I spent this whole week anticipating the fact that the 1 year anniversary of this blog was coming up today. I got the kids down early, set the DVR to record Modern Family, sat down to write, and then realized when I went back thru my archives, that I wrote the first post on Sept. 28th, not 29th as I had originally thought.
Day late and a dollar short. Story of my life.
So anyway, Happy Belated Anniversary to me. I know I've told those of you who I get to see in my every day life how much I love this blog. It's like a baby to me- except less exhausting and I didn't gain any weight giving birth to it, unless you count the pounds I put on this year with my kettle chip and wine obsession. (Which I don't.)
And please don't roll your eyes, because I know that I get repetitive with this, but I do so love those of you who check in and read me on a regular basis. Not to get all existential on you guys, but my favorite thing about this whole entire human experience is that everyone, everyone has a story. Wrap your brain around that. Everyone! And all I'm doing here is turning my daily life into little written stories, and you guys come and read them and then you come back again. I love it! Thank you!
Those of you who've been faithful followers this past year have been with me as I've joyfully abused the Power of Santa, learned way too much about alternative uses for breast milk, tried my hand at a cooking blog, and traumatized my children with the Tooth Fairy. By far however, the most eventful occurrence of this last year was when my stepson lost his mom to brain cancer. That was something that was so personal to 9 and Michelle's family that I almost didn't write about it. However, it was a personal thing for me too, and I was so grateful to be able to process it here on Meanie Mom. As I wrote at the time, it felt like something that was too big to stay in my head.
It's with that post in mind that I want to write the next few paragraphs.
I may call myself a Meanie Mom and I may spend a lot of time here on this blog complaining about the drudgery of motherhood- the clean up, the sleep deprivation, the fighting, the refereeing, the crazy schedule. But something has changed for me since last January. Sometimes when I'm frustrated with one of the little kids for whatever reason, and maybe I'm yelling at them, or maybe I'm huffing around, or maybe I'm slamming things and showing anger, I'll look up and see 9 in the room and I think "My god. What must he be thinking of me? Here I am having a conniption fit over the tiniest blip in our day, when his mom is not even here anymore. I must look so dumb to him." Then my mountains become molehills, and a new perspective comes into focus.
With October being National Breast Cancer Awareness month, and with it being this blog's anniversary, and since I'm not a big enough blogger to do giveaways and stuff like that :), I'd like to ask you guys to please just dedicate a few quiet moments of your day today to thinking of any mothers you may know who are battling or have battled cancer. Give them a sweet shout out in your mind. Thank them for their strength and for their bravery. Then please thank God, or Jesus, or Allah, or the Universe, or whoever you happen to pray to for another day with your own little mess makers.
I'll be thinking of Michelle and my big, tall, camaro-driving, Harley riding, beautiful, blonde Aunt Charna, who passed away in 2004 from breast cancer.
Who'll you be thinking of?
Good night!
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Teacher Talk Tuesday Edition: I Think Oprah's Pissed Me Off
I decided to go with Teacher Talk Tuesday as the title for my new weekly meme. It's boring, but to the point. Also, I've come to accept the fact that my mind is about as sharp as a dull Number #2 pencil, so little puns and school-related references (like the one I just wrote) use up all my brain power, thus leaving no room for me to come up with innovative post titles.
So sorry.
Anyway, before I pass on my weekly teacher tip to you, I have something to discuss. I've been feeling compelled to get back up on my soapbox lately. You know, the one about supporting our teachers? I faltered on my stance last week, realized a few things about myself, and then caught wind of the whole Oprah and "Waiting For Superman" thing and MAN do I have some things to say about that. So while I know that you guys (23 of you- thank you so much for reading!) don't check in here to read my political viewpoints, I do need to just say a few things and then I promise I will SHUT UP about the whole EDUCATION thing and just get back to trying to be humorous about mommy life.
Keyword: trying.
All right. First things first.
Last week I (hypothetically) complained about my daughter not getting a Star Student award. She got one last Friday, so obviously, as my husband reminded me many times when I was (hypothetically) complaining, I was overreacting just a tad.
Which I now see.
BUT. People, the teacher gave one away every single day, and we were on like, day 20 of school or something, and my kid still hadn't gotten one! So what was a mother to think (hypothetically)? Especially when I- er, I mean PG, really wanted the award so very badly?
I hope you're catching my tongue in cheek-i-ness here. I realized this week that I was morphing into those parents that I so disliked when I was teaching- the ones who tie up their own self-esteem and self worth into their kids achievements and end up giving their kids a complex? I hate that I'm capable of being that parent. Hate it.
But I am.
And I vow to stop it.
Let's just move onto the meaty part of my post.
I think Oprah's made me angry. I say "think" because I still haven't seen last Monday's Waiting For Superman episode, but I have watched the follow-up episode she ran on Thursday, and that made me angry so I'm assuming that Monday's episode would've made me want to kick a wall or something. I tried to find it on YouTube and was unsuccessful. If any one you happen to have a link, can you send it to me?
Anyway, for those of you who don't have a clue of what I'm talking about, on the 21st, Oprah featured the documentary "Waiting For Superman" on her show. The documentary is about the current state of public education in our country. Like I said, I haven't seen it, but people who have told me they walked away from it with these three points: a) the failure of the public school system falls largely on the teacher's shoulders, 2) Charter Schools are our only saving grace, and 3) Teacher Unions are evil.
Let me just address these 3 beliefs (and I'll try to be brief, although I could probably write an entire thesis on the topic).
1) It's the teacher's fault:
No. It's not. I'm going to tell you a story. It's my best example of why test scores aren't usually a reflection of a teacher's performance. I apologize if you're a real life friend of mine and have heard it (cuz I use this example a lot).
