>Yesterday was the day I decided something: really not sure what it is yet, but I’m sure it’s got something to do with humility.
Here’s what happened…wait for the end; it’s worth it.
The day started off badly…running late, got to work late, customers all day ranting and raving…then my kid calls me in the afternoon.
She’s missed 11 questions out of 20 on her Social Studies test…a test, I might add, I helped her study for all week. She *knew* those answers. When I asked her what went wrong, I got a lot of blah blah…whatever… nothing that made any sense. (Keep in mind that the kid is 8, so hey, how much sense is she really supposed to make in diagnosing testing issues?)
So, I go to the school to get it straight from the teacher. It’s important to note here that generally I wear the junkiest clothes I own to work. It’s a sign shop–it’s dirty, there’s paint everywhere, and good clothing gets ruined. But luckily, I just happened to wear something decent yesterday: a jean skirt and nice sweater. I even wore heels, which I never do. Now, that skirt was a little tight, but I looked pretty good, if I do say so myself.
Well, I meet with the teacher. She tells me that my kid is having trouble “focusing” and she seems to be “distracted” and a bunch of other stuff that told me one thing–she’s goofing the hell off when she should be working.
The teacher, a very sweet and concerned woman, suggests that perhaps she needs a special class… I, however, have a different plan.
I get home and chew her a new asshole. I tell her if she doesn’t get it together, she’ll think she’s in prison–this goes on for an hour. (Later, after we get home, it’s important to note here that she did her homework in record time completely by herself with not one single mistake–there is nothing wrong with that kid that a good spanking wouldn’t cure…fortunately, it won’t have to come to that.)
So, then she says to me: “Mama, I have to tell you something.”
I’m prepared for some excuses–some bullshit–and I’m loaded with some serious kick-your-booty-to-kingdom-come attitude.
I say, “What is it?”
She says, “You have a rip in your skirt.”
I feel the back of my skirt. Oh yes, I do. 12 inches straight up the back seam, exposing my backside to all the world.
Now, I have no idea how long it has been this way…not a clue. And my demeanor during the entire afternoon has been such that I doubt anyone could work up the guts to say a word, so frankly, it could have been that way for hours.
I started laughing, almost maniacally if you want the truth.
That’s what I call the perfect end to this perfect day.