Corona is the New Calgon

How's your day going? Mine's not so good. I just had the ultimate meanie mom moment. I was going to make you a list of what led up to it, but it turned out to be boring and mundane and whiney. And really, who cares? All you need to know is that the repetitiveness of my days, the laundry, the kitchen, the floors, combined with being housebound with 3 sick children over the past week all culminated this morning with me exploding at J for using up half a roll of newly replaced TP. This waste seemed particularly criminal after a morning where he requested a breakfast smoothie and a cheese bagel and then didn't eat either.

Apparently wasted TP, smoothies, and cheese bagels were too much for my emotional state to handle and I ended up screaming at him about wastefulness and how mommy and daddy don't have a lot of money and why does he think it's okay to waste it? I may also have yelled something about if he has a little tiny boy butt, then why WHY WHY is he using enough TP to wipe an elephant's arse?

Then, everything got worse because Baby Roo, who perhaps didn't know what to do with a mother who was screaming like a banshee, starting whining "Mommy, mommy, mommy!" at me. But I was way too into my tirade and ended up shouting at her to shut up.

I told my 18 month old to shut up.

And then I put myself on a time out. I went into the bathroom. I might have cried a little bit.

So, to sum it up, this is where I'm at right now:

And this is where I need to be:

Anyone who could help me get there will be awarded with a never-ending lifetime supply of TP.

Thank you.

Counting Chicks and Tits

Wow.

It's been a full week since I last posted, which hasn't happened (much) before. You know what I was doing? Applying for a job.

You may be asking, "It took you a full week to apply for a job???"

And the answer is well, yes. Yes it did because nowadays as it turns out, many employers want prospective employees to apply for things online. This, I have never done before. And considering the fact that I can barely operate a Flip, you all should be very impressed with the fact that I got it done inside of 5 days. Not only did I fill out 7 pages of an online application, but I uploaded, scanned, and faxed numerous other official documents that they asked for. I'm feeling very accomplished. And nerdy.

Anyway, the job is one of those too good to be true sounding deals where I would be able to work in the field of education, leave my home only once a week to report in, and still make 3K a month. Nice work if you can get it. I'm competing with a lot of pink-slipped educators, so my chances are slim. And there's the little fact that I let my teaching credential expire back in 'o6. At the time I was 9 months prego with J, and for some reason having a baby overshadowed my drive to secure myself professionally. Oh well. It happens.

So, although I probably won't get called for an interview, I can't help but dream away my days with thoughts of what I could do with an additional monthly income of 3K:

1.I could get a pedicure EVERY WEEK!

2. I could buy clothes outside of the Target Mossimo Collection.

3.We could afford to take the car for an oil change AND have a date night in the same month!

4.OMG, I wouldn't have to shop at Wal-Mart anymore!

5. (This one's my fav) I could hire a part time nanny to take care of the kids while I worked at home in the a.m. Do you know what that would mean??? UNINTERRUPTED TIME ON THE COMPUTER DURING (GASP!) DAYLIGHT HOURS!

Anyway, that's what I have so far. If you happen to think of any suggestions that I'm missing, by all means, let me know what they are!

Before I go though, I have a little story to tell you. All this thought this past week towards a teaching job has made me reminisce about my days in the classroom. What I'm about to tell you is my favorite teaching story, and if you're a good friend or relative chances are you've heard it before. Sorry, but I get a kick out of it, so bear with me here.

Okay. Picture 25 year old me- fresh faced and right out of my credential program. I'm standing in front of my very first class, and it's the 3rd day of school. I'm teaching Kindergarten in a very low socioeconomic area. Very low. Like, so low that blond haired blue eyed me who grew up middle class in Burbank is having trouble dealing with her culture shock. A quarter of my students don't speak English, and another quarter have parents in jail. Not what I imagined when I pictured my first classroom back in my cushy days of graduate work.

Nonetheless, these kids were already growing on me. I'll never forget my first class. There was a little boy named James who had the attention span of a gnat- no joke. I literally had to hold his hand while I stood in front and taught, otherwise he'd be turning somersaults across the carpet. There was sweet Michelle, who understood not a word of English, but would smile at me whenever I asked her anything. There was a little boy who wouldn't answer to me when I called him by his given name, Daniel. He stubbornly insisted I call him "guero"- which basically is the spanish word for "white boy". Try feeling professional while referring to a 5 year old as "guero".

And then there was Jamal.

