Hair Did

I really need to find a place to get my hair cut. In New York, I had a beautiful little place I would go to with my mother. It was a little cottage in a little village, where you walk in and everyone knows your name. Kind of like Cheers. Here, the same lady cut my hair since I was a young child.

Since moving out here, I have been the definition of a fly by night. I go to any place I can get my hair cut at the spur of the moment. Mostly making bad choices and choosing places that specialize in braiding and weaves if you know what I mean.

So, this past weekend, I was super careful when choosing a place. I drove a big to the east, away from the diversity of the city, looking for someone who specializes in straight to moderately wavy hair. Hair that has to be washed daily. The place I chose looked like a good match on the outside and even the inside.

The girl who cut my hair, sweet as could be, was more of a bob and weave girl. She did a good job and that is all that should matter. I liked her, and I like her for more than just the nice job she did on my hair. I like her because of her interesting conversation and attire. 

As I'm sitting in the chair, completely subject to whatever this girl wants to do to me, I couldn't help but laugh every time I caught a glimpse of her "Let's do a shot" t-shirt in the mirror. 

Not the kind of shirt the girl who used to do my hair in the little village wore. 

And the conversation. It wasn't the wholesome, how's your family, mine is wonderful talk that took place in the village either. It was more based around robberies, selling stolen merchandise, and the police. Where she lives, she told me, you only answer the door at three in the morning if it is the police. You know it is the police because they bang on the door really loud and yell, "POLICE, POLICE!" 

This experience left me with two things. One: a good haircut. Two: the realization that either I did not drive far enough east, or this girl travels even further east to go to work everyday. 

A Strong Sneeze

I sneezed today. No, that is nothing new, but what ensued is. I have always been a strong sneezer. Today, when I let out my strong sneeze, I peed myself a little. Apparently this is acceptable because I am pregnant....

Breaker

I should have known from the get go. I should have realized when I looked down and saw my feet nestled in my beach-saavy Brazil flip-flops. I was in for a rough day!

Minus the footwear, the day started like many others at work. I was in the school gym shooting some baskets with the students who arrive at school early. It's not part of my duties, but, sometimes, I put in that extra time and care to do things like play basketball with the lovely children. 

The kids were standing under the basket rebounding my ball as I shot from all corners of the miniature sized gym. The boy standing directly under the basket, Grant we will call him, was taking bets on the long shot I was about to take. As I let it fly, somebody called out his name. Grant immediately turned to see who was calling him. The ball snapped through the net and straight into Grant's nose. 

                                                                                                                          Now, I won't lie and say that blood game rushing out of Grant's nose, but it definitely slowly trickled out. He claimed it didn't hurt through the endless stream of tears falling from his eyes. I brought him to the nurse and brought myself to the assistant principal's office to let him know what I had done. He thought it was hilarious and said it would certainly be a funny story for Grant to tell in years to come. He will always remember the day he got a bloody nose from his pregnant teacher. 

Later in the day, I continued my awful day. Since it is a movie week at lunch time, one of the kids brought in Alice in Wonderland to watch. Not the corny Alice in Wonderland you are thinking of, the one with Johnny Depp as the freakish Mad Hatter. One girl non-chalantly wondered what you should do if you don't like the movie. I told her I wasn't a big fan of it either so I just don't pay attention to it. 

She acted like that was a good answer, but apparently it was not. For as soon as Johnny Depp's demon-like face showed up on the screen, she ran up to me hysterically crying, begging if she could go eat lunch in the office. 

Awesome, for the second time today, I was sending a sobbing child to the office. She did not make it clear that she did not like the movie because she was deathly afraid of it. 

Today, I did far more than break the dress code with my little flip-flops. I broke the hopes, noses, and good dreams of my students. I feel lucky to still be employed as I head to bed tonight!

Poop Water

At about 2 a.m. the Big Guy started whining in the hallway. After a few minutes of this, I went to see what was wrong with him, but he wouldn't tell me and made no attempt to get up. I laid down with him for a few minutes before heading back to bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, the whining started up again.

Jeff offered to get him this time and took him out to pee. When 5:30 rolled around and it was time for our morning run, I found myself waiting downstairs by myself; the Big Guy nowhere to be found. Shea eventually dragged himself down the stairs and out to the front lawn. He had no interest in going any further. He plopped himself down and rolled onto his back.

The only time he got up from that position was to throw up. Three times, but who is counting.

It bothered me all day. I wondered what could have made my boy sick. Then, I got to thinking. We spent all day Saturday at Bow Wow Beach, the most fabulous dog park/beach in existence (really, it's ranked 3rd nationally, so pretty darn close to the best in existence). 

My mind flashed to Shea, swimming in the water, and then taking a break to drop a deuce, right there in the middle of the lake. It was no big deal, I just pretended he wasn't my dog for about three minutes and then it was forgotten. I, in fact, saw three other dogs deuce in the water while we were there.

So, you are probably thinking, gross, Shea was swimming in poop-infested water. Well, even worse, he was drinking poop-infested water. I think I would throw up after a day or two of other dog's poop traveling through my system. 

