bad mom

the day after

2009-11-27T09:29:00.000-08:00

As I try to be a not-rampant materialist, and as I try to hold on to my tenuous belief that humanity is not degenerating, I do not participate in Black Friday. I like to sleep in [again] and hope my children will bring me breakfast in bed; I make all kinds of fascinating plans in my head then roll over and resolve to at least enjoy the time I have to make plans, even if I do nothing.

My daughter wrote a poem for school this week that I begged her to let me share with you. I tried not to weep in front of her, because GAH, that'sembarrassing! But it reminds me that every little tiny thing I do is more noticed than I realize, and with great power comes great responsibility.

Thankfully I Am From

by Paige

I am from my stuffed animals.

From grapefruit-lavender shampoo and Skechers shoes.

I am from the warm, comfortable home where I find the smell of fresh.

I am from the occasional flowers on the dining room table.

I am from saying a prayer every night at dinner and in bed.

I am from watching every single football game on T.V. with my mom.

I'm from "Brush your teeth or they'll turn green and fall out!" and "I've told you a million times!"

I am from going to my Grandma and Papa's every spring break.

I'm from Vancouver, Washington and the Netherlands

and homemade chocolate chip banana bread.

I'm from my mom taking me to the mall and having fun

and my mom's Snoopy earrings in my jewelry box.

stuck

2009-11-24T21:27:00.000-08:00

I have been busy (relatively - there are scores of people whose whirling dervish lives make me want to weep), but mainly I have just been scattered. I imagine my brain right now looking something like a loofah, but being less useful.

Last week, I left my classroom on Thursday afternoon to fly to Dallas with my dad; I spent the weekend visiting with relatives, taking pictures of all the places I spent time as a kid in his hometown, meeting the unbelievably lovely & together Texan Mama, and watching the Cowboys game in ~~Heaven~~ the fantastic new stadium.

I want to share my pictures and tell all about Sunday afternoon, but my brain is fried. I start to compose thoughts & gather photos and I'm paralyzed; suddenly a thousand other tasks (urgent and not) elbow their way into my psyche - grade papers, revise lessons, enter grades, wash clothes, clean the kitchen, move furniture, drop off donations, e-mail someone, check Facebook, add new aps to iLover, stop by Blockbuster, shop for groceries, watch Survivor, sleep. Then when I choose a task to complete, the insane membrane convinces me that a different task is far more pressing. And in the meantime, I'm missing tea dates and craft parties and watching gratuitous chest shots in mediocre movies with girlfriends.

I have to find a way to focus. Wine works, right?

Guest Post number 6 or 7

2009-11-15T20:21:00.000-08:00

My wife is ~~never wrong~~ correct.

I love you babe.

-Stu

once upon another rainy day

2009-11-13T00:00:00.000-08:00

My phenomenal cyberfriend Texan Mama hosts a Flashback Friday and invited me to play. From two years ago this week, here is a thankful post about rain, friends, Stan Lee, and The Beatles. Enjoy, then go read more good old stuff.

_________________________________

Even though torrential rain & wind woke me early this morning - actually it was the neighborhood's garbage cans & recycling bins blowing around the streets that did it - I have managed to keep a sunny outlook. It's a free day and I decided to take advantage in many ways.

First, my best friends had invited me to go walking around a nearby lake this morning, letting our kids run wild ahead of us while we engaged in blissful mom-talk. Despite the scary storm sounds (and the prospect of actual exercise), I was looking forward to this adventure because...I got NEW BOOTS! Nothing makes inclement weather better like new shoes. They look basically like this:

We decided not to go walking after all but I wore the boots anyway. They were PERFECT for my trek across the street. I splashed through a puddle; it was delightful. I kind of want it to rain everyday now.