Jamal was a big boy. He was 7 years old and at least 70 pounds. He didn't just sit on the rug- he kind of hulked on it. He had a bit of an attitude- so I made the hasty decision on day 1 to keep him in front of me on the carpet during whole group instruction.

So, day 3. We're doing math and I'm instructing the kids how to make the number 3 on the chalkboard. My back is to the class as I'm talking over my shoulder, and Jamal with his corn rowed hair is sitting front and center.

I'm saying, "Okay, guys. You start at the top and make a big fat bubble to the middle, then you go out once more and make a big fat bubble all the way to the bottom. And that's the number 3!"

I turn and beam at my motley crew. Jamal is looking thoughtful and raises his hand. Without waiting, he calls out "Teacher! That look like a tit!"

"Wh- what Jamal?" My smile is frozen on my face. Surely, he didn't just say....

"I said, that looks like tits!"

I'm thinking, "Is he saying tits? He's saying the number 3 looks like a pair of tits?" I'm still flabbergasted. While my mouth is gaping and moving up and down, all I can get out is another stupid "What?"

And then chaos ensued. Half the class starts shouting at me that he said "Tits." The other, (more innocent) half is adamant that he said "Tent." They're fully animated in their debate and I can see a few of the more worldly students instructing their classmates to tilt their heads sideways so they can see the tit resemblance. I realize I have to regain control, and fast.

"Boys and girls. BOYS AND GIRLS! We're moving on to the (thankfully less curvaceous) number 4."

This story has a happy ending, though. Last year I had to travel all over this valley to do assessment testing for an No Child Left Behind program. One of the doors I knocked on was answered by a very tall, very big, 14 year old Jamal. Turns out he tested well, got good grades, and was very polite. It was great to see him, though I do confess that while working with him, it took everything in me not to ask the one burning question playing in my mind:

"So Jamal, what do you see nowadays when you look at the number 3?"

I couldn't bring myself to do it. And that's probably for the best.

You all have a good night!

American Idiot

So, China.

Mr. C has a teacher that he collaborates with in Shanghai who told him of a summer job opening at the American School he teaches at. The teacher who was going to do it backed out, so he wanted to know if my husband was interested.

Well, my husband is very interested. His wife (namely, me)- not so much.

The thing is, China has always kind of scared me. I mean, when I think of China I think of things like Communism. Human rights. Lead paint.

Just kidding on the last one.

But seriously, traveling to China has never interested me. It just hasn't. Even with reading The Joy Luck Club and all the other Amy Tan books, China remains unappealing to me. I can't really think of anything there that I want to experience or see. Sure, yeah, the Great Wall- but I hear that it's visible from space, so see? I can just pull it up from Google Space and look at it from my computer. Really not necessary for me to go all the way to China to experience it.

However, while I may be behaving like a redneck, I am also aware that I could possibly, maybe, perhaps be guilty of being the tiniest bit ignorant. So I put the question up on Facebook and got a lot of responses. Most of them were assuring me that China was safe. Then, if I read between the lines, they were also telling me that I was being a close minded, ignorant, American idiot (in a nice, gentle, friendly way). And perhaps I am. In fact, I guess I know I am. After reading through everyone's responses, I've changed my mind and realized that if I did go, I could have an amazing experience. The fact that I don't know much about it or what to expect from it would probably make it all the more exciting and memorable.

But here's the thing: I don't think I'm up to traveling that far with 4 kids. The farthest I've been out of the U.S is Mexico and the Caribbean. I can not tell you how it terrifies me to think of myself being responsible for 4 children in a foreign country where I do not know the language, or the customs, or even how to read the street signs. And yes, true, I'd have that obstacle to overcome no matter what country we ended up going to. But for some reason, I feel like I could handle it a little better if I was in a Latin country where I know enough of the language to get by. Or a European country, where my friends and family have been and have informed me of what to expect there.

So here's where I stand on the issue right now: if it was just me and Mr. C going, then yes, I'd put on my adventure hat and have an experience. I'd actually relish it and look forward to it. But since the whole point of him taking a job abroad would be to take the kids and let them experience other cultures, we're not going to go with just me and him. At the very least, we'd take the older kids and leave the younger two, but then, I think it'd be somewhat traumatic for the baby to be away from us for 3 weeks. She didn't handle it well when we went overnight to Disneyland without her.

