Pre-puberty's Weekend

It started out like this as Pete and I stepped in the door on Friday. She was gleaming with four blue ribbons. Track and Field day for a girl who refused to join the Run Club, which is the only available activity even close to Track for her age, ended up with Pre-puberty beating the schiznits out of all the fifth and sixth grade girls in her school! Even her close friend, the jock.

Who, by the way is mad as hell, but that's okay. She recently got caught with a note she wrote saying "FU" to some boy and then tried to put partial blame on others, Pre-puberty
being one of them. Whatever- PP knows how to handle herself.(Yep, that's the friend below.) The events won- 100yd. dash, 200yd. dash, 50 yd. dash and the broad jump.

Guess what? She doesn't have a choice about the matter next year- off to the Run Club. After all, a girl who plays soccer with girls at least a foot taller than her, getting yellow cards thrown, is not wasting that talent in this house!!!!!!! She plays a little dirty. That's her father's, football coach's philosophy, and I may not be a stage mom, but with sports, I may be a little cut throat. Just a little.

Back to the weekend. Here she is with some more friends. No ballet for her, so she's not dressed in her costume yet.

However, once she was dressed, she came out to find a "boyfriend" standing there with this rose for her, waiting patiently during intermission to give her his best wishes.
Thanks, little buddy, but your rose and presence totally sent Pre-Puberty into a head spin, so during her dance, she jumped into to her handstand, lowering herself into the worm, thinking of you and landed on her chin.
After the dance, the boy presented her with yet another bouquet of flowers. Damn, I thought these kind of men were obsolete! He was as nervous as she was.

The second day of recitals ended up just fine. 'Cept for my oldest sister. When she came out of the auditorium, she had gum stuck in her hair. Go figure. Damn balconies anyway. Probably that same little boy who gave PP her flowers.

Happy Memorial Day!!!!!!

You had me at.....

As a meme, I am to mention a few blogs who got my attention with certain posts and then kept me coming back. So here it goes......

MOFM- you had me at Ice Skating Down Your Driveway. This is when I knew that you were the real McCoy. You didn't mind laughing at yourself, and there was no way in hell that anything was keeping you from your soccer game. I love you for always just being you no matter what the state of mind.

Jules- On Any Given Day. I love all of your posts, but I knew that you had the grip on the stage that I'm getting to in life, of which I do not have a grip.

Mental Mama-Napkins. You love your drink like I do and are not scared to tell about it!!!!

Annie, Sweet Annie- Why do I keep saying this???? You are sweet, I just know it. Dad. That's the post that hooked me. You love your dad like I love mine. Enough said. They are wonderful men who did the job as fathers with great success.

Kareer- Life's List. I always need reminders to keep life real.

Mama Geek- Love all your pics, but this one, although recent, screams my mood, especially as of late.

Stacie- Sorry, but this one had me with your honesty about your marraige. Hubby's Car. I just couldn't believe, and although felt bad for you, couldn't help but to laugh. Hopefully, things are still looking up for you two.

Anyone else????

Think Again Thursday

Instead of MOFM's F-U Friday, I am posting Think Again Thursday, just today, not every week. I am sitting in a room with way too much to do, but with no ability to do it as I am not in my office today.

So, the things asked of me today.....think again.

1. Cover art class today for four periods. Yeah, cuz I want paint on my suit which I had to wear for a meeting later.

2. Cover meeting, paperwork and mistakes for lady who isn't smart enough to see that her 11 year old daughter was struggling with some problems for months, and the lady now needs to be on family leave. Hellooooo, stage mom, there are more things to life than DANCE!(I do feel for the family as a whole. I am not a total bitch.)

3. Find the form to start a licensing application for a girls group home. Listen those of you at the meeting last nite for therapists. I do therapy for a hobby not for a job. Find your own damn form and make your own shittin' phone calls to find out. I want no part of a girls group home.

4. Give advice, hand out order forms, approve items, all for curriculum for the 80-09 school year. Hey people, I am the Special Ed. Supervisor. My husband is the Curriculum Director. We are not one in the same. Just because we have the same last name means nothing at work. I do, believe it or not, have my own identity (and my own job).

5. Approve paperwork for a student who MAY or MAY not attend the school next year. Yep, that's what I want to do- read a five inch thick file on a kid whose parents aren't even sure that he is coming to this school next year. Read the file yourself Mr. Administrator, cuz you never take my advice, and I will end up cleaning up the mess anyway.

6.Fill the toilet paper in the girls' bathroom. I do this at home, and I am finally saying "no" at work. Figure out something; it's not that hard. Spend a little more on a janitor, maybe?! I've done it enough all year.

