The Mom Cave

For years now, the concept of a man cave has been increasing in popularity. These man caves range from the extravagant (including such items as leather recliners, a pool table, humidor, a urinal in the bathroom, multiple flat screen TV's and, for the truly tasteless, a stripper pole or two) to barely covering the basics (a moldy couch thrown in an extra garage stall, a dorm fridge, a shrub outside the garage, a TV with rabbit ears, and a stripper pole). Either way, a man's need is fulfilled, and that need is to get the hell away from everyone and enjoy some solitude.

I recently came across an article about a designer that is trying to introduce the concept of a mom cave. After all, if guys can have a getaway on their own property, it seems only fair that a mom should be able to say adios to her family once in a while and have access to the same kind of space. A space that "isn't as extravagant as a man cave," but is decorated her way and is used "for everything a woman loves, like knitting, doing crafts, writing letters, or even paying bills."

Umm...what? The fuck?

So let me get this straight -- a guy gets to watch some football from his leather Barcalounger with one hand wrapped around a cold beer and the other hand plunged into a bag of Funyuns, and I get to sequester myself in a craft room, pay the electric bill and knit some booties? Who is the crazy bitch that came up with this concept?

Now I don't know about you, but if this is the extent of what a mom cave should be then I'm pretty sure the idea will die an expedited death. So in order to prevent that from happening, I'm going to take matters into my own hands and come up with a list of things that a mom cave should actually include.

• A guard dog (that can't be bribed with treats) sitting outside the door, trained to bark and growl at everyone except: A) me; B) those that have been invited by me; and C) anyone delivering booze.
• Soundproof walls.
• A large TV, but 3D is not necessary because the glasses are ugly.
• A stocked Blu Ray DVD library. Yes to Apatow, the Cohen's and Zombieland. No to anything that is considered a chick flick, rom com or involves Julia Roberts.
• A massage chair, but not the leather kind found at Brookstone that all the teenagers sit in. I want the one that comes with face papers and includes someone with strong thumbs that is only capable of massaging for an hour or more.
• A bar, complete with a bartender that can't say anything except "You're welcome" and "Would you like a refill?"
• Half of the floor should be sand, like the white sand found in the Caribbean. And it should be heated so that my bare feet don't get cold.
• Furniture that is incapable of accumulating dust.
• An absence of all things that could be considered "collectible."
• A weekly cleaning lady.
• An automatically replenishing supply of kettle chips, Skittles and Twizzlers.
• A self-cleaning bathroom. Or actually, if it is only me using the bathroom, then it won't need to be cleaned.
• A closet that contains already completed science projects.
• A phone that only makes outgoing calls.
• Twice a month, someone manages to sneak past the guard dog and says "It's time for your facial and pedicure."

Now, I realize that some of these items may seem extravagant, but keep in mind that I'm willing to compromise. Like the massage chair -- I guess I'd be happy with half-an-hour. And it's not like I'd automatically expect people to understand my need for a mom cave and the indulgent items it contains. I'd explain it to them by hanging this sign on the door, right above where the guard dog sits:

A New School Year

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I'm ready for summer vacation to be over. The last few months have been great and, in addition to a couple vacations, we've all enjoyed some much needed time off from science projects, weekly piano lessons and alarms going off at 6:15. But now, after an especially easy August, I feel like it's time to return to reality, mainly because I'm pretty sure that if you were to peer into my kids' skulls, all you would find is something that resembles an overcooked bowl of oatmeal that has been sprinkled with the occasional bit of brain.

Before the backpacks go out the door tomorrow morning, though, I'd like to ask the schools for a few simple things that would make not only mine, but everyone else's lives a little bit easier.

1. Please create family accounts for lunch money. Then I would only have to deposit money into one account instead of a separate account for each kid, and my kids could all use the same PIN. Currently, each kid has their own account, which means that they each have to memorize a different PIN (and, of course, the PIN changes when they change schools), and I get three separate emails notifying me when the balance drops below a certain amount and please deposit more funds immediately before your kid receives the Stamp of Shame on his hand and is only allowed to eat a cold cheese sandwich.
2. About that PIN -- would it really be that hard to let a family choose what their pin number will be? I didn't think so.
3. And about those lunches that I pay for -- please make them edible. And while I'm all for trying to broaden the kids' horizons and encouraging them to try new food, putting sliced beets and collard greens on an elementary school lunch menu seems a bit, well, moronic.
4. We live .9 mile away from the front door of our elementary school, which means that I am responsible for getting my kid to and from school each day. The lady that lives an additional tenth of a mile away gets to put her kid(s) on a bus. Please adjust my property taxes accordingly.
5. I know that science projects can be educational, but assigning 25 of them only manages to teach one thing: a hatred of science. Please keep the maximum number of projects to be completed within one school year to three. Four tops. Zero would be even better.
6. Feel free to omit the three-week swimming unit from the junior high phy ed curriculum.
7. Feel free to add a unit called "How to use deodorant" to the junior high health curriculum.
8. Maybe this issue was specific to our school district, but next year I would appreciate it if the kids' junior high schedules could be posted sooner than two days before the first day of school, during Labor Day weekend.
9. Instead of teachers waiting until the first day of school to tell the kids all about the additional, specific supplies they're going to need for each class, why can't they post them online ahead of time? Believe it or not, there are some families that don't thrive on the thrill of hunting for school supplies.

And one last request: The majority of the teachers I know are spectacular people that love watching kids learn, give selflessly, work whatever hours are necessary and genuinely care about their students. But to those teachers that are incapable of using common sense, never reply to emails, assign more homework than is necessary over the weekends "just because they can" and seem to derive pleasure from watching good students make mistakes, A) You will not receive a good Christmas gift from me, and B) Knock it off.

