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GELATO MAMA
For hours. And they don’t even get to drink. And they barely get to see their friends. Our kids are Zoom Zombies, just staring at a screen with a desperate teacher trying so hard to do their job on the other side, maybe a little drool slipping down their chins before they perkup for a
GELATO MAMA: 2021
Dear Daughter, Your 11th birthday marked the beginning of our pandemic journey through this vast landscape named COVID. Our plans to celebrate at a bakery with your friends decorating cakes evaporated so instead we stood in our driveway waving to your friends parading by as your birthday became one of the first casualties of life gone awry. GELATO MAMA: UNPLUGGED (?) Lately I have been pondering with the idea of pulling an Oprah on my kids and denying them the pleasure and magic that is television. Really, the only thing stopping me is because I know how painful itwill be.
GELATO MAMA: NO DINNER FOR YOU! Last night I was grumpy and my body was feeling like eating wasn’t a necessary part of my evening so after I put the kids to bed I declared that I was not going to make dinner. GELATO MAMA: I HATE UNICORNS! Then I woke up. Thank God. I feel inadequate enough while the sun is out, I don’t need to be reminded of this while the moon shines. Nights should be filled with visions of Ben Affleck, not anxiety ridden dreams that remind me of All That Crap I Still Haven’t Done. GELATO MAMA: ALPHA MOM People, in general, frighten me. I will break out in a mini sweat when left in charge of phoning in the pizza order. (Mmmm.pizza.) If I am in an environment where I know very few, if any, people, I do not have the desire to get to know them; I have the desire to retreat to thecorner or leave.
GELATO MAMA: SHHH..... Last night, as I was drifting off to a lovely sleep, my phone made the tiniest little sound and jolted me awake from dreams that were sure t GELATO MAMA: CRYBABY Having both a boy and a girl, I can't help but notice the differences in gender from birth. Boys really are born using their finger as a g GELATO MAMA: GUILT TRIP As for Husband away drinking wine, well, fuck him. Get your guilt trip going, make sure he comes home with plenty of baby celebration wine (you can soooo drink and breastfeedit’s all about the TIMING!), and maybe just kind of ignore him for a while. GELATO MAMA: PARTY HARDY... It’s no secret that once you become a parent, the social life you enjoyed Pre-Offspring is Long Gone. It’s not that you never go out, it’s just that you have moderation in mind when doing so.GELATO MAMA
For hours. And they don’t even get to drink. And they barely get to see their friends. Our kids are Zoom Zombies, just staring at a screen with a desperate teacher trying so hard to do their job on the other side, maybe a little drool slipping down their chins before they perkup for a
GELATO MAMA: 2021
Dear Daughter, Your 11th birthday marked the beginning of our pandemic journey through this vast landscape named COVID. Our plans to celebrate at a bakery with your friends decorating cakes evaporated so instead we stood in our driveway waving to your friends parading by as your birthday became one of the first casualties of life gone awry. GELATO MAMA: UNPLUGGED (?) Lately I have been pondering with the idea of pulling an Oprah on my kids and denying them the pleasure and magic that is television. Really, the only thing stopping me is because I know how painful itwill be.
GELATO MAMA: NO DINNER FOR YOU! Last night I was grumpy and my body was feeling like eating wasn’t a necessary part of my evening so after I put the kids to bed I declared that I was not going to make dinner. GELATO MAMA: I HATE UNICORNS! Then I woke up. Thank God. I feel inadequate enough while the sun is out, I don’t need to be reminded of this while the moon shines. Nights should be filled with visions of Ben Affleck, not anxiety ridden dreams that remind me of All That Crap I Still Haven’t Done. GELATO MAMA: ALPHA MOM People, in general, frighten me. I will break out in a mini sweat when left in charge of phoning in the pizza order. (Mmmm.pizza.) If I am in an environment where I know very few, if any, people, I do not have the desire to get to know them; I have the desire to retreat to thecorner or leave.
GELATO MAMA: SHHH..... Last night, as I was drifting off to a lovely sleep, my phone made the tiniest little sound and jolted me awake from dreams that were sure t GELATO MAMA: CRYBABY Having both a boy and a girl, I can't help but notice the differences in gender from birth. Boys really are born using their finger as a g GELATO MAMA: GUILT TRIP As for Husband away drinking wine, well, fuck him. Get your guilt trip going, make sure he comes home with plenty of baby celebration wine (you can soooo drink and breastfeedit’s all about the TIMING!), and maybe just kind of ignore him for a while. GELATO MAMA: PARTY HARDY... It’s no secret that once you become a parent, the social life you enjoyed Pre-Offspring is Long Gone. It’s not that you never go out, it’s just that you have moderation in mind when doing so. GELATO MAMA: UNPLUGGED (?) Lately I have been pondering with the idea of pulling an Oprah on my kids and denying them the pleasure and magic that is television. Really, the only thing stopping me is because I know how painful itwill be.
GELATO MAMA: SHHH..... Last night, as I was drifting off to a lovely sleep, my phone made the tiniest little sound and jolted me awake from dreams that were sure t GELATO MAMA: NO DINNER FOR YOU! Last night I was grumpy and my body was feeling like eating wasn’t a necessary part of my evening so after I put the kids to bed I declared that I was not going to make dinner. GELATO MAMA: ALPHA MOM People, in general, frighten me. I will break out in a mini sweat when left in charge of phoning in the pizza order. (Mmmm.pizza.) If I am in an environment where I know very few, if any, people, I do not have the desire to get to know them; I have the desire to retreat to thecorner or leave.
GELATO MAMA: MAY 2017 Seriously, this could be the whole post. Because if you’ve ever had the distinct pleasure of flying with Young Children, you know that your shit is GAME ON the second you set foot inside that airport. GELATO MAMA: JANUARY 2016 Hey-what’s up? How’s everything going? Pretty good, I hope. And me? Well, you know, I’m fine, I suppose. Just plugging along in thisschool year.
