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schoolsuppliesSo, I am going to do something I probably shouldn’t do, but I’m going to anyway because I had one helluva experience this weekend that I haven’t had since my oldest was in first grade.

My bestie and I were on an errand from God on Sunday.  1.) Because she was getting a new phone after almost chucking hers out the window because it wouldn’t text and other highly necessary operations that are a must for the technically connected… and 2.) because the monster needed his school supplies and there would be no other time to do it in their busy schedule before Meet Your Teacher night later in the week.

She was feeling oddly bad for me because I would be standing around in a phone store looking longingly at the phones that I couldn’t afford because I’m painfully poor and am days away from having a really professional and good paying job which will actually put me back in the economy’s middle class ranking, so she suggested we divide and conquer to make things move a little faster and be more productive.  I would drop her off at the phone store then run and get the school supplies.  Sounds easy, right?  I was excited because I don’t go with the girls, their grandmother is extremely generous in offering each year to buy their supplies for them, so I would get the experience without the stress of it being with my own children arguing over Hello Kitty folders and Frozen backpacks.

No.

No, that’s not even what happened.  When I walked into the store the school supplies were directly in front of me and the mass chaos that was ensuing was both shocking and eye-opening to me as a parent as well as a teacher.

And here is where I revolt from my fellow teachers and throw them all to the wolves.  Because we are BAD people.  I mean bad, as in were are definitely going to hell bad.

I walk up to the school lists and begin to read, thinking, not too bad, not horrible. But then I start searching for the items and realize, these are really specific items being requested on this list. (5) folders, but they must be red, blue, green, yellow, and purple. I get the plastic folders because I know my friend’s son and I think, “hey, he won’t be able to destroy these, at least not easily, right?” So I start looking for the appropriate colors and find all but a yellow.

I am defiant by nature, so when I can’t find a yellow in the plastic version I refuse to switch to the paper version.  It’s just principle now. So I get orange instead.  It’s in the yellow family, a secondary color created by its primary counter parts yellow and red.  Orange will be the new yellow.

Next I had to find specific amounts of crayons, markers, and colored pencils.  Lets be honest, none of the amounts he was supposed to have were correct, me being a teacher I’m thinking, “More is better, right?” 36 colored pencils instead of 24, 10 markers instead of 8, what could 2 additional colors hurt?

Then came the dry erase markers. I don’t disagree with the purchase of these, but when the girls are specified to bring “fine tip” and the boys “chisel tip” I draw the line.  Last time I’m brought dry erasers chisel tip was the norm so I’m thinking easy peasy. Nope, apparently fine tip is all the rage these days.  Stupid, chisel I can make a fat line or a thin line, best of both worlds, but apparently higher education is more specific in their instruction of new teachers these days.  When I was in college we had to practice writing on CHALK BOARDS people.  CHALK BOARDS.  I have a strong aversion to chalk boards.  Like I’m gonna puke if even one squeak comes from a piece of chalk and God FORBID someone scratch their nails on it. I’m gagging as we speak just thinking of it…

At this point I begin to notice I’m walking the aisle mumbling to myself, “Crayons, crayons, pointed tipped scissors, magic erasers. What the f*ck is a Magic Eraser? ”  Over and over again. I think, “People are gonna start staring, so I’d better keep it together.” But then I realize all of these other parents are doing the same thing!

One guys walking down the aisle going, “Oh God, oh God…”, another is mumbling, “Stupid, stupid, stupid…”. I heard a mother say to her daughter, “You’d better make this fridge and microwave last you all four years.”

I ran into another mom looking for a specific brand of pencils.  I directed her to the correct spot, then asked, “Do you know what a magic eraser is?”

“No clue.”

“I’m actually a teacher and I have no idea what it is..” She looks at me with a mixture of hatred and pity and I scurry away.

The breaking point was the crayons.  I was in need of a 24 pack, but could only get the 8 count jumbo size or the 128 mega pack and I figured I’d have one pretty pissed off third grader gunning for me if I brought either of these home.  After angry Snapchats and rantings to my bestie, I stoop about as low as I could go on this “damned from the beginning” pilgrimage and nab a pack out of a pre-packed bag for patrons to purchase for underprivileged school students.  A new low for sure.

As I made my way back to the phone store to pick her up, I was reviewing what purchases might not be actually kosher with the teacher figuring the orange folder might be a bit of a stretch, but surely it couldn’t make that much of a difference right?  Wrong.  I was promptly informed that last year the items that weren’t correct were sent home with a note stating they were not acceptable and new items must be purchased. In fact, she informed me that she fully expected to be back out re-buying all of these same supplies the week after school started because generally half of them weren’t correct.

