Having two weeks off of school is a blessing (which is saying a lot, because I really hate using the word blessing). I am taking the time to stop obsessing about my 8th graders and how much they hate me, relax about lesson plans (I really shouldn't), and spend time with my ever-learning 19-month-old.
Ah, my daughter.
I am a mother. Have you caught on yet that it still creeps me out a little, me being a mother?
It does.
Today I have been thinking about how there are many types of mothers, even though society tends to focus on just two: the stay-at-home mom and the working mom.
I am so thankful (ugh, thankful) to be a working mom. I have no idea what to do with JG when we're home and I'm pretty sure watching more than 3-4 hours of PBS kids is not healthy for her developing brain. She even asks for Elmo, and I cringe every time.
Having the ability to go to work and to challenge myself personally is so necessary for me. At home I commonly fall into the shame-spiral - as my friend MCB calls it - where I get stuck watching TV and procrastinating things I would like to do, but can't figure out how to get the friggen TV to turn off by itself and myself motivated.
I basically turn into a fat lump on the couch. I have found myself watching JG playing and me feeling sorry for myself for not entertaining her like a good stay-at-home mom would.
I know it sounds strange, but I have a hard time leaving the house when I'm home for more than a few days. I am prone to anxiety. So, today, I wanted to leave, but had a really hard time justifying the reasons, or figuring out where to go. The sad thing is that I know my reasoning is flawed, and I know that it's silly to have an anxiety attack about doing what I want to do, but I can't help it.
So, thank you Daycare for existing and doing a much better job at teaching JG songs and dances, colors and more. I like being the person who cuddles with her, kisses her little face, and giving her whatever other affection she may need. I miss her during the week, but she loves going to daycare and her teachers are awesome, and I love benefitting from their hard work.
You could say I am the type of working mother who would like to be a good SAHM, but just isn't. I'm not sure I'm capable of handling it emotionally. Which is why I will be enrolling JG in some dance classes this summer, so we can have something to look forward to and I can feel less like a failure.
Don't I just make you so excited to have your own?
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Holy Mother
Having two weeks off from teaching is...
help me think of metaphors and simile's here...
a well deserved bath after having spent months neck-deep in skin irritating dirt and grime.
like finally getting to scratch that "hard to reach" spot
being able to breath deeply after escaping one of Maggie's nausea inducing farts
awesome.
help me think of metaphors and simile's here...
a well deserved bath after having spent months neck-deep in skin irritating dirt and grime.
like finally getting to scratch that "hard to reach" spot
being able to breath deeply after escaping one of Maggie's nausea inducing farts
awesome.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
P*nis!
The first three months of my teaching career have been very informative. For instance, do not start out the year as a "relaxed" teacher, apparently it gives the impression to the students that you will let them get away with practically anything.
Just when I thought I had a handle on the whole classroom behavior management thing.
Two weeks ago Monday started out just fine. I felt like my students were learning, which is a big deal for me. Then, as my second class was wrapping up 8th grade Girl Student yelled, "F--- what?" No, she wasn't swearing at me, but when your... stupid enough to swear loud enough for the entire class to hear? I gave her detention, but in reflecting on this I should have sent her to the office.
In my last class of Monday one of the sweetest (?) boy students I have yelled across the room to another boy, "Your mother raped you as a child!"
Detention. Yes, what he said was awful, but that class was terrible, and there were some comments made by his classmates that I should have sent them to the office for... and because I was a terrible teacher I didn't. The 8th grader who did the yelling had been bullied all day, and he didn't quite know how to burn off that steam. Ugh.
The next day 9th grad Boy Student said the F* word in class. Not as loud, but I heard it, so I gave him detention too. I have creepy hearing. I have been informed by my principal that there are some things I need to "pretend" I don't hear.
I'm working on it.
But, that week not being over yet (we're only on Tuesday), there was plenty of time for my students to further demonstrate to me how they interpreted my management of their behavior.
Thursday, 9th grade class, we're transitioning from free write to the lesson. It is quiet. Students are being respectful and cleaning off their desks. And then.
"PENIS!"
He had perfect timing. Everything was silent. I was livid. LIVID. "Outside!" I said sternly.
"I said it," he said.
"You really think I'm going to let that go?" I said, using my meanest voice.
He stood up in a bit of a daze and went outside, I wrote a letter the the principle that read "said 'penis' out loud in class."
The worst part was I had to yell at the rest of the class to get them back on track. My creepy hearing kept hearing them say "penis...penis...penis" talking about what had just happened. I had to sternly inform them that such language was not funny and would not be tolerated.
The best part is that I have a helper teacher that period. I was so embarrassed. (I must add, the principal made 9th grade boy call his mother and repeat what he said, which made 9th grader extremely embarrassed. I am milking that for what it's worth in my professional relationship with 9th grade boy. Ha! Say penis in my class!)
So. That was, quite frankly, a shitty week. Since then I have become a much more strict and unrelenting teacher, which is no fun for me, but I have to focus on making my classroom feel safe for everybody. Things are improving, but I am continually having to reinforce procedures, which is what I should have been doing all along.
Blasted.
I should add that I really love teaching. This is the right place for me to be.
Just when I thought I had a handle on the whole classroom behavior management thing.
Two weeks ago Monday started out just fine. I felt like my students were learning, which is a big deal for me. Then, as my second class was wrapping up 8th grade Girl Student yelled, "F--- what?" No, she wasn't swearing at me, but when your... stupid enough to swear loud enough for the entire class to hear? I gave her detention, but in reflecting on this I should have sent her to the office.
In my last class of Monday one of the sweetest (?) boy students I have yelled across the room to another boy, "Your mother raped you as a child!"
Detention. Yes, what he said was awful, but that class was terrible, and there were some comments made by his classmates that I should have sent them to the office for... and because I was a terrible teacher I didn't. The 8th grader who did the yelling had been bullied all day, and he didn't quite know how to burn off that steam. Ugh.
The next day 9th grad Boy Student said the F* word in class. Not as loud, but I heard it, so I gave him detention too. I have creepy hearing. I have been informed by my principal that there are some things I need to "pretend" I don't hear.
I'm working on it.
But, that week not being over yet (we're only on Tuesday), there was plenty of time for my students to further demonstrate to me how they interpreted my management of their behavior.
Thursday, 9th grade class, we're transitioning from free write to the lesson. It is quiet. Students are being respectful and cleaning off their desks. And then.
"PENIS!"
He had perfect timing. Everything was silent. I was livid. LIVID. "Outside!" I said sternly.
"I said it," he said.
"You really think I'm going to let that go?" I said, using my meanest voice.
He stood up in a bit of a daze and went outside, I wrote a letter the the principle that read "said 'penis' out loud in class."
The worst part was I had to yell at the rest of the class to get them back on track. My creepy hearing kept hearing them say "penis...penis...penis" talking about what had just happened. I had to sternly inform them that such language was not funny and would not be tolerated.
The best part is that I have a helper teacher that period. I was so embarrassed. (I must add, the principal made 9th grade boy call his mother and repeat what he said, which made 9th grader extremely embarrassed. I am milking that for what it's worth in my professional relationship with 9th grade boy. Ha! Say penis in my class!)
So. That was, quite frankly, a shitty week. Since then I have become a much more strict and unrelenting teacher, which is no fun for me, but I have to focus on making my classroom feel safe for everybody. Things are improving, but I am continually having to reinforce procedures, which is what I should have been doing all along.
Blasted.
I should add that I really love teaching. This is the right place for me to be.
Saturday, November 06, 2010
Schooled
The first quarter of my teaching career wrapped up at the end of October and all I can really say about that is THANK GOD!!!!
Man.
With the start of a new quarter I feel like I'm catching my stride and starting to know who I am as a teacher. I was worried for a while that my approach wasn't going to work, but I am starting to see some changes in my students. I believe I've convinced a few resistant students to start paying attention and give themselves a chance -- I am the most excited about that. I can't stand the kid who gives up before s/he's even started.
JG is doing really well too, she is loving daycare. There have been a few times when Alex goes to pick her up she throws a fit, as in, "How dare you try to tear me from this fantastic place!" fit.
The benefit of daycare for us is how much she's learning. Holy mother, so much learning, far more than what I'm capable of teaching her at home. The other day she pointed at a face on the cover of a book and said, "Happy."
She was right, the face was smiling, the character was happy.
Oh, and JG is really popular with the other kids, including the older kids. The other morning we walked in and are instantly surrounded by three and four year olds saying "JG! JG! Are you JG's mom?" and then they make a face at her -- this scrunchy face she makes
which apparently caught on with the kids and the teenagers who help out too.
I have no idea where my child inherited the gene for popularity, but she oozes it. Everybody loves her. Strangers at the market (sometimes uncomfortably so), my students (I had to take her to school for a bit one day), her teachers and classmates.
When I leave her at daycare I usually tell her to be good, and her teachers say, "Oh, JG is always good." They say that with a big smile.
It's also crazy how articulate she is for a 17-month-old. New words to add to her list:
Shoes
jacket
tickle
baby
out
owl
ear
eyes
mouth
juice
hug
read
book (she likes to say "Read book")
grampa
Can you believe that?
And she dances and sings nursery rhymes she's learned at daycare, which seems to be her favorite thing in the world:
Okay, I'll stop pontificating now, and shall work harder next time to resume the use of my sarcastic voice.
Which, by the way, typically hurts the feelings of 8th and 9th graders.
Who would've thunk?
Man.
With the start of a new quarter I feel like I'm catching my stride and starting to know who I am as a teacher. I was worried for a while that my approach wasn't going to work, but I am starting to see some changes in my students. I believe I've convinced a few resistant students to start paying attention and give themselves a chance -- I am the most excited about that. I can't stand the kid who gives up before s/he's even started.
JG is doing really well too, she is loving daycare. There have been a few times when Alex goes to pick her up she throws a fit, as in, "How dare you try to tear me from this fantastic place!" fit.
The benefit of daycare for us is how much she's learning. Holy mother, so much learning, far more than what I'm capable of teaching her at home. The other day she pointed at a face on the cover of a book and said, "Happy."
She was right, the face was smiling, the character was happy.
Oh, and JG is really popular with the other kids, including the older kids. The other morning we walked in and are instantly surrounded by three and four year olds saying "JG! JG! Are you JG's mom?" and then they make a face at her -- this scrunchy face she makes
(Pinch your lips together and scrunch your nose as if something is stinky, that's the face she makes)
which apparently caught on with the kids and the teenagers who help out too.
I have no idea where my child inherited the gene for popularity, but she oozes it. Everybody loves her. Strangers at the market (sometimes uncomfortably so), my students (I had to take her to school for a bit one day), her teachers and classmates.
When I leave her at daycare I usually tell her to be good, and her teachers say, "Oh, JG is always good." They say that with a big smile.
It's also crazy how articulate she is for a 17-month-old. New words to add to her list:
Shoes
jacket
tickle
baby
out
owl
ear
eyes
mouth
juice
hug
read
book (she likes to say "Read book")
grampa
Can you believe that?
And she dances and sings nursery rhymes she's learned at daycare, which seems to be her favorite thing in the world:
Okay, I'll stop pontificating now, and shall work harder next time to resume the use of my sarcastic voice.
Which, by the way, typically hurts the feelings of 8th and 9th graders.
Who would've thunk?
Friday, October 15, 2010
The Horror
JG is 17 months old now and she is gradually growing out of her milk and soy intolerances. Thank Jesus, because let me tell you, having to avoid those two things drains all the fun out of feeding her. She still can't eat raw milk (so, having a glass of milk is out), but having milk baked into something is okay... even though it totally gives her the farts.
Which brings us to me.
Before this whole milk fiasco began I loved milk. Ice cream. Cereal with cold milk poured over it. Cream cheese icing. Soups with cream mixed in. Oh man... really, anything made delicious by milk, I loved.
And now.
Now.
I'm afraid there may be some sort of genetic reason JG has an intolerance, because I'm almost 95% positive that I am lactose intolerant.
How do I know, you ask?
Let's just say that whenever I eat something made with milk it makes itself known. At school this last week I made myself some coffee with hot cocoa mixed in (wonderfully scrumptious) and about thirty minutes later I was surrounded by a cloud of stench so thick I worried about students coming up to me and passing out.
It is horrendously embarrassing what milk does to my guts.
The good thing is that my students probably suspect their peers before they think of me. As far as they know I am devoid of body functions and I'd like to keep it that way.
Unfortunately, milk isn't always silent as it travels the twists and turns of my bowels. Sigh.
So, it turns out that I've been limiting the amount of goodies I eat... or, I should say, the times. I totally just ate two doughnuts. In quick succession. And a cookie.
I have problems.
Which brings us to me.
Before this whole milk fiasco began I loved milk. Ice cream. Cereal with cold milk poured over it. Cream cheese icing. Soups with cream mixed in. Oh man... really, anything made delicious by milk, I loved.
And now.
Now.
I'm afraid there may be some sort of genetic reason JG has an intolerance, because I'm almost 95% positive that I am lactose intolerant.
How do I know, you ask?
Let's just say that whenever I eat something made with milk it makes itself known. At school this last week I made myself some coffee with hot cocoa mixed in (wonderfully scrumptious) and about thirty minutes later I was surrounded by a cloud of stench so thick I worried about students coming up to me and passing out.
It is horrendously embarrassing what milk does to my guts.
The good thing is that my students probably suspect their peers before they think of me. As far as they know I am devoid of body functions and I'd like to keep it that way.