A Much Needed Break

Today is the last day of school and while I know there a lot of parents that dread the start of summer vacation, I happen to love being a stay-at-home-mom in the summer. Sure, I'll miss having a couple hours to myself everyday to be able to swear out loud and I won't have uninterrupted time to sit on my ass, eat chips, paint my nails and occasionally work out, but I will gladly trade these things in for the knowledge that, at least for a couple months, the main things I worry about are getting the kids to tennis lessons on time, whether or not it's okay to grill hot dogs three nights in a row, and if we should have happy hour on the deck or in the driveway.

As my kids get older, the school year has definitely become more time consuming. For example, Zoe's last few days of kindergarten revolved around eating cookies, hanging out on the playground, a party, an art project and singing songs. Charlie's a sixth grader and his second week of June included a phy-ed sports day, a full-day field trip, and an end-of-year party that lasted five hours (the other hour and-a-half was taken up with lunch and recess). On the other hand, Zach's last few days as an eighth grader consisted of finals, last-minute projects being handed in and several hours of homework. So while it seems that Zoe and Charlie's summer vacations started a week ago, I've been impatiently waiting for Zach's summer to start since the beginning of April because honestly, the kid needs a break. Oh, and I need one too, from:

1. The weekly notes that come home advising me that a child in ____'s classroom has strept throat, influenza, pink eye, or my all-time favorite: ring worm.
2. Wednesday Envelopes, the communication system that the elementary school uses to send home fundraiser notices, lunch menus, science camp opportunities, registration info for sports, PTO updates and the school newsletter. In other words, the majority of the Wednesday Envelope contents gets chucked directly into the recycling bin.
3. The non-stop requests for money to cover the costs for art projects, field trips, class parties, school pictures, athletic fees, and t-shirts.
4. Asking "Do you have your snack?" every morning and "How much homework do you have?" every afternoon.
5. Getting the following emails: A) Kindergarten is looking for a couple mommies to volunteer; B) According to our records, ____ has a low lunch account balance, so please deposit money at your earliest convenience, like NOW; and C) Kindergarten REALLY needs a couple mommies with some free time that can volunteer.
6. Finding out that a kid needs two styrofoam cubes, a bag of marbles, three pieces of brown felt and some maracas -- yesterday.
7. Hearing the drama about "so and so said she won't be my friend if I'm friends with Suzie but I like Suzie so why can't I be friends with her that just seems weird and sorta mean," from a kindergartner.
8. Huge science projects, group science projects, and the other 15 science projects.
9. School drop-off and pick-up and dealing the fact that carpool is apparently defined as "Jody drives."
10. Driving to after-school rehearsals for orchestra, before-school rehearsals for choir, and attending three evening concerts for each.

I know that occasionally there will be small reminders of the school year during the summer, like when I use a coupon out of the Happenings Book that I bought for a fundraiser in September or wrap a gift using the paper I bought for the fundraiser in October. And even though retailers are cruel enough to start back-to-school sales at the beginning of August, I love knowing that during the summer months, my kid-related responsibilities are pretty much defined by tennis lessons, swimming at the club, packing a cooler with sandwiches and when I should reapply sunscreen. Of course there will still be laundry to do, a house to clean, a lawn to mow and errands to run, but fortunately there are also popsicles to eat, a sprinkler to run through, burgers to grill and a park to be played on.

Oh, and there's also that fridge full of beer to drink.

Eggstra Special Project

Three days left. Just three days of school left before we go on vacation and summer break begins.

I'd like to think that during the last couple weeks of the school year, the teachers would be done assigning crap loads of homework and science projects, but that would be wishful thinking. In fact, last week included Zach's presentation for his group project on the Abominable Snowman (and don't even get me started on the absurd grading procedure used for this project) and tomorrow marks the final official project turn-in day for what could very well be the stupidest HP science project of all. And that's saying a lot, since there's been about 20 of them.

The kids were required to mail the teacher a raw egg. Their grade is dependent on the mass, volume and density of the package, creativity and design, and whether or not the egg breaks during shipping. Kids are not allowed to use anything that would be considered conventional packing materials, cannot write "FRAGILE" anywhere on the package, and aren't allowed to use any weirdly shaped boxes or containers that would require hand cancellation at the post office. In other words, drop the thing in a shoe box and mail it.

I'm not exactly sure what the goal of this project was, other than to put one final cherry on the annoyance sundae that the teacher has been serving to the parents for the entire school year. The only things I can think of that my kid learned during the completion of this project are:

1. Popcorn can be used as packing material, as long as your sister doesn't eat all of it first.
2. White cheddar popcorn smells like vomit.
3. Eggs break.
4. Postage for something boxy is much more expensive than postage for an envelope, even a large envelope.
5. To be exact, first class postage for a box is $4.90.
6. A mom that is already annoyed with the grade their kid received on the science project prior to this piece of shit project does not enjoy wasting $5 to mail an egg and popcorn that will eventually be graded arbitrarily before being thrown into the garbage.
7. That same mom will happily sit in a bar and spend an additional $5 (if not more) on a much needed beer after standing in line at the post office to mail an egg and popcorn.
8. Being done with science projects, and knowing that the last day of school is hours away, is a great feeling.

So while Zach listens to his brother talk about fun field trips and school parties and watches Zoe go through the last days of kindergarten in an oblivious state of glee, he will be studying for finals and watching his teacher open one egg after another, hoping that someone was willing to sacrifice 50 points and had the balls to mail in a rotten one. That someone would have been me but unfortunately, after the Abominable Snowman grade, Zach doesn't want to risk losing 50 points. Besides, for a truly cathartic experience, I think we would need to deliver rotten eggs in an even more creative way that doesn't involve first class postage, but does include a car, a strong throwing arm and good aim.

Highs and Lows

Over the last week, I feel like I've been the poster child/spokesperson for the phrase "two steps forward, one step back" or "two steps back, stumble and trip forward" or maybe it's "big hop forward, fall backward on my ass," because every time I've received a piece of good news or something has went right, something less-than-desirable immediately happens that yanks me back to reality.

