Miz S

Fukre Stupit Pepe Pupuw

School today was just a string of disconnected and bizarre incidents.

I couldn't teach at my reading table because the HVAC man was in my classroom trying to fix my heater's fan motor, lying on the floor in awkward, contorted positions and swearing quietly under his breath. It was already about 80 degrees in the room, and every now and then he would test the equipment by turning it up nice and high and oh my GOD it was hot and miserable. Children were whining and collapsing in droves.

A colleague of mine visited me to model a teaching strategy. We sat on the floor because of the HVAC man and she ended up getting stuck, unable to stand up because her hip was trying to come out of its socket. I stood there wringing my hands and saying, "JESUS. Should I call someone? Should I call someone?"  Eventually she managed to stand up and continue on her appointed rounds. 

My little friend Stephanie wrote notes that said,  "I hayt Stephanie fukre stupit pepe pupuw. Love, Gisselle" and planted them around the classroom. She would then "find" these notes and bring them to me with a solemn, slightly aghast expression on her face. It seems that the purpose was to get Gisselle in trouble.  I have to admire her creativity.

A first-grader from a different classroom snuck into another teacher's room when it was empty and removed a hermit crab from its cage and sent the poor creature to hermit crab heaven by pulling off all its legs and stamping on it. (Last week he sent his family's pet bunny to heaven in an equally horrific manner. Why yes, I believe he is a future serial killer.)  And there's no need to tell me that this kid needs help. Everything that can be done is being done.

That's all, I guess. I don't know. It seemed like more when I was in the thick of it.

Ok, carry on.

Please Not To Be Alarmed.

If you want to use the internet in Russia you have to wait in line for a long time.

I have been bugging Josh a lot with my incessant worry about the lack of email from Evangeline. I wasn't actually worried about her because obviously someone from the program would have contacted us if she had been detained or kidnapped or something. But still.

I woke up this morning at my usual ridiculous time of 5:10am and rushed downstairs to see if Evangeline (OR ANYONE ELSE HINT HINT) had emailed me.

I whimpered and cursed a little when I saw my sad, empty email box. GOD. I just want to know if they stole all her hypodermic needles out of her luggage and if her Russian mother (Baba Yaga in my mind) has fed her large quantities of potatoes and vodka. Clearly, my schema for Russia includes many, many cultural stereotypes.

So after the whimpering and cursing I sadly ate my breakfast and grumped to April and Rosie about the various injustices to which I am subject. THEN...I checked my email ONE MORE TIME...and VOILA! There was a really short email that said, in part, "Hi hi hi hi hi!  Everything is good, my host mother is fine, the people are really cool, Vladimir is beautiful.  I have to make this quick because a lot of people are waiting to use the Internet."

What the hell? They don't have enough Internet in Russia?

But at least she's alive and well! I went to work all happy.

Until I got to work. Then, for various reasons that are too complicated to go into, I realized that there was no way in hell that I could work ANOTHER DAY if I didn't totally reorganize my classroom. So I fidgeted my way through the hours and as soon as my kids were gone I tore into my room like none other.  I stayed until 7:30 moving furniture, cleaning, and restructuring.

Naturally, I didn't actually finish. That should make tomorrow super-duper fun, huh? I'm pretty sure that I will be stuffing shit into the closet at 8am, and cursing myself at 9am when I can't find some important item that accidentally got stuffed in the closet.

When I left work I called Josh and said, "Did we get any more emails from Evangeline?"

And he said, "YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO ASK ME THAT ANY MORE."

God! What a jerk!

I am tired from all my furniture moving. Talk to you all later.

On The Fly.

I have been unusually diligent lately about exercising outside. Normally, I shun cold weather. I give the dogs the shortest possible walk and then race home to warm my ass on the couch. If I am feeling exercise-y I use the treadmill in the basement. But recently I've noticed that Rosie is one chubby little girl dog and could really stand to lose a pound or two, so I've been taking her and April on super-long walks. I should really walk them twice a day but I just can't get it together in the morning.

Anyway, I found out that it's invigorating and fun to walk outside in the cold. Who knew? I live in the DC area, mind you, so we are not talking about super cold temperatures. 30's and 40's. But you have to take into consideration the fact that I am a major wuss.

