Tuesday, March 11, 2014

If You Are That Mom, Please Stop.

If you are the mom that makes everything crafty that shows up on the kidspiration board on Pinterest, please stop. You are making your kid rely on you to entertain them and you are making the rest of us feel guilty about checking Facebook with our kids plopped in front of the TV. 

If you are the mom that makes bento-box lunches every.single.day for your kids, your husband, and your hamster and those lunches are healthy, colorful, and turn your kid’s lunch into an effin’ art project, please stop. Your kid is probably craving stale, frozen-in-the-middle chicken nuggets that have been MICROWAVED (*gasp!*). Besides, your kid probably steals the Cheetos out of the lunch of the kid sitting next to him/her, while your 45 minute Bento-box-Mona-Lisa gets chucked out with fifth grade retainers.

If you are the mom that says “Oh, excuse the mess” after cleaning the house for HOURS like Oprah was on her way over, please stop, and come over to my house and then continue.

If you are the mom that has a toddler yet leaves your table set all the time, please stop. Your kid needs a place to color, and quite honestly, that just tells me that you use paper plates all the time. (#youknowitstrue

If you are the mom at the playground, judging the other moms at the playground (or the mom at the computer judging the moms that make bento-box lunches) please stop. We all feel inferior from time to time. That’s not the opportunity to pounce on another’s weakness. It’s the time to reflect and appreciate all that we have that is good in our lives and to be thankful.

Hey, “that mom,” thanks for trying so hard, but promise me you’ll only do those things above if you really want to, ok? Doing them because you think you should is not a good enough reason...and your kids will sense that. I suck at crafts, I pack lunches that have way too much sugar, my house is messy, and I tend to be a tichy-bit judgemental, however, I LOVE tucking my kids into bed, and eating dinner together as a family. I’m not perfect, but I admit that and I hope I pass on my tolerance of imperfection to my children. I do what I want with and for my kids, and not what I think I *should* be doing.

My motto: Eff Perfection. Now, let me check who’s pretending to be awesome on Facebook...

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Rainbows and Lollipops

 My kids went to bed at a reasonable hour last night, and I woke up with my clothes ironed, my lunch packed, and a cup of coffee in hand...the result of this good fortune? A great start to my day which allowed me to see the rainbows and lollipops in my life....

Let's shine some of this happy light on my career: I love teaching. I really do. There is NOTHING like knowing that you hold some type of knowledge and are directly responsible for transferring it to someone that needs to understand it. And when you know you've NAILED a lesson, there is an energy that you and the kids have that is completely indescribable! True story!

I have one student in particular that LIGHTS UP MY LIFE every day. He tries SO hard and doesn't always understand things, which makes when he does "get it" SUPER special. If we were playing hide and go seek, I'd find him first just so he could help me find the others because THAT'S how much I enjoy his company. Actually, if he ever comes up missing, I may have taken him home with me. I won't write him off on my taxes, so it'll be totally legit. I promise. This one student reminds me that I need to be thankful for everything I have, because even though he comes from a supportive home, his family has extreme financial limitations. Yet, he comes in every day with a smile, and a positive attitude--which is more than most adults (umm, *raise hand* GUILTY) will give you these days. 

This specific student reinforces that it's not how much money we have, what we look like, or how smart we are--it's about how much effort we give things and how positive our attitude is. I hope that I've taught him a boatload this year, but I'm thankful for this eleven year old and the life lesson he's taught me

Holy effin' estrogen. Where is all this warm and fuzziness coming from? What the hell is that about?! Did someone slip some Oprah in my coffee? 

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Skinny Thoughts

Exercise means sweat and sweating when it is cold out is just wrong.  Because it's cold out.  And you're sweating. BRRRRR.

See, this is why I can't exercise today. Because it's cold out. And tomorrow, it'll be Thursday.  I don't like to exercise on Thursday because I might be sore for the weekend.  That's no fun...

Is cooking and cleaning up the kitchen exercise?  OOh! Cleaning on My Fitness Pal is exercise.  I'm 103 calories over my calorie target for the day.  How many minutes of cleaning eats 103 calories...24 minutes, WELL LOOK AT THAT! I JUST CLEANED MY KITCHEN FOR 24 MINUTES.  boom.  Under calorie goal.  

I wish it was warmer in here.  I should bake cookies. The house will smell nice and it'll warm up the place.  I like cookie dough.  How many calories are in cookie dough? Crap. I'm going to be cleaning my kitchen for a lonnnnng time.  Stupid cookies.

