This week two of my subscriptions have mentioned kids shooting other kids.  There’s history too. Virginia Tech. Oklahoma.  Kent State (before yesterday).  I read a powerful and terrifying book, Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult, that knocked me on my heiney a couple years ago (before my daughter was roaming the halls of high school, thank goodness, not sure I could read it now.)   If they are not killing each other, sometimes they kill themselves.  Last year a brilliant boy committed suicide on the last day of his high school career.  Of course I’ve read a book about that too- Envy, Gregg Olsen.

Last night I was reading an article that I have to give a presentation on tomorrow (gag) and discovered that I chose this article really well weeks ago practically randomly.  Inside this gem were some words that I desperately needed yesterday.  For one thing, the article summed up self-efficacy in a way I’d never thought of.  (Ok. I will admit it.  I’ve never thought of self-efficacy using that term at all.  And for those of you who have never thought of self-efficacy either, it means how you judge yourself capable of planning and executing an action to reach a goal.)  This article pretty much said if you think you can’t, you can’t because your head becomes clogged with all the gibberish that keeps you from using all your brain power to do the thing. 

This is relevant to me because grad school this semester is kicking my sorry butt because I believe it is.  I started the weekend all crankypants because I had so much reading to do this weekend: 2 classes, 8 articles (plus the one for the presentation).  I was disgusted with myself because I actually read a book for fun on Wednesday and actually went out for fun on Thursday and I actually had no idea how I was going to finish.  And here I was demonstrating my self-efficacy on the negative side.  And then I popped in Beethoven’s 9th and took on the world.  Yay, me.  But the point was that my head spun in the other direction and then suddenly I could do what I needed to do.  Proving that old “Little Engine That Could” story.

However, this is not really what I wanted to talk about.  Because yesterday I was called down to the principal’s office- and it had nothing to do with my little reprobate, LLO.  I do have a temper.  It’s slow cranking and the people I don’t live with usually don’t see it.  I hate to be made superfluous and I hate to have it implied that I’m not doing something right.  I’m sensitive and paranoid, it’s true, but my intentions are good and I work hard.  Could I be any more defensive about this? Anyhow, there’s this woman who is making 30 minutes of my day as annoying as all get out because she is making me superfluous and implying that I suck at the thing we are doing together.  Friday I let it rip.  It was a little rip but it was in front of kids.  (It was just a question, but I think it was clear by the fire that I was pissed.)    This woman is a fake bitch.  Let’s make that clear.

So I made my complaint to the person who has my back.  I was pulled from doing this intervention with the kids and somehow I thought the situation was done.  I hadn’t had time to process what I thought of being removed from an opportunity to do what I want to do because of a personal issue.  I think I was disappointed.  I know for sure that one of the kids I work with was disappointed.  Big time.  She wouldn’t look at me at lunch.  We didn’t have our usual chitchat.  I missed it and felt like I’d let her down.

Well, lucky for me, that – sorry, I’m just going to go with it- fake bitch has a person who has her back also, and she wasn’t afraid to go right there.  Yup.  The principal.  Our new principal.  At the end of a long day, I’m sitting in a conference with the principal and that woman, in which I got to sound like a defensive, unprofessional moron and say things like “I must have misread your tone.”  I got to listen to that same tone as she (lying through her teeth) said, “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel that way.”  And we all hugged and left as one big happy family.  You are absolutely right, the situation is not resolved, really.  At least not from that conversation.  It will be resolved because I am going to get over it, because that woman is not important to me. 

Those kids are important to me.  Those kids who I’m spending time with because they don’t have the reading fluency they need to have to do well in 3rd grade next year.  Those kids who are learning strategies to read to get information.  Those kids who are learning that they can do it.  THEY are important to me.  Because that sweet little bundle of fire girl needs to know that I’m proud of what she has done this year. 

I’m implying that I think there’s a link between how kids feel about themselves and the terrifying stuff that happens when they feel powerless and unimportant.  See, it all makes sense. in my head.

Spawn had one of her well-planned and -executed social engagements yesterday.  You know the kind where she tells me I need to drop her off at location A at 1:00pm and pick her up at location B at 3:00pm, but what she actually meant was drop her off sometime before 1:00 and wait 5 hours for the phone call to tell me that her pal’s mother is dropping her off momentarily (so quickly in fact she could have been in our driveway when she made the call.)  Whatever. She was out with a good friend, probably not getting in much trouble, and I was pretty darn busy anyhow.

