Sassy's Up Late Again

Last night I had to attend the 2nd session of "Families In Transition"... the parenting classes required by the state family court for our divorce. What a fucking pill. I mean, if this class doesn't make you want to slit your own throat, you're a freaking psychopath. Last night we watched a 45 minute video of children talking about how fucked up they were as a result of their parents' divorce. Hooray, let's all get behind that one for a while, shall we? The general message was that nothing you do is right, no matter what you do the kids will end up screwed up, so shame the fuck on you for failing to keep your marriage together. Wonderful stuff. A fellow participant asked the group leader what she could do to ease the transition troubles for her 3 year old, who was being paraded into rehab centers and jail to visit his father, and who spent his father's visitation time in an out of state daycare center. "I'm afraid this is really going to screw him up!" she said, "It's gonna put him in therapy later." The response, "Yeah, I'd start a savings account now for it." Somebody just shoot me, please.

For the moment, I'm trapped at home. Trapped because MY 3 year old is asleep on the couch. "Why, Sassy!" you may want to exclaim, "Why is your 3 year old asleep on the couch at dinnertime?" Why, Gentle Reader, let me tell you why: Shitfoot decided to watch "Yellow Submarine" at 4:30, wisely begged the 3 year old to join him, and then sat in front of it rocking him in the easy chair. He fell asleep, of course, and my attempts to wake him gently haven't worked. I had PLANNED on taking him out to dinner with me while DD and Shitfoot were out at THEIR "Families" class tonight, but no, I'm stuck here at home, trying to figure out how to wake and feed a 3 year old without turning him into a fit-throwing bear cub. So there goes "Mommy Time" for DS. ththththpb! I'm hoping he'll wake when the pizza gets here and I can still take him to the park before it gets dark...