GELATO MAMA: SEPTEMBER 2017 You say potato, I say vodka. GELATO MAMA: PARTY HARDY... It’s no secret that once you become a parent, the social life you enjoyed Pre-Offspring is Long Gone. It’s not that you never go out, it’s just that you have moderation in mind when doing so. GELATO MAMA: SEPTEMBER 2014 The other day I was scrolling through my email when I came across a couple from Husband with links attached to them regarding Bed and Breakfasts in Maine. GELATO MAMA: JUNE 2012 The point is, I decided, 37 days ago, that maybe Certain Good Friend was right. It really wouldn’t take too much of an effort to just make a mark in my calendar when I got It, even though that would mean finding a pen, and a calendar.GELATO MAMA
For hours. And they don’t even get to drink. And they barely get to see their friends. Our kids are Zoom Zombies, just staring at a screen with a desperate teacher trying so hard to do their job on the other side, maybe a little drool slipping down their chins before they perkup for a
GELATO MAMA: 2021
Dear Daughter, Your 11th birthday marked the beginning of our pandemic journey through this vast landscape named COVID. Our plans to celebrate at a bakery with your friends decorating cakes evaporated so instead we stood in our driveway waving to your friends parading by as your birthday became one of the first casualties of life gone awry. GELATO MAMA:AND THE LIVING IS EASY.... Last night was a pretty quiet night here in the Gelato House. With the school year winding down, The Children didn’t have homework to fight GELATO MAMA: READY OR NOT It’s almost as if it never happened. I meanit DID. I know it did. I was witness to almost each and every second of each and every day. GELATO MAMA: ONE MORE MINUTE..... Each evening as I say goodnight to Son, I climb up to the top bunk like always and lay with him for a few minutes. It is a ritual that cannot be missed, no matter how late or early it happens to be. GELATO MAMA: AND THEN SHE WAS TEN.... When you were younger, I joked that your budding personality was the result of a perfect storm consisting of your dad’s ease of socializing with anyone and my somewhat inappropriate sense of humor which translated to you telling fart jokes to a car full of your brother’s friends. GELATO MAMA: AND THEN HE WAS TEN.... You’re ten years old now. 10. However you say it, type it, write ityou’re a whole decade old. Wow. That’s really hard to believe. Each new year is hard to believe because to meas the saying goesyou are still my first baby, my newborn, my toddler, my kindergartner. GELATO MAMA: THE DIRTY TRUTH This also leads me to believe that all those sexist commercials showing women so HAPPY to have a dish soap that not only cuts through tough grease, but will also give you soft hands, are true. GELATO MAMA: COMMON H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEY-STICKS 10 times 6 is 60. So.that’s 60 tens which is.I mean 60 tens is 600.60 tens is 600 but what in the fuck is 10 times as many as.likewhat?
GELATO MAMA: KINDERGARTEN BLUES Kindergarten. A milestone event for any child; a not to be missed photo opportunity. A day where parents stand proudly, with tears in their eyes, strapping crisp backpacks on to small backs.GELATO MAMA
For hours. And they don’t even get to drink. And they barely get to see their friends. Our kids are Zoom Zombies, just staring at a screen with a desperate teacher trying so hard to do their job on the other side, maybe a little drool slipping down their chins before they perkup for a
GELATO MAMA: 2021
Dear Daughter, Your 11th birthday marked the beginning of our pandemic journey through this vast landscape named COVID. Our plans to celebrate at a bakery with your friends decorating cakes evaporated so instead we stood in our driveway waving to your friends parading by as your birthday became one of the first casualties of life gone awry. GELATO MAMA:AND THE LIVING IS EASY.... Last night was a pretty quiet night here in the Gelato House. With the school year winding down, The Children didn’t have homework to fight GELATO MAMA: READY OR NOT It’s almost as if it never happened. I meanit DID. I know it did. I was witness to almost each and every second of each and every day. GELATO MAMA: ONE MORE MINUTE..... Each evening as I say goodnight to Son, I climb up to the top bunk like always and lay with him for a few minutes. It is a ritual that cannot be missed, no matter how late or early it happens to be. GELATO MAMA: AND THEN SHE WAS TEN.... When you were younger, I joked that your budding personality was the result of a perfect storm consisting of your dad’s ease of socializing with anyone and my somewhat inappropriate sense of humor which translated to you telling fart jokes to a car full of your brother’s friends. GELATO MAMA: AND THEN HE WAS TEN.... You’re ten years old now. 10. However you say it, type it, write ityou’re a whole decade old. Wow. That’s really hard to believe. Each new year is hard to believe because to meas the saying goesyou are still my first baby, my newborn, my toddler, my kindergartner. GELATO MAMA: THE DIRTY TRUTH This also leads me to believe that all those sexist commercials showing women so HAPPY to have a dish soap that not only cuts through tough grease, but will also give you soft hands, are true. GELATO MAMA: COMMON H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEY-STICKS 10 times 6 is 60. So.that’s 60 tens which is.I mean 60 tens is 600.60 tens is 600 but what in the fuck is 10 times as many as.likewhat?
