Funkified Hillbilly Mom
Hillbilly Mom is in a funk. No ideas come to mind tonight, so I'll be
complaining for awhile. I know. That's SO uncharacteristic of me.
My day started with my Hillbilly Husband screaming while I was
trying to take my morning nap in the recliner. I had just settled
down with my cozy comforter, when I heard "Eeee!" from the
bedroom. I waited a minute to see if he got up or turned over.
Then he groaned, which of course to me meant, "Great Googley
Moogley! He must be dying!" I rushed in to ask why he was
making noises, and was told, "I didn't know I was." Satisfied
that I didn't need to resuscitate him, I went back to my nap. He
had another 30 minutes to sleep before he could slam doors and
drop the soap in the shower and rustle through some kind of
wrapper that I could not decipher.
After napping, seeing off HH, and getting the kids up, I decided
to do a sinkful of dishes. This is not a good idea when I'm rushed
in the morning, but I refuse to give up my morning nap. I can't
wash dishes at night, because there is never enough hot water.
HH and #2 son take a bath in the giant triangular tub, and that
means I have to wait an hour for more hot water. That's because
HH didn't put in a big enough hot water heater when he built the
mansion. Heaven forbid we should drop a couple hundred bucks
to buy a new one! He even cleaned the calcium deposits out of
the old one last summer. Oh, and after that hour, it is time for #1
son's shower. Then it is getting to be 9:00 p.m., and I don't want
to do dishes that late, I want to relax. And possibly fall asleep
for a nap. Oh, and this one time...on summer vacation...we found
out that HH had put the water heater on a timer so that it went
off at 8:00 a.m., and didn't come on until 5:00 p.m. Which did
not set well with Hillbilly Mom when she climbed into her morning
shower. We put a stop to that practice right away. The timer, not
the shower. I ain't no stinkin' hillbilly.
I arrived at school to find a new teacher once AGAIN parked in
my spot that I've only had for umm...let's see...6 FREAKIN'
YEARS!
Then I took lunch count, reading today's menu of Hot Ham &
Cheese, only to find out at lunch that they had substituted Chili
Dogs. So my first hour kids will let me know about it tomorrow,
how they had Chili Wieners and I didn't even tell them so they
could ask Mr. S and make him say 'wieners'.
Second hour, I had to go ask the Biology teacher about a concept
map worksheet that one of my students could not figure out. She
had about 10 words filled in, but the last two would not work out.
Hmm...seems that the textbook company's accompanying
worksheet had listed 'oxygen' twice, when they should have listed
'energy' to complete this h*llish chart on the light-dependent and
light-independent cycles of photosynthesis. Which is hard enough
to do when you have the RIGHT words to work with.
Third hour, one of the kids belched really loudly, and the kid who
has the 'Aunt Coon' said, "Whoa! I thought at first that was Mrs.
Hillbilly Mom!"
I arrived at my other building to find NO PARKING SPACES
once again. After refusing to park in the gravel lot behind the new
building, and parking out on the street half-way up the hill (Mabel
will know what I mean!), I spied a cadet teacher speeding by,
having just vacated a coveted parking spot between the buildings
that is supposed to be kept vacant for traveling teachers.
Fifth hour, we rehashed old times, one of my kids bringing up how
when he was homebound, he walked up to school and had the
custodian let him in my room to rifle through my desk until he
found the can of soda I had taken away from him 3 months earlier.
Sixth hour, a student told me the reason she has not brought any
work to do or check for the past month is because "My mom
doesn't want me rushing to do all the subjects in 50 minutes because
she says you just give us the answers, and she wants me to do it at
home." Which of course did not set well with Hillbilly Mom, who
told her, "Then have your mom take you out of this class, because
HELLO, that is what it is for, to DO work and get tutoring, and
you have been in it for a year and a half now. I'm disappointed
you don't have all 'A's, what with me giving you all the answers."
Seventh hour, a boy asked me if his hair looked like a wig. Yes,
I provide all kinds of services for my students. I assured him that
no, on his head it did not look like a wig. On a woman, or an old
man, yes, it would look like a wig. Just yesterday he told me a
girl (6th grade) had lifted his shirt and touched his butt. I said,
"Well, you need to tell somebody about that! Oh. You are telling
ME! Go down to the counselor, she will call this girl in and talk
to her." Which is exactly what happened. She admitted to it, was
told to never do it again, and he was satisfied. Every year we
have some girls pull this crap. Pervs! This can not be tolerated!
Now I am feeling less funkish, after letting out my frustrations.
I must prepare for my night of TV-watching, which will be
Survivor, followed by the grand finale of Skating With Celebrities,
followed by ER. But I may not watch all of ER, because it is the
return of Noah Wyle as Dr. Carter, and I have never liked Dr.
Carter.
Perhaps I will come up with a more interesting post for tomorrow,
which starts the weekend, but nobody reads blogs on the weekend,
so my talent will fall on deaf eyes. That's OK. I crack myself up
sometimes.
complaining for awhile. I know. That's SO uncharacteristic of me.
My day started with my Hillbilly Husband screaming while I was
trying to take my morning nap in the recliner. I had just settled
down with my cozy comforter, when I heard "Eeee!" from the
bedroom. I waited a minute to see if he got up or turned over.
Then he groaned, which of course to me meant, "Great Googley
Moogley! He must be dying!" I rushed in to ask why he was
making noises, and was told, "I didn't know I was." Satisfied
that I didn't need to resuscitate him, I went back to my nap. He
had another 30 minutes to sleep before he could slam doors and
drop the soap in the shower and rustle through some kind of
wrapper that I could not decipher.
