Pinterest

I've been hearing about Pinterest for a while and its meth-like addiction.  Other moms spend hours on end scouring the boards and repinning image after image.  I finally succumbed and joined, but not as myself and my personal interested.  I joined as the business.  (Bricks 4 Kidz Tacoma... just in case you haven't seen my 80-zillion Facebook posts and tweets.)  Lots of pins of Lego bricks and Lego related crafts.

Bite me

At first blush, I thought the site was all about, "Hey, look at this super cool thing I found."  The truth is much more sinister. I was unaware that it was a site promoting DIY perfection.  It pits woman against woman to duke it out for domestic superiority.  If the valentines handed out to your child's class weren't handmade, you are a failure as both a mother and a woman.  The myth of the super mom is alive and well, and feasting on our souls. Everything we do must exceed the expectations of others.  I'm all for handmade valentines, but if your child is handing them out, the cards need to be made from that child's hands. 

It must be nice to be a young, full of energy and optimism.  How about we let the lazy moms be lazy?  Just for a little while.  We can start a site showcasing the shortcuts we make every day to keep the shorties in our house alive and make our lives a little easier.  Little tips like, "I take shampoo and soap along to use after swim class.  This way, they don't need a bath for a couple more days."   Mostly, we're just too tired.  Thankfully, we lazy moms have Etsy: the place where young, energetic moms sell the cool stuff they found on Pinterest to the moms who are too tired to give a crap.

Today's funny

Drake:  I invented a new color.  The color of awesome!
Flynn: Oooooo!  What does it look like?
Drake: I don't know yet.

What's wrong with society

You really had to imprint "play money" on bills one-third the size of a normal bill and in black and white instead of green?  I weep for our future.

How to (unintentionally) make a congregation cry

Step 1: Play "How Great Thou Art" during the service over Memorial Day weekend.

That's all.


I remember the elderly man walking into church.  He held his military baseball hat in his left hand as he walked to a pew toward the front.  The hat was brown; I don't recall seeing one in brown before.  Navy seems to be the color of choice for military baseball-style hats.  I wasn't able to see the specifics.  My eyesight isn't that good.

Two bars into the song, used for the communion hymn, he makes a hasty retreat to the back of the church, holding his hand over his mouth, face flushed red, and holding back tears.  We watch him go, helpless to help him.   He leans against the wall at the back of the sanctuary, and the sobbing begins.  His shoulders betray what he was trying to hide.  A near-by usher goes over and puts his arm around the man.  For those of us watching it all unfold, if we weren't crying already, that moment sent us over the edge.  The usher did what the rest of us wished we could do.  He composes himself in time to be the last person in the whole place to receive communion.  The usher makes sure the priest waits.  We are still weeping, wondering his story and what made him react.

A few people ask the usher at the end of mass, since the man left fairly quickly, why the man reacted as he did.  I didn't inquire.  Two reasons.  1.  I couldn't stop crying.  (I'm crying as I write this 12 hours later.)  2.  It really wasn't my business.  I just wanted him to be comforted; it didn't matter that it wasn't me.  He story is is own, and I was a stranger.  Based on his age and his hat, I'm sure he heard that song at many a funeral: for fallen comrades in arms, maybe a spouse or a child.  I don't know.

Thankfully, the universe has a way of giving us perspective.  A toddler escaped his parents during the announcements.  He ran to the nearest stoup, and blessed himself repeatedly using scoopfuls of holy water.  He was very proud, and we were thankful for the levity.

Reflections on my teaching career (some NSFW language)

I've been a teacher for 12 years now.  (Holy shit.  When did that happen?)  I'm a little jaded.  I'm less patient when it comes to hand-holding college students through my course.  I want to scream from the rooftops, "If you do not know how to turn on a computer, don't fucking take my class!  No, I can't help you upload a file!"  Some days, the students are worse than my children.