GELATO MAMA: KINDERGARTEN BLUES Kindergarten. A milestone event for any child; a not to be missed photo opportunity. A day where parents stand proudly, with tears in their eyes, strapping crisp backpacks on to small backs.GELATO MAMA: 2020
Dear Son, There are so many things I can’t believe about 2020. GELATO MAMA: CORONA DIARIES: WEEK THREE When I was being honest with myself, I knew the kids weren’t going to go back this year, but that didn’t stop me from twisting and turning my thoughts into the idea that there was a chance. I desperately gripped that lingering hope that maybe, just perhaps, somehow, just maaayyyybee.this would all end and they could go back, even for a few weeks. GELATO MAMA: A FEW GOOD MEN... For those first few years of Motherhood, your main focus is sanity, keeping The Children safe, sanity, trying to do the right thing, sanity, keeping the Children healthy, and, of course, sanity. GELATO MAMA: I HATE UNICORNS! Then I woke up. Thank God. I feel inadequate enough while the sun is out, I don’t need to be reminded of this while the moon shines. Nights should be filled with visions of Ben Affleck, not anxiety ridden dreams that remind me of All That Crap I Still Haven’t Done. GELATO MAMA: READY OR NOT It’s almost as if it never happened. I meanit DID. I know it did. I was witness to almost each and every second of each and every day. GELATO MAMA: SUM-SUM-SUMMERTIME Here’s the thing about summer. I’m ready. I’m down. I am waiting for it with my arms wide open, ready to be embraced in a big, warm hug of no morning rush, no homework, no drill sergeant scheduling. GELATO MAMA: PARKING WARS Like when I go to my home state of Iowa to visit family and we happen to “head into town,” as we like to say, and there, before my eyes, are endless rows of empty spot afterempty spot. GELATO MAMA: GERMAPHOBE-NO It seems that People, in my-non-informed perhaps I’m just lazy opinion-are overly concerned with cleanliness and germs. And I’m not talking about anything major here; something as simple as being barefoot outside can sends shivers down the spine of a Germaphobe. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been to the park with The Children and run into Other Children who see My Children all GELATO MAMA: AND THEN HE WAS TEN.... You’re ten years old now. 10. However you say it, type it, write ityou’re a whole decade old. Wow. That’s really hard to believe. Each new year is hard to believe because to meas the saying goesyou are still my first baby, my newborn, my toddler, my kindergartner. GELATO MAMA: HOLLYWOOD OR BUST I’ve been driving a lot lately. Normally, my daily driving is confined to a 3 mile radius, but due to a play I’m acting in and also my attempt to Contribute Financially by convincing someone to hire me to sell toilet paper, this Gelato Mama’s Volvo has beenburning up the
GELATO MAMA
For hours. And they don’t even get to drink. And they barely get to see their friends. Our kids are Zoom Zombies, just staring at a screen with a desperate teacher trying so hard to do their job on the other side, maybe a little drool slipping down their chins before they perkup for a
GELATO MAMA: 2021
Dear Daughter, Your 11th birthday marked the beginning of our pandemic journey through this vast landscape named COVID. Our plans to celebrate at a bakery with your friends decorating cakes evaporated so instead we stood in our driveway waving to your friends parading by as your birthday became one of the first casualties of life gone awry. GELATO MAMA: UNPLUGGED (?) Lately I have been pondering with the idea of pulling an Oprah on my kids and denying them the pleasure and magic that is television. Really, the only thing stopping me is because I know how painful itwill be.
GELATO MAMA: NO DINNER FOR YOU! Last night I was grumpy and my body was feeling like eating wasn’t a necessary part of my evening so after I put the kids to bed I declared that I was not going to make dinner. GELATO MAMA: I HATE UNICORNS! Then I woke up. Thank God. I feel inadequate enough while the sun is out, I don’t need to be reminded of this while the moon shines. Nights should be filled with visions of Ben Affleck, not anxiety ridden dreams that remind me of All That Crap I Still Haven’t Done. GELATO MAMA: SHHH..... Last night, as I was drifting off to a lovely sleep, my phone made the tiniest little sound and jolted me awake from dreams that were sure t GELATO MAMA: CRYBABY Having both a boy and a girl, I can't help but notice the differences in gender from birth. Boys really are born using their finger as a g GELATO MAMA: GUILT TRIP As for Husband away drinking wine, well, fuck him. Get your guilt trip going, make sure he comes home with plenty of baby celebration wine (you can soooo drink and breastfeedit’s all about the TIMING!), and maybe just kind of ignore him for a while. GELATO MAMA: PARTY HARDY... It’s no secret that once you become a parent, the social life you enjoyed Pre-Offspring is Long Gone. It’s not that you never go out, it’s just that you have moderation in mind when doing so. GELATO MAMA: AUGUST 2013 Being a parent demands an enormous amount of patience. It requires you to actually be an adult and remain an adult even as the most obvious solution to a six year old child throwing a tantrum better suited for a two year old child seems like it should be to also throw a tantrum.All day your Children are testing youdaring you evento just come on down to my level, Mom.GELATO MAMA
For hours. And they don’t even get to drink. And they barely get to see their friends. Our kids are Zoom Zombies, just staring at a screen with a desperate teacher trying so hard to do their job on the other side, maybe a little drool slipping down their chins before they perkup for a
GELATO MAMA: 2021
Dear Daughter, Your 11th birthday marked the beginning of our pandemic journey through this vast landscape named COVID. Our plans to celebrate at a bakery with your friends decorating cakes evaporated so instead we stood in our driveway waving to your friends parading by as your birthday became one of the first casualties of life gone awry. GELATO MAMA: UNPLUGGED (?) Lately I have been pondering with the idea of pulling an Oprah on my kids and denying them the pleasure and magic that is television. Really, the only thing stopping me is because I know how painful itwill be.
GELATO MAMA: NO DINNER FOR YOU! Last night I was grumpy and my body was feeling like eating wasn’t a necessary part of my evening so after I put the kids to bed I declared that I was not going to make dinner. GELATO MAMA: I HATE UNICORNS! Then I woke up. Thank God. I feel inadequate enough while the sun is out, I don’t need to be reminded of this while the moon shines. Nights should be filled with visions of Ben Affleck, not anxiety ridden dreams that remind me of All That Crap I Still Haven’t Done. GELATO MAMA: SHHH..... Last night, as I was drifting off to a lovely sleep, my phone made the tiniest little sound and jolted me awake from dreams that were sure t GELATO MAMA: CRYBABY Having both a boy and a girl, I can't help but notice the differences in gender from birth. Boys really are born using their finger as a g GELATO MAMA: GUILT TRIP As for Husband away drinking wine, well, fuck him. Get your guilt trip going, make sure he comes home with plenty of baby celebration wine (you can soooo drink and breastfeedit’s all about the TIMING!), and maybe just kind of ignore him for a while. GELATO MAMA: PARTY HARDY... It’s no secret that once you become a parent, the social life you enjoyed Pre-Offspring is Long Gone. It’s not that you never go out, it’s just that you have moderation in mind when doing so. GELATO MAMA: AUGUST 2013 Being a parent demands an enormous amount of patience. It requires you to actually be an adult and remain an adult even as the most obvious solution to a six year old child throwing a tantrum better suited for a two year old child seems like it should be to also throw a tantrum.All day your Children are testing youdaring you evento just come on down to my level, Mom.GELATO MAMA
For hours. And they don’t even get to drink. And they barely get to see their friends. Our kids are Zoom Zombies, just staring at a screen with a desperate teacher trying so hard to do their job on the other side, maybe a little drool slipping down their chins before they perkup for a
GELATO MAMA: AUGUST 2013 Being a parent demands an enormous amount of patience. It requires you to actually be an adult and remain an adult even as the most obvious solution to a six year old child throwing a tantrum better suited for a two year old child seems like it should be to also throw a tantrum.All day your Children are testing youdaring you evento just come on down to my level, Mom. GELATO MAMA: AND THEN SHE WAS TEN.... When you were younger, I joked that your budding personality was the result of a perfect storm consisting of your dad’s ease of socializing with anyone and my somewhat inappropriate sense of humor which translated to you telling fart jokes to a car full of your brother’s friends. GELATO MAMA: OCTOBER 2013 Okay. I mean. Why? You know what I’m talking about. Why do dressing rooms have florescent lights? This makes no sense to me. Who is incharge of this?
