It has been a strange day. I keep looking around at all the things I want to do around the house, and I can't seem to summon the energy to do any of them.
My room has gotten junked up again. I don't know how it happens. It was really clean a few months ago. I have things like pants that Michael has outgrown, shoes my mother never wore but doesn't want, piles of papers from the kids' schools, endless post-it notes, etc. And dust. If dust were worth money I'd be as wealthy as Bill Gates.
I had a meeting at school with Alesia's counselor and others. She failed her online Algebra course last summer. The county told me by phone she had passed, but that was wrong. I am very irritated. She didn't fail it by much, but she has to make at least a 70 in there in order to graduate in the spring, with her class. So Alesia has to drop an elective and take the second semester of Algebra II yet again, with the same teacher who couldn't explain it well last spring. I was reassured that she will have a co-teacher in there, so hopefully Alesia can get the support she needs. Because of her schedule, though, she will have to leave ESOL English and take regular English, which fills me with dread. I am assured there is a co-teacher in there, too, but she has never handled regular English on her own. I am just trying to remember to pray, and not worry.
I made a big green bean salad for dinner and put it in the fridge. When I got it out for dinner, it looked like a plowhand had put his entire face into it and gobbled down a huge portion.
I was informed by my daughter that she had already had her vegetable and would NOT eat more. THank God, I thought. I had planned on that for at least 3 meals.
I fixed Tilapia sauteed in a teriyaki mixture [see recipe here: http://thepioneerwoman.com/tasty-kitchen/recipes/main-courses/everyone-ate-this-fish/] and it was wonderful. Mike complimented me. Then he ate half his grandmother's boiled shrimp. LOL.
Alesia, however, informed me she didn't like the fish, even though she deigned to eat a portion. She also informed me she doesn't like asparagus, meatloaf, eggs, or corned beef. I informed her that I will continue to cook what I want, and she can eat a peanut butter sandwich if she doesn't like our food. She said, accusingly, that up until now she had only eaten these dishes to be polite, but those days are OVER.
The implication was that I had forced her at gunpoint to eat those revolting things.
I refrained from reminding me that MOST people think I am an excellent cook.
A heaping portion of Teenaged Rebellion, anyone?!?
This after I had spent an hour on the internet researching schools that might teach courses in industrial design. Alesia is fascinated by cars, and it's the design she likes, not the thought of getting her nails greasy under the hood of a car. I found out the Savannah College of Art and Design offers the coursework she needs, and there's a branch of that school right here in Atlanta. I informed her of that, enthusiastically, and she acted supremely uninterested, as though I was insulting her by suggesting school. What was I thinking?!?
I got a haircut today, before the meeting at school. In the car on the way home, I asked Alesia if she noticed anything different about me. "There are little hairs on your neck. I noticed it right away but I was too polite to say anything."
Why, thank you for the lovely compliment.
I feel like a Lady Troll.
At one point during dinner I was informed, loudly, that the sound of my fork scraping the plate, even though it was very slight, was HURTING HER EARS. This was after she informed me off all the foods she would not eat and fussed at being asked to feed the dog, since she had finished early.
"Is there anything else I can do for you, your highness?!?" I said, with exaggerated politeness, as I grabbed a bite of fish with my fingers and popped it into my mouth. "If you won't let me use a fork, you must at least hand me a napkin for my now fishy hands," I informed her.
She giggled.
The giggle meant the situation didn't escalate.
I was fixing to get angry.
Getting angry with a petulant teenager is like putting lipstick on a pig - there will be lots of squealing but no pretty pig at the end of it...
