Missing.

I was driving down my street, slowing to turn into my driveway when I saw a pink streak zoom across the road in front of me.

When Sunshine realized I was turning in, she scooted her bike out of the way and waved.

“Sorry.” She said through my car window while pulling off her bike helmet.

“Sorry for what?” I replied.

“For parking in your way.” She didn’t understand where my sharpness had come from.

“Oh, I see. I thought maybe you were apologizing for racing across the road on your bike without checking for cars.”

She put on her “Busted” face.

“We’ve talked about this. This is your last warning. The next time I see you do something dangerous like that, I will take your bike away. I would rather you not have a bike than me not have you.”

“Okay.” She said, sounding a bit defeated. I felt bad for yelling at her as soon as I got home.

“Are you coming in?” I asked.

“No, I’m going to ride my bike a little more.”

“Okay – you just make sure you’re CAREFUL. It only takes a second to look for cars. You’re not too busy for that!”

I went in the house and started on dinner. The Man was downstairs playing games with Ninja Boy.

Twenty minutes later, the spaghetti was nearly done and I called my boys up and asked NB to call for his sister.

“She’s not out there.” He said a few minutes later.

This was not the first time she’s been late coming home. It was not the first time we called for her and she had gone out of hearing range (usually inside a friends’ house). I walked down our sidewalk and called both directions for her, then went in to eat.

“Well, her dinner will just be cold, then.” I said, trying to cover my anxiety.

We all ate. Then started to clean up dinner. I couldn’t hide it anymore. I shut of the water and threw on a sweatshirt. “I’m going to walk to the end of the block.” I called as I ran out the door.

I walked up the block, then back down to the other end. I peered around the houses to check the back yards. I looked for her bike hiding by bushes. I called her name.

Stopping back at home, The Man informed me that her bike was there the whole time. She had switched to her scooter. So we both walked, again, up and down the block searching for a sign of her.

I walked down to the park that, even though it is out of her “play area” in the neighborhood, is not too far for her to get to. No luck there. I walked back through the field where some kids take their bikes to “jump.” That was when the feeling flooded my body. I had fought it off, disguised it as anger, pretended it wasn’t there. But there it was, full on and fierce: fear.

I have an absurd knack for envisioning the worst situation possible. Not just thinking, “Oh, I hope THIS didn’t happen.” No. Perhaps it is due to all the graphic images my mind has taken in over the years, but I SEE the worst happening. My ‘visions’ come more when I’m driving, but they are never as bad as when I’m looking for my child in a vacant field.

What if someone snatched her? Just pulled up and grabbed her? What could she do??

What if they didn’t TAKE her, but just harmed her and left her somewhere? How would we ever find her?

I tried to shut it off. “That didn’t happen. She’s fine. She. Is. Fine.” I muttered to myself repeatedly.

I went back home and told The Man I couldn’t find her. He got in the car to patrol the neighborhood. He could see my lips quivering and told me to wait at the house in case she called.

I looked at Ninja Boy with desperation in my eyes and asked him if he would be willing to go door to door to check for her. He obliged.

I walked calmly in the house, into the bathroom. I closed the door, then fell to my knees sobbing.

“Please, God. PLEASE. Bring my girl home okay.” I cried over and over.

My crying was interrupted by Ninja Boy, who burst through the garage door yelling, “HERE SHE COMES!!!!”

I thanked The Lord, wiped my face and ran outside.

Sunshine met me with a smile. “Oh, no!” I cried, “Where WERE you!?”

“At…my…friend’s house.” She said meekly.

“What friend?”

“Um. My friend right down there.”

“So…you went to someone’s house that YOU don’t even know their name…and you thought that would be okay!?? You didn’t think we would be worried!?”

She didn’t know what to say. She knew she had done wrong.

“I’m not even going to yell at you because Daddy is very mad and I know he will.”

She sat, sullen, at the kitchen table. I put her plate in front of her and kissed her on the head. “I was very scared, doll. VERY scared. I didn’t know where you were and I was scared and upset. I love you so much.”

