We're not in Kansas Anymore!

A weird alarm on James' phone awoke us around 3:30 am this morning. "It's a tornado warning," he said, "we've got to get in the basement!" The mommy in me ran for my son and dog, the ex-flight attendant grabbed him a t-shirt, socks, and a blanket as we all rushed to the basement with James. I ran back for our wallets, cell phones, and some clothes and shoes for me. It would be wet and cold outside.

Once settled in the basement, we sat by the TV and heard a play-by-play in minute increments: "It is 5 minutes from route 15 and 50!" "It is 4 minutes from route 15 and 50." "It is 3 minutes from route 15 and 50." The picture on the weather map showed a trapezoid shape that encompassed our area. "It is two minutes from route 15 and 50!"

Wow, it was two miles from my home. We headed into the bathroom -- the inner most room with no windows. That is when I kicked myself for not grabbing a flashlight.  I should have known better from my years of practicing airplane evacuations. The first thing we grabbed was the flashlight, even if the lights were on because they might go out at any time.

 "It is one minute from Watson Rd!"

Huh, what did they say? I think it has passed us. The funnel cloud was already moving further away. After a few more minutes, we felt safe to come out and go back to bed... as if that was going to happen!

In the morning, I talked to some other neighbors and they too heard it and hid in the basement with their children. Some of my neighbors ignored it, thinking it was nothing and went back to bed, while others, still, had their phones off and never got the alert. Please take these serious. The GPS on the phone made it alert us for a reason. It did not alert the whole county, just those in its path. Please, do not ignore the warnings. Also, if your phone did not come with it, download a weather alert system. Lastly, keep a bag with batteries, a flashlight, water, and a first aid kit in your safe spot and consider adding clothing and shoes. It was real -- very scary --and I found out it had actually touched down in the town right next to ours before it passed over us. So never second guess, just take cover and pray you are wrong.

Limerick Lines

I was teaching a unit on poetry and to show the students that anyone can write, I decided to pen my own as proof. Now as a teacher, I truly could not pass up the opportunity to remind the students just how important learning is to their future. On a side note, the term Cashburn in the poem rhymes with the actual suburban area where I teach. It is a term that they coined themselves in reference to the perceived affluence of the area. It is a place where midlle to upper middle class family work extremely hard in order to spoil their children with everything that they could possibly give them. The children in turn have learned, unfortunately, that they are entitled to absolutely everything and for no particular reason other than want.

Burning Burgers

There once was a kid from Cashburn,
Who thought there no reason to learn.
Since he had his way,
All day he would play,
And now he has burgers to turn.


For another limerick, a friend of mine from work had a birthday recently, and I forgot to buy a card. I decided to have a little fun and write her personal limerick to make up for my forgetfulness. Since I got a few giggles out of it, I have decided to share... especially since I have not had time to write anything else lately:

Que Sarah Sarah

There once was a Girl with a class
Who also was known for her sass.
When you didn’t learn
Quite mean she would turn
And kick you right straight in the …

Assss,... I was saying she was really quite tough
The students would scream that’s enough!
Though we are inspired
Our brains are too tired!
“But I haven’t even given hard stuff.

Hell and the Homework Demon

My son spent the evening being as nasty as he possibly could to me (without being disrespectful enough to be reprimanded, that is.) And it pissed me off to no end. Why was I so bothered by his unsurprising antics? Because I just spent my entire last week up to today celebrating his 8th birthday, and all I asked him to do was a simple task that he already knew he had to complete, his homework. Yet he acted as if I had made him dig 8 ditches. Heck, I did not even make him shovel today. I am completely baffled and perplexed and cannot figure out why he jumps up and cheerfully completes any and all work for his dad without complaint yet fights me tooth and nail.

I slaved over invitation designs, shopped for decorations and ballons, chased all over town for the right cupcake holders that no one even noticed, baked all night Saturday with him (cleaning up his mess for him) only to finish baking without him on Sunday morning. I answered all the email and made the goodie bags -- including laser keychains I had to hunt down all over town for everyone. I even made a last minute stop for extra food for the parents. Heck, I went so far as to actually play one game of laser tag with him and his friends.

Dad, on the other hand, showed up, sat in the corner, chit chatted, ... and paid the bill.

So why, this morning, after I was left alone with our offspring for three days, and after I decided to let him enjoy his birthday gifts with a marathon play day, did he lose his sanity?  As the sky darkened and day turned into night, I asked the child to sit down and and finish the fifteen minutes worth of homework and hell opened its doors unleashing a demon in all its fury.

