A Genetic Anomaly

*g* You guys liked the plotbunny thing– that’s awesome! Thank you!

Other than that? It’s mostly me, in a funk about testing, in a funk about the kids, in a funk about the end of the year and my horrible, horrible job.

My children are doing okay, I think–Squish has had some issues–I think she’s REALLY tired. I’ve got a doc appointment on Monday–I’m thinking of taking a mental health day for that and just letting her sleep on me for a while. It might do her a world of good–she’s needing some mom time. (She was pissing off the entire family tonight–I took her into the back bedroom and watched movies with her. She calmed down. It was nice.)

Zoomboy is being intense and cute–he spent an hour on my lap today, and that was nice. I think the problem is, Big T is staying after school for a club, and I have to go pick him up–this is SERIOUSLY cutting into our snuggling time. It’s funny–I whine all the time about being a barcalounger or about not being productive. I’ve always seriously believed that the cuddling time was quality time–and now that it’s being stolen, I’m seeing this is true.

Chicken is having ‘friend’ issues. Her friend is not quite as level headed as Chicken–so Chicken is doing the high school drama thing vicariously through her friend. I was in the middle of trying to tell Chicken not to get too involved, when I had a sudden montage of all the dumb-as-shit things I’ve done with my Crazy Friend Wendy. Everything from standing up to her old roommate (who threatened to beat me) to writing a break-up e-mail to her ex-boyfriend in Australia to walking through waist-high water in the storm of the century to let out some horses that had (heLLO!) already been let out–all of this shit, and I wouldn’t trade these memories for anything.

Then I had a flashback to an argument I wasn’t supposed to hear my dad and stepmom have. My stepmom had just gone to ‘pick up’ my dad, and she was reinventing his nether orifice, when he said, “But he’s my friend!”

And she said, “That does NOT mean you have to stand with him in a bar fight!”

And he said, “But I didn’t know the guy was an off duty cop!”

And she said, “Well, it’s a good thing they’re going to drop the charges against you!”

And he said, “Well–it was six to one. I couldn’t let him stand alone.”

And then I realized that she had to pick him up from county lock up.

And so I was having all of these flashbacks, and I looked at my daughter who looks just like me and therefore just like my dad, and she was telling me how she was running interference during lunch so her friend could break up with her big scary boyfriend and I swallowed the lump of barbed wire in my stomach.

“What, mom?”

“Nothing.”

“No–you’re looking really weird.”

“Yeah. It’s just that my mistakes and character flaws were a lot more fun when they were just mine.”

“Don’t worry, mom. I’ll be careful.”

I don’t know how careful you can be to guard against genetic defect. The point was brought home to me all over again with a conversation with my fourth period.

This morning, my fourth period asked me if I was really strict with my kids. “We bet you are–you’re a teacher. You know what kids are like.”

“No,” I told them. “I mean, there are consequences for the stuff they do, but I don’t yell at them a lot.”

“No? Like how?”

“Well, like when Chicken screwed up and got sentenced to another year of P.E.”

“How’d she do that?”

“The P.E. coach told her she hadn’t taken one of her state tests, and Chicken said, ‘Are you sure?’ and the coach said, ‘Yes I am–you need to take it today!’, and Chicken said, ‘Are you bullshitting me?’ and the teacher said, ‘Get out. You can’t take it at all!’.”

“And you didn’t yell at her for that?”

“Well, she has to take P.E. for another year–I mean, pretty much, she will be punished for a whole year. Not much I can do to make that worse, right?”

“Oh *hell* yeah!”

“Yeah. But if I yell at her? If I tell her that was a dumbassed thing to do? She will never tell me another thing.”

“Yeah… you’re right Ms. Lane. I don’t talk to my parents about ‘nothin’.”

“Yeah. And now she’s got her head in her hands saying, “I’m a dumbass. I’m a total dumbass. I’m SUCH a dumbass. And I”m saying, ‘Yup, honey, you learn from the best.’ I mean, I can’t BUY that kind of life lesson.”

The kids thought I was very wise. I didn’t add that I wished I COULD buy that kind of life lesson. Or at least have it excised from my genes.