Redo
I don't know how it happened, but it's October.
I feel totally robbed.
The last two months have been one giant mass of depressive sickness and general limping along. They shouldn't count! I demand a redo!
I should be in the middle of June, not the beginning of October. I'd go on strike and wear a bathing suit on the patio for all the neighbors to see, but it's a little nippy outside, plus I'm pasty white due to hiding in my house all summer, and on top of that my baby bump looks more like I've been indulging myself a little too much. And, uh, I haven't, uh, done that...much...*cough*
I actually made the mistake of asking Jeremy if I looked fat or if I looked pregnant. I eyed him carefully while he weighed the situation. I could tell he was trying to decide if he should tell me the truth, or distract me with something shiny and run away.
"Uh..." he began. "Right now you look.........."
"Yes?" I urged.
"Pregnant. Definitely pregnant."
"You're such a liar," I replied, and then walked away smiling.
I've been trying to get into the spirit of fall, but it's hard to put up pumpkins and witches when you feel like you should be sitting at the pool during swim lessons.
I usually relish autumn: the chilly nights filled with the smell of fire, hot cider, boots, chunky sweaters, Thanksgiving, pie...And all I want to do is kick back on a lawn chair with a pile of Otter Pops.
Makes me feel kind of grumpy.
Normally, I would just bury myself in a pile of blankets and books in such a situation, but since I have kids that would probably appreciate my paying attention to them and maybe feeding them every once in a while, that has proved impossible.
So, I cantankerously shuffle through my day, trying not to eat them.
Today was taxing. Try to explain the difference between nouns, pronouns, proper nouns and verbs to a seven-year-old. Usually (and I flatter myself) I am really patient with Josh, since I know this is all new to him, but sometimes the crazy grumpy pregnant gremlin takes over.
It went something like this:
"Okay, a verb is something you do, Josh. Like 'yell,' 'eat,' 'beat,' 'mangle,' 'run,' 'hide,' 'scream.' Do you understand?"
"Yeah," he replied lazily, chewing on his mechanical pencil. I can't imagine it's nearly as enjoyable as chewing on a wooden one, like I did when I was his age...
"Okay, so here's a sentence: 'Tasha and Sabrina pulled weeds up in their backyard.' Circle the nouns, and then underline the verbs."
He proceeded to circle the girls' names, stopped briefly at "their," moved on, and then sat staring into space.
"Josh," I said, trying to grab his attention. "Is there a verb in that sentence? Did the girls do anything?"
He started to draw an invisible line through the entire sentence with his pencil, Ouiji board style, waiting for someone from the Other Side to give him the answer. He stopped at "weeds."
"Josh," I continued, straining. "That's a noun...what did the girls DO?"
He looked blankly at the page.
"I don't know."
I read the sentence really, really slowly.
"TASHA AND SABRINA PULLED WEEDS UP IN THEIR BACKYARD."
"A pronoun?" Josh provided unhelpfully.
"A VERB, Josh...It's something you do, like 'spank,' or 'tie up,' or 'beat senseless.' Got it?"
He shrugged.
"Okay, let's try again. 'Their dad mowed the lawn and buried his son in a hole.' Circle the nouns, underline the verbs."
I sat back and proceeded to bore a hole into Joshua's head with my evil stare.
He circled 'dad,' and then dropped the pencil.
"Are there any other persons, places, or things in that sentence, Josh?" I could feel myself losing it. Probably just like how Dad felt trying to teach me Spanish.
He pointed at "their." How do you argue with that?
"No, that's not what we're looking for, Josh..."
He started Ouiji boarding again. He stopped at "and."
"No, that's a prepositional phrase, Josh..." and then I petered off since I realized that he would have no idea what that was, and, besides that, I realized that it was a conjunction, not a prepositional phrase. Don't judge me.
I realized at that point I really needed to back things up and make it really simple. This is a lesson I have had to learn time and again with homeschooling, but I've got to tell ya...grumpy prego gremlin doesn't help. At all.
"Try and pick out the verbs (remember, Josh, it's something you do...): the cat jumped on the windowsill."
I looked at him.
"Jumped."
A flood of relief washed over me.
"Good! Okay...um... Oh! I walked to the park..."
He thought for a moment.
"Walked."
"Great! I ate my lunch."
"Lunch."
"NO!"
Well...you can't win 'em all. Good thing Josh is so patient with me. Any lesser seven-year-old would have turned to ash by now. But, he's a pro. He's had a pregnant mommy four times.
I hope my body can catch up to the times. It's really screwing me up.
