Have I told you lately how very much I hate the Middle School? I hated it when I went there? And how very much I hated it when the Toad went there? So I have 3x times the hate for the place right now.
Honestly, I'm not overly impressed with the teachers. At least not the Howler's teachers. The coolest one (and the only one I think I'd actually want to know) is her math teacher. He puts off a hippie vibe...just kinda laid back, even while taking the whole teaching math thing seriously. The Howler likes him a lot. He doesn't wear shoes when he's teaching. Or so the Howler sez. He also doesn't mind her going shoeless in his room either. He impresses her with his acknowledgement of her hatred of shoes. Good for him.
The other teachers? Yeah, I don't like 'em so much. Other than her reading teacher, I don't think these people fully understand that they are teaching 11-12-13 year olds, with all their individual insanities added to the collective age related insanities.
I won't start about the music/chorus/band teachers. That's a whole rant that I avoid, because while it's valid, it also makes me sound too much like my mother.
But this isn't about the teachers themselves. This is about the notice that the students will be celebrating Cinco de Mayo, since they're studying Mexico right now. Cinco de Mayo is on a Monday this year. The Howler et al will be celebrating it on the Friday before.
That's right: They're celebrating Dos de Mayo (although I've been saying "deux" because if said properly, it sounds very much like a "duh". She giggles. Worth it!) The Howler refused to let me near the paper I was to sign in agreement to present some form of Mexican foodstuffs or wrapped candy for someone else to stuff into a piñata or three until I promised not to write a note about the teachers totally missing the point of Cinco de Mayo.
Don't worry. I promised. I was a good Mom.
And the Howler was a good Howler, and notified her Social Studies teacher of what I had said.
Showing posts with label just sayin'. Show all posts
Showing posts with label just sayin'. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
When We First Met
A few years ago, Weird Michelle randomly asks me how long I've worked at Retail Hell. Then she asks me if I've ever worked at the Return Desk there. Then she asked me if I ever remember some of the odder customers I encountered there.
She then goes on to ask me if I remember a customer who was returning an air conditioner. There were issues with the return for various reasons...
OMG! She was talking about my first encounter with Weird Michelle...before I knew she was Weird Michelle.
Basically, there were issues with credit card because she was getting divorced and she was stressing out a lot (no, really, A LOT!) and she had Pre-Bonk with her while dealing with all this...and he had to POOP. LIKE RIGHT NOW MOM! NOW!
She tells me that I was the epitome of professionalism. Totally calm, totally great to her, even with her having to take Pre-Bonk to the bathroom RIGHT NOW to POOP. RIGHT. NOW.
I mention this today, because Weird Michelle texted me a picture of her dogs, in their kennel. She texted after I didn't respond to tell me the pictures were supposed to be how the one dog pee'd in the tray and then pushed the tray out of the kennel.
Yes. The woman I first encountered at the Return Desk while her preschool aged son yelled, "MOOOOM! I HAVE TO POOOOOOP. RIGHT. NOW." while she came as close as I've ever seen to someone having a total emotional breakdown from stress is now texting me random pictures of pee. I think she's the Queen of Bodily Functions.
Again, I ask you, WHERE DO THEY FIND THEM, AND WHY DO THEY KEEP BRINGING THEM TO ME?!
She then goes on to ask me if I remember a customer who was returning an air conditioner. There were issues with the return for various reasons...
OMG! She was talking about my first encounter with Weird Michelle...before I knew she was Weird Michelle.
Basically, there were issues with credit card because she was getting divorced and she was stressing out a lot (no, really, A LOT!) and she had Pre-Bonk with her while dealing with all this...and he had to POOP. LIKE RIGHT NOW MOM! NOW!
She tells me that I was the epitome of professionalism. Totally calm, totally great to her, even with her having to take Pre-Bonk to the bathroom RIGHT NOW to POOP. RIGHT. NOW.
I mention this today, because Weird Michelle texted me a picture of her dogs, in their kennel. She texted after I didn't respond to tell me the pictures were supposed to be how the one dog pee'd in the tray and then pushed the tray out of the kennel.
Yes. The woman I first encountered at the Return Desk while her preschool aged son yelled, "MOOOOM! I HAVE TO POOOOOOP. RIGHT. NOW." while she came as close as I've ever seen to someone having a total emotional breakdown from stress is now texting me random pictures of pee. I think she's the Queen of Bodily Functions.
Again, I ask you, WHERE DO THEY FIND THEM, AND WHY DO THEY KEEP BRINGING THEM TO ME?!
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
The Cat is Trying to Kill Me
Or herself. Whichever.
We have 4 cats: one geriatric cat, one 3 years old, and two 2 year olds. The Violet, the 3 year old, is the fluffiest, and the smallest. Also, the wildest. She got a case of the rips on Sunday morning.
The rips involve zipping thru the house like her head's on fire and her tail is catching...running into, over, and under things. Including people and large pieces of furniture. It also means that something's gonna get broken, preferably something irreplaceable, like me.
Sunday morning she got it in her fuzzy little head that she needed to be on top of the dresser in my bedroom. Now, there's all of 4 inches free on the top of the dresser, what with the TV on top of it and all.
She gets up there, and then promptly slips behind it. She's effectively stuck, and we both know it, mostly because we've been here before. (Last time involved My Sweetie trying to lift the dresser so she could get out--she was squalling a racket like the apocolypse and managed to wedge herself under the dresser.)
I laugh and tell her that she's stuck now for a while, until I feel like getting her out of there.
She's got other plans, probably featuring the TV falling on top of one of us.
Charlotte, one of the 2 year olds, enters the room and plants herself in front of the dresser. Charlotte is wide-eyed with either awe or terror. That's the dresser where she stuffs most of the catnip mouses so that we can periodically drag them back out. I assume she thought that it was those very mouses grown big and strong and coming out to look for her.
I notice that My Sweetie's slipper is moving. Violet has reached from under the dresser and snagged it. She's keeping it. What she thought that would prove I don't know.
As I watch, still laughing, the Peach, as Violet is also called in our house, begins trying to cram herself out thru the space in the front of the dresser. Perhaps she thought that if the slipper would fit in, she would fit out. I don't know. She's on her third try, and getting very close to getting herself jammed in there, much like Pooh Bear when he was stuck at Rabbit's house....but not quite so cute and nice.
