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.

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.

mischief managed

Made it over to the medical office complex today. 
2nd attempt to see the vampire. 

There were fewer people in the waiting area this time, but the wait was longer. Make it make sense.

I ended up having to wait about 15 minutes past my appointment time. Once I was in the sacrifice room, it was really fast. I let the phlebotomist know that I did not want adhesives on my skin. Contact dermatitis is a real nuisance, if you didn't know that.

I asked her how many people she takes blood from every day. She said there were two people doing the blood draws and that almost every day they go over 200 patients.

Told you I felt like livestock.

But she was fast and efficient. I won't even have a bruise. There's a very tiny red mark where she stuck me, but I doubt it will even be visible in a couple days.

The first test results came wandering through my email a few minutes ago, everything looks fine. I'll be interested to see what the other tests show.

There's a bit of aggravation right now with my job, though.
::sigh::

I'll write another thrilling post about that soon, hopefully over the weekend. 

Why can't things just stay mostly the same? Huh?? 

Meme-ory Lane

Found a bunch of stuff hiding in corners of my computer.

I bought a Memory Board for my mom and my brother went and set it up this weekend.
I've been searching through my computer for photos to send to her and found a bunch of stuff.

Pretty sure none of these will make it onto her board, but they made me laugh.

Random Memes

 

And last, the caption on this one was, "I knew I was saving my Ken and Barbies for a reason."

I keep telling myself that I do NOT need another hobby, then something like this shows up and holy crap, I am actually considering the possibilities.

Not really. But sort of.

Haha.

Presumed Competent

I turned 65 in December.
Today was the first time I've seen my doctor after getting signed up for Medicare and all the shit that goes along with it. 

Just adding here that the process to sign up for Medicare and get straight answers in plain English is a colossal pain in the ass and for about a month I was in a state of just-below-boiling pissoff. I hate talking on the phone, the things I read just made it more confusing, and I wanted to slap someone. Several someones. On multiple occasions.
This epic sign up coincided with my Spring break trip to see my mom, so my mental state was chaotic anyway. Plane trip, car rental, staying in an unfamiliar place while trying to continue figuring out all things medical and endeavor to be polite to my mom and all her caregivers while wiped out and grumpy. 

Seeing my mom just brings up all kinds of shit from my own personal wayback machine. Good times. 

I had been carrying medical insurance through my job, but it was Kaiser. 
So I had it just in case something horrible happened, not because I wanted a Kaiser doctor. 

Nope, I was still seeing my regular doctor who is NOT part of that network and paying out of pocket for the privilege of doing so. Did you know that a simple medication check visit is over $300? Not a typo.

Interesting that now I'm on Medicare, they cut the cost of a visit in half before ever turning it over to my insurance. Our health "care" system in the US is so fucked up.

So I take medication that requires me to see my doctor on occasion for blood work or to pee in a cup to check all my function-y stuff with kidneys etc.
I've been taking it a long time, so the doctor visit thing isn't new, but this is the first post-65 thing.  

So we checked my eyesight etc.
And they gave me a tablet with page after page of questions about falling, about who else lives in my home, do I use a cane or other mobility device blah blah blah.

The medical assistant told me at the beginning to remember three words. "I will ask you the words again later." 
(None of them were person, woman, man, camera, TV.)

I was supposed to remember them until the end of my appointment. 
Haha, then she forgot to ask me. 
Chair, car, banana.
Who comes up with this stuff?

They asked me to draw the face of a clock and set the time at 10:45.

So I get it. 
I know it's a baseline and that screening for dementia isn't actually a bad thing.

(Beats the hell out of me how an asshole with what appears to be dementia can be president, but that's really not part of this story, now is it? Bet that sorry shitbag can't draw a clock, either.)

It was a kick in the pants all the same.

Up until that visit, I was considered a fully functional human. 
The moment I walked into the clinic, I wasn't anymore.

Interesting experience.
I hated it.

Physically it's definitely not as easy for me to get around and do stuff as it once was, but so far at least, my brain still works. I do logic problems and online puzzles and I read constantly. 

And although it's been a few weeks since I wrote here, I write all the time, too. Currently working on some activity plans for my job, writing a how-to for someone who has never done this project or that. Trying to make it clear without being complicated, but with enough detail that it won't make someone crazy to try to do it.

I'm not doing those things as some kind of talisman to ward off dementia, I do all of them because I like it. But my understanding is that it might help my brain all the same.
One of the questions on the endless tablet list was something like, 'has anyone told you that it's time to stop driving or have you received traffic violations or been in a recent auto accident?'

No. Hopefully telling me to stop driving is not a possibility for at least, oh, 10 years? 
I hope I'm smart enough to realize when it's time to stop. I know a lot of 'take the keys away from Grandma' situations happen. 

I'd just as soon never have traffic violations or an accident, that's not new, though. 

I have been in a few close calls, usually someone who decides to change lanes without looking in their blind spot and nearly takes me out or someone who doesn't understand a safe following distance and tries to turn my car into a speed bump.

The last week of school, I was in the center lane on I-5, passing a semi that was in the right lane, when a semi in the left lane decided the absolute best spot to be RIGHT NOW was the center lane and nearly turned me and my little car into a Toyota sandwich. 

