This is why my mom's generation was so messed up

I mean, not the only reason. Religion was part of it, too.

I was surprised while watching this, I actually remembered a couple of them.

Do You Have a Storage/Costco Room?

Because of the really odd ways money was handled as I grew up, it's the thing in my life that still causes stress for me. 

One of the ways it manifests is buying things ahead of time. 
Otherwise known as hoarding. Craft supplies and stuff for work.

I can say that I don't have as much stuff as I used to, and that I've become more selective about what I bring in. I've also consciously made an effort to use the supplies I have a million of instead of admiring the possibilities. I have given a lot away, too.

It's why I don't have to buy things when I want to introduce a craft project or art activity or science experiment. I have all those things and more.

I stock up on new things, too. 
Consumable goods, I guess.

In the cabinet in the hallway are things like bar soap, liquid hand soap, hair spray, shampoo. Q-tips. You know, hygiene supplies. I buy bulk packages when they are on sale. 

My mom infrequently visited us when we lived in California. Took her shopping with me once or twice. She had a difficult time understanding why I was 'buying such a big package' because there were only two of us. 

Just a little math is needed to figure that out, but all she could see was that the small toothpaste was a dollar less than the economy sized one. The four pack of toilet paper was a lot less expensive than the 12 pack. But per roll, it was less expensive to buy the large one.

The room that was Alyssa's is now our Costco/storage room. Big bales of TP and paper towels. Aluminum foil and baking parchment, laundry soap and garbage bags and things that belong to Mason and Alyssa that they don't have room for in their apartment and a TON of stuff for my job. We have shelves all along the walls (bought those at Costco, too).

It's also where the vacuum lives. My easel is in there for when I decide I want to paint again. It's been awhile and I love doing it and I just... haven't. Bins for my tie dye stuff. 
More craft supplies. Bulletin board edging and lettering, another thing I won't need once I retire.

My hubby hangs on to things as much as I do. He has good reasons, but his story is his. Let's just say his family could have done better for him and should have.

That stuff affected us both.

I picked up some cardboard boxes last week and am in the process of getting rid of clothing I no longer wear. I keep stuff until it wears out. Frayed sleeves and little holes don't make me stop wearing it. I always figure my jacket covers the sleeves and if I'm wearing long sleeves under my uniform t shirt and happen to get paint or ink or whatever on those sleeves, I don't worry much about it. I won't cry if I have to throw out a shirt I've had for 15 years because paint won't wash out of the sleeves.

So I'm getting ready for the last full year of work, I think. I may possibly work until December of 2027, depending on a few factors.

Hopefully I'll have used up most of my stuff by then, making it less of a pain in the ass when it's time to sell the house and move.

So do you have a Costco room? 

Mine looks kind of like this one, only smaller.

Go Play in the Library

Last year about this time, the parent organization in our school had a Trunk or Treat night in the parking lot. 

Great. 

Fun for the kids, much safer than trick or treat, and it fosters a sense of community in the school.

The only problem was, we didn't know it was going to happen.

So about 5:15 or so, an enraged program parent came to our door to pick up her daughter. 

I went to let her in, and she was furious. The person running the event had told her she could not drive into the parking lot to pick up her child from day care.

This was not communicated in a warm and friendly manner. Things were not improved by the fact that this particular parent was... prickly. She was nothing but nice to me and to my various assistants over the two years her child was with us, but she also put up with zero bullshit. I liked her.

Anyway, she was pissed as hell and made some phone calls afterward. 

This resulted in two things: an apology to my program from the PTA president (a very nice person who just forgot we were there and didn't make a traffic plan... totally not her fault and not malicious)  and a plan (made by me) for the next time. 

I communicated this plan to the school secretary, who is, if you didn't know or haven't spent a lot of time in schools, THE person who knows everything and everybody and is juggling a million tasks serenely on top of an absolute mountain of chaos. I'd lose my sanity inside half an hour.

Well, she let me know last week that my 'next time plan' is looming in the next couple weeks. It's almost Halloween. 

We are going to relocate program to the other side of the building in the library, something we do occasionally to accommodate school events. This will put pick up in a different parking lot from the event and everyone will be safe and hopefully cheerful. 

We are, after all, a guest in the school. A paying guest, but still a guest. I've worked really hard to develop a good reputation with the school staff at that location. 

Partly because that's what I do in every school I work in (I take pride in my work) and partly because it's just part of my job. 

It's not hard to go in and be nice. Everyone there has been welcoming, friendly, helpful and supportive. They're all decent people and they've had great things to say about the program. 
 
Also, it pleases me to be SO MUCH BETTER than the YMCA. The Y provided a child care program (of sorts) before my company took over, but not a very good one and the series of directors in and out of there weren't great at their jobs. If they showed up at all. There was more than one occasion that they did not show up and there were kids in the cafeteria without official day care supervision until they could be picked up.

Haha, just showing up makes me look better than they did. Pretty low bar. 

Oh. As usual, I have drifted around a little in my ADHD rowboat. I don't have both oars in the water. Guess that's why I'm going in a circle.

The programming has to look different, as we can't bring our carpets, our carts, big bunches of supplies and/or games.

I have several things we have not had out so far this school year, though.
Two bins full of dollhouse stuff, a large bin with 480 red not-solo cups, a marble run. 
I'll bring a game or two and at least one puzzle.

We can bring art supplies (blank paper, coloring sheets, markers) and we'll also do the spider craft I've been putting off. It's great, you cut a pipe cleaner into four pieces, slide all four through the middle of a pony bead and bend the legs accordingly. Each tip has to be bent to make a soft end, and I usually add a little string through the middle so they can suspend them from a backpack or zipper.

The kids are allowed to read the books that are on the top of the library shelves, but not to pull books from the organized shelves themselves. They usually grab a few books and sit on the sofa and read them to each other. 

Our usual routine is to get to program, have our snacks, go outside or to the gym. That's usually over by 3:45 or 4. If we go to the gym, I will try to keep them there until 4 for sure. If we do the outdoors/gym thing until 4, that leaves us an hour and a half or so to hang out in the library. 

Kids start getting picked up around 3:30, except for one of my kinders, she's always gone by 2:45. I can't imagine paying for day care for less than an hour a day. It's not cheap.

It's my goal for us to stay OUT of the library until Andre and his brother are picked up.
Andre doesn't do well with big changes in routine and is having some issues anyway.

I haven't written about it yet, but Friday was quite an interesting afternoon.
::sigh:::

There's no school this coming week on Thursday or Friday, but I'm going to be at the school on Thursday to do some organizing/purging. I have too much stuff out there and it will make life easier for me.

Also haven't written about my latest in hot and cold running assistants. I have two, one who started last year and one who has missed five shifts in the three weeks she's been with me. Three of them were last-minute, too.

She has some special needs and a job coach.
My regular assistant also has a job coach. 

It's been interesting.
Eventually you'll be reading about them a bit here.

Meanwhile, it's 11:15, I planned to be in bed by 11, I am tired and feeling like I'm 164, which is 100 years older than I actually am. More or less.

Gee, I wonder why.

20

I started writing this blog 20 years ago. 
August 25th, 2005.

I didn't have any particular plan in mind. When I try to recall why I started writing here, I can't figure it out.

