quotes

here are some of my favorite classroom quotes and pictures from March. enjoy.

3.1.12
"mrs. s, do you watch basketball wives?"
"no...do you?"
"yes, with my mom...but when they do bad stuff on there, she covers my eyes. when they say bad stuff on there, she covers my ears. i actually don't really know what the show is about."


3.2.12
i was reading james and the giant peach to the kids. at the end of one of the chapters, a little girl raises her hand and says, (really excited) 
"mrs s! it looks like you are the one who ate the giant peach!!"
(very funny kid...you fail.) 


3.5.12
we were reviewing the letter Dd this week, and the kids had to draw something that began with that letter. one little girl was working really hard on her picture, and giggling the whole time. when she had to share with the rest of the class, she could barely say what she drew.

her dad in a dress

(and yes, he has a mustache...)

3.7.12
"mrs. s, i was walking to my friends house yesterday and a bird pooped on my head."
"sounds like fun..."
(pissed) "it wasn't." 


"my brother is becoming a MAN! he is getting hair under his arms!" 
(i laughed.)


3.8.12
when the kids ask me where i sleep at night, sometimes i mess with them and say 'in one of the lockers.' they usually laugh, but i can tell some of them aren't sure if i'm being serious or not. one little girl was left at the end of the day and we were waiting for her mom to pick her up. the conversation went something like this:


"mrs. s, is it true what you said about sleeping in one of the lockers at night?"
"no, silly. i am just joking when i say that. i sleep in a bed."
(relieved) "yeah! everyone sleeps in a bed...well, everyone except for God."
(right you are...)


3.14.12
a child runs up to my desk first thing in the morning, obviously overly excited about something. (nearly bursting)
"mrs. s! i have something very important to tell you...today, before school, i saw a WORM."
(i wish i could get that excited about anything...let alone a worm!)


3.20.12
what i read: "A dear whore comes out when it is winter."

what he meant to say: "A deer's horns come off when it is winter."
(whoops.)


3.21.12
during snack time:
"mrs. s, does liquor begin with an 'L'?"
 "yes, it does." 
"oh, okay...'cause that's what my mommy drinks."
(yesss....)


free journal writing

so i ask, "what is going on with this picture?"

"well, there were two guys fighting and they are both saying (whispering) 'what the F', but i didn't want to write the F word so i just wrote "f"."

(yea, that's what i thought...just confirming...)

3.28.12

during sharing time:
"there was this little boy named trayvon martin...and he was carrying skittles and a pepsi and some man shot him. oh, and he was wearing a hooded sweatshirt. his parents had to have a funeral for him...they were sad. and i don't understand why the man shot him."
(you and a lot of other people, pal...)


another child pipes in and says with his hands flailing in front of him:
"i don't know about all that, but i do know that when you die they put you in a big box and bury you in the dirt..."
(true.)


3.29.12
two of the last kids sitting in my class having a chat before dismissal:
"man, i am so glad we have spring break now. my brain hurts so much from all the stuff we learned today."
"yeah, i learned a lot of stuff today, too. my brain is really hurting." (hand on head)
(apparently, kindergarten is brutal.)




"laughter need not be cut out of anything...since it improves everything." 
-james thurber

sleep

this picture depicts exactly how i was feeling around noon today...and i just so happened to get this text from ella's sitter at that moment. you see, our little bundle of love was up at midnight for no apparent reason. she's usually a good sleeper, but at least once a week she wakes up crying in the middle of the night and i bring her into our bed, then transport her back over to her room about a half an hour later. (gasp! the books tell you not to do this, it will become a habit...screw you books) last night was our "once a week" ritual. also, after i brought her into bed with us, i was getting slammed in the ribs by deuce (baby number two) from the inside, and physically assaulted by flailing arms and legs of the almost two year old from the outside. (double whammy) although ella was probably up from about midnight to one, i was up much longer than that. butch was scratching his ball sack, blissfully dreaming (probably about coupons) at this point and had no idea she had even in bed with us when he woke up (refreshed) this morning. (that sword is looking better and better with each passing night...)


ever since ella was born, sleep is so different. (the books never tell you that stellar tidbit) when you have your first kid...sleep is never, ever the same. i am seriously like a ninja in the night and any noise i hear sends me into fury of panic. (like karate kid on crack) prior to having a kid, you could've driven a bulldozer through our bedroom and i wouldn't have batted an eye. today, the joy of all this is that i couldn't pass out on the couch like sleeping beauty up there. i was at work. i think moms and dads just get used to walking around in a haze of sleeplessness most of the time. it's the new normal. tomorrow begins spring break for both butch and i. the thing we are most looking forward to? sleep. (not cancun. not booze. not wild parties.) just sleep. oh, how things have changed...and little miss midnight better be on the same page with this sleep idea, because although i love her, i would rather not have a toddler wrapped around my neck like a scarf during the wee hours of the morning. (and yes, i would like some cheese with my whine...thanks.) 




