Professional Development

I am writing this at 4 in the morning.  I have been rolling options over and over in my head.  I read an article in Oprah magazine about a teacher who quit her job and started raising alpacas.  I can do that!  HOA probably wouldn't be down with that.  I like to write.  Maybe someday I will get published and make millions of dollars like that vampire lady.  Not bloody likely.   I don't know, maybe I should apply at McDonald's.  Meh, too many of my students work there.  Circle K?  They know me there. Couldn't afford a babysitter on that salary.  So, teaching?  Can I hang in there?

But, geeze, I really hate my job.  Really, really hate it.

My teaching story is the same as just about every other teacher out there. I became a teacher because I love working with young adults.  I wanted to open worlds of possibility for them by teaching them about great literature and making them great thinkers.  I wanted to help kids who struggle and  provide opportunities for them to succeed. I wanted to prepare them to be contributing members of society.

This is what my job really is.

1)  A big pile of "No Child Left Behind" bullshit.

We all hear the complaints of too much testing and teaching to the test, but sometimes I don't think the general population knows some of the other fall out generated by the "No Child Left Behind" policies.

Here is a story that is absolutely gut wrenching.  I know someone that teaches for a school somewhere that told me about some student she had.  This little guy lived in the women's shelter with his mom.  Obviously life has not been smooth for him.  My friend noticed that he was barely able to read.  When she went to the higher-ups and ask what she should do, was there any help they could get for this child, the answer was, "no."  His testing scores were so far below the passing mark that if they spent the extra resources helping him, he would still not likely pass.  Resources are dedicated to those students who are "approaching" because if students move from "approaches" to "meets" it will reflect positively on the school's rating.  You don't get points for kids who move from "unable to read and therefor will become a high school drop-out, so sign me up for the state penitentiary, I'm on my way!" " to "literate and now have a glimmer of hope"

Because schools get dinged for things like attendance and students not graduating on time, students get turned away from public schools.  The majority of the students at the charter high school I currently teach at cannot attend the regular high schools.  The schools turn students away if they are credit deficient and not on track to graduate on time.  The student has the option to enroll in the district's alternative school (a.k.a. prison prep),  find another school out of district, or drop-out.

You think teachers getting together and having answer changing parties on state tests is immoral?  It is just the tip of the ice burg when high stakes policies are made by people who have no real comprehension of  what goes on in a classroom.


2) Demands, State Mandates, District Demands, Administration Demands, and I am supposed to do what?  Are you effing kidding me?

Laws that sound good in congresses, voter boxes, political campaigns and even Department of Education boardrooms suck monkey balls when actually applied to educational practices. Here is an example.


I just attended a 3 day workshop of SEI (Sheltered English Immersion) training.  I learned that Prop 203 passed by voters in Arizona states that all children in public schools shall be taught English as rapidly and effectively as possible. Yup, kids should learn English.

The proposition also states English learners shall be educated through SEI during a temporary transition period not intended to exceed one year.  Wait, wha?  You want kids who don't speak English to be proficient in one year?  Um, okay?

So, great idea voters.   How do we implement it?  Two other House Bills are passed which basically led to this:  Students are to have 4 hours per day of Language Education, 1 hour of Oral English, 1 hour of Grammar, 1 hour of Writing and 1 hour of Reading.  Teachers cannot stray from the time allocations.  Teachers must document their time and learning objectives.  Teachers must follow ELP (English Language Proficiency) Standards.  All proper forms will document correctly the implementation of the State and Federal Laws.  Monitors from the Office of English Language Acquisition will make routine visits and monitor data to determine compliance.

Okay, whine, whine, whine. So you have to do a little extra paper work.  It is all for the benefit of the kids anyway.  Well, if you have a SEI teacher and students are removed from the mainstream classes this seems feasible  But what if you only have a handful of ELLs (English Language Learners)?  The ELLs are put on a documented plan showing how the 4 hours will be met in the mainstream classes.  Districts love this because then they don't have to hire a separate SEI teacher.  So now, the regular ed teacher has to incorporate 4 hours of language acquisition for a handful of students at the same time she is teaching 30 other kids.   She also has to document what she is doing in the correct manner including a language objective tied to the ELP standards. This on top of lesson plans aligned to the state standards, making sure standards, objectives, and guiding questions are visible, creating engaging activities that move up Bloom's taxonomy, reviewing test data and creating interventions for low performing students, differentiating instruction to meet the needs of special education and honors students, accommodating special needs, grading papers, lunch duty, before and after school duty, communicating with parents, attending staff meetings. You have 1 hour during your day for prep time.  What is the problem?

