Legos. I have a love/ hate relationship with legos. I think the pluses should be obvious; encourages creativity, fine motor skills, building skills, etc.

But the HATE? Oh, I have Lego hate.

First, I have been stepping on Legos for a decade now. I swear I am going to make flip-flops made of the from the Lego brick material, so that as I walk around I just add more height. I swear they hide in the carpet. I vacuum those little bitches up. Too bad, so sad.

But that isn’t the worst. No the worst is birthday and Christmas. My son only wants two things: Legos and Video games. Fair enough. So my husband decided to get Trace two BIG Lego sets for Christmas. And OBVIOUSLY he can’t put them together at his house, because they will break in transit.

OF COURSE THEY WILL.

So that means it is up to me to put those things together.

My son is interested in helping for the first hour or two, but by hour five hunched over looking for the smallest little piece known to man he has long wandered off.

There I am, on floor, holding some huge Halo flying creation, looking for a piece that I know he won’t even miss. It is then when I change my philosophy. My mantra goes from ‘follow ever direction down to the last detail’ to ‘close enough’.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the universe seems to be screwing with me lately. It’s like I get through one thing and then it’s all NOT SO FAST, here’s something else to make your life hell. Did I piss of the God of Order and Normal or something, because if I did – dude, whatever you want, it’s yours.

And today……

I have had one hell of an evening last night….I mean just…..where you kind of get to a point and all you can do is looks at the heaven’s and think…REALLY?!

I have had about 3-4 hours of sleep, if you count the texting I did at 4 in the morning, and I don’t. Mainly because someone who I trusted to get their SHIT TOGETHER, well, DIDN’T. And at two in the morning, I did something I rarely EVER do – walked away. But that’s not even my rant, it SHOULD be, but no I have something EVEN better.

Right, where was I? Ah yes, jackassery and no sleep. Got it. Right so I get up this morning and get the kids out the door, thinking ‘OK, no sleep, but I can do this.” THEN IT STARTS!!

My daughter gets in the car, I put the car in reverse and get ready to pull out..

“WAIT!”

I stop and look at her….she forgot a school assignment. *sigh* OK, runs back into the house and gets it. Well, ‘runs’ is being generous…more like saunters. Whatever.

Back in the car, pulling out of our neighborhood, I casually turn to her and say “Did you take your medicine?”

Deer in the headlights look. Forehead on steering wheel. OK, turn around and let her saunter back into the house to take her medicine.

NOW, finally we are on the road.

As I am getting ready to get on the expressway she springs this on me;

Chey: “Mom, I need money. I have a field trip today.”

Me: “WHAT?! Today?!” Why didn’t you tell me?”

Chey: “I forgot.”

Me: “OK, fine, I have money, no problem.”

Chey: “You need to sign this form, too”

Me: {stopped at a red light} “OK, give it to me.” I start to sign and I notice a whole bunch of questions about physical activity limitations. I turn back to the front page and sure enough this activity is some physical team building activity. I look over at my daughter in her tartan skirt, embroidered white shirt, knee high socks and think “NO FUCKING WAY”. I turn back to the front page again and read it even closer and there it is in the second paragraph. “Students need to wear their PE uniforms for this trip.”

OF COURSE THEY DO.

I lose it. I am trying hard not to yell at my daughter, even though she has had the form for a WEEK. I mean, stuff happens, and I’m not the most organized, so I cut her some slack. I turn around so she can change. I get within a mile of home when the last terrible realization of the morning hits me.

Me: “Cheyenne, let me see that form again.”

{Hands it to me and sure enough right there was the thing that I had skipped over, twice}

Me: “Cheyenne, your field trip is tomorrow.”

Ever sent your kids on a plane unaccompanied? No? It’s nerve-wracking. I sent my kids out west to see my Mom and my sister for ten days. I am so happy for the ten days of peace. But every moment until I get in the call that my mom has seen the whites of their eyes is sheer hell. It’s doubly hell for me, because my kids had to change planes in Phoenix. I told my daughter TEN TIMES to call me when they got there, before they got on their next (and last) plane. But did she? Of course she didn’t, this qualifies as torture.

