Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
OOO...Possum!
We have a squatter in our midst. This squatter has decided that the underside of our fiberglass tub makes a cozy home. It is unfazed by the constant trickle of water, two screaming kids who like to jump on it, the thunderous waterfall that our shower head produces, and my futile attempts to scare the bejeezus out of it by beating at the bathtub until my wrists turn blue.
It has occupied its new home for three weeks now, and despite that it has never once offered to pay rent, it struts around our property as if it owns the place. Tonight, I decided to be more clever than this carrier of fleas, as once again it was strutting outside my bedroom window getting into our recycling and flaunting his sense of entitlement to all the goodies our property has to offer.
My plan was/is as follows:
First spot the intruder making sure he has gotten far enough away from his makeshift front door to his lair.
Second, with the help of my lovely assistant (a.k.a. Dada) board up opening with the help of many, many heavy stones.
Third, continue to listen for more rustling sounds coming or hopefully not coming from the underside of the bathtub in the days to come for the possibility that our intruder found another way in or left us its brood. (This last part was what was keeping us from getting rid of our friend because the idea of his soon to be dead brood rotting in the underside of our bathtub made us want to puke!)
Lastly, plug hole around drain if no strange smell or noises come from the underside of the the tub. Otherwise, admit defeat and cough up a few hundred dollars to hire a professional.
Place your bets. More to follow...
It has occupied its new home for three weeks now, and despite that it has never once offered to pay rent, it struts around our property as if it owns the place. Tonight, I decided to be more clever than this carrier of fleas, as once again it was strutting outside my bedroom window getting into our recycling and flaunting his sense of entitlement to all the goodies our property has to offer.
My plan was/is as follows:
First spot the intruder making sure he has gotten far enough away from his makeshift front door to his lair.
Second, with the help of my lovely assistant (a.k.a. Dada) board up opening with the help of many, many heavy stones.
Third, continue to listen for more rustling sounds coming or hopefully not coming from the underside of the bathtub in the days to come for the possibility that our intruder found another way in or left us its brood. (This last part was what was keeping us from getting rid of our friend because the idea of his soon to be dead brood rotting in the underside of our bathtub made us want to puke!)
Lastly, plug hole around drain if no strange smell or noises come from the underside of the the tub. Otherwise, admit defeat and cough up a few hundred dollars to hire a professional.
Place your bets. More to follow...
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Bee's Playground Yummies
Bee has not taken very well to table foods. He will eat anything mushy out of a jar, pieces of bread or delicious snack food, and the occasional bowl of rice. He also likes to indulge in eating the many non-edible yummies the playground has to offer. On the menu are ...
Rocks: He likes to eat these by the fistful - literally. Some times he tosses these in buckets and pretends they're some delicious liquid drink. Other times, he just treats them as snack food. I've caught him many times with a mouthful of rocks.
Sand: Bee enjoys eating sand as much as some kids enjoy eating their purple pixie sticks. I guess there's nothing like crunching on some nice salty kitty litter sand.
Domes and poles: These of course must be treated as lollipops.
Random bottle caps: Good to chew on, especially when ones teething.
Littered candy wrappers: Bee likes to pretend these are gum.
Swings, shovels, other random well-nastified toys: Bee treats these much like a dog treats their beloved dog bone.
Lest you think I'm a poor mother, this kid is quick and an awesome scavenger. Mommy on the other hand is tired, sleepy, and usually trying to watch the elder boy while following the Bee.
Rocks: He likes to eat these by the fistful - literally. Some times he tosses these in buckets and pretends they're some delicious liquid drink. Other times, he just treats them as snack food. I've caught him many times with a mouthful of rocks.
Sand: Bee enjoys eating sand as much as some kids enjoy eating their purple pixie sticks. I guess there's nothing like crunching on some nice salty kitty litter sand.
Domes and poles: These of course must be treated as lollipops.
Random bottle caps: Good to chew on, especially when ones teething.
Littered candy wrappers: Bee likes to pretend these are gum.
Swings, shovels, other random well-nastified toys: Bee treats these much like a dog treats their beloved dog bone.
Lest you think I'm a poor mother, this kid is quick and an awesome scavenger. Mommy on the other hand is tired, sleepy, and usually trying to watch the elder boy while following the Bee.
P.P.S. I Don't Know Everything.
Big surprise, huh? People seem to think that teachers should know everything, and should be perfect, but most don't know everything, and all are imperfect. We make mistakes just like everyone else, and that's okay. In writing this blog, I will make many, many, MANY mistakes, especially interchanging homynyms. The thing is, I actually know which ones to use, if I didn't I would just go here , but I'm always in such a rush since I do have two screaming kids in the background constantly demanding my attention. If I do make a mistake, you can politely e-mail me a little note so that all can be write right in the world.
