Snow Day

Ask anyone what a snow days means to them and they will use adjectives like "relaxing", "fun", "easy", and "chill." Those people don't live in my house. A snow day to me is a day of anarchy. They turn into a bunch of locusts and eat everything in sight. They battle over toys, fight about looking at each other funny and any attempt to enforce structure is met with a whining mutiny. 

If I can get them engaged in some activity, video game, movie, then I can focus on the one kid that is demanding my attention and maybe, have some peace for a few minutes. But mostly, a snow day has me in a ready stance to deal with the evolving state of emergency that is my house.

I don't know why this is, but for some reason, children wake up earlier on weekends and on snow days. I personally think it is their way to get back at us for denying them cookies or some desirable at some point in their lives. So, when we had a snow day on Wednesday, it was no surprise that the first hour of the day started so early. 

Here is a play by play of my first hour:

6:30am: I heard the boys tell the girls,"it's snowing". I heard the girls squeal with glee and then their voices faded as they went downstairs. I stayed in bed and keep dozing.

7am: I heard a fight erupt somewhere downstairs and the screaming carried so well up the stairs. I thanked the builder of my home for making the house so acoustically deficient and continued to lay there hoping it resolved independently.

7:05am: Twin "R" walked into our bedroom and said that #2 & #3 were "having issues" and told us to go help.

7:07am: Husband went downstairs and broke up the brawl.  #1 started screaming because the other two boys were screaming. (Pure example of 100% feedback.)

7:10am: #2 was sent to time out in his room, #3 was sent to timeout in the guest room and #1 threw himself on the floor screaming while trying to look under door to find #3.

7:11am: #1 was told to get up. He got up and ran to his bed while still screaming.

7:12am: We went back to bed and reflected on what had just happened.(Face-palm.)

7:13am: The twins came into our room, climbed into bed with us and told us about their adventures.

7:15am: My alarm went off.

7:16am: The boys emerged from their positions of exile and started playing nicely again.

7:17am: The twins left us to go play with the boys.

7:22am: Percussion marching band is heard throughout the house and getting louder.

7:24am: Marching band arrived.(Magically, no one was poked in the eye with a drum stick.) Glad I was not hung-over. That would have been more painful that it already was.

7:26am: Husband decided he was going to work because the snow was just "snow". Smart man. Though he was leaving me in this crazy house alone. Thanks so much. Well, it will just be me and vodka to manage the house. May the force be with us.    

The kids managed to settle down and find activities for the day. The locusts attacked the kitchen leaving little in their aftermath.  After I got the duct tape off and got myself out of the locked closet, I did manage to clean the basement and gather a bunch of toys and books to donate. So I did accomplish something in spite of being pulled in 14 directions. Relaxing? No. Chill? No. Fun? No. Do I love school days? Yes. There is a reason my kids all have perfect attendance.
 

Your Monies Worth

When I was a kid, my father gave us "the big talk" around age 11. In our family, the big talk was not about sex, it was about reaching the age that we were charged full price for things at restaurants, movies, amusements parks and other places. We had reached full-priced adulthood.
My dad saw us once a week and he would always take us out for dinner. Aside from the regular fast food chains we'd regular, occasionally, we'd go to buffets. On those days, he would give us the coaching lesson, "ok guys, I have to pay full price for you now, so you need to make sure that they lose money on you. You need to eat more than they are charging me for. Eat the meat, eat the shrimp and don't eat the bread or potatoes. Eat the expensive stuff and don't eat the cheap stuff. Make them sorry we walked through the door." What pressure. It was as if we were preparing for a great sporting event. If 'team' were an anagram in my family, we would spell "eat'm".

I grew up with that mentality, get your monies worth. When I was a kid, My mom used to give me the grocery money and let me do the weekly shopping. She'd give me $40 and I'd manage to come home with a cart full of groceries and change. I am a trained bargain hunter, and that affects my approach to everything. 

When we were having our first kid and spending money on baby stuff, I thought it was financially illogical to buy all that stuff for just one kid. Have to have a bunch to get my monies worth. I paid $200 for that crib, and four kids wound up sleeping in it, so it works out to $50 a kid. Not so bad. (Maybe I wasn't thinking about the cost per kid after the baby stage. Logic was flawed. Admitted.)

When we were pregnant with #3 and had to trade the car for a mommy mobile, the salesman said to me, "it fits six carseats." Did he really have to say that to me? It sounded like a challenge.

