Friday, April 24, 2015

Cat shows, drug overdoses, puberty, aqua alpha romeos, and restaurants

Yesterday I was at a professional convention in Raleigh.  During the "lunch own your own" time my friend and I decided to get a pedicure.  We went to a pedicure spot in a small neighborhood strip mall in Raleigh, which was recommended to me by a friend.  She described it as a great bargain b/c it costs 25 dollars and they really massage your legs and feet for a long time.
All of that was so true.  It was, by far, the BEST pedicure I have ever had (I think I have probably had five).  Those people knew some things about massage--and pressure points and...they really did a great job!
During the pedicure, which lasted 50 minutes ladies from this neighborhood were cruising in and the workers greeted them all by their first names.  I could tell that this was a happening neighborhood nail salon.  It was familiar, and comfy.
The conversations the clientele had, however, were somewhat bizarre, and they distracted from the enjoyment of the pedicure, especially for my friend.  The ladies chatted non-stop.  They talked about owning and breeding exotic cats.  One of the girls told a long detailed story of her brother who was found dead in the yard from a drug overdose.  A lady two chairs down from me told all about her daughter's growth, and lack there of b/c she had started her menstrual cycle--poor thing is topping out at five feet.  This particular lady went on and on.... The same lady who told about the cats told about her aqua blue alpha romeo.  She was taking a trip down memory lane and she told all about that car.  Then once they ladies involved us in the conversation they told us about all of the restaurants in that area of Raleigh and gave us food recommendations.
There was a whole lotta talking going on in that place.
It was a hoot!

Friday, April 10, 2015

How do you finish your bowl of cereal?

I don't think about it too often, but this morning my mind went straight to it.  Does how a person finishes their bowl of cereal say anything about thier raising, or their level of conscientiousness (is that a word?), or does it indicate nothing at all?  The thing that brings this up is that when I was little--well, that was a big deal!  My mama made us pick--either drink the milk and get rid of the whole contents, or just don't eat cereal.  You see, she despised having to dispose of something that looked like the image here.  First of all, you were wasting milk (you should drink it), second of all who in the world should have to stand at the trash can and pick out the soggy bits you left in the bowl? (she sure as hell was not going to do it, I can tell you that!)  This taught me several things.  The first lesson it taught me was to plan!  Plan!  Please, pick a cereal at the grocery store that makes a yummy mix with milk--for me this was something cinnamony (another made up word), or even raisin bran--b/c it made a good soggy mix.  Things like lucky charms might look enchanting on the commercial, but those wheat bits were not good once they were the left over soggy bits in the milk.  SO, Plan!  Know that Mama was not gonna empty that bowl of leftover bits for you, and plan accordingly.  This also taught me respect.  Why should I sit and half-ass eat something, and then leave something behind for my Mama to have to clean up.  We could not, by the way, dump stuff like this in the sink.  Garbage disposals were not invented then (tongue in cheek), and my Mama was meticulous about not putting any food scraps in the drain.  If one had qualms with this, once could not have milk, one could not have cereal, that was fine.  BUT if you chose milk and cereal, that bowl had better be empty when you put it in the sink.  
As I have grown up it has been a casual habit to observe others and how they eat their cereal.  You can imagine that I have had many opportunities.  Think about it, camp, college orientation, conventions, etc.  When I see cereal finishers I automatically think, "their mama must have been picky like mine was."  When I see people who leave scrappy bits behind...I think "they must have had one of those accomodating mothers who tolerated lots of scrappy bits."  This might be a fair assessment, but it is the one I make.  I can almost predict who will be cereal finishers and who won't be.  Now, I get thrown for a loop when I am out and no one eats cereal--I don't anymore, to be honest b/c I don't drink milk.  
Sometimes I have to keep myself in check.  Every now and then I find myself at the trash can picking out cereal bits out of milk.... This tells me I am slacking on the job.  You see I don't want my children to make others have to pick their scrappy cereal bits out the their bowl of milk.  Of course I mean this in a very broad sense.  These things start out small (cereal in milk), and they end up big--a sense of entitlement that makes one think it is okay to leave a trail of scraps behind for others to clean up.  
No one should have to clean your scraps, not even the people who are paid to clean off hotel convention center tables, not even the camp counselors...no one.
When I was little I could go to my aunt's house and eat my cereal how ever I wanted.  Was this nice?  YES!  I could eat it a whole box at the time...I could leave scrappy bits by the sink, and go play in the lake.  She would never say a word, but I rarely did--b/c I knew better.  Even though Aunt Betty would not yell at me and act crazy like my mama, I knew better.  When I did not feel like eating soggy Lucky Charms out of my milk and my sister had chosen Lucky Charms did I want to live in a different house?  Maybe.  But somewhere in the recesses of my mind I knew that that was silly.  I knew that my Mama was right.  
This morning I am keeping my friend's children.  One of them hinted that she did not finish her cereal at home (i.e. she wanted some more)  So, I fixed her a bowl of cereal.  She ate it and as she was eating this post came to mind.  She finished the whole bowl, by the way. ;).
Could I say that of my kids?  Well, lets see, Victor finishes his...Elena does not take milk...and Eva, well I am not sure, to be honest. 
What about y'all?  When I think these things up I also think--that is so crazy!  What did your Mama make you do, if anything at all?  And rest assured if you do not make cereal to life connections I don't care a hair! :).

