Oct 282015

Dear blog,

Here I am on Wednesday night, ready to hand in my Parenting Membership Card because my “gifted” son and I are having knock down, drag-out arguments over some goddamn piece of shit project for his idiotic reading class that’s due on Friday and he’s being so dense and I’M SORRY BUT I AM NOT DOING THIS FOR HIM LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE. All I wanted to do was watch my #wcw Jillian Michaels yell at people for being idiots on her new show Sweat, Inc. NOT SIT HERE IN A PILE OF FOAM BOARD AND SHARPIES, BICKERING WITH MY KID.

Oh I just can’t stand it.

I’m about to go lie down in a dark room with the Halloween soundtrack on repeat.

Here are pictures of my genius kid from Sunday, when I was still his mom and not yet sailing down a stream to the Island of Broken Moms & Soul-Crushed Dads.



I miss Sunday. We weren’t arguing over a project about animals adapting in the desert. We were playing in leaves and going to a haunted house and watching The Walking Dead.

Not all at once. But, you know.



You want a funny, HILARIOUS story about my angel-son? That little jerk landed himself in In School Suspension last Friday. Yeah, a week after we had that wonderful conference with his teachers, where I walked out of the school feeling so awesome about myself as a parent, Chooch goes and accidentally hurts his buddy in class. I guess his friend was stretching in the seat in front of Chooch, had his arms up in the air and Chooch playfully grabbed one and bent it back, a little too roughly. The teacher called Henry to let him know what happened and was totally upset about it, because she knew it was boys being boys, a total accident, but the kid ended up having to go to the nurse and because of that, Chooch spent the next day in the school slammer.



He was really upset and didn’t want to go to school the next day.

“What if they don’t give me lunch?!” he asked, practically suffocating on fear.

Chooch, it’s just ISS. Even Charles Manson gets to eat lunch!


I spent all Friday at work worrying about him, because that’s rough, you know? But then when I got home that night and asked him how it went, he gushed, “It was awesome!” Apparently, it was him and a bunch of 8th grade boys, and Chooch gets along better with the older kids than the ones in his own grade, so I guess he felt pretty comfortable. He said, “I finished my work early so I just sat there and giggled the rest of the time.” He ended up having to read a math/history book because there was nothing else to do, but it was still awesome to him, for some reason.

Just now, still toiling away at his project, he proudly called over to me, “I saw one of my 8th grade ISS friends today!”

Oh my god.


My delinquent.




The pumpkin prop was all him.


Henry’s home now. Chooch just sighed heavily and Henry said, “What’s wrong?”

“Mommy’s crazy. I mean, she’s my bae, but she is CRAZY,” Chooch said LITERALLY RIGHT BEHIND MY BACK HELLO I’M SITTING RIGHT HERE!?



If you’re wondering about how Chooch’s friend is doing after the Arm Incident, I’m going to guess he’s fine because he was at football practice the same day and he still stops here every morning so that he and Chooch can walk to school together.  And I guess that’s the most important part.

Because I don’t want to have to deal with any irate moms calling my phone.




“Maybe we should have just made a diorama like [name withheld/Chooch’s nemesis],” he says. GTFO WITH THIS “WE” NONSENSE.

Seriously, what kind of sadistic elementary school teacher makes a project due on the day before Halloween?! Doesn’t she know that we’re already embroiled in 87 various projects over here?! This is just the worst.


  3 Responses to “Pumpkins & Projects”

  1. Isn’t there some religious exemption you can claim for the schoolwork on Halloween thing? If not, there should be.

  2. If he doesn’t end up in a band, I’ll be very sad. He’s just got that vibe.

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