Even now, as a mom, when #1 and #3 buy lunch on pizza day, I ask them what they got aside from the pizza. "You get milk? Apple sauce?" I want to make sure that they got everything they were entitled to. We're talking school lunches here, I should be happy they didn't get everything they was entitled too, but even if it's crappy, they paid for it. Gotta get your monies worth kiddies.

When you have a large family, you have to figure the total cost of things. Taking seven people to the movies can run over $60. A trip to the Baltimore aquarium over $200. We look to conserve money by buying memberships. We buy one per year and then the pressure to get my money's worth comes into play. My husband has to remind me regularly that the membership pays for itself in three visits, but then I hear my father's voice, "make them lose money on you." In my mind, I picture going every week. Not reasonable, but the pressure is there. They have to lose money on me and I am competitive. The gauntlet has been thrown down.

When I joined the gym, I signed three kids up for babysitting. Regardless of how often I go, I still get charged each month. Because of that, I go six days a week. There is no way I am going to lose money on that, even if it means  becoming a masochist.  I stay the whole two hours that they can be in that baby room. I'm getting my monies worth and they're watching my kids: win-win. And, if my ass shrinks just a little, well, that would be the cherry on top.

As I sort through the baby things for my donation pile, I see many things that have been around since #1. We got 10 years out of that, what a bargain. I'm happy I had three boys who all wear the hand me downs. By the time the third child is wearing the $3 shirt, I feel like I am getting a return on my investment. With the twins, we were lucky that many of my NJ friends gave us boxes of clothes when the girls were babies. When they turned three, I had to start buying clothes. I buy a third more than I would for a single kid and then share the clothes. I do love hand-me-downs.  Nothing like getting a return on free stuff. "Free" is my favorite "F" word.

Every birthday and Chanukah my dad sends a check. The more kids we had, the more money he had to send. We got to a point that he was moaning about the amount of money he had to send because we had so many kids. He told me,  "Please don't have anymore kids, I'm going broke." Hey dad, suck it up, I'm getting my monies worth.  

 

Babysitter Super-Hero

This past weekend, my husband and I did something we have not done in nine years: we left the kids with a sitter and went away together. The last time we did that, our #1 was 18 months old. We left him with my mother, who was 74 at the time, and my older brother. Thanks to a friend who had access to an apartment in Manhattan, we had an overnight before #2 arrived.

We hadn't been away since. When you're pushing out babies every other year, it seems that right when you're getting back into the swing of things, you get knocked up again and the game continues. 

When we lived in NJ, we had a great pool of babysitters to choose from. However, when we moved to Maryland two years ago, we were hard pressed to find anyone to help us. Our once, weekly date nights, became more and more scarce and then they disappeared completely. When we qualified for funding for respite care, aka, fancy name for babysitting, we still had no one to use that money with. You'd think it would be easier to find childcare in Baltimore, but it wasn't and it was frustrating. We don't have family to help us and when you have the situation we are presented with: five kids, three with autism, it is a tough situation and an energy suck. 

Thanks to our NJ babysitter, Katie, who now goes to school at Arcadia University in Philly, we were able to have our night away. She began babysitting for us when she was 15; when we only had three kids. She was with us when the twins came home from the hospital, and held them when they were only days old. She was a natural. She could handle my house and my kids. And when she offered to drive the two hours and watch the kids, I was stoked. Because if anyone could handle my household, it was Katie, the 21 year old super-hero. 

When I left the house with my husband, it was hard to believe that so many years had passed since we had quality time together. It was if the last 10 years had flown by and we had morphed into two people who had kids together and worked together to take care of them. Everything was for them and I was becoming a poster child for burn-out. 

Knowing that Katie was there to mind the kids and having 24 hours of child free time, I could relax; perhaps for the first time in 10 years. I was able to focus on my husband and remind myself of who I was before kids(BC). I was reminded of  the magic we had; that had been so subtly swept under the rug over the last few years. I was allowed to  have a conversation with him that wasn't kid related. I was allowed to laugh, relax, finish a thought, a meal, and a drink, without being interrupted.  It was a nice and rare moment that brought me back to a time when our time was more disposable.