She got her Daddy Lecture, choked down her cold spaghetti and went straight to bed.

When I tucked her in later, she told me she was sorry she had scared me and “I’ll never do that again!”

“That’s good, baby, because I don’t think I could handle worrying about you like that again.”

But I know – I have eleven more years before she’ll venture off on her own. Eleven years – mostly teenage – during which she is going to forget to call or be she’ll be late getting home. During which she will get a driver’s license and go on dates. Trips with friends, sleepovers, lock-ins, parties and The Yet to Be Determined. And then she’s going to leave me to be a grown up and I’ll have a whole new mess of reasons to worry about her.

I think I had better trade up for a stronger heart.

Is it Monday already?

Really?

I’m so sick of work, I actually feel ILL being here. I’m hating the entire office, too. Not all of them actually did something to piss me off, but I don’t like singling people out.

After Vuty was gone for yet another week and a half vacation (Really, HOW does she get this much vacation time!?), I got really backed up here. I even told my boss the Friday before she was due back, “Well, I’m all caught up with Vuty’s work, but my work has really been suffering.” “Oh, that’s fine,” he says, “Getting her stuff in first is the most important thing.”

I then spent the next week trying to frantically complete requests that were all due the week she was gone with my own work. Bossman actually came to me last Thursday, after I’d gotten to a point where I could SEE my desk again…and had the fucking nerve to tell me he was *concerned* about my work not getting done. At the time, I just played the “I’m working to get it done, sir,” game, but after he left, I came to the realization of The Truth. And I was pissed. He even wanted me to “check in” with him Friday before I left so he could make sure I was working. Seriously.

Since he’s taken on managing another department, he’s been so busy he doesn’t even say hi to us most days. I’ve accepted this. I’ve found ways to get answers that don’t require hunting him down – unlike the other sheep in this department that are completely lost when he’s not around. In fact, I’ve become the person that people come to when they can’t find HIM. I’m probably the least of his worries, or should be, and yet I’m the one he’s now babysitting.

I’m not going to pretend here like I don’t spend an awful lot of time in my Internet world. I know I do…probably a little more than the other people in my department. But then, I don’t have hour-long gab sessions with anyone, either…and they all do. But I make the most out of my work time and normally complete all requests in a timely manner. I have plenty of opportunities while I’m waiting for programs to run and such that I’m able to check my mail and reader the like without wasting time.

Anyway – long bitchy explanation for why I haven’t posted since then. I am vested in my 401K in 17 days. There is no prospected date for the return of the woman whose customer I took on (she’s out with cancer) – in fact, they don’t think she ever will. So alls I’s sayin…is they betta get off muh back or they gonna be sorry. (That’s my gansta talk.)

Let’s move on, shall we?

MAKEOVER MONDAY #3

Mind – My goal was to finish Common Sense Parenting from Boys Town Press. Last post, I was kind of embarrassed to admit this is the book I’d picked up. But now? I have to tell you or I can’t tell you how amazing it is! I will actually finish it at lunch today, but I got through the most important chapters – the ones about keeping your cool and consequences. I’ve been practicing this every day – I’ll tell you more in the “Soul” recap.

This week’s book: between The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron (Highly recommended by Hip Tranquil Chick Kimberly Wilson) and Wish I Could Be There…Notes from a phobic life by Allen Shawn. I started them both and haven’t decided which I’m going to focus on.

Body - Yoga one night a week after work. Walk or run twice during the week. Ummm…I did bad again. I’m having problems trying to work this out – mainly because the only time I have to walk, the bugs are really bad. Also, I was going to do a whole hour of yoga during my Alone Time Sunday morning, but Cowboy never called The Man about fishing, so we went grocery shopping instead. I did spend all day Saturday working on my yard and cleaning, though. It doesn’t qualify as a “Goal Completed” but I’m happy to have gotten off my ass and completed something.

I’m still keeping this goal – I have to accomplish it sometime, right?

