Totally, utterly, and absolutely.

It’s not often that I do it, sometimes I tend to fight long after the fight has any chance of being won. Not this time, however, oh no. This time, I threw my hands up and just said “Fuck it.”

I don’t do it lightly, especially since it involves my kids. The first is my daughter, and our saga at her school. This is how bad things have gotten at school- she comes hungry because she’s too afraid to go in the cafeteria, and I have to drive her to school so she can avoid some boys on the bus. It’s taken a toll on her grades, her temperament and her emotions. Look, I’m not down for slapping random people, but there are some people at this school that just need to be kicked in the head. (Why yes, I am a little angry, why do you ask?) This year has been a total and complete loss. A COMPLETE waste of time and we know how much I love THAT. A couple of weeks ago, I just gave up. I don’t bug her anymore about her homework, I accept that she is going to come angry and worked up, and that her grades are going to be absolute shit. Say it together boys and girls “AWWWWEEEESOOOMMMME.”

Then there was my son’s baseball season. Look, I want my kids to get out and play sports, but I have no illusions that they are headed for any major leagues. So I don’t make them play anything they don’t want to, and to make sure, I ALWAYS ask them if they want to play a particualr sport before I shell out money. This baseball season was no exception. I asked, Trace said “yes” and so started baseball. This wasn’t my son’s first season so I though, hey, this year could be a lot of fun. Except- no. He was scared of the ball, he only actually swung twice while in the batter’s box, was distracted on the field, and begged me before every game to “just skip this one.” Normally, I make them finish what they start, but, people, I was just done. When the tournament games rolled around, I sent an email to his coach letting him know that Trace was going to sit out the rest of the season. Part of me thinks that the only reason he wanted to play was because he thought his dad would be there for the games. It breaks my heart.

So, I’ve given up. I demand a re-do, a do-over, a reset button.