For the first 3 years of my teaching career, I taught in an extremely low socioeconomic area. Despite the amazing staff, excellent opportunities in professional development, and a great principal, the school tested in the low 700's. Maybe even in the 600's. I'm not sure.
Then, my principal got called to open a brand new school in a more affluent area. She took half her staff with her. The year we opened, we got the highest test scores in the entire district. Same teachers, same principal, different socioeconomic class- better test scores.
It's not the teacher's fault. It's about socio-economics.
In fact, I would go on to say that the teachers who stayed behind in the low-socioeconomic school deserve higher accolades. They return to school every year, every day knowing that they are going to deal with students who have unstable home lives, who haven't eaten since lunch the previous day, whose parents are in jail, or (worse), strung out on drugs. Many of these students don't speak English and their parents don't speak English. It may sound like I'm being dramatic to those of you who (like me) exist mainly in the middle class. I tell you though, that's truly the way of life in these areas. And while these good teachers exist at these schools, there are many factors beyond a teacher's control that affect their ability to get these students to a proficient level. These teachers are doing what they can for these kids on a personal level, on an individual level, yet on a school level they're still earmarked as "under performing."
Shame on you Oprah, for disgracing these "under performing" teachers and blaming them.
2. Charter Schools are the only answer:
I don't have much to say about this because I don't know much about charter schools. I do know that they don't have the same government restrictions that public schools do- which shows me that the less government is involved in education, the better.
3. Teacher Unions are evil-
This one burns me. Oprah featured a former Union Rep on the follow up show who said that she believed that Unions solely exist to keep bad teachers in the classroom. This woman was stupid. She is wrong. She had no right to appear on public television and make such a ludicrous statement. The teacher's union exists for the same reason that all unions exist: to make sure teachers are treated fairly. When I was working for the school district, the union went to bat for us to protect our health benefits, which were going to be taken away due to cut backs. During cutbacks they also negotiated for us, so that we could work with the district and reach financial agreements together, rather than just have our salary hacked to pieces without any rights or say in the matter.
Are there bad teachers? Of course. The same way that there are bad bankers, bad policemen, bad city officials. There are bad people in every profession. But I believe that the majority of teachers out there are good, good people who are dedicated to their profession and who now have to deal with an undeserved backlash because an extremely influential talk show host was irresponsible in her statements about how teachers are at fault for the failure of public schools.
And let's talk about that- are public schools failing? I believe most teachers would answer yes- but I also believe that teachers would be most excited about inciting change. They'd be first in line to get a conversation going on the topic. After all, they are just as stuck and frustrated in an outdated failing system as the students they are teaching. But they know that change does not start with more rules, more regulation, more blame, more finger pointing. In fact, I believe we are where we're at because there's been too much of that. We all need to start working together.
Parents! Teachers are awesome. Revere them and teach your children to revere them.
Teachers! Parents just want the best for their kids. It's your one very big responsibility to them. Remember that and make it your mantra every day when you open the door to your classroom.
Whew. Okay I'm done with my soapbox. I don't even have wind enough to write you a tip for the night. I'm just going to leave you with a little funny that a friend of mine sent me from her trip to San Diego. It's a list of duties for a 19th century school teacher.
This person? In dire need of a union.
Have a good night!
So sorry.
Anyway, before I pass on my weekly teacher tip to you, I have something to discuss. I've been feeling compelled to get back up on my soapbox lately. You know, the one about supporting our teachers? I faltered on my stance last week, realized a few things about myself, and then caught wind of the whole Oprah and "Waiting For Superman" thing and MAN do I have some things to say about that. So while I know that you guys (23 of you- thank you so much for reading!) don't check in here to read my political viewpoints, I do need to just say a few things and then I promise I will SHUT UP about the whole EDUCATION thing and just get back to trying to be humorous about mommy life.
Keyword: trying.
All right. First things first.
Last week I (hypothetically) complained about my daughter not getting a Star Student award. She got one last Friday, so obviously, as my husband reminded me many times when I was (hypothetically) complaining, I was overreacting just a tad.
Which I now see.
BUT. People, the teacher gave one away every single day, and we were on like, day 20 of school or something, and my kid still hadn't gotten one! So what was a mother to think (hypothetically)? Especially when I- er, I mean PG, really wanted the award so very badly?
I hope you're catching my tongue in cheek-i-ness here. I realized this week that I was morphing into those parents that I so disliked when I was teaching- the ones who tie up their own self-esteem and self worth into their kids achievements and end up giving their kids a complex? I hate that I'm capable of being that parent. Hate it.
But I am.
And I vow to stop it.
Let's just move onto the meaty part of my post.
I think Oprah's made me angry. I say "think" because I still haven't seen last Monday's Waiting For Superman episode, but I have watched the follow-up episode she ran on Thursday, and that made me angry so I'm assuming that Monday's episode would've made me want to kick a wall or something. I tried to find it on YouTube and was unsuccessful. If any one you happen to have a link, can you send it to me?
Anyway, for those of you who don't have a clue of what I'm talking about, on the 21st, Oprah featured the documentary "Waiting For Superman" on her show. The documentary is about the current state of public education in our country. Like I said, I haven't seen it, but people who have told me they walked away from it with these three points: a) the failure of the public school system falls largely on the teacher's shoulders, 2) Charter Schools are our only saving grace, and 3) Teacher Unions are evil.
Let me just address these 3 beliefs (and I'll try to be brief, although I could probably write an entire thesis on the topic).
1) It's the teacher's fault:
No. It's not. I'm going to tell you a story. It's my best example of why test scores aren't usually a reflection of a teacher's performance. I apologize if you're a real life friend of mine and have heard it (cuz I use this example a lot).
For the first 3 years of my teaching career, I taught in an extremely low socioeconomic area. Despite the amazing staff, excellent opportunities in professional development, and a great principal, the school tested in the low 700's. Maybe even in the 600's. I'm not sure.
