How do the weeks seem to roll by so quickly these days? I swear the days are shorter or else I'm just moving slower and being a big fat lazyass. Nah, it's gotta be the days are shorter. Right? Whatever. Here's the latest edition of Sunday Sweep - all the random crap from the past week that's probably not blog worthy anyway but I still want to yak about.
I hate my job
Yep, you heard me right. I hate my job! Anyone reading this from where I work - you KWIM! It's not the job, per se. It's the way the show is orchestrated. Complete lack of planning on someone elses part DOES NOT, and never will, constitute an emergency on mine. I'm so tired of running in circles and jumping through hoops for these people, especially when you find out your boss is totally badmouthing you to a coworker. Yeah, coworker that heard it was the one who turned around and told me about it. Hah! Stupid bitch. My boss, not my coworker. At least I only have a couple more months of the bullshit unless I can find something else earlier and leave a pile of shit for them to figure out without me there to hold thier hands.
Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking...
It's time to kick the job search into high gear.....again. As previously noted, not only do I hate my job, but the clock on my contract is rapidly ticking to an end. See, I told you the days were shorter, and you didn't believe me, did you? The one thing I hate even more than my job is looking for a job. Some of you may recall last year's job search. Ten excruciatingly long months of it. I swear if I have to go through that again I'm gonna string myself up from the ceiling fan this time. I am so tired of being told I'm "over qualified" for the jobs I'm applying for. Jesus Christ! Bring me in, let me do the job, and then we can talk about whatever the hell else I can do for you! Don't just discard me like an old slipper because you don't think I won't stay around for long.
Precariously perched on the fence
Adding to my already full schedule, next week I'll be attending a meeting at school. I am one of who knows how many parents who were invited to meet with the accreditation visiting team during their visit next week. This should prove to be a very interesting and entertaining evening, to say the least. With the drama of last year still fresh in many parent's minds, I'm sure the "hand picked" collection of parents being "cordially invited" to meet with the visiting team will be none other than the superficial blindfold wearing lemmings that constitute a good majority of our school community. It's been mentioned that the visiting team will not lead the discussion or discuss and questionable subject that they may have insider information on until it is broached by one of the parents. This leaves me with a rather ominous decision to make - bite my tongue and listen, or speak my mind and be heard. I have no idea what I'll do, and don't plan on making any discision until the opportunity presents iteslf. Or I present the opportunity. Heh!
Schooldaze
In addition to the accreditation meeting, I need to talk to someone (though still undecided who) about a subject I'm a little more familiar with these days than I care to be - bullying and harrassment. The offender: a snot nosed, second grader in my little man's class. The offense: Repeated bullying and harassment of my little man AND several of the other kids in the class, though I'm only going in on the little man's behalf and the rest of them are gonna have to wait until their parents step up to the plate and say enough is enough. I know "boys will be boys" and all that crap, and I'm all for letting kids "work it out", however when I hear about the same shit happening over and over and over again and don't see anything being done about it. It's time to lay the smackdown! Aimee's going through a similar situation with her little guy, albeit not in the bullying and harrassment realm but in the indiscretions of a teacher, and her list of what to do is very similar to mine.
1. Talk to the parents of the little shit.
2. Talk to the teacher.
3. Talk to the recess duty people.
4. Talk to the principal.
5. Talk to the Policy Action Team.
6. Talk to the PA/BOD.
7. Scare the crap out of the little shit.
8. All of the above.
I know which one I'd like to do. Yeah, probably not the best choice in this situation. So now I'm struggling with which way I'll go with it. I can explain away each and every one of those options and frankly don't think a damned thing will come of this whichever way I turn, but NO ONE bullies my little man and gets away with it. Not on my watch!
Sheesh! I guess I had a lot more to say than I thought I did when I first sat down to write. I just want to thank all of you who commented, emailed or called me with support for my Dad's procedure last week. So far he's doing well and we're all just waiting for results day to get here.
