Ahh, testing

We are testing this week. No lesson plans, no collecting homework. Just blissful quiet. Until the results come in, that is, when I will crash into a dismal depression over the failure of my 7th graders to grasp the state standards.

My Revenge

The Girl Scout Cookies may have won the battle, but I won the war. Thankfully, yesterday an intervention came in the form of my dry skin.
I was putting lotion on my legs when I became acutely aware of the muscle in my right calf. It was flexed because I had my foot up on my dresser to put the lotion on, and the thought that came to mind was, and I quote: "Holy Shit, girl, that is TIGHT!!!" (Tight being the word my students have been using to describe something that is so beyond cool that it is not cool anymore, but tight.)
It was quite a revelation, because it may have been the first time that I have become aware of part of my body and had a positive reaction to it. I came out of my cookie coma right then, and said to myself, "Melissa, you are NOT going to let this happen. Get your shit together THIS INSTANT and go to the gym." And I went. Not only that, I walked there, worked out, and walked home.
I kept thinking about the cookies, though. There was still 1/2 a box of the peanut butter Do-si-dos beckoning to me seductively. (Serving size: 1 tube. Calories: 550.) So this morning, I put them down the disposal. At $4.00 a box, that was two dollars I just threw down the drain. Literally.
So next year, I will recognize the girl scouts for the crack-pushing, cellulite whores that they are. I will not buy cookies, and if I feel I must donate money, I will remember that it's better to just give it to them directly than to put it down the drain. I have fond memories of my own girl scouts experiences, and my leader was one of the strong women who became my role models as an adult. Which is why I end up buying the cookies every year. BUT NO MORE!! Hear me, girl scouts? Hear me, fat cells? I WIN!!!!!

Undone by the girl scout cookies

I have come completely undone. Well, not completely. I still keep starting out every morning with a protein shake and good intentions. The girl scout cookies got here Tuesday morning. Before I even left work, I had eaten an entire box. Serving size: 2 cookies. Calories: 150. Servings in box: 8. That's 1,350 calories, people! And a stomachache, a headache, and total derailment of plans for the stupid 20 year reunion! I didn't lose any weight last week. I am not meeting my goals! I came home Tuesday, still went to the gym, but proceeded to eat another 1/3 of a box of cookies before bed. I woke up Wednesday, had a protein shake, and told myself I was starting over. Then I got home from work and ate the other 2/3 of the open box, and didn't walk. Yesterday I did fine all day at work, but I was thinking about the damn cookies. I got home and ate 1/2 a box, and didn't go to the gym or walk. Last night I had weird lesbian dreams involving the ocean and woke up with a monstrous headache. I am destroying myself! I can't stop! I think I need rehab! Is there cookie rehab??? CURSE THE GIRL SCOUTS AND THEIR BLASTED COOKIES!!!!

Tainted Peanut Butter!!

There's tainted peanut butter in my cupboard! Or was, rather... my youngest daughter looked at the code on the lid, and sure enough, it's one of the recall jars. It was almost gone, but none of us got sick. I told her to throw it away, but I wonder if that was silly. If we already ate almost the whole jar, and didn't get sick, it must be ok, right?

Why don't you just say the negroes are taking over the world?

In our school newsletter, which is published every Friday, the Principal put a little blurb about Abraham Lincoln last week. Yesterday she forwarded to the entire staff an email from a parent, thanking everyone who was involved in the newsletter for doing such a great job. The parent also wrote this:
"Thank you for mentioning President Lincoln in there as well. He seems to have gotten lost in the "black history month" so it was good to see you mention him."
I have to trust my gut reaction to this statement, which was that this statement is a veiled racist rant. I understand that I live in suburbia (people have decorated the OUTSIDES of their houses for Valentine's day, by the way), and that there are few people of color, even fewer of whom are black. But I am still jarred when people say and do things like this, and I am ashamed to say it has happened more times than I care to admit. It makes me think I need to move away from here. The quotation marks around Black History Month and the fact that the words aren't capitalized, combined with the insinuation that a white man isn't getting the attention he deserves add up to nothing more than plain bigotry.
I also have to wonder why the principal didn't see this? Did it even occur to her that the statement might be considered racist? Did she stop and think before she forwarded it to everyone? I doubt it. She's so entrenched in this community, she probably didn't even notice the racist undertones. That's what happens when racist behavior is considered acceptable in your community. I need to get out of here.

