Infinity

The Toad has yet another job. I'm trying hard to be positive, but I have no faith in him on this. It's sad to say, but it's the truth, and I'm not the kind of person (or mother) to put a happy face on something just because it will make others feel better about my relationship with my son, or my skill/competence as a mother.

We also got a nice shocker today.

Kevin opened the cable bill, and yet again, we got whammied with $72 in charges that we had no idea what they were. Of course, the back of the bill itemized it all, and I must say, that "All Sex Soccermoms" and "Asian Delight 7pac" certainly sound like they'd be worth $11.99 a piece.

So far, his porn fetish has cost ME upwards of $300, and can I take a moment to just say, "WOW." All this porn in my house, and I'm not enjoying one bit of it.

Kevin informed him that the $71.94 would be paid to him by the time he paid the bill--this Friday. Toadwort had to call his grandmother and ask her to lend him the money. Of course, she wanted to know why...and why his mother couldn't lend it to him.

We made sure we were listening, and he explained that he hadn't yet fully paid back the previous $267.50, and "it's the principle of the thing."

Kevin was worried that it was going to come 'round and bite us in the ass. I'm fed up with this whole life the boy is living, and I assured Kevin, in no uncertain terms, I was putting a muzzle on the dog and it was NOT going to bite anyone--except perhaps the smelly beast it's been feeding behind our backs.

My mother called us back about 20 minutes later. She was fine about it--as far as she goes, anyway. She was curious as to how the Toad managed to find a way 'round the block we put up. (He discovered that Virtual Adult channels are not blocked. Lucky us! We found out so cheaply!)

Anyway, Grammy is going to cover his ass--and I'll be waiting with baited breath to see if she really does bust his chops for the money to be repaid.

He's a smart boy--he just don't have the common sense God gave a stick.

Where Do Babies Come From?

How do they get out of their mommies' bellies?

Kevin warned me that the Howler asked him this earlier last week. Since she didn't pounce on me right away, I thought that whatever he told her was fine.

WRONG! She hit me with it last night while she was in the tub.

I had to explain the physical logistics of it, in a way that gave the 5 year old what she needed to know, but didn't tell her too much. And considering that she LOVES to natter on about things she's learned (and she likes to share the info with her classmates) I have to be careful in what (and how) I tell her anything.

She listens to what I have to say, then asks, "Does it hurt?"

I tell her the truth, "Yes, it does. But not that much, and it's worth it."

Remember when the little Worry Wort was stressing about going to junior high and high school? Oh, YEAH!

She started to tear up, get really stressed, and kept saying, "I don't never ever want a baby then. I don't want it to hurt. Does it always hurt? I don't want a baby ever then. Not ever. No, I know you want me to have babies, but I'm not going to ever. How do I not have babies? How? Help me to not never ever have babies. I don't want babies...."

I tried telling her that at 5 years old, this is something she can worry about YEARS from now. She's still wigging about it, 10 minutes later. Sweet Jesus! Even when I told her that it's okay if she doesn't have babies, she's not having any RIGHT NOW, so she can relax.

How did I get a child that stresses about future things so much?

We did not start singing "The Wheels on the Issue Bus" at this point, although I desperately wanted to.

We finally settled on my firm and sincere promise that if she doesn't want to have babies, she wouldn't, and when she was older--MUCH MUCH OLDER--I would make sure she knew how to not have any babies.

In retrospect, I'm just glad she was concentrating on getting the baby OUT, not how it got in there in the first place. (She probably would've thrown up!)

lol. Save me from the teenage years!

And the Worryfest continues tonight...Save me!

The Company You Keep

Apparently, it does matter.

The Toad came home Thursday, and was human and decent to be around.

Today, he spent time with Jerkwood & Co., and came home (after not showing up for dinner at his grandmother's), grumped through the house and went to bed.

I hate him right now, and I want to beat him bloody.

I won't, because I know that he'll either be getting a job, or getting away from them. If he gets a job, and is therefore staying, he's gonna have some choices to make.

I don't want to pick his friends, but I'm not living with a shitty attitude, especially not one that shows up mostly when he's around Jerkwood.

I don't care if he has NO friends what-so-ever in the process.

