Apr 27, 2009
This first dumb ass moment is dedicated to the Denver Public School's Department of Transportation.
I hate my son's bus schedule. His school doesn't start until 9 am and classes end at 3:45 pm. His bus comes to pick him up at 7:30 am and if they are running on time they drop him off at 5 pm, fricking 5 pm!
Sometimes when the bus is running early they just drop Phoenix at the stop and drive off without checking to make sure he is with a parent. The first time it happened I called the route supervisor and as calmly as possible told him that I was VERY unhappy. He assured me that it would never happen again.
Last week, or maybe it was the week before, I forget, we had a day of rain followed by two days of snow. I got to Phoenix's school at 4:51 pm and he was standing there all alone, in the rain, and crying because he was scared.
I felt like the worst parent in the world and was choking on the wrath I felt toward the bus driver. When we got home I left an extremely nasty message on the supervisor's voice mail, because that late in the day their offices are closed, and spent the rest of the day pampering Phoenix to ease the trauma of the whole experience.
The supervisor spoke to me the next day and, once again, told me it would never happen again. Now I understand it wasn't his fault. It's not like he was driving the bus. So I was less angry with him. I explained that we don't live in the best of neighborhoods and if anything happened to my child after the bus left him there alone I would have ended up owning the department after the law suits were over.
I hope he can scare his employees enough to get them to stop dropping students off early, but I'm still going to show up as early as possible to the bus stop. I don't want to have to sue them because that would mean something bad happened to my son.
I just want him to be safe. Is that really too much to ask?
So to the D.P.S. D.O.T. I salute you as a Dumb Ass.
The other night I went to work and for once no one was there to hear my shrieking voice attempting to hold a tune.
I was walking down the stairs after mopping the floor in the upstairs office when I tripped over the mop. The following chaos was strait out of a Marks Brothers bit. Instead of letting the mop handle go I held on, for some reason, and it pulled me face first into the door jamb at the foot of the stairs. I smacked my forehead on the wall and scraped my shoulder on the jamb. The force I hit the door with caused me to rebound and I fell on the stairs with my back also hitting the back of my head on the edge of a step. The impact was so hard the wind was knocked out of me.
After I could breath again I started laughing hysterically. It was just too funny. I wasn't hurt very badly but I ended up having a headache for a day and the bumps on the front and back of my head have yet to disappear.
That move totally proves I'm a Dumb Ass.
Yesterday I was taking some watercolor pictures that the boys had painted and taping them into a composition book that I keep pictures and drawings in. I ran out of scotch tape so I had to use clear packing tape.
I don't know how it happened but I managed to tape my right hand to the painting. It was weird. I didn't want to damage the picture by pulling my hand out, that packing tape would have ripped it to shreds if I had tried to pull it off the paper. So I decided to use scissors with my left hand.
(BD + Sharp Things = Dumb Ass Moment)
At least I managed not to get any blood on the picture.
In the moment when I released my hand from the tape I jambed the tip of the scissors, Ginsu scissors no less, under the nail of my middle finger. The damn appendage lit off like a geyser. It actually squirted a little, but when I put pressure on it the bleeding slowed and eventually stopped.
Even my son, the soon to be Kindergartner, knows how to be careful with scissors. I worked at Subway for years and had to handle knives and razor sharp slicers all day long. One would think I would have learned how not to stab myself by now. Jeez, it's so sad.
Yes I am still a Dumb Ass.
Apr 10, 2009
After cooking our dinner on the grill, beef... fire... good, I started my Friday blog but then Phoenix came home and I was called in as the entertainment supervisor.
We had so much fun. Amoo picked up these little wooden airplanes and trucks and trains for the kids to paint. And knowing how much of a child I still am she got me a bus and a train as well. She's a good Amoo.
Praise the mother!
Anyway I decided to make mine into the Knight Bus and the Hogwarts Express. As soon as I find my camera I'll post some pictures.
Let's see... what happened this week?
I went to Barnes and Noble to pick up a book that Amoo and I wanted, but they didn't have it so I pre-ordered it. Kale loves that place for one reason.
Thomas the Train.
If you haven't ever taken your kids there then you have to do it soon. They get to play with trains while you read whatever book you picked out, plus it has Starbucks. It's as close to heaven as you can get here on earth. Well, second to the Russell Stover Candy Store.
Kale had to go to the bathroom while he was playing with the trains. When we got back to the train area there were these two teeny tiny, itty bitty little girls playing with the trains. They couldn't have been bigger than Cora and were dressed in pink and blue spring dresses with their Mary Jane shoes to match and there hair was all done in pigtails and bouncing curls.
Kale thought they were the fruits of the devil obviously sent by the dark one to thwart his peacefully perfect afternoon.
I thought he was going to murder one or both of them. He ran away from me and snatched a train from the little blond one with the Cindy Lou Who hair and pulled his arm back like he was going to throw it at her. I did a slide to home to my son and disarmed him before he did something I would have to kill him for. I apologized to the little girl's parents and marched his butt out of the train section.
He didn't want to go.
He started screaming blue bloody murder and dug his heels in so I had to swing him over my shoulder and carry his writhing body out of the book store. The whole way out to the car he screamed, "Don't smack me!" and "I want my trains!" So, of course, everyone in the store and parking lot looked at me like I was a child beater. Great for my self-esteem.
Do I really need to point out that I was mortified? I'm sure you get the idea. Do I also need to say that I felt like the biggest Dumb Ass? Goes without saying.
I'm sure you all know the definition of insanity, but it seemed appropriate to start the next disastrous telling of my exploits with a reminder.
Insanity is repeating the same behavior over and over but expecting different results. Just keep that in mind.
On Wednesday I went to work early, dumb ass, because I wanted to get to sleep on time so I could wake up early to get the shopping done and run some errands.
I had my mp3 player blaring and I, again was singing as only a person who thinks she is alone would do. Cats in a meat grinder. After about two songs Vern, the mechanic who sometimes works in dispatch came out, probably to see who was dying. I was shocked, he was shocked and we both went back to our tasks with reddened faces.
After he left I started the singing again, dumb ass, while I mopped. As I pushed the bucket full of steamy chemical rich water I saw two guys poke their heads out of the dispatch room. I nearly fell over the bucket and ended up catching myself in a less than graceful manner. As I fell I said the two words that caught their attention. I will not tell you them because then Amoo will yell at me until I remove them from my blog spot. the initials are JC, I hope she wont me mad.
Both of these men knew my mom and said they were going to tell her I said the aforementioned curse word. I told them if they said anything to her I would put super glue on the toilet seat in the shop. When they left we were all smiling due to the bull shit fest. I hid my shame well until they were gone. When the coast was clear I stomped up and down like a two year old throwing a tantrum while cursing the heavens like a sailor.
When will I learn I ask you? Probably never.
Apr 3, 2009