Wednesday, May 7, 2014

RIP, Seabrite

I was not home when our pet parakeet of 7 years decided that the end of her life was today, but I received this text message from my daughter:

"Lol just to let you know...
the bird's dead.  Happy 
Wednesday!

Oh and her food and water were full so it wasn't that...

The funeral is at sunset, I'll
speak.  We'll bury her at noon and say our
farewells.  I've already 
forwarded the invitations"

Now, that might seem like a cold-hearted reaction (that and her taking pictures of the dead bird carcass in the hole she dug to bury the thing) but you have to understand that this is how we deal with death at my house.  Jokes, nervous laughter, the inappropriate text message (although taking graveside pictures is new).  Not necessarily the best way to deal with it, but it is how we roll here. 

I remember when my grandfather died.  Poor man--the funeral home zipped up the body bag incorrectly.  Smooshed his nose.  Rather awkward laughing at the viewing was to follow. 

I remember when my father died.  The magicians who were his friends wanted to perform a "wand ceremony", which consisted (among other things) of breaking his wand and throwing it into the casket with him.  We joked that now people would mistake the coffin for a trash can and start throwing their drinks in on top of him. 

Humor can be very cathartic in death, even the death of a 14 oz. parakeet whose only friend is our nineteen year old son, who gave her kisses and let her fly into things in his room.  I really didn't expect to feel anything, but I do.  I'll miss that little bird.  She may have had a brain the size of a marble, but she had personality and she was with us for 7 years, whistling away, singing with music boxes, and being a part of our family. 

RIP, Seabrite bird...

Yeah, and she was a football fan too...


Monday, May 5, 2014

Thank You, Teachers!

Today starts Teacher Appreciation Week, a week where we teachers can be appreciated for the things that we have done and things that we do to help enrich the lives of young people.  Even though I myself am a teacher, this week always makes me think about the teachers that my children have had and currently have. 

I have been extremely fortunate.  I can probably count on one hand (and I wouldn't need all the fingers) the teachers that my kids had that I thought probably should choose a new vocation.  That's less than 5 fingers for THREE children (funny that most of them were my middle child's teachers), which is not too shabby.  Most of my kids' teachers have been awesome.  They have worked with my children, recognized their talents, supported them with their needs, and made them work hard.  One has made it through (our "leisure learner"), one is almost through, and one has a month before he's halfway through.  That's a lot of teachers and a lot of years of homework, projects, plays, and concerts. 

So, I wanted to say "thanks" to all my children's teachers.  Thank you for times when you worked one on one with them.  Thank you for the extra hours you put in grading papers.  Thank you for supplies you bought with your money.  Thank you for the phone calls and emails and conferences.  You rock! 

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Some Pre-Christmas Rhyming

Twas 3 weeks before Christmas, and all through my house
The clutter was piled by my kids and my spouse
The stockings lay unmatch in the basket with care
In hopes that the laundry fairy soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug on the couch
Watching their programs with all kinds of slouch
And I in some sweatpants and Tony in his cap
Were dozing at 7pm in a pre-bedtime nap.

When down in the basement, there arose such a clatter
That I struggled to stand upright to see what was the matter.
When what to my grateful eyes should appear
But a big glass of wine and for Tony a beer.
And a cranky young adult child who was grumpy and quick
I knew in a moment it was my son Nick. 
He spoke not a word but handed us our brew
And then started hollering at the rest of our crew.
"Clean, Tara!  Stop, Vinnie!  Hey, Mom, they're not helping!
Dad, make them!  They're lazy!"  That's what he was yelping.

I spoke not a word but swallowed my wine
And three glasses later, I was feeling just fine. 
But holiday d├ęcor should not pair with liquor.
Getting the tree up could have been that much quicker. 
The kids, oh so helpful, were playing their cell phones
And the dog was attacking the branches like they're bones.
But we still exclaim as this poem takes its flight:
"Merry Christmas in 3 weeks but for now it's 'GOOD NIGHT'"

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Halloween Blahs

I have the Halloween Blahs, and I am not really sure why.  It used to be my favorite holiday.  Many years were spent choosing the perfect costume. 

As a child, I could be Princess Leia...


Or Wonder Woman...


One year, my mother even made me into a flower pot.

That was the year I won "Most Colorful" in the annual Magic Show/Halloween Costume contest that my dad used to perform in.  The costume fell apart a week later when I went trick-or-treating...all it was made of was cardboard, fabric, tissue paper, and my winter hat...but it got my face in the newspaper. 