I hit the brakes, came within a gnat's ass of being rear ended by some nimrod who was following me too closely and managed to swerve into the left lane behind the lane changer. Pretty sure he never even saw me. I work hard to stay visible (lights on, is the driver visible in their side mirrors... if you can see the driver then the driver can see you) It was just one of those things.

It's really amazing how many stupid things I see on the freeways, though. The big surprise is that I don't see more of it.

So that's the news. I mean, there's more, and I have (checking) 5 posts in various stages of undress in the drafts. They may even get finished sometime this week.

I've been appreciating the time off, trying to get a little cleaning done around the house, keeping up with dishes and laundry, sleeping in, and most days not even getting dressed after my shower.

I put on a clean giant tie dyed t shirt (that's what I sleep in) and that's my uniform for the day.

Every other Wednesday I am going to the office to help with that curriculum planning, but I've been working on it at home, too. Even though we're not supposed to be. They took our laptops away from us at the end of the school year and will re-issue them when we go back to work in the fall. 

That's okay, this computer works just fine.
Hoping my brain keeps functioning, too. 

Fairy Poop and Other Craft Materials

I save garbage.
What, doesn't everyone save trash for their job?

I have a bin full of paper towel tubes. 

Not TP tubes, though. 
Sanitation rules under licensing say no. 

You can buy unused ones online, made specifically for crafting, or you can save the paper towel rolls and cut them to size yourself.

I save cereal box cardboard, too. 
That same kind of cardboard can be found in pizza boxes and other food packaging. 
If it doesn't have food on it and is clean, I toss it in the tote with the other stuff.

I don't save corrugated cardboard because it's dangerous for kids to cut with scissors. Ever try it? Grab a corrugated box and the nearest pair of kid scissors and try to cut the cardboard. Kid scissors aren't strong enough, so they sometimes break. Corrugated cardboard is hard to cut, so sometimes the scissors slip and can hurt the person wielding them. 

Yes, that is the voice of experience and yes, I've had both things happen to me. 
Even using adult scissors is hard when one has a lot of cardboard to cut.  On one occasion I cut out squares to make 35 cardboard looms. My scissors were sharp but I still ended up with blisters. Corrugated cardboard is tough stuff.

So cereal box cardboard is the thickest stuff we use for building. 
We supplement with card stock and construction paper.

Once in awhile we declare a 'trash day' at my school and I bring in the bins, some masking tape, and let the kids just make stuff. 

In April, our company decided we were going to have an Earth Day fashion show and make outfits out of recycled materials. Er, trash. Make the outfits, take photos, get them posted on social media.

The request was sent out via our app six days before the project was due, asking people to bring in their trash. 
No one did.

Most people (people who aren't me) don't hoard trash all year long. 
I think there were six kids who managed to make something wearable, the other kids wanted to just make stuff out of the trash. 

So I gave them some masking tape and that's what they did.

When I have a project for the kids, there are usually several of them who don't want to do it. This is fine, I don't make them do the projects. I strongly encourage it if it's something the gang is making for their parent(s), like an ornament or craft for a special occasion, but even then they still get to decide for themselves if it's a thing they want to do. They have so little autonomy. 

There are children who want to play with LEGO, build things with magnatiles, do independent art or color a picture instead. There's a lot of socializing, they have friends there and we all know they're discouraged from chit chat during the school day.

I caught up with our curriculum person later and told her that the amount of trash I brought in actually took me the better part of a year to save, and that it would have been really difficult to do the project if I'd relied on donated trash. I suggested a much longer planning period if we're going to be expected to offer that activity at all our sites. 

Since school's out, I'm back in saving mode. I have two bins that I've been tossing stuff into in our spare room. This week I've received a couple packages that were padded with what my grandma used to call popcorn.

You may call it packing peanuts or styrofoam.

Nope. 

It's fairy poop.

But it's not just plain old fairy poop! 
No, it's the variety that's been made with cornstarch. If you wet your fingertip and touch it, it melts a little and becomes sticky. You can create little sculptures with it, like the one below.

found on Pinterest

I do not tell my kids that it's biodegradable styrofoam, either. 
I let them know they're supposed to call it fairy poop.

Aren't you glad you stopped by today?

A regular day at the office...

So I'm off work for the majority of the summer.
Does that make me sad?

No.

I love the young humans and love my job, too. 
But like the saying goes, I'm not getting any younger. 
Between the physical issues and the mental burnout, I am ready for a little break.

But it's fun to reminisce while I'm sitting here in my pajama shirt.
A compilation of some of the things I said during a week:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We don't do that here.

LEGO is not a full contact sport.

Mark? Please stop poking Ryan with your pencil.

There is no reason for you to have your hands on another person.

Get off your brother's head.

If it isn't food, it doesn't belong in your mouth.

If you had that car before snack time then you get it after snack time. 

No, just because he got up to go to the bathroom it doesn't mean you get to take his cars.

Yes, we're going outside today.

We don't do that here.

Mark? Please stop poking Ryan with your pencil.

I know it's wet, but the playground is fairly dry.

Yes, we will go to the gym again this week sometime.

I don't know what we're having. Do I look like a snack menu? 

Please get off your brother's head.

If it's not yours, don't touch it.

It's not okay to climb on your friend to get to someone's cars. 