Unfortunately, milk isn't always silent as it travels the twists and turns of my bowels. Sigh.
So, it turns out that I've been limiting the amount of goodies I eat... or, I should say, the times. I totally just ate two doughnuts. In quick succession. And a cookie.
I have problems.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Midterms
Guh.
Sta.
Stbliethlsj.
Is it bad that I may have gotten a little lazy in my grading and gave full points if they handed in the assignment?
Especially since I spent the majority of my weekend noticing how 50-60% of my students don't hand in anything at all.
They fail because they don't try.
And I don't understand, because I was never like that, I always handed in my work. Sometimes it wasn't complete, but mainly because I never felt like finishing.
They never start.
So, no, I'm not a frustrated teacher. Not at all.
Sta.
Stbliethlsj.
Is it bad that I may have gotten a little lazy in my grading and gave full points if they handed in the assignment?
Especially since I spent the majority of my weekend noticing how 50-60% of my students don't hand in anything at all.
They fail because they don't try.
And I don't understand, because I was never like that, I always handed in my work. Sometimes it wasn't complete, but mainly because I never felt like finishing.
They never start.
So, no, I'm not a frustrated teacher. Not at all.
Monday, September 20, 2010
I am still alive...
I am still alive, but very exhausted. So. Exhausted.
So much, in fact, that it's difficult to hold a conversation with most anybody (sorry Min) outside of school. You could ask Alex, I'm not much good conversing with him either.
School? I'm learning so much... mostly through failing, with some success sprinkled in here and there. My classes have such a wide range of students, from low to high and more, that figuring out how to teach them all is a frustrating process. And then there are the students who like to try and control the class, or argue, or just be a general pain in the ass.
I am so looking forward to having this Friday off.
And, for those of you who wanted to know how JG is doing:
So much, in fact, that it's difficult to hold a conversation with most anybody (sorry Min) outside of school. You could ask Alex, I'm not much good conversing with him either.
School? I'm learning so much... mostly through failing, with some success sprinkled in here and there. My classes have such a wide range of students, from low to high and more, that figuring out how to teach them all is a frustrating process. And then there are the students who like to try and control the class, or argue, or just be a general pain in the ass.
I am so looking forward to having this Friday off.
And, for those of you who wanted to know how JG is doing:
She loves daycare. She is learning so much and I am continually impressed with her teachers. Four little teeth are pushing their way through her gums, so she hasn't been feeling too well.
And now I am tired and going to bed.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Bla bla bla
This being the first week of school I am... my brain is... suffering.
I am not fully prepared. I do not have rolls for my classes that start tomorrow and I have no idea what we will do for 90 minutes.
I am hoping for that spark that tends to happen while I am in the shower that says, "Hot damn, this is a brilliant idea at the very LAST MINUTE!"
Sometimes the ideas aren't so great.
Oh well.
Ah, I also can't log into my computer and I have no access to the database I need to set up grades or anything else. Do I want to use the smart board in my room? Yes. Can I? Maybe?
I should really lay out some clothes tonight so I don't have to think about it tomorrow morning, but I'm not sure if I'm capable of matching colors (ever).
I guess I'll just go to bed.
I am not fully prepared. I do not have rolls for my classes that start tomorrow and I have no idea what we will do for 90 minutes.
I am hoping for that spark that tends to happen while I am in the shower that says, "Hot damn, this is a brilliant idea at the very LAST MINUTE!"
Sometimes the ideas aren't so great.
Oh well.
Ah, I also can't log into my computer and I have no access to the database I need to set up grades or anything else. Do I want to use the smart board in my room? Yes. Can I? Maybe?
I should really lay out some clothes tonight so I don't have to think about it tomorrow morning, but I'm not sure if I'm capable of matching colors (ever).
I guess I'll just go to bed.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
So Tired
School starts next week, which means I have been busy with new teacher orientation and getting my room ready this week.
With a broken elbow (see previous post) - which is the sort of broken where you are supposed to ignore the fact that it is broken, but hurts like hell when I push or pull anything. Such a joy to have a broken wing when I need to fly. (haha haha haha)
JG has also started daycare. I get to rip out my heart each morning when I leave her behind, bawling and asking me not to leave. The daycare staff said that sometimes it takes a child up to two months to adjust.
Two months.
I'm hoping that JG is in the swing of things by next week, and I have high hopes for her since everyone I have talked to says that their kid loves it. And the parents like it too.
In the future I am sure I will like it as well.
Just not so much right now.
And teaching...
Today I went to a... I can't remember the technical term for it, but I went to a Language Arts class for teachers. Being in a room full of older women who have taught anywhere from 5-20 years makes me uncomfortable.
Why? Because they all assume I'm a baby, like an 18-year-old they need to coddle and condescend to. Like "oh, look at how young she is, she obviously has no idea what she's doing."
I understand that I look much younger than I am (I'm 30, by the way), but when I meet women (and it is alway women) who automatically assume I am naive and uneducated, my skin crawls and I shut down a little.
Outside of the workplace I have no problem letting them know they're wrong, but when it's people I will see and work with again I have learned it's better to roll with the punches rather than to bite. Eventually they will learn what I know and who I am, and I'll just let them make a fool of themselves for the time being.
The funny thing is that I told my new coworker, "Gail", that the ladies behave that way around me and she didn't believe me, until she witnessed it happen from a friend of hers. Even more hilarious, she put her friend on the spot so we could clear up the misunderstanding.
I am so happy to get to work with this woman.
And now I need to go write my disclosure statement. So there.
With a broken elbow (see previous post) - which is the sort of broken where you are supposed to ignore the fact that it is broken, but hurts like hell when I push or pull anything. Such a joy to have a broken wing when I need to fly. (haha haha haha)
JG has also started daycare. I get to rip out my heart each morning when I leave her behind, bawling and asking me not to leave. The daycare staff said that sometimes it takes a child up to two months to adjust.
Two months.
I'm hoping that JG is in the swing of things by next week, and I have high hopes for her since everyone I have talked to says that their kid loves it. And the parents like it too.
In the future I am sure I will like it as well.
Just not so much right now.
And teaching...
Today I went to a... I can't remember the technical term for it, but I went to a Language Arts class for teachers. Being in a room full of older women who have taught anywhere from 5-20 years makes me uncomfortable.
Why? Because they all assume I'm a baby, like an 18-year-old they need to coddle and condescend to. Like "oh, look at how young she is, she obviously has no idea what she's doing."
I understand that I look much younger than I am (I'm 30, by the way), but when I meet women (and it is alway women) who automatically assume I am naive and uneducated, my skin crawls and I shut down a little.
Outside of the workplace I have no problem letting them know they're wrong, but when it's people I will see and work with again I have learned it's better to roll with the punches rather than to bite. Eventually they will learn what I know and who I am, and I'll just let them make a fool of themselves for the time being.
The funny thing is that I told my new coworker, "Gail", that the ladies behave that way around me and she didn't believe me, until she witnessed it happen from a friend of hers. Even more hilarious, she put her friend on the spot so we could clear up the misunderstanding.
I am so happy to get to work with this woman.
And now I need to go write my disclosure statement. So there.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
My Child
JG really loves water.
Like, really loves it. (Yes, that is the dog's water bowl she is sitting in.)
She's even more than happy to play with the water hose.
She is a funny little bug.
Saturday, August 07, 2010
?
Sometimes you've got to get out there and live life and try new things
and sometimes you fall on your face
you know?
Thanks husband.
You should just see my glasses up close, that's the most depressing thing.
and sometimes you fall on your face
you know?
Thanks husband.
You should just see my glasses up close, that's the most depressing thing.
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
Walker, Texas Ranger
Holy crap, my baby is walking.
Walking.
Which, I guess, means I can't technically call her a baby any more, she's a toddler now. A toddler who demands to be put down in Costco, and doesn't understand when she hears the word no.
"No, JG, there is no way I am letting you walk around - people will run over you and I will have to clean your brains off the concrete."
Because, with me, everything is about JG's brains.
Unfortunately, for me, she did not understand this logic and spiraled into a screaming fit. In which she screamed the entire time we were in Costco.
What is my approach when it comes to my child throwing a fit in a public area? Unfortunately, for the other customers, I just let her.
Look, when it comes to tantrums the first rule is to let them know that their "approach" will not get them what they want.
Sometimes I will laugh at her (which doesn't improve the situation). But, mostly I just endure the dagger eyes others throw our way - today it was more along the lines of "please shut your child up so I don't have to listen to what sounds like a goat being gutted."
Anyway, back to my first point.
My child is freaking WALKING. I really need to get some video, but as you may have deduced, I am not the best mother and have yet to do it.
Mainly because my chin is still dragging on the floor.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Daycare
A couple days ago I called my mom and asked her to go to a daycare open house with me so I could check it out. I told her that she asks really great questions and that would help a lot, especially since I always freeze up in those types of situations.
I told her the truth, but there was definitely another reason for asking her to come along. I needed the support of having my mommy there while I checked out the potential place my baby may be going to for 40 hours a week.
It's very freaky.
I know I talked big, saying I can't wait to hand her off to someone else, but as the school year approaches I'm starting to dread it. Not that I don't get frustrated on a daily basis with caring for my stubborn and brave girl. Oh. Man.
But, I'm starting to realize how much time during the week I will not be spending with her. Forty hours or more. My mornings will be spent racing to get us both ready to leave the house, making sure I have everything she needs and what I need, and verifying that I have indeed done my hair and put all of my makeup on (because I occasionally forget the mascara).
I do have to look like an adult when I leave the house.
Otherwise I have the potential to look like one of my students. I'm a 100 lb. waif. I am smaller than the majority of my students.
It's creepy.
And my nights will be swallowed with dinner, grading, and who knows what else. I'm just hoping I'm not too busy or distracted to suffocate her with kisses and food.
Anyway.
My mom and I checked out the daycare today and it was awesome, however it will be my plan B if I have to be put on the wait list at another daycare. The only thing going against it is that it's a bit out of the way in North Salt Lake, but it would only add about 10 minutes to my morning commute. Which is nothing when I think of how much she liked it there.
We entered the toddler room and JG instantly wanted down so she could mingle and play with toys. My child was fearless, touching, playing, riding, reading, she was out there and in the middle of it.
All the little boys ran up to her (okay, there were only three boys). Like, oooh.
JG did not want to leave.
Seriously, it took two attempts to get her out of the room, and even then I had to really hold her the second time. And outside of the toddler room she walked around (because she is doing a lot of that now) like she owned the place.
If she does go there I am confident she will learn and enjoy herself. I am just so anxious about being away from her, but I'm not sure if she will miss me.
Maybe that's what worries me?
I told her the truth, but there was definitely another reason for asking her to come along. I needed the support of having my mommy there while I checked out the potential place my baby may be going to for 40 hours a week.
It's very freaky.
I know I talked big, saying I can't wait to hand her off to someone else, but as the school year approaches I'm starting to dread it. Not that I don't get frustrated on a daily basis with caring for my stubborn and brave girl. Oh. Man.
But, I'm starting to realize how much time during the week I will not be spending with her. Forty hours or more. My mornings will be spent racing to get us both ready to leave the house, making sure I have everything she needs and what I need, and verifying that I have indeed done my hair and put all of my makeup on (because I occasionally forget the mascara).
I do have to look like an adult when I leave the house.
Otherwise I have the potential to look like one of my students. I'm a 100 lb. waif. I am smaller than the majority of my students.
It's creepy.
And my nights will be swallowed with dinner, grading, and who knows what else. I'm just hoping I'm not too busy or distracted to suffocate her with kisses and food.
Anyway.
My mom and I checked out the daycare today and it was awesome, however it will be my plan B if I have to be put on the wait list at another daycare. The only thing going against it is that it's a bit out of the way in North Salt Lake, but it would only add about 10 minutes to my morning commute. Which is nothing when I think of how much she liked it there.
We entered the toddler room and JG instantly wanted down so she could mingle and play with toys. My child was fearless, touching, playing, riding, reading, she was out there and in the middle of it.
All the little boys ran up to her (okay, there were only three boys). Like, oooh.
JG did not want to leave.
Seriously, it took two attempts to get her out of the room, and even then I had to really hold her the second time. And outside of the toddler room she walked around (because she is doing a lot of that now) like she owned the place.
If she does go there I am confident she will learn and enjoy herself. I am just so anxious about being away from her, but I'm not sure if she will miss me.
Maybe that's what worries me?
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
A New Favorite
I have a new website that I like a lot. A lot. I'm not sure how often I will go to visit it, but I really like the message that it sends.
What is that message?
That crafting takes a boatload of time. Loads. And what a pain in the ass it is that when you try to sell what you made and buyers poo-poo your prices.
Which is a major reason I don't sell my stuff. I will trade, or give, but the few experiences I have with trying to sell my toys have been less than pleasant. My mother is my #1 buyer, if that tells you anything.
The website is just a bunch of videos doing their thing for five minutes. Five minutes of stitching, piecing, sewing, anything. Nothing else. Just crafting.
I like watching how other people do their thing.
I strongly suggest you check it out here.
What is that message?
That crafting takes a boatload of time. Loads. And what a pain in the ass it is that when you try to sell what you made and buyers poo-poo your prices.
Which is a major reason I don't sell my stuff. I will trade, or give, but the few experiences I have with trying to sell my toys have been less than pleasant. My mother is my #1 buyer, if that tells you anything.