Soul – STOP YELLING. I am extremely pleased to admit that I can count on one hand the times I “lost it” enough to yell. As a parent, I don’t think it’s possible to NEVER yell – but cutting down to the point where I’m not ALWAYS yelling was extremely important to me. I really have to thank the book. It’s not called “common sense parenting” for nothing – all the things they said in it clicked on that little light bulb with an “Oh, well, of course! Why hadn’t I thought of that!?” For example: kids have to be TAUGHT how to do things. You can’t expect them to just KNOW. Obviously, right? So why is it that Sunshine got yelled at every time she took a shower and didn’t wash her hair well? I did show her how, but I never took the time to actually say, “Now YOU try it.” I just EXPECTED her to grasp what I was saying and do it right.

The main point that they stress in the book is their Corrective Teaching technique. This is where you tell them what they did wrong – exactly. So, instead of saying “You need to lose your attitude!” I now say, “Rolling your eyes at me and complaining about what I said is rude.” Then you give the consequence – something that will WORK, but is not extreme. Then you tell them how they SHOULD act – “When I ask you to do something for me, just say ‘okay’ and do it without complaining.” And then you practice it.

It sounds corny – and I’m not going to lie – it is. I felt really dumb stopping Ninja Boy and saying “No, I’m not done…” and trying to get through the whole deal. But it works. Like a DREAM. No more fighting with them, no more yelling to get results. Like I said before, I’m still working on it and there will always be things that really upset me. They have a chapter on controlling yourself to show control. And you know, when I lose it, after I calm down, I assess the situation and say to myself “THIS is what I did wrong…THIS is what I need to do next time.” And it’s helping. A prime example is after we got home last night from picking them up, Sunshine told me that her mom broke her (new) bathing suit and threw it away – then bought her one to keep at her house. Oh, and they left all their swimming stuff there, too (that I TOLD them not to leave behind). I lost it then. I was mad that she didn’t send the suit home – I could have taken it back if it really broke! I was mad that they didn’t do what they were told. I was mad that I had to find a solution to this problem – they are going to an aquatic center this week with their daycare. Was I supposed to stay home from work? Send them with and pay admission to sit outside the pool all day? Ask DCP to NOT GO and make her and the other charge suffer? After I calmed down, I went downstairs and told them they could call her and ask her to bring their stuff out. Then I told them that because they didn’t bring them home after I specifically reminded them to, they weren’t allowed to bring things over there anymore. That punishment goes against what CSP teaches you (it’s not measurable) – but that’s how we will be doing things. If she wants to buy things for them to have there, then they don’t need to bring their things from home.

I really can’t say enough good stuff about this book. I am renewing it at the library and I’m going to have The Man read it…at least the chapters that I found really important. I hope it opens his eyes like it did mine. It would create SO MUCH harmony in our house – it actually brings tears to my eyes to think about.

So, my goal for this week is to continue practicing these techniques, as well as positive praise. I always thought I gave positive praise, but I didn’t know you were supposed to praise the things they do every day…and the last couple of weeks, it’s worked VERY well.

Long post today, but you’re a trooper for making it through! ;)

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Want to join in the fun?

Here's what to do:

- Choose a goal. (It can be a new one each week or something more long-term.)

- Write a Makeover Monday post to share your goal for the week ahead. State whether or not you accomplished your goal from the previous week. It's okay to brag! If you are working towards a long-term goal, report on your progress.

- Spread the good karma by visiting other Makeover Monday participants to encourage and congratulate them on their own makeovers. (check out Moodswinging Mommy for a list of participants)

- Feel the love coming right back at you!

Don't let Monday be a downer! Start your week off right by celebrating your accomplishments and those of fellow bloggers.

Makeover Monday #2

Mind - Finish my book. Mission: Accomplished! I finished Cleaning and the Meaning of Life by Paula Jhung yesterday. I still don’t think the title of the book accurately reflects what the book is about. Paula Jhung has a very zen-like approach to decorating and cleaning. I really loved the chapter about Chi – and what makes Chi happy. The book is also written in an easy-to-read manner. Kind of like a magazine. That makes it much easier for my little A.D.D. brain to finish.