I later found out the purpose of the trip was to go to Good Will to buy a dress for the high school dance that her little alternative h.s. calls “Morp” (cleverly, Prom backwards.  isn’t that just delightful?)  I found this out as she tried on the dress she bought.  I’m a little stunned by the dress- it is not something that she would have picked on her own.  I very much saw the influence of her friend the willowy, fashion-conscious cheerleader.  On the one hand, I’m kinda put out that she did this without me.  I mean THE dance of the whole year and she didn’t want me to make her the perfect dress?  On the other hand, I’m also “yea, whatever”.  And the dress is fine.  I’ll fix what needs to be fixed so she’s decent and that’s that. 

Except that while she was modeling the dress, she told me the theme of the dance.  (Glitter and) Clubbing.  Clubbing?  Are you freaking kidding me?  She’s all like “it’s dancing, mom”.  I’m all like “CLUBBING????”  (For the record, she voted for “under the sea” which is completely dorky and “Back to the Future”esque… and not CLUBBING.)  And I tell you that I think it’s themes like “clubbing” that gives this town the dimension it has.  As a college town, certainly lots of townie high school kids will be moving on up to the university when the time comes. 

And what did this university have to offer this weekend?  I give you insanity.  A couple years ago, spring break unfortunately was scheduled the same week as St. Patrick’s Day.  This was disastrous.  Because it appears that college students cannot sufficiently enjoy what all St. Patrick’s Day has to offer while they are wherever they are spring breaking.  So the next year, we had STATE Paddy’s Day.  The last Saturday in February has become my town’s own private holiday so that all the university students will get the full benefit of drinking green beer until you’re stupid.  I guarantee you St. Patrick’s Day on its own was more than enough stupid for these kids.  I remember driving LLO to preschool the morning after St. Pat’s (obviously many years ago) and having to dodge completely drunk morons in green hats on the street.  They did not understand how this might be annoying and how I used to long to count points for running over people who think they have the right of way no matter where they are.  Anyhow.  So, State Patty’s Day.  An opportunity for college students and all their friends they bus in from every town within a 10 hour radius to wear green and drink.  This has been several years now that we’ve had this fine tradition. 

Long enough, in fact, that the police and the townspeople and local businesses know what to do to regain the reputation of our town.  We import police from nearby places to help.  We have a coalition of townies to walk around not acting stupid and generally setting a good example.  And most of the local bars are closed on Saturday night now.  You’d think the message would make it through.  Wouldn’t you?  As I attended my class Tuesday night, those charming 20somethings were complaining about how the bars would be closed on Saturday and made the only statement that makes any sense at all… wait for it.  They were planning to go out to the bars on Friday night instead.  Thank goodness.  I’m glad they have that kind of flexibility.

Anyhow.  What was I talking about?

Oh yea.  Cheerleaders.  LLO told me the other day that she wants to quit band because she wants to be a cheerleader.  I do not think I laughed out loud.  I’m afraid I did tell her she ought to go ahead and practice her drum because it wasn’t happening.  If the main characteristic of a cheerleader was being heard, LLO would be tops.  The rest of the stuff that goes into being cheerleader material?  Not so much.  She hardly brushes her hair, never wears it in a pony tail.  She prefers to travel alone rather than in a herd.  She doesn’t like to do what (she’s told) anyone else is doing.  So, yea.  She’s a great cheerleader for me (my biggest fan, in fact), but there is no way she’s ever going to be a cheerleader for any team.  If only because cheerleader training starts in this town when you are 3 (and is yet another completely overpriced activity that we have never indulged in) and this is LLO we’re talking about.

I’m having one of those weeks.  Since I appear to have nothing else to say, I shall make some people laugh (I hope). 

I’ve been getting some interesting mail.

