Friday, March 30, 2012

Patented Parenting

Lookit wot I found.

Before anyone howls that poor Kid was forced to do homework over Spring Break when all his friends were in Maui eating breakfast with Batman, this was his schedule on Week 4 of Kid Is Sick: The Snotbomb Edition. If you look closely enough, you'll see that my hand was tremulous while I was writing this schedule. I honestly didn't think I was going to make it. I was researching Eurail passes (now featuring Slovakia!), convents, witness protection programs. I needed the hell out.

And out I got, thanks to my innovative "You whine, mom wines" program. I collected enough piggybank cash before noon to fund two lovely glasses of something crisp and white with a friend that evening. I'ma patent this idea, naturally, but until I get around to it, help yourself. It worked wonders for my attitude, if not Kid's.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Spring Break(ing Point)

Officially, today at 5 marked the end of Spring Break 2012 Hump Day. I didn't make it.  I found myself sitting fully clothed (in pajamas) in the unfilled 1960s blue bathtub with a hunk of bittersweet baking chocolate and my Kindle at 9:05 this morning, whilst Someone Who Shall Remin Anonymous (LIEF) banged on the door demanding that I fed him breakfast, which, he stipulated, would include the following food groups:
  • Nutella
  • Graham crackers
  • Orangina
Kid clearly thinks that Spring Break is all about "vacation"--but moms who work at home know different: Spring Break is about not whacking people with frying pans.  It's about not crying before your teeth are brushed. It's about rationalizing things like hiding in the laundry room or behind the furnace. It's about picking up the phone and faking a conversation with a co-worker so as to avoid Phinneas and Ferb the one where Candace rats them out and there is a platypus that is a secret agent and a German evil mastermind and nutty hijinx ensue. It's about walking with deliberation past your secret chocolate trove and whispering to yourself "I can make it til noon, I can make it til noon."

Except I couldn't make it til noon and as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror--hunched over a spy novel, unbrushed hair, chocolate on the tip of my nose, SITTING IN THE BATHTUB WITH NO WATER IN IT--I realized that I would have to call in the Big Guns.


144 minutes of peace, brought to us (ME) by the day that would live in infamy forever. 353 Japanese war planes--including 50 Nakajima B5N Kate bombers armed with 800 kilos of armour piercing bombs--and 6 aircraft carriers: that's about the fire power you need to reduce an 8yo boy to quiet introspection, or at least shocked awe. Whatevs. QUIET.  Write down, as it could prove handy one day.

Tomorrow: The Longest Day (177 minutes). If he watches it twice, that's a work day right there.

Other kids go to camp for spring break, or Maui, or Mexico. Mine goes to hell and back and lives to tell the tale.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Breakfast conversation

1. If you go one micro-inch past the line where your back turns into your bum do you still have to wash your hands? (YES)
2. Can germs crawl up forks? (YES)
3. Even if germs could crawl up forks, is it guaranteed that they will make you sick? (YES)
4. The dog licks his butt but he doesn't get sick--would I? (YES)
5. Are you sure that's egg white and not chicken snot? (YES)
6. Are you sure these eggs are safe to eat? (YES)
7. Are you really really really sure that's ketchup and not chicken blood? (YES)
8. Mommy, are you crying? (YES)