I hate science fair

What a week! I've been working my head off. My youngest daughter waited until 2 days before her science fair project was due to get started on it, and even though I refused to bail her out, it was still a very stressful couple of days. I did the right parenting thing, but it was definitely not the easy way out. I kept reminding her of why she was in this situation, and that she did not have anyone to blame but herself, etc. Of course, it would have helped greatly if I didn't have to be the only parent. I am very angry and resentful at my ex right now because he could have helped and he chose not to. I'm so angry that I feel like telling him I'm not driving the girls to meet him this Friday, and if he wants to see them he can come get them. But when I think that through, I am afraid that he will come get them and then refuse to bring them back, and put me in the same situation I am thinking of putting him in. And that isn't what is best for the girls. So, I will bite my tongue and swallow my anger and take them as usual. And my stomach will complain. My sense of fairness and justice will complain. And nothing will change. It's the powerlessness that eats away at me. What it all boils down to is that I chose him as the father of my children, and I chose to divorce him, and although they were both reasonable choices at the time, these are the results.
I have finished reading "You: On A Diet" and have exercised every day this week except Thursday. (Ok, I skipped my walk because I was helping with science fair.) This book insists that being accountable is very important for success in making permanent life changes. It says to walk every single day, no excuses, for 30 minutes, and talk to somebody when I'm finished. I'm also supposed to eat cinnamon. hmmm.

The Very Long Day

We have conferences today and tomorrow. They are not parent-teacher conferences anymore. They are student led conferences. The student runs the conference. We have spent a week preparing them, having them evaluate themselves and their performance in school. The big idea is to get them to feel ownership over their grades. It's a good idea... but there is resistance from some of the kids and some of the parents. The same ones that have always blamed the teacher and the school for their kids' shortcomings. Most of them are ok with it though.
Either way it means I have to work until 7:30 tonight, which sucks no matter how you slice it. I am wearing all black, putting my hair in a bun, and wearing my sensible shoes. I'm all business today. I have to be - each conference lasts 20 minutes and there is no way I'm getting behind!

My Bee

The first time you get weighed and measured at my Curves, they put a paper bee with your name on it up on the wall. There is a section for "Bee-ginning Curvettes" for those who have lost less than 5 lbs and 5 inches. Then there is a section for 5 lbs/inches, 10 lbs/inches, and so on. Well, my bee had been in the very same spot for 8 long months.
Until yesterday.
I have lost a total of 9 1/2 inches since I started Curves last May, and 5 1/2 lbs. So they moved my bee. They made an announcement and everyone clapped, and then we went on working out as usual. But in my mind, I was running up stadium steps, singing the "Rocky" theme. I haven't stopped yet.

Hitting

I was talking with some of my students before class today and the topic of hitting came up. I told them that there was no hitting at my house, ever. I told them the story of how I spanked my youngest child after she unbuckled herself from her car seat at the age of two, and then I told them I never did it again. I told them that my daughters aren't allowed to hit each other. Those kids were so peculiar! They were incredulous... they kept asking, "You don't hit your kids???" "What if they hit the wall?" "What if they hit the door?" "You really don't hit your kids?"
I was struck by how normal it must be for all of them to get hit. These are my 7th grade special ed students. I have them for 50 minutes out of the school day, and sometimes I am ready to strangle them by the time we're done. I wonder what it would be like to have them all the time, and be their parents. I wonder if I would hit them?
A few minutes later one of them was staring at me kind of funny. I gave him a goofy look and asked him what he was staring at me for. He said, "I wish you were my mom, because them I wouldn't get hit."
I pulled him out of his next class and took him to the office, sat him down and asked him exactly what he meant by "hit." He said his dad only hits him if he does something really bad, like get an F. (He is learning disabled, by the way.) He said his dad hits him on his hand.
Well, parents are allowed to hit their kids. I made him promise that if he ever felt unsafe he would tell me. Then I had to let it go. Except I haven't.