So I have taken it a step further and started doing my walk/run outside. I cannot yet run the whole 3 miles like I used to back in the day, but I am making progress and it feels good.

Josh was busy all day yesterday. He had to help his mom with some computer stuff,and then he had to scan a zillion old pictures for her upcoming 80th birthday party.  I paid bills and filed stuff and fretted because Evangeline has not emailed us yet. Then I took the dogs for a long walk and found a house that I want to buy (don't tell Josh, I want to surprise him) and went for my run/walk. After that I went to visit my friend Amanda who has been in a nursing/rehab facility, and before that the hospital, for nigh on 8 months.

Amanda has made amazing progress. She has regained movement in her legs and arms. She can feed herself. She can stand with the help of the physical therapist. Every time that I see her she has made a little bit of progress. The most amazing thing is that her mind is clear for the first time in ages. For years before her collapse last summer from complications due to porphyria, she had been abusing prescription drugs. I would call her or see her a couple of times a year out of a sense of obligation (she was my best friend in high school) and it was always painful and difficult.

But now? she's like a new person. Or rather, she's like the person she was meant to be. Intelligent, funny, thoughtful, mature. She has a renewed sense of purpose and an amazing perspective about things. Her life is still fucked up, don't get me wrong. But in some ways this hospitalization has given her the chance to start over.

I wrote this on the fly so forgive the rushed, breathless, I-did-this-then-I-did-that quality of the post. Blogging feels like such a time suck these days that the only way I can keep it up is to let go of my perfectionism and just get something written, dammit.

There Are No Bad Dogs. But There Is One Very Bad Cat.

Pushkin rests after his early morning exertions.

I was whipped last night. This felt like a long week at work, I guess because of preparing report cards and writing comments. Also, I got another new student yesterday which is always slightly stressful. She is a sweet, funny, little thing but very low in reading. I have to get her to a level 16 by June and she is about a level 3 or 4 right now. That's an almost impossible feat.

Anyway, I went to bed at 7:30 pm  which is ridiculously early, even for me.  I'm a big fan of the early bedtime because I get up at 5:15 during the week, but I normally manage to wait until 8:30 or 9 before I crawl into bed.

At 5:30am the dogs woke me up because they are used to being fed early. I went downstairs to feed them and let them outside to pee. While I was standing there holding the door open for Rosie, Pushkin came streaking towards me out of nowhere. I made a valiant attempt to slam the door shut before he could escape and he ended up pinned in the doorway, with his front and back legs scrabbling. It was kind of funny. I reached down to grab some fur and loosened the door just a touch so I could pull him back inside. That extra quarter of an inch was enough to let him squeeze through. Zoom! He was gone. The dogs were all excited at this point and did a little half-hearted chasing of him in the yard. He ran right across the frozen pond and I was hoping the ice was thin enough to break because it would serve the little bastard right.

I was swearing a blue streak and stomping around the yard BAREFOOT calling him. I went back inside and got cat food and banged the can with a spoon saying, "Here, kittykittykitty! Here, you little fucker! Come to Mama! Mama's going to kick your ass!"

He just ignored me and hopped the neighbor's fence. So I decided to go back to bed and let him freeze to death out there. I figured I would tell the girls that he died of natural causes.

At 7:30am Josh went downstairs and found him at the door, peering hopefully inside.

Hmmph. I think we should have made him stay outside longer.

I didn't get up until 9:30, which means that I slept for 14 hours. That's a long time to sleep. Maybe I'm having a growth spurt?

Bon Voyage, Evangelita!

Look. I don't want you all to think that I'm an unfeeling mother or anything, but HELL NO I didn't cry when I dropped my sweet little honeypie baby girl off at the hotel on Tuesday.

For one thing, she didn't give me any time to cry. She graciously allowed me to help her carry her bags inside and then turned to me and said, "OK. You can go now." And honestly? I like that. It bespeaks an independent nature. Who the hell wants Mommy hovering while you check into a hotel and find your bearings?