This whole thing also depends on whether the American school would give the entire family lodging and plane fare as well. If they don't, then we're definitely out. There's no way I'm going to pay thousands of dollars for J's and Roo's plane tickets. Wether someone else wants to foot the bill for the loss of my sanity on that 14 hour flight is another story.

Anyway, no final decision has been made. Mr. C is still really gung-ho on all of us going. He's taken to dropping random Chinese- related phrases out of nowhere to try to convince me. The other night, I kissed him goodnight and turned over to switch off the light and he whispered, "Great Wall." This turned out to be a great example of how male and female brains are always at odds: While he was literally referring to the Great Wall of China, I automatically assumed he was talking about my butt. He'd best rethink his strategy.

You all have a good night!

Thought I Made It Through Hell, But Then My Computer Was Attacked By Flying Ants

Hey.

This post is going to be short and most likely ridiculous. I don't usually write during the day but certain circumstances, which I will impart to you in the coming paragraphs, prevented me from writing last night. I've got a preschooler set up with a Pokemon cartoon 10 feet away and a baby who I'm pretty sure is going to skip her nap judging from the babbling that is coming from her crib, so I'm going to do my darndest to pound this out quickly.

Here goes.

Last night I walked into the office to sit down and write a post for you about how Baby Roo is now more or less sleep-trained. (No thanks to the Supernanny). She still wakes up at night, but has come to terms with the fact that she won't be enjoying the comfort of our bed or using my face as her pillow any longer. I mostly just have to tuck her back in and give her the pacifier, and then I stumble down the hall back to my room. Yay!

Anyway, I walked into the office last night to sit and tell you all this. Except when I turned on the computer monitor, I discovered at least 50 of these flying ant thingys congregated on my screen. I had left our window open to enjoy the night breeze and I guess these disgusting creatures came through the screen.

Sometimes I really hate the desert.

As you can imagine, I handled it real mature like and quietly. (Ya, right.)

I grabbed the nearest stack of bills and began screaming and whacking away like it was a scene from Braveheart. When it was over I surveyed the damage. There was one missing F18 key from my keyboard and a lot of dead bug juice, but for the most part my computer was okay. Me and my mental state however, did not fare as well. I took a shower to wash away the heebie jeebies and retired to the couch to watch The Office. Dead bug juice, I decided, could wait until daylight.

So that's why I didn't post last night. I'm sure you were all real disappointed, all 14 of you.

Have I mentioned how much I appreciate those of you following me? And anyone who reads this excuse of a blog? Thank you so much. Mr. C said I haven't been delivering lately, so to you, I apologize. I'll get back on track. To him, I say that he wouldn't be able to put an interesting sentence together either if it'd been him being sleep deprived for the last couple of weeks/years. So there, Mr. C.

In all fairness, I asked him if I'd been delivering. He gave me an honest answer. I just like to twist things around and make him look bad for some reason. It's a sickness, probably left over from my Dr. Phil daydreaming days.

Anyway.

Final note (cuz it's been 45 minutes instead of 15 and the baby didn't take a nap and instead wrote on herself with pen while I sat 12 inches away from her and remained oblivious): Mr. C got an offer to teach for a few weeks in China this summer. He and I have always talked about wanting to take the kids abroad, but I was hoping for Italy. Or Austrailia. Or Spain. China is way, way, way down on my list- like maybe right above Iraq. What do you guys think? Am I balking on a good opportunity here?

You all have a good day.

My Favurit Presnt

Hey there!

So. Mother's Day. How was yours? Mine kind of rocked.

We ended up going to the beach and staying overnight at a hotel. In the morning, Mr. C took the kids to Mickee D's while I stayed in the room and ordered room service. I got to spend the morning curled up in a big fluffy bed reading, drinking coffee, and eating croissants.

Yes, it was as wonderful as it sounds.

I also got a new camera (YaY!), a mini rose bush with my favorite kind of roses (yellow with red tips) and a couple of sweet cards. My most favorite gift, however, came from my girl Princess G. Her teacher bound a "cookbook" filled with recipes that were dictated to her by the students. She asked them, "What's your favorite dish that your Mom cooks for you?" What came out of the kids' mouths was so sweet and funny that it almost hurts my heart.

Here's PG's page:

How cute is that? My favorite part was the whole "5 degrees for 1 hour" bit. I know our gas bill would be a lot nicer if we could cook everything that way.

