Pillowless

I woke up at 2:30 a.m. for my new ritualistic pee. It happens nearly every morning at that time, and a few others at that. When I got back to my spot in bed, things were different than normal however.

Midsleep, Jeff had snatched my pillow. Apparently having 3/4's of the pillows on the bed was not good enough for him. He needed them all.

I mean, who cares that I am the pregnant one and need pillows to help comfort my ever-growing body. What does it matter if I am not even allowed to sleep on my back because the added weight can crush my spinal chord. Jeff wanted that extra pillow, so he took it! Leaving me, pillowless.

Good thing I am so adjustable and simply used my arms as a pillow.

Three-Handed

Is it somewhat creepy that Michelle Obama has 3 hands? 

Mindless

Yesterday I was five minutes away from work, eating grapes as I drove, when I realized I had forgotten my lunch. How did I realize it? Well, I was planning what I was going to eat next out of my lunchbox, when I couldn't remember putting my lunchbox in the car. I was right. I didn't have it with me.

I decided right then and there that it was too late to drive home to get my lunch and that I must ration the seven of grapes that I had left. My lunch period isn't long enough to get anywhere considering my school is  as in the middle of nowhere as you can get if you are in a suburb of Cleveland. I would be sure to ask around for delivery places in hopes of something decent to eat.

I had third period off, so I ate one of my grapes and headed to the office to ask the secretary for some delivery options. There, sitting on her desk, was my beautiful black lunchbox. My wonderful husband, who usually skips breakfast, had looked for a quick snack on-the-go that morning. He noticed something a little odd, my lunchbox, sitting in the refrigerator.

Jeff was baffled at the fact that I could forget my lunch, seeing as all I think about is food. When I'm eating food, as Jeff explained, I am thinking about what I am going to eat next. I didn't know that, but since Jeff knows everything, it must be true. When I realized that I had forgotten my lunch yesterday morning, I couldn't help but wonder why I couldn't forget something unimportant to my day, like, say, my phone. I can't use it during the school day, yet, you'd never catch me forgetting that. Food is way more important to my daily survival than my phone, yet I would never forget that darned thing.

This morning, as I fed Shea, I placed my phone down on the kitchen counter, as I made almost a ritualistic ceremony out of grabbing my lunch of out the refrigerator. I wasn't going to forget it today!

About the same point in my drive as yesterday, I realized something I had forgotten today. It wasn't my lunch, thank goodness. When I got home, it was right there on the counter where I'd left it. 

Yes, I am losing my mind. And poor Jeff has to see the remnants of that every morning! 

Happy Easter

Happy Easter from:

and

and

We hope you remember the real reason for this day:

Our savior

and all the wonderful things he gives to us:

George Clooney

Me: I love George Clooney.  I would leave you for him.

Jeff: I can totally understand that. I mean, it's George Clooney.

Google Monster

The Internet is a dangerous place! You hear about how parents need to monitor their children's Internet use, and I have a experienced why first hand. Thank the goodness I am not a child.

It is quite obvious that innocent googling can turn ugly in a moment. Maybe you have a sports fanatic child. The kid googles Dick's looking to pick out a new baseball glove at his favorite sports store. Yeah, that is not going to turn out good.

As sometimes I don't have pictures to go along with my blogs, google has been good to me. But, this past week it has seemed to take a turn for the worse. 

I need a picture of a boy getting punished. In my head I was picturing a little boy sitting in the corner. Or, a little boy being yelled at, his mother with her finger pointed in his face. What I found was quite different. Here is a PG-rated version of what I found.  

Apparently that is a boy getting punished. Not exactly the punished I was thinking of, but I guess I can see how this would also illustrate a boy getting punished. I'm sure your mind can I imagine the R and X rated versions that also appeared on the page.

Then, came my google search of teens being mischievous to illustrate the dudes I saw hiding in the park. That google search again, shocked me. There really weren't any PG, or PG-13 for that matter, pictures that I could even show to illustrate my findings. Those teens at the park were certainly mischievous, but not in the same way Mr. Google was thinking. 

So, the moral of this story is be careful when googling. Watch over your children's shoulders until they are 30. Mom, where were you? 

Outhouse Sketchiness

On our evening run tonight, Shea and I went to the park we normally do. Now that the weather is about 10 degrees warmer than it was during what is considered winter, the local hoodlums have come out to the park's basketball court. Hoodlums of all ages and sizes come and try to play.

