Disgusting and Weirdness Coming Your Way

A friend from high school came over for dinner and we reminisced about the old days. We talked about the future as well.

“You must be pretty excited about R retiring soon,” she said.

I must have made a face because she said, “You’re not happy about that?”

“No, it’s not that. It will just be very different when he gets home, that’s all.”

For one, I am utterly disgusting. And totally weird! There are so many things I do that I don’t even know that I do them until he gets home! Cover your eyes. Here comes the disgusting part.

* I go to the bathroom with the door open.

* I watch too much “The Big Bang Theory” as in “geez, just because it’s in syndication, it doesn’t mean you need to watch them all. Today.”

* I walk around the house with shorts and a tank like I am thirty pounds lighter and twenty years younger. Yes, they are inappropriate for wearing out in public but not so revealing that it’s inappropriate for my kids.

* I use way too much creamer in my coffee.

* My inner voice sometimes lets itself out and I talk to myself. Mostly on purpose.

* I get obsessed with cleaning for a few days then I work a few days in a row and with three kids, the house gets pretty disorderly faster thanyou can skip this post.

* I only have two looks: (1) gussied up with work clothes, high shoes, and fab make-up and (2) gym clothes (before and/or after) with no makeup (not even concealer) and a look on my face that says, “Oh hell no! Why am I awake so early?” or “I am so thirsty!” I am afraid there is no middle ground.

* I have a potty mouth that I keep under control in public and when I am at work. I really try my best to keep it in check around the kids. And their dad is a sailor? Ugh, they don’t stand a chance!

* Everyone has gas but not everyone has to be aware of it. Case in point: I, um, had it and forgot I wasn’t alone.

Luckily (or sadly for my husband) these realizations come into play the first night he’s home. Although he is aware of my sense of humor if you could call it that.

* In a text to R: “I am going to give up sexual innuendo for Lent but it’s going to be hard.”

* Me, on the phone with receptionst: “My kids just got cavities and they got nitrous oxide. Are there side effects to the gas like extreme irritability or are my kids just cranky?”

Lent, Day 3

Two words: EPIC FAIL.

Lent, Day 2

I had none of this for the past forty-eight hours:

But I did have this:

And plenty of this:

Two days… not too shabby. Two days is a huge feat for me. I fasted, having two snacks during the day that did not equal a meal (per our priest; not mandatory, mind you), and a modest meal in the evening.

I did get a bit crabby right after lunch but water and/or a piece of fruit took care of that. That mood is understandable considering I am surrounded by kids all day. Perhaps at the end of these forty days my mood will be, “I did get a second wind right after lunch which is understandable considering I am surrounded by kids all day.” Any wagers, anyone?

Breaking Phones

* “Dude, why are you trying to break your phone?”
“My mom said that I would get a new phone when this one breaks.”
“What?”
“Look at this phone. It sucks! This is a replacement phone for the last one I broke.”

Omfg. Seriously?

Here is a pic of two of the signs posted in this class. Yes, it’s funny but sad that teachers have to post reminders about what are just plain good manners.

Day 2 of this sub job and the first class I have is the same advanced but terrible class as yesterday.

I had no choice but to lay down the law. It sounded something like, “Good morning and welcome back. Have a seat. (still talking, kids slowly move to their seats) Look, I let you get away with A LOT yesterday. Music. Phones. Being rude and disrespectful to me and the students who presented yesterday.”

Scary pause. Silence in the room.

“I will not tolerate it today. I admit, I do have high expectations. This IS an AP class–”

Mumbling from rude student yesterday.

“Excuse me?”

Silence.

In the quietest voice I have ever heard him use, he cleared his throat and said, “I was just agreeing with you.”

I said, “Well, I heard you say something. I thought I heard you mumble and I wanted to make sure I heard everything.”

Another boy called out, “I heard it too!”

I gave him The Look and later talked to that boy who had the most eloquent apology I have ever heard: “Yes, I’m sorry. I should not have disrespected you like that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve had you as a sub before too.”

I scolded him a little more but not before I said, “I sub here a lot. Consider this your warning.” No, it was NOT a threat. I speak to students as if their their parents were in the room, as if their principal was in the room, as if the teacher I am subbing for was in the room. The way these kids were talking in class you can bet your sweet patootie that all of them would be nodding along.

By the way, I am sitting in a classroom where students are giving a presentation on the sexual reproductive system. The class is silent. I, in the meantime, am dying inside. I am so immature.

This is what I did in between lectures and during prep:

Hey, at least I am not snacking on rubbish food!

Adventures of a Sarcastic Sub, Intro

I looked up and down the roster. Upperclassmen. Good. I can categorically say that I dislike freshmen.