When our kids (7 total in one house, ages 6-11) exhausted themselves with free play, we plugged in Spider-Man 3. Mason was excited yet a little irritated that I was so willing to say "Okay" today when I've been putting him off for six months because our policy is for parents to screen PG-13 movies first (we haven't yet seen it; I know, we're lame). I gave him the simple choice of being snarky and smug and going home or being grateful and getting to see the movie with his friends. Because it was Mom Time, my girlfriends & I didn't watch but we did get into a philosophical discussion about how Stan Lee's characters and stories are so admirable. He brilliantly allows his heroes to have flaws and his villains to have redeeming qualities, just like real people. That was followed by talking about how cute Topher Grace and James Franco are.

After our morning & afternoon of fun fun fun, my darling (naturally introverted) daughter wanted to go home and watch A Hard Day's Night. She was already wearing her Beatles t-shirt and had listened to the Revolver album twice before we went to play with friends; it was now time to complete the homage to the Fab Four. I so love how much she is into them - she has a little Ringo figure along with the book and a model of Yellow Submarine; there is a poster of the Abbey Road album cover next to her bed; my mom found a magazine digest all about them, complete with a hologram picture of their faces on the front. She reads liner notes for fun and has a Beatles lullaby CD in her stereo alarm clock. It makes me wish we could travel back in time so I could take her to a concert, complete with screaming fainting fans and the sweet young faces of John, Paul, George & Ringo. Paige routinely remarks on which Beatles are dead, as if hoping something might have changed since we last discussed their status. I know it's not the most healthy strategy, but I prefer to dwell in the happy place where they were all alive and getting along, making amazing music. So we watched.

A rainy day, new boots, two movies, a bunch of candy, and friends. Perfection.

honor

2009-11-11T10:15:00.000-08:00

USS Arizona Memorial, Honolulu

photo by me, 2007

Thanks

by W. S. Merwin

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
smiling by the windows looking out
in our directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

haikuckoo

2009-11-08T10:20:00.000-08:00

I open my home to my good friend Jimmie and what does he do? Not just once (first on my birthday, which was really the ultimate insult) but TWICE - he beats me at the Audience Haiku Challenge at the Live Wire! Radio show.

Me trying to be a gracious loser

We both wrote to the theme "Mothers."
Jimmie's entry:
I love my mother
But she didn't breastfeed me.
That is why I'm gay.

I was tipped off that including something about boobs might get me a winner, so I went with this:
The nice moms smile sweet;
But bad ones show some cleavage.
Join the P.T.A.!

Sigh. Then my secret Live Wire! boyfriend ignored me (though my favorite writing workshop teacher Greg Robillard who does not think I'm a stalker used his back for signing my poster) and my cleavage.

But I had a delectable dinner before the show at Berlin Inn, and my delovely friend Holly & her family saved front row seats, and everything else about the evening was enjoyable.

The ~~young~~ handsome ~~young~~ talented band
The Lonely Forest from near my hometown
made up for my disappointment

I might invite Jimmie back for the December show; I'll have crutches then to beat him with if he wins again.

self-righteous do-gooder

2009-11-03T21:43:00.000-08:00

On the heels of dreaming about becoming an ass-kicking roller derby maven, I am here to flash my Upstanding Citizen card. Call me ~~schizophrenic~~ multi-faceted.

I did wait until the last day to fill in my squares (completely with blue or black ink) but I specifically did not leave my ballot to languish on the kitchen counter, race to arrive at the polling place by 7:59, nor park and allow my car to idle in the fire lane while I dropped my ballot in the box. Not that I'm judging anyone who happened to do any of those things.

But I am thinking about practicing my checking skills on those legions of moms who leave their engines running in the school parking lot every time I pick up my kids.

Okay, I'm judging.

rollergirly

2009-11-01T17:44:00.001-08:00

I broke away from my Cowboys game a tad early [they had achieved the healthy lead I personally requested] to go see Whip It with my bff Lisa and her fabulously fun friend Erika. I came home wanting to join a roller derby team.

I know, I'm a big pain baby prone to whining BUT I can take it if I really want to, and there are cute outfits/shoes involved. So I visited the website of our local Rose City Rollers and concocted crazy visions of myself kicking a little ass in the rink; I even checked the clock when I read that they're starting a boot camp tonight...Then I got a little scared.