I can see that this IS going to get ugly, and possibly bloody, and also cost me a TV.
I shove Charlotte out of the way, and remove one dresser drawer. Charlotte's back, suddenly excited that the dresser drawer is out, but she's making herself dizzy trying to decide between investigating the drawer or the hole that is now in the dresser. I shove her out of the way again, and get the lowest drawer out.
Charlotte hops in the now-open space, with two Sweetie slippers and Violet.
Violet meows loudly with annoyance and jumps out. I remove two slippers and Charlotte. I have to put the drawers back in one handed--I'm fending off two deranged cats.
Once the drawers are back in the dresser, Violet begins zipping around the room, bouncing like a crazed thing, still in the throes of the rips.
On the way downstairs, the other 2 year old, Vendetta, "Precious," weaves thru my legs and under my feet.
They're trying to kill me.
We have 4 cats: one geriatric cat, one 3 years old, and two 2 year olds. The Violet, the 3 year old, is the fluffiest, and the smallest. Also, the wildest. She got a case of the rips on Sunday morning.
The rips involve zipping thru the house like her head's on fire and her tail is catching...running into, over, and under things. Including people and large pieces of furniture. It also means that something's gonna get broken, preferably something irreplaceable, like me.
Sunday morning she got it in her fuzzy little head that she needed to be on top of the dresser in my bedroom. Now, there's all of 4 inches free on the top of the dresser, what with the TV on top of it and all.
She gets up there, and then promptly slips behind it. She's effectively stuck, and we both know it, mostly because we've been here before. (Last time involved My Sweetie trying to lift the dresser so she could get out--she was squalling a racket like the apocolypse and managed to wedge herself under the dresser.)
I laugh and tell her that she's stuck now for a while, until I feel like getting her out of there.
She's got other plans, probably featuring the TV falling on top of one of us.
Charlotte, one of the 2 year olds, enters the room and plants herself in front of the dresser. Charlotte is wide-eyed with either awe or terror. That's the dresser where she stuffs most of the catnip mouses so that we can periodically drag them back out. I assume she thought that it was those very mouses grown big and strong and coming out to look for her.
I notice that My Sweetie's slipper is moving. Violet has reached from under the dresser and snagged it. She's keeping it. What she thought that would prove I don't know.
As I watch, still laughing, the Peach, as Violet is also called in our house, begins trying to cram herself out thru the space in the front of the dresser. Perhaps she thought that if the slipper would fit in, she would fit out. I don't know. She's on her third try, and getting very close to getting herself jammed in there, much like Pooh Bear when he was stuck at Rabbit's house....but not quite so cute and nice.
I can see that this IS going to get ugly, and possibly bloody, and also cost me a TV.
I shove Charlotte out of the way, and remove one dresser drawer. Charlotte's back, suddenly excited that the dresser drawer is out, but she's making herself dizzy trying to decide between investigating the drawer or the hole that is now in the dresser. I shove her out of the way again, and get the lowest drawer out.
Charlotte hops in the now-open space, with two Sweetie slippers and Violet.
Violet meows loudly with annoyance and jumps out. I remove two slippers and Charlotte. I have to put the drawers back in one handed--I'm fending off two deranged cats.
Once the drawers are back in the dresser, Violet begins zipping around the room, bouncing like a crazed thing, still in the throes of the rips.
On the way downstairs, the other 2 year old, Vendetta, "Precious," weaves thru my legs and under my feet.
They're trying to kill me.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Vocabulary
The Howler, as we know, as murderized the langridge for years.
Recently, the Toad moved out. That left the largest bedroom in the house vacant. We debated taking that room ourselves...or moving the Howler into it.
We decided that no one would move into it (there's always a chance that the Toad will move back--let's all hope to hell not, tho) and it could become, effectively, a playroom.
We moved the dollhouse, several bins, large and small, of toys and whatnots and whoozzits into the room. An old TV with a DVD was also installed. The fold out red cushiony chair/bed thing went there, as it the folding chair originally purchased for the Howler's room.
My sister had a futon she no longer wanted, and that was also put in there.
Shortly after the that was moved into the room, the Howler came to us asking how to fold the crouton down so she and Missy could lay on it to watch a movie.
I love that even at 10-going-on-11, the Howler still manages to make me laugh by re writing the dictionary.
Recently, the Toad moved out. That left the largest bedroom in the house vacant. We debated taking that room ourselves...or moving the Howler into it.
We decided that no one would move into it (there's always a chance that the Toad will move back--let's all hope to hell not, tho) and it could become, effectively, a playroom.
We moved the dollhouse, several bins, large and small, of toys and whatnots and whoozzits into the room. An old TV with a DVD was also installed. The fold out red cushiony chair/bed thing went there, as it the folding chair originally purchased for the Howler's room.
My sister had a futon she no longer wanted, and that was also put in there.
Shortly after the that was moved into the room, the Howler came to us asking how to fold the crouton down so she and Missy could lay on it to watch a movie.
I love that even at 10-going-on-11, the Howler still manages to make me laugh by re writing the dictionary.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Mine! Mine!
The Howler, over the past year or so, has been slowly stealing my clothes.
On one hand, it's actually a compliment, because she's so stinking picky about fabrics and fit. She's always saying, "It's uncomfortable." She'll reject things that normal people wear, and limit herself to mostly T-shirts and sweatpants. I've managed to force her into wearing jeans, mostly by telling her that she cannot go through life in sweatpants and shorts.
On the other hand, those clothes are MINE, and I LIKE them, and I WANT them back! I have given her some T-shirts to sleep in, a sweater or two for church, but in general, if the clothes have spent any quality time in my closet, or on me, I consider them MINE and don't expect to see them tromping home from the bus stop after school. But if the picky Howler is actually stealing them, I'm at least not dressing like my mother.
Two nights ago, she came to me, holding a brand new pair of jeans. MY jeans. MINE. She said, "It's spirit day tomorrow at school, and I am wearing these jeans." (bolding by the Howler. Yes, she talks in bold. shooosh, you.)
I said, "Those are mine."
She replied, "Maybe not."
"They don't fit you."
"Oh, yes, but they do."
"Prove it."