And Nick will be back from the bathroom in a minute. You can't take his cars. Didn't we just discuss that when Andy went to the restroom?

Snack time is not a full contact sport.

Mark? Please stop poking Ryan with your pencil.

Please take your finger out of your nose, get a tissue and then go wash your hands.

We don't play full contact checkers here.

Brian, this is the third time I've asked you to get off your brother's head. Don't make me ask you again, please.

The cars aren't meant to fly. When I look over here and see them in the air, I know they didn't go there by themselves.

Mark? You're going to need to find another activity. Your pencil keeps poking Ryan.

We don't do that here.

Please pick up the crackers you smashed all over the floor.

No, you may use a broom, it's not necessary to get down and blow them all over the place.

Brian, you will need to find someone else to play with for awhile. Yes, I know he's your brother, but you seem to be unable to stay off his head today.

Please take your finger out of your nose, get another tissue, then go wash your hands when you're done.

Brian, you'll need to stop stepping on Jason's feet.

Brian, you need to find another activity. You can't sit on Jason's head, either.

Hand washing is not a full contact sport.

It's not appropriate to point out that someone has farted at the snack table.

Brian, please give the cars back to Jason. Just because he went to the bathroom, it doesn't mean he loses his toys while he's gone.

Well that's the pits.

John (aged 8) was really excited on Friday last week because he was going to spend the weekend with his cousin Dave, who's also an eight year old boy.

He came back to school on Monday with a new skill. 
His cousin taught him how to armpit fart!
(I know, I know... WOW!!!)

He exploded into our program space on Monday and said loudly to no one in particular, "Hey!! Look!!"

Then he stuck a hand in his armpit and made a loud farting noise with it.

Some of the kids who were already there were instantly trying to do it, too.

I asked them not to, explaining that, "Our armpits aren't exactly clean, and we don't need to be spreading that all over the room. John, please don't do that anymore. The rest of you? Same. Please don't do it here."

It wasn't more than a minute before he was doing it again, trying to be inconspicuous in the construction zone.

Armpit farts are NOT inconspicuous. 

So I said, "John. I've asked you not to do that here. Could you please stop?"

In answer, he pulled his right hand out of his left armpit and deeply sniffed his fingers.

"OH EM GEEEEE you guys!! It smells like B.O.!!!!"

I swear to you, at least six other kids (and not all of them boys, either) RAN for the carpet. 

"I wanna smell!! I wanna smell!!"

"JOHN! Go wash your hands please."

He got a bit of a swagger as he headed for the sink.

I followed him and caught up.

"Buddy, I know it's funny to you. That's fine. It's not a bad thing to do. It's just not something I want you doing here. Spreading sweat all over our toys and our tables isn't as clean as I'd like it to be. So save the armpit farting for when you're hanging out with your cousins, okay?"

He said he would.

So far he has said that four other times. Those are just the times I've caught him.

Sheesh. 

Kids.

Not John. But similar. Haha.

The Secret Word is...

Do you remember PeeWee's Playhouse?

My son was a fan when he was a little guy, we watched it every time we could. 

Matt's favorite was the secret word segment. 
PeeWee shared the secret word and leaned in close to camera and said, "For the rest of the day, whenever anyone says the secret word, scream real loud!"

Apparently the secret word at my program today was vagina. I was sitting at the snack table with my group when a couple of the kids screamed with laughter from the construction zone. I heard, "What's a vagina?" from one of the kids, a few words of explanation from Noah and then there was more screaming/laughing.

::sigh::

So I walked over to the carpets where they were all still just in stitches. 
Steffie was saying, "PUH china," at intervals to try to keep the laughter going.

I said, "Hey, that isn't a word we need to be using here unless we're doing anatomy lessons or talking about the human body. And I know for a fact that we're not. Let's move on, people."

"Is it a bad word?" John asked me, blushing.

"Nope. It's just not appropriate or necessary for here. Unless, like I said, we're having a study of the human body."

Then Steffie asserted, "But I can still say PUH china, because it's not like I'm actually saying the word."

"Um, yes it is like you're actually saying the word. So please don't.
What started this conversation, guys?"

Three of them turned and pointed their fingers at Noah.
John added helpfully, "It was Noah. He says it's a woman's private parts."

Of course it was Noah who shared the word to begin with. He is one of the kids whose parents will answer his questions appropriately. Then he turns it into something else to make other kids laugh or be shocked or be mad. He can't keep anything to himself. I hope he's aged out of my group before his parents answer his curious questions about where babies come from.

So you know what to do.

For the rest of the day, whenever anyone says the secret word, scream real loud!

Bad Bunny

The other day Maria (4th grade, you've 'met' her before) was crossing the room and walking toward me.
 
I'm not getting any younger, and sometimes my eyesight isn't the best, but since her lower lip was stuck out approximately a quarter mile, I saw it from quite a distance.

She marched over and plopped down on the bench at my table.

"I am very upset!! Shelly insulted me!" she said. 

"How did she insult you?"

"She drew a very unflattering picture of our class pet!"

"And how are you insulted?"

"Because it's not a nice picture and I am very angry!"

"Are you the class pet, Maria?"

"Well, no. But it's a very bad picture!"

"Did the bunny see the picture?"