I was outraged.  I told her if the teacher made a peep she should let me know and I would be up at that school the next day having it out with her.  She insisted it really wasn’t worth it and that buying all new supplies was in turn, much easier.

OMG.

Today she posts this blog from People I Want to Punch in the Throat on my wall about school supplies and teachers.  People I Want to Punch in the Throat found it came from Ginny over at Praying to Darwin and its PURE GENIUS.


 

For all you Mommies dealing with this shit right now, cheers!

School Supplies
by XXXXXXXXXXXX on Monday, September 7, 20xx at 10:31am
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Dear Mrs. X:
In just over a week, you will be my son’s Grade 1 teacher. He is ever so excited to be under your tutelage. Why, since the last day of kindergarten, entering your class was all he could talk about. He gleefully thrust a piece of paper into my hand on that June afternoon, and said, “Here’s a list of the stuff I need for school next September!”
And I have to admit, I, too, was excited. I’m a school supplies geek from way back. And so, in early August, I set out to buy the items you’d listed. It was on my fourth store that the realization began to sink in.
You’re a crafty bitch, aren’t you?
This list was a thinly disguised test. Could I find the items, exactly as you’d prescribed? Because if not, my son would be That Kid, the one with the Problem Mother, Who Can’t Follow Directions.
For example, the glue sticks you requested. In the 40 gram size. Three of the little buggers. (What kind of massive, sticky project you’ve got planned for the first day of school that would require the students to bring all this glue, I cannot imagine.) But the 40 gram size doesn’t come in a convenient 3-pack. The 30 gram size does. But clearly, those would be wildly inappropriate. So I got the individually priced 40’s, as per your instructions.
Another bit of fun was your request for 2 packs of 8 Crayola crayons (basic colors). The 24 packs, with their 24 *different* colors, sat there, on sale. I could have purchased *three* of the 24 packs for the price I had to pay for the 8 packs. (Clearly, you’ll not be teaching the youngsters any sort of economics lessons this year.) Even the cashier looked at me, as if to say, “Pardon me, ma’am, but are you slow?” as I purchased these non-bargain crayons. But that’s what the list said. And I was committed to following the list.
But the last item, well, now, you saved your malice up for that one, didn’t you? “8 mm ruled notebooks”, you asked for. Simple enough. Except the standard size is “seven” millimetres. One. Millimetre. Difference. Do you realize, Mrs. X., exactly how infinitesimal the difference between 7 mm ruling and 8 mm ruling is? Pretty small, I assure you. The thickness of a fingernail, approximately. But that millimetre, that small bit of nothingness, made me drive to four different stores, over the course of three sweaty August hours. And when I finally, finally found the last remaining 8 mm notebooks, I took no pleasure in my victory. I merely shifted my focus. To you, Mrs. X.
You wanna dance, lady? Let’s dance.
Because I am just batshit crazy enough to play your games. And, in turn, come up with some of my own.
On show and share day, my son will be bringing the video of his birth. It will be labelled, “Ben’s First Puppy.” Enjoy.
He will be given a list of words, and daily, he will ask you what they mean. Words such as “pedophile”, “anti-semite”, and “skank”. Good luck with those.
At some point, you will attempt to teach him mathematics. And I’m quite sure that, like most of your ilk, you will require my son to “show his work”. And he will. Through interpretive dance.
Because that is who you’ve chosen to tangle with, toots. A stay at home mom who is not entirely balanced, and has altogether too much time on her hands. But is, most certainly, A Mother Who Can Follow Directions.
Sincerely,
Ben’s Mom

Oh yeah, ladies, I’m with you all the way…

17bf488487d246fdcadb5c30605cc88cJust a few random points of interest that I thought I should put out here on the inter web for those of you interested, and those not interested… for future reference…

  • Remember when I use to be crafty? Yeah, well, not anymore.  I don’t do cutesy, floofy, or fancy.  It’s a birthday party/wedding shower/baby shower, throw some food on the table and have cake, voila, you have yourself a party.
  • I hereby solemnly swear I will never sign up to do overnight campouts again.  If this means I no longer qualify as a Girl Scout leader, so be it.
  • You have emotions, fantastic.  Unless they are estatic joy or contentment, keep them to yourself.

Sorry for my stupidity.  It’s contagious.

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My best friend and I joke about how we are emotionally stunted. About a month ago I posted this Buzzfeed on her FB wall and she got kind of pissy at me because apparently she doesn’t feel it fits her that well….but…

It led to this…

 

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It’s me trying to make light of offending her…

I’m sure I’m not helping matters now, as she’s probably planning my demise as she reads this… but there is a point…

This afternoon my children were swimming and little wanted to play with water balloons.  I went to the trouble of filling the balloons, getting myself wet in the process (always fun).  Little did I know it was going to cause the emotional turmoil it did for my oldest.  Apparently she has a major soft spot for water balloons, even giving them names and flipping a freaking lid when her sister pops them.  I mean full on meltdown.  I was speechless.  I couldn’t fathom the level of distraught she was.  Apparently I “don’t understand her” and I am a bad mom because she’s “different” and feels for all “living” and “nonliving” things.

