The Executive Decision

Anyways, so here I am freshly re-energised by the ProBlogger conference. Bursting with ideas. Ready for a brand new day.

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It’s Sunday night, Bobby’s project is due on “Your house and its environment”. There is a sheet briefing the parents on the objectives of the project and how they can be achieved – make a video demonstrating why your house is built the way it is, how it adapts to its environment and the choice of materials. You are also required to draw a floor plan. Personally I think the teachers decided to have a nosy around our home, like “Hey, I wonder what her house looks like? I know we’ll get the kids to do a project”. Or something like that.

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With all the balls I juggle, I thought to myself, ah yes, here’s a manly school thing Babycakes will be all over. Yes, get him to do it. Pls don’t draw in your breathe like that. I know, hind sight, 20-20.

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So like I said, it’s Sunday night, Babycakes is at work, drops a text with “Hey Hun, project all done. USB on your bed to give to the teacher. It’s the file labeled ‘Bobby’s House’. Oh, floor plan on the kitchen counter. Love you”.

I went downstairs. Picked up glass of wine. Sips wine. Searching for floor plan. 1 hour later, still searching.

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Text Babycakes frantically. Yep, he says in text, on the counter top.

I flick through aaaa-all the papers on the counter tops, nothing. Play room – nada. Dining room – niet. Living room – zippo. Nothing. Screwed.

 

Mad as a hungry hippo ( or what I assume a hungry Hippo to be). Call Babycakes furiously. No answer. Leave Angry message. beads of sweat. Forehead. Fu–!

Drinking second glass of wine. Flick through papers on counter top again, see some new scribbles, one of which has “playroom” and “dining room” on it in playful child scrawl. Set aside. probably first draft. Could not be final. May come in handy.

Furious text war begins. I hve asked you several times to put things away carefully, especially important things. You are so scattered. How could such an organised person be in love with Chaos?

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Ping. I’m working, can’t get into this. Just get him to redo it in the morning before school or something. Gotta go. Bye.

Nothing can be done. I go to bed.

“Mommy did you see my floor plan for school? Isn’t it great” beaming Bobby. Holding the “first draft”. THAT is the PROJECT?!!!!!!!

Furious.

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Crying now. Sobbing into the steering wheel. Heart broken. Howling everytime I remembered the 3-D models I had seen carted into school the previous week, all the color coded architectural digest plans other moms had proudly carted in each day. How could he do this to me? I reminded him every week? How can he make me turn up to the teacher-who-already-thinks-I-am-a-hot-mess-and-expects-a-dud-project-from-me with this project? I will never trust him again. Dumb move. Why? Whhhhy me?

Snott all down face. Bleary-eyed with tears. I approach teacher.

I explain that I left Babycakes in charge. She looks at me like I just told her I was shaving  my head and replacing my hair with noodles. But there was pity with a “poor girl, don’t do it again” look. I limp out, broken. Ashamed.

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When I see Babycakes again, he gets a chance to finally explain.

He had tried to steer Bobby in the right direction, with the video and the floor plan drawing. After a few attempts, Bobby looked up at Babycakes squarely in the eyes and said firmly “Daddy, if you do the drawing then it’s your project not my project and you can present your project to Mrs W. I am doing my project, that I will be presenting to my class. Okay?!”. Bobby apparently has a strong sense of self. I guess the aims and objectives were achieved after all.

xx BB

Oh, FYI the gorgeous random food pictures you see are from dinner last night with the C’s.

I made Date cake with Toffee Sauce.

Cookies

 

Make some. Enjoy.

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I’m Betty, and Butter is a story of a full-time suburban SAHM ( Stay-At-Home-Mom) who practices Medicine in her spare time. My life heavily revolves around Babycakes, my husband, Bobby and Ben, my children and an acerbic tongued pug D’Artagnan.

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