High: I finally received a letter from our health insurance company informing me that, after reviewing the information provided by our doctor regarding Zach's allergies, they have decided to provide coverage for Allegra-D after all. While waiting for them to finish their review, he's been taking a combination of Sudafed 12-hr. and Allegra (I love having friends that are nurses and thank you for the wonderful advice, Billi Jo), which means taking two pills, twice-a-day.

Low: I went to Target to fill the new prescription and was informed that even though BCBS is providing coverage, they've also increased the co-pay for Allegra-D to $85.00. So, let's see: Am I going to pay $85/month for the convenience of Zach being able to take only one pill, or will I pay a total of $8.50/month for what he's currently taking?

Lower: I guess technically I could just pay $0 and not look like I'm cooking meth by making weekly trips to the pharmacy to stock up on the Sudafed, since unless I specifically say "Take your allergy pills" or put them right by his breakfast, he forgets to take the damn pills anyway.

High: After hosting several group meetings to complete Zach's Ring of Fire science project, and after the teacher delayed the presentation day two times, the project is complete and has been performed.

Low: Despite the fact that they did extensive research, wrote the song and included all of the necessary requirements, they got a shitty grade because their props and costumes weren't homemade. Apparently they were supposed to make their own keyboard, whip together a sombrero, weave a Mexican poncho and also kill a whale, skin the whale, tan the hide and fashion it into a warm coat for the Eskimo costume. Maybe then they would have earned 20 points.

Even Lower: We have now been assigned science project #20, which is a group project (yippee!) and consists of doing a presentation on the abominable snowman.

High: Minutes after considering sending Doug a text on Friday afternoon that said "You should come home early because I could use a drinking buddy," he walked in the door.

Low: Since Zach's tennis practice ran an hour longer than usual (but, despite everyone having a cell phone, no one bothered to let me know), after Doug came home early he watched me leave twice, listened to Zoe wail after she got hit in the face with a basketball, and ended up drinking a beer by himself while I hurriedly grilled chicken between trips to the high school.

High: On Saturday morning, the kids got up on their own and were ready to go to tennis, on time, without extensive nagging. In fact, we were out the door five minutes early.

Low: No sooner had I turned onto the freeway entrance when I realized that I forgot to put Zoe's tennis bag in the car, and Zach said "Oh, wait. Did I need to grab my water bottle?"

Random Question: Why in the hell is it that all Buick sedans come with Beanie Babies and boxes of kleenex in the rear window as standard equipment, but don't come with a gas pedal?

High: Zoe's tennis coach called to reschedule her Saturday lesson, and ended up moving it to a time that was much more convenient for me. Unbelievably, Zach's coach was also able to move his lesson to the same time, compressing two hours of tennis into one.

Low: I still had to deal with the other mom during Zoe's lesson, and somehow she managed to squeeze 43 condescending remarks, 17 eye rolls, eight braggy comments, 82 loud sighs and nine insults into one hour. I think it was a new record.

Brutal Reality: I spent four hours at the club, but managed to get a zero minute workout done.

High: The weather over the weekend was absurdly nice and Charlie had a great time playing outside with one of the neighbor kids.

Low: Charlie is now on Amazon.com, shopping for an airsoft pistol of his own.

High: While pulling weeds out of the garden so that I can eventually plant something that's actually edible, Charlie voluntarily offered to help.

Low: After pulling one, and I mean exactly one weed, Charlie suffered a loss of all motor skills and was unable to pull anymore weeds. Miraculously, he was somehow capable of shooting baskets and sucking down Capri Suns.

Owie: I hate thistle. And while I'm excited to eventually have fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, I think I would enjoy my garden even more if I could grow bacon.

Low: Justin Bieber is still on the Billboard charts.

High: Godsmack has a higher ranking.

High: I discovered a 12-pack of diet ginger ale in the refrigerator.

Super High: I also had fresh lemons. Big Ginger, baby!

Oh So Low: I'm out of Jameson.

Singing For Science

Some important statistics regarding the school year:

• The first day of school was on September 8, 2009.
• The last day of school is on June 11, 2010.
• As of today there are 38 school days remaining.
• Between September 8 and today, my eighth grader has completed 18 science projects worth a total of approximately 1400 points. These projects have almost always overlapped with extended school breaks, long weekends and/or holidays and have consisted of creating a constellation out of a pop can, constructing a diorama, performing a couple skits, producing a weather presentation, designing a placemat, a travel brochure, completing a couple weather experiments and 11 other projects.
• Because of this school year, I have went through more bottles of vodka than I'd like to admit, plus I've been known to drink a beer here and there and maybe even indulge in a margarita or two.
• We are now in the middle of project number 19, and at this point I am now eyeing the rum.

Project No. 19 is a group project. Each group must perform an eight-minute skit, that also includes a song, about the Earth's "Ring of Fire" which, if you're wondering, is an arc that is composed of over 75% of the world's dormant and active volcanos and stretches from New Zealand, along the eastern edge of Asia, north across the Aleutian Islands of Alaska, and south along the coast of North and South America. Obviously, it makes perfect sense to incorporate this type of topic into a song, and the best part of the project is that the kids aren't allowed to be creative and choose or make up their own song: they're required to use Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" which, by the way, I always thought was a song about hemorrhoids.

In an attempt to commemorate the project-induced frustrations that I have endured, and to celebrate the end of the school year that is fast approaching, I have decided to be nice and write a couple verses for them, all to the tune of "Ring of Fire." So here you go, Mr. Eighth Grade Science Teacher Man -- this one's for you:

Oh you suck, you're kind of a jerk

Those projects are too much work

You teach 8th grade, not a college class

I wish you'd kiss my ass

I fell into a pit of depression

When my kid couldn't make a good impression

Because you grade, grade, grade

So weird and arbitrarily

and often unfairly

I know, you expect a lot

And my kid has given all he's got

But never, were you satisfied

Until a few kids cried.

I think that your projects are so pointless

That UFO we built is nothing less than completely useless

And you should know

That we are tired

And wouldn't mind it at all if you decided to take a trip for an indefinite length of time to the ring of fire.

