Kill Me Romantically

::sigh::

Griffin lost another tooth yesterday -- this time at school, his first full day. And even better yet, while he was on the playground. So he shoved the tooth in his pocket and wiped the blood on his shirt. Oh lordy.


I'm going to black and white this and make a jack'o lantern have the same smile in a month or so. And then I'll put it in a competition and it will win a blue ribbon.

He's so different than I was -- I wouldn't touch mine for nothin', I even remember my dad pinning me down with pliers in his hands, threatening to take my loose tooth out for me. I would wait for those teeth to come out on their own, hanging by a thread, the way it's suppose to happen naturally.

All this blood and raw gums is icky. Very interesting, yes. But still icky.

I Won’t Let You Let Me Down So Easily

Griffin had a gggggrrrrreeeeeaaaaattttt!!! day back at school yesterday. Me? Not so much.


And no, it's not because my baby was going to first grade. Hell, I was the mom giving high-fives to other parents in the hallway and was pumping my fists in the air.

I didn't have a great day because our school is ran by a bunch of rude fucking idiots and basically, I'm fucking tired of it.

And really, what should I expect after my shitty experience last year? Why am I so damn surprised?

The saving grace is that I really, really like his teacher. Love his teacher. She's awesome, she understands the allergies, no problem.

No, my issues lie with the principal and in his staff, like the teacher (who had no name tag on) took it upon herself to yell at me for parking somewhere I shouldn't have. Okay, I understand letting me know I shouldn't have parked there but yelling at me? Continuously? After I apologized? After I said I wasn't aware? Continuously yelling? Uncalled for and unnecessary. It's shit like that that starts the whole damn year off on the wrong foot.

And then? Having the nurse call me and lecture me for not wanting Griffin to sit at the Peanut Free Table. Seriously? We've gone over this for over a year. I don't mind re-explaining allergies, I want you to understand but to actually call my intelligence into question and tell me I'm not doing what's best for my son? You have got to be fucking kidding me.

I have been wanting to switch Griffin into a different elementary school in our district for over a year. I keep hoping that they get it and manage to at least be civil. Aaron's finally to the point that he's ready to switch as well. He was the voice of giving it a year, of holding on, educating them.

But because of his teacher, because of my stupid faith in wanting to Get Along and Do My Best I'm trying to hold on, trying to not take it personally, trying to work with this forsaken bunch of idiots because I like Griffin's teacher and he loves it there. He has friends, he knows his extracurricular teachers, he likes it there. I don't want to uproot him and switch him somewhere else because it would be easier for me, even though it may potentially be better for him.

No one told me being a parent was going to be so damn political.

His Confidence is Peekin'

Boys.

Yesterday Griffin got into a fight with me because he wanted a movie. He said I said he could watch a movie and I did. But when the time came he saw a cartoon he wanted to watch. Okay, fine. But when that cartoon was over he wanted to watch another cartoon too. AND THAT'S WHEN I TOLD HIM TO DECIDE: MOVE OR CARTOONS. He choose cartoons. And he ended up watching cartoons for two hours.

And then he wanted a movie too.

Um, no. No movie. You chose cartoons.

He tried fighting with me, but I didn't relent. So then he got out his art supplies.


"Mom. I'm very upset with you. See this? Read it."

"Um.... so bad mom? Movie time?"

"No, sound it out."

"So..."

"No. The two o's together make the oo sound. Like smooth."

"Sooobm?"

"No, sound it out."

"I'm sounding it out, Griffin"

"Stooooooo B D"

"What?"

"Stooooooo B D."

"Stupid?"

"Well, that is what it says, Mom."

"I'm a stupid mom for not letting you have movie time?"

"Exactly."

Alrighty, then. I sent him to his room. In our home, "stupid" is a bad word. As is dumb.

Now, I wasn't mad -- this is what kids do. I vividly remember being eight and writing on my bulletin board that my "mom" was a bitch and in my defense my stepmonster was a total bitch. I just didn't realize this would start so early. I mean, he's told me he doesn't like me and I've always handled that well ("You don't have to like me, that's the charming part of this relationship, Griffin!"), but the writing nasty things about me, ouch. And I most certainly didn't expect it to start before he even knew how to write it properly.

Crap.

But, I was more proud of him for sitting down and writing out his feelings. That's good. Even if he has nasty things to say, at least he's sorting them out.

Once he realized that he called me stupid and I was going to show it to Daddy he became very upset and wanted the note back. Because he wanted to make it prettier. Great. Every mommy wants her name with stupid next to it with starts and hearts in glitter. That sounds fabulous.

I gave him another piece of paper and here's what he did with it.


Now, I'm not sure he wrote that more because I am good or because he was trying to prevent Aaron from threatening to spank his butt but he figured out to make me an apology all on his own.

Somehow we've gone from a nursing baby to a child writing me notes. Next up: teen years and how Laura goes bald prematurely.

Lights Out, We'll Make it Easy, We'll Make it Fun

Lo, I am completely delusion and stupid.


Because I'm all the kids are going to school! I'm going to have time to Do Stuff and somehow that translated to making a quilt? Um.... feel free to look into mental institutions for me, okay?

Step one: pinking the edges before washing. I full expect this to take a week.

After all, we are talking about me here. You know this project is going to cause me to cry and suck my thumb. You're crazy to expect otherwise.

Everybody Wanna Talk Too Much, But What You Need is a Special Touch

We spent the weekend on the couch, watching the Olympics.