I'm truly fed up with this 16 year old snot-assed Jerk inflicted his doom upon me and my household.

Understanding

Well, my mom's next-door-neighbor is a teacher at the Howler's school.

So, I had the opportunity to ask her about the PTA.

She doesn't go, herself, because she has no children in the school. (Which I think is a crock, myself.)

Anyway, she doesn't know many who are on the PTA, but it is a very small group. I told her what I had experienced--the invisibility and all that.

I also told her about the letter from the person in charge of the Christmas Craft gig. She explained that things like that need to be approved by the principal, and they can't be sent until they are. The principal was off from Friday thru Wednesday, so that's why they didn't get out sooner.

At least that's been explained. And, I understand all that. I also understand the letters that I have sent in to the teacher to send to my parents (two so far) have probably been scrutinized in some fashion. Thank God I did them straight.

It still doesn't explain the invisibility thing, though.

Unanswerable Questions

Why are there fingerprints all over my computer screen?

And why do some of those smudges look like face prints?

*sigh*

I'm glad I don't own a copier.

Full House

For the record, I do have two cute urchins currently here. The *Twins*--Howler and Blondie--are coloring in the living room (I can only hope they're not coloring the living room).

The current debate seems to be over how you get an ear infection. Blondie says it's when someone yells in your ear. I think their definitions of yelling at each other are slightly different too. Germ sharing is not a sharing either of them wishes to experience. Lovely.

Anyway, they're not playing school because Blondie always has to be the teacher first, and the Howler's sense of fair play is offended at always having to be second in this game.

Occasionally, I get to hear about how Blondie doesn't think the exact same thing as the Howler, or vice versa.

We're headed pretty quickly for the "She's mean" chorus, but luckily that no longer devolves into asking my opinion. I fixed that while trick or treating--when asked, I announced to them both that they are exactly alike: both mean and bossy.

It's hilarious, once you get past the little girls/opk/mk thing. I love it. They have each met her match, and because of, or in spite of, that, they are still friends.

On a totally different note, the Toad came home. He's here, sleeping. Apparently, my sister used the method the government used to torture people into doing what they wanted: sleep deprivation. (Although how he's sleeping through the noise from *the twins* is beyond me.)

We've talked with him a bit about what is now going to be expected, and we'll do the full run tomorrow.

He has an interview with McDonald's on Monday (no hunting for our resident Bambi slayer until later, then), and, if he gets hired, he will have a job. He can earn money while figuring out how to accomplish what he wants to do.

However, if things slide back to the way they were, he will need to find somewhere else to live--we've all been happier, more relaxed, and less snippy while he was gone. I'm hoping against hope that he does not backslide, and that this all works out. Otherwise, he will need to find someplace that will allow him to be the big smelly slob he's been in the past.

As I have been practicing, it'll all work out.

Happy Thanksgiving!

HR Mom Stuff

I wrote a letter and decorated it (via my word program) to *my* parents.

I did not write:

Hey, People!

I went to a PTA meeting, and have discovered that I am invisible. I'd really like it if you all could come to the next one with me and help me find out if it's really true. The people I work with say it's not, as does my family. Let's find out! Worst case scenario, we discover that we all have this amazing power. How cool would that be?

Also, these PTA people need volunteers in our children's classroom on December 17 to help the kids with a craft. I'm not crafty myself, so instead, I'll be at work, schlepping trees for rude Christmas shoppers. If you are crafty, this is a healthy way for you to earn some good karma from the parenting gods. Call *A* at 000-0000 to volunteer. Leave me out of the loop on this one, if you can.

Finally, the classroom party is on December 21. I clarify that it's a classroom party, because the fuckwits at PTA didn't have a clue what I was talking about (I seriously think they thought I was desperate to know when their PTAer-Than-Thou-Self-Congratulatory Christmas Party was--as if I'd want an invite, much less expect one.) Anyway, yet again, I need bodies and booty to be there. It's to be from 1pm-2pm, then early dismissal. Let's sugar them up and send them home! lol.