Go now. Enjoy the last few hours of your weekend. And GO PACKERS!!! What? I gotta root for someone now that my boys threw their chance in the toilet.
Until the next time. Ciao!
Showing posts with label son. Show all posts
Showing posts with label son. Show all posts
Sunday, January 20
Wednesday, April 25
anyone got a step ladder?
While catching up on my blog surfing I came across a post from L.A. Daddy about a "height predictor" he found at an online parenting site. Of course being the total dork that I am, I filled in all the required fields and clicked the predict button. 
Your boy will likely be 6 feet, 4 inches at age 18.
Holy kraut!
I'd always suspected eventually I'd be looking up at my son but never thought I'd need a crane to do so. Makes sense if you look at my side of the height gene. There's some pretty tall people in my lineage. Not on his father's side so much though. Yeah, his father's half-brother (same mother, different father) is freakishly tall compared to the rest of the family, so maybe one of those freaky genes carried through.
Only time will tell. In the meantime, guess I'd better take him more seriously when he says he wants to be a professional basketball player.
Wednesday, April 18
A 40 Year Reflective – Part II: The Last 20
Tomorrow I will turn “two twenties” as I like to call it. This is the first milestone birthday I’ve actually looked forward to since turning 21. Looking back at the last 20 years, despite major life changes (both good and bad), I can see just how much I’ve changed, grown, and finally learned to accept myself and all my idiosyncrasies.
My early twenties were spent in and out of school, trying to decide “what I wanted to be when I grew up”. I still haven’t quite figured that one out, but I’ve tried my hand at a variety of things over the years – catering, administrative support, event management, consulting. One of my major regrets is not completing my degree. With only 18 credit hours left to complete, you’d think I would have found a way to do so, but I haven’t. I keep telling myself “Someday I’ll finish”, but that someday just never seems to come. There are a million reasons why I never finished – most I don’t want to discuss here – and I have grown to accept my failure and continue to move forward despite it.
The first 29 years of my life were spent living in California. My parents, in fact, still live in the same house I grew up in. Being the wild and crazy, rebellious woman I was at that time, I met someone on-line and moved to Arizona. It was a new adventure for me, living in another state for the first time in my life, and one that (later) became a real introspective discovery.
The year after moving to Arizona, I married the man I moved for, and we began our life as husband and wife. Little did I know then how many curve balls would be thrown my way in the future. After a miscarriage early in marriage, there was a shift – one that I didn’t see then, but have spent countless hours working through in the past few years. Then, in 2000, we were blessed with the birth of our son. It was then I truly realized what “love at first sight” was. I never knew it was possible to love someone so much, without reservation. Unfortunately, it came with a hefty price – the continued distancing in my relationship with my husband.
In April 2001, through the powers of the military relocation demands, we ended up here, in Washington. A place I felt comfortable having visited countless times growing up. A place I knew would be a place to start “anew”. Only I didn’t know the whole world would be starting anew along side me on September 11th. My husband was deployed to the Middle East just 15 days before the attacks, and I was left to fly solo with a one year old toddler. It was preparation I would need for the future.
He returned the following year, and exactly a year and a day after his return, he was deployed again. After another safe return, the shift had grown to epic proportions. We were no longer a family, as family should be. We were no longer husband and wife, as partners. We were simply two individuals living different lives in the same existence. I am still uncertain whether this shift was a continuation of the shift from the early years of our marriage, or whether the perils of war were too much for us to sustain, but we didn’t sustain – and it ended.
In April 2004, ironically exactly 3 years ago today, I found myself faced with being a single parent, without more than an Associates degree, and not having worked out of the home for four years. It was the most painful, scary time of my life, feeling completely lost and alone. The one thing that was both a curse and a blessing was my son. Though I would never, ever even remotely consider him a curse, the simple fact of having him to care for and worry about prevented me from just picking up and moving on with my life without having to take his well being into consideration. But, without him, I would never be the same person I am today – stronger, wiser, more attentive.