GELATO MAMA: JUNE 2017 You say potato, I say vodka. GELATO MAMA: MARCH 2017 For a full decade, I have lived directly next door to a duplex that houses small, one bedroom apartments. Two things here: when I say directly next door, I mean that if you open my front door and just sort of stick your arm out and lean forward, you can touch the front unit’s door.Also-when I say small-I mean, they are very small, outdated little hotboxes that do not benefit at all fromGELATO MAMA: 2018
Let’s face it; the moment your kid starts to question a tiny fairy collecting teeth in the middle of the night in exchange for currency is the same moment St.GELATO MAMA
For hours. And they don’t even get to drink. And they barely get to see their friends. Our kids are Zoom Zombies, just staring at a screen with a desperate teacher trying so hard to do their job on the other side, maybe a little drool slipping down their chins before they perkup for a
GELATO MAMA: 2021
Dear Daughter, Your 11th birthday marked the beginning of our pandemic journey through this vast landscape named COVID. Our plans to celebrate at a bakery with your friends decorating cakes evaporated so instead we stood in our driveway waving to your friends parading by as your birthday became one of the first casualties of life gone awry. GELATO MAMA: I HATE UNICORNS! Then I woke up. Thank God. I feel inadequate enough while the sun is out, I don’t need to be reminded of this while the moon shines. Nights should be filled with visions of Ben Affleck, not anxiety ridden dreams that remind me of All That Crap I Still Haven’t Done. GELATO MAMA: AND NOW...WHAT? For the past five years, my daily existence has been one consisting of parks, snacks, diapers, potty training, tantrums, maintaining sanity, sleep training, tantrums, bribery, board games, library trips, lots and lots and lots of walks, and the occasional tantrum. GELATO MAMA: CRAZY LOVE But then last night, Daughter roamed around the house screaming for, um, you know, like two hours about, um, you know, I HAVE NO IDEA and Son was extremely upset about getting knocked out in Sorry even though we’ve played that game together maayybbee 100 times and each time we start with a disclaimer: Warning-you WILL be knocked out in this game and it is NOT a reason to cry. GELATO MAMA: NO DINNER FOR YOU! Last night I was grumpy and my body was feeling like eating wasn’t a necessary part of my evening so after I put the kids to bed I declared that I was not going to make dinner. GELATO MAMA: DAYDREAM BELIEVER... What was important were the massive boxes my mother pulled out and said-here. This is your stuff. What do you want to do with it? Also known as: Get this shit out of my house. You haven’t lived here for 16 years for Christ’s sake. GELATO MAMA: CRYBABY Having both a boy and a girl, I can't help but notice the differences in gender from birth. Boys really are born using their finger as a g GELATO MAMA: CHURCH CAMP Summer is in full swing here in Gelato Land and as much as I’d like to lie in the grass and watch the clouds float by, we don’t have any grass and they only thing I GELATO MAMA: DECEMBER 2012 Then I woke up. Thank God. I feel inadequate enough while the sun is out, I don’t need to be reminded of this while the moon shines. Nights should be filled with visions of Ben Affleck, not anxiety ridden dreams that remind me of All That Crap I Still Haven’t Done.GELATO MAMA
For hours. And they don’t even get to drink. And they barely get to see their friends. Our kids are Zoom Zombies, just staring at a screen with a desperate teacher trying so hard to do their job on the other side, maybe a little drool slipping down their chins before they perkup for a
GELATO MAMA: 2021
Dear Daughter, Your 11th birthday marked the beginning of our pandemic journey through this vast landscape named COVID. Our plans to celebrate at a bakery with your friends decorating cakes evaporated so instead we stood in our driveway waving to your friends parading by as your birthday became one of the first casualties of life gone awry. GELATO MAMA: I HATE UNICORNS! Then I woke up. Thank God. I feel inadequate enough while the sun is out, I don’t need to be reminded of this while the moon shines. Nights should be filled with visions of Ben Affleck, not anxiety ridden dreams that remind me of All That Crap I Still Haven’t Done. GELATO MAMA: AND NOW...WHAT? For the past five years, my daily existence has been one consisting of parks, snacks, diapers, potty training, tantrums, maintaining sanity, sleep training, tantrums, bribery, board games, library trips, lots and lots and lots of walks, and the occasional tantrum. GELATO MAMA: CRAZY LOVE But then last night, Daughter roamed around the house screaming for, um, you know, like two hours about, um, you know, I HAVE NO IDEA and Son was extremely upset about getting knocked out in Sorry even though we’ve played that game together maayybbee 100 times and each time we start with a disclaimer: Warning-you WILL be knocked out in this game and it is NOT a reason to cry. GELATO MAMA: NO DINNER FOR YOU! Last night I was grumpy and my body was feeling like eating wasn’t a necessary part of my evening so after I put the kids to bed I declared that I was not going to make dinner. GELATO MAMA: DAYDREAM BELIEVER... What was important were the massive boxes my mother pulled out and said-here. This is your stuff. What do you want to do with it? Also known as: Get this shit out of my house. You haven’t lived here for 16 years for Christ’s sake. GELATO MAMA: CRYBABY Having both a boy and a girl, I can't help but notice the differences in gender from birth. Boys really are born using their finger as a g GELATO MAMA: CHURCH CAMP Summer is in full swing here in Gelato Land and as much as I’d like to lie in the grass and watch the clouds float by, we don’t have any grass and they only thing I GELATO MAMA: DECEMBER 2012 Then I woke up. Thank God. I feel inadequate enough while the sun is out, I don’t need to be reminded of this while the moon shines. Nights should be filled with visions of Ben Affleck, not anxiety ridden dreams that remind me of All That Crap I Still Haven’t Done.GELATO MAMA
For hours. And they don’t even get to drink. And they barely get to see their friends. Our kids are Zoom Zombies, just staring at a screen with a desperate teacher trying so hard to do their job on the other side, maybe a little drool slipping down their chins before they perkup for a
GELATO MAMA: AUGUST 2013 Being a parent demands an enormous amount of patience. It requires you to actually be an adult and remain an adult even as the most obvious solution to a six year old child throwing a tantrum better suited for a two year old child seems like it should be to also throw a tantrum.All day your Children are testing youdaring you evento just come on down to my level, Mom. GELATO MAMA: AND THEN SHE WAS TEN.... When you were younger, I joked that your budding personality was the result of a perfect storm consisting of your dad’s ease of socializing with anyone and my somewhat inappropriate sense of humor which translated to you telling fart jokes to a car full of your brother’s friends. GELATO MAMA: JUNE 2017 You say potato, I say vodka. GELATO MAMA: MARCH 2017 For a full decade, I have lived directly next door to a duplex that houses small, one bedroom apartments. Two things here: when I say directly next door, I mean that if you open my front door and just sort of stick your arm out and lean forward, you can touch the front unit’s door.Also-when I say small-I mean, they are very small, outdated little hotboxes that do not benefit at all from GELATO MAMA: OCTOBER 2013 Okay. I mean. Why? You know what I’m talking about. Why do dressing rooms have florescent lights? This makes no sense to me. Who is incharge of this?
