We seem to be starting a family tradition of getting in trouble during the first week of school. Remember kindergarten and the Invisible Man? I don’t miss those days … wondering if she would bring home a green, yellow, orange or angry red face, but I still don’t like the “OOPS” notes either. My guess is that it wasn’t an oops at all, because talking and not paying attention in class runs in her genes. Right, mom??
My dad is a one-of-a-kind. I definitely get my sarcastic side from him, and if I have any toughness or strength, I probably got it from him too. Recently he went to the doctor and had several tests done. I won’t give you all the details, but there could have been something to worry about. Luckily, that isn’t the case.
He sent me an email this morning with all his test results and it looks like he will be around for many more years to torture us with his biting sense of humor. As I am reading his email, I made the mistake of continuing to eat my breakfast and wound up spitting milk all over my computer when I got to the last two lines.
“He also gave me a prescription for Valium to help me sleep when the old arthritis pain hits at bed time. That works well. He also said I could take one every 3 hours and I wouldn’t be an asshole any more.”
Not that I believe this to be true, but if it is, I might try to get a prescription for Dan too.
My first born is 7 years old today. Old and wiser people are always telling me that children grow up really fast and today I finally understand. Seven years has gone by in the blink of an eye. And she is such an independent little girl these days … no longer a little mini-me who just wants to make me happy. (I’m going to miss those days!) But I’m looking forward to watching her grow into an amazing young lady. Smart, confident, independent … that is my wish for her.
Betty White can kiss my ass. I’m old, but I’m not THAT old.
The Bad.
While I was in Miami, Dan took Deuce (my cat) to a “farm” (a guy Dan works with lives on several acres and has a barn). Yes, he had been pissing in the house, and we had discussed our options for dealing with it, but I didn’t expect him to vanish while I was out of town. (In Dan’s defense, he thought it would be easier on me that way.)
The girls had said their goodbyes, so I resisted the urge to demand Deuce’s immediate return (take him away and then bring him back, only to potentially take him away again if we couldn’t resolve the pissing issue?), but after a week I couldn’t stand it anymore. So they tried to retrieve him, but apparently Deuce didn’t get along very well with the barn cats and was nowhere to be found.
I’ve been back over there several times looking for him, and I’ve put an alert in with the local animal control facilities … but I am heartbroken. I feel like I failed him. And I will forvever wonder where he is and what is happening to him.
Really??
When I got home last night, Anabella and Scarlett were at the kitchen table drawing with the nanny. I picked up a few of their drawings to take a look and was really suprised to see that my children were drawing penises.
I calmly asked Anabella “what are these?” to which she replied, “It’s the monorail at Disney!”
Of course. And your mommy is a perv.
I always laugh. Loudly. Enjoy.
I found this drawing in Anabella’s backpack this morning … totally stumped on what to do. Ignore it? Ask her about it? Say something to her teacher? Do I really have to talk to my 6-year-old daughter about what a “Ho” is?! Geesh.
Thoughts? I am open to any and all suggestions!
My dad forwarded this, and it really spoke to me today.