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

The Non-Negotiable Bedtime Rant

Hey kids. My name is Mom. We've met before, mostly when you need your butt wiped, you'd like something to drink or eat, or when you would like me to carry you in the house so you don't have to walk in the snow. (*yes. hop up here. allow me to carry my bag, my coffee cup, your backpack, and 40-60lb YOU into the house without slipping and killing us both (or knocking myself out and peeing my pants in the process. Gosh, that'd be embarrassing.) *)

Anyway, when I tell you to go to bed and I've read you a story, changed you into your pajamas, watched you brush your teeth and given you your last glass of water, I EXPECT YOU TO GO TO BED. I love you SO much that I feel pretty strongly that sleep has a direct connection with your brain getting bigger and me NOT tying you up with string to the dining room chair

So, please go into your room and shut your beautiful eyes. They're heavenly to watch flutter while you are sleeping, which is impossible for me to do while you're yapping about how you don't like the underwear you are wearing and asking me to dress up your doll in the same clothes you took off of her twopointfiveEFFINGseconds ago. Did I mention how much I love you? Oh yeah. 72 times when I hugged you and said "I love you this much," stretching my arms to an approximate length of 5 foot 6 inches (if my bio teacher was correct about the proportion of arm span to height). 

Because you take so Mo-fo-ing long to get in your bed and fall asleep, I find myself bumping up bedtime in 15 minute intervals. Tomorrow, we will surely start getting ready for bed immediately following snack time when you get off the bus. "What about dinner?" you ask? Funny, you don't really seem interested in eating the dinner I make for you, and mostly complain about it, run in the other room to check what is on TV without being excused from the table, strategically plan your bowel movements for that time, or "accidentally" spill your drink on your plate to avoid eating what your father and I are having. So, I guess I didn't think you'd notice if you ate a handful of goldfish and got settled in for the night.

Bedtime is NON-negotiable in this house. You must go to bed when I want you to. Stop negotiating "5 minutes longer" and "can I just <insert RANDOM activity that does not involve sleeping and probably makes me think that you are in need of hyperactivity medication>", The answer is, "no you cannot.  I love you. Goodnight." 

Again. "No, you cannot. I love you. Goodnight." 

Again. "Stop hoo-booing. Tomorrow is a new day. I love you. Goodnight." Someday they won't do this anymore and I'll miss it. But for the time being, where is my corkscrew? It's going to be a lonnnnnng night.  

Friday, November 22, 2013

Teaching Is an Emotional Rollercoaster

I really do enjoy my job, but it is common for me to have a rough day where I question my purpose, my abilities, and quite honestly whether or not the emotional roller coaster of teaching is worth the pay.

Let's just say that the lesson delivery is the easy part of my job; the worry and concern I take home with me about what some of my students are going through, the future of education and what MY COLLEAGUES have to deal with (I'm talking about you, APPR, and common core) are the things that really makes my job difficult.

And for those of you that are reading this and saying "but you get more vacation time than any other profession," I say "yep. And I have a master's degree, ten years of experience, make (barely) 50k, can't pee at work unless someone tells me it's ok, AND am responsible for undoing the damage society (ahem, parents) have done to our children. We are actors, social workers, counselors, parents, and now statisticians.  We earn THAT time off, however, during summer months most of us are going into school, and developing plans, learning new content, or (sitting at our pools) PINNING (God bless Pinterest) ways to make ourselves better at our jobs," so it is really "time off"?

Whew, that vent was a little over due... now, yesterday was one of the days that I really envied the people that have jobs that they are able to walk away from at the end of the day, without worry and regard. As I mentioned in a previous post, I am having foot surgery today, which will keep me out of work until after the new year. I tried everything to NOT have the surgery, including calling my insurance company and trying to get them NOT to cover it. I am scared out of my wits about this, and honestly, the insurance company phone call was not my proudest moment. However, my last day of work prior to this surgery was so crazy that I have drafted a list of the things I would rather have done than worked yesterday:

1.) had foot surgery- yes, a day early...preventing me from walking, driving, working and caring for myself and my family a whole day earlier.

2.) gone to walmart with my dad...that man can make friends with ANYONE (and although we tease him relentlessly about this, it's the part of his personality that we love and admire the most!)

3.) stood in line at the DMV.

4.) had a pap smear.

5.) delivered a baby, without an epidural.

6.) had jury duty.

7.) rolled in poison ivy

8.) called the insurance company to listen to all of their menu options.

9.) shopped for a bathing suit.

I really was shooting for ten, but I JUST CAN'T GET PAST that I would have rather shopped for a bathing suit. I mean, when a girl says that she would have rather stood in front of a mirror in something spandex, trying to cover as much and as little of her body at the same time, you should pour her a TALL glass of something that isn't milk--because her day must have been pretty bad. For Realz.

I couldn't finish this without saying that I do appreciate the opportunity that teaching allows me. It allows me to filter all of the c-r-a-p that is negatively affecting education today, and put my kid-friendly spin on it. I may need reminders on bad days, but the opportunity that my job has allowed me and the impact that perhaps isn't always visible is WHY I teach.  I teach because I am committed to making the best out of the kids I work with, to focus on what is important in the LIVES of the kids, and to filter the stuff that isn't. Now, off to surgery, so I can walk normally while doing all of that. (Side note: I will surely enjoy peeing whenever I want for the next six weeks).  