GELATO MAMA: 2018
Let’s face it; the moment your kid starts to question a tiny fairy collecting teeth in the middle of the night in exchange for currency is the same moment St.GELATO MAMA
You say potato, I say vodka.>
What did those kids do to that nice lady?>
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 2019GYPSY
Change is good, so they say. Be it a throw pillow or a color scheme, or my inevitable desire to move someplace after I visit, I’ve always liked change. This year round warm weather does not do my soul good when all it craves is a tree of many colors or the grace that freshly fallen snow can bring. I have a gypsy soul with a thirst for wandering and a fear of stagnation and for years my gypsy and I journeyed joyfully together, from Midwest, to South, to East, to West, our adventures always outweighing the risk; our youthful spirit always confident of landing on our feet. Then came marriage. And a baby. Then another. And a separation with a finale of divorce. Change. Change. Change. Change. Slowly my gypsy silenced as she watched from the sidelines and the years passed and her retreat grew long. A sort of hibernation, awaiting her role, awaiting her turn to come around again. She knew she had to let me be because gypsies want to run away, but mothers have to stay. Change is good, so they say. But sometimes it feels like being chained to the back of an 18 wheeler and dragged across a gravel road for a few (hundred) miles. I wave frantically trying to get the driver to see me in the rearview mirror but it is useless as I am trapped in the blindspot. So instead I settle into the discomfort, convincing myself that the gravel isn’t really so bad. The gravel doesn’t really hurt so much. I drift to sleep thinking of my gypsy, dreaming of what adventure she might be on. I wonder if she’s disappointed in me, watching as I navigate my way. How did we land here, she must wonder. Divorced in an isolated land of little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same. I take a chance. Gypsy? I whisper. And then I feel her nudge, her hibernation awakening. Gypsy-may I please run away with you? No you cannot, she replies. You must stay. I know, I say, and I arrange the gravel so it sits just right; so I can stand with it on my shoulders and not collapse from the weight. Gypsy retreats. Change is good, so they say. But it isn’t always recognized. Most people don’t want to recognize change, especially when it doesn’t pertain to them. It’s too scary. It’s too risky. Too comfortable to stay just where you are. I wonder what my gypsy thinks as she sees me smile to these swirling faces surrounding me, eager for my acknowledgment of contentment. Awaiting my approval of their decisions. Gypsy nudges me, and I push her down. Tell them, she whispers. Tell them about me, about us. No, no, it’s okay, I try to convince her. It’s okay. They can’t feel the gravel. It’s too much; I’ll just hold it for them. Gypsy retreats, having lost her round and as she begins to fade, I confide to her again. I want to run away. I know you do, she says. But you must stay. I try to offload some of the gravel, but it upsets my balance, so I pick it back up and rearrange once again so my legsdon’t bend.
Change is good, so they say. Gypsy, I panic. I need you. I have so many things to do. I forgot how to do all these things while in my warm cocoon of mothering. Please will you help me? Scoot over, she whispers and there she sits as I trudge through piles of neglected mail, open my own bank accounts, leave my home, try to make a new one, call utility companies, pay my taxes, buy a car, acquire health insurance, pay them bills….all these THINGS we are all supposed to do. She high fives me after each task, telling me it’s all going to be okay. We can land on our feet! We can still do this! We can still figure it out! Our adventures aren’t over yet! Her exuberance is infectious and I ask her again-can we run away?! No, she says. You must stay. Okay, I say…but then I feel some bits of gravel fall away. I wobble, then regain. A few freed pieces, just a tiny few, but then I hear her whisper…I’mproud of you.
Change is good, so they say. Gypsy! I yell. We had so much we were going to do! All the things we were going to be! All the people we wanted to see! I’m trying to get this damn gravel off of me! Why won’t it be free? Why is it so stuck to me? How do I get back to you, Gypsy? Where do you sit when I’m trying to decide what I need to be? I’m sorry I left you alone all those years! I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I couldn’t be there, gypsy. Don’t you see? I had to quit raising me for a mother I was to be. I didn’t know how to be both; I didn’t know how to take you along. And now I want to run away and you refuse! I’m holding all this fucking gravel and you stand there watching me! I know it’s mine, I know it’s not yours but please can you free me of just a few more pieces? Please can you promise me that one day we can run away? Gypsy is quiet. She lets me cry, she lets me scream for no one knowsme quite like…me.
Gypsies want to run away, but mothers must stay. Gyspy, she whispers to me. You’ll always be a mother; that cannot be took. But don’t forsake me because one day you’ll find your gypsy soul exactly where it’s supposed to be because you weren’t afraid to change. You weren’t afraid to be who you are meant tobe.
A piece or two of gravel is quietly set free. I wobble, then regain.Change is good.
So they say.
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at 12:32 PM
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MONDAY, JUNE 10, 2019 THESE ARE THE DAYS....Well, ho-ly shit.