"There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

bachelor

so butch left today for a bachelor party in atlantic city. i wouldn't be concerned, but the last couple of times he's gone away overnight...there have been tales to tell the next day. for instance, about 2 years ago he went to harrisburg to meet some of our friends for a renaissance fair. the day before he left, he had yet another dentist issue so he was hopped up on vicodin. he called me about 3 hours after he left and said that he was pulled over by a cop with a gaggle of monkeys...i mean guys...in his car because he drove the wrong way up a one way street. but, he said, "no big deal! i didn't get a ticket!" (um...or die??) apparently the guy hyped up on vicodin was a much better candidate for 'driver' than the rest of them. i didn't hear much the rest of the day...nor did i care to. the next afternoon, he came stumbling through the front door looking really rough and...he was carrying a large (very large) sword. (yes, a sword. see picture...you almost have to, to understand how big it is.)

taken last night. he insisted on being shirtless.

i said, "what is with the sword?" he said (super excited), "isn't it cool!? it's like one from the olden days!" i rolled my eyes, making no attempt to share his enthusiasm, "isn't that kinda dangerous to have that laying around the house?" he looked at me and said, "um, noooo trish, it's not...it's not even BATTLE READY!" i exclaimed, "ohhhhh oooookay....not battle ready? perfectly acceptable to have in the house then..." (wtf...and by not battle ready, he meant not sharpened.) so later that day, i check our bank account and see that his little sword purchase is on our joint account. the sword was ninety dollars. not nine...ninety. he also didn't realize that our first mortgage payment (ever) was coming out of that large sum that was in there...and we bounced our very first mortgage check. i had to call the bank and explain that my husband had bought a sword (but don't worry, it's not battle ready) and he didn't realize the check hadn't come out yet. that was a fun conversation. also, it showed up as "sword" on our online banking statement. (pulled over, a sword, and a bounced mortgage check...exhibit A)

last summer, he went to atlantic city for my brother's bachelor party. ella wasn't feeling great before he left, but it wasn't the bubonic plague or anything so i thought i could handle it. we didn't know if she was teething, or had a cold...she just wasn't herself. (sick kids are the worst.) needless to say, she did get progressively worse throughout the day and i decided to take her temperature around 8pm before putting her to bed. her temperature was 105.6. (yeah, i know-scary high...i was shitting my pants.) i called the emergent care place to see what i should do...obviously, this was not "normal" and something was wrong. they said to bring her in immediately. i called my uncle who lives right around the corner to meet me there. i get there and they whisk me in, strip her down, and apply cold compresses to her body. i'm telling you all this to let you know what frame of mind i was in. here i was, a new mom...first super high fever, emergent care, and the (male) nurse is also telling me to 'not worry' if she has a seizure. (um, yeah...i'm pretty sure you are going to hear screams if that happens pal...so back off.)

my aunt and uncle showed up and came in the room. they asked if i had called butch. (oh, yeah. him. the father. whoops.) i didn't want to call him if he was highly intoxicated because i didn't want him to hop in the car and high tail it home in a panic. so i texted. i texted, "hey, how are you?" (just to get a feel for what his frame of mind was...) about 25 minutes passes and i hear my phone beep. i go over, pick it up and it says..."AT ROULETTE!! WHAT UP??" i turned the phone around so my uncle could read it and he went into hysterics. here i am, with this sick baby (panic attack city) and he's "at roulette" and asking me "what up." if i would've texted him "what was up" he wouldn't have liked my response. (my middle finger, jerkoff, that's what's up.) i wrote back nothing instead. the next morning, i called him and didn't get an answer...so then i called my brother. my brother was like..."um....yeah....he's sorta....missing...." 'WHAT?! SORTA MISSING!? WHERE THE HELL IS HE!?' he was like...ummm...i don't know. when i finally got in touch with butch, he said he woke up on the couch in the hotel room, found some chips in his pocket and decided to "try his luck" the next morning at the roulette table. well good thing you tried your luck there, because your luck has run out at this house pal. (105.6 fever = at roulette, what up?...exhibit B)

so tomorrow, i am expecting nothing less than a tale to be told after his trip. i always worry when a bunch of our guy friends get together for a little outing...it's the equivalent of opening the monkey cage at the zoo and saying...be freeeee!!!!!! (the movie 'the hangover' is really not that farfetched...) i'll be sure to keep y'all posted upon his return. however, he should've thought twice about that sword purchase...it may just come in handy tomorrow night. (what up lorena bobbitt?...what up.)