Yesterday, I got a warrant for my arrest.  Yup.  I’m going to jail for an unpaid parking ticket.  Parking in this town is so much fun.  Because I don’t have enough quarters, I acquire a $5 parking ticket.  Which I then lose and it turns into a $20 parking ticket, which I don’t pay.  Which then turns into a court date, which I put on a counter and bury with the crap of my life.  And then I get arrested.  Cue “Alice’s Restaurant” theme music.  Have I been rehabilitated?  No, apparently not.  Because this is not the first time I’ve had a warrant for my arrest for a parking ticket.  Last time, the sheriff (or perhaps a fine deputy- cue “I shot the sheriff”) knocked at my door.  That was fun too.  So, anyhow.  It’s possible that the next time I have nothing to say for a few days, it will be because I’m enjoying incarceration of a different kind.  I understand there’s a library.

I also got an email from OK Cupid.  Yup.  I did a quiz or something the other day and it was sponsored by OKCupid and I really hoped that I hadn’t done something stupid like sign up for OKCupid.  But apparently, I did.  I don’t even remember what the survey was about.  I’m sure the information changed my life.  Well, I know it did.  Because here I am getting emails stating the fact (of course it’s absolute fact) that there are many men in my town who want me “so bad”.  I just have to decide now where to go with this.  Do I tell the spouseman (cue Batman theme song) that I’m shopping for loooove?  Maybe he can help me find the perfect gentleman to date.  Because. Wow.  The choices were very fine and I have a lot of free time.

 

I had a lovely idea for a post today which is just not going to be as I wanted it.  #1 can’t find the cat #2 can’t find the poem

Our #3 cat, not pictured here or anywhere else because she is never around, has an interesting back story.  That really begins with the story of our previous #1 cat, who is pictured here.

Anyhow, Katzchen was a sweet cat.  She was like a nanny to that loud baby- always letting me know in no uncertain terms that there was a baby crying and to get my slacking heiney in there to fix it.  And she guilted me into it too, no Dr. Spock for us thank you.  Anyhow.  She was ever present, ever watchful, ever tolerant.  So when she got cancer a few years ago, it was somehow a no brainer to get the most expensive vet in town to take care of her which involved huge bucks and a plastic cone head thing.  The cone was fun actually.  Because Katzchen scared the bejeebers out of big stupid Trouble, which amused me.  And then she was fine for a lot of years.  Then she wasn’t.  She was old (’cause that baby was 14 at the time and we’d had her many years before baby) and sick.  If you wanna, you could read my melodrama from where I used to blog. http://viewfromthenutfarm.blogspot.com/2010/10/one-less-meow-to-answer.html

So we eased that cat into the hereafter and LLO started writing melodramatic poetry because she loved that cat.  This would be the missing poetry.  It was a heck of a poem that kid wrote.  I shared it somewhere, just can’t find it.  Big surprise.  Sometimes I can’t find the door.

Well, the melodramatic poetry about sent me to the looney farm because LLO just wouldn’t let up.  Months.  So Christmas came and we decided that a kitten would be the thing to do.  So we went to the SPCA with the kids to pick a kitten.  LLO fell in love with this one year old cat, who had been malnourished and turned in to the SPCA with a broken leg, was ok now, and pretty friendly, and looked exactly like the dearly departed cat.  It’s disconcerting I can assure you.  I was pretty reluctant to bring this clone cat into the house, but I think we all know that I didn’t have a chance of getting my way.  And she’s not my cat anyhow.  So whatever.  Her name was Princess (like the dorkiest name ever), but it’s now Princess Buttercup, thank you very much.  Life was grand.  LLO was relatively happy with the new cat (still mourned the other one a little too loudly for my taste.)

Life was grand.  Until I decided I had no choice but to rescue a friend from her knocked up stray cat who blessed her with- I dunno 9 kittens?  So 5 months ago or so, psychoninjamicrokitten joined the family.  Princess was not happy about it and knew I was the instigator.  She ignored me for months.  One day last month, I was taking a middle of the night walk and this cat followed me for a little while, all kinds of happy to see me.  I thought it was Princess, but the behavior was so strange, and there really are a lot of cats in our neighborhood, so I just wasn’t sure.  This cat followed me to the next block and then disappeared.  A couple days ago, I took a walk and Princess came with me around the block again.  She pranced about and then stopped directly in front of me to roll on the ground.  Because apparently I don’t step on her enough at home.  Then I walked out of her comfort zone and she disappeared.  Well, last night, she took the whole walk with me.  Clear around the neighborhood.  I stopped to wait for her a couple times.  She stopped to wait for me a couple times.  It was actually kind of nice to have a small furry bodyguard.