Another school year come and (almost) gone. How is it possible for each year to pass more quickly than the last? Is this some sort of competition? I don’t mind losing if it is. I mean I’m not a hugely competitive person, unless there’s board games involved _obviously,_ but I’ll gladly take the loss here and just put the brakes on the clock even if that means bedtime gets further and further away each night. The rapid, unforgiving passing of time is pretty much the one thing parents of the world can universally agree on it seems. Well… that and a deep seeded hatred of common core math. (And if you like that math YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH and pretend you hate it like the rest of us so you can still have friends at parties. Also, call me so you can come over and do math with Daughter.) The end of each school year is always a trigger for an avalanche of mixed emotions, especially as the kids get older. Where once the mere thought of summer would conjure fear and panic at the idea of so much unscheduled time, that same thought of so much unscheduled time now feels less like a burden and more like a prize. I say this full well knowing that my kids will be driving me absolutely mad at some point (immediately) over the summer and I will be fully kissing the floor of school grounds jubilantly come the first day of school. I mean we all know I’m not some kind of delusional, Pinterest parent with a whole box full of things to do when you’re bored. Frankly I am way too lazy to create such a box and also, I have always been in full support of boredom. Boredom sparks creativity. And naps. But as this school year ends and I look forward to lazy days with The Children, the passing of another grade has encouraged this very weepy phase of parenting I have found myself in recently as I watch Son grow from boy to young man. As a human who has no shame in public crying (Hi, divorce), even I must admit it’s getting a tad embarrassing how easily and frequently I find myself tearing up at the simplest glance at Son. The older he gets, the more he naturally slips a bit away from me and while I know this is okay, this is what he’s supposed to do, this is healthy for him to discover who he is outside of being my son, (blah blah blah), I admit it breaks my heart a little more each day as my baby boy keeps getting further and further away and this teenager keeps getting closer and closer. Because that baby boy….wasn’t he just right here, holding my hand as we crossed the street to go to the park for the fourth time in one day and now that baby boy is almost a seventh grader and he kinda smells and he has a wart on his elbow that won’t go away and doesn’t even want to play board games with me anymore and DON’T YOU REMEMBER HOW MANY GAMES OF MONOPOLY JR YOU MADE ME PLAY WHICH IS THE WORST GAME EVER CREATED SO PLEASE PLAY YAHTZEE WITH ME TO PROVE YOUR LOVE. Also, hand me a tissue. Also, you’re so handsome I could just cry. Oh wait, I am. I get tripped out as my kids get older and it becomes that much easier to remember when *I* was that age. Seventh grade? Mrs. Bye was my favorite teacher, rivaled closely by Mr. McKay who drove a red Miata that was the envy of us all, I did this ah-maz-ing presentation on the wonderful country of Hungary, had a crush on Mike Ohotto, let Nate Stanton cheat off my paper in English class, Anderson Cooper and Lisa Ling gave us the news each morning on Channel 1, and Mr. Glenn was the cutest gym teacher in the land. I feel so close to my childhood self, even though it was a long time ago and I can’t help but see all the years, past, present and future, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. What will my kids hold with them as they move through their lives? What simple moments will get stuck in their heads for reasons we can never understand? Because as I reflect on my childhood, it is always the simplest of memories I carry closest to my heart. Summer walks to Birdsall’s Ice Cream. Jumping off the dock into a warm lake. Shucking corn in the backyard with my siblings while lightning bugs gently glowed beside us. I wonder if my parents took a mental snapshot of those moments as I try to do with my own kids. I know we can’t relish each and every moment. People are busy; we got shit to do. Some days are meant for memories and others will slip by unnoticed. But the gift, I suppose, is in the not knowing where each day will land in our memory, hopefully forcing us to try and be as present as possible as these years unfailingly fly by. Growing older is a privilege, not a guarantee and no matter how hard I cling to my babies, I have to remember that we raise kids so they can be independent of us. I know I’m holding strong, Children, but I’ll keep loosening my grip. Just know that you can always hold tighter when you need too and you can even let go when it’s time. Also know that I’ll be crying a lot but I cry at choral music and every time Goose dies so don’t worry too much about me and all this weepiness. It just comes naturally. Now…who wants to play a board game with me?Bueller…..
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at 1:40 PM
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WEDNESDAY, MAY 29, 2019 SITTIN' WHEN THE EVENIN' COMES One of the most miraculous things about a summer evening on the lake in northern Iowa is just how very long the sun stays up. A glance at the sky, its colors perfected by the paintbrush of nature, would suggest that it is merely dinnertime or just after but indeed it is well past that. The sky darkens slowly, each color fading gently into the next day, until finally at last you are left with only the light the stars have chosen to give you that night. From my perch on the dock, the gentle lapping of the water rocking the boats beside me lures me down to the edge and I place my feet into the warm cocoon of childhood. Unlike the Pacific which I have become accustomed to, this water does not shock me, does not insist I take the time to get used to it. No; this water invites me in, gracious in its temperature. Leaned back on my hands, I let my legs dip a little deeper into the lake, my ears perked up anticipating the small, quick footsteps that accompany children who’ve just discovered their mother has left the house. Knowing without a doubt those footsteps will come, I relish in the absolute calm that I’m bathed in. Closing my eyes, I remember what it was like to be a little girl, jumping off this dock, fearless of the lake’s slimy texture, unaware of the creatures beneath the surface scattering upon our arrival into the water. One jump after the next, each of us siblings trying to outdo the other with our splits and our spins and our silliness. I remember the eager anticipation of getting my turn to get behind the borrowed boat and do my best to stay up on those tricky skis. The wind and water whipping my face as I stood upright for just a few precarious seconds, the laughter and cheers of my family hitting mywaterlogged ears.
