Hello, I am back in Jr High.

If there was one thing that I dreaded every year of my adolescent life, it was this:
School picture day.
I had cool clothes, I had killer dangly earrings, my hair was on point. Well, other than that year that my bangs were cut just a wee bit too short.  Like one inch long. On purpose. Somehow I thought that would be a good idea. Until I saw the picture come back in the plastic envelope and I said: WHAT THE HECK?? THAT'S what I look like?
I had terrible acne. Not the white bulbous sores all over the face. Not the blackheads that occasionally are visible or maybe a bit read. PIMPLES. Horribly infected, sometimes green, sometimes pus-yellow, but always visible. On my chin, on my forehead, on my cheekbones. Big. Green. Nasty. UN COVERABLE.
So for my entire teen existence, I really did not like school pictures. This was in those pre-digital pre-photoshopping days. A pimple was a pimple period end of sentence.  Sometimes it was actually my period. But that is a totally different yet painfully related story.
Then, my high school grad photos came. And the photographer used airbrushing! Well, I am sure he did.  Those were the most beautiful pictures of myself I had ever seen. Not a pimple in sight. Smooth skin! I looked like a fairy goddess who had just bathed in milk and honey.
Those photos were the cherry on top of a pretty abysmal cake of years of teeny prints of pimples to share with the boys whom I was most wanting to keep away from. Hey creepshow, you want to get down my pants? Here! Have a school picture.

Now, I am an adult. I have kids. I would love to say I USED to have acne. But that would be a mother trucking lie because I still DO have acne. All those people who told me you outgrow acne are liars and they make baby Jesus cry. Although if I had been told as a teen that I would still have moon craters on my face at age 31, I probably would have drank myself to oblivion. Wait.  I did do that a lot. But not because of acne. Mostly because of the failproof combo of tequila and boys. Who cares about acne when you have booze and a nice rack to put it on?

But I am now a responsible adult and mother, and I cannot deal with my horrible green and yellow pus pimples by drinking or pretending to like wrestling. I wear concealer so the neigbourhood kids don't think the Man in the Moon has actually come down to grant their three wishes, and my husband loves me regardless. But I still get pretty bad outbreaks once in a while and they always come at the most convenient of times.

Like two days before SCHOOL PICTURES at my school. Where I work. And have to get a picture taken. To be posted. On a wall. For people to see.
And yes, I am an adult and I tell my students: you look great! Be yourself! Love the skin you're in! Blah freaking blah. My skin sucks. I inherited my dad's oily skin and his incurable need to pop every pimple in sight. Even on someone else's face.
So yeah.  I had school pics taken. I wore about half an inch of coverup, turned my face at an angle to avoid the BIGGEST unconcealable volcanic eruption on my face, and smiled.
My proofs came back. They were not terrible. My dress is cute. Well, what you can see of it from the rack up. I could live with that picture.
Then it's like I AM 31 YEARS OLD! Who am I going to give my pimply school pictures to? 
Oh right. Kids I want to punish.
Don't do your homework? I post my picple on your desk.
Forget your books at home? I sneak a picple into your backpack.
You use your iPhone or iPod touch in class? I text you my picple. You can't unsee that, foo.

And that is why you should not allow pimply adults to take school photos. Because then they obsess over it to the point of forcing you to read about their pimples.

Oh well. At least this isn't a post about tonsil stones.

Now you're gonna google tonsil stones. And you'll watch a video. And then you can NEVER unsee that...

Lunch Time

Keesadilla is in a new world.  The world of KINDERGARTEN. Playdough, building things, morning calendar, daily gym time, the works.  He came home and spouted I WAS AWESOME! WE WERE ALL AWESOME! And showed me the green happy face on his calendar, which according to him: "Green means you are AWESOME. If it's red...well...that's just not good..."

This morning, in all the excitement and untamed bedhead, he asked to see what I had packed for his first school lunch ever. So I opened it up. He peered inside, sniffed a few times, then recoiled like a shark who DOESN'T want to eat that tin can, and said: well, mommy, it's just that this lunch is no good.
Why was it not good? It had delicious red grapes, carrot sticks (from our GARDEN, yo), mini red pepper strips, yogurt and three mini-wraps filled with homemade grape jelly (from our garden AGAIN, yo).  If I had that lunch, which I didn't, I would be yahooing all over the place. Ok, wait. Jelly didn't grow in our garden. I mean, it would be awesome if it did, but then we'd have all these jelly swipers to deal with, and all the security jelly-garden would be pricey, and frankly, take up too much space. So we just grow grapes instead. With seeds in them. Who wants to wipe grapes with seeds?! Fools, that's who. Ohhhhhhh snap.

Instead, he said: Well, it's just...I don't really like red peppers that much for school. And grapes too. And these wraps don't look like wraps I would like. The yogurt is ok. But the carrots, well, I only like them with BBQ sauce. So, maybe, how about, I take all this food out and you put in some pain with jam and an apple.

Incredulous, I adamantly said: No. This is the lunch I made.  If you really want BBQ sauce, I can give you a little bit in your lunch to dip your carrots.

He agreed to those terms, but then asked me to take out all of the grapes and replace them with an apple. Peeled. And sliced. Oh. And take out the peppers, too. Wouldn't you like to dip the peppers in the BBQ sauce? I asked. Then it would taste like pepper steak stirfry, I prodded. I was grasping at straws but SERIOUSLY?? He eats peppers all. The. Time. Same with grapes.

Then, he said: I just think I would want a pizza lunch instead.
 Facepalm.
Me: Dude, there is no pizza lunch at school. When they start hot lunches, I will order pizza on pizza day.  But today is not pizza day. It is wraps and peppers and carrots and apples day.
K: OH C'MON! REALLY! I'M SERIOUSLY! I just don't think it's gonna be a good lunch!
Me: Well, if it's not, then you can switch with Sashimi.
K: ALRIGHT Fine. I'll take it.

But HAHAHAHA jokes on him, because Sashimi had the same lunch.


And since he was self-admittedly AWESOME on his first day, I am guessing he didn't feel the need to swap anything.

So I wonder if I should just keep a bottle of all-purpose BBQ sauce at the school for all his dipping needs...