Having A Cow

Don't Have A Cow

Im leaving tomorrow for NYC, and because I didn't read the fine print on my budget ticket, I have to pack everything I need for the weekend in a backpack. I'm staying with my brother, thank goodness, so I can just use their face wash and hair care.
I meant to loose 5 pounds this week, but I ate a cheeseburger and curly fries for lunch, and then as I started organizing the laundry tonight, while talking with my mom, I said, "I think it's just too late to worry about it."
Then she told me everything she ate this week.
I ripped my house in more pieces looking for my skinny black jeans. I can see them in my freaking hands after I folded them, the other day, pulling them down from the shower rod where they dried. But they are gone. My initial instinct is, "BECKY!"
I was talking with my kids, "Do you think my sister actually stole my skinny black jeans when she left this weekend? That's the thank you I get, after I babysat her child army Saturday night so she could get her party pants on (she really needed some time away!) when I had the first weekend free in 5 weeks!"
They didn't seem to care.
We finished reading The Little Prince tonight. G fell asleep before we got to the snake part, and Kiki became anxious. "Let's not finish it tonight!" She demanded.
Then I read, "It was six years ago..."
And she said, "Did the snake bite him yet?"
"Yeah, girl! So stop stressing out. It wasn't even bad."
Earlier today she told me about two people who made her shit list. The first kid told her that she needed to eat her sandwich at lunch, and as she likes to remind EVERY single evening in a psychotic groan, She doesn't like sandwiches!
The other kid told her that she was better at drawing dresses.
Then I had to remind Kiki that she needs to be vocal about her grievances to the source, to let them know they are incorrect, and for what reasons. I didn't want to do this too much in the first instance, because she really should eat her sandwich.
When I asked her what she said, she told me she went and told her teacher, who then agreed with her, that she would not like it if someone said they could draw better dresses.
Her extension teacher, Mary Poppins, is the nicest woman, and of course Kiki and her are the best of friends.
My son's teacher, I can't really get a pulse on. This morning, when I walked him into class, I said to the aide, off hand, he mentioned a tummy ache but he was playful and joking and without a fever, so I  figured he was fine. A couple hours later, I got an email from his teacher, who said, He complained of a stomach ache, and she'd email if he was sick.
Then I wrote her back, saying I don't think he was actually sick, but for her to call me if he gets sick. I should have told her I made him cinnamon sugar toast, and it probably had too much sugar.
Anyways, a few minutes later, she sent an email to the entire class thanking the parents who don't send their kids to school who are sick.
Then I almost got sick.
On my drive to pick them up, I told my dad the story, and he laughed and laughed. Then he told me I should have called her and asked if G barfed on her.
I went on a rant about the social structure of schools, and how I am intertwined in this extension of high school and its fucking pissing me off.
Yeah, I was my kid, and he was me. He had to tell me, it's water off the back. Don't get caught up in the dramatics, or you just become part of the structure. Be fringe, be an observer, and don't let it bother you.

My upstairs neighbor came out of her apartment the other day, coughed up a lung and then told me she was dying of a hangover and going to McDonalds for her and her friend. She said she was going to a cookie exchange later, and asked if I wanted cookies for the kids. Of course, I said yes, and I ate 80% of the feast she left us in a ziplock bag. The most delectable was a giant chocolate chip cookie, with a mint Oreo inside of it, like a hidden treasure. Like the Little Prince says, "The most beautiful things in life cannot be seen..."

Now I am going to call my sister, who is probably asleep, or feeding a baby, and ask her if she stole my pants, pants I probably couldn't fit in my backpack suitcase anyways. I should just let her keep the freaking pants. After this week, the 5 potlucks I crashed, and cookie exchange, I doubt I'd be able to zip them up.