Monday, September 28, 2009

Betty Wouldn't Use the Coat Hanger!

Way back in the day, when I used to be A Real Blogger (much different than the crappy blogger I am now), I had a secret. Odd for someone who spent her time telling all her secrets to the big and vast Internet, but I had one.

My children? They are homeschooled.

There. I said it. What's funny about this, especially if you don't know me or never read any of my old blogs, is that I'm not exactly a cool, relaxed mama. I don't treat every moment with my children like a Moment of Zen; I have no intention to scrapbook first poops or do finger plays (whatever they are) or read aloud Dickens to my children.

No, the other day, I let them watch Dora and called it a Spanish lesson. Just to prove it, I recently, out of the blue, looked at my daughter and said "Say backpack in Spanish!" and she answered "mochilla."

Sweet baby Jesus, my child is a genius I tell you.

(In other news, I have planted the Dora seeds of doubt in her mind. "Why is she hanging around with a talking monkey?" My daughter's eyes grew as big as saucers as she pondered that information.)

Besides the fact that I'm training my children to grow up to be socially inept weirdos who are unable to breathe through their noses, having kids at home all day can cramp your style. Especially if you're trying to be Betty Crocker, not Mommy Dearest.

My keeping them sheltered from the world for my sick pleasure homeschooled was one of the reasons I decided to change my life. There was no way I could have these two around all day when the living room was a mess, we were eating breakfast at noon and the toilet had a red ring around it!

The horror! I didn't want my children growing up like slobs, and if they stayed home with me, they were going to have a PhD in "How Not to Live Your Life." (Lesson #1: Do not blog about your life. Or other people's lives. Lesson 2: Peanut butter is not a food group.)

A surprising thing has happened in the past month or how long this has been going house is staying clean. Sure, there are still Hot Wheels cars all over the floor, but they're much easier to pick up than trying to do that in addition to picking up 100 headless, naked barbies, cleaning paint off the ground and facing a sink full of dishes.

Life is becoming much more managable now.

And, thanks to a couple of Glade Plug-Ins, I can happily walk into my house and know that it smells like "Autumn Harvest," not death, poop or old people.

Ain't life grand?


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