Mr Coffee is already asleep. I am not. Maybe I'm getting old and not needing my 9 hours of sleep every night.
I'm considering the wisdom in drinking that triple-venti latte at about 6pm.
My kid-free morning flew by today. It's another half-day of school for the kids with a repeat tomorrow. In the throes of childlessness, I decided to enjoy the calm before the storm and picked up a sewing book I'd ordered. I hope to finish some aprons before ripping out more than a quarter-million stitches and producing what turned out to be pretty over-sized dishrags.
I'm blowing off years of dust from my sewing machine. It's a bad realization to find stitched fabric couched between the bobbin and needle, to then suddenly remember said fabric was what was left over from the demo at the sewing machine tune-up place.
You know? The place I took my machine into about three years ago? Tune Up Bob told me it was bad to let my sewing machine sit for long periods of time. I'm so happy I took his advice to heart.
As for the half-days, I'd gather that in the school district's deplorable lack of funding, the Big Cogs in the Educational Wheel of District Budgeting brainstormed and declared that half-days of school every couple of weeks in order to eliminate that spendy extra order of plastic sporks.
My morning Kindergartner goes to school for about two hours on days like this. Why bother for two hours, you ask?
Let us be reasonable. Without those two hours, she is missing vital elements to her school career.
Recess. I will make sure she runs around the lawn a few times to make up for lost recess. Problem solved.
Standing in line. Moving on.
Telling older bullies to "watch your mouth" when she is pushed down on the bus and told to shut up. Not to worry, she'll own his crayons before the year is out. She has older brothers. She can hold her own when needed.
You wanna knuckle swammidge?
A half-day of school is not complete without my daughter experiencing some juicy excitement for the Parent Teacher Conferences. I like all of their teachers, but I do have a few issues with my son's teacher.
His teacher was once a beauty queen. An honest to goodness bonefide beauty queen. Apparently, Teacher BQ has taken her experience, like map reading in South Africa and solving world hunger, to the humble walls of elementary grade academia. The parade wave is a skill no teacher should be without on their resume.
Teacher BQ is outgoing by nature and implored parents (me) to email, call, or talk to her with concerns. I had a few in the beginning of the year and yet, she was passive, condescending, and cc-ed the school counselor, assistant principal, and principal in what I can only guess was in an effort to humiliate me and waste taxpayer dollars. I wonder if she could teach with that tiara punched down her neck? And really, does cc-email competency come with lessons on how to keep your suit from riding up your crack?
It doesn't help that the Teacher BQ was born the year Mr Coffee graduated from high school. I don't even know if she can ride on the big kid rides yet, let alone buy beer.
My son likes her and honestly, I would too, if it wasn't for her inexperience and cleavage. His complaints are that he "is tired of doing lower grade BABY math" and that his teacher "shows too much boob crack."
Something to bring up in the PT Conference...all in a half-days work.
~Bee does not like teacher boob crack in a room full of elementary aged kids.