(This is the entry I made for the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition…I did not win but it still makes me giggle. And sob a bit.)
Well, look at you. Kind of having it together. House not in complete shambles (and finally narrowing in on that weird smell). Not to mention, your personal hygiene is now at a solid meh, a huge improvement over the former blah.
All because you’ve managed to do the bare minimum as a parent and kept your children alive long enough for them to be on the brink of pubescence. And, more importantly, independence.
Which, hey, is no small achievement considering they actively worked against you almost every step of the way. But nevertheless you persisted, working endlessly to mold those leaking lumps of loud human clay into something vaguely resembling human beings who have the barest possible concept of how a dishwasher should be loaded.
So now it’s time to sit back a bit. Relax. Watch as their growing autonomy allows you some breathing room…
Oh ho! But what’s this? Why, it’s upper elementary school homework, here to shatter your fragile sense of self and make you question your basic intelligence, you absolute dum dum.
Oh yes, no more simple coloring the odd numbers red and the even numbers green. You will now be spending every weekday afternoon trying to access the foggy recesses of your mind for information that is buried deep underneath partially made grocery lists and misheard song lyrics.
And all while your child has a meltdown right beside you.
There will be unholy mathematical combinations and tightly packed science worksheets thrust in front of your face that will have you panicking so hard you literally forget what numbers and words are. Just indecipherable symbols swimming menacingly in front of your face. You will have to relive every compare and contrast, every connotation and denotation, and every single compound fraction that made you want to die the first time around. Did you know they teach geometry in sixth grade now? Don’t forget to show your work.
It’s ok to cry. In fact, feel free to use your college degree as a tissue since it’s apparently useless and you know nothing.
Of course, this is all assuming you can even get them to sit down and do it in the first place. Remember how stupid you thought homework was? How much you hated it? Yeah. So do they. Only now you have to be on the side of The Man.
But just remember, when all seems lost, at least this time you’re old enough to drink wine to help you get through it.
Cheers.
Chick Writes Stuff 