"No. But it's a very mean picture."

"I'll come look at it. But if you don't like the picture, maybe you shouldn't be looking at it. Is the drawing inappropriate for our group?"

"No, but it's our class pet!" Meanwhile, Bella had gone over to see the drawing, and then walked across the room to stand with her sister, sticking her lower lip out, too. 

"Maria, if you don't like Shelly's drawing, you need to find something else to look at. I'm not going to tell people they can't draw things their own way. You don't have to like Shelly's artwork. It's okay if you don't. I even draw things I don't like when they're done. It's just a drawing."

She didn't look happy, but she and her sister walked away. They went to the game cart and started playing Stratego. 

I walked over to the art table where Shelly was still coloring the picture she'd drawn. It was a pretty good drawing of a bunny, but the eyebrows were sort of slanted so he looked grumpy. He wasn't deformed or colored weirdly or missing a leg or whatever else one could do to draw an insulting picture of a bunny. She said, "I don't know why Maria doesn't like my picture, it looks just like Mr. Sniffy."

We're at the point in the school year where kids are just done. They are looking for reasons to be aggravated or defensive and man, they're finding them.

But geez, why insult the bunny?

 

Ohhh, I'm sooooo sick?

Poor Bailey. 

Last Friday she went to the school office about 9:30 AM, complaining that her tummy hurt.

Her mom left work, came to school and picked her up. When they got home, Bailey was magically fine. For the rest of the day she was just fine. No fever or other symptoms. She was marked absent in the app we use with a message that they were monitoring her, but that she had no symptoms that would exclude her from school or my program.

She was back on Monday. But Steffie, seeing how her sister got to stay home, watch TV and hang out with Mom, got 'sick' at school too.

Same result. As a precautionary measure, she was picked up and taken home. And was back on Tuesday

So Wednesday, Steffie decided she'd try the same thing again. 

The school notified her parents and Dad told them he was not able to pick up immediately, that if she did not have a fever or any other excludable symptoms, please send her to my program after school and he would get there as soon as he could.

Steffie was fine, she ate a snack with the rest of the kids and was all bouncy and cheerful. You know, normal.

Her dad showed up about 3:15, not even an hour into program time. Both girls were surprised. They ran to him, and Steffie said, "Daddy! Daddy!! Can we go to the park??!!"

He said, "No we can't go to the park. You're SICK, remember?"

She said, "Oh I was sick, but I feel just fine now!" 

Dad did not look happy.
He left work two hours early to come get the kids.

This is not Bailey. Or Steffie.

So the next day, Bailey went to the school office to say her tummy hurt again. The attendance secretary asked Bailey, "Do you want me to call your mom or dad?"

She said no.

"Well, you don't have a fever. You're not throwing up. What would you like me to do for you?"

And Bailey said darkly, "Nothing. There's nothing you can do for me."

I know it's not funny to her, and I'd never laugh at her, but it is sort of humorous. Both girls have been lectured about lying to say they're ill, parents need to be at work. I overheard Dad telling Bailey on Friday that, "If you ever are really sick, I still want you to call me. I will take care of you. But calling me when you're not sick and pretending that you are will get you in trouble every time."

There are kids who complain their stomach hurts when they're anxious. They don't have the vocabulary to explain their anxiety, they just know something is bothering them and those are the words they use to describe it. Fairly common.

But this wasn't that.
 
"There's nothing you can do for me." 

Some Blanket!

Soooo... is it just me or does the 'art' pictured on this electric blanket insert look like an inflatable companion? 
I saved the clear zippered bag it came in to make bug wings. 
It's Please Bug Me month in my program.

We're making all kinds of interesting critters.

No blow up dolls, however. 

Splash

There is another after school group in the building.

I'm not sure which 'at risk kids' entity they're working for, but I know they aren't required to license.

This means that just about any adult off the street who wants to work with kids can be hired. No background check and no training. 

To work under an actual day care license and do what I do takes an FBI background check, including fingerprints before you can even walk in the door. I have co-workers who have job coaches on site, and even the job coaches must submit fingerprints and do an FBI background check. 

To be a site director takes a fair bit of experience and training. Probably don't need to explain that experience teaches you far more than formal training.

So yeah. This other group in the building.
I watch them as they run screaming ...

the kids I mean, the adults aren't screaming, (at least on the outside) through our area to exit the back doors and hit the playground.

They've recently begun carrying a little first aid kit with them, a definite improvement over the last 2 years when they go out with nothing but some playground equipment. I have given bandages to them more than once. 

Yeah, I know, not my responsibility, but the alternative is to just let a kid bleed. 
Can't do it.

But this week I noticed they're finally carrying a kit on their way out to the playground.

They still run and scream on their way out the doors, and quite often are wandering around the building unaccompanied in pairs and trios while they're supposed to be in their upstairs classroom. I have to monitor our restroom area carefully. Our rule is one kid at a time for safety purposes.

I've had to ask them to please go back to their group when the action is getting ridiculous in the restroom area. They are never alone, always with at least one friend, and they're loud, messy and since no one is watching them, they do whatever they feel like doing.

I go to the area and ask them to please rejoin their group, that I have kids who need to use the restroom and they can't while other groups are there.

