Soft

A while ago, my dear friend Lauren asked for more stories about living in the snowy suburbs of Michigan, curious how a tropics-born-and-raised missionary kid handles all that cold. The truth is: not all that well, considering I spend very little of the winter actually outdoors at all. But I did write some nature essays for an assignment I did along with my sophomores last month, and I'll post a few of them here to give you a glimpse into the wintry world outside my window.

Considering that the forecast calls for another thick layer of snow tonight, I think you'll find me huddled up inside under a few layers of blankets with a goblet mug of wine cocoa most of this weekend.

*************************************

I don't want to be here today. The wind is bitter, the sky gloomy with cloud piled on cloud until the horizon blurs. The warmth of the indoors is calling me, and I think longingly of hot coffee and a blanket and perhaps the friendly hum of television. Or a book. Escape into a different world, see things from a different point of view...

So much for transcending through nature. Today, I am a child of technology and media, pampered by the stuff of other's makings. I realize that if everything were to stop working today, if all the electricity and gas and everything else that has become such an essential part of modern life were to just end--I'd be screwed.

It's a good thing I live with someone who has some survival skills.

Perhaps I'm being a bit harsh on myself. Sure, I would struggle in such a situation, at least at first. But I'm not a complete idiot. I'm resourceful. I'm intelligent. I am, more to the point, stubborn. I wouldn't be one to sit down and give up.

How did they do it, though, those long-ago ancestors of ours? How did they make it through the bitter winters with limited food sources and minimal shelter? How, for goodness' sake, did anyone ever survive the ice ages?

Well, many didn't, I suppose. Were all those so-called essentials of modern life to vanish, our world would no longer be so heavily populated with humans.

We've grown soft, after all. We've grown comfortable and complacent in our furnace-heated, insulated, carpeted, electrified homes with well-stocked fridges and pantries and a television in every room.

Okay, okay, not every room. Though I've kind of wanted one in the kitchen, you know, for when I'm making dinner.

It's a reliable companion.

Definitely soft. And spoiled. I grin at myself, hoist my scarf tighter around my chin, and scuff at the snow with a boot-clad foot.

I wonder if The Walking Dead is showing tonight? I can always survive vicariously. Though we have started thinking about how to prepare for the zombie apocalypse. Bottled water and baseball bats are a good start, but I'm growing convinced that I really should learn how to shoot a crossbow. Maybe even how to make my own bolts.

You never can be too prepared for zombies, after all.

If It Wasn't For Meme, You Wouldn't Have Me At All

Well, at least right now. Because life, it's a little crazy. Bless DraftQueen for tagging me. I'll be Up North in the Michigan backwoods for the next few days, so I will not be on the Interwebz. Well, even less so than I have been lately.

So. Ten questions (and answers, natch) about me, and then I'm supposed to tag six people:

1. If you blog anonymously, are you happy doing it that way; if you are not anonymous do you wish you had started out anonymously so you could be anonymous now?

Well, I am and I'm not. My name and my fambily's names are, obviously, nom de plumes. But I did that whole Oooooh I'm writing a blog! Come read me! Do you need me to make it email itself to you automatically???? thing for my extended family and friends (and The Ex, who wasn't my Ex back then) that a lot of beginner bloggers do, and there have been times when that has been...inconvenient. Ever since I crashed and burned back in December 2008/January 2009 and then started blogging again in March 2009, I've been as open and honest as I can be. There are times when I need to write about something that I'm not comfortable being read by certain people, however, and that's when I resort to friends who will lend me their blog for a day or two.

Thank God for bloggy friends.

What was the question, again?

2. Describe one incident that shows your inner stubborn side.

HA! Which to choose, which to choose...because really, it's not so much an "inner" stubborn side. It's pretty much HERE I AM AND WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!?! Um...okay. Shall I be all open and honest here? And you can decide whether this is me being stubborn or all conflict-avoidance.

There's a friend who has been a fairly good friend for quite a while who said some things to me back in January about my divorce and how she saw my future playing out. I was pretty hurt and bothered by some of it, and I haven't talked to her since, even when she's texted or Facebooked me. I even composed a letter in my head explaining why I was hurt (I don't think it's even the part she expects it is) and why I've been avoiding her. But I haven't written the letter.

I suck.

3. What do you see when you really look at yourself in the face in the mirror?

Someone beautiful and flawed and fulfilled. You have no idea how amazing it is to be able to say that with honesty.

4. What is your favorite summer cold drink?

Iced tea with lemon, NO SUGAR thankyouverymuch. Though I have to say the tropical sangrias I imbibed at the Olive Garden last Friday would top my list if I was more of a drinker.

5. When you take time for yourself, what do you do?

READ. Lavishly. Preferably the kind of books that do NOT end up on summer reading lists, though I think those lists could use more like what I read. Ugh. Remind me to whine vent tell you about that another time.

6. Is there something you still want to accomplish in your life? What is it?

I seriously think I'd like to be published. I'm not certain whether it would be for poetry, fiction, or essays, but I'd really like to be published. You know, by other people. And ideally also read by other people.

7. When you attended school, were you the class clown, the class overachiever, the class shy person, or always ditching school?

Oh, definitely the overachiever. For a long time my intelligence and academic success were the only things I thought worthwhile about myself.

I still attend school occasionally, by the way, because there's that pesky ongoing education requirement for my certification. Nowadays I'm the class smartass. I'm still at the top of the class, though.

8. If you close your eyes and want to visualize a very poignant moment in your life, what do you see?

Past? Future? Sad-poignant? Happy-poignant? Come on, people, be specific! Um.

Past sad-poignant was the moment last year I realized my marriage was dead. Not just dying, but dead. I'd already cried all my tears, so I didn't weep for it again, but it was a moment that I'll never quite forget.

Past mostly-happy-and-also-freaked-out-poignant was the moment DramaBoy was first shown to me and I fell in love in a totally different way than I expected. I also realized that life would never be the same and I wasn't quite so sure I was ready. Turns out, I wasn't. I survived, though.

