Years before I had children, I was watching Oprah. For all you “newbies” – Oprah was the Queen of Daytime Talk Television. She won Emmy awards long before Ellen DeGeneres and Rachael Ray began making us laugh because we never knew how to boil water. One day, I checked out of work early and found myself sitting on my couch, watching Oprah.
It was just me and Oprah. No husband. No parents. No kids. Just me and my girl Oprah. And while I don’t recall the specific topic of the day, I do remember one guest – a mother – who matter-of-factly told Oprah she hated being a mom 90 percent of her day.
“WHY did you have kids then lady?” I screamed to the lady sitting in the chair on stage.
Who in their right mind hated being a mom 90 percent of the day? I was not and never will be a math genius, but I am pretty certain the 10 percent of the time she spent liking motherhood was when her children were asleep.
“I could never hate being a mom,” I remember thinking to myself.
In nearly 13 years, my opinion changed.
If you were hoping for a spiritual read, this material isn’t for you.
If you were hoping for a guide to motherhood, stop reading now.
And, if you were hoping for inspiration and encouragement, go find something else to do.
But, if you are a mom (or general parent) whose life revolves around Ozzy Osborne’s “Crazy Train” and Buck Cherry’s “Crazy Bitch” – my life will quickly make you feel less stressed and perhaps, even more comfortable because I am not here to judge you.
Welcome to motherhood (and fatherhood) folks … It’s time to enjoy the “Crazy Train.”
For my first blog, or whatever this is you are reading, I am reaching out to parents of children required by LAST year’s teachers to do a HOMEWORK assignment over the summer.
First, of … I have one thing to say to these teachers, well two really …
1. You all do an amazing job during the SCHOOL YEAR … thank you for teaching our children well and letting them lead the way (down the hallways) … BUT …
2. Assigning a READING PROJECT OVER THE SUMMER IS FUCKING INSANE.
So, dearest teacher … I ask you this …
Why do you think sending a two-page letter in the mail is going to want to make my soon-to-be-seventh grader want to read a 300-page novel over the summer? He didn’t even want to read the letter you wrote to him! (Next year, maybe send him a text or “Kick” …)
But, being a “good mom,” I went to the library and checked out the book (which is now overdue … and I can’t renew it because another kid needs it … and I refuse to give it back in case you, DEAR TEACHER, require him to bring the book to school).
Yet, it wasn’t enough for you, DEAR TEACHER, to just have him read, “The Lightening Thief” but he had to physically make a project based on the novel.
We are not a crafting family, so a trip to Jo-Ann Fabric is like sending us into the pits of hell. For an hour, we just wandered around, aimlessly, secretly praying the objects we needed would fall into our cart. Finally, nearly an hour and a half later, I forked over $40 for vinyl paper, glitter paper and some other pretty shit to make this project “meet your high expectations.”
I should also mention this project is due the day after school starts … and it is for a grade. There will also be a test and essay about the book when the students return.
So, DEAR TEACHER, thank you for taking away my kid’s summer vacation. And, thank you for causing nightly fights with our son who would rather be swimming in a pool with his friends or playing soccer or … well, really anything else, than to be spending time with fucking glitter.