It’s the most wonderful time of the year… or not…

schoolsuppliesSo, I am going to do something I probably shouldn’t do, but I’m going to anyway because I had one helluva experience this weekend that I haven’t had since my oldest was in first grade.

My bestie and I were on an errand from God on Sunday.  1.) Because she was getting a new phone after almost chucking hers out the window because it wouldn’t text and other highly necessary operations that are a must for the technically connected… and 2.) because the monster needed his school supplies and there would be no other time to do it in their busy schedule before Meet Your Teacher night later in the week.

She was feeling oddly bad for me because I would be standing around in a phone store looking longingly at the phones that I couldn’t afford because I’m painfully poor and am days away from having a really professional and good paying job which will actually put me back in the economy’s middle class ranking, so she suggested we divide and conquer to make things move a little faster and be more productive.  I would drop her off at the phone store then run and get the school supplies.  Sounds easy, right?  I was excited because I don’t go with the girls, their grandmother is extremely generous in offering each year to buy their supplies for them, so I would get the experience without the stress of it being with my own children arguing over Hello Kitty folders and Frozen backpacks.


No, that’s not even what happened.  When I walked into the store the school supplies were directly in front of me and the mass chaos that was ensuing was both shocking and eye-opening to me as a parent as well as a teacher.

And here is where I revolt from my fellow teachers and throw them all to the wolves.  Because we are BAD people.  I mean bad, as in were are definitely going to hell bad.

I walk up to the school lists and begin to read, thinking, not too bad, not horrible. But then I start searching for the items and realize, these are really specific items being requested on this list. (5) folders, but they must be red, blue, green, yellow, and purple. I get the plastic folders because I know my friend’s son and I think, “hey, he won’t be able to destroy these, at least not easily, right?” So I start looking for the appropriate colors and find all but a yellow.

I am defiant by nature, so when I can’t find a yellow in the plastic version I refuse to switch to the paper version.  It’s just principle now. So I get orange instead.  It’s in the yellow family, a secondary color created by its primary counter parts yellow and red.  Orange will be the new yellow.

Next I had to find specific amounts of crayons, markers, and colored pencils.  Lets be honest, none of the amounts he was supposed to have were correct, me being a teacher I’m thinking, “More is better, right?” 36 colored pencils instead of 24, 10 markers instead of 8, what could 2 additional colors hurt?

Then came the dry erase markers. I don’t disagree with the purchase of these, but when the girls are specified to bring “fine tip” and the boys “chisel tip” I draw the line.  Last time I’m brought dry erasers chisel tip was the norm so I’m thinking easy peasy. Nope, apparently fine tip is all the rage these days.  Stupid, chisel I can make a fat line or a thin line, best of both worlds, but apparently higher education is more specific in their instruction of new teachers these days.  When I was in college we had to practice writing on CHALK BOARDS people.  CHALK BOARDS.  I have a strong aversion to chalk boards.  Like I’m gonna puke if even one squeak comes from a piece of chalk and God FORBID someone scratch their nails on it. I’m gagging as we speak just thinking of it…

At this point I begin to notice I’m walking the aisle mumbling to myself, “Crayons, crayons, pointed tipped scissors, magic erasers. What the f*ck is a Magic Eraser? ”  Over and over again. I think, “People are gonna start staring, so I’d better keep it together.” But then I realize all of these other parents are doing the same thing!

One guys walking down the aisle going, “Oh God, oh God…”, another is mumbling, “Stupid, stupid, stupid…”. I heard a mother say to her daughter, “You’d better make this fridge and microwave last you all four years.”

I ran into another mom looking for a specific brand of pencils.  I directed her to the correct spot, then asked, “Do you know what a magic eraser is?”

“No clue.”

“I’m actually a teacher and I have no idea what it is..” She looks at me with a mixture of hatred and pity and I scurry away.

The breaking point was the crayons.  I was in need of a 24 pack, but could only get the 8 count jumbo size or the 128 mega pack and I figured I’d have one pretty pissed off third grader gunning for me if I brought either of these home.  After angry Snapchats and rantings to my bestie, I stoop about as low as I could go on this “damned from the beginning” pilgrimage and nab a pack out of a pre-packed bag for patrons to purchase for underprivileged school students.  A new low for sure.

As I made my way back to the phone store to pick her up, I was reviewing what purchases might not be actually kosher with the teacher figuring the orange folder might be a bit of a stretch, but surely it couldn’t make that much of a difference right?  Wrong.  I was promptly informed that last year the items that weren’t correct were sent home with a note stating they were not acceptable and new items must be purchased. In fact, she informed me that she fully expected to be back out re-buying all of these same supplies the week after school started because generally half of them weren’t correct.

