Tests

As I was pulling things out of her backpack, I came across Girlie's weekly spelling test. Of course, I am proud of her spelling, but I am even more excited to see that her handwriting has improved so much. We have been working on it and it has been a huge source of frustration and anguish for her.

Boy can I relate! I also had a terrible time with penmanship. Years later, I found out that I was really left handed, but my mother and my pediatrician had decided to "correct" it and force me to use my right hand. That explains so much about me. But that is a story for another time. This one is about tests.




As part of the test, the kids get to write two sentences for extra credit. I turned the page over to find this:

Yes, my child managed to scribble out, not one, but two swear words in a single sentence. Okay, I realize that she didn't mean to, I had to laugh anyway.

You see, I am known to have a bit of a potty mouth. It isn't something I am especially proud of, but it is a pretty big part of who I am. I do my best to curb it in front of the kids, but when I am without them, just being me, I let it fly. I rarely swear because I am angry. Most often, I use the words to punctuate my sentences. Like little four letter exclamation points.

Like so many other things, this quality is not something I hope to pass along to my children. As I review Girlie's work, I wonder if I'll pass the test too. Will I share enough of the good parts of who I am? Will my children be able to escape repeating the things I have done?

I sure as hell hope so.

Untitled

Today is a good day.

I managed to take a shower before Hubs left for work and even remembered to put on deodorant. The Little Guy and I made it to the library on time for story hour and chatted up a few cute Moms while we hung out. I made seventeen double sided copies of my writing assignment and though it is far from perfect, I can now let it go. I might have even scored the perfect rug for my dining room at a really great price on craigslist.

Sure, it is a smidge sad that personal hygiene even ranks on my happy day list, but I am okay with that.

Because today is a good day.

To do? Ta Da!

Life has been all about a to do list lately. I am working on knocking out a string of things before my mother in law comes next week, followed immediately by my dearest friend from Chicago, followed one week later by my best friend from Atlanta (you're still coming right?). If you want to come stay at Casa de Crazy, you'll need to look into late April, early May. For the next month, we're booked.

I need finish my compiling my tax info (which is complicated this year due to the sale of a business, a house, and a move across country). I need to register the little guy for a little "pre" pre-school program for the fall. I need to rollover some IRA's. I need to have a moment and cry over my retirement account in general. I need to register Girlie for swim class. The exterior windows desperately need washed. I need to get a haircut, and the grays are starting to look like highlights (but not in a good way).

I did get a few things done already. I finally picked up flowers for the front bed. I somehow booked cheap flights to get us back to Georgia in June. I helped my Grandmother book a flight online (worlds colliding). I painted the dining room. I volunteered at the school. I am in the process of writing and rewriting and revising an assignment for my class. Never mind my book, which hasn't gotten a decent paragraph in weeks.

Blah blah blah. Check check check. Next!

I am busy.

And I have to do all this stuff, which could probably be knocked out in a single day under normal circumstances (whatever that is these days), with an eighteen month old in tow and an almost seven year old to shuttle around. It takes for-freaking-ever to finish the simplest things.

And yet I do.

How?

Because I am more stubborn than my children. Because I stop and start again and again and again. Because I WILL FINISH THIS TASK PEOPLE WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT AND WILL YOU PLEASE NOT TOUCH THE PAINT CAN BEFORE I HAVE TO RAISE MY VOICE!

Yep. I am busy. And a little crazy to boot. So, what's new with you?

But I can still win an Oscar, right?

Over the weekend I took Girlie to shop for a new bathing suit. She'll be starting swimming lessons soon and, of course, her suits from last year are all too small. To say she is particular about the way clothes fit is a huge understatement. Too loose, too tight, too scratchy, too whatever, and she isn't going to wear it. She hasn't always been this fussy about fit, but she is almost seven and right now it's her thing.

We loaded up the cart with pink polka dots and pink stripes and pink flowers and headed to the dressing room for the show. I assumed it was going to be a bit dramatic and briefly wondered if I could bring in some popcorn to munch on. No time for that though, we had to get through the ten or so options and keep moving.

Surprisingly, it wasn't so bad. As she put on each suit, she danced around in front of the three way mirror making faces and giggling herself breathless. As I watched her preen and strut in that unselfconscious little girl way, I glanced at myself in the mirror and saw that I looked a little tired.

And then it hit me. I am not the lead actress anymore. I am just Mom, the person who sits patiently in the dressing room handing over bathing suits. I am now officially in a supporting role. How the hell did that happen?

Confession

Tonight I had to take away the playdoh ice cream sundae maker that Girlie bought with her own money. I had to do it because I said I would. She was being extremely mouthy (including repeating what I said in a mocking tone) and not doing what she was told after being asked many times. I threw the playdoh ice cream sundae maker in the trash. I had to. I'll probably fish it out after she is in bed, but I can't give it back to her for a very long time. Needless to say, she is pretty upset about it.

I hate being the adult. It sucks.