My Options, Continued

More responses to the Snow White ad:

I’d like to compliment your ad. I thought it was terrific. If I wasn’t so jaded myself I might respond to it.

are you really all those things....Hahahahah

hi im not perfect but I like you to be you and nothing more im not into the gravy crap im a don't to earth person i like to sit home watch tv, work around the house cook clean them kind of things im sorry that you have a bad time with men im 57 laid back type of person if your interested in me then drop me a line im Richard glad to meet you here is a pic

I think that last guy wrote twice. He is old and he looks his age and then some. I would like to write back to him, but it would just be mean, so I'm going to do it here instead.

Dear Rich:
After perusing your second response, I have a few questions/comments.
1. What is a "don't to earth person?" And what is "gravy crap?"
2. There are keys called "period" and "shift." Know them. Use them.
3. You will improve your chances greatly if you write to people in your age range. You are twenty years my senior, old enough to be my father. I wouldn't date my dad, and I won't date you.
4. If you are going to send your picture around, you might try taking one when you are smiling. You look like a grouchy old fart.
5. Get lost.
Sincerely,
Melissa

Fun with Craig's List

For those of you who don't know, Craig's List is an online classified ads website. It is free, so you get all kinds. I read the personal ads often; every now and then there's a good one. I came across this one last week:

Somewhere there's a Woman - 46

Somewhere, there's a woman whose beautiful, naturally slender physique doesn't require drug induced effort to maintain. Somewhere there's a woman who likes Big Mac's and Crab Legs, Prime Rib and PBJ's. Somewhere there's a woman that realizes moderation is the key, nothing is entirely off limits although some things are kept that way for higher purposes. Somewhere there's a woman that will dance with her man under the stars, to the music of a car radio playing in the parking lot. Somewhere there's a woman that understands energy, intuitively, and how to channel it. Somewhere there's a woman, seeking more from life than the ever increasing balance in her check book. Somewhere there's a woman that is still intact, unharmed and unjaded. Somewhere there's a woman, that can love animals, children and a lover with the same reverence they dedicate to loving themselves. Somewhere, there's a woman that can share, without measuring the equality of this moment, but the equality of the whole. Somewhere there's a woman who measures herself by how she touches the lives of others, not so much what she receives in return. Somewhere there's a woman who's physically healthy, mentally stable, financially able, sexually active and sensually in tune. Somewhere there's a woman interested in seeing beyond the horizon and rarely disappointed by what she may find there. Somewhere there's a woman that can look at the desert and key on the flower that's rooted between the rocks. Somewhere there's a woman who understands the metaphysical as well as the physical, the intimate as well as the exoteric. Somewhere there's a woman that doesn't understand jealousy or enjoy it.
Somewhere there's a woman, a little like me. Somewhere there's a woman that'd like to know me. This isn't intended as poetry, just my call to the universe for a Very Special Delivery...

He had attached his picture, and believe you me, he is NOT all of that. Once I stopped gagging, I was inspired to write an ad in response, which I thought was hysterically funny:

To the Perfect Man - 38

Let me see if I've got this straight....
You want a thin woman who eats Big Macs.
You want a woman with a lot of energy and drive who is willing to spend their spare time dancing in a parking lot.
A woman who loves animals, has money yet doesn't care about it, in her 30s or 40s but has never been hurt enough to be jaded.
Who gives everything she has but doesn't require anything from you except your dashing good looks and charming personality.
Who looks for adventure but never shows any sign of disappointment.
Hmmm.... sounds a lot like Snow White. Have you tried Disneyland?

Well, I started getting responses. Quite a few. It is the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen. Some of the dimmer bulbs out there thought I was describing MYSELF as Snow White, and wanted to "defrock" me. Some were rather vile, telling me it's really not all that much to ask, all of those things in one woman, and I must be a bitch. Oh, you'd like to see them? OK!