I need to hear from you all, especially those of you who forgot to include your telephone information on the classroom list. You know who you are. If I don't hear from you soon, I'll have to chalk it up to sheer stubborness, and I know who will be the Homeroom Parent next year. I'll be sure to give 'em your name when they ask.

mumple
000-0000

Chicklings

One of Aunt Joy's chickens laid eggs. Nine *chicklings* hatched.

As you can see, the Howler likes her chickens!

She calls the peeps "chicklings" and as far as I can see, it fits them. So, now, along with dependix, annshinnigans, and cherronimoe (what you yell when you're falling down a steep hill), we have chicklings.

Our Howler is a trend-setter when it comes to command of the langridge.

Conferences

We had the Howler's parent-teacher conference on Friday. We were a little nervous going in--not from lack of faith in the teacher or in the Howler, but just because, as any parent knows, any time you (or your children) are being examined like this, something not-so-nice may be exposed.

We were lucky--there is nothing not-so-nice in the file. Mrs. W. kept saying what a happy and delightful little girl we have. She did not seem confused as to who we were discussing, so I can, with confidence, state that the Howler is doing well.

Really really well.

She's humming along nicely in the pre-reading and comprehension departments. She understands math concepts. She has friends.

Now for the bragging bit: She tests well and has been placed in the highest group for all subjects. They do challenging things, and this, in particular, is where the comprehension and deduction skills show up often. She responds to questions about stories and concepts on a level that leads her teacher(s) to believe she is constantly thinking, and thinking ahead. Basically, her little brain whirls in thought upwards to a level at least slightly higher than most 5 year olds.

She asks questions constantly. She has accepted that Mrs. W. is in command, and she responds well. Like most 5 year olds, she does have some trouble staying on task, but usually only needs one reminder to settle back down. She is very social (which usually leads to the opportunity to be reminded...lol).

Basically, things are going well, and she's doing well. She enjoys school, even when she whines that she doesn't want to go--she may be an absolute bear about getting out of bed and getting ready, but once she's there, she's delightful!

I'm happy that my girl is in a classroom that does allow her to be who she is; and I'm happy that she responds well to it. The whining and tantruming we see at home is due more to the effort she has to expend each day to be "not in charge" and, of course, I know how exhausting and exasperating that can be.

It's amazing to us at home how different she is from the beginning of this school year--and it's only been a few months! Her drawing and coloring is neater; she wants to write words and phrases all on her own. She identifies letters and letter sounds...even in the middle of words.

All in all, we're pretty lucky to have this little girl! She's a hoot and a half, and she makes me smile every day.

I Just Can't Get Over It

I know that this is wrong on so many levels, but I can't get over the PTA meeting thing. I really think I need to find a way to say these things:

When other parents say they can't come because of babysitting issues, it's an excuse. They have either experienced being invisible in your presence, or they've heard about it, and have no desire to do it themselves. No one in their right mind would suck up 2 hours of their own time, AND pay a babysitter, in order to be ignored by a group of people--any group of people.

How hard is it, really, to smile, say "hello" or introduce yourself to someone who is coming to join your group--a group, which, as far as I can see, has about a dozen people who do all the work and planning? Everything you needed to know about how to correct this situation, you learned in Kindergarten, then forgot by 6th grade.

I've been thinking on it, too, and I remember that during Open House (and the obligatory PTA membership drive) that no one at the table to accept my money and name even looked at me, let alone deigned to speak. They were too busy talking amongst themselves.

I think it's also sad, that as adults, two of the people in the room knew me from non-PTA/school things. One, I used to work with. The other, God help me, I'm related to. Neither of them could speak, or in any way acknowledge me.

I also have to wonder why there were no teachers present? Are they treated as second class at these meetings also? It wouldn't surprise me.

The worst part of all this? I've decided I'm going back. Every chance I get.

Why?

Because if there's one thing I know, it's that if there was ever a group of smug people who needed a strong dose of *Captain Obvious*, it's them. Also, since I have nothing to lose (I'm already invisible), I'm honestly curious to find out if they get the bodies to man their fund-raising events--and, if they do, how they pull that off.

It should be quite a show.

P is for PATHETIC

PTA meeting tonight:

I was about 3 minutes late. I walk into an practically empty room. It was sad--there were maybe a dozen people there.

