Live Through This
“Yeah,” I told a friend, “I have to take the kids to a school function tonight and act like a normal mom. I hate it.”
It’s true. I do hate school functions and I do hate acting normal.
Since the kids were young, I’ve never fit in with other mothers. You know, the ones who frequent PTA meetings and fundraisers and field trips and talent shows. I am not like them. They wear sweat pants and tshirts from places they’ve visited. Running shoes, though few of them look like they run. They drive minivans and huddle to share intimate details about their children’s teachers and other parents. They know how much money the band needs to raise to go to camp. They talk about what they will cook for dinner. They know each other’s names. They look and act like men’s wives. Like children’s mothers.
I usually get off just in time to stumble into these coven-like gatherings where outsiders are clearly not welcome; sometimes dressed in my usual attire (not a tshirt to be found), often still in my work uniform. I look younger than they do, though, frequently, I’ve got a few years on them. I always have to reintroduce myself, though they’ve each met me somewhere between five and ten times in the past. They are polite, but never bother to hide the fact that they are being so. They look right through me, because I’m of little use to them. I have no gossip, I have no free time, I have no money.
At Back To School nights, I meet the kids’ teachers, while these moms are, by a month into the school year, their pals. They’ve already helped out in the classroom twice this year and “Did you get that gift I sent you for Teacher Appreciation Day?”, while I can’t remember the class this one teaches. I look around, desperately, for clues: a history poster, a biology book, French flashcards. When I ask the kid, she looks disappointed or he’s off talking to his friends, pretending not to know the woman in the corner with her eyes turned down to the linoleum, wondering if you can see her tattoos through her sweater and knowing she’s not pulling any of this off.
And I forget things. I’m the mom who doesn’t remember that they are supposed to wear something orange or blue because it’s Spirit Day. The one who has to run into the classroom, mid-period, clutching a two liter of Sprite because she forgot about the pizza party and, when the teacher asks, “Where are the napkins?”, run to the girls bathroom to grab paper towels. If one of the kids is sick, I forget to send a note the next day, usually prompting a call home. I panic EVERY SINGLE TUESDAY when my son isn’t home after school, though he’s had Photography Club that day every week for six months. He always finishes at five, and has to call at five-fifteen to ask “Where are you?” like it’s in some cosmic script for the teen version of Groundhog Day. I am always the one noisily slipping into the back of the auditorium, making sure to wave big to the kids so that they know I am there. That I made it. That I am on top of it.
It’s not that I don’t care. I do. My heart aches, sometimes, that the kids are stuck with Courtney Love when they so clearly deserve Donna Reed. I write things down on pieces of paper and then lose them. I put them in the calendar on my phone and then never check it. The kids remind me, and I forget just as quickly. And these moms, they never forget. They are never late. They have juice boxes and snacks and dvd’s and first aid kits in their cars, just in case, and I don’t have so much as a pair of jumper cables, but there is a bottle of chocolate wine in the back seat. That I bought a month ago. And forgot about.
But I am cool. If the kids needed an aunt or a big sister, I would be ideal. I can play out every part in the movie Anchorman line for line. I know the name of every cast member on Jersey Shore and I vote on American Idol. I know all of Lady Gaga’s songs, sometimes demonstrating that skill at high volume, and can jazz up a package of ramen noodles like you wouldn’t believe. I tell dirty jokes and laugh at inappropriate moments. I am self aware enough to ask, from time to time, “I wonder which thing, exactly, will be your ticket to therapy?”
But they don’t need an aunt. Or a sister. And they are almost too old to need a mother. Somehow, they seem to have come to terms with the fact that they have been saddled with this flibbertigibbet as their caretaker. This outcast from normalcy who works to keep a roof over their heads and ramen in their bellies and, on a good night, remembers to pick up a few veggies to throw in there. And the boy from Photography Club.
HeatherVonsj@gmail.com
Twitter: LittleRebecca
/ Mar 18 2010
I love that you wrote this.
Twitter: bitethebedbugs
/ Mar 18 2010
I’ve yet to get the hang of spirit days. I fail every time, and there seems to be an endless supply of them; I feel like they’re designed to expose the weak, and so I am exposed each and every time.