For now, I am buying tickets to bouts and shopping for fan gear. Maybe soon I'll get brave enough to put skates on my Christmas wish list.

In my school colors! from Bruised Boutique

boo

2009-10-31T19:17:00.000-07:00

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

honesty

2009-10-30T10:49:00.000-07:00

Fellow teacher & mom Alison of Hairline Fracture bestowed upon me [long ago - sorry to be so late in acknowledging!] a gracious "Honest Scrap" award ~ either she thinks I'm brilliant in my content/design or I have encouraged her; whichever, I am pleased & honored & grateful. Now I must pass on the love and tell 10 honest things about myself. I can easily find other bloggers I love; not sure I can think of 10 things you don't already know about me...

When I started college, I had high hopes of becoming an advertising executive
I was a "50s girl" for Halloween at least 3 years in a row
I watched "Happy Days" and "Laverne & Shirley" religiously as a kid
I have never read Moby Dick, The Grapes of Wrath, or The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
I actually liked reading The Scarlet Letter
Reading notes & letters by Jane Austen, Virginia Woolf, and John Lennon at the British Library made me weep
If I could go back in time, I would choose to be at Queen Elizabeth's court or in the literary circle of Mary & Percy Shelley, Lord Byron, and John Keats
I have an embarrassingly stupid crush on Eminem
Biggest surprises of my life: having a daughter (I was convinced she was a boy when I was pregnant) and loving Paris (I thought it would be snotty & touristy & only marginally interesting)
Someday, I want to be a cartoon voice.

Rules to my fellows:

Say thank you and give a link to the presenter of the award
Share “10 Honest Things” about yourself
Present the award to 10* other bloggers whose blogs you find brilliant in content and/or design or to those who have encouraged you
Be sure to tell the 10* bloggers chosen that you are giving them the Honest Scrap award and provide the guidelines for them

*Or a number that you can reasonably accomplish in whatever mental/physical state you're in

My brilliant encouragers:

Mama Milton
So Not Zen
Traveling Through Time and Space
Motherscribe
Fond of Snape
Juggling Life
Don't Touch the Cactus!
Who Put Me in Charge of These People?
Yesterday, Today and Forever
katydidnot

(I like how the names of these blogs together make an odd little story...)

it's time

2009-10-30T00:00:00.000-07:00

1. It was a dark and stormy night, when I decided to wear my polka dot boots to get groceries & videos.

2. I discovered Grocery Boy & Geeky Cute Video Expert Guy got new jobs at the library, so I offered to take the books myself.

3. Rushing out, I forgot to grab my purse.

4. No money, no lip balm, NO iBoyfriend?? ...I think I heard a howl!

5. Shhhh...Best Husband Ever saves the day.

6. Arriving at home I playfully demand, "Give me something good to eat!"

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to being less sick, tomorrow my plans include a haircut and probably more rest, and Sunday, I want to rest a little more, in front of football games on TV.

More spooktacular Friday Fill-Ins

sick day

2009-10-29T13:56:00.001-07:00

The Teacher's Lament Haiku

Can do stuff sitting!

Thinking - I could go to school;

head spins when I stand...

I really, really hate not doing anything. And having other people do my job. But I keep telling myself staying home and resting is better than risking bodily harm [to myself & others...].

Stupid flu.

blech

2009-10-28T20:23:00.000-07:00

I'm a terrible sick person.

First of all, I hate admitting I am sick. Second, as much as I enjoy random pampering any other time in my life, I am sheepish about accepting the loving gestures of friends & family when I actually need it most. I even get a little grouchy about continued queries into my well-being; I like to believe that's part of the being sick and not that I am simply bitchy. Whatever.