I feel totally robbed.
The last two months have been one giant mass of depressive sickness and general limping along. They shouldn't count! I demand a redo!
 |
| My car knows something I don't... |
I should be in the middle of June, not the beginning of October. I'd go on strike and wear a bathing suit on the patio for all the neighbors to see, but it's a little nippy outside, plus I'm pasty white due to hiding in my house all summer, and on top of that my baby bump looks more like I've been indulging myself a little too much. And, uh, I haven't, uh, done that...much...*cough*
I actually made the mistake of asking Jeremy if I looked fat or if I looked pregnant. I eyed him carefully while he weighed the situation. I could tell he was trying to decide if he should tell me the truth, or distract me with something shiny and run away.
"Uh..." he began. "Right now you look.........."
"Yes?" I urged.
"Pregnant. Definitely pregnant."
"You're such a liar," I replied, and then walked away smiling.
I've been trying to get into the spirit of fall, but it's hard to put up pumpkins and witches when you feel like you should be sitting at the pool during swim lessons.
I usually relish autumn: the chilly nights filled with the smell of fire, hot cider, boots, chunky sweaters, Thanksgiving, pie...And all I want to do is kick back on a lawn chair with a pile of Otter Pops.
Makes me feel kind of grumpy.
Normally, I would just bury myself in a pile of blankets and books in such a situation, but since I have kids that would probably appreciate my paying attention to them and maybe feeding them every once in a while, that has proved impossible.
So, I cantankerously shuffle through my day, trying not to eat them.
Today was taxing. Try to explain the difference between nouns, pronouns, proper nouns and verbs to a seven-year-old. Usually (and I flatter myself) I am really patient with Josh, since I know this is all new to him, but sometimes the crazy grumpy pregnant gremlin takes over.
It went something like this:
"Okay, a verb is something you do, Josh. Like 'yell,' 'eat,' 'beat,' 'mangle,' 'run,' 'hide,' 'scream.' Do you understand?"
"Yeah," he replied lazily, chewing on his mechanical pencil. I can't imagine it's nearly as enjoyable as chewing on a wooden one, like I did when I was his age...
"Okay, so here's a sentence: 'Tasha and Sabrina pulled weeds up in their backyard.' Circle the nouns, and then underline the verbs."
He proceeded to circle the girls' names, stopped briefly at "their," moved on, and then sat staring into space.
"Josh," I said, trying to grab his attention. "Is there a verb in that sentence? Did the girls do anything?"
He started to draw an invisible line through the entire sentence with his pencil, Ouiji board style, waiting for someone from the Other Side to give him the answer. He stopped at "weeds."
"Josh," I continued, straining. "That's a noun...what did the girls DO?"
He looked blankly at the page.
"I don't know."
I read the sentence really, really slowly.
"TASHA AND SABRINA PULLED WEEDS UP IN THEIR BACKYARD."
"A pronoun?" Josh provided unhelpfully.
"A VERB, Josh...It's something you do, like 'spank,' or 'tie up,' or 'beat senseless.' Got it?"
He shrugged.
"Okay, let's try again. 'Their dad mowed the lawn and buried his son in a hole.' Circle the nouns, underline the verbs."
I sat back and proceeded to bore a hole into Joshua's head with my evil stare.
He circled 'dad,' and then dropped the pencil.
"Are there any other persons, places, or things in that sentence, Josh?" I could feel myself losing it. Probably just like how Dad felt trying to teach me Spanish.
He pointed at "their." How do you argue with that?
"No, that's not what we're looking for, Josh..."
He started Ouiji boarding again. He stopped at "and."
"No, that's a prepositional phrase, Josh..." and then I petered off since I realized that he would have no idea what that was, and, besides that, I realized that it was a conjunction, not a prepositional phrase. Don't judge me.
I realized at that point I really needed to back things up and make it really simple. This is a lesson I have had to learn time and again with homeschooling, but I've got to tell ya...grumpy prego gremlin doesn't help. At all.
"Try and pick out the verbs (remember, Josh, it's something you do...): the cat jumped on the windowsill."
I looked at him.
"Jumped."
A flood of relief washed over me.
"Good! Okay...um... Oh! I walked to the park..."
He thought for a moment.
"Walked."
"Great! I ate my lunch."
"Lunch."
"NO!"
Well...you can't win 'em all. Good thing Josh is so patient with me. Any lesser seven-year-old would have turned to ash by now. But, he's a pro. He's had a pregnant mommy four times.
I hope my body can catch up to the times. It's really screwing me up.
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