Skip to main content

good news

My kids started school this week.

PHEW.

Two Bits started first grade on monday, and I put Opie ('Screamer' or whatever you want to call him) on the bus for the first time at exactly 12:35 tomorrow afternoon. I would tell you how many seconds that is from now, except that my math skills are horribly inadequate (I blame this on graphing calculators, and my 8th grade algebra teacher who told us it was ok to look at the answers in the back of the book.)

I want to thank everyone for their awesome comments on the last post.

It seems that I am not alone in the mommy-hating-hood. And I'm probably also not alone in thinking that I was the only one in that hood before the half (ok, mostly) crazed post written amidst my mothering funk.

I think we all feel alone in this because when we see other moms who ask, "You're kids are so cute, what a great mom you are! So how are you today?" You can't really answer that question with, "Please excuse me while I throw this shoe and scream profanities to declare my complete disgust with parenting."

(By the way, I don't scream profanities. Or throw shoes. But BOY have I wanted to.)

I think I'm going to start a movement. A movement of mothers who tell eachother how they actually feel. Instead of putting on their happy mommy faces, that society has deemed we must wear, and pretend that we have it all under control.

And now I know how you all feel, there's really no faking it. Sorry, but you have to join my movement. At least when you're around me (which happens all the time, right?) Except, of course, if my mommy-brain kicks in like usual and I forget all about this. Which is actually highly likely. It seems that 2.7 seconds is about my average memory retention and then all info goes to.....who knows where. I'm betting it all goes to Wisconsin though. Because it's probably pretty sure I'll never look for it there.

In an attempt to get my life a bit more under control (so that I don't have to answer everyone who says, "How are you?" with too much negativity) I created a great new school schedule (with pictures) and a kid chore chart (more pictures) and a whole behavior=consequences thing (yes, I drew a picture of underwear with the word NO repeated around it to remind my son there is a consequence for pooping his pants.) And among those consequences I've decided that if I or Husband yell at the kids then we have to pay them a penny, each, and for every time.

Which reminds me - I owe my kids money.

So anyways, I'm feeling a bit better. Because as much fun as my little breakdowns are, I think I'd like postpone my next one for a while.

And thanks again for openly accepting me into the 'hood.' And if you ever see me clutching a shoe.....well, you've been warned.

Comments

Emmy said…
Good for you. Having the kids in school now really will help to :)
Hope your kids to get too rich ;)
Yup, yup and yup.
Claire said…
Sometimes I feel like lobbing a steel toe-capped boot. Does this make me a REALLY bad mum?

Popular posts from this blog

I am an artist.

I really am. But not one of those deeply moving, "what do you mean you don't understand my painting, it's BLUE" kind of artists.  I'm more like one of those "oh hey, a pen and a napkin, doodle doodle doodle" kind of artists.  Because I do it for fun.  And yeah, for money.  But still.  Fun....most of the time. But I feel like branching into new mediums.  Do you know how long it's been since I painted?  Like with something other than finger paints or the kids' water colors where all the colors are mixed so they just come out brown anyway? It's been awhile.  I've been itching to paint for months. I've also wanted to let Monkey loose on a canvas for awhile.  He's not like my other kids (who all carry mine and Husband's arty genes) who like to draw endless pictures of unicorns, princesses, transformers or dinosaurs.  Monkey likes to feel his art.  He'll probably end up being one of those deeply moving types.  And I'

I won't be offended if you answer NO to the question at the end of this post

So this post will probably lose me a lot of respect and friends and possibly even a few phone calls to the Health and Welfare department. But I just feel like posting it, it's kind of like saying it outloud, but without having to watch someone's face react to the horror. And today, I really feel the need to say it outloud. So if you read this and don't feel like being friends anymore, I get it. With everyone's kids going back to school (and our school district being the last to start in the entire world, so I'm still sitting here dealing with summer child overload) I keep reading the posts about how mothers are sad to see their kids go, and how much they're going to miss them, and how much they absolutely love motherhood. Want me to tell you what I think about motherhood? I hate it. There are times when I hate it more than any other thing on the planet. And there goes most of my friends. But I'm sorry. I do. I hate being a mother. I don't hate my c

I'm not fat, my scale just hates me.

That's what it is. It's probably an evil scale anyway.  Always lying to me.  Telling me I'm fat. The worst part about it is that the scale has also convinced all the mirrors in my house to play along.  And I know it got my pant size on board ages ago.  It's also managed to get the camera to cooperate, even though I treat that camera like one of my dear precious children.  And this evil, hateful scale has attached a big mound of blubber right on my midsection. Well guess what scale - I hate you too. ***************************************************** I think showers are a waste of time. You get in just to get all wet, emerge dripping, get a nice clean towel wet, redress yourself, figure out something to do with your crazy 'just got wet and now it's going to dry ultra fuzzy, don't even think about using a blowdryer' hair, and put on all the makeup that you just washed off even though your mascara could probably have passed for a whole extra d