You Want a Piece of Me?

Friday morning during breakfast, the story finally came out. Batman has been punched daily by some kid named Bane, since before spring break. According to Batman, this started before spring break. Bane was calling Batman's friend stupid. Batman told the teacher and Bane punched Batman after he was punished, and told him he would hit him every day at school. And thus began the headaches, tummy aches, imagined illnesses, etc in a way to stay out of school. We repeatedly asked Batman if someone was being mean to him and he never said anything.


I called the school on Friday morning, but it was SOL day - as in, I was SOL because of the damn SOL tests. I didn't hear back from the assistant principal until after recess - during which Batman was hit twice. The pattern is that if Batman tells and Bane gets punished, he will hit Batman again in retaliation. Bane is a sneaky little shit, and has friends distract Batman, then sneaks up on him and hits him. This has become a source of entertainment on the playground. Thankfully, Bane is not in Batman's class, so this only happens at recess and joint class projects. The asst. princ. is well aware of Bane and his behavior, so Batman is not the only kid this is happening to.

Last night, Batman greeted me at the door by telling me that he was hit twice again. I called and left a vm for the a.p., but The Spouse and I decided that a joint show of force was called for. I researched the FFX Co. code of conduct and regulations, to find out both what Henry's rights were and what punishment steps were appropriate for Bane.

The three of us walked across the street and stormed the office. Or we would have, if we hadn't had to buzz for entry. The Spouse and I met with the a.p. while Batman waited in the hall, then his teacher was brought in. Finally, we brought in Batman to discuss a course of action. We agreed that Bane will be assigned a portion of the Gotham City P.S. playground and that Batman would get the rest. Batman was fine with this, and the a.p. told us that she, Batman's teacher, and Bane's teacher would be meeting about this problem.

I have not spoken to the parents. I don't know them and the school cannot disclose their info. I've asked around, but none of my friends seem to know who this kid is. In the old days, I would show up and threaten the little creep. In modern times, i have to show up and threaten the school. We were told that they cannot comment on Bane's punishment or where he is in the disciplinary process (not that we asked) due to privacy issues. As I said to The Spouse when we left the meeting, we had to check this box (as did the school). If Batman gets hit again, we see the principal. After that, it's the assistant superintendent. That seems crazy, for a couple of six year olds. Still, my kid should be safe and happy at school and we will do whatever we need to in order to make that happen.

I thought Batman would cry and scream about leaving P.S. 1, but he's asking if he can start his new school early and saying he doesn't want to go to P.S. 1 anymore. It's affecting him at home, with his other friends, and in the classroom.

The Spouse wants Batman to hit Bane back (as does every other man - my brother - involved) but Batman doesn't seem to want to.  And if he doesn't want to, or hasn't yet, then we have to go through the school.  But we gave him permission to hit back, so maybe that will help him?  Not that hitting is the answer, but nothing else seems to be working right now.

Avalanche

Last night, I opened the coat closet to get a brush for the the dogs and maybe pack some things while I was at it.  You know in movies when a closet door is opened and everything avalanches out?  That happened!  I thought for sure I was being set up.  Where was the video camera?  No, the damn thing broke.  BROKE!  The bar/shelf pulled out of the drywall, because, of course, in our POS cave it wasn't anchored into the drywall. 

Another thing to add to the handyman list.  We will never get the damn Batcave on the market.

Oh, and to clear up any confusion yesterday's entry may have created:  I am NOT pregnant, just - apparently - fat.

Awaiting the Stork

So, apparently, I'm pregnant.  I thought by this time in my life I understood the basics of the birds and bees.  As the mother of two, I thought I had an advanced degree in it.  Little did I know...

Yesterday, as Batman and I were walking through the parking lot to my tap class, the wind shifted my clothes.  He glanced at me, patted my belly, and told me there was a baby in there.  Wuh huh?  Excuse me.  "Mom, you have a fat belly.  When it gets too fat, you have a baby.  Your belly keeps more and more food in there until a baby comes out."

Gee, thanks.  That's good for my self esteem, especially since I have just lost ten pounds.  I guess I'll have to work harder at the weight loss.