This week, I want to finish the parenting book I picked up.

Body - Yoga one night a week after work. Walk or run twice during the week. I didn’t do so hot at this one. I did go for a walk one night and aside from the gnats, it was nice. I’m going to consider the second walk done, too, because we played golf Saturday and I walked most of the way (except when I got to drive the cart!), then we went “Outside Mall” shopping and then I made my garden on Sunday. But as much as I wanted to, I didn’t do yoga.

My goal was supposed to be “Elliptical 3x this week” – but we didn’t get one…again. We stopped in at Sears Saturday night and found a great NordicTrack one on sale from 799.99 to 499.99 – right in (okay, at the very top of) our price range. The Man said “We should buy it tonight! What if the sale ends?” Me: “I triple checked the tag – the sale runs 6/3 – 6-23! Let’s wait until we have the Blazer to pick it up.” Fast forward to Sunday night, racing the hour down there – in the truck – to find that they raised the price a hundred dollars and changed the dates to 6/10 – 6/23. I would have talked to the salespeople about it and asked them to give me the original price (I worked retail for a long time – I KNOW I could have done it) – had there been one willing to stop gabbing with their friends long enough to notice me standing there – OBVIOUSLY waiting. The Man must have seen the steam coming from my ears because he suggested we ‘just go.’ We have spent AT LEAST 10 hours of our time trying to replace this flippin’ machine. It doesn’t help that we live so far away. I’m done. I’m done. I’m done. It took a long time for me to calm down and come to that conclusion, but that’s it – I’m done.

That said - I’m going to keep the same goal for this week.

Soul - Meditate once during the week. Unless you count me deep-breathing to stop the nuclear explosion that I would have become after my Sears visit, I didn’t make this one, either. But I’m scratching the idea. The only time I’ve ever found to meditate was when I went part-time during DCP’s maternity break and I listened to my guided meditation podcasts while waiting for the bus to come. Until I find some extra time like that again, this idea is up in smoke.

My new one that will save my soul better than any reflection: Stop Yelling. This, I’m sure, will be an ongoing battle. I’m a yeller by nature. I can get pretty nasty. I fricking hate it. This coincides a bit with the book I’m reading now, (“Chapter one: appropriate punishment. Yelling is an inappropriate punishment.”) so maybe it will be easier with a little help from the book. And hey! While I’m taking my “time out” (when I get too frustrated and want to yell) I can do yoga or meditate or something. Probably ‘Or Something.’


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Want to join in the fun? Here's what to do:
- Choose a goal. (It can be a new one each week or something more long-term.)
- Write a Makeover Monday post to share your goal for the week ahead. State whether or not you accomplished your goal from the previous week. It's okay to brag! If you are working towards a long-term goal, report on your progress.
- Spread the good karma by visiting other Makeover Monday participants to encourage and congratulate them on their own makeovers. (check out Moodswinging Mommy for a list of participants)
- Feel the love coming right back at you!

Don't let Monday be a downer! Start your week off right by celebrating your accomplishments and those of fellow bloggers.

In Which The Boy Turns on Me

DISCLAIMER: I never meant for this blog to be a ‘mommyblog’ or a ‘step-mommyblog’ or a “Join us on our fight for custody” blog – but I gotta get this out somehow or it will eat away at my brain and my heart and will eventually kill me (I am NOT overdramatic – or emo). So, if you have the patience, read on. I’m not rereading it and I’m not even the slightest bit concerned about my grammar. Or language. Bear with me or don’t – I just can’t afford therapy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Friday morning I was hit with a bomb. On our way out the door, I said, “I sure hope you get your toys off the living room floor before you go to your mom’s this weekend – I’d hate to see them ‘disappear.’” In response I got, “I’m going to go live with my mom,” from the Ninja Boy.

“No you aren’t.” I calmly replied.

“Yes I am. She said I could. When I’m twelve I get to pick who I’m going to live with and she can take care of me now.”

