She's at camp. She's at camp, she's at camp, she's at camp.
Rob thinks I'm mean when I wipe my brow with relief that she's gone for a week, but HE DOESN'T KNOW. He is not the one who has to go ten rounds with her about putting her dish in the dishwasher, or about turning off the TV, or not being so snotty. He's not the one who gets texted at 11 p.m. with messages that she can't sleep and is afraid of something she saw on Parks and Recreation. He doesn't get yelled at, and defied at every turn, and she never rolls her eyes at him. And do you know why? Because he is Daddy Good Times! He gets home, and they high five 16 times and hug and do puzzles and make fun of mom. They both apparently believe that I should have infinite patience and be calm and kind 24/7. HAVE THEY MET ME??
I miss her a little. She is kinda cool. I'm mostly thinking about which activities she is doing right now, and hoping she made some friends in her cabin, and I'm checking the whether in those mountains every hour. I tried to find some small things to send in a care package, but could only find large plastic crap, and the camp doesn't allow food to be sent. If I could send a batch of cookies up there, I would. I just sent her a card. See? I have a little bit of a heart.
Leila's fish is swimming around in his bowl next to me. I moved him out of her room so I don't forget to feed him and end up killing him while she's gone. He really darts around in there. Where is he trying to go? Even if he successfully got out, and were able to breathe air, he would just get eaten by a crow or run over by a car. Doesn't he know he is safer in his bowl? He looks like he's trying to tell my something with his little fish mouth: HELP ME! YOU'RE NOT MY REAL MOM!
Ok, that's it for today. Adios.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Thursday, July 17, 2014
The Experiment Ends in Complete Failure
I've been informed that the Russians are missing me, so I'm back!
Leila is leaving for camp in a few days and I am SO READY. I just hurt my foot twice trying to maneuver around her rat's nest of a room, and declared that I was going to throw everything away while she is at camp unless it is spotless by the time she leaves. The experiment to see how long it would take her to clean her room if left up to her own devices is over. The conclusion we can draw is that she will never clean her room, and will be happy to live in her own filth forever as long as she can play minecraft on her ipod touch. She was like this as a baby too; never cried when she had a poo diaper. She was perfectly content to slosh around in it.
I'm over it. She can live in her own filth when she's a grown up all she wants. Her roommates will just love her. Wait until they find out that she wont pick up a dirty dish and put it in the dishwasher because its "disgusting" even if its the dish she just ate from. And just wait until she uses their towels and they end up all nasty. And when she uses all the glasses in the house for a few gulps of water and leaves them by the sink? They'll throw her a freakin' party.
I realize with all the hormones and tears and puberty that maybe not making her clean her room sounds like a good idea, and I've been pretty self righteous about it, like I'm such a cool mom eliminating that battle from our repertoire, but my coolness supply just ran out and I'm gonna start making her clean that hell hole like every other mom out there. You know what else? I'm gonna get her a good old fashioned alarm clock so that I can take her stupid ipod touch away at night and she can't use waking up as an excuse. ENOUGH!
Of course, I wont actually have an opportunity to put all this tough love into practice because she's practically not going to be here for the next month. But when school starts? Put on your seat belts, its gonna get bumpy!
In other news, I'm in summer school learning drafting, both hand drafting and CAD drafting. You know what? I think I have a knack! Not sure I want to be a draftsperson, but it made me lament my terrible math education. I should have been a geometrist. And if that's not a career, I should have invented it.
UPDATE! Leila just came out of her room with some cable and you know what? I THINK SHE'S CLEANING UP!
See? It pays to lose your temper and throw in a well placed "God Damn it!!" She knows when I say God damn it that I mean business.
So GOD DAMN IT! someone comment on this post so that I know your'e still out there!
Love you.
Leila is leaving for camp in a few days and I am SO READY. I just hurt my foot twice trying to maneuver around her rat's nest of a room, and declared that I was going to throw everything away while she is at camp unless it is spotless by the time she leaves. The experiment to see how long it would take her to clean her room if left up to her own devices is over. The conclusion we can draw is that she will never clean her room, and will be happy to live in her own filth forever as long as she can play minecraft on her ipod touch. She was like this as a baby too; never cried when she had a poo diaper. She was perfectly content to slosh around in it.
I'm over it. She can live in her own filth when she's a grown up all she wants. Her roommates will just love her. Wait until they find out that she wont pick up a dirty dish and put it in the dishwasher because its "disgusting" even if its the dish she just ate from. And just wait until she uses their towels and they end up all nasty. And when she uses all the glasses in the house for a few gulps of water and leaves them by the sink? They'll throw her a freakin' party.
I realize with all the hormones and tears and puberty that maybe not making her clean her room sounds like a good idea, and I've been pretty self righteous about it, like I'm such a cool mom eliminating that battle from our repertoire, but my coolness supply just ran out and I'm gonna start making her clean that hell hole like every other mom out there. You know what else? I'm gonna get her a good old fashioned alarm clock so that I can take her stupid ipod touch away at night and she can't use waking up as an excuse. ENOUGH!
Of course, I wont actually have an opportunity to put all this tough love into practice because she's practically not going to be here for the next month. But when school starts? Put on your seat belts, its gonna get bumpy!
In other news, I'm in summer school learning drafting, both hand drafting and CAD drafting. You know what? I think I have a knack! Not sure I want to be a draftsperson, but it made me lament my terrible math education. I should have been a geometrist. And if that's not a career, I should have invented it.
UPDATE! Leila just came out of her room with some cable and you know what? I THINK SHE'S CLEANING UP!
See? It pays to lose your temper and throw in a well placed "God Damn it!!" She knows when I say God damn it that I mean business.
So GOD DAMN IT! someone comment on this post so that I know your'e still out there!
Love you.
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