Dearest,
You have to have a great sense of humor...please tell me you do.
Care to chat a while?
Intrigued....gotta know...drop me a line?
kenny


Your ad is as hell... you gotta be good people.

lets see im not perfect and all I want from a woman is for her to be her wow that's asking allot by the way hi im Richard

I would have to disagree with this.
Although I'm sure this does apply to quite a few men out there.

Hello, your posting was intreiging , me 25/m UofA grad in tucson area, ask some questions

That's just a sampling! I deleted many, many more. I pasted them exactly as they were written. These are my options, people!!
Then I thought, why should I be the only one entertained? I'll share it with my friends and family! So there is my Friday gift to you all.
Peace, love and protractors!!

At the Gym

I've been going to the gym religiously and walking on the days I don't. Since I am spending more time there, of course there are things to be irritated at. I love going, I'm making friends, etc. but I have got to get this off my chest. If I don't, I might say it to the offending party, and then I might not be able to go back to the gym. The offending party wears a t-shirt that says on the front, "Ask me why I'll never vote for Hillary." I saw this shirt many times from the front, and so I knew this wasn't someone I wanted to talk to. Not to mention she wears weightlifter gloves, you know the fingerless kind? For CURVES. Who do you think you are, Mr. T?? It's a fat lady gym! Anyway, I got a look at the back a week or so ago, and now every time I see this lady I just want to punch her in the head. The back says, "Hey Hillary, who says the antichrist has to be a man?"
Now, I am all for freedom of speech. But I have to think that the kind of person who would wear such an inflammatory statement on her body out in public probably doesn't give a shit what other people think. It's not that I am in love with Hillary, either. I don't agree with everything she does, and I understand why people might find her abrasive. HOWEVER. A woman is running for the office of President of the United States, and she has a shot. This is huge. This transcends political disagreements, in my opinion. Long ago I adopted a policy of expediency - whatever it takes to get a black female elected president, that's what I am going to do. Getting a woman elected president is a good, healthy step in that direction. Anybody but a white male is a healthy step in that direction! So I have a problem with women who are not only not supporting Hillary, but are dragging her down. What, you would rather have another fathead white guy who can't see past the size of his own ego (READ: PENIS SIZE)? Haven't we had enough of that? I know I have. That's why I WILL be voting for Hillary, unless of course my hero Barak is on the ticket. Getting a black man elected is closer to a black woman than a white woman. I think. That's a tough call. But I like Obama. My rallying cry is "ANYBODY BUT ANOTHER FATHEAD WHITE GUY!!!!!!!!!!!" Now if I could just get that stupid woman at the gym to go shopping for new workout clothes.

More Snow!!

We have an icicle!!!
This is my front yard.
This is my street.
We also have a 2-hour delay in starting school, which is why I am blogging instead of working! It is snowing again right now.

Snow!!

This is a snowman my sister-in-law made. Inne cute???

Animals

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free.
In love, you feel the most alive when your partner is patient and never willing to give up on you.
You'd like to your lover to think you are optimistic and happy.
You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please.
Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with.
Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.
You think of marriage as something that will confine you. You are afraid of marriage.
In this moment, you think of love as something you thirst for. You'll do anything for love, but you won't fall for it easily.

http://www.blogthings.com/keystoyourheartquiz/

Nightmares

It's that time of month, which means bad dreams, but last night was a particularly nasty one. I dreamed I had hit someone with my car. I don't know if they were injured or dead, just that I had hit them. Before I got in the car I had a few sips of beer and so my breath smelled like alcohol. I was going to trial and my older sister was my defender. I was going to be sentenced to two years in jail unless I got off, which didn't seem likely because of the beer. It didn't matter that I had a few sips, just that I smelled like it. I was asking my older sister if she was ready to take the kids (my ex-husband didn't exist in the dream, one very nice part of an otherwise complete nightmare) and she wouldn't answer me, so I didn't know what would become of my daughters. By the time I got out of jail they would be nearly adults. Then, thankfully, my alarm went off. I hope the lingering sense of unease lets up before long.
I have to meet with the principal and the parent who is telling everyone that I am abusing her son tomorrow after school. I wonder if this has anything to do with the nightmare? I do feel like I'm on trial where this parent is concerned. Don't know how much of it is in my head.