He sassed, and he grumbled; he scribbled out wrong answers. He sucked his teeth and sighed a breath that could power a sailboat. He was downright beligerant and nasty. But, because I know my child, I felt it might come to this, so I had steeled myself with a pre-emptive glass of wine. And just because I expected it does not mean that I minded it. Thus, I was angry; I just didn't let it show.

After the 45 minutes of agonizing completion of a 15 minute assignment. I sent him to dress for bed. And I can only guess that the doors of hell re-opened and reclaimed its demon because 5 minutes later that little booger had the audacity to come running around the corner pleading, "Mommy, will you read me a book!" as if nothing ever happened.

Can the thought of homework really change him that much? I wonder what the future will bring once he has two hours of homework. At any rate, I took one look at him and said, "Oh, now you need me?" His response showed that he got the message -- sort of. He said,"Sorry, Mom for not listening to you! I will read to you instead."

Are you there, Margaret?

Happy New Year! Well, sort of! I almost feel wrong for saying it because it feels so darn disingenuous. Yes, I mean it, but considering the fact that it is January 9th, AND, the fact that I have not written since August, well, I probably should be starting instead by re-introducing myself. Oh well, such is life, and life has a funny habit of getting in the way these days.

For starters, I am now the SALT for my school. SALT stands for Subject Area Lead Teacher  -- basically the chairperson for my department. It is a position that steals one late night a month as well as a few required meetings at my home school in addition to a few other time eating responsibilities to boot. And why is this important? It leaves me less free time to write.

Another time stealer would be my son. Just shy of eight, he requires even more time now than when he was in diapers. When he isn't looking for a playmate in me, we are working on his homework, and if we are done with homework, then we are off to swimming practice.

And let's not forget the hubby who needs almost as much of my time as my son, though his time stealing is not as obvious since we rarely get to enjoy one another's company. His comes in the form of expectations. You know, -- he expects dinner done when he walks in the door. He expects the beds to have been made. He expects the dog to be walked, and he expects a clean house. No, he is not one of those miserly old farts bossing his wife around, I just know what he likes and I spend a lot of time trying to get it just right. Besides, he will help in the chores at times, so I won't complain too much. I am just saying that I just don't have much time to write.

But just like last year, I made a promise to myself to post my blogs more regularly. I have got to start back because quite frankly I miss it. So why did I stop for real? Well, I had to ask myself why did I start? And I realized that I stopped because I felt it was useless. I wanted an audience. I wanted to make some women laugh and commiserate and realize that they were not alone. But after months of writing, I got to a following of 10 and half were from a class. And as far as comments, they were next to none. I had one person I could count on to write something. I began to feel like it was done out of pity. But I have realized that even if I never got another comment, I was winning by writing my blogs. It was therapeutic and fun. And if all I ever get is that one comment, then I appreciate her taking the time to do that.

There used to be a popular book in fifth grade called Are You there God, It's me Margaret, well, since that is her name, I fell like shouting, " Are you there Margaret, it's me, Tina, and I have missed you so."

Son-I-Care

Today my son shared the most horrifying bit of information that he could have ever told me. We were in the bathroom trying to get him ready for the day. As I rolled the tube of toothpaste against the side of the counter to try to squeeze a 1/4 size dab out of the flat tube, he looked up and sheepishly, yet proudly admitted, "Mom, sometimes I use your toothbrush."

What!!! My head was reeling. I know this little dirt dauber, candy eating off of the floor when no one is looking, fingernail biter, yet never washing hands unless told to, nose picking little imp, did not just say he had my toothbrush in his mouth.

My own mother wouldn't even share a glass of water with us on a 100 degree hot summer's day. "I don't know where your mouths have been!"she repeated over and over like a parrot throughout our entire childhood years.

"Why?" I demanded of him incredulously as my mind wondered where my own mouth had been.

"Because your's spins. I want one that spins, too," he said matter-of-factly as if that made it okay.

Well, it may not have been okay, but it was my fault. Stupid me. He had had a cheesy spinning brush with a Spiderman head, and he once had another with the Hulk. Spongebob even made an appearance, as did Thomas the Train and others. They all came and went with the batteries. But most importantly he has been using a spinning brush for over three years.