The website is just a bunch of videos doing their thing for five minutes. Five minutes of stitching, piecing, sewing, anything. Nothing else. Just crafting.
I like watching how other people do their thing.
I strongly suggest you check it out here.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Urgggh.
I am procrastinating making some birds a friend of mine asked for. I'm not entirely sure why I'm putting it off, because when I'm done I get to trade them in for some pretty sweet pictures.
I have the birds drawn up, now I just need to make the pattern and do it.
DO IT, DAMMIT!
I am such a wuss.
I keep thinking how I could be folding laundry, as if that is the better way to go. Laundry is never the better way to go, never let your brain (or loved ones) convince you otherwise.
Okay, I'm going to find a nice podcast and force myself to get started. And then I may show you some pictures, if, IF, I get off my lazy ass to take any.
Carley
I have the birds drawn up, now I just need to make the pattern and do it.
DO IT, DAMMIT!
I am such a wuss.
I keep thinking how I could be folding laundry, as if that is the better way to go. Laundry is never the better way to go, never let your brain (or loved ones) convince you otherwise.
Okay, I'm going to find a nice podcast and force myself to get started. And then I may show you some pictures, if, IF, I get off my lazy ass to take any.
Carley
Monday, July 19, 2010
Pass/Fail
Motherhood is all about passing and failing, either your parenting method works, or it doesn't. This past week Alex and I have had to change some things around, especially since we were failing more than we were comfortable with.
So, how did we do?
First test: JG's screaming fits.
You may remember reading about me pulling my hair out while JG threw fits, and me being entirely clueless as to what action to take.
So, Alex gets home Tuesday night and JG is still being a terror. We both stare at her in frustration, and I let her scream while I make dinner and Alex deals with her. While we're eating dinner, JG is just rambling along around us and Alex gives her a bit of curry off his fork. She eats it, goes back to her thing, and then comes back for more. And more, and more.
My child does not eat. We have been wrestling with this for months, and her doctor emphasized that I should be feeding her more fatty foods, like butter (which she can't have because of the bloody poop it results in). I have tried to feed her many things, and the majority of the time she simply refuses, which leads to her being more hungry and results in her being severely irritable.
Thus: screaming fits of hungry rage.
Until this breakthrough. Surprisingly enough, as a one-year-old she is easily distracted and soon gets tired and irritated of sitting in her high chair. Most of the food on her tray goes to the dogs. However, if I allow her to go about her business and then take the opportunity to shove food in her mouth as she comes near me, SHE EATS! And, she eat enough that I am flabbergasted and a bit humiliated that I didn't think of this before.
This is our new routine: I will carry some type of food with me, say hot cereal, and I will offer some to her as she plays and comes near me. I refuse to chase after her with the food, she does have to wander back over to me to get some, but happily for me she returns to me at regular intervals and eventually eats enough to satisfy my need for her to be stuffed with food at all times (as is the drive in most mothers, commonly labeled as "food pushing").
This morning she ate a bunch of Cheerios, some pancake, and she drank some hypoallergenic formula (we are gradually starting the weaning process) and some Odwalla strawberry superfood.
I give us a PASS on this test, excuse me while I pat myself on the back.
Second test: SLEEP.
As mentioned above JG is easily distracted, and this crosses over to her nap and bed times. Nursing her to sleep has turned into a process where I just get frustrated and want to lock her in the closet, and in the end she gets what she wants: she gets to stay up with us.
And I don't get the two hours I normally get to spend with my husband at night.
Since Alex didn't see the closet solution working out for us (and probably resulting in child welfare knocking at our door) he deemed it time to put the crib back together. Because, as odd as it may sound to you, I was nursing her to sleep in her crib, and we had replaced one gate side with a guard rail. It made it easier for me to get out... and, unfortunately, easier for her to get out as well.
So on Saturday we put JG to bed in her crib and let her cry for five minutes, check on her, and on for 45 minutes until she passed out in the sitting position. Chin presses against her chest, body leaning forward, and legs sprawled in front of her. Alex eased her back, calmed her down again, and she was out.
Success? Time-wise, yes, it's been taking me two hours to get her to sleep, and most of that is spent trying to get her to lay down at all. Nap time she cries for about 10 minutes, and bed time is more like 40, and listening to her cry feels like razor blades dancing in my skull... but I am relieved not have to fight with her to get her to fall asleep.
I mean, it's still sort of like fighting... but I feel like I'm more on the winning side. The mean winning side, because it seems a bit unfair. But, what in life is 100% fair?
Pass or fail? I think it's a little of both. I'm not a big fan of letting her cry herself to sleep, but her negotiating skills (yes, google it, toddlers negotiate like crazy) are getting to the point where I want her to know that when I say "bed time" I mean it.
I am, however, still sleeping her her room when she wakes up in the middle of the night. Why?
When was the last time you woke up at two in the morning and had to comfort someone back to sleep and then go back to your own room and comfort yourself back to sleep? It's just easier to comfort together. Plus, this is a weaning process for both of us. Sadly enough, I sleep better in her room than I do my own, but I am now going to bed in my own room first.
Small steps, man, small steps.
So, how did we do?
First test: JG's screaming fits.
You may remember reading about me pulling my hair out while JG threw fits, and me being entirely clueless as to what action to take.
So, Alex gets home Tuesday night and JG is still being a terror. We both stare at her in frustration, and I let her scream while I make dinner and Alex deals with her. While we're eating dinner, JG is just rambling along around us and Alex gives her a bit of curry off his fork. She eats it, goes back to her thing, and then comes back for more. And more, and more.
My child does not eat. We have been wrestling with this for months, and her doctor emphasized that I should be feeding her more fatty foods, like butter (which she can't have because of the bloody poop it results in). I have tried to feed her many things, and the majority of the time she simply refuses, which leads to her being more hungry and results in her being severely irritable.
Thus: screaming fits of hungry rage.
Until this breakthrough. Surprisingly enough, as a one-year-old she is easily distracted and soon gets tired and irritated of sitting in her high chair. Most of the food on her tray goes to the dogs. However, if I allow her to go about her business and then take the opportunity to shove food in her mouth as she comes near me, SHE EATS! And, she eat enough that I am flabbergasted and a bit humiliated that I didn't think of this before.
This is our new routine: I will carry some type of food with me, say hot cereal, and I will offer some to her as she plays and comes near me. I refuse to chase after her with the food, she does have to wander back over to me to get some, but happily for me she returns to me at regular intervals and eventually eats enough to satisfy my need for her to be stuffed with food at all times (as is the drive in most mothers, commonly labeled as "food pushing").
This morning she ate a bunch of Cheerios, some pancake, and she drank some hypoallergenic formula (we are gradually starting the weaning process) and some Odwalla strawberry superfood.
I give us a PASS on this test, excuse me while I pat myself on the back.
Second test: SLEEP.
As mentioned above JG is easily distracted, and this crosses over to her nap and bed times. Nursing her to sleep has turned into a process where I just get frustrated and want to lock her in the closet, and in the end she gets what she wants: she gets to stay up with us.
And I don't get the two hours I normally get to spend with my husband at night.
Since Alex didn't see the closet solution working out for us (and probably resulting in child welfare knocking at our door) he deemed it time to put the crib back together. Because, as odd as it may sound to you, I was nursing her to sleep in her crib, and we had replaced one gate side with a guard rail. It made it easier for me to get out... and, unfortunately, easier for her to get out as well.
So on Saturday we put JG to bed in her crib and let her cry for five minutes, check on her, and on for 45 minutes until she passed out in the sitting position. Chin presses against her chest, body leaning forward, and legs sprawled in front of her. Alex eased her back, calmed her down again, and she was out.
Success? Time-wise, yes, it's been taking me two hours to get her to sleep, and most of that is spent trying to get her to lay down at all. Nap time she cries for about 10 minutes, and bed time is more like 40, and listening to her cry feels like razor blades dancing in my skull... but I am relieved not have to fight with her to get her to fall asleep.
I mean, it's still sort of like fighting... but I feel like I'm more on the winning side. The mean winning side, because it seems a bit unfair. But, what in life is 100% fair?
Pass or fail? I think it's a little of both. I'm not a big fan of letting her cry herself to sleep, but her negotiating skills (yes, google it, toddlers negotiate like crazy) are getting to the point where I want her to know that when I say "bed time" I mean it.
I am, however, still sleeping her her room when she wakes up in the middle of the night. Why?
When was the last time you woke up at two in the morning and had to comfort someone back to sleep and then go back to your own room and comfort yourself back to sleep? It's just easier to comfort together. Plus, this is a weaning process for both of us. Sadly enough, I sleep better in her room than I do my own, but I am now going to bed in my own room first.
Small steps, man, small steps.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Sleep Fight Club
I say, "Nap."
She says, "No."
I say, "Sleep."
She says, "Why?"
I say, "You've got to be exhausted."
She says, "You've got to be kidding."
And this is usually the point where I start pulling my hair out, big wads of it that you can see tumbling around the wood floors in my house.
Have you ever been around a sleepy and cranky baby? Compare it to being forced to spend two hours of every day inside a small jail cell where monkeys are encouraged to throw their feces at you.
It may even be more horrible than that.
Not every day is like that... but most days are. I have to admit that I am still (for the most part) nursing JG to sleep. Which means I lie beside her and wait for her to fall asleep, sometimes it takes ten minutes, and sometimes an hour or more.
It just depends on how much patience I have. There are days where it is limitless and I will wait and wait with her until she finally nods off. Most days, however, I throw up my hands after ten minutes or so (especially if she's fighting me) and leave the room and let her do whatever it is that she does.
She wins the sleep fight about 50% of the time, the other 50% I hold her down and basically force her to fall sleep. Fighting sleep is pretty tiring.
For both of us.
She says, "No."
I say, "Sleep."
She says, "Why?"
I say, "You've got to be exhausted."
She says, "You've got to be kidding."
And this is usually the point where I start pulling my hair out, big wads of it that you can see tumbling around the wood floors in my house.
Have you ever been around a sleepy and cranky baby? Compare it to being forced to spend two hours of every day inside a small jail cell where monkeys are encouraged to throw their feces at you.
It may even be more horrible than that.
Not every day is like that... but most days are. I have to admit that I am still (for the most part) nursing JG to sleep. Which means I lie beside her and wait for her to fall asleep, sometimes it takes ten minutes, and sometimes an hour or more.
It just depends on how much patience I have. There are days where it is limitless and I will wait and wait with her until she finally nods off. Most days, however, I throw up my hands after ten minutes or so (especially if she's fighting me) and leave the room and let her do whatever it is that she does.
She wins the sleep fight about 50% of the time, the other 50% I hold her down and basically force her to fall sleep. Fighting sleep is pretty tiring.
For both of us.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Fourteen Months
For those of you who read this blog regularly you may have the impression that I don't like being a mother, that I take my daughter for granted, or that I'm just not very good at this whole "mother" thing.
I will blame all of those things on my writing tone, which I have been told (and I agree) is pretty sarcastic... sometimes dripping with the stuff. If you ever meet me it may make more sense.
I will say that I am still learning how to be a good mom, but other than that I despise reading mommy blogs where the children do nothing wrong.
My children are perfect! When they poop it smells like flowers! I don't know what a tantrum is?
Nonsense mommy bloggers. Non. Sense. Therefore, my approach is more realistic, I like to try to be honest, but I do tend to leave out a lot of the awesome stuff, where I am amazed by her and what fills me with adoration.
My baby is fourteen months old today. FOURTEEN MONTHS! I am thrilled how much she has grown and developed. She talks up a thunderstorm, words include, but are not limited to:
1. Mommy
2. Daddy
3. doggy
4. puppy
5. kitty
6. hang on
7. down
8. thank you
9. mama
10. Maggie
11. really
12. hi
13. that one
and more that I can't think of right now.
JG knows what she wants and will get upset if she doesn't get it, however we are figuring out a negotiating process. She is growing more confident about walking every day. And she is hilarious and constantly doing the unexpected. All the time.
Oh man. Being a mother is such a challenge, but we are working it out together, one stress-filled and love absorbing day at a time.
I will blame all of those things on my writing tone, which I have been told (and I agree) is pretty sarcastic... sometimes dripping with the stuff. If you ever meet me it may make more sense.
I will say that I am still learning how to be a good mom, but other than that I despise reading mommy blogs where the children do nothing wrong.
My children are perfect! When they poop it smells like flowers! I don't know what a tantrum is?
Nonsense mommy bloggers. Non. Sense. Therefore, my approach is more realistic, I like to try to be honest, but I do tend to leave out a lot of the awesome stuff, where I am amazed by her and what fills me with adoration.
My baby is fourteen months old today. FOURTEEN MONTHS! I am thrilled how much she has grown and developed. She talks up a thunderstorm, words include, but are not limited to:
1. Mommy
2. Daddy
3. doggy
4. puppy
5. kitty
6. hang on
7. down
8. thank you
9. mama
10. Maggie
11. really
12. hi
13. that one
and more that I can't think of right now.
JG knows what she wants and will get upset if she doesn't get it, however we are figuring out a negotiating process. She is growing more confident about walking every day. And she is hilarious and constantly doing the unexpected. All the time.
Oh man. Being a mother is such a challenge, but we are working it out together, one stress-filled and love absorbing day at a time.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Tantrum Thrower
Now it may come as a shock to some that I am looking forward to the fall, when I'll start teaching and JG will start going to daycare. I know many mothers believe it is sacrilege to want to hand your precious one over to other people... but, honestly? I think it will do me and JG some good to have some time to each other.