Anyway, consider this a formal public apology my friend, because apparently I don’t have the emotional capacity it takes to understand others, and that Buzzfeed was for me.

Wow.

I have definitely had issues with Religion in the past few years.  Though the events of the past four years, I have lost some of my faith in the religious community, which has caused me to go to church less and less.  The only time I go is when I have my girls, and that’s because they are actively involved in our church.  So this morning when I woke up, I thought it would be like any other Sunday that I don’t have my girls.  But then I started thinking… I should just go.  Even though my own church has become somewhat stagnant to me lately, maybe God would have a message for me.  So I did the uncharacteristic thing and I went.

As I sat listening to the readings for the day I couldn’t help but see the irony of how these message related to me on a personal level.  The first was from Acts 1:6-14.   The disciples asked Jesus if this was the time when God would restore the Kingdom to Israel and allow freedom to the Jews from the Romans. Jesus responds to the disciples saying that, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Jedua and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 7-8)

Hadn’t I been asking myself (and everyone else with in a five foot vicinity of me) when God was going to let me follow my passion and allow me to simply teach?  Yet this reading was speaking to me telling me it’s not for me to question or choose the time-table, but God’s choice.

The Litanist then read an explanation to the second reading in which she stated that it’s not looking to others for affirmation, but looking to God for praise. 1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11 tells us that we shouldn’t be surprised by the ordeals that will be thrown at us because of our faith, but we should rejoice because Christ shares in our suffering and he will exalt us in his own time.  We are all struggling against our own trials, but we should have faith that Christ will “restore, support, strengthen and establish” us.

Hmm, hadn’t I also been beating my up because I didn’t get the verbal feedback I so desperately needed from others, and felt less of myself because of this? And all of this time I should have been relying on God to strengthen me instead of others. That is a difficult lesson for us to master.

In the Gospel, John 17:1-11, Jesus gives his last great discourse to the Holy Father, praying for his disciples, asking that they receive God’s protection and love as he had given it to Jesus, and the unity of the church. Pastor spoke about the unity of us all in the Holy Spirit and that we are united in Christ, despite creed, religion, or religions politics. That is the basis of the Apostles Creed, that we believe in “one holy catholic and apostolic church”. Because of the sacrament of Baptism we are one in the body of Christ.

This lead me onto another train of thought that led me to a realization, one that I already knew, but was dormant in my mind. I had lost track of it. The realization was this: The relationship we have with God is not about the action of others, but about our own actions, how we do his will and act on his behalf. Our relationship is with God and how we do his will, not how others treat us.

This was a big revelation to me, being a person who dwells on the actions of others toward myself.  If I’m honest, brutally so, I would have to say I have always been a “woe-is-me” person.  It’s always about what happens to me or what others have done to me.  It is one of my greatest weaknesses and the one I hate the most about myself.  I am an excuse maker.  I have even gone so far as to see how long I can go without making an excuse as to why something that has happened was not my fault; and let me tell you, being a human, that is an extremely hard thing to do.

In regards to me wanting to be a teacher and working in a school, I have this truth to reconcile: It’s not where God puts me, but how I do his will where I am.  Hence, it doesn’t matter if I’m in a school, office, on the street, my own home, or my parent’s home, it’s about how I act towards others in the name of God, not the other way around.

Wow, that huge.  As a simple human being, that is a hard fact to understand and learn to do.

What I have learned from this:

I need to work with God has given me and be in the places he has put me doing his will.  I need to look to him for comfort and validation and not put all of my hopes and dreams into the value from others. This will take work, I know, but hopefully these revelations will stick with me and I can be thankful for the blessings God has given me.

 

I can handle a lot of things. No money, oh well. No job, one will come along. Living in my parent’s basement, eh. No air conditioning? No thank you young ruffians.

I’m angry. Decidedly so. No amount of sitting still will render me un-angered. Crotchety, grumpy, enraged, resentful, offended, irritable, impassioned, irate, uptight, sullen, heated, furious, irritated, bitter, annoyed, indignant, choleric, cross, displeased, ferocious, fierce, fiery, hateful, hot, huffy, ill-tempered, incensed, inflamed, infuriated, irascible, provoked, raging, sore, sulky, tumultuous, turbulent, wrathful, ireful, exasperated, outraged, affronted, antagonized, chafed, convulsed, exacerbated, fuming, galled, maddened, nettled, piqued, riled, splenetic, storming, vexed.

