Seven! Seven Things To Count! HA HA HA HA HA! (Insert Crashes of Thunder)

It's been AGES since I've done something as spontaneous and yet meme-ish as a Seven Quick Takes Friday, as originated over at Conversion Diary, but something bloggish in me woke up and said, Today! Write today! So I am. Except I can't get Count von Count's voice out of my head, for some odd reason, so we'll be doing this his way.

--One! One Quick Take! Ha ha ha ha ha!--

This morning I pulled on new jeans purchased on sale from Old Navy yesterday. They're the same style that I always wear (I am, apparently, The Flirt), but one size up. It was rather marvelous to pull on jeans that don't feel like sausage casings. I am sad to report that MTL's birthday gift to me is still sitting in the corner of the living room. I've used it about four times, which means that each seven minute ride cost about $50. Damn, but I'm out of shape. I keep swearing I'm going to do something about it, and then the siren song of the couch drowns out everything else.

On a positive note, MTL appreciated being able to actually grab my butt this morning as he walked by on his way out the door, rather than encountering the immovable force of straining denim. There's always a silver lining.

--Two! Two Quick Takes! Ha ha ha ha ha!--

Upon arriving at daycare this morning, The Widget informed me that he felt like throwing up. He then proceeded to do exactly that. All over his shirt and the floor, with a bonus splattering on one of my shoes. Although he did have a nasty stomach bug last weekend, I have a strong suspicion that this morning's gift was the product of too much sinus drainage (thank you, environmental allergens!) and his refusal to swallow the chewed-up Claritin chewable pill that ended up on the floor along with the semi-digested remains of last night's tacos.

News flash: I have apparently lost the cast-iron stomach I developed during those early years of parenting. I was unabashedly grateful that he threw up on the daycare's floor rather than mine. All I had to do was wipe him down and get him back into the car. God bless the heroic and plastic-gloved daycare teacher who tackled the floor.

--Three! Three Quick Takes! Ha ha ha ha ha!--

I can't say I'm thrilled about how often The Ex's girlfriend is at the house. This has nothing to do with her--I rather like her, truth be told, and I'm relieved he's moving on and I'm happy she's good with the kids. I do, however, resent that I'm still paying almost half of the mortgage on a house I don't live in, and that I'm essentially paying for them to live there. Trust me, I only agreed to this in the settlement for the kids' sake (plus she wasn't staying there back then). And yes, there is a time limit, but still. Don't even get MTL started on that, either.

However, I did find myself rather grateful to discover that she was there this morning and doesn't have work today, because she's able to watch the Widget. For some reason daycare centers don't let vomiting children stick around.

--Four! Four Quick Takes! Ha ha ha ha ha!--

I love my coworkers.

Thanks to one of them, my students were able to enter my classroom, be made aware of the situation, and get started on their work for the day. I was only ten minutes late to work, but mine is not a job with flexible start times. Thanks to another, those kids also had a watchful pair of eyes during those ten minutes. You'd be amazed what a bunch of juniors will try to do during ten minutes' unsupervised time.

Sometimes I wonder how much of a difference there really is between my job and a kindergarten teacher's.

Oh, right. We don't have recess.

--Five! Five Quick Takes! Ha ha ha ha ha!--

Speaking of kindergarten, DramaBoy is currently going through a phase of Marvelous! Wonderful! Near-perfect behavior! both at school and at home, which is a lovely respite from phone calls about how many kids he's hit on a given day and battles over how many bites of that horrible healthy food he'll have to eat tonight. I'd enjoy it more if I didn't keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Also, since children learn how to tag-team at birth, The Widget is In A Mood almost every day right now. I'm fairly certain he was flung into a maelstrom of jealousy, insecurity, and angst by having his eight-month-old cousin around for a few days and having to Share Attention--particularly from my parents, whom he views as his personal attendants. I mean, how DARE they?

Not that I would know anything about how that feels, or ever tormented The Widget's cousin's mother for coming along and dispelling my belief that the universe revolved around my three-year-old self. Nah. I wouldn't have done that. Ahem.

(Sorry, SoccerSister. Again.)

--Six! Six Quick Takes! Ha ha ha ha ha!--

I hate politics.

I know this isn't news, but I think it deserves restating.

And while I will not, out of deference to DraftQueen's sensibilities, say that I hate all politicians or that they are all corrupt and horrible people, I will say that I have very little faith in most politicians.

However, if Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert ever run for office, I'm voting for them.

Just sayin'.