A rumbling, distant hum of a motor forces my eyes open and transported back to the present, I reach for my wine glass, the deep red hitting my lips, slinking down my throat, it’s velvety linger a welcome peer. I watch as the last few boats head back to their docks, sun-soaked passengers recounting with echoed laughter their day on the lake, waving to me with gusto when they pass by as if to say-isn’t this wonderful? I can’t help but smile and wave back and agree that yes, it is wonderful. Can I come back home now? Could I live here again? Could I live here forever? The hypnotic spell is broken as quick footsteps startle me out of my dreamy daze. A small smile curls my lips and I turn my head towards the shore and see the determined lanky limbs of my daughter approaching me. What are you doing, she asks? Oh…just watching the sunset, I say. Can you believe the sun is still out this late? She says nothing, but rests beside me, her feet grazing the top of the darkening water and we sit silently for just a few precious more minutes until at last we bid the sun adieu.Posted by YoMama
at 2:30 PM
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FRIDAY, MARCH 29, 2019 AND THEN SHE WAS TEN....Dear Daughter,
When you were younger, I joked that your budding personality was the result of a perfect storm consisting of your dad’s ease of socializing with anyone and my somewhat inappropriate sense of humor which translated to you telling fart jokes to a car full of your brother’s friends. I would watch as the punchline hit and your eyes would gleam from the giggling victory and it was you and you alone who had command of us. The boys unable to control their laughter, the mom unable to tell her to stop, the brother unable to deny that his sister was pretty damn funny. This perfect storm resulted in you, with nary an inhibition, stripping your 4 year old self of a shirt, justifiably questioning it’s necessity, and requesting that I open the sunroof as we waited for brother’s school bell to ring. There you would stand, shirtless in the gleaming sunshine, waving to those who passed by, some amused, some horrified, most jealous of your effortless sense offreedom.
As the years have gone by, too swiftly as they tend to do, you have never wavered from this independent spirit that resides inside of you. Whether you’re choosing basketball shorts over dresses or baseball over ballet, you still like to get your nails done. You might like to play with the boys but I suspect it’s because your crushes are intense and plentiful. You wear wolf ears in your school picture, you save your money to buy astronaut helmets one day and the next you wish for Steph Curry jerseys and the next for golf clubs. I hope you always remain blissfully unaware of how you seamlessly morph from one daydream to the next all while remaining intactly, completely, unquestionably you. To so many who have met you, we all have one thing in common: to be _you_ when we grow up. We want to walk around this life in pink motorcycle jackets and basketball shorts; we want to be the only girl on the baseball team; we want your robust determination to try new things; we want to never be afraid to ask questions, to share our feelings; we want to hold court with fart jokes; hell-we want the confidence you have to claim your own fart and then just laugh about it because farts are pretty funny. We want to freestyle rap at the dinner table and slam our bedroom door just because it feels right. We want to chop our hair off and then throw on a baseball cap. We want skateboards and Hamilton tickets and telescopes for Christmas. We want to be scientists, writers, crocodile rescuers and football coaches in a single lifetime. What evades so many of us, for years or even for a lifetime, comes to you so naturally, so easily, this superpower you have of simply being yourself with no barriers to what you can do, who you can be or howyou can do it.
For ten years now, this unique spirit has only grown and my wish each passing birthday is that you always hold fast to it. The thought of something or someone crushing that spirit is one I can’t even bear to think about. But you keep proving to me that I don’t have to worry about it, not yet, maybe not ever. You’re just going to go ahead and keep doing it your own way. Even if your way can sometimes be really loud, emotionally draining and full of dramatic exits. You, dear Daughter, are so much more than a perfect storm of your mom and your dad. You are your own storm, making waves, carving paths and creating majestic mountains. I’m the luckiest to be along for theride.
Happy 10th Birthday, my sunshine…my only sunshine…Love,
Mama
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at 10:50 AM
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WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 12, 2018 TO BELIEVE OR TO NOT BELIEVE... The Tooth Fairy really screws Santa over. Let’s face it; the moment your kid starts to question a tiny fairy collecting teeth in the middle of the night in exchange for currency is the same moment St. Nicholas himself comes into closer examination. And I’m sorry-but the tooth fairy should feel really bad about that. Think of the longevity Santa could have if we didn’t have to pretend the tooth fairy was a thing. This dwindling childhood magic hit me hard recently when Daughter lost another cavity-ridden tooth. As far as I was concerned, enough money had already been sunk into said tooth and she certainly was not deserving of payment for it. But yet she still excitedly detailed the moment-to-moment extraction and then tentatively began to cross examine me with regards to it’s reward. Her eyes grilled me silently from the passenger side of the car and I began to sweat a little as she questioned the authenticity of the tooth’s banker. I slowed to a stop and she pulled my face to hers and looked me square in the eye and said: Mama? Some people at school say Santa isn’t real. I say he is but_ some people_ say no. He’s real, right? Tell me the truth. Tell methe _truth_, Mom.
What followed was NOT some sort of beautiful explanation about the spirit of the season and the essence of Santa living on inside of us and how giving is always better than receiving….nope. Not at all. What followed was more of a stuttering, half-assed, caught off guard response of yeah…I mean…totally…like…what do you believe? Who cares about those other (jerky, keep your mouth shut) kids? You doyou, Daughter.
And then thank god the light turned green and I diverted her attention by turning on Party In The USA and we sang it loud and proud with the windows down, just as Miley intended. I know Son slipped silently from Believer to Non-Believer. He never asked me about it and I didn’t want to confront it with the hopes of another year of magic on the line. But Daughter questioning this so boldly and me so ungraciously failing at an answer…well…needless to say…I blame the tooth fairy. Regardless of who believes what, I know The Children will discover that there is always magic crackling in the air this time of year. Towering Christmas trees, sparkling light displays, laughter with friends, a chill in the air and generous hearts are what rule December. And they will learn the lesson we all eventually do: extraordinary magic lies within the ordinary. That is the truth, Daughter. Kris Kringle told me so.Posted by YoMama
at 12:47 PM
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MONDAY, DECEMBER 3, 2018 AND THEN HE WAS 12...Dear Son,
I always hated the piñata part of the party. Alongside the squeals of delight from the terror toddlers was my reoccurring fear that you wouldn’t get a chance to take a whack if I didn’t push you a little into the line. And I knew you wanted to so badly. I mean every kid wants their chance to at least have a shot. There you would stand, twisting your hands nervously, eyes big, patiently waiting. And then some asshole kid would shove his way in front of you. And some absent parent wouldn’t even notice. And then another kid would do the same. And then another. And I would forcibly hold myself back, willing you a silent message….don’t let them do that, Son. Please. Stand up for yourself. Your eyes would fill just a little as you let them have their chance and I would walk over and gently nudge you forward while resisting the urge to trip those kids but it was almost always too late as the sudden explosion of candy would fall from the sky. I would try to distract you from this great disappointment of not getting your chance by encouraging you to get some candy GET SOME CANDY and you would run and always be just a half a second late and I would then find myself snatching pieces away from greedy little hands just so you could savor a few pieces to help heal your broken toddler heart. But it wasn’t the candy you wanted.It was the chance.