Twitter: jennytalia2009
/ Mar 18 2010
And they wouldn’t have you any other way x
In my 6th year of being a single mom, I feel like I’m only just getting the hang of it. A very tenuous hang. I still don’t know the PTA moms, and I’m definitely not in the inner circle, but I’ve started trying to volunteer an hour or two in the school library when I can. I still eff things up a lot, and honestly, the only way I’m managing is putting alarms in both my iphone (a business expense) and computer for EVERYTHING. I have one that pops up EVERY DAY to remind me to pick the boys up from school; you’d think this would be routine at this point in the year. I put spirit days, important tests (the ones I know about), activities, everything. Some days I wonder what our kids will remember about this time… I’m fairly certain they will see that we love them, even though they will probably hate ramen, pasta and bean burritos. I’m also trying to squirrel money away for therapy funds, in lieu of college funds; much more practical.
So glad you write about this stuff. Thanks
Twitter: milkglassheart
/ Mar 18 2010
This reminds me so much of how my mom dealt with things. We lived in a not so great part of the city and the schools were awful so my parents put me in the closest private school around. A southern baptist Jerry Falwell run school for 9 years. There was always some fundraiser. Always. My dad said “PTL” meant “pass the loot” instead of “praise the lord”. Anyhow, we’re not a religious family and I was the only kid there who didn’t go to church. My mom didn’t have super short curly hair and wear long dresses or fit in with the other moms. She was an outcast and she really didn’t care. They were all kind of scared of her actually. She was busy. She had a life. She had more important things to do than sit around and gossip and make robes for the school play.
She always managed to get me out of every afterschool bullshit thing they tried to rope us into and I loved it. I don’t think they wanted me there anyhow but, whatever.
Don’t beat yourself up over not being some robotic super mom. A lot of those women are so tragic and bored and resentful of their housewife status and unsure in their marriages. Seriously, the school crap is what keeps them going. Do you think the teachers want them there all the time stepping on their toes? I know enough teachers to know that they are not welcome. The school simply wants funding or that damn pack of napkins, not bored busy-bodies. The teachers are just being polite.
Desperate housewives indeed… no matter how much they resemble Donna Reed to the outside world.
Be proud that you have a real life and awesome kids who love you dearly and know you are awesome and know you’re busting your ass to care for them. I’m sure the relationship they have with you surpasses what their friends have with their moms. Oh, and maybe get a big calendar and put it next to your front door or something because I never check my digital ones either!
Twitter: pattypunker
/ Mar 18 2010
this is so me, too. all the way through. and the one time i did volunteer for the school carnival they put me on craft duty and did not appreciate my idea of craft-making one bit. i was corrected on the proper way to make whatever hat thing they had in mind, then was demoted to ticket taker shortly thereafter.
fuck you and your glue sticks, perfect pta moms.
btw- your kids will be better off for the independence and room to grow that you give them. oh and for real love.
Twitter: OHmommy
/ Mar 18 2010
My mother met her first friend, from our school, when I was in High School. In the third grade instead of sending me to school with tissue paper (like the supply list) had asked she gave me rolls of toilet paper. She was an immigrant to this country. Spoke no English. Missed every single memo. Had no friends. Was an outsider and so lonely.
Thank you for writing this.
This is my first visit (via Marinka who has a life sized cut out of me in her room so I figured I owed her to click on her Twitter link.).
I love this.
I am an utter misfit with a loooong history of UGH. (Yet was the best damn PO President (weird turn of events that I fell into) my school ever saw for THAT VERY REASON)
I would talk to you and probably have a damn fine time doing so.
My children don’t have Donna Reed, either. But I love them fiercely. And that is way more than a lot of people can say. Sometimes that is all I have to go on. xo
The best part about being the kind of mom you are is you probably know your children better than the PTA mothers.
Oy, yeah, remember that crap. And I’ve signed up for a second round. (I have 2 kids in High School and a toddler and pre-schooler. I’ll be raising the little ones by myself too. Long story.)
I once fell asleep on the couch and missed one of my second oldest’s school things when he was in second grade, I woke up, RAN my ass down to the school, apologized profusely to him, (“It’s okay, Mom, I was just kinda disappointed.” That child learned guilt from his Nanna.) and had one of the perfect Mom’s tell me “How horrible she felt for him when he was crying because I hadn’t managed to make it there!” Fortunately his teacher and I got along and she told me later that he hadn’t been crying, and to just ignore the bitch.
If you’re as lucky as I am, you’ll find someone else who isn’t a SUV Mom in one of your kids classes. (Hell I didn’t even OWN a car, still don’t, hate the damn things, and that sets you outside of their definition of “normal” society far more than tattoos do, my dear!)
