Blogs of our Fathers

Stella just walked out of "school," as in Home School, saying that I was too mean to teach her.


Sorry children, I'm a bit of a perfectionist and I ask too much of people on a daily basis.

Oh, my word. My poor children. It's too bad for kids in general really, that they have to deal with the baggage of their parents. I'm sure Stella wouldn't choose a mother that would demand she got it right and tried her best every single time. Even if she's only three, and would rather be outside playing in the snow.

If it makes her feel better, it's genetic. Thanks mom. :) And one day she'll inherit the lovely tradition with her own children.

Really, I was just asking for a little focus.

Apparently that was too much. And who can blame the child when there is like four inches of snow outside and we haven't even done school since the beginning of October.....

So much for being that whole Ace Stay At Home Mom thing.


So last night Stella was back to dance after an entire week off for the holidays. Her Monday night class is small. Well, all of her classes are small except for the one she takes with Scarlett on Saturdays, that one has a billion kids in it. But the Monday night class is Stella's favorite.

It's her recreational class. The other classes she takes are all for her competition team(Except the one with Scarlett and that's just because Scarlett is taking one, so she thinks she should too.).

Her competition classes kind of stress her out. And not because they expect more, although sometimes she is overwhelmed by that. She's three.

Her competition team stresses her out because I'm not kidding you, there is drama like you would not believe.

Well, between two girls in particular.

They hate each other.

They hate each other. The two youngest girls in the class, one of them isn't even three yet! We are talking pulling hair, punching, choking.... It's craziness. The mom's are at their wits end. They have these lovely little girls and then once they're alone in the room with each other, bam, WWF.

And it will start with just a little bump into each other while they're dancing around. Nothing mean or purposeful but that turns in to a whole, "Oh no you didn't." situation with snapping fingers and flipping hair, then comes the Circle-Stare-Down, where they literally walk in a tiny child size fighting circle staring each other down, daring the other one to make the first move. It's like The Real Housewives Of New Jersey reenacted every Wednesday evening and Saturday afternoon.

People you can't make this stuff up.

But Stella and the other girls in the class too, don't even know what to do about it. They're all, I thought we were having fun? While the Hulk Hogan and Jake the Snake battle it out in the ring.

Am I aging myself with my wrestling knowledge? Or lack there of?

Competition is going to be awesome. Think Little Miss Sunshine meets Predator Vs. Alien. Don't think I won't be standing front and center with my video camera ready to capture the throw down and make millions.


I'm an opportunist!

Anyways, my overly sensitive little girl (Sorry Stella, that's also genetic....) is very concerned about it. And so class tends to stress her out a little bit.

Anyways, so Monday night is her favorite class. It has two of her friends from competition in it, one of them is the UFC Champion, but she is really the sweetest girl, so away from her Arch Nemesis she does just fine, and then the class has two slightly older girls in it.

Her Monday Night class was however my least favorite class. I know the moms from competition. it's easy to talk to them, plus they are always up for talking.

Unlike the moms of the Monday night class.

For whatever reason Monday night moms used to be just straight anti-social. We all sat there, in our own worlds, not conversing, not socializing, not doing anything.

One of the moms would bring her Bible Study and literally work on it the entire time, not looking up to talk or watch her daughter once. And then there's me, who has Scarlett the Terrible with my every week and so I would have to chase her down every three seconds to keep her from interrupting the classes going on. And then there is another mom with another little boy who is only two months older than Scar and so she was in the same boat I was in, and unfortunately for her and I, up until last night our children didn't like each other either.

And then the fourth mom, who is another competition mom and usually there during classes the rest of the week is not for some reason on Monday.

So we were this quiet group of ladies, up until last night when everybody decided it was conversation time. And Scarlett and the Little Boy decided to get along like there were best friends since birth.

One of the other moms is pregnant just a few weeks behind me and so we were catching up on the Hell that is the Third Trimester and she was asking me how I was sleeping.

She of course isn't sleeping, totally normal for this far along, usually we all turn into insomniacs, walking through life as elephant zombies.

But for me, I have been sleeping all the way through the night, better than I have in any other trimester in any other pregnancy. Once I hit the pillow I'm completely out, sleeping harder than I ever have before!

And as I was telling her this, I was making little jokes and she was laughing and so I felt like I could go farther, so I decided to open up about what it was like when I finally woke up about 6AM.

I of course have to pee more than I ever have before. I'm usually in so much pain and about to wet the bed that I have to run to the bathroom, only since I haven't moved all night my sciatic nerve is locked up completely and so I can barely move. I have to hobble, half drag myself to the bathroom, limping and grunting and practically crying the entire way.

It's a sight. Let me assure you of that. Thankfully Zach usually sleeps through it, otherwise he just might assume the Bride of Frankenstein has decided to attack.

But in my proper, intellectual, lady-like fashion when I was telling her the story I actually used the word, "Pee."

The first time I let it slip out, I saw the kind of shock in her eyes as the word settled in and I kept talking. Nothing too rude or overtly offended, but I still noticed the shock.

So in my head, I'm like next time I should probably use a more appropriate phrase, such as use the restroom, or bathroom, or facilities or something other than PEE.

But on went my story.

And on went my use of the word, Pee. It just kept coming out, over and over and over. I don't even know what I was talking about to where I needed to use the word so many times. I sounded crass and vulgar. And it's not even that bad of a word, right?

But to this woman, who soon turned real laughter into polite, and was suddenly unable to look me in the eyes, I might has well have been saying the F word a thousand times in front of her children.

On and on the story went, all about Pee. Pee this and Pee that. It was literally like word vomit. I couldn't stop it from falling out of my mouth. My brain had decided to function entirely of it's own will, daring this woman to just walk out of the room all together.


Thankfully, Scarlett eventually got up and ran off and so I was forced to follow her, go around the corner and slap myself. It was one of those whole, "Get ahold of yourself." situations, only I was all alone, doing it to myself.

Don't mind the split personalities, we're all very sweet once you get to know us.

Some of us are just more grotesque than others.

Next time I think I'll use the phrase, "Piss," and see what that does.

I'll have the whole studio empty in a matter of seconds.


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