Even as an adult, I've dressed up.  I've been Cleopatra, the Bride of Frankenstein, "Kitchen" Spice (a very inspired 1990s Spice Girls send-up), a body bag, a French maid, and yes...


Wonder Woman again.

So, I'm not sure why I have the Halloween Blahs.  Maybe it's stress.  Maybe I'm just not feeling the creativity this year.  Maybe it's the hoards of children that will come to my door tomorrow night looking for candy and maybe a fright.

Hopefully, then, I'll have my spirit back.  Just the walk down memory lane kind of puts me in the mood...

Monday, September 30, 2013

Wine Whine

Today has been the kind of Monday that would make a cartoon cat hide under his blankets and avoid like the plague. 



Today was a Hide The Sharp Objects kind of Monday.
Ouch!

Today was a Glass of Wine kind of Monday. 
Or 3...

I think I am spent.  I woke up feeling like crud.  My kids are driving me crazy.  My body is falling apart (well, my knees and joints).  I'm clearly whiny. 

 Perhaps Tuesday will be an improvement.  It can only go up from here. 

Friday, August 16, 2013

Annual Summer Lament (or Why Non-Teachers Hate Me)

So here it is.  My last "official" day of summer vacation.  Come Monday, I am back to the grindstone of a 9-5 job (ok, 8:10-3:40 are my official hours but when does THAT ever happen???).  And I'm feeling blue and I'm feeling guilty about feeling blue. 
Ok, I'm not crying this much about it but still...

Last year, I was part of a Facebook rant where some teachers caught hell from a non-teacher friend who reminded us that we have "all summer off" and we get to "mold young minds" so we should just "stop being ungrateful" and "suck it up."  Yeah, that was a lovely post, but it rang somewhat true.

It's not like I don't like to work or like my job.  I enjoy teaching.  But the start of the school year signals the end of those lazy days of freedom.  Mine and my kids' freedom.  I don't think my 11 year old has gotten to bed before midnight or up before 11 am all summer long.  His bed lies untouched (well, in late July I got sick of the massive junk on it and cleaned it--and his entire room--while he was at scout camp), as he does not feel the need to leave the couch to go to sleep.  My 18 year old has only been slightly better, with his bed alternating between a laundry hamper and sleeping place (and sometimes both at once).  For a kid we suspect of having OCD, his room sure is a mess.  My 16 year old daughter has been slightly more consistent with sleeping in her room...well, once she actually cleaned it up so you could see floor (seriously, we thought it was the 7th sign of the Apocalypse when she cleaned that Hell Hole). 
I truly thought we'd see the Angel of Death, that room was so clean!

And sports will start up.  For my 11 year old, last night was the first night of a Tuesday/Thursday soccer practice that will go until basketball starts up in November (which will go until the February start up of LAX).  At least my daughter doesn't do a fall sport but she wants to take driver's ed.  Ugh!  My oldest starts community college and will be vastly more independent but that also means he will not be available to be my slave boy driver for times when schedules conflict (and they do quite a bit).  With my hubby never getting home before 7 (gotta love beltway traffic), I kind of rely on the 3rd driver in the house. 

And I haven't even MENTIONED my job.  Lots of paperwork--lots of changes (again!). Actual thinking beyond what page of World War Z I left off on because the UNO card I am using for a bookmark has fallen out of the book again.   I know that I will change from a sunny, carefree Dr. Jeckyll of Summertime to that bitchy, snappish Mrs. Hyde of Schooltime. 
Yeah, I'll be looking like the guy on the left too by December

So don't begrudge me my whiny time.  I KNOW that I am lucky to have a job that gives me off 2 months a year.  I KNOW that I get to be all rested up while others (most noisily, my spouse, who thinks it is his job to turn on every light in our bedroom to get ready for work) have to get up at 5 am even through the summer and drive to their jobs and think and earn money.  I am not being ungrateful for the time I've had.  I am simply having adjustment issues.  After the next two weeks (when my kiddos head back to school too), I will be in full-on work mode, and life will be "normal" again.  But I'm not going quietly. 



Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Counting down...

Two weeks from yesterday, I will be heading back to school, but already the signs are there.  Last week, I received my school's "Welcome back to work" letter with the myriad of inservices, meetings, and professional development workshops that I will be required to attend.  Today, I received my son's back-to-school letter from his new school (he's heading to middle school).  It can all be just a little overwhelming. 
Wonder if this will be in my mailbox when I get back?


Time to head back into my head.  Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.