I know, be offended now, and get over it.
My daughter is a very opinionated and strong minded being, both traits I am happy to see she has inherited from her family (and reminds me constantly of my grandma). However, it also means that when she doesn't get what she wants she has the tendency to blow up. Something I can definitely identify with, since as a child I once told my PE teacher to F-off because running in 100 degree weather was something I simply would not do.
For a long time this just meant she would scream at the top of her lungs while I made dinner and had to leave her on the floor to protect her from the hot surfaces on the stove. She doesn't care, she hates being ignored, and when she wants to be held she will throw a fit until she gets what she wants.
We've been working on this, with me telling her that I will not pick her up until she stops crying, and for a bit that strategy was working.
However.
However.
This last week there has been a new development. I'm not sure when she worked out that when she's hurt and crying I scoop her up without asking her to stop. So.
So.
Last week I watched her throw herself to the floor and scream when I was on the phone with my sister. One second she was supporting herself without a problem, and then she used all of her kinetic energy to drop like a sack of very small potato's to the kitchen floor. Her body even made a small thud when it hit the floor.
On Sunday we were watching Ponyo (eh) and JG was trying to play with the house phone and making noises for us to watch her. Alex and I had our attention focused on the movie, and apparently this really upset her, because Alex watched her bite her arm and then scream like she had just been stabbed with hot pokers.
Tiny hot poker teeth.
How hard can a 14-month-old bite herself? Well, initially there were teeth marks, by the end of the day they were welts, and two days later she has bruises on her arm.
Can you believe that?! My child bit herself so hard she bruised.
I bought a book to help me figure out how to help her through this, I read about 50 pages and then lost it. In my house. And no, I don't know how I did that or where it is. With me, if I go looking for it it's almost a 100% guarantee I won't find it. So.
So.
It is very hard for me to get anything done while she is awake, because if I am not fully engaged with her she can get very mad. She's not like that all the time, but enough that I have been conditioned to just give her what she wants (when she can actually have it, we do have rules even if she hates them).
So, I am looking forward to getting some time to myself this fall, even if I will have to work my ass off to learn how to be a good teacher. Oh, man, I am going to be so exhausted.
I know, be offended now, and get over it.
My daughter is a very opinionated and strong minded being, both traits I am happy to see she has inherited from her family (and reminds me constantly of my grandma). However, it also means that when she doesn't get what she wants she has the tendency to blow up. Something I can definitely identify with, since as a child I once told my PE teacher to F-off because running in 100 degree weather was something I simply would not do.
For a long time this just meant she would scream at the top of her lungs while I made dinner and had to leave her on the floor to protect her from the hot surfaces on the stove. She doesn't care, she hates being ignored, and when she wants to be held she will throw a fit until she gets what she wants.
We've been working on this, with me telling her that I will not pick her up until she stops crying, and for a bit that strategy was working.
However.
However.
This last week there has been a new development. I'm not sure when she worked out that when she's hurt and crying I scoop her up without asking her to stop. So.
So.
Last week I watched her throw herself to the floor and scream when I was on the phone with my sister. One second she was supporting herself without a problem, and then she used all of her kinetic energy to drop like a sack of very small potato's to the kitchen floor. Her body even made a small thud when it hit the floor.
On Sunday we were watching Ponyo (eh) and JG was trying to play with the house phone and making noises for us to watch her. Alex and I had our attention focused on the movie, and apparently this really upset her, because Alex watched her bite her arm and then scream like she had just been stabbed with hot pokers.
Tiny hot poker teeth.
How hard can a 14-month-old bite herself? Well, initially there were teeth marks, by the end of the day they were welts, and two days later she has bruises on her arm.
Can you believe that?! My child bit herself so hard she bruised.
I bought a book to help me figure out how to help her through this, I read about 50 pages and then lost it. In my house. And no, I don't know how I did that or where it is. With me, if I go looking for it it's almost a 100% guarantee I won't find it. So.
So.
It is very hard for me to get anything done while she is awake, because if I am not fully engaged with her she can get very mad. She's not like that all the time, but enough that I have been conditioned to just give her what she wants (when she can actually have it, we do have rules even if she hates them).
So, I am looking forward to getting some time to myself this fall, even if I will have to work my ass off to learn how to be a good teacher. Oh, man, I am going to be so exhausted.
Monday, July 12, 2010
I'm not entirely sure what to write... I have come up with about a dozen posts and have failed to write any of them... out of laziness? Performance anxiety?
It's definitely not to say that nothing has been going on. Hell, my house has been a bubbling pot of activity this past month. What has gone on?
1. Lost dog (Stella)
2. Found puppy
3. Found dog
4. Amputated what was left of dog's tail
5. Family reunion (many hot days in the sun with people I'm proud to call family)
6. Brought puppy (now called Maggie) home
7. Celebrated the 4th of July with our very own, very illegal fireworks just three blocks from our police station (we were the pre-show and our neighbors loved it)
8. Cared for a sick and grumpy JG (with a 100 degree fever)
9. Pulled my hair out due to insane puppy and dog combo.
This week I am going to try and post something every day, get myself back into the swing of things.
Also, I'm thinking about setting up a lunch this week, and possibly a movie with people who are interested in such things. However, I must attach a warning as being a SAHM has made me a terrible communicator and entertainer... so it may just seem like you're eating next to a person you're not entirely aware of. Not to worry though, JG will make sure you're aware of her, she's good at that.
Also, would anyone be interested in a toy/doll making class given by me?
It's definitely not to say that nothing has been going on. Hell, my house has been a bubbling pot of activity this past month. What has gone on?
1. Lost dog (Stella)
2. Found puppy
3. Found dog
4. Amputated what was left of dog's tail
5. Family reunion (many hot days in the sun with people I'm proud to call family)
6. Brought puppy (now called Maggie) home
7. Celebrated the 4th of July with our very own, very illegal fireworks just three blocks from our police station (we were the pre-show and our neighbors loved it)
8. Cared for a sick and grumpy JG (with a 100 degree fever)
9. Pulled my hair out due to insane puppy and dog combo.
This week I am going to try and post something every day, get myself back into the swing of things.
Also, I'm thinking about setting up a lunch this week, and possibly a movie with people who are interested in such things. However, I must attach a warning as being a SAHM has made me a terrible communicator and entertainer... so it may just seem like you're eating next to a person you're not entirely aware of. Not to worry though, JG will make sure you're aware of her, she's good at that.
Also, would anyone be interested in a toy/doll making class given by me?
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
Eclipse
Ok, ladies, who is up for going with me to make copious amounts of fun of Eclipse when it comes out June 30th?
Hmmmmmmm?
Oh, and I got a job. I will be an English teacher for 7th, 8th, and 9th graders next year. It sounds both wonderful and excruciating, but I don't think it would be teaching otherwise.
I look forward to hearing from any takers (and believe me, going to these movies simply to point and laugh is a blast).
Hmmmmmmm?
Oh, and I got a job. I will be an English teacher for 7th, 8th, and 9th graders next year. It sounds both wonderful and excruciating, but I don't think it would be teaching otherwise.
I look forward to hearing from any takers (and believe me, going to these movies simply to point and laugh is a blast).
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Braincation
So... three weeks? That's not pathetic at all for a blog absence.
A lot has been going on, I just haven't taken the time to write about it. For instance, JG turned one. ONE! It was a big day for me, mainly because there were days when I told myself, "If I can just make it through this first year..."
Those were the days when JG wouldn't stop crying, I couldn't calm her and I couldn't find any comfort in being a mother. It was sort of a nightmare and I had trouble imagining why I got pregnant in the first place.
It's not like it took practically two years for me to get pregnant with a viable fetus or anything.
But as the year progressed and we gradually figured out her protein intolerances, we got to know JG. When she's not having a reaction she's quite a pleasant and funny person. Lately she's been pointing at my belly button questioningly, and when I tell her what it is she repeats: "elly utton." The b's are very quiet, she almost has it.
Adorable.
She smiles and laughs easily. However, she doesn't hesitate to complain, and she's fond of tantrums... we are working on that.
And slowly her guts are allowing her to eat more diverse things, like scrambled eggs, and maybe even cooked dairy (because I accidentally fed her some and she didn't scream-poop and there was no bloody poop either *joy*).
A lot has been going on, I just haven't taken the time to write about it. For instance, JG turned one. ONE! It was a big day for me, mainly because there were days when I told myself, "If I can just make it through this first year..."
Those were the days when JG wouldn't stop crying, I couldn't calm her and I couldn't find any comfort in being a mother. It was sort of a nightmare and I had trouble imagining why I got pregnant in the first place.
It's not like it took practically two years for me to get pregnant with a viable fetus or anything.
But as the year progressed and we gradually figured out her protein intolerances, we got to know JG. When she's not having a reaction she's quite a pleasant and funny person. Lately she's been pointing at my belly button questioningly, and when I tell her what it is she repeats: "elly utton." The b's are very quiet, she almost has it.
Adorable.
She smiles and laughs easily. However, she doesn't hesitate to complain, and she's fond of tantrums... we are working on that.
And slowly her guts are allowing her to eat more diverse things, like scrambled eggs, and maybe even cooked dairy (because I accidentally fed her some and she didn't scream-poop and there was no bloody poop either *joy*).
(why yes that is a black eye)
Now that JG has been here for a year, I can honestly say I am the better for it. I have learned so much. SO. MUCH. I am also really thankful that this first year is over, it was one of the hardest years of my life.
I'm excited to watch her grow, and I hope I can continue to grow with her.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Potential
I left school today feeling a combination of horrible and horrified.
I have a variety of students in class, from the exceptionally talented and smart, to the... how should I put it? Lazy and dumb? But, they're not really dumb, just too lazy to do anything about it.
In that mix is a girl, let's call her "Girl Student," who is exceptionally bright, full of "potential." And, by "potential," I mean that if she just put her back into it she would be a straight A student with colleges panting at her door offering up scholarships. In my minds eye I see her as a math professor, because I think she could go as far as she wanted to.
However.
Before I say anything, let me emphasize that I like this girl. Yes, she has mouthed off, and yes she is full of angry energy, and yes she thinks she is a bad-ass, but I like her. Angry 14-year-olds can grow up to be well rounded and adjusted people, just ask yours truly.
Horrified.
Girl Student came into to class early today, looking all relaxed and happy, which made me happy for her. Until she stood close to me to complain about being hungry and I inhaled. What did I smell? What does the rest of the class smell and keep mentioning/complaining about the rest of the period?
Skunk.
Now, Girl Student claims to not smell this, even though I know it is emanating from her.
Huh? those of you with soapy clean pasts may be asking, while those of us who have slid through the mud and gotten it caught in our teeth sigh "oh."
Let me catch you up. Girl Student reeked of skunky pot (I don't know if that means it was really good weed, or cheap-ass weed). I felt a combination of things like, "Yeah, relaxing is great," and "Holy mother my 9th grader is high" and "What do I do? Who do I tell, if anybody?"
Horrible.
Around this time the original biology teacher comes in, let's call her Mrs. Biology. She hears the complaints about the skunk and she smells it. So, feeling a tad cornered with my knowledge I spill the beans to her in the hallway.
I tattletaled like a kindergartner who doesn't know the playground rules yet. When we went back into the classroom I could see Girl Student looking at me like she knew what I had done... but, what else was there I could do?
I feel a little sick. Mrs. Biology said she would tell/talk to the counselor, and now it's out of my hands. I just keep thinking how Girl Student is on such the wrong track, and with each mistake she makes she is losing more and more of her foothold on the future. Sometimes failures and mistakes are easy to move on from, sometimes they're a boon to learn from, but allowing yourself to treat yourself like shit is well... It's just stupid.
I just want to take Girl Student home and feed her ice cream. So many angry/hurting/destructive students are lacking healthy home lives. I feel horrible because Girl Student and I were building a good relationship, where maybe she was beginning to trust me, and I ratted her out for smoking pot.
Hopefully, it's for her own good.
I have a variety of students in class, from the exceptionally talented and smart, to the... how should I put it? Lazy and dumb? But, they're not really dumb, just too lazy to do anything about it.
In that mix is a girl, let's call her "Girl Student," who is exceptionally bright, full of "potential." And, by "potential," I mean that if she just put her back into it she would be a straight A student with colleges panting at her door offering up scholarships. In my minds eye I see her as a math professor, because I think she could go as far as she wanted to.
However.
Before I say anything, let me emphasize that I like this girl. Yes, she has mouthed off, and yes she is full of angry energy, and yes she thinks she is a bad-ass, but I like her. Angry 14-year-olds can grow up to be well rounded and adjusted people, just ask yours truly.
Horrified.
Girl Student came into to class early today, looking all relaxed and happy, which made me happy for her. Until she stood close to me to complain about being hungry and I inhaled. What did I smell? What does the rest of the class smell and keep mentioning/complaining about the rest of the period?
Skunk.
Now, Girl Student claims to not smell this, even though I know it is emanating from her.
Huh? those of you with soapy clean pasts may be asking, while those of us who have slid through the mud and gotten it caught in our teeth sigh "oh."
Let me catch you up. Girl Student reeked of skunky pot (I don't know if that means it was really good weed, or cheap-ass weed). I felt a combination of things like, "Yeah, relaxing is great," and "Holy mother my 9th grader is high" and "What do I do? Who do I tell, if anybody?"