This was about two months after, so maybe not COMPLETELY shaved, but close enough for me to look like my brother...

This was about two months after, so maybe not COMPLETELY shaved, but close enough for me to look like my brother…

 

 

All of the above.

It’s not even THAT hot out.

You know what happened the last time I got really hot?  Yeah, I shaved my head. Bald. We all know where that got me… Divorced, without a job, and living in my parent’s basement.

Well played universe, we’ve come full circle…

 

hot messJust wanted to share this because it seriously feels like I’m on the Hot Mess Express, or I am the Hot Mess Express, or I invented it… or all of the above.

Reasons I feel this way:

I’m old (not gonna say how old) and still live in my parent’s basement.

I quit a job to take another job, to take another job, and in the process decreased my income by 50%, all in the name of doing something I love, hence, still living in my parent’s basement.

Two lovely children who really need to learn self-reliance.

Aparently I forget… a lot… so sue me…

Just a few, man, just a few. At least I still have my sense of humor…

Some nights we like to get movie theater popcorn while watching movies at home. Yes, we’re crazy like that… This insued after I got the popcorn…

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Saturday mornings we go to breakfast, but no one else moves quite as quickly as we prefer…

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This one may be a little confusing as you’ll see I had to delete part of the message because of information that just doesn’t need to be shared EVER again…

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This one because I confused the song played in Shrek Ever After, Live and Let Die, for November Rain when discussing who sang it originally. (FYI – I know Guns and Roses sang November Rain originally and The Beatles Live and Let Die).

The second part is just #everydaywhovianproblems, because yeah, that happens!

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Not sure if you knew this about me or not, but figured I’d share because blogs are all about sharing strange idiosyncrasies right? And where in the hell is the spell check on this thing?  (later – found it)IMG_1398

Anyway, yes.  I started out dating Channing Tatum. If you’re my friend on Facebook you may have seen my pic with him a few times. Pretty awesome.

Then I saw The Avengers and sh*t hit the fan so to speak.  Thor. Need I say more?  I created a new pin board on Pinterest titled “My NEW Boyfriend”, because well, Channing just wasn’t cooperating what with all the roles he was working on and the small matter of a wife.. and new child. Yeah, that kind of put a damper on things. So I said goodbye Channing, hello Chris. (Hemsworth in case you were wondering.)

IMG_1399Speaking of, apparently Chris, aka Thor, has a wife and child as well.  Didn’t get the memo we were dating I guess. His loss.

BUT. I’ve found the perfect match.  The others were all young and married with kids and all that other baggage and stuff. But now I’ve discovered this weirdly odd man who is adorable (he grows on you), has a GREAT voice, AND BONUS is BRITISH! He plays a high functioning sociopath on a completely awesome show that has some seriously wicked British humor, I love British humor, and its written by some people who write a show about my hero and role model (time travel).  It’s fate because he’s my age and isn’t married.  Ha! And I never have to actually meet him.  He’s like George Glass on The Brady Bunch. (Google it.) I can totally rationalize it in my head because it’s plausible, but it most likely won’t ever come to anything, so I don’t have to commit! Yay!

Now lets examine why I would rather imaginary date this famous guy with a seriously weird last name instead of finding a nice run-of-the-mill guy closer to home and a little more realistic.  Basically put, I have high expectations.  For myself. And for the person I might possible date. Honestly, it’s not gonna happen, and if we’re honest I’m rocking this whole single thing pretty well, so why mess up a good thing when I can just pretend to be dating a guy who, in my mind, meets all of the expectations I have, or can just look good standing there while I peruse at my own leisure?  It seems win-win to me, although I’m not sure who’s on the other end of the win situation. It’s really just me.tumblr_m323mtwiP91qzpppc

Moral of the story: I’m still not gonna date anyone or ever get married again. Don’t push the issue. I’m perfectly happy in my unrealistic dream world, and no you can’t join.

My best friend and I now refer to each other as hetero-life mates because, well, basically we are. There’s just no other way to describe one picking up the kids and taking them to get their hair cut, while the other stops to get dinner for everyone on the way home. Or one picking up the youngest at daycare and then going to your house to so the dishes, after which the other picks you all up and takes you out to dinner.

No apologies. It is what it is. And frankly it works, so no judgement needed.

This being said, my truly awesome life mate sent me the following texts as this stupid day of professing love went on.

And it was TRULY awesome.

Note: Many of you know I have multiple “boyfriends” (aka Thor, Ryan Goseling, Benedict Cumberbatch…) Fangirling may ensue…

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