But last week our principal kindly admonished the staff to TAKE THE SICK DAY if we start to feel crummy. You might think educators would be on top of the whole "Don't spread illness" and "You can't do your best when you don't feel your best" thing, and I'd like to say it's because we're so committed to our jobs that we keep showing up (it mostly is, really). However, part of our unmotivation to call a sub is the need to write sub plans; sometimes it is just easier to tough out the day rather than try remembering to tell our replacement about all the weird little nuances of each class and/or student. As a former substitute who has delighted in brilliant notes and experienced mild anxiety over nonexistent ones, I am vigilant about writing detailed plans. And that takes a bit of time & energy, a couple of things I tend to be lacking when calling in sick.

Today, though, I had a moment during 2nd period when I felt the familiar symptoms of passing out, which would be Not Good with capital letters. After having some lunch & hydrating, I felt less like fainting but then my head started hurting. By the end of the day, every part of me was throbbing and I had lost all connection with sensible teaching skills. I drove home, fell into an alarmingly deep sleep for 20 minutes, felt okay enough to have dinner with my best friend across the street, then rallied to arrange for a sub & write up lessons.

I'll spend tomorrow dozing, trying not to worry about what I left out of my plans, in hopes of feeling better for Friday. And not just because there might be a Happy Hour gathering after school.

Guest post #?, crap, I don't remember

2009-10-27T21:21:00.000-07:00

There are only a few songs that truly remind me of my wife. We don't really have "our song".

I always liked this song and the night I proposed to Stephanie, she gave me a compilation CD that she had bought from Nordstrom that day. We played it in my little truck before we went into dinner. She did not yet know she would be stuck with me from then on.

Our first dance at our wedding was to:

But the song that reminds me most of my wife is: (I know, I'm a pig...)

I put this as her ringtone on her new iBoyfriend when I call.

-Stu

homework

2009-10-26T22:10:00.000-07:00

Sorry, I can't play at my blog tonight because I have some research to do with these guys. I'm watching Equilibrium in preparation for Technology class. Then writing a thank you note to the student who suggested it.

Good evening, Mrs. S
May I pour you some more wine?

Yes, it is terribly hot in here;
mind if I remove my shirt, Mrs. S?

heading to the promised land

2009-10-25T22:39:00.000-07:00

My dad is treating us (meaning me & himself considering Stu could think of a thousand things he'd rather do than watch football) to a trip to Dallas for the Cowboys vs. Redskins game in November. I spent my Sunday trying to catch parts of the televised games while washing mountains of neglected laundry and searching for the best deals for our trip.

I am exhausted yet giddy. Thanks, Dad!

For God so loved the Cowboys fan...

iLover speaks

2009-10-24T21:55:00.000-07:00

I am glad to be your new best friend but others are getting jealous. Blockbuster guy misses you and the boys at Whole Foods don't have any beans to feel.

Remember to share me and take me out of the house to visit your other men.

Love,
Jude

(my hilarious husband sent this to me)

welcome, weekend

2009-10-23T00:00:00.000-07:00

1. The crickets sing, but I can never find them.

2. Be happy wherever you are.

3. I want to get far away from the madding crowd.

4. I woke up to a clean & organized house; this was a dream.

5. But as for me I choose peace (and an occasional Happy Hour for good measure).

6. This is where I come from.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to blissful after school gathering [cough*happyhour*] with colleagues, tomorrow my plans include lingerie shopping & a Broadway show, and Sunday I want to watch me some football.

Falling for Friday Fill-Ins

to the pain

2009-10-22T21:13:00.001-07:00

Let's just get this out of the way - I am a big baby about pain. Or, more accurately, impending pain. If I am spontaneously injured, I don't freak out or even draw attention to the injury. But the prospect of having to do something that will hurt? Sends me into ulcer-inducing drama.

When I had my first child, the idea of labor & delivery made me dizzy; I could barely attend the birthing classes because it was a constant indicator of The Pain To Come. Frankly, having an emergency C-section was actually a blessing - I had no opportunity to think about it and fret beforehand. As I did when scheduling and awaiting the C-section for my daughter's birth.

