Saturday, March 19, 2005

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?