What is this? I'm sitting in a comfortable chair, and my wrist isn't falling asleep from sitting on a knife like corner. It is completely silent. Glancing around, I see no Sophie toys, no Jimmy toys, and nothing has been chewed on, spilled on, or otherwise destroyed.
That's right--I'm at Mom's house. The PU's (parental units) and Katy have sojourned up north to take care of the geriatric needs of the extended family, and this morning, after a long and harrowing day yesterday, I loaded the laundry in the car (ok--Erik loaded--but I told him to) and headed for this veritable oasis of clean and quiet. I have about 3 hours ahead of me and I plan to spend about 1 of them fucking around on the computer, 1 in the bathtub, and 1 reading the paper and looking through the 1 gazillion catalogues my mom receives daily. (Oh--and shuffle the laundry in and out as needed.)
I love being at my mom's house when no one is here. It's like crashing a super nice hotel for free for a few hours. I never actually lived in this particular model. It's officially the 6th or is it 7th place my parents have lived in since we all moved to Utah, and I only lived in 2 of them--ok 3 if you count that couple of months I moved back during a rocky patch with E. Building houses is my parent's hobby. Anyhootenany Mom's pantry is always stocked, the place is always clean, and mom always has good stuff. The hot tub. The walk in shower. The comfy computer chair. Ahhh.
Now then--a little catching up. The first week of teaching everyday actually went quite well. We have a new group of students thanks to a little prescription pill swapping at the "real" high school. It's so funny when we get a batch like this. They always are a little scared--think they're going to be knifed or something. They always think they're just a little to good for us, and that they will be returning to their home schools asap. After a few weeks though, they start to love it, to see how great it is to be in a class with fewer than 15 students. To be at a school with no social aristocracy. To have a teacher that writes prespositional phrases as though they were sentences. By the end of the quarter, they and their parents generally want them to stay forever, and we have to be pretty firm about who we'll keep (those who really need us) and those who don't.
The main problem has been, as is the norm in teaching, other adults, not kids. My principal failed to notify the district office correctly that I was returning full time. As a result--my health benefits have been held up (I've been wearing this pair of disposable 1 month contacts for like, 6 months and they fucking HURT) and my pay check did not reflect my extra hours last week. So, I called the district office, and explained (very politely) to the insurance/payroll secretary that I was now full time, and asked who I had to blow to get my freaking money and benefits. (Ok. I just asked her what the best way to fix the problem would be.) She said, and this is a direct quote, "Well, I'll call and talk to your principal, and if you really are full time I will call you back." Huh? Is it just me, or was that in incredibly rude/bitchy/untrusting thing to say. Do they have a problem with people randomly calling and lying about working full time? After a bit of phone and email tag, however, I think I fixed the problem.
In other riveting news--I've started taking a yoga class (it's actually a women's empowerment yoga class--no scoffing please) and have been twice now. Truth? It's THE BOMB!! I love the class, love the teacher (a 50 year old pixi-ish knock-out with the most beautiful autumn coloring you've ever seen), love how I feel while I'm there, love how I feel for approx. 3 minutes after the class until I forget everything an fall back to shit again--but hopefully that 3 minutes will turn into 5 and maybe 10 and who knows, some day, I may be a walking force for calming and wholeness and awareness in the universe. But not today.
Actually--I'd love to be enlightened--who wouldn't, but I'm kind of afraid it will make me kind of, I don't know, dull. I'm not TOO neurotic, but I must admit, I'm a bit attached to my neurosis. (What an incredibly shallow way to feel.)
Now--Sophie news. My child is an incredibly gifted mess maker. Everyday she comes up with new and varied ways to drive me mad. When not decorating the walls with crayon, marker, nail polish, pudding, or toothpaste, she loves to make soup. Making soup entails sneaking some kind of liquid--water from the toilet, a juice box, dad's old half empty can of Pepsi, pouring it into a bowl--could be the dog's, or her lunch box, or even a shoe will work in a pinch--and adding any kind solid to it.
Yesterday she was grounded for the first time. She took a carrot out of the refrigerator, OPENED the door and walked ACROSS THE STREET to feed the real bunny that belongs to her friend Bianca. I was doing laundry at the time, so my negligence is partly to blame, but dude, I was so scared, so worried. I searched the house, then ran across the street to find her sitting in the snow, happily poking a carrot throughout he bars of the rabbit cage. She just grinned and told me she was feeding the bunny. I grabbed her, and proceeded to spank her bare butt right then and there, and wouldn't let her play with her friends for the rest of the day. She was PISSED but Christ almighty--that girl has got to learn that she is a CHILD!!! We talked a lot about the incident, and I think she understands, kind of, why I was so angry--but really, she just seemed to be placating me.
Today's best thing about being a mom:
Ice cream cone cupcakes. Remember those? Delish.
Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Trying to figure out what to do with a child who is fiercely independent