Hell yeah! She’s a mother fuckin princess!
Being that Regina is a senior this year she has decided to participate in all of the senior activities she can. In the latest of activities the school was running a “Miss Something or Another” campaign, contest, or whatever. The activity involved paying $15 to enter, picking a title, getting a sash, wearing an outfit and having your picture taken for the yearbook before walking around the school all day in your costume.
What this activity had to do with
education Halloween life anything at all was beyond me. But she was doing something school related and for that I was happy.
She paid her 15 bucks, named herself Miss Malibu and chose her outfit.
Then she came home early this week pissed off.
Apparently they were taking the yearbook photo at 7:20 am. She is in am tech school so she wouldn’t get to be in the photo. The thought of not being in the yearbook was distressing to her so being the
idiot super mom that I am, I volunteered to drive Regina to her school and then after the photo was taken to drive her to tech.
I had my own meeting set for 9am with the truancy officer of the high school to discuss both of the big kids and their habit of cutting classes. After driving her to tech I’d go to the school and be embarrassed by their actions once again.
It’s only right — It’s OCTOBER and they’ve been in school for two months so it was high time for them to get into some shit..
I asked Regina the night before if she wanted to get up early so she could have extra time to get ready. She said no. The next morning I woke Regina up at the regular time and told her I was getting in the shower and to get up so we could leave in 40 minutes.
“NO! I need a shower!” she moaned.
“I’ll be super fast. I’m getting in.” I growled.
Eight minutes later, showered and dressed, I told her the bathroom was free.
She now had 30 minutes to get ready for her picture.
After taking her 25 minute luxurious shower I let Regina know we needed to leave in 5 minutes.
She said nothing.
5 minutes later… “Regina, we have to go.”
“I’m NOT ready.”
20 minutes later she appears.
Ignoring her 6 inch platform pink hooker shoes, bikini top and minuscule skirt I said, “I guess I’m just driving you to tech then?”
I got showered and dressed in record time for no reason whatsoever. Fine.
After a few minor issues getting her into the tech building I drove off, headed towards the high school for my bad parent meeting, filled with anxiety.
I clearly have no control over my children and their need to do whatever they want — specifically, in this case, cutting every fucking class they have every fucking day, and making me rush through becoming presentable so luxurious showers can be taken before dressing like a prostitute for a school contest that announces no winners.
Hey Mama, your kids are gorgeous assholes!
Sadly enough all the administration of the school know who I am. I’ve been to more meetings in the school than I could ever even count and when I arrive at the building it’s like a parade for me. Many of the administrators, councilors, teachers, security guards, secretaries and janitors come over to chat. They smile and ask how the babies are then tell me how beautiful and nice the big kids are.
Mental note: buy more Christmas cards.
On the outside, while speaking to the many people, I am smiling. On the inside I am dying. None of these people know me because I am a part of the PTO, on the staff, or because I go to all of the school functions. No — they know me because I am the mother who raised two delinquents and then started over 15 years later to ruin the world a little more.
I don’t even want to suggest what is running through their minds but I can only imagine.
I am fairly certain that I make them feel much better about their lives though.
Let’s just say the meeting lasted for over 2 hours and things didn’t go well for anyone. Of course the ball is now clearly in the big kids court after I urged the truancy officer to send Marshal to court. At least he will receive some COURT ORDERED counseling because it is well know he would not participate otherwise. I pushed to have him transferred to a boarding school and we are on that path but it is a long, slow road to get there. In other words — it’ll never happen.
In the end, after talking in circles, no one felt any better about my children’s enthusiasm towards finishing high school and becoming an outstanding member of society.
There was some good that came from the meeting however. While no less than 5 of us tried to figure out ways to get both of the idiots to graduate I realized that these people are on my side. They know that I know my kids are being unrealistic and that I am trying with all of my being to get them to go to school, go to class, to not fail or give up and to graduate.
They know I am ripping my hair out trying to help and guide these badly bruised kids. I feel okay about myself and it’s nice to know there are so many others who really care for my children and want them to succeed in life.
