I GoT NuTTiN

I don't have much to write about on this Thursday, Chickens. The Spawn are still sick, although I had to send ComplicatedBoy into school today with strict instructions to throw up ON his teacher. Because she intimated that we were faking his absences to date. As. If! ANYBODY who knows me, knows I never pass up an opportunity to foist my kids onto someone else.

The big event of this week was Parent-Teacher conferences, which make me so nervous that I always develop this little breathy laugh that comes out of my nose. Gentle horse-like snorts which I am unable to control, made in response to whatever news gets delivered. At some point in our 3rd grade conference, Sexyhusbandomine started wiping His nose, which is his subtle way of telling me I needed to wipe MY nose. But in my nervousness, I ignored his hand signals, and shot him a perplexed and dark look when he attempted to mouth: "YOU HAVE SOMETHING HANGING OUT OF YOUR NOSE." So engrossed was I in watching his father behave like a Mime on Crack, that I have very little memory of what was discussed about ComplicatedBoy's beginning of third grade.

I am pretty sure Parental Boogers were discussed in the Teacher Lounge later that day. And that the word GINORMOUS was used.

I do remember that we mixed it up a bit in CBoy's conference--the teacher talking about independence, and me trying to explain that I want him to be independent, as long as he stays my Wittle Baby.

"I think I rationalized our son's shortcomings very well in there" I said to Sexyhusbandomine on our way out.

His reply: "Keep telling yourself that when he is thirty and living in our basement."