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.