Frog and Toad are Separated
Bob, feeling everyone should have a displaced amphibian to call their own, gave his cousin the frog yesterday. (My sister, who won't even finish a piece of chicken if someone says "vein" while she's eating, was delighted. Truly.) The toad is still alive, and has been moved to a larger cell--this one containing the corpses of myriad snails and slugs that were left in the sun to become a macabre escargot. I can't imagine what must be going through that poor creature's tiny little brain right now. I'm just glad I'm not him. Or her.
Today, Bob and I went to his new school to get the grand tour, since they're having the meet'n'greet Thursday evening and I have to have him to db by 6pm. (I could have told db to meet us at the school, but frankly, I don't want to be in the same room with that waste of space any more than absolutely necessary.) So we got to meet his teacher, see his classroom, and get a tour of all the wonderful places Bob will spend his days--the library, the art room, the gym, the cafeteria, etc. He was terrified. Meaning he was uncharacteristically quiet and reserved. He perked up in the cafeteria when he saw the after-school care teacher, who he knows from his preschool (she teaches there during the day).
I perked up on seeing her, too. Judging from the "sizing up" look I was getting from the principal as she gave us our tour, I can only imagine the lovely things db has told her about me and about Bob. Knowing she knows we know one of her staff made me feel a little better--especially since it's someone who can and will happily shed some light on the subject.
After that, we came home and tried to decide what to do with the rest of the day. Bob wanted to go outside, so I suggested we wash my car. After that, I discovered a voicemail from his therapist, advising that db called to cancel this afternoon's appointment. First thought--what a fucking idiot. Second thought--hot damn, let's go to the pool. And go to the pool, we did.
Even though we had a fun day together, I'm almost looking forward to going back to work in the morning. I'm beat. And I'm all touchy-feeleyed out from having an almost-6-year-old kid hanging on me all fucking day. (Especially one who is mostly elbows and knees.) And the shallow end of the pool had me ready to head-butt the next kid who (a) ran into me; (b) swam into me; (c) grabbed hold of me for reasons unknown; or (d) yelled in my ear, jumped off the side of the pool dangerously close to my head, squirted a water gun in my face, or some other stupid-ass kidism. And if I hear "Mommmmmyyyyy" one more time today, I swear, I'm legally changing my name. To "The Artist Formerly Known as Prince." He'll think twice before randomly hollering that out, I'm sure.
In other news, I've become seriously pissed off at the whole "animal rescue" community. I mean, I'm all for taking steps to ensure animals go to good homes, but for fucking out loud, y'all--we're talking about dogs, not Romanian babies. If I have to sit through a "home visit" and fill out umpteen character references and give verifiable reasons why I no longer have my previous pets and sign a waiver permitting "unannounced drop-in visits to see that the dog is being properly cared for" AND THEN GIVE YOU A $200 "ADOPTION FEE" ON TOP OF THAT, I'd rather say "fuck this" and just write a breeder a check and take home a fucking puppy and continue to perpetuate the overpopulation problem. Get a grip, you crazy sonsofbitches. So, yeah, we're probably going to just put down a deposit for a golden retriever pup, much as I really didn't want to do the whole puppy thing. Oh, well. I guess it will give Ben a taste of what he's in for once we get around to the whole baby thing.
Today, Bob and I went to his new school to get the grand tour, since they're having the meet'n'greet Thursday evening and I have to have him to db by 6pm. (I could have told db to meet us at the school, but frankly, I don't want to be in the same room with that waste of space any more than absolutely necessary.) So we got to meet his teacher, see his classroom, and get a tour of all the wonderful places Bob will spend his days--the library, the art room, the gym, the cafeteria, etc. He was terrified. Meaning he was uncharacteristically quiet and reserved. He perked up in the cafeteria when he saw the after-school care teacher, who he knows from his preschool (she teaches there during the day).
I perked up on seeing her, too. Judging from the "sizing up" look I was getting from the principal as she gave us our tour, I can only imagine the lovely things db has told her about me and about Bob. Knowing she knows we know one of her staff made me feel a little better--especially since it's someone who can and will happily shed some light on the subject.
After that, we came home and tried to decide what to do with the rest of the day. Bob wanted to go outside, so I suggested we wash my car. After that, I discovered a voicemail from his therapist, advising that db called to cancel this afternoon's appointment. First thought--what a fucking idiot. Second thought--hot damn, let's go to the pool. And go to the pool, we did.
Even though we had a fun day together, I'm almost looking forward to going back to work in the morning. I'm beat. And I'm all touchy-feeleyed out from having an almost-6-year-old kid hanging on me all fucking day. (Especially one who is mostly elbows and knees.) And the shallow end of the pool had me ready to head-butt the next kid who (a) ran into me; (b) swam into me; (c) grabbed hold of me for reasons unknown; or (d) yelled in my ear, jumped off the side of the pool dangerously close to my head, squirted a water gun in my face, or some other stupid-ass kidism. And if I hear "Mommmmmyyyyy" one more time today, I swear, I'm legally changing my name. To "The Artist Formerly Known as Prince." He'll think twice before randomly hollering that out, I'm sure.
In other news, I've become seriously pissed off at the whole "animal rescue" community. I mean, I'm all for taking steps to ensure animals go to good homes, but for fucking out loud, y'all--we're talking about dogs, not Romanian babies. If I have to sit through a "home visit" and fill out umpteen character references and give verifiable reasons why I no longer have my previous pets and sign a waiver permitting "unannounced drop-in visits to see that the dog is being properly cared for" AND THEN GIVE YOU A $200 "ADOPTION FEE" ON TOP OF THAT, I'd rather say "fuck this" and just write a breeder a check and take home a fucking puppy and continue to perpetuate the overpopulation problem. Get a grip, you crazy sonsofbitches. So, yeah, we're probably going to just put down a deposit for a golden retriever pup, much as I really didn't want to do the whole puppy thing. Oh, well. I guess it will give Ben a taste of what he's in for once we get around to the whole baby thing.
posted by Mitzi Green at 5:39 PM
2 Comments:
Damn that's a lot for one day. I'm exhausted from reading. Congrats on the school visit.
A puppy? Are you out of your mind? You are a far braver woman than me.
i AM out of my mind. :)
i honestly don't want a puppy, or at least wanted an older puppy or young adult. but the "rescue" places don't consider us fit parents for this that or the other reason, and i'm tired of waiting for their blessing...
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