Let me 'splain...No, there is to much. Let me sum up.
I spent several months working through the final stages of the grieving process after losing my Dad in early December. Christmas sucked, New Year's sucked, Oldest Oompas birthday sucked. You get the gist of the sucking. It sucked. It still sucks, but it sucks a little less everyday.
The Oompas grew and grew and grew, despite my warning of groundings and spankings. Oldest Oompa started high school this year. I'm a hot mess of emotions about all this. On one hand, I'm sad to see my little girl grow up but then she's grown into such an amazingly cool
Ginger Oompa is just entering that hormonal, bitchy, if you roll your eye one more time momma's gonna whup your ass stage. Good times, good times. She's probably just hungry. Freak of a kid is growing so fast she's going to be sharing shoes with the Jolly Green Giant in a few months! At least now when I yell for the assistance of a tall person she and Mr. Awesome© come running.
The biggest changes are for Boy Oompa. He started 5th grade in public school. Our days of home schooling are behind us now and he's struggling to make the adjustment. Riding the bus, lockers, different teachers, school food and of course, pretty, pretty girls. Poor kid had to beat the hootchies off ...once the new kid novelty wears off I'm sure he'll be okay but, dang...these biotches are aggressive!!
After 10 years of home schooling, I'll tell ya Fred...I was DONE!!! Teaching, especially your own children, is very taxing. They're like vampires, draining the very life blood from your body then leaving your rumpled form discarded on the floor like a wet bath towel. Crap! Now I have to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Alrighty then, let's see: When I was five, I wanted to be a vet....hmmm, expressing a pit bull's anal glands?? No thanks. When I was ten I wanted to be a lawyer...that's out because, well, I have a soul. I wanted to be an English teacher...been there, done that, have the emotional scars from trying to get my 3rd grader to recite a stupid song about all the state of being verbs. Same goes for the nursing career...treating a quadriplegic's public hair for lice and seeing a male to female "conversion" has created enough PTSD symptoms for a life time.
In the immortal words of Mr. Lloyd Dobler,"I don't want to sell anything, buy anything or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought or processed, or repair anything sold, bought or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that."
Oh, I know...I'll go back to school! I signed up for the joy of thesis paper writing, microeconomics, ethics and classes titled "Supervision" where, I assume, I'll learn to supervise something...or someone. If I make it the two years without losing my schmidt, I'll graduate with an Associates in Human Resources Management. If you run into Mr. Awesome© please ignore his bragging about "banging a college student", he's a bit of a slut. Classes start Monday...wish me well friends. Donations of tequila and cliff notes are equally appreciated.