All these laws with all their requirements land squarely on the overburdened backs of frazzled, highly caffeinated and overwhelmingly disillusioned teachers. 


Kids are up, more later.

Looking on the Bright Side. . . or More Appropriately the Dry Side.

I realize that at times I can come across as rather pessimistic about things. So, in the spirit of being more positive, some thank you notes.

First, I would like to thank all of the people involved in the designing, producing, marketing, purchasing and installing of my bathroom sink. Because it does not have a relief drain, I have had two exciting instances of bathroom flooding. You see I have a little monkey boy who enjoys fiddling with things. He is especially fond of messing with the drain stopper when he washes his hands. He is also 4. Attention deficit is not a disorder, it is a way of life, so he forgets to shut the water off. Stopped up drain + running faucet + no relief drain = a creative twist on my daily workout routine and some quiet time to hork down an entire carton of Ben and Jerry's while the 4 year old spends the rest of the afternoon in the corner. Thank you!

Thank you, cement sub floor for being able to hold up to 2 inches of standing water. I know the wood sub floor in my last house just wouldn't have handled the situation well.

Thank you, wet vac. You have not been the time saver in the kitchen that I thought you would be, but you are awesome at times like this. Even on the carpet, you were fantastic sucking up nearly 3 gallons water there alone.

Thank you flood waters for cleaning my bathroom floor. It was pretty bad.

Wizard Words of Wizdom

My family recently was in charge of our family reunion. By"my family" I mean my mom and her sisters and cousins. I mostly just attended. Those of you who aren't in my family may think, "Meh, so you plan a dinner and sit around with a bunch of old boring people." Oh, contraire my little friends. My family reunion rocks. Over 200 people attend and we are not boring, we have Irish ancestry. Three days of partying and fighting and more partying ensue.

Our family reunions are themed and we dress up. This year the theme was Wizard of Oz.

I chose an appropriate costume for my personality, a witch with very awesome red shoes.

Here's the kiddos. From left to right--Nephew-Horse of a different color, Drama Queen--Dorothy, Mini Knievel--last minute lollypop guild, Monkey Boy--Lion.

My hubby, not so keen on dressing up and thinking, "Yuppers, I married into crazyville. This should have been my first clue that perhaps she was just pretending to be normal before we got married. Now, look what I live with!"

And Drama Queen's 2nd costume. I, of course, did not make this. My mom did.

Isn't she amazing!!!

As part of the activities, I played Professor Marvel-a (that's the girl version). I told fortunes with my "genuine, magic, authentic crystal used by the priests of Isis and Osiris in the days of the pharoahs of Egypt." I wrote up six "fortunes" based on the movie. I swear if we all lived according to The Wizard of Oz we would all lead happy and amazing lives!

1. Along the yellow brick road of life you will have many challenges. You may have to dodge wormy apples and fireballs. Witches will try to take your dog and your really cute shoes. At times you may just be too tired to go on. Don't be discouraged. Remember you are smarter, braver and have more heart than you give yourself credit for. Just stay on the right path and you will reach your destination.

2. Running away from your problems never solves anything. You can never find a place where you won't get into any trouble. It doesn't exist. The storms of life will always come and when they do, especially the whoppers, you better get your butt home and into the storm cellar with the people who love you. Only they can make the troubles melt like lemon drops.

3. You will run into bad witches in your life, but even when you have a witch mad at you, you will have loyal friends who will say, "I'm not afraid of witches!" and they will stand beside you as you dodge the witches fireballs. Just have courage and remember the most wicked witches are probably covering up their weaknesses. It may just take a little water to make them melt into a big puddle of witch goo.

4. Whether you are good or bad people can see it and read it in your face. You can't hide what you truly are. Kindness and generosity will draw friends to you. The kindness you give will always be returned. Your friends will be willing to brave spooks and flying monkeys to rescue you. Bad deeds will be returned in kind as well. Only bad witches are ugly.

5. When seeking help in reaching your goals, be careful who you trust. Sometimes those who seem to have the answers are not what they appear to be. Those who proclaim their greatness the loudest are often the smallest. The wizard was just a man behind the curtain. You always have the power within you to make your wishes come true.

6. When you feel you are missing something in your life. Don't go searching beyond your own back yard. If you do go looking elsewhere in the world, you may open the door to a life of color and adventure, but you will soon realize it is nothing without those who love you. Remember, there is no place like home.