Now, I've been enduring increasing discomfort from an opportunistic bunion and have tried all the easy fixes like better shoes & putting my feet up at the end of the day, to no avail. My right bunion has started to ache constantly, sometimes sending darts of agony through my whole foot, causing me to actually limp. Limp. And so I have scheduled surgery.

Basically, I am and will be for the next 52 days worrying about having my foot cut open. At this very moment, my stomach is churning and the bunion is shooting electricity up my entire leg.

The only mildly good news? By some magical karma also enjoyed by Cheri at Blog This Mom!, my podiatrist/surgeon is sweet & cute. Though I suppose that will only make it more humiliating when I start sobbing during anesthesia.

changing seasons

2009-10-21T16:55:00.000-07:00

October 2003

October 2005

Fall for Wordless Wednesday

the air turns chilly
scarves appear; bonfires crackle
leaves fall lazily

a little medicine

2009-10-20T20:12:00.001-07:00

I found myself on a little laughing jag today, in the midst of my midday class. It was one of those things where I started to giggle then couldn't stop - a for-real laugh, not the usual grown-up teacher chuckle then back to business stance; the situation really was funny (a couple of nearby students joined in, which is what kept me going I think) but it was also as though I opened a valve that had rusted shut. With the nonsense of my former friend/divorcing husband and many students in a state of midterm shut-down, I guess I've been more closed off & stressed out than I realized. My class was at first amused with me in a "Wow, she's really laughing! That's cool" place, then I could see them start to be like "Um, is she going to hurt us? Should we start moving toward the door?" when I began to sound like a lunatic.

I got hold of myself and told a couple of my favorite jokes:

Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?

[because it was dead]

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Control freak.
Control fre --- THIS IS THE PART WHEN YOU SAY "CONTROL FREAK WHO?"

And all was well.

a dangerous place

2009-10-19T20:32:00.000-07:00

Last week a student joked that I "hated" someone in the class and I, always the one to leap on a potential lesson, remarked that hating people takes a lot of energy - almost as much as loving someone, really - and I am essentially a lazy person who would rather not expend energy on negative feelings. So my relational experiences boil down to I like/love you or I don't think about you enough to care.

Cut to the end of last week when my best friend's husband, who has been afflicted with something like ~~demonic possession~~ ~~dumb-ass syndrome~~ a mid-life crisis, made more specific moves toward divorce (talking about splitting assets & dividing property). Yet the day after these announcements of finality, while a few friends & I (including bff) lounged in the yard in the late afternoon, he arrived to pick up one of his sons, jumping out of the car making little jokes about having to help a neighbor with her computer, acting all fun-loving about dropping off wine and a magazine. Insert uncomfortable silence and polite half-smiles because hello, asshole, you are leaving your wife without explanation; we could, perhaps, someday be cordial grown-ups sitting in the same vicinity but right now? We are not in jokey moods.

I did not look at him. I wasn't sure if I might weep, and it occurred to me that I refuse (now - I have previously written loving, pleading, hopeful e-mails and spoken kindly on the phone in vain attempts to show I will welcome him back; they went unnoticed, as far as I know) I refuse to exhibit any softness toward him now - because he has not acknowledged my questions & thoughts; because he is unnecessarily cold & cruel to my best friend; because he denies any of his actions might affect his sons; because he refuses to slow down and talk with a counselor; because he has said out loud that he is ready & willing to lose his closest friends. And all of this makes me think, considering my definition of hate, that I am there.

I think about this man constantly, my best friend's husband, my former good friend - we often joked that he & I were so alike, in crazy ways like spending money and having just one more cocktail and staying out another hour while Stu & Jen were the frugal, judicious, practical ones. I think about what's going on in his mind, how we can help (kidnapping?), what will we do without him in our lives. Because I loved him, and maybe because I'm starting to hate him.

crushtastic

2009-10-18T22:28:00.000-07:00

I remember very clearly the first time I developed a crush that, well, shall we say stirred my loins. I was starting high school and somehow managed to see Class even though it was rated R. I fell hard for Andrew McCarthy (not Rob Lowe, like the rest of teenage girldom) and could not [still can't] get his sweet sensitive geekiness out of my erotic brain. I realize that the foundation of this decades-long crush is his eternal status as the underdog, the back-up guy, the cute-but-not-unattainably-gorgeous one; frankly, it's how I've done crushing ever since.