More recent and purely-happy-poignant was when MTL first told me he loved me. I already knew it, but still, the first time those words are spoken...I can still picture it all perfectly. *mushy sigh*

As for future poignant--well, refer back to my answer to #1. Maybe I'll tell you once it's happened. *wink*

9. Is it easy for you to share your true self in your blog or are you more comfortable writing posts about other people or events?

I don't think I can help but write about myself. Very few of my posts are about other people without my involvement. This is essentially my rather non-private diary. Same for my poetry--it's all based in reality.

Sure, it's navel gazing, but they say to write what you know! Hehe.

10. If you had the choice to sit and read or talk on the phone, which would you do and why?

Oh, the answer to this one should be obvious to anyone who's been reading my blog for long! Sit and read ALL THE WAY!!! It's my addiction, after all. Even more so than shoes. (I know. Gasp.)

I actually prefer texting on the phone to talking on it. And I'll take talking to someone face-to-face over the phone any day! I've become more like my mother that way as I've gotten older. Now sit down with me over a cup of coffee or a lovely slice of dark chocolate cake with raspberries, and I can talk--and listen, believe it or not--for hours.

Which is what I plan to do the next few days, because my parents are IN COUNTRY and IN TOWN until Sunday, when they fly out to Boston for the birth of my nephew!!!

MTL finally met them last night. I won't tell you how nervous he was. How very, very, very nervous. *ahem*

(He survived.)

(I love that man. As he says, I better. Heehee.)

I'm supposed to tag people, right? Eeek. Um. Okay. Yikes, can't tag DraftQueen. Or Brenda at MummyTime. Or Wanderlust. Or Melissa at Rock and Drool. DQ already tagged them. Dammit, woman!

Okay. I tag:

Lori at Random Ramblings of a Stay at Home Mum
Pants With Names at Pants With Names
Katie at No Missed Opportunities
Nicola at Some Mothers Do Ave Em
GingerB at Gas-Food-Lodging
Monica at And I'll Raise You 5

Your turn!

You're welcome.

At Least I'm Not As Crazy As Basil Marceaux. Though That Leaves A Whole Lot Of Room For Crazy.

I'm tending towards silence here these days not only because my days are filled with packing or children or both, but also because my thoughts have been tumbling about from one point to another and don't seem to settle down into one coherent post. Well, except for when I'm driving, per usual, and then long and lovely and loquacious posts spin themselves out in my mind, only to be lost by the time I park.

(I do remember the tag line I'd composed for a potential post about Basil Marceaux, quite possibly the craziest political candidate I've ever seen. Well, at least the most obviously crazy. I had planned to write a snarky post starting with his shockingly bad TV spot, then his horrendous website, with an additional focus on page 4 where he includes his letters to the United Nation [sic] and the FBI, at which point my friend Heidi and MTL and I started debating whether he was schizophrenic or had suffered from closed head trauma. I was going to end the post with Oh Tennessee. Bless yer heart. Yer crazy is showin'.)

Here's the thing about change: it's stressful. Even when it's good change, and change that I love, and involves people I love, and I know that I will be and am very happy about it all. Nevertheless, it's change, and it's stress. I feel rather as though over the last two years my entire life has been turned inside out, shaken, scrubbed thoroughly, taken apart at the seams, and resewn into a new configuration. Which, really, is rather a good thing, but is nevertheless rather exhausting. So I find myself attempting to scrape up the energy to finish packing in these last two days before we move on Saturday. The attempt is rather weak.

I've done more cleaning, purging, tossing, donating, and packing of Stuff over the last month and a half than I think I've ever done, largely because I did it The Right Way. This means that rather than just tossing anything and everything in boxes with the vague idea of Sorting It Out Later, I've been going through things very thoroughly. Perhaps too thoroughly at times: I threw out some items that I probably should not have thrown out and had to deal with a very unhappy Ex at one point. I've made seven or eight (I've lost track) visits to donation centers with a car packed to the brim with giveaway items. I've tossed dozens of giant garbage bags of trash onto the curb. I've stripped away the useless and the broken and the unwanted and the forgotten.

And still there is so much left to move this weekend. I won't tell you how many bins of shoes are involved. Or boxes of books. We all know about my addictions.

I'll admit to some anxiety about my new paradigm. To jump from two small boys to five children ranging from three to fourteen is a bit of a shock to one's system. I mean, just imagine. I have to learn how to braid hair!!!

It's a good thing we all, in general, get along. There are bumps, of course, but it could be so very much worse. And MTL is so very worth it.

Nevertheless...it's all quite stressful. So last night I slept restlessly as I suffered the consequences of not doing my physical therapy exercises yesterday and as anxiety dreams flitted through my head. From what I recall, they mainly dealt with trying to move and discovering that everything had unpacked itself, or the trucks got lost somewhere in the handful of miles between one place and the next, or the children kept climbing into boxes trying to pack themselves, or I kept forgetting what I was supposed to take. Oh, and then there were the dreams triggered by work starting up in a month coupled with the need to get children registered and ready for school once we move.

Have I mentioned that I'm a worrier? Yeah.

One day at a time, right? The only problem is that there are only two days left...and still so very much to do.

So I better go work on that mountain of laundry and finish packing the dishes. If you have some extra energy, go ahead and send it my way, would you? Oh, and dark chocolate would be awfully welcome too. Especially with raspberry filling.

Pardon My Sneeze

Apparently I am allergic to something in or around this condo, because I have had almost instantaneous allergy symptoms whenever I step foot in here for the last couple of weeks. MTL suggested I was allergic to the children. I suggested I was allergic to him.

Fortunately for us all, neither seems to be the case: I've had the symptoms both with and without any rugrats of either genetic makeup on the premises, and I just got back from having lunch with MTL, where I had no sniffles or congestion whatsoever. As soon as I walked back in the door, however....

*sniff* 

*sniff sniffle snuffle snoooork*

*whaaaachooo!*

Excuse me.

It's a good thing we move in five days.