They all looked at me, but no one spoke to me.

I sat at the end of a table. I had to ask for a copy of the minutes they were starting to hand out as I walked in.

The president isn't who I thought she was (that scarecrow was someone else). Her voice doesn't carry well, and she mostly spent her time talking to the Scarecrow.

The people at the other end of the table spent most of the meeting talking amongst themselves--just enough to make it hard to hear Leader1, whose voice doesn't carry.

I spent the first 5 minutes forcing myself to NOT correct the minutes--I realize that punctuation is free, but this was worse than even the "no biggie" thing. (Although, thankfully, no one said that.)

At the end, I had to ASK when the classroom Christmas party was--they all seemed confused when I just called it a "Christmas party". Apparently, there's more than one party on the premises this season. Luckily, the principal was there, and she did tell me the date and time. I did quietly explain that I had to have 3-4 weeks to schedule time off, and I have at least one parent who definitely needs at least a month, so having that date now will give plenty of time for that.

After the meeting, I spoke with 3 people--I had to introduce myself to two of them. I used to work with the third, and I said hello. She had stated she needed a picture, but that apparently meant a picture of just some of the special people who already knew each other. (Not that I wanted my pic taken, especially not by this piece of work, but, it was still odd to me to do it this way.)

Then, they all stood up and closed ranks to talk to each other, I had to practically elbow my way up to the woman in charge of the Christmas craft thing they're doing instead of a Santa's Shop for the kids to chose gifts or whatever. They said they wanted the Homeroom Moms to gather volunteers, and I had a legit question.

I introduced myself, and she did a double take--like normally she would shake someone's hand, but changed her mind. I did get her name and phone number, so I can get it to my parents and hopefully, I can be left out of the loop. She didn't catch my name, though, because she asked me which class I had. She checked that list ASAP after I left. No one even said goodbye, or thanks for coming.

How pathetic is that? I can tell them why no one's coming to their precious meetings. I'm currently debating trying to get an email addy for the prez and tell her, "Hey, it's no biggie, really, but maybe no one is coming to your meetings because NO ONE will speak to them if they do.

"DUH. You want people to come and be involved? MAKE THEM FEEL FREAKING WELCOME WHEN THEY DO COME! Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, how stuck on yourselves are you people!"

Anyway, they can't figure out why they don't have more people at their meetings, the snots.

News!

Actual, true, and for real news about the Toad.

I called my sister tonight, to talk a bit..and, of course, talk to the Toad. It's early yet, but he seems to be doing better.

Being outside this *village* and around other people seems to be doing him some good. He's spent 2 days at work with my sister, and helping her and a few other teachers with their children. He's enjoying it--feels as if he's accomplishing something.

He's now talking that he needs to get his clearances to be able to get a job in the school.

He's also talking about coming home to do this. My biggest fear is that he'll come home, and be right back where he was--in a lumpy rut, sitting around all day, waiting for his dorkass friends to get out of school.

He does want to be here next month when the Bishop comes to our church. He also remembers that he talked to the priest who will be planting a church in our diocese. I'm absolutely positive that EITHER of these men will be totally willing to talk with him about this opportunity, and about what it means for him. They'll also pray for him, and with him, so that he can make the best decision he can--and I'm sure they'll also be happy to hear that he may be finding himself a goal and a way to head into true adulthood.

Everything with him, though, is still so much up in the air. I don't like the airy part of it, but at least the direction is UP.

My mother, on the other hand, tried to comfort me tonight about the idea that he may be moving to Baltimore, at least temporarily. If he does, she'll be in tears and looking for someone to vent on..and God forbid, someone to tie herself to. (Terrifyingly, that person is the Howler. I don't know if the 5 year old has it in her--yet--to keep that from happening, and I know my mother, if she makes up her mind on this, will definitely try the same stuff she's already pulled with the Toad, but that's an entirely different rant!)

Right now, I'm not that bothered by it. Really. I've had the idea that if he did find something there, he may be going there, at least for a while.

Am I supposed to be devastated by this news? I don't get it. Am I supposed to be opposed to it? I'm not. Am I now supposed to suck the wind out of his unfurling sails and rope him into coming home and staying here? I won't.