I've continued for a few reasons. I'd never been able to keep up with any sort of journal. Being able to look back now on the last 20 years, I'm sorry I didn't, because it would be fun to look waaaaay back.

But for the last 20, I've written about my children, my Girl Scout troop, homeschooling, my work (helping raise other people's children). I have dumped photos here, philosophized (nothing new or life-changing) tie dye, art, friends. It's a chronicle of my life in general, my enjoyment of the young humans I'm entrusted with after school and a place to rant if I need to.

There still is no all-around purpose unless you consider that maybe there shouldn't BE a purpose or underlying goal, in which case I've succeeded magnificently.

I searched a bit and found some things that amused me/made me think/made me feel competent as a writer over 20 years.

Whiskers (mine!!), 
dog butt in our holiday photos,

 the progress of technology and Boob Costas.  

From that post: The man is a dumb ass. Inane comments, (thinking back to the Athens Olympics here and recalling his remark as the team from Djibouti entered the stadium, 'you bet Djibouti'... and the man still kept his job!!) annoying smirk... the worst part is, he takes himself seriously.


The story of a heartbreaking loss of a friend who left behind five children. 

Pie crusts, a new roof on the house, "Dr." Phil (he was an asshole way back when, too) and why we homeschooled. The reasons for continuing had little to do with why we started that particular journey.

From that post:

Open house was the first indication that school was not a lovely experience for Matt. I talked with his teacher (or rather, she talked at me) while Eric toured the classroom with his boy. When I asked her how things were going for him, she started into a recitation of what a pain in the ass he was, although she didn’t use that particular phrase.

With a tight-lipped, tense smile on her face, she said, "Well, I don’t know about Matthew. He has a real problem sitting still. AND! He’s been reversing a few letters! I wonder if we don’t have a little attention deficit on our hands, here. He thinks it’s funny to play with the light switches! He talks in the hall! He chases girls on the playground!"

Imagine how horrified I was to hear that he was behaving like a normal child! Wow, had I done a shitty job as a parent or what!? Chasing girls? OH MY GOD!!!


Camping trips with just the two of us. Dental work. Early Lyssa art.
People who wear too much perfume. 
They tore up my beautiful honeysuckle hedges to put in a sidewalk. They were mostly pigs disguised as men. 

Lyssa made a pink dragon costume.


Look under the cat.

Interesting neighborhood decorations. 
This is a pic of the Jolly Old Elf and his Bighead Alien Baby.
That same neighbor has some interesting ideas about decorating her yard.

Bumper stickers, my brother got my aging parents a Jack Russell terrier puppy ("Jesus Steve, why didn't you just get them a Tasmanian Devil?") Lyssa tried high school and lasted four days, I stepped down from leading a Girl Scout troop, our neighbor Cletus and his crop of half-brights, wildflowers that somehow accidentally magically got transplanted to our yard.

This post about Reese still remains one of my favorite things that I've ever written. I loved that kid so much. He's 24 or 25 years old now. I think of him often and hope he's doing well.

We're all proctologists.

Stories about shoulder surgery. (91 nights in a recliner.) Knee surgeries. Work comp and working for Champions, a division of Kindercare where children most definitely do not come first. Or second. Or third. Not sure they enter into the equation at all at corporate level. Toxic fucking place to work, and no, not just because of work comp. Assholes. I sent a letter to the boss of the bosses of the bosses after I left there. Still took them 10 years to get rid of that whoreible (whoreiffic?) individual. If I ever see her again, I would like to kick her in the taco. I've been blacklisted by Champions, which, while hilarious considering some of the incompetent fucking potatoes they hire as managers, doesn't matter. No way in hell would I ever work for those shitbags again. Eric said that letter was the best 'fuck you' without the use of profanity that he's ever seen. I don't know about that, but it was strangely satisfying and I don't regret it.

I learned to paint during the pandemic.
This is the first one I did from a tutorial online.

I have so many things I've written that we'd be here the next 20 years if I were to try and talk about them and I don't want to do that.

A great deal of this blog has been about the antics and trials and fun of working in after school. I am working on putting things in some sort of coherent form and writing a book.
Every time I go for training and some doofus or doofette talks about how they control their children it makes me crazy. It's always about control, too. Not teaching the kids self-control, but training them to follow adult control.

Meanwhile, regular life happens, too. It's hotter than the first four layers of Hell out there this weekend. The drains are backed up, I was running a load of laundry today and there was a bunch of BLURP BLURP BLURP noise from the bathroom and water had come up in the tub and was blurping in the throne as well.

Eric dumped a bunch of chemical shit down the drain, but he has to go tomorrow morning and rent a piece of equipment to fix the issue.

Dammit.


Okay.
4,622 posts.
4,457 comments. (y'all need to step up your game)
1 kabillion times I have written something down or laughed at kid antics or learned something interesting and said, "I have to put that on my blog!"

20 years.

Huh.

Best Laid Plans

Ever wonder why it's 'best laid' plans? 
Has nothing to do with getting laid.
 
Or maybe it does and I've been going about the whole planning thing all wrong.

::snort::

All summer I've been saving links to different art/craft/science things in an email draft. I do that so I can send it to multiple email addresses all at once when it's done and not have to edit. Send to my work email, our programming specialist's email etc. 

For whatever reason, even though I pasted links into the body of the email, didn't type them, when I sat down to look through them this afternoon, they all led to the same place. The links all look different, but they all go to the same website.

I was about to have an old lady meltdown because I've been saving things all summer (and yes I know there are other ways to do it but that's what I did), but I found that I could still copy and paste the links into my browser and have it go to the various websites. 
Weird.

But all the stuff I found this summer that I wanted to try with my kids is still there, so I'm calling it a win.

Why did it take until today to notice?
Today I started my daily planning hours. 

Or rather, I started being paid today for the planning time I've been doing off and on since school got out in June. 

Now I'm being paid for 2.5 hours a day, four days per week through most of the school year. I'll still be thinking about the job and looking at projects and ideas forever, AM, PM, middle of the night waking up with inspirations... it's just part of how I do this work. 
I wouldn't change it.

Making a few of those little projects before school begins is part of my goal. 

Since we have upcoming trainings, some of that time will be spent in the office. I'll need something (or several somethings) to do with my hands. No way in hell can I just... sit. I fidget too much.

Don't sit next to me at meetings, you won't like it. 
If I didn't have to sit with me, I wouldn't. Haha.

The first month of activities is planned for us, if we wish to take advantage of it. 
I haven't seen what's being offered yet, so I don't know if my group will do it.
 
Our programming person isn't bad at her job, although I think she may be a little ambitious for what can be accomplished in a specific length of time. She hasn't worked in program enough to really understand how many curve balls there are in every single game. 
Er, day.

I've purchased a bunch of small things this summer. 
I do get reimbursed for things if I turn in receipts, but I also decide to purchase things that I want for my program that aren't necessarily needed and I don't feel that I should be asking to be paid back. 

Those items aren't being reimbursed, but that's my choice.

Every childcare worker in Oregon who qualified was sent a check for $500.00 earlier this summer. I can say I probably spent a quarter of it on programming. We're just gonna call it free money, okay?

I bought this foosball table. 
An item we do not need, but the kids will love it. 

I'm planning a once a month tabletop game day, which I know I mentioned. It should be loud, busy and slightly obnoxious. 
An ordinary day, in other words.