This is something LLO wrote last fall for school:

 

Just another smooth, uneventful morning.

LLO and I had to be at church for choir at 8:30.  I got in the shower at 8:10.  We were late.  No big surprise.  Not too late, not too big of a deal.  Had to give my friend the accompanist a hug because she thought her part of the song was catastrophic (because her 3 year old daughter was trying to get her attention while she was playing.)  It was not catastrophic.  I noticed, because I know she’s hypersensitive, but it was fine.  Catastrophic was the one and only time I played piano with the choir.  Holy crap.  That was horrible.  Water under the bridge, never to be repeated, ain’t nobody stupid enough to suggest that again. 

Anyhow.  The in-laws came to watch LLO sing.  So now we have 6 people to get from the sanctuary to cars.  You’d think this could be an easy thing.  Only 6 people, 4 of them adults, 2 of them over 10.  How hard could this be?  Well, it took 30 minutes for everyone to be in one place.  30 minutes.  I’m not making this up.  I have no idea where Spawn and the mo-in-law ended up.  My father-in-law can have a conversation with a coatrack.  LLO and I were where we were supposed to be- except that she kept wandering.  Then we went back in, LLO went looking (yes, I did strongly suggest that she stay put with me.  ha)  In any case, 30 minutes. 

Then we decided to go to Cracker Barrel for lunch, only LLO wanted freaking Chinese, so we had drama.  We always have drama-it’s just a question of who and what.  And everything was fine.  It took too long, but that seems to be my theme today.  Everything is taking too long.  I found this plaque in the shop.  On sale even.  I had to have it. Because it is freaking hilarious. 

Spawn wants to know who gets it.  I want to know when I get to go to my new home.

Three and a half weeks after I left this morning, I got to plop my heiney in front of my happy place.  And then it was time to go to a meeting for my summer job.  A meeting that lasted only an hour, but again felt like a day.  I’m having a hard time giving a rip about summer because it is too far away and there are miles of crap to do before it gets here and it’s going to be a long, hard summer anyhow.  So.  I do not care about those storage problems and have no suggestions.  Nor do I want to come back in 3 weeks and help you reorganize.  Because I do not care.

And now I’m back.  The in-laws are still here.  Playing games with the rest of those people.  Which involves yelling and such and general talking is too loud right now. 

I have tons of reading to do yet.  And a headache.  And I’m sleepy.  And today just sucks. 

But tomorrow we’re celebrating some nice presidents, so no work.  And my friend reminded me that it’s chick games night again.  So, once I conquer today, tomorrow is a better day.  Ha.

Hope my new home is on the moon.

 

I opened the fridge and was confronted by this:

Unfortunately, I accidentally shook it up a bit, so you can’t quite see the brainlike quality of that white stuff at the bottom. 

I’m afraid to open the jar.  I’m also afraid to ask for more information.  You just never know here.

4.10 Pantoum  bluemooncat enormous writing thing.  who has room for pantoum?  makes me go zoom. (head go boom)

 

 

It All Ends The Same

the question to disclaim, the answer can proclaim

endless sorrow that has no name

what is on the inside is not the same

a blurry picture without a frame

 

endless sorrow that has no name

a secret that no one dares to claim

a blurry picture without a frame

what is the aim for who she became

 

a secret that no one dares to claim

desire is a wild beast you cannot tame

what is the aim for who she became

wish that it was just a game

 

desire is a wild beast you cannot tame

set fire to emptiness as thoughts enflame

wish that it was just a game

then seek no blame that no one came

 

set fire to emptiness as thoughts enflame

truth thrust deep that blood can reclaim

then seek no blame that no one came

but nonetheless feel the shame

 

truth thrust deep that blood can reclaim

reality can sometimes douse the flame

but nonetheless feel the shame

what was can misname, newness may rename

 

reality can sometimes douse the flame

what is on the inside is not the same

what was can misname, newness may rename

the question to disclaim, the answer can proclaim

 

 

Just heard in my house:  Listen.  It’s a visual.  (and it wasn’t me who said it.)

2.18 short story with song lyric title: bluemooncat something or another incredibly enormous writing adventure.