Granted, I've had since September to adjust myself, resign myself, and work on myself. I have a head start on unloading the crappy emotional baggage in this, but I can't see myself, outside of just missing him--he is my boy, you know--and worrying about him and loving him being devastated by this. I see me as having my hands full in more ways than I imagined.

I heard his voice tonight. And I know my boy. If this sticks, he's headed where he needs to go. How can I argue against that? And what kind of fool would I be to try to?

Knowing this just confirms what I already knew--it was time for him to stretch those XL wings and fly.

It's Friday...

but Sunday's coming.

Okay, I know it's not really Friday, but if I tell you I'm referencing Zig Ziglar, would it make sense then?

No?

Let me explain as best I can:

Ol' Zig talks about how bad things can be in life. That's Friday--Good Friday, to be specific. Good Friday, as most people know, is when Christ was crucified. Imagine for a minute, if you can, that you are one of His first followers.

Your leader is brutally killed. Everything you've spent the last three years doing and believing has been judged wrong by your culture. Everything you invested your time, energy, heart, mind, and soul in is hanging up on that cross--bloody, bruised, and dying.

It's Friday.

You don't know, on that Friday, that Sunday is coming--the Resurrection, the rebirth of mankind. All those things that you've been believing, that you've been hoping will be true and real, is coming. It will be real, it will be manifest.It's Friday. Your whole life seems black.But Sunday is coming--the Glorious realization that everything you've lived the last three years is true, real, and coming....

But it's Friday.

On Sunday, you'll wake up and learn that Christ is risen from the dead. The promises of Life everlasting is true.

It's Friday. But Sunday is coming...

We got a call tonight from my sister. The Toad spent today at school with her--helping the teachers with the kids. He spent the day working, doing for others.

He did well. He was happy. She was happy with him.

I know it's early yet, but considering how much Friday we've been living, it's comforting to know that Sunday may really, truly be coming.

Embracing the Dark Side

of Homeroom Momdom:

I sent (through the school) hand written thank yous to the families who either came and helped, or who sent things to the class for the Halloween party. I tried to be sure and mention what they did, to be sure they knew it wasn't a generic gesture.

I never got so much as a verbal "thank you for helping" during the Toad's tenure in elementary school--matter of fact, I was usually made to feel that I was not only unneeded, but unwanted as well.

I just hope it wasn't dorky to so. (And I hope that doing them a week after the party was okay, I'm not so good on this etiquette stuff.)

I plan to do the same for the other parties that are coming up also.

What WAS I Thinking?

In an effort to extend my small kingdom full of Howler and Toad fans, I stumbled upon Mamablogga's Group Writing Project. And, of course, I'm winging it--as usual.

So, here goes:

I am grateful for my children because, with a 13 year age difference, it's a whole new experience all over again.

I am grateful that I have had all the teenage and toddler attitude I can handle all day, every day.

I am grateful I will never live in the same house with two teenagers (or toddlers, or preschoolers, for that matter) at the same time.

I am grateful that with each, I have a special and totally different relationship. They have, other than the attitude thing, very little in common--whether it's interests, or ideas, or issues. I will never have to run between two soccer games, sit through an entire elementary school music program in order to see both my children, I will never consider dressing them in the same or similar clothes.

I will never have to daily deal with two booster seats in the car, and, because there will only ever be these two--and one is definitely not going into a booster seat again! I will never feel outnumbered (outsmarted, absolutely! but never outnumbered).

Most of all, I am grateful for the way my children have changed me--I am not the same kind of person I was when I had either. I am softer, more compassionate, and more aware of the impact I have on the world around me. I am less selfish, less rested, and less likely to just say any old thing that comes into my mind.

Mutiny

Daisy Scouts, in case you didn't know, aren't allowed, by the GSA rules, to raise money themselves. Parents can, or dues can be collected, but the urchins cum Daisy Scouts aren't allowed to beg. Yet.

A catalog, form, and letter came home Monday night.

I was, to put it mildly, less than thrilled. The PTA Money Grab will be coming up soon, and I was soooooo looking forward to that being my first begging foray this year. {vomiting smiley inserted here}

Have I mentioned how much I don't like people? How little I relish enforced contact with them?