Last summer the local Buy Nothing group was very helpful in donating old costumes, old jewelry, goggles, computer keyboards and old phones with the keyboards. We stocked several boxes to go out to programs. The kids love it.

Well, last night I got a message from someone in the group asking if I still need stuff. I said yes and went out this afternoon and picked up a bag from a front porch. Scarves and Mardi Gras beads and a very interesting shirt. I can't imagine wearing it in public, but I think the kids will like it.

It was made from one of the old fashioned chenille bedspreads for this lady's mom. I am going to try dyeing it a solid color (it's white, not a good idea for a bunch of kids) and hope it turns out.

So with that I'm off to bed. I have to get up at a decent time tomorrow. Yippee.

Wanna come play foosball with the young humans? 

Huh. Here we are.

Welp, my strategy of telling myself 'I'll deal with that in August' has backfired spectacularly.

It's not only August, it's half-past August!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I did manage some stuff, but if I want to get done with the rest of my list, it's time to step up my game. I got our storage room mostly put together, although the dye extravaganza last weekend messed it up a little, I think it can be put right in about 10 minutes if I just, you know, DO it. Lyssa and Mason are coming back this weekend for a rematch, Lyssa's sweatshirt needs more dye. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The biggest mess in the house is the room where I have my TV and movies and computer and all sorts of other stuff for work. I absolutely must get it straightened out this weekend. It should be a little cooler, when the weather's hot I don't feel like doing a damn thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm still trying to work on plans for the first month of school. Our company does put out a curriculum of sorts so that we don't have to plan, but I find that having a couple new projects plus some of the old favorites ready to go helps me adjust faster to the new routine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I haven't seen my group roster yet. I'll ask next time I'm at the office. But I know that I'll have at least five Kinders. I love them, they're so cute and everything is so new to them. Four of the pack are the younger siblings of kids I've already had for a couple years. Sometimes that's a little difficult as the bigger ones want to parent the smaller ones, and while I appreciate that they know their little brother or sister better than I do, I'd still like to see everyone doing their own thing, not monitoring siblings.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I haven't even cleaned out my work backpack. Or, as the smalls like to call it, a pack pack. One more than one occasion, I've also heard back back. And yes, pack back has made it into the mix now and then. Makes me smile.

I have a spectacular pack pack, did you know that? 

It looks like this. Except a little more grubby.

Finally gave up the kind that hangs off the shoulders about four years ago. This one can be used as a regular backpack, but there's a little pocket in the back to tuck the straps in. I have never carried it on my back.

This thing has a telescoping handle, wheels and a bunch of pockets and a padded sleeve for my work laptop. The only thing it lacks is an engine.

I have everything I could possibly need in there. 
And more than one thing no one needs. Probably.

It has all the medications I take, not many, mostly things like Tylenol, Excedrin and the occasional heartburn pill, but there are also Benadryl caps and Imodium in there just in case. I still react to apples. ::shrug::

A first aid kit for my own use with bandages.  Tie dyed. Of course. 

I have some antibiotic cream for me. 
If I don't wash, put it on, and apply a bandage when I get poked with a staple or get a paper cut, I will get an infection in short order. 
Schools are germ factories.
But Polysporin isn't allowed for kids under licensing, so it has to stay in my personal supplies. 

Let's see, what else is in there? A Leatherman tool. Personal art supplies because the scores of meetings that could have been an email are borrrrinngggggg and NO ONE wants to sit next to me when I'm fidgeting. I'm going to skip a few meetings this year. 
I did last year, too. 


Fingernail clippers. I often catch and tear a nail while prying LEGO apart, for example. Or just while dragging rugs out to set up for the afternoon. I keep my nails utilitarian short, unpolished and plain. 

I've never been big on all that fancy girl stuff... I did go through a phase as a young teen, though. Remember me talking about how our little town was full of lemmings? Any fad that came through caught most people. One of my 8th grade friends got her own manicure kit for Christmas and suddenly we all wanted one. I even got one, and for awhile (maybe six months) I put on nail polish. Pain in the ass.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The adults keep our personal items in the back room (the kids don't go in there), and when we're not in the cafeteria, the door to that room is closed and locked. The pocket of my pack that contains medications is also locked with a teeny little padlock. The two zippers lock together. The key is on my keychain in my pocket. I can't leave home without the key to the back room and to the padlock because they're attached to my car key.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I emailed our trainer regarding the fact that Alfie Kohn is now doing podcasts. He got back to me, asking me about doing a presentation about how and why I don't use a reward system to obtain compliance. Just those words make me bristle. Grr.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So do you have things to accomplish on your list? Do you ever complete that list?
How do you feel about pushing the big rock up the endless hill?

Weakened Shenanigans and the Mom Report

Spelled it that way on purpose. 
In case you wondered.

It's been 13 years since my knee got wrecked working for those ungrateful assholes at Champions, a division of KinderCare. 

They don't take care of injured workers, instead they hire attorneys to avoid taking care of the people who work for them. I had to get a lawyer because otherwise, I wouldn't have been helped at all, like a couple of former co-workers I could tell you about. My god. Criminal mistreatment. 

Toxic to work there on almost every level. All they seemed to care about is how much money they could make to keep the shareholders happy and how to crap on their employees. 

They restructure every few years, spending millions. I have been told it's to get out from under the lawsuits filed by people who have been discriminated against. 

PSA: Don't work there. Not for any division. They're monsters. 
I would never leave my child(ren) or grandchildren in any KC facility, either.

So I had the knee surgeries, but by the time I could get someone to listen to me, the damage was done. The ACL graft didn't take and within a year or so, there was nothing but bone inside both knees.

And having been gaslighted (gaslit?) by several doctors by then, and more or less by my own lawyer I resolved to just live with the pain and decided against pursuing a knee replacement later on. I am just not willing to go through any of that again.

But going through the amount of pain I have on a daily basis isn't a great deal of fun. In case you wondered. Add to that my arthritis in my ankles and other stuff going on and I have to assume that my warranty has expired. My back hurts. I take Excedrin, although under the maximum amount. I'm not trying to blow up my liver.

It's exhausting. 
That's worse than the discomfort, really. 
Perpetually wiped out is not a fun way to live.

I have other things going on as well, but that's enough.

Lots of people have it worse. I'm still able to work and do the laundry. Although I need breaks during those things. 

Anyway. This weekend Lyssa and Mason were here to do some dyeing. 
They went out to breakfast with Eric and I stayed home and got ready to mix dyes and found the things I needed for our projects. They were here until around 1, then we had to go do the grocery shopping. By the time we were finished with that, I was finished, too. Then I moaned and groaned and made barky noises every time I had to get up and walk around, lol. It sucks, but it's also humorous. Both of us are barking these days. Amazing how fast 'someday getting old' catches ya!

I had been wanting to try some reverse dye, which is just using bleach to discharge color from a garment and then dye those sections a different color. I have a chemical called Bleach Stop that you're supposed to use after bleaching because otherwise the chlorine in the bleach just keeps breaking down fibers. Your shirt or whatever you're dyeing will end up with holes in it. Not what you want after putting in all that work.

I wasn't happy with the results of the discharge dye. 
An aside here, every couple weeks I see a query on social media asking for information about how to remove bleach stains.

Sorry Charlie, those aren't stains, those are spots where the color died and you'll never get it back. 

