After this week I can say THIS YEAR for our family.
What the hell?
When I was growing up, walking to school 3 miles in the snow, milking the cows before breakfast, and delivering newspapers after that, I didn’t involve my parents in homework.
Ok, I didn’t do any of that.
Including involving my parents in homework. Except that time I needed them to get supplies for a project the night before it was due and they left me in the parking lot after going to get said supplies. But we’ll share that story another day.
THIS would have been their response about homework: ”Oh, no honey. I can’t help you with homework.”
And that would have been that.
Now it’s the new millenium and I suspect half the time parents are actually DOING the homework for their kids, not just doing it WITH their kids.
So let me clarify: I do not do my child’s homework. I do not do my child’s projects. But I sure as heck get a lot (a LOT) of “Mooommmmm, can I have some help?” around here these days.
And you know what that help consists of? I walk up, look at the question that’s causing the issue,read it again with her and all of a sudden she’ll say, “Oh, I get it now!”
But then it becomes “can you stay here with me in case I have any more questions?”
And sometimes, God help me, I do. Because I’d rather stay in the area and minimize the time it takes to finish, than leave the area and have it take much, much longer.
What’s my point?
I don’t even know what my point is.
Except maybe to say we got caught with our pants down this week.
It’s the last week of the quarter and I’d forgotten that once you reach a certain age in life that MEANS SOMETHING. Something painful – like needing to study all the time, prepare for tests, have final projects due at the same time, etc, etc.
In other words, cram.
And since we were caught with our pants down about it, we had some stress.
And by stress I mean lots of tears (mostly mine) and saying “what the hell – we are BUSY (with piano, volleyball, jazz, soccer, halloween parties, drama classes, volleyball tournaments) and now it’s the end of the quarter and I have to stop the presses to make sure end of the quarter work gets done?”
What about me?
“What about my fatigue since Little Iggy and the dog have been taking turns waking me up at night for weeks and I don’t use caffeine for a little boost except on the weekends? And by the time homework comes around and test prep comes around I literally can’t keep my eyes open another minute?”
What about me?
“Oh and then I’m trying to get dinner on the table that ISN’T mac and cheese for the 17th day in a row, even though they’ll complain and say ‘where’s the mac and cheese?’ And then I have a sitter ONE night who doesn’t clean up, forgets to have them do half the stuff I WROTE DOWN for her to have them do, and doesn’t get Little Iggy to fall asleep until 10 - on a school night. Before picture day.”
That kind of stress.
Can you relate?
So I’m saying this today: TGIFF. No that’s not a typo. When I get overwhelmed I’ve learned a well placed “fuck” works wonders for mental health. So that means Thank Goodness it’s Fucking Friday.
And by Fucking Friday, I don’t mean to suggest you go out and engage in carnal relations. Unless that works for you.
I mean stand up from your chair and yell out as loudly as you can, “Thank Goodness it’s Fucking Friday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
I’m sure you’ll feel just as good as I do right now.
Except if you’re in a cubicle, whisper it. I don’t want to be the cause of anyone getting fired today.
Happy fucking weekend, my friends. Make it a good one.