Mirrored from Marsha Sisolak.

I got my latest evaluation, and my principal sang my praises as if there were no tomorrow. I adapt for each child, I have super classroom management, I’m well respected by my peers and throughout the district, I’m an asset to the school, blah, blah, blah.

Yeah, yeah, and I walk on water. Moving on.

Cut to the staff meeting after school.

Whereupon he says that if we are selected to move to another site (one school is being completely restructured) it is not because we are not good at what we do, but because we ARE very good at what we do.

Can you read between those lines?

I have been in my classroom for twenty-two years. Imagine how much stuff I’ve accumulated. Double it.

I won’t know until Wednesday.

I do believe I’ll be relying on alcohol to get me through the next few days.

Mirrored from Marsha Sisolak.

Woke up at 4A with another go-around of allergic conjunctivitis.

New to-do list for today:
-Urgent Care
-purchase eye drops
-cold compresses

I am not a happy camper–there’s no way of knowing which allergen is setting it off.

Mirrored from Marsha Sisolak.

Eldest Child: Hello?
Me: Hi, hon. I just called to see–
EC: No one died, Mom.
Me: Oh.
EC: No one’s wounded, either.
Me: Oh. Um, good. The–
EC: The tree is not in the pool.
Me: Oh.
EC: There’s only a five foot stump left because the saw had problems.
Me: So, the tree–
EC: The trunk’s on the hill.
Me: Oh.
EC: We’re not done.
Me: Oh. (To myself: D’oh.)
EC: You can see how far we got when you get home.

I bite my tongue. I really do not want to know how they accomplished this. I do not. It probably involved Tarzan re-enactments.

With a chainsaw.

Me: Okay. Glad you’re not dead, hon.

Me, some time later, at home: Holy shit.

I blink at five-foot-high drifts of pine branches. They do not vanish no matter how hard I try.

Me, singing new mantra: *Notmyjob, notmyjob, notmyjob, notmyjob. You’re allergic to pine needles, remember?*

I’m thinking five weeks before it all disappears. Bets, anyone?

Mirrored from Marsha Sisolak.

Trader Joe’s dark chocolate bar, caramel with black sea salt. Run, do not walk, to the nearest TJ’s.

This commercial brought to you by my delighted taste buds. You may thank the Eldest Child’s girlfriend. I know I am.

Mirrored from Marsha Sisolak.

When it comes to the Eldest Child and his proclivities for danger in myriad forms, I am always impressed when I happen on an activity he hasn’t tried yet.

Like a BASE jump in a wingsuit.

I would like to credit him with common sense, but I fear it’s more related to finances.

When it comes to the Middle Child, I will be ever thankful that he is the voice of reason in the world.

This is especially true when there is a film crew on his camp site for an upcoming reality series: Are You Tougher than a Boy Scout?

(Short answer: No. Don’t even try.)

But seriously, the things the film crew has come up with in terms of ideas (unscripted) that are just plain stupid. Like asking my dil to drink river water after she agreed to play a victim. Giardia, anyone?

No one has ever dropped these producers into the wild, have they?

In early warning news, both boys have decided to take down a pine tree on the hill this week. Stay tuned for disasters. It’s a honking big tree.

Mirrored from Marsha Sisolak.

Finally got the eye infections under control–it helps when you have the right medications. Which the first drops weren’t, because hey, why not make this bout an allergic conjunctivitis just because.

Thankfully, the trip to the ophthalmologist and his second-line-of-defense corticosteroid drops worked, and I got to go back to school after three days away.

School was not a piece of cake this week, despite it including teacher appreciation day (staff is feeling so not appreciated in several ways) and today was the icing on the cake.

Was there a full moon I missed? A memo? Hormonal growth spurts?

The entire day was awash in tears for one thing or another: temper outbursts (times four or five, I lost count, same child), frustration outbursts from two more, spontaneous tears when one child suddenly remembered her mother on a fieldtrip with her sibling and SHE WANTED HER RIGHT THAT SECOND, plus the usual tears for skinned knees, hurt feelings, and whatever else.

It was a miracle that I did not turn to the weepy side with everyone else. This has been on repeat since I got home.

But to save the day from complete disaster, one of my students finally wrote his first sentence completely independently. “i lik to pla”

(Yes, I had to prompt him to capitalize the I and add a period–they’re taking a writing assessment next week–but you have no idea how thrilled and happy I am. It was legible and he even spaced correctly!)

Meanwhile, I am counting the seconds until total darkness when I can go to bed. Five more minutes.

