5 ways my kid's school is ruining my life

5. On blast: It's bad enough my kid slips and blabs to my family exaggerated versions of what goes on in our home. Now I have to worry about her crazy stories reaching the ears of teachers.
Of course I threaten to beat my kid's ass! I'm from Mississippi. That's just the southern way of asking if a kid wants a time out. The closest thing my daughter get's to a whipping is a pop on the arms or legs and that's usually when she's doing something super dangerous or out of control.  But the threat of "beating that butt" is much more effective than "taking a time out." But let Collette tell it I'll bust her head until the white meat show!  Add to that the dozen or so bruises she keeps on her legs from running around like a figgin quadruped and you get a cause for teacher concern and a report to DCS. I haven't been reported yet, but knowing Collette ...
4. Gimme, Gimme: That damned school is always asking for something. Donate supplies, donate money, donate time! Shit! My kid is in public school! If I could afford to give shit away she'd be in Catholic school! Yes, I do want to help the victims of the latest global catastrophe, but I'd also like to pay my light bill. So unless her school wants to throw us a rent party, I wish they'd stop asking me to give them shit.
3.The devil on my shoulder: So it turns out all the morals and ideals I had concerning "the kind of kid" I was going to raise went out the window when I realized my kid was the smartest, prettiest and best dressed in her class. Not that I want her to be a "Mean Girl" or a bully BUT, I find it hard not to be inwardly giddy at how awesome she is by comparison. I know that sounds horrible — it is. But I love that she will one day rule the school. It somehow feels like my accomplishment and proves that I really was cool in school ... just way ahead of my time. SHUT UP CLASSMATES!
2. Pressure: Collette's school is full of great kids. Unfortunately most of those kids have annoying parents. They suck up to the teachers  more than the kids. And they know EVERYTHING about school. I don't understand how someone my age knows the ins and outs of classroom and school business on the first day of Kindergarten. How many times have you gone through this? So now, I have to look like I give a crap what the PTA is doing before gracefully slipping out into the parking lot. And it doesn't end with volunteering. I also have to compete with the lunches their bourgeoisie little brats are eating in front of my little princess. "Anna Beth made her own pizza for lunch Mommy." If you can afford luncheables, you can afford a hot lunch — stop showing off and making it harder on the rest of us!
1. Schlafen! (that's German for sleep — see, I can show off too. BTW my kid is cooler than yours) That's right. I haven't slept in days. I get home between midnight and 1a.m., pack Collette's lunch, make sure her backpack and stuff is ready, then by 1:30, I'm crawling in the bed, only to be roused at 7:15 so I can dress Collette and do her hair, then I have to get her to school by 8:50 and by the time I get home — 9:15 or so — I have trouble getting back to sleep. Then there's all the normal shit I have to do like cook and launder before I'm off to pick up Collette at 3:15 to sit in a carpool lane until 3:45, pick up and drop off the kid and then high tale it to work.

I hate school!

Loves of her Life (2 of many)

This is part of a series I'm working on reflecting on growing up in Mississippi and being fast  falling in love.


So loves a strong word for … lets call him Beau, because really and truly he was my first beau. But if we’re talking about the loves of my life, the conversation can’t begin without Beau, because our relationship set the tone for all the great “loves” that followed.
At age 14 I had lived all of my adolescent years up to that point as the chubby sidekick of one Moniqa Henderson — think Fresh Prince of Bel-air era Tyra Banks — probably the most beautiful person I’d ever met.
Where she was tall, I was average, so by comparison short. Her long legs made her look like she just stepped off the catwalk. My long, athletic legs — topped by a muffin-like pear-shaped torso — made me look like I’d just stepped away from a Tweedle-Dee look-a-like contest
Where her hair was long and reddish brown, mine was shoulder-length, plainly black and never looked good in any style. Hers looked great in rollers.
Where her skin looked like a sun-kissed cinna-bun, mine couldn’t choose between a  pale, high-yellow and a boring, flushed bronze.
And while I thought my eyes were my best feature, my slightly slanted browns were mere buttons beside her flashy green peepers.
And just the thought of a guy  comparing her bubble-gum pink lips to mine, which thanks to a stupid birthmark always looked like I sneezed while applying lipstick, made me want to crawl into a hole and die.
A little dramatic, yes, but I was 14 with one friend and a cable subscription to Encore, which only played teen angst-filled flicks from the ’80s.
And as if her gorgeous looks wasn’t reason enough to hate her, my bestie was smart, funny, outgoing and fun to be around. Perfect. Ugh.
I tried really hard to hate her. But she told goofy jokes, watched Keenan and Kel and was determined to make her cool and exclusive friends accept me into their social circle.
Privately, she listened, she made me laugh and she never made fun of my excellent diction and superb grasp of the English language.
She also taught me how to dress, comb my hair and dance — well she tried her best to teach me how to dance. Regardless of how disgustingly perfect she was — did I mention the big boobs — Moniqa Henderson was good people. I loved her and I was glad to be a part of her world, even if I was just her chubby sidekick.

Loves of her Life (1 of many)

This is part of a series I'm working on reflecting on growing up in Mississippi and being fast  falling in love.

I should have known at age 7 that my love life was destined to be less the stuff that teen movies were made of and more a series of jubilant John Hughes-style bursts of romance, sandwiched in between  dull, passive lulls of reality.
Perhaps I should have picked a better role-model for my romantic interests. I  mean, I wanted to be like Lisa Turtle from “Saved By The Bell” The black, sassy, fashionable friend who never has a boyfriend, even though she’s hotter than some of her co-stars. Her only love interests were the geek, who seemed to grow dumber every year, and for one episode, her hottie best friend since grade school.
But that’s who I wanted to be, Crimped hair, neon tights, hot pink lipstick and all.
So naturally at age 7, when my I found out my best friend, Latericka Daniel Lockett,  and I liked the same guy — the only other black kid in school — we settled on letting the best girl win and singing the chorus to Candyman’s Knockin’ Boots in my bedroom mirror while jumping on my bed.
Of course, Latericka, who’s mom taught her beauty secrets and bought her socks with ruffles, had a strategy that involved more than batting her eyelashes and sighing longingly from across the room — After Lisa Turtle, Minnie Mouse was pretty much the coolest girl in the world. I mean, the eyelash move won Mickey over.
I just wish someone had told me then that my combined Lisa Turtle, Minnie Mouse Game, would get me stuck with losers and rats.

Meet Boon

Growing up whenever I did something bad and tried to lie about it, my mom would say "Oh I guess, Boon did it"
I'd always fall for the bait.
"Who mommy?"
"Boon, your bad twin sister."
"I don't have twin," I'd giggle.
"Of course you do, she's right over there."
Looking frantically, I'd never find her.
"Bad-ass Boon, she never stays put."
It wasn't long before I figured out there was no Boon, but I still liked to blame her for all my evil deeds.

Today, I can't get away with blaming Boon, but I can admit, that I have more than one dimension. If you've ever read my blog, Christian in Progress, you probably know that I am a devout Christian and family woman.
But, some ideas that I have are not appropriate for that blog and for that side of me.
And since some of my friends and family have been on my ass about my sporadic blogging, I've decided to create a forum for Boon to blog all the not-so-Godly thoughts she has.
Be warned. Boon hates people and loves to offend.