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Freaking about Foot Surgery

So, I'm having foot surgery this week and won't be able to walk (normally) or drive for six whole weeks.  Understandably, I'm a little bitter about it too. One of my closest friends snapped this picture over the weekend while she was in line for her fountain Diet Coke fix at McDonalds. I love me a cheeseburger, but if this is me in a couple weeks, someone needs to promise me an intervention:

These are the reasons I'm just a "tichy-bit" nervous:
*I've never had surgery.

*I've never had anesthesia (and that word had to be typed 5 times before my attempt at it was even recognized by spell check)

*I actually did ATTEMPT to have an epidural during the birth of both of my children, however, it failed both times. That was mighty unfortunate for me and all the other people in my hallway...

*I won't have my wisdom teeth out, even though it has been recommended since I was nineteen because I'm scared of having surgery.

*I'm a self admitted Control Freak and the idea of not being able to do WHAT I want to do WHEN I want to do it freaking me out. I mean, sometimes a girl just needs to wander Target...and not in one of those ridiculous electric wheelchairs!

*Daytime TV sucks.

*How am I going to pretend to exercise? I mean, I won't be able to set the alarm and tell myself that I'm going to get up at 5 and run (wog-walk/jog) a couple of miles. Awww, damn. Imma be fat(ter) when this is all over.

Crap. Someone needs to get me one of those wheelchairs.  I'm going to be depressed and will absolutely need a cheeseburger...

Saturday, November 16, 2013

What Day Is It? It's Hunt Day!

Spouses of deer hunters, this is for you:

The Top 5 Reasons I HATE Deer Season:

1.) My dog barks uncontrollably every time he hears a shot. And obviously the people that hunt around my house have really crappy aim and must shoot 2,305 times before they "down" their target. Stevie Wonder probably hunts back there....

2.) When I walk through Walmart and see the people with camouflage jackets (you know, the ones with the hunting licenses on the back), I am instantly reminded that these people have carried or intend to carry firearms. *shutter* (sidenote: I prefer the customers with the words written across the ass of their sweatpants more because I usually don't have to squint to read the writing. Walmart is known for big assess with big letters across them.)

3.) Husbands/Boyfriends/ and Fathers (hopefully these titles are not all used for the same guy) start to act as if it is their primal responsibility to rid the world of nuisance deer.  Here's the deal, hunter-person, thanks for saving my car, but please don't make me listen to your haughty story about why it's so important that you hunt every damn free moment that you have. Does the acronym STFU mean anything to you?

4.) Husbands/Boyfriends/ and Fathers FORGET that they are husbands/boyfriends/ and fathers, and stop doing whatever makes them husbandly/boyfriendly/and fatherly. Henceforth, Wives/Girlfriends/and Mothers get angry, which then gives Husbands/Boyfriends/ and Fathers the opportunity to comment on "bitchiness" of Wives/Girlfriends/and Mothers. See, this is where it gets a little ugly, because Wives/Girlfriends/and Mothers are thinking "Ugh. in ONE DAY, Husband/Boyfriend/Father just spent more time doing something that he loved than I have in ONE DECADE." Therefore, Husband/Boyfriend/Father, refer back to the last sentence in reason #3 and use that acronym again.

5.) Meat in my freezer becomes unidentifiable and Husbands/Boyfriends/ and Fathers encourage each meal to include some type of meat that they acquired. Here's the deal Husband/Boyfriend/Father, if you want to get the meat so bad, go to the effing meat market or grocery store. WE'LL LET YOU and it won't take as long as you pretending to be the best shot in the county.

and now some thoughts beyond this list:

* I am not "just jealous" of you sitting in a tree, freezing parts of your body off that I don't have. Please wipe that out of your head. I think it is nice that you are bonding with nature, but I also think that you are a moron if you choose to spend a day cold, covered in deer urine, away from your responsibilities, and then you come home and complain about it. Again, the acronym in #3, please.

* I eat venison. It's a lean meat that is cheap/free and I enjoy the fact that our freezer fills for the winter. However, I could care less if that venison comes from a "MONSTER 12 point buck", or from a large doe, so you waiting around for the "buck of your life" is lame. I mean, good for you if you shoot a large buck but you are bat-shit crazy if you think you are hanging that in my living room, so what's the point (ha. see what I did there?!)?  Also, for those ladies that let husbands/boyfriends/fathers decorate your main living areas with taxidermy, I hope the hunter in your life appreciates you as much as you deserve to be appreciated!)

* Lastly, Husband/Boyfriend/and Fathers, I need to just say one more thing: I bet that lady hunters still do their wife/girlfriend/and motherly duties. And if they didn't, I bet you'd bitch about it. If wives/girlfriends/and mothers just randomly chose to spend days and weeks doing something that they loved and without making husband/boyfriends/fathers (and children) a top priority, I'm betting that they'd have some serious 'splainin' to do. So there.

AHHHHHH! I need earplugs.  Either for me, or for the dog. Damn you, hunter that wouldn't even qualify to work in the cafeteria at sniper school! Buck you.