Rants waiting to happen...
I am angry with my spawn and frustrated with spinning more than the usual number of plates, some of which I can't talk about in public, was publicly humiliated today for reasons beyond my control and I'm snapping at everyone. In short, it's another Friday.
Spawn. Oh spawn o' mine, I haven't strangled you yet. Boy got in trouble earlier this week, when he stayed after school for baseball workouts and forgot that he was supposed to have a violin lesson at 5:15. That is, he received a reminder text from me at 3:45 p.m. that he was to be in front of the high school with his violin at 4:45 p.m. for Jimmy to pick him up. He acknowledged... then forgot and got on the bus anyway. He got home at 5:20, without the violin. So he was not only late to his lesson, he didn't have his instrument.
Cue the Mom-rant, up one side and down the other, about wasting his teacher's time, wasting Jimmy's time (as he sat in front of the high school for him) and my time (knocking off work early to drive him over to the violin lesson). Seems he left the violin in the cafeteria, and fortunately it found its way back to the orchestra room. That got him an extra scolding about respect for the instrument I spent three years paying off.
Now, it's been subzero temperatures all week here in sunny Illinois. Boy catches the bus at 5:45 a.m., a bone-chilling concept even when it isn't this cold. It's been as low as -24 degrees, and still I have to yell at him to wear his coat. He thinks a hoodie is enough. I told him that in subzero weather, it takes five minutes for frostbite to set in. I've shown him pictures of frostbite, courtesy of the news. Boy has a skull of adamantium.
Today I texted him a reminder that he is to arrive home a) wearing pants, b) wearing his winter coat, and c) carrying his violin if he expects to get today's code to the entertainment system. His response necessitated a brief discussion in whether texts can portray a snot-nose teenager tone, which I settled with, "Yes they can, and quit it."
(Why "wearing pants"? Because the baseball players work out in athletic shorts and t-shirts... and he is too lazy to change back before getting on the bus. My boy, the supergenius.)
Sure enough, he arrived home tonight in athletic shorts and a hoodie, no coat, no violin, according to Jimmy, who was waiting for him. I gave him a good old-fashioned phone-yelling and reminded him that once in junior high he made a habit of ditching his coat in cold temperatures. I got a friendly call from the school asking if we were having financial trouble and did I need them to put me in touch with a charity organization that could help my son get a coat? Gah.
Somebody's going to see my brain-trust spawn coming home from school in shorts during the polar vortex and call DCFS on my ass. "No, my son isn't suffering from criminal neglect; just a shortage of brain cells." Yet I cannot drive to the school and force him to put on his damn coat. Not to mention forgetting his violin means he can't practice over the weekend.
This and other things have made me unduly cranky, a rant waiting to happen. Boy got the worst of it, but he had it coming. Others really didn't, and got it anyway, for which I apologize.
And now I'd best turn what's left of my energy into writing, because I have to work the night shift tomorrow. That should cheer me right the hell up.
Spawn. Oh spawn o' mine, I haven't strangled you yet. Boy got in trouble earlier this week, when he stayed after school for baseball workouts and forgot that he was supposed to have a violin lesson at 5:15. That is, he received a reminder text from me at 3:45 p.m. that he was to be in front of the high school with his violin at 4:45 p.m. for Jimmy to pick him up. He acknowledged... then forgot and got on the bus anyway. He got home at 5:20, without the violin. So he was not only late to his lesson, he didn't have his instrument.
Cue the Mom-rant, up one side and down the other, about wasting his teacher's time, wasting Jimmy's time (as he sat in front of the high school for him) and my time (knocking off work early to drive him over to the violin lesson). Seems he left the violin in the cafeteria, and fortunately it found its way back to the orchestra room. That got him an extra scolding about respect for the instrument I spent three years paying off.
Now, it's been subzero temperatures all week here in sunny Illinois. Boy catches the bus at 5:45 a.m., a bone-chilling concept even when it isn't this cold. It's been as low as -24 degrees, and still I have to yell at him to wear his coat. He thinks a hoodie is enough. I told him that in subzero weather, it takes five minutes for frostbite to set in. I've shown him pictures of frostbite, courtesy of the news. Boy has a skull of adamantium.
Today I texted him a reminder that he is to arrive home a) wearing pants, b) wearing his winter coat, and c) carrying his violin if he expects to get today's code to the entertainment system. His response necessitated a brief discussion in whether texts can portray a snot-nose teenager tone, which I settled with, "Yes they can, and quit it."
(Why "wearing pants"? Because the baseball players work out in athletic shorts and t-shirts... and he is too lazy to change back before getting on the bus. My boy, the supergenius.)
Sure enough, he arrived home tonight in athletic shorts and a hoodie, no coat, no violin, according to Jimmy, who was waiting for him. I gave him a good old-fashioned phone-yelling and reminded him that once in junior high he made a habit of ditching his coat in cold temperatures. I got a friendly call from the school asking if we were having financial trouble and did I need them to put me in touch with a charity organization that could help my son get a coat? Gah.
Somebody's going to see my brain-trust spawn coming home from school in shorts during the polar vortex and call DCFS on my ass. "No, my son isn't suffering from criminal neglect; just a shortage of brain cells." Yet I cannot drive to the school and force him to put on his damn coat. Not to mention forgetting his violin means he can't practice over the weekend.
This and other things have made me unduly cranky, a rant waiting to happen. Boy got the worst of it, but he had it coming. Others really didn't, and got it anyway, for which I apologize.
And now I'd best turn what's left of my energy into writing, because I have to work the night shift tomorrow. That should cheer me right the hell up.
My brother did that kind of stuff, until he caught pneumonia. He quit being an idiot then. Sometimes they have to learn the hard way. If Simon pulled that, he'd lose a day of gaming privileges for every infraction, add another if he tries being a smartass.
ReplyDeleteGood luck. :)
I have similar days with my older son Max.
ReplyDeleteMy braintrust oldest son never did have a coat the last two years, and he was walking a mile and a half to school! If it got into the 20s, he'd swipe my leather jacket. (the combined IQ of the 4 people in my household was somewhere around 600. Nobody checked to see if the crockpot was plugged in when I called and told them to turn it on)
ReplyDelete