spring

a five year old's drawing of winter & spring: spot on

i'm pretty sure i have the disorder SAD. (Seasonal Affective Disorder) you know the one...where people get depressed during the winter? i mean, i've never been formally diagnosed...but i'm pretty sure i fall somewhere on that spectrum during the winter months. but really, doesn't almost everyone? i can only name a few people i know that 'love' winter. (and i'm pretty sure these people have an intellect rivaled by only garden tools) for the most part, the majority of my friends enjoy daylight and warm weather rather than darkness and cold. i was watching yet another episode of curious george with ella the other day, still waiting for that glorious moment when george to goes ape shit on the man in the yellow hat (so that i don't have to watch anymore...) and george was gazing out the window on a dreary winter day. the man with the yellow hat said to george, "winter: it's a roller coaster of blah." and i thought....how true you philosophical son of a bitch. how true.


now, i know...this particular winter wasn't that bad. i've proclaimed it 'fake winter.' we didn't even get one snow storm where i live. however, dumb daylight savings time still made it dark at 4pm and there were still some chilly days thrown in there. the sun didn't shine as much as i'd like, either. it was a rollercoaster of blah. so finally...the ride is over and we find ourselves at the first day of spring. i don't know if you've noticed, but when the weather is warmer and the sun is shining...people are actually more pleasant. people act more normal. people begin to enjoy life again because they don't feel like ax murderers. (and i am one of those people) if you are someone like me, return your ax to the shed, stay outside and enjoy the weather. if you are one of those people that is sad that winter is over, i have no words for you...except you are a few screws short of a hardware store. welcome back, spring...we've missed you.

shenanigans

so we had this plan for st. patrick’s day. i’ve noticed when you have kids, you always have to have a ‘plan.’ i’m not sure why, exactly, we make these 'plans' because they usually end up going awry despite how organized you seem. however, we had one…our plan was to go downtown for pancakes and pints at a local irish pub early in the morning. we were assured that this was a kid friendly endeavor and a large group of us were involved. (11 men, women & children total…to be exact) i had visions of the guys enjoying guinness, the kids laughing and eating their pancakes in their green outfits, and myself sipping on a virgin bloody mary enjoying the irish holiday…that is not what happened at all. so here’s what ended up acutally happening...

my husband’s roommate from college is in town visiting. (polar bear head wedding gift...if you follow my blog) he came down on friday night so he would be there to execute the plan on saturday morning. we all got up and dressed the kids. we were ready to go when i got a phone call in the early morning from one of our friends who was supposed to be joining us…and he was letting me know he was not going because his kids would rather watch elmo. (these were his exact words. oooooookay, so minus 3.) then we drive downtown, we park and the 5 of us get out and walk. we get to the pub, and there is a line. at 8am. i guess i should’ve known…because there are so many fake irish people on st. paddy’s day it’s ridiculous. (an amateur holiday, at best...unless you are actually irish.)

anyways, there was a line. another family was supposed to meet us there, and i saw the man of the house, minus kid and wife standing in the line.  (so now we were down another 2..) it didn’t take us too long to get to the front, but both kids (a one & two year old) were not enjoying the wait, and my patience was also running thin. of course, once we get to the front of the line…the restaurant is at “capacity” and we can’t get in.  we have to wait. longer. as i was standing there, diaper bag over my shoulder, stroller in hand, toddler hanging off of my husband’s head, minus half of our entire group…not to mention, eye level with the bouncer’s nut sack (who was cracking jokes with his capacity counter clicker in hand saying that he would have to do 1 ½ clicks for me because of my belly. wise ass.)…i thought, how the hell did i get here? and not get here like to this actual bar…but this actual predicament. when did i get so old?? toddlers, husbands, a large round belly filled with a baby...i remember st. patty's days filled with shots of jameson, lotsa beer, and pure shenanigans. now, not so much. however, we still have shenanigans, but those of a completely different variety.