Cause & Effect

As an adult, there are some cause/effect situations that don't take me by surprise anymore. If I get my car washed, I can almost guarantee that it will rain within 24 hours. After I pick up all the dog shit in my yard, the neighbor's Fleet Farm food-eating dog will wander over. If I drink gin, I end up with a headache. But the most recent and frustrating situation that I've had to deal with is that every time a science paper needs to be printed, the printer freaks out/breaks down/pisses me off.

If you recall, there was a crisis about three months ago involving a science project and a broken printer. Since then, the defective printer has been replaced and I was looking forward to making it through the rest of this school year, and even part of next year, without any more printer drama. I am a fool.

Last Sunday, Zach was attempting to print his 24-page report on telescopes when we realized that the red lines that were a necessary part of his diagrams were printing in yellow, the grays were brown, the blacks were blues and the blues were the color of pus. Obviously, since no one is a big fan of pus-colored diagrams, this was not acceptable. Luckily, my friend rescued me -- again, and wow do I owe her a lot of vodka -- and I made a call to Hewlett Packard customer service, again. This time, though, it didn't go quite as smoothly as the call three months ago. Here is a fairly accurate transcript of my third call, after I was disconnected the first two times:

(Dial 800-474-6846. Get automated voice of a woman that sounds like someone I would definitely NOT be friends with.) Welcome to HP consumer product support. Your call may be monitored or recorded for quality purposes (followed by random Spanish that I didn't understand because they never said margarita). Please tell me which of the following you'd like to do: Purchase a product, get tech support or check repair status.

Me: Go fuck yourself, because my printer sucks.

I'm sorry. I didn't get that. Please say purchase a product, get tech support or check repair status. Please don't tell me to fuck myself.

Me: I. Need. Tech. Support. Then go fuck yourself.

Okay. Got it. Now, which of these are you calling about? A notebook PC, desktop PC, printer, or say it's something else.

Me: A piece of plastic that resembles a printer, but is actually a giant hunk of shit.

Okay. Printers. If your product is out of warranty, we may have to charge you absurd amounts of money in order to complete this call. An HP agent located half-way across the globe can provide you with your options, which include paying with an internal organ, taking out a second mortgage or selling one of your children. You can review your options at www.hp.com/we-sell-pieces-of-shit/customers-are-suckers-to-our-deceitful-advertising. Alright, to get help with your crappy printer, I need to know what kind of crappy printer you have. You might say something like Laserjet, Photosmart, or Edgeline. Go ahead and tell me what kind of defective shitball you have.

Me: I have a piece of shit that won't work, and you sound like a bitch. I think I hate you.

I didn't get that because I'm a useless automated voice, not a bitch. I need to know what kind of printer you have. You might say something like Laserjet, or Photosmart. Tell me now, because at this point the call is definitely being monitored.

Me: Screw yourself. I hate Hewlett Packard. But fine, I have a fucking Officejet.

Sorry. I still didn't get that because you swore at me. Please say one of the following: Laserjet, Photosmart, Officejet, Deskjet, or PFC.

Me: OFFICEJET YOU STUPID BITCH! DON'T YOU LISTEN?

Alright. Are you using a Macintosh operating system?

Me: Duh, of course.

Okay, please have your product, model and serial number ready for your agent. We will also need to know your height, weight, age of your second-cousin's college roommate, how many boxes of mac & cheese are in your kitchen, how much gas is in your neighbor's car and what Santa ate for breakfast. So please continue to be a pathetic loser and continue holding the phone to your head, because I'm transferring you now to someone that won't be of much help.

It's moments like these that explain why, at the Twins game on Monday, our food tab was only $7 but the liquor tab was $50. So I guess even though I don't enjoy the inconvenience of dealing with broken printers and pain-in-the-ass phone calls, it's kind of worth it because I always enjoy forcing myself to self-medicate.

Really, Let Me Help You

(Here's the deal: Over the weekend, Zach had to complete a 300-point science project. This project consisted of a tri-fold display, a rough draft and final draft of a paper that ended up being 24-pages long, was required to contain several key points of information and the results of an experiment related to his topic. He also needs to do a presentation of his project to the class, just in case they aren't able to read the paper or the information hanging on the tri-fold display. I also found out yesterday that there were a few out-of-the-ordinary items that needed to be sent to school with Charlie by, of course, today and Zoe, since she's almost six, decided it was okay to acquire the attitude of a 14-year-old-girl. Oh, and at 10:30 last night I was "helping" Zach color some hand-drawn dinosaurs with colored by pencils for a different science assignment/project, also due today. And I maybe drank just a little bit in an attempt to numb my pain, which would explain the interesting color-combinations that the ankylosaurus now has.

So...

I've decided to spare you the lovely details and specifics of the project drama that included piece-of-shit Hewlett Packard printers, frustration and general crankiness, and am instead re-posting a different but relevant blog entry from November 3, 2009. The items needed for school and the science project being completed are different, but are really the same, since it's all pretty much a pain in the ass.)

Really, Let Me Help You (originally posted 11/3/09).

I could say that I thoroughly enjoy spending quality time with my kids while helping them with school projects, watching their minds grow as they grasp new concepts, and patiently helping them assemble the final product, but that would be a lie. I know there are moms out there that always have an arsenal of toilet paper tubes, dowels, glitter, poster board, and styrofoam in every imaginable shape and size, eagerly waiting for the next project information sheet to come home and really, good for them. But I also know some moms that can't get through a poster or a marble run without tears, a couple snide remarks, and at least once saying "Fine. Make the thing yourself." I love these women.

Enough projects have come through my door this year to make me think that it's all a big prank and there is a hidden camera somewhere, documenting the drama. It started even before school began, with Zoe bringing home a giant sheet of brown paper from the kindergarten open house. After tracing her body, and with the assistance of her family, she was supposed to make a replica of herself. Doug's participation consisted of walking by and saying "Wow. It's really coming along." Charlie sat nearby and praised my cutting skills, and Zach approved the final results. Zoe drew her facial features and helped glue things on to her paper self. I admit that I pretty much did everything else, including making a construction paper replica of her Babolat tennis racquet.

