties, when I finally parted from my boyfriend of 4 years, I decided to take control of my sex life. (Just in case I found one again…) So, I bought my own condoms. At first, I would go to Wal-Mart late at night so I could study the boxes without too much interruption. (this was before the internet…where information was just a click away) Now, I’m not easily embarrassed by any stretch of the imagination–I can talk about sex to anyone. But for some reason, buying that first box of condoms was excrutiatingly embarrassing.

Fast forward 15 years later.

I’m at Wal-Mart, in this small town where everyone knows everyone, standing in the condom aisle trying to study my choices. (Just in case you didn’t know, the condom aisle is right in front of the pharmacy. I was there at 6:00 pm…and apparently so was the rest of Oxford.)

Suddenly, I’m completely embarrassed. I just know that everyone is staring at me and whispering. “Isn’t that Mark’s wife? Isn’t that Ian’s and Rader’s mom? Why is she buying condoms?”

It’s ridiculous, of course, because in the real world, who really gives a rat’s ass. But my conservative church upbringing was rearing it’s ugly head–shaming me–making me feel dirty. I’m a 37 year old woman and suddenly I felt the need to confess my sins.

And that just pissed me off. Why should I be ashamed?

With defiance pushing me, I picked up the economy size Trojans. I stuck them in the top part of the basket and made my way through the pharmacy crowd with my head held high. Even though my cheeks were blazing, I didn’t care. I would not be shamed because I was purchasing condoms. Especially since they aren’t even for me.

I bought them as a gift for a friend. It’s an inside joke and I hope it will make him laugh.

I figure last night’s adventure was good practice for the future. I’ve always said when my boys start dating, I’m going to keep a big-ass bowl of condoms at the front door. “Take a handful on your way out…”

Practice makes perfect, right?

have you met woody?

Posted on by
8

Last night’s walk was sponsored by thunder, lightning, stuffed shorts, and a wooden spoon.

Fishdog took Ian to buy new running shoes. He’s going to start cross-country training this week, after we get his physical. That’ll be a great experience for him, I’m sure.

Rader tried to pull the old “I don’t have any homework” trick. I knew something was up when he took his backpack to his room. He NEVER takes his backpack to his room. Every day, I pick it up from the middle of the kitchen floor and yell, “Not where it belongs!” So, when Rader picked up his backpack voluntarily, took it to his room and put it in his closet, I knew something was up.

I marched back there and looked through it. He had 3 sheets of homework. The boy learned nothing last week.

I called him into the room, asked him about the homework calmly…no yelling at all…honestly, you should be proud. After he answered me, I said, “I’ll be right back.”

Walked into the kitchen, picked up Woody, (a wooden spoon) and went back to Rader’s room. He was waiting, wide-eyed and worried.

“Bend over the bed, please.”

He does without any argument. I’m thinking, this is good. He’s not fighting it. I’m handling this the right way. I am getting through! I am mother of the year!

Apparently, he anticipated that I might be getting Woody (which is funny, because he’s only been spanked by Woody one other time. I’m not a big spanker) Anyway, he had shoved several pairs of shorts into his shorts, hoping I wouldn’t notice the extra padding.

I noticed. I removed said padding and he got 4 licks. One for each page of homework he didn’t do and one for lying.

BTW, he did his homework in about fifteen minutes and it was all correct. Why do they insist on being so stupid sometimes? Not only did he get reaquainted with Woody last night, but now he’s grounded again from electronics except for the radio. Seriously, I heart boys, but sometimes I wonder how they manage to make it to 30 years old.

So, after the beating, I decided to walk for a while. It was nice outside. Not too hot and the wind was blowing. It was thundering in the distance. I decided to stay in the neighborhood because I didn’t want to get too far away and be struck by lightning.

I made 2 laps around our half-mile circle before the lightning had made it to our area. I had planned to walk for 3 laps. Since I didn’t get to do that, I came in and had a whisky instead.