Welcome to a Fly on the Wall group post. Today 12 bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes. Come on in and buzz around my house, see what you think, then click on the links below for a peek into some other homes:
This was parent teacher conference week for three out of four of my children. The resulting knowledge from each has left me completely dumbfounded and bewildered. It just seems so impossible in grand scheme of motherhood. My daughter’s are geniuses and my son’s, well, I hope I don’t mind a lifetime supply of free McDonald’s food. Because that’s all they’re destined for at this point… and it’s only fifth and sixth grades! How can my first two children who got the MOST attention from me be the least responsible, the least eager to learn, and the hardest to teach? But the quickest witted out of them, too? The girls, who are my youngest and have had to share the attention the most, are super smart in school to the point of being able to skip a grade if they want to be challenged hard. Yet the most gullible and senseless of my children. The littlest was just running around saying “knock, knock” as she knocked on her head, then answering “who’s there? Poke your eye out.”, and actually poking herself in the eye!!! Tell me, teacher, how this four year old is learning at a mid-kindergarten rate? Cuz, I’m just not seeing it here. Lol.
Earlier this week, my two dunce cap son’s were at a friend’s house playing football. A friend got a little heated and turned aggressive on everyone, with the younger boy taking an elbow to his gut and his older brother getting tackled into a fence where his arm went through and got stuck in one of the cross-holes. I knew it couldn’t be broken, but he wouldn’t trust my word, even knowing I originally went to college to be a nurse until he came along and led me to become a Health Unit Coordinator instead. For three days he whined and cried about the burning, tingling pains inside his fibia bone. He rubbed it, babied it, and kept it wrapped with an ace bandage, shielding it from anything which might potentially brush up against it ever-so gently. He even told his friends it was broken. So on Wednesday night I called him out on crying wolf. Took him to the Emergency Room and asked them to do xrays to prove his little ass wrong. Though, I guess after seeing his latest measurements, my eleven year old tween ain’t so little anymore. He measured at 111 lbs. and five foot two inches! Only five inches until he’s even with me! How could this come to be right before my eyes!?! Any who, back to calling the kid’s bluff. The nurse practitioner was so kind to put him in his place and let him know that it’s just a contusion and his pubescent hormones got the better of him. I didn’t have the heart to embarrass him further and correct her. He’s been this dramatically sensitive since forever ago; its SO not the hormones. Though, it sure doesn’t help.
To top off the insanity this week, our school does these morning off half-days. Kids stay home until after lunch then go until the end of the day. This is done for morning conferences because the school isn’t big enough to have all day conferences, just one morning and two evening sessions. Since middle school conferences are not until next week, I still had to get him up and off to school instead of sleeping in. Good thing. Two of the kids I shuttle to the elementary school with my own showed up for a regular school day, both parents ignorant to the half day the school sent out 6 memos and one reminder phone call for over the past two weeks. I think it was done purposely, because they both pulled the work card and begged me to babysit with a little extra in my monthly pay for the shuttling. Instead of my usual three hours of alone time while my preschooler is gone in the mornings, I had 4 kids, ages 6-10, running amuck and under foot all damn morning. Yet the husband couldn’t figure out why my migraine could’ve been so horrendous before noon. Men. Maybe THAT’S where the girls get their senselessness from. Yeah… we’ll run with that one right now. It’s always the dad’s fault anyways.
Oh! I almost forgot! My animal lover grandfather’s spirit dropped another orphan off on my porch on Wednesday, too! I’m now fostering a 3½ week old, orange tabby kitten until it’s old enough to go to a forever home. My kids think we’re keeping this one, too, and named it Tangu after the orange desert in the cartoon, Sophia The First. But, we can’t. Two dogs, three grown cats, fish, and aquatic frogs are more than enough for this overworked and underappreciated mother to take care of. Bad enough I gotta feed this little adorable shithead every 4 hours around the clock by hand because it’s supposed to be nursing still. So, before you buzz outta here… wanna purrfect new friend in 4-6 weeks? Anyone? Anyone?
NEXT ON THE BUZZ LIST:
Baking In A Tornado
Go Mama O
Day 20 #NaBloPoMo 2015
By: Kristina Hammer, aka, The Angrivated Mom