I've decided: I am taking the hint from a very wise woman and I am sending them a check (or money order LOL) for $20 instead of selling (or buying) stuff I don't need.

I'm sure it's very wonderful stuff. From the pictures, it looks useful and well-made.

BUT I have drawers full of stuff I barely use (and neither of us has the heart to circular file most of it), and I would rather the troop/clan/gaggle get the full use of my $20--rather than force someone else to deal with the forms and headaches.

I consider it more of an Individualistic Expression of Self in the Form of Non-Compliance to Arbitrary Group Rules. I hope it's a fancy enough term, coupled with the payoff in greenbacks, to appease them and earn me forgiveness (if only I had a phone list--I'd call the other parents and encourage a mass-mutiny of the fundraising powers-that-be.)

The Saga of the Homeroom Mom

It begins:

I agreed, in a non-awake fit of stupidity, to be the Homeroom Mom for the Howler's class.

Good Glory! I looked at these people on orientation day, and again at Open House. I don't want to have to have contact with them.

Does agreeing to do this exempt me from other forms of volunteer work in the school--while still affording me to be clearly present as an interested party in my child's education? If it doesn't, I'm gonna be majorly pissed off.

At the same time, I discovered that Daisy Scouts are not currently in need of a leader.

The Karma balances, I think. I'm still wondering what I did in a past life to deserve this kind of Karma--did I torch a one-room school house? Terrorize neighborhood children and threaten their little dogs, too? Seriously. What?

I consider:

The *up* side of being the Homeroom Mom is that it qualifies (mostly because I said so) as the volunteering gig for the PTA.

The *down* side is that they want me to have CONTACT with these people.

I think I'm gonna never be asked to do this again.

The game plan:

I've decided that all that communicating the PTA people expect from me, to the other class families will be conducted thru the school. I hope the teacher understands this.

Seriously, I don't need to be slapped with a lawsuit for harassment over it--and I have a funny feeling that the nutbags who don't include their phone number for the Girl Scouts will do just that, if I just up and call them. Even if it's for a school related party or something.

Geez. There's a reason I hate people.

Action:

I don't suppose I could just send them all a note that said:

Listen up, people. I agreed to do this in a fit of stupidity, and I'm not gonna do it all myself. If your kid has a crappy year, it's YOUR fault, not mine.

And, for the record, this letter makes you included. If you don't feel included, that's YOUR fault, too. Join the freaking PTA, get your sorry asses to the meetings. God knows I'm going to be nagged into being there, and I could use some company.

This is the deal: We have 3 parties this year, and the end-of-year picnic. I figure with 18 families to chose from, we can have 6 volunteers for each party. I need at least 2 other people at these parties. I figure the picnic can be an every man for himself deal, whether the PTA Prez likes it or not. If she's who I think she is, I'm not impressed anyway.

They're pushing their "healthy" snacks bit, this year, too. So, we're limited on what kind of crap we can feed our kids. We're supposed to have 100% fruit juice to drink. I need 2 people to volunteer to send this, as well as someone to make cupcakes or cookies. We need healthy snacks otherwise, but what, exactly they mean by that is beyond me.Thank God for small miracles, we didn't get the "no peanuts" nazis this year. (Never had one before, and I'm so sincerely hoping to make it through the next 13 years without them, too).

If I don't get volunteers, I'll volunteer you for what the class needs, when they need it.

Again, I can't stress to you all enough that if you don't like the way I'm doing it, we all know who's gonna be up shit creek (instead of me) next year.

Mrs. Mumple

Reflection:

I suppose that last post was a bit rough.

Seriously, though, I can't imagine what it would be like to be a people person--you know, someone who truly likes other people, and who might even genuinely give a crap about them.

I just keep thinking, "I've seen these people, and they scare me." and I don't mean in a funny way, I mean in a screeching at me over the phone way.

And I can see it now--those who refuse to participate will be bitching to the PTA about how I didn't include them. I see this getting really ugly, really fast.

I also see the PTA being told, "Well, maybe then, they shouldn't swear at me when I call. It'd be easier to ask them to be involved that way. DUH."

