Confederacy of Dunces

Sometimes I wonder about the mental faculties of the people around me.

That’s a lie.

Every day, multiple times a day, I decide 90% of the population posts an IQ score that would be a great golf score.

I’m putting together a visual attendance chart for a homeschooling group of ours. Each child’s photo will be printed next to their name so that readers and non-readers alike will be able to take attendance. Pretty nifty idea and it was fun to dust off my old editing and design skills.

But the response from the other parents makes me concerned that they’ve already passed on their genes and also that they are driving around out there.

When someone requests a “mug shot” that should indicate a photo that is full-frontal, head, maybe shoulders.

It should not result in the submission of the subject posing like an odalisque, nor should they be in the fetal position with their head at a severe angle, nor should they be looking at the ground. I salvaged the first two examples with my admittedly rudimentary Photoshop skills, but a snapshot where the kid’s face is not visible and that, after cropping out everything else, results in a photo that Barbie could put in an album, is beyond my capabilities.

At the very least I will be practicing my diplomacy skills this year.

The price of convenience

Little Miss’ birthday is fast approaching, and with her birthday being one month before this new baby is expected I had some new factors to think about.

Having a party at the house would have been the most economical and sensible, but it isn’t a possibility. We live on an insanely busy road with no street parking or even a shoulder, and our driveway could only accommodate a few vehicles. We don’t have a yard for kids to play in so much as we have every parent’s nightmare: no grass, lots of rocks and gravel, abundant poison ivy, and oh, yeah, the cars driving right next to the property at 50+ MPH. Not to mention the minefield of dog crap.

Add in a high-strung dog who weighs in at 70-lbs and a hugely pregnant woman, and you get a place  wholly unsuitable for a large group of children.

Instead, I shelled out $300 to The Little Gym for the privilege of having our party there. The fee includes an hour and a half of play time, utensils and paper goods for food consumption, two Little Gym instructors to supervise and facilitate the party, juice and water, balloons for all the kids and a t-shirt for the birthday kid. They do all the set-up and clean-up and will keep track of who gave what gift. They will even send the invitations if you like. (I set an Evite)

All I need to provide is the cake, the guests, and goody bags. Goody bags are the scourge of modern birthdays. “Thanks for coming to our party! Here’s a bag of cheap plastic crap that will break within a week and some shitty candy!” Last year I bought a bunch of plastic animals to decorate the cake with and let each kid choose which animal they wanted on their piece and they kept the animal. Probably the other parents thought I was a cheap bitch but I don’t care. This year I ordered pre-filled bags from Oriental Trading Co. The charge for avoiding shopping for and assembling goody bags for 15 kids: $64.

So basically I am paying $400 so I can sit on my ass and observe my kid’s birthday and avoid all the work of throwing the party.

At least the Evite was free.

Seasonal allergies are a bitch

This is my first time dealing with allergies in a child. I must say, I do not care for it. I am glad she doesn’t have a disgusting stream of snot pouring out of her nose like so many children do, but the wracking cough is wearing everyone down.

Here we see the results of our first dose of allergy medicine (OTC, generic Benadryl). I was sitting next to her, she was awake. I got up, went to the porch, brought in a package, and sat back down. She was out. Pitiful.

We have the humidifier running constantly and we’ve tried every natural remedy and every OTC product I could find, all to no avail. I suppose we just have to wait out the changes in the air.