--Seven! Seven Quick Takes! Ha ha ha ha ha!--

The Old Spice commercials are awesome. In fact, an Old Spice ad torn from a magazine is clipped to my inbox where I can see it and be reminded to smile. Not because Isaiah Mustafa is pretty decent eye candy (though he is), but because the sheer over-the-top, tongue-in-cheek ridiculousness of these ads brings a little sunshine into my gloomy days.

I wonder if they'll have any effect on lowering the acceptable age for men to wear Old Spice. MTL can hardly wait until he's allowed to wear it, in fact--and felt that way even before these ads. Fortunately, I'm not allergic to that particular cologne.

In the meantime, I'll just keep enjoying the ads.

You're welcome.

Happy Friday!

An Unexpected Post : Now With Lava. And SHARKS.

So a dear fellow teacher and friend of mine posted this link on her Facebook page with a statement about how all the cruelty in the world saddens her, and I read it while I was wasting time procrastinating taking a break during my prep hour and then commented that people like this should be exiled to an island where we wouldn't have to share the same air. And she commented back about how they don't deserve the beauty of an island, and I responded that it could be one of the ones devastated by nuclear testing and we can surround it with electric fencing and SHARKS, and she said they'd still get to enjoy the sunsets and that just doesn't seem right.

So we came up with a new idea. We think that all the evil douchebags of the world (including but not limited to cyber AND non-cyber bullies as well as massive numbers of politicians, Wall Street brokers, megacorporation CEOs, and of course idiot drivers who think the road belongs to them and their massive SUVs) should be air-dropped into the center of the very very deep caldera of a dormant volcano with impossible-to-climb sides. The top of the caldera should be rimmed with electric fencing, just in case.

We are also debating the possibility of genetically engineering lava sharks, because there need to be sharks. Obviously. We think one of our science teacher friends may be able to help us.

And just think of the excitement the evil douchebags will get to experience on a daily basis, what with all that wondering whether the volcano will decide to end its dormancy!

Talk about fire and brimstone. We have all those ultra Baptist preachers beat by a mile.

Because we're talking LAVA SHARKS, people!!!!

Like this. Only a lot scarier and more shark-like, because honestly this doesn't exactly make me shake in my shoes. Don't blame me. Blame mishaelley.

I fully expect a Nobel prize or two when we've accomplished all this. You're welcome.

Who else should we include in our group of future charcoal briquettes exiles? We're open to the possibility of employing multiple volcanoes, if need be.

Jam On It

I have a confession to make.

I may have mentioned it before. It's entirely possible. I have lost track of how many little pieces of shame I've posted here for your amusement judgment absolution.

But it's that time again. So it's time for my confession.

Forgive me, Dear Readers, for I have committed the sin of mindless mass media mastication.

It's true.

I'm addicted to "So You Think You Can Dance."

*ducks head in shame*

But really, what's not to love?!?! All the DANCING! The HOOPLA!! The FABULOSITY!!! The HOT TAMALE TRAINS!!!!

(I know. You won't get that last one unless you actually watch the show. And the third one is totally made up. So sue me.)

Anyhow, Season 7 just started and I had a backlog of recorded shows on the DVR. Yesterday I parked myself in front of the TV and plowed through over 200 pages of student essays in a matter of an afternoon, all while semi-watching seven hours' worth of SYTYCD auditions/Vegas week. They were perfect company for the daunting task: music and background noise without the distraction of a plot, with the added bonus of an occasional really fascinating performance to give me a break from the endless words words words words words.

At one point The Widget was cuddled up next to me, and a very talented break dancer performed his audition. I heard a little gasp from my snuggler. He leaned forward, eyes riveted to the screen, then pointed and turned to me.

Wow! Look at him! he lisped. Oh COOL!!!

(If you can imagine this said in just about the sweetest, squeakiest voice possible, you might get an idea of how adorable he is, by the way. MTL says it's because he's such a sweet little guy that it comes through in his voice. /melt)

Then The Widget crawled forward on the bed and turned a somersault.

Is that cool, Mama? he asked.

Yes, honey, it's very cool! I replied.

Mama! Watch this too! he demanded, and he lay on his back and attempted what I can only believe was one of the back-spin thingies (I know, I'm so technical) the performer was doing on screen.

Apparently a bed is not the best location for such stunts. He didn't get very far.

For the next half an hour, he wandered in and out of the room, saying Mama! Look at this one! and performing various somersaults and spins and moves that apparently were his idea of break dancing.

ADORABLE. TEH CUTE, peoples, TEH CUTE.

I just might have a little B Boy on my hands. Heck, he's cute enough that he'd probably bring in plenty of cash performing on street corners, technique or no technique.

Maybe I could buy a laptop of my very own AND get him some Bakugan!

It's not child labor if he's just having fun, right?

