Since I've never been good at avoiding peer pressure, I set up a Facebook page for myself. Oy.
Not like having a full-time job, trying to blog, and being high maintenance was enough for me. Oh, no. Like I need one more thing to obsess over.
The cool part is that I've already had a few people contact me that I haven't talked to in decades. One guy that grew up around the corner from me. A lady that I babysat for in high school (and when I say lady, she's probably not but maybe 10 years older than me?). An old high school classmate that I had lost touch with.
This could get interesting. Because not only did I register with the high school I graduated from after only being there one year, I registered at the high school in New Jersey where I pretty much lived my whole school career. I'll be interested to see who gets in touch with me. Not to mention, it's been cool seeing the pictures of everyone and their kids. And some of the guys...well, let's just say that they have aged well. Yowza.
Anyhoo, if you are on Facebook and would like to be my wittle fwiend, email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and then I will dance the happy dance.
Tonight I was thrown into Mean Mom Mode. We have been trying to teach Monkey Man his entire life (well, at least most of it) about being responsible for things. You take care of your things, and you will have them for a long, long time. The one thing that he can't seem to keep track of is his damn Nintendo DS - stupid thing is black, it's small, and he misplaces it all the freaking time.
Tomorrow is "Elecjama Day" at camp. Meaning they get to wear their pajamas to camp and bring a handheld video game. So of course, he suckered Joey into taking him to GameStop after dinner and buying a new game.
And then couldn't find his DS. Up, down, all over the damn house we looked. Of course, and all you moms out there will probably nod when I say this, we have a whole different definition of looking than kids do. Theirs is more like "I will take a cursory glance and if said item does not bite me in the ass, I have done my duty." So I asked him to check his toy box (small plastic bin that catches all the downstairs toys) and also his toy backpack. Then we had to call my parents and see if they could find it...so my poor parents were tearing up their house too.
Finally, I asked him again if he'd checked the toy box. Yes, he had, he claimed.
Yeah, so why did he find it ten minutes later when I made him dump the damn thing out?
I was so furious that I sent him straight upstairs to take a bath and go to bed. Because not only was he not responsible, he was too lazy to look for the game and then lied about it. And Mama don't tolerate no lyin'. No siree.
So I'm wiped. And feeling kind of bad. I did tell him that I still love him even if I'm mad or disappointed in him, but I just wonder sometimes if I'm a little too hard on him. I guess it could've been worse, though - I could've chained him in the basement, huh?