Weak One

That's not a typo. 

This is biographical, after all. 
Ha.
I'm feeling a little weak this evening. 
Getting too old for this, I think.

I read back over this post three times and I know it's supposed to make sense but it might be a little chaotic. 
Haha, welcome to my after school world!


Okay, first week of school. 
We started on Tuesday, September 1st.. 
No school on Monday, August 31st. 
::shrug::

It's weird. A four day week, a three day weekend and then another four day week. I would actually like that to be our regular schedule, but when people are making plans, they don't consult me for some reason.

I have most of the same kids this year. Only one new one this week, although six more new kids are scheduled for next week. I'll have four kindergartners to add to the mix. The new kid has a boy's name, but was listed as a girl on the forms. I caught up with Dad to ask about it. It really doesn't make a difference to me, but if there's a medical emergency, I should know what's going on. Dad was sheepish, he had checked the wrong box. The next time I opened the app, it had been corrected. Super nice kid, too. He's 9, so I think he's a 4th grader, but I haven't asked him yet.

One of kids who was supposed to start this week needed a parent to complete some paperwork so I'll be seeing her next week, one didn't understand they were fully registered and didn't show. Both things are figured out, I think. 

In the case of the 2nd kid, he was supposed to be there because he was on my schedule, but he did not arrive with the rest of the gang. So I had to figure out why. 
I called both parents and didn't get an answer from either one. I don't answer my phone if I don't recognize the number, either. Can't blame them.

They did call me back eventually, but I had to physically visit the front desk to let them know I had a kid missing.

Our legal ratio is 1:15, and we had 19. So for me to go check with the school office, I had to take four of my kids with me. During school dismissal the office staff is coordinating with all the teachers and making sure the pickup line and bus line kids are going where they're supposed to. There's also a meet location for the walking kids. The gym is full of kids who ride various day care vans to other after school programs (none of which are as good as mine, seriously). There's a great deal of foot traffic everywhere in the building. 

It's not quiet in case you wondered.

To add to the fun, two kids showed up on Tuesday who weren't on my schedule at all. They kind of stood there, looking mystified. One had arrived with Maria, and they were looking forward to hanging out together, I think.

I had to escort them to the school office so they could safely reach their after school destinations. 

This afternoon, I finished signing kids in on our app and did the standard head count. I had 18 kids signed in and there were 19 kids in the room. 

So I counted again to make sure I hadn't made a mistake. Nope. 19. I grabbed the tablet to do a match up, but then I saw him. A kid in the construction zone who did not belong there.

I walked over to the carpet and stood next to him. He had dived into one of the LEGO bins and was happily putting pieces together, talking to his friends as he did.

"Buddy, where are you supposed to be?"

"Mrs. K said I'm supposed to go to the cafeteria," he answered. "She said after gym class we should be in the cafeteria."

He was a little guy. First grade. Our cafeteria and gym are separated by a big open hallway, and there are kids going all directions after their PE class. His class had been in the gym, and his teacher probably said to meet outside the cafeteria, but his little guy brain didn't catch all of the information.

I told him that he was not part of my group and that I needed to take him to the office so he could go home and not have his parents be worried about him. 

"Did you have a backpack, Buddy?"

He did. He had walked in with the other four first graders from his class, followed their lead and stowed his backpack and lunch box and had washed his hands. 

The only thing he hadn't done is stop by my table and check in. I would have noticed him about two minutes sooner if he had. There was no harm done, the buses hadn't even left yet.

I didn't embarrass him and he seemed okay with the idea that he wasn't one of my group. 

He did tell me as he skipped beside me on the way to the office that, "I have never seen that many magnatiles or that much Legos!"

Cute. 

I've already seen a bit of the mean girl stuff come out, it seems to be numbers-based, as it usually is. If there are four of the 4th/5th grade girls, they usually manage to figure out ways to have fun and be mostly nice to each other.

But add in another one, or any of the younger girls and it turns into a different kind of thing. If I were a sociologist, I'd probably try to figure it all out, but mostly what I do is damage control. 

Discussions with the ringleader.
"How would you feel if Kyra said those things to you?"

The usual answer is, "I wouldn't care!"

Then I tell them I know for a fact they DO care, as a similar situation has happened before. And that they came to me for help.

Yesterday it was the damn Zoobs. One of them made a vehicle, four of the others made the same one, but when kid number five wanted to, Maria was suddenly all about, "HEY! Stop copying me!!!"

We had a little group discussion about the extent of what we're in charge of, and I made sure they understood they don't get to tell other people how to construct a toy. 

"It's none of your business if Bailey wants to make her creation look like yours. The only control you have over the Zoobs is what you design for you to use. You don't get to decide that for anyone else."

I got out the washable oil pastels that were gifted to me by one of my readers back toward the end of the school year. None of the kids had ever used them before, which is understandable as the usual variety is greasy and doesn't wash off. 

These are incredibly washable and bright. All of the participants loved using them. Steffie ran to her dad with her picture yelling, "Daddy Daddy!" as she zipped across the room. "I got to use REAL ART STUFF!! Look at what I made!!"

We had done a 'get to know me' project. Line art, with each square meaning something, drawn in Sharpie, and then colored and blended with pastels. They all want to try it again. 

Here's my example. Bottom right is 'loves rainbows'. The one in the middle of the second row is 'likes seashells'. They're not a drawing of anything in particular, just an exercise in how to use pastels/sharpie. 

Fun project.

Zippee!!

Ever hear of the Pee Zipper?

Well, thanks to the magic of blogging, you have now.




These pants are made for hiking/backpacking. You don't have to pull them down to pee. Or presumably to perform any other lower bodily function. 
Just unzip 'em and squat. 

As a person who has girl parts, no thanks. 
First of all, is one expected to go commando? Because you can't just squat and move your underwear aside for a little tinkle. 