The Spouse was not amused when I told him that I was pregnant.  But he didn't pass out, so that's a good sign.

Yes, this was a wonderful opportunity to begin the sex ed discussion with Batman.  But, in reality, we were walking into class and I didn't have the time.  I know, I know, it's time to break out the book and go over it.  I just hope he's not like Fudge, telling everyone from the mailman to the supermarket cashier.

Starvin' Marvin

I stepped out for a fro yo this afternoon and was stopped on the corner by a representative for Children International, asking me if I would like to support an international child.  Sure! Why not?  I have two national children I support, and I'm in the market for a girl child.  The Spouse will eventually adjust, just like he did with two dogs and two kids.

I asked him where the children were.  Behind a window somewhere?  In a box on the back of a truck with a sign that says "Free to Good Home"?  I was mulling my options.  Do I want a little one or a big one?  Short hair or long?  Apparently, that was a non-issue.  It turns out that there are NO CHILDREN.  They are in other countries and you just send them money (sort of like my mom's husband's satellite dog, which he paid my grandmother to keep without ever meeting.)  Where is the fun in that?  How can I set a child up for a lifetime of therapy if they aren't in my own home?  I felt so cheated.

I looked it up and apparently CEO James Cook makes $450,000/year, which goes a long way in Kansas City - or maybe not as far as one would think and that's why he makes 10x more per year than the average staffer for the House of Representatives.  I decided that I would be better off continuing to support heifers internationally.  I loves me some worldly cows.

The Search for Wayne Manor

I realize I haven't posted lately about the Search for Wayne Manor.  Things are progressing at a speed that is slower than sloth but faster than glacial.

We went to an open house on Saturday and I really liked it.  

Wonderful curb appeal, great layout, loads of space inside.  It's about four blocks from Batman's school and would make for an easier school pickup/drop off than we would have if we stayed in our current home.  It's at the top of our price range, but has cosmetic changes that would have to be made inside, and we would need to remove a bunch of trees, build a retaining wall, add a lawn and fence the property.  I'm not sure that we could throw several thousand into landscaping after putting out a down payment.  Also, it's only a one car garage and the basement stinks.  It will likely sell before the end of the week, or drop the price below $600K and sell in one day.  ($600K seems to be the threshold in this area of Northern Virginia.  Above it, sits on the market for months.  Below it, snapped up in a week.)

However, I really hopeful about a house down the street that went on the market for $15k less three days later.  

Except it already has a buyer.  Suck dog - three days on the market and it's sold.  It was a better house for us, and not just because of the price.  The yard, lot, and house itself (except for the kitchen) were a better fit for us.  We could easily live in the house for years and remodel the kitchen when we decided it was time.  We know how to do that now.

I'm a nervous wreck.  I haven't sold my house yet, so I'm not in a position to whine and cry.  But I'm nervous that we won't get THE house we want when we want it.  We have maintained that we weren't going to list our house until the end of the school year, so we still have another four weeks.  

I had a wonderful Mother's Day.  It was probably my best since becoming a mother.  Granted, I had low expectations, but the men in my life didn't disappoint:

• The boys brought home bagels.
• I got three cards, two books (one from each kid), and a Kate Spade purse from Sally (I really love that dog.)  Leo bought me some jewelry (I really love that dog, too.)
• I didn't have to get in the pool (Robin is now in the pool by himself, and did really well.  Actually, both kids did really well - by which I mean no tantrums and they put their face in the pool.) 
• I got to do my own laundry instead of putting to off until last and never getting to it.  
• I watched my recorded shows off the DVR on the big tv in the basement BY MYSELF.  
• I went to tap class BY MYSELF.
• After tap, I ran home, took a quick shower, and went to dinner at Silverado with the family.  It was one of the more successful dinners we have had together as a family of four.  (The best was at an Outback Steakhouse when Robin was a baby, so maybe that doesn't count?)  

I felt like a queen for the day.  It was wonderful.  I am so very lucky and blessed.

Why I Support Gay Marriage

First and foremost, I support gay marriage because why should straight people be the only ones to squirm uncomfortably at Thanksgiving dinner as Aunt Gladys asks when they will finally meet a nice boy/girl, settle down, and get married?

