Thursday, August 25, 2011

Teething and Homework vs. Mom

Today has been trying, to say the least.  With two days until the seven-month mark, Caleb is full-on teething, and I'm suddenly of the opinion that teeth are the meanest, stupidest things in the whole world.  With a pea-sized amount of baby Orajel on my index finger while trying to avoid applying said Orajel to his tongue, I was lucky (or unlucky) enough to see the root of Mr. Crankypants' problem:  when they say "cutting teeth," they ain't bullshitting.

The poor guy had two bleeding subtraction marks across his bottom gum.  Viewing from above, his mouth resembled the following algebraic dilemma:

left gum minus minus right gum equals I hate you.

Of course, after solving and checking, you find the answer to be No Solution.

Stupid algebra.

Ahhh, enter 3:45pm.  Time to pick up the big second-grader.  Homework this evening?  Simple:  study for tomorrow's spelling test.  Yay!  Hooray!  To a second-grader, this translates to "I have no homework!"  Apparently, big guy forgot who his mother is.

Let me break here for a moment and say this:  Smart children are not born smart.  Smart children are born to good parents.  See the difference? 

I give the boy a sheet of paper and a pencil:  we're doing a pre-test.  15 words, the longest of which is "because," at a whopping seven letters.  You'd think I'd told him that Christmas had been cancelled this year.  The waterworks started, and we began.

"Number one:  where."

By the time we finished, the waterworks had been turned off, for which I was eternally grateful after dealing with a day of crying, wailing, and fussiness.  And also the teething baby.    At the end of the pre-test, I checked:  stop the presses.  Again isn't spelled "agian" and "beacuase" in no way resembles because.  Time to practice.

2 words, 10 times each.

You'd think I'd just told him Christmas AND his birthday had been cancelled this year.  And for the five years after this.

Why do children have to be so heartless?

Needless to say, we made it through the spelling drill, only after Aidan cried out his weight in water. 

Listen here, boys.  Here's how my day went:

The desk we were trying to sell for $250 broke during delivery.
I noticed a one-inch gash in the bottom of our $900 pool liner when attempting to drain and move the 350-pound beast in 95 degree weather.
A dear, dear family member is in ICU following a stroke, and no one knows why.
Our electric bill, after turning the air up to 81 degrees during the day for the past month AND no longer running the pool pump, is still a whopping $219.
I'm running low on cigarettes, and I don't quite have the motivation to load up and head to the store.
A windstorm knocked my seven-foot mango tree over.
Someone needs to mow this lawn.
There are four baskets of clean laundry with my name on them.
All my friends have started back to school and/or work, and I'm bored.
I have less than two weeks to get rid of all the crap in the garage.
What are we having for dinner?

So yeah, that sums up my day in a nutshell.

Now who wants me to give them something to cry about?