I am happy to report that Shea is feeling much better this evening. Maybe he has learned his lesson and will not drink that kind of water anymore. My guess is no, but it's a nice thought!

Speedy

Shea and I were running along today at an amazing clip. The last few days, while out and about, I have seen a number of police officers, mostly multiple ones at once. That is never good news.

Today, I saw another, all by his lonesome. I noticed him across a busy road. A busy road that Shea and I needed to cross. Misjudging which intersection I was at, I thought it would be safe to cross as I mistook the one I was actually at for a four-way stop. As I stepped off of the sidewalk, it suddenly hit me where I was, as the car approaching was not really slowing down. I screeched to a stop, pulling Shea back, and waiting our turn.

Once we were able to run across safely, I got a better look at this police officer. He wasn't as interesting as the previous one's I had seen, as he was simply trying to catch speeders. It was blatantly obvious as he was hanging out the window with his radar gun.

The only thing sketchy about this was that there were no cars in sight at the time. The gun was pointed directly at me. So, I asked that nice officer how fast I was going. 

Since I was going so fast, he said, he was unable to clock me in! 

Down, Out, and Unsanitary

Computer is currently down and out....check back soon as the Apple geniuses fix the problem.

In the mean time, please enjoy this photo of Shea. You may notice he has something in his mouth. It is a used pad he found on the sidewalk. Yup, that's right, a sanitary napkin. Unfortunately, not so sanitary after being used and sitting on the sidewalk. Thank God it was wrapped and he decided to drop it after a quick minute!

Achievers

Every week at school we do something called "school achievers." It is a time that teachers can recognize students who have been working hard, achieving goals, or who have just been caught doing something nice for someone else. A lovely boy in my class came up with an idea to reverse the roles. He went to the principal and got that idea approved. They fittingly saved it for teacher appreciation week.

So, this past week, on "student achiever" day, six students, led by the boy in my class, presented "teacher achievers," in the exact manner that we do it every week.

It was quite cute. They did a great job speaking in front of the school and recognizing some people who aren't always recognized. For example, one student gave a "teacher achiever" to the janitor for keeping our school nice and clean. A good thing to recognize. Then, it came to my only student present in front of the assembly.

"My teacher achiever for coming to school everyday and being caring and teaching us," he began. "She is doing all of this while carrying a baby, and she is not even grumpy!"

Apparently moody pregnant women are even the norm to young children.

Hum Bugging

I was upstairs humming along to myself. Before I came back downstairs, I kissed my beautiful dog on the head just because I love him. I continued my humming down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard Jeff's voice coming from the living room. Only, he wasn't speaking to me. Who else would he be speaking to, one might ask? I was wondering the same thing, so I walked closer to the doorway to hear the following conversation:

"Do you hear her, Shea? Humming like she has has a good voice. What is she humming about?"

Mind you, I just gave Shea a kiss because he was upstairs in bed.

When I confronted Jeff about his odd conversation, he told me that out of the corner of his eye, he had seen the white blanket and just figured it was Shea.

Yup, he confused that for my beautiful, white puppy. 

And everyone says I am the one who is supposed to be losing my mind! 

Burnt

When I was in grad school, I was lucky enough to live with my future brother-in-law. Sure, it was a hard one to talk my dad into, however, the fact that I was moving to a city that I was unfamiliar with and knew nobody (except Jonathan) really helped out the situation. Plus, his ideas of me not living with a man were in fear of the happenings after the sun goes down. I reminded him that this was my boyfriends brother, if I was going to be doing whatever after hours, it would not be with him!

With us, in our mini estate, lived another guy, Dan. We were like three peas in a pod. We shared everything, whether we wanted to or not. There were some things I did not want to share and neither did Jonathan. But, it apparently wasn't a choice. We were to share things like shampoo, soap, toothpaste, and other hygiene products. I was quite fumed about this. I didn't feel as though I should have to use a shower caddy like I did in the freshman dorms in my own "home." But, yes, that is what it came down to.

Many would probably wonder why I didn't just say something. The problem is, I just felt bad. Stupid, I know, but true. Anyways, one day, all of the keeping quiet I did let me come away with the victory!

Back then, I couldn't see. I needed my contacts just to be able to walk safely. The one thing I felt safe leaving in the bathroom  were my glasses and contacts. I mean, there was no need for anyone to borrow those. Along with those, without thinking, I continued to leave my contact solution. Since I have fairly sensitive eyes, I always used a special, enzyme cleaning solution. Contacts have to sit in this special solution for at least seven hours or the solution will burn your retinas straight off your eyeballs. And, you can only use the special bubble-formulating contact case when using this solution. 

I knew all the rules for using the solution. Poor Dan didn't. 

One morning I woke u to his screams coming from the bathroom as he had decided to extend his sharing to my contact solution. After flushing his eyes for a good amount of time, he complained to me that my contact solution had burned the sh*t out of his eyes. I'm assuming he told me this because he wanted me to feel bad. I, however, feeling that I had been quiet long enough, simply told him, "You shouldn't have been using my stuff."

I must end that story by quickly telling you that I did like Dan. He was definitely a nice guy, he just thought the whole housemate thing allowed for more privileges than most people would assume. Also, I am happy to report that he can still has his vision. 