Then, my principal got called to open a brand new school in a more affluent area. She took half her staff with her. The year we opened, we got the highest test scores in the entire district. Same teachers, same principal, different socioeconomic class- better test scores.
It's not the teacher's fault. It's about socio-economics.
In fact, I would go on to say that the teachers who stayed behind in the low-socioeconomic school deserve higher accolades. They return to school every year, every day knowing that they are going to deal with students who have unstable home lives, who haven't eaten since lunch the previous day, whose parents are in jail, or (worse), strung out on drugs. Many of these students don't speak English and their parents don't speak English. It may sound like I'm being dramatic to those of you who (like me) exist mainly in the middle class. I tell you though, that's truly the way of life in these areas. And while these good teachers exist at these schools, there are many factors beyond a teacher's control that affect their ability to get these students to a proficient level. These teachers are doing what they can for these kids on a personal level, on an individual level, yet on a school level they're still earmarked as "under performing."
Shame on you Oprah, for disgracing these "under performing" teachers and blaming them.
2. Charter Schools are the only answer:
I don't have much to say about this because I don't know much about charter schools. I do know that they don't have the same government restrictions that public schools do- which shows me that the less government is involved in education, the better.
3. Teacher Unions are evil-
This one burns me. Oprah featured a former Union Rep on the follow up show who said that she believed that Unions solely exist to keep bad teachers in the classroom. This woman was stupid. She is wrong. She had no right to appear on public television and make such a ludicrous statement. The teacher's union exists for the same reason that all unions exist: to make sure teachers are treated fairly. When I was working for the school district, the union went to bat for us to protect our health benefits, which were going to be taken away due to cut backs. During cutbacks they also negotiated for us, so that we could work with the district and reach financial agreements together, rather than just have our salary hacked to pieces without any rights or say in the matter.
Are there bad teachers? Of course. The same way that there are bad bankers, bad policemen, bad city officials. There are bad people in every profession. But I believe that the majority of teachers out there are good, good people who are dedicated to their profession and who now have to deal with an undeserved backlash because an extremely influential talk show host was irresponsible in her statements about how teachers are at fault for the failure of public schools.
And let's talk about that- are public schools failing? I believe most teachers would answer yes- but I also believe that teachers would be most excited about inciting change. They'd be first in line to get a conversation going on the topic. After all, they are just as stuck and frustrated in an outdated failing system as the students they are teaching. But they know that change does not start with more rules, more regulation, more blame, more finger pointing. In fact, I believe we are where we're at because there's been too much of that. We all need to start working together.
Parents! Teachers are awesome. Revere them and teach your children to revere them.
Teachers! Parents just want the best for their kids. It's your one very big responsibility to them. Remember that and make it your mantra every day when you open the door to your classroom.
Whew. Okay I'm done with my soapbox. I don't even have wind enough to write you a tip for the night. I'm just going to leave you with a little funny that a friend of mine sent me from her trip to San Diego. It's a list of duties for a 19th century school teacher.
This person? In dire need of a union.
Have a good night!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
It's the Heat's Fault
Allright. I know I haven't been giving this blog the attention it deserves lately, and that will be fixed soon (I hope). But I'd like to take a short moment here tonight and let you all in on just a few little things that've been on my mind. Such as, WHAT IS WITH THIS HEAT? WHERE IS MY FALL? I WANT TO MAKE CHILI WITH THE WINDOWS OPEN AND CRISP AIR COMING IN! I WANT TO WEAR JEANS AND DRINK MY PUMPKIN SPICE LATTE'S WITHOUT THE A/C RUNNING! I WANT PUMPKINS, CANDLES, COZY EVENINGS AND SCARY MOVIES!
That is what I want.
This is what I have:
freshly steam-cleaned carpets and one sick child who promptly threw up all over them.
a huge electric bill from running the a/c
a broken oven
a bad attitude
I have no patience for September in the desert.
Make.
It.
Go.
AWAY.
I'll talk to you all when I can be civil again.
Have a good night.
That is what I want.
This is what I have:
freshly steam-cleaned carpets and one sick child who promptly threw up all over them.
a huge electric bill from running the a/c
a broken oven
a bad attitude
I have no patience for September in the desert.
Make.
It.
Go.
AWAY.
I'll talk to you all when I can be civil again.
Have a good night.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Universe, Starring Mr. Miagi
Hi all!
And then the Universe would throw back it's head and laugh this big hearty laugh and it'd say something new age-y like, "Oh, patience little grasshopper. I'm just trying to show you that the cup of knowledge never stops flowing."
Or some crap like that.
Cause in my imagination The Universe totally looks like Mr. Miagi.
(What? I grew up in the '80's okay? Mr. Miagi is bomb.)
You know he is.
Anyway. Ever since I posted my Big Fat Soapbox post, I have been tested, tested, tested with situations from my children's teachers that have made me question if I didn't just feed my faithful readers (every single beautiful one of yous who I love and appreciate so much for reading my ramblings) a load of BS.
Should we stand united with teachers all the time, even when they hold out on rewarding your child with being a star student, even though your child has returned all homework, been on time, kept his/her name off the board, and been in uniform every day? And you have a sneaky feeling that it's because she/he is wearing TwinkleToe Sketchers, which do follow the dress code of the school, but your child's teacher, a self-proclaimed uniform Nazi and maker of her own personal dress code expectations probably doesn't like and is therefore waiting for your child to show up in Oxfords before she gives her star student honors? Should we?
That's a hypothetical situation.
Or how about the teacher who requires that parents purchase a $60 out-of-print textbook that she/he decided she wants to use for curriculum, even though you know, as a teacher, that technically that's illegal? This is not mentioning that she wanted the book by the 2nd week of school and there's 6-8 week shipping on it?