Wait, that’s harsh. I should say, I hate most freshmen.

Not all. Just most.

AP. Advanced placement. Already the standards have been set. High standards to boot.

These forty students took these high standards and tossed them in the garbage can.

One student, let’s call him Sheldon (not his real name), and his band of chronies refused to take notes, stating that they never take notes in class.

I nodded, thinking that he probably had a photographic memory. I respect different ways of learning. Or memorizing as it were.

And then, he and his friends talked during an entire student presentation. I asked them to be quiet. They lowered their voices. They raised their voices to correct the pronounciation of students presenting!

The arrogance was unnerving, irritating, and slap-worthy. I am surprised no one did. I would have stopped it if someone tried. Maybe not in time but still I would have stopped it.

And so it gives me great pleasure to share anecdotes of the perfect job, where I have the opportunity to interact with our youth, their parents, and educators.

Where, if I do not feel my awesomeness is appreciated at a particular site, I can turn down the assignment.

Where I can make my own hours, choosing to schedule around Vanessa’s Cardio Dance (nee Zumba) class if I choose.

Where I can feel hope that the future of civiliaton is in good hands or doomed to hell, depending on the regular teacher’s classroom management.

Where jobs subbing for PE teachers means wearing (tasteful) yoga pants and gym shoes and getting an extra few thousand steps in the day.

Where I have to explain myself to random parents when their children recognize me at the grocery store.

Where kids miss their teachers so much that it is heartbreaking to see their disappointed faces. On the same note, where kids miss their teachers so much that they complain to their friends how mean their sub is.

Oh, I don’t take it personally when students misbehave. I will call out a student on rudeness but avoid power struggles and arguments. It’s like being a mom, I suppose. I am not here to be your friend or even to make your life miserable. It takes a village so consider me the witch doctor.

Other scenarios I have witnessed:

* I watched a student secretly pop piece of candy in his mouth after I gave explicit instructions not to eat in class. He saw me watching him but avoids eye contact as if not looking at me will erase my memory.

* Same student is looking down at his cell phone, hidden under the desk. His friend leans over and laughs. I said, “Put it away.” He does but only to bring it out a few minutes later. Dumbass. Just as a Pinterest post said,

“Dear students,
I know when you are looking at your cell phones. No one looks down at their crotch and smiles.
From,
Your Teacher”

* A student crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it across several rows of desks into the garbage. He missed as I happened to walk by. He said, “I’ll get it! Don’t worry!” I replied, “Like I was going to clean up after you.” (I said this with a smirk so he knew I was kidding.)

* Another student thought he could throw away garbage by tossing it across a row. He missed and went to go pick it up but not before he shared half of his sandwich with his friend. He even gave his friend a slice first! That was a touching moment I have to admit but I didn’t want to embarass him in front of the class by saying something Mommy-like. I have a tendency to do that. Even the preschooler gets embarassed.

* The teacher did not log onto her computer, forcing students to rely on an Elmo (a really high tech overhead projector) instead of a Powerpoint slide show. One of the students (it was in fact from a previous anecdote) said, “Are you serious? You are not doing your presentation with Powerpoint? How ghetto is that?” Seriously. He said that. Yup, I took a deep breath. Several.

Countdown to another 5K

I have decided to do it again. Eleven days until I spank my last 5K’s time in the ass.

I jogged the first race without stopping. The last race I recruited a friend and we power-walked together. She was so happy to do the race that she has agreed to do the next one in eleven days. She doesn’t know it yet but we are going to jog the entire thing.

I admit it. It is much easier to dispense advice than it is to follow it.

“No, you cannot have candy until Friday.” “Eat fruit if you’re hungry.” “Go outside and play!”

This one I intend to follow: “Come on! Jog the whole race without stopping!”

In other news, it is no surprise to you that I am on Pinterest all the time, as seen by my “She’s Crafty” posts and pics of such crafty-ness. I have adopted a few mantras from the site you may enjoy:

* “Sweat is fat crying.”

* “No matter how slow you run, you are still lapping everyone on the couch.”

* “You aren’t defeated when you lose. You’re only defeated when you quit.”

And finally my favorite: “The two best exercises to do during the holiday season: Table Push-Aways and Fork Put-Downs.” Whoa, the only two I don’t know how to do.

Let’s do this!

Lent, Day 1

Whenever I sit down to work on my novels that may never see the light of day, I sometimes find myself stuck.

Writer’s block. Wondering what a particular character might say. Attempting to create a scene that doesn’t want to be created.

Until recently, I thought those moments were sent to challenge me, to test my confidence, to push me into thinking differently.

