Luckily, Holden didn’t have school today because we did two days worth yesterday.  That might sound like I’m being tough on him or whatever, but I assure you, I’m not.  After moving the unit on multiplying and dividing fractions to the wrong area of the school year, his school also splits it up into WAY too many lessons.  Eight to explain multiplying with mixed fractions, improper fractions and whole numbers, etc. and then, instead of saying, “Ok, now that you’ve got that down, do the same thing when you divide, except flip the second fraction and multiply times the reciprocal.”  NOOOOO, that would be simple.  Instead they do an equal number of lessons on division.  So I simplified and we did ten hours of needless math in about 15 minutes.

I didn’t come here to discuss the worse points of the K12 curriculum though.  That could go on for a while but wouldn’t be fair, because there are many more good points than bad.  They just need to hire a freak like me with an obsessive knack for detail to fix things when they need revamping.

I spent an hour at physical therapy this morning and then we did the regular Friday grocery store battle with the old people who don’t know which way to walk in a mall, grocery store, or boardwalk (always on the right people, unless it’s England) and with the seasoned pro mommy shoppers who can do all 15 aisles with two toddlers and an infant in under and hour all while changing a diaper and putting various snack items and toys back on the shelves that little hands keep throwing in the cart.  Those women are the ones who should be running things.  Nobody else on earth has multi-tasking down the way moms do.

Then the computer guy finally called to tell me that the new baby was completed and ready to rumble.  I picked it up, plugged everything in, and……..nada.  Freakin’ Windows wouldn’t load.  Most of you haven’t seen me in seething, ready to kill somebody mode, but those who have can attest to the fact that it’s downright scary.  In a seemingly calm state (although my jaw was clenched to tight I thought I’d break a crown, and my entire being was shaking with adrenaline), I put the beast into the car and drove back there.  I’m  proud to say that none of the dudes there has more than one anal orafice as a result of my unharnessed anger.  I kept my cool.  I think I’ve even scored a cheap monitor and a free copy of Office.  We’ll see.  That whole thing about bugs and honey and vinegar?  Works!  I wish I’d realized it a long time ago.

Then Holden had baseball practice and he wants to catch, but he keeps forgetting to bring his cup because he either can’t find it (it was in his Easter basket one time and in the back of my car another), or it doesn’t fit right in the cup pocket thingy.  I had to do some major sewing (at which I suck) to make things fit well last year and tonight I ripped it all out.  I have no idea how you guys live with those floppy appendages, but I’m just glad I don’t have one.  Actually that’s not true.  I’d love to have a penis for just a day to see why men think the way that they do.  That and the obvious other reason.  (To write my name in the snow, what were you thinking? 

He hates baseball.  But every single year, when it’s time to sign up, I give him the option.  It always comes down to the last day.  I ALWAYS remind him that he got really sick of practice the previous year.  And then he invariably says that he won’t mind so much this year, and yes, please, pay 45 dollars so he can hate it again in two weeks, but only after we’ve been assigned to a team that’s counting on us, AND I spend a jillion dollars on new shoes, a catcher’s mit and spongy lining thingamabobs for the batting helmet that we shouldn’t let sit out on the back porch all winter long.

So I came back home, ordered pizza, went back to the computer shop, left without the computer, got the pizza, and finally made it home only to debate ballet slippers again.  But that’s a whole other story and one that I don’t care to tell.  Suffice it to say that if the girl gets a scholarship offer to Juilliard, then I’ll consider buying new dance shoes, until then, she lives with what she has or I’ll rubber band bottlecaps to her slippers for tap shoes and let her dance barefoot otherwise.

She has a dance performance for a county arts festival tomorrow at noon.  I was so elated because this gets me out of baseball practice at the same time.  Then Mr. Banana comes home and tells me practice is at 9.  I said, “in the MORNING?”  Because it never occurred to me that anyone in their right mind would want to run in circles in the sand throwing balls at such an ungodly hour of the morning on a Saturday (or any other day for that matter).

Who wants to take bets on whether or not we show? 

For Supper:  Pizza – either mushroom or pepperoni