I was outraged.  I told her if the teacher made a peep she should let me know and I would be up at that school the next day having it out with her.  She insisted it really wasn’t worth it and that buying all new supplies was in turn, much easier.


Today she posts this blog from People I Want to Punch in the Throat on my wall about school supplies and teachers.  People I Want to Punch in the Throat found it came from Ginny over at Praying to Darwin and its PURE GENIUS.


For all you Mommies dealing with this shit right now, cheers!

School Supplies
by XXXXXXXXXXXX on Monday, September 7, 20xx at 10:31am
Dear Mrs. X:
In just over a week, you will be my son’s Grade 1 teacher. He is ever so excited to be under your tutelage. Why, since the last day of kindergarten, entering your class was all he could talk about. He gleefully thrust a piece of paper into my hand on that June afternoon, and said, “Here’s a list of the stuff I need for school next September!”
And I have to admit, I, too, was excited. I’m a school supplies geek from way back. And so, in early August, I set out to buy the items you’d listed. It was on my fourth store that the realization began to sink in.
You’re a crafty bitch, aren’t you?
This list was a thinly disguised test. Could I find the items, exactly as you’d prescribed? Because if not, my son would be That Kid, the one with the Problem Mother, Who Can’t Follow Directions.
For example, the glue sticks you requested. In the 40 gram size. Three of the little buggers. (What kind of massive, sticky project you’ve got planned for the first day of school that would require the students to bring all this glue, I cannot imagine.) But the 40 gram size doesn’t come in a convenient 3-pack. The 30 gram size does. But clearly, those would be wildly inappropriate. So I got the individually priced 40’s, as per your instructions.
Another bit of fun was your request for 2 packs of 8 Crayola crayons (basic colors). The 24 packs, with their 24 *different* colors, sat there, on sale. I could have purchased *three* of the 24 packs for the price I had to pay for the 8 packs. (Clearly, you’ll not be teaching the youngsters any sort of economics lessons this year.) Even the cashier looked at me, as if to say, “Pardon me, ma’am, but are you slow?” as I purchased these non-bargain crayons. But that’s what the list said. And I was committed to following the list.
But the last item, well, now, you saved your malice up for that one, didn’t you? “8 mm ruled notebooks”, you asked for. Simple enough. Except the standard size is “seven” millimetres. One. Millimetre. Difference. Do you realize, Mrs. X., exactly how infinitesimal the difference between 7 mm ruling and 8 mm ruling is? Pretty small, I assure you. The thickness of a fingernail, approximately. But that millimetre, that small bit of nothingness, made me drive to four different stores, over the course of three sweaty August hours. And when I finally, finally found the last remaining 8 mm notebooks, I took no pleasure in my victory. I merely shifted my focus. To you, Mrs. X.
You wanna dance, lady? Let’s dance.
Because I am just batshit crazy enough to play your games. And, in turn, come up with some of my own.
On show and share day, my son will be bringing the video of his birth. It will be labelled, “Ben’s First Puppy.” Enjoy.
He will be given a list of words, and daily, he will ask you what they mean. Words such as “pedophile”, “anti-semite”, and “skank”. Good luck with those.
At some point, you will attempt to teach him mathematics. And I’m quite sure that, like most of your ilk, you will require my son to “show his work”. And he will. Through interpretive dance.
Because that is who you’ve chosen to tangle with, toots. A stay at home mom who is not entirely balanced, and has altogether too much time on her hands. But is, most certainly, A Mother Who Can Follow Directions.
Ben’s Mom

Oh yeah, ladies, I’m with you all the way…

More random texts that prove we need our own reality show…

Some nights we like to get movie theater popcorn while watching movies at home. Yes, we’re crazy like that… This insued after I got the popcorn…



Saturday mornings we go to breakfast, but no one else moves quite as quickly as we prefer…





This one may be a little confusing as you’ll see I had to delete part of the message because of information that just doesn’t need to be shared EVER again…



This one because I confused the song played in Shrek Ever After, Live and Let Die, for November Rain when discussing who sang it originally. (FYI – I know Guns and Roses sang November Rain originally and The Beatles Live and Let Die).

The second part is just #everydaywhovianproblems, because yeah, that happens!


Best Valentine’s Day EVER.

My best friend and I now refer to each other as hetero-life mates because, well, basically we are. There’s just no other way to describe one picking up the kids and taking them to get their hair cut, while the other stops to get dinner for everyone on the way home. Or one picking up the youngest at daycare and then going to your house to so the dishes, after which the other picks you all up and takes you out to dinner.

No apologies. It is what it is. And frankly it works, so no judgement needed.