I used to hang out with the openly lesbian Mom (which would have made her invisible to them too, except she’s the kind of woman that NOBODY makes invisible!) of one of my kids friends at school stuff and soccer, she lived across from their school, had a riotous sense of humour, and would bring Ceasars (like a Bloody-Mary, but better) for both of us in go-cups to soccer games and practices. We had a great time, and the rest of them could go stuff themselves.
And dear Lord, woman! Why on earth would you wish Donna Reed on your pood kids! Now that they don’t deserve! What they deserve is a human Mom who screws-up, apologizes and gets on with loving them more than the whole world, so I guess, what they deserve is you!
(and I’m pretty sure I can make supper with ground-beef everyday for a month without repeating myself. Amazing the skills you pick up when you’re broke and have to feed bottomless pits, isn’t it?)
See, I don’t have kids, but I’m still pretty sure that I would never want to be friends with the “PTA moms.” If I want to talk to people with superiority complexes and judgement issues, I’ll keep working retail, HA!
But seriously, I think in the end you are not only as good a mother as they are, but better. And authentic.
Okay, seriously, I would shout from the rooftops that my mother is the greatest mom in the world. However, if I bought her a coffee mug with that on it, she would hide that shit in the back of the cabinet and act like it didn’t exist. You know those moms that cover the fridge in their kids artwork and wear those macaroni necklaces? Not my mom.
She never had time for PTA, rolled her eyes at the booster club moms and instead of showing up for required meetings wearing sweats and t-shirt, she usually sashayed in wearing a short skirt, stylish top and killer heels. She was a hot topic of conversation for the classroom moms because she was much younger, although my dad was the same age as most of them. I remember one mom telling me (when I was 7!) that she felt sorry for me and my dad because my mom was so immature and childish. When I relayed the story to my mom, she replied that she felt sorry for Adam because his mother was judgmental and rude.
She regularly commented that she had better things to do with her time than stand around a jr high football field selling doughnuts or trying to figure out how to make cupcakes look like bunnies. She usually forgot that I had choir practice on Wednesdays and often forgot to give me lunch money.
However, she always listened to me with the same amount of respect my friends’ moms saved for adults and tried to answer my questions. She made sure I knew that I was the person she wanted to impress, not the PTA moms.
BTW – Adam’s mom came up to my parents at our high school graduation and commented on how young my mom looked, and my mom replied, “Thank you, it must be all those years practicing being immature and childish.”
I bet Donna Reed’s kids wouldn’t have near the sense of humor that yours seem to have. I love reading your conversations with them because it’s obvious they have your sense of humor exactly.
Plus the post you wrote a few days ago about remembering how much being 15 sucked and how you try to remind yourself of that every time your daughter is slamming doors or crying… I think that proves what an amazing mother you are. 15 was just 6 short years ago for me, but I can still remember EXACTLY how it felt, and my mom didn’t understand at all. And most of those PTA moms don’t understand, either. One day, when your daughter has her own 15 year old, she’ll thank you for not killing her when she was at her worst. : )
So, I haven’t been a mother and can’t even imagine how that feels.
I am a parent and know that I have totally screwed up. But I also know that I have always tried to remember what it was like to be a kid at a certain age.
Me? I’m just another 15-year-old with a lot more experience. Who needs a reminder of that? Not a 15-year-old.
School functions don’t do a thing to make a kids life less sucky. They’re just somebody’s ego booster.
You’re doing what you can to make life less sucky for your kids. The good news is that it works both ways.
(for chrissakes I hope that made some sense)
Twitter: Bellalarrew
/ Mar 18 2010
I love love love love..once more LOVE that you wrote this. I had my son when i was 17. The neighborhood we live in is full of people who make more money than me, drive nicer cars then me, and all around think they are Better then me. We live here because i got a great deal on renting this house and we have dogs, so a house was needed. So all these ‘people’ are the parents of the children that my son goes to school with, Im the ‘cool’ mom, my kid has an xbox 360 and he has the cool stuff, i know the cool movies and songs, and i play video games with him, this of course is makes me a super outcast in parenthood. I try not to care but sometimes it hurts, Its WONDERFUL to read this and know that even though we are not in the same town that someone else out there is like me. I think that the bond that we have with our children, will be better then remembering spirit day, our kids will talk to us and share with us, and all and all be better rounded Humans! They will know the true meaning of love, hard work, sacrifice and above all they will Never Question If their Mother Loves them. Keep it up, Your Super Awesome and Mother of the year worthy in my eyes!!
