I’m sweltering away at the public pool on Day Four of President’s Day weekend. It’s like a friggin’ sauna in here. It’s my survival strategy for interminable holiday breaks.
I round up as many kids as possible, take them to the pool and then afterwards we have a picnic in the park and more running around.
After four solid hours of exercise/playing/outdoorsiness, I feel like I have satisfied my parental obligations and have some money in the bank when I need to call in a favor.
The kids had Friday off as well, a teacher work day.
I’m not saying they aren’t working; I know they are. The teachers at my school are the best, hardest working teachers ever. But how about spending that day teaching my kids? I know they are frustrated that they don’t spend more time actually teaching but it looks like I’m going to have to pick up the slack.
I’m trying to figure out how to make the most of this upcoming summer. I recently attended Scrotus’s Young Author reading in his classroom. Frankly, his work, er, didn’t stand up to what other kids were doing.
I realize this sounds harsh but there is a huge disconnect between what he writes and what he reads, thinks and says. This worries me.
He’s the third grader who reads brick-like teenage fantasy novels and seamlessly integrates new vocabulary words. Yet his story was a blow-by-blow retelling of a very long, very involved, kind of dirty joke.
But not that dirty, just the old one about the naked lady and the blind salesman, only longer and he screwed up the punchline so it made no sense.
I’m having a word with Loony about the jokes he lets “Uncle Jim” tell the boys.
Clearly he is still having problems expressing himself on paper. I don’t see this as his problem but mine. I need to provide more support so he can experience ease with the written word.
I don’t expect him to be a great writer – like his mother – but I do want him to feel comfortable with a pencil and paper.
This leads me to this summer, it looks like I’ll be searching for educational camps for both my kids. I figure a semi-sucky summer (we’ll still go swimming and camping and take trips so it won’t be that bad) is way better than a super sucky school career.
I am Tiger Mother, hear me roar.
Geez, I don’t know if it’s the heat in here or if I’m getting sick. Loony woke up feeling nauseous and fluey and I just heard that Tabby was knocked flat yesterday by some bug. Please don’t let me be next.
And please, no, don’t let the kids go down.
I mentioned this to Nitro who was at the Cringe Party and he was all, “Great, if I get sick I know who to blame.”
I always think that when it comes to nasty bugs that run rampant through a community, it is very productive to lay the blame on someone.
After last week I think it’s wise to take a break from the non-stop debauchery. While I was never completely hung-over, I was tired and irritable and unable to pole. I’m too old for this shit.
I’m laying off the booze which is a tall order since I’m spending the weekend with Pamcakes at a “Woman’s Retreat” where we will eat copious amounts of cheese, drink wine and play the penis game.
What’s the Penis Game?
You have to go to a public place and each person takes turns saying Penis louder than the last one until you are screaming at the top of your lungs.
I don’t make this shit up. We’ll probably do it at a gay bar, or maybe that fondu place.
The loser has to bleach her anus because who wants to be sad like the lady in this commercial?
I wonder if this stuff will work on the age spots I’ve got on my face?
There will also be internet surfing activities that require someone to bring a “burner” computer.
Oh boy. How am I going to stay sober? I really want to if for no other reason than I would like to be the person who escapes without any cringe worthy moments.
I have been getting rid of stuff, just incase you were wondering.
I threw out a bunch of shit while going through the kids’ room the other day. Felt so good.