Today, since it was raining, a shocker in our miserable April forecast, the basketball court wasn't a popular spot. Apparently, most of these guys are afraid of melting. The three guys I did see were pretty young and looking awfully suspicious. Suspicious not because of their dress, color, or age, but suspicious because they were looking at me with that "we are doing something wrong," look that my students give when they are doing something wrong.

They were making their way from the basketball courts to the public outhouse at the park. Even when they arrived at the outhouse, they were peeking around the corner at me. Something told me they weren't just seeking shelter from the rain. I tried to imagine what these young guys might be doing, and I decided they were going into the bathroom to maybe smoke cigarettes or drink beer, having to hide it because they were underage. Seemed perfectly reasonable to me.

Not someone to think the worst, Shea and I took over our normal spot to play fetch. It just happens to face the outhouse building. After running around for a few minutes, I peered down there as I had changed my mind and decided they weren't smoking cigarettes or drinking beer, but they were doing some sort of drugs. Lo and behold, they had shut the door to public bathroom.

With the closed door, the level of sketchiness raised significantly. Again, not being one to think the worst, I began to think the worst. Maybe they had someone trapped in there and were hurting them in some disturbing sort of way. With that thought, I whipped my phone out of my pocket and was ready to call the local police. Then, I gained control of myself. I realized I didn't hear any unusual noises coming from that direction and convinced myself it was simply a group of somewhat sketchy, hoodlumish teens smoking weed. Sure, they shouldn't be doing that, but they didn't need to be arrested for it. So, I put my phone away. 

Since then, I have been wondering if I did the right thing. I am slightly hesitant to see the local paper tomorrow to hear of a beating, murder, or rape at my neighborhood park. Should I have dialed?

I Remember...

I have been MIA for a few days, and I apologize. I'm sure my very strong following of readers have missed my postings greatly. I have a good excuse, as I spent the majority of my weekend driving, with a few hours of a great friend's wedding in between.

Back when we got our invitation to this wedding, Jeff knew that this was be a bad weekend for him. Whether it was because he had to wash his hair, or because he had to go recruiting that weekend, he didn't necessarily know at the time, but he knew he wouldn't be going.

Me, I couldn't take that answer for both of us. For, I had to go, I had no choice. My friend, Tim, was getting married. And Tim, unlike any other friend out there, was my first friend, ever. Well, let me edit that slightly. He was my first friend that my parents didn't chose for me. He was my friend strictly by the smart choice we made when we were four years old. You may remember me talking about my buddy, Timmy in a previous entry: Shovel Cash

I am a very non-sentimental person. I don't tear up for much, but watching my oldest friend stand on the alter and marry a girl that I know is completely wonderful and perfect for him made my eyes water a bit. I remembered all the great times Tim and I had together and just felt complete and utter joy for him.

This was my buddy who delivered the neighborhood newspapers at 6 a.m. every morning. The boy who hated going around and collected the payments alone, would offer me half of his tips for company. I remember throwing footballs at cars driving by while hiding in the bushes. I remember building a number of forts in the woods behind our houses, on the roof of our sheds, and in the winter, behind the washer and dryer in the basement. I remember sitting on the front porch till the early morning hours talking about all the girls that weren't anywhere as perfect as the one he married on Saturday. I remember finding random things on the ground and giving them to each other as gifts. I remember always having a friend to go to parties with as we got older. And, I remember my first visitor in college, buying me too many drinks, and then holding me up while I puked all the way home on the "drunken trolley."

Yup, that's a great friend. One whose wedding I certainly wouldn't miss.

Our plan had always been to get married (not to each other), buy homes across the street from each other, and raise our kids to be best friends. He told me Saturday, he still has that plan in mind and would get right to work on it. 

Ties

My brother is a whopping 30 years old. If you went to his house and looked in his closet you would immediately notice three things. The first would be the seemingly endless amount of Jordan boxes lining the closet with every pair of Jordan's ever made in every color. Then, you would notice the clothes hung meticulously neat. Lastly, you would notice the hanger full of pre-tied ties.

My brother, who has to wear a tie to work everyday, has no idea how to tie a tie. So, being the incredibly smart guy that he is, he had my father tie all of his ties for him. He then, just loosens and unloosens them with wear. I guess it works for him. 

Today, a large group of my students attended the prestigious Cleveland Orchestra. Front row seats I may add. The kids had to dress up to go and many came to school clad in jackets and ties. At the end of the day, one of the boys had mentioned how frustrated he was with how long it took him tie his tie this morning. 