In the meantime, I'm going to go blow my nose and try not to think longingly about the Benadryl sitting in the cabinet (or is it packed by now? Sigh. Can't find anything these days) because I'm already having enough difficulty getting my tookus in gear today.

Has anyone seen the Kleenex?

The Sun Is Hot, The House Is Cool, And This Couch Is Awfully Comfy

It's been a true vacation week. I could write all the details, but I'm still in vacation mode and find myself rather uninterested in working that hard.

I know. I'm awesome.

So let's see. How about a nice little bulleted list? I love lists. And then you could tell me what you're most interested in hearing about in greater detail, and I could be all happy about getting comments (because you know I'm a comment whore, Peoples, and all the comments on my last post gave me warm fuzzies and that's a Good Thing), and then I'll just focus on what you'd like to read rather than giving you some long drawn out commentary on a whole week's worth of activities like some modern literary version of those slide shows people make guests sit through showing them standing in front of a hundred different poorly photographed landmarks from their latest vacation.

You're welcome.

Since last Friday, the following major events have occurred:

• MTL and I drove north to his parents' place with all five kids and camped in their yard for over three days while sharing one kitchen and bathroom with eight other people (that makes fifteen total for the math challenged)
• DramaBoy earned his first ever full day Time Out (a.k.a. You're grounded, boyo.)
• I cohosted a hotel sleepover birthday party involving four thirteen- and fourteen-year-old girls with MTL's ex-wife
• MTL and I had a lovely couple of days All By Ourselves over on the west side of the state in a lovely little harbor town called Saugatuck

It's been quite the week, Peoples.

At the moment we're relishing our final days on vacation without kids and without responsibilities. On Monday reality takes over again. MTL will head back to work, and I will get back into the sorting and tossing and donating and packing process as well. It's only three weeks until we move. Time, it has wings.

And now back to relaxing with My True Love.

5ive Things

I've been Tag-Teamed, apparently, as both Tim Riley at life of riles and DraftQueen at The Drafts Folder tagged me for a meme. A nice, simple meme involving answering five questions and then tagging five other bloggers. Easy peasy. Since I'm trying to get stacks and stacks of The Great Big Paper a.k.a. "The Bitch" (actual file name from one student's emailed final draft: "10 pages of HELL!!!.doc") graded and still have exams to create and Benchmark Assessments to administer and massive amounts of end-of-year paperwork/tasks/packing to accomplish, anything that makes life easier is more than welcome.

So thank you, Tim and DraftQueen!

I should note that because I'm obsessive like this and also have a sneaking suspicion that whoever originated this meme was on a "5 Things" kick, I've slightly altered two of these questions to keep with the "five" theme. I know. It's a little sad.

1. Where were you five years ago?

Physically? Right here in Oakland County, Michigan, teaching at the same school, though not all the same classes. I was pregnant with DramaBoy and heading into my last summer teaching summer school while simultaneously beginning my Masters program. Because I was crazy. Mentally? I was under the illusion that I was doing well while ignoring my constant low-level depression (PPD wasn't even a reality yet) and the ever-widening fractures in my marriage.

2. Where would you like to be five years from now?

Physically? Right here in Oakland County, Michigan, teaching at the same school, though not all the same classes. Unless I miraculously win millions in the lottery, in which case I will be on a sandy beach somewhere with a steady stream of umbrella-d drinks in my hand. Mentally? I'd like to be on even more solid ground, enjoying my career (or the beach and fruity drinks), parenting well, flourishing in my relationship with MTL, growing in my relationship with God, and overflowing with all the love in my life. Not necessarily in that order of importance.

3. What are five things on your To-Do List for today?

• Grade papers. Make some sort of inroad into the piles that are threatening me with Grievous Bodily Papercut if I don't do something about them.
• Prep the Victorian Poetry lesson for my juniors that I'm giving tomorrow. Come up with a way to keep them (the students, not the poems) from wanting to commit harikari. Though now that I think about it, the poems might want to do so after my students get through their whining and moaning and bitching.
• Prep the ACT English-style Benchmark Assessments I'm giving my sophomores on Friday. Avoid wanting to commit harikari over giving such tests in the first place.
• Track down more paper boxes (you know, the sturdy boxes with lids that hold reams of copier paper that are the BEST for packing?). Try to do so without having to engage in duels with coworkers who also lust after them.
• Relax with MTL. Despite being chronologically last on my list, it's actually kind of highest in importance. Despite the ongoing threat of exsanguination via paper avalanche.

4. What are five snacks you enjoy?

• toast with Nutella (or rather, the way I spread it, Nutella with toast)
• Godiva Dark Chocolate with Raspberry Filling bars (OBVIOUSLY)
• Doritos (but not Cool Ranch) (because they're gross)
• Cheetos (especially the Flaming kind) (hehehe--I said Flaming)
• apples with Cheddar or muenster cheese (Haven't tried it? DO IT. You won't regret it. Or if you do, you might want to have your taste buds checked. Loser.)

5. What are five things you would do if you were a billionaire?

Oh, I've played this game before. In order, I would (1) pay off every single one of my debts, (2) pay off every single debt owed by my loved ones, (3) create trust and college funds for my boys, (4) build my dream house, including a massive library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and sliding ladders and a big bay window and massive armchairs made for curling up and reading, and (5) go on a lengthy trip around the world with MTL.

There you go. Thrilling stuff, I know.

I'm tagging

Monica from And I'll Raise You 5 (but of course)
Lori from Random Ramblings of a Stay At Home Mom
PantsWithNames from Pants With Names
Katie from No Missed Opportunities
Arby from Boarding in Bedlam

Have fun!

First of Something

Oh DraftQueen my DraftQueen. Thank you for giving me something to post, because dude, I gots nothing. I have this former student who promised me a written account of a highly entertaining dream he had in which I was a star player (and, um, no, not in THAT way, you dirty-minded people you. SHAME.), but the pesky business of doing Top Secret Stuff on computers over in Iraq got in the way, so I'm having to come up with my own blog fodder.

Oy.