I was still a little shocked that he responded. I tried to put it simply, “No, she CAN’T take care of you,” type stuff, but he kept pushing it. “She has a GOOD job [as a cashier at Menards]! She CAN take care of me and I WANT to live with her!”

“Well guess what!?” Please, readers, don’t hate me for this – I hate myself enough, “Your mom doesn’t even have a job anymore! She quit it so she could get money from the government!! She can’t take care of you with THAT!”

While it was true, it wasn’t a nice thing to say. The Man got a call from the Social Security office on Thursday telling him that Scari had filed a claim. They wanted his and the kids’ information to see if they were eligible for benefits.

“Is she disabled?” you might ask. Nope. No physical limitations whatsoever. She’s fucking crazy. She must have finally proved that she’s schizophrenic (she started trying two years ago as a means to get out of paying child support).

RANT ALERT: (feel free to skip this part) You know how much this pisses me off? I’m here working my ass off and WILL be until I’m old enough to retire. Every month, I pay out two hundred dollars toward Social Security – and it won’t even be around when I’m old enough to use it. My brother, who suffers from a degenerative retinal disease, lost his benefits because he “wasn’t blind enough.” But apparently, you can be fucking CRAZY enough!! Apparently, if you want to go fry out your brain on METH, you can just go right the fuck ahead because once it’s gone, the government will pay you to live in a Section 8 ghetto and buy your smokes. But, a BIG sorry goes out to the homeless children in the city – there just isn’t money to help you! Let’s not be selfish now, these people may have done it to themselves, BUT THEY ARE PEOPLE TOO! Who cares if they fucked themselves up? It’s up to US as a COMMUNITY to support them and love them and pay ALL THEIR FUCKING MEDICAL EXPENSES.

And my number one concern over all this: If she’s too loopy to hold a job, how is she capable of caring for children?

< / rant >

Okay, so after I spouted a little more evil out of my mouth, I dropped the kids off at daycare and called The Man bawling.

That night, she called and confirmed what Ninja Boy had told us. “When he’s twelve, he gets to PICK where he wants to be!” Yes, Moron, every child at the age of twelve gets to decide for themselves what kind of live they will have. Me? I moved into Disneyworld and ate Sno-Cones and funnel cakes all day!! Oh, wait, right – not in REALITY! Because in REALITY, a judge would NEVER say “So, you are TWELVE now, boy? Sure, your schizophrenic mom’s apartment in the ghetto is the PERFECT place for you to be! Wish GRANTED!”

I asked Sunshine that night if her mom ever said anything to her about living with her. “Yeah and I told her ‘No, I don’t want to.’” My sweet little baby – who always tries to make everyone feel loved. What pressure she must have felt being asked that. But I am SO proud of her for saying how she felt.

I know I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up about it. I know that it’s not a viable outcome. My problem is that we were finally GETTING ALONG. We were finally to a place where we were happy with our situation and then she had to push it. The pickup went fine that evening, except we forgot to send NB’s ADHD meds. So Saturday morning on our way out of town, we stopped to drop them off. NB came to the car and I said, “Where’s your mom?”

“She doesn’t want to come down.” He said. Whatever, I gave him the baggie with the two pills and said, “Take these right up to her.” And he went back to the playground. We sat in the car for a minute wondering what was going on before we pulled up alongside the playground. Scari was standing on her second floor balcony screaming “NOOOOOWWW!!!! BRING THEM TO ME NNNNOOOOOOOWWWW!!!” Trying to get NB to bring the pills up to her. We heard him yell, “I’ll be back later!” The Man got out of the car and went after him. Never in his life would that boy EVER blow off something I told him with such disrespect. And yet, his own mom who he wants to live with SOOO bad – doesn’t get a shred of respect from him.

Though we felt uneasy about it, we left for Wisconsin.

Sunday at five, I checked my phone and had a message from Scari saying the kids wanted to spend another night. I called her back and said, “No, we are already on our way there.”

