So, this is simply an "I'm alive" kind of post. Yes. I'm still alive and so are all three of the Siamese Fighting Fish that I have trapped under one roof!
After I discovered Grant's cleaning secret (nothing like Victoria's), he was pretty bummed to know that he'd be on techno restriction for a week. He tried to negotiate his sentence but he really should have hired a better lawyer because he lost. The remainder of his days have been spent on school work which he decides to get serious about at 9:00 at night and then goes to bed after midnight only to have me literally drag him from bed the next morning. This morning, his wake up call came via a squirt bottle of ice water.
Dasha has spent her days this week on homework. She starts as soon as we cross the threshold and only stops for dinner. Ususally, I have to wave the white flag about 9:00 and simply call it quits. I just checked her grades online to find that she has a 34 average in one class. It's a technology class. What the heck? When I started to question her about the situation, she couldn't even tell me the teacher's name. When I ask her if she ever asked the teacher for help, she told me that she had to log into her computer and "text" him for help. I give up. She can barely get her thoughts from her brain to her mouth much less make those thoughts take another route and have to be typed out. Do I talk to the teacher? Do I give it more time? She thought a 34 was good.
Then, there's Annie. She's had a cold so that always put her in a most jovial mood. NOT! Despite her attitude, she still continues to amaze me with her verbal abilities as well as her agility. I'm beginning to think I should skip the swing set idea and go for something more along the lines of one of those agility courses that trainers use to work with dogs! Anyway, today, while we were waiting in car line to pick up the big kids, Annie and I were discussing animals and where they live. When I asked her where a cow lives, she quickly and frankly said, "Chick-fil-A!" I admit, I didn't correct her. It was too cute. (I'm dwelling on that cute anecdote as she clings to my leg whining that she wants to go "somewhere." She hates being home and prefers to be on the go constantly)!
As for me, I'm hanging by a thread. Trying to deal with this whole middle school drama has been too much. From the things that the kids are hearing and asking questions about to the sheer volume of seemingly pointless homework assignments, I'm weary. I was glad to mark Curriculum Night off of my list last night since that is another one of those situations where you have to smile all night and pretend that the parent you're talking to doesn't belong to the kid that told you earlier in the day that they slept in the bed every night with mommy and daddy and showered with daddy sometimes. (Not so bad until you know I'm talking about a little girl)! I'm convinced that some gene pools simply need a couple of gallons of Clorox added in every few years! (My pool might need some muriatic acid)! Anyway, I thought I'd feel better after that was over but now I'm moving on to trying to destroy my living room and dining room in order to put this new flooring down this weekend. It just never seems to end. Yesterday, I discovered that my poor van's air conditioner was, indeed, fried by its attempt to swim on Saturday afternoon in the flooded parking lot. To top it off, my counselor has decided that she doesn't think I'm serious about the sessions and thought I should "look for other options." Um. Yep. Be glad to. I quickly told her I'd be glad to send the notebook back to her, as well. Maybe I should see if Dasha's therapists offer buy-one-get-one-free sessions.
Things aren't as bad as I'm making them sound. I'm just tired and so frustrated with the big kids. Between homework and attitudes, I feel like I'm running some specialized wing that houses mental patients! Without my parents' help over the last few weeks, I really don't know what I would have done. They have constantly prepared dinners, watched the kids, and are now putting down new flooring. I really never thought I'd be one of those people who ends up being dependent on their parents again in their 30s but I guess I'm there. I really don't like it. When it's their money, I feel like I have to give them the final say on things. No. They don't expect that but I feel that way. I just can't figure out how to make this work any other way.
Anyway, I'm headed off to bathe a grumpy toddler, check homework for a native Russian speaker doing prepositions, and a freaking whiny butt who keeps procrastinating about finishing homework and once again didn't bring the right books home - not to mention the pile of papers that I need to get graded and the pile of laundry piling up and now flowing down the stairs. When do I get a break?
Good night, all.
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