(It’s important to know, that this blog did not exist when this particular piece was written. Hence, the title.)
It’s so unfair – to everyone without kids – that I have a son and a daughter, who provide me with a constant, free, endless stream of hysterical material. I feel like I’m cheating, almost, because I can heft up this book with a bunch of stuff about them, and know that I will never reach the bottom of that money pit. I won’t do that, though. I’ll talk about myself, for you.
As I type this, there are sirens going off in my neighborhood. This is not a rarity here, in fact, it may be a daily occurrence. That may not sound like a lot, but please keep in mind that this city is pitifully small for a “city.” I think the sirens are going off today, because it is the last day of school. Great. And the local police have a fetish for letting their sirens wail for school functions, which is what leads me to believe that this is no different. Today is the last day of school. Great.
My kids had a “half-day” today, which means I was much more inconvenienced than any normal day during the year. My son just graduated 8th grade, from a school that doesn’t have 8th grade graduation. No sirens for this one, but he wouldn’t have wanted to hear them anyway. Navigating the parking lot at the Junior High is like trying to drive a car where all 4 tires are bald and over-inflated, and you have no brakes, and the cars keep changing, and everyone is on cocaine. I’ve only ever seen that 2 other times, but believe me, this is exactly like that. Some parents drive like it’s their very first time in that parking lot, parking in the driveway to exit (facing the wrong way, in fact). Some parents know the deal, and park far far away, by the unused school buses, waiting for their child to come to them. That’s me. I don’t mess around with the flow of traffic. It’s too risky for everyone but me. The kid comes to me, and I cut everyone off to get out, because it’s the last time I’ll ever got to that stupid parking lot again. All of that happened after I had picked up my daughter at the Senior High, where I sat on a bench in front of the school for 20 minutes before realizing she had gone out another door and was waiting at the car. This school parking lot navigation stuff….not for me.
As you may know, my kids aren’t known for helping around the house. They never do. Even when bribed and threatened. I can’t even blackmail them yet. I actually wrote a piece earlier today, about how much they never help, but want to feel like they have done something. After I wrote that, I started making dinner. It was an excellent dinner, and it was perfectly executed, for my cooking style (I don’t use recipes or measurements, and I never taste my food while cooking). I put 3 plates on the table, one for each of the kids, and one for myself. I yelled up the stairs for them. No response. I called through the vent to the second floor. No response. I yelled “Feed bag’s out!” which is what usually gets them, regardless of how quietly I say it. No response. I hear them moving around and talking in normal volumes, but they are oblivious to my existence, because they don’t know it’s time for dinner.
The only time I usually see my kids, is at meal time. They come downstairs for breakfast, and go back upstairs. They come down at exactly 12:01, but they’ll say “Did you call us? No? Oh, look it’s time for lunch!” Same thing after lunch: they’re back upstairs until dinner. I don’t exist to them, unless there is food involved. So, I didn’t feel too badly that I sat at the table and ate my dinner without them. When they think about food, they’ll come downstairs, and their food will be cold. They won’t say they missed the time spent with Mom at dinner. They’ll moan and complain about having to reheat their food because I “didn’t even come get us!”