But you, my darling, have tagged me. I'm It. Apparently I am to repost my first ever blog post and then tag some others to do the same. I'm sure, if I tried hard enough, I could tie this meme in to the fact that today is International Worker's Day as well as Beltene, but today is Saturday and I don't have a maypole handy, so I'll just be lazy and post the damn post already. You're welcome.

As a relatively new addict to the world of mommyblogs, I have had my concepts of blogging seriously challenged. My exposure to blogs was limited to the travesties of MySpace and the more personal ones of a few friends and family members--you know, the kinds that really only their friends and family are meant to see and enjoy? But a short while ago, on a day when I really had MANY other things I needed to do but really didn't feel like doing, I followed a series of links that led me to, of all things, a MommyBlog. (I won't say which at the moment, as I do believe in asking permission before linking and don't have the courage to go ask this High Lady of Humor for permission to link to my sorry little starter blog.) This Mommy was Funny. And Smart. And Funny some more.

As I became addicted to her blog and then (perhaps unwisely for the sake of the stack of papers that is teetering precariously on the corner of my desk) to several others that she herself linked, I realized that (1) blogging mommies Rock, (2) the ones worth reading have actually improved their writing skills through blogging, and (3) apparently blogging can satisfy something in women who are mommies but like to think too.

Now you have to understand that I am the type of person who writes really well when it comes to academic sorts of things, and I know it. However, that confidence falls short when it comes to the Personal. I am much like Adrian Plass, Aged 37 3/4, who starts a diary with the entry:

Feel led to keep a diary. A sort of spiritual log for the benefit of others in the future. Each new divine insight and experience will shine like a beacon in the darkness!

Can’t think of anything to put in today.

This is Me. I have started a half dozen diaries (or, rather, "Journals," very much in the tradition of Great Contributers to Literature) with the rather pompous and idealistic vision of sharing Great Thoughts with Humankind. I buy the pretty ones, the appealing ones, the Journals with lovely clean pages just aching to be written upon with a proper pen (I feel strongly in this matter, as does Anne Shirley, that only the right pen* will do). They generally lasted for a scattering of entries, and then they lay forgotten and dusty on various shelves. I find them later, mourn over another waste of money, laugh at myself and those silly entries, and then try to find something more useful to do with all that lovely paper. Such as jot down important notes about items to find and gems to get cut and quests to fulfill in another addiction of mine, World of Warcraft. But that's another post.

Similarly, the only blogging I have ever done was one exasperated post (about the frustrations of dealing with hormonal teenagers, as I recall) on the otherwise silent MySpace account I created solely to be able to read my sister's blogs. She doesn't blog there anymore, so that account lies quiet and dusty, but definitely unmourned, on some shelf the Webgods have tucked away in a back corner.

We shall see if this blog goes that way. I hope not. Mainly I need to remind myself that the best MommyBloggers are those who edit themselves and yet remain true to themselves. That way they avoid the pomposity and short-lived interest in what they write. From what I have read, at any rate.

So, here begins my account of life with Diapers and Dragons.

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* So do you find it curious, as do I, that upon reading over this entry I realized I had initially written "write pen" rather than "right pen"? A slip of the pen, or keys, or whatever, but amusingly apt.

I'm struck by the irony in one of those last lines I wrote: "...the best MommyBloggers are those who edit themselves and yet remain true to themselves." If you've been following my journey at all, you know that I was frantically lying to myself for years, and the first few months of my blog were the last few months I spent doing that. Go back and read last post of 2008 and then read through my journey of 2009...Good Lord. I feel like I'm looking back at the words of a completely different person.

And thank God, I'm not her any longer. 

So where were you and how far have you come since you first started blogging? I'm tagging MomZombie at MomZombie, Monica at And I'll Raise You Five, Arby at Boarding in Bedlam, and Nicola at Some Mothers Do Ave Em. Happy First of May!

All Apologies (Yeah, It's a Song Title. It's Like I'm DraftQueen or Something. Whatever.)

Okay, so here's the thing. I know I did that contest last week, and I actually had two entries (really? only two people? and Heidi, darlin', I know you're busy and all, but really? no entry?) and no, I haven't gotten around to "grading" them and coming up with a winner. Yet. I promise, I will. But I still haven't finished grading all the many, many papers I need to grade this week and I'm fighting the lazies like you would not believe and I have playdates scheduled for the kidlets (now with added bonus: adult conversation during!) and then this weekend has all sorts of other non-kidlet-related fun scheduled as well.

I haven't even done any diagramming this week.

You'd think I'm on VACATION or something. I know, right?

Also, I'm behind in reading my blogs.

Wow. My posts this week are incredibly boring. I apologize. I promise to try harder.

To make up for it, here's some gratuitous cuteness. My photos are working again. So here are my kidlets looking for eggs at my aunt's house (so adorable!!!!):

It's Not Like You Didn't Know Me Well Enough By Now To Be Surprised By Posts Like This

Today was a snow day which kind of messed with my head because, you know, we just had a snow day a week and a half ago and COME ON people, this is Michigan. We get snow. It's not like we're Texas or anything. And I was a little bitter because the Powers That Be in my district apparently take pride in being the VERY LAST DISTRICT IN THE COUNTY to ever call a snow day and so the phone call came while I was already in the shower and so I couldn't go back to sleep even though I spent the next four hours in bed anyway dinking around online.

Also, my eleventh graders were supposed to take a Very Important Test today that I can't administer after this week (even make-ups) because of the upcoming Michigan Merit Exam (don't ask why this is, because it's a ridiculous reason, but then we're talking a decision made by politicians here, yo) and so now my week has gotten much Shorter and More Difficult.

Although, mind you, there was a good bit of the snow, as I discovered when I finally hauled myself back out of bed and ventured forth to hunt down some coffee, all suburban Michigander style.

 

snow snow snow snow

 

AWD FTW!!! Ah Michigan, land of vehicles that can handle the snow, even if some of the drivers can't. New Englanders all seem to drive little four-door compacts with rear-wheel drive and therefore spend enormous amounts of time in the right lane with their hazard lights on. You'd think it never snows there.