Beware the Sleeping Feminist, For When She Wakes . . .

So, in the last post I hypothesized there may be an etymological connection between Hysteria and Hysterectomy. I thought I was just being hysterically funny, but the sad truth is the words are related on the great Greek/Latin family tree. (Thanks JB for prompting me to research that further)

Hysteria, which is "a mental disorder characterized by emotional excitability etc. without an organic cause" comes from the Latin Hystericus or from the Ancient Greek Hysterikos which means suffering in the uterus. (Wiktionary)

Therefore, because I am a woman with a uterus, I have a mental disorder. Isn't that nice.

Being the closet feminist that I am, I feel it necessary to coin my own word.

Phallustia- a mental disorder characterized by the delusion that one is omniscient, all knowing, and of course, always has the correct and logical solution to any dilemma. Comes from the Ancient Greek Phallos which means dick.

Pee Hole

I'm not really sure how the other English Teacher at my school and I ended up in this conversation with students about periods and other slightly inappropriate girl stuff, but there we were discussing our Va-jay-jays with a pack of 16 year old girls.

So the other teacher says, "I don't have a period anymore, thank goodness. I had a hysterectomy" (funny that word kind of sounds like hysteria. Is a hysterectomy when they surgically remove your hysteria? Makes sense.)


So anyway,

16 year old student gives her a confused look. She obviously doesn't know what a hysterectomy is.

Other Teacher clarifies: They took out my uterus.

16 year old student with confused, disgusted, terror in her eyes: How do you pee!?!?!

The surgically non-hysteric teacher and I look at each other with confused amusement.

Me: Um, sweetie, those things aren't connected. Did you miss that day of 5th grade?

16 year old: I had my gallbladder removed and I can still pee.

Me: Wow.

Epiphany a la Moby-Dick

I am reading Moby-Dick. So far it's mucho awesomo. I am not very far into it as I only have time to read when I can catch a private moment in a locked bathroom. Ishmael has not yet set sail and is at a church listening to a sermon given by an old whaler turned preacher. The sermon is about Jonah of course and this is what the preacher said:

"As with all sinners among men, the sin of this son of Amittai (Jonah) was in his willful disobedience of the command of God--never mind now what that command was, or how conveyed--which he found a hard command. But all things that God would have us do are hard for us to do--remember that--and hence, he oftener commands us than endeavors to persuade. And if we obey God, we must disobey ourselves; and it is in this disobeying ourselves, wherein the hardness of obeying God consists."

So as a mom, this is my take.

Do your ears work? Are they just glued on? This isn't about what you want to do, just listen! Why? Because I am The God and I said so, that's why!


And so, just as the "why" is often beyond my children's comprehension so it is with us. And sometimes the why doesn't really matter at all, sometimes ya just need to do what is asked. Who knows, maybe God, like every parent, just needs us to go do something quiet and safe for a minute because he has a headache and needs to sit down and enjoy some Ben and Jerry's.

Frogs Must Lead Frustrating Lives

We were trying to get our brood out the door and into the car. Most frustrating task of parenthood, right up there with checking out at the supermarket. Whoever thought it was a good idea to fill the checkout isle with candy and toys should be put in front of a firing squad.

I digress. Anyway, Monkey Boy did not want to put pants on, put shoes on or leave the couch. He wanted to watch Dora.

He was so angry he could no longer form coherent requests. He shouted in frustration, "DO DAMMIT!" and stormed away from his barely able to control their snickers parents.

In order to exonerate himself of any blame, my husband asked MB about his choice of words Yes, I am obviously the parent who is responsible for enriching my children's vocabulary with swears.

Hubby asked, "Who says Dammit?"

Monkey Boy replied, "Frogs."

I guess I am off the hook for this one!

I Hate Valentine's Day. . .

10. because people pronounce it ValentiMes.

9. because stuffed animals are stupid, especially when they are holding hearts or kissing.

8. because putting stuffed animals inside a giant balloon doesn't make them cooler.

7. because I have to buy and fill out 20+ stupid little pieces of paper for DQ's classmates.

6. because DQ gets 20+ very "precious" pieces of paper from school that she will not let me throw away.

5. because phrases like, "The beauty of these roses cannot match the beauty and depth of the love I feel for you" or "Flowers today, Fireworks tonight!" make me barf a little in my mouth.

4. because most chocolates that come in cardboard hearts are gritty.