They aren't always polite when I ask them to go, but I have a thick skin. I talk with the person in charge of their program on occasion, she actually is pretty good at her job.

But when Brian came back from washing his hands on Wednesday and his entire front was soaking wet and he told me 'a couple of kids' had splashed him, I was full of righteous anger.

I immediately texted Anna, our front office person and let her know what had happened, told her I can't leave the kids but since it just happened, it seems that they'd know which kids had left their classroom area.

She was on it. Showed up about 30 seconds later with a laptop for Brian to look at to try to identify the kids who had splashed him. He pointed out two photos of girls and said, "It was this one and this one."

Anna went upstairs to talk with the kid wranglers.

I didn't see her again that afternoon, but I know she has a million things going on. Brian was fine, just a little wet.

I wrote an incident report and notified his dad in person about what had happened.
Called my manager, too. Covered all the bases.

The next afternoon, Anna stopped by while I was setting up program. I asked her if she thought we'd be having any more issues. 

She said, "Well. About that. He lied."

My mouth dropped open. Of all the kids in my care, he's the absolute last one I'd expect a lie from. 
"Whaaaattt???"

"Yep. We wanted to make sure we weren't falsely accusing anyone of wrongdoing, so we viewed the video footage. He went around the corner into the sink area alone, was there for about two minutes, and came back out alone and soaked. No one went into that area for the 10 minutes before, and no one came out after he did, and we watched for another couple of minutes."

I really was speechless.

BRIAN lied? Brian??? Little Mr. Integrity? That Brian?

Wow.

So she told me that the principal had called his parent and had a conversation with them, and that he'd been called to the office and they talked about telling the truth and how lying can cause harm to others.

I talked with him briefly, too.
Explained that I have to be able to trust him. That I tell him the truth and expect the same courtesy.

His mom told me at pickup that she thought he just told a little lie and then things got away from him and he didn't know how to get out of it, so he just went with it.

He's six. Lying is age-appropriate behavior, and they do (usually) outgrow it.

But I'm still really surprised that he wasn't truthful with me. He's a seriously neat little kid, always trying to help. Always nice to the other kids, too. I'm also taken aback by how he didn't blush, or look away or give ANY indicator that what he was telling me wasn't the absolute truth. 

Antlers

We made this project last week.

Steffie, who's very much like a little butterfly herself, was really excited about coloring it. She did ask for a little help cutting it out.

"I am having trouble cutting the antlers," she told me. "I couldn't decide what color to make them, either. What color are the antlers on a butterfly?"

"I have seen different colors of antennas on different flying critters," I told her. "Most butterflies I've seen just have black ones, they look kind of like tiny wires."
That's how I correct their grammar, by repeating the word they want back to them and just ignoring improper word usage. Seems to work.

"Oh yeah. Antenna. Antlers starts with A, too. I get them mixed up."

She giggled. 

And then she colored the antlers pink.

Now that's funny.

It's Classified Staff Appreciation Week in several districts around Oregon. The kids have made thank you notes for the custodians, the people who help serve lunches, the playground supervisors etc. I don't know all the positions that fall under that umbrella, I'm just working for a private contractor in the building.

This note was taped to the wall with a bunch of others in our cafeteria space.
Daniel and Steffie were looking at all the notes. Daniel was trying to read them (he's in second grade and hasn't really caught on completely) and Steffie, being in Kindergarten, has really just started working on deciphering words.

He pointed to the words as he said them. "Thank you, Jonas Foreskin."
Steffie repeated them, pointing to them the way Daniel had.
She stopped after Jonas and said, "Wait. What's foreskin?"

He answered matter-of-factly, "It's Mr. Jonas's last name!"

I'm still laughing. 

Another Art Attack (and kids are funny)

It's supposed to be a torn paper art project. I cheated and used scissors for the flower, tearing just wasn't working the way I wanted it to. I was making it in a hurry in a five minute window of time so the kids would have something to look at when they made their own.

Anna made this one for her sister, her sister was absent yesterday. They are obsessed with the game Dandy's World. I've heard it's not really suitable for kids, but a lot of mine apparently play the game. I don't know much about it, but a lot of Anna's art looks like this.

Steffie's is the purple large and pink small chicken above. 

As she worked, she explained. 
"This is the mommy bird. And this is the baby bird."
Leah wanted to know where the daddy bird was.
"Oh he's not there. He passed out."
I raised internal eyebrows. 
Should I ask her what that means? 
But I didn't have to, Leah asked, "What does passed out mean?"
"Oh, he's dead. That's what you say when a daddy dies. You say he passed out."

She said it in a matter of fact way, no sadness or concern in her voice. Just a thing that happens. I left it alone, she is very confident that everything she says and everything she knows is 100% the facts. I think a lot of that comes from having Bailey as a big sister. That child invented confidence.

Leah made this one after asking if it was okay to draw wings since the example didn't have wings. I said that everyone gets to make the project the way they want to, so wings are fine. And that she could give them hats and tennis shoes if she wanted. She found that hilarious and said, "But birds don't wear clothes!" and giggled again. Kindergarten is such a fun age. Although you couldn't pay me enough to wrangle a classroom full of five year olds all day every day. Takes someone special to do that for sure.