during my epiphany, the bouncer tells us we can actually get into the restaurant. we sauntered in (ala dog and pony show) and walked around a few times looking for a table. nothing. now under normal circumstances, we would get a beer and stand around and wait…however, we had the kids, who still hadn’t eaten breakfast. (and who wants to deal with a meltdown of 2 hungry children…certainly not me.) as we were standing there deciding what to do, an older woman (probably 65) who was about 250 bills (with a cane) tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if i wanted to sit in her seat. (holy shit, do i really look that large and uncomfortable??) i guess so...and you better believe i took her offer and sat down. (no shame in my game.) we waited another 15 minutes for a table and then aborted the whole mission. i almost elbowed the bouncer (with the clicker) in the crotch on the way out the door. we drove back to our side of town and went to a smaller irish pub that had tables to sit in and no bouncers. however, the guy who had originally showed up sans wife and kid decided not to go. so here we were, the original 5 of us, almost 2 hours later…now just 2 miles from our house sitting at a totally different irish restaurant. 

needless to say, our ‘plan’ had gone horribly awry. kids will do that. which brings me to my point.…with kids (and in life, really), you can't plan anything, because the harder you try, the harder things will fail. all you can do is hold on and enjoy the ride...and try as hard as you can not to elbow bouncers that piss you off in the nut sack.

"life is what happens to you when you are busy making other plans." -john lennon

cows

a cow eating ice cream

today we read an article entitled "Ice cream...From cows to kids" in my class. it ended up being one of the many funny discussions i've had with a group of 5 year olds. here goes...so i start by reading the title and one child immediately raises his hand and asks..."so cows make ice cream? do they also make popcicles and ice cream sandwiches?...because I like those, too." i laughed. no, they don't, but we will get into that....i turn the page. 

page 1. "the farmer milks the cow." there is a picture of a farmer milking a cow. one little girl's hand shoots up and she says, (eyes wide as hell) "wowowo, where is the milk coming out of?!" (the farmer has has a firm grip on the cow's milk jugs.) i explained that the part of the cow where the milk comes out is called an udder and all girl (female) cows have them. immediately after this, a little boy raises his hand and says, "are you sure only girl cows have them? because it kinda looks like this...." (pointing to his crotch). oh, christ. here we go. no, kid, that large nipple is not a weiner. (i just shook my head.) "well if it's not a weiner then where do they pee out of!?" (i'm in deep now...i should abort.) i clarified that they have other parts that they use to go to the bathroom. "like a butt?! cause i have a butt!" giggles all around. (yes, like a butt...i'm turning the page now....)

page 2. "the milk then goes by truck to the factory." ten hands shoot up. one child says,"an ice cream factory?! a whole factory...for ice cream?!" yes. a whole. factory. for. ice. cream. (many ooosss and ahhhhsss at this point...best thing they heard all day. i tried to act excited, but my enthusiasm was waning due to the previous 'udders gone bad' part of the chat...)

page 3. "the workers add sugar to the milk, put it in cups and place it in the freezer." another slew of hands fly in the air..."so ice cream is just sugar and milk? i think i'll make that when i get home." lots of nods in agreeance. (at this point...we were about 20 minutes deep in the ice cream discussion...i decided to not say there were lots of other steps involved and went with, "sure! try it! see what happens!" i was thinking...drive your parents crazy with that one. you know at least one will go home and try it and say..."butttt mommmm the booookkk saiiddddd that iffffff i addddd suuuggarrr to milkkkkk it will turnnnn into ice creammmmmm." not my problem at that point. they are all yours, parents...your turn to explain.)

page 4. "the kids eat the ice cream." one of my favorites says, "now wait..." (i have my hand on my head at this point...and i am in desperate need of a beer.) "so how exactly do they get chocolate and strawberry ice cream from plain milk." another student yells out (matter of factly), "well there are chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla COWS...!!!!" a bunch of kids nod their heads. "yep, and some cows are brown, and some cows are pink...." i exclaimed, "holy smokes, now where have you ever seen a pink cow? the pink cow farm? seriously?" they all started laughing, and probably could tell i was at the end of my rope at this point. (they were correct with this assumption...as my ten minute (4 page) article turned into a FORTY minute discussion on cows and flippin' ice cream.)

at the end of the discussion (that i was very grateful was almost over...), i asked the kids if anyone could give me a summary of the story. i called on one student and he responds, "so...there are cows, and they make milk and people add sugar to it to make ice cream....and we eat it...and the thing that the milk comes out of on a cow is called a GUTTER." (close enough...for the love of god, let's move on...)  

"Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn."  
-Ben Franklin

george

on this day in 1957, a great man was born. my dad. most daughters (i’m sure) think very highly of their fathers, and i’m no exception…but by no means do we fit the ‘daddy’s little girl’ stereotype. (that’s too lovey dovey to describe our relationship.) that being said, i do love my dad very much and i hope he knows that.  i am very much like my father in a lot of ways… we both share the same sense of humor and sarcasm, we love to sleep and share a love of reading, we both would rather hibernate in the winter, and we both like to laugh and have a good time whenever possible. (and this 'good time' usually includes (several) cold beverages in hand ). he has been a coach ('ba-boom the ball!'), a mentor ('no matter where you go, there you are'), an advisor ('it's not what you know, it's who you know') and a motivator ('let's turn it up a notch!') not just to me, but to my brothers and a lot of my friends.


growing up with george as my dad has led to many funny stories, here are two of my favorites:

the caterpillar. when i was about thirteen, my dad decided that the lower part of our backyard needed to leveled to allow for better drainage. instead of hiring someone to do it for him, he decided to do it himself. (this was his first mistake…) he then rented a caterpillar excavator to help him with the job. to be clear...he rented a machine that he didn’t know how to operate, to do a job he knew nothing about. (you can see where this is going…) my mom was working part time at a pharmacy and my little brother (daisy) and i were inside. i happened to glance out the sliding glass door and gasped…i saw the caterpillar perpendicular to the ground (tipped completely backwards), my father parallel to the ground (laying completely horizontal in the seat)...the treads of the machine were spinning like hell and mud was flying everywhere. i ran down into the backyard and he yelled (with a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth) “you need to call someone!” i yelled back, “who?!” he said, “anyone!” I called a neighbor and explained the situation. the guy said he’d be right over, and was still laughing his ass off when he hung up the phone. it took a truck and several chains and ropes to remove the caterpillar from our yard. this ordeal had also completely ripped apart the area that george intended to ‘level’ in the first place...along with the rest of our backyard. (i was advised not to discuss the days events with my mother when she returned from work.)

RIT dye. my dad has worked in the garment business for most of his life. if you aren't familiar with RIT dye...it's a powdered fabric dye that you mix with water. it's powerful stuff. george thought, if you can dye shirts with this stuff...why not carpet?! (yes, carpet...and not an area rug, and entire formal living room of wall to wall carpet-from a light blue to a dark navy) he rented a carpet steam cleaner, got a couple of boxes of RIT dye and got to work. he mixed large boiling pots of dye and water on our stove and proceeded to dump them all over the carpet. then, he used the store rented steam cleaner to suck up the excess water (and dye). somehow it 'worked' (using that term loosely)...the carpet was now navy blue. (we couldn't walk on it for a week.) however, when we finally were 'allowed' to enter the formal living room again...all of our feet turned blue (an entire family of smurfs)...so did the dogs paws (and the cats). needless to say, he ended up having to rip out the carpet and replace it anyway. (i always wondered if the person the rented the machine after him got a little navy 'surprise' when they cleaned their carpets...a georgey special, if you will.) and a sidenote...he also uses RIT dye to color eggs for our easter egg hunts every year. (after the hunt...we cannot eat the hardboiled eggs because they are poisonous to consume. ie/eat an easter egg=death)

the man, the myth

these are just two of the many stories, i could actually write a book called "growing up with george: a memoir" loaded with many, many chapters of these crazy stories. (however, for now, i do hope you enjoyed these two.) so happy birthday big guy. you’ve been a wonderful father thus far, and thank you very much for all the laughs. also, i didn’t have a chance to pick up one of those creepy “daddy’s little girl forever cards”…so consider this it. cheers! (and continue to keep 'em guessin'...)

cartoons

the full monty

well, y'all said it would happen..and it did. i walked in to get ella this morning and...surprise! the full monty. motherhood never disappoints. (at least this time i had a heads up.) opposed to the last time, she was completely naked, diaper in hand (again acting like she had no idea how she was nude), with a look of complete disgust on her face. i don't know if she had snuck out in the middle of the night for a few beers, but her diaper was completely soaked. (i kinda don't blame her for taking it off.) after a diaper change and a jammie redressing, we headed downstairs...to watch cartoons.

