I Don't Kiss Feet

How is it possible that something as innocent and simple as preschool can drive a grown woman to full on, ugly cry face?  Today I had full on, ugly-cry face. My little Twinkers started preschool. Ok, so, it’s hardly even preschool. They are out of the house for three hours every Friday. It’s not like they are going to college in Prague. That might actually not be a bad thing as long as mom can visit. The Twinkers know full well what today is. They went into major meltdown mode this morning when they weren’t allowed to leave for school with their big sister. Trying to explain the concept of time to a three-year old is like trying to explain racism to a Trump supporter (I promise that’s the only political remark I will make. This week.). They have been running around all morning wearing their backpacks and yelling “Go to school! Go to school!”. It’s actually an improvement over their usually morning yells of “That’s the wrong color spoon! She’s pulling my hair! You poured my milk ...

“Did you have an appointment today?” “No.” “It took you an hour to call me back.” “Sorry I was in the shower. I will try harder to keep my phone at arm’s length at all times.” “You were in the shower for an hour? What were you doing? Shaving your legs?” “Yes. You need a new razor. And I was dying my hair.” “I don’t know why you even bother with that. The white hairs are all in your head.” “I know they are in my head. That’s why I need to cover them.” “You have like two white hairs. Nobody can see them unless they comb through your hair with a tweezers.” “Would you cover your bald spot with more than a hat if given a chance?” “My bald spot isn’t that bad next to your white hairs.” “I’m making something with copious amounts of mushrooms for supper tonight.” I have no idea why the other adult in my house even called me. I am sure he had a reason other than wanting to know about my hair care habits. After discussing white hairs and bald spots, he then wanted to kn...

I’m blankly staring at the words “vacation days”. What do these words mean? I have heard rumors of places you can go where there are clear skies, shimmering waters, and adult beverages with fancy umbrellas. Apparently these are the kinds of places one can go when they are using these “vacation days”. Vacation days mean nothing of the sort around here. For starters, I am a redhead. Places with clear skies and shimmering waters are my kryptonite. There is not amount of clothing or sunscreen that can save me from the wrath of the sun.  And while sunburn isn’t really that terrible once you get use to it, I hear skin cancer is a bitch. So exactly what is a vacation day around here? It involves all three of the little blonde people being under the same roof for more than two awake hours at a time and me running around in stripes, carrying a whistle. At this point a vacation would involve me being able to finish an entire cup of coffee while it is still hot. Today is a vacation day. ...

Just a boring, babbling introduction to me. I have spent a lot of time as a student. It’s possible I have very little to show for all the time spent in the classroom but that’s an entirely different matter. By far my least favorite day of the new semester/quarter/whatever was the very first day. All the instructor ever does on that first day is hand out his/her syllabus and then proceeds to read it to you word for word. This was not as annoying for me in high school (because who doesn’t love a free day) as it was in college. Just give me the syllabus and let’s move on. I have made it this far in life. I’m pretty sure my ability to read and comprehend helped along the way. The only thing worse than an instructor who took all of the first class period to explain the syllabus was the instructor who took a whole week to explain the syllabus. Anyway. The point of all that babbling was to introduce you to the next part of today’s story. As much as I hate the syllabus, I feel it is i...