So today I tried re-bleaching the black t shirt. It did lose a bit more color, but still not enough that I can over-dye and have the new colors actually show up. A bit disappointing. But since I ordered the long sleeved shirts to wear under my work tees, the way the shirt turns out isn't that important, no one will see it.

I also tried a new design under ice, so it will be tomorrow or the next day before the ice melts and I see how that turns out. I still have dye (A LOT of dye) so I'll be doing a couple more shirts, one gigantic big men's shirt for sleeping, one blue that I don't like so I'm adding a spiral and using black and a different blue on it. 

Eric cooked for me this weekend, so that means I get to do the dishes tomorrow. I have to work a couple different days this week and have an invitation to go out to my school in a couple weeks for setup.

It's amazing how fast summer went by. There are two more weeks of summer camp, I packed the supplies for this week on Wednesday of last week, and will get over to the office this week, not sure which day, and pack the last order for camp.

I've been collecting new ideas for projects and crafty stuff all summer, as well as some things for kids to do with their parents during our open house/family night thing.

I have a small but hopefully sturdy foosball table for Eric to assemble. When I worked for the Y, they purchased one for the school I was unceremoniously dropped into and when he put it together, he put wood glue in every single screw hole. It was holding up beautifully after a full six months of use. I did try to teach them to treat it carefully, but they were used to the ignorant dipstick who'd been in charge there and didn't have the habit of trying to keep stuff nice. They did pretty well, often a few explanations are needed, but the kids start explaining it to other kids and eventually, it works.

I started my October order for work, too.

Meanwhile, the house, while better, isn't great because every thing I do has to be done  a little bit at a time because EVERYDAMNTHING hurts. I get up, work for 10 minutes or so, then my back hurts or my knee or whatever and I go back to sitting.

Haha, I'm fine. Everything is fine.

I called my mom twice this week. (We also text most evenings)
She sounded a bit better tonight, more with it than she has been. 
I hope she continues to improve, I know she's had a big fear of living years after her mind melts, the way her mother did. 

She has an advance directive and has given it a good deal of thought. I'm proud of her for that, my dad never did it and it caused some worry about whether or not she'd done the right thing when he stopped eating and she said no IV nutrition. His brain was basic oatmeal by then, she didn't want him to linger in that state. All of us agreed with her.

But she's been very confused since the fall until we spoke tonight. She definitely sounds better than she has.

I know that general anesthesia is not good for elderly people, that the body doesn't process things the same way and that cognition is affected, sometimes permanently.

The biggest obstacle to our conversations is something I would not have thought about. She's in a nursing home, not assisted living. That means many of the residents there are ill. She said that she hasn't really met anyone to converse with, that most of them are not doing well cognitively.

Her neighbor across the hall has a monitor that goes beeeeeeeeep beeeeeeeep 24/7.

Mom can't hear it. She *is* wearing her hearing aids, but I guess the frequency of the beeeeeeeps is either above or below her hearing range, so she isn't affected by it. I sure as hell wish I weren't.
So our conversations are very short.

Also, even though she says her hearing aids are in and that the staff there charges them every night, she's constantly saying, "Hwut?? Hwut??" to me. I have to (loudly) repeat nearly everything I say. It's annoying but it's funny, too. I could see it being a comedy sketch on some show or another. 

I do a lot of shout/reapeating inane information that would be better via text message.

Tomorrow, one of my last days of summer freedom, I'll finish the dyeing and put alllllll the stuff away again. I enjoy the creative process, and am always happy with the results of my efforts, but it's a gigantic pain in the ass to clean up afterward.

I'm excited to see the shirt that's in the ice, though. It melts slowly, distributing the colors like a watercolor painting. I learn from each new project, so if this one isn't great, the next one will be better.

With that, I'm off to bed. I got up at 4, again at 6 and couldn't get back to sleep. I feel like a lump. A tired one.

Writing letters to friends. Mom. And (dis) organization.

My friend Tami is a letter writer. 

Paper and ink and decorated envelopes and pen pals all over the known universe. And possibly parts of the universe that are unknown. She sends and receives hundreds. I can't imagine, but it brings her joy and her joy makes ME smile, so there's that.

I like reading letters of the handwritten variety, but I don't write them. So I've never tried being a pen pal as an adult. Tried a few times as a kid and teen, but it didn't last.

However, I do correspond with a few friends via email. 
Turns out I have a lot to say now and then.

Today, for example, I wrote to an old friend I knew when we lived in Southern California. I've known her since 1983. We worked together, then became close friends. She's one of the very few people in my past that I work to stay in touch with. It's not that I don't care about others, there's just a special bond.

Her second baby and my first baby were due three days apart, but her daughter was a couple weeks early and Matt was a couple weeks late, so there's a month between them in age.

We lost contact for a bit, she sent me a card every year during the holidays and I failed to answer that mail every year. A couple years ago she sent one and included her phone number. So I texted her and we exchanged email addresses and now we're corresponding every once in awhile.

Also sent email to a friend whose daughter was in my second Girl Scout troop. We always got along well, although we're very different individuals. She's a decent person of integrity and her daughter was one of the coolest kids I've ever met. All grown up now, of course. She's married and living in Prague with her husband. 

My friend is currently living in Mexico but is planning to relocate to Portugal in the near future. 

I can't imagine making one international move. Forget two. They sold and gave away almost everything they owned to make the move, so at least they don't have to do that part again. But wow.

She explained some of the reasons they want to be in Europe, and they all made sense to me. Not that it matters, I'm not making their decisions and it's very unlikely that I'd ever go visit them. But yeah, that.

I sat down to answer those emails and ended up spending almost two hours doing so. Guess I had a lot to say.

Speaking of lots to say. I've been texting/messaging with my mom almost daily since Dad died. It's a lot easier for me, I don't like talking to anyone on the phone anyway. And when I call her or she calls me, her television is on so loud it rattles the fillings in my teeth. Then I have to scream myself almost into a hemorrhage to get her to turn the fucking thing down.

"What?? What??" she says, over and over.
"The television is too loud, Mom, can you turn it down, please?"
"What? What?"
"Please turn the TV down!!"
"What? What???"
"TURN. THE. TELEVISION. DOWN!!"
Jesus.

So she has her phone with her in her rehab place. Steve brought her a charger because she left hers in Boise when she left the hospital. But texting isn't going very well.
Tonight at 9:45 I asked her how she is feeling.
Her answer?
"Kit finished lunch awlholr ago"

I have NO clue what that means. Her responses, when she actually does respond, are very odd. Not coherent, not necessarily relevant to our conversation, and mostly she will start a chat and then say nothing.

Last night she said, "Hi."

I responded immediately. And nothing.

So I'm guessing that the anesthesia did not help with her dementia. It's also possible that she's had another 'small stroke' as they called it after the first one. I don't know. I did talk to her on the phone the other night, but she just repeated herself incessantly. I doubt she even remembers that we spoke.

Poor Mom. I don't think she's going to be able to go back home.

My sleep patterns are off again. My fault. Stay up late. Makes me too tired to get up early. Sometimes I have to get up early anyway. Then I feel like crap and need a nap. So I take a nap, then I can't go to sleep at 10 like a normal person, I stay up until midnight, then I can't get up early and I feel like crap and need a nap and them I can't go to sleep at 10.... well, that.