And she did.
GRRRRRRRR.
On one hand, it's actually a compliment, because she's so stinking picky about fabrics and fit. She's always saying, "It's uncomfortable." She'll reject things that normal people wear, and limit herself to mostly T-shirts and sweatpants. I've managed to force her into wearing jeans, mostly by telling her that she cannot go through life in sweatpants and shorts.
On the other hand, those clothes are MINE, and I LIKE them, and I WANT them back! I have given her some T-shirts to sleep in, a sweater or two for church, but in general, if the clothes have spent any quality time in my closet, or on me, I consider them MINE and don't expect to see them tromping home from the bus stop after school. But if the picky Howler is actually stealing them, I'm at least not dressing like my mother.
Two nights ago, she came to me, holding a brand new pair of jeans. MY jeans. MINE. She said, "It's spirit day tomorrow at school, and I am wearing these jeans." (bolding by the Howler. Yes, she talks in bold. shooosh, you.)
I said, "Those are mine."
She replied, "Maybe not."
"They don't fit you."
"Oh, yes, but they do."
"Prove it."
And she did.
GRRRRRRRR.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Just Her
I love having a daughter. I really do.
BUT.
She's so WTF weird.
Really.
Tonight, I was reading, minding my own business, and I hear My Sweetie yelling for the Howler. He's in the kitchen, and she's where ever it is she is.
The words I can hear are "freezer" and "socks"
I don't want to know, and am very very glad I am in the basement.
Now, we spent the better part of this past spring finding all sorts of odd Howlerphernialia in the freezer. After finally spazzing out about it (at one point all the dishtowels in the house had been drenched and placed in the freezer. Considering that they were NOT frozen in a huge lump, it was obvious that it had been an entire day's mission to get them all in there and frozen.)
My Sweetie comes down to the basement and asks me if I could hear any of "that." I start laughing. He starts laughing.
We spend a few minutes saying, "that's your side of the family" and then come to the conclusion that this particular WTF is just her.
Just HER.
BUT.
She's so WTF weird.
Really.
Tonight, I was reading, minding my own business, and I hear My Sweetie yelling for the Howler. He's in the kitchen, and she's where ever it is she is.
The words I can hear are "freezer" and "socks"
I don't want to know, and am very very glad I am in the basement.
Now, we spent the better part of this past spring finding all sorts of odd Howlerphernialia in the freezer. After finally spazzing out about it (at one point all the dishtowels in the house had been drenched and placed in the freezer. Considering that they were NOT frozen in a huge lump, it was obvious that it had been an entire day's mission to get them all in there and frozen.)
My Sweetie comes down to the basement and asks me if I could hear any of "that." I start laughing. He starts laughing.
We spend a few minutes saying, "that's your side of the family" and then come to the conclusion that this particular WTF is just her.
Just HER.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Bee Afraid
The Howler arrived home today, brimming with news:
She made the first cut in the Spelling Bee! She is one of 5 children from her class who will go on to the next step: the "all school" Spelling Bee. That's right, folks: the Howler, one of the worst spellers in the history of spelling (3rd only behind my brother and her brother, I think) is one of the top 15 spellers in the 4th grade. Bee afraid.
She brought home this huge list of words: and, considering how horribly she usually shrieks at any kind of work in this magnitude, she is undaunted. Bee even more afraid, because, dude, she's GOT THIS.
Also, I am proud, because last year, she made me proud too: she wanted no part of the extra work last year and deliberately misspelled the first word they gave her, because there was no way she was getting involved in THAT. (leave it to my girl to figure the out!)
She made the first cut in the Spelling Bee! She is one of 5 children from her class who will go on to the next step: the "all school" Spelling Bee. That's right, folks: the Howler, one of the worst spellers in the history of spelling (3rd only behind my brother and her brother, I think) is one of the top 15 spellers in the 4th grade. Bee afraid.
She brought home this huge list of words: and, considering how horribly she usually shrieks at any kind of work in this magnitude, she is undaunted. Bee even more afraid, because, dude, she's GOT THIS.
Also, I am proud, because last year, she made me proud too: she wanted no part of the extra work last year and deliberately misspelled the first word they gave her, because there was no way she was getting involved in THAT. (leave it to my girl to figure the out!)
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Security!
The Howler, bless her, still believes in Santa. Don't know how I ended up with children firmly entrenched in the fantasy of Christmas, although, I suppose, it's the way karma works. (The Toad believed well into his 9th or 10th year also, in spite of my snapping out one day and telling him flat out: I AM SANTA, YOU DOLT!)
I think it has to do with the belief that A) their mother despises Christmas-True, btw and B) good gifts disappear and socks and underwear take their place once the "magic" is gone-False, btw.
Anyway, she's been hitting everyone up with questions about their belief in Old Saint Nick, and she is working very hard to convince us that she does still believe. More power to her, I say. Live in that fantasy world, girlfriend! God knows reality will beat you with it's prosthetic leg soon enough.
What that means in Mumpleland is that we have spent the month discussing her belief, and what to do about it. The Little Mister wanted to continue to feed the illusion...I, on the other hand, am bored with the Santa thing and am ready to move on. (We are feeding the illusion, if you were wondering. I'm bored, but I'm not evil. K?)
What that also means is that the Howler, having recently announced a sudden and undying love of baby dolls, is specific in the ugly rubbery plasticky thing she's expecting Santa to provide. When I wanted to buy her dolls and tiny clothes and dishes and bottles with white liquid that disappears she had little to no interest. Now that I've given it up as a bad job and made my peace iwith it, I'm standing in KMart last Sunday afternoon, looking at creepy baby dolls.
The Howler wants a Baby Alive. Back in my day, Baby Alive was like a mutant. Now, they talk. In Spanish. They bounce and giggle and coo. And they look like shaved monkeys.
But, if you stand in that particular aisle and shake the shit out of the bouncing one, it coos just exactly the same as if it were still on the shelf. And while several people will stop, look, and giggle with you, no one will call security.
Not that I know from personal experience or anything.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Toad Tripping
The Toad started a new job. Due to the real confidentiality laws, I can only say that he is working with certifiable crazy people.