this brings me to my next topic...cartoons. i don't care what people say, the writers of some of these cartoons have got to be completely high on something while coming up with this stuff. most of it is utterly ridiculous. even if you don't have kids, you should flip on a cartoon channel and just feast your eyes on the messed up nature of it all. (they will not let you down...sometimes i feel stoned just watching them.) i wonder if cartoons were this ludicrous when we were kids. i mean, i know scooby doo was smoking a doobie in the back of that shaggin' wagon and papa smurf and his pals were probably running the train on smurfette...but really, these cartoons are just absurd. the only ones i don't find crazy, are the ones including mickey mouse...however, those episodes include annoying songs that you get stuck in your head for the rest of the day (and night.) i can sing some of them in my sleep. curious george also passes the test, but i've seen so many 'adventures' that i'd be delighted to see george go ape shit on the man with the yellow hat any day now.

my saturday mornings used to consist of sleeping in and a mimosa or two. now? i get my own live viewing of toddlers gone wild, served with a side of cracked out cartoons. just two of the many perks of parenthood...and i wouldn't change it for anything.

molester

i was in a rather surly mood this morning because the child inhabiting my uterus woke up about 3am and decided it was a fabulous time to perfect her punching skills. people always ask, "so what exactly does that feel like?" well, it feels exactly like it sounds...imagine that your stomach (the actual organ) grew arms and legs and was moving inside of you. (yeah, it's weird...half the time i feel like i'm reinacting a scene from the movie alien.) judging from the activity of this child, it seems that i had relations with muhammad ali...rather than my husband. in fact, i would not at all be surprised if her arm shot out of my vagina in the middle of the night and punched butch in the testicles. she is that active. i didn't sleep from 3am until the alarm went off at 5:30am. to reiterate, i was surly.

as i climbed out of bed, i saw butch ironing a shirt in our bedroom. (i don't iron...anything. ever. if it's wrinkly, i throw it in the dryer before i put it on and hope for the best.) i didn't have my contacts in yet, so i wasn't quite sure which shirt it was...and to be honest, he could've been ironing the cat, i didn't really care. i went in the bathroom, washed my face, attempted to cover the bags under my eyes with makeup, put in my contacts, and emmerged to find my husband wearing this:

 he could tell by my face that i was in no mood for guessing games. he blurted out, "it's spirit week..for MSA." (MSA stands for Maryland State Assessment, all schools in MD have to do this testing and our funding (amongst other things) depends on our passing it.) in PA, i remember having 'spirit week' during the week of our most important rival football game. so to be clear, in maryland...schools are getting pumped for state testing, while in pennsyltucky, schools are getting pumped for...a football game. (sounds about right.) anyway, i said, "so what day is today? creepy tourist molester day?" he eyeballed me and said, "no, it's clone day!" so you mean to tell me that other bozos in your school are going to dress like you? a whole cloned crew of creepy molester teachers? that sounds like fun. he said, "i'll send you a picture." (please do.)

as i was making breakfast, he sauntered into the kitchen in his hawaiian digs...acting all cool. as he passed me, i caught a whiff of...OLD SPICE cologne!? (this is not the norm, he probably got it free with a coupon) after coughing (and i think i gagged), i said, "really trying to drive home that creepy molester thing, huh?" he just laughed. apparently he wasn't the only one...later in the day, i received this picture:

creepy molester tourist teachers gone wild. if this doesn't pump up kids for state testing, i don't know what will.  (wow.) and one more added tidbit...even though my school is not participating in a spirit week...we are having a pep rally on friday. grades k-2 and all the corresponding teachers will be performing a rap. i don't know which is more "motivating" for students...creepy hawaiian shirt clad molester teachers or a short, pregnant, white lady with no rhythm trying to rap...both seem just a tad 'off'.   agree?

antigua

Letter from a parent:

March 2nd

Good Morning Mrs. S,

My daughter, Jane, needs to be excused from school from March 7-March 21, 2012. We have to travel to Antigua because my dad passed away on February 25th. The funeral service will be Monday, March 12th, but i will need to spend a few days after with my mom and family there. If there is any work that Jane can complete while away, please send it along and she can do it while we are away.

