I’m skipping the whole Hello Monday thing today. I tried, I really did, but I am suffering from a million calorie hangover brought on by all the ridiculous food I ate last night. Let’s face it, I only like the Super-Bowl for the food, and the commercials, but I didn’t get to see the commercials because we watched it online. No cable and all.
I did, however, get to see the half-time show. Forgive me for laughing out loud at a few of Beyonce’s exaggerated bootie calls. Ok?
So I tried really hard to stay up until the end and I did, but only because of a Wicked Good Whoopie. We are just close enough to the far North to get Maine’s famous Isomax Whoopie Pies.
I wasn’t even lying about the million calorie hangover. It was Fat Sunday, but that’s in the past, because today is Skinny Monday. I shall eat accordingly.
This weekend nearly sent me into a stroke. A report card landed in my mailbox on Saturday afternoon and my child’s (who shall remain nameless) world tilted on their axis.
I paced and I yelled and threatened World War III if things don’t change. I am not proud of my emotional outburst, but I felt like I was trapped in a cartoon and the line of red was creeping over my face, higher and higher, until smoke began pouring from ears.
My lid popped.
Then I spent the remainder of the weekend emailing with one nameless Math teacher and plotting to make my child’s life a living hell until the next report card comes in the hands of our mailman.
There’s no capability problem. It’s quite the opposite. This is an advanced Math class, the kind where your GPA must be kept above a certain number or you get kicked out. The problem is that one said child would rather draw than do algebra.
I hate math as much as the next person. I really do, but schools are funny about this subject, they insist on making you take a math class every year until graduation.
In all the madness, I ate one entire bag of cherry m&m’s (not all in one sitting). I’m like a m&m addict. I sat in front of the fire taking deep, cleansing breaths and popping in a bright red m&m. Someone launch an intervention please.
This morning, I woke up to the sound of a plow truck. I have a headache and my daughter almost missed the school bus. I would wish you all a happy Monday, but I would totally be faking it.
My wish for today is that m&m’s would come in a low calorie version and my other child would just remember the capital of California, because if I have to say S-A-C-R-A-M-E-N-T-O one more time, I may need another bag of cherry m&m’s.
Now I’ll stop talking, because when the headache wears off, I will regret my rant.