When we got there, only NB, Scari and her boyfriend were outside. Scari brought his bag to the car and started bitching at The Man about how we are such assholes for not letting them spend the night and we should do what the kids want and it’s still the weekend and we’re fucking idiots. I very dryly said, “It’s Sunday at six, the weekend is over.” She got in my face and told me to “Shut the fuck up” because it was none of my business. It was between her and her ex-husband about HER kids.

I am an extremely reasonable and calm person until someone pushes my buttons. And that bitch had.

“So where have you been the past five years while I was working to raise them, bitch? Out getting fucking HIGH and screwing the neighborhood!”

To which her super-smart boyfriend replied, “Can’t someone make mistakes?”

No, you stupid fucker. You don’t get to desert your kids for FUCKING YEARS and call it a ‘mistake.’ There are no do-overs when it comes to raising kids.

So, anyway, NB refused to get it in the car. They refused to let him. She held him back screaming, “He doesn’t want to go, he fucking hates the bitch!” and telling him he could stay if he wanted. I finally called the police when they wouldn’t get Sunshine.

After I called, they were suddenly willing to cooperate and Sunshine came running to me. She was visibly upset – as anyone would imagine. I tried to comfort her and tell her that everyone was just very upset and saying mean things and it wasn’t their fault at all. But it should have never happened in the first place. They put NB in the car, trying to reassure him that they were taking us to court so that he could live with them.

We waited for the police and The Man talked to the officer telling him what happened and that we just needed a report made. NB was screaming in the backseat that he didn’t want to go home that he hated us and we hated him and we should just let him go.

I stopped him and said “I don’t care what you believe about anything else, but you’d better believe that we love you – we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t!”

Halfway home, he’d gone back to my regular Ninja Boy. Not the screaming, hate-spewing monster he’d been just a half-hour earlier.

That night, he asked me why his parents weren’t together anymore and I told him he’d better ask his dad. Up until now, the answer had always been, “they just didn’t get along.” But that wasn’t going to cut it anymore. We have no idea what she tells them when they are there. And for the first time, we felt our silence would end up hurting us rather than making us look like “the better person.” So TM explained, “Your mom found someone else she wanted to be with and left. When she finally came back, I let her take care of you. But then she started using drugs and wasn’t taking care of you guys. You had no electricity, you had no food and you had nobody to watch you. So you came to live with me and your mom went on with her life.” “Don’t you remember when your mom wasn’t around?” he asked them, “I almost lost my job because she wouldn’t help me watch you and I almost lost you when she finally did.”

And, even though I’d debated over it since we got back in the car, I asked NB, “Why do you hate me?”

“I NEVER said that!”

“Well, that really hurt my feelings when your mom said that. I love you and I do everything I can to give you a good life. It really hurt to hear someone say that you hate me.”

He snuggled up in my lap and pulled my arms tightly around him. And that was the end of it – until tomorrow, when she uses her “weekly visitation” night. I’m scared. I am. I’m not even afraid that she will get custody. I’m just scared about what this is going to do to our happy family. I’m scared what it’s going to do to the kids. I’m scared what it’s going to do to me. It’s going to be a long road – I’m just not sure I’m ready for it.


For anyone who made it through that – you deserve a medal! And for anyone who just scanned to the bottom, I totally understand and my regularly scheduled posts will resume tomorrow.

Skewl Sux

I don’t remember my mom ever meeting any of my teachers in high school. I don’t think she ever went to a conference, ever asked if I had homework, I don’t think she even knew what classes I was in.

In her defense, she had two small children at home. I was a smart girl, I received mostly A’s in middle school and the beginning of ninth grade – why should she have been worried?

She should have worried because I was way too young to be my own cheerleader. I was way to naïve to understand that I should have cared about my education. My grandpa was the only person who ever pushed the importance of education on me – but by then it seemed to me that he had me mistaken for someone else. Someone with “potential.” In all actuality, there was no money for me to go to school. Everyone knew it, so nobody pushed the issue.

