Betty Botter Bitter Butter

My day started pretty much like every other day,

Fighting over clothes and orange juice with my 6 year old.

Lately our morning has been filled with extra-moodiness, since we’re all experiencing a major lack of sleep.

We are living at my Mother’s while our home is being renovated and our routine has gone completely out of whack.

Every little thing that was part of our simple lives has been altered.

And we definitely don’t have enough winter clothes or toys to face the challenges ahead.

So this morning it was me who had a meltdown.

Thankfully I found my friend A, who shared a coffee with me and made me laugh very hard.

Laughter is still the best medicine around.

My friend’s daughter and Juliana are in the same classroom, so she can totally relate to the pain I experience during homework hour – and note than when I say “hour” it’s definitely a figure of speech – for this part of the day can last more than two hours on a bad night.

And to make things even more interesting, our very good intentioned teacher sends ten e-mails every Sunday with things to know, things to do and things to share for the week.

Like a poem.

Yes, he wants us to share a poem with the family - every day.

This is our poem of the week:

Betty Botter bought some butter,

But she said, "This butter's bitter!

But a bit of better butter

Will but make my butter better."

So she bought some better butter,

Better than the bitter butter,

And it made her butter better.

So 'twas better Betty Botter

Bought a bit of better butter!

Picture this,

Hello kids, how was your day? Tell me all about it, shower time, eczema cream, little fight over it, detangling hair, chasing kid that eats crayons, homework begins, chase kid that takes sister’s homework and utensils, homework continues, fights over lower case and upper case, prepare dinner, chase kid that starts playing with all the kitchen utensils, fights over math problem, chase kid that is putting hands inside the toilet, fights over spelling sentences, dinner, fights over soup, fights over chicken, struggle with kid not using his silverware to eat, begging both to finish their food.

Ok kids, stay put, it’s poem time,

- Betty Botter bought some butter…

Give me my 30 minutes with both of them watching Good luck Charlie to get out of these fucking high heeled blue boots that are killing me, because I still have to do teeth, pee, diaper, water, book and good nights - and then struggle with them actually falling asleep - which is no little task.

So,

Betty Botter I am sorry, we definitely have no time.