I've intended to post so many times over the last month or two, but just haven't been able to get my act together. I can make excuses, but that's just silly. Life happens. It's messy and wonderful and chaotic and hilarious and awful and sad and depressing and a total trainwreck, but it's YOUR trainwreck, so that automatically makes it awesome even if it doesn't always seem that way. Right?
Over the last 6 school months or so, I've shared stories with teachers in the teachers lounge of various schools where I substitute teach, and it never fails: at least one person asks if I have a blog because it's funny and I should write it down. I respond that I do, but then admit (shamefully) that it's been forever since I've updated. Well, that's going to stop.
Sure, my calendar is crazy chaotic. I have a wall calendar that has a rainbow of colors scrawled across the days of the week. Some weeks are worse than others, but it's a lot. With both boys playing sports and practicing at least 1-2 times a week (not including individual lessons) and my full course load in grad school and doctor's appointments and substitute teaching, there's one color noticeably absent from my calendar...and that's hot pink. You might be wondering what hot pink represents, and I'll tell you. Hot pink is the color I designated for "Fun Stuff." Y'all, my life is severely lacking when it comes to fun stuff. For the month of September, there are approximately TWO things written in hot pink...and one of them is actually from August 28. I just wrote it in the blank square because I'd already switched to September. Both of the fun things were in the first week of September, and only one of them was super fun: lunch with a former professor in Denton.
Anyway, now that we're a solid month into the school year, things have settled into some semblance of routine. I'm not saying it's a good routine, but it almost kind of works. I have a teenager who seems to think he can dictate his own everything because he's practically an adult and he doesn't need me for anything. Oh, but can I make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for him every morning because he's really bad at it and it takes too long and he doesn't care if he ever gets good at it because it's so much easier if I just do it so will I?
I've contemplated some disgusting concoction to get me "fired" from making sandwiches. The possibilities in my head are AMAZING, but it's less fun if I'm not there to see the big reveal, so I've managed to control myself. But just barely.
So, I do make sandwiches most days...mostly because he's less of a morning person than I am (and THAT is saying something), and also because I'm usually not rushing to get anywhere in the morning. I've suggested pbj lessons in the evenings, but that's met with the most hysterical look I've ever seen. If you know N, you can probably imagine. It's an absolute "What the hell?" look mixed with terror and/or horror. It's comical. And he hates it when I burst out laughing, so it's an added bonus.
Meanwhile, B has finally settled into the whole "my bedtime as an elementary school student is different than my brother who is a high school student" routine. He doesn't like it, but he complains very little. HOWEVER, this past Tuesday, he had a night soccer game to makeup for a rainout at the beginning of the season. See, it poured at 5 am, stopped before 9, and was beautiful ALL day, but his 12:00 soccer game was absolutely rained out. This league isn't supposed to play any weeknight games, but since the "rainout week" had already been utilized due to NOBODY being ready to begin the season, we got stuck with a Tuesday night game. It was in Colleyville, which isn't as far as it could be, but the game didn't even start until 7:15, and they're 90 minutes. By the time the game wrapped up and we got in the car and got Whataburger (because...priorities) and got home and he got in the shower after he ate and I remembered I needed everything for lunch from the grocery store, so I went to the store at 10 p.m., and when I came home he was still awake...well, I knew Wednesday morning would be a total beatdown.
It did not disappoint. At one point, he cried, "Why am I acting like this?" and I said, "Because you're like me and you need sleep or you're a totally angry cranky ass until noon." His tears dried up, he looked at me with fire in his eyes and said, "I blame you. I hate you." and took off for school.
Also known as a typical Wednesday. Sigh.
Usually only one of them hits me with an "I hate you" during any given week, but this week, I was blessed with another one after school when I was trying to explain why B had done a math problem incorrectly. If you know me, then you know this whole scenario is hilarious, but I was ONE HUNDRED PERCENT SURE I WAS RIGHT. And he was positive I was wrong. At one point, I thought I saw a glimmer of "Oh, she IS right!" but he saw I was onto him, and he shut down again.
N has decided he is in charge of his own bedtime. I ask him to be in bed no later than 10:30 unless he's working on homework, since he can afford to get up after 7:00 since school starts at 8:20. So much unnecessary information. Anyway, he was still going strong with NBA2K17 at 10:30, and I didn't say a word...I just silently seethed instead. It was extremely passive-aggressive. At 11:00, I finally bellowed for him to go to bed. And do you know what that kid said to me?! "But MOM! There's 3 minutes left in this game!" I'm thinking to myself, "Okay, well...if you had asked to extend your bedtime at 10:30, it wouldn't be such a big deal, but you didn't. You just totally ignored bedtime and did what you wanted to do and I don't feel sorry for you. At all." But what I actually said was, "You know, N...you go ahead and stay up and finish that game, but if you choose to do that, you also choose to accept the consequences for your actions because you know your bedtime is 10:30." Then I got the whole rant about how he can do what he wants and get himself up on time and he doesn't need me and blah blah blah. But he must've known I meant business because he slammed all the things down and turned off the lights and yelled that he hated me as he slammed MY door and then went into his room to try on belts.
Why? I have no idea.
The next morning, he asked me to make him a sandwich. I asked him if he was going to apologize for being hateful and disrespectful. He said he didn't think that was on his list of things to do that day, and I told him I didn't think making a sandwich for an ungrateful kid was on mine. He decided he didn't need a sandwich, and as soon as he left, I took an hour long nap.
And. It. Was. Glorious.
Aubs
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