3. because with the money spent on a dozen roses that will die in 2 days, you could feed a small country.

2. because white conversation hearts changed and now taste like soap instead of yummy

1. because the red and pink lacy lingerie displays in every store remind you that you now have 3 kids and by the time they are all in bed, you are way to tired for such exotic shenanigans.

Delinquent Version of an Apology

It's little things like this that keep me from going insane at my job.

Funny teaching moment #1

I overheard one of our students ask, "How do you spell "wore"?

Another student mockingly laughs and replies, "Huh-huh, you don't know how to spell "wore"!? W-H-O-R. Duh!"

Funny teaching moment #2

Little 15 year old, oh let's call him Jimmy, got written up and kicked out of math class for about the bazillionth time. We are running out of "Respect your Teachers" and "Choices Lead to Consequences" speeches. None of the speeches, parent conferences, or suspensions have been able to reach his purple hazed brain to make any kind of difference. So, my principal thought instead of wasting her time on yet another lecture, maybe he could spend time reflecting and writing a letter of apology to the math teacher.

Here it is:

Dear Mr. Math Teacher,

im sorry for interupting class even though most of the time i wasn't talking. I hate how you look around at everyone who is talking and screwing around but yet wait till i start talking or screwing around, you write me up. Im sorry for not doing the work and getting an F on that test but i bet if you came over and try to help me like i asked i probably would of done better. Im sorry for calling you names like Buzz lightyear even when you were OK with it and didn't seem to mind. Im sorry for leaving without asking, that was my doing only because you would most likely say no. Im sorry for saying your favorite movie is Brokeback Mountain. even, if it was funny. And im sorry for saying your belt is a slope which is true but uncalled for. LOL.

From: Jimmy
P.S. chillax

Despite the sad view this gives us of the education level and writing ability of a 15 year old and the unfortunate statement it makes about a teenager's understanding of accountability and owning up to your stupidity rather than blaming it on others, I had to laugh. I laughed until I cried.

Immorality

I play the piano for primary at church. A little guy got up and gave the scripture today,

"Behold, this is my work and my glory, to bring to pass the immorality of man."

Immorality, no problem, I can do that.

2010 Resolution Reckoning

Last year I made 2 New Year's Resolutions 1) stop being a judgmental jack wad and 2) to live a life less processed. On the Eve of the Eve of the New Year, I am reflecting on my progress.

Things I learned while trying to not be a judgmental jack wad:

1. Women can't help but gossip and trash talk each other. As I tried really hard to eliminate this negative talk from my life, I became oh so much more aware when other women talked dirt and they all did, all the time. We all joke about men having an innate need to unzip their pants to see if they measure up, but women are just as bad. Rather than comparing bra size or something we measure cleanliness of house and orderly behavior of offspring, and we do it because we are all insecure. Trust me, that woman, you idolize, who can do anything, has an immaculate house, makes cute stuff, can bake mouth watering tasties, and has amazing children, she is insecure. She doesn't think she cuts it, and she compensates for this by over achieving in everything. I think God made us this way, otherwise we wouldn't get or stay married. Those handsome hotties we are married to complete us, lift us up, and make us feel okay about ourselves. If we already felt okay about ourselves, were absolutely confident, we wouldn't need them. And just like women have built in insecurity, men have built in hero syndrome. They want to rescue their damsel in distress from really big spiders, toilets that don't work and her own self loathing. Men need to be needed. It is all a delicate balance.

2. Some people go together like bare feet and dog poo, overall it just isn't a pleasant experience for either party.

In the beginning, I was amazed at the variety of friends I accumulated. I had friends that home school their children, that own all of Glen Beck's books, I even had friends who think that Diet Coke (Sweet Nectar of the Gods) tastes like battery acid. This all lasted until about March, when I realized something. Though I can accept that people have differing perspectives on life, liberty, sanctity and the pursuit of happiness, and that their perspectives are just a valid as mine, I still can't be honest to goodness friends with everyone. There are just some differences that can't be bridged by happy thoughts or bloody bitten tongues. Frequently I came home from a forced conversation with a group of other preschool moms and would rant on their bass ackward stupidity for the rest night to my husband, poor man. He was my only outlet (see original terms of resolution). So, in order to preserve his sanity and mine, I returned to some of my judgemental jack wad ways and put some of my old barriers back up.

In the end, I am far more accepting than I used to be, though there is definitely room for improvement. I have acquired some amazing friends I am not sure I would have given a chance before. I refuse to continue close relationships with people whose perspective is in such contrast to my own that we both just make each other mad or feel bad about ourselves.