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Baggage and lists--attempt number two

Every day my life is just full of baggage...and lists.  My wall beside of my desk--a collection of lists.  Having mom brain requires having lists.  I do not try to remember anything, I make a list and I cross stuff off.  Sometimes, when my work is {not quite so gratifying} the act of crossing a name off a list is more satisfying than the completion of a task well-done.  
This is my purse.  It has a collection of {everything} a mom could ever need. 
This is my lunch bag.  Victor drew that art. 
Here is my Pre-K itinerant day bag--I pack therapy items and evaluation items in this one.
Here is my grocery bag--I use these at the grocery store, but sometimes if I have a haul going into work I bring them to work too.  
Here is my technology bag--for my laptop and my i-pad.  These were all lying around my office all in one day.  What a hoot!  It is a amazing to me that I keep all this straight, and ironic that my baggage system is the only way I keep it all straight.
Every situation has its very own {bag}.
Have a great day bloggy buddies! :)

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Let's clear this up --a vocabulary lesson

Regime--this is the word you use when you are talking about a dictator and their government etc.
This is the word that has to do with the period of time and situation of a ruler/dictator kind of person.
Regiment --Notice there is a "t" there.  Now this little word is the one you pick if you are writing about a group of soldiers.
A Regimen--now this word is the one you should use if you are talking about a regular routine or a routine that is going to become regular--you know a dietary regimen or a beauty regimen..etc.

Get it right--or pick a word you know how to use, people!! I see this error all the time and it makes me a bit crazy.

Easter in Wishington

Before the actual {official} move {home} Suzanne and Randy spent a nice, long week at their new home with their children.  That week would become unforgetable to Suzanne.  The kids were small --basically still both babies in retrospect.  The house had just been freshly painted and the floors freshly varnished.  The house smelled like a vat of chemicals.  It was also cold, and it was strange to be in the house where they would be living, but have travel bags with only a few of their clothes and articles of every day living.  No pots and pans were in the cabinets Yet.  They did have a coffee pot and some coffee...but they could only grill out.  Suzannes bestie did come for a visit with her two children and her husband, but this would quickly become a thing of the past.  After the official move home bestie seemed to always be in hiding somewhere...it  would dawn on Suzanne--eventually--that besties do not have to stalk their besties in order to have some time hanging out.  That was, by the way, a hard learned lesson.
Still, backing up to this simple Easter visit, Spring was in the air, and a big feeling of pure excitement!  From that week foward there were only eight more weeks til Suzanne would be living in her idyllic little town.
The chemical smell in the house was almost unbearable and almost suffocating.
Could this have served at a warning...for the air about the town of Wishington in general?
Nah!  b/c Suzanne was full of nothing but positive anticipation and plans.
In the meantime Suzanne had to go back to Saltineville and spend eight more weeks.  She spent the time in a small condo, occasionally hanging out with a friend who brought her two very inspirational books.  One of the books became the primary influential force for Suzanne's summer.  She became convinced that she would grow a garden and shop at a farmer's market.  Suzanne was quite used to being within 30 minutes of a Whole Foods, or maybe even right down the road from one. Now she was very excited about all things {garden} and all things home-grown.  Little did she realize that she was about to be trapped in the swamp with four choices for groceries --Wal-H3ll, the Pig, the comida Kitty, or the gas station (a popular choice in the town of Wishington).  
Eight weeks later Suzanne would arrive with her heirloom tomato seedlings, plans for a garden, a sense of optimism, and two toddlers.
The house felt damp and cold.  Could this have been a warning for Suzanne about the air about Wishington?  nah!  People in Wishington were sweet!  