Life’s Like an Hourglass Glued to the Table

Anne’s alarm clock sprung into action on Monday morning.  She covered her jammies with the fuzzy, worn bathrobe and thrust her feet into her pink bunny slippers.  She trudged into the kitchen, mixed batter for pancakes, and started making bologna sandwiches for the kids’ lunchboxes.  Her morning cup of coffee, barely sugared mildly milked, steamed on the counter as she flipped pancakes.  One by one her children emerged from their rooms and sat at the table, ready to be served.  A smile plastered on her face, Anne buttered, syruped and cut pancake bits for children well beyond needing such care.  They ate and left the table without one word to their mother.   Precisely 20 minutes later, Anne handed coats and lunchboxes to each child, as the morning exodus proceeded in standard formation.

Anne waved as children, chatting amiably with neighbors and friends, entered the bus. 

Anne’s alarm clock greeted Tuesday morning.  She covered her jammies with the fuzzy, worn bathrobe and thrust her feet into her pink bunny slippers.  She sauntered into the kitchen, whipped eggs into a froth, and started making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the kids’ lunchboxes.  Her morning cup of coffee steamed on the counter as she stirred the eggs.  One by one her children emerged from their rooms and sat at the table, ready to be served.   Anne dished out eggs, buttered and jammed toast.  The children ate and left the table.  Precisely 20 minutes later, Anne handed coats and lunchboxes to each child, as the morning exodus proceeded in standard formation.

Anne waved to her children.

Anne’s alarm clock welcomed Wednesday morning.  She covered her jammies with the fuzzy, worn bathrobe and thrust her feet into her pink bunny slippers.  She walked into the kitchen,  prepared batter for French toast and started making turkey and cheese sandwiches for the kids’ lunchboxes.  Her morning cup of coffee steamed on the counter as she dipped bread into the batter.  One by one her children emerged from their rooms and sat at the table, ready to be served.  Anne served and sliced French toast and dribbled syrup.  The children ate and left the table.  Precisely 20 minutes later, Anne handed coats and lunchboxes to each child, as the morning exodus proceeded in standard formation.

Anne stared at her children.

Anne’s alarm clock tweeted Thursday morning.  She covered her jammies with the fuzzy, worn bathrobe and thrust her feet into her pink bunny slippers.  She trudged into the kitchen, made chocolate chip pancake batter and started filling thermoses with soup.   Her morning cup of coffee steamed on the counter as she stirred in the chocolate bits.  One by one her children emerged from their rooms and sat at the table, ready to be served.  Anne served, cut and dripped syrup on pancakes.  .  The children ate and left the table.  Precisely 20 minutes later, Anne handed coats and lunchboxes to each child, as the morning exodus proceeded in standard formation.

Anne stood at the door.

Friday, Anne was up before her alarm.  She put cereal and bowls and milk on the table.  She sat down in the kitchen to enjoy a steaming cup of coffee.  The children chattered as they served themselves cereal.  Precisely 20 minutes later, Anne handed coats and lunch money to each child as they walked to the bus.

Anne grabbed her keys and didn’t look back.

@onestepcloserto_perfection seemed to think I should do this.  Pretty much said I either needed to write an emmy award speech or do it.  So, this seemed easier.  Oh, I’m supposed to say thank you.    By the way, if you didn’t read hers, you should.  It was sweet.

Here are the Rules:

Thank the award giver and link them in your post.
Share seven things about yourself.
Pass this award along to blogs that you enjoy reading.
Contact your chosen bloggers, let them know, and post the award picture. 

I’m awfully boring lately, so there that is.  Snore if you must.

1. I’m a klutz.  I drop stuff all the time.  Sometimes I catch it before it crashes to the ground, which is somewhat convenient. 

2. I’m a space cadet.  I completely forgot to do two things today that I could easily have done if I’d been paying attention to assorted papers lying around my house.  I suppose it’s just as well that I didn’t do them, since I’ve completely lost track of what year it is.  It cannot be 2012.  I also lose things.  I’ve lost my wonderful mittens because I put them away somewhere really smart in October when I didn’t need them and haven’t remembered yet where that smart place is.  I also can’t find my ATM card.  I travel light because I often leave things behind.  So I have no idea when/where I had it last and what I did with it after I took it out of my pocket.  Sigh.  In other news, I just found my library card.

3.  I’m an eastern girl.  When I was little, I lived in Utah.  But the rest of my life I’ve lived in PA and MD (although I worked in VA for a while.) Riveting stuff, I know.