The one he's been working with most likes to do community service at the local humane society. She helps walk the dogs and it relaxes her. Apparently, the Toad's participation in this is also acceptable, and he is now walking homeless dogs. (and that's not the funny part)
The local humane society can afford a shitload of gravel for a their parking lot/mud hole. This is not usually a problem for most people...but for the Toad, this is baaaaaad news. While walking a homeless dog, he tried to jump over one of the larger mud puddles in the parking lot. Did I mention that the Toad is a rather large, doofy guy? And reminding you that he habitually twisted his ankle in gym class by tripping over painted lines should make the picture a little clearer.
Large doofy Toad lands in puddle. Dog is happy to have helped the Toad learn the very important lesson: if you have trouble walking in normal situations, and you habitually twist your ankles on painted lines, do NOT attempting to JUMP for any reason whatsoever.
Ever.
The one he's been working with most likes to do community service at the local humane society. She helps walk the dogs and it relaxes her. Apparently, the Toad's participation in this is also acceptable, and he is now walking homeless dogs. (and that's not the funny part)
The local humane society can afford a shitload of gravel for a their parking lot/mud hole. This is not usually a problem for most people...but for the Toad, this is baaaaaad news. While walking a homeless dog, he tried to jump over one of the larger mud puddles in the parking lot. Did I mention that the Toad is a rather large, doofy guy? And reminding you that he habitually twisted his ankle in gym class by tripping over painted lines should make the picture a little clearer.
Large doofy Toad lands in puddle. Dog is happy to have helped the Toad learn the very important lesson: if you have trouble walking in normal situations, and you habitually twist your ankles on painted lines, do NOT attempting to JUMP for any reason whatsoever.
Ever.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Dinner with My Spawn
Tonight for dinner, the Toad said he'd be here. So, when dinner was ready, we called up to Ass Caverns for him.
We used snooty accents, rolling our r's and elongating our vowels. He was amused.
He entered the kitchen, looked at me, and said, "Could you BE more obnoxious? Really?"
I laughed. Still using the snooty accent, I tell him, "Why, yes, I could be."
Again, he said, "Really? COULD you?"
Still laughing, I tell him, "Why yes, actually I could." Then I asked him if he wanted to throw down that gauntlet with me.
The Howler adds her two cents worth with, "Trust me, dude, you don't want to throw down anything with this woman."
We used snooty accents, rolling our r's and elongating our vowels. He was amused.
He entered the kitchen, looked at me, and said, "Could you BE more obnoxious? Really?"
I laughed. Still using the snooty accent, I tell him, "Why, yes, I could be."
Again, he said, "Really? COULD you?"
Still laughing, I tell him, "Why yes, actually I could." Then I asked him if he wanted to throw down that gauntlet with me.
The Howler adds her two cents worth with, "Trust me, dude, you don't want to throw down anything with this woman."
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
The Apple Never Falls Far...
The Howler has been having a small issue with some chicklet on the bus calling her names and saying mean things.
The Howler has shared her frustration with me. I have been all over it--giving the right advice (I know, I know! How weird is that?) and telling her, first, to ignore and to be nice.
That didn't work. (Shock & surprise!)
So, I next suggested she talk to the bus driver, when they got to school, since nasty chicklet is on the bus before-and-after the Howler's stop. So, she did. Apparently, one of the teachers also heard this nasty girl say something mean to the Howler.
That remains to be seen. (the Howler gets to move her seat, no further questions asked.)
Hopefully, that solves the problem. If it doesn't, ol' Mama Mumple is gonna be involved.
But that's not really what this post is about. What this post is about, is this: The Howler, after a particularly trying day at containing herself, was horrid to be around. I sent her to her room, for general annoyance. She knows that if she's sent to her room for general annoyance, she can come out whenever she is ready to stop the annoyance and be as decent to be around as any one 9 year old can be.
She never came out.
I went up to talk to her, and see if we couldn't get whatever the bug was, out. We had a nice, non-annoying chat, and at the end, I stressed to her that I want her to find NICER, FRIENDLIER, less-confrontational ways to communicate with people. I asked her if she knew why.
She responded with: "so I can be not as mean and grumpy as you are?"
God, I love that girl.
The Howler has shared her frustration with me. I have been all over it--giving the right advice (I know, I know! How weird is that?) and telling her, first, to ignore and to be nice.
That didn't work. (Shock & surprise!)
So, I next suggested she talk to the bus driver, when they got to school, since nasty chicklet is on the bus before-and-after the Howler's stop. So, she did. Apparently, one of the teachers also heard this nasty girl say something mean to the Howler.
That remains to be seen. (the Howler gets to move her seat, no further questions asked.)
Hopefully, that solves the problem. If it doesn't, ol' Mama Mumple is gonna be involved.
But that's not really what this post is about. What this post is about, is this: The Howler, after a particularly trying day at containing herself, was horrid to be around. I sent her to her room, for general annoyance. She knows that if she's sent to her room for general annoyance, she can come out whenever she is ready to stop the annoyance and be as decent to be around as any one 9 year old can be.
She never came out.
I went up to talk to her, and see if we couldn't get whatever the bug was, out. We had a nice, non-annoying chat, and at the end, I stressed to her that I want her to find NICER, FRIENDLIER, less-confrontational ways to communicate with people. I asked her if she knew why.
She responded with: "so I can be not as mean and grumpy as you are?"
God, I love that girl.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
I'd Like To Buy A...
Hard consonant.
I'm trying to not be a total bitch. I really really really am. But really? REALLY.
The woman from 3 years ago who went batshit crazy on the PTA, who apparently does have a speech impediment...is baaaa-aaaack.
So, she was voted in. And honestly? It's like I have ADHD. I'm over the PTA. I rather like being a slacker and am happy that I'm back in the cheap seats.
But I spent an hour of my life listening to this woman mis use and abuse the English language. We had a "mee-in" tonight
And she uses the wrong word--she pronounces those ones just fine, thankyouverymuch. They're just WRONG. As in, I'm having a coherent thought, and OMG! If you mean "overlook" as in "You need to overlook the fact that I cannot pronounce T's and G's" then please, for my sanity, do not say, "They will oversee the fact that I cannot speak in complete thoughts."
I'm overseeing it, baby. Believe me, I'm overseeing it.
I'm trying to not be a total bitch. I really really really am. But really? REALLY.
