Unfit

It has recently come to my attention that I am a tyrannical, horrid mother and should be made to pay. Somehow. You see, by forcing one of my daughters to go to ballet class, apparently I have ruined her life. She is exhausted all the time, her muscles are tired, and just worrying about how worn out she will be after ballet has ruined her Standardized Testing scores for this week. It's terrible. Her life is doomed. She'll never get a good grade again, and her muscles are sure to quit working.

Personally, I think she has bigger problems than this. Certainly better evidence of my unfit motherhood, anyway. There's, for instance, the fact that I noticed that she is wearing the exact same shirt to school today as she did yesterday, and I let her get away with it. I was happy to let her wear it again, because that means less laundry and less whining about clothes. She rarely takes off her hoodie sweatshirt anyway. Then, you should take into account that I decided pretzels were a perfectly healthy breakfast. That ought to help her test scores, right? We won't even mention the quality of dinners around this place in the last couple of weeks. I think we'll just say, if it weren't for some good friends, pretzels may have been on the acceptable dinner menu list more than once.

I think I will banish myself to bed and only come out when I am sure to make sound decisions and treat all of my children fairly. I will reconsider ballet class (for instance, should I add another one or just make her go to the one?) laundry woes, and menu planning. It may take some time. Once my head is clear, I will be much more likely to torture all of the children equally with opportunities to improve their talents and achieve good grades. I may possibly even feed them vegetables. You never know how brutal I may become. Watch out.