. . . where he gets some of his Potty Mouth words.
Naked Strike Week Six is underway. And this has been a BAAAAAAAAAAAD week for Management. A cousin died Monday (very sad). My father, who is already legally blind may lose his "good eye" (jokingly called such since it's not very good at all), and thus would be totally blind. I am flying to Florida in a week, with Demon Baby in tow to give my mom a little break (note the irony--flying to Florida WITH Demon Baby for a week to give someone a rest). Oldest Son has a bullying band teacher thus creating school anxiety. Tuition bills for college (gulp). Flying Oldest home for Thanksgiving proved financially impossible ($850), so she has to go to my sister's in Boston to the tune of about $500--still no small amount. I miss her terribly. Just a BAAAAAAAAAD week.
So last night, Management had a breakdown. After speaking to my dad on the phone and getting bad "good eye" news, after Demon Baby threw 50 (count 'em) PENNIES down the garbage disposal (entailing me hurting my hand fishing them out), and then tkaing a box of Honey Nut Cheerios and adding water to it to "make soup." After deciding socket wrenches (used to fix something he broke) would make good projectiles . . . Management freaked.
And so Management was mean. Management was most especially mean to Oldest Son, who didn't deserve it. And so Management went in to Oldest Son (who had forgotten his band book at school, thus incurring Management's crabby wrath) and said, "I'm really sorry that I was being such a bitch." Management said it softly. She gave Oldest a hug.
Demon Baby overheard. Demon Baby started jumping up and down (naked) and screaming, "YES! You really are the BIGGEST BITCH! The biggest most humongasaurus bitch ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
And I was. But then we all laughed. I couldn't help myself. He was so darn gleeful. And then I thought . . . oh, goodness . . . that is SO going to come out at an oh-so-inconvenient moment.
The Curse of the Potty Mouth.
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8 comments:
hmmmm there's a clue there, somewhere, methinks :O lol
Man, I feel for you. I had a rough night, too. I try to be patient, but after three weeks of not one person being prepared for their lesson, three weeks of "we're still getting into the swing of things," three weeks of students not practicing because they're afraid to try a passage, I just couldn't bear to hear it any longer. Especially after I'd been so enthusiastic about this year, it's like they each came in and let a little air out of my bubble.
Then I'm up all night hating myself for not being more patient and not always being perfect. And worrying I've emotionally scarred a child a life because I was impatient, LOL. Okay, reason tells me they know I love them, but who really knows? I really wish I could never run out of patience. I try so hard, I make it most of the way, but some days, I just fail miserably.
laughingwolf:
Oh, yes, karma came and slapped me across the face.
E
There, there, dear! Everything is going to be just fine!
Hi Anti-wife:
Thanks. :-)
I object! From the sound of that rotten smelly day from hell, you had every right to let a bit of bitchiness out. I hate the way we women always feel like we have to be so nice all the time. I am the problem solver, peacemaker, martyr, giver, joker of my family, and if I let off a little bitchy steam every so often, they go wonko nutso. They want me back in my category of taking care of everyone else. And, like a shlub, I go along with it, and even feel guilty.
So let out that bitchiness every so often. Nobody's perfect. (Except for Demon Baby. My hero.)
robin:
I hear you. I really do. I need to sort of "own" my bitchiness some days.
E
Robin, I'll have to remember that.
Erica, I think you were entitled and I hope your week got better.
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