Home Sweet Home
After the meeting I was still feeling like an anxious fucking lunatic and came home to Aidan and the little ones. Aidan wants to go buy a new car.
He eats some lunch while I get Maddox to fall asleep. Aidan then puts Logan upstairs for his nap before heading out. All is right-ish with the world minus my ridiculous anxiety that won’t leave me the fuck alone.
I try to relax a little.
I put on the new Nashville, hoping it will calm me down before Logan wakes up and the big kids come home from school. Or wherever the fuck they go during the day..
As I am watching my show I can hear Logan playing with something upstairs but leave him be. I figure he will fall back asleep and leave it at that.
20 minutes later I hear him start crying like a maniac.
I went upstairs, begging him to be quiet as I walked towards him hoping he wouldn’t wake Maddox up. I quietly asked what’s wrong. He only answered with more voluminous cries. When I reached him I could see over his shoulder that he was “playing” with the box of gripe water that someone left on the nightstand.
Playing — verb; shredding a box into a million little pieces; opening a bottle of medicine then dumping liquid contents all over pillows, sheets, hair and body; a way to really piss mom off.
It took everything in me to not scream at the top of my lungs.
I silently stripped the bed while smoke shot out of my ears.
Maddox woke up screaming.
The big kids come home.
Marshal is looking pathetic knowing that he’s fucked up, again, and will have to go to his favorite place of all places — court. He plays with the little kids before having to leave for work while I heat up soup for everyone, including Aidan who returned without a new car. All the while I continued to breathe deeply. One failed attempt after another was spent trying to get rid of the anxiety that was burning my insides.
It was time to drive Marshal to work. Marshal gets into the car and smells like he was clam baking for days. I put down the windows and snapped. “You fucking smell like weed!” I fumed.
“What? Huh? Me?”
Are you the biggest fucking idiot?
“Yes! You! I am not stupid! I hope you don’t get fired!” I yelled.
We didn’t speak again until he was getting out of the car. “Have a good night.” He might be an asshole but I do love him.
I pull out of the pizza shop driveway, turn down the street and then my phone starts ringing. It’s Marshall.
“Mom, can you come back? I think I am fired.”
“What happened?” I asked when he got in the car.
“They tried calling me in on Monday but I didn’t get the message, so they fired me.”
How’d he get fired on his day off? It’s like the movie Friday but in real life.
It was true –they did call and leave a voicemail on Monday (which I heard on Tuesday) but I doubt that would be the only reason for a firing though.
Maybe they didn’t even fire him.
Maybe he was just too high to understand a word they were saying.
Maybe they just don’t want Snoop Dog washing their dishes.
Back at the house Logan is doing every fucking thing he can to get in trouble:
- dumping the cat food into the water bowl
- trying to rip out the thermostat register
- being fresh
- throwing Maddox’s playmat
- running all over and climbing on the table
Maddox is screaming. He wants boob again for the 3,000th time today. He still refuses to sleep for more than 20 minutes.
I desperately (and rightfully) want to drink a bottle of wine. My anxiety is bursting through the roof and I feel like my head is going to explode. I go for a walk.
When I come back 15 minutes later Maddox needs to eat again. There are still no sheets on my bed and Aidan is trying to play his mother fucking video game. Still feeling better I go to my special place of ignoring the world. After demanding sheets be put back on the bed I feed Maddox try to zone out. It’s not long after Maddox falls asleep that I join him.
But no, the day’s not over..
Sleeping for me consisted of being woken up by Maddox no less than 8 times. In the middle of the third feeding I could hear Marshall doing what could be described as hosting a circus in the living room at 1:30am.
After Maddox drifted back off I went downstairs to find Marshal high as fuck, the kitchen trashed, and every god damn light on in the house. I screamed in my night time voice for him to get the fuck into bed and not to dare give me any shit in the morning otherwise he’d face death.
He was going to school in the morning or being murdered.
This morning turned out okay. Both of the delinquents went to school and it didn’t involve me driving them anywhere or resorting to threats of violence. There is no liquid on my bed and I haven’t had to feed Maddox 36 times yet. Let’s hope the trend continues.
Ahh – just in time.. Maddox is fucking crying.