I may have then taken a little trip down to Old Navy and taken advantage of their denim sale. Just possibly. (Seriously, how awesome is it that their newish styles now fit my body?!?! I can now find jeans that fit my long legs and long lower torso and cost a fraction of what other stores demand!!! WOOT!)

My whole weekend has been ridiculously and delightfully lazy lazy lazy as I have not truly been in ages. I lay in bed for hours upon end, people, and yet also got out and about and socialized Every Single Night. I am a social butterfly flitting from flower to flower. Except hopefully longer lived, because those critters don't last long, now that I think about it. Not all that fabulous a metaphor. I mean, why can't I be a social Galapagos tortoise?

Oh. Yeah. The whole speed of movement thing. It would take me forever to get from one event to another. That could be inconvenient, I suppose.

I started this post with some point and it has now been completely lost amidst all the snark. My snark quotient has been very high the last few days, probably due to the influence of the websites I have been spending all those hours and hours perusing, often laughing until tears were (quite literally) streaming down my face. Sites like Passive Aggressive Notes and Cake Wrecks and Lovely Listing and Craftastrophe and today my new favorite Regretsy*. As one person emailed the snarktastic blogger at Regretsy, Love this site. It's like LOLcats for mean people. And ZOMG, if loving that site means that I'm a mean person, slap a big red M on my bosoms and submit the pic, because I'm there.

My friends may be suffering a bit, but hopefully they love me enough to deal. I'm doing my best to keep my snark on the right side of harsh.

Also, Pandora.com has been running nonstop on my laptop to the point where I finally ran out of free hours and had to cough up the massive 99 cents it cost to have unlimited playtime for the rest of the month. I have been playing my Death Cab for Cutie and Emptyself and Iron & Wine stations endlessly. As a result, I have discovered many new songs and artists that I love love love love and I am having to restrain myself from draining my bank account buying mp3s on Amazon. Self control FTW!!!

Sigh.

Oh well. Whatever I originally meant to write, this is what you're getting. It is now time for bed, because suddenly it's actually Tuesday the 23rd instead of Monday the 22nd, which is when I started this post.

/sleepfail

My bed is calling. Well, not precisely my bed, because I'm already in it, but dreamland or whatever. Good night or good morning or whatever time it is and may your dreams be sweet and completely unhaunted by this.

You're welcome.

UPDATE: It just occured to me as I was adding links that I originally came on here TO BE SNARKY. Specifically, snarky about the random people/organizations/spammers who keep following me on Twitter even though I haven't even logged on to Twitter in months. MONTHS people, and seriously, why does it have to be the crazy spambots following me on Twitter? I would rather have real peoples follow me here. I mean, come on! Who's in charge around these here Intarwebz?!?!?

Whew. I'm glad I got that figured out. Good night/morning/whatever.

-------------------------------
*Warning: quite a few of the posts on Regretsy.com are Not Safe For Work and potentially offensive because OMG you would not believe what people try to sell on Etsy.com. It's amazing. So please don't go there and get all shocked that I would link that site because I just checked and the very front page (on the day this is posting) may involve "art" involving nekkid boobies. And pig corpses.

I kid you not. I couldn't make this up if I tried.

Excuses, Excuses

Student Version: Why I Didn't Do The Homework 
(from this site)

1. I didn’t do my history homework because I don’t believe in dwelling on the past.
2. I didn’t want the other kids in the class to look bad.
3. A sudden gust of wind blew my homework out of my hand and I never saw it again.
4. Another pupil fell in a lake and I jumped in to rescue him.  Unfortunately, my homework drowned.
5. Our furnace broke and we had to burn my homework to keep ourselves from freezing.
6. I’m not at liberty to say why.
7. I wanted to frame the detention letter you’re about to give me.
8. It was destroyed in a freak accident involving a hippo, a toaster, and a bag of frozen peas.  You don’t want to know the details.
9. I have a solar-powered calculator, and it was cloudy.
10. I made a paper plane out of it and it got hijacked.
11. My mom used it as a dryer sheet.
12. My agent won’t allow me to publish my homework until my movie deal is finalized.
13. It’s against my religion to do any homework.
14. I was abducted by green-skinned, three-eyed, pig-snouted space aliens, and they incinerated my homework with their death rays.
15. I felt it wasn’t challenging enough.
16. My parents were sick and unable to do my homework last night.  Don’t worry, they have been suitably punished.
17. We had homework?!
18. I see your lips moving, but all I’m hearing is “blah, blah, blah.”
19. I didn’t want to add to your already heavy workload.
20. I spent the night at a rally supporting higher pay for our hard-working teachers.

Teacher Version: Why I Didn't Grade The Homework
(by TeacherMommy)

1. A draft circulated through my room from the vents, and the friction caused by all those papers rubbing together resulted in spontaneous combustion isolated to my desk.
2. I had to go to the ER to treat the blood loss sustained from all my paper cuts.
3. I started reading the essays and suffered a brain aneurism.
4. I fell asleep on the papers due to exhaustion and got ink poisoning.
5. My children mistook the tests for scrap paper and used them for their latest art projects.
6. My cat mistook the tests for kitty litter and...well, littered on them.
7. The military has been taking up all my time having me train their best interrogators in the proper use of The Look. Soon they will be ready to add The Eyebrow.
8. I strained my back carrying my laptop and bag of papers and had to go to the chiropractor.
9. Oh, they're graded, but the computer hates me and won't let me enter the grades.
10. It was the craziest thing. I left my room for five minutes to use the copier, and a miniature wormhole opened up over my desk and transported all the papers to the Gamma Quadrant.
11. My nemesis in A pod papernapped all the essays. I'm negotiating for their release.
12. I'm trying to get my Procrastination Badge. I've been working on it for years, but the organization keeps putting off the final test.
13. I looked at the essays and decided I can't cure stupid.
14. Next week is Spirit Week and I'm too busy trying to decide what to wear on the theme days.
15. Did you know that Gmail chat suddenly works in the building?
16. I'm very busy practicing my blogging writing skills.
17. Since our salaries and benefits are likely to get slaughtered in the next contract negotiation, I've decided to start charging per paper. I'm waiting for my students to cough up the moolah.
18. I'm staging a protest against the needless slaughter of squids by refusing to use ink.
19. Sometimes it's just better not to know what is and isn't in those kids' heads.
20. I have a life.

