Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Late night drunken ramblings..

Bah! I want my life back!
I am sick of working soooooooo much (and really, I usually am off at least 1 day M-F, but it's not enough this time of year); I want my life back of having a clean house, planned menus, organized children-- life is too chaotic these days, and for what, I ask you? For money?
I come from a nominally wealthy family, and I can tell you, when you die it doesn't matter how much you've banked during your lifetime...someone is going to be an asshole to get their hands on it, and you were too busy earning it to enjoy spending it while you were still alive-- and why work so hard to make some asshole happy? Besides, my wealthy family were miserable so and so's, and they all died in some manner of coveting their cash with almost no happiness to show for it. Sorry bastids... I wouldn't wish wealth on anyone. Give me contentment and a wee bit more than hand-to-mouth... keeps you honest and forces you to be creative.

I enjoy working casual in Burlington, I absolutely, positively do; no commitment, work only until 12 or so, happy faces all around. No politics, no weekends, no call. How much more fabulous can you get? Plus, it's relatively predictable, somewhat easy, and the staff is super nice. Awesome! I could work there and be happy forevermore. But nooooooooo.....
I calculated how much Grace's schooling will cost for the fall, and it's somewhere around $9000-- ack! I am soooooo sick of chasing the jobs, hours and $ around to make those tuition payments. I sure do wish I could trust my girrrrl to cope in the public school environment (I know *I* would hate it, but Grace is more of a culture-chaser than I was at her age), and BHS is more diverse, yet smaller, than my alma mater, providing a safe and interesting HS experience. It would appear that the classes at BHS are more varied in their offerings, as well, giving Grace a better opportunity to try new things on the taxpayer's dime, so she can spread her wings before her education and foibles into adulthood/self discovery become more expensive again.

Unfortunately, Grace has already bought into the crap that the other kids won't like her (yet, why should she care?), which really makes me sad. Already, at 15, my girl is defeated into thinking people will give her a hard time, right off the bat. Boo. I think she's waaay too much like her mother, who only had a small repertoire of casual friends in HS and the permanent boyfriend, who took precedence over all... which isn't SO bad, but makes for lonely times when you're between boyfriends (and when you've been married for a lot of years and your husband lacks communication skills, sadly). I wish, oh how I wish, that teenage girls weren't such shits, and didn't use my kid for a scratching post, but adults are shits, too, and shit repelling skills are useful to establish at any age. Best to start now...

On an funny note (not so funny for Jacob, tho), some girl has been giving Jacob troubles at school of late. I've tried rationalizing with him, letting him know that she probably has a secret crush on him (man, could I kick serious 3rd grade boy butt when I was a 9 year old in LOVE), but he isn't convinced. He says that this vixen has the staff duped by using some sort of "I statement" crap to keep Jacob from complaining to the teacher about her harassment... so I pulled out the old "my big sister will kick your butt" chestnut, which Jacob dismissed out of hand. He said that he's pretty sure that Grace wouldn't rough up a 9 year old girl, no matter how much grief she's causing her little brother.... such the rational little dude, sadly. He'd rather suffer in silence than enjoy the fantasy of his nemesis getting her due. Is being a softy an asset, or a liability? Hard to say... but when you're continuing to fight the wads at the local landscape company, standing up for yourself can be pretty empowering (even if said wads threaten legal action for posting photos of the damage they did to your property, as if faeries in the night did it, instead of a bozo with a dumptruck).
Time for bed...

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