4. I don’t like holidays.  Ick.  I have bought a Valentine for possibly the first time.  Actually bought two.  One sappy and one funny.  Guess which one satisfies me more?  When I forget where I’ve put them, please remind me they are under my stack of books.  Thanks.

5.  I have 4 cats, all different ages and temperaments, and none of them really get along with each other.  This is #2 cat.  1 of 3 girls who all look the same in the dark.  #3 gets stepped on because she sits in the middle of the floor at night.  #4 is ninjapsychokitten who is always underfoot anyhow.  The gray and white is the big, stupid boy cat who had a pink ribbon at the SPCA or he wouldn’t be part of our family.  He’s a beast.  Soft and pretty.  But he goes from purr to splat in 5 seconds and he holds me personally responsible for bad weather.

6. This space left intentionally blank. And be glad of it.  Because it’s either something I don’t want you to know or it’s something you don’t want to know.  Trust me on this.

7.  This will surprise everyone, but I am grateful.  I’m hitched to a great guy who I don’t deserve.  Lucky for me he disagrees.

I have no idea who to tag.  I’m pretty sure anyone I’d pick has already done it or won’t.  Just like last time. 

The tivo remote was missing.  This is a huge deal to some people in my household.  It is not a big deal to me because I honestly don’t know how to use the dang thing and all those shows that are recorded for me are going to sit there unwatched until the earth spins into space probably.  So we had a double whammy that shouldn’t have been any trouble for me.  I mean really.  Because there it is: the device the children want in the midst of the trash heap of the living room that is filled with their crap, not mine.  Anyone with a lick of sense could figure out that the children need to clean up the room (and put stuff away) and they will find the remote.

Unfortunately, I was home.  I actually wished desperately that I had class to go to last night because that would have been way better than the reality.  Spawn is incapable of looking for anything.  When she was little, we used to make fun of her- she’d stand in the middle of her room spinning around looking at eye level saying “where is my underwear?”  I’m not making this up.  She’d look at the ceiling to find her shoes.  So here’s spawn’s contribution to the looking: she reported that spouse thought the remote had fallen in the trashcan and that now this $200 piece of equipment was now useless.  Yes, of course, if the remote MIGHT be in the trash why bother looking anywhere else.  (Yes, I did wonder why said spouse didn’t go look in the freaking trash, but the answer to that doesn’t fit here chronologically.)

Littleloudone, who used to be the best finder in the house, was having one of her days.  Possibly exacerbated by the figurative sharp stick that spawn was applying to the situation.  So I decided if the kids cleaning wasn’t going to happen, that we could try a simple exchange of services.  Told LLO that I would look for the remote as soon she started practicing her drum.  (I personally thought this was win-win since it would help avoid the drama next week of getting adequate drum practice in.)  This was the worst idea you can imagine.  Fit ensued.

Then the phone call.  Do I ever hate the phone.  I made Spawn take it and speak to her dad (as I will still a pissed about the trash comment and now pretty much incapable of speech.)  He had to stay late at work.  Spawn, being a basically kind, problem-solving child decided to cook dinner.  Which is great.  Except that she wanted to make some kind of pork stir fry and LLO and I both really just wanted mac-n-cheese.  I had an appointment at school in less than an hour and Spawn really takes her time (and makes a huge mess) when she cooks.  Well, she strongly believed that we should save the mac-n-cheese for when we were in a hurry.  Because you know there is only so many boxes of Kraft mac-n-cheese at the store.  She didn’t like my answer.  So upstairs she goes and starts wailing, opening the door every so often just so I know she is still upset.

And there’s LLO calling me everything but mother.  And then.  Poof.  I said something about respect (no idea what, honestly) and LLO says to me (this I do remember verbatim):  You will never know how much I respect you.  And I definitely thought, yes, you are right, I never will.  Next thing I know, she practices her drum for the full 30 minutes without my saying another word.  I clean the living room.  I found all kinds of goodies in the couch including a remote (the wrong one), Spawn’s missing inhaler, some kind of corkscrew device, and a whole lot of icky stuff that I left there.  I went to my meeting, came home to dinner and calm.  The second I walk in the door, LLO remembers where she dropped the remote the day before and that was that.

And we wonder why I’m nuts.