That is until the day I forgot. The batteries had gone out in his, and for convenience sake, I dug out the dentist freebie and gave it to him. I replaced it a couple of months later with another dentist small head freebie. It must have gone on like that for six to eight months.

Completely forgetting that he had been using quasi high tech brushes (no, it was not the Sonicare that I used, but it did spin), I had done the equivalent of replacing a child's xBox with an Atari pong game. And instead of telling me about it, he simply resolved the issue himself. I typically love his resourcefulness, but I am not quite feeling it this time for some reason.

But I will admit one thing, it got me going... straight to the store for a new toothbrush for him (and me) and you better believe they both spin.

Hobby Dropping

As I was sitting here for hours yesterday  finding wonderful ideas on pinterest to pin for later use, I began to realize that I spend so much time researching new ideas that I never have time to actually do one. And as I thought about it even more, I realized that I have a history of doing that. I find a new interest, I throw myself into it head first and then spend hours upon hours reading about it and shopping for supplies.

I have boxes of paints, canvases, and brushes for the paintings I never created. There is another box somewhere with suede upholsory material and stitchwitchery for seat cushions I never covered. I have empty scrapbooks, photographs, stickers, and hundreds of empty sleeves. (I think I did two pages.) It is sad to say, but I even have a box of grinning doll heads and body parts worthy of its own scary movie.

No matter what the hobby is, or was, it literally always engulfs my life with such an urgency and need that it supercedes all things sensible in my world -- for just about two months. Then I discover a year later in hindsight when I stumble across a paintbrush or doll head, that I have commited Hobby Dropping.

For example, in 2009, I was asked to join the knitting club at school after admitting that I used to crochet as a child.

I went to my first club meeting. There were young girls experianced enough to teach, and others awkwardly holding their needles. But all were filled with such enthusiasm, and were asking questions and showing off beautiful works of art that I began to feel the yarn calling out to me.

Hours later I was in the Michaels' checkout line with over eighty dollars worth of yarn, kntting needles, and pattern books. My evenings were spent on Ravelry.com looking for patterns and saving them to my "future" projects box. I even had to buy a four drawer storage unit to keep it organized. And I, who never watch television was propped in front of one because my friend said that is how she finds time to finish hers. So there I sat splitting my tv time between crocheting 120 granny squares for my mom's blanket and knitting my first scarf for my husband for Christmas.

Well, it's 2013, and I believe the storage unit is in the back of the closet of the guest room wedged behind some paintings we took down, and beside an old vacuum cleaner.  The needles are still in the scarf where I left off, and the five completed granny squares should be in the bottom drawer.

Hmm, I wonder how long does it take for material to dry rot? I could always donate it to the knitting club, (which I dropped after one year, btw.)

Nah! I will get to it one day. It is, afterall, a hobby!

The Workbook Blues

He sits beside me hiding beneath a blanket while doing his workbook as slowly as he possibly can. I have screamed, punished, threatened, and more. He was even begging for time-out at one point, which I refused. Why would I remove him from the very workbook I want him to complete?

"Vacation Station" they called it. Just 15 to 20 minutes of simple reading and math to keep them from forgetting everything they learned all year.

So why does it take us over two hours and a ton of stress!

Then again , maybe it is my fault. Maybe I should not have given him the bowl of cereal first?

Oh, who am I kidding, he would act like this without the sugar. 

As we are coming up on one hour and twenty minutes. My breathing has become shallow and I am feeling horribly anxious. Maybe it's from the third cup of coffee that I consumed to replace the yearning for a shot of Jack Daniels. But at least the tide has turned and he is now speaking to me again. The last thing he had said earlier as he scooted his chair as far away as possible was, "I do not like you!" I guess I am on the friends list again.

"Mommy, if I blow in your ear, will it come out the other side?"

"No, baby!"

"Can we try?"

I smiled at him and tapped the book as if to say let's get back to work.

"Please!"

"Okay." Maybe if I let him, he will  finish his work which should take five more minutes.

Not so gently, he blew. I stiffened and cringed beneath the spew of damp, spittled breath. Fun, I thought and then wondered how much more I would have to tolerate before he wouold get back on task.

It worked. After ten more minutes of playing "Blow Hot Wet Air in Each Other's Ears," he became bored and finally began to slowly complete the rest taking all of 1 hour and 45 minutes. Yeah! We kept it under two today!

Now it's time to start his minimum 10 minutes of daily reading. I wonder how long that is going to take?