The woman from 3 years ago who went batshit crazy on the PTA, who apparently does have a speech impediment...is baaaa-aaaack.
So, she was voted in. And honestly? It's like I have ADHD. I'm over the PTA. I rather like being a slacker and am happy that I'm back in the cheap seats.
But I spent an hour of my life listening to this woman mis use and abuse the English language. We had a "mee-in" tonight
And she uses the wrong word--she pronounces those ones just fine, thankyouverymuch. They're just WRONG. As in, I'm having a coherent thought, and OMG! If you mean "overlook" as in "You need to overlook the fact that I cannot pronounce T's and G's" then please, for my sanity, do not say, "They will oversee the fact that I cannot speak in complete thoughts."
I'm overseeing it, baby. Believe me, I'm overseeing it.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Bad Mommy
Last Monday night, the Mumples went for wings at a local watering hole. Wings were excellent...and after we ate, the Howler & I made a trip to the ladies' to wash our hands.
I don't spend much time in such watering holes, so I had forgotten what would be hanging on the wall in there. The Howler, bless her, noticed.
She asked me what those were for. (It was billed as a "tingler ring" LOL)
Being the Evil Mommy I am, I told her to ask her father when we got to the car.
It was soooooo worth it for the look on My Sweetie's face. I was laughing so hard, I couldn't even make up a believable story to tell her.
I don't spend much time in such watering holes, so I had forgotten what would be hanging on the wall in there. The Howler, bless her, noticed.
She asked me what those were for. (It was billed as a "tingler ring" LOL)
Being the Evil Mommy I am, I told her to ask her father when we got to the car.
It was soooooo worth it for the look on My Sweetie's face. I was laughing so hard, I couldn't even make up a believable story to tell her.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Whoosh!
Sunday, the Mumples spent the day at Waldameer & Water World Park in Erie, PA. We had fun, and the Howler is really enjoying riding the rides.
Especially the Ravine Flyer II, the roller coaster that goes 160 mph, over the road. It's a wicked 60 or so seconds, and while I like the thrills of it, it's a bit rough on the ol' bod, yanno?
The Howler drags me onto it for the 2nd time near the end of the day. Big mistake for me! I could barely walk afterwards. As the Howler heads off the her next thrill, I realize I have lost my phone...
Not that it's a fabulous phone, mind you. Just a tracfone, but still! Crap! Damn!
I head back to the Ravine Flyer II, and I ask the chick at the gate if anyone found and turned in a cellphone. She's trying really hard to not smirk and shriek with laughter.
There are signs everywhere stating that if it's not actually stapled to your body, you're going to lose it, and they're not responsible. Sure, I get that, but the phone managed to stay with me the first time...
Crap. Damn. As the not yet laughing chick walks over to the dudes also working the ride, some guy is standing in the car the Howler and I were in, holding up my phone!
After a quick Hallelujah chorus, I walk back through the entrance to find the Howler.
If only they sold a t-shirt that read "the Ravine Flyer II kicked my ass" and another one that reads "my cellphone survived the Ravine Flyer II"
Especially the Ravine Flyer II, the roller coaster that goes 160 mph, over the road. It's a wicked 60 or so seconds, and while I like the thrills of it, it's a bit rough on the ol' bod, yanno?
The Howler drags me onto it for the 2nd time near the end of the day. Big mistake for me! I could barely walk afterwards. As the Howler heads off the her next thrill, I realize I have lost my phone...
Not that it's a fabulous phone, mind you. Just a tracfone, but still! Crap! Damn!
I head back to the Ravine Flyer II, and I ask the chick at the gate if anyone found and turned in a cellphone. She's trying really hard to not smirk and shriek with laughter.
There are signs everywhere stating that if it's not actually stapled to your body, you're going to lose it, and they're not responsible. Sure, I get that, but the phone managed to stay with me the first time...
Crap. Damn. As the not yet laughing chick walks over to the dudes also working the ride, some guy is standing in the car the Howler and I were in, holding up my phone!
After a quick Hallelujah chorus, I walk back through the entrance to find the Howler.
If only they sold a t-shirt that read "the Ravine Flyer II kicked my ass" and another one that reads "my cellphone survived the Ravine Flyer II"
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Heigh-Ho
It's off to Camp she goes...
Our regional church sponsors a week-long summer camp for kids and teens. The Howler was eligible to go last year, but the trauma of even talking about sending her meant that she just was not ready to go. We've spent the past year, getting her mentally ready to go.
This year, the decision was made that she IS TOO going, when we were polluted with requests to spend the night at Missy's, attitude out the wazzoo, and the fact that she had a fantastic year in AWANAs that ended in a sleepover.
We signed her up. We packed her bags, and Bear. We loaded her and her stuff into the car and took her, fully expecting to get halfway there and the wailing to begin.
There was no wailing. We got a lot of nervous silence. Once we pulled into the camp driveway, she began chattering like a spazzy little bird on it's first little adventure.
"There's a volleyball court? I'm good at volleyball." and "That's a very nice building. What do we do there?" and "The pool has a diving board! Mommy! I LOVE DIVING BOARDS!" and "Who stays in that cabin? and that one?" The litany went on for at least 20 minutes about everything and how terrifically nice it all looked.
We waited patiently in line to register her. I'm getting increasingly nervous about leaving her asthma there--not her, I know she's so very ready for this! Her asthma, though, that worries me, more than I like to admit, even to myself.
While My Sweetie and I are checking in the compressor and nebulizer and all the various things she needs (extra rescue inhaler, albuterol for the nebulizer, anti-itch cream, tylenol) and telling the nurse that "yes, she does know and we've stressed to her to speak up! and no, letting her use the nebulizer isn't a problem at all!") SHE DISAPPEARS. HER STUFF DISAPPEARED, TOO.
We look around, and she, her stuff, a two people from our home church who are also dropping off teens, are helping her lug her stuff to her cabin. WITHOUT US--you know, the people who knew she was ready for this, even when she said she wasn't.
We walk into the cabin, and are installing her stuff in one of the bottom bunks (the tops were all taken--which was okay, since the Toad told her that's where the bugs hang out) and next thing we know, she's WALKING AWAY in a gaggle of girls.
