Serious Preparations

In anticipation of my first day on the job tomorrow, I have done many relevant and important things to prepare.


1) Kohl's was having a killer sale, so in the last week I have purchased several pairs of pants, 6 shirts and various matching accessories.



2) As is customary, I purchased a new purse to go with aforementioned new clothing. This was actually quite a find, as it came with matching accessories, such as cosmetic case and cell phone holder. SCORE!


3) I then realized that the shoes I have simply won't do. Payless was having BOGO, so I got 2 pairs of shoes in black and brown that are quite comfy. I actually shopped around at some more expensive places, fully willing to pay more, but I've found that Payless actually has more comfortable and durable shoes. $22 bucks for 2 pairs of loafers? How can you beat THAT?




You would think I'd be doing something logical, like brushing up on Excel or gathering necessary paperwork...but no, excitement has reduced me to being a girl.


I think I need trouser socks now. Shit. BRB.

I got it.

(happy dance)



Now the only question that remains...do I give the hellhole notice, or do I waltz in and moon the manager? Thoughts?

Waiting

According to my insider info, an offer is being worked up today. Whether I'll see it today or not, I don't know, but it's COMING! I've relaxed a bit, but I'm still ready to jump out of my skin. I really wanted to go into the hellhole tonight and tell them to kiss my ass, but I'm still waiting.


Now it's just a matter of how much they're going to offer. God, I'm going to puke. NOW DAMMIT, NOW!!!

It's that time of year again...

Some of you may remember last year's craft fair adventure with Yvonne. Now, I had no intention of going again this year, (they sucked me in with their homemade chocolate and floral arrangements once, but never again!) but Youngest Child yanked the carrot nose right off of my poor little snowman head, so I knew I had to go see Snowman Lady for a replacement. I forgot all about the craft fair, however, until Yvonne called me up on Thursday.


Y: "K, what are you doing Saturday?"
K: [suddenly remembers] "SHIT! Craft fair."
Y: "Yup."
K: "You whore! Why didn't you remind me?"
Y: "Bitch, I'm not your social planner. Are you going or what?"
K: "Dunno. Let me check with the husband."


So I checked the husband's schedule and managed to schedule a couple of hours to hang with the old bitties in a land filled with hand-carved "Welcome" signs and scarves with love in the stitches. Snowman Lady, here I come.

As you may recall, I had two resolutions for future craft fair attendance: 1) arrive earlier and 2) bring a bigger bag. I handled #1 by arriving right at 9am and cutting further up into line with early birds Yvonne & Hazel, giant tote bag over my shoulder. I got some very dirty looks from several freezing old ladies clutching Dunkin' Donuts coffees, but I stared them down and they went back to yacking about the topic du jour: Snowman Lady. Seems everyone in the line was prepared to rush downstairs to grab armloads of handmade snow people come hell or high water. I knew that I would have to really be on top of my game to get what I needed this year.

The doors opened and the crowd was off; down the stairs and through the maze of hallways to snowman paradise. We passed by Yvonne's mother and her friend Gigi on the way there, and having been at the front of the line, they'd already surveyed Snowman Lady's wares.


G: "You guys JUST got in?"
Y: "Uh, yeah. It's only 9:05."
G: "Well good luck."
K: "Why?"
G: [chuckling] "She won't have anything left by the time you get there!"


They wandered off, bags in hand, muttering about "amateurs." We walked faster, filled with the terror of my snowman head being out of stock. We rounded the corner to find a line 20 bitties deep, all with various puffy white objects clutched in their wrinkly little hands. It was officially ON.

I quickly surveyed the remaining merchandise to find an identical snowman to the one I'd bought last year. I reached over a head of blue hair and snatched it with triumph. Yvonne tisked and insisted that I get something different, so I begrudgingly chose another color and put the original one back (and was immediately snagged by someone else). I clutched my snowman and stood in the line to pay while Yvonne and Hazel continued browsing.


As I waited for Yvonne to pay, I spotted a cute little stuffed gingerbread person wearing a chef hat and an apron that I just had to have. But the line was so friggin' long...

Alarmed, I spun around and saw Yvonne getting her total from Snowman Lady.


K: "WAIT!!! WAIT!!!!"
Y: "Huh???"
K: "You have to get this for me. I'll give you the money!"


Unable to fight my way through the sea of bitties, I literally had to throw it to her. It was like watching a football pass in slow motion on ESPN. She snatched it out of the air and dropped it on the counter. Gingerbread person was MINE. I happily took my prize from her as we walked to the next crafter.

I picked up a few nice items, but once again, the highlight was Snowman Lady. I heart that bitty, I do.