Horrible.
Around this time the original biology teacher comes in, let's call her Mrs. Biology. She hears the complaints about the skunk and she smells it. So, feeling a tad cornered with my knowledge I spill the beans to her in the hallway.
I tattletaled like a kindergartner who doesn't know the playground rules yet. When we went back into the classroom I could see Girl Student looking at me like she knew what I had done... but, what else was there I could do?
I feel a little sick. Mrs. Biology said she would tell/talk to the counselor, and now it's out of my hands. I just keep thinking how Girl Student is on such the wrong track, and with each mistake she makes she is losing more and more of her foothold on the future. Sometimes failures and mistakes are easy to move on from, sometimes they're a boon to learn from, but allowing yourself to treat yourself like shit is well... It's just stupid.
I just want to take Girl Student home and feed her ice cream. So many angry/hurting/destructive students are lacking healthy home lives. I feel horrible because Girl Student and I were building a good relationship, where maybe she was beginning to trust me, and I ratted her out for smoking pot.
Hopefully, it's for her own good.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
But I don't wanna
Productivity is a thing that comes and goes for me lately. I either want to or I don't. The motivation is there or it isn't.
It makes me very moody, mainly because I like getting things done. The last couple of weeks I've been working on my quilt, and amazingly enough I have the top and bottom done, all I have to do now is lay them out with the batting and baste it all together.
Easy, right?
Except that I am making a queen size quilt and there isn't a queen size space in my house to lay it out and baste it (I want to make sure I get everything even). Why not do it outside on the grass?
Because of the freakin' wind, rain, snow, and periodic hail.
Bah!
Unfortunately, I'm a little crazy. Since I have set my sights on getting the quilt basted (loosely sewn together) it's very difficult for me to move on to something else (like making that doll for the upcoming family reunion my mom asked for).
(I should also mention that there is a folding table at Costco that I have decided I can't live without, and since I don't have it yet it is hard to start making something... because, having it would make making something so much easier.)
Usually when I come to this type of creative precipice I throw up my hands and watch yet another episode of Angel on Netflix. But today, I had Glee recorded and laundry to fold, and in order to allow myself to watch Glee I had to fold the laundry.
Do I sound nuts to you yet?
So, while I was not creatively productive today, I was housewife productive.
And as soon as I buy myself that table, I will be otherwise productive as well.
It makes me very moody, mainly because I like getting things done. The last couple of weeks I've been working on my quilt, and amazingly enough I have the top and bottom done, all I have to do now is lay them out with the batting and baste it all together.
Easy, right?
Except that I am making a queen size quilt and there isn't a queen size space in my house to lay it out and baste it (I want to make sure I get everything even). Why not do it outside on the grass?
Because of the freakin' wind, rain, snow, and periodic hail.
Bah!
Unfortunately, I'm a little crazy. Since I have set my sights on getting the quilt basted (loosely sewn together) it's very difficult for me to move on to something else (like making that doll for the upcoming family reunion my mom asked for).
(I should also mention that there is a folding table at Costco that I have decided I can't live without, and since I don't have it yet it is hard to start making something... because, having it would make making something so much easier.)
Usually when I come to this type of creative precipice I throw up my hands and watch yet another episode of Angel on Netflix. But today, I had Glee recorded and laundry to fold, and in order to allow myself to watch Glee I had to fold the laundry.
Do I sound nuts to you yet?
So, while I was not creatively productive today, I was housewife productive.
And as soon as I buy myself that table, I will be otherwise productive as well.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
poop
For those of you thinking about bringing home your very own bundle of joy, I have only one thing to say to you:
You better like poop.
Because as soon as you take that sweet squirming thing home you will have to become fast friends with its poop, there will be lots of it.
And when I say "lots of it" I mean there is going to be more poop than you are accustomed to coming in contact with. Maybe you've had a dog or cat and they have had the periodic accident in the house, but that is still not comparable to baby.
(I understand that my bundle of joy, when she was tiny, may had produced more poop than normal because of her intolerance, but I stand solid in my opinion.)
Now, when baby poops it is unpredictable in timing and mass. And aiming. Say you've just taken baby's diaper off to change it, when BAM! and unexpected spray arches up and over and onto your pants. Your. Pants. Or shorts, or skin, or whatever happens to be in the landing area of the poop. Because that stuff can fly.
As baby grows up so does her poop. It goes from a thin goo, to a thicker goo, and eventually to (depending on diet and gut issues) solid poop. JG's poop differs on a daily basis depending on what decisions/mistakes I've made in what I feed her. When she goes a day or two without soy in her diet (or mine) she gets some stinky, solid poops. Okay, well, they are all smelly blobs of disgusting.
I think she prefers to be alone for her solid poops, because she'll wander off to another room and return all stinky. Like, "Oh, my lord, are toting WMD's around in your pants?!"
Not only do I get to smell her daily gifts (suffocate, more like), but cleaning them up is always a... joy? I get to find out if a gob of poo will find its way onto my hand, or if the diaper might fly open at the wrong moment and fling poop onto the floor. Or, maybe the diaper has proven no match and the poo has spread up her back and out the sides onto onesie and pants.
That is always a joy.
What I'm trying to get across here is that in one way or another you will come into contact with your offspring's poop. It's unavoidable.
Un-a-void-able.
Which is why I always try to make Alex do it.
That's what husbands are for, right?
You better like poop.
Because as soon as you take that sweet squirming thing home you will have to become fast friends with its poop, there will be lots of it.
And when I say "lots of it" I mean there is going to be more poop than you are accustomed to coming in contact with. Maybe you've had a dog or cat and they have had the periodic accident in the house, but that is still not comparable to baby.
(I understand that my bundle of joy, when she was tiny, may had produced more poop than normal because of her intolerance, but I stand solid in my opinion.)
Now, when baby poops it is unpredictable in timing and mass. And aiming. Say you've just taken baby's diaper off to change it, when BAM! and unexpected spray arches up and over and onto your pants. Your. Pants. Or shorts, or skin, or whatever happens to be in the landing area of the poop. Because that stuff can fly.
As baby grows up so does her poop. It goes from a thin goo, to a thicker goo, and eventually to (depending on diet and gut issues) solid poop. JG's poop differs on a daily basis depending on what decisions/mistakes I've made in what I feed her. When she goes a day or two without soy in her diet (or mine) she gets some stinky, solid poops. Okay, well, they are all smelly blobs of disgusting.
I think she prefers to be alone for her solid poops, because she'll wander off to another room and return all stinky. Like, "Oh, my lord, are toting WMD's around in your pants?!"
Not only do I get to smell her daily gifts (suffocate, more like), but cleaning them up is always a... joy? I get to find out if a gob of poo will find its way onto my hand, or if the diaper might fly open at the wrong moment and fling poop onto the floor. Or, maybe the diaper has proven no match and the poo has spread up her back and out the sides onto onesie and pants.
That is always a joy.
What I'm trying to get across here is that in one way or another you will come into contact with your offspring's poop. It's unavoidable.
Un-a-void-able.
Which is why I always try to make Alex do it.
That's what husbands are for, right?
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Baby
At the grandparents:
Before a bath:
Feeding herself:
Giggling while Alex blows on her face:
At some restaurant (I think that's her "what food are you going to give me?" look):
j
Before a bath:
Feeding herself:
Giggling while Alex blows on her face:
At some restaurant (I think that's her "what food are you going to give me?" look):
jThis is what you get for now. Hope you're all having a good week.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Ah-HA!
For those of you holding on to your tippy-toes waiting for my mind to return to me, the word is Routine. I am a very routine (not schedule) oriented person.
Here is how it usually goes:
I wake up
Change JG's diaper (if she's up)
Put JG in the midst of toys and feed the animals
Put tea kettle on to boil
Play with JG
Get the computer and waste time checking email, blogs, and playing with facebook fish...
And on and on. I know, it is SO exciting, which may only punctuate how strange I am that when that routine changes (like not having to go to work) I break down a little.
What a weirdo.
I have to grade papers and stuff now, something I've been procrastinating all week! Joy!
Here is how it usually goes:
I wake up
Change JG's diaper (if she's up)
Put JG in the midst of toys and feed the animals
Put tea kettle on to boil
Play with JG
Get the computer and waste time checking email, blogs, and playing with facebook fish...
And on and on. I know, it is SO exciting, which may only punctuate how strange I am that when that routine changes (like not having to go to work) I break down a little.
What a weirdo.
I have to grade papers and stuff now, something I've been procrastinating all week! Joy!
Thursday, April 08, 2010
Craft Therapy
*Warning* Please be aware that some swearing follows... mainly because I feel like it, and also, swears are just words. However, I do know that some of you feel offended or hurt by four-letter words, so please feel free to stop reading here and for this post find another blog to read to procrastinate whatever it is that you are procrastinating. Oh, and thanks for reading.
Oh. My. God.
You GUYS!
I love fabric.
I love the feel of it, the colors, the possibilities!
And, a small apology for my poor me, bitchy post previously. I needed to get some stuff off my chest, obviously. And, anytime my schedule (the real word I'm looking for starts with a T, but for the life of me I cannot grasp it!) changes, I get anxious. As if the whole world just crumbled and I'm standing in the middle, looking around as if it's my duty to put it all back together.
Dude, if Humpty couldn't put himself back together... wait, my analogy is getting lost even on me...so. What I'm trying to say is that I am crazy at times, and I need to learn to weather them better.
Which is why craft therapy is such a freaking gift. Also, that part of my brain that was with-holding my creative impulse finally turned on again - but for only one thing.
A quilt.
You should know that I've really only made one blanket, never a quilt. The only reason I feel the compulsion to approach such a task is because of the queen size quilt batting I bought (hoarded) some... seven or eight years ago.
Yes. YEARS. I know how that sounds.
I haven't made a quilt in all that time because the math of it all escapes me. I can think of designs (sort of) but the logic of putting it together confuses the hell out of me. Then I get pissed off. Then I quit.
Because, I am a quitter. Usually an angry one (as you may have observed from my many complaints on this blog).
But I finally resolved to make something simple simple, something even a math simpleton like myself may be able to approach.
I will try to post photo's as I go, but you all know how good I am at that. I'm just hoping I don't do something in the middle of it to irritate me and make me quit.
Because, like I stated before, I am a quitter.
And now I'm going to go enjoy some Angel. Because I love David Boreanaz and Joss Whedon.
Oh. My. God.
You GUYS!
I love fabric.
I love the feel of it, the colors, the possibilities!
And, a small apology for my poor me, bitchy post previously. I needed to get some stuff off my chest, obviously. And, anytime my schedule (the real word I'm looking for starts with a T, but for the life of me I cannot grasp it!) changes, I get anxious. As if the whole world just crumbled and I'm standing in the middle, looking around as if it's my duty to put it all back together.
Dude, if Humpty couldn't put himself back together... wait, my analogy is getting lost even on me...so. What I'm trying to say is that I am crazy at times, and I need to learn to weather them better.
Which is why craft therapy is such a freaking gift. Also, that part of my brain that was with-holding my creative impulse finally turned on again - but for only one thing.
A quilt.
You should know that I've really only made one blanket, never a quilt. The only reason I feel the compulsion to approach such a task is because of the queen size quilt batting I bought (hoarded) some... seven or eight years ago.
Yes. YEARS. I know how that sounds.
I haven't made a quilt in all that time because the math of it all escapes me. I can think of designs (sort of) but the logic of putting it together confuses the hell out of me. Then I get pissed off. Then I quit.
Because, I am a quitter. Usually an angry one (as you may have observed from my many complaints on this blog).
But I finally resolved to make something simple simple, something even a math simpleton like myself may be able to approach.
I will try to post photo's as I go, but you all know how good I am at that. I'm just hoping I don't do something in the middle of it to irritate me and make me quit.
Because, like I stated before, I am a quitter.
And now I'm going to go enjoy some Angel. Because I love David Boreanaz and Joss Whedon.
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
Tight
Have you ever had the sense that the fabric you are made of is being pulled taught, and the more you move the more shallow your breath becomes?
It's strange, I was really looking forward to having a week off, having time to accomplish some of the random things that have been swimming around in my head... but, I can't seem to jump start my head into going forward. Instead it rummages deeper into the past and finds things that I am irritated about, things I have buried and/or thought I was over.
I am still mad at Westminster for the ONE teacher who treated me like a child. I am angry at her for staining my experience, which up until that point was splendid.
I keep thinking about my grandmother and how much I miss her. I'm not sure if I'm angry that she's gone, but I keep replaying this memory of when I was about 14 and she gave me this pair of dangly gold earrings. She asked if I wanted them and emphasized that if I didn't that would be okay. I looked that the earrings, which to me at 14 seemed gaudy and over-the-top, and told her no, I didn't want them. My friend Courtney was there at the time and said she was amazed, she could never have said anything like that to her grandmother. I thought Grandma didn't mind, but I noticed later in the day that her feelings were a little hurt.
To this day I feel guilty for hurting her feelings about something so trivial. She never said anything, but she was the kind of woman who's eyes spoke novels, if you looked the right way.
I'm also irritated that I can't seem to spend any money. I know. Lame. Every time I go to buy something I think I want the moment I take the action to purchase it I'm not interested anymore. I'm like a balloon, all filled up with excitement at the thought of having something new, only to deflate when I realize that owning it wouldn't do me that much good.
What happened to the consumer inside me? I still have that little voice that urges me to buy, but apparently it's being tempered with my budding buddhism, which says that such things are unnecessary for true happiness.