I told him about Nick to make him feel better about his rough time. The young boy summed it up pretty well. "That's kind of sad. I mean, I'm only 10." I agree, Michael, I agree!

Maybe I Should Read

A big downfall of mine is that I hate to read. I know, I know, most people who enjoy writing, also enjoy reading. Not me. I also realize that I am a big hypocrite as I ask my students to read for twenty minutes a night, all while telling them how much I enjoy it.

Not reading doesn't necessarily get you in trouble very often. However, this morning I was slapped in the face with the repercussions of not reading. My lazy a$$, rather than reading through the pile of handouts I needed to selectively send home to the families (key word selectively), I decided to just send them all home. I read the first line, as I often do with everything, and became bored. What I gained from the line I read was, "Please read and sign." Well, that was all I needed to see to know that I must send this home.

I was wrong. If I had read further, as all of the parents did, I would have seen that the next line told the parents that their child had failed a recent assignment and needed to correct it. My morning was spent reading notes from confused parents, since there are very few graded assignments at our school. It took a little time to hand-write letters back explaining my horrid mistake, although I was sure to make it seem like it was a mistake I had only made with their child and not the entire class. Wording such as, "I sincerely apologize, as I sent the wrong sheet home with Max last night," and la-te-da. 

I explained my mistake to the kids, who all but one, found it hilarious. I think, truly, they like to know that their teacher makes mistakes too. The kid who wasn't finding it funny, was the kid who straight facely explained that his mother was furious with him and grounded him last night. He was not allowed to watch TV or talk on the phone last night. He simply had to do his homework and then go to his room for the rest of the night.

I immediately felt horrible and grabbed my cell phone while standing there in front of the class. I apologized endlessly to this poor boy and asked him for his mother's phone number so I could call her on the spot and clear the air. That is when that little sh*t started laughing. He hadn't gotten in trouble at all. His mother didn't necessarily seem to care. If only I could have punished him for his little joke! 

If You Want to Destroy My....

At 5:30 a.m. it was 70 degrees outside. There was no doubt that on my drive to work an hour and half later I had the sunroof open and was basking in the glory of Florida-like temperatures. I was singing along to The Spin Doctors when all of sudden, the beautiful morning skies broke into a torrential downpour.

Luckily with the aerodynamics and my cat-like reflexes, I was able to shut the sunroof before any damage was done. Actually, before a drop even made it into the car. Very unlike the situation about five-six years ago.

I had parked my beautiful, beloved Pathfinder outside on a gorgeous day. I had been enjoying a ride home with the windows down and the sunroof open. Being totally engrossed in what I was doing, or just stupid, I closed the windows but forgot about the sunroof.

Well, much like today, beautiful skies turned into heavy rains throughout the night. It wasn't until morning when I saw my soaked leather seats that I realized what I had done.

A load of towels and some blowdrying helped clean up the mess I had caused. But, one thing was unfixable. The six-cd changer that brought so many happy tunes was unworkable. I have come to the conclusion that the water warped the cds. When I went to play one of my favorites, my Weezer cd, expecting to hear the lovely sound of "if you want to destroy my sweater" to come out of the Bose speakers, I simply heard the sounds of a defeated stereo mockingly singing, "if you want to destroy my stereo (leave the sunroof open when it rains)."

I must say, whoever bought that grand Pathfinder got quiet a deal. Not only a wonderful SUV, but six bad-ass cd's included.

Eggs and Eggs

The cat is out of the bag. And, in oh, such a fun way.

"Mrs. G," a slightly uncomfortable ten year old says to me. "Are you, ummmm, planning on, ummm, having children?" I answered the girl honestly, and told her yes, that I was planning on it. 

Then, like a balloon ready to explode, she blurted out, "Well, Mikaela thinks you are pregnant!" Totally throwing her friend under the bus. I just kind of laughed at them without giving a real response to their comments. 

Throughout the remainder of the day, I noticed every student that walked by me, whether it be in the hallway, the lunch room, or sitting in my classroom, stared directly at my stomach. I apparently was the talk of recess and lunch. Turns out little Miss Mikaela has quite a big mouth. 

I knew the right thing to do was to tell my homeroom class first. So, seeing as Friday is class meeting day, I figured this was the perfect time for it. The kids were super excited about the baby and had plenty of name suggestions. It was very cute and funny to hear what they all had to say, as they are at an age where they understand some of it and are completely oblivious to other parts. 

After I was told that Mikaela had already told them, but nobody ever believes what Mikaela says, they openly spread the word around the school. Throughout the day students, my own and others had some very interesting things to say to me. I kept track so I could share some of my favorites.

