Thursday, September 10, 2009

Things that BUG me.

well first of all, thanks for the comments on the mandatory post entry. feel free to weigh in at any time with any ideas you have for my life. I am so overwhelmed and terrified. I checked to see if God is on twitter but I didn't see any tweets about my life path. sigh.

secondly, the patio project is finished. It wasn't glamorous or anything but man is it SO much more usable!! It has cute lights hanging out there at night but I can't get a good picture of it. there's also a little fountain with a light. And flameless candles. its just so cute and neato. And we will actually sit out there when the weather is less than hotter than hell.

However, I think the project may have stirred up some things I'm not at all happy about. We have lived here in this house for NINE years and I have never ONCE seen a roach in this house. We've had ants and an occasional spider but never one single roach. This week there's been TWO! OH.MY.GOD. I could die.

Ok so let's take a journey back in time. I was 19. I moved into my own little shit hole apartment on Q street. For those of you not from here, it was just on the border of the hood. Lots of drugs and unsavory people but I was oblivious. I had a cute little loft with twinkle lights and no A/C. One night I went to step into my hot bath and a roach the size of my hand caught my eye. I screamed, burst into tears, and ran out of the room to call my mother.

that's right. I called my mommy. to tell her there was a roach in my bathroom (which was shut now so the demonic insect could not escape). I don't remember what she said or how much laughter she stifled while I cried but we hung up. I put on TWO isotoner leather gloves and TWO rubber gloves...all on one hand. yes. and I armed myself with the Dow foaming bathtub cleaner (you know, scrubby bubbles). I sprayed the bastard with the foam and then waited for him to die. this became my favorite method of dealing with bugs of all sorts because the foam covers them up so you don't have to watch them die. Then the foamy stuff clings to the 18 paper towels (18 so you don't have to FEEL any part of the creature in your hand) and you barely have to close your fingers. Then you dump it in the toilet and flush and cry.

And one time, about a year or 2 ago, I saw a black widow in my garage. she was probably ill because the bug man, who comes monthly, had just been here. She was right in my foot path and I was barefoot. The what-if's alone nearly sent me over the edge. i was GOING to walk, in the DARK, to the washer and move the clothes to the dryer. but at the last minute I flipped the light on to find the spider. I cried. I couldn't scream because Cliff was asleep nearby. I didn't have any Dow handy, do I did the next best thing. I dropped a gallon paint can, full, on her. Then I continued to do the freak-out dance and cry some more.

So as you can see, I do not handle bugs well. Seeing these 2 roaches in my home does not make me happy. My house is NOT dirty. Crayons in corners and sippy cups under the table don't count. My house gets cleaned every week!

this has to be from the outside construction, yes? ugh!!!
Oh I forgot to mention that the one tonight tried to kill me.

I was typing on facebook and out of the corner of my eye saw the little bastard and said out loud "oooh, noooooo, this can't be. this is unacceptable!!" so I put cliff's helmet/toy over the top of it and stomped into the kitchen for some spray. I came back and sprayed the thing copiously and then sprayed all the thresholds and corners. And then, i stepped in some of the spray with my heel, had zero traction and flew into the air, after nearly breaking my ankle, and landed on my back. I just laid there for a second, Raid can in my hand to take in the moment. I said, again out loud, "that sucked. ow. fucking roaches!" and then got up.
Henry commented, upon hearing of the incident, "for spiders, roaches, and klutzes". thanks. Can we sell the house now?!

As for Kindergarten, things are Ok. cliff is getting in trouble a little here and there for not listening. and for talking. he's antsy. he gets "time outs". I'm trying to not be up his butt about it while still trying to impress upon him that its important to do his best and listen. This week he has improved as the week has gone on. I express my frustrations with Cliff pretty honestly with certain people. Certain people make me feel better and understand, and other people make me feel like a piece of shit. I had a little of the latter this week but tried to shake it off. I'm just annoyed with the expectations of society that boys be robots. When I was in kindergarten, I cried every single day. the boys in my class, hit, and spit, and said bad words. I don't remember it EVER being a crisis. And Kindergartners are learning to read. My friends tell me that 3rd graders are learning the 3 branches of government and long division. 6th graders do algebra. this is crazy!! their brains are literally not mature and finished developing! And we expect little kids to sit still and grasp these concepts? And out of the other side of "our" mouths we have "no child left behind"...? I don't get it. In kindergarten, we did art and cutting and pasting (I've yet to see any evidence of paste or a glue stick because how could they possibly have time to do any ART when they are only there for THREE HOURS and they have to learn to READ!?!?) and we played...alot.

Anyway, frustrations with the system aside, I know very well what cliff's issues are. But I wouldn't call them abnormal or label them necessarily. But the person that made me feel like shit actually referred to it as "problems". "He has problems". grrrrrr. I have investigated explanations with an open mind and always just come back to the same conclusion. He's Henry's prodigy, he's full-on hyper active, and he's smart. and manipulative. and social. and sensitive. and immature. I don't think he "has problems". I think he's a pain in the ass, but I don't think he "has problems". grrrr. THAT BUGGED ME!!

Other than "his problems" he is doing great with his homework. and I look at the stuff they do in class and it seems he's listening to directions and what not. And his letters have improved just in this short amount of time.

I just hope he'll be able to write the "Gettysburg Address" in cursive and balance my checkbook by the end of Kindergarten so I can feel up to snuff with the world's expectations. I expect him to create his own website next year.

and speaking of expectations...the competitive parents at Taekwondo. dude. I'm a dance teacher, I'm flexible. I may be a fat-ass but I can kick my leg up. And let me tell you I wanted to do a round house kick into the side of a few dads' heads the other day. Their boys are so aggressive and intense. And the dads are out there talking crap about how their boy took out so and so, and look how he's kicking/hitting. Meanwhile the parent of the other child is right there within ear shot. Dude, they're 5-7 years old!!!! Grow a penis. Go raise your truck or something. Crack open a beer and drink it...anything to shut you the hell up! I'm gonna do a battement tendu into your manhood and a rond de jamb en lair upside your head! You're buggin'!!!


Still waiting on enlightenment, by the way.

Thank God the bug man comes on tuesday. Open up the canister, buddy and pour it on the floor so I can mop with it. bathe the house it in and light a match. just get rid of the critters!!! aaaaaahhhh!!!

1 comment:

  1. I really like your home-made extermination tactics.

    In fact, I think you should employ them with the lady who said Cliff "has problems."

    Problem solved. Bitch.