Not That I'm Desperate For Topics or Anything *Ahem*

Okay. I mentioned before that it gets tricky these days to come up with topics for this blog, because of the whole minefield of my personal life and whatnot. I mean, posts about the Great Toilet Paper Hanging Debate are fabulous in their own right (and yes, Lauren, I absolutely came up with that one while sitting on the pot after a friendly debate over that very topic with someone), but I can't write about that every day.

(Though seriously, take the little poll over in the upper right-hand corner, because that's blog fodder for next week. You have until 9 a.m. next Wednesday, January 13th, to vote.)

So I'm going to take a page from a few other bloggers' books sites, so to speak, and ask you, my beloved readers, to help me out. In the comments on this post, please ask me questions, humorous or serious, that you would like me to answer. I don't promise to answer them all (especially if doing so would set off one of those mines), but I'll do my best!

And if you have a brilliant topic in general that you think I would write about well, please feel free to send that my way as well.

Please don't let me down! I don't care if you're a longtime reader or a recent visitor, a family member or someone I've never met: JUST LEAVE A COMMENT! (Well, you know, with a question or topic suggestion.)

You can DO it!

I'll Keep You Posted (Ha Ha) On How This One Goes

There are many resolutions I could and should make for this year, this year of Clarke-ian significance, this Twenty-Ten. (Am I the only one relieved for a date that's easy to say, finally?!?) If I were to list all the resolutions that crossed my mind in the last few weeks, this is what you would see--though of course, this means I AM listing all the resolutions that crossed my mind in the last few weeks. Whatever.

The List I Could Write and Maybe Would If I Was More, You Know, Masochistic

1. Exercise for at least half an hour at least five times a week. And walking around while teaching can't count.
2. Eat healthier food cooked at home rather than resorting to fast food and boxed carbs so often. Tossing frozen peas in mac 'n' cheese is insufficient. Of course, it would help if there were even any frozen peas in the freezer to begin with.
3. Get papers graded no less than one week after they are turned in. Oh, and actually remember to return them to the students too.
4. Make more money and spend less.
5. Be neater. Okay, just be neat. Tidy, even.
6. Write wonderful, witty, inspiring posts on a regular basis. Perhaps win some blog awards.
7. Write a book. Or at least a good portion of one.
8. Stay caught up on reading blogs too. And commenting.
9. Get rid of the house. Please. Anyone want to buy a house? It's a nice house. I just don't want it. Oh, and if you would actually pay what we OWE rather than what that pesky housing market says it's WORTH, that would be so nice.
10. Win friends and influence people. Without having to read some stupid self-help book.

So some of these are actually within the realm of possibility, at least in part, especially if I have a little will power. Numbers 1, 2, and 3 are quite reasonable. Well, maybe not five times a week for number one. Three times? I could at least try.

And I've even gotten a decent start on some others. Number four, for example. I'm trimming excess spending already. I also am looking into picking up some tutoring hours--I advertised on Craigslist and I've already gotten a couple of bites. It would be nice to pay off some of those debts...

(Hey, if any of you live in the area and want a really good Language Arts tutor for your kid, let me know! Seriously. I'm good at it and I could use the money. Ahem.)

Numbers 6 through 10? Well. We'll see. (I really, really would like number nine to come true, but it's a little tough to make it an actual resolution.)

Ah, but number five...

I've never been the neatest person in the world. Okay, Mom, stop laughing. You too, Lauren. And SoccerSister. And soon-to-be-ex-husband. Oh, and all you former students.

Sigh.

This does not mean, however, that I do not appreciate a clean environment. I do. I just am not all that great at the little stuff. The not-leaving-things-all-over stuff. The maintenance stuff. The Clutter stuff.

Recent months have influenced me for the good, however. First, sharing residences with an ex (you know, the whole trading off on the house with the kids thing?) means that each of us needs to leave the place neat and tidy before the other person moves in on those toggle days. It keeps things sane and (more) drama-free. So I've been having to clean up and tidy much more than I did in the past. I'm getting almost used to it.

Also, Joe's house is delightfully clutter-free and he keeps it very tidy. He tends to keep things as simple as possible in his life, and I've found some inspiration in that. This approach worked pretty dang well for Christmas, and I'm thinking maybe it's one I could apply to other areas of life too.

So my real, very concrete, very doable resolution for 2010 is to Declutter. Specifically, every weekend when I have custody of the boys and therefore am in the house, I will produce AT LEAST one large box or bag of Stuff to donate or toss.

Trust me, there's enough to keep me going all year.

Today I went through the boys' toys and books and clothes, and I managed to produce a very large bin of books and toys for donation, a garbage bag full of trash, and a small pile of outgrown clothing. So I'm already good for the first custody weekend of the year! In two weeks, I plan to tackle my own closet. That may take a month...

And overall? The word of the year, this nice, neat, tidily-numbered year of 2010, is SIMPLIFY.

Because my life is complicated enough without cluttering it up with all the extras.

Twenty-Four Hour Sunday

I cannot sleep because my head hurts and at the same time a million thoughts are whirling through it. Perhaps the two are linked. I am finally drifting off around two in the morning when a friend who is far too young and doesn't realize that some people might need to sleep texts me and jerks me out of my doze.

I am still awake fifteen minutes later when my youngest son begins coughing and crying in his room. He has been suffering from the sniffles and his congestion is making him miserable. I lift him, his warm but thankfully not-feverish body solid in my arms, and take him to my bed. He falls asleep nestled against my chest, and then I manage a parenting twist on the classic hug-and-roll technique, depositing him safely beside me.

Half an hour later I am still awake, this time because there is no way I can sleep easily with a small sniffling person jamming his feet into my side. There is a noise from the doorway and I roll over to see my slightly larger small son shuffling in. Mama, I want to sleep with you. I can't sleep in my bed, he whispers. I sigh and open my arms, the signal for him to clamber over my body and take up most of what little space his brother has left. I rearrange both children and finally gain a precious ten inches of space for myself.