For too many years, gay relatives have been allowed to relax and enjoy the hot brown-n-serve rolls, smug in the knowledge that after Uncle Hal had a certain number of beers and asked if "you still like boys?" they would not be put on the spot this year.  Meanwhile, the single desperate sister who was recently dumped and had no hope of anyone on the horizon would be grilled over the state of her love life, reminded she wasn't getting any younger, decline offers to meet the neighbor's boss' son, and try not to cry in her potatoes.  It's just not fair!

I have never understood what the issue is, really, but I'm fairly libertarian when it comes to what happens in the bedroom (between consenting adults, of course.)  I wonder about the perverts who are obsessed with what others are doing and want to outlaw it.  Frankly, my brain isn't creative enough to ponder situations and positions.

And why do religious conservatives preach that gays will go to Hell if they don't repent and change their ways?  Do they want gays to go to Heaven?  Because then they will have gay neighbors in the Kingdom of Heaven and that seems to go against everything they believe in.  But that train of thought takes us straight to the Westboro Baptist Church, and those fuckers are batshit crazy, in my humble opinion.

Shit.  Now they are going to protest my funeral.

Anyway, I've never been recruited to be gay.  No invitations for hot lesbian sex.  The idea of two women or two men pledging to be together forever does not threaten my little corner of the universe.  I'm pretty confident that even if gay marriage were to become legal in all 50 states tomorrow, I would still be married to The Spouse (who is a man, BTW).  So, to me, it's a non-issue.

Shrug.  Carry on.

My bad

As I was driving home last night, I remembered the Mother's Day gift from two years ago that Batman personally selected for me:

An easy button that plays the Chicken Dance.  Because it's easier than finding an accordion player when you've just got to get your chicken dance on.

Father Knows Best. Really?

There is a reason that Mother's Day comes before Father's Day.  Can you imagine the fallout if women spent many hours, much money, and tons of effort to coordinate the perfect gift/day/outing and got a handful of crushed dandelions in return?  It would be ugly.  Very ugly.

I will admit that I had high hopes for my first Mother's Day.  After battling infertility, we finally had our magical miracle baby.  He was perfect and amazing.  Of course I would get something nice to mark the occasion!  The Spouse got me three cards and a burrito (not just any burrito, he would like the record to reflect, but a Chipotle burrito.  He went all out.  And a card EACH from him, Batman, and the dogs.  None of whom chipped in with effort or money.)  At bedtime, it was pretty obvious that a birthstone necklace or engraved pendant was not coming my way.  I was not crushed, but I was a little bummed.

I had already bought him a nice watch to celebrate his first Father's Day.  I couldn't return it, so I grudgingly gave it to him.  He was floored and moved by the gift.  It was something he had talked about wanting for years and was teary that it commemorated his first year as a father.  He still talks about how it was one of the best gifts he has ever received.  That grand gesture has not in the least affected the gifts he has given me on behalf of the children.  Last year, I received a body pillow.

This year, the kids are old enough to select their gifts for me, as long as The Spouse provides the ride to the store and the money to pay for it.  For Christmas, he chaperoned while they picked out dishtowels and a candle - because mommy always uses dishtowels.  The Dynamic Duo is nothing if not observant (except for when it comes to looking for their shoes.)  Maybe I'll get some napkins this year?

I have, however, found The Spouse the perfect Father's Day gift.  Thankfully, it's not expensive, so I don't feel bad getting him the perfect gift while I get napkins.

As always, I have received exactly bupkis from this, but feel compelled to post this disclaimer to get the FCC off my ass.  

May the 4th Be With You

Nerds.

I missed this Amazon Gold Box deal earlier today, but put it on my wish list and will likely buy it for Batman after we move:

I realize I haven't updated on the Hunt for Wayne Manor in awhile.  After my need to move rightthisminutedammit! I have really put the brakes on it.

First, we found out which school Batman will be attending next year.  It's not in the wonderful neighborhood I was hoping for.  Don't get me wrong, it's definitely movin' on up, as the Jefferson's theme song stated, but I don't love it like I love the other area.  Also, it will be doable to stay in the Batcave and drop him at school next year.  Not fun, but doable.  Finally, I have really chickened out about doing the work involved in this process. I simply don't want to put forth the effort right now.  But I'm paying $200/mo for a storage unit and I need to get my ass in gear.