That's another hypothetical situation, by the way.
I've been arguing against myself in my head all week long, bouncing like a tennis ball at a Wimbledon Match: Parent camp! Teacher camp! Parent camp! Teacher camp!
Then I remembered that my main point in the Soapbox post wasn't that we should chose sides, it was that we should work together as a team. So, I guess I have to say that I'm still standing united- just not as enthusiastically as before. I'll probably go buy PG- er, I mean, a certain hypothetical child a hypothetical pair of white Keds from Payless so she can get her dang hypothetical award.
Hypothetically, I'll feel a little bullied about it, but you know, the pedestal and everything.
Rah, rah pedastools.
Also, this has made me realize that I want to write a little weekly meme (pronounced meem- not me-me, as I first thought) that would include tips that I learned as a teacher and would be helpful for us parents to know. Things like decoding the teacher remark section of the report cards, or tips on how to help your child pick a book that is at the right reading level for her. Things like that.
Only, I need help thinking of a name for it. I initially wanted to go with some kind of Double Agent theme- you know, since I'm kind of like an educator who's on the inside of the parent world and a parent on the inside of the educator world? Like GoldFinger/GoldApple kind of thing?
I actually just ran that one by Mr. C and it got a big thumbs down. So never mind.
Any ideas you guys have would be greatly appreciated. Leave me a comment.
Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
(Another great 80's reference. I'm on fire tonight.)
You all have a totally awesome night!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Weird Day
Hi guys.
Weird day today, so I'll keep it short. Here's why today was weird:
1. I had to go to the courthouse this morning to deliver documents for my mom. At the entrance, I heard a bunch of yelling, but could see nothing but a petite woman in a magenta suit walking briskly towards a flagpole. She was pulling a rolling briefcase, so I thought she was a lawyer. It wasn't until I saw her begin to repeatedly kick the flagpole that I realized that a) the yelling was coming from her, b) she was yelling at an invisible person and c) "she" was a he. Thankfully, security took her away before she got behind me in line at the metal detector. I don't do well with the mentally ill.
This is despite the fact that I work in a therapist's office 2 days a week.
Go figure.
2. One of our boxers had to be put down on Tuesday. This isn't funny at all, but it has been weird all day seeing one leash hanging in the garage, one food bowl sitting empty, one dog bed in the corner. Maybe next week I'll write a memorial post for her, but not today. Everything still feels too weird.
3. Our air is out. This is not weird, just annoying. But it adds to the overall weird out-of-wack feeling that has been today. It was too hot for the kids to sleep in their bunk beds, so they're camped out in our bedroom in front of the open slider. I'm going to go join them and toss, turn, and hope that the ceiling fan makes it cool enough for me to get some sleep.
Happy Friday, everyone! You all have a good night!
Weird day today, so I'll keep it short. Here's why today was weird:
1. I had to go to the courthouse this morning to deliver documents for my mom. At the entrance, I heard a bunch of yelling, but could see nothing but a petite woman in a magenta suit walking briskly towards a flagpole. She was pulling a rolling briefcase, so I thought she was a lawyer. It wasn't until I saw her begin to repeatedly kick the flagpole that I realized that a) the yelling was coming from her, b) she was yelling at an invisible person and c) "she" was a he. Thankfully, security took her away before she got behind me in line at the metal detector. I don't do well with the mentally ill.
This is despite the fact that I work in a therapist's office 2 days a week.
Go figure.
2. One of our boxers had to be put down on Tuesday. This isn't funny at all, but it has been weird all day seeing one leash hanging in the garage, one food bowl sitting empty, one dog bed in the corner. Maybe next week I'll write a memorial post for her, but not today. Everything still feels too weird.
3. Our air is out. This is not weird, just annoying. But it adds to the overall weird out-of-wack feeling that has been today. It was too hot for the kids to sleep in their bunk beds, so they're camped out in our bedroom in front of the open slider. I'm going to go join them and toss, turn, and hope that the ceiling fan makes it cool enough for me to get some sleep.
Happy Friday, everyone! You all have a good night!
Monday, September 13, 2010
Surprise, Surprise
I am SO happy it's September 12th. Want to know why? Because yesterday, on the 11th, me and Mr. C's side of the family threw a surprise 40th birthday party for him and I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO BLAB ABOUT IT FOREVER!
But I couldn't.
Because it was a surprise. And because sometimes Mr. C checks in and actually reads my blog and I couldn't blow it here on Meanie Mom.
So, in this whole process I've learned two things. Actually it was more like one and a half things. I already knew that I hate planning parties. I wish I could be the kind of party planner who's laid back and takes things in stride, but I'm not. Party planning turns me into a freaky ball of stress. And when I say "freaky ball of stress", I mean take what you think a freaky ball of stress would like on a person, square it, then multiply that by 10, and you're halfway to the hot mess that is me planning a party.
So, the half point beyond the fact that I hate party planning is that I really hate planning a surprise party. More specifically, I hated planning Mr. C's surprise party. This is because as I disintegrate into my quivering mess of insecurities and neurosis, there is only one person in the whole world who I trust to witness me in this pathetic state- and that would be my husband. And while I'm sure he'd be glad to give that honor up to someone else, I REALLY NEEDED him to vent to.
(See how I take something that's supposed to be nice for someone else and turn it into being all about me? It's a talent o' mine.)
Besides, there were just some things that I felt he needed to know. Like when my brother in law sent over a slideshow that he made for the party. I opened it up and watched a bunch of pictures of Mr. C flash on the screen and OH MY GOODNESS all of a sudden it was like I was looking at J! And I wanted to run to Mr. C the minute he walked in the door that day and say "OUR SON IS YOUR MINI ME! IT'S EERIE! IT'S UNBELIEVABLE! IT'S AWESOME! COME LOOK!"