Tuesday, February 17, 2015

The Bingo Board of Life

Which column are you in?
The other night we had to go to BINGO night, and I do mean HAD to.
Every single bingo night since there were bingo night obligations for us Andy has had to work. 
Generally, when I get home in the evening leaving again is just agonizing.
Bingo night, however, is a must.
It is the main family oriented PTA fundraiser of the year at one of our schools.
If I don't go, I feel like a major {POS}.
So there we were, on a Thursday night in the freezing wind hauling our cookies into
John Cotten Tayloe school for PTA night.

We traditionally do not win bingo.
AND until one has a child between the ages of 4 and 10, one might not realize that children in this age range maintain optimism that they are going to win --every round.
When that Kindle fire pops up--every child in the room is a winner --and then a devastated soul when only one board is the winner.
My children are getting better about this.
My very realist personality/mouth reminds them on the way there in the car, every time.
"Now you know, we are not going to win the kindle/ipad/{whatever}.  Just know that b/c then you won't feel so devastated when we indeed do not win.
Yes M'am, Yes M'am they say --or "OHHHKKAYYY MAMMAAAAA" (in that very you annoy the h3ll out of me voice).

We go, we at pizza, I visit with everyone--b/c in a small town every one in the room really does know eachother--several of them are my cousins, another couple are my old teachers, the rest are colleagues...
That part always ends up being fun to me! :)
So, at that point I am usually glad we have bingo night.

Last Thursday I was staring at the columns on the board--looking at the range of numbers in each column (15 per column)--and I realized--I am in the N column now!
Mrs. Hodges, my third grade teacher and Elena's too) brought her mother--her mother is 95, and is therefore no longer on the BINGO board! :)
My children --they are hanging out in the B column.
The craziest time of one's life, I believe, is the "I" column.
What do you all think?

Happy snow day bloggy readers--if you are all still out there! :)

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Did y'all know...

That people {sell} their kids??
This is how it was presented to me by a colleague.
This is the language she used, "Oh yeah and come tax time, people sell their kids."
I was FLAbbERGAsted, to say the least!
Of course I asked her what in the world she was talking about, and then
she and the teacher's asst. proceeded to tell me exactly how this happens.

Say a woman has eight children, no husband, and does not file taxes.
She will let another person--who the hell ever--probably a friend, who DOEs work
"claim" her kids on their tax form.
So that other person gets money back from having kids--
and then that person and the mom split the money!

Stuff like this makes me crazy!
Esp. since I sit across the table from moms ALL WEEk LONG, who quit school in ninth grade, have upwards of five kids, have never worked, have no husbands or spouses (and therefore no support at home), are homeless, dejected, demoralized, dependent.

It is all quite maddening.
I do wish that politicians would come and shadow people who actually work with the public so that THEy could see what {poor} looks like.
Pouring more and more money into programs--just makes people need more programs, apparently.
AND, when they can't get enough from a program, they can find some fraudulent manner to get more money.  The question is not Republican (no more programs!) or Democrat (more support via programs), but what should be done, completely differently so that poor people would take responsibility for their welfare, and not be completely institutionalized.
something needs to be done.  something completely different.

So. Sad.