Not even Little Girls, mind you. These were FULLY FORMED GIRLS. Not obnoxious, giggling teens, not tarted up little girls that make me cringe...GIRLS. She's one of five this year, and OMG!
We had to force her to give us a hug goodbye. Unless no one has thought to tell us, she's STILL there--this amazing little girl who said she didn't think she could stay the entire week...STILL THERE.
Oh, and the best part ever? She told them her name, and added "but you can call me Kitty!"
She is her mother's daughter.
Our regional church sponsors a week-long summer camp for kids and teens. The Howler was eligible to go last year, but the trauma of even talking about sending her meant that she just was not ready to go. We've spent the past year, getting her mentally ready to go.
This year, the decision was made that she IS TOO going, when we were polluted with requests to spend the night at Missy's, attitude out the wazzoo, and the fact that she had a fantastic year in AWANAs that ended in a sleepover.
We signed her up. We packed her bags, and Bear. We loaded her and her stuff into the car and took her, fully expecting to get halfway there and the wailing to begin.
There was no wailing. We got a lot of nervous silence. Once we pulled into the camp driveway, she began chattering like a spazzy little bird on it's first little adventure.
"There's a volleyball court? I'm good at volleyball." and "That's a very nice building. What do we do there?" and "The pool has a diving board! Mommy! I LOVE DIVING BOARDS!" and "Who stays in that cabin? and that one?" The litany went on for at least 20 minutes about everything and how terrifically nice it all looked.
We waited patiently in line to register her. I'm getting increasingly nervous about leaving her asthma there--not her, I know she's so very ready for this! Her asthma, though, that worries me, more than I like to admit, even to myself.
While My Sweetie and I are checking in the compressor and nebulizer and all the various things she needs (extra rescue inhaler, albuterol for the nebulizer, anti-itch cream, tylenol) and telling the nurse that "yes, she does know and we've stressed to her to speak up! and no, letting her use the nebulizer isn't a problem at all!") SHE DISAPPEARS. HER STUFF DISAPPEARED, TOO.
We look around, and she, her stuff, a two people from our home church who are also dropping off teens, are helping her lug her stuff to her cabin. WITHOUT US--you know, the people who knew she was ready for this, even when she said she wasn't.
We walk into the cabin, and are installing her stuff in one of the bottom bunks (the tops were all taken--which was okay, since the Toad told her that's where the bugs hang out) and next thing we know, she's WALKING AWAY in a gaggle of girls.
Not even Little Girls, mind you. These were FULLY FORMED GIRLS. Not obnoxious, giggling teens, not tarted up little girls that make me cringe...GIRLS. She's one of five this year, and OMG!
We had to force her to give us a hug goodbye. Unless no one has thought to tell us, she's STILL there--this amazing little girl who said she didn't think she could stay the entire week...STILL THERE.
Oh, and the best part ever? She told them her name, and added "but you can call me Kitty!"
She is her mother's daughter.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Restraint Is The Better Part of Valor
Apparently, keeping an open mind and ear for trouble is the way to go.
Sometimes, it's good to be the grown up. Things have settled down in the Howler's classroom (and I'm hoping this isn't going to be one of those speaking-too-soon things.) From what I've heard, the children are behaving better, and Miss Thang is behaving better too.
A few nights ago, the Howler tells us during supper that Miss Thang was looking for my email, because she needed to respond to it. What email? What?
The only email I sent was the one she did respond to, and that I had decided to hold off on further action (beyond talking to the guidance counsellor during that chance meeting.) So, I rattled off a quick email, telling the teacher that the Howler said she was trying to reach me, and that I hoped it wasn't because of a problem--but if there was a problem, I very much want to help! Then I gave her the best time the next day to reach me. She emailed back within hours.
No problem, The Howler had told her that I was trying to reach her! Silly Howler.
I had to take the Howler's lunch in today (I didn't get up in time to pack her lunch.) I ran into Miss Thang, and she asked me if I got her email. Miss Thang was very nice, very chipper, and the children seemed happy. The Howler has been happy and chatty and while her attitude has cranked up (thank you, Mother Nature for the crappy weather) and so, for now, I am keeping the status quo.
Let's hope this was just a glitch in the machine, and the next 2 months go well!
Sometimes, it's good to be the grown up. Things have settled down in the Howler's classroom (and I'm hoping this isn't going to be one of those speaking-too-soon things.) From what I've heard, the children are behaving better, and Miss Thang is behaving better too.
A few nights ago, the Howler tells us during supper that Miss Thang was looking for my email, because she needed to respond to it. What email? What?
The only email I sent was the one she did respond to, and that I had decided to hold off on further action (beyond talking to the guidance counsellor during that chance meeting.) So, I rattled off a quick email, telling the teacher that the Howler said she was trying to reach me, and that I hoped it wasn't because of a problem--but if there was a problem, I very much want to help! Then I gave her the best time the next day to reach me. She emailed back within hours.
No problem, The Howler had told her that I was trying to reach her! Silly Howler.
I had to take the Howler's lunch in today (I didn't get up in time to pack her lunch.) I ran into Miss Thang, and she asked me if I got her email. Miss Thang was very nice, very chipper, and the children seemed happy. The Howler has been happy and chatty and while her attitude has cranked up (thank you, Mother Nature for the crappy weather) and so, for now, I am keeping the status quo.
Let's hope this was just a glitch in the machine, and the next 2 months go well!
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Updated--Pointy Boots Still On Hold
While I was at the school for a PTA fundraising thing yesterday, and as I was leaving, I ran into the guidance counsellor. I will remind you that I don't hold guidance counsellors in much higher esteem than I do bad teachers--my personal experience with most of them is that they became guidance counsellors because they are crappy people who need help themselves, so they thought they'd do best in helping to make more screwed up people like themselves, and actually being a counsellor of any kind would expose them to being sued when they screwed up adults.
But.. Anyway...
The one at the Howler's school seems genuinely concerned for the students. And I've talked with her about some of what happens in our neighborhood--the Urchins situation, and Damien's penchant for hacking up moles with plastic hoes.