And what if you have to do something more... substantial? 
Can you really trust that your pants are out of the way?

Guess that's not a problem, as it's repeated a couple times that these garments are washable and they dry really fast!

(Translation: When you pee on your pants, it will dry quickly.)

Also, let's discuss zippers. I know more than one male person who has accidentally zipped their little friend. From what I hear, that isn't a lot of fun and they really don't want to do it again.

I have never zipped any part of my flaps anatomy-that-makes-me-a-girl, and I really don't care to start now. Zippers should be located in areas where they don't have the potential to cause a person deeply personal physical harm. 

The rest of the reviews on the website are positive (of course) and you can even watch a video of a line of 4 women in a well-rehearsed unzip fest. It looks like they're digging in their butts at first. Which I suppose could be another selling point. Scratching your bits without having to disrobe. Plus you can order a Kula cloth to hang off your backpack. That's right, you don't even need toilet paper!

I need toilet paper, though. And then I need to wash my hands with soap and water. 
Call me a shrinking violet, but yeah.
(See also: shrieking harpy.) 
Whatever.
Still want that TP, soap, and water.

Who is wearing this stuff? And for $148.00??? For ONE PAIR of pants? 

Every day there's something else interesting out there.
Some things really *are* out there, though.

I end up with more questions than I have answers.

What *was* I thinking?

I actually don't know why I started blogging.

It was 21 years ago today. I just started writing on a whim.
I'd been in the daycare business for a year, I was still homeschooling, running a Girl Scout troop and working part time. Busy.

I've been glad over the years that I wrote stuff down, it's helpful to me in my work, for example. Old science experiments or other busy-nesses are there when I want to see them or remember 'how did I'.

Working (slowly) on the book I want to write about after school, the stories about my kids are invaluable. It's been pointed out to me more than once that I already have the book written, I just have to find the posts and put them in some sort of coherent order.

Coherent may not be within my reach right now, my brain is going in too many directions.
When this publishes, I'll be 11 days out from a visit from the father in law. 

This time we're putting him in the Costco room. The Momcave is more than occupied. I think he'll actually have more room in there than in here.

Anyway, it's a sort of family chronicle, a journal, a photographic record, work history. Things that make me laugh. An occasional political post, although mostly I just sit here and seethe. No point in writing it down, we still have a shit president and shit people surrounding him.

I'm approaching retirement from my job, guessing I'm going to be done in a little over a year.

I'll probably still write. Seems it's habit forming.

Another thing that I've appreciated greatly are the connections with other people that have happened through what I've written. I follow a lot of of other bloggers, too and have made more than one 'imaginary friend' as my hubby calls you.

Thanks for coming along.

I looked for a picture of a blogger via google (minus ai of course, I always add -ai to the end of my searches) and found nothing I wanted to use. 
I'll leave you with this photo of me about 58 years ago. 

We don't realize how much we're aging until we really look back, huh?

Future Blogger 1968

Get to the MONKEY!!!

I watch a lot of videos on YouTube. 
Painting tutorials, political things, stories about people finding their way out of religion. Lots of content, all free. It's amazing to be able to find so many things so easily.

One of the things I watch (because I'm always working even when I'm not at work) are craft videos. The people who are content creators are generally trying to make money off their videos, so they want to maximize engagement. That's understandable, but it causes me a great deal of impatience sometimes.

A person will be showing how to make something and you'll get 30 seconds of their hands, pointing and/or moving while they talk. Not always about the project, either.

A project will need 20 of something glued on. Instead of gluing one or two to give the general idea, they painstakingly glue on all 20 little baubles or whatever. I usually watch them on double speed without any sound. I end up skipping to the end quite often, too.

I don't want to hear about your trip to the beach or why this craft reminds you of your great uncle Henry.

Move on, willya??

It's usually necessary to mute anyway, as for some reason, they think we want to hear some tinkling, annoying, strident "music", too. Sets me on edge every time.

It annoys the CRAP out of me, in case you wondered.

And let's talk about cooking websites, too.
I do not want to hear about how your grandma moved West via covered wagon and wore gingham until she died at 107 and you still have the beat up old bowl she used. I mean, that's great for you, but I do not care. At all.

Skip to the ingredients. Now.
I scroll a lot.

I used to say, "GET TO THE POINT!" until several years ago, when my son sent me a link to this video.

The point of the video is aggravation about going to the King Kong movie (hey, this is an old video) and having them tease and not quite show the big ape until well into the movie.

Get to the goddamn MONKEY!!



I find myself saying it a lot right now as I take the art project and science experiments and other things I've harvested over summer and rewatch and try to get them into some kind of order for the school year.


Don't click on this video (it's actually audio only) if you're offended by profanity.

Commercial Time!

Once again I'm horrified by the fact that I remember quite a few of these commercials, but couldn't help laughing at the commercial starting at 5:49. 

As I recently mentioned, I was a 12 year old boy in my past life.

What is this thing?

Okay, so, this was on the floor next to my desk chair in the Momcave.

It wasn't there last night, I'd be willing to swear to it.
I don't remember ever seeing it. I have zero clues about what it might be.

I waited for Eric to get home to ask him about it, he said he's never seen it before and also has no idea what it is.

So let's just skip right over the 'who left this thing' because NO ONE DID. 
Eric didn't do it. I did not do it. No one else lives here. No one else has been in the house.

I think we're going to have to say Glitch in the Matrix on this.

But WHAT IS IT???

Any ideas?

Edited to add: I read today that using the same answer for all 'what is this' posts is perfectly acceptable. 

Here's that answer, courtesy of ye olde internet:

I have one. 
It’s a fart tone adjuster. 
Stick it up your bottom and it changes the pitch of your farts to a more pleasant sounding tone.