But this afternoon while I was trying to wake up from my nap (I don't set an alarm, I know I will have to pee within two hours of lying down, you can probably set your watch by it) I was suddenly thinking of cardboard weaving looms (image lifted from here). 

One can make a small pouch for a cell phone, pencils/erasers/crayons, little toys, whatever, with a cardboard loom. It's not a complicated process, once they learn the over under pattern most of them can do it. So I woke up thinking about cardboard, where to find the string I need etc, and realized that school starts in a month.

I've been mostly off all summer long, going in once a week to package and sort items for the following week of summer camp at two locations. Each project is bagged, labeled and sent to camp so the staff can just pull a bag out and do the project. I understand that some of the projects aren't so simple, that items our programming specialist says are 'already on site' sometimes are not on site, leaving staff to scramble a bit. But I'm doing the best I can.

It's also given me ideas about my own project prep here at home. I have big 2 gallon bags, it's an easy-ish matter to pull the items I need from my own warehouse-type environment, bag them up according to project and just haul the bag in.

But to do that, I need to finish the organization here. I have been working on it, and can actually see a small glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, but I have to admit that until last week, I really haven't done much around the house.

So I'm now in 'get things done' mode and hoping that attitude lasts.
Since there's just me to do it.

What are you doing? Please tell me you're doing something fun.

My Kitchen Smells Like Ballsack

It's really weird, but in the past couple months a LOT more people have been reading here. I don't know why, either. I'm not any more funny and random than I've ever been, make of that what you will.

It's possible today's title will draw some unwanted attention. 
Equally possible is the idea that regular readers will do a double take, shrug and remember that I'm nothing but inappropriate these days.

In this case, though, I'm not even talking about something that's NSFW.

About 15 years ago, Eric and I tried a low carb diet. 
We both lost weight but we felt like shit. My brain was sluggish, my digestive system just... stopped. It wasn't worth it to me.

One of the low carb recipes that he really liked was chicken thighs with a balsamic vinegar and butter glaze. Of course we immediately began referring to it as Ballsack Chicken.

I don't care for it, but once in awhile I cook it for him. Since I'm not working much this summer, I have cooked several times. Made lasagna a couple weeks ago. Yum.

Cooking an evening meal is not my job during the school year. 

I don't get home until around 7 most evenings, it's a bit of a drive and my last kid is usually not picked up until 6 or a couple minutes before. After the pick up, we wheel the carts back into our storage area, put away the electronics (phone and tablet... we sign kids in and out electronically)  and lock things up. So it's usually about 6:15 by the time I walk out and drive for 35 to 55 minutes to get home.

Most of the time I eat a small dinner anyway. More of a snack than anything. Helps me have fewer issues with my stomach at night.

So I did work yesterday, at the office. I was out of there about 3, and although traffic was shit, I still had time to stop by the grocery store to pick up a couple ingredients and then come home and cook dinner for him. 

He appreciated it.

I made a stir fry for myself, in case you wondered. 

I know little bits of information like that are super important.
::snort::

But when I got up this morning feeling kind of crappy (between the sore feet and aching joints I get from being up and down and up and down and walking back and forth into our warehouse space moving boxes and the small fever I seem to have for no damn reason because school is OUT and I'm not in the middle of a germ factory every day so why am I sick, dammit) and walked into the kitchen, that smell was horrendous. 

Couldn't help snickering at the idea that my kitchen smells like ballsack, though.
What does your kitchen smell like?

What to Watch...

I don't remember the source, but about three years ago I came across an article about people who re-read books, sometimes many times. Or they watch the same rotation of movies and TV shows over and over.

The theory (and it makes sense to me) is that it's helpful for people who have anxiety to revisit stories where they already know what's going to happen. When I am watching something for the first time, there's a 100% chance that I will be consulting the internet to find out what's going to happen next and whether the hero(ine) will survive to fight another day.

There are some things I have watched multiple times because I loved them the first time. 

And the second and the third and the fourth... yeah, keep going, there are many movies and series titles that keep rotating through my watch list.

Right now I'm watching Big Bang Theory (for the first time). I picked it up at Goodwill, or at least the first seven seasons. I may end up buying the rest of them.

But I have this wish in the back of my mind to watch Firefly and Serenity again, so I may do that soon. It's like a compulsion. Tell me you've watched it. If you haven't WHY NOT?!? It's amazing. 
Turns out Joss Whedon is an asshole, but that's not a surprise and was known before Firefly. 
Still worth watching. 
Apparently repeatedly.

The Cast of Firefly

I'm also reading Stephen King's latest, Never Flinch.
So far, it's great. Holly Gibney is a character I fell in love with in Mr. Mercedes.
Quirky doesn't really cover it. Relatable, empathetic, humorous. Steady and smart and dealing with life as best she can.

Sometimes the first reading of a book causes me to skip ahead and find out what happens because I honestly can't stand the suspense. I know people say, "ZOMG NO SPOILERS!!" but I'd rather have it spoiled so I'm not... fraught. I don't mind knowing what's going to happen, I still like the journey.

What are you reading? What are you watching?
I'm going to have a bit of time off work this summer. And while I have a lot of stuff that needs to be done around here, and some thrift store shopping and other things, reading and watching stuff happens, too.

Well, couple things didn't happen.

Other things did happen, of course. As they always do.

On my afternoon commute, despite his making a real effort, I did not get hit by a black Plymouth van with Washington license plates.

I didn't get hit by that same van the second time he tried, either.

I was on 84 Westbound when the guy entered the freeway in the far right lane and decided that he needed to occupy the same space as my little car in the far left lane. He didn't signal, didn't check over his shoulder and worst of all (to me anyway) is that he ignored the proximity light in his own left side rear view mirror and just drifted into my lane.

Fucking idiot. No point in gestures or commentary, obviously he's a dipshit who shouldn't be on the freeway. Not going to be affected by my ire.

So I made it to the I-5 interchange (another 5 miles or so), got on 5 South. The Marquam bridge gives you two choices, the two left lanes head off toward Beaverton on 26, the right two lanes to Salem on I-5.

There's a solid white line for a bit of distance before the split. Apparently he didn't understand that means NO LANE CHANGES and (surprise) although he was in the far left lane, he ended up crossing one lane of traffic, crossed the solid white line and came within about a foot of smacking into the side of my car and kept on going.

I hope he didn't take anyone out on the rest of his journey. Moron.

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

My (current) sidekick was ill yesterday with what he thought was a bad cold. I reassured him that if he did not feel up to working that he should stay home. He chose to do that, but didn't let me know until after 11 today. I gave him the information of who to contact, and left early for work because I knew I'd be handling everything until someone showed up at the last possible second.

Today was the first day of the new term of extra curricular activities, so we were going to be sharing the space during snack time. Since there was a family event scheduled for the evening, we had to stay at our end of the cafeteria.

Just as school was about to let out, there was a commotion at the doors from the cafeteria that lead into the rest of the school. Two teacher aides came dashing in and stood by the exit to the playground, followed by a dervish of a child, screaming incoherently.

He crawled under the table that's in the entryway. There are six big plastic trash bags on that table, full of what the school euphemistically calls 'Lost and Found'.

I don't call it that. I just refer to it as Lost. It piles up and piles up. They finally bag it to 'donate' then just leave it sitting there. It's a real pain in the ass, but they used to leave it in the corner of our cafeteria space and it's nice to have it out in the hallway now instead.

