First, allow me to properly congratulate the RHS on her fantastic audition and subsequent receipt of the coveted role of The Witch in "Into the Woods." Even if there had been competition, she still would have gotten it. The rest of the sixth grade girls have no vision. That role is clearly the best in the play, but all the dumb girls wanted to be Cinderella. Morons. The RHS will be fantastic. We all know she's dramatic, and she'll do justice to this role as she always does. Maybe even better.
And now on to the reasons why I am an actual witch, instead of just playing the role of one.
1. The RHS came home from school on the Day of Barfing to find that she had no bed. That is to say, she had no bed frame. There were mattresses. I'm not that cruel. One too many times she shoved all her stuff under the bed and made it so the bedspread hung down to the floor, covering the junk, in order to say her room was clean so she could go play with friends. Now there is no "under the bed." Problem solved. Sadly, the loss of the bed threw the child into some kind of fit, where she screamed "I hate you!" several times at the top of her lungs, and also yelled out other things like, "I'm doomed!" and "Oh, the Horror!" This went on for about an hour, during witch I laughed a most evil laugh. Tears streamed down my face, and I gasped for breath. I couldn't help it--that's how wicked I truly am.
2. Daltonboy, jr. chose not to come home from school. Apparently he thought we had a standing agreement that he could just not show up any time he wanted, and I'd assume he was at a friend's house. I put an end to that by calling him at the friend's house and telling him he had to come home, right in the middle of his pizza, gaming, and "hanging out." Cruel and unusual.
3. While the RHS was sick, I refused to give her pizza, which she was craving. This, to me, seems like a no brainer, considering what was all over the couch a short time ago. In fact, I have a hard time figuring out how in the world she could have ever wanted to eat pizza again, but the point is, I am mean because it's all she wanted, and she was sick. Gatorade and toast for you, my dear, until I've fattened you up enough to warrant heating the oven. (More evil cackling.)
There's probably more, but it's so engrained in my lifestyle that I don't recognize it sometimes. I don't do almost-grown people's laundry for them; I don't clean my kids' rooms; I don't give dessert most days; Everyone has to do homework as soon as they come home from school (after a treat); I make them do like one chore a day, working their fingers to the bone while I sit around and blog.
Don't try to reform me. I'm too far gone. Someone just throw a bucket of water on me and start dancing and singing.
5 comments:
Wow... you're like Hitler.
Props to you for actually making them be humans.
Incidentally, shouldn't the phrase "at the top of her lungs" be more like, "from the bottom of her lungs"? Because the diaphragm is where the power comes from, right?
Also Coop, they're a far cry from being human yet. But I'm trying. My last words will probably be, "I'm melting! I only tried to make you be human! I'm melting, ahhhhhhhhhh. . ."
And you're not just plain wicked, you're a wicked STEPMOTHER. How cool is that?
I get told "you're mean" multiple times a day, often in loud tones. But for the last few days, in between the "you're mean" accusations, I've also been told "I love you" a lot. That's because I just got my daughter a Game Boy Advance, which everyone knows is the basis of love.
Stay strong, friend. You've only succeeded when your kids are warped irreparably and are beyond the reach of amendment.
Man, that bed thing was GENIOUS. Perv has the opposite problem. His bed is about three feet off the ground---plenty of room under there---and yet there are clothes and suitcases and boxes scattered EVERYWHERE ELSE in the room. He even has a huge closet he's not using. Under the bed (prime storage space for students) remains immaculate. The thing is, I don't even actually have the right to make him change anything because I am not a parental figure. However, the stench from his room has started seeping into the rest of the house, so we're going to have the "you have the right to make your own decisions and live your own life, but sometimes your bad decisions and sloppy life habits have negative effects on other people like me who mops and vacuums the house with no help from you and who works every day to keep it in good clean order and who makes pumpkin bread that you devour" talk. We'll see how it goes.
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