I’ve been absent for the past week or so from both writing and any social events. Why?
BACK TO SCHOOL.
OMG…Mini Me is 11, going on 30, and entering a new school. As in, a school that is NOT a Montessori School. So I can see her worries. Montessori school curriculums are a bit different. The bigger difference?
About a year ago…my saying “Aw, don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” would have gotten me a smile, a hug and a happy moment.
EyeRoll “Mom, you have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re supposed to say that ’cause you’re my mom.”
Well… Exccuuuuuuuuuuuse ME!
So in the depths of my needing to sit down and write, I took a moment in the Sweltering Southern heat while sitting in the car for pick-up and scribbled down the following events of the morning whilst trying to suggest things to wear OTHER than the too-short shorts (that she’s going to get sent home for) and the SWEATSHIRT (cause it’s freak’n 81˚ at 7:45 am!!).
Afterward, I decided I’m going to write my own book, DIARY OF A STRESSED OUT MOM. Here is an excerpt:
I’d originally thought my hotflashes were a a sign of menopause, but as I stood there with my face shoved into my daughter’s less than organized closet, I felt that familiar extraordinary heat rising from the center of my back and radiating outward. When the sweat on my face stuck to her too-small froggie raincoat, I stepped back and looked at her.
That’s when I saw her reddish eyebrows had transformed into a unibrow over her narrowed she’s-got-her-mother’s-eyes. And I knew…it wasn’t hotflashes I’d been experiencing so often this past week, but the mind power of a tweener just teetering on the edge of puberty. Ah yes…the fabled STARE OF DEATH was now directed at me, the interloper. The one who’d intruded on the sacred sanctum that is her abode.
Otherwise known as the dreaded…daughter’s room. In fear of spontaneously combusting, I reached out and flicked the unibrow into separation. “Look missy, I brought you into this world. I’ll take you out. And I won’t make another one cause I’ll go to Hawaii on the money I’ll save. Now, pick up this room or you’ll never see your iPod again.”
Yes…I’d succumbed to holding her electronic appendages hostage. But what was I supposed to do? She looked at it more than the road in front of her. Point of sentence? She walked into a wall yesterday.
Sigh….parenting. It’s not for the weak. I thought this as I made a quick bee line out of that room, slammed the door (cause you know that’s the language of puberty) and headed for the freezer. It was time for six Weight Watchers ice cream bars. Get outta mah way!