Weird things always happen when TG and Witchy and I go to a-MO-co. Like the time with the spider. We stopped there before I dropped them off at school and there was this giant spider at least as big as the palm of my hand (legs included) just hangin’ out on the sidewalk. We watched other people walking by and staring at it so we decided to go stare too. It looked fake, like one of those Halloween spiders you stick on your window. So we walked over and I think TG was the one to kind of kick at it, and that big bastard spider started RUNning like hell. So we screamed and ran too. We’re just like big spiders.
And then there was this other time when we stopped to get wheels for TG’s menstrual cycle in an emergency situation. All the stoner kids were hanging out smoking in the parking lot before school. Later at school some dude comes up to TG and is like “I saw you at a-MO-co this morning. You looked totally hot, and so did your mom.”
WHAT THE FUCK?!
Witchy has told me that her little schoolmates also think I’m her mom. First of all, it’s not like our real mother is invisible and never goes to school events or something. She’s present. She goes. AND she and I look nothing alike, so there’s that. But also- I do NOT look like the mother of a 15 year old and a 12 year old. Oh HELL no. In fact, my students are always teasing me that I look like I’m in high school myself. (perhaps the largest-chested high schooler ever, but still…)
Just for the record, I’m not anyone’s mother. And I’m not planning to change that non-mother status anytime soon.
Besides, I’d be a terrible mother. My kids would be sitting on the kitchen floor drinking orange cough syrup (like I did when I was a kid) and I’d be all like “save some for me!”
And I’d let them do whatever the hell they wanted to as long as they didn’t annoy me too much in the process. And I’d corrupt them. I’d teach them how to mix drinks and we’d play “bartender” with their Little Tykes Playhouses.
Why don’t they have a Little Tykes Bartender set anyway? That would be a great toy.