Benji has a speech impediment. It's sometimes hard to understand what he wants.
He's been working hard to try to correct it. 
Trouble with the letter L, with R and various combinations. 
Haven't ever heard a child who speaks this way, .

Last time we got out the model magic, he wanted to know, "When do we get bee-yack?"
My brain short-circuited.
"What?"
He tried again, carefully.
"Bee-yack."

I finally figured out he wanted black clay. 
That's what he said, "Bee-yak quay."

Benji has been starting conversations lately with, "Can I tell you just one thing?" When we answer yes, he tells us a thing. "My teacher gave me a tattoo because I was a good kid today. " Or, "One time my brother barfed in the bathtub. "

He brought me a book he had checked out from the school library.
Quite a popular series these days. The one he chose had dinosaurs on it. Of course. 
He's a five year old boy.

He showed me the cover and said, "Who wee-owe win?"
I pointed to the largest dino and guessed, "This one."
He answered with, "Pweepayah to be pwoovin wong." 
::snort::
Then he turned pages and explained why the smaller dino would win in a battle between the two.

He was behaving like the five year old that he is, and I had to speak to him multiple times about the same issues like climbing on his brother, stealing toys from the other kids, not helping clean up messes that he personally made.

After the 5th (6th? 27th?) time I talked to him, he told James that he does NOT like me. I heard him. 
"I don't wike Miss Susan!"

James ran to tell me what he said. I saw Benji watching from across the room. So I  smiled broadly and said, "That's okay. He doesn't have to like me. I still like him, though."

Later, he approached me.
"Can I tell just you one thing?"
I said, "Sure."
He said, "I wuv you, Miss Susan. "

The little weasel.

The Day to Day

Thought it might be fun to give you a picture of one of our afternoons.

Take today. (Please)

The plan was to make some of these:

We usually make a craft project our way.
Today's variation was color mixing the primary colors of tempera paint and slapping it on to the pre-cut (I did it here at home) halves of paper plates instead of using tissue paper and a monochrome color scheme.

The kids know how to mix colors because we also use primary colors of Crayola Model Magic when we're sculpting. That's always fun, a couple of them are really good at making colors, so they auction them off. There's no money involved, they just trade colors, like, "I'll give you two turquoise for the lavender and the pink." 

If you have kids or grandkids, I highly recommend this stuff. It dries to a consistency of marshmallow outsides. Not sticky. It isn't crumbly like Play-doh and doesn't smell bad, either. In addition, Play-doh is not gluten free, and for some kids that's important. Model magic contains no allergens. I buy it by the case for my kids. 

The posted schedule has our day divided up so we can do all the things.

First up is check in, hand wash and snack.
And yes, even if you're not having a snack you need to wash your hands.
If you do eat a snack, we ask you to wash afterward, too.

Hand washing (especially the way they do it) isn't the most effective thing in the universe. I find it amusing that there's so much emphasis on washing up when you consider how many germs are flying around when they cough without actually covering it. 

They do try, bringing an arm up in front of their faces to cough into an elbow. But the blast of warm bacteria/virus that hits me in my face on occasion leads me to believe they're not experts in germ blockage.

After snack there's a window of around 40 minutes for free play. We have a lot of stuff. They're not bored.

Another group is using the playground until three, and under licensing, we aren't supposed to be mixing groups. That suits me, the other group permits their kids to do things my kids aren't allowed to do. Climb on the bike racks, stand on top of the monkey bars, tightrope walk on the wall around the garden.

We spend the first few weeks of school issuing reminders about playground safety.

During our 40 minutes indoors today, I had planned for the kids to do the painting part of their project, but things were too hectic with the mix of kids I had. They're very physical. 

I had to tell two of them this afternoon, "Guys. No full contact origami, please!"

Seriously. Full contact paper folding.

::snort::

If I had tried to start a project with everything that was going on, I'd have been interrupted every few minutes, as William can't handle everything on his own. 
Nor should he, we're a team.

We went outside at 3. It was windy and chilly, but there are always kids who don't want to wear their coats. Unless it's 32 degrees or colder, they don't have to. We're supposed to encourage them to wear their coats, but do you remember being a kid? Coats just got in the way.

They are asked to bring them outside, though. They're usually tossed on one of the benches or flung on the blacktop up against the brick wall near the back. Then they run and run and run. We like to see them run. It helps with our activity levels once we're back in the building.

Run, children. RUN. 

Andre and Kieran are picked up while we're outdoors. 
There are a couple other kids who are picked up around the same time as we go in.
It's amazing how every child who leaves helps drop the activity level a bit. 

When we come back in, they wash their hands again. Not sure if it helps. We pick up paper towels from the floor before we wash our hands to leave the place better than we found it and to be kind to our custodians. They work hard and I like to make sure the kids notice that and are respectful by leaving things clean.

So we painted our plates. I think I had 12 kids at the project table. Several of the other 22 declined the activity. This is fine, they're not required to participate. There are plenty of other things for them to do, and most of the time, they just go choose something they want.

I did tell them that this project was a 'do it now' thing, as tomorrow is the next step. We're adding yarn and ribbon to the bottoms of the jellyfish.

We sat at the table 40 minutes, and I had cleaned up the paint and tossed the brushes into the wash bin when three of the kids decided they might want to do the project after all. I told them not today. I don't say no ordinarily, but since tomorrow isn't a painting day and it was time for us to clean up our room, we didn't have time.

