Just got interrupted by the Fed Ex man, who delivered your birthday present from your Uncle Jeff. I had to stop whatever I was doing and assemble it, I was so excited. That’s an unexpected part of parenthood, how it makes you much more excited about something for someone else than something for yourself. It’s an awesome 3-in-1 push trike thing, and I am not waiting until your birthday. The weather is beautiful, sunny, a little chilly but nothing a coat can’t help. And when you get up from your nap, I’m going to feed you some lunch and then load you up and we’re going for a walk/ride! I know, I am really excited. I’ve already pushed you around the house in it. You also love it. I think we’re going to get a lot of use out of it.

The pug also tried to bite the Fed Ex man, but he’s got this jowly lips that kind of get in the way, so it’s more like being mouthed at. Plus, he’s kind of a big chicken dog, so he doesn’t actually get close enough to actually bite. The Fed Ex guy and I had a good laugh about that.

First excerpt . . .

My first excerpt from my "novel" (ha ha ha) outlines my drug use policy, which is modeledon the policy of a parent of a former student (he sampled and got caught):

So we will visit some military schools, and you’ll get a sense of the complete lack of freedom that awaits you. The choice will be yours.

And because I cannot trust you, you will submit to drug testing! Imagine the humiliation of peeing into a cup in front of your mother! (If you’d like any deterrent to teenaged pregnancy, ask me about the humiliations of giving birth . . . )

After your first offense, a failed drug test is a ticket to military school.

If you’re thinking, oh, mother, we’re not wealthy, how are you going to send me to military school???? Well, Ava, know this. You aren’t yet a year old, but I’ve started your college fund. I am absolutely committed to providing you with a quality education. I will drain your college fund to send you to military school. If I had to, I would sell our house to get the money. That’s how seriously I take this. I would rent a room in a boarding house and work night and day if that’s what it meant.

If you really insist on being a little crackhead, I read that the best course of action is to help you hit rock bottom. To that end, I will always assist law enforcement. I will load your car or bedroom up with whatever your drug of choice might be, and call the cops. If you get to jail all on your own, you’re on your own. I am not a source of bail money. Ever. Also, I will not drain your college fund for rehab. I will retain the money for a period of time in the hopes that you get the monkey off your back, and if it doesn’t look like you’re going to shape up and get smart, I will take the money and fund some other kid’s college education.
Just some stuff to think about.