There were three adults standing around the table of Lost.

Four others were standing outside the doors to keep the kids who were getting out of school from entering our space. A teacher came to us and told us that our kids were sitting in the foyer waiting for us and that we'd need to take them to the playground until the situation was resolved.

As my assistant for the afternoon and I walked past on our way to collect our gang, the child under the table who couldn't have been more than seven or possibly eight shouted out to us, "HEY CUNTS!!!  WHAT'S UP, BITCHES?!!" When we ignored him and kept walking, he said, "Well FUCK YOU THEN!"

You could not pay me enough to work with kids who have profound special needs. I'm not patient enough.

It's ridiculous, but most of those para educators make a smaller amount of money than I do. The district is always hiring because people can't take that kind of stuff day after day after day.

I've asked before. Never really got an answer. Not sure there is one.
But what benefit is that child deriving from school?

I know his parents probably appreciate the respite care.
But are we helping him by putting him in school?

We ignored him, the doors closed behind us.
We gathered our bunch and went outside.

Spent about 20 minutes out there before getting the all-clear.
I was sure I was going to have at least four kids asking to use the restroom, but thankfully, no one did. It would have been a disaster. My assistant-for-a-day would have had to take several of the kids with her into the building (waaaaay on the other side) so I wouldn't be out of legal ratio outside.

Since there was a family event being held at the school tonight, we were still stuck at one end of the cafeteria all afternoon so they could set up. We made lizards and snakes out of pony beads, some of the kids played with LEGO, others did art. A regular day, really.

On the way home, traffic was about normal. I usually stay in the passing lane on the way home on 84, since I'm driving a little faster than the middle. There were two cars ahead of me, so, keeping a safe distance, I matched their speed.

The guy behind me didn't think I was going fast enough at 70 (not sure what he expected me to do, there were cars in the middle lane, I was passing them, there were two cars in front of me that weren't moving any faster than I was???) so he got so close to me that I couldn't see his headlights. I felt like slamming on the brakes, but I drive a small car.
Still tempting.
Another dipshit.

When he finally passed me only to get stuck in a pocket behind a car in the right lane and be unable to get back over, I was unsurprised to see he was driving a car with Washington plates. Haha. I ignored him, but I wanted to shoot him. Apparently that's not how adults in traffic handle things. I don't have a firearm in the car anyway.

I plan to try the phone thing again after letting the old one rest a few days.
Meanwhile, if you know me personally, send me a text so I have your number.

Just going along....

Decided to shampoo my right eye this morning.
I don't really know why, it's not a thing I ordinarily do.

I did rinse my eye carefully after squirting shampoo in it, but it was about an hour before it stopped hurting.
Haven't looked to see if it's cleaner than the other one.

The kids are doing well. I have a very nice group of young humans. I really think most kids want to do the right thing(s) and all that most of them need are clear and consistent expectations. Since I'm one of the 'it wasn't okay yesterday, so it's not okay today and won't be okay tomorrow' people, they're aware of the expectations and mostly manage to follow the rules. They are kids, however. So some rule breaking is inevitable.

We have been playing with Cartesian divers and tornado tubes. It's usually a week or so of having them on my table for kids to play with before they're tired of playing with them, so I guess another few days of amusement is at least possible.

I can't tell you a great deal about my new assistant. He's a person who's had barriers to employment and needs a little extra support. He's doing a great job, the kids really like him, he has a sense of humor and fun and I'm glad to have him there.

Still missing my former helper, but we haven't given up on him yet. He has to work pretty hard to come back after his personal stuff. The kids still talk about him all the time. Parents, too. Safe to say he's well-liked.

I had planned to actually write this evening but I'm wiped out. Was up at 4:15 and never really managed to get back to sleep, although I tried.

There's a song from 1979 from one-hit-wonder Charlie Dore.
Pilot Of The Airwaves

One line is, "Late at night I'm still listening, don't waste my time chasing sleep."


That's how I feel. Like I'm chasing sleep.
So it's only 10 PM but this is it. Off to chase sleep.

Go listen, though.
It's a good song.
Made when people could still sing.

Told ya shit happens...

Lost another assistant. She's 21 years old, has been working with me since December (I think) and is going to be moving cross country with her family. She was okay. Not a lot of drive. But nice enough to the kids and more or less helpful, at least when she showed up. Missed a lot of work.

Wasted weekend here. I started getting sick on Wednesday last week (just a fever, controlled by excedrin and grit) and managed to make it to work thru Friday. Friday afternoon WHILE I was at work, I had some, er, intestinal issues.

I keep imodium in my backpack along with a bunch of other stuff I've never needed while at work... good thing I over-prepare.

Took two of them about 5:15, and the last kid was picked up late. Of course.

So about 6:30 I finally headed home.

I feel fortunate that I made it home okay, because after that I was in the bathroom every hour until morning.
Lovely, fun night.

Get up. Go to bathroom. Sit. Get cold. Shiver. Take more imodium. Go back to bed, get warmed up, repeat.

I was just a little tired on Saturday. Not that I was allowed to rest uninterrupted.

Our new-ish neighbors across the street evidently weren't content with their ugly smash-faced black pug who is allowed to just run around the neighborhood shitting in people's yards and barking if anyone's outside, so they got some kind of hound dog puppy. Now BOTH dogs run around and shit in people's yards.

Added bonus, they BARK NEXT TO MY BEDROOM WINDOWS.
FUCKKKKKKKK.

That house has been something else over the years. We've had seven different families in there. The Cletus fam was good blog fodder, but even that wore thin after a bit.

Only one family has been quiet and unobtrusive.
Haha, they're not the ones who live there now.

So it's back to work tomorrow. I have a meeting (online, thank goodness) tomorrow morning and then regular programming at my school. This week we have Wednesday off, some sort of teacher work day. I don't know. But that gives me an opportunity to get out to my school and do some rearranging and reorganizing, something that I really do need to get done. I haven't been able to with all the different "help" (??)  I've had.

I'm a little burned out this year. I think having so many people in and out of my site because I don't have a regular assistant hasn't been very helpful. I don't want to stay late, if I come in early there's no point because the custodian is still cleaning the cafeteria floors and I can't pull things out of the back to reorganize them. So I'm there every day long enough to make a mess and then leave it for the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that.

I'm not complaining, or at least not too much, I do still love the work and the kids are great. I feel privileged to be able to spend the time with them that I do. I love being able to provide them with interesting projects and be there to listen to them. They have a lot of things to say.

I sent an order to our supply person this weekend for supplies to make these.
Doesn't this look like fun? I think even my 'I don't really like to do art' kids will make one.

Before being lit up.

All lit up.

I got an invitation... and somebody pooped on the floor.

Ye olde weatherheads are threatening us with an ice storm this week. If we get one, it won't be the first time. If we don't get one even though they're threatening it, also not the first time.

Aaron's mom came to pick him up yesterday afternoon and we chatted about the possible inclement weather for a couple minutes. I commented that I keep a sort of bug out bag in my trunk during winter in case I am caught on that side of town. Everything I need to stay in a motel for a night or two. Clean socks etc. Necessary medications. Hairdryer. I even have an electric blanket that plugs into the car socket in case I get stuck on the freeway. Snacks. Water.