I did tell them they can make one tomorrow, but they'll have to color it with markers because today was painting day. The one I made as an example was colored with markers, I'm guessing a few kids will decide they want to do one.

After the crafty stuff, it's usually time to clean up. The busiest time for parent arrival is between 4:30 and about 5:10, so I get them to work on the mess before they're picked up, as no one enjoys cleaning up after someone else. 

They're nice about it, and they'll help when the mess creator has already gone home, but it's not really fair when some kids get to skip out without helping over and over.

After we're done with full clean up, they're allowed to get things out from the carts as usual. We also have the five o' clock box, loaded with things that aren't out in the afternoons. Special cars, drawing supplies, some Shopkins, a couple little games. And let's not forget the holy Zoobs. (Okay, they're not labeled holy, but the calming effect is almost supernatural!)

Kept them out of the construction zone. They're not sturdy toys. The ones we had in that area were broken and I had to throw them out. They got stepped on and ruined all the time. So when I got the new ones with a whole month's budget, we decided they'd be a tabletop toy.

At 5:30 we have a Snack Attack and the kids can have one of the snacks from that day's menu if they want to.

More hand washing, of course. Before and after.

They continue to leave, by that time we usually have fewer than five kids.

Then it's finish rolling the rugs and get out the door for my evening commute.

It's not possible for me to explain the noise level and the interpersonal stuff. Girl drama. Boys smacking each other around. Smaller people getting upset at bigger ones, usually a sibling who started something just to aggravate their brother or sister.

One of my smalls fell on the blacktop today and skinned his knee through his pants.
He was wearing some kind of slippery polyester insulated pants with a tight ribbed cuff at the bottom and we could not pull his pant leg up to see his knee, which was bleeding through his pants.

I called his mom.
The first thing I say (well, usually) is, "This is not an emergency."

As a parent who has received a call from her child's day care, I can tell you it's scary when they call.

So I explained the situation, told her I can't get the pant leg up to see it and can't have him pull them down. She thanked me for my opening line, as she has received more than one call from day care over the years. She said they'd treat his wound at home, and that his dad would be there to get him pretty soon.

I sat with him for a bit, then he decided he wanted to go back and play, so he ran around the rest of our recess time. Kids are tough. Especially the ones from that family. Haha, they were the two doing full contact origami.

So, want to come make some jellyfish or get coughed on?

Time Off/Mom's Off, Too. And where's Steve?

Friday was a 'teacher work day'. 
My district had no school.

After having two weeks off for Christmas etc, we worked a week, then a four day week, then we got a four day weekend, which will be followed by a four day week. I could get used to that!

It's been rrreallly windy out here in the mouth of the Columbia River Gorge. I've mentioned before that wind isn't my friend. 

I'm no scientist, but my theory, which makes sense to me, is that the static electricity generated by the relentless wind affects the electrical field in my body. We're really nothing but batteries, and it seems reasonable that the reason I hurt so much when it's windy is because of the whole electrical me problem.

I've been doing normal weekend things. Looking at Pinterest for still more ideas for my kids at work. Grocery shopping. Sleeping in. Freezing, because the wind makes it colder out there AND in here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So a little back story. About 15 years ago, my parents sent out their annual Christmas letter. There were several paragraphs about my brother Steve and his wife/their boys. Several more about Jim and his wife/kids.

Then she went on to talk about the things she and my dad did during the year and ended by wishing everyone a happy new year.

My family... husband, kids and all we'd done during the year just didn't happen, I guess.
Eric was pissed off. 
I honestly wasn't upset, I actually laughed about it.

I know it's awful. I do. But it struck me funny and I've never been able to muster the righteous anger my husband (and my biggest fan) has felt about it ever since.

It gets brought up on occasion, usually when there's been another slight from my mom. She really seems to care about me the most when she can show me to someone else, either verbally or in person. Like a possession. 

Showing me off was a way of life until I escaped. They had me up on the stage in church at age 3, singing.

They pointed out my musical talents, the prize I won for an essay in the 8th grade, assorted other things they could use to look like better parents, at least in their eyes. They weren't proud of me, they were proud of themselves for manufacturing me.

My parents were collectors of  what they perceived to be unusual people. 
For example it wasn't, "This is my friend Enid," it was, "This is Enid. She's my Mennonite friend!"

Another prideful 'look at the person I've collected!' moment...

"Sandra is our antique dealer. She's from Great Britain! She has the most delightful accent!" 

Sandra was the person who got the family heirloom wooden rocking chair that was brought to Oregon by my paternal great-grandfather's family over the Oregon Trail in a  covered wagon. It had been in the family for over a hundred years. Hand carved and beautiful. Dad sold it to the delightful accent person for twenty five bucks. Miss Delightful Accent probably made a lot of money on that deal. I told him that next time he felt the urge to sell a family heirloom, at least phone me for a competing bid. I told him I would have given him a hundred bucks for it. 

He did that 'heh heh' laugh he always did when minimizing my feelings and continued to sell things that had been in the family for generations. He reminded me that it was 'just a thing' and that it didn't really matter.

Guess he had gambling debts to pay off.

Not the original chair, that one was much more elaborate and old.