What’s going to become of this sensitive soul, I would wonder to myself. I ached to protect you from life’s piñata disappointments, but I also knew I couldn’t shelter you from them. I wanted you to be more assertive but I also appreciated that you were that kid who didn’t cut the line just because he could. I wanted you to be independent of me, but you had such a hard time saying goodbye…sweaty, small, desperate hands clinging to my neck, declaring my betrayal. I loved your sensitivity because it made you more thoughtful about many things, but it also led to intense fears of wind and water and darkness because it was as if you already knew inherently that wind could knock a house over and water could swallow you up and in darkness you couldn’t see light so…instead of running into the waves, we would tiptoe. What’s going to become of this sensitive soul? At 12 years of age now, I see that boy slipping away and the teenager slipping in. I see that you still want a hug, but you don’t always take one. I see that you don’t care about what I say, but you still want my approval. I see that you like to be left alone, but you always ask me when I’ll be back. I see that it’s easy for you to say goodbye to me but you love seeing me again. I see that you don’t need me, but you still want me. I see that I am clinging to you with sweaty, desperate hands begging the boy in you to always stay forever with me. And I see that I must let you go and discover who you are going to become. Because behind that ever-developing teenage dismissiveness, I still see you, Son. What’s going to become of this sensitive soul? He’s grown from baby to toddler to big kid to adolescent. And now, God willing, he’ll grow from adolescent to teenager to twenty-something to man. He loves baseball and music. Football and books. Hanging out with his friends and staying home on the weekends. He could tear apart a piñata with one swing, but he’ll still wait his turn. And if someone cuts in front of him, I know he doesn’t need his Mama to help him out. But I’ll still fuck someone up if they mess with you, Son. Don’tget it twisted.
Because I still see you, Son, and I know you see me. I love you more than I did the day you were born. Each day I love you more. Even when you’re being a dick because then I just ignore you until you ask me to scratch your back, which is your absolute genius way of apologizing to me. I’m just a sucker in a grown up suit.See?
You see me.
Happy 12th Birthday, baby mine.Love,
Mama
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at 11:57 AM
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TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2018 COMMON H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEY-STICKS COMMON CORE MATH BROUGHT TO YOU BY SATAN:Question:
10 times as many as _______ hundreds is 60 hundreds or ______thousands.
Wait. What? Let me read that again. 10 times 6 is 60. So….that’s 60 tens which is….I mean 60 tens is 600….60 tens is 600 but what in the fuck is 10 times as many as….like what? I mean 60 hundreds is 6 thousand…so 10 times as many as 6 hundreds is 60 hundreds which is 6,000? Is that right? Hold on. The actual m’f’ing question is what’s 10x600, right? Which is 6000. Correct? Oh my God. Just go get my phone. The first step to figuring out the answer in Common Core Alleged Math is figuring out what in the actual hell the question is. The second step is to read the problem 27 more times to make sure that you are right in your assumption of what Alleged Math isasking.
The third step is to begin to calmly explain to Offspring what in the actual hell they are actually asking. The fourth step is everyone cries and yells and slams doors which inevitably leads to the forced alcoholism that likes to kick in right about the time a math book is throw to the floor and a Daughter loses her shit and a Mother is rocking in the corner saying things like…carry the one….add the zero….this isn’t math…this is the devil’s work…THIS ISN’T MATH! Okay…I’m being dramatic. There’s no rocking in corners, but there is wine. And there is cursing. But don’t worry; my kids know all the bad words already so it’s fine. And obviously there is door slamming. I mean…this is Daughter we’re talking about. I think we can all agree that the only ‘common’ thing about Common Core Math is EVERYONE HATES IT AND WE ALL WANT IT TO BURN IN HELL WITH SQUISHES AND SLIME. But burn slowly so we Parents of the World can really take the time to cackle and high five one another while tears of joy spring from our eyes knowing that we can now explain how 10x600=6000 BECAUSE THAT’S THE ANSWER. It will always be the answer. You add the zero! I mean…come on! YOU ADD THE ZERO. I mean…is making an array with 6,000 dots _really_ a better way to explain that? I DON’T THINK SO. Also, that takes a very long time. Also if you don’t know what an array is, you should go Praise Jesus right now. Go ahead. We’ll wait. This is by no means a knock against the Teachers of the World who by the grace of God are somehow surviving this Math Apocalypse as we know it. I know they can’t crack because they _have_ to teach it and pretend it’s super and makes total sense even though Children go home crying every night while their Parental Units drown their sorrows in Cabernet screaming JUST LET ME READ IT ONE MORE TIME before resigning to the most miraculous of apps on their phone named THE CALCULATOR to determine that yes of course 7x4 is still 28 even though Esmerelda and Joaquin are trying their darnedest to confuse the snot out you with this many puppies and that many lollipops and then Joaquin sells a puppy for an alligator then four lollipops are gone because the alligator ate them now Esmerelda is crying so if she has 7 tears 4 times how many tears does Esmerelda have?28.
She has 28 tears.
Because that’s the answer. This is also not a knock against those strange people who somehow understand Alleged Math because one of those people actually lives in my house. He is 11. He is in 6th grade. And for fun, he will sporadically ask me for help with his math homework simply to watch me sweat and nervously laugh and sputter a …yeah…sure…let me see it…before he’s all…oh my God, Mom. I’m just kidding. That’s enough about him. I know what the teachers say: Alleged Math is trying to teach the Children _why_ the answer is the answer and to feel comfortable with large numeric problems naturally. But we’ve all come this far without needing to know _why_. We just accepted it WAS. I mean…honestly. This just feels like another page in the Everyone Gets A Trophy handbook. So now Everyone Gets to Understand Math? Bullshit. I don’t want a trophy unless I win and I do NOT need to understand Alleged Math when I have an $800 phone that can tell me everything I need to know. Take your place value charts and your number lines and your arrays and your purposely tricky, verbose “math” word problems with four syllable proper names and begone.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a YouTube video to watch so I can adequately prepare for 4th grade math homework.God help us all.
Posted by YoMama
at 1:05 PM
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