No, really. Look:
Isn't that nuts? Wouldn't you want to blab all about it to your husband, if you were me?
It's amazing that I held my tongue. Worthy of a medal, really.
The other thing I learned through this whole venture is that if one is going to throw a surprise party, follow the KISS method- which, for those of you who haven't heard this before, stands for: Keep It Simple, Stupid.
Stupid is right. Because after I broke into his email and Facebook accounts to steal his contact's info, I had to:
1. Lie to him about not doing much for his birthday.
2. Coordinate baby sitters for my kids and my nieces and nephews.
3. Play it cool when he told me that he RSVP'd yes to a work party that coincided with the surprise party.
4. Let him think we were going to the work party and tried not to panic upon learning that it was a costume party as well and that he was planning on wearing a costume.
5. Track down the email for the host of the work party, write her, and let her know that we wouldn't really be coming to her party, but to not say anything to Mr. C about it, and then feel slightly awkward about not inviting her to Mr. C's party.
6. Call the restaurant to find out the cost of using an LCD projector & then almost choke upon learning that it would be $265 minimum.
7. Track down a free LCD projector and amp.
8. Lie to him about my whereabouts on the day of the party while I ran around finishing last minute details.
9. Smuggle a 6' x 8' foot slideshow screen out of the house.
10. Talk him out of wearing a costume.
11. Let him think we were driving 9 to the restaurant for a friend's party.
12. Pretend to have to pee so that he would park the car and come in. (And I do believe that that was an Oscar winning performance.)
And of course, during all this there were a million other things going on as well which caused me to whine on the phone to my mother, "WHY does this have to be a surprise? Can't we just tell him?"
Upon which she reminded me that this is not all about me.
I swear, I keep forgetting that.
Anyway, I'm sure you're all wondering whether or not Mr. C was surprised. And the answer is........
not in the slightest.
Which made me want to strangle him.
Instead I just ordered a big glass of wine and enjoyed the rest of the evening. I also made a mental note that for his 50th, I'm going to send him on an Outward Bound Vacation or something.
That way I can just lay around the house with my Kettle Chips and wine.
You all have a good one!
But I couldn't.
Because it was a surprise. And because sometimes Mr. C checks in and actually reads my blog and I couldn't blow it here on Meanie Mom.
So, in this whole process I've learned two things. Actually it was more like one and a half things. I already knew that I hate planning parties. I wish I could be the kind of party planner who's laid back and takes things in stride, but I'm not. Party planning turns me into a freaky ball of stress. And when I say "freaky ball of stress", I mean take what you think a freaky ball of stress would like on a person, square it, then multiply that by 10, and you're halfway to the hot mess that is me planning a party.
So, the half point beyond the fact that I hate party planning is that I really hate planning a surprise party. More specifically, I hated planning Mr. C's surprise party. This is because as I disintegrate into my quivering mess of insecurities and neurosis, there is only one person in the whole world who I trust to witness me in this pathetic state- and that would be my husband. And while I'm sure he'd be glad to give that honor up to someone else, I REALLY NEEDED him to vent to.
(See how I take something that's supposed to be nice for someone else and turn it into being all about me? It's a talent o' mine.)
Besides, there were just some things that I felt he needed to know. Like when my brother in law sent over a slideshow that he made for the party. I opened it up and watched a bunch of pictures of Mr. C flash on the screen and OH MY GOODNESS all of a sudden it was like I was looking at J! And I wanted to run to Mr. C the minute he walked in the door that day and say "OUR SON IS YOUR MINI ME! IT'S EERIE! IT'S UNBELIEVABLE! IT'S AWESOME! COME LOOK!"
No, really. Look:
It's amazing that I held my tongue. Worthy of a medal, really.
The other thing I learned through this whole venture is that if one is going to throw a surprise party, follow the KISS method- which, for those of you who haven't heard this before, stands for: Keep It Simple, Stupid.
Stupid is right. Because after I broke into his email and Facebook accounts to steal his contact's info, I had to:
1. Lie to him about not doing much for his birthday.
2. Coordinate baby sitters for my kids and my nieces and nephews.
3. Play it cool when he told me that he RSVP'd yes to a work party that coincided with the surprise party.
4. Let him think we were going to the work party and tried not to panic upon learning that it was a costume party as well and that he was planning on wearing a costume.
5. Track down the email for the host of the work party, write her, and let her know that we wouldn't really be coming to her party, but to not say anything to Mr. C about it, and then feel slightly awkward about not inviting her to Mr. C's party.
6. Call the restaurant to find out the cost of using an LCD projector & then almost choke upon learning that it would be $265 minimum.
7. Track down a free LCD projector and amp.
8. Lie to him about my whereabouts on the day of the party while I ran around finishing last minute details.
9. Smuggle a 6' x 8' foot slideshow screen out of the house.
10. Talk him out of wearing a costume.
11. Let him think we were driving 9 to the restaurant for a friend's party.
12. Pretend to have to pee so that he would park the car and come in. (And I do believe that that was an Oscar winning performance.)
And of course, during all this there were a million other things going on as well which caused me to whine on the phone to my mother, "WHY does this have to be a surprise? Can't we just tell him?"
Upon which she reminded me that this is not all about me.
I swear, I keep forgetting that.
Anyway, I'm sure you're all wondering whether or not Mr. C was surprised. And the answer is........
Which made me want to strangle him.
Instead I just ordered a big glass of wine and enjoyed the rest of the evening. I also made a mental note that for his 50th, I'm going to send him on an Outward Bound Vacation or something.
That way I can just lay around the house with my Kettle Chips and wine.
You all have a good one!
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Big Fat Soapbox
Hi guys!