I've gotten to the age where being comfortable is really important to me, more so than looking good. Haha, hence the jeans and athletic shoes that I always wear.

If I have to dress up for something, I don't go.

Well, except for Dad's funeral.
I wore a long black dress with a gray cardigan.
And those same athletic shoes underneath.
Comfort. It's important, kids.

"Yep, I have everything in my trunk. So I'm all set if I get stuck over here," I told her.

"Ohmygod... no no no no no! Just call us! We have a guest room and we'd be happy to have you."

Now I'm hoping I don't have to worry about it, and would probably not take them up on it anyway, it sounds all kinds of awkward. But I thought it was very kind of her to offer.


Now. A poo story.

During cleanup yesterday afternoon, I noticed something round and brown on the floor by the art table. I looked at it twice, although I was pretty sure after I'd only looked once.

One of my 1st graders had been asking urgently about every 20 minutes or so if he could go to the bathroom. So of course I let him. I'm currently operating on the theory that a little roly poly poo fell out the bottom of his pants leg on one of those trips.

I certainly wasn't going to ask him, he seemed uncomfortable and the trips were urgent.
Chances are, he didn't even notice.

No one else saw it either. But it was in prime territory to be stepped on.
I grabbed a couple paper towels, picked it up and dropped it in the garbage can. No one noticed, not even my assistant.

Once again I'm almost positive I was a 12 year old boy in my past life because all I could think of was, 'yup, shit happens'.

Talked to Bailey's dad

When I was a little kid, my family did the whole religious thing, too.
Church every Sunday. And Sunday night. Bible study on different nights of the week.

I believed there was evil lurking around every corner. Like my family, I hated anyone who was different. I knew that brown people and gay people and people with long hair and tattoos and girls who dyed their hair weren't as good as we were. My friend Hollie babysat for a single mom who worked as a bartender. My parents didn't want me around her or her children. Our religion, the Christian religion of love and understanding, was really just words. They judged everyone and I enthusiastically joined in.

I knew the 'hate the sin, not the sinner' justification for being a religious asshole, too.

(Now I answer that stupid, stupid comment with, "Oh! Kind of how I try to hate the bigotry without hating the bigot!")

I was immersed in godliness.
Potlucks and evening services and sledding parties and 24 hour prayer vigils (we all signed up for a one hour time slot and went to the little prayer room of the church to ask god to help us be worthy of his love and be able to spread the good word). There were church work parties and the annual 'Pray in the New Year' which was as boring as it sounds.

All of it was, really.
Boring and, until I was 12 or so, scary.

I got told every week that I was a sinner and going to hell and needed to get right with God. Every week. I felt guilty. Like I always came up short.
I was even told that 'the lord' was disappointed in me.

I was afraid of the devil until I was 12. Then I started asking questions and being unsatisfied with the answers.

So.

I wrote about it back in 2011, but I was molested by the teenaged son of my babysitter.
It's certainly ancient history at this point and as far as I know, hasn't caused any issues in my current life.

But my parents never sent me back to that babysitter.
Instead, I was sent to my mom's old babysitter. The one who'd watched her as a child.

Mrs. Hill threatened me each time I misbehaved.
Not sure how badly a three or four year old child can misbehave, but whatever.

Mrs. Hill used to tell me that she was going to lock me in the closet in the dark and I could just wait for the devil to come and get me. She put me in the closet more than once.
I was terrified.

And that has caused me issues in my current life.

I no longer believe in a god or the devil or heaven or hell, but I'm still afraid of the dark.
Those childhood things stick with you.

I talked to Bailey's dad this afternoon. I can't address what I think of the fear they've put in their child. But I told him the facts. That she is utterly terrified to use the bathroom. That she doesn't wipe after going.

We talked about her very large imagination.

He thanked me for bringing it to his attention. I sincerely hope they're able to help her through her fears. It makes me sad and angry at the same time.

I know they mean well. That they're trying to raise their child in the way they believe.
I also hope she eventually escapes from religion.

All the lifestuff, all at once...

Not my most boring week ever.

Eric and Matt went to Louisiana to see Eric's dad. They had originally been scheduled to fly out on the 8th and return on the 14th, but the weather in Dallas caused some issues.

I had to call the airline and book the flights in the first place because I wanted to try to get decent seats and wasn't able to figure out how to do that online. I think they have a shitty website on purpose, really. I called after I got home from work, so about 7:15 or so in the evening. I got a guy who does not speak English as his first language. 

He wasn't stupid, but it went the way that situation usually goes. He spoke too fast for me to keep up due to his heavily accented English. I kept saying, "Could you repeat that?" and, "I did not understand what you just said. Please say it again."

He would repeat himself and I might catch two more words the second time and maybe three more the third time until I finally understood enough of what he said to get what I needed and move on to the next step.

Paid extra for each leg of the journey to get seats that did not require contortions.

After waiting on hold for 20 minutes then asking Hamid (that was his name) to repeat himself over and over, that ordeal lasted about an hour.

So it was all set until the evening before their flight.
I was on my break at work when I got the cancellation notice.
The connecting flight from Dallas to Lafayette had been canceled due to weather.
Had been rebooked with a layover at LAX (wtf??) and another layover in Dallas for a total of nine layover hours.

So I waited until the next morning after learning that if one calls during regular business hours there's a better chance of getting a native English speaker.

That part was true. I did get a person I could understand.

The call to change the reservations to something that wasn't absolutely ridiculous took over an hour and the person I talked to had the personality of a bowl of cornflakes. No humor, no warmth, nothing that I could call friendly. Also nothing unfriendly. Just meh. Whatever, I don't expect someone to be my new best friend just 'cause they're on the other end of the customer service call, but I wonder why someone would do that kind of work when they don't seem to enjoy it.

So I finally got it all fixed. All the charges were refunded and we started over.
Yippee.

No more problems, right?
Haha.. wrong again.

Next day, repeat.
First their connecting flight to Lafayette was cancelled, and they were rebooked on another really shitty flight that not only meant they'd have to be awake all night long, but the normal six hour duration of the journey was streeeeetched  to a total of 18 hours.

I had to call the airline to get it fixed. Again.
Took a bit.

At least the lady I talked to on the phone had a personality and was friendly and polite.

I spent about four hours on the phone with American Airlines over a couple days because the connecting flights kept getting canceled and they kept rebooking in a ridiculous manner.

Nope.

Finally the weather warmed up in Dallas and they were able to keep the reservations.
They left on the 11th.

That started a super fun week for me. I've been sleeping next to the guy for 44 years.
I don't sleep well when he's not there.
I don't like coming home to an empty house.
I don't like it when it's COLD in that empty house and I have to light a fire and spend the whole evening all by myself, either.

I'm glad they were able to go see Bob. He's not getting younger and it's really gotten hard for him to make the trip. He will be 89 in July.

It was a boring trip. Nothing to do, the food was terrible, it's not comfortable to be somewhere besides your own house for days and days (at least not when you're one of us, I guess).

There was no school on Friday. I drove across town to see my daughter for a bit and stopped at Goodwill. Because of course I did.

Friday night (after still another flight delay in Dallas, at least this one was shorter) my hubby finally came home.

At last I can catch up on my rest.
I'm a wimp.
I admit it.

I got a new phone for Lyssa.