Things I learned while trying to live a life less processed.

1. A kitchen counter cleaner made with baking soda, castile soap, and tea tree oil works pretty well. (Clorox wipes are still my best friend.)

2. Homemade laundry detergent is cheap and works.

3. Homemade dish washer detergent still sucks. I thought I had it figured out, but really it sucks. On the bright and spotless side though, the whole dish washer detergent fiasco brought me Lemi-shine.

4. I am too poor to go organic.

5. No matter how hard I try, Hubby still loves his Bologna and hot dogs.

6. We are chicken killers (we only have one left)

7. Hooray for Co-ops

8. Cloth Diapers are actually easy, especially if your kid is perpetually constipated.

9. Gardening in Arizona sucks.

Overall, in all honesty, I am not much less processed than I was last year at this time. I haven't given up though. We still have our lonely chicken and our sad, little garden that only produces midget food.

A 3 Year Old's Version of the Nativity

I was busy in the kitchen and Monkey Boy was happily playing with the Little People Nativity, when the words, "I ki-yull you!" caught my attention. I then heard the thumping sound of plastic on plastic and looked over to see two of the wisemen duking it out. Awesome, the 3 year old boy version of the Nativity apparently involves some UFC action.




So, I listened some more.

Little Chinese Wisman: "Aaaahhhhhh, I falling!" Chinese Wiseman is shoved off the shelf by Black Wiseman. Falls in slow motion to a spectacular death on the floor. All the nativity jumps off the shelf to rescue him, but fighting ensues.

A fighting song begins. "Dup Dup Dup, Dup Dup Dup" (to the tune of Jingle bells)

White Wiseman: to Black Wiseman You are mean, and I am nice

More fighting until all characters are laying in a lifeless pile.

Enter Cindrella's Fairy Godmother. Fairy Godmother flies over the fallen Nativity sprinkling magic down.

Fairy Godmother: Sssshhhhhhh, Ssssshhhhhh, Up, up, up, to the clouds. She carries each figure up to safety on the shelf above the manger.

Joseph: Wo, We way up here!

All that is left on the Nativity shelf is the Stable, a goat and a cart. God mother goes to the Stable and pushes it off,

Godmother: Push Push Push

She then hops on goat who is carrying a cart and jumps off to the floor.

Godmother: Wo, that was fun, Wee.

The rest of the character follow from the top shelf back down to the floor.

Mary: gesturing to the food in the cart and speaking to Black Wiseman Eat a fish?

Black Wiseman: Fish is poison, you want a cherry?

Angel: I do. um um um.

Camel: While stomping the hell out of everyone AH! AH! AH! AH!

Mary and Angel continue to eat cherries.

Baby Jesus takes a bite too and is followed by Joseph, a sheep, and the donkey.

All: hiccup hiccup

Monkey Boy: They're hiccups.

Enter baby brother, Angel Baby. AB puts manger back on the shelf and runs away with the food and cart. Monkey Boy follows. Growling from the hall way. MB drags AB back and takes the toys. MB piles up all the toys and sits on them.

Monkey Boy: You can't find them ever, ever, ever. I play with them and you don't. That I just say.

THE END

"At-Risk" Lexicon.

Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics
just one explication really and it is a direct quote

Most of you know I have worked with "At-risk" teenagers most of my teaching career. I have been out of the "biz" for the past 2 years because I have been attempting to raise my kiddos.

I have returned. Different school, different state, same kids. Teaching little delinquents is a little like watching Jerry Springer, you are so horrified you can't change the channel.

I have decided to share a few statements that have survived in infamy over my career and some new ones I am sure will join them.

Here are some student classics, sure to remain with me forever, or maybe just a really long time.

1. "Redickless": Misspelling of the word ridiculous.

When to use: Incredibly appropriate for many ridiculous situations.

2. "How'ma gonna smoke this, Bitch!": Statement made by a student to a store clerk who wouldn't sell her wrapping papers for her marijuana. She allegedly pulled out her bag of weed and showed it to the clerk to illustrate her point. Not so genius when you are wearing your school uniform.

When to use: This statement is perfect whenever one does not get their way, even if the situation doesn't involve elicit drug use.

