Super Pregnant Bitch

Bob's school lost their power yesterday afternoon, and the generator wasn't powerful enough to operate the heat, so Adventure Club was cancelled at 1:30 pm. No big deal, except our power at home wasn't back on, either, so I wasn't sure what to do with the kid once I picked him up. I mean, my office had heat, and lights, but very little else of interest to a 6 year old boy in SpongeBob pajamas. And I'm not one of those people who brings my kid to work and lets him run amok through the office pissing everyone else off. So I picked him up, took him to the post office, and we got back to our house around 3:00. Still no power. I took to the sofa and fell asleep while Bob busied himself with his pirate ships. Ben got home at 4:00. Still no power. By 5:00, it was dark in the house and the thermostat read 55. Not happy. So Ben went back to work, and Bob and I hopped in the car and embarked on a Drive Around and Eat Dinner mission. We hit the Wendy's drive-through, then drove down Barry Road, when the smell of mustard and pickles from Bob's burger hit my nostrils and demanded "Winsteads!" So we hit Winsteads, where we went inside for a burger and greasy onion rings for me and a strawberry shake for Bob. Then we drove back by our house--still no lights--and kept driving. We drove to northtown and past our old house (Bob: "no fair, they've got power!" Me: "yes, but they have an evil landlord."), then back to our house where, joy of joys, our sad holiday light display twinkled at us from under a half inch of ice.

"Bob, look! The lights are on!"

Yes, we're pathetic and sad. But we have heat. And cable.

Unfortunately, the school was not so lucky, and I got the call this morning on my way to work that school was not only closed, but Adventure Club was being moved to another grade school. Which isn't a big deal, as that school is maybe 5 minutes from our house. Except when I took Bob his lunch, I had to sit there while the site director for that school spent 10 minutes bitching at all 70 or so kids in the gym for making a mess in the restrooms. "This is my school, and you will not disrespect me and my school by leaving a mess." Blah, Blah, Blah. This hag is about 21 or 22, with serious spinster qualities, and obviously has some control issues. I later found out from the AD from our school that Bob got in trouble about a half hour before I got there for hitting another kid, and Miss Bitch was all ass-over-tit, demanding my phone number, refusing to let our AD handle it, insisting Bob was going to be suspended for the day, and generally being a bitch. So I told our AD, "she never called, but if she's got something to say, I'm here now." I think our AD was seriously hoping I'd open a can (of whoopass, what else?) on Miss Bitch, but Miss Bitch kept her distance. I don't know if I'm just that intimidating, or if it's my ginormous belly, or both. At any rate, I told Bob to lay low and keep his hands to himself and be cool.

The thing is, you've got about 70 kids occupying a space normally held by 20 kids. At least 2/3 of those kids are from other schools. It's a snow day, to boot, and the 2nd in a row. It's not going to be pretty. So you better have a plan, and that plan better account for some chaos. And if you can't deal with that, you should find a different job. And you should not single out the kid whose mother is pregnant and busting out of her pants at a mere 16 weeks and bitchy when she's not pregnant.

Yes, that's right--my pants are extremely tight. Tight to the point I can't take it anymore. I'm going to have to suck it up (as opposed to sucking it in) and buy some damn Pregnant Lady Pants. And in six months? Well, I'll probably be wearing that tent we got from Ben's parents last Christmas...