Did you know it is Teacher Appreciation Week?  I still can’t believe teachers get a week, but I suppose that complaint is getting old.  The irony of this week is that I, hater of Goose’s first grade teacher, was selected by his homeroom mother to take lunch and a gift card tomorrow.  Really?  Why me?  What made homeroom mother think I was the best choice for this?  Was it all the extra kids I carry around, was it the nice words I always have to say about teacher?

So tomorrow, after my workout I am getting something for teacher.  I hope she hates it.  Yes, I really do because that is how petty I am.  Have I mentioned she left my son and two other kids on the playground?  And then blamed him despite being a teacher that should at the very least count her kids before leaving an area.  This year can’t end soon enough.

And I know it seems that I am the biggest complainer around.  Yes, I do complain quite a bit, but I am not the only person complaining about the first grade teachers at Rogers.  The elementary vice principal has admitted concerns from several parents.  I’ve been told by members of the PTO that it gets better in third grade.  There is a group of at least six moms that actively complain, going to PAC meetings, constantly calling for parent teacher conferences and such.  I love this group of moms because I know I’m not crazy for thinking something is off with the teacher and lack of communication.

Anyway…all those moms…total freaking sellouts.  All of them brought gifts this week.  So while I am glad to know I have company in my misery, it saddens me to know that in pettiness I stand alone.  But stand alone I will.

Quite frankly, if coming up with lesson plans every week, not taking any maternity leave, and teaching an extremely emotional child to read and do other wonderful things related to education, while cleaning and caring for other kids doesn’t earn me lunches and gift cards every day of the week, then there was no chance in hell I was doing anything for her anyway.

And yes, that sentence was really long and confusing.

With that said, I have to acknowledge that after NUMEROUS comments and tweets, I did receive two cupcakes and a $5 GC to Starbucks from Lance as a ‘thank you’ for teaching the Baby Hulk.  A totally appropriate gift for teachers.  Not too much, but not too little.

No David has truly hit the milestone in our house of being IT.  Sorry other kids, there is someone so much cuter in the house.  Except of course you, Baby Z.  Yes, we love everyone, but No David is just so funny now.  It’s a shame that he is still at that age where not everyone understands what he says.  Truly, they are missing out.

Earlier in the week, I couldn’t find the house phone.  Finally, around four when Goose was starting his homework, I felt it in his backpack.  Along with two old cell phones.  Now Goose has shown us he has traits of being a future hoarder or thief, but he seemed genuinely confused as to why these things were in his backpack.  I asked No David if he did it.  Nope, he proceeded to blame every other person in the except for me.  Even the baby did it.  Finally, he ended by saying, “someone did it, but not me.”  Is it bad that I love that he thinks so quickly?

Another head-scratcher this week was Squirt informing me that he has no more school shirts.  All of them are gone.  I. am. not. kidding.  How do you lose a shirt you are required to wear at school?  Guess what he is buying with his birthday money?  Between this move and not getting his permit this year, who thinks we are the coolest parents anymore?  Yeah, not him either.

I was telling Jenn about our plans for Mother’s Day.  The boys are all painting a picture at Pinot’s Palette for me.  Which really means Lance is painting a picture for me.  We were talking about how it would be cool if all the kids actually painted the same painting to see the different perspectives.  But then I pointed out that only Lance, Squirt and Goose could paint because Baby Hulk still can’t really draw figures.

I was wrong.  Today on his own, he drew the entire family.  We were stick figures. Without arms.  When I asked where our arms were, he said they were inside our shirts, as if that was the most normal thing for an entire family to have their arms inside their shirts.

My five are up.

One last thing…am I really missing Wilco?