There is someone living in my basement. No...it isn't my Great Aunt Edie and I'm not talking about my mouse (EVER. I am NOT TALKING about my MOUSE EVER.)It is someone with opposable thumbs. I know this because on the oh-so-rare occasion that it is silent in my house--bahahahahahahahahahaha--sorry--that whole "silent" thing really made me laugh--I hear a toilet flush or a door close. When these things happen I pause for a moment, then think that I am happy that at least SOMEONE flushes the toilet in this house and then I move on to whatever I was doing prior to the door closing or toilet flushing, which in this case, was "talking" to you. One of these days someone is going to come bursting through the basement door at me, expecting a fight, but I'm pretty sure I will continue typing. Unless it is one of my children so-help-me...but they are still too young to try to skip school. Right? And surely I would notice--right? Well, the school would certainly CALL me--RIGHT?! It had BETTER be the polite ghost of some dead relative or I am going to be P-I-S-S-E-D.
So anyway, I dropped Addison off at school this morning and one of the dads (Yes, DADS. They parent, too (unless I am in a pissy mood and feel like bashing them)--in this case MUCH better than I do!)handed me a calligraphied (I don't care if I spelled it wrong because I haven't USED or THOUGHT of the word since the sixth grade when I was thinking abouut making it my career. Yes..."calligraphying" as a career. Of course, I could probably make MUCH more than I'm making right now with my master's degree that is buried beneath old bibs and burp cloths and I'm PRETTY sure that "Calligrophy" school would not have cost FORTY THOUSAND DOLLARS...) envelope with Addison's name and a sweet sticker on it.
Sidebar: On MONDAY. Of this week. I brought in chicken-scratched-dollar-store invitations (that didn't even MATCH!) to Addison's birthday party that is SATURDAY. THIS Saturday. The sweet child with the calligrophied envelope? December 17th. You know--enough time for people to plan and RSVP--oh and to buy their present for Toys 4 Tots because the sweet little girl (who NEVER complains when HER mother combs her hair or asks her to wear clothes that MATCH. Or clothes THAT FIT.) has enough toys (WAIT 'til they see MY house!) and wants to help needier children instead. The beautifully typed invitation was quite clear on the directions unlike my invitations that may or may not have had a phone number OR an address.
I. SUCK. I do--I know I do, but I can't stop myself from sucking (get out of the gutter--THAT stopped long ago...)! This is such a great idea for next year (which we all know I will be lucky to give ANY of my kids parties next year (a lot of you know the July birthday/Halloween celebration story of '09--those who don't, it's pretty much JUST like it sounds!)and several of my friends are just as good as this dad (okay, I'm just gonna say it because we ALL are thinking it--DADS included--this was ALL the mom, right? Unless the mom is like ME so the dad has to make up for it...INTERESTING. Of course, there is always OUR situation: the mom is like ME AND the DAD is like ME. It doesn't make for a good birthday planner, I'll tell you that!). Regardless, I'd better make damn sure I RSVP by the correct date. Now WHERE is that invitation...?
The Neuroscience of Consulting
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