3. "But don't you see, it's just like Days of our Lives!": Comment made during a conflict resolution between a girl, "Aspiring Porn Star" and her boyfriend "Thought She Truly Loved Me". Thought She Truly Loved Me(TSTLM) and Aspiring Porn Star (APS) had been together for at least a year, but all along she had been dating an older boy (Hotter than You) on the side and dropped the "I'm engaged to Hotter than You" Bomb on TSTLM who didn't know that Hotter than You even existed. There was a sea of 16 year old tears during which APS said, "But don't you see, it's just like Days of our Lives!" Yes, little 16 year old children, being a porn star is a quality career choice and yes, life is just like it is on TV.

When to use: Whenever life gets to the unbelievable crazy point, which at my house is ever day.


More Later

Muscle Car Mania

Thanksgiving thankfulness #2 : I am thankful for the 2010 muscle cars. They are so sexy. I feel the same about muscle cars as I did about Jonathan Knight from NKOTB when I was 12. I get giddy every time I see one. I do believe I need to get a poster of the Camaro and hang it above my bed. And every night as I drift off to sleep I will have "Bitchin' Camaro" by The Dead Milkmen running through my head.

"Bitchin' Camaro, Bitchin' Camaro!

I ran over my neighbors
Bitchin' Camaro, Bitchin' Camaro!
Now I'm in all the papers"

Aren't those tail lights hot?!?

I really am a bit befuddled by my recent attraction to cars. In general I have never cared about cars, especially sports cars.


I guess there was that time in my college years that I really really wanted an old land cruiser, but since then practicality has ruled my life.


Perhaps it is a subconscious longing for a little more glamor in my life or the desire for fancy expensive things that I have worked so hard to squelch. Maybe it is the wild, untamed freedom that muscle cars stand for. Maybe I am hitting my midlife crisis early. Whatever the reason, as soon as they add a 3rd row seating option to accommodate my brood, I am buying a muscle car!

Attitude of Gratitude

"Attitude of Gratitude" for some reason that little cheesy, rhymey rhyme makes me want to barf. It is not that I don't believe in being grateful, I sure as hell do! I guess I just don't believe in being cheesy.

So, with that in mind, I am going to jump on the thankful full season of Thanksgiving in this the thankful month of November bandwagon, but in my own, No Excuses, hopefully not too cheesy sort of way.

Today I am thankful I was not born into idiocy.

I work with a lot of kids who were born into complete asinine, idiotic stupidity. The poor stupid things really just don't have a chance. "My momma raised me up good. She was only 16 and didn't have no high school dee-ploma. She smoked pot when she was preggers with me too an look! I turned out just fine. And my daddy, he in jail." You begin to wonder why at some point no one looked around and saw that their life was a complete mess and realized hey, maybe there is a better way to go about things. Perhaps I don't have to start smoking when I am 6, get pregnant by 14, drop out of high school, smoke myself retarded by 18, and by age 20 have 4 kids each with a different daddy and every single one of those daddies in jail. It seems to be a never ending revolving door of dumb dumbs from which there is no escape.

Thank you Heavenly Father for not landing me in that big pile of stinky doo doo.

I am thankful that I was born into a legacy of education and integrity which I am honored to pass on to my children. I am lucky enough to come from pretty smart parents and they had pretty smart parents too. They believed that getting an education and living a moral life were important. So thank you Mom, Dad, Grandpas, Grandmas, Aunts, Uncles, and of course N-laws too for not being idiots or raising idiot children!

Dear Love's Truck Stop, I Hate You!

Dear Loves,

The other day I stopped at your establishment on my way to work. I am a tutor and it is generally a tedious job. I need a little happy in a cup so I can make it through. This particular day was looking to be extra craptacular, but I was running late and didn't have time to go a little out of my way to stop at my usual Diet Coke spot. Since your store is on my direct route I thought perhaps you could fulfill my needs. Oh, Loves, you disappointed me so!

Why in Heaven's name can't you get lids that actually fit your 44 oz cups? Really, is it that hard?!? I know you are just being the cheap bastard you are, but this is why it doesn't pay in the long run.

I ruined at least 5 lids before I finally got one to barely cling to the lip of the cup. Yup, 5 lids in the trash.

Then after paying $1.freaking50, hopping in my car, and speeding recklessly out of your parking lot, I reached down to my cup holder and tried to pick up my cup, but because the lid was not on securely, because it didn't fit, I dropped my 44 oz of Diet Coke, Sweet Nectar of the Gods, and it exploded all over the floor of my car.

And since I was running late, I didn't have the time to run back in the store and unleash the furies of a crazy woman without a diet coke. I could only pull over, carefully lift my floor mat up and dump my precious, all 44 oz, (well except the puddle still on the floor of my car) out onto the street all the while screaming obscenities that I had forgotten I knew.