That Time of Year

This is a special week at school. A special and stressful week for all. A full week dedicated to....

I teach Social Studies. Therefore, I have a free pass on teaching Sex Ed. I don't necessarily mind. Especially seeing some of the questions these kids are coming up with. As with any Sex Ed. class in the past 20 years, the teachers allow the students to write their questions down so they don't have to be embarrassed in front of their peers. Reading over the questions has become a lunch time ritual, at least for this week.

While these questions are thoroughly entertaining, the most entertaining question happened to come live, in person, during one of the classes today. Since I don't teach the class, I was lucky enough to be approached by the hysterical science teacher after dismissal today. 

The original question: 

"Can pregnant woman still have sexual intercourse?"

Mind you, they are forced to speak using proper terms and this was a room full of just girls.

Teacher: "Yes, they can."

Girl: "Does that mean that Mrs........."

Teacher: "Whoaaa! We are not going there!"

I thought that was an awfully bold question to ask for children who have been walking out of science class with looks of devastation on their faces all week. 

Ice Cream Hatred

When I got home yesterday, I found the last few spoonfuls of my beloved ice cream had been emptied into Shea's food bowl. I, personally, would never do that to myself. Shea doesn't have hands. So, that leaves only one other person to have done it. Yup, that's right, Jeff gave my ice cream to the dog.

When I pissed and moaned to Jeff, he pointed out that there was only a spoonful left. He must have forgotten that I would have still eaten that spoonful and thoroughly enjoyed it. With that, he told me that he thought he had more than made up for it. I began searching the kitchen for a possible dinner or chocolate chip pie, when Jeff directed me to the freezer. And, there they were:

Two cartons of "Bumpy Road" marshmallow ice cream with chocolate crunchies and fudge. The ice cream that just last week, while grocery shopping, I told Jeff I did not want in the house. I didn't want in the house, not because it is not good, but because it is too good! So good that I fear I will eat an entire carton in one day. 

To make matters worse, Jeff went out for a few hours last night for some business. Thus, leaving me home alone with the ice cream. When Jeff is around, I have slightly more self control as compared to when he is not home. I found myself wandering to the freezer about 10 minutes after Jeff left the house. A mere 30 minutes later.....

I'm just kidding. I am not that helpless, but I did have two bowls. While Jeff may have bought me this ice cream out of love, I simply hate him for it!

Where Were You?

Fast asleep, Jeff came to bed at about 11:30 last night. I woke up, ready for a bathroom break. The Mets-Phillies game was still on the TV and it was all tied up.

Once Jeff realized I was awake, he asked, "Do you want to hear the news?" I thought maybe he forgot that I had eye surgery and could see the TV. I knew the Mets game was tied and in my mind, there was nothing else newsy he could be talking about.

When Jeff told me the real news, I had to stay up and wait for President Obama's address. It was great news for our country, and I looked forward to the fact that my students would have a current events assignment this week. I felt, much like the tsunami in Japan, the kids would be very into this news. 

Then this morning came. As the first kid walked in the door they announce, "Mrs. G, did you hear they captured that guy?" I was shocked by the incredibly specific details this kid had given. When I replied that I had and his name was Osama Bin Laden, this child continued, "Yea, why is this such a big deal?"  

As a class, we had a good discussion about what this capturing and death meant to our nation. We talked a lot about 9/11, in the year 2001 mind you. 2001, one year after most of these children were born. Some knew more than others about that day in history and were very interested to hear more and more. One boy knew enough to ask, "Where were you when it happened?" 

After explaining my story, one of the kids offered his whereabouts on that dreadful day. "I was at daycare playing with blocks." He is probably right. 

Grumpy Shopper

The grocery store was packed this afternoon. I found myself having to bob and weave in and out of people when I wasn't stuck standing still waiting for the person in front of me to decide if they want chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs or regular shaped.

A busy place to be when you have a cart full of about 10 items. I didn't mind though, not until I got into line. The problem, you see, was that it was so crowded, people were entering lines from two directions and nobody knew who got there first. There were some arguments ahead of me about spots in line. When it came to my turn, I let the young guy, who had approximately six items go ahead. I was pretty sure he got to the line first and he had a few less items than I did. I always remember being a kid and my mother letting those with only a few things go ahead of our cart-load and a half of groceries. And, since my mother is nice, I figured I would try being nice too.

Well, apparently, not everyone likes nice. For as soon as the guy put his groceries onto the belt, the woman behind him began yelling at me. "Are you not in line or something?" I told her I was just letting him go ahead of me. She then gave me a very snotty, "Well isn't that just sooooo nice of you." I could have slapped that b*tch in the mouth right then, but her the burly husband standing behind her made me think twice. 

I just don't get it. It didn't effect her at all. She was going to be behind two people no matter what. What did it matter if the order was him then me, or me then him? Answer is, it didn't matter one bit. I had done what I thought was nice. Nobody ever yelled at my mother back when she did it. It actually was very normal thing. I saw it happen many times. I guess some people are just angry in general. She just happened to be a perfect example.