7. Inform administration of teachers' concerns about inconsistencies in discipline due to aministrative choices. Teachers, although I am certified to be a principal, it is not my role and I am not a man; thus I will have no more pull than you, dear educators. Sorry, I know you are frustrated, but your opinion of my role is as inflated as administrations' opinion of my role is deflated. Remember and I repeat, I AM NOT A MAN.

8. Help student get into a tech school. It is now May 22. I asked you repeatedly all year. You don't even know where you want to go. There is no space left usually at this point in the year. You ask me why I didn't help???? Kid, I can't even begin to get you to understand if this is the kind of question that you ask???

Okay, enough complaining. Just wanted to let you know how my day is going.........

Dance Rehearsal

I am a glutton for punishment, or simply, I am full of guilt at times for being a working mom. Thus, at dance recital time, I always agree to do "check in" for the 400 dancers that perform. There are several mothers that do this together, and fortunately, they are always kind. It is the bitchy moms on the other side of the table with which we have to deal. The ones that always complain but would never help out behind the scenes. Their daughters are way too important!!!! or rather THEY are too important!!!!

For practice, there are no dressing rooms. The form that came home clearly stated to come dressed and ready to go. There are large bathrooms, and some other possiblities for those that have several costume changes. No big deal. Fact is that it would have cost the dance company $500 extra dollars per nite to use more rooms in the college where we hold the recital. Over four nites of practice would equal $2,000, which would make the ticket prices soar. Of course, on recital days there will be dressing rooms.

One said mother, of which I talked about on the post about the competition dances, the one that yells, okay, one of the one that yells, got her gutchies in an uproar. ( Yes, she is a competition mom, so why was I suprised?) She asked where the dressing rooms were to which we replied that she would have to use the restroom for the nite.

"Well," she responded loudly, "do you want me to drag the costumes through the toilets? Is that what I am to do? I mean, what else am I to do without dressing rooms. Well!" and she walked off pissed.

Listen lady, I don't give a fuck what you do with your costumes. Your daughter will only wear them three times at the most. (What in the hell do you do with the costumes after the recitals are over anyway? Lord knows that we have a closet full!) At the competitions you didn't care where your daughter dressed, exposing herself to anyone, and, your daughter being almost 12 is sure to know how to get dressed without putting her costumes in the toilet.

This is the bathroom I would choose for her.



But.....to please her majesty, we will put a sign on the bathroom doors tonite just to appease her.

Mean Game of Twister

I asked my kids to play Twister today. Damn, they have become cut throat since the last time that we played. Pete was the spinner guy, and OCD, Pre-Puberty and I played the game.

OCD is little, so it was quite a feat for him to stretch himself across the mat. Pre-puberty does gymnastics, so she is quite adept at holding herself in any position for any amount of time. That left old mama to stretch and bend and twist.

Cut throat began as Pre-puberty head butted my ass on purpose. You see, the position that I was in left my butt aimed at her. She hated that I could even hold that position for a minute, so she head butted me and sent me soaring across the mat. Of course, with that I pissed myself.

OCD, well, when he was able to hold a stance, he thought that he would get into the shenanigans and left me with a hyper extended elbow. Little brat. It was then that I decided to sit back and watch. All I can tell you was that brother and sister were booting each other across the floor, legs flying and arms flailing.

Whew, can't wait til they like to play Scrabble. Oh, and Pete, why didn't he play you ask? Well, OCD asked him that and Pete replied with, "When you have a 28 inch inseam, you don't play Twister."

To which OCD replied, "Dad, you should be on Little People, Big World." PAHHHH!

Truth is....I am 5'4" and Pete is 5'8", but his inseam is one inch shorter than mine. Love it.

Words From OCD

As I was getting dressed this morning, OCD was a little more awake than usual. He always ends up in my bed in the morning, so when I can talk to him and get a response, I do.

Being tired as always, I asked, standing there in jeans only, "Hey, do you think that I could get away without wearing a bra today? Do you think that anyone would notice?"

To which OCD replied, "Well, your nipples don't touch your belly button."

Oh, thank you, sweet child. They might still be in somewhat of a semi firm shape.

Also, he would like the dog to use a tampon, not fully knowing what you do with a tampon but knowing it is for your time of the month. The dog's getting older, and the last two days have been pee-accident filled. I suggested she could wear a pull-up. He then proceeded to ask what dogs where when they have their period.

Running out the door to work, I responded with, "There are such things as doggy diapers." And, with that, I was off.