Slumber does not come easily when elbows and knees are being jammed into one's extremities with the occasional whack of a hand across one's face, but my children are kind enough to sleep in two hours later than usual, so I do not wake until almost eight in the morning. My bed is warm and full of snuggles.

************************

I survey the catastrophe that is the house in the aftermath of three small people having a late-night playdate. For a moment I regret passing on my friend's offer to help clean last night, but it was already almost 11:30 when we got back and she still needed to drive home with her little girl. I am glad my boys had so much fun, but the chaos is a bit overwhelming.

Time to clean up the mess! I announce to my small boys. You can watch TV while you clean up, but all these toys need to be put away. All the train stuff goes in that box, and the Legos in their bin, and everything else goes back on the toy shelves.

Can we have a snack? DramaBoy asks.

After you clean this up, I reply, and they slowly start to pick things up.

I climb the stairs and face the four large baskets of clean clothes waiting to be folded. With the boys downstairs working at a snail's pace while they watch Backyardigans, I am free to watch my non-kid-friendly shows like CSI and Cold Case and The Soup while I fold clothes. There's nothing like crime and gore and celebrity stupidity to make chores go faster.

************************

The giggles erupting from the bedroom alert me to my children's lack of focus. Snacks of chips and raisins and a lunch of macaroni and cheese have kept them going all day as they worked through their mess, but there's only so long they can concentrate on the task at hand. I walk in to discover them wrestling on the floor clad only in underwear and pull-ups. Thankfully they have already picked up the toys that could hurt them in their rough housing. All that's left are the clean clothes still strewn about the floor, now performing the role of wrestling mat.

I cannot bring myself to be stern with them. Their giggles are infectious and I soon am on the floor with them, turning the wrestling match into a tickling match with some wet raspberries thrown in for good measure. Finally they conquer me and I end up on my back, two small bodies bouncing merrily on my belly. Worn out, I rescue myself and stumble from the room, promising them a treat if they finish cleaning the room. I still have a duffle bag to pack and two more loads of laundry to wash, dry, and fold. Their giggles are diminished but still bubbling as I walk down the hall.

************************

Do you want to go out in our pajamas and go through a drive-through tonight, or do you want me to have pizza delivered? I ask the small Spiderman-clad boy in front of me.

I want to go to Lucky Duck Pizza and get pizza! he declares.

No, baby, I say. We're just in our pajamas and so if we go out, we have to go to Taco Bell or Arby's or somewhere like that.

We can wear our pajamas? he asks.

Yes, I say.

Mama? he asks, a twinkle beginning in his eyes.

What, honey? I say.

We have to wear our shoes if we're going to get our booty! he says and bursts into giggles.

I snort back laughter and hope he's referring to playing pirates.

************************

I sink deep into the liquid heat, the bubbles rising up until my chin is covered. I breathe the sweet scent of vanilla and exhale, muscles loosening one by one. I wiggle my toes against the end of the tub and reach for my book. I hear the hushed murmur of my boys' voices from their room but relax in the knowledge that they are unlikely to emerge again tonight. I open the pages and submerge myself in another mind's world. Perhaps by the time I crawl between the newly laundered sheets my own will be soothed enough to allow sleep to come quickly.

Silence falls upon the house.

So Do You Know That Feeling...

So do you know that feeling you get when you look at your naked body in the mirror and realize that the utter lack of decrease in exercise and rampant indulgence increase in snacking has led to a body better described as "jiggly" than "jammin'"?

And do you know that feeling you get when you optimistically take home reams of grading with the full intention of spending most of your weekend (when not playing with/feeding/bathing/cleaning up after your kids) catching up on everything you should have been doing for the last three weeks, and then when you come back in to work on Monday you realize you only got about half of it done and you spent far more time chatting online and creating a mix-CD for a Christmas present?

And do you know that feeling when you write out the check for the house cleaner because she's coming in to clean (duh) and you look around and realize that while you managed to get the kids to clean up the majority of their incredible mess, the house is still way cluttered and messy and there isn't enough time left to clean up before the cleaner comes?*

You know how that feels?

No?

Um...

Yeah, me neither.

-------------------------------------------------
*Woah. I need a thesaurus. Way too many forms of "clean" in that sentence. I'm not doing so well on the writing front either, apparently.

I Tried to Make This Sound Exciting, but I Don't Have Much to Work With (and Yes, I Know That's Grammatically Incorrect)

After a brief kid-filled pool party this morning with a friend's MOPS group (we were rained out after an hour), I returned with my wee whiners to the house. Fun time was over. Today was the day. I had put it off for four months, and there was no turning back.

It was time to Clean the Room.

Back in May, when my parents flew out of the country, I moved up into the Skyhouse, their charming attic suite. Which has since become less charming and more lived-in-by-children. This freed up the second-floor room where I had been staying since January, and on Monday a young couple is moving in there as renters.

The problem is that I am a slob. I am also the queen of procrastinators. Therefore, I moved the things I wanted up into the Skyhouse and left behind a nice variety of extraneous minutiae, such as my winter clothing and my jeans that don't fit any more (they're too big!) and craft supplies and books I'd already read. And there they have sat, collecting dust mites.

So today I put an Imagination Movers DVD on for the kidlets, turned my MP3 player to the Garden State soundtrack, plugged in the earbuds, and got down to work.

I swear my stuff must have procreated, because I don't remember having that much in there.

Today, despite the rain, is stifling hot and, due to the rain, horribly humid. That room hasn't had the windows open or a fan running in months, and there's no central air in this house. So after only fifteen minutes my shirt was sticking to my skin, my bra was rubbing damply beneath my boobs, and my hair was plastered attractively to my face. Great fun.