It's true, but I'm 30! I AM THIRTY, and I have this selfish need to gift myself something (sort of like a pat on the back) for the amazing year I've had: masters degree, baby, SAHM, job, other stuff. I just can't think of what that gift should be, or when I do I don't want it anymore. Take that capitalism!
And JG has been keeping me up all night. She wiggles and whimpers and cries and refuses to let me sleep on my own. I'm not sure how to rectify the situation, I know that she's miserable because of teething, but when we're both miserable the next day due to little sleep no one is the better for it.
Poor Alex, he the one having to deal with all of this.
It's strange, I was really looking forward to having a week off, having time to accomplish some of the random things that have been swimming around in my head... but, I can't seem to jump start my head into going forward. Instead it rummages deeper into the past and finds things that I am irritated about, things I have buried and/or thought I was over.
I am still mad at Westminster for the ONE teacher who treated me like a child. I am angry at her for staining my experience, which up until that point was splendid.
I keep thinking about my grandmother and how much I miss her. I'm not sure if I'm angry that she's gone, but I keep replaying this memory of when I was about 14 and she gave me this pair of dangly gold earrings. She asked if I wanted them and emphasized that if I didn't that would be okay. I looked that the earrings, which to me at 14 seemed gaudy and over-the-top, and told her no, I didn't want them. My friend Courtney was there at the time and said she was amazed, she could never have said anything like that to her grandmother. I thought Grandma didn't mind, but I noticed later in the day that her feelings were a little hurt.
To this day I feel guilty for hurting her feelings about something so trivial. She never said anything, but she was the kind of woman who's eyes spoke novels, if you looked the right way.
I'm also irritated that I can't seem to spend any money. I know. Lame. Every time I go to buy something I think I want the moment I take the action to purchase it I'm not interested anymore. I'm like a balloon, all filled up with excitement at the thought of having something new, only to deflate when I realize that owning it wouldn't do me that much good.
What happened to the consumer inside me? I still have that little voice that urges me to buy, but apparently it's being tempered with my budding buddhism, which says that such things are unnecessary for true happiness.
It's true, but I'm 30! I AM THIRTY, and I have this selfish need to gift myself something (sort of like a pat on the back) for the amazing year I've had: masters degree, baby, SAHM, job, other stuff. I just can't think of what that gift should be, or when I do I don't want it anymore. Take that capitalism!
And JG has been keeping me up all night. She wiggles and whimpers and cries and refuses to let me sleep on my own. I'm not sure how to rectify the situation, I know that she's miserable because of teething, but when we're both miserable the next day due to little sleep no one is the better for it.
Poor Alex, he the one having to deal with all of this.
Friday, April 02, 2010
Hey
Marriage Ref is hilarious.
and
I'm really digging Ugly Betty. I'm going through the first season (checking it out from the library) and I find it adorable and interesting. Some of the writing is a bit weak (repetitive), but the characters totally make up for it. And anytime a television show is in its first season you've got to forgive some minor snafoo's.
I have only watched the first eight episodes, mainly because I was using it as an excuse to do nothing... which I really don't need any help with. I have been doing nothing for two weeks now.
JG, on the other hand, is on the verge of walking. It started with pulling herself up to a kneeling position. Over the past three days the kneel has turned into standing, and she is using EVERYTHING to stand. Along with the standing she is starting to take a couple of steps.
Oh. Crap.
Oh, she has been refusing to sleep on her own. I'm putting it down to teething, but man am I tired. I'm also going to use that as my excuse for doing nothing.
(Now, when I say "nothing" I mean in terms of crafting or anything productive for me. I have been lesson planning and whatnot for my one class. But, I get home, I do nothing. I watch Ugly Betty.)
This next week I have spring break. Spring mother-loving-break! Nine consecutive days of no schedule, no driving an hour all over the valley to get to where I need to be, and hopefully getting things done.
and
I'm really digging Ugly Betty. I'm going through the first season (checking it out from the library) and I find it adorable and interesting. Some of the writing is a bit weak (repetitive), but the characters totally make up for it. And anytime a television show is in its first season you've got to forgive some minor snafoo's.
I have only watched the first eight episodes, mainly because I was using it as an excuse to do nothing... which I really don't need any help with. I have been doing nothing for two weeks now.
JG, on the other hand, is on the verge of walking. It started with pulling herself up to a kneeling position. Over the past three days the kneel has turned into standing, and she is using EVERYTHING to stand. Along with the standing she is starting to take a couple of steps.
Oh. Crap.
Oh, she has been refusing to sleep on her own. I'm putting it down to teething, but man am I tired. I'm also going to use that as my excuse for doing nothing.
(Now, when I say "nothing" I mean in terms of crafting or anything productive for me. I have been lesson planning and whatnot for my one class. But, I get home, I do nothing. I watch Ugly Betty.)
This next week I have spring break. Spring mother-loving-break! Nine consecutive days of no schedule, no driving an hour all over the valley to get to where I need to be, and hopefully getting things done.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Eh.
It can be very grating to spend my mornings with a group of lazy, apathetic teenagers. For the most part they are your average 14/15-year-olds, eyes glazed over, talking non-stop, and drinking overly caffeinated beverages. However, the majority of them are also brilliant, which may only add to my aggravation.
Suffice it to say they may be rubbing off on me. I have always been a procrastinator, but it may be getting worse. For example, I haven't updated this blog for a week.
I just didn't feel like it.
It's not like nothing happened, I did turn 30 last week. THIRTY.
JG is cutting two teeth, which is really adding to her...um, pleasant demeanor? Last night she would not sleep without me, so I just threw the towel in and went to bed early with her. It's uncomfortable, my arms fall asleep, but by golly she didn't cry all night. (We here at the PoetsHead household don't have the patience for the "cry it out" method. I've adopted my sisters logic: there is such a short window of time where you can fulfill ALL of your child's needs, why deny them something that can be so easy to give?)
Mael is out of his cone. For now. Already I can see his foot getting bad again, but I figure that he should have some time out of the confinement of his cone.
Alex brought home a Doctor Who pinball machine. He now has FOUR pinball machines.
I am such a good wife.
I got my hair cut. It's really short and I really like it, but the back of my head and neck are cold all the time. What is up with that?
And, finally, JG is 10-months-old. Holy crap, she'll be a year-old in no time.
(Here she is last month, taming a wild balloon Alex gave her)
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Words
I was being a bad mother earlier and letting JG play with plastic bags she found on the shelves while crawling around. She had pulled one of the plastic tab things off and I bent over and said "Let mommy have that."
And you want to know what she said?
"No."
(I took it from her anyway, the sooner she learns that what she says doesn't matter the better... in regards to the long list of things I do not want to find in her diaper.)
She continued to play with the plastic bags and started choking/coughing (not on the plastic tab), I asked her if she was okay, and you want to know what she said?
"Yeah."
Alex can confirm that.
Holy crap.
Words.
She'll be ten months old on Sunday, and in addition to those two words we have heard her say, "Hi", "Dad" (though Alex claims she didn't - even though she looked right at him and said it), and maybe "Mama." However, she hasn't really looked directly at me and said that, but when she's upset she will repeat it until I scoop her up.
She also tries words. She'll look at the cats and a sound similar to but not quite like "kitty" comes out of her mouth. Other maybes include "dog" and "Stella" and maybe "Delihla" (her grandparents dog).
On the unfortunate front she had a bloody diaper on Monday, most likely from something she ate, not something I ate. In hopes of helping her colon heal I am going back on my strict no milk diet. No more milky goodness for me. But that's okay, and I'll explain more in my next post.
Fortunately (or not) the craving part of my brain demanded that I buy donuts on Sunday, so I bought a cake donut and a jelly donut and ate one in the parking lot and the other in my driveway.
In about five minutes.
Seriously.
So. Good.
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
A Good Mistake
I just ate a cookie. I might pay for it later, but not how you think.
Let me back track -- last Thursday we went to Cafe Rio for giant burritos. I asked the cashier what the horchata was like and in a moment of... shall we say thoughtlessness (?) I drank the sample she handed me.
For those of you who don't know, horchata is a mexican rice drink made with milk. Milk, or rather, it's fat and flamboyant brother, condensed milk.
It was delicious.
I wanted to smack myself on the back of the head afterwards. First off, tasting the horchata broke one of my many "avoiding milk for JG rules" -- don't eat anything white. Because most white foods contain milk.
I spent the next day waiting for JG's reaction. With the chocolate the reaction was immediate, with two days of her screaming bloody murder before pooping, but that was two months ago.
She was fine all day Friday, and by Saturday morning I was fantasizing about a bacon cheeseburger from Crown Burger.
Holy. Mother.
Wait.
Understand for a moment that over the past seven months I have built a thick cast iron wall around my desire for anything milk related. Yes, I have pined for donuts and dreamed about bingeing on a buffet of butter drenched goodness. In the past whenever I ate anything with milk in it JG would poop blood and scream like crazy, so it was easier to avoid the milk than deal with my angry baby.
Convinced my fantasy was just a fantasy, I asked Alex for his input. Was I correct in my observation of JG's non/slow/reduced reaction?
He CONFIRMED it and agreed to a visit to the burger Val Halla of Salt Lake valley.
OH. MY. GOD.
The cheese was so sweet it overpowered the bacon. OVERPOWERED it. If you're a vegetarian or something crazy like that, you may not understand the magical properties bacon contains. I am positive a bacon fairy exists to spread joy on earth... however...
The cheese fairy is bigger and systematically beat the bacon fairy's ass in the taste category.
For me, anyway.
We watched JG carefully for the rest of the day for signs, and there were none. No screaming, no bloody diapers (NO BLOODY DIAPERS), nothing to say, "This hurts, I'm disappointed, and I hate you."
Only. The only thing that hinted at a reaction was some wakefulness. Thursday she woke up at 10:30 PM (she goes to bed around 7) and would not go back to sleep until midnight, and Saturday morning she woke at 4:00 AM and didn't fall back to sleep until 5:30 AM.
It could have been the cheese, or it could be teething. (Teething exists simply to torture mothers with guessing games.)
Other than wakefulness JG was fine.
I was not.
I don't want to go into detail, but the toilet and I made friends.
Apparently going on a strict no milk diet has made my guts forget how to digest the stuff.
I spent Sunday feeling queasy. I spent Sunday thinking of how to slowly work milk back into my diet. Strangely enough, rather than being super excited, I'm frightened.
So, when JG screamed before pooping Monday night I was both relieved and saddened.
It may have been the milk, or it could have been something else.
For now I might sample small pieces of things with milk ingredients, but I won't go full tilt. I am so thrilled that JG's system is healing and progress is being made in terms of maturation.
So, Milk, I'm eyeing you. Soon, Milk, soon.
Let me back track -- last Thursday we went to Cafe Rio for giant burritos. I asked the cashier what the horchata was like and in a moment of... shall we say thoughtlessness (?) I drank the sample she handed me.
For those of you who don't know, horchata is a mexican rice drink made with milk. Milk, or rather, it's fat and flamboyant brother, condensed milk.
It was delicious.
I wanted to smack myself on the back of the head afterwards. First off, tasting the horchata broke one of my many "avoiding milk for JG rules" -- don't eat anything white. Because most white foods contain milk.
I spent the next day waiting for JG's reaction. With the chocolate the reaction was immediate, with two days of her screaming bloody murder before pooping, but that was two months ago.
She was fine all day Friday, and by Saturday morning I was fantasizing about a bacon cheeseburger from Crown Burger.
Holy. Mother.
Wait.
Understand for a moment that over the past seven months I have built a thick cast iron wall around my desire for anything milk related. Yes, I have pined for donuts and dreamed about bingeing on a buffet of butter drenched goodness. In the past whenever I ate anything with milk in it JG would poop blood and scream like crazy, so it was easier to avoid the milk than deal with my angry baby.
Convinced my fantasy was just a fantasy, I asked Alex for his input. Was I correct in my observation of JG's non/slow/reduced reaction?
He CONFIRMED it and agreed to a visit to the burger Val Halla of Salt Lake valley.
OH. MY. GOD.
The cheese was so sweet it overpowered the bacon. OVERPOWERED it. If you're a vegetarian or something crazy like that, you may not understand the magical properties bacon contains. I am positive a bacon fairy exists to spread joy on earth... however...
The cheese fairy is bigger and systematically beat the bacon fairy's ass in the taste category.
For me, anyway.
We watched JG carefully for the rest of the day for signs, and there were none. No screaming, no bloody diapers (NO BLOODY DIAPERS), nothing to say, "This hurts, I'm disappointed, and I hate you."
Only. The only thing that hinted at a reaction was some wakefulness. Thursday she woke up at 10:30 PM (she goes to bed around 7) and would not go back to sleep until midnight, and Saturday morning she woke at 4:00 AM and didn't fall back to sleep until 5:30 AM.
It could have been the cheese, or it could be teething. (Teething exists simply to torture mothers with guessing games.)
Other than wakefulness JG was fine.
I was not.
I don't want to go into detail, but the toilet and I made friends.
Apparently going on a strict no milk diet has made my guts forget how to digest the stuff.
I spent Sunday feeling queasy. I spent Sunday thinking of how to slowly work milk back into my diet. Strangely enough, rather than being super excited, I'm frightened.
So, when JG screamed before pooping Monday night I was both relieved and saddened.
It may have been the milk, or it could have been something else.