And that is why, Dear Loves, I hate you! I hate you, hate you, hate you! And I will never ever ever ever step foot inside your white trash fest establishment again!

Sincerely,

Ranting Crazy Woman without her Diet Coke who has Totally Lost her Schmidt!

Pigsty

The reason my blog is titled No Excuses is because: 1) I believe people should take responsibility for their crap and not blame it on others or circumstances, 2) I believe one should be themselves and not excuse or apologize for their beliefs and personality.

I have found an area in my life that needs improving in the "No Excuses" department. I am constantly apologizing and making excuses for the messiness of my house. I may have spent the entire day working my guts out cleaning, and someone comes over and I say, "Sorry my house is a mess." Well, it's stupid and I'm not doing it anymore.

My house is messy. It is not so bad that you will get a disease from using my bathroom or anything, but there is just a general feeling of messiness. There are toys all over, the sink is full of dishes, if you walk on my kitchen floor barefoot you are bound to have a chunk of something squish up between your toes, I am not sure I even have a duster and I haven't seen the floor in my bedroom in months but, you know what, when I stand at the Pearly Gates, I don't want my life's accomplishment to be, "She had a clean house."

I am no longer going to make excuses. I'm going to just be me and when you come over to my house, you can check out my mess and say to yourself, "Really? There are cheerios stuck to her walls!" You can go home feeling better about yourself because your house may be a little messy too, but at least when your kid throws soggy Cheerios to the wall you clean them off.

I will lift the self esteem of every woman who comes through my door and I will do it one cluttery pile of crap stashed in a corner at a time.

O.D.D.

***Disclaimer***

It is not the intention of this post or its author to trivialize an actual mental disorder or to make fun of persons who struggle with a mental disorder. The author of this post is just trying to explain and understand her uncontrollable desire to "give the bird" to anyone and everyone who tells her what to do.


The beautiful thing about the internet is there is no longer a need for one to go to a Dr. for a diagnosis. Based on some recent self realizations and Google Health I have determined that I have O.D.D.

Oppositional defiant disorder (O.D.D.) - a pattern of disobedient, hostile, and defiant behavior toward authority figures.

Symptoms include:

• Actively does not follow adults' (or lifegurds') requests
  
• Angry and resentful of others
• Argues with adults (or the miniature bosses that run this house)
  
• Loses temper
  
• Spiteful or seeks revenge
• Touchy or easily annoyed

So here are the recent events that have lead me to believe that O.D.D. just might be my problem.

Story #1
Getting All Up in a 15 Year Old Lifeguard's Grill

Actually this little story is the second time I have almost come to blows with a lifeguard at the city pool. The rules at our city pool are ridiculous or redickless as one of my old high school students spelled it. (thought you'd appreciate that Julianne)

I was going to explain all the back story, but it got long and tedious so here is the gist of it. We had moved out to chest deep water because I had a bloody ankle from being stomped on in the kiddie pool and some monster 13 year old had trampled MB. I had the baby and Hubby and I were passing the other 2 back and forth between us. The Lifeguard told us it was not acceptable for one adult to be holding 2 kids. Rather than being rational adult who understands that the rules may be stupid, but they are the rules and getting in a fight with a teenager about them is juvenile, I freaked out.

"Why!?!"

The lifeguard looked at me with a disbelieving, I can't believe some parents are so stupid, look and replied, "Because it is dangerous."

"What do you think I am going to drop one of my children and not notice? Do you think this is anymore dangerous than letting them be trampled to death by a herd of moron 13 year old boys which you allow to run through the kiddie pool? Or hey, check out that kid bouncing to his death because you don't have a rope separating the kiddie pool from the deep end."

At this point Hubby started slinking away, trying to join the crowd of spectators.

"I am leaving! I am never coming back to this pool! Your rules are idiotic! Where is your boss?"

I stomped off. Well, when you stomp off in a pool, it kinds of loses its effect. Once all the onlookers had gotten bored, Hubby rejoined me and talked me back down to sanity, which is his role in our marriage. If it weren't for him, there would be a body count by now.

Story #2
Testimony Meeting Rebellion

(More disclaimer: Guy at Church is a fantastic guy, his wife is awesome. I am the one with the problem.) Guy at church makes an analogy about mistakes, comparing mistakes in life to putting hymn books in the holders the wrong direction. He told us to put the books in correctly to prevent damage to the spine. Just because he said something about it, I could not bring myself to reach up and turn the books in front of me. I looked around and everyone was obediently turning their books to the correct position. Very sneaky like, while no one was watching me, I reached up and turned all the hymn books on my pew upside down.