By the time everything was packed up and the bed was stripped and I could put my brother to work lugging my things upstairs, the soundtrack was over and the kidlets were beating each other up in the living room. So I am now sitting on the couch while DramaBoy complains about the show availability on TV, luxuriating in the breeze sweeping through the windows. Shortly, DramaBoy will have to deal with my own choice of show. And I will cheerfully ignore the enormous pile of clutter up in the Skyhouse until I can't avoid tidying up there as well.

Holy cannoli, but I am pooped. This cleaning thing is so overrated.

two small boys on beach

two small boys on beach
splash through the shallows and sand
shrieks of glee and fun

i sit on a rock
damp granite on sandy rear
content to watch them

once i too ran here
building sandcastles in sun
endless energy

these days i prefer
to simply sit, supervise
and sip lemonade

go play, small boylets
for these are innocent years
and too soon are gone

So Do I Come Out Even?

When I headed into the mall with the kidlets yesterday, I did note the lack of diaper bag in the car. Oh well, I thought, I just changed the Widget's diaper before we came here. And their grandma said he had a poopy diaper already this morning, so he should be good to go, so to speak.

Ah, the foolish confidence of the disorganized mom.

I had forgotten another key piece of information that their grandma passed on to me--to wit, the Widget had consumed a small cup of milk and had milk with his cereal that morning. Non-lactose-free milk. Regular milk. Doom-in-the-diaper milk.

We ate our Sbarro's pizza with a minimum of fuss, and then the kidlets charmed/weaseled/coerced me into spending some moolah on the outrageously expensive mechanized rides placed in the food court, just in case we parents hadn't already spent enough money. As the Widget crawled out of a little jeep, I caught a whiff.

That deadly stench.

The one that means this is more than just a nugget of excrement nestled in the diaper.

Sure enough, the slightest movement of his diaper top revealed the swamp stored within. And then I spotted it--the slowly spreading spot on his shorts.

With no diaper, no wipes, no change of clothes. Even if I DID snatch an overpriced pair of shorts from Baby Gap, where was I going to get what goes underneath?

So in desperation, we marched out the doors into the sweltering heat of the parking lot to the car, where I threatened the Widget with dire consequences if he even thought about moving and jostling anything, and I crawled through the landfill that is my Saturn Vue in search of hidden treasure.

And lo! there was a pair of denim shorts lying on the rear seat--no idea why, but they had no visible signs of gunkiness, so onwards! And lo! there was a forgotten container of wipes wedged under the driver's seat. And lo! there was one unused diaper buried under the detritus and boxes of used books in the cargo area. I only had to brush off a couple pieces of dust and it was practically clean.

I'm just not sure how this works out in the score books. Points lost for forgetting the diaper bag (which wouldn't have held a change of shorts anyhow, since I forgot to replace the last emergency pair we used). Points won--sort of--for being disorganized and sloppy enough to actually have all the pieces needed scattered about the car. If I'd cleaned it out like I planned about, oh, five weeks ago, I wouldn't have had the shorts or the diaper. (The wipes would have stayed, just in a better spot.)

What's your verdict, bookie?

This Is For My WoW Peeps

Because you know it's true.

I Here a Tale Unfold, Whose Lightest Word Would Harrow Up Thy Soul*

I'm feeling a little harrowed. Just a little, mind you, but there it is. I'm feeling a bit whiny as a result, and I have chosen to subject you to read said whine. Because there's only so much satisfaction one can glean from posting over on Secret Spineless Whine.

So here are some recent harrowing events:

• DramaBoy tested positive for strep (again and still) on Monday and had to be put on a higher level antibiotic, as the blessed amoxicillin had apparently done an insufficient job of killing off this particular strain.
• The Widget had explosions from both ends for a week due to gastroenteritis. He has recovered, although he now has farts so stinky we keep checking his diaper to see if he has filled it. Even he's confused.
• ComputerDaddy apparently caught the same bug this week and has been prostrate since Monday evening. He has the added joy of fever and cramps on top of streaming forth at both ends.
• Last night, in a feat of heroic mommyhood, I placed my cupped hands beneath DramaBoy's mouth (for lack of a handy receptacle needed rightnow) and caught the vomit that spewed forth at the onset of what may be his own battle with the Creeping Crud.
• My throat is sore. If this turns out to be strep rather than allergies, I will be Very Put Out. I simply do not have the time to be sick, thank you very much (or the sick days, for that matter).
• I have gotten very little sleep the last few days and keep practically falling asleep when I'm driving. I'm not exaggerating--I have the whole eyes fluttering shut, drifting into a weird almost-dreaming state, having to slap myself in the face sort of experience going on. It's bad enough when it's just me in the car: it's terrifying when the boys are in the back seat.
• This morning as I exited the front office and headed down the hall towards my classroom, coffee clenched hopefully in my hand, I heard a commotion from the balcony overhead and saw a backpack come flying over the side, headed directly for me. If I had not stopped, it would have slammed me in the head. The perpetrator has been found by administration and, I assume, is being flogged and keelhauled. Also perhaps suspended.
• I have very little time this afternoon between my chiropractor appointment (ah! massage therapy! the light in my day!) to grab the kids and take them back to the house in Detroit where I will deposit them with my brother, then head all the way back up to the marriage counselor. And there's construction (as usual in the Detroit area come a hint of warmer weather) on the way home. Is it evil to sort of hope that ComputerDaddy is sick enough to cancel tonight? Probably.
• My students actually need to be taught today, because they're done reading their play. Dammit. So I must end now.

I should probably be trying to focus on Grace in Small Things, but all that comes into my head is a handful of warm, soupy vomit and a flying backpack.

Enjoy that meal you were thinking about eating.

--------------------------------------------------------
*Bonus points and maybe a little something special if you can identify the original quote and its source!

Apology to my Students: A Poem

I've always liked William Carlos William's brilliant "This is Just to Say," and when GingerB at Gas-Food-Lodging posted her own very funny spoof and linked back to Schmutzie's marvelous post, I had to take on the challenge. You may see more.

This is Just to Say...
by TeacherMommy

I did not grade
your papers
or quizzes
today

Which you
have been
asking about
the last three weeks

Forgive me
the blogs
were seductive
and many