This being said, my truly awesome life mate sent me the following texts as this stupid day of professing love went on.

And it was TRULY awesome.

Note: Many of you know I have multiple “boyfriends” (aka Thor, Ryan Goseling, Benedict Cumberbatch…) Fangirling may ensue…


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I love it when other bloggers enable my crazy posts….

This week The Bloggess bought yet another taxidermied animal, dressed it up, gave it a name, and a shining persona.  She so politely gave her readership a copy of the photo to allow them to create their own “Jaunita” (click here to read her story) crazed photos, and so I took hold of the opportunity to create my own.

If you read my blog, you know about my side job as “The Family”s housekeeper.  Here are a few pics just to keep the ball rolling…

And just to be fair, here is one for “The Family” (I imagine The Family’s patriarch saying this, and yes, in this apron as well…)

Just a little fun to break up the monotony of an average Wednesday night…

This is not for the faint at heart….or those who can’t tolerate someone peeing their pants…

So I thought I might write about my first day of substitute teaching, but it was fairly uneventful and all went well.  Lucky for me, it’s the girl’s weekend at their dad’s, so this means another fun weekend with my friend Trisha and her family.

I’m going to disclose some pretty embarrassing shit that went down this evening, so take heed when reading this.  And don’t judge me…

Trisha and I planned on going to see Breaking Dawn Part 1 tonight so after dropping the girls off I headed over to her house, where much to her dismay her child dazzled me with his mad math skills.  She told him it was called “humility” and he should learn it.  This coming from the girl who constantly insists she’s right, even when she’s wrong (and yes, she would say she’s always right and so why shouldn’t she point out the obvious…).  Anyhow, after dinner we were sitting watching TV with JR and the boys and the youngest starts shaking this little side table they have like a madman gone berserk.  I started laughing, and then he started actually MOVING it across the floor.  Meanwhile, Trisha is telling me not to laugh at him because it only encourages it, which makes me laugh harder, but with me trying to hide my face…

For those of you who know me, when I get going laughing it becomes a “Dom Deluise” type of laugh where I start wheezing air out my throat, followed by an intense, uncontrollable cough. What happened next is in no way pretty, but when you have had two children things start to go awry … and I peed my pants.  This is like T – 20 minutes to movie time mind you.  I’m all like, “I just peed my pants!” and Trisha is all like, “That is something I don’t want to know about, so stop telling me !” Now I didn’t tell her until after we were on our way home from the movie, but I actually got a “wet spot” on my jeans from that one… Yes, JR, I had a wet spot, and I sat on your couch… (Don’t worry, I’m sure I will be cleaning it tomorrow…)

So we go to see the movie, all well and good. As we are pulling out of the parking lot Trisha starts bitching at me because she couldn’t find something and proceeds to call me a TWAT.

“God, you twat!”

SERIOUSLY???? Who even says that anymore? Call me a p*ssy, the “c” word, whatever, but TWAT? Really, and she gives ME a hard time…

THEN… we start talking about my P.E. sub job today.

She asked me if I wore the obligatory wind breaker pants and I replied, “NO, I wore my khakis!” She asked if I wore my polo shirt tucked in to them and I responded, “No, I wore this…” I was wearing a long sleeve shirt with my St. Jude sweatshirt over the top.

Now, here I am thinking I did all great wearing nice khakis, but no, she gets all pissy* and starts yelling at me because I didn’t dress up for my first sub position!

“You wore a HOODIE to your first sub job???”

” IT WAS P.E.!!!!!! The other sub came in her spandex pants for crying out loud!”

She replied, “Oh, and she has a full-time job does she?”

I said, “No I’m pretty sure she’s retired…”

“And so she has a full-time job?”

Crap, I believe I can’t win with that girl… It’s like trying to win your parents love and respect, and no matter what you do you’re wrong.

“And what did you wear? Your tennis shoes?”


“Oh my God…”


“I don’t care, you should have dressed nicely!”

“What? So you’re telling me I should have gone dressed to the nines in my high heels? What if I wanted to join in and be an interactive teacher. You know, run with them and shit?”

“Did you?”


She didn’t say it, but it was implied, “I rest my case”.

I guess I’ll know if she’s right if I never get called back to sub there…

So then that’s when we started talking about the “wet spot” and SHE started laughing uncontrollably.  She insists that I have a SERIOUS problem because she has two children as well and NEVER has that problem… Well, you have other problems my friend, but I’m nice so I won’t air your dirty laundry here. But I know you know I know, so there.