Well, not new. Refurbished. I had it sent to her address. It was 'delivered' and they sent me a photo of a package sitting outside a door that was not HER door. And did the person who accidentally received the package take it to the rightful owner? No, they did not.

Shit.

So I ordered another one and had it sent to my address.
We made plans to drive over to the other side of town and give it to her, we don't want her being without a phone.

So that's what I did this morning. Got up and got decent so we could drive over.

We met her in the parking lot of her local Goodwill. I got out of the car, got into the back seat to grab the phone and realized I had left the damn thing on the kitchen table here at home.

WTF?

I can only claim sleep deprivation, but I was so frustrated that I'd done it, Gahhhhhh.

I have a date with Tami tomorrow, so I messaged her and asked her what she'd think about going to the other side of town after I pick her up.
Still thrift store shopping and lunch, just, you know, somewhere we don't usually go.

She was on board with the idea, so we planned on doing that.

Then I heard from Matt, who has plans on returning the wheelbarrow he borrowed tomorrow. He said that since Lyssa's house is between where he lives and where we live, he'd be happy to drop the phone off.
I'm enthusiastic about that, too.

I'll be messaging Tami again and making sure she's okay with changing our plans back to the original.

I really wanted to remain on this side of town so it would be easier to meet up with my second date.

Do you remember Anna being let go back in October?

I eventually reached out to her via messenger and expressed my regret for how things were handled. I told her how much I appreciated her support and her expertise and how much she is missed.

We have corresponded a little, and she is planning to meet up with me tomorrow and give me the Hot Wheels tracks and cars she's had sitting at her house. She'd planned to do that before she was summarily tossed out of the company, and is under no obligation to do it now, but she said she'd like for me to have that stuff.

I know it's just some cars/toys but it's really meaningful to me that she still wants to give me those things. She had great things to say about my program and the way I take care of my kids and assured me she's going to be just fine. She said she's a positive person and will find a job that's a good fit. She has enjoyed being able to spend a bit of extra time with her family, too. Her commute was longer than mine.

I used to have a bunch of cars and tracks. When I worked for the Y at the last location, it was a problem having all the Hot Wheels. The kids fought over it and there was more than one kid who had difficulty with the concept that cars aren't meant to fly. I finally got tired of dealing with it and when school was out for the summer, I gave it away on my local Buy Nothing group. A mom with twins who couldn't afford 'great stuff like that'. I felt okay about passing it all on. I still do, I received a lovely message from the mom I'd given all that stuff to complete with a couple photos of her kids in the middle of a huge bunch of tracks they'd put together.

Now I'm back in a roomier location with kids who mostly understand the concept of taking care of things. I say mostly because they do mess up from time to time, they're children. I think it will work out okay.

So that's what's going on.
I'm glad Eric and Matt went and came back safely, I always worry.
I mean, I really do. I didn't even want them on the same airplane.
Airplanes go really high into the air, you know.

I know it's more likely that a person will be in a crash on their way to/from the airport than having aircraft issues. To add to the margin of not-as-worried, they were on an Airbus, not Boeing.

But there's always that bit of worry. I certainly can't control it.

And now Eric is saying he doesn't care when Matt brings the wheelbarrow back and Matt may not be coming over so I may not be changing my Tami plans after all.

I really need a nap.

Do I know what I'm doing yet?

When I worked for the evil empire, (Champions, a division of KinderCare where children aren't even part of the equation) one of my co-workers was one of those idiots who self-righteously said, "Well I wouldn't hurt anyone!" when someone talked with her about her lack of brains when it came to boundaries with kids.

For example, our license said only one child allowed in the restroom at a time.
Every license says that for school age.

It seems to be common sense to me, but not everyone figures that out.
During a combined program when school was out, she allowed three girls in the restroom at the same time more than once during the morning.

She knew or at least had been informed of the rules, but she didn't care.
Then, around lunch time, she went into the bathroom at the same time as the kids and peed with them.

When Karen told her, "Oh no, we can't go into the bathroom with children!" she held her hand up in Karen's face and said, "You don't get to tell ME what to do. I was a classroom teacher for six years. I have done nothing wrong!"

Then she got out her phone and texted Sherri Burks, who was being paid to be a manager but was really just an asshole.

This dumb cow Mykele was Sherri's friend, you see, and therefore she was right. She had done nothing wrong. When Karen went to Sherri, Sherri told her that Mykele 'did foster care so she knows how to handle kids' and dismissed her concerns.

On brand, really, that's all that bitch did. Dismiss valid concerns and not give a shit about kids. Coincidentally, that was my impression of the entire company. I think the ONLY thing they cared about was money. Lots of it. I know people who still work there. They have said nothing has changed. I don't know, I don't work there. But I'd be really surprised if the company suddenly gave a shit about kids or the staff.

It was a wrenching decision to leave, and I still hate that shitbag Sherri for ruining my joy in my job. She couldn't take away my enjoyment of the work, though. I still have that and she can kiss my ass. I'd like to run into her sometime, but I'm driving such a small car now that it probably wouldn't be all that satisfying. Still, I'm willing to try.

One of the things required in my state is proof of continuing education. We have to have I think 16 hours per year in certain subject categories combined. Stuff like admin at sites, paperwork, medication policies, child development... you get the idea.

We are paid for the time we spend in training.
When it's a most of the day session, they feed us lunch.
This week we had Panda Express and the next day, pizza.

I can't say that going to these sessions is a waste of time although I hate getting up early and sitting in a crowd for hours.

It was really cold in the office, too. Didn't find out until Friday that there was a reason for it... the heat had been turned off during the break and hadn't been reset. Oops.

So we have to show up for trainings to keep licensing current.
The presenters endeavor to be entertaining, informative and to cover important topics.

At our training session on Thursday, we talked about different scenarios regarding physical contact with children. I have sent emails to upper staff regarding what I know about things that have gone on and the idea that we need to set our kids up to be safe from adults who may not have good intentions. I noticed that quite a bit of the input I sent them was incorporated into the training.

We ended up by saying that  we must set them up for safety.
When they leave our care, we don't know where they go. Who they may encounter. So how nice we are or how we take care of issues like personal space and physical contact makes a difference. We can't be setting them up for anything but safety.

Sadly, some people don't have a clue and they're still going to say to themselves 'well I'm not going to hurt anyone' and just go on doing what they do. You can't fix stupid, as my husband is fond of saying.

Friday's session included activities to do with bored kids during the wet and cold afternoons when we're not able to go outside or to the gym, some conversation about different theories of psychology and child development. Ideas about not expecting more from a five year old than a five year old is able to give.

At the end of the day, they post a QR code so we can give feedback and get whatever credit hours are ours. We have to upload our certificates to an Oregon website so that when our licensing person visits everything is up to date and they can look it up. Not a bunch of paperwork that way, or at least not physical copies.

But you know, it's aggravating that life experience or work experience in the same field is looked down upon. A person can walk out of college with a degree in pretty much anything and will be placed higher in 'the Oregon registry' than someone like me.

I have 20 years of experience. And more than 400 hours of training. In case you wondered, that's a lot when you consider most training sessions last an hour to three hours.

Once in awhile I've lobbied a bit. The Oregon registry sends out questionnaires on occasion and while most of them are check box surveys, sometimes there is an opportunity to leave some comments. I do leave comments. 

They'll probably start counting experience and expertise about the time I retire.

Hope I am trained by then.