Freaking

I'm supposed to hear for sure tomorrow whether or not I have this job. I interviewed with four people, got along famously with each, and was flat out told that I am the "ideal candidate for the job" by three of them. Ghengis tells me this is pretty much a done deal, but I am not counting my chickens until I have an offer in my hands.


I think he's under the impression that I'm not excited about it. He keeps asking me if I am, and I guess I've been non-committal and perhaps a little too cool...right up until my last interview on Friday, I was very level-headed with an "if it happens, it happens" attitude, but right now I want this job so badly I can taste it.


I've come to the conclusion that I'm afraid to care about anything because I know from experience that it will eventually blow up in my face. I've lost jobs, been through rejection more times than I care to admit, watched my children struggle, and trudged my way through so much shit that I've come to expect anything and everything to go wrong. I'm pretty sure that makes me emotionally handicapped, and it pisses me off to no end. I've always been a bit of a pessimist, but never like this. I hate that this so-called "defense mechanism" has seemingly taken over my entire life.


So basically I've been reduced to a place where I feel like this ONE thing could turn it all around, and if it doesn't happen I'm just going to bed for a week. How UNBALANCED is that? I went one extreme of feeling like this will never work out because nothing ever does to planning out childcare and figuring out when I can quit the hellhole. My stomach is in knots. This just has to work out.


I conveyed a bit of this to Ghengis, and he said to me, "K, there is no other shoe to drop." He doesn't understand why I'm so tense about the whole thing, and I guess it's hard to explain. I wish I could just relax and believe him, but in my experience, even when both shoes have dropped, stray shoes seem to keep on finding me.

Interview. Not for teaching.

The other night, I broke my wedding ring at the hellhole when I slammed my hand in a metal bin. It's fixable, but one of the prongs on the setting is bent and the band is snapped. I'm so pissed I can barely see straight. Now I have an impression on my ring finger and no ring to wear until it's fixed. So. Pissed.


Coinciding with my "last straw" ring mutilation, a good friend of mine got me an interview with his company tomorrow morning. It's a bit of a commute, but it sounds like the salary would be far beyond anything I would ever see teaching. Seeing as I'm working 2nd shift now (roughly 5:30-10:30), I barely see the kids as it is, so a regular day job may be the way to go. They're all in school now, so I'd just be looking at some after school care, which isn't bad since I have a great home daycare lady.


I'm just so sick of working in a place where I constantly ruin my khakis, tear up my hands, and come home looking like I just rolled around in dirt. That place sucks so fucking bad. I don't know if it sucks worse than it used to, or if I'm just at the end of my rope, but it's clear that I have to get the fuck out of there before I lose it.


The timing is a bit sucky, because of all the issues I'm having with Oldest Child, but I guess I'll worry about all that if I even get an offer.


Wish me luck. God knows I'll probably fuck this up too, but hope springs eternal.

Great. Just great.

I received a call today that Oldest Child "trashed his classroom," and that I needed to come in. It's gotten so every time I see the school department on my caller ID I start having a panic attack...I used to get excited, thinking maybe it was a job opportunity, but now I know it's going to be nothing good. I packed up Youngest Child and headed in to survey the damage.


"Trashing the classroom" is apparently defined as 5 chairs tipped over and a pencil box tossed on the floor. He was annoying other students by waving his folder in their faces, and refusing to do his work. When I got there, the I asked the vice principal what normally happens to kids like this, and she informed me that he would go to an alternative classroom environment that normally is home to emotionally/mentally disturbed kids. My knees literally almost went out from under me.


He's never hurt anyone else...well, not intentionally, he did throw a pencil that ended up sticking a little girl in the neck...and I don't consider him dangerous, but apparently they do and they're documenting everything they can to support their case for shipping him away. Never would I classify him as mentally disturbed, but at the same time I recognize that I'm too close to this whole thing to be 100% objective. The thought of him being in such a place is making me want to throw up.


So now the fight is not to get him the services he needs, but to keep him out of an alternative school where I'm terrified that he will leave worse off than when he goes in.


So much for Harvard.

0 for 3

Today we had a meeting about Oldest Child's struggles in school. I went in with a tiny bit of a 'tude (after last week's incident, I guess I was a bit on the defensive), very much against referring him for a special ed evaluation...and left handing the vice principal a letter requesting the full work up. I didn't want to do it, but I feel we have no choice.


He's been throwing chairs, pencils, books...the same little girl's whose hair he cut last week ended up with a pencil stuck in her NECK a few days ago, which I knew nothing about until today. He refuses to do his work, he purposely distracts the other children, and he actually had the gall to go into the teacher's desk to retrieve his confiscated Yu Gi Oh card collection (which he knew he shouldn't have brought to school in the first place). My husband and I sat in horror as we listened to the summary of his recent behavior.


