my son will never...

A funny (I promise) insight into the world of being a wife, mom and teacher. Every day when I leave my job as a high school teacher, I think of all of the things my own precious son will never do when he is a teenager. I've decided to write it all down, just to make sure...

Monday, July 14, 2008

Back On the Scene. Really, I'm just bored.


Ummm. My son will never start a blog only to let it die a slow, painful death. So a lot has changed since we last chatted. First of all, I re-read my original postings and they were OK. Not great, not horrible. Just OK. Hopefully this time around is a bit better. Maybe I'll actually stick with it this time. Maybe I'll actually entertain this time. Who am I kidding, I entertain myself every day. You want to know what's REALLY entertaining right now? I live in my parents basement. Yup. Almost 30 years old. Married. Kid. Living with the 'rents. It's not as bad as it sounds (because I think it sounds pretty bad). My husband and I inherited some land and we are building a house. Soon. We put our house on the market because, well, things around here just aren't selling so we didn't know how long it would take. It only took a couple of months. So we found ourselves homeless. And here we are. Literally. Right here. In my parents basement. Typing a blog.


So let's see. Funny teaching stories. Oh. And the boobs. You'd like me to explain the boobs. It's summer, so they're not fresh right now. The teaching stories aren't fresh. The boobs are fresh. I guess. Can boobs be fresh? Anyway. We were trying to get our kids to study this year and giving them different strategies as well as many many bonus points so they would please not fail for the love of God we can't make this any easier for you. So one day I gave them all a bunch of notecards. I told them to go home and write their vocab and definitions down on the notecards. If they did that and brought them back the next day, not only would they get extra credit, but also I would flash them. Wait. Think about it. Now you get it! Unfortunately so did about 6 of the kids and my co-teacher. Just enough to make me bright red and then die of laughter. After that it was over. I couldn't get them back under control before the bell rang. Little bastards. NONE of them did their notecards except one sweet little girl who never even realized what had happened. I guess my boobs aren't quite the bribe they used to be. Damn breastfeeding.
So anyway. We're basement living. Gus thinks it's the best thing ever to live with his Mimi and his Pops. I think he still loves me best, but we'll see how that all plays out depending on how long we are here.
My son will never love any of his teachers more than he loves me even if she promises to flash him.

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