I firmly believe that all things in life happen for a reason. It has taken me years to truly embrace that idea, but with the love and support of many friends and family, I do. Without my ex, I wouldn’t have my wonderful son. Without my son, I likely wouldn’t have met my dear friend Stacie. Without being forced to find work, I wouldn’t have met Groove, or any of the other people I still keep in contact with from my last job. And without all of these changes, both good and bad, I would not be the same woman I’ve become in my “two twenties”.
My early twenties were spent in and out of school, trying to decide “what I wanted to be when I grew up”. I still haven’t quite figured that one out, but I’ve tried my hand at a variety of things over the years – catering, administrative support, event management, consulting. One of my major regrets is not completing my degree. With only 18 credit hours left to complete, you’d think I would have found a way to do so, but I haven’t. I keep telling myself “Someday I’ll finish”, but that someday just never seems to come. There are a million reasons why I never finished – most I don’t want to discuss here – and I have grown to accept my failure and continue to move forward despite it.
The first 29 years of my life were spent living in California. My parents, in fact, still live in the same house I grew up in. Being the wild and crazy, rebellious woman I was at that time, I met someone on-line and moved to Arizona. It was a new adventure for me, living in another state for the first time in my life, and one that (later) became a real introspective discovery.
The year after moving to Arizona, I married the man I moved for, and we began our life as husband and wife. Little did I know then how many curve balls would be thrown my way in the future. After a miscarriage early in marriage, there was a shift – one that I didn’t see then, but have spent countless hours working through in the past few years. Then, in 2000, we were blessed with the birth of our son. It was then I truly realized what “love at first sight” was. I never knew it was possible to love someone so much, without reservation. Unfortunately, it came with a hefty price – the continued distancing in my relationship with my husband.
In April 2001, through the powers of the military relocation demands, we ended up here, in Washington. A place I felt comfortable having visited countless times growing up. A place I knew would be a place to start “anew”. Only I didn’t know the whole world would be starting anew along side me on September 11th. My husband was deployed to the Middle East just 15 days before the attacks, and I was left to fly solo with a one year old toddler. It was preparation I would need for the future.
He returned the following year, and exactly a year and a day after his return, he was deployed again. After another safe return, the shift had grown to epic proportions. We were no longer a family, as family should be. We were no longer husband and wife, as partners. We were simply two individuals living different lives in the same existence. I am still uncertain whether this shift was a continuation of the shift from the early years of our marriage, or whether the perils of war were too much for us to sustain, but we didn’t sustain – and it ended.
In April 2004, ironically exactly 3 years ago today, I found myself faced with being a single parent, without more than an Associates degree, and not having worked out of the home for four years. It was the most painful, scary time of my life, feeling completely lost and alone. The one thing that was both a curse and a blessing was my son. Though I would never, ever even remotely consider him a curse, the simple fact of having him to care for and worry about prevented me from just picking up and moving on with my life without having to take his well being into consideration. But, without him, I would never be the same person I am today – stronger, wiser, more attentive.
I firmly believe that all things in life happen for a reason. It has taken me years to truly embrace that idea, but with the love and support of many friends and family, I do. Without my ex, I wouldn’t have my wonderful son. Without my son, I likely wouldn’t have met my dear friend Stacie. Without being forced to find work, I wouldn’t have met Groove, or any of the other people I still keep in contact with from my last job. And without all of these changes, both good and bad, I would not be the same woman I’ve become in my “two twenties”.
Saturday, March 24
enough
My girl Stacie just got home from a trip to Florida. Her first airplane travel toting both of the little ones along. On the way there she had more than enough hands to help "pass the baby" since she was traveling with her parents and sister. But, on the way back---flying solo. And ya know what? Her kids ROCKED! Why? Because she knows what she's doing and is one helluva ROCKIN' mom!
We spend countless hours talking about our kids. Yeah, I know. Boring to some. That's just what we do. But here's the deal. Our kids are SO damn good that when they do something just a little wrong, it seems like a big freakin' deal. It's not really---in comparison to other kids---but in comparison to their normal behavior. Whoa! Oddly enough it usually means something else is coming down the pipeline. Like sickness.