"I knew it! You used to be like really skinny. And now, you're not fat, but your not really skinny anymore!" Gee, thanks. Not fat, just a little chubby I guess.      

                                                                                                                  
 "Mrs. G, did you know that you are getting pregnant now?" Like, right now? Because I feel like I would know about that. 

"Is it true? Are you getting a baby?" Nope, I'm not getting one. I am having one. 

"You should try to have the baby on my birthday, August 13th!" That's only nine days past my due date, but I don't think I am going to want to have a grown baby chilling in my stomach for an extra nine days. 

"I didn't want to say anything in case you were eating too much." Well, I guess those respect and kindness character education lessons we do are helping!

"My sister says she is not going to ever get pregnant. She is going to adopt. You know, it is going to hurt so bad to have a baby!" Yea, I will let you know how it feels, buddy. I'm guessing your sister is making the smart choice! 

"Oh my God, your pregnant! I get all of my teachers pregnant!" I'm pretty sure you had nothing to do with it for several reasons. Number one, you are ten and I am just not like that. Number two, I didn't know you when I became pregnant. And, number three, you are a girl. I don't know everything, but I know that it doesn't quite work that way. Eggs and eggs don't make babies! 

Unknown Family

Talking to a friend, I was hit was some very interesting information. Interesting may not be the best word for it. Surprising. Shocking. Slightly disgusting. Those are probably more appropriate for this particular situation.

This dude, we will call him, Chad, shared something he probably should keep locked in that deep, dark closet with the skeletons people so rarely talk about. Chad, from what I learned, did not have a great fairy tale like childhood. Never knew his dad, and his mom was in and out of his world, much like the stories of Lebron James and Ricky Bobby.

However, good ole Chad wasn't going to sit by and let his father get away with not knowing his annoying self. So, at about the age of 22 Chad decided to hunt down his father. With the internet and all of modern technology, tracking him down was a cinch.

Lucky for Chad, his father welcomed him with opened arms. For the entire summer of his 22nd year, Chad spent it getting to know his father and his father's family. This is when an unfortunate discovery happened for Chad. 

He was at a family picnic, meeting aunts, uncles, cousins, and pets he'd never met before. Then, his father, so politely, introduced him to his cousin Michelle. Turns out, Chad was quite familiar with his cousin Michelle. Familiar with her beyond her name and face. Beyond her clothes actually, as Chad and Michelle had shared some uncousinly nights together. Yup, slept with his cousin. 

Chad shared his relief, though, that it wasn't one of his two sisters that he had never known or met previously to hunting his father down. I guess this incestual son of a baby-ditcher is right: kissing cousins is better than sultry siblings!

Non-readers

It's no secret to me, the school I work at, my students, or their families that the kids have trouble reading. I do everything I can to help them and support them in hopes of developing their reading skills. However, today, I must admit, I am glad that they can't read!

We are reading what is considered an age-appropriate book. Every kid has a copy and we take turns reading. I have to help them stay focused, follow along, and read nearly 1/2 the words on the page. I usually get frustrated, not with them not being able to read the words, but with them not following along in their own copies of the books. They would much rather look at the ceiling, floor, or the bottom of their shoes. They follow along with what is going on, just not the words on the page.

So, today, my most mature ten year old was reading. Yes, there are a few mature ten year olds out there. She was doing her best when she got to a really odd part in the book. A new woman was introduced. A woman with no particular meaning to the story. Just a fly-by-night, as my grandma would say. The author, for some reason, made this fly-by-night of a woman have her baby latch onto her boob for some milk, cause it wasn't bad enough that in the previous chapter they were milking cows.

The book read, and I quote, "and the baby drank from the woman's breast."

The mature girl got to the word breast and completely froze. At first, I wasn't sure if it was because she couldn't read the word, or because she was embarrassed to say it aloud. I figured it really didn't matter. While I always help with the words that freeze the kids up, I simply responded, "just skip it."

She gladly did and continued right along without another thought about it.

I was waiting for the rest of the class to erupt into laughter, embarrassment, or, the oh so common ten year old, "ewwwwww." But, it didn't happen.

I'm not sure if they were too busy looking at the patterns on the bottom of their shoes or that they did not recognize the word for what it was. Although it may be very unteacherly to say, thank goodness these kids can't focus and can't read! I hate having to explain these kinds of things and to calm the outlandish laughter.

