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Saturday, March 31, 2012

I Swear We're Nice People

Last night we were invited by some new friends to a much needed crawfish boil at their home.  Finally!  Moving to a new town and making new friends is not as easy at it may seem.  I mean, we'd look a little weird knocking on someone's door and asking them to come out and play, right?   At times,the shy kid comes out in me and I don't quite know how to just say, "Hey, maybe we could all have dinner one night?"  Well, honestly, that's not the only hurdle.  We all have 1,648 kids and have to find sitters, arrange our schedules around baseball games, dancing, birthday parties, sick kids, etc, etc, etc.  There is also my profession.  My son is in my class, so these are the parents a normal mom would meet and spend time with, BUT...I teach their kid.  How weird is it to have your teacher's kid ask you to hang out.  haha!  That just made me laugh thinking of it! .....(still laughing)..........................ehem!

Anyway, we were invited to the home of a couple whom Todd and I both adore.  They have small children and I knew Catie would love it.  After our 5:30 T-ball scrimmage where Catie's team won with an imaginary, made up score of 8-2, we headed over.  The crawfish was incredible.  Kudos to our hosts.  But then, it happened.  As the adults enjoyed each others company in a much needed huddle on the back patio, the kids' Friday Fatigue (as I call it) started becoming apparent.  It started when their sweet 5-year-old son came screaming from the darkness because he was hit in the face with something never really identified, I guess.  My son and the other 10-yr-old there come behind him saying that HE was throwing stuff FIRST!  Really??  You chose THIS NIGHT to defend yourself against a 5-year-old?  That was it, the start of a series of several events that made Zac seem like he and Charles Manson were in cahoots.  Catie was her usual high spirited self and spent her time being social with the little kids, only embarrassing me the one time she came out with some contraption which she put on her chest and called "boobies".  Nice. 

As a mom of three and a teacher of 76, there are times we can't explain why a normally sweet kid suddenly goes postal for an evening.  The night was fun, which is good, since it was probably our last.  I swear we're nice people with nice kids.  Really!  I mean it!

These are my kids 2 hours before the evening crawfish boil.  We dragged them out for more fun with full knowledge of their Friday Fatigue.  What were we thinking?

Lesson:  Simple.  Live and learn.


Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Embarrasing Mom/Teacher Moment #3452

This morming we arrived at school earlier than ever.  Ever so proud of ourselves, we leapt out of the Expedition cheery-eyed and bushy-tailed.  As we all gathered our 872 things needed for our school day, I realized Abby's booksack was missing!  I looked at Abby and asked, "Abby, where is your booksack?"  "I put it behind the truck this morning," she replied.........................................................................................
(Mental Note: Text Todd to retrieve book sack from driveway before the rain.)

Upon arriving into my classroom, I get a call....................from Todd...............Apparently the neighbor found Abby's book sack in the middle of the road and rang the doorbell.  "Not to worry," Todd said,  "they have a kid in Abby's class and will bring it with them to give to Abby."

Enter mortifying eMbArRaSsMeNt!!!!  Yes, that's right, this morning I backed up feeling like I'd conquered the world since we were so early, not realizing that I was dragging my poor 8-year-old's sweet flowery blue monogrammed book sack SEVEN feet into the middle of the street.  Lurching forward, oblivious to the scene I was leaving for the new neighbors to ogle over.  To top it off, to my rescue comes a neighbor whom I've NEVER MET, WHOSE SON I WILL TEACH NEXT YEAR!

Unbelievable.  If you need me, I'll be hiding under my desk.

**Update:  Just met the Mom in the school cafeteria while she had lunch with her son.  She introduced herself as the one who brought Abby's book sack to school and said it was so nice to meet me. 

Shoot me.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Enter Stress

Seriously?  I have not posted a thing since December??  It's not that I've alienated you.  It's just that...{{well}}...sometimes the stress of being a working mom becomes unfunny for a little while.  Oh, I'm sure we've had our moments where we've visited a Wal Mart or arrived at school late that would have been "Class A" opportunity for a funny blog post.  But, when you are living it...not so funny.