How's everyone surviving the beginning of the school year? This household is doing okay- except for the fact that Roo's sleep schedule is all messed up due to the 20 million hours she spends in the car with me while I drive everyone here, there, and everywhere. I'm also planning on hitting my therapist mother up for a prescription of Xanax to help me deal with the hell that is my daughter's school parking lot. 900 cars + 1 driveway= extreme parking lot rage. (That's a new medical condition that I'm taking the liberty to invent right now. It feels valid enough.)
By the way, me on a pms day in the middle of that mess? I believe there may be char marks on my dash from where I shot flames out my nostrils.
But enough about that. I wanted to write tonight about parent teacher relationships. This is a post that's been floating around in my head for a while, but it's proven to be difficult to write. There's not a lot of funny in it. In fact, if you'll forgive me, I've got a bit of a soap box to get up on.
But first I have a story to tell you.
Once upon a time, a long loooooooong time ago in the year 1981, there was a little six year old girl who had the meanest 1st grade teacher in the whole entire school. Maybe even the district. She never smiled, she was short tempered, and she once yelled at the little girl because she had tripped over the teacher's feet and inadvertently put a run in her stockings.
It wasn't that this teacher picked on this particular little girl. In fact, this little girl was probably one of her more favored students. It was just that this teacher was...... a sourpuss. She was like this with everybody. So, because of this, the little girl knew to take the mean teacher's coldness with a grain of salt. She didn't love her teacher, but she did leave first grade knowing everything she was supposed to have learned. She survived. And at the very least, the bar was set low concerning her expectations for her future teachers.
Thankfully, her future teachers turned out okay- give or take a few wack jobs.
One day, after the little girl was grown and had become a teacher herself, she had a conversation with her mother about her elementary school years. She brought up the mean old first grade teacher and was very surprised to hear her mother say, "Oh, that woman! She was one teacher of yours that I really didn't like."
"What???" she cried. "I never knew you didn't like her. Why didn't you ever say anything?"
And her mother just looked at her, shrugged, and said, "What would that have taught you?"
Jjjjshshhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. (That's the sound of a needle being pulled off a record)
Okay. So let's talk.
As the above story illustrates, I never had a clue if my parents harbored any negative feelings towards my teachers. They were very careful to present the idea of a united front -however much of an illusion that might have been. I knew that if I complained about a teacher to my parents, their response would be "Okay, well... how are you going to deal with it?"
*Just to be clear, the kinds of complaints I'm talking about are things like "The teacher gives too much homework." or "The teacher grades unfairly." I'm sure if I said something like, "Mr. So and so is inappropriate with the girl students.", they would've been down at the district office the next morning.
My parents kind of took a hard knocks approach-which I don't think is bad. Kids are tougher than we like to believe. I survived my witch of a 1st grade teacher unscathed. My mom related that it was disappointing for her to see me start off my education with someone so cold, but she didn't change my class because there were 19 other students in there with me, and who was she to feel like her child was entitled to something better over the other kids? Back then, I don't think parents worried so much about making sure their children felt "special". And let's face it, lately the word "special" has become a euphimism for "entitled".
Entitled children are a pain in the butt.
Not only that, but they are everywhere. You can tell who they are by taking a look at their parents. Just in this first week of school, I have heard earfuls of negative talk towards the teachers. At Back To School Night, I was conversing with the mom of a student in PG's classroom who told me in hushed tones that the teacher is still half in love with her first husband, even though she's on her second. And I thought to myself, "This is just all kinds of ugly."
Another example- a Facebook friend wrote that she came back from Back to School Night with a headache from the other parents who chose to spend the time arguing with the teacher about what their children do and do not need to be learning.
(Just so you know.... teachers don't get to choose what they teach. They have things called "Standards" that are handed down from the state and the federal government. So, if you don't like what's being taught, please don't blame the teacher. He/she is only doing their job. Write a letter to the Department of Education.)
And at least once I year Mr. C gets called into a parent/principal meeting with a parent who is angry about the fact that their child is failing a class. When Mr. C explains it's because the child has not turned in any work, the parent usually wants to know why they weren't informed of their child's failing grade. And that's when Mr. C holds up the progress report that was sent home in the previous week and says "This is how I inform you. It's a progress report- to let you know halfway through the semester how your child is doing."
Dummies.
I always wish that Mr. C would just call them that to their faces, but he never does. He's always very professional and boring.
I know I'm coming down pretty hard on parents right now. Trust me, I'm not saying that it's always the parents. I know that teachers can be a pain in the butt too- I was one once, so I know. But here's the thing. If my parents had let me know that they didn't like Mrs. D, I would've been less inclined to take her seriously. I would've thought "Well. If my parents (who are my whole 6 year old world) don't think this woman is on her rocker, than why should I give her my best?" As it was, I didn't like Mrs. D, but I sure did recognize her as an authority figure. As my teacher, I had her up on a bit of a pedestal- which is where I think teachers belong.
Teachers and parents are supposed to be partners. I know it's hard for us parents to give up some control and let another adult into our child's life, but it must be done. In the long run, that's what it's all about anyway- letting them go to experience the ups and downs of life.
So that's why, when PG's teacher sent home a form explaining classroom rules, expectations, etc. and stated her preference for school spirt shirts to be worn only on Fridays, though there's nothing in the uniform policy that says they can't be worn any day of the week, my first thought was: "Pssssh. What do I care what your preference is?"
And then I remembered the lesson my parents taught me. I need to present a united front with her teacher, no matter how silly or nit picky I believe it to be. If her teacher has a little quirk about uniforms, and all she's asking is that I save the school spirit shirts until Friday, then is it really so hard to oblige her? Because there's a bigger lesson for PG in this about respect. All I have to do is swallow my pride, and my daughter's teacher will stay up there on that pedestal- which is where both PG and I need her to be.
You all have a good night!