Perhaps it's because my other two children are already on education plans that I was so reluctant to request one for him...logically, I know better than that, I know that what matters is the best interests of the child and getting him the services that he needs...but by putting in that request it's almost like admitting failure as a parent. I should have done better. I fucked up yet again.


So I've got 2 children on the autism spectrum as it is, with ed plans in place...now the one kid I thought would be ok is going down the same path. I'm starting to think I'm genetically defective or that I didn't take enough vitamins while I was pregnant. Perhaps I wronged somebody really important in a previous life, and my punishment is having to watch my children struggle. Who knows, but I think I'd better find a Mistress Cleo type to cleanse my aura before something else goes wrong, just to be safe.

Look what the husband made me

He built the box for the valance, and put notches in it so it could rest on the trim, wrapped it with a thin foam, then wrapped it with the material I picked out, covered the seams with the wood pieces that are painted to match the crown molding and the walls and screwed it into the wall.

He's a good doobie. This place looks less white trash every day.

Mashed Potato Martini Bar!

I got dragged to a wedding last night, and was introduced to the single most awesome thing I've ever seen at a catered event: The Mashed Potato Martini Bar.


You get a martini glass, a scoop of mashed potatoes, and a selection of toppings for your starch-filled treat. Various veggies, sauces, bacon bits, sour cream...it was seriously the coolest thing I've seen in a while, and it was a huge hit.

My girlfriend and I (she's the one who dragged me as her "date") were completely in awe. This wedding was at the snootiest country club in the state, so of course we got some rolling eyes from the wait staff as we fawned over the mashed potatoes.

Anyway, it was kind of a bore, as I didn't know too many people (my prom date was there, though...good God), but I did get some incriminating video from the dance floor that I thought I'd share. The lighting is poor, but you get the idea.

Here we see the groom and 2 of his friends getting down and dirty to "Dancing Queen" by Abba. Apparently, they requested it.





And then we had the chubby accountant leading a stirring rendition of the "Cotton Eye Joe" dance.





Finally, we had a full out performance of "Ice Ice Baby."





They opted not to have a videographer (probably to avoid the capture of moments such as these) but never fear...K was on the case.


Perhaps I'm mean to laugh. But what's the point of going to a wedding where you don't know anybody if you can't make fun of a few drunks? If I did some horrible dance to "Ice Ice Baby" then I personally would not blame anyone for pointing and laughing.

Problem Child

Today the husband and I headed in to our sons' school for a meeting about Youngest Child's progress in preschool. As we sat outside the office, I heard voices and saw Oldest Child's teacher standing in the hallway, speaking to 2 people from the central office downtown.

It was clear that they were from the Special Education department, and that his teacher was talking about a problem child, diagnosed with ADHD and a recent transfer to the school. It was apparent, after a minute or so, that she was talking about our son.

She went on about how he's out of control, that she doesn't know what to do with him, and that she's "keeping a log" of every little thing he does that is inappropriate or against the rules. The other people in the conversation were like, "Oh yes, you do what you have to do," nodding in agreement and sighing with those "Oh you poor thing" kind of looks on their faces. She went on for about 10 minutes about how awful he is. We just sat there and stared at the wall. I looked over at the husband, and I don't think I've seen him that sad in quite a while.

Oldest Child is 8, but he reads at a 5th grade level. We've never had his IQ tested, but I would dare to guess that it is far above those of his peers. He's been medicated since he was 4, and has a lot of social issues, but this change in school has really hit him hard and he's been acting out all over the place, at home and at school. His neurologist has suggested a mood disorder, possibly even Asperger's Syndrome (a form of autism)...me, I'm seeing a sad and angry little kid who has no idea how to deal with his frustrations. Apparently, all his teacher sees is a huge pain in the ass that she'd rather have out of her class.

She wrapped up her conversation and turned around. From the look on her face, she looked about ready to shit twinkies at the thought of us having heard every word that she said about our son. She pretty much pretended that it didn't happen, proceeded to tell us about how he threw something that morning, and was quickly on her way.

I am not a parent who thinks my child can do no wrong. I know he can do plenty of wrong, but I also know that he has a hard time determining exactly what wrong is. I don't understand why we feel the need to LABEL every kid who has a hard time in school, be it academically or socially. Why do we need to slap a label on him every time he pulls his shit? Oppositional Defiant Disorder, ADHD, Autism...every time he acts out, there's a new name for it. What ever happened to, "He's a kid, we'll punish him, and he'll straighten up." Why does everyone want him on a new med every time he is difficult? It's all about instant gratification, the quick fix, forcing a square peg into round hole by shaving it down by any means necessary.