Anyhow, so today would have qualified for one of those days.....(I think I just felt my neck tighten just thinking about it.).....................................

3 words...Academy and baseball season.  I know.  Enough said.

It all starts with the general feeling of the day.  Abby was a fighter all weekend.  She was crabby and moody and grumpy.  When asked to do anything, she did nothing.  Well, she needed new cleats for softball.  If she did not absolutely need them to be able to play, she would not have earned them this weekend for sure.  As we were getting ready to leave, I lost my keys.  Sure I lose my keys now and then, but I REALLY could not find them ANYWHERE.  After about 30 minutes of searching, I found them under something on the kitchen counter...duh.  During this 30 minute game of hide-and-seek, it allowed me, the Mom, to look in each room of my house.  (For those that are not Moms, when we do this, we don't see rooms, we see each individual mess in each and every room that was just cleaned YESTERDAY!)...........................anyway.....So, Abby, her friend, and I finally pile in the car and head over.  I was so hoping to be able to dart in and out since I only had 2 kids with me.  Then we could make that stop at Target and Sam's that I really needed to make.

We arrive and go straight to the baseball cleats.  It becomes apparent that everyone in the parish, the baseball tournament down the street, and a few extra people from the highway have also decided that this will be the hour for their Academy visit as well.  We squeeze our way down the narrow aisles, through the crowd (picture Wal Mart on Black Friday here). 

The selection at Academy is vast, they have black, white, pink, red...Of course, we want pink.   Every year, we arrive and think we can pick any shoe from the selection.  How wrong we are.  THIS is the only Academy for miles!  Not to mention, Abby has a small foot, which means less of a selection for some reason.  Do they think that small-footed children do not play sports??  Anyway, we spend the next half hour searching for her shoe size.  We start with the exact shoe she wants, then settle for next best, then finally after tireless searching, we snatch the one and only size 12 1/2 on the shelf.  It's a boys' shoe with no trace of pink or purple :(  We decide that cute shoelaces can fix that.  Did I mention that anything below a size 1 is on the very bottom shelf?  Did I mention the crowd?  Did I mention they were all over the floor trying on shoes?  Did I mention the profuse sweating??  Picture me,  sweating from the sheer stress of the situation, pulling out shoe box after shoe box, trying on countless shoes, a 12 foot metal stock ladder in the middle of all of this madness going back and forth....UPSIDE DOWN!!! as children cry, whine, run and scream around us!!!

Finally, we prevail, settle on a boy shoe, grab some cute shoelaces, and exit the madness.  Abby proudly holds her new cleats in her arms.  We spend a few more stressful moments picking up baseballs and socks for Zac and new athletic shoes for me.  ((Oh yeah, Abby's friend was wearing Heely's, and they were zooming back and forth down random aisles all around me.  I had no control)) As we make our way to the counter, I am frustrated at the amount of time it took to find this single pair of shoes.  It happens every year.  Why do I wait so long to get what we need??

We find the shortest line, I put my merchandise on the counter, turn to Abby, and she says, "Where are my shoes?"....(((breathe)))).....ehem, "I don't know Abby, where are your shoes?" (((remain calm)))
"I don't know," she replies.....(((pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse))))

We gathered our things, spent the next 20 minutes walking, searching, zooming down every single aisle we had visited, which was a lot.  Back and forth, back and forth.  We never found them.  We had to start over.  Yes, you heard me...back into the trenches....upside down.  As we were searching for the second time, I said to Abby, "I am so mad I want to scream."  I noticed that my comment got a "look"  from a woman who had no children with her shopping for herself.  You know the look.  It's the "I can't believe she just told her child that" look.  It's the same look you give other people in Wal Mart.   I wanted to punch her.  I wanted to jump out of a window!  Alas, Academy has no

We settled on a boys' shoe a half size up, grabbed yet another cute pair of laces, paid, and left.  Good riddance!  The next time I mention a trip to Academy, remind me that it's Todd's turn.