Yup. (can you hear me nodding over here?)
Think of me on Friday, when I have to go be interviewed by the principal of the private school we are trying to get our kids into because of the horrific public school situation we find ourselves in, The sort where an 8 year old girl told the entire playground that my 8 year old boy had come over to her house and she had given him a blowjob. (which, it makes me sick that I have to add, DID NOT HAPPEN.)
So I have to rush home from the restaurant, shower, change into something, um, respectable (i.e. cover the tattoos) and then go sit in an office with someone who is clearly assessing my ability to parent, and simultaneously volunteer and donate to the school. I am petrified, because I’m afraid that I won’t be able to pull it off, and I’ll have to homeschool these kids until we can afford to move to a place with better public schools.
If it’s any comfort, if our kids went to the same school we would meet in the parking lot a half hour late, running down the hall untying our aprons, trying to find the kids that probably gave up and got a ride with a mother who WASN’T LATE. And then we could sit in the parking lot, on the hoods of our cars, and try to reassure each other that our kids are GREAT and we are doing a good job of raising GOOD PEOPLE who are (bonus!) self-sufficient. And in 10 years when others are still supporting their adult children, we’ll be free to live our lives. I’m buying a VW bus and hitting the road. You want in ?
SO you just summed up (beautifully) my basic M.O. with school functions and the PTA. Unlike you, however, I haven’t really had any excuse. I have a husband and I used to have money and drive nice cars and look decent, most of the time. We recently lost all our dough, and I look like shit and wear the same ratty outfit everyday, and since we moved to a new town where I doubt we’ll be staying, I have even less motivation to be a part of anything. But when I was able to be “one of them” I went to one PTA meeting and almost puked, and never went back. Almost without exception, those broads are the least worthwhile bunch of people walking around. And some of them are aggressively evil and nasty and hurtful. And not one of them has a sense of humour, nor an original thought.
You are missing nothing by not being a part of that pack, as I’m sure you are aware.
Some of us are just not wired to kiss ass and “get involved” and couldn’t manage it very well if we were.
My most remarkable fuck-up happened one Field Day, where, after wasting too much time doing God knows what, I remembered that I was supposed to be there to cheer on the three legged race or some shit, when I accidentally dropped the (new-ish) baby down the stairs. Well I didn’t exactly drop her, she had just learned to sort of hitch herself across the floor and slide around on the wood floors, and I was staring into space when whataya know – badumpump-ump-ump there she went, down an entire flight. So I stared at her pupils and held her up to the light and called her name and snapped my fingers and before you know it, LATE for field day and the photo ops and the cheer section and the sunscreen application and water bottle refreshing and air kissing and all. And just imagine the fish-eye you get when explaining that you’ve missed most of this momentous event because the baby fell down a full flight of stairs while you were ten feet away.
I don’t know what my kids will remember me for, but I do know that they are funny and smart and kind and happy even though I am a wreck. I really can’t figure it out, but maybe it’s the way of the universe – you get screwed on the one hand and rewarded on another. And you just have to believe that the reward is more worthy than what you got screwed out of. And that the kids will actually enjoy taking care of you down the line.
You ROCK.
Ha! I love this. Who wants to fit in with those people? Both my kids got pinched because I didn’t dress them in green. We miss every spirit day. I meet some of the same moms over and over again-even though our kids have been in school together for like 6 years. Be yourself! Your kids are so lucky to have such a great original mom.
I’m a teacher’s aid at my high school, as in, I work there 20 hours a week and teach and grade and am basically a teacher 3 out of 5 days of the week. I do not remember spirit days. Do not feel bad about this.
Twitter: WxDan
/ Mar 19 2010
I’ve got what, 12-ish years on your son? Trust me when I say that kids are never too old to need a mother. At least not the male ones. I must be lucky, because I’ve got two.
This is probably going to sound like BS when I write it, but I’m going to say it anyways and hope that it comes true. Your kids will thank you one day. I don’t have kids, and probably won’t for a long time, but one of the things that I wish my parents had done for me was show me how to deal with what life throws at me, rather than giving me everything they could. You’re very clearly a loving mother; keep doing that and the rest will fall into place.