I Has a Bucket

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Apparently the thing to do these days is to have a Bucket List. You know, the things you want to do/accomplish before you kick the bucket. Shuffle off the mortal coil. Run down the curtain. Sleep with the fishes. Pay Charon's fare. Buy the farm. Check out. Dance the last dance. Give up the ghost. DIE.

(You want some other euphemisms? Check out this list. Boy, we'll do just about anything not to say the actual word, won't we?)

I haven't thought about my Bucket List much. I mean, I've said there are things I want to do "someday," but my comment about riding a motorcycle a while back? That's the first time I can remember specifically thinking about doing something before I /whisper/ die.

It's just not the way I generally think. But I'm getting older, yo, and what with my bones creaking and popping and my body acting in general as though it's a goodish bit older than I actually am, I've started thinking about the kinds of things I'd like to do before Death gets in the way. Or even, really, General Physical Infirmity, because that may come sooner than I'd like. Let's be realistic, peoples.

And it turns out a slew of my students already have Bucket Lists, which makes me wonder if it's just the influence of media or if by some miracle more of them have a concept of mortality than generally is the case. Mind you, some of the items on their lists might make mortality more of a reality than a concept, but it's a step.

Anywho, I figured I might as well do my own Bucket List. So here you go--the list of things I'd like to do before I push up daisies*:

1. Ride a real motorcycle. Possibly even drive it. Because I'm a Total Badass like that.
2. Visit Australia and New Zealand. Lauren, I still have an open invitation to crash with you, right?
3. Tour the ancient monuments and places from mythology in Greece. I've only been obsessed since I was seven.
4. Publish some of my writing. And no, blogging doesn't count. Any agents out there?
5. Learn how to do some real ballroom dancing. This may need to be sooner rather than later, as I have a feeling artificial joints, walkers, and/or wheelchairs might make things difficult.
6. Win a teaching award. Because I'm modest like that, yo.
7. .....

Ack. This is where my mind goes blank. I mean, there are things I'd LIKE to do. Travel around Europe more. Visit all fifty states. Learn how to make a chocolate souffle. But they're not the sorts of things that make me feel like my life will have been incomplete if I die before they're accomplished, you know?

Does this mean I'm insufficiently ambitious? Does this mean I'm a loser?

Does this mean my bucket is undersized?!?

Cuz I hear that sometimes size DOES matter.

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What about you? What's on YOUR bucket list?

---------------------------------------------
*Except I've decided to be cremated instead** and have my ashes scattered because the idea of my preserved remains sticking around in a lead-lined box is just creepy, people, and I don't feel like going through the rigamarole of arranging for a burial au naturel, a la pine box. Plus apparently the level of preservatives present in our food is rendering postmortem preservation pretty much unnecessary these days, and that's even more icky. Just sayin'.

**And yes, I totally get the irony of my not having a Bucket List but knowing what I want done with my body after death. I also know which hymns*** and scripture verses**** I want read at my memorial. I said I'm a planner, people!!!

***"It Is Well With My Soul" and "Amazing Grace". And no, I don't care if that's totally predictable and cliche. They're still my favorites and the lyrics mean a lot to me. So there.

****Psalm 23 (King James Version) and Psalm 51 (New Living Translation). What I said.

There Are Things That Make Me Sad: These Are Not Some of Them*

What's been making TeacherMommy giggle this week? Glad you asked.

A "letter of appreciation" from a former student for Teacher Appreciation Week:

Dear Ms. TeacherMommy,

U made me learn how 2 right bettr. eye din't thenk u wood help me 2 right as good as eye do now!

U R

AWESUM!

Sincerely, Steve H. :)

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A letter from daycare I found sitting on the dining room table when I returned to the house last night, obviously left there via the ex for my enjoyment information:

Dear Mr. or Mrs. TeacherMommy,

Today DramaBoy did not choose good choice at naptime, so we are sitting down and talking about what he chose to do instead. DramaBoy has told me that at naptime we are supposed to be quiet and stay on our cots. DramaBoy told me instead he was playing around and not listening to the teacher. I have asked DramaBoy if tomorrow he will make better choices and listen to the teacher when she tells him to be quieter and he says he will try but might need me to sit by him, to which I agreed. If he makes good choices tomorrow at the end of naptime we will draw nice pictures and write a good letter.

Thank you,
Ms. D-------

(The kicker? DramaBoy wrote his name at the bottom too. IT'S HIS FIRST BEHAVIORAL CONTRACT, PEOPLES.)

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From the car on the way to school/work this morning:

DramaBoy: Mama, do you like Hannah Montana?