They made it to Portland, OR just fine though.

I spent the first day of their time away in pajamas and sleeping the day away.

I regret nothing.

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.

Tomorrow my son turns ten. Y’all do NOT know how excited I am not to have a kid in the single digits anymore. Seriously. In any case, he’s a pretty cool cat. In honor of my son (a resolute gamer) here are ten signs you know that you are living with a gamer;

1- When driving and you ask him to ‘keep and eye out’ for the road you’re looking for, he tells you he’s doing recon.

2- When helping him cook onions and few escape the frying pan he tells you “ENEMIES OUTSIDE THE PERIMETER”

3- You don’t have worry about him finding porn on youtube, he’s watching gaming videos.

4- He knows exactly what to do in case of the zombie apocalyspe.

5- You hear “KILL, KILL” from the basement and you aren’t worried.

6- The most precious currency is XBox points.

7- He knows more about guns (real and fake) then you do.

8- He’ll mod your controller buttons if you want him to. Also, when playing games with him, take longer than a second to move and he’ll lose his shit.

9- When he’s talking about an expansion pack, he is not talking about the size of your butt.

10- Everything he knows about WWII, he learned from video games.

My son has asked Call of Duty Expansion Pack for his birthday. Gifts you can’t wrap, that’s life with a gamer.

I love you, Trace.

I had a moment of frustration this morning. A moment that is going to cost me nearly $300.00.

My son was sitting at the counter and SUPPOSED to be eating breakfast, except when I came back upstairs he was STILL playing a game on his iTouch and we had to leave in about 5 minutes. He does this shit to me EVERY MORNING, with something.

I snapped.

I snatched that iTouch out of his hand and threw it to the opposite calendar and told him to EAT!!! He was unfazed by my tantrum and calmly started to eat after letting me know that he was ‘almost done’. Dude, whatever. I stopped listening to him because when that iTouch hit the counter it made a distinctive sound. The sound only a screen cracking can make. I stole a glance at it, and sure enough the screen was in 50 pieces. Panic mode. My objective at that point was to make sure my son didn’t see it before he left for school. That is not river of tears I wanted to face first thing in the morning. Mission accomplished.

After getting the kids off to school, I called the ex to see if I could con him to buying Trace a new one (his birthday is coming up). He asked what happened to his old one and I fed him line about dropping it. He called bullshit. Dammit. He was unsympathetic to my plight after hearing the true story.

This isn’t a question of whether he will get a new one or not. I broke it, and it needs to be replaced. To the tune of $274.00.

I blame the waffles.

I don’t often complain about my kids’ teachers, mainly because they have to put up with my kids. I’m pretty sure they deserve a medal or something. But leave it to me to find something to bitch about.

First, you have to understand that I’m pretty sure this teacher thinks my son is the next Columbine shooter. Seriously. When we had our first parent/ teacher conference she flipped through his writing journal to show me my son’s artwork. Yes, I just said that. Instead of writing he had been drawing. And not just any illustrations – oh no, he had decided to recreate his favorite scenes from his video games. Games like, Call of Duty, Left for Dead, and so on. His gun drawings were very realistic. I tried to explain that my son’s father was a gunsmith, so guns were a fact of life for us. I don’t have any in the home any more, but my ex often had guns and gun parts -it’s not like my son hadn’t every seen a weapon.

Anyway, clearly she has issues with my parenting skills. She’s a great teacher, and my son does well in her class, so truly this is not about her.

My son has this Left for Dead 2 T-Shirt. He’s worn it a couple of times, but I guess this was ONE TIME TOO MANY.

The back of the shirt had the game logo on it

He was told it was ‘inappropriate’. I have to tell you, I am that child’s mother, and that is NOT EVEN CLOSE to the most inappropriate thing he does.

Also, SUCK IT.