Since that project has been turned in, I have dealt with making a diorama of the book "Ender's Game," a skit about the solar system, a large number of boys in my home to practice said skit, a pop can constellation model, a poster board turkey that needs feathers, buttons, "or whatever other crafty items are in your house," and yesterday Charlie informed me that he needs a jiggeh, coin pouch, pots, and a brown tattered tunic.

Since I had just thrown out my last tattered tunic, I headed to JoAnn Crafts to buy some brown flannel. And did you know that "jiggeh" is Korean for "basket?" Seriously, how was I supposed to know? After I checked Charlie off of my list of project punishments, I rinsed out an uncrushed pop can for Zach's constellation, and that's where the fun really begins.

I'd like to be able to say that he was very receptive to my suggestions and grateful for my assistance and willingness to work with felt, but again, that would be a lie. The cumulative number of eye rolls and exasperated sighs that took place in our kitchen last night should pretty much fill the quota until at least the end of next week.

Zach started the project by randomly taping some pictures onto the bare can, using pieces of Scotch tape that were, in my opinion, unnecessarily large.

"I really think that you should glue a piece of construction paper onto the can first, instead of later. It might look better that way." I was pretty proud of myself for saying this, instead of what I was thinking, which was "No way in hell can you turn that in looking like that if you want more than 5 points."

"Really, don't worry about it. I have it under control" he said, surveying his progress.

After a couple minutes of silence, he ended up deciding to remove the pictures and take my suggestion, but instead of paper, he wanted felt. At this point, he might as well have said "Hey mom. Let's rip off all of your fingernails, glue them onto the can, and I'll turn that in as my project." I hate working with felt because the little fibers get everywhere, and the only way to get felt to stick to things is to use a hot glue gun. So since I don't have a glue gun, I guess you're just going to have to use construction paper, because only loser moms have a...oh, what's this? How in the hell did I ever end up owning a glue gun?

After I picked myself up off of the floor, we proceeded to simultaneously bitch at each other while assembling the can o' fun. When he mentioned that he wanted some yellow streaks down the sides of the felt, I rummaged around and found some puffy fabric paint. After showing him how to use it by drawing perfectly even zig-zag lines on a scrap piece of felt, he took control of the paint pen and proceeded to drop uneven globs and streaks onto his can.

"Why does yours look like that and mine looks like crap?" he complained.

"Because I took a fabric paint class today while at JoAnn shopping for a tunic." He didn't seem to appreciate this answer very much.

"Honestly, like the glue gun, I don't even know how this fabric paint ended up in my possession. I guess I just have a natural talent." He wasn't very happy with this answer either, and he seemed to be enjoying my sarcasm as much as he was enjoying my help.

Believe it or not, the constellation can is finished on time and headed to junior high, the jiggeh/tunic/coin pouch/pots are at the elementary school, and now all that's left is a turkey in need of decoration. Since the instruction sheet specifically says that this should be a family project, I think I'll help Zoe cover it in beer bottle tops, used lime wedges, and some smudges of salsa for extra color. But I'll let her color the facial features all by herself.

869 Down, Four To Go

The second trimester of school is over, which means that the school year will soon be over and exactly three months from today, I will be enjoying a much-needed week of vacation on the Gulf of Mexico in Florida. Before my boarding pass is scanned, though, I will need to survive one more choir concert and an orchestra concert plus extra rehearsals for both of these, a high school tennis season, two piano recitals, six tennis tournaments and four more science projects. Yes, you read that right...

ONLY FOUR MORE SCIENCE PROJECTS!

In the past, the thought of having to do four science projects in an entire school year would have been enough for me to consider homeschooling. Since I'm not insane I wouldn't have actually followed through with it, but I would have considered it for about three minutes. Now I'm at the point where the news of having only four more projects is like hearing that a money tree has sprouted in the backyard. Or that Ketel One has decided to give me a lifetime supply of vodka. Or that the fries at Five Guys are now fat-free.

Then I found out that the fourth-to-last project is a group project, and it kind of felt like someone had just taken a chainsaw to my recently-sprouted money tree. And then Zach informed me that he was hosting the first group meeting at our house, and that was like the Ketel One prize turning into a lifetime supply of Jagermeister.

He scheduled the first meeting for an afternoon when I would be gone at Charlie's violin lesson, and that made me happy. While I've never been a big fan of leaving the house when my kids have friends over, I figured this was an ideal time to become a fan. After all, these kids were all old enough to be left alone, but young enough to not deviate from the original purpose of getting together (science project) into something else (hey, there's a wet bar in your basement).

Since these teenagers came to our house straight from school, I threw a random assortment of snacks on the coffee table, pointed at the bar fridge, said help yourself, call me if you need anything and goodbye. As I was going up the stairs I heard a couple boys say "Awesome! Gimme a Red Bull." Note to self: One kid's friends have officially outgrown juice boxes.

While I was sitting in the car waiting for Charlie's lesson to get done, I got a call from Zach. I would have welcomed a phone call for the following reasons:

• We're all hungry again, so can we order pizza?
• We're done with the project because we worked extra hard.
• We ended up playing video games the whole time and forgot to do the project. Could you do it for us?
• Just calling to say that I miss you, and my friends think you're really cool.
• The house is under attack by zombies.

Instead, Zach started yelling about how the dog had taken a dump in the house and "Oh my god what do I do now?" I could hear the other kids in the background laughing their asses off and saying "Oh man, it smells! Like shit!

I told him duh, grab some toilet paper, pick it up, throw it in the toilet and flush. "You mean with my hands? I have to pick it up with my hands? GROSS!" As soon as he said this the background laughter got louder and I'm pretty sure I heard Zach make some faint gagging sounds.

Apparently the thought of having to pick up dog shit made his brain shut down even more than normal because when I told him that there was a can of Lysol under the kitchen sink, along with some Clorox wipes and if the smell was really bad he should just crack a window open, all he heard was "blah blah blah my dog shit on the floor blah blah girls are laughing at me blah blah" and all he could say is "WHAT? WHAT? WIPES WHERE? WHAT? OH MY GOD!"