Mirrored from Marsha Sisolak.

Okay, so not necessarily more. Just ongoing. Damn pink eye/conjunctivitis or whatever.

But it didn’t stop me from writing today, and that was even after the two First Communion masses. I managed a good 1700 words over the last three hours, which is very good for me.

Extremely good.

Which means I can do it when I just sit down and write. So there you go. As if the universe had to give me the reminder.

New words are wonderful, you know?

Now to add drops to my eyes and just hit my bed. I had a short nap this afternoon, and it’s as though that sleep does not count for anything. Maybe it’ll all be better in the morning.

It had better be. I’m going back to school Monday one way or the other.

Mirrored from Marsha Sisolak.

My body: Wow. You haven’t been sick since… *checks calendar* December! Time to give it a go!
Me: Uh… I have a meeting. Two meetings! And I have those spreadsheets I have to fix, and I have that test I was going to give the kids today, and….

3A: One eye glues itself shut with gunk. The other eye decides it’s a good deal and joins the first.

Me: Arrrgghhhhh!
MB: No, no, don’t thank me. You really needed a day off.

Mirrored from Marsha Sisolak.

Laundry. Some cleaning. A Confirmation mass to sing yesterday; a First Communion mass this morning.

Spring is just plain old busy.

I finally landed on the decision side of Wiscon. I definitely won’t be going this year again. I’m sad, because the people I don’t see anywhere else will be missed. It’s also going to be a non-con year. I can’t make it to WorldCon–not with the start up of school. (Thirty-three kinders. No aide. Eeesh.) I won’t get to World Fantasy either–it’s too far for a four-day weekend.

And next year’s Wiscon? Um… I’ll make a room reservation, of course, but I’m going to have see how next spring goes. My belief in a happy-ever-after has taken a hit this year, and then there’s that whole we-should-pack-up-and-move-to-the-new-school for a few years next summer.

I’ve been in this classroom twenty-two years. I am not looking forward to packing it up.

I was mugged by a character this morning. I wish I knew why I’m so preoccupied with tattooed characters–although this one carries a cittern or mandolin, wears studded armbands, and his soft boots have a border of small bells. A musician, certainly, but a bald one who does not blink at or hide in the face of violence. So therefore, older and experienced.

I have no idea who the hell he is or what he wants. But he’s shiny and new and I would far rather write him rather than the novel.

However, my goal tonight is sleep. I had that goal last night, but the small, yappy dog that lives behind us and Harley had other ideas. At least four times both dogs were out barking at something invisible, and each time, I got up and dragged him in. Unfortunately, he would wait until I had dropped off or was almost there before he would run off to meet his partner in nighttime barking.

And the cycle would start all over. I slept the first hour, but I didn’t get sound sleep again until after 2:30A. I am tired and cranky. And guess what? There’s school tomorrow.

In other news, we’ve acquired more furniture to dust. My daughter will be SO pleased. Not.

(My latest ploy in how to get children to leave home permanently–acquire a load of oak furniture and hand them a dustrag weekly with the admonition to dust it all. I haven’t quite convinced her, however, that picture frames are wood. I am a rotten mom.)

Mirrored from Marsha Sisolak.

…how can it possibly be nearing the end of April?

After last week’s hell, I feel as though this week is d_r_a_g_g_i_n_g. So to make my adrenaline kick in, I added a book that I wasn’t planning to do.

Voila! Last night I was stapling and cutting butterfly books. Don’t have all the parts prepped quite yet, but I have another day to finish the stuff for the third and fourth pages.

Of course, that’s not quite enough–it’ll only take me through the beginning of next week. No problem! I’ll also whip out a new version of the Old MacDonald book, because after all, kindergarten’s all about writing complete sentences these days.

(Yeah, end of the year’s approaching. That means I’ve got three weeks to review sentences and punctuation and capitalization and spacing before the next set of tests hit–which I won’t be giving. IT’S A MIRACLE. Don’t worry. I still have the math tests this week to keep me satisfied.)

The music has relaxed since Easter–but no worries. Let’s just have three First Communions to sing this week. Oh, and a Confirmation or two. Why not?!

(Of course, I do this for the love. Of course.)

And speaking of music, one of the latest videos that I’m hooked on–Sam Tsui, where he did a mash-up of Britney Spears’ songs. Fourteen of them. (Britney is not my favorite at all, for the record, although I do enjoy some of her songs. When covered by other people. :P)

Writing?

Hah. Maybe Thursday.