It's been a long time.
Life has a way of marching on whether it is chronicled or not. I'm channeling my inner Virginia Woolf on this one (stream of consciousness style, not in terms of strange sexual fears or general, you know... crazazy [although, I should mention... DEBATABLE]) so get comfy and stick with me on this one.
R's middle school experience last year sucked. As in, pulled him out of an especially horrifying and borderline abusive teacher's class prior to the end of the school year risking life (?) limb (?) and an F in orchestra (!). In the end, I believe he got the C- but honestly, I didn't care. Note to humans: If you can't control your impulses to bellow in the faces of children with your coffee breath and highly disgusting corner-of-the-mouth white sticky spit stuff, find another profession. Prison needs wardens, and felons need your spit stuff. Am I bitter? Yeah, a little. Fortunately, R is now at a hippy dippy trippy school in town that seems to be working with him although he still struggles with being called out for inattention/goofiness/laziness in class to which I say, "My sweet love, you must SUCK.IT.UP!" He's been on a school camping trip during which he neither slept nor pooped but he did eat an entire container of Nutella so you no, bonus. I love the kid, and he's determined to make this school thing difficult for himself. Upside: When he acts out, he loses video games, so our house is often quiet these days. Luckily his general hugginess has survived, and he's still the sweetest little jackass in all of jackassville.
Let us pray. Oh holy redheaded mother of 80's perseverance, please deliver us from the horrors of parenting pre-teen boys. The mood swings, the smells, the grades, the sloth, the excessive consumption of nutrition-free nutrition, oh Molly Ringwald, it may be the death of me (or at least my patience) yet. Amen.
A? She's just fine... fucking fantastic, really. Spare her the peace circle, the "hug it out", the vapid trappings of tweenlady existence. Give that girl a turtle (or 30), a goat (or 30), an episode (or 30) of the Office, and every Warriors (Seekers, etc.) book ever written, and she'll bide her time until the world is her oyster (or her bitch, depending on who you ask) and she can begin to right the wrongs that are so obvious to her wide open eyes. In the mean time, just play air hockey with her, catch as many episodes of Once Upon a Time as possible with her, and make the damn pancakes already, I'm hungry (honey butter sauce, no maple syrup mmkay thanks).
Gotta run now but I'll update you on the rest of us another day. I hope you're well :)
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