TO: Debbie
RE: Tonight’s Homework
For the record it’s 5:25pm. I have finished my Bombay Sapphire, nothing with it other than six vermouth soaked “Tipsy” olives. I used no ice cubes as we have a fridge with a bottom freezer and my kids have a history of licking the cubes and returning them to the freezer so I quit making ice. Just as well, I need the freezer space for food. I blame the homework program, that ridiculous on line Raz-Kids thing (I’m still not sure why Madie just missed question #5), and the fact that our household has been more than a little stressed out as my husband went and quit his job on Friday. Oh, and didn’t tell me ahead of time. Perfect. At any rate, I blame the one-two punch of homework and household stress on my need to skip the Chardonnay at 7pm and move right to the gin at 4:58pm.
Of course, homework tonight really wasn’t that bad, other than Madie telling me my breath smelled, that she didn’t like me sitting next to her, that she “said that” when she clearly didn’t, etc. Sonia Sotomayor would die to hear the way my daughter insists on pronouncing her name. Madie “gave me the hand” (better than the bird) when I tried to correct her. I digress. The point is while I sat fishing out the olives from my Waterford bar glass (I’m Irish- my mother taught me to drink “right”), I started reviewing the spelling/vocabulary list that starts with #1) calm (I shit you not- I can send you the list). Seriously, tomorrow, Madie stays late to take the school counselor’s (otherwise known as “Barbie”) class about stress and anxiety. I’d like to know when Barbie will start a class for the grown-ups about stress, anxiety, and homework. Ugh.
You are so wired in with all that is our school- maybe this could be a “suggestion” for the next PTA meeting. Or…you could take my kid home tomorrow and do homework. I’ll take yours. It’s got to be better than this. My liver is not going to make it through high school if this crap keeps up. The kicker, my newly unemployed husband was just witness to tonight’s homework process. He commented that it sounded like things went pretty badly. I explained that it wasn’t really considered a “bad” night. At least she didn’t yell at me, throw something or end up hiding under the bed. Apparently, he thought I was making up the homework hell that is our daily ritual. Hope your night was better. I need more olives.