How's everyone surviving the beginning of the school year? This household is doing okay- except for the fact that Roo's sleep schedule is all messed up due to the 20 million hours she spends in the car with me while I drive everyone here, there, and everywhere. I'm also planning on hitting my therapist mother up for a prescription of Xanax to help me deal with the hell that is my daughter's school parking lot. 900 cars + 1 driveway= extreme parking lot rage. (That's a new medical condition that I'm taking the liberty to invent right now. It feels valid enough.)
By the way, me on a pms day in the middle of that mess? I believe there may be char marks on my dash from where I shot flames out my nostrils.
But enough about that. I wanted to write tonight about parent teacher relationships. This is a post that's been floating around in my head for a while, but it's proven to be difficult to write. There's not a lot of funny in it. In fact, if you'll forgive me, I've got a bit of a soap box to get up on.
But first I have a story to tell you.
Once upon a time, a long loooooooong time ago in the year 1981, there was a little six year old girl who had the meanest 1st grade teacher in the whole entire school. Maybe even the district. She never smiled, she was short tempered, and she once yelled at the little girl because she had tripped over the teacher's feet and inadvertently put a run in her stockings.
It wasn't that this teacher picked on this particular little girl. In fact, this little girl was probably one of her more favored students. It was just that this teacher was...... a sourpuss. She was like this with everybody. So, because of this, the little girl knew to take the mean teacher's coldness with a grain of salt. She didn't love her teacher, but she did leave first grade knowing everything she was supposed to have learned. She survived. And at the very least, the bar was set low concerning her expectations for her future teachers.
Thankfully, her future teachers turned out okay- give or take a few wack jobs.
One day, after the little girl was grown and had become a teacher herself, she had a conversation with her mother about her elementary school years. She brought up the mean old first grade teacher and was very surprised to hear her mother say, "Oh, that woman! She was one teacher of yours that I really didn't like."
"What???" she cried. "I never knew you didn't like her. Why didn't you ever say anything?"
And her mother just looked at her, shrugged, and said, "What would that have taught you?"
Jjjjshshhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. (That's the sound of a needle being pulled off a record)
Okay. So let's talk.
As the above story illustrates, I never had a clue if my parents harbored any negative feelings towards my teachers. They were very careful to present the idea of a united front -however much of an illusion that might have been. I knew that if I complained about a teacher to my parents, their response would be "Okay, well... how are you going to deal with it?"
*Just to be clear, the kinds of complaints I'm talking about are things like "The teacher gives too much homework." or "The teacher grades unfairly." I'm sure if I said something like, "Mr. So and so is inappropriate with the girl students.", they would've been down at the district office the next morning.
My parents kind of took a hard knocks approach-which I don't think is bad. Kids are tougher than we like to believe. I survived my witch of a 1st grade teacher unscathed. My mom related that it was disappointing for her to see me start off my education with someone so cold, but she didn't change my class because there were 19 other students in there with me, and who was she to feel like her child was entitled to something better over the other kids? Back then, I don't think parents worried so much about making sure their children felt "special". And let's face it, lately the word "special" has become a euphimism for "entitled".
Entitled children are a pain in the butt.
Not only that, but they are everywhere. You can tell who they are by taking a look at their parents. Just in this first week of school, I have heard earfuls of negative talk towards the teachers. At Back To School Night, I was conversing with the mom of a student in PG's classroom who told me in hushed tones that the teacher is still half in love with her first husband, even though she's on her second. And I thought to myself, "This is just all kinds of ugly."
Another example- a Facebook friend wrote that she came back from Back to School Night with a headache from the other parents who chose to spend the time arguing with the teacher about what their children do and do not need to be learning.
(Just so you know.... teachers don't get to choose what they teach. They have things called "Standards" that are handed down from the state and the federal government. So, if you don't like what's being taught, please don't blame the teacher. He/she is only doing their job. Write a letter to the Department of Education.)
And at least once I year Mr. C gets called into a parent/principal meeting with a parent who is angry about the fact that their child is failing a class. When Mr. C explains it's because the child has not turned in any work, the parent usually wants to know why they weren't informed of their child's failing grade. And that's when Mr. C holds up the progress report that was sent home in the previous week and says "This is how I inform you. It's a progress report- to let you know halfway through the semester how your child is doing."
Dummies.
I always wish that Mr. C would just call them that to their faces, but he never does. He's always very professional and boring.
I know I'm coming down pretty hard on parents right now. Trust me, I'm not saying that it's always the parents. I know that teachers can be a pain in the butt too- I was one once, so I know. But here's the thing. If my parents had let me know that they didn't like Mrs. D, I would've been less inclined to take her seriously. I would've thought "Well. If my parents (who are my whole 6 year old world) don't think this woman is on her rocker, than why should I give her my best?" As it was, I didn't like Mrs. D, but I sure did recognize her as an authority figure. As my teacher, I had her up on a bit of a pedestal- which is where I think teachers belong.
Teachers and parents are supposed to be partners. I know it's hard for us parents to give up some control and let another adult into our child's life, but it must be done. In the long run, that's what it's all about anyway- letting them go to experience the ups and downs of life.
So that's why, when PG's teacher sent home a form explaining classroom rules, expectations, etc. and stated her preference for school spirt shirts to be worn only on Fridays, though there's nothing in the uniform policy that says they can't be worn any day of the week, my first thought was: "Pssssh. What do I care what your preference is?"
And then I remembered the lesson my parents taught me. I need to present a united front with her teacher, no matter how silly or nit picky I believe it to be. If her teacher has a little quirk about uniforms, and all she's asking is that I save the school spirit shirts until Friday, then is it really so hard to oblige her? Because there's a bigger lesson for PG in this about respect. All I have to do is swallow my pride, and my daughter's teacher will stay up there on that pedestal- which is where both PG and I need her to be.
You all have a good night!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Green Juice
Okay- let me tell you all what I did today and then you can stand up and applaud when I'm finished.