From one outcast mom to another – internet high five! My eldest son is on the football team, I am definitely NOT one of the inner circle moms. At games I sit by myself. I am not on the PTA, never have been, never will. I suck at remembering when which kid is doing what and where and wait, when is this supposed to happen? I don’t drive an Audi or Hummer. My husband is a federal police officer not a CEO behind a desk, he has no minions. I don’t wear over priced sweat suites that will NEVER actually see sweat and have to be dry cleaned. I work ten hour days with crappy pay just so that we can survive. I’m tattooed and instead of strategically placed highlights I have two toned hair, and for a long time it was purple. I’m training for roller derby. My husband has never coached anything, but has taught them all the important guy stuff like throwing darts and the cheat codes for HALO. My kids LOVE this. They love that though I don’t volunteer at school I have all of the old Suicidal Tendencies albums. They love that though I have never chaperoned and field trip or dance, when that castle project is due there’s a working freaking draw bridge, murder holes above the gate and arrow slits in the towers. Midnight shows of The Rocky Horror Picture Show? Check. Live concerts, museums, theater? Check. Dirty, inappropriate, I probably should NOT have told my 15 year old son that joke? Check. I talk to them like they are real people and NOT cute little carbon copies of me? Check.
You are a bad ass mom, your kids, like mine, will grow up knowing how to be strong and independent, and above all else that their mother loves them. And really? What could be cooler and more important than that?
Rachael-
You and I, right this minute.
Twitter: wendyly
/ Mar 19 2010
When my first three kids were in elementary school, I did the occaisional school party and a couple of carnivals, and I volunteered for the Art Literacy program. I even coached peewee soccer. When we moved, I gave up volunteering. If a kid needs to bring snacks or napkins or drinks for a class party. I’ll buy it, but that’s the extent of my school participation.
I never did the PTA thing, and I never will. It’s not because I think the other moms will look down on me for some reason. It’s because I cannot think of anything more likely to make me want to stab out my own eyeballs. My kids take the bus, but I was picking up my youngest from a school a couple of weeks ago, and the lobby is like clique central. People look at me like I just moved to that school, although I’ve had kids there for five years.
I AM in the PTA, but I do it because my school needs it, and I want my kids to have the best opportunities they can. But even though I’m the president, I don’t always fit in there, either! But my kids are more important than caring what some of those other girls think about me (and frankly, I’ve outgrown caring very much about what some people think!).
I DO drive a minivan, because it fits two grownups, two kids, a big dog and lots of the crap that we seem to carry around with us, and we got it used for a great price.
I DO have a tattoo, and am dreaming about a second.
I DO NOT wear sweatsuits, and I frequently forget things like which color to wear on which day, and ice cream money, and oh – was I supposed to actually take those papers out of the backpack this week?!
The point is, we’re all just trying to do the best we can for our kids. Mostly, I hope my kids will remember that I loved them fiercely, no matter what!
melanie – you missed Field Day AND threw your baby down the stairs? j’adore, mon amie.
Daffodil – I’m in. But you have to come to the mainland. In paradise, you can only drive in circles.
Jessica – outcasts are the new incasts, baby. that’s why I started this blog.
Melissa –
win·some (wnsm)
adj.
Charming, often in a childlike or naive way.
they say “immature”, I say “winsome and full of joy”. is your mom still around? if so, hug her tight for me next time you see her. thank you for sharing your memories.
Neen – even though it’s a typo (I assume), “your pood kids” cracks me up. when you get down to the nuts and bolts of birth, it’s not far from the truth.
thank you for the support, broke moms rule!
OHmommy – the love you have for your mom is obvious. my ultimate goal is for my kids to tell funny stories like the tissue paper one about me. with the same love. thank you for sharing.
I forgot Mommy and Me time today at my kids daycare. You are not alone.
That’s me…word for word. I’m the one that goes into Parent – Teacher conferences and get in trouble for not signing my son’s planner (something i’ve been supposed to do for 2 years and always forget)….Its like going into the Principal’s office every damn time.
We are awesome.
Fuck those perfect PTA parents–their kids are usually complete entitled assholes who are the worst students (attitude-wise) in class AND they treat their parents like crap. I LOVE meeting parents like you who are real and TRULY CARE about their kids and find a few minutes to check up on how they’re doing in class, which works since I usually only have a few minutes to check in with parents anyway. Also: If I actually see a parent face to face, there’s a 10% chance I’ll actually recognize them and remember which student they belong to–kind of like you trying to figure out which teacher is which! hah. It seems like your kids know you love them and that’s what’s really important.