Now I know that these moments may mean a number of things. The scene just doesn’t work. Maybe I cannot picture the character saying that because he shouldn’t. Press the rewind button and start where it did work.

Just stop thinking. Start doing.

Such was my dilemma this morning when I wanted to go to Starbucks for an hour between dropping off the kids at school and going to work. I should give up Starbucks for Lent. My visits have been pared down significantly since I discovered the wonderful world of white chocolate mocha creamer in a vanilla hazelnut blend. Sweet but not overwhelming.

Then I thought, but having a hour, any hour, alone would be so nice, reading the vampire novel I found for under a buck at Goodwill the other day while sipping a soy white mocha, no whipped.

But that was it.

No more.

I realized that if I was under that much turmoil over something so trivial then yes, it is probably an attachment I don’t need for the next forty days.

I have never fasted before and while I hesitate to because of the long, excrucuating migraine from last week, it will be an exercise in self-control and discipline, both of which I could use more of indefinitely. Don’t worry, any more headaches will be promptly reported to my general practitioner and if I truly feel ill or faint, I will have something to eat. Definitely.

Love Is All Around, Day 3

We need you to come back for more tests.

Really? Is there something wrong?

It seems like one of the tests came back positive for a genetic disorder. Do genetic disorders run in either of your families?

I spoke of a second cousin who had some sort of genetic disorder but could not remember the name. He mentioned two second cousins who were born with Down’s.

There may be a chance that the baby has a genetic disorder called … Babies born with this rarely live longer than four months. I remembered she said that there are other options.

I knew which one she was referring to.

Absolutely not.

I am adamantly pro-choice but I knew with all my heart that that was not a choice for me.

Disbelief. Stunned. Silence.

Maybe

She said to him, “I don’t care. It is our baby. OUR baby that is already inside me. The baby is ours. The baby is already perfect.”

The End of the Three Day Migraine

It started off with a quiet warning. A tingly sensation in my right temple similar to what I imagine Spidey Sense would feel in times of danger.

I had been flaking on my workouts in the past two weeks which is terrible news for my diet since those two are like bad influences on each other like best friends trying to break their shopping addiction but still bring their credit cards to the mall anyway.

On Thursday morning I did a much-needed ten minutes on the treadmill followed by an intense Zumba class. Three hours later I had a migraine that stayed until this afternoon.

Nothing helped. I took short naps, took pain medication, and practiced meditation only to find that none worked. Thankfully my kids were very understanding, limiting their shrieks to AFTER we exited the car and when they were upstairs whenever I was downstairs. They would eat their meals and snacks at an impressive low volume and then resumed whenever I retreated to my room.

Finally two hours ago I emerged from my IKEA comforter cocoon without a trace of that damn migraine. So I did what any other person would do.

I took the kids to a Mexican restaurant for dinner and frozen yogurt for dessert.

I have admittedly changed my habits for the worst in the past month: more coffee, more frozen foods, more stress, less exercise. And though since the onset of the migraine, I quickly turned the tables on this unhealthy equation, I fear that it wasn’t in time. I have had the occasional headache here and there but nothing like this. I am not even sure if that is how this migraine stuff works. All I know is that I should probably see a doctor if this happens again.

So here it is. No coffee, no diet soda, low sugar, low white rice, low white flour. You know how everyone says, “Everything in moderation”? Well, that was my moderation before the accident until stress and bad habits starting creeping back in my life again.

The next 5K is in two weeks and I plan on (gulp) jogging the whole thing again. There is a half-marathon on April 1st and I met a woman last weekend from church who suggested I POWERWALK it with her and other women from church.

Will I or won’t I? Hmmmmm….

The above is my Valentine’s Day present from my husband. Yes, it is a love letter in a glass bottle. No, you can’t read it!

Love Is All Around, Day 2

She had a feeling about this visit. It wasn’t just because the next step of his journey would determine the course of their love affair. To her, being stationed overseas meant an inevitable end. To her, being stationed across the country could mean the same thing.

Could.

She had no qualms about moving across the country for him. No reservations whatsoever. The career she just began would be on hold. Who knows for how long?

Even though she had an inexplicable, wonderful feeling about him, she couldn’t do all of that without something more.

It would be a hard life, he warned.

She knew that. Life was hard anyway, no matter what.

She was ready.

He was too.

He showed just how ready by walking along the wharf hand in hand as they had done dozens of times. He kept putting his hands in his pocket, fumbling around for the trillion diamond ring he bought the month before.

They left the wharf engaged to be married, commtted to make their relationship last, and ready for whatever stood in their way.