Okay so yeah, they were collectors, Mom more than Dad. She never told me about anyone she knew without telling me whatever was 'special' about them.

"Chris is the person who married Harry and they lived up Canyon Creek until the fire, they lost everything."

After her local chapter of Jesus Jumping Hens (aka Women's Aglow) had a guest speaker, "I met a new friend who lives in Portland! Her name is Bernice." Then she lowered her voice and said in a confidential tone, "Of course she's black as the ace of spades."

My parents were both racists, although I didn't realize it until I was out and on my own. 
By the time I recognized that the way they were talking was racism, it was an automatic thing for me to evaluate people based on who they were, not what they looked like, but of course I had escaped from religion, which tried to teach me that anyone different was wrong or bad. 

Mom was stunned when she saw some of my high school photos with several friends that were taken after I got away from her home. 
"That girl is a negro!" she said, pointing to my old friend Angie in a couple group photos.
"Um..."
"Well, couldn't you find white friends?"
Several of the kids in the pic were different colors.
I didn't think it was important.

I still didn't realize the word racist applied. 
I had a sheltered existence. 
At the time, there were NO people with brown skin in any shade in Grant County, Oregon.

I called my mom this afternoon.
Our current conversations are usually about 10 minutes during which she repeats the same three or four topics 10 times apiece. I don't mind, I understand she's having cognitive issues.

So her phone rang on the other end six times and went to voice mail. Since she's not mentally able to check her voice mail anymore, I just hung up, figuring I'd call later.

I went to the bathroom and came back to find that she had called me six times in those two minutes.

So I called her back.

"Oh hi," she said. "Did you just call me?" 
(Um, yeah, that's why MY NAME showed up on your phone??)

"Yes."

"Oh. I was hoping it was Steve."
(Great, you scrawny old bat. Thanks. I don't know why I bother. Really.)

Then she said she'd brought her lunch from the cafeteria and eaten in her room because, "Some of the people here are just crazy."

I asked her if she'd been going to any of the activities, and she said, "I need to go take my tray back to the kitchen. Talk to you tomorrow or the next day!"

And then she hung up.

Guess she really wanted to talk to Steve.

Oliver Does Something Fishy

This was our project for Tuesday. Draw some wavy lines with a pencil, 'mirror' them, but not exactly, and then turn your little bubble spaces into fish or fill them with small critters. Or add critters where you want them. It's open-ended. One of my favorite types of project. Sort of like 'choose your own adventure' only with art. I always explain there is no wrong way to do it, if you make something you like, then you did it right. It doesn't have to look like mine or anyone else's, take the supplies and the bright colors and enjoy making something.

The kids are honest, but they still work to be kind in their comments to other kids. 
They find specific things they like and say so.
"I love the way this fish looks, and the blue is perfect."

They ignore the red fish that looks like a splotch of gore from a horror movie. We have worked on diplomacy a bit, but they mostly already know it and are generally nice to each other about their art.

So the first step with this picture is to make some wavy lines across the page.

Wavy lines are our friends. LOL

I really dislike my phone camera, but you get the general idea. The colors are much brighter in person.

First,  make some wavy lines.
Color the lines and fish/critter outlines with Sharpie.
Color your critters with crayon.
Then paint over it with watercolor.

Here's a version that's a little more... busy.
Also this one isn't crayon resist, it's alchohol-based markers. 
You can't paint over the marker, it doesn't resist the paint. 
This one was fun, but I kind of liked the simple one better.

Our projects are always optional.

Oliver came to the project table and looked at the examples.
He grabbed the simple version. 
He said, "Can I have this one?"

I told him no, that it was an example, but that I would be happy to help him make one.
"If I make it, it's my work, Buddy."

"Well, can you do the wavy things?" 
I did, with a little guidance from him. 
 
"Do you want this loop bigger or smaller? Where should I start the next line, Oliver?"
We got the wavy lines done. He asked me to draw a fish, so I drew one. He pointed to one that was smaller than the others and asked me to do that one, too. So I did.

Then he said, "You can finish it, I have to go play with the magnatiles."

I reiterated that he wasn't required to make one, it was just for fun and if he didn't want to, that was fine.

"Oliver, if I finish it, then it's my project, not yours. You don't have to make one, but I'm not making it for you."

So he asked his brother to do the project. Ben replied that he was busy with his own, but if he had time maybe later?

"Well, can you at least draw a jellyfish?"

So his brother did a jellyfish. Then Oliver asked for 'one of those water dogs'. With raised eyebrows and a few questions, Ben drew what his brother wanted (I still don't know where Oliver got the idea, but it was just a dog with a fin) and went back to his own art.

Oliver then took his project to every kid around the table and asked for help. Most of the kids did at least one fish for him, some did more than one. 

Then he took it back to his spot and slapped watercolors in green and blue all over it. He put it in the drying area and went to play.

When his dad showed up about an hour later, he ran across the room and grabbed his paper and ran again back to his dad.

"Dad!! Dad!! Look! I did this all by myself!!!"

::snort:::

When he went to get his coat and backpack, I gave his dad an abbreviated form of the story. We both laughed a little bit and they left.

That kid is so dang funny.

And my goal is for the kids to derive joy from making art. Collaborative art counts.

I'm calling this a win.