Today I......
woke up at 6:30, showered, dressed, got kids up and fed, left to take PG to school at 8, dropped Roo off with my grandparents at 8:30, came back home to pick up my friend's daughter so I could drive her and J to preschool, went to work as a receptionist at my mom's office for 2 hours, dealt with a deeply narcissistic man on the telephone, practiced the art of showing grace (apparently, if I'm going to keep working there I'll need more practice), came back and did the whole Mom Taxi thing in reverse, went to my tutoring client's house at 4, tutored, came home, grabbed a quick bite, went to Back to School Night, went to the grocery store, came home, put kids to bed, and now I'm writing. With a glass of wine to my right.
I was impressed with my list until I realized that I'm not doing anything that hundreds of other moms aren't doing as well, and that made me realize that we all really need to band together and demand a higher salary.
Who's with me?
Anyway. I bet you're wondering what all this has to do with the title of this post. Well. Green Juice is something that my friend Alisha has been telling me about. It's a smoothie recipe that contains a cup of spinach, mixed with 3 other fruits and 8 oz. of yogurt. Her daughter (who I drive to preschool in the morning and who I love to make laugh because she has the greatest "preschooler giggle" ever) loves it. Alisha brought me a sample of Green Juice yesterday when she dropped Taytum off. She told me she was feeling like Supermom that day. So that's where the whole Supermom/Green Juice connection comes in. You sneak those veggies into your kids, it's quick, it's easy, they love the taste, and you feel like Supermom.
Just don't try to make a video of it, as I tried to do (in no less than 4 takes) yesterday.
Several things went wrong. 1) I didn't realize that I'm one of those people who turn every statement into a question? It's really annoying to listen to? I'm wondering how many friendships I've lost out on due to this annoying quality that's only recently come to my attention?
2) I talk really fast. To compensate, I'll write out the recipe for you all at the end of this post.
3) I apologize for the Star Wars Fighter Ship that J puts down right in the middle of the frame at the end. He didn't know his was blocking Camera A.
4) WHEN did I start looking so DANG OLD?
Anyway, here it is. See if you can manage watching it without covering up your eyes in embarrassment. I found it hard to do, myself.
Groovy Green Juice from Tacy Cauthron on Vimeo.
I guess it's a pretty safe bet to say that I'll never land a job at the Food Network. Oh well. Here' s the recipe for those of you who couldn't quite catch my valley-girl style mutterings.
Groovy Green Juice
1 cup of grapes
1 green apple, peeled and sliced
1 banana
1 cup of spinach
8oz. vanilla yogurt
Puree it in a blender and serve it up!
And like I said, you can use any types of fruit you want. I used apple, nectarine, and blueberries. Yum. I love being sneaky and making my kids eat their spinach. Like I tell them whenever we find ourselves locked in a power struggle of any sort: "Mommy will always win." Then, to myself I always add, "SUCKAS!!!!!"
You all have a good night!
Today I......
woke up at 6:30, showered, dressed, got kids up and fed, left to take PG to school at 8, dropped Roo off with my grandparents at 8:30, came back home to pick up my friend's daughter so I could drive her and J to preschool, went to work as a receptionist at my mom's office for 2 hours, dealt with a deeply narcissistic man on the telephone, practiced the art of showing grace (apparently, if I'm going to keep working there I'll need more practice), came back and did the whole Mom Taxi thing in reverse, went to my tutoring client's house at 4, tutored, came home, grabbed a quick bite, went to Back to School Night, went to the grocery store, came home, put kids to bed, and now I'm writing. With a glass of wine to my right.
I was impressed with my list until I realized that I'm not doing anything that hundreds of other moms aren't doing as well, and that made me realize that we all really need to band together and demand a higher salary.
Who's with me?
Anyway. I bet you're wondering what all this has to do with the title of this post. Well. Green Juice is something that my friend Alisha has been telling me about. It's a smoothie recipe that contains a cup of spinach, mixed with 3 other fruits and 8 oz. of yogurt. Her daughter (who I drive to preschool in the morning and who I love to make laugh because she has the greatest "preschooler giggle" ever) loves it. Alisha brought me a sample of Green Juice yesterday when she dropped Taytum off. She told me she was feeling like Supermom that day. So that's where the whole Supermom/Green Juice connection comes in. You sneak those veggies into your kids, it's quick, it's easy, they love the taste, and you feel like Supermom.
Just don't try to make a video of it, as I tried to do (in no less than 4 takes) yesterday.
Several things went wrong. 1) I didn't realize that I'm one of those people who turn every statement into a question? It's really annoying to listen to? I'm wondering how many friendships I've lost out on due to this annoying quality that's only recently come to my attention?
2) I talk really fast. To compensate, I'll write out the recipe for you all at the end of this post.
3) I apologize for the Star Wars Fighter Ship that J puts down right in the middle of the frame at the end. He didn't know his was blocking Camera A.
4) WHEN did I start looking so DANG OLD?
Anyway, here it is. See if you can manage watching it without covering up your eyes in embarrassment. I found it hard to do, myself.
Groovy Green Juice from Tacy Cauthron on Vimeo.
I guess it's a pretty safe bet to say that I'll never land a job at the Food Network. Oh well. Here' s the recipe for those of you who couldn't quite catch my valley-girl style mutterings.
Groovy Green Juice
1 cup of grapes
1 green apple, peeled and sliced
1 banana
1 cup of spinach
8oz. vanilla yogurt
Puree it in a blender and serve it up!
And like I said, you can use any types of fruit you want. I used apple, nectarine, and blueberries. Yum. I love being sneaky and making my kids eat their spinach. Like I tell them whenever we find ourselves locked in a power struggle of any sort: "Mommy will always win." Then, to myself I always add, "SUCKAS!!!!!"
You all have a good night!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)