(As in: everything makes you want to, and your kids do nothing but)

Tag Archives: daycare

Our daycare sends home little sheets of paper that tell us how our children did that day at school. It includes whether they slept, ate and what their mood was. Usually it says “happy” or “cranky” or “seems sick.”

The other day Huxley came home with one that said, “Aggressive toward friends. Hitting, kicking, pushing.”

He just turned 2 and he’s already gotten a bad report card??

f grade

I’m just curious what the teachers think this accomplishes for a family like mine. I work such long hours and my commute sucks so hard that my kids are at school for up to 11 hours a day. So, how am I supposed to correct my son’s bad behavior?

Isn’t it just really a way to grade the parent?

“Your kid is a dick. You get an F!”

I am contemplating sending back my own report cards.

“My kid came home with so much crusted snot he can barely breathe. You get a C-.”

“My daughter came home with stamps all over her arms that made her look like a UFC fighter on a losing streak. You get a D.”


“You gave my kid a cupcake right before I came to pick her up. F! F! F!”

evil cupcake

All of this being said, they’re practically raising my kid for a minimum wage, which makes me sick on so many levels.

And Huck is being aggressive.

birthday pout

Last night he threw a pink ball and hit Alma right in the head while she was eating dinner. She was mid-chew and began bawling with chunks of white rice falling from her mouth. We told him to say sorry and he said, “No way!”

He’s always been good about apologizing. I even have success forcing them to “hug it out.”

Not this time. He got time out because he refused to say sorry. So, he sat in his room shrieking for ten minutes.

“Are you ready to say sorry yet, Huck?”

“No.” (continues sobbing uncontrollably as he is placed back in time out)

Ten minutes later, we do it all over again.

This went on for an hour. By this point he’s doing that weird hiccuping cry, the ugly one we try so hard to avoid as grownups.

ugly cry

I gave him a bath, calmed him down and once he was in his pajamas requested he apologize again. I explained that even if it was an accident, he hurt Alma and should say he’s sorry. He walked over and said, “Sorry Alma” and they hugged. Alma even told him it was okay.

I thought I couldn’t get any prouder, but then Alma turned to me and said, “thank you, mommy.”

I asked, “What for?”

She said, “Doing all of this for us.”

I don’t know if she even knew what she meant, but it melted my heart. I may even give myself a C on my report card today.


I am a horrible mother. I missed a phone call from daycare and didn’t even get the message for an hour that my daughter was sick. They said she’s complaining that her belly hurts. Which can only mean that she has a urinary tract infection which has caused kidney failure and/or a tumor and/or her organs are all shutting down and that hour I wasn’t aware may have made the difference between life and death.

Or it could be a belly ache.

But, it still stands that I am a horrible mother. If I didn’t work, I would be able to ask her to explain how it hurts, figure out if she needed to go to a doctor, make an appointment if needed, give her Saltines and Ginger Ale and watch 30 back-to-back episodes of Super Why cuddled under a blanket with her.

If I didn’t work, I would be a fantastic mom. If I didn’t have kids, I would be a phenomenal Producer. Because I am a working mom, I kinda sorta suck hard at both.

Today, my husband needs to pick up a rental car for work, so he has to leave the kids with his parents. If I stayed at home, I could pick them up from school. Tomorrow, he has to head out of town at 5:30 a.m. That means I have to try and shower, get ready, get the kids ready and get them to school when it opens at 7 a.m., encounter rush hour traffic and get to work late.

I will be sweating, even if it’s 45 degrees outside.


My ears will be ringing from all of the screaming.

If I stayed at home, Alma could wake up leisurely and we could bicker about what she’s going to wear for an interminable amount of time. Instead of sweating, maybe I would actually end up SMILING.


My husband just called the daycare and they say Alma was just “tired.” What the hell? Yeah, when I’m exhausted I always confuse it for a stomach ache. So, it could still be the swine flu or appendicitis. But, I won’t know until it’s too late, because I’M WORKING!