Summer Jobs

I love my kids. No really, I do. They’re funny, inventive, creative, boisterous, argumentative, belligerent, cantankerous, hormonal, quarrelsome (but we call this petulant because it sounds way cooler)……..WAIT! I’m trying to tell you how great they are and I got side tracked by this morning’s “conversation” with my daughter as I was leaving for work. Yeah, early morning conversations with teenaged girls are my favorite. Goes well with a nice, hot cup of coffee. Lots of sugar and milk. In the coffee, not over my daughter’s head. Here I go digressing again…….that’s what I do people, and I do it oh so well!

Back to my opening comment; I love my kids. Now that final exams are over and school is out for the summer I had a brief moment of peace before I realized that SCHOOL WAS OUT FOR THE SUMMER! I’m not married. I work a full-time job in addition to my many mommythingsIdothatnooneelsecandobecausetheydon’tdothemright. Oh for the love of God what the hell am I going to do with the offspring?!?!?

We took this past weekend and spent it at the beach. I figured we all deserved a break. There you go guys, there’s your vacation! Hope you had a good time now get a job. Is that cruel?

Yea, I thought not.

Spawn is off to Pensacola to work with FAPOS for the next three weeks. One down, one to go.

Spawnette. Ahhhhh, Spawnette. *Big sigh*

“Sweet Pea? Have you thought about getting a job for the summer?”

“I’ll work at that shoe store by the lake.”

“Honey? Not gonna happen. You come by your shoe-whoreness naturally so nope, don’t even think about it.”

“I’ll work at the mall.”

“Sugar? How are you going to get there? You don’t drive and I work all day. On the other side of town. In the opposite direction. Is there anything close by that you would be happy doing?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to fill me in?”

“’Kay.”

“And?”

“I wanna be a Movie Critic.”

“A Movie Critic? Now that is an aspiration I had not aimed for when I was 15. Tell me Sweetling, how are you going to become a movie critic?” (As I think to myself of her difficulties speaking, let alone writing, in complete sentences. And she wants to become a movie critic?!?!?)

“You know that list you made?”

“Which one? I’m a compulsive list maker.”

“The one you just updated.”

“That narrows it down to about twelve.”

“The color-coded one.”

“Oh, the updated list of our DVD’s?”

“Yeah.”

“And how does this help you get a job as a Movie Critic?”

“I’m gonna watch all the movies.”

“And?”

“I’m gonna rate them for you. “

“That sounds arduous.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind, go on.”

“I figure if I watch four movies a day everyday of summer break I can be done before school starts.”

“Perfect, Honey, I’ll let your dad know so he can send you a paycheck.”

“Sweet....hey Mom? We’re out of popcorn.”

All In The Family

This past weekend the spawn spent time with FAPOS (acronym for Fat Ass Piece Of Shit) or, as I usually refer to their dad, Satan. He doesn’t live here in town so they only have to see him (oops, did I say that) every other weekend. As he was not in town for their birthdays a week and a half ago, a party was planned for his side of the family to get together and celebrate spawn’s and spawnette’s birthdays. Now before eyes start rolling and heads start shaking, I need to fill you in and let you guys get to know “the other side of the family” before you start to judge.

I. Love. My. Ex.’s. Parents. Big Daddy and Grandma are two of the most wonderful people I know. I never married their only off-spring but to me they are still my family. FAPOS and I split up approximately fourteen years ago and had it not been for his parents, our lives (the spawn and I) would have been extremely difficult. It goes to prove that even though we are well educated, loving, compassionate, and God-fearing people, there’s no guarantee our kids will be. Crap, that means my children still have the capability of turning into serial killers, arsonists, or stock-brokers.

So anywho, back to the party. You already know I’m from the South. Big Daddy is one of three locals left that is actually a native of our “Just This Side Of The Georgia State Line” town. Grandma was born and raised in Alabama. As you can imagine, it’s a totally different dialect when we’re visiting their home. Now, the birthday parties aren’t just for parents and grandparents, no-siree-bob! We invite the whole family: aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, the whole kit n’ kabootle. And can the family arrive just baring gifts? No, they bring along with them any livestock within arms reach as they jump into their cars on their way across town. The finally tally was as follows: one mom, one FAPOS, one grandfather, two grandmothers, three aunts, three uncles, one niece, four nephews, three dogs, three kittens (that were trying to be handed off to any unsuspecting family member), and four baby chickens. Chickens, I say…..CHICKENS! Someone brought frickin’ chickens to my childrens’ birthday celebration!

Hey, at least I knew what we were having for dinner.