We were married for six years before we had #1. My husband's work used to require extensive travel and I had the luxury of being able to accompany him to many foreign destinations. After #1 was born, we went to Italy and after #2 was born, we all went to South Africa, and when #3 was born, we were preparing a trip to New Zealand when he changed jobs and remained state-side. After that, our adventure travel days were over. We shifted from adventure to beach people. After the twins were born, we went to Jamaica once more and then we became the "no vacation" people, because it was too expensive to go anywhere. Seven tickets anywhere=too expensive. Plus, when you have kids, vacation becomes "same crap, different location", offering very little chance to relax.

We had 24 hours to explore Annapolis and it was like we were teleported back 10 years to our BC life. We didn't explore the city on foot that much, it was cold. But we drank wine, ate great food and slept a lot. I was allowed to reflect back to where we started and how far we have come. I was allowed to reconnect with this wonderful person whom I have been married to for almost 17 years and I was allowed to step back into the worry-free, stress-free person I used to be. It felt amazing.

I could laugh, I could live in the moment and breathe. I wasn't pulled in 14 directions and I wasn't required to spend my day putting out fires and dealing with meltdowns. It was a much needed break and the kicker is, that as much as I knew I needed a break, I didn't realize how much I needed that break. Sometimes, you don't realize you're standing on the ledge until you see the cars below, and for me, being allowed to step back and reconnect with my partner, I could see how far off the ledge I really was. Step away, slowly. Katie to the rescue.

When we came home, the kids, who usually run to the door to meet whichever parent was missing, casually glanced up when we returned together. We knew we left the kids in great hands and maybe that is why I could relax the way I did. Katie let us know that she'd come back again soon and give us another break. Score!

In the end, we wound up coming home a couple hours earlier than we originally anticipated. I guess when we checked-out of our hotel room and took a final drive around Annapolis, we were ready to head back to the one place we created together, the one place we had an equal stake in, and the one place that now defined us: home.

 Kindergarten Commandos

 
Every morning begins a new day, a new hope that things will be good again. It is a new chance to try again, for redemption in yesterday's errors and tribulations. Every morning is filled with transitions to where the day will take you and unfortunately, mornings are the hardest with a bunch of kids with autism.

The morning wasn't going quite right, somehow we were ahead of schedule, which meant we would wind up being late for sure. Since the weather was nice, we decided to walk to school. I was trying to get them all ready to go, and #2 said, "mom, I need something else to eat, I need more brain-food." Really? Now? Cause you spent half your morning playing on the computer. Why didn't you do it then? He wanted a full size Clif bar and I told him he could have a mini Clif bar, and then he lost it. (I probably should have let that argument go, instead of going into an explanation of his daily calorie consumption and how the full size Clif bar would exceed his needs. So noted.) I managed to get them all out of the house though #2 was still upset and chucked the mini Clif bar across the yard.

We got to the first corner three houses up and I did the usual pants check before we crossed the street. We are known as the crack house, because someone's heiney is always coming out for air.  I pulled up #1's pants and when I got to #2, I noticed he was not wearing underwear. We could just walk to school and I can bring by the underwear later. But, how would that look when he is sitting in class and the office calls down to his class, "Mrs. O'Leary, J's underwear is here"? That is something the kids could make fun of him for years to come. Uh, not doing that. I could have let him go through his day all commando, however, his ass is usually out half the day when he is wearing pants and underwear so this was non-negotiable. We had to turn around.

I think it is easier to turn around a semi truck than to redirect five kids anywhere.  It may also be easier to do eye surgery on yourself or juggle elephants, than redirecting five kids.  #2 was screaming because he was still pissed off about the Clif bar and now had to go home and get underwear.  #1 melted at the unexpected change and threw himself on the ground. I was trying to pull #1 up off the ground and he was not cooperating. I half picked him up, half dragged him a few feet and gave up. He had it in his mind that he was walking to the corner, and that was what he was going to do. (#1 goes to a different school and is bussed. So, we walk up the hill together and he waits with the crossing guard until the bus comes) Knowing I could not transition him back to the house, I let him walk by himself to the corner. I knew that he would see a few parents on the way up, who would look after him. The three younger ones decided to listen and head back to the house. 

We got back to the house and I let #2 back in to get underwear. He took a long time and I had to go in and get him out the door. We were going to have to drive to school instead of walk because now, we were late. I loaded the other kids into the van and managed to get #2 in as he said, "I hate you mommy. You are a horrible mom." Ouch. Jab, cross, hook, ouch. I told him, "Yup. I am. Sorry you're stuck with me. I could sell you on ebay if you're not happy." He continued to scream all the way to school. When we pulled up to the drop off, I was glad the school guidance counselor was there to help get him into school.

