I started a post today about how catty 5th grade girls are and then….
The year after I graduated high school, was the Columbine shooting (13 lives lost). It was inconceivable that an American child would shoot and kill other American children in a school. I remember specifically and repeatedly trying to process that concept in my brain; we weren’t being attacked by another country. No this wasn’t an international war. It was the catalyst for what became a copycat, mass killing, American culture which we have carefully constructed and intricately threaded into the very fabric of who were are, with the most pigheaded and dangerous minds and laws in the world.
Because some people like to hunt.
Parkland, Florida. Killer bought an assault rifle because child killer was too young to buy a handgun.
Now go back and read that sentence again. Pigheaded and dangerous law.
Child killer wasn’t shopping for a hunting rifle. He had been expelled, he was angry, he had made threats and this has become our copycat, mass killing culture.
To him, this was the next logical step. We will start to hear all the heroic stories of teachers laying down their lives for their students because American teachers are on the frontlines of our civil war against school shootings. They become involuntary, instant, unarmed soldiers in nanoseconds. And they so commonly don’t live. (Remember that when your superintendent gives himself raise and not the teachers, btw.)
A parent said today on the news, “you never this this could happen to you.” And there usually is at least one person who says, “you never think it can it happen to you.” But what we’re all thinking is, “when is it going to happen near me?”
My heart and prayers go out to Florida.
Total “wait for it” video. You know the Christmas program is done when the kid starts throwing up gang signs! I laugh so hard I think I peed a little.
Please share the joy.
What happens to my baby for the three hours she is out of my sights Monday through Friday?
Because she’s been doing this for a week now and she’s down a pound, begging for naps, and acting like she’s never been fed.
I send her to this primary colored looking baby love-me-land looking all tidy with her pigtails and cute dress. And I pick up this wild eyed, frizzy haired monstery midget with marker hands who is now dressed in someone else’s clothes, has one ponytail (I think), and a demonic voice is coming from her general direction demanding Spaghetti-O’s.
I can’t keep those things on the shelf either. Stupid Spaghetti-O’s (no I won’t Google how to really spell it!) And we’ve moved on to the “feeds 16 monsters midgets with marker hands” cans but it doesn’t matter because kid doesn’t even taste them. I’m thinking about getting her a straw next time to expedite things.
Oh and, I’m only allowed to warm them in the pan whilst she’s ripping her strangers clothes off with closed eyes, SCREAMING how she’s not tired. So about 30 seconds of “cooking”. But then they’re still, “TOO HOT MOMMY!”
My God people, be good to your teachers. I’m pretty sure most of them are currently thinking “why the hell didn’t I become a dentist?”
Yesterday’s post began like this:
“I take every opportunity possible to embarrass Sissy et. al. She’s nine and I’ve earned this with each eye I’ve tolerated.”
Today at the grocery store while passing the homliest male human carved by the hands of God, Baby et. al calls out at the top of her 3 year old lungs to this man while he is a mere 9 millimeters from us, “are you my daddy?”
Has she said this before? Yes. I have no idea why, but occasionally she asks me if random men are her dad. Backstory: I’m married to her dad. We conceived her within the marriage. It’s all the legit with this one.
He was alarmingly tickled to have been asked this question so we got nada from the chip isle (BOO!)
Karma’s a bitch. So I didn’t embarrassed Sissey et. al again, right? It strengthens her character, right?
Yep. I doubled downed. Had to pick something up in the office when picking up Sissey et. al from school and on the way out (with the entire rest of the school) she asks, “what’s for dinner tonight?”
And I replied the same way every other mom in American is going to respond tonight when they pick up with kids tonight.
“Don’t talk to me. I’m famous.” And Her et. al kept on walking.
I take every opportunity possible to embarrass Sissy et. al. She’s nine and I’ve earned this with each eye I’ve tolerated.
She’s in dance and she’s one of “those” girls. Like those girls who goes four days a week ten+ hours, who knows, I don’t care. I wasn’t born with the dance mom gene, I’ve had to try and develop it. Which is tough with the zero fucks I give.
Where am I going with this?
Ah yes. So this years she’s stopped competing and I thought, “Hells yes!” What am I going to do with all this extra money and time? Time to take up heroine or something else fancy like that! I kid.
But Nooooooooo. There’s this new thing called “performance company”. And it’s worse than compeition. Like waaaaaay worse. Like the first day the director schedules head shots.
She’s 9! I wanted to be a mermaid when I was 9!
Ok so when she’s in these rehearsals she’s with high schoolers and girls she has looked up to for years (because shits getting real people) and she warns me….”don’t embarrass me mom!”
Embarrass you?! The girl who just told me that ALL of the food I cook in the crockpot taste like LITERAL dirty socks? Why on earth would I do that?
*5 minutes into class in my best sing songy voice*
“OH SISSY ET. AL! YOU FORGOT YOUR SNOWMAN BLOOD IN THE CAR!!”
Alright kids. I’m going to give it to you straight. You’re right, The Dab is not a sneeze. But it’s close to a sneeze. Us moms out there who are also nurses, strongly suggested the rappers in the ATL (I’m immensly cool for using that abbreviation correctly) via mind control to created this style of dance as a way of making hygenic sneezing cool again.
So go ahead kids, Dab away….Particularly durin cold and flu season.
We are getting ready to build a house! Of course, it takes 90 years for the bank crap to get done and that’s where we are in the process. But once they are able to remove their craniums from their anus (ani? What is the plural of anus??)
Anywho, I digress. Place your bets here and now!!
How many hair ties will we find in our old house when we pack?
Oddest place a hair tie was found. A subjective response which must match mine.
The winner will receive one pack of the braided black hair ties! And yes I will really mail these to you house or PO box!
The official move will not take place for abou 6 months. But I will tag this post when I update the winner! Or hop over to my Facebook page and like me there and find out quicker if you won!