After napping, seeing off HH, and getting the kids up, I decided
to do a sinkful of dishes. This is not a good idea when I'm rushed
in the morning, but I refuse to give up my morning nap. I can't
wash dishes at night, because there is never enough hot water.
HH and #2 son take a bath in the giant triangular tub, and that
means I have to wait an hour for more hot water. That's because
HH didn't put in a big enough hot water heater when he built the
mansion. Heaven forbid we should drop a couple hundred bucks
to buy a new one! He even cleaned the calcium deposits out of
the old one last summer. Oh, and after that hour, it is time for #1
son's shower. Then it is getting to be 9:00 p.m., and I don't want
to do dishes that late, I want to relax. And possibly fall asleep
for a nap. Oh, and this one time...on summer vacation...we found
out that HH had put the water heater on a timer so that it went
off at 8:00 a.m., and didn't come on until 5:00 p.m. Which did
not set well with Hillbilly Mom when she climbed into her morning
shower. We put a stop to that practice right away. The timer, not
the shower. I ain't no stinkin' hillbilly.
I arrived at school to find a new teacher once AGAIN parked in
my spot that I've only had for umm...let's see...6 FREAKIN'
YEARS!
Then I took lunch count, reading today's menu of Hot Ham &
Cheese, only to find out at lunch that they had substituted Chili
Dogs. So my first hour kids will let me know about it tomorrow,
how they had Chili Wieners and I didn't even tell them so they
could ask Mr. S and make him say 'wieners'.
Second hour, I had to go ask the Biology teacher about a concept
map worksheet that one of my students could not figure out. She
had about 10 words filled in, but the last two would not work out.
Hmm...seems that the textbook company's accompanying
worksheet had listed 'oxygen' twice, when they should have listed
'energy' to complete this h*llish chart on the light-dependent and
light-independent cycles of photosynthesis. Which is hard enough
to do when you have the RIGHT words to work with.
Third hour, one of the kids belched really loudly, and the kid who
has the 'Aunt Coon' said, "Whoa! I thought at first that was Mrs.
Hillbilly Mom!"
I arrived at my other building to find NO PARKING SPACES
once again. After refusing to park in the gravel lot behind the new
building, and parking out on the street half-way up the hill (Mabel
will know what I mean!), I spied a cadet teacher speeding by,
having just vacated a coveted parking spot between the buildings
that is supposed to be kept vacant for traveling teachers.
Fifth hour, we rehashed old times, one of my kids bringing up how
when he was homebound, he walked up to school and had the
custodian let him in my room to rifle through my desk until he
found the can of soda I had taken away from him 3 months earlier.
Sixth hour, a student told me the reason she has not brought any
work to do or check for the past month is because "My mom
doesn't want me rushing to do all the subjects in 50 minutes because
she says you just give us the answers, and she wants me to do it at
home." Which of course did not set well with Hillbilly Mom, who
told her, "Then have your mom take you out of this class, because
HELLO, that is what it is for, to DO work and get tutoring, and
you have been in it for a year and a half now. I'm disappointed
you don't have all 'A's, what with me giving you all the answers."
Seventh hour, a boy asked me if his hair looked like a wig. Yes,
I provide all kinds of services for my students. I assured him that
no, on his head it did not look like a wig. On a woman, or an old
man, yes, it would look like a wig. Just yesterday he told me a
girl (6th grade) had lifted his shirt and touched his butt. I said,
"Well, you need to tell somebody about that! Oh. You are telling
ME! Go down to the counselor, she will call this girl in and talk
to her." Which is exactly what happened. She admitted to it, was
told to never do it again, and he was satisfied. Every year we
have some girls pull this crap. Pervs! This can not be tolerated!
Now I am feeling less funkish, after letting out my frustrations.
I must prepare for my night of TV-watching, which will be
Survivor, followed by the grand finale of Skating With Celebrities,
followed by ER. But I may not watch all of ER, because it is the
return of Noah Wyle as Dr. Carter, and I have never liked Dr.
Carter.
Perhaps I will come up with a more interesting post for tomorrow,
which starts the weekend, but nobody reads blogs on the weekend,
so my talent will fall on deaf eyes. That's OK. I crack myself up
sometimes.
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 6:13 PM
5 Comments:
Whatever! I TOTALLY read on the weekends. It keeps me from tearing off the limbs of my husband and child because they leave everything everywhere and NEVER pick it up!
OMG, I laughed outloud when I read that one of the students thought that YOU had belched instead of someone else. That's cool. Belching is something to be proud of...my hubby thinks I'm gross when I let 'er rip from my mouth. I got my talent of belching from my mother.
http://www.danno.org/blogs
I totally read your blog on weekends! As a matter of fact I read it every day....sometimes I even read a post twice! *G*
Nique,
I feel your pain. I have been planning a post about my live-in slobs for about a week, but each day they do something else to annoy me. I am waiting for more evidence to pile up. Thanks for visiting the mansion on the weekends!
Chick,
Yeah. Like I would do that AT SCHOOL. I am civilized. Do I not wear shoes to work? But at home, I let my hair down. As low as you can let a helmet-head of lady mullet down--and let 'em rip. My #2 son is impressed with my belchitude. HH wrinkles up his forehead like he is some hoity-toity manservant who has misplaced the grey poupon.
Scrapper,
Wow! I'm not worthy! I feel like the twice-baked potato of the blog world.
I try every week or so to write something about my slobby family but really that would be all I would write about if I decided to write about that. Good luck on your post and I look forward to seeing how the slob life goes on your side of the fence! Cheers!
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