I sat in the van and watched him run around the front school yard for a few minutes until he saw the principal and quickly made a bee-line into school. I hoped he was able to turn it around.

I spent most of the morning tracing the steps that lead us down that path. I tried to identify triggers and strategies that could have made the morning better. I replayed each interaction and wondered how my actions played into the situation. I came to the conclusion, that I need to say less; maybe I am talking too much and clouding the message. Next time, I will try that. Maybe next time, I will have vodka in my OJ and that will make make me a wee bit more tolerant.

Turns out he was able to turn things around. My husband and I have a hypothesis: if they start the day in 'time-out' then they will have a good day at school.  Today it was proven to be true. He recovered nicely and #3 had a really bad day. (Never underestimate the power of osmosis).

As we were getting the kids undressed for baths, I noticed #3 managed to go the whole day sans underwear. He was the kindergarten commando. Talk about irony. I can only imagine how crazy it would've been if two children had to go home and put on underwear. Well, I know now, it could've been much worse. Note to self: do underwear check before leaving house. 

Let's hope tomorrow we have an easy, transition friendly and underwear clad day. It will be a new day, the possibilities are endless. And, maybe some Bailey's in the coffee wouldn't be such a bad idea. It is Friday after all.

 In the Wrong Hands, Goldfish are Evil

“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” – Benjamin Franklin

There are days that I wonder, what am I going to write about? Maybe committing to three days a week and delivering a quality product would be too much. Little things happen during the day and I'd think, "that was funny, I should write a blog entry about that," but the funny thing would take a line or two and then what would I write about?  I felt that way this morning facing a deadline and no topic. Lucky for me, that was temporary. A topic was already in play, waiting to be expanded on.

#2, the aspy, is allergic to wheat, egg whites, and dairy. His allergies are not severe, but if he eats compound allergens, like baked goods or pizza, he will get a rash. He has had this condition since he was little, so his allergies are a matter of fact. We always have food that is just for him, though he still gets upset from time to time when the other kids are eating stuff he can't.

In my house, food disappears. That is the condition you have with five roaming locusts. You leave a bag of goldfish on the counter and by the end of the day, it is gone, a mere shadow of the bag it used to be. As if leaving the empty bag would fool me into thinking there were still goldfish in the bag. I usually credit #1, the stealth snack stealer, with the goldfish annihilation, but now, the twins know how to get the stool and take the things they want. So, when I saw the empty bag of goldfish on the counter on Monday night, I chastised #1 for eating all the goldfish and went on with the day. 

Wednesday morning, #2 wakes up with a face that is redder than normal and a slight rash. "Ok, #2 what did you eat?" That rash screams "I ATE WHEAT".  He then tried to deny it.  I told him, "biology doesn't lie, what did you eat?" I asked him several times before he answered me. "I had a few goldfish." Then I had to find out how many "a few" really is. I gave him the lecture again, for the millionth time, about him being allergic to certain food and the rash was his body's way of telling him that certain things make it sick, but it is hard for him to be rational when his impulsivity comes to stage.

Later that day, I got a call from school nurse telling me about the rash, which had gotten worse as the day progressed. I am glad this school nurse is a bit more relaxed that some of the nurses I have come across in my day. I told her that he had a compound allergen (goldfish) and he has a history of aggression when he takes Benedryl, (I know, I just can't catch a break here) and the rash is usually the only manifestation of the allergy. She let him stay and when he came home, I inspected the rash. I reminded him several times throughout the evening to be mindful about what he ate. I took his approved snacks out and told him the only way the rash would leave is if he didn't eat wheat, dairy or eggs. (I felt like we were in Dr. Wink's office in Pinkalicious. Only have read that book a million times to the girls, but I digress)

When he woke up this morning, the rash was worse. His face was like Pinkalicious and he had raised bumps all over him. "WHAT DID YOU EAT?' (ok, maybe that didn't come out as calmly as I needed it too.) He started to wail and I watched the tears run down his red, bumpy face. After he calmed down, I asked him again, promising he wouldn't be in trouble. I just had to know what we were dealing with. How the hell can I send him to school like this? He finally told me, "I ate half the bag of goldfish." Oye vey. freaking really?!?!? How can someone who is so freaking smart be so stupid? I was dumbfounded. I understand that his impulsivity over-rides logic in his world, but, WTF? I picked my jaw up from the ground and told him, "I am really confused why you would choose to eat the goldfish. You are in third grade. You are very smart and you logically understand that if you eat those things you will get a rash. So why did you choose to do that? I am really confused why someone so smart would make bad choices." Must have vodka in my OJ. Unable to provide an answer, he starts to wail. Awesome. 