I ran into her as I was leaving, and asked if she had a minute. She did, so I asked that we go to her office. (We were exactly outside the Howler's classroom, too) We talked about what's been happening in the Howler's room, and I told her what the Howler said, and without naming anyone, that another adult whom I trust had overheard another child from the Howler's room telling their parent the exact same thing the Howler said. I told her that it was my opinion that Miss Thang did too tell the children that they would be silent from their arrival at school to their dismissal from school until the end of the year.
My concerns are two-fold: First and foremost, if Miss Thang was that upset, stressed, or disturbed by what was going on with those children, she should NOT have been in that classroom. She did not have control of herself, or that classroom Wednesday afternoon. Whatever she and the principal had determined would be the course of action wasn't enough for her--and it should have been. She wasn't in control of herself then, and it can and probably will happen again.
Second, she's been back from maternity for one month. These children have 4 months of experience that she is not part of. They have a group dynamic that she has not been involved in. The 6 weeks from September & October, and the 4 weeks since the end of February is not enough time for her to have learned who they are as individuals and as a group. IF the inappropriate language, gestures, and hurtful actions/words have been on-going throughout the year, then OK, it's this particular group gone 3rd grade bad. BUT if it's just been seen, or escalating since her return, THEN it's time to take a look at how she is acting/reacting to the children, especially as a group, and evaluate if there's something she's doing or saying that is causing them to react this way. (Not that it makes the behaviors okay, but it would explain WHY it's became this ugly)
The Howler, for the most part, enjoys school, and isn't having any major problems academically, or socially. (Which brings me to a lesser question: we just had conferences, WHY wasn't this crap mentioned then...and if I didn't bring it up, WHY didn't she?) I don't want to see this year become a Hell Year, from which we will date all on-going problems with authority, learning, blah blah blah.
If Miss Thang doesn't realize that it's not realistic to come into a classroom after being not-there (no matter how valid the reason) for 4 months--fully 1/2 the year!!--and begin trying to force "her way" on the people there, then it's time for a Free Clue.
Seriously. I work retail, and with the store manager changes we've seen, the ones that get the best response from people in general, are the managers who take their time looking around, observing the group dynamic, determining where changes truly need to be made, then implementing those changes in a calm, reasonable, realistic manner. (The Weasel didn't do that, and it took him fully 2 years to gain any kind of respect from us--and we're adults! I can only imagine that these children, much like hyenas sensing weakness in their prey, are chewing this New Girl Teacher to shreds on a daily basis. They instinctively sense her weak spots and are hammering away on them.)
Mostly, I just want this year over. I want the Howler unscathed. As much as I enjoy a good Righteous Ass Kicking (not my ass, of course), I'd really rather not have to be bothered.
But.. Anyway...
The one at the Howler's school seems genuinely concerned for the students. And I've talked with her about some of what happens in our neighborhood--the Urchins situation, and Damien's penchant for hacking up moles with plastic hoes.
I ran into her as I was leaving, and asked if she had a minute. She did, so I asked that we go to her office. (We were exactly outside the Howler's classroom, too) We talked about what's been happening in the Howler's room, and I told her what the Howler said, and without naming anyone, that another adult whom I trust had overheard another child from the Howler's room telling their parent the exact same thing the Howler said. I told her that it was my opinion that Miss Thang did too tell the children that they would be silent from their arrival at school to their dismissal from school until the end of the year.
My concerns are two-fold: First and foremost, if Miss Thang was that upset, stressed, or disturbed by what was going on with those children, she should NOT have been in that classroom. She did not have control of herself, or that classroom Wednesday afternoon. Whatever she and the principal had determined would be the course of action wasn't enough for her--and it should have been. She wasn't in control of herself then, and it can and probably will happen again.
Second, she's been back from maternity for one month. These children have 4 months of experience that she is not part of. They have a group dynamic that she has not been involved in. The 6 weeks from September & October, and the 4 weeks since the end of February is not enough time for her to have learned who they are as individuals and as a group. IF the inappropriate language, gestures, and hurtful actions/words have been on-going throughout the year, then OK, it's this particular group gone 3rd grade bad. BUT if it's just been seen, or escalating since her return, THEN it's time to take a look at how she is acting/reacting to the children, especially as a group, and evaluate if there's something she's doing or saying that is causing them to react this way. (Not that it makes the behaviors okay, but it would explain WHY it's became this ugly)
The Howler, for the most part, enjoys school, and isn't having any major problems academically, or socially. (Which brings me to a lesser question: we just had conferences, WHY wasn't this crap mentioned then...and if I didn't bring it up, WHY didn't she?) I don't want to see this year become a Hell Year, from which we will date all on-going problems with authority, learning, blah blah blah.
If Miss Thang doesn't realize that it's not realistic to come into a classroom after being not-there (no matter how valid the reason) for 4 months--fully 1/2 the year!!--and begin trying to force "her way" on the people there, then it's time for a Free Clue.
Seriously. I work retail, and with the store manager changes we've seen, the ones that get the best response from people in general, are the managers who take their time looking around, observing the group dynamic, determining where changes truly need to be made, then implementing those changes in a calm, reasonable, realistic manner. (The Weasel didn't do that, and it took him fully 2 years to gain any kind of respect from us--and we're adults! I can only imagine that these children, much like hyenas sensing weakness in their prey, are chewing this New Girl Teacher to shreds on a daily basis. They instinctively sense her weak spots and are hammering away on them.)
Mostly, I just want this year over. I want the Howler unscathed. As much as I enjoy a good Righteous Ass Kicking (not my ass, of course), I'd really rather not have to be bothered.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Magic 8 Ball Is Never Wrong
Kinda. I started a post earlier today about how I respect teachers in general, and how I especially respect and stand in awe of excellent teachers...but how a few bad nutbar people ruin it for everyone.
I've decided to go through with the post. Mostly because the thing has my teeth on edge, and my back up. I'm looking for some college educated ass to kick. At the Howler's school.
This year has been a year of disappoint for us. She was supposed to have this awesomely fantastic teacher, who bailed out of our school for a district closer to where he lives. Which I can understand, but can I still just say, "You couldn't have waited ONE more freaking year? Seriously!" Instead she got this replacement. Adorable young thing, I assume she's just a year or so out of college. It's unclear whether or not this is her first year with her very own classroom.