I have various reactions to reading this. You seem to be…confessing and yet bragging at the same time.
And awfully hard on the other mothers. Which your readers pick up on and add with comments about you’re the better mom and fuck those Donna Reed moms.
You complain of being judged, of not being accepted, of being excluded but then you commit the same crime of judgment against them. How about not adding any extra bits of judgment to the world of parenting?
Moms are different. Hell, people are different, parents and children alike. We all muddle through and do our best with what we have – with whatever skills we have, time and money we have, with whatever kids we have. We all love our children.
And please, please get your kid to set an alarm clock on your phone for Tuesdays at 4:45, one that beeps at you, that you don’t have to go check. My friend was the kid who was forgotten and she’s in her 40s and I can still see the hurt when she talks about it. That is an easily fixable problem. The rest falls under “whatever” but don’t let your kid be the one who is forgotten.
I’m in the PTA and the president of a committee at my daughter’s school. I do it because I feel it is the right thing to do and I’m lucky enough to be able to. My daughter is in kindergarten at an arts charter school (independent public school). One of the benefits I’ve read about with charter schools is that when families have a choice about where they can send their children they are often much more engaged with the school community. It just seems like this school is not a good fit for you, but you haven’t had much of a choice about it. Very few of the parents that I’ve met at my daughter’s school are like what you describe. The curriculum is excellent and the students score high on the state assessment tests, but the school building is a bunch of rather dilapidated portables, and the principal won’t let you apply UNLESS you take a tour. So it sounds like having a crappy appearance effectively weeds out the superficial assholes. We’re in the process of looking for a new location that naturally will be nicer than this one. I’m wondering how this will change the parent demographic.
I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it is to be a young single mom. I hope you’re in college. Your kids sound awesome. All the best to you and your family.
scoobette – My kids are actually the product of an arts charter school which, the entire time they attended, was in a temporary, not at all fancy location while the funds were raised to build a “real” school. The school is built now and beautiful and we definitely feel like we had a hand in that. I think that is part of the issue. This is our first “traditional” school and it’s a bit of a shock. We come from an diverse neighborhood where the parents of the kids’ classmates were artists and musicians and creative people. When we moved to a new city three years ago, I discovered there were no charter high schools and we would have to make a go of being “normal” in the suburbs and in a traditional suburban school. The kids are excelling, academically, but I miss the community. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment. I’m so excited that your child will have the chance to experience what mine did.
Are we related?? We must be my grandkids are still not sure of the grandma with tatoos, black nail polish and gray hair.
.-= crochety crochet lady´s last blog ..Ohhh shiney! =-.
i understand completely. i’m always at school events in my suit, not knowing anyone, barely remembering who teaches what and feeling totally out of place with the other moms. a small part of me feels sheepish but the rest of me couldn’t care less. there’s only so much you can do!
.-= Laura´s last blog ..Mangia Italiano =-.
Twitter: zoerights
/ Mar 29 2010
Whenever I’m convinced I’m not the parent the kids should have had, I remind myself of a few things
1) I’m all they got, so they better suck it up.
2) They are still alive, better than can be said for two hermit crabs, six hamsters, one bird, and more house plants then we should probably talk about.
3) Speaking of Courtney Love-my kids will never have to make me tea while we wait for the ambulance to show b/c I’m overdosing.
.-= Zoe Right´s last blog ..Blog hopping…. =-.
I just found your blog and I love it. I am also not the mother that fits in. In the beginning I was there for all of that stuff, but I have quads and running from classroom to classroom so I could spend a little time in each class doesn’t really help you fit in. I’m certain that not many know my name, just that I’m ‘the quads mom’. That’s fine with me though. Most of them are so fake, and I’m not a good game player, so it’s probably best the way it is. I’m also always telling my husband that I wonder what they’ll say about us when they’re on Oprah talking about how traumatized their young little lives were. lol I remind them often that I’m doing the best job I know how to. Plus, I try to explain away everything that I do differently than other parents is because I love them and those other parents don’t really love their kids……I sure hope they’re buying it!
.-= Taryn´s last blog ..I don’t know about this kid…. =-.
Laura – I think there may be enough of us to start a revolution. are you in?
Twitter: glibmac.com
/ Apr 3 2010
You should know that the teachers hate spirit day as much as you do.
And forget it twice as often, despite being in the building all of the days leading up to it.