That child is going to school. He has perfect attendance so far for a reason. I have learned over the years, communication between home and school is very important. Clear channels of communication prevent unwanted or unnecessary calls and conversations. So, in the midst of chaos, I sat down at the computer and wrote his teacher an email and cc'd it to the vice-principal, and the school nurse:

Hi Heather, J has a problem with Goldfish. His impulsiveness over-rides his logic. He knows he is allergic, but he can't help himself. The rash yesterday was a result of goldfish the night before. You'd think that him having the rash would dissuade him from having another goldfish, but last night, he ate 1/3 of a bag. (I thought the others had taken it) I now have to hide the goldfish.

   
So. today, his rash is more pronounced. I put allergy cream on him and gave him allergy medicine for any additional discomfort. He has a history of aggression while on allergy meds, but he hasn't had these meds in years and maybe, just maybe, he has grown out of it and will be fine today. 

    
Fingers crossed and I will hide the goldfish. Call me if needed. Thanks! Shari

 Things could always Be Worse

When I was growing up, the only family I knew was my Dad's family, a bunch of close-knit Jews from South Ozone park, Queens. What I learned about people's outlook on life, was that there were three ways to view things: the glass half-full, the glass half-empty, and the Jewish way: you should be grateful you have a glass at all and that it doesn't have a crack in it so all the water drains out. Then you'd really be in trouble.

My grandmother always used to say, "it could always be worse". Those words would always accompany, several of those grandma sounds, and the waving of her hands. (You have to imaging a 98 year old Jewish Grandmother saying this phrase.)

Her words stay with me always. It should be the first line in the parent bible. "No matter how bad things may seem, they could always be worse." And then there was vodka...

So, when the kids spill tomato juice on the kitchen floor, It could've been worse, they could've spilled it on the carpet. When two of the kids are fighting, it could be worse, there could be a major brawl involving all five kids in my family room; complete with whining and screaming children holding fist-fulls of golden hair challenging the sound barrier with their screams that would deafen a pack of hungry seagulls.  It all could be much worse.

When #1 answers the phone and says, "hello this is...what do you want?" then hangs up before the person can answer, I am glad it's some 800 number instead of a Hugh Jackman asking me to lunch. That would be way worse.

When one of the twins is running around the house proclaiming "I have to go pee-pees" and winds up leaving figure eights of pee on the rug, it could be worse; it could've been on the sofa. And, I'm glad it's just pee. No bleach required. That would be way worse.

When #2 has a crappy day at school and spends time in the principals office, it could've been worse, he could have had a crappy day and failed his math test, instead of acing it. 

When my husband walks back into the house after being gone for 11 hours, it could be worse, he could be overseas, like he used to be way back when #1 & #2 were little. At least he's home every day. 

When the boys have really tough times transitioning to school in the morning, which makes the morning so delightful, it could be worse. They could choose not to transition out of their funk and make bad decisions to get them an audience with the principal.

When I get angry the kids have left toys scattered all over the floor and I have to navigate crossing the floor as if I were a 007 character, I refocus, acknowledge that it's a temporary thing, and know if I twisted my ankle on their crap, that would be worse.

When I get jealous of my friends who have family nearby to help out, I think of the stories I have heard from friends that have such a situation, and when it involves in-laws, it is a lot worse.

When I have to watch Strawberry Shortcake for the millionth time, it could be worse. It could be Barney. I wish all dinosaurs were extinct.

When the kids want to listen to One Direction or other music over and over again, It could be worse, it could be children's music, which I have fondly renamed: Music to slit my wrists by.

When I run out of vodka. Wait, what? at least I still have brandy, Bailey's and a fridge full of beer. (I used to be a girls scout leader, I don't mess around with essentials) Running out would void the need for a glass and that would be a million times worse.

So when I wake up each morning and hear the sounds of my little locusts, I know that no matter how crazy the day will get, I can handle it. Because, It could always be worse. And I have vodka on standby.