I'm not impressed. First, she got the job while she was, I kid you not, 7 months pregnant. Knowing full well that she would miss fully half the year, she got the job. And the contingency plan was just flat out Slacker. I know me some slacker when I see it, and this chicklet was it. So, I'm totally 100% dead on with lack-of-impressiveness when it comes to teachers this year.
Anyway, the one who had a baby has been back a month. There were very few behavorial problems--and believe me, the Howler is more than willing to rat out every one of those nasty OPK in her class. She even managed to rat herself out more than once, but there were no major traumas going on with the Slacker.
But this woman? She's back just about 30 days now, and WOW! There's a nasty little incident with 2 boys smashing a playdoh person they made and named...and the principal arrived in the classroom to discuss how the children should handle a situation where they don't want to be friends with someone. AFTER the principal leaves, this woman tells the children that for the remainder of the year, there will be absolutely NO TALKING during the school day, unless you are specifically given permission by her. Not during lunch, not in the AM when you arrive at school, not while waiting for dismissal after school. No Talking. Period. Oh, and for good measure, IF you're given recess at all, it will be indoors--even on nice days--and you will be doing nothing but work work work without a break in the meantime.
At first, I thought the Howler MUST HAVE misunderstood. But during a PTA related conversation, I discover that this PTA person overheard conversation a child from the Howler's class was having with her mother. EXACT SAME WORDING. And this other little girl ain't no drama queen that I've seen or heard. She's fairly laid back, extremely non-overreacting.
I had already emailed the teacher, asking for clarification, while spelling out specifically what the Howler had said. The response was sent at 9:22am (plenty of time for her to have her attitude adjusted) today. While the words are right, I get the feeling that what I got told was the adjusted, suitable for parental consumption turn of events.
The Howler came home from school today, fairly happy, if tired after being out sick for 2 days, and having a busy Wednesday/early Thursday morning. So, the Miss Thang gets a "bye" for now...but I'll be in the school tomorrow for another purpose, and there better not be any surprises. I've already polished my ass kicking boots, and this little whackadoodle has definite target characteristics.
Oh, and before the Howler got home, I consulted the Magic 8 Ball. This thing has NEVER been wrong, and I do mean NEVER. Even the Toad has tried it, and it's NEVER wrong.
I asked, "Is Mrs. Thang lying?" and the Magic Answer was, "It is decidedly so."
I've decided to go through with the post. Mostly because the thing has my teeth on edge, and my back up. I'm looking for some college educated ass to kick. At the Howler's school.
This year has been a year of disappoint for us. She was supposed to have this awesomely fantastic teacher, who bailed out of our school for a district closer to where he lives. Which I can understand, but can I still just say, "You couldn't have waited ONE more freaking year? Seriously!" Instead she got this replacement. Adorable young thing, I assume she's just a year or so out of college. It's unclear whether or not this is her first year with her very own classroom.
I'm not impressed. First, she got the job while she was, I kid you not, 7 months pregnant. Knowing full well that she would miss fully half the year, she got the job. And the contingency plan was just flat out Slacker. I know me some slacker when I see it, and this chicklet was it. So, I'm totally 100% dead on with lack-of-impressiveness when it comes to teachers this year.
Anyway, the one who had a baby has been back a month. There were very few behavorial problems--and believe me, the Howler is more than willing to rat out every one of those nasty OPK in her class. She even managed to rat herself out more than once, but there were no major traumas going on with the Slacker.
But this woman? She's back just about 30 days now, and WOW! There's a nasty little incident with 2 boys smashing a playdoh person they made and named...and the principal arrived in the classroom to discuss how the children should handle a situation where they don't want to be friends with someone. AFTER the principal leaves, this woman tells the children that for the remainder of the year, there will be absolutely NO TALKING during the school day, unless you are specifically given permission by her. Not during lunch, not in the AM when you arrive at school, not while waiting for dismissal after school. No Talking. Period. Oh, and for good measure, IF you're given recess at all, it will be indoors--even on nice days--and you will be doing nothing but work work work without a break in the meantime.
At first, I thought the Howler MUST HAVE misunderstood. But during a PTA related conversation, I discover that this PTA person overheard conversation a child from the Howler's class was having with her mother. EXACT SAME WORDING. And this other little girl ain't no drama queen that I've seen or heard. She's fairly laid back, extremely non-overreacting.
I had already emailed the teacher, asking for clarification, while spelling out specifically what the Howler had said. The response was sent at 9:22am (plenty of time for her to have her attitude adjusted) today. While the words are right, I get the feeling that what I got told was the adjusted, suitable for parental consumption turn of events.
The Howler came home from school today, fairly happy, if tired after being out sick for 2 days, and having a busy Wednesday/early Thursday morning. So, the Miss Thang gets a "bye" for now...but I'll be in the school tomorrow for another purpose, and there better not be any surprises. I've already polished my ass kicking boots, and this little whackadoodle has definite target characteristics.
Oh, and before the Howler got home, I consulted the Magic 8 Ball. This thing has NEVER been wrong, and I do mean NEVER. Even the Toad has tried it, and it's NEVER wrong.
I asked, "Is Mrs. Thang lying?" and the Magic Answer was, "It is decidedly so."
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Listen Up
Most of the time, the Howler is listening to A) the beat of her own drum; B) the sound of her own voice; C) her parents talking, which sounds very much like the adults' voices in Peanuts.
We recently discovered that she also listens in church. To the readings. And maybe the sermon. Okay, sometimes the sermon, especially if she can apply it to giving me hell.
Anyway, since she's in AWANA and has to do daily devotions, and I got elected to handle that particular Sunday evening's reading, I chose to repeat the lessons read that morning in church. She didn't comment on the book, chapter, or verse information.
Three words into the actually reading itself, she sez, "Hey! We already read this today in church!"
She's not listening to me, but she's listening to God. Save me.
We recently discovered that she also listens in church. To the readings. And maybe the sermon. Okay, sometimes the sermon, especially if she can apply it to giving me hell.
Anyway, since she's in AWANA and has to do daily devotions, and I got elected to handle that particular Sunday evening's reading, I chose to repeat the lessons read that morning in church. She didn't comment on the book, chapter, or verse information.
Three words into the actually reading itself, she sez, "Hey! We already read this today in church!"
She's not listening to me, but she's listening to God. Save me.
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