With all the recent media attention about the state of our Nation’s education system, I felt it important; nay, necessary to weigh in on the issue. This is a serious matter, and I fear for my children; what will become of our public school system? What will be awaiting them when they are school age? Will they be taught by such underpaid, unqualified teachers that came out of this troubled education system, who will teach things like how to clean a weapon, score crack without being caught, and launder money? Or will they be educated on the topics of ‘ole; reading, writing and arithmetic? Could there be a happy medium between the two? Yes, Home School.
To Home School, or not to Home School; that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer….oops, sorry, had a Billy Madison flashback. A neighbor of mine Home Schools her children and they are wonderful. Home School is a completely viable option for those parents who have the education and patience to do so; I however, DO NOT.
I tried to imagine this scenario, and wow, it was not pretty. I’m pretty sure my children would not succeed in this world with such knowledge as: The Brady-Horton Family Tree, the Thursday night NBC line-up, the ins and outs of Facebook, and the up to date trappings of one Miss Lindsey Lohan.
However, I would make sure their tiny minds were sharp by probing them with questions related to everyday life. We wouldn’t worry about what time a train would be arriving at a station and how fast it was going. No, we would solve the great mysteries of time; like, where are Mommy’s keys? And, have you seen Mommy’s mind, because it’s gone….again. Field trips would be just as educational; we would learn colors and foreign language by going to the nail salon. Or learn the affects of global warming by going to the tanning salon. I don’t do either of those…seriously, who has the time! But, it would be fun to.
I plead to you nation, let’s fix this education system. Although, I would be proud to produce two somewhat maladjusted children by Home Schooling them, I feel they would not be productive citizens. I’m sure they would do great things, but most of which will probably involve illegal bribes and jail time. Hey, they could be the next Governor of Illinois!
9.30.2010
9.27.2010
Mama, Don't Let your Sons Grow Up to Be....well, us!
The latest country song to hit the radio waves is......(drum roll please).....My Life! OMG, the last two weeks would make even the best country songwriter flinch. It's started two weeks ago on a Thursday. I thought, "hey, what would make this day more interesting?" Perhaps my children would actually listen to me? The house would clean itself? Or maybe I could fall down the garage stairs and brake four toes? Yup, and as I'd hoped, it was the last one.
Running out to the garage to grab a phone number out of the car, in socks, did not bode well for me. I slipped on the top stair, life flashing before me; and Ouch! The heels of my feet were touching my back, I just played Twister with myself; and lost! Left hand blue? Bullshit! As I lay in a sea of self pity and extreme pain, I remember, oooh I have a phone in my hand, because I was going to get a phone number. But who to call? 911? A neighbor? Mommy? I know, I'll call the one person who gets me, who sympathizes with me, who loves me no matter what, right? The Husband.
I call, blubbering something about almost dying and that I'm still laying on the garage floor; and his response...."how did you get a phone?" Really!? No, "OMG, I'll be right home" or "Are you okay, what can I do?" FOCUS Husband, I'm really hurt here. Sooooo, he rushes home to pick up The Boy from school. And then it hit me, the excruciating pain, as if Gilbert Grape's mom had stepped on my toes, ate them, and then stepped on them again. And then, it hit me again, Oh Shit! The Girl is still in the house!
What to do? As I crawled up the stairs, The Girl opened the door and exclaimed, "Mommy, you so funny!" In fact, I was not; this was the least funny thing ever. Sitting in the hallway, holding my feet, she continued to laugh at me. As the site of me wailing and rocking back and forth was am musing to her, I seriously felt like a mental patient. Long story short, friend rushes to help me, ER visit, two broken toes on each foot and a severely bruised ego from The Girl laughing at me for hours.
You're thinking, whoa...this is not a country song. Please wait, there's more. In addition to Toe Gate 2010, we had to put our dog to sleep, and The Nana acquired 2nd degree burns on both hands by....wait for it.....waxing her upper lip! Yup, apparently the wax grew arms and attacked her with all its might. So, in a waxy, steaming mess, she drove herself to the ER (steering with her knees I'm assuming). The ER staff asked if it was candle wax, she said no, and politely told them she was waxing her upper lip. The ManNurse then looked at her face very closely and said, "but you don't have any hair on your upper lip." She then replied, in true Nana fashion, "Really Genius?! It's because I waxed my upper lip, asshole, now wrap up my hands!" Needless to say, she was put in the hallway and not given a room.
So, here you go Music Row....do you worst!
Running out to the garage to grab a phone number out of the car, in socks, did not bode well for me. I slipped on the top stair, life flashing before me; and Ouch! The heels of my feet were touching my back, I just played Twister with myself; and lost! Left hand blue? Bullshit! As I lay in a sea of self pity and extreme pain, I remember, oooh I have a phone in my hand, because I was going to get a phone number. But who to call? 911? A neighbor? Mommy? I know, I'll call the one person who gets me, who sympathizes with me, who loves me no matter what, right? The Husband.
I call, blubbering something about almost dying and that I'm still laying on the garage floor; and his response...."how did you get a phone?" Really!? No, "OMG, I'll be right home" or "Are you okay, what can I do?" FOCUS Husband, I'm really hurt here. Sooooo, he rushes home to pick up The Boy from school. And then it hit me, the excruciating pain, as if Gilbert Grape's mom had stepped on my toes, ate them, and then stepped on them again. And then, it hit me again, Oh Shit! The Girl is still in the house!
What to do? As I crawled up the stairs, The Girl opened the door and exclaimed, "Mommy, you so funny!" In fact, I was not; this was the least funny thing ever. Sitting in the hallway, holding my feet, she continued to laugh at me. As the site of me wailing and rocking back and forth was am musing to her, I seriously felt like a mental patient. Long story short, friend rushes to help me, ER visit, two broken toes on each foot and a severely bruised ego from The Girl laughing at me for hours.
You're thinking, whoa...this is not a country song. Please wait, there's more. In addition to Toe Gate 2010, we had to put our dog to sleep, and The Nana acquired 2nd degree burns on both hands by....wait for it.....waxing her upper lip! Yup, apparently the wax grew arms and attacked her with all its might. So, in a waxy, steaming mess, she drove herself to the ER (steering with her knees I'm assuming). The ER staff asked if it was candle wax, she said no, and politely told them she was waxing her upper lip. The ManNurse then looked at her face very closely and said, "but you don't have any hair on your upper lip." She then replied, in true Nana fashion, "Really Genius?! It's because I waxed my upper lip, asshole, now wrap up my hands!" Needless to say, she was put in the hallway and not given a room.
So, here you go Music Row....do you worst!
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