Vocabulary Words, Fractions and Wine

Tonight I feel like I should put a sticky on #1's homework explaining that I had a couple of glasses of wine before I sat down to help him. His homework involved writing 12 sentences with his vocabulary words. This week his vocabulary words were contractions. He was given the original form and had to find the contraction and write a sentence. I also had to help him prepare for his math test.

 #1 is more text book autistic. Of the three boys, he is the least functioning. Although he still is considered high functioning, there are moments he seems to be conversing with aliens. He does have  a great sense of humor, so we use that to help him learn. We make up silly things or songs to make learning a bit easier for him.

For him to come up with his own sentences, I have to make up several model type sentences to cement pragmatics with him. One of the methods I have for learning new vocabulary stems back to my days at Cornell in the intensive Chinese language program. We used to make the most obnoxious sentences we could with our new words. It was an exercise in humor and pragmatics.

So this evening, with wine in my system, we got the homework done. I should say now, as a side bar, that #1 is very food motivated; picky, but he likes his food. He is the kid at the pool who can walk up to anyone who is eating pizza, look at them and say "pizza, I love pizza. Can I have some" and he asks this question as he is reaching into the box with a hand on a slice. He is the stealth stealer of cookies, pretzels and other carbs. So this evening his sentences were food orientated.

First contraction: I will= I'll
My sentences: "I'll be having another drink shortly. I'll be glad when we have a babysitter. I'll soon be committed to a sanatorium."
His sentence: "I'll get to eat cookies."

Second contraction: I have= I've
My sentences: "I've got to get a local babysitter. I've got to buy more duct tape. I've got to make sure the other kids aren't trashing the house while I'm sitting here."
His sentence: "I've been eating pizza all day long"

Third contraction: Would not= Wouldn't
My sentences: " I wouldn't want to run out of vodka. I wouldn't want to vacuum up #3's lego pieces. I wouldn't want you to get diarrhea."(he laughs)
His sentence: "She wouldn't share her food."

Fourth contraction: Should not= Shouldn't
My  sentences: "You shouldn't put duct tape on the cat. You shouldn't eat fish and peanut butter sandwiches. You shouldn't go into our creepy neighbor's home. Ever."
His sentence:"She shouldn't be so selfish"

Fifth contraction: It will= It'll
My sentences: "It'll be a good day when we have a babysitter that comes back. It'll be great when I have a pool boy."
His sentence: "It'll be a good day."

Sixth contraction: Will not=Won't
My sentences: "I won't go to Walmart and act like a peacock. I won't mix beer and vodka. I won't run outside without clothes."(he smiles)
His sentence: "I won't steal your food."

Seventh contraction: Did not=didn't
My  sentences: "I didn't eat your pizza. I didn't know parenthood could be this much fun."
His sentence: "I didn't eat your food."

Eighth contraction: They have=they've
My sentences: They've come to take me to the funny farm. They've offered me more wine"
His sentence: "They've given me cookies."

Ninth contraction: I am=I'm
My sentences: "I'm losing my mind.  I'm in need of more wine. I'm going to have to write a note to your teacher."
His sentence: "I'm going to eat my food."

Tenth contraction: Can not= Can't
My sentences: "What do yo mean, I can't buy vodka on Sunday? I can't believe they found me again." 
His sentence: "You can't eat my food."

Eleventh contraction: Where did= Where'd
My sentences:"Where'd all my brain cell go? Where'd all the wine in my glass go?"
His sentence: "Where'd my pizza go?"

Twelfth contraction: You have=You've
My sentences: "You've got to be kidding me with these fractions. Sorry, you've been mistaken, if you think I remember anything about fractions." 
His sentence: "You've got to give me more pizza."


During the time he was writing, I looked over the review for his math test. Fractions, my favorite. I am so horrible at fractions. I started to laugh when I saw this:

 I didn't see "I don't give a crap" as an option. Who goes to Iowa anyway?


What fraction of questions will your mom get right based on her inadequate math education?

What fraction properly represents how much your mother cares about fractions?

I didn't see, "enough to make my ass grow", as a possible answer. I could explain my estimate this way: "My pants fit much better before I ate the pie and now I have to lie on the bed and use pliers to zip up my pants."

What fraction represents the number of fourth graders that know fractions better than your mother? Explain your work. My mom killed too many brain cells in college and the rest are dying at an alarming rate.

When my husband heard me cackling in the dining room, he decided it was time to take over. Good idea, cause I think I have to write a sticky note