Anyway, we've talked about those kids (and families) you see on Super Nanny. If you've ever watched the show, you know what I'm talkin' about. Monsters. But why? Is it really the kids fault. I don't think so, at least not for the most part. It's the parents. Kids act the way they're taught, or allowed. And if parents don't hand out the crackdown---well, WTF do you expect?
Last night I was flipping channels on the boob tube looking for something to zone out to and found 20/20. It was a special John Stossel report called Enough and had detailed reports on the high cost of sneakers, people having bunches of kids without being married, and the one thing related to my rambling thus far, noisy kids. You really should watch this video.
In case you don't bother watching it, here's the basic story. Mom takes kids to restaurant. Kids behave badly. Really badly---climing on the walls, literally. Mom ignores the behavior. Restaurant owner lets them finish their food, then asks mom to not bring the kids to his restaurant anymore. Restaurant owner later posts a sign on the front door saying something like "Patrons of all ages eating at the restaurant should bring their quiet, indoor voices when walking through the doors". And---shocker, I know---everyone's got an opinion.
The simple fact is this parent allowed her kids to run around screaming, throwing things, climbing the walls, etc. As a parent, I'm appalled. Even if I wasn't a parent I'd be pissed as hell if I were trying to enjoy my meal and there was 'playground behavior' going on around me. Ultimately the restaurant owner took major flak from some, but also got overwhelming support from others.
So, what do you think? Is it the kids fault they behave badly, or is it the parents? And which side of the fence would you choose---supporting the restaurant owner, or never eating there again?
We spend countless hours talking about our kids. Yeah, I know. Boring to some. That's just what we do. But here's the deal. Our kids are SO damn good that when they do something just a little wrong, it seems like a big freakin' deal. It's not really---in comparison to other kids---but in comparison to their normal behavior. Whoa! Oddly enough it usually means something else is coming down the pipeline. Like sickness.
Anyway, we've talked about those kids (and families) you see on Super Nanny. If you've ever watched the show, you know what I'm talkin' about. Monsters. But why? Is it really the kids fault. I don't think so, at least not for the most part. It's the parents. Kids act the way they're taught, or allowed. And if parents don't hand out the crackdown---well, WTF do you expect?
Last night I was flipping channels on the boob tube looking for something to zone out to and found 20/20. It was a special John Stossel report called Enough and had detailed reports on the high cost of sneakers, people having bunches of kids without being married, and the one thing related to my rambling thus far, noisy kids. You really should watch this video.
In case you don't bother watching it, here's the basic story. Mom takes kids to restaurant. Kids behave badly. Really badly---climing on the walls, literally. Mom ignores the behavior. Restaurant owner lets them finish their food, then asks mom to not bring the kids to his restaurant anymore. Restaurant owner later posts a sign on the front door saying something like "Patrons of all ages eating at the restaurant should bring their quiet, indoor voices when walking through the doors". And---shocker, I know---everyone's got an opinion.
The simple fact is this parent allowed her kids to run around screaming, throwing things, climbing the walls, etc. As a parent, I'm appalled. Even if I wasn't a parent I'd be pissed as hell if I were trying to enjoy my meal and there was 'playground behavior' going on around me. Ultimately the restaurant owner took major flak from some, but also got overwhelming support from others.
So, what do you think? Is it the kids fault they behave badly, or is it the parents? And which side of the fence would you choose---supporting the restaurant owner, or never eating there again?
Thursday, March 15
wesleyisms on pain
A couple of days ago:
WJ: "My heart hurts."
Me: "What do you mean 'your heart hurts'?"
WJ: "It just hurts."
Me: "Well, you've got to be more specific than that. Is it beating fast? Does it feel like someone's pinching it?"
WJ: "Uh huh!"
Me: "Which one?"
WJ: "Both."
Me: {sighing} "Show me where it hurts."
WJ: "Right here" beating on the center of his chest.
