The Boy refuses to get ready in the morning. All he has to do is brush his hair and teeth, eat a bowl of cereal and get dressed. I wake him at 6:30AM to do these things. I need to leave at 7:30AM to be on time for work. Well, he's made me late every.single.day. I haven't been able to get to work before 8:10AM in I don't know how long. Sometimes, I've been as late as 9AM. Yesterday, I broke. I'd had it. I had been yelling and fussing at the child all morning until my throat was hoarse and I didn't get to work until 8:30AM. That was the limit, y'all. The Limit. I went home last night and told him that we would be leaving from now on at 7:30AM and he would go to school in whatever state he happened to be in--pajamas, half-dressed, I didn't care. He didn't think I was serious. This morning, I got him up at 6:30AM, as usual. I reminded him of the new rule. Then, I got ready. I did not holler, fuss or fight with the child. At 7:30AM, I put ...
We'll call this one "Kids are really freaking stupid." I would like suggestions as to an alternate name for The Boy in light of yesterday's events. I like the way that DCup changes the name of her youngest Spawn depending on behavior--from Cupcake to Resident Evil. I want something along those lines. The Boy plays all the time, every chance he gets, with the boy down the street. His name is Cesar and I've mentioned him before. Cesar lives exactly three doors down from us on our side of the street. So, we don't really worry about The Boy heading on down there on his own. As a matter of fact, The Boy has very definite limits to his ability to roam. He's allowed exactly from one speed bump just the south of our house to the speed bump just north of our house. That's the extent of his free area all of which is easily within eye shot of our front porch. See below: Yesterday, The Boy went out at about 3:30 or so to go play with Cesar. At 4:00, Ces...
It was about 4 months before Mom died. I was on one of my many weekend jaunts down to Texas to spend time with Mom because none of us know how much time we have left. I got in my rent a car and headed out of the airport and was going to meet my sister at a Chile's off of FM 1960 as this was on my way (albeit in a round about way) to 290 to get up to Brenham. So there I am sucking on a very bad margarita and my sister shows up. And we start talking about Mom and her condition and hospice and everything else. Now at this point, while I knew in the back of my mind that I would one day get "the call" up here in Maryland I still held out hope Ma had more time. And she did about 4 months. But as my sister and I were talking she looked me in the eye and said very matter of factly "Steven our mother is going to die. As I thought about what she had said I became mad. And thought bad things about my sister. Why could she not think like me? Hey ya never know? Maybe she...
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Which I thought was pretty cool