In the tenth grade, I came out of my shell a bit and started meeting new people. People who didn’t get A’s. People who didn’t even go to school much. In fact, my boyfriend had dropped out a couple years before. He would pick up my brother and me and we’d go get high before he dropped us off at school. Then I would head to first hour – Psychology – a class that I was really excited for when I’d signed up for it in 9th grade. And there, I would sleep off my high. It was no surprise when I failed that class. It wasn’t a surprise when I failed health, either. After all, it was during third hour – that was lunch hour. Who wants to learn about STD’s when you can hang out with your friends for 85 minutes?

My high school years got progressively worse. I was constantly in In-School-Suspension for skipping and for getting caught coming in from cigarette breaks. I was flunking out of classes that should have been easy for me.

And nobody ever said anything to me. Nobody said, “Amy, how did you go from all A’s to just ONE?? Why aren’t you passing these classes?” Had someone stepped in when it started getting bad, maybe I would have changed my ways. Maybe I would have quit using drugs. Maybe my life would have taken a different direction. Maybe.

Halfway through my senior year, I decided I’d had enough. I was living with my friend PM – working almost full time for $5.75/hr trying to pay my rent and car insurance. My dean was really great to me through it all. She let me call myself in sick – she expected me to make good decisions. After all, she was one of my 9th grade teachers – she knew I was smart and capable. When she told me that I would be a credit short of graduating, I decided to just quit.

PM convinced me that if we went to an alternative school, we’d only have to go three hours a day and we’d be able to work ahead to graduate on time. It seemed like a smart idea at the time.

When we told our dean, she never said a word to PM, she was pregnant and the deans tried to usher the pregnant girls out the door as soon as they could. She looked at ME and said, “Don’t do this, Amy. You don’t have to do this! There’s only half a year left – you can walk with your class and take a summer class, you can take night classes, and everything will be okay.”

But I did it anyway. Like fucking fools, we walked from class to class with our yellow discharge slips collecting our things. I’m so embarrassed when I look back at that now. How could I think I was ‘so cool’ because I was dropping out????

When we started at the alternative school a week later, I realized I had made a mistake. These kids were fuck-ups. And a lot of them were just plain stupid. Our homework was to read articles – any kind! – then write a paragraph about them. All of the work was this lame and un-educational. We got a point for each and once you had enough points, you were done with school.

One would think that with it being so easy, I just breezed through it. But I didn’t. I felt like I was insulting my intelligence every time I walked through the door. It wasn’t long before I was ditching out early to get to Burger King before they stopped serving breakfast. Not much longer after that, they asked me to stop coming so they could use the space for someone who wanted to be there.

PM ended up graduating with the class. It seems the hours she spent in front of the TV blurbing articles from the paper really paid off for her.

I ended up trying online school and another alternative school (twice!) before I earned my diploma two years late.

Everyone asks themselves at one point or another, “If I could change _____, would I?” There aren’t a lot of things I’d say “yes” to. My experiences have made me who I am. They led me to have the family I have today. I could never willingly give that up. But staying in school is the one thing I would change. Dropping out is the number one regret I have in life. Because I will never know where life would have taken me had I given myself those opportunities.

This all comes to mind because of the troubles we are having with Ninja Boy. He is at an age where he really controls what he’d like to. If he doesn’t want to bring his homework home, he doesn’t have to. And we’re none-the-wiser.

I have pleaded, fought and screamed. I talk to his teachers via phone and email whenever I can. We’ve developed several plans to avoid the excuses – but no matter what we do, he finds a way out of it. “Forgetting” papers, a mysteriously destroyed assignment books, anything he can to get out of doing his homework.

As we are struggling through this, the only thing in my head is “Don’t give up on him.” As frustrated as I get with the whole situation, I know that if we just give up, his education won’t mean anything to him. I know from my own personal experience how important it is to have someone CARE about what you are doing. And how easy it is to give it all up when you realize that no one does.

What was your education experience like? Were you an ignored slacker or did your parents try to prep you for Ivy League? If you have kids, how do you keep them interested in school/learning?

**The title makes me laugh so hard – some girl left that comment on my little brother’s Bebo page one day. And these children are who will be running our country in twenty years – sorry – our “cntry.”