Three TV Gripes

First of all, are you fucking me, well actually, someone is fucking her. She is pregnant again. I feel that this has become a Guinness Book competition or something. Do you really think that she can snuggle with each of these babes on a daily basis? She readily admits that her older ones take care of the younger ones. It would be a cold day in hell before I would want my daughter to mother anyone before she has to or chooses to do so. Do they still enjoy sex or is it now a plight to get pregnant? Do the older ones really enjoy never having time to themselves? There are half of us who like to be alone and half of us who enjoy people. What about the half of their children that want some "me" time? I have two babes, and my daughter finds it hard to get away from one little bro.

Second gripe, I used to like Jon and Kate, but damn she is mean, and I am sick of people saying, "Well, she has a big job." No, really??? Point is that he never wanted more after the twins, and she had to have fertility help from the doctor to get pregnant both times, and we all know the warnings that come with fertility help- multiples. She already had multiples. Who in the Hell was she kidding??? And, why should she get the perks that she does just cuz she has so many kids(which she willingly took the chance to have)? That is exactly why Pete and I stopped at two- so we could financially afford the perks and pay for them with our own money.

Third gripe, Oprah. I used to love her, but if she would just come back down to Earth and get real. I am so sick of her tears with every earth shattering finding. Just come to work with me one day and see the teen mothers, the under nourished students and the drug addicted kids. Work with them on a daily basis, just don't send money to some organization that will take half, and then brag about it on TV.

My favorite gripe is her token school for girls in Africa. Helloooo????How many is she not taking care of here in the US, but I am to praise her for her school in another country which only serves 1/1,000,000 or whatever of what is really needed over there?

Oh, and just try to start a school and fund for Caucasians only. See what happens then????

Offended? Too bad.

"The Talk"

Next Wednesday Pre-puberty is going to have to watch "The Movie." She has avoided this situation as long as she has been able to. Her dad and I have tried to give her "The Talk" to which she tells us "just to stop." It is the time and age that she should know.

I had promised her a "call off" day with me in order to go shopping, and, of course, she wants to take off next Wednesday. I nixed that, and then Pete and I threatened her that if she did not watch the movie, then WE would tell her the whole story. She WILL be watching the movie.

Pete and I are so excited that we offered to pop popcorn for her to take in. We even thought of making party favors, little clay penises and vaginas to give everyone. Well, you have to admit that hands on is the best way to learn, but we certainly don't want the real "hands on", so what's wrong with the clay models? You know Pre-puberty nixed that.

You know, she has a friend who doesn't even know what a period is or a vagina. Are you shitting me? These girls are 11 and 12 and 13. Holy Moly is that girl in for a surprise. Pre-puberty has known about these words since she could speak. Vagina used to be "Vachanga." God, I miss those days. She would know about sex, too, if she didn't think that I was so damn shrinky. Well, everyone thinks that I am too damn shrinky, but it's better than some moms. I don't plan on expanding on it when she comes home, don't worry dear readers, but damn it, some day she will appreciate the therapist in me. Even Pete does sometimes; I therapatized him with the book below when I first met him. SHHH....He will be furious if he finds out that I told you.

Poor Pete, Yeah Right

Okay, Pete has finally had it. He has his own blog where he will tell his deep, dark secrets about me. Yikes. Check it out. His first post was his rebuttal to my "Chicken" post. His second post shows his malicious and vicious ways which has driven me to tormenting him in the name of all humanity.

Pete and His Stories

Okay, this stupid ass thing is not linking to Pete's site (and I've tried 10 times), so just look to the right on my blog, and you can get there through that link.

*Fixed it thanks to TSAnnie, sweet sweet, Annie

Chicken

Pete again has become the object of my torment. He will not escape me. I really think that I am passive aggressive. Ah, who cares? I don't.

We have feather pillows and a feather tick or top mattress if you so wish. Unfortunately, feathers escape from time to time. Now Pete uses hair junk in order to spike his hair or give it the messy look or whatever you may call it, so when he lays down these feathers stick to him.

Late at nite, I tend to get very giddy. Very giddy. So, when I'm watching TV Land and look over at Pete's head with feathers on it, I start to giggle. All I can think of is the line from Home Alone when Harry ends up with sticky feathers all over him and Marv says, "Why in the hell are you dressed like a chicken?"

I repeat the phrase laughing hysterically, and he pleads for me to be silent as he is trying to sleep. I just can't. He pulls the covers over his head,and then I proceed to check for more feathers. Then he gets real angry like. Oops. (But, I still enjoy myself and just had to share it with someone....)

So, this morning I took a picture of his head with one feather, but there are usually more.