It really doesn't matter that there are only four projects left, because I hate science projects. In fact, I hate them almost as much as I hate knowing that my dog is getting really old and keeps crapping on the floor, and I hate all of these things almost as much as the fact that the fries at Five Guys will never, no matter how much I wish they were, be fat-free.

It's Getting Out of Hand

Ten years from now my memories of this school year won't be "Oh, that's the year Zoe started kindergarten" or "That was Charlie's last year of elementary school." It will be "Fucking-Ay. That was the year that Zach worked his ass off and did 873 science projects."

Believe it or not, my son is working on another science project. This one, though, is going to require a little bit of involvement from his dad. No, Doug will not be shopping at JoAnn for felt and styrofoam balls and surprisingly enough I would gladly welcome a project that required such accessible, inexpensive and realistic science project materials.

This is a group project with the end result being an eight-minute presentation about the weather. Is the presentation performed in the classroom, like a skit? Oh no, because that would be convenient and age-appropriate. This presentation has to be filmed with a video camera (preferably high-def), transferred to a hard drive, edited together in a creative way and it should be exactly eight minutes long and turned in on a DVD or other high-quality format. They must also include a commercial, that they have to write and perform, for a product or service that benefits the environment or is in some way related to Earth Day.

Although this project was assigned a month ago, Zach's group is still only about 85% done. Since they all need to participate and they aren't provided with any time in class to meet as a group, they need to get together in the evenings or on weekends. Finding one night that five 13-year-olds are all available and able to get together is a tough task. Finding several nights has been almost impossible, specifically for one boy named Kevin that for some reason thinks that going skiing with his friends at the last minute instead of working on a science project is more fun.

Since Doug is familiar with editing software he tapped into his patience and, after transferring the footage to our hard drive, spent some time in front of the computer showing Zach how to edit it together to create a movie that makes sense and is worthy of an A. After Zach spent over three hours editing on Thursday night, the movie was complete and Doug transferred it to a DVD and a flash drive.

This might make me sound boring and old-fashioned, or maybe I'm being hyper-sensitive to the impact that the economy has had on some families, but it seems like this project could have been completed for a few thousand dollars less, and have been just as educational, with a presentation performed in class including a couple props and some charts made on poster board. It makes me wonder: was the main goal to teach the kids about interpreting weather reports and how to work together as a group, or was it to find out whose parents have spent the most money at Best Buy? After reviewing the scoring system, I have come to the conclusion that a good grade will only be possible if you have a high quality video camera, a fairly new computer with decent movie editing software, blank DVD's or a large storage flash drive and group members that don't have any other weeknight or weekend activities that require any time.

After a few productive meetings, Zach's group has made a surprising amount of progress. They designed some elaborate weather chart backdrops on Powerpoint and incorporated the weather channel on the Wii, both of which are displayed in the background on giant TV screens. Their time logs are completed, the script will be written over the weekend by Kevin (if he doesn't go skiing instead) and as long as there aren't any misplaced DVD's and hard drive failures, everything should be completed on time.

One benefit that has come out of this project is that Zach realizes that he is very lucky. Not only do his parents shop at Best Buy, but he also has a dad that is a creative director, knows how to edit film and feels immense amounts of sympathy for a kid that has spent virtually every weekend of the school year working on one science project after another. He has also learned that there are always members of a group that won't hesitate to slack off and do the bare minimum, that PC's suck and using Powerpoint on a Mac is the only way to go and that his mom doesn't love having three teenage girls talking about their hair and giggling in the basement on Valentine's Day, even though she hates the holiday anyway.

But has he learned anything new about the weather and how to interpret a weather report? I don't think that really matters, since we all know the weather forecast is wrong 95% of the time anyway.

This = That

The Mean Mom's

Chart of Everyday Equivalents

3 tsp.......................................1 Tbsp

2 Tbsp.....................................1 ounce

1 ounce...................................you're kidding, right?

2 ounces..................................yes, please

4 ounces..................................five winter weekdays

16 ounces................................five summer weekdays

___ ounces...............................a weekend

1 week.....................................8 loads of laundry

2 loads of laundry......................oh yeah, I forgot about the sheets

3 kids......................................1 minivan

1 minivan.................................I'm a dork

waiting in the minivan................slice of hell

1 - 13 year old..........................25 daily eye rolls

Ten eye rolls.............................1 smack on the head

1 game of Monopoly...................a suicidal mom

shoveling the driveway................2 shots of vodka

mowing the lawn........................2 Corona Lights

sitting in a lawn chair..................4 Coronas, and 2 shots of vodka

4 tennis lessons.........................2 forgotten water bottles

3 science projects......................5 trips to JoAnn, 17 swear words

shopping at Target.....................not shopping at WalMart

happy hour with best friend.........1 visit to the psychiatrist

1-week vacation.........................25 visits to the psychiatrist

4 texts to/from kid......................15 second phone conversation

phone conversation with kid.........hahahahahaha, that's a good one

3 "shoots".................................1 "shit"

3 "shits"....................................1 "fuck"

2 "fucks"...................................1 hour at the grocery store

1 - five year old.........................7 daily debates

7 daily debates..........................7 ounces

1 clean house............................fantasy/fiction

Sunday - Friday.........................6 dinners cooked

Saturday.................................."Check, please"

But On The Bright Side...

I woke up on Monday morning wondering what I was going to do with all my free time since the kids didn't have school. I originally thought that maybe I could take them out to lunch, or even have Zach babysit so I could get a pedicure. And then I realized that those thoughts were delusional. Zach had a science project to finish and a test to study for, there was a piano lesson and a tennis lesson to get to, and I was hoping to get to the grocery store. Though this was busier than what I would have wanted for a day off from school, I was hoping that with a little bit of advance planning, I could find the time to do something fun. By 9am, I realized those hopes were as fictional as my pedicure.