(if the Prez can use the phrase, "Hey, no biggie" in her letter about the membership drive, I can use "DUH" and an eyeroll on a regular basis. God, I love it when I refuse to acknowledge inane and subjective rules.)

Obsession:

I feel ranty, bitchy, and mean. If I had a puppy, I'd kick it.

I know I'm making the whole PTA thing worse than it really is, but you know what? I know those women are snobs, and I know I can't change them, and I know I don't really give a rat's ass about fitting in, but you know what? I'm too damned old and too damned tired to even work up the energy to ignore it.

God, I hate people.

Finding the humor:

In discussing the nightmare called PTA, why is it that so many people find it to run from being unbearably snobby to being absolutely full of every asshole woman in the immediate area?

What I don't get is if so many people find it to be so horrible, where do these assholes come from really? Do they bus them in?

The nitty-gritty:

Just hit a commercial break.

I made 6 last minute calls (a week before the party is last minute, right?!) and got 4 more parents to send stuff AND come help!

I'm sure my luck won't last, and this is just a fluke.

Although, I am wondering why these parents (one Dad is making popcorn balls and treat BAGS!--how cool is that!) aren't the Homeroom Parent, and I am.

They're going to be sadly disappointed, I'm sure. I'm gonna show up and smile a dopey smile...and hope they all have a Halloween sugar buzz going too.

Finally, the Payoff (and a related rant thrown in):

It's Halloween. And that means it's time for the Homeroom Mom to put up or shut up.

God help me, I have to go today, for the party, and deal with OP and OPK. Pray for me.

I did have a parent ask me if it'd be okay to bring homemade caramel corn for the kids--I'm not going to tell someone "no" if they're trying to help or do something nice for the kids. I don't give a flying fuck what the PTA says. I told her to go ahead and bring it, and if anyone says anything, refer them to me. (I'm good at executive decisions--mostly because I'm willing to take the heat if it's wrong.)

I figure if anyone on the PTA notices, and decides to say something, they can have the balls to come say it to me--and they'll be told my Homeroom Mom motto: "Find someone more Stepford to do it for you, then."

I can't say it enough: I understand the thinking and the concern behind the "limit sweets" thing. I honestly can. And not all parents will be food nazis at home, and certainly, there are parents who have little to no interest or inclination to understand, research, read labels, etc., on the foods they feed their kids. BUT I honestly don't think it's the PTA's job to assume the censorship or food nazi role--especially considering that there's more CRAP in a fruit roll-up than there is in a fun-size Hershey bar AND my child can buy the crap fruit roll-up, but can't buy the Hershey bar at school.

If they're going to BE the food police, then, by all means, BE the food police. But don't spit your healthy propaganda at me on Halloween. Instead of policing the classroom party, police the cafeteria, it's menu, and it's treats. After you've cleaned up the trans-fat, salt, and HFCS laden offerings, THEN come to me and hand me your restrictions and qualifications.

In the meantime, PTA, expect to be told, "Hey, it's no biggie. We've got our children curbed and under control."

Excitement!

Several things have the Howler quite excited. And bouncy.

First, one of Tiny's sisters has babies. Nine fluffy and brown peeping peeps. (Pics will follow soon.)

Second, she's relaxing in the lunch routine at school, and is now trying more of their menu items. (More on Food Nazis in the School soon, too.)

Third, she's invited for her very first Sleep Over playdate on Friday. She was bouncing, literally, off the walls last night. She's very much looking forward to going to Blondie's house and spending the night.

They ended up Trick or Treating together, both as witches. It was fun to hear the comments, "Oh my! TWO witches!" as if, such a thing had never happened before.

Neither appreciated it, though, when I informed them (after yet another bout of whining at/about each other) that they were BOTH bossy and "MEAN" to each other. "MEAN", apparently, is when one little girl doesn't get her way. It is also applicable when the other little girl pronounces it, in retaliation.

At the end of the night, my ears were still ringing with the whines of "She's MEAN"; I was still smiling at the memories of my own childhood trick-or-treating adventures; I thanked Kevin profusely that I will never live in a house with TWO little girls at the same time, too.