For those of you who don’t know, I have recently taken a day job. It is a long story that I’ll go into another time. Anyway, it’s an awesome job and I’m really enjoying it. And yes, I’m still writing my books, so don’t worry. By the way, did you know that sleep could never, ever be overrated? Yeah, I was surprised too.
The cool part is that I get to wear all those abfab clothes and shoes, and carry all those handbags I haven’t used in years. Somehow, a pair of Carlos by Carlos Santana platform sandals doesn’t work with a t-shirt and sweatpants.
The weird part is coming home to my kids, who seemed like “just kids” before but now resemble little people who were visited by the Responsibility Fairy. They do their chores and homework. Why didn't anyone tell me I just had to go back to work to get that???
The first day I came home, I flung open the door, awaiting my hero’s welcome. Both kids looked at me and mumbled, “hey,” before going back to whatever they were doing. That was somewhat anti-climactic. I went straight to the phone and called my mom to apologize for doing that to her all those years.
Mr. Assassin must have threatened them with the Bore Worms (“NO! Not the Bore Worms!) because since that day, they have leaped into my arms as Stepford Children.
Mr. Assassin had to go back to work after Cmas break, so we revisited the nostalgia of our youth and turned our children into latchkey kids. And they’ve done very well. Miss Margaret texts me when she and Jack get home. And then proceeds to text me every five minutes regarding Jack’s personal hygiene, his general mood and how many bowel movements he has. She goes on to rat him out on everything even remotely bad he might be doing.
I am working on resolving this issue.
So imagine my surprise when I arrived home last night to find both kids just inside the door, shifting nervously as if they were running a heroin ring using the basset as a drug mule. It went a little something like this:
Me: What did you do?
Margaret: Mom, don’t be mad at us!
Jack: Can we have another dog?
Margaret: There’s a surprise in the basement!
Not only did I breathe a sigh of relief, but I decided I had to work with them on their surprise-there’s-a-dog/Joe-the-plumber/dead hooker-in-the-basement routine.
So, I follow them downstairs while Margaret tells me they found a stray Pug and brought him in.
Jack: We saved his life!
Margaret: Yeah! She could’ve frozen to death out there and there’s no collar, so can we keep her?
Me: That’s a Shih tzu.
Margaret: It is? I thought it was a Pug.
Me: That doesn’t look anything like Lucy. That dog is thin and has lots of hair.
Margaret: So can we keep it?
Me: (Picking up the dog) No. Sara and Doug across the street would miss Herkey. (Continue carrying dog upstairs and dialing cell phone.)
Jack: What? What do you mean? (He says that a lot. It’s really annoying.)
That’s right. My kids stole the neighbor’s dog. And she happens to be the PTA president. I am so screwed.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Posted by Leslie Langtry at 2:05 AM