Ice Hockey

I went on a date last night to an ice hockey game. It was U of A against some school from back East... St. Louis I think? I had never been to a hockey game. Did you know the ice smells like a locker room? Strange. The crowd was quite exuberant. They wanted the players to fight. Six players got kicked out. I guess when they fight, the object is to get as many of the other guy's clothes off as you can. Whoever gets the most clothes off the other guy, won the fight. The referees kind of skated around whomever was fighting, waiting for them to be done. It was one of the strangest things I have ever seen. It confirmed my suspicions about the sport though... It's not about the hockey, it's about the fighting. Really it's just boxing, only with sticks and a lot of padding. Also they are on skates so they are slipping around and using each other to stay upright, while they are trying to strip each other naked. I'll probably go again.

Scars

I tear my heart open
I sew myself shut
My weakness is
That I care too much
My scars remind me
That the past is real
I tear my heart open,
Just to feel
I'm drunk and I'm feeling down
And I just want to be alone
I'm pissed cause you came around
Why don't you just go home?
Cause you channeled all your pain
And I can't help you fix yourself.
You're making me insane
All I can say is
I tear my heart open
I sew myself shut
My weakness is
That I care too much
And our scars remind us
That the past is real
I tear my heart open,
Just to feel
I tried to help you once
Against my own advice
I saw you going down
But you never realized
That you're drowning in the water
So I offered you my hand
Compassion's in my nature
Tonight is our last end.
I tear my heart open
I sew myself shut
My weakness is
That I care too much
Our scars remind us
That the past is real
I tear my heart open,
Just to feel
I'm drunk and I'm feeling down
And I just want to be alone
You shouldn't ever come around
Why don't you just go home?
Cause you're drowning in the water
And I tried to grab your hand
I left my heart open
But you didn't understand
You didn't understand.
GO FIX YOURSELF
I can't help you fix yourself
But at least I can say I tried
I'm sorry but I've got to move on with my own life
I can't help you fix yourself
But at least I can say I tried
I'm sorry but I've got to move on with my own life
I tear my heart open
I sew myself shut
My weakness is
That I care too much
Our scars remind us
That the past is real
I tear my heart open,
Just to feel
I tear my heart open
I sew myself shut
My weakness is
That I care too much
My scars remind me
That the past is real
I tear my heart open,
Just to feel...
(a song by Papa Roach)

It is done.

I have applied for my Master's program. I am filled with apprehension, fear, and loathing at the thought of it. It's not a good attitude to have when embarking on such an adventure. Note to self: Work on that. It is a program specifically designed for middle school math teachers, and the degree will be a Master of Arts in Mathematics with Teaching Option. I like the first 5 words best. I am excited about getting into math classes again. It's the writing of papers that I dread!

I'm getting married

Yesterday I found out that my favorite student (the one whose mother sent that nasty email on Friday) had said that he couldn't talk to my partner teacher about the problems he was having with me because the partner teacher and I are getting MARRIED. For some reason, that final tidbit was enough to snap me out of the pity party I had been having for myself all damn weekend and I found some sympathy for the kid. He's crazy, and in the classic words of Ray Barone's dad, "You can't be mad at a crazy person." Regardless of what level of reality this poor child is living in, he believes I dislike him. So the partner teacher is going to handle him, and I am going to work to make my few interactions with him very positive. Then I am going to ignore his mother and let the principal handle her.
I do feel like I have made a huge mistake doing special ed. It did not occur to me when I signed on for it that working with resource kids would mean dealing with crazy people. It totally makes sense... duh! And since I am not even making enough money to make ends meet, and I am going to have to find a weekend job, probably for minimum wage, I am thinking, what am I doing? I can look for a different line of work, where I make enough money, and don't have crazy people after me.