Nine Months

Today, my mind flash backed to October of last year. I had gone a whole month without my husband around. I had nine months to go until we would be reunited.

I remember comparing those nine months to going through a pregnancy. I was thinking of this, not because I am pregnant, but because Jeff was in Houston for the Final 4 and I at my parents' house. Thus, we were apart again. This time, however, only for five days. Five measly days had me anxiously awaiting Jeff's return today.

With an easy pregnancy thus far, nine months apart from Jeff was a far worse "pregnancy" than the real thing!

Lenten Liar

My mother is a good person. She really is. Just because she lies to God, doesn't make her a bad person, does it?

You see, last night, I caught her in a lie. A lie to me, a lie to herself, and a lie to God. Each year, my mother gives up sweets (in general) for Lent. Every year, no question about it. This is difficult for a few reasons. The first being that she would rather eat sweets than anything else in the world. She hides them several different places in the house, at work, and in the car. Also, Lent, every year, falls on both of our birthdays. That means passing up cake and ice cream for both of our birthdays throughout the years. She really does a good job controlling herself too. I can't remember a time I have seen her slip.

Then, came last night. My aunt and uncle came to visit from Connecticut and we all went out to dinner. Refusing dessert at the restaurant, my mother thought it necessary to stop on the way home and pick up some cake and ice cream so that we could have some dessert at home.

Me, I had no cake. Just ice cream. I, knowing my extreme weakness, gave up all sweets minus ice cream for Lent. My mother, go figure, told me that that was acceptable. Her plate, on the hand, was loaded with a piece of cake and a giant scoop of ice cream.

Being the supportive daughter that I am, I wanted to be sure of what she had given up for Lent, so I asked her: "And what did you give up for Lent this year?"

I knew the answer. It's always the same, and she had reiterated that on Ash Wednesday. Tonight, though, her guilt got the best of her, so she straight up lied: "I gave up chocolate candy!" She said it very enthusiastically as if she were fooling anybody. 

I guess that should make me feel better about deciding that on Jeff's birthday, I did not need to abide by my only ice cream as sweets rule. For, I weakened last week when I made him a beautiful and delicious cookie cake. 

But, hey, at least I fessed up to it. No lying to good for this girl! 

Taken For A Ride

I drove to New York yesterday. Having this week off from work, and Jeff heading to Houston for the Final Four, I figured I would spend a few days visiting family. That is what I was looking forward to the most during my seven hour drive.

Today, I had a few errands to run before starting I intended to be short, but sweet, visits. It started off just that way when I went to visit my great aunts. Aunt Gina and Aunt Mary couldn't have been happier to see me. Aunt Gina immediately pulled me near to feel my ever-so-growing baby bump. She had lots of questions and lots to talk about. She then paraded me through her floor, showing me off to anyone around, on the way to Aunt Mary's room. For the past three years or so, Aunt Mary cries tears of joy anytime someone visits her. I like to attribute this visit's tears to the pure joy of seeing my face and the anticipation of having a new great-great nephew. Either way, she was certainly happy. They wanted nothing more than to converse with me.

It seemed how it should be. Certainly makes me miss living close and being able to visit much more often. I left happy though, enjoying my time with the aunts.

Then, I picked up my main dog Shea and headed to visit my grandmother. Unlike her sisters, my grandmother had no real interest in seeing me, my belly, or Shea. She wanted to go to CVS to get what she called, "very important items that she really needed." She was eager to get to CVS as whatever it was she was buying, she hasn't bought in a really long time. Being the courteous granddaughter that I am, I brought here there.

Shea and I hung out in the parking lot while she did what she needed to do. When she got back in the car, I helped her get her purse in the car, as I always do. Then, I went to help her with the CVS bag, as I always do. However, this time she wasn't willing to hand me the bag, as she always does. She instead told me that she could just throw it on the floor, and did so. This behavior certainly caught my interest. My grandmother is never one to turn down an extra helping hand. I knew she was hiding something.

I needed to know what was in that bag! Since I couldn't just straight out ask, she would lie, I concentrated solely on that bag, with driving as an afterthought. I took a few sharp turns to try and tip the bag over to no avail. So, when my poor, old grandmother climbed out of the car, I took complete advantage of the 88 years that have slowed her down a bit and peeked into that bag.

The emergency trip to CVS was for candy. Like a little kid, she needed her candy. Other than a ride, she needed nothing more of me, therefore, no real need for me. She grabbed her bag of candy and was off. From here, I left confused, yet realizing, I may have moved away, but some things never do change.