For now I might sample small pieces of things with milk ingredients, but I won't go full tilt. I am so thrilled that JG's system is healing and progress is being made in terms of maturation.
So, Milk, I'm eyeing you. Soon, Milk, soon.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Through Their Eyes
Over the past nine months I have been a stay-at-home-mom, which means I spend most of my time inside with nobody but myself, JG, and Alex to see me. Which means I spent little to no time thinking about my appearance or doing much to "keep myself up." So, when I got a job where I would be standing in front of 14-year-olds I knew I would have to make some wardrobe changes.
Especially in the bra area.
Why? Well, because I know how much you love to hear about my boobs, let me tell you. The four nursing bras I bought last year are all in the DDD/F area. As time goes by your breasts learn how much milk to carry, and gradually they shrink down a bit. Meaning, my nursing bras (or "feeding harnesses") were doing little in the way of supporting the ladies. They were almost greeting my belly button on a daily basis.
I became painfully aware of this when I realized that standing in front of a group of 14-year-old boys with my hoots danglin' in the wind and standing at attention (pointy-wise) would not be a good idea.
You may naively ask, Why?
Um, have you met teenage boys? Do you know what they think about? Or what new hormones they have coursing through their veins?
To be honest, I was sort of terrified. If you're a woman you may have experienced the "blank stare" from the opposite sex while walking, or sitting, or standing, or anywhere. Those glazed over eyes that translate to "What were you saying? I was distracted by your boobies, I swear they want me to touch them."
Is that going too far? I just want to communicate to you how I have felt about my boobs over the years. Sometimes it can work to your advantage, but in no way does it work that way in the classroom. I had one professor who REALLY needed a better bra. Her party hats were so distracting that I would get lost thinking about how she needed to cover them up, and then I wouldn't know what she had just said.
All this to say that having good coverage and support is a priceless tool in a teachers arsenal.
So I went to the Lactation Station yet again where I was set up. I love going there. LOVE IT. When I told the owner that I was going to teach teenagers she knew I would want padded bras. I didn't have to say it. She knew.
I found three great bras and I'm very pleased.
However.
My boobs are still huge, double D's. While I try to do my best in making them an understated part in the classroom, there are times when I move or point, or something, and catch someone looking at them.
Oddly enough, it has been the girls I catch. I can't blame them though, mainly because I just admitted to looking at my professors boobs.
I promise not to write about boobs again for a while.
Especially in the bra area.
Why? Well, because I know how much you love to hear about my boobs, let me tell you. The four nursing bras I bought last year are all in the DDD/F area. As time goes by your breasts learn how much milk to carry, and gradually they shrink down a bit. Meaning, my nursing bras (or "feeding harnesses") were doing little in the way of supporting the ladies. They were almost greeting my belly button on a daily basis.
I became painfully aware of this when I realized that standing in front of a group of 14-year-old boys with my hoots danglin' in the wind and standing at attention (pointy-wise) would not be a good idea.
You may naively ask, Why?
Um, have you met teenage boys? Do you know what they think about? Or what new hormones they have coursing through their veins?
To be honest, I was sort of terrified. If you're a woman you may have experienced the "blank stare" from the opposite sex while walking, or sitting, or standing, or anywhere. Those glazed over eyes that translate to "What were you saying? I was distracted by your boobies, I swear they want me to touch them."
Is that going too far? I just want to communicate to you how I have felt about my boobs over the years. Sometimes it can work to your advantage, but in no way does it work that way in the classroom. I had one professor who REALLY needed a better bra. Her party hats were so distracting that I would get lost thinking about how she needed to cover them up, and then I wouldn't know what she had just said.
All this to say that having good coverage and support is a priceless tool in a teachers arsenal.
So I went to the Lactation Station yet again where I was set up. I love going there. LOVE IT. When I told the owner that I was going to teach teenagers she knew I would want padded bras. I didn't have to say it. She knew.
I found three great bras and I'm very pleased.
However.
My boobs are still huge, double D's. While I try to do my best in making them an understated part in the classroom, there are times when I move or point, or something, and catch someone looking at them.
Oddly enough, it has been the girls I catch. I can't blame them though, mainly because I just admitted to looking at my professors boobs.
I promise not to write about boobs again for a while.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Hello
I am still here, I'm just mentally exhausted. I know it may sound strange to you, but my one hour of working every day is taking it out of me. Today is first day I did not nap with JG, it's nine PM and I am going to bed, where I may just pass out as soon as my head hits my tower of pillows.
Stay tuned for a post on my boobs. Hey, I can see you rolling your eyes in the back row there, but I can only give you what my head comes up with.
Stay tuned for a post on my boobs. Hey, I can see you rolling your eyes in the back row there, but I can only give you what my head comes up with.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Busy Week
This week started out innocently enough. JG and I laid back and had a relaxing Monday, where JG got bathed, she napped and I sewed monsters. It was nice, and I wasn't expecting much of the rest of the week.
Until I received a phone call on Tuesday.
From a principal.
Asking if maybe I would be available to teach one biology class at his charter school for the rest of the year. And could I meet with him to talk about it?
I think my heart stopped.
I've been obsessing lately over money and how in the world can I get out of the house to maintain my sanity? and this sounded a bit like an answer to my prayers. If I could get through the meeting/interview without making an ass out of myself... which may be a rare thing for me, especially in my "mommy brained" state.
(Mommy brained: the inability to form sentences or remember big words from degrees you have earned, and a general loss of any social graces you may have had before having a child.)
Amazingly enough, I made it through the meeting without sticking my foot in my mouth, and left the interview very hopeful. When I got the call from the principal an hour later offering me the job (one class of 18 ninth graders) I was thrilled. Thrilled. Still am, as a matter of fact, however it hasn't completely hit me yet. I've had to pause every now and then to think, "Hey, I'm a Biology teacher now!"
Also, I have a lot of cramming to do. I passed the test to teach the subject, but I like to be knowledgeable when I'm teaching. I also have a lot of lesson plans to write. Oh, man, so much time will be spent planning. It is so awesome. Seriously.
And the hours are perfect for me. Five days a week I go in from 8:30-9:30 AM and teach, and I'm getting paid an additional two hours for prep time, which is very sweet of them to do. So I'll get paid for seven hours every week. While that may sound minimal to you, it will get me out of the house, give JG an opportunity to spend time with much loved relatives, and I'll get to be a teacher. A Biology teacher.
A very big thanks to Joan for dropping my name to this principal, and letting him know I'm endorsed to teach English and Biology. Apparently that's valued at my new school.
As a congratulations to myself I ordered my light-up LA Gear gold shoes. They'll be here Tuesday!
I am such a freaking nerd!
A Biology teaching nerd!
Woot.
Until I received a phone call on Tuesday.
From a principal.
Asking if maybe I would be available to teach one biology class at his charter school for the rest of the year. And could I meet with him to talk about it?
I think my heart stopped.
I've been obsessing lately over money and how in the world can I get out of the house to maintain my sanity? and this sounded a bit like an answer to my prayers. If I could get through the meeting/interview without making an ass out of myself... which may be a rare thing for me, especially in my "mommy brained" state.
(Mommy brained: the inability to form sentences or remember big words from degrees you have earned, and a general loss of any social graces you may have had before having a child.)
Amazingly enough, I made it through the meeting without sticking my foot in my mouth, and left the interview very hopeful. When I got the call from the principal an hour later offering me the job (one class of 18 ninth graders) I was thrilled. Thrilled. Still am, as a matter of fact, however it hasn't completely hit me yet. I've had to pause every now and then to think, "Hey, I'm a Biology teacher now!"
Also, I have a lot of cramming to do. I passed the test to teach the subject, but I like to be knowledgeable when I'm teaching. I also have a lot of lesson plans to write. Oh, man, so much time will be spent planning. It is so awesome. Seriously.
And the hours are perfect for me. Five days a week I go in from 8:30-9:30 AM and teach, and I'm getting paid an additional two hours for prep time, which is very sweet of them to do. So I'll get paid for seven hours every week. While that may sound minimal to you, it will get me out of the house, give JG an opportunity to spend time with much loved relatives, and I'll get to be a teacher. A Biology teacher.
A very big thanks to Joan for dropping my name to this principal, and letting him know I'm endorsed to teach English and Biology. Apparently that's valued at my new school.
As a congratulations to myself I ordered my light-up LA Gear gold shoes. They'll be here Tuesday!
I am such a freaking nerd!
A Biology teaching nerd!
Woot.
Friday, February 05, 2010
A dark yearning
Okay.
I have to admit something.
I was watching Ellen the other day. And, whilst watching Ellen, where she had sent a viewer to the Grammy's gift tent, I saw a pair of shoes that I'm not sure I cannot live without.
Seriously.
Now, I have a couple things to say before I show you the shoes. First off, I don't believe that buying things will fill some empty chasm in my soul. I know better. For that reason I have forsaken buying new clothes whilst being a stay-at-home-mom (I mean, really, my uniform is sleep pants and a sweat shirt, it's HOT and practical). And, when I eventually get a job, I've made rules as to what professional clothes I can buy and how much. I don't need a huge wardrobe, just enough so that my students don't make fun of me. I want them to make fun of me for who I am, not for what I'm wearing.... (Mainly because I remember some of my high school teachers who wore the same thing week after week.)
Secondly, these shoes are on the edge of being horrendously ugly. And that is exactly how I like my shoes. I want to be able to pass people and have their faces contort as if asking, "Why God, why make such shoes that make me feel as if I'm going to be smothered by a group of tiny mouth-breathing toe-biters?"
Okay, I doubt that's what they'd really think, but it would put a smile on my face if it did.
And, thirdly, these shoes LIGHT UP. YES! You know, like the shoes you see little kids running around in? YES! I WANT THEM SO BADLY!
They also remind me of the LA Gear shoes I had when I was 11. (But those were pretty, not ugly.)
Now, there are two colors I'm trying to decide between (for that other dimension where I can buy anything on impulse) - gold and red. I'm leaning a bit more towards the gold, mainly because they say GAUDY so well, but the red ones are nice too.
The gold ones have pink lights (in the heel!) and the red ones have red lights, of course.
Now can you see how crazy I am? The kind of crazy that longs to spend $100 bucks on a pair of hideous gold shoes that have pink lights and light up with ever step I take? I have to keep reminding myself I am going to be 30 next month, and are these really the type of shoes a 30 year-old would wear?
What?
I STILL want them...
I have to admit something.
I was watching Ellen the other day. And, whilst watching Ellen, where she had sent a viewer to the Grammy's gift tent, I saw a pair of shoes that I'm not sure I cannot live without.
Seriously.
Now, I have a couple things to say before I show you the shoes. First off, I don't believe that buying things will fill some empty chasm in my soul. I know better. For that reason I have forsaken buying new clothes whilst being a stay-at-home-mom (I mean, really, my uniform is sleep pants and a sweat shirt, it's HOT and practical). And, when I eventually get a job, I've made rules as to what professional clothes I can buy and how much. I don't need a huge wardrobe, just enough so that my students don't make fun of me. I want them to make fun of me for who I am, not for what I'm wearing.... (Mainly because I remember some of my high school teachers who wore the same thing week after week.)
Secondly, these shoes are on the edge of being horrendously ugly. And that is exactly how I like my shoes. I want to be able to pass people and have their faces contort as if asking, "Why God, why make such shoes that make me feel as if I'm going to be smothered by a group of tiny mouth-breathing toe-biters?"
Okay, I doubt that's what they'd really think, but it would put a smile on my face if it did.
And, thirdly, these shoes LIGHT UP. YES! You know, like the shoes you see little kids running around in? YES! I WANT THEM SO BADLY!
They also remind me of the LA Gear shoes I had when I was 11. (But those were pretty, not ugly.)
Now, there are two colors I'm trying to decide between (for that other dimension where I can buy anything on impulse) - gold and red. I'm leaning a bit more towards the gold, mainly because they say GAUDY so well, but the red ones are nice too.
I know, you're asking yourself why you ever bothered to read my blog in the first place. But it's about to get better.
Now can you see how crazy I am? The kind of crazy that longs to spend $100 bucks on a pair of hideous gold shoes that have pink lights and light up with ever step I take? I have to keep reminding myself I am going to be 30 next month, and are these really the type of shoes a 30 year-old would wear?
What?
I STILL want them...
Monday, February 01, 2010
I just want one night where I know I will sleep a straight 8 hours, where I won't wake up to pee, or JG won't wake up and need me for something, or the dog won't wake up and need to go outside to pee, or the cone-head cat won't need to sleep next to me under the covers and cleaning himself.
I just want one night of uninterrupted sleep.
Just. One.
It won't happen. But I thought I would put it out into the chaos of the universe and see if it could happen.
Soon, maybe?
Hey, in three months I can eat all the doughnuts and ice cream I want. So, if you see me in June sometime with powdered sugar and chocolate around my mouth, calmly remove yourself from the situation. I can't promise anything about my behavior.
I just want one night of uninterrupted sleep.
Just. One.
It won't happen. But I thought I would put it out into the chaos of the universe and see if it could happen.
Soon, maybe?
Hey, in three months I can eat all the doughnuts and ice cream I want. So, if you see me in June sometime with powdered sugar and chocolate around my mouth, calmly remove yourself from the situation. I can't promise anything about my behavior.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Working
So JG's naps have been terrible this past week. Not only is she fighting the afternoon nap as if it were a cloaked Romulan warbird (yes, I am that kind of nerd), but when she does nap it's only for 30 minutes.