We decided NOT to tell JR and let him read it here… Sorry! But no one knows of my “Dom Deluise” laugh better than JR… seriously… It’s like a past time of his to make fun of me about it… So, really, he should have expected it…

PS * (hmm, funny, spell check doesn’t recognize this word, put gives me “pussy” as one of the possible choices. Weird, yet interesting fact…)

PSS – Next time I sub in P.E. I’m wearing my wind breaker pants, a button down blouse, and high heals, with my pearls… How you like them apples?

The reason for my motivation…..

So my friend Trisha and I had a text argument today. This weekend she kept telling me about this job fair at this local business that was today. On Saturday I filled out an application on-line and everything and told her I would go to the fair.  Today about 4:15pm I get a text from her.

T: Did you go to the fair?

Me: Um, sure! 😀

T: U didn’t??

Me: Um, no…

T: Y not?

Me: I washed windows instead. I kind of forgot. 😦

T: Oh

Me: I know I’m hopeless. I “dislike” ur “oh”.

R u mad at me now?

T: Hopeless no,

Lol dude really?

Me: Infuriating? Lazy? Unmotivated? Forgetful? Misguided? I could go on and on…

It’s the go-to question.  I’m working on it.

T: Sounds to me like ur in the midst of yet another pity party. Just sayin

Me: I’m not pity partying, if anything I’m laughing at myself! Hahahaha!

T: The fair lasts until 6 ya know…

Just heard it on the radio.

Me: Oh, I’m getting in my care right now…rotflo!!!!


T: Don’t lie! I could care less if u got a job. But maybe I was under the misguided impression that YOU cared.

Me: Oh don’t get mad Trisha! I do want a job, but I want to teach, so I’m going to get off my ass and start subbing. I am willing to put my app and resume in to check things out, but why dick around when I know what I really want to do? – I know, stop dicking around…

T: Hmm….I’m not mad. I’m just thinking you aren’t happy doing what ur doing now. So shit er get of the pot man.

Me: Well said, and advice well taken.

T: No. That’s just it.. it’s not well taken. CAUSE ARE YOU ON UR WAY TO THE JOB FAIR????

Me: Quit yelling at me… I will go to the job fair. I’m taking a shower right now.

T: Good. Then sign ur ass up to sub too.  My mom keeps asking me if u have… n if she’s gonna guilt me…ur damn skippy I’m passing it along!

Me: Ok 😛 *but that’s not with a happy face*

T: It’s alright, I’ve concluded we shouldn’t talk right when I get off of work. Tho maybe if ur actually going, then it was worth it

Me: I’m going.

T: GOOD. I expect a full report.

Me: Oh, believe me, double spaced – helvica font!


I was laughing/cursing her through this entire conversation.  I felt like Cameron on Farris Bueller’s Day Off.  She’s just gonna keep texting me and texting me…

I HATE these situations where I have to go in and actually have to TALK to other people.  If I know you, or if I know what I’m talking about, ok, but going into an interview type environment is NOT my idea of a fun time.  I was so nervous I was sure I was going to have a stroke or heart attack.  Teaching interviews, ok, anything else, I struggle with.

Anyway, when I got there I “checked-in” on Facebook because I wouldn’t put it past her to drive by or something to make sure I was there.  Of course she commented on it, which I will get to in a minute, but back to our texting conversation.

T: Well?

Me: They were interviewing for cold-calling selling cells, TV services. The girl didn’t think it was my “area” but was forwarding my info elsewhere.

T: Well that’s a good start. I’m VERY glad you went. Now, go home and get ur shit together to sign up for subbing. What needs done there?

Me: A physical. I’m going tomorrow. (I had no prior intention of going tomorrow…)

T: What comes after the physical? And yes, I’ll check on you tomorrow too.

Me: Taking my physical and TB test results to the ROE. Then I go sign up.

T: Go where? Online or in person?

Me: person

T: Do you have a list of schools you’re going to and in order? That’s what I would make.  Satisfying little checks ever place you go.

Me: I’m making it tonight.

T: Can’t wait to see it!!

Me: I hope the amount of cackling coming on your end is as much as it is on mine…

T: Lol mmhmm… I just turned to JR n said Gawd I’m an evil bitch.

Me: But you’re my evil bitch ]:->

T: Lol, now that’s funny.

Our facebook conversation was just as amusing:

Aka: HGS – job fair. I’ve been here 1/2 an hour. YES, I’m here Trisha. — atAffina.

Like ·  · Tag Friends · 3 hours ago via BlackBerry

Remember the other day when I posted the “Unmotivated” picture?  Here’s my new one:

I was so irritated by the time I got home at 6:30, but I think I was irritated with myself for being so unmotivated.  I mean, she is only trying to help get me where I need to be, and I have to say I appreciate it, because if it were left up to me, I’m not really sure I’d ever get there!

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is…. Thanks Trisha. 😉