One Reason I Suck as a Mom...

...is that I routinely do things like let my son's one and only second birthday go by without saying anything about it, except sideways, while chronicling my own writing prowess. Of course, this may be mitigated somewhat by the fact that we aren't actually having his party until Sunday, in Mississauga--the same day I have to start off by reading the story I haven't even remotely finished yet at 6:00 AM, before swanning up to back-o'-beyond to hang out with six kids I barely know (the eldest of them is five) and eleven adults to whom I am sort of related (by marriage). Yeah, it'll be fun, can't you tell? So in a way, it's like we're teaching him birthdays go on for weeks, especially once we factor in Mom's attempts to get him "used" to having "Happy Birthday" sung at him by doing it every other hour. But such is life, as Ned Kelly would say.;)

Two years, and it went by so fast, and he's such a GUY. But not really. Still not talking much, still with the baby cheeks, but I can see what he'll look like at twenty starting to emerge, bit by bit. It makes me far less able to watch things like tonight's episode of Criminal Minds, and yet there's so much everyday joy in there, too. And every time something happens now, I really do tend to think about how it'll affect him before I think about how it'll affect me; that can't be all bad. ("Say, part of my back molar seems to have broken off...man, we need to start brushing his teeth for real now, like all the time!")

All right, so there we go, and much thanks to all who have congratulated me/Cal thus far. My duty is done. I now resubmerge into the scholastic inferno of Week Twelve, probably without emerging again until Sunday. See ya at Nuit Blanche, whoever's coming.

Big Revelation

You know what? There's this particular section, this time 'round...in terms of one course it's coded "Y", in the other one "X", which means that nobody ever knows where the fuck they're supposed to be and/or when, amongst many, many other problems. And of these people, two are genuinely good students...they both showed up to take their Canadian Film History exam at 9:00 AM, possibly to distance themselves from everybody else. The rest "showed up" at 11:00 AM, when they were scheduled for. Except that one actually came half an hour later, one came an hour late, two didn't have their essays with them (25% of their final mark!), and one seemed completely unaware that there even WAS an exam, let alone what in Hell might be on it.

And in case you can't figure this out yet by reading between the lines, let me state for the record that I HATE them. All of them (aside from the two good ones). I never want to see any of them again, an impulse ever-so-slightly frustrated by the fact that I still have one more semester to go with this bunch of insufferable knobs. My hate is hot and pure and makes me very tense, not to mention practically incapable of saying anything to any one of them that isn't fully immersed in a toxic sea of "note". Because they just don't get it, and they never will, and a good portion of them even seem to think it's fucking FUNNY.

Okay, break over, vent over. We now return you, la la la.