Me: "That's not your heart. That's your chest."
WJ: "Oh. Okay, nevermind then."
--------------------------------------------------------------
Yesterday, while shooting hoops:
WJ: "Ouch! My leg hurts."
Me: "Why?"
WJ: "I've been running all day for an hour."
Uh... alrighty then!
WJ: "My heart hurts."
Me: "What do you mean 'your heart hurts'?"
WJ: "It just hurts."
Me: "Well, you've got to be more specific than that. Is it beating fast? Does it feel like someone's pinching it?"
WJ: "Uh huh!"
Me: "Which one?"
WJ: "Both."
Me: {sighing} "Show me where it hurts."
WJ: "Right here" beating on the center of his chest.
Me: "That's not your heart. That's your chest."
WJ: "Oh. Okay, nevermind then."
--------------------------------------------------------------
Yesterday, while shooting hoops:
WJ: "Ouch! My leg hurts."
Me: "Why?"
WJ: "I've been running all day for an hour."
Uh... alrighty then!
Wednesday, February 28
wednesday wrap-up
How is it Wednesday already? But, more important, how is it NOT Friday yet? Life seems to be on fast-forward this week. I'm sure it's mostly due to me making the commitment to some major life changes this past weekend.
One thing I decided needed more attention from me is WJ. So last weekend was spent for the most part doing stuff with him. On Saturday we went out to lunch, then hit the two major bookstores where we both had gift cards from Christmas. Stace had told me about this kid's cookbook put out by Rachael Ray she'd picked up for Michael earlier in the week, so we started our hunt with that. It's really cool, and has a bunch of great recipes broken out into age groups for the kids to pretty much do most of the food prep and/or cooking. Our first recipe, made on Sunday, was Ria's Double-Chips Cookies with Peanut Butter and Chocolate Chips. In the words of Rachael... yummo! And the best part is there's no eggs in these so we baked up the first half and threw the rest of the dough in the fridge to bake up later this week. As you can see, WJ had a blast. We also picked up an assortment of other books for the both of us and spent quite a bit of time reading throughout the weekend.
And my reading is what brought me to my other commitment to changes. I picked up Bob Greene's Get With the Program. How could I pass it up when it was only $3.99 in the reduced section? Seriously, the main reason I got it was for the section on "emotional eating". I've always known I was an emotional eater, but wasn't really ready to admit it. Well, now I am. You can read about my attempts at getting my ass in gear over at my new blog, Girl Redefined.
So what else did I want to tell you? Hmm. Oh yeah, there's 49 days till party time!!! Woot!! I'm not really excited about it, or anything. Hehe!
Oh yeah. An update on my last post. So, I took Stacie's advise and we made a chore chart last night. Printed it up, hung it on the fridge, and agreed on a price. You'll love this conversation.
"So, looking at all the chores for the week, how much do you think they're all worth?"
"A hundred bucks!?" he said with a grin a mile wide.
I laughed out loud and said, "Uh, notsomuch! Seriously, how much do you think it's worth?"
After a few rounds of "Maybe $95" etc. I finally said, "Well, let me tell you what I would have gotten for all this. About $2.50." I think he was pretty shocked. So then I suggested $6.00 a week - one dollar for year he is old.
"How about $6.50 since I'm really 6 1/2!"
Have I mentioned my kid's gonna be a politician?
Monday, February 26
when do you know it's time to start with an allowance?
I really am lucky cuz WJ has always been a good helper. Only problem is I feel like I have to ask, or demand depending on the situation, most of the time - and it's getting really, really old. I think the problem is there isn't any motivation for him to do things without being told.
Since he goes to a Catholic school, they are learning about Lent. Last week a homework assignment came home from the religion teacher. They were to come up with an activity that they could do, on their own, without having to be told to do so. This is so different from when I was growing up and we had to give something up for the Lenten season, but whatever works. Problem is, it's not working. WJ chose to feed the dog morning and night without me having to remind him. So far, this morning is the only time he's done it without coaxing.