Good News: No school, so I didn't have to do school drop-off.

Bad News: No school, so the kids are home.

Bad News: The error message "Remove packing material, clear carriage jam" popped up on our two-month-new printer, even though the packing material was removed two months ago.

Good News: After recovering from the shock of talking to an HP customer service rep that was actually knowledgeable, helpful, and understanding, I was told that the printer was a piece of shit, but under warranty, and would be replaced free of charge.

Bad News: The new printer would take five to seven business days to arrive.

More Bad News: Zach had a science project that needed to be printed.

Good News: Somehow managed to get old printer working, but only in black, so hopefully colorful pie charts aren't an integral component of Zach's science project.

Good News: Managed to get to the grocery store during the piano lesson.

Bad News: Forgot bananas.

Random News: In an attempt to be "helpful," Zoe put the hamburger buns on the conveyor belt, after she pulled them through one of the leg holes on the cart. Now they look more like hot dog buns.

Good News: Decided to stop at Target to pick up a prescription and bananas on my way to tennis lessons. Figured I'd better call and make sure that my "take once a day at the same time every day so I don't get knocked up again" drugs had been refilled.

Bad News: Was told that the prescription wouldn't be ready. So, after I dropped Charlie off at tennis, I stopped at grocery store #2 to pick up bananas.

Of-Course-It-Is News: After I got home, I received an automated phone call from Target telling me that "my prescription has automatically been refilled, and is now available for pickup."

Bad News: After dinner, Zach printed his colorless science project report, which also ended up being blackless due to a lack of toner in the backup printer.

Good News: After saving the report on his flash drive, my best friend/ kindred spirit/fellow vodka lover/Mac owner said, "Come on over and print it at my house."

Bad News: Best friend's printer is out of magenta toner, which shouldn't make a difference since we're only printing in black, but printer doesn't understand logic.

Funny News: Best friend shared a disgusting "you won't believe what my dog ate" story. The feminine hygiene item that the dog ate is really, really gross, which is why it made me laugh.

Worst News: This story wasn't told over a couple martinis.

Not Surprising News: I got home, without a printed science project, to find that the 11-year-old had suddenly lost the ability to tell time and doesn't realize it's past his bedtime.

Good News: Zach tells me that he can print the project at school.

Bad News: I will have to bring Zach to school early on Tuesday morning.

Good News: Wave of energy and overwhelming motivation to avoid driving kid to school at 7am hits me, and I decide to get back in the car and go pick up toner, along with my prescription.

Bad News: What the hell am I thinking? The pharmacy is closed. I might as well go to WalMart, which is closer.

Icky News: I went to WalMart. But at least I picked up my friend's magenta toner while I was there.

About Fucking Time News: Science project printed, and the stapler didn't break.

Annoying News: I don't have house plants because I never water them, and sometimes the dog's water dish is empty, but the yellow light on the piano humidifier started flashing, which silently tells me: "THE PIANO NEEDS WATER! THE PIANO NEEDS WATER! THE DAMN PIANO NEEDS WATER!"

Good News: I ignore it until the morning. After all, I'll have time since I don't have to drive Zach to school at 7am.

Good News: After completing his project and studying for a test, Zach went to bed at 10:30. Finally, all the kids are in bed!

Bad News: His door opened 12 seconds later so that he could tell me that the lightbulb in his reading lamp just burned out.

Good News: I have a lightbulb.

Best News: I know that my prescription has been refilled.

Bad News: I discovered I was out of tequila.

Great News: I always have vodka.

Dear Mr. Science(Art) Teacher

Dear Mr. 8th Grade Science Teacher,

I know that you take pride in your job, and I'm impressed by the fact that you have endless amounts of energy and seem to enjoy spending time with 13 and 14-year-olds. It's obvious that you are motivated to educate kids by using creativity, and like to force their brains to view the material in a new way. But please, enough with the fucking science projects.

Creating a brochure that promotes the tourism industry of another planet seems more like art class than science. Not only did you require this brochure to be informative and factual, but you also wanted it to incorporate extensive creativity, color, materials that aren't normally found in a typical household, and a pop-up feature. To watch an intelligent, motivated, responsible kid put several weekend hours into designing this brochure/art project, only to get a crappy grade because, even though it included an abundance of information, you didn't think he put enough effort into the pop-ups, is deflating. This would be like giving a low grade to a painting of a fruit bowl in art class because it didn't include a picture of the periodic table.

While you emphasized the use of creativity, design and eye appeal, you also decided to deduct 50% of the possible points if the student's first and last name wasn't clearly visible. Even if, in an attempt to adhere to your specifications, a student discreetly wrote only their first name on the brochure, he or she was deducted. Since my kid managed to include his full name, he was spared these points. This is a good thing, since this deduction on top of what was already taken off for his lack of pop-ups effort would have left him with pretty much nothing.

Throughout the first trimester, your projects included a diorama, pop can constellation model, group projects, skits, a place mat, a couple Powerpoint presentations, the construction of a UFO, and occasionally having to sing a song about the galaxy (which, by the way, would be more appropriate for choir). Now that it is the second trimester, the kids are in the middle of yet another group project, which means I'll probably be running out to buy supplies before the week is over. I just wish that a kid could get a decent grade by turning in a project that contains the information you required and shows student effort, instead of just parent participation/bank account/JoAnn Crafts effort.

I've also noticed that in addition to docking points for what you consider a lack of creativity (which, if this was English class, would be called "subjective"), you also deduct points when you do a spur of the moment "assignment planner check." I understand that you're only trying to encourage the kids to be responsible, and prove to them that if they write down their assignments in each class, every day, the number of missing assignments will drop dramatically. I agree that if there is nothing written in the planner, then a few points should definitely be taken off. But if a kid writes "SS test Th - study S Amer countries" in their planner, instead of "I have a social studies test on Thursday. I need to spend time studying the countries of South America," should you, their science teacher, be able to deduct half of the possible points because you don't like what they wrote? No. They are using the planner in a way that makes sense to them, and probably didn't have the time, or need, to write a complete sentence.