Reading through the recipes reminded me of how much I miss looking at kids' writing. When I was a Kindergarten teacher, it was one of my favorite things to do. There is something so sweet and innocent about the way beginning spellers write their thoughts.
Anyway, I thought you might get a kick out of looking at some of the cuter ways that kids' spelled the different dishes. Of course, it's not the same looking at it in typewritten font. You kind of have to close your eyes and imagine it written in lots of backwards letters by a tiny hand gripping a fat No.8 pencil, with the author's tongue stuck out in concentration.

See if you can guess what these say:

1. coclitp cez
2. spugite
3. bastpgty
4. rikskprs yith spekos
5. banam slpes
6. bak shugr cokes
7. kupkx
8. cesadeuz
9. bunanu mufis
10) fitos

Here's your answers:
1. chocolate chip cookies
2. spaghetti
3. not sure, but it's either "best spaghetti" or "basghetti". I'm hoping it's #2. Kids with lisps have a special place in my heart.
4. rice crispies with sprinkles
5. banana splits (but I love that the student wrote it out as "banana slips")
6. baked sugar cookies
7. cupcakes
8. quesadillas (this one was my fav. maybe it was the z they threw in there at the end.)
9. banana muffins
10. I know you thought it was Fritos, but it's actually "french toast".

See? Is your heart all melt-y and soft? Or did I just end up making you hungry?

Either way, you all have a good night!

I See How It Is

Well, if there was a Santa Claus that came around for Mother's Day, I would've just gotten the equivalent of a stocking full of coal.

I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes just now while my kids were all playing (surprisingly well) together. I hear J call out, "Mama!" so I turn around and say "Hmm?". He glances at me, waves his hand dismissively and says, "Oh, not you. I was talking to the Fun Mama."

Fun Mama?

Princess G sees the look on my face and explains, "Yes, we're playing family and I'm the fun mama. We do all this fun stuff all day long."

I see. Well, this "unfun" mama has to finish washing towells, packing beach bags and toys, get her crew dressed, and pack a lunch so that we can have a fun day at the beach.

Fun mama. Hmph!

Happy Mother's Day, to all you fun mama's out there.

20 Minutes

Today was a terrible, awful, no good day with a happy ending. It started with the damn cat crawling into my pantry and eating a loaf of bread (plastic wrapping and everything) like a nasty little feral raccoon. And it culminated this evening with a phone call from my brother-in-law saying that my sister had been in a bad car accident.

I was staying very calm and together until he described the accident to me and I heard the words "spun out" and "Highway 62". That's when I started shaking, because much of Highway 62 is 2 laned, narrow, and somewhat curvy. There is not room for anyone to spin out and be okay on that highway. I ran out to the garage to where Mr. C was, hurriedly gave him directions on how to finish up dinner, and then got in my car to drive the 20 minutes it would take me to get to the hospital.

In that time, I had a million thoughts running through my head. While my brother-in-law had already told me that she was conscious and talking, all those "what if" scenarios were having their way with me: What if she has a brain injury? What if she has internal bleeding? Joe had said that she was extremely disoriented, so I worried that she would have amnesia. What if what happened to Natasha Richardson happens to her? What if she dies?

I need my sisters. No one is going to listen better, laugh harder, or be more honest with me. We are a trio. Though we all are married with new last names, our mutual friends still refer to us as "The Herrington Girls". We grow up with the same parents in the same household, yet we are each completely different. I'm the old bossy one, Sara's the nutty fun one, and Karen is the quiet responsible one. She'll fool you with her shy exterior-once you get to know her, you'll find her witty and sarcastic. She's a devoted aunt, an athlete, and a good cook. If I didn't have her, I wouldn't have anyone to make fun of mom with.

Kidding, mom.

Anyway, I met my dad and brother in law at the hospital. My dad took one look at my face and said "She's going to be okay, Tacy." Then I felt better because I knew he wouldn't lie to me. And sure enough, 4 long hours later they came out and told us that the CatScan showed no broken bones or signs of internal injuries. As far as I'm concerned, this is a miracle. You would think so too if you saw her car. It's front end is completely gone.

So, do me a favor tonight. If you're reading this and you're fortunate enough to have a sister, just take a moment right now to be extra grateful for them. I know that the bond I've got with my sisters is unique to us, but that the bond that sisters in general share is a universal thing. Ain't no love like sister love. Amen!

By the way, they let Joe go in first to see Karen tonight and when he came back out he told me that she said I could go see her on one condition: that I didn't cry. Well, phooey on you, Karen. Here's what you don't know: I got it all out in those 20 minutes.

You all have a good night.