I understand that his behavior is a problem, but I don't understand how he became the topic of water cooler conversation within earshot of everyone who walked by. I realize that these conversations go on...hell, I've HAD these kinds of conversations with fellow teachers...but hearing it about your own child is far more difficult that I ever would have imagined. And I refuse to fill him full of narcotics just so his teacher can have an easier time.

What?

This morning, Youngest Child was watching It's a Big Big World on PBS. Now, we've generally never been a PBS family (my demons have generally preferred Nickelodeon), but lately Youngest Child is all about it. I commented to the husband, who was getting ready to leave for work, that this particular show seemed to be a cross between Fraggle Rock and Bear in the Big Blue House.



H: "Have you seen that other show, with the balls?"
K: "With the WHAT?"
H: "The balls. One of the balls is red, and it has a beak."
K: "So the balls talk?"
H: "Yeah, they're like ducks or something."
K: "Ducks."
H: "And there's this other ball...it's yellow..."
K: "Does it have a beak as well?"
H: "It's kind of pear shaped. With a beak."
K: [laughing hysterically]
H: "I'm SERIOUS! And then there's a blue one..."
K: "Another beaked ball?"
H: "Yeah. But this one is retarded."
K: [hyperventilating] "WHAT?"
H: "The blue one, it's 'special' or something. I don't know."
K: "And what channel is this on?"
H: "I don't fuckin' know. But it's stupid."



If anyone knows what show my husband is referring to...PLEASE...leave a comment. This I gotta see.

No inspiration...

I've been a bit MIA as of late...I started a "new" job (I took a job as a supervisor on a different shift, as the motherfuckers completely screwed me over on my old shift), my oldest son has been getting in constant trouble at school (suspended today for cutting a little girl's hair...HA! We're so proud.), and my house is a shambles from various remodeling projects we have going on.


I still have no teaching job, in fact I've not gotten a call for an interview since the last rejection debaucle. I start subbing again next week, which I really hoped I wouldn't have to go back to, but here I am. $80 a day and a bunch of little bastards telling me I'm not the "boss" of them, woooooooo, can't wait.


My birthday was a few weeks ago, even THAT sucked. Historically, my birthday has always been a fucking disaster. On my 25th birthday, I got my first antidepressants; on my 28th, I got a speeding ticket, and this year was no different.


The day started out nicely enough, I had lunch with my godmother and went shopping. She's the only one in my family who still treats me like a kid on my birthday, and it's kind of nice. I got home, and the husband took me out shopping for a new digital camera, as Middle Child murdered it last month (along with the cake topper from my wedding and an antique Japanese screen...aaaaaahhhhhhh). We went to three different places before finally deciding on a very nice Olympus with 15x zoom and tons of nifty little useless features. We stood at the counter at Best Buy, practically waving money around to get some attention (the lone salesperson was busy with some guy browsing for a camcorder), for a solid half an hour when I finally went over to customer service.


K: "Hi. We'd like to spend money. Can someone else help us over at the camera counter?"
CS: "No."
K: "Um. What?"
CS: "There's only one person working over there tonight."
K: "Look, we know exactly what we want, we're not looking for someone to hold our hand like the dude with the camcorders over there. We just need someone to get it out of the case and ring it up."
CS: "We can't do that."
K: [glancing over at the 5 guys in blue shirts doing nothing over by the computers] "So none of those hardworking fellas over there can scoot on over and help us out?"
CS: "No."
K: "So you'd rather I not spend $300 in your store."
CS: "Uhhhh..."
K: [storms off pissed]


We gave it 5 more minutes and were just about to leave [camcorder guy was still hemming and hawing between 3 models...I wanted to stab him in the eye with my car keys] when a Blue Shirt swooped in and offered to help us. Halle-fuckin-lujah. We pointed out the model and he got kinds stiff.


BS: "Ummm..."
K: "Christ. What."
BS: "I think we're out of stock..."
K: "WHAT???"
BS: [opens case] "Yup. Fresh out. You can order it online though."
K: "I'D RATHER DRIVE NAILS INTO MY EYEBALLS. WE'RE SO OUT OF HERE!!!"

So we stormed off, me ranting about how I'd never set foot in that shithole ever again for as long as I lived. I'm fairly certain I scared several small children on my way out.


Needless to say, I will never buy another thing at that place again. Every time I've ever been there, it's been the same story; not enough help, lousy customer service, and long lines. Fuck that place. I got the camera from Amazon 20 bucks cheaper and shipped for free, so FUCK YOU BEST BUY. Fuck you AND your seductively low prices.


I was in the worst mood the rest of the night, and drowned my sorrows in an alcoholic beverage at The Outback. Another birthday, full of suckage.


If I have anything interesting to write about, I'll be sure to check in. Right now...NADA.