Saturday morning caffeine-fueled rant:
March Madness is not being kind to me. So far one of my sweet sixteen (‘Bama) and two of my elite eights are gone (Kansas, Syracuse) UCLA sucked and generally I am deader in the pool than William Shatner’s wife. (Oh, that is so wrong . . .)
I’d like to introduce a new feature to a.L.B.b that we like to call:
You know you’re a parent when:
You know you’re a parent when you yell at the top of your lungs; “Lower your voice, young lady.”
Speaking of being a parent, we had our parent-teacher conference. Since Ann Caroline is in first grade, I can see the need for a parent teacher conference. Especially now, they are teaching at such a higher level than we were taught.
At one point the teacher said “Ann Caroline is doing really with her antonyms.” Are you kidding me? When I was in first grade it was; “Alex isn’t eating nearly as many pencil erasers as he used to.”
But when we had a parent-teacher conference in kindergarten, it was a bit much. In kindergarten all you want to know are two things: does my kid eat paste? Is my kid the stinky kid?
Again, not to brag, but Ann Caroline got such a glowing review by her first grade teacher, I could veritably hear my dearly departed parents saying; “This is B.S. He should have to go through what we went through.”
Survived the Lex’s pet peeve trifecta-plus-one last night. The Soup Plantation had better food than I remembered and worse behaved kids then I expected. Folks, if your kid is screaming, take them outside. Got it?
Dancing with A.C. was fun. We did the obligatory her-feet-on-my-feet as well as the Y.M.C.A. and the “Animal House” “Shout” including getting down on the floor.
The fundraising shakedown wasn’t too bad and I only thought blood was going to come out of my ears a couple of times due to thirty little girls screaming at once. The room was hot and stuffy but I didn’t have to wear a suit or tie so I survived. Came home to a glass of vino and TiVo’d NCAA – and besides watching Kansas hose me like a
Paris Hilton blind date– it was a truly pleasant evening.
Before she went to bed, Ann Caroline came down with her teeth brushed and in her puppy P.J.’s with a well-written “Thank you” note for taking her to the dance.
OK, whose kid is this, again?
http://www.hoobastank.com/v5/index.asp
March Madness is not being kind to me. So far one of my sweet sixteen (‘Bama) and two of my elite eights are gone (Kansas, Syracuse) UCLA sucked and generally I am deader in the pool than William Shatner’s wife. (Oh, that is so wrong . . .)
I’d like to introduce a new feature to a.L.B.b that we like to call:
You know you’re a parent when:
You know you’re a parent when you yell at the top of your lungs; “Lower your voice, young lady.”
Speaking of being a parent, we had our parent-teacher conference. Since Ann Caroline is in first grade, I can see the need for a parent teacher conference. Especially now, they are teaching at such a higher level than we were taught.
At one point the teacher said “Ann Caroline is doing really with her antonyms.” Are you kidding me? When I was in first grade it was; “Alex isn’t eating nearly as many pencil erasers as he used to.”
But when we had a parent-teacher conference in kindergarten, it was a bit much. In kindergarten all you want to know are two things: does my kid eat paste? Is my kid the stinky kid?
Again, not to brag, but Ann Caroline got such a glowing review by her first grade teacher, I could veritably hear my dearly departed parents saying; “This is B.S. He should have to go through what we went through.”
Survived the Lex’s pet peeve trifecta-plus-one last night. The Soup Plantation had better food than I remembered and worse behaved kids then I expected. Folks, if your kid is screaming, take them outside. Got it?
Dancing with A.C. was fun. We did the obligatory her-feet-on-my-feet as well as the Y.M.C.A. and the “Animal House” “Shout” including getting down on the floor.
The fundraising shakedown wasn’t too bad and I only thought blood was going to come out of my ears a couple of times due to thirty little girls screaming at once. The room was hot and stuffy but I didn’t have to wear a suit or tie so I survived. Came home to a glass of vino and TiVo’d NCAA – and besides watching Kansas hose me like a
Paris Hilton blind date– it was a truly pleasant evening.
Before she went to bed, Ann Caroline came down with her teeth brushed and in her puppy P.J.’s with a well-written “Thank you” note for taking her to the dance.
OK, whose kid is this, again?
http://www.hoobastank.com/v5/index.asp
posted by Alex at
11:06 AM
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