Please do not share this with her; she knows that he passed away, but she is not aware that we will be traveling and I do not want her to start harassing me.

Thanks for all you do,

Mrs. M

My response:

March 2nd 

Dear Mrs. M,

Thank you for your note, and I am so sorry for your loss. I will send Jane's work home prior to your trip.

However, I am asking for one plane ticket to Antigua in exchange for my silence. I deal with a slew of 5 year olds on a daily basis, so I fully understand your wish of not being harassed. Should you not comply with my request, I will leak this valuable information of your travel plans to your daughter over the next couple of days.

Warm Regards,

Mrs. S 

yesterday, i received a phone call from the mother...after hysterical laughter, she said she believed that i was too far along in my pregnancy for such a trip...but was there anything else she could do to assure my silence?

my answer? i will also accept cash.

"Laughter is an instant vacation. " -Milton Berle

seuss

today is dr. seuss's birthday. and yes...a child in my class really drew this in their journal. (i couldn't make this stuff up if i tried.) i teach outside of DC, but it's really not a terrible area. (however, judging from this picture...i'm not in kansas anymore.) we talked a little bit about dr. seuss and the books that he wrote. i read the cat and the hat and some other seuss stories to them. we also talked about the fact that he is no longer living, but we still celebrate his birthday. i gave the children ten minutes shortly after this to free journal write.

the kids piled up their journals on my desk before recess. one by one i went through them during my lunch and landed on this gem. after the kids came in from recess, i called this particular child back to my desk and asked him to explain his picture...this was his explanation: "well you said dr. seuss was dead. so i guess some gangsters came and shot him...i think that's what happened anyway, but i still wanted to say happy birthday." i said, "well why do you think they shot him?" he said he didn't know. so i asked "well what about his stories wouldn't they like?" he thought for a minute and said, "well maybe all those annoying rhyming words??" (valid point.) 

so brought to you today is the cover for the story...

"the gangsters who bust a cap in the cat in the hat's ass." enjoy.

"Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one." -Dr. Seuss

shit

so today we had ella's 20 month physical with the doctor. of course there was an incident to accompany it. we walked there, because it's close and also because it was 72 degrees outside. we get into the waiting room and ella runs over to the kid table and chairs and says, "shit!" nice and loud to butch. i was talking with the receptionist and turned around and said, "what did she say!?" he looks at me and said smirking, "sit. she wants me to sit in the chair." oh, okay....phew. (however, it still came out 'shit' instead of 'sit' and she kept repeating it over and over in the waiting room.)  a few minutes later, butch walks over to where i was sitting and whispers in my ear, "i think she did shit. her pants. i smell something." so i walk over do the old peek in the back of the diaper trick. no shit in the pants. 

moments later, we are called back to the examination room. the rooms at this doctor's office are tiny. they have 2 chairs, an exam table, a sink, and a rolling stool for the doctor crammed into a 7x5 rectangle. tight squeeze. anyway, we were sitting there waiting for the doctor and i start smelling something awful. i exclaimed, "what is that smell!?" butch says, "see! i told you something smells!" so i check ella again. nothing. i sit back down in the chair just as butch crosses one leg over the other exposing the bottom of his flip flop. there, on the bottom of his shoe...is a massive pile of smashed, steaming, smelly dog shit. (inevitably from our walk) i said, "look at your shoe!!!" he looks down and proceeds to say, "oh my god! it's me! i'm the one who smells!" (laughing his head off, of course) he grabs a paper towel and wipes the shoe the best he can....and then proceeds to throw the paper towel in the trash can, that is also located in the 7x5 room. the entire room at this point smells like dog shit. it was a smell like no other. and we could not stop laughing.

ella was sitting on the floor in her diaper playing with my keys...unaware of the incident that had unfolded. butch and i were convulsing with laughter at this point because we knew damn well that the doctor was going to swing open the door to that doll sized room and be hit smack in the face with a wall of dog shit. somehow, though, we composed ourselves. a few minutes later, the door swung open, the doctor walked in and ella who was sitting on the floor looked at the doctor, pointed to the two of us (who were sitting in the chairs) and said...(you guessed it)..."shit!" i then had to explain (through laughter, because butch was just about having a seizure at this point) that a. none of us had shit our pants. b. my husband had stepped in dog shit on the walk there and c. our daughter was saying 'sit' not 'shit. the doctor laughed, but i could tell by her face that she didn't want to deal with our shit. any of it. (fail.)