where wildly different is perfectly normal
More so and so fragments
More so and so fragments

More so and so fragments

Mommy's Idea

Dear So and So...

Dear parents and teachers of gifted kids,
There will be a Twitter chat on supporting gifted kids next Friday, hashtag #nomoremyths. If you’re not on Twitter, get on Twitter so you can participate. Hosting is the delightful Deborah Mersino of Ingeniosus. Keep an eye on her blog next week for further details, or just drop me a note and I’ll make sure you have the info. Deborah is fantastic at gifted advocacy and support, and hopefully later this month we’ll finally meet for lunch. She’s lining up all the experts she can, so it will be worth your time to jump onto this Twitter chat.
Giving you the super secret double pinky gifted handshake,


Dear A,
May I ask just WTF you were thinking, going into Daddy’s office this morning? And playing with his phone? And accidentally calling his boss? You know, the guy who works at home and heard his phone ring at 5:15 am? I can see you now know how absolutely stupid that was for you to do, and I’m sure a weekend of no screen time will push the lesson home too.  Really dude, not a good way to start the day.
Do it again and we’ll superglue your fingers together (just kidding…mostly…),


Dear Qwest,
Dudes, I don’t know what you’re doing, but keep doing it. I had to call a couple of times this week to make changes to our account and both times I had people who didn’t live across the world from me! And I talked to a real, live human being within 90 seconds! And I’m getting super faster internet and free unlimited long distance AND saving quite a bit of coin! Truly, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but calling your customer service was the best part of this craptastic week.
Keep it up and I’ll quit calling you Qworst,
The woman who can’t wait to have internet so fast it blows her hair back


Dear, sweet Rosie,
I know you smell that ginormous ham in the kitchen. It’s making my mouth water too. But you even think of working that pea brain of yours to figure out a way to eat it, I will sell you. Ain’t no amount of lovin’ to make up for that, girlfriend. And your toxic farts are bad enough without a fresh 20 pound ham in you. Just sayin’.
Love you except the hair,


Dear J,
Sweetheart, coming up to me at school when I’m volunteering and you’re supposed to be working and asking for a friend to come over after school and then starting up the whining when I say no isn’t going to get you what you want. It’s only going to tick me off. And after this week from hell, I really don’t need that. I don’t want to be responsible for another human being in this house this afternoon. Does this make me a bad mom? Probably, but frankly, I’m past caring this week.
Still love you but want some quiet,


Dear school,
Next week I start the process of being a thorn in your side. I have an 8 year old son who is having panic attacks over the state testing coming up. I wish I was exaggerating, but alas, no. I’m anxious to hear what you have to say, but my take on it is, give him the accommodations he needs or I will pull him from the testing and the school will show a big fat goose egg on its record. I can homeschool for a few months, or borrow money from friends and family to put him in the fantastic private school I toured yesterday. Your call.
She’s waking from her nap and not happy about it,
Mama Bear


Dear universe,
Your current cranial-rectal inversion is really borking up my mojo. I’m tired of waking up in the morning afraid of what is going to be thrown at me and in what order. I’ve managed to survive the shit you’ve thrown my way recently, now it’s time to plant in the well-fertilized soul of my life. I want need a job. Preferably part-time, but will somehow juggle full-time if the right thing comes along. Something that will not kill my brain. I know I’ve been out of the workforce awhile, but good grief, pay me what I’m worth.  I need some guidance for my son, because I’m at the end of my rope and about to hang myself with what’s left. I need my husband back, instead of the half-zombie, half-kumquat I have now. I need to catch up on all the emails, paperwork, housecleaning, miscellany of my life before my brain goes on strike (complete with little signs and rhyming chants), making everything all the  more difficult. Cut me a break, will ya?
Rocking back and forth in the corner with her thumb in her mouth,
Jen (almost 5pm…almost 5pm)


Dear everyone I owe an email response,
I’m so sorry. It’s coming. I hope.
Can’t type fast enough,
She who has a computer so slow that an entire line is typed before it magically appears


Love and kisses, all!


  1. ” I have an 8 year old son who is having panic attacks over the state testing coming up.”

    Oh love, I am so sorry, dealing with an utterly miserable 8yo Son of Thor was hard enough, if it had come to panic attacks I think I might have bopped somebody.

  2. Jen, Jen, Jen –

    It’s ALWAYS 5pm somewhere. As a matter of fact, when it’s 5pm for you, it’s already 7pm for me, so if I wait until 5 to “have one cross the wires” with you, then you can have one at your 3, but MY 5pm. Sound good?


  3. mub

    I feel so bad that your 8 year old is so worried about the tests he’s having panic attacks. I hate that schools put all this pressure on these kids for their stupid standardized tests that don’t really show anything anyways =/ I hope you can get something figured out that works for you guys.

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  5. I love this — ALL of this (not necessarily loving all the content, just your way of venting it out)

    Opt out of the tests, you don’t have to homeschool, you absolutely have the right to opt out – they are pointless wastes of time and resources anyhow, they are completely flawed, are not objective and therefore should not be considered standardized. My children attend(ed) option schools, and I fully understand the pressure not to stick your beloved school with a gooseegg – but we must send a message to school boards and the state department of education that these tests are more useless than (oh what to choose a slam on school administrators or tits on a bull, hmmmm, your call). Add to that your child’s unbearable physical reaction, not good for his health, or yours – yeah, you should definitely opt out (or teach your child how to fill in the circles so that they spell expletives declaring his opinion of their tests?)

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