Oh yeah. Us. The nerds. The ones who's eyes glaze over when someone mentions a ball. Any ball. If a ball is involved, we're bored. Please do not mention balls to us unless you want us to roll our eyes, glaze them over and eventually fake a seizure. Or start talking Star Wars. We're good at both.

Anyway! Olympics!

I became a screamer. No, wait. A SCREAMER. Yeah, that's better. I screamed and screamed. Screamed at one of the Women's Volleyball teams for consistently serving the ball (ball! I'm talking about a ball!) over the back line. Screamed at Phelps to GO! GO! GO! Screamed at the men's row team to GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR! And did you know? When they row? Their seats actually move like that fake doohicky does in the gym? I DID NOT KNOW THAT. It's like, real.

And, due to my extreme guilt of being a lazy ass and spending all my time on the couch, I practiced my split stitch.


Aaron: "What the hell are you doing?"

Laura: "Embroidery."

Aaron: "Why? Oh, wait. I know why. SO YOU CAN POST IT ON YOUR BLOG"

Laura: "Nuh-uh. I need to practice my split stitch."

Aaron: "And so you can post it on your blog."

Laura: "Well, shit, Aaron. I have to have something to show for my weekend. How about you?"

Aaron: "Please. My awesomeness is accomplishment enough."

I Gave it Everything I Had and Everything I Got Was Bad

It's starting all over again. The pain-in-the-ass bullshit of explaining to the school that we have food allergies and NO, that did not change of the course of the summer.

Dumbasses.

This morning the boys had appointments with our allergist (I find it easiest that we all see the same doctors, it helps a lot) for a bi-annual checkup. But the summer one is always super-fun because it involves refills of medications (yes, "s") and gearing up for back to school, which also includes letters of benedryl dosages and multiple epipens.

And now the school district has decided that they need medical documentation that Griffin has allergies (which is fine, but it's not a new policy, why didn't they need it last year?) and want to know what they can give him instead. Dude, you can't give him ANYTHING. It's called cross-contamination. Don't give my kid food. Period. It's not that damn hard.

So now my doctor had to fill out that form, write a letter about the medication to be emergently-dispensed at school and write another letter to embellish the form because they didn't give enough space for a doctor to properly explain how allergies work despite the fact I talk about it till I'm blue in the face.

And he also wrote a letter for Darwin (who's going to preschool; PRESCHOOL) for medication purposes and LUCKILY they get it. They're all "Don't give him food unless you provide it, easy." And I'm all, "Wanna go make out behind the bushes? Because I love you. Come on, let's go."

So, after spending an hour hashing this fun stuff out with the doctor I got to come home and reorganize it all and realized, fuck, I didn't get all that paperwork back. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-FUCK.

But it will be okay. Really. Truly. Because it can't be worse than last year, right? RIGHT?

Oy.


In other, more exciting news, Griffin saw the new TV Guide at the store and had to buy it (with his own damn money, I should point out) because it's all about The Clone Wars and everyday I get asked upteen times how many days till August 15th? Because, Mom, that's when The Clone Wars comes to theaters. Can we go? Let's go now!

And yeah, that TV Guide came with a CD-ROM of previews and behind the scenes and guess who started whining when I said it was my turn to get on the computer?

Go on, guess.

Thanks for the Memories, Even Though They Weren't So Great

Last night, Griffin and I went to visit my friend and her five year old.

Connor: Hey! I've never met you before!

Griffin: Yes, you have.

Connor: No, I haven't.

Griffin: Yes, you have. It's just been awhile.

Connor: Oh. I missed you a lot. TONS.

Let's do the Fork in the Garbage Disposal, Ding-Ding-Ding-Ding Da-Ding-Ding-Ding-Ding

I love weekends. I love working air conditioning. Put the two together in August in Kansas and I'm a happy camper.

So happy, in fact, that I even Sewed Something. Fuckin' amazing, right?


One week after Griffin lost his third tooth (be amazed by my awesome time management skills), I finally sewed Griffin a tooth pillow.

Aaron was disappointed because it wasn't exactly like his growing up. Griffin was disappointed because it wasn't an owl pillow like he had drawn two days previously. Darwin was disappointed that I was giving it to Griff and not him.

Apparently, my loser skills in disappointing people are still strong. GO ME.


And on the back, a wee little pocket for teeth. That is just big enough to shove my finger in if necessary.

The rest of weekend was spent bitching about the heat (don't know why I needed to mention that, that's a given) and cooking. Gyro meat in the crockpot, tzatziki sauce, Greek salad, crash potatoes and then yesterday a "fake" Chinese takeout that took me an hour and a half to make. Nothin' like a full belly and cool home, I say.

And Baby You Know All the Right Things to Say

"I love you Mommy."

"I love you too Darwin. Will you be my baby forever?"

"YEAH!"

"And ever?"

"YEAH!"

"And someday you'll give me grandbabies?"

"YEAH!"

"How many?"

"TWENTY!"

One Summer Never Ends

Can you believe it? Griffin goes back to school in two weeks. Well, two weeks from tomorrow but two weeks just the same. This week has been spent buying school supplies (yikes, expensive) and clearing out last year's stuff (two bags full of paper recyclables, right there).

A couple of weeks following that, Darwin will go to preschool. I'm not quite certain what I'll be doing with myself, but running around naked whooping it up and twirling my shirt over my head is at the top of my list.


Yes, Tuckie is still alive. He's be a pill lately though, having some eye problems and then refusing to eat, only to decide a couple of weeks later that 20 crickets a day is a reasonable diet. He's like a child. Without the cuddling.