Suffice it to say, I have had very little time to work on anything. Meaning my house is a mess and I have made one monster in the past two weeks. One. And I haven't even sewn him up completely.
In my head I'm working on some new patterns. I'm planning on using some of my dad's old Levi's to make a soft denim monster, but what kind of monster I am unsure of. I am in this creative space where I am lazy and know I should be making things, but instead am busy adding new photo's on facebook.
So. Sad.
I should just give myself a date where I'm going to reopen the etsy store and go for it. Give myself a friggin due date. But my banner is old and I can't figure out how to make a new one. (And it has the added bonus of giving me yet another excuse to not get things done.)
So. Pathetic.
Plus, I have to deal with this:
Suffice it to say, I have had very little time to work on anything. Meaning my house is a mess and I have made one monster in the past two weeks. One. And I haven't even sewn him up completely.
In my head I'm working on some new patterns. I'm planning on using some of my dad's old Levi's to make a soft denim monster, but what kind of monster I am unsure of. I am in this creative space where I am lazy and know I should be making things, but instead am busy adding new photo's on facebook.
So. Sad.
I should just give myself a date where I'm going to reopen the etsy store and go for it. Give myself a friggin due date. But my banner is old and I can't figure out how to make a new one. (And it has the added bonus of giving me yet another excuse to not get things done.)
So. Pathetic.
Plus, I have to deal with this:
Yeah, I think that's puss.
So. Gross.
This was taken a couple of weeks ago, his foot is doing better now, but I'm a little sick of playing nurse to my gimpy cat. The bigger/longer cone has made it so he can't reach his foot, so hopefully it will actually heal completely in the next two or so weeks.
Otherwise I'm going to amputate it. Take that gimpy cat!
And, finally, the obligatory JG photo. She really enjoys chewing on her sweaters.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
It is Done
I did it.
I finally followed the crowd.
I joined facebook.
I know, you are all utterly amazed and can't believe it... or you don't really care. Whatever.
I was thinking this last week about what an isolationist I am, how I spend so much time all by my lonesome (and JG), and how I am horrible at reaching out and being social.
Now, I realized that in today's day and age there is technology that can help to temper such an unhealthy way of living. It's called social media, and I too can join the herd and connect with people I haven't talked to in years.
And I have! Old best friends, ex-boyfriends (ok, just the one), people I went to school with.
But, I do have to say that I'm only acknowledging the people with names I recognize (and let me tell you, I am terrible with names).
It's so weird to talk the people I haven't known anything about for so long. It's really nice to catchup and see how well they're doing. No one that I know of has ended up in a crack house with some nasty monkey on their back. And that is good. All is good.
The sky hasn't fallen the way I thought it would if I signed up. I'm actually pretty happy I did.
I finally followed the crowd.
I joined facebook.
I know, you are all utterly amazed and can't believe it... or you don't really care. Whatever.
I was thinking this last week about what an isolationist I am, how I spend so much time all by my lonesome (and JG), and how I am horrible at reaching out and being social.
Now, I realized that in today's day and age there is technology that can help to temper such an unhealthy way of living. It's called social media, and I too can join the herd and connect with people I haven't talked to in years.
And I have! Old best friends, ex-boyfriends (ok, just the one), people I went to school with.
But, I do have to say that I'm only acknowledging the people with names I recognize (and let me tell you, I am terrible with names).
It's so weird to talk the people I haven't known anything about for so long. It's really nice to catchup and see how well they're doing. No one that I know of has ended up in a crack house with some nasty monkey on their back. And that is good. All is good.
The sky hasn't fallen the way I thought it would if I signed up. I'm actually pretty happy I did.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Bad Mommy
I had a bite of chocolate.
It was French.
It was smooth and creamy and crunchy and dammit it left my tongue wanting more. Seriously, I have not had a piece of chocolate in six months. Six months. When I was pregnant I ate the stuff every day, so having to go without for so long has been... well, not that bad actually. (I've learned to really love juice.)
Anyway.
Now, you may ask, why am I eating chocolate, when most chocolate has MILK in it?
What?
The doctor said JG has an INTOLERANCE, not an allergy, and I thought why not? Alex was eating a French bar of the good stuff and for the first time I had the impulse to make myself happy, rather than making sure that JG doesn't bleed out of her butt... colon.
I had a bad mommy moment (and my dreams are filled with them, nightmares really, where I pig out on ice cream only to realize after my third milkshake that I can't eat the stuff - oh my poor baby girl!)
Was it a good choice?
No.
But at least it was only two days of screaming poop (because the intolerance causes a lot of pain, I imagine) with flecks of blood. It used to be three days. So her colon is slowly learning how to deal with the milk proteins, and hopefully in a couple of months there will be more improvements.
And then, and then, those milkshakes better be shaking in their boots because I'm gonna get so fat eating their offspring.
So. Fat.
It was French.
It was smooth and creamy and crunchy and dammit it left my tongue wanting more. Seriously, I have not had a piece of chocolate in six months. Six months. When I was pregnant I ate the stuff every day, so having to go without for so long has been... well, not that bad actually. (I've learned to really love juice.)
Anyway.
Now, you may ask, why am I eating chocolate, when most chocolate has MILK in it?
What?
The doctor said JG has an INTOLERANCE, not an allergy, and I thought why not? Alex was eating a French bar of the good stuff and for the first time I had the impulse to make myself happy, rather than making sure that JG doesn't bleed out of her butt... colon.
I had a bad mommy moment (and my dreams are filled with them, nightmares really, where I pig out on ice cream only to realize after my third milkshake that I can't eat the stuff - oh my poor baby girl!)
Was it a good choice?
No.
But at least it was only two days of screaming poop (because the intolerance causes a lot of pain, I imagine) with flecks of blood. It used to be three days. So her colon is slowly learning how to deal with the milk proteins, and hopefully in a couple of months there will be more improvements.
And then, and then, those milkshakes better be shaking in their boots because I'm gonna get so fat eating their offspring.
So. Fat.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Considerations
I am much better at making/creating things when I have due dates, or a reason. I also don't like to have my creations staring at me for months, I like it better when they are gone.
Therefore, I am considering reopening my etsy shop. Yes, I had one years ago, and for many reasons I closed it.
However, I feel I might do a better job of making toys if I knew I had to fill up a shop to get people interested, to get them to buy things.
And also to pay student loans. Because I am doing such a good job of using my degree right now.
What do you think people would be interested in? Monsters, dolls, Testy Chickens? Or should I just start making and see what happens?
Eh?
Eh?
Eh?
Therefore, I am considering reopening my etsy shop. Yes, I had one years ago, and for many reasons I closed it.
However, I feel I might do a better job of making toys if I knew I had to fill up a shop to get people interested, to get them to buy things.
And also to pay student loans. Because I am doing such a good job of using my degree right now.
What do you think people would be interested in? Monsters, dolls, Testy Chickens? Or should I just start making and see what happens?
Eh?
Eh?
Eh?
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Returning to say Hello
We had a nice weekend until our basement drainage pipe decided to call it quits. Again. This happens about once a year, when our feces come up to tell us where they've been.
"Hey! You know how you flushed me three days ago! Well, just thought you should know I've been hanging out in that pipe... until now... Hello!"
And this is the part when I gag and hate my drainage pipe with a burning rage. Luckily we caught it before the puddle got too large, however once the drain says, "No more traffic allowed," we can't use the water.
Because if you do, the puddle just gets bigger. The puddle filled with poo and Jesus knows what else.
(Hold on, gagging, holding vomit back)
So I called the Roto-Rooter guy out to run a snake down. Again.
You should have seen the ball of roots he pulled out.
Imagine that a guinea pig took up residence in our drainage pipe and set up house, and got fat off of... I'll let you answer that.
But he pulled that guinea pig out (it was more sliced out, with this weird rotating blade) and now our pipe is clear. Unfortunately, that damned guinea pig (giant balls of roots) will grow back and start this whole disgusting process over again.
However, if we want it to remain clear it would cost almost $7000 to rid our house of the problem. Also, the solution would probably kill the shrubbery out front, and possibly break our awesome AC unit, because a bunch of plumbers would have to come and dig holes to access said evil pipe and burst it.
When the Roto guy pitched this to me he made it sound as if this decision would be made soon and we would have him right back to fix the problem.
Um, huh? I was standing in my hallway, in my cow pajama's and worn old slippers holding JG. What about me said I'm made out of money?
So, now I've got to devise a plan to douse my concrete floor with bleach to kill any poo particles still hanging on for dear life. Sorry, poo, but I flushed you for a reason.
Now stay there.
"Hey! You know how you flushed me three days ago! Well, just thought you should know I've been hanging out in that pipe... until now... Hello!"
And this is the part when I gag and hate my drainage pipe with a burning rage. Luckily we caught it before the puddle got too large, however once the drain says, "No more traffic allowed," we can't use the water.
Because if you do, the puddle just gets bigger. The puddle filled with poo and Jesus knows what else.
(Hold on, gagging, holding vomit back)
So I called the Roto-Rooter guy out to run a snake down. Again.
You should have seen the ball of roots he pulled out.
Imagine that a guinea pig took up residence in our drainage pipe and set up house, and got fat off of... I'll let you answer that.
But he pulled that guinea pig out (it was more sliced out, with this weird rotating blade) and now our pipe is clear. Unfortunately, that damned guinea pig (giant balls of roots) will grow back and start this whole disgusting process over again.
However, if we want it to remain clear it would cost almost $7000 to rid our house of the problem. Also, the solution would probably kill the shrubbery out front, and possibly break our awesome AC unit, because a bunch of plumbers would have to come and dig holes to access said evil pipe and burst it.
When the Roto guy pitched this to me he made it sound as if this decision would be made soon and we would have him right back to fix the problem.
Um, huh? I was standing in my hallway, in my cow pajama's and worn old slippers holding JG. What about me said I'm made out of money?
So, now I've got to devise a plan to douse my concrete floor with bleach to kill any poo particles still hanging on for dear life. Sorry, poo, but I flushed you for a reason.
Now stay there.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
New Years Funk
Without meaning to I fell into a bit of a funk. I was on a forced creative high before Christmas, trying to get things done, but it only takes one failure (stupid doll dress) for me to throw my hands up in the air and say to hell with it.
For my sanity's sake, making things keeps me emotionally healthy and happy. So, now that I'm not making anything, or haven't figured out what to do with myself while JG is napping, I'm watching far too much TV.
I'm losing my patience with it.
I am also losing my patience with reading. It used to be that I could finish a book that I wasn't too crazy about, in hopes that it would improve at some point. I wouldn't want to miss its redeeming qualities. Now, if I read 30-70 pages and I'm just not into it, or say a kitten dies for no particular reason, I give up on finishing it. You could say I'm either too tender hearted or entirely too slow of a reader.
I want every book to be the Hunger Games, fast paced, hard to put down, with characters I like. So many books keep trying to make me swallow these exaggerated and irritating versions of human beings that I can't go along with the farce.
However, I should mention, that I don't even know if I would be able to read my favorite authors right now. I'm not sure if I should blame it on the funk or if it's just how I am now that I have a baby. Who knows.
So, today JG and I will venture out of the house (which we haven't been doing much of) and go look at fabric or something. Fabric has so many redeeming qualities.
The sad thing is I have a stash of fabric I've been hoarding... and I cannot bring myself to actually use it. It's a terrible compulsion. I even have a bunch of it laying out in my craft room, I just love looking at it, but just thinking about using any of it brings on a slight anxiety attack.
Which is pathetic. This is also the reason I try not to allow myself go look at fabric. For example, I have several prints that I own multiple yards of (2-6 yards), and I can't think of why I spent the money on all of it if I can't bring myself to actually use it.
Booger.
Okay, I better find a reason to pull out of this mess.
I use far too many commas. Lucky for me if you didn't notice.
For my sanity's sake, making things keeps me emotionally healthy and happy. So, now that I'm not making anything, or haven't figured out what to do with myself while JG is napping, I'm watching far too much TV.
I'm losing my patience with it.
I am also losing my patience with reading. It used to be that I could finish a book that I wasn't too crazy about, in hopes that it would improve at some point. I wouldn't want to miss its redeeming qualities. Now, if I read 30-70 pages and I'm just not into it, or say a kitten dies for no particular reason, I give up on finishing it. You could say I'm either too tender hearted or entirely too slow of a reader.
I want every book to be the Hunger Games, fast paced, hard to put down, with characters I like. So many books keep trying to make me swallow these exaggerated and irritating versions of human beings that I can't go along with the farce.
However, I should mention, that I don't even know if I would be able to read my favorite authors right now. I'm not sure if I should blame it on the funk or if it's just how I am now that I have a baby. Who knows.
So, today JG and I will venture out of the house (which we haven't been doing much of) and go look at fabric or something. Fabric has so many redeeming qualities.
The sad thing is I have a stash of fabric I've been hoarding... and I cannot bring myself to actually use it. It's a terrible compulsion. I even have a bunch of it laying out in my craft room, I just love looking at it, but just thinking about using any of it brings on a slight anxiety attack.
Which is pathetic. This is also the reason I try not to allow myself go look at fabric. For example, I have several prints that I own multiple yards of (2-6 yards), and I can't think of why I spent the money on all of it if I can't bring myself to actually use it.
Booger.
Okay, I better find a reason to pull out of this mess.
I use far too many commas. Lucky for me if you didn't notice.
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