I am babysitting my neighbor’s kids. They are extremely loud, terribly bossy, crazy wild, and absolutely precious 3 and 4 year olds. My heart melts every time one of their tiny voices says, “Look at me Mama Debbie” or “See what I got Mama Debbie.”
After such a disappointing, depressing day, they are making me smile…a lot.
Our school district has been realigned for next year. The Pleaser’s two best friends live in different areas than we do and the three boys are districted to three different schools according to the new plan. They were given the option to stay in their current school for next year and The Pleaser insisted on the transfer because he assumed his other friends would do the same. This means we won’t have bus service and I’ll have to resume the Mom Taxi next year. But I’m willing to do that for him so he can stay with his friends. I’ve already filled out the paperwork and sent it in.
Today he told me one of the boys (his very best friend) has decided not to transfer because there are “too many Blacks and Mexicans” in the current school. Now this boy is Mexican. I mean, his parents were born in Mexico and immigrated here. He and his siblings are the first generation of his family not born in Mexico.
They seem like wonderful people. They have 3 children who are all excellent students and, better yet, nice kids. They are very involved with their kids and never miss a school event. My son has spent the night at their house and gone with them to the movies. He’s played video games at their house. I can’t help but wonder how they would feel if I told my son that he couldn’t go to school there because there were too many Mexicans. Would they be offended? Would they allow their son to continue being friends with my son?
Of course I would never do that. We live in a very diverse neighborhood and my kids grew up in a very diverse elementary school and I believe that they are better, more tolerant individuals for it. They each have friends of many different races and religions and I am glad that they don’t see color as a barrier.
The Pleaser is completely devastated that he won’t be in the same school as his very best friend anymore…and I am devastated for him.
It’s the perfect end to an extraordinarily disappointing day.
(dis-uh-poin-tid)
–adjective
depressed or discouraged by the failure of one's hopes or expectations
That’s how I feel today.
My mom self-esteem is in the toilet this weekend as I have caused both of my children to cry without the intent to do so.
Friday: The Pleaser called me at 4:37 p.m. He told me he missed his bus and asked if I could come pick him up. He sounded upset and when I asked if he was OK, he said he was but I could tell he was holding back tears. A million terrible thoughts ran through my mind as to why he was so upset as I rushed to the campus to get him. When he got in the car, I asked him what was wrong and through a flood of tears he said, “I lost my jacket.” (Now for the record, this was a $10 or less sweatshirt that he got for Christmas. Not his $40 coat or something of sentimental value.)
OK, he is famous for losing things but I don’t beat him or anything when he does. It doesn’t make me really happy, and he knows that’s why he doesn’t have a cell phone yet. Obviously, though, I have made him feel so bad that he thinks it is tragic when he does misplace something. Guilt set in. The Pleaser left for the weekend his dad a few hours later. The guilt, however, stayed right here with me.
Saturday: My mom asked me if I had seen this story about the man on death row who popped out his eyeball and ate it. I had not seen it but proceeded to read it and commit it to my vast amount of useless knowledge for later use in NTN Trivia.
Last night, Phone Guy, Danger Boy and I decided to go out for pizza before an exciting Saturday night visit to Super Target. On the way, I happened to think about that story and asked Phone Guy if he had seen the article. Apparently, as we talked, Danger Boy listened (There’s a first time for everything). Now I’ve said before, that Danger Boy is ALL BOY. He is usually not squeamish (except for the whole cockroach incident) and he loves to get dirty, revels in bodily functions and is just, overall, a disgusting human being…as he should be. He is a 10 year old boy for Pete’s sake.
Anyway, we arrived at the pizza joint, ordered and sat down. Danger Boy was very quiet while we waited for the food, which is unusual for him, but I didn’t think much about it. When the pizza arrived, I pulled a slice for him and put it on his plate and he just sat there staring. I asked him what was wrong and he told me he lost his appetite. I said, “Why?” He burst into tears and told me it was because of the whole eyeball story. He was genuinely freaked out by the whole deal. I eventually calmed him down and he ate. We did our shopping and came home.
It was late when we got back so I immediately told him to get ready for bed. I tucked him in and turned out his light and headed to my room to watch Neil Patrick Harris on SNL. No sooner had the show started when I heard a knock on my door. Danger Boy couldn’t sleep because he was freaked out and he BEGGED us to let him sleep with us. I told him no way, that he needed to go back to his own bed. I got him settled, turned on his radio as a distraction and headed back to bed. He was up and down all night. I could hear him going to the bathroom, opening his door (presumably to check for no-eyed boogie man) and at 2:30 am he came back in my room begging again to sleep with me. Once again, I took him back to bed. I don’t know how many more times he was up and down, but it was a long night for everyone.
He came in this morning at 8:30 am and was crying again. He told me he was hungry. I told him to get a snack. He said, “but I’m lonely” and proceeded to bawl. And because I feel guilty for ever bringing up the eyeball eater, I got up and consoled him and made him some breakfast.
I’m not so sure the whole “eyeball ordeal” is over though. I can tell something is still on his mind. I may have another long night ahead of me.
I hate buying Jeans, probably because they don’t make jeans to fit Weebles, but I finally had to break down and buy some because my last pair gave up the ghost.
I actually found some jeans that fit really well. I tried them on in the store but since they didn’t have the colors I wanted, I came home and ordered them on the web. I bought 3 pairs in 3 different shades of blue.
I wore the lighter pair first and I was satisfied with the fit so I decided to open up the darker pairs and wash them. One pair had an odd kind of burnt smell, which I chalked up to the dye. No biggie…or so I thought.
I washed them and threw them in the dryer, then left the house to go pick up Danger Boy at school. I came home to the foulest rotten egg stench I have ever smelled. I thought there was a sewer leak. Seriously.
When I took the clothes out of the dryer later I realized that it was those jeans stinking and now the entire load smelled of sulphur. Back into the wash they went, only to reek all over the house again when they started heating up in the dryer.
That pair of jeans STILL smells of rotten eggs after 3 washings. It’s not so bad after they have been out of the dryer but they stink up the whole house every time I dry them.
Anyone know of a cure for rotten egg scented pants?
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