I am happy about the fact that my kid has a passionate, hard working, enthusiastic teacher. I just wish that you could also understand that the kids in your science class aren't all lazy, looking for the easy way out, and are actually putting in a lot of effort. These kids have other classes to worry about, not to mention sports, music lessons, and maybe even a little bit of free time now and then. If they turn in an assignment 30 seconds late or don't get started on a project within two minutes of you assigning it, please try to remember that kids are human, and they're learning, and, unlike this letter, their forgetfulness is not an attack on you personally.

Sincerely,

The Mean Mom

Really, I've Been Good

Dear Santa,

As you know, 2009 had it's ups and downs, but for the most part I think I handled things pretty well. Yes, there was the occasional empty threat of violence, a sprinkling of hand gestures, and a couple brief moments of rage-induced silence, but since no permanent damage was done (so far), I think I'm entitled to a few requests. A couple of my wishes are for my kids, because I truly believe that this isn't a time of year for selfishness. Please bring me the following:

1. A restaurant kid's menu that offers something besides chicken hunks, burgers, corn dogs, fries, and gloppy mac-n-cheese. And would it kill them to offer fruit or a salad?
2. A lotion bottle that allows me to use the bottom inch of product without having to pull out the pump and smear the stick on my legs.
3. Although I appreciate you sending my kids the gift of filling the garbage, what I really need them to have is the coveted gift of taking out the garbage.
4. A voodoo doll resembling Fanny.
5. If I tell a kid to "come here," please bring them the ability to stop saying "Why?" from two floors away and just COME HERE!
6. An end to the school/science projects.
7. A normal long-sleeve shirt that doesn't make me look sleazy, boring, or like I qualify for a senior citizen discount.
8. A caffeine patch.
9. My kids could use the ability to be able to figure out, all by themselves, that if we're leaving at 9:30, they should maybe get their shoes and coats on at 9:25.
10. Dog pee that doesn't destroy my lawn.
11. A package of chicken that, when I think about the fact that I need to defrost it for tomorrow, automatically moves itself from the freezer to the refrigerator.
12. When you're in the area, please break my neighbor's lawn mower, leaf blower, weed wacker, and Shop-Vac. And feel free to let your reindeer crap in his yard.
13. A vacation.
14. I know a few people that could use a sense of humor, and you probably know who they are, too.

Please note that I didn't ask for anything unrealistic like sanity, more good-hair days, listening skills for my kids, or a built-in vodka dispenser on my refrigerator door. And if you really want to know the truth about what happened during school drop-off that one morning involving that fake-boobed/not-really-a-blonde/rule-breaking/know-it-all lady, it wasn't my fault. She tripped on the curb.

Sincerely, Love, and all that stuff,

The Mean Mom

A Party for What?

When my oldest kid started school, I was introduced to the process of subtly screening the other parents and putting them into categories. There were the crafters, the over-eager-to-volunteer, the enablers, the over-educated and the ones I could actually be friends with. Now that my youngest has started kindergarten, I am faced with a whole new crop of parents to weed through and I don't have near as much patience for this process as I used to.

Yesterday, one of the mommy's (Let's call her Ione, short for "I only have one child") left a message for me, using her most exasperated tone:

"Hi Zoe's mommy. It's Ione. The RSVP cut-off was yesterday, and we are wondering if Zoe will be able to make it to Suzie's Halloween party on Saturday. I need to know right away because I'm trying to assemble the party bags and organize crafts. Please call me right away because this is really important to Suzie. I know that all of the girls in the class are coming, because their moms RSVP'd already."

Apparently, while I had been dealing with my germ infested family last week, I overlooked the critical RSVP for Suzie's week before Halloween party. I'm guessing that the main reason Zoe was invited is because word got out that she is dressing up as a fireman, complete with crow bar and ax, and they want her there in case any of the highly flammable princess costumes go up in flames.

With 3 kids, a science project, two tennis tournaments, eradicating a gallon-size pickle jar worth of germs from my house, a geriatric dog that won't stop barfing, and the occasional need to pee, I'm happy to throw together a couple costumes and buy some extra sugar to hand out to the tricksters...on October 31. Needless to say, keeping track of an RSVP date to a middle-of-a-Saturday-you-don't-have-anything-else-to-do kindergartner's Halloween party wasn't exactly high on the list of priorities. Making sure I have cider to add to the Captain on October 31, definitely a priority.

After listening to Ione's message 4 times for clarity, I had heard correctly...party bags and crafts. I've seen a couple articles recently, supporting my belief in the banishment of party bags at birthday parties and criticizing the trend of inviting entire classrooms to get pedicures or go on a helicopter ride. I'm ecstatic about the fact that my boys are finally at the ages where the frequency of birthday party invites is diminishing, but just when I was choreographing my dance of glee, I find myself right back in the land of Who Can Overindulge The Most.

Needless to say, Zoe is busy on Saturday. She'll be at her brother's tennis tournament, being deprived of all joy and forced to go without craft time and the bag filled with whistles, bracelets and spa gift cards. Unless, of course, she has a relapse of last week's illness. In that case, she might make a surprise visit.

4-Day Weekends

I remember looking forward to the MEA weekend with excitement; four days off, maybe a night or two at the Holiday Inn, a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, and no homework. Now, as an adult, I find myself stuck in a house with a "wintry mix" falling outside, one kid crashed on the couch with a fever and a barking cough, another kid bitching because I'm making him go to his tennis lesson early, and trying to help the moody oldest child with a diorama for his science class.

Let's just say that if I hate "helping" with science projects more than stepping in a pile of dog shit, then the diorama is for sure the Great Dane of projects. Trying to illustrate a scene from a book using plastic army men, fishing line, and a boot box just doesn't seem like a great way to spend a day off from school. Locking the threekids in the super secret soundproof room in the basement while I eat Cheetos and watch a South Park marathon? Now that's more like it.