Student: I don't get it.
Me: What part?
Student: All of it.
Me: Did you do all of the reading for the week and watch the tutorial and look through the samples?
Student: ...
Me: Grrr

I recall being lazy during college with the tendency to procrastinate.  In spite of that, I still participated in classroom discussions and submitted every assignment on time.  I could have done more, but I didn't whine to any of my professors to let me do extra credit.  The fault was entirely my own if I didn't earn full points.  I didn't blame work or family or life.  Granted, I didn't have children while earning any of my degrees.  If you want the piece of paper enough, you'll find a way to make it work. The apathy, the entitledness, the learned helplessness.  All of this has worn me down.

Thankfully, my passion has been rekindled for teaching.  Who would have thought it would be because of a bunch of kindergartners?  I never had the desire to teach elementary school.  I didn't want to dumb down my language, and I didn't want to deal with that different set of issues.  But, for the first time in my career, I am teaching to people who actually want to be there, who are excited about what is going on, and who don't have a chip on their shoulders.  I was unaware of the level of enthusiasm and joy the younger ones possess.  The following responses were recorded from an in-school demo.

K-2: OHMYGODTHATISTHECOOLESTTHINGEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!
3-5:: Whoa, that's awesome!
6-8:  Um, is there a reason why you're here?

See, by junior high, the pattern of behavior I deal with at the college level has already manifested.  Granted, these are only generalizations based on my observations.  I'm sure if I taught electives or Honors classes, my reflections would be different.  Sure, it isn't all roses and cupcakes.  I still hear "I can't do it" and have a couple kids who don't want to be there.  The percentage is so low that I'm not bothered by it.

I'm not going to do anything crazy, like go back to school to earn another degree, in elementary education this time.  I just wonder if I would be as jaded.  Would I be as frustrated?  Who knows?  That's a big "what if?".  For now, I'm going to enjoy the shift in teaching focus and hope that my enjoyment is long lived.

Quandry

It turns out the anti-depressants were also appetite suppressants.  So, what do I do now?  I'm getting off the meds because I feel that I am in a better place, but now I am all bummed out about gaining a bunch of weight.  It's just evil, I tell you.  Pure evil.  A pox on you, major pharmaceutical companies!

Stupid spider

I finally finished reading "Charlotte's Web" to the boys last night.  I didn't realize it had been almost 30 years since I had read it.  I'll be damned if I didn't start crying when Charlotte died.  Seriously.  I had to stop reading to wipe away the tears.  She's a frickin' spider!!!!  What the hell!  Flynn wasn't phased; he's still pretty sure she was killed or kidnapped.  Drake was emotional, like me.  When I was tucking him into bed, I may have given him a small lesson in "theme".  I explained the story was really about friendship and what it means to be a loyal and true friend to someone, even after he or she is gone.   He felt better after that.  I still couldn't believe I was crying because of a spider.  I hate spiders.

Mix tape

For reference purposes only

Sure, the members of the current generation will have always had cable, iPods, and smart phones.  Yet, I feel sorry for them.  They will never experience the joy and significance of receiving/sending a mix tape.

Song selection on a mix tape is an art.  What was the intention of including the Psychedelic Furs?  Is there a deeper meaning behind the inclusion of "Bridge Over Troubled Waters"?  What the hell- "Enjoy the Silence"???  But, I digress.  Creating a playlist is too easy.  All one has to do is click and drag, then click another button to burn the playlist to a CD.  Where is the effort?  Where is the heart and soul of creating a mix tape for someone?  Before, one had to scour one's collection (or wait for the damn song to be played on the radio), queue up the song, and wait until the time was right to stop recording.  The creator had to pay attention!  It's a tragedy, really.  I would totally bring the art form back, but I haven't had a cassette player (much less a dual deck) in over a decade.  *Sigh*

As a reference for all you youngins out there, this is the significance... (Oh, some language in this one.)

So, to those of you who have ever given me a mix tape, thank you for taking the time to do so. You know who you are. ;)