… I mean, it’s a blog for godssake — it’s not rocket surgery.
This is, roughly, the twelvteenth post that I’ve started to write since I got up on my little soap box and had my little verbal tantrum about the state of the public education system and my fears about what will happen to the Girl once the system gets her into its clutches next year. Apparently, after my small tirade, I sat down on my soap box, and have yet to stand back up from my little meditation. Why? Good fucking question. I’m not sure I have any concrete answers yet, but while I was writing and then NOT writing those other eleventeen witty little bits of … uh… blogginess, I did develop several theories regarding my soap box sit-in.
So here’s what happened… After I unintentionally abandoned my darling little blog due to the finally undeniable pull of the universe and the unfortunate incident with the sucking vortex that was the laundry monster, there were a couple of weeks were I actually had my shit together. I KNOW!!! Tell me about it! I was as surprised as anyone. Probably more so, considering I was the one who did all the work, and there was no bribery involved, no threats of … well, anything really. No reason other than an apparent need to defy the universe and exert my all-powerful mom-&-wifeness with a giant Fuck You, Natural Descent Into Entropy, I’m Cleaning My House. And then the last day of school came, and I decided to take the afternoon off, drink a beer (or two), and that’s how I ended up on my education soap box. I was not, however, expecting to actually get RESPONSES to the freakin’ thing. So, that sorta’ sat me on my ass right there.
Now, I said I had “several theories”, as in more than one. So theory 1: knocked on my ass by the fact that people are reading my blog, just by coincidence happen to be stuck on a soapbox at the time.
Included in those responses was one particularly affecting… erm… comment from someone both near and dear to me but is not, and this was the real surprise, my lunatic sister. (Who, btw, you should all know is NOT, in all reality an actual lunatic, clinically speaking anyway, just really really goofy at times.) So this near-and-dear, we’ll call her Professor, because she is (among other things), wrote me a really long, really heartfelt, really personal… response, really, that dredged up a lot of shit from my own frequently painful school years as well as making a lot of good points from a teachers perspective. Again, THUNK, on my ass, this time with my jaw sort of hanging open (but not drooling, thank-you-very-much) because 1.) the Professor reads my blog? Seriously? !?!?! and 2.) recalling various and sundry memories of the years between the ages of 10 and 17.
Now, the Professor comes from the Right side of my family. And by that I mean the side of my family that is always right. We have a tendency to not only speak our minds, but we are strongly opinionated and tend to speak in a manner which makes people think we know what we’re talking about even if we’ve no freakin’ clue. Can you say German heritage? So poor Professor, knowing that she had brought up a lot of that less than pleasant muck, was having clicker’s remorse about sending that particular message. (I know this because I ran into her and im’d about it that day.) But ‘cept I’m a growd up now, and have gained much perspective by having my own children. The decade plus of therapy may have helped too…
So as I continued to sit on my soapbox, I wrote back to the Professor, addressing her points, and making a few more of my own, because, as I said, although I was jaw-agape I was not drooling incoherently, just becoming slightly glassy-eyed and dizzy from the height of the soapbox. There was one more note from the Professor because 1.) she’s got the teacher’s perspective, 2.) she’s got a mother’s perspective, 3.) she’s seen 2 bright girls through the public school system and 4.) one of those girls did really well and one of those girls not so well. So she’s got a lot of wisdom to share, and I’m more than glad to be on the receiving end, even if it knocks me on my ass for more than one reason and renders me slack-jawed and just a little dumbstruck (okay, I admit there may have been a little drooling, but just a little!).
Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to do housework from atop a soapbox, but it’s damn near impossible. I did some directing, but for the most part, I adopted an Om pose and let entropy have its way with me. Which brings me to the final theory regarding my continued residence atop said soapbo, sitting upon said ass. It’s been less than a week since I took up my Om pose (a grand total of 5 days — 6 if you count that first day off) and while nothing is out of control, there are no sucking vortexes of laundry, no battles between dirty laundry and dirty dishes for domain over the hallway or kitchen, and the only thing that is really in desperate shape is the Things’ room (that actually may be close to sucking vortex status, but I refuse to get close enough to confirm), my Om has become disgruntled. I am well aware that as a Toddler Life Coach and professional Military Wife, albeit the worst one ever, the cooking-cleaning-laundry schtick is supposed to be my bit. Yeah, I know. But dammit, I am NOT the only person with arms in this house! Other people ARE capable of working the broom! And the vacuum! Picking up toys! And doing it BEFORE it reaches a full entropic state, thank-you-very-much.
So the final theory? I’m a disgruntled housewife who doesn’t WANT to come down yet. There’s no laundry up here, the floors are clean, and nobody just throws shit on the floor rather than putting it away. I like my soapbox dammit. Now if only I could figure out how to get my bed up here…