This all got me to thinking about an allowance. I can't remember how old I was when I first started getting an allowance for doing chores, but I'm thinking it might give him some motivation to get things done around here. And I could certainly use the help!
How old were you when you started getting an allowance? Or started giving your kids an allowance? And how much are chores worth these days? I'm sure the price is staggeringly higher than when I was a kid... in the dark ages.
Since he goes to a Catholic school, they are learning about Lent. Last week a homework assignment came home from the religion teacher. They were to come up with an activity that they could do, on their own, without having to be told to do so. This is so different from when I was growing up and we had to give something up for the Lenten season, but whatever works. Problem is, it's not working. WJ chose to feed the dog morning and night without me having to remind him. So far, this morning is the only time he's done it without coaxing.
This all got me to thinking about an allowance. I can't remember how old I was when I first started getting an allowance for doing chores, but I'm thinking it might give him some motivation to get things done around here. And I could certainly use the help!
How old were you when you started getting an allowance? Or started giving your kids an allowance? And how much are chores worth these days? I'm sure the price is staggeringly higher than when I was a kid... in the dark ages.
Sunday, December 10
how close we are
The problem with being sick is you pretty much just sit around doing nothing all day. Just to be clear so you don't run off without reading... this is not another "I'm sick and feel like ass" post. (Cuz I'm sick of those already, and starting to feel a bit better too.) It's a reflection post on "being sick". Being sick and still having to take care of children, household chores, and myself.
I remember the times I was sick as a child. My mother would dote on me, bringing me juice and soup, warm blankets, books, and the various medications she thought would make me better (most of which were so awful tasting I thought I'd rather eat brussels sprouts than have to swallow yet another dose). My favorite memory of being sick (yes, I actually have a good memory of those times) is the smell of Vicks Vaporub. To this day, whenever I'm feeling under the weather, I open a jar of Vicks and the comforting smell envelopes me like a warm blanket.
Fast forward to the present.
Nowadays, being a single parent, being sick doesn't stop the world. It might slow it down a bit, but the basic, regular, daily activities still happen and need attention. Things like meals and snacks, homework, laundry, and the very basic spending time together. Fortunately (very fortunately) I am the mother of a wonderful, caring, supportive child who is so in tune to me and my moods.
For the first time in several years I had someone to take care of me. To a certain degree. And it felt great. Someone to bring me Kleenex before I sneezed. Someone who wanted to cover me up when I lay down to take a nap. Someone who drew pictures and get well cards to cheer me. And most important, someone who didn't complain at all that we didn't leave the house since coming home from school on Friday afternoon. It's moments like these that remind me just how close we are, and how far we've come together.
Thank you sweetpea for everything you do! I love you!
I remember the times I was sick as a child. My mother would dote on me, bringing me juice and soup, warm blankets, books, and the various medications she thought would make me better (most of which were so awful tasting I thought I'd rather eat brussels sprouts than have to swallow yet another dose). My favorite memory of being sick (yes, I actually have a good memory of those times) is the smell of Vicks Vaporub. To this day, whenever I'm feeling under the weather, I open a jar of Vicks and the comforting smell envelopes me like a warm blanket.
Fast forward to the present.
Nowadays, being a single parent, being sick doesn't stop the world. It might slow it down a bit, but the basic, regular, daily activities still happen and need attention. Things like meals and snacks, homework, laundry, and the very basic spending time together. Fortunately (very fortunately) I am the mother of a wonderful, caring, supportive child who is so in tune to me and my moods.
For the first time in several years I had someone to take care of me. To a certain degree. And it felt great. Someone to bring me Kleenex before I sneezed. Someone who wanted to cover me up when I lay down to take a nap. Someone who drew pictures and get well cards to cheer me. And most important, someone who didn't complain at all that we didn't leave the house since coming home from school on Friday afternoon. It's moments like these that remind me just how close we are, and how far we've come together.
Thank you sweetpea for everything you do! I love you!
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