P.S. I Love Teaching.
I know it may sound like I don't love teaching, but I really do. I love how its never boring, always challenging, and its always such a rush to hear kids scream "I get it". I love how you have to constantly think on your feet, and the sudden waves of pure genius that sometimes hits you when you come up with a lesson on the spot that finally gets your message across. Sure the genius thing doesn't happen as often as I'd like but often enough. I've even been told by previous principals that I'm a natural at it. What I don't like is the politics of it all because tests are an imperfect measuring tool of someone's knowledge and intelligence if you ask me, but I won't go into that - at least not today. I am vowing to think positively today. Tomorrow, who knows? Tomorrow I can be angry, bitter, and pessimistic, but never mind that, because today, I'm optimistic.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
I am not alone
Apparently, I am not the only one that feels that mothers today are being discriminated against in the workplace. I guess I should have figured as much. We spend so much time in our own little world and our own little homes that we forget that there are others having similar experiences. Thank god for blogs and the network they create among people and information they spread. Lack of real physical social interactions, after all, is largely due to being too busy bringing home the bacon, or at least trying to.
According to momsrising.org, families are not valued in America - big surprise.
According to momsrising.org, families are not valued in America - big surprise.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
If I were any stiffer I'd be dead
Yes, folks, If I were any stiffer I'd be dead. The combination of having very little savings, no job, no sleep, and two screaming kids have left me with rigor mortis. My shoulders are up to my ears, and it feels like someone stuffed some golf balls behind my shoulder blades.
Right now, we can't afford any of these modern day luxuries like having a home, running water, electricity, sending the boy to preschool, and certainly not this high speed dsl that I could be using to find a job. On the plus side, I think we might be able to afford to eat this month.
You see, the trouble with having children, is that they need someone to take care of them, and if you vow never to have some stranger watch your children, well then, that means you need to watch them. That also means, that with every child you must leave work. The effect of that then leaves you with gaps in your work history. Staying homes shows you value your children over your job, and well, employers don't like to see that because NOTHING should be prioritized over your job.
You'd think working in a school where children are a priority things would be different. No. No. No. No. Your the teacher, and nothing should be valued over bringing those wonderful test scores up, even if it means forgetting you have your own children, living at school because with the amount of hours you are expected to put in, you might as well bring a bed, and being clever enough to make the impossible work. Yes, and after all that, don't expect to be paid what you're worth, or even be given a pat on your shoulder with a "good job", because you must never forget that as soon as ANYTHING goes wrong, you will be blamed. It doesn't matter if what went wrong happened at home, or in a small remote island off the coast of South Africa, because it will still be your fault. Scapegoat, scapegoat, scapegoat.
The work world is not child friendly, and leaving a job to tend to them will result in massive blacklisting, so don't expect to find one after they are finally old enough to be put through the system. Hey, it's free childcare. Isn't it?
My point is, if your reading this, send money, or some brilliant references, because I need a job so that my shoulders can be tense for other reasons like trying to bring test scores up from the pits of hell.
Okay. That's enough sarcasm and ranting for today. Stay tuned.
Right now, we can't afford any of these modern day luxuries like having a home, running water, electricity, sending the boy to preschool, and certainly not this high speed dsl that I could be using to find a job. On the plus side, I think we might be able to afford to eat this month.
You see, the trouble with having children, is that they need someone to take care of them, and if you vow never to have some stranger watch your children, well then, that means you need to watch them. That also means, that with every child you must leave work. The effect of that then leaves you with gaps in your work history. Staying homes shows you value your children over your job, and well, employers don't like to see that because NOTHING should be prioritized over your job.
You'd think working in a school where children are a priority things would be different. No. No. No. No. Your the teacher, and nothing should be valued over bringing those wonderful test scores up, even if it means forgetting you have your own children, living at school because with the amount of hours you are expected to put in, you might as well bring a bed, and being clever enough to make the impossible work. Yes, and after all that, don't expect to be paid what you're worth, or even be given a pat on your shoulder with a "good job", because you must never forget that as soon as ANYTHING goes wrong, you will be blamed. It doesn't matter if what went wrong happened at home, or in a small remote island off the coast of South Africa, because it will still be your fault. Scapegoat, scapegoat, scapegoat.
The work world is not child friendly, and leaving a job to tend to them will result in massive blacklisting, so don't expect to find one after they are finally old enough to be put through the system. Hey, it's free childcare. Isn't it?
My point is, if your reading this, send money, or some brilliant references, because I need a job so that my shoulders can be tense for other reasons like trying to bring test scores up from the pits of hell.
Okay. That's enough sarcasm and ranting for today. Stay tuned.