Story #3
In Which I Wanted to Stab Myself in the Eye With a Binky (hey it was all I had on hand) During the Parent Meeting for DQ's School

My little kindergartner, DQ, will be attending a smarty pants charter school starting next Monday. The school has uniforms, which already has me a little chaffed. But from what I understand the regular public schools are atrocious, so I am comprising my beliefs in individuality to hopefully get a better education for my kid. It better be worth it.

During the meeting they go through all the uniform rules. Shirt must be from Such -N- Such Screen Printers with school logo. Pants must Dickie Brand black. During the winter, any sweatshirts or long sleeve undershirts must be in the approved colors, black, green, gray or white. At this point my eyes are rolling and the bile is rising.

Jewelry will be kept to a minimum, no large hoops or dangle earrings. I threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Then the snack and lunch policy.
"The following items will not be permitted in a child’s snack or lunch:

Soda, diet soda

Candy or candy bars
Cookies, brownies, cupcakes, cake, etc. (100 calorie packs are acceptable)
Pop Tarts
Gum

Prohibited snacks will be sent home unopened with the scholar and an alternative snack
will be provided for that day."

I almost stood up and yelled. "If Andrew brings Pop Tarts to school, they'll all bring pop tarts to school. It'll be ANARCHY!" Instead I just rolled my eyes some more, swallowed the rising bile, and started staring at a really interesting dot on the ceiling.

Okay, I understand they don't want kid's to be all sugared up at school and they want them to eat healthy foods, thus hopefully breaking the cycle of obesity in America. I agree with all that, but just because they made a rule and wrote it out in their handbook, makes me want to send DQ to school with a box of Twinkies and secretly pass them to all her classmates at recess.

I have a problem!

This is for those of you who did not get the earlier reference because you don't have Breakfast Club memorized as I do. (Okay, I have most 80's teen flicks memorized. I know, I know, I have a problem. More than one apparently.)

The quote you need to hear is at 2:30ish.

Ha!

MB just tried to end an argument by counting to 3.

MB: I sleeping on couch!

Me: No, you're sleeping in your bed.

MB: Yes

Me: No

MB: YES

Me: No

MB: I SLEEPING ON COUCH! 1 . . . 2 . . . 3!

Joys of Motherhood Revisited

A long time ago I wrote this top 10 list. I decided it was time for an update.

10. When Monkey Boy screams, "I WANT CAKE!!!" with his big bawling snake mouth over and over and over and over again the entire time I am in the grocery store.

9. Stepping on those effing LeapFrog magnetic alphabet blocks. Why the Hell did I buy that thing?!? It's not like Drama Queen can practice spelling with it. 90% of the blocks are under the fridge and the other 10% are under my feet.

8. Happy Angel Baby head-butts on the bridge of my nose.

7. Barbie movies. Listen to the lovely song that ends up on repeat in my head. And just when it stops, Drama Queen starts singing it again. Love that harmony. It is so shrill it makes my hair stand on end.

6. Pee!

5. Little trails of baby vomit.

4. Sharing my bed, and my pillow with a barely potty trained little boy. M.B. routinely gets up at 4 am, shuffles to the end of our bed, grabs my big toe to pull himself up onto the bed, and then smashes himself next to me for the rest of the night. Hubby gets his half of the bed all to himself. Monkey Boy lays as close to me as possible, I scoot a little for some breathing room, and he scoots even closer, plastering his sweaty little body to me. I am left gripping the edge of the mattress trying not to roll off onto my night stand.

3. Trying to diaper and clothe an octopus baby who is doing an alligator death roll.

2. "Fetch Mom, Fetch! Good girl!" Angel baby loves this game. Usually he plays this when I am distracted, talking to the receptionist at the Dr.'s office or something. I give him a toy to keep him occupied, he throws it on the floor, I bend down and pick it up, I hand it back to him, he throws it on the floor. This usually goes on at least 5 times before I realize what is going on. By this time the receptionist or whoever I am trying to carry on a conversations with is looking at me like I am a complete moron and justifiably so.

1. Holding DQ on my lap, she looks up at me with lovey eyes and says, "I love you so much!" then with confusion, pointing to my chin, "I thought girls don't get hairs on their chins."