Welcome Arnebya–she’s the levity in your day.

December 17, 2012

Hi Everyone! I thought I would ease the strain of this weekend with my funny, audacious friend, Arnebya. She is loud and proud and doesn’t apologize for it. I love that in a girl. It’s been so sad around here; I think you should click to her site and fin the happy.

Her Bio:

Arnebya writes to keep from killing at www.whatnowandwhy.com, tweets at www.twitter.com/whatnowandwhy, and wows the fans of her Facebook page with her awesome updates at www.facebook.com/WhatNowandWhy. All 77 of them (hint: like her page. She repays you with Skittles, except when she doesn’t.)

Mathematics Mayhem

Karen’s rabbit has 7 babies every year and every year she and her 7 babies have 7 babies. How many babies are possible to have been born the third year? I have news for you…my kids are never even gonna own rabbits because of the potential for them to be cooked alive by a jilted lover. So Karen and her mama on whatever farm they live can count their rabbit babies and clean those nasty cages without involving me or my smoking from calculating brain cells. I need those to figure out how much change I’m due on the liquor they just made me buy.

Math is my nemesis (all of it: fractions, decimals, all matter of algebra and word problems, and my brain bleeds internally at the mention of trigonometry). Exaggerating, you think? No. No, I’m not. Example: fourth grader has homework consisting of the above word problem. The numbers on the page all start dancing around to form a maniacal happy face. A happy face that laughs at me for even touching the paper as though I can help her. I retreat to the kitchen, proclaiming that dinner is burning. “Do you have something else you can start in the meantime?” And then I silently pray that Daddy will be home soon while I hold back the tears and pretend to be very, very busy.

In our house, Daddy does math. Mommy does reading/English. This is not to say that Daddy can’t be his usual awesome self and pull a math/English combo. He can. The same cannot be said about me. Aside from the occasional synonym or spelling question, Daddy has it if he’s alone and there’s English homework. If I’m alone, though, and there’s math…Daddy’s worried. Initially, I never wanted the kids to know that there was a distinct separation of homework duties. I wanted them to believe that both of us could help with whatever they brought home. Until now, (the time fondly referred to as Seventh and Fourth Grade Math Hell), I’ve stupidly let them believe I know what’s going on with their homework. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON WITH THEIR HOMEWORK!

What’s worse is this deficiency I have is not relegated to math homework. It happens with actual money too. Numbers are assholes.

When I go to the grocery store with a budget of $150 I inevitably spend $220 (with a calculator). I have not written down what I’ve spent or what’s in the bank in YEARS. I have no idea where the checks are, so if I can’t pay you online or by cash or debit card, I can’t pay you. And it’s rare that I will pay anything in full. For instance, why would I give the water company $70 when I can send $40? I don’t even shower every day; there’s no way we’re using $70 worth of water.

Daddy: You didn’t pay the electric bill?

Me: I did.

Daddy: This says it hasn’t been paid.

Me: I paid it.

Daddy: In full?

Me: Duh. No. Because I disagree with their ability to assess from afar just how much electricity we’re using.

Daddy: So you didn’t pay it.

Me: You hate me.

There’s no reason for me to be in charge of the money. There’s no reason for me to be asked to help with math. It sounds as though I’ve simply given up. Not exactly. I’ve given in to the fact that I’d rather they know I am mathematically challenged but that that doesn’t have to be the same for them. Wait, how the hell will I do that? How will I be able to be that cheerleader for accurate computation if I don’t know whether their answer is correct? Even Daddy’s starting to look at me like what the hell is wrong with you, this is basic. You don’t know how to do this?

Ummmmmmmm…just a sec, dinner’s burning.


This is a combination of posts originally written in November 2011 that appeared on my own blog.

And to stay true to Kitch’s usual offering of a recipe, here’s an easy one that’ll be sure to take your kids’ minds off the fact that their homework remains undone because division is stupid:

Cake From a Box

Ingredients: box cake mix, any brand; they’re all the same. Icing from a can, whatever flavor you want. Three eggs. 1/4 cup of oil. Mix that shit up and bake at 375 (or whatever the box says. The box is magic; it tells you everything you need to know. Probably you need water too) Lick the spoon because you aren’t supposed to.  Eat some of the icing straight from the can with a spoon. Rinse the spoon each time you sneak some because it’s none of your kids’ business what you’re doing DAMN WOULD YOU LET ME BAKE ALREADY. Let cake cool and slap on the remainder of icing. You have just won by deeming cake more important than math.

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