Seriously, those eyes.

Too perfect? I'm so hurt.

Sorry, Rob. This is how you do hurt.

P.S. I have specifically avoided the Mannequin & Weekend At Bernie's movies in honor of my original fantasy. So call me, Andrew; you're still my favorite wounded second stringer. I'll add you to my Potential Second Husband list posthaste.

P.P.S I believe we could trace my Cougarishness to Class. Honestly, I do remember wishing I were 20 years older than Andrew so he might want to have an affair with me, too. Moxilicious or pathetic, you decide.

wild psych session

2009-10-17T16:09:00.000-07:00

Loved, and continue to love the book - each of my kids has a copy, and I bought another for $1 at Goodwill so I could remove the pictures and post them around my classroom. Every spare word of Where the Wild Things Are resonates in my parental mind; whenever my son launches into an astronomical fit or my daughter dissolves into a wailing puddle, I think of Max in his wolf suit making mischief of one kind and another. I take a deep breath, banish them to their rooms, whisper how I'll eat them up, I love them so. And I make sure their supper is always waiting, still hot.

The trailers for the movie version made me weepy throughout the summer, with their sweeping cinematography and giant, lovable Jim Henson costumes and funky thoughtful soundtrack. I invested my memories and connections from the book into the film with sky-high hopes and while I wasn't exactly disappointed, I left feeling dissatisfied. As Mason put it when the lights came up, "That's it? He just comes home and eats cake while his mom watches him? I don't get it." We had questions about what next?, unlike we did after finishing the book, because the bulk of the movie is spent on Max's puzzling interactions with the Wild Things but not on what Max learns from the experience. When he comes home in the original story, he has left because he wants to be "where he is loved best of all" and it is clear he realizes wild rumpuses are not, ultimately, the meaning of life. In the movie version, Max abandons the Wild Things in a bit of a shamble, physically & emotionally, before running back to his frantic mom.

Not to get too Film Student deep about it, but I felt led to believe the Wild Things were meant to represent different pieces of Max's psyche: Carol, the loud & violent but still endearing leader, was the hurt & confused reactionary 9-year old boy; Judith was the passive-aggressive bully side of him; Ira was the quiet "Watch me do a great job and we can all just get along!" child of divorce; Douglas was the smart & practical Max who knew the right thing to do, even if he didn't always do it; Alexander (physically much smaller than the others) was the sensitive, insightful one everyone ignored. KW seemed to be like Max's mom - trying to find inspiration outside the group while keeping peace within, and protecting Max when the others were out of control. And there was another creature, gigantic but silent, always hovering around but never joining in; I grew weary trying to figure out his message.

And that, in the end, was the troublesome part of watching this movie - I felt like I was supposed to be 'getting it,' that each scene should be an "Aha!" moment about Life with a capital L. Where the Wild Things really are, in the book, I could check out of my grown-up life and just let them roar their terrible roars & gnash their terrible teeth for my entertainment while also delighting in the simple presence of unconditional love.

There is definitely love in this movie, but unfortunately Jonze & Eggers tried too hard to make us see it. We already knew it would be there; they had us at "Be still!"

forward thinking

2009-10-16T00:00:00.000-07:00

1. So are we going somewhere interesting? (Always answer 'yes')

2. Something marvelous is what's up ahead.

3. I love to boogie.

4. I could do with a little chocolate of some sort.

5. I walk a fine line, constantly.

6. Learning [and a pretend secret boyfriend] is the true elixir of life!

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to a family outing to Where the Wild Things Are, tomorrow my plans include the CARRA Costume Ball, and Sunday I want to sleep a lot.

It's...It's...Friday Fill-Ins