Who Makes The Rules Around Here Again?

Agj;asdgf;wekgf'wjebvfk/jwdghfo'ierhy.  There.

It's nearing 1 in the morn and my brain is running at full sprint speed.  My brain is actually so tired that the sprint is more like a drunk person sprint and I'm not thinking compeltely clearly (certainly not to insinuate that I always think clearly when well rested) but my point is that I am tired but I can't sleep.  SO here I am.

Let me tell you about the last two days.  They have been HELL.  Yes, HELL in all caps.  Not to be overdramatic here, my HELL is pretty mellow compared to some, but nonetheless, I have wondered what I may have gotten myself into recently.

Allow me to start with my darling little dumpling of a biscuit baby boy Benjamin.  While he is everything that a little boy should be, precious, animated, a lot like his mother, and so much more, I think he has been siding with the little devil on his left shoulder.  Everything, and I do mean evvveerryyything has been up to him. 

Me:  Don't jump on the sofa
B:    Jumping on sofa, throwing cushions off of sofa

Me:  Don't put your toothbrush in the toilet
B:    Flush, yep, there was a toy car in there too

Me: Time for your long over due nap
B:   Time for you to shut the hell up, I'm not taking a nap (yes, he miraculously learned how to say all that)

You get my point.

I'm not sure if the tooth fairy dropped off more teeth under his gums just to get my goose at the beginning of a new semester or if he is learning that he is the boss around here, but either way, he's pretty  much been calling the shots for the last few.  I know, why am I allowing this? Well, you sit here and listen to him scream his pretty little head off until he gets his way, and I'll put bets on your horse that you will think just like me....here kid, have it your way.  Would you like a large coke with that as well?  The most horrible part of all of this is that he is so darn cute when he gets mad and it's so darn funny when he throws himself on the floor (although I am under orders not to laugh or let him know that I am even watching him throw a tantrum).  So Benny, our little Bumbling B, is a shot caller.  And he knows it.  I know we need to put our fat heads together and think like parents instead of babysitters so that we can "guide" him and more importantly teach him to knock this shit off, but I gotta admit, it's just easier to give him his way (I'm fully aware of the reprocussions of this statement).  It's easier and I like to underestimate the manipulative powers of babies.  They are afterall, just babies.

Anyhooha, on to bigger fish in the deep fryer.  School.  Yes.  School.  I have to say this:  WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING 5 YEARS AGO?  I give myself credit for making it out of my teenage and early twenties alive, so I don't beat myself up too badly for not completing school during my first go at it.  But my second...WHY?  There is no good gd reason that I couldn't have finished besides the taste of beer was far too tempting and I couldn't jump off that loooooong wagon ride that I loved.  Ok, good reason, but still.  Here I am all these years later giving the third go at it and trying to finish up that last semester of straggling classes that I could have taken long ago but they would have severly cut into my curing-the-hangover-from-last-night time, so nope, never accomplished them. 

My law professor was giving a scenario today to our class full of nearly prepubescent kids and asked something to the effect of "what time do you college students wake up on a Sunday morning" and I thought to myself 'Oh dear karma, I am now the old person in class that I used to make fun of'' as I looked around and realized that I was like the second or third oldest person in the entire room and could not even answer that question for fear of total humiliation..  I think the professor was probably even younger than me, but she's a hot tiny little asian thing, and you know you never can tell the true age of an asian.  Lucky bitches.  Furthermore I was clearly ready to place all of my money on the idea that my guess of 85% of the class probably had no idea what it was like to have boobies that fill up with milk and especially not in the middle of a community college business law course.

Long ago I  was annoyed by the "old" ladies who always sat in the front rows of class and asked all the questions which prevented us from being released 3 minutes early from class and my dying hunger (which was satisfied by a single bean burrito from Taco Bell) could not be immediately alleviated.  It was alllllll the old ladies' faults.  They pulled their back packs on wheels while I lugged my books around in a shoulder bag while walking lopsided.  They clogged the sidewalks with those pull behind back packs er should I say suitcases.  Now, I know the deal.  One day of trying to carry my shoulder bag and walking lopsided to a single class, and those pull behinds aren't looking so bad.  Besides, it was made clearly evident to me today (even after I put on my beaded bracelets, and spiked my hair out like an 18 year old punk rocker, and even wore a new white tank top) that I am not by any means "fashionable".  I do suppose that since being a housewife and stay at home mom on a single budget, I have lost a little bit of the fashion that I never really had, so I might as well have a healthy back too and pull a mini suitcase.  I'm not too proud to laugh at myself!

So yep.  School has started and the C grades that were previously acceptable are out of the question now.  I';ll leave those for those new little 18 year olds to figure out.  I have this mental stress case of making sure that I am not forgetting anything, and the truth is, I can't even remember how I used to do all of this while consuming an army's worth of alcohol and working.  It was so easy back then, why in the hell didn't I finish before I had a little butterball turkey to look after?  He could care less about the 6 chapters that I need to read.  I mean afterall, this is his world.  I just live in it.