I'm also immobile with worry over finding The House vs. a house that is Just Fine.  The Batcave is a Just Fine townhouse.  Neither one of us loves it, and there are times that one/both of us hate it.  The good/nice/updated homes in the new area are under contract within a week of being listed.  B knows that The Spouse and I are not handy and we don't want to put the time and energy into a bunch of renovations.  So, we will need to list our home, get a contract, and try to buy another home while we pray that The House comes on the market and our bid is accepted.  But what if The House doesn't come on the market?  What if we have to rent a crap apartment and send the dogs to a foster home while we wait?  What if, what if, what if...

Now that I'm freaking out again, I will wish you all a feliz Cinco de Mayo (no, it's not Mexican Independence Day, but it is the anniversary of my first kegger) and a very merry Roxanne Homer Memorial Holiday (Fat Dog loved her margaritas).  Oh, and don't forget to dance naked under the Super Moon!

A Minion is so Hard to Find

My spring intern has left, my summer intern won't start for about six weeks, and I find myself without a minion in the next office.  By coincidence, I was out on Saturday evening and met a nice young man who is between work contracts.  I offered him an office to camp out in while he job hunts in exchange for some help.  We exchanged information and I heard from him earlier this week.

Great, right?

No.

I asked him to send me his resume so I can share it with the higher ups in the office and get the official go ahead.  The resume is bad.  Typos, grammar, spacing, different font styles and sizes.  I noted several to him, told him to clean it up, have someone else edit it for him, then send it back to me.  He apologized that he sent me the wrong version.  Ok, cool, I understand how mortifying that can be.  This morning I received a new version of the resume.  Except that it's the same.  The old typos have been changed to new typos (softwares is now software's).  Bullets have periods, or no periods, or multiple periods.  I don't care what one uses, just be consistent!

Anyhoo, this isn't going to work.  Crap.  I was hopeful.  I gave him a second chance.  The Jill of 10 years ago never would have done such a thing.  I'm getting soft in my old age.  The mother hen in me really wants to bring him in, take him under my wing, and nurture him along. The ruthless bitch in me wants to send him a copy of his resume with red pen circling everything wrong.  The professional in me will send him an email tactfully stating that there were some objections to his resume and thanks but no thanks.

Gah.

And...

Would someone kindly explain to me how it's May?


AND I want to wish a very happy birthday to my Gay Husband.  May this be the year you meet your beach house owning architect and give my children starring roles in your wedding ceremony. Or maybe not if you have a top shelf open bar.  Momma needs to get her drink on.

Little Swimmers

The Jokers running this country have gone home to campaign for the week, so things are quieting down around here.

The Dynamic Duo have been in swim lessons for the past six weeks.  Batman is in level 3, and is swimming across the lap lanes with the assistance of a kick board.  Robin is in Mommy and Me.  Next week, they start a four week session and Robin will be in a big kid class without having a parent in the pool (YIPPEE!! HOORAY!!) but I'm wondering how he will do once he realizes mommy isn't getting in there with him.  I'm not expecting miracles in four weeks, but I'm hoping he learns some skills on his own.  Our community pool opens Memorial Day weekend and I want the boys to have some water survival skills.

After lessons are completed, I'm not sure what to do.  I think it might be best (and cheapest/less stressful) just to hang out at our pool and let them practice/play around.  The helicopter parent in me thinks they need more lessons, an organized structure, and measurable deliverables.  The lazy person in me thinks the helicopter parent in me needs to get a grip.

Being from the west coast, I know so many people who are part fish.  Most of them grew up being in/around/near the water year round.  In Virginia, our water access isn't as available throughout the year and very few people have public pools.  Still, I know several kids Batman's age who are already little fishies, jumping off the diving board and swimming around in the deep end.  I am not a strong swimmer and I want my kids to be better than competent, though no pressure to be the next Michael Phelps.

Ok, this is dull and no one besides me cares.