Week One Down, One More Week to Go

Today marks week two of my 'winter' vacation. That is what it is called now, a winter vacation, not a Christmas break. Just another way to keep religion out of education - I want to know exactly what people are so afraid of that they get offended by the belief of others. I do not teach my religion in my classroom but I do think I should be able to say that I am Mormon if a child asks or say I celebrate Christmas. Instead of prayer we now have this 'moment of silence' during which it is nearly impossible to keep the children silent. They don't know or care that others may want a silent moment to pray. I try to teach them this every year and, for the most part, they are understanding but there are always two or three kids that ruin it for everyone. Oh well, I have enjoyed spending time at home with my children and husband. It is fun to play at being a stay at home mom for a few weeks each year. My house is actually clean, my mood is calm and my children are getting 100% of my love and attention. I just wish that I could do this all the time. I suppose being a teacher is the next best thing. I just feel like I give so much to other people's children that I don't have much left for my own. Then, when people judge me as a teacher and tell me I don't know their child and I don't care it is so hurtful.I sacrifice happiness in my home, the happiness of my own children for their child. Of course I care and of course I am giving everything I can to do a good job. I do love my breaks, it helps me rejuvenate and find my grounding as a mother again.

Proof that God Has a Sense of Humor

This happened the night our Christmas break began. Therefore, we missed no school days and are holed up in the house until at least Monday morning, if we're lucky.

Half-Ass Mom

Are you one? Would you know it if you were? Would you admit it? Well, I am and I am here, admitting it to the entire cyber world. And I'm tired of it. Or maybe I'm just tired.

One day a week, usually Saturday but today it was Sunday, my husband and I sleep in. One. Day. A. Week. On that day my oldest two boys, who wake up early anyway, get up with the three year old at the butt-crack of dawn. Then, when the one year old wakes up my oldest - a girl, takes him downstairs and feeds him and changes him. At least she is supposed to. It's my hope that she does although many mornings I find that she has not done either of those things. Poor baby. He survives though. I expect a bit of chaos when I come down. It makes me stay in bed longer. However, come down I do and we put things back in order speedy quick and move on with our day.

Today was a bit different. Today I came downstairs to a kitchen covered in powdered sugar. Do you know how hard it is to clean up powdered sugar? Well, I didn't. It doesn't come off of ceramic tile floors and kitchen counters. It is a battle and the sugar wins. After sweeping twice, swiffering, and Cinderella style scrubbing my floor is still gritty. My counters are still gritty. I think the three year old is probably still gritty and that is after two baths. Apparently if you mix a three year old, powdered sugar and pancakes together then leave them all alone in a room, a mess of massive proportions will ensue. Who knew? I DID! I thought my daughter did too. I guess watching "Suite Life on Deck" was too appealing though and little brother was not finished eating yet.

So, who is to blame? The mother who slept in? The daughter who left a toddler in a room alone with powdered sugar or the toddler himself (who is, I admit, a total imp)? Please... wherever this ends up in cyber space, please answer this question. Because, at this point, I'm ready to be June Cleaver. The kids can go straight to their rooms to do homework until I get home from work. Then, I will make them a snack and chat with them about their day. At this point they can return to their rooms or, if weather permits, go outside. Either way, they must stay out of my hair. I will cheerfully don my apron and make dinner so it will be piping hot and ready when my husband gets home. With five minutes left until dinner I will call the children in and tell them to wash their hands and faces and we will all sit down to a quiet, pleasant dinner together. There will be no chores for the kids, let them be kids. Then again, there will be no allowance and no special treats for said kids. Is that preferable? I'm tired of the house not being in my control. Then again, I'm often too tired to take care of everything and everyone in the house on my own. Something has to give. What's left?

Automated Phones

I wonder why people hate when a computer answers the phone. I could not be more thrilled. I am being serious. I loath talking to people on the phone. People I know, well, that is okay. Just okay. I'm not completely keen on it. But people I don't know, ugh, don't get me started.

What is the big deal about talking on the phone, one might ask. Everything, I would answer. First of all, it's very impersonal. I rely on watching people's body language and eyes as I speak to them. There is no way to detect, over the phone, everything you can pick up on when you speak to someone in person. Can you see that their eyes are shifting and darting all over the room as they lie smoothly to your face? Can you see if their brows draw together and foreheads crease in confusion even though they are saying they understand everything? I didn't think so. The tiniest raise of the eyebrow, a smirk of the lips, maintaining eye contact. These things are essential to a visually sensitive person like myself.

I don't know if I'm too easily distracted or a horrible listener but I have to see something to understand and this includes conversation. I love the uncomplicated directives of the automated operator, press one for English, two for Spanish. I get that! Press four for a billing question? No problem. Press three for last bill paid? Easy peasy! This is my dream phone conversation I wish I could do this with personal calls. Push one if you want to say thank you, push two if you want to ask what were you thinking... see! This would be great. No awkward silences, no wondering if the person on the other end is silently laughing at me as I babble, I could get my message across in a very simple, numbered fashion. Any questions you had about a callers sarcasm would vanish, getting annoyed by someone's terrible grammar, obsolete. I think I might try to market this idea. It's what everyone will get their in-laws for Christmas next year.