So it was all going well...until...
You'd never know it but I'm a writer by trade. Yes, I'm paid to write the most boring technical documents that describe how computers work. Doing this job for a while has sapped what I used to think was boundless creative energy. Now all I want to do is take a nap. So the basic sob story is I've been working for Fortune 50 and Fortune 10 companies and doing very well for myself, when lo and behold, the company I was working for had a RIF. For those of you that don't know that means Reduction In Force. Board members and CEOs get all giddy when I comes to things like this, because for a while it makes their bottom line look great. The only problem is when those pesky customers start asking you for those products you were just selling...what...yesterday?
Then I went to work for the Fourth Reich. As a salaried, excempt employee, I had to PUNCH IN. HELLO? And then if I wanted to leave the premises, I had to ask permission in writing to leave the premises. And when I did do such a think for a parent/teacher conference, my boss said, "No." Hmmmm. Poor man. Didn't know who he was dealing with. I calmly told him that I work to live, and I work hard dammit, but I definitely don't live to work. If he wanted two weeks out of me, I as a professional would give them to him. If however, he wanted to be a dick about it (can you guess which one he chose?), he could consider that day my last day. Because you see I have three beautiful kids. And I mean beautiful. Well, Ethan is going through this awkward stage called puberty at AGE 11!!! But other than the wispy grossness on the top of his lip, I think I'm okay with it. He is very proud to be wearing deodorant. He is also 5'3 1/2" and weighs 115 pounds, and he is all muscle. What can I say? In three months he'll be taller than me, and I'm running everyday to ensure that he outweighs me when that happens.
Joe is the savior. Although he tried really hard to support my walking out, I could tell he was trying to convince himself. After all, now we have no money. It's sad really, we have Heather and Tim for Christmas (little brother and wife et al.) I think I'll so something, or better yet, paint something. NOT. My only talent has been reading and writing, and when I'm pissed, which is usually all of the time now, I don't even do that well.
Other kids? Hmmmmmmm. I have a little lover called Cedric. His name means Battle Chieftan in Gaelic, and although he'd act out all the parts of the battle, he'd run his tiny hiny off. Cedric is a lover not a fighter. He is Ethan's opposite. He is a noodle. In fact that is his moniker: Noodle Boy. He just grows up and never out, so he is constantly wearing floods and it is getting harder and harder to tell them that they are cool.
And then there is Madeline. Why oh why didn't I have another girl? (Ah yes, there are no guarantees in such thing unless you are Tim and Heather (the aforementioned little brother and wife). She is queen, simply put. And she's not exactly the nice queen either. She was darling as a one, two, and three-year old. And then something happened. The Fu*94i2g Fours! Forget the Terrible twos. I could manipulate her to my hearts content. Now???!!! She is expecting a pony for Christmas, or perhaps a full-sized black or white stallion (she can't decide which). In my richer days and when I was speaking to my sister who has put several hexes on me (VERY long story), I bought an antique saddle that fits Madeline perfectly. She knows it is there. She mentions it. And I pretend that she is speaking Greek. She then tries to speak very slowly to get me to try to understand. Yes, the manipulation has done a 180°. My only comfort is that Madeline has been manipulating Joe since the day she was born. She is HIS. She asks him to look into her eyes (which of course he does...he never learns), and then she asks him for something. And he hops to it.
We are having trauma with Cedric. He's never been in a normal classroom, and is so distracted by all the kids that he isn't getting a thing done. While out of work I'm trying to spend a couple of mornings a week with him, and if this kids doesn't have ADD, I don't know who does. He can't remember one thing to the next. He is Dory in Finding Nemo, but I love the little noodle. And that is all for now. Good thing I can type fast. Hope you weren't bored. Talk soon. Natasha