Monday, September 17, 2007
While watching the Emmy's...
and looking at pretty dresses I will never get to wear or even have a place to wear them at, my son commented, "Look mommy! That's the wady that lives in the doctor show!"
Friday, September 14, 2007
Shaking Off Stereotypes
Today, the kids and I went to lunch with our park friends. The eldest played as I tried to chat with the other moms while chasing the littlest Bee. Nothing weird or interesting to point out about our outing, but I can never help but notice that I am the only person of color. I know that this is partially a consequence of where I live. Our neighborhood is predominantly Caucasian, and because we visit our neighborhood park, we make many Caucasian friends. All lovely people - very friendly, kind, and thoughtful. I never really think about the fact that they are Caucasian and I am Hispanic, but every once in a while, when we start talking about our own childhoods, it hits me, their experience was nothing like mine.
Growing up, I've always had very americanized friends of different races because I've never felt like I could completely relate to either culture. I was somewhere in between American and Mexican, and I tended to gravitate to people who felt the same way. Yet, as a child I quickly learned that being a minority meant that I would be followed by all the stereotypes that society had put out there about being a Hispanic. Even to this day, I always feel an intense need to shake these stereotypes off, but they follow me like a shadow or stormy cloud wherever I go. When I meet someone new, I'm instantly tagged by these stereotypes and the expectations of me that come along with them. My first task is to prove that I do not fit the stereotype, but that is never easy.
I'll never forget when, as an adolescent, we moved to California for the third time just as I was entering middle school. Again, I was living in a mostly Caucasian neighborhood. I remember spending my first few weeks of school trying to prove to my peers that I wasn't stupid. Whenever I did well on a test, it was assumed that I cheated, and it actually prompted many in my proximity to cover their papers whenever we tested. After all, aren't Hispanics only capable of achieving menial, no-brainer jobs like cleaning houses, busing tables, mowing lawns, and other things of that nature? It took me a year to prove that I actually had a brain, and that I was looking for something more than what society had already designated for me. By the end of the second year, people were asking to copy off my paper.
I guess I am just wondering what my children's experience is going to be like. Will they be immune from the stereotypes that followed me because they don't look Hispanic, or will they quickly be tagged once their peers find out that they are indeed at least partially Hispanic? I am willing to bet that the color of their skin will be predominantly used to prejudge them, after all, that brown lady who picks them up is nothing more than the nanny despite what they say. Yet, even if people assume that they are Caucasian, what will their experience be like? Will they be prejudged as harshly as I was for being Hispanic, or will they be spared any stereotypes? Will they be judged as an individual, and actually be given a chance to make their own impression on people without first being labeled? I hope this for them, as I still hope this for myself, but still, I know nothing about growing up Caucasian and the stereotypes that come or don't come with that.
Growing up, I've always had very americanized friends of different races because I've never felt like I could completely relate to either culture. I was somewhere in between American and Mexican, and I tended to gravitate to people who felt the same way. Yet, as a child I quickly learned that being a minority meant that I would be followed by all the stereotypes that society had put out there about being a Hispanic. Even to this day, I always feel an intense need to shake these stereotypes off, but they follow me like a shadow or stormy cloud wherever I go. When I meet someone new, I'm instantly tagged by these stereotypes and the expectations of me that come along with them. My first task is to prove that I do not fit the stereotype, but that is never easy.
I'll never forget when, as an adolescent, we moved to California for the third time just as I was entering middle school. Again, I was living in a mostly Caucasian neighborhood. I remember spending my first few weeks of school trying to prove to my peers that I wasn't stupid. Whenever I did well on a test, it was assumed that I cheated, and it actually prompted many in my proximity to cover their papers whenever we tested. After all, aren't Hispanics only capable of achieving menial, no-brainer jobs like cleaning houses, busing tables, mowing lawns, and other things of that nature? It took me a year to prove that I actually had a brain, and that I was looking for something more than what society had already designated for me. By the end of the second year, people were asking to copy off my paper.
I guess I am just wondering what my children's experience is going to be like. Will they be immune from the stereotypes that followed me because they don't look Hispanic, or will they quickly be tagged once their peers find out that they are indeed at least partially Hispanic? I am willing to bet that the color of their skin will be predominantly used to prejudge them, after all, that brown lady who picks them up is nothing more than the nanny despite what they say. Yet, even if people assume that they are Caucasian, what will their experience be like? Will they be prejudged as harshly as I was for being Hispanic, or will they be spared any stereotypes? Will they be judged as an individual, and actually be given a chance to make their own impression on people without first being labeled? I hope this for them, as I still hope this for myself, but still, I know nothing about growing up Caucasian and the stereotypes that come or don't come with that.
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