TeacherMommy: No, I don't really like Hannah Montana very much, baby.

DramaBoy: But why don't you like her? Girls LIKE Hannah Montana!

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Gems gleaned from going over rough drafts of the paper affectionately known as The Bitch:

Harriet Beecher Stowe aroused many people through her very famous and controversial book, Uncle Tom's Cabin.

This theme was completely utilized towards the end of Uncle Tom's Cabin when the beloved hero, Uncle Tom, is brutally beaten to death by a viscous slave driver.

Through Twain's life, his experiences and wisdom seldom come, molded the modern author into the sculpture he is today.

(I can't help but wonder--did the first of those have anything to do with the slave driver's stickiness in the second? I know. Ewwwww.)

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And the fourth thing that's made me giggle?

All the snarky, funny, wonderful comments and emails and texts and whatnot my friends and family have been sending. I big puffy heart you all.

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*Inspired by the song "Things" from my favorite children's CD (it's #19 on the songlist)

At Least I Have Some Job Security

I've been having a very rough time of it lately (difficult to talk about, so I won't), but every now and then something comes along to brighten things up a bit. I got not one but two chuckles out of my day today, courtesy of students.

First, I received an email from a student:

Dear Ms. [TeacherMommy],

Hello, this is D------ from your 2nd hour English 10 class. I was sick last Friday and was not able to revive the work you passed out in class. I was wondering if you could please send me any work that was given out that day.

Sincerely,
D------

I may have to email him back and suggest that he renew his CPR training.

Then in my Mythology class, I asked the class to remind me which Greek gods we covered last on Friday. A student raised his hand and said, in all seriousness:

Hermaphrodite? Herpes? Asbestos?

I had to thank him for the first real laugh I'd had in four days. And then I wrote it down. I can make money off that sort of thing, know. Richard Lederer can't have all the fun.

There Are Times When I Could Really Use a Cruciatis Curse or Two

I came across this video the other day and it makes me laugh every time I watch it. I mean, come on. What's not to love?

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Some Styles Should Just Die a Quiet Death

O. M. G.

When I decided to declutter every custody weekend as my New Year resolution, I knew I'd probably come across some interesting finds. What I found the other night...Wow.

This weekend, since I was taken up with tending to snotty noses and cabin feverish kidlets, I decided to be ruthless with my hanging clothes, since that would be simple enough and wouldn't make much noise after bedtime. I grabbed a heavy duty garbage bag and waded in. Shirts that are baggy with much washing...gone. Skirts that haven't been worn in four years...pitched. Dresses that were given to me and never worn more than once or twice...bye bye.  And the contents of that hanging bag that is falling apart with age...HOLY CRAP.

Inside were two dresses that looked more like costumes than actual clothing items, at least to the contemporary eye. One was the equivalent of my prom dress, the dress I wore as a senior to the Junior-Senior Banquet back in 1995. Why have I kept it for nearly fifteen years, schlepping it across international waters and from abode to abode all this time? Pure sentimentality. Not for the night itself, which was rather forgettable (I didn't even have a date, though neither did a lot of other girls--there was a severe deficiency of males), but because I had chosen the fabrics and pattern as a sophomore while in the States, and my mother had made the dress for me for my senior year.

Somehow I can tell that the years 1993 and 1995 were involved:

In case you can't tell in this very poor-quality cell phone photo, it is made out of emerald green satin, the top part of which is solid sequins, with a large bow/fabric flower at the angled waist. And let's not forget the puffy sleeves.

WHAT WAS I THINKING???

Oh, that's right. It was the 90s. And I was a sophomore when I chose it, and the definition of "sophomore" is "wise fool"--i.e. someone who thinks she knows everything but doesn't.

And then there was this slinky black cocktail-style dress, also straight out of the late 80s/early 90s. I don't know if I ever wore it. I don't remember how I got it. But it stayed with me, just in case (of what, I have no idea):

The photo doesn't even come close to showing just how bad it really is. This one is also satin, though at least there are no sequins involved. There are, however, padded shoulders, a line of rhinestones adorning the (invisible in this photo) swath of extraneous fabric dangling from the waist, and (also invisible in this photo) lots and lots of ruching down the full-length sleeves and in the back. Leading down to the long almost-train of fabric ready to snag on one's heels at any time, of course.

Wow.

I'd be cringing in embarrassment if I didn't think I have a better handle on fashion nowadays. Though of course I'll probably be saying the same thing about what I wear now in another fifteen years.

The good thing? I still fit in them! And I got a good chuckle AND a blog post out of the discovery.

Who said cleaning can't be fun?

So, Moving To The Subject Of Students...

moar funny pictures

Enough said.