And for another thing, Josh and I have been empty-nesting it for going on three years now. YES, we adore them. Of COURSE we miss them. But dude, we have had one or both of them home since December 15 and it's high time for us to be able to walk around naked again and not have to enter into negotiations about which TV show we are going to watch and who is doing the dishes.

Evangeline is a sensible girl and will have a fabulous time in Russia. My worries were mostly about the packing and the managing of medications. But now that she is officially on her way (she boarded her flight at Dulles about an hour ago) I am reasonably calm.  We spoke with her a couple of times when she was at her orientation thing and she sounded happy and busy.

On her last night at home we asked her what she wanted to do for dinner (while we both crossed our fingers and hoped that she wanted to eat out because we are lazy like that). She wanted sushi (YAY! SAKE!!!!!) so we went to our usual place.

We were seated right smack dab in the middle of the restaurant, and over in one of the corners was a cute little family with a mom and dad in their 30's (still fresh-faced, damn them) and 4 children. The two boys were maybe 8 and 10, the little girl was about 6, and then there was a little baby. I was gazing at them dreamily (I sometimes become slightly obsessed with strangers in public places--maybe one of you could explain that to me), watching the little girl fishing for ice cubes in her drink. Suddenly the dad leaped around the table and began Heimliching the hell out of her. She never made a noise, just started quietly choking on something. He did it repeatedly and it seemed like an eternity was passing. I was starting to panic and I stood up and yelled--no, SCREECHED--"DO YOU WANT US TO CALL 911?" At that point the restaurant manager walked over, quietly, discreetly, as I hyperventilated, and spoke to the father. Right then, the piece of ice that was lodged in her throat melted enough to allow her to breathe.

So everything was fine. And then I was all embarrassed that I had stood up and screeched. But Josh  (who is a big believer in citizen action and will call the police on the flimsiest of excuses) said firmly, "It's important to be loud and draw attention in an emergency!"

Then again, Josh is not opposed to being loud and drawing attention even if it's not an emergency. (He likes to yell across a crowded public venue such as a mall, "SASHA! EVANGELINE! HERE I AM!")

Okay, I'm totally rambling now. I don't have time to clean this post up. I gots to go write ye olde report card comments.

Hey, isn't that a gorgeous picture of Nashie?

Where Is My Clever?

They made me play Scrabble with them. Josh kicked both our asses.

Evangeline is much better now, thank you very much. Josh got quite sick too and stayed home from work for 3 days in a row which is unheard of around here. I remain relentlessly healthy.

Getting Evangeline packed up for Russia began in earnest yesterday. We are using Sasha's room as the staging area. There have been several trips to Target and other stores for things like snow boots and long underwear and blue jeans. She can only bring two suitcases, and they fill up remarkably fast when you are packing a lot of bulky stuff like sweaters and scarves. Not to mention insulin, test strips, and syringes.

We divided all the diabetes supplies in half and put a set in each suitcase. This is because I am worried about that stuff getting lost or stolen along the way. Evangeline thinks I am being a little silly but she humors me because she is nice that way.

We have been having fun imagining her using her intermediate Russian skills to explain her diabetes to her host mother, Nina Alexsandrovna.

"Please not to be alarmed. When consuming of the carbohydrates, it is necessary that I needle myself with the insulin."

On Tuesday, we will take Evangeline to a hotel in DC to meet up with her cohort and get a day or two of orientation before boarding a flight to Moscow. We will not see her after Tuesday. She is, as usual, remarkably calm and steady.

*   *   *

I did something yesterday that I have never done before. I took my Holly Bible friend and his brother to the movies. It felt both special and strange. I have never before spent time with my students or former students in a non-school-sponsored setting. It was just me and them. I drove with ridiculous care because I didn't want to have an accident and get sued and lose my job.

One of the things that I had agonized about ahead of time was whether or not to invite all the siblings. There are 6 kids altogether, and 5 of them are old enough to go to the movies. But little Ronald is only 3 and is a handful, plus he only knows Spanish and I worried a little bit about having to spend too much time wrangling him. So I told Tony and Oscar that this was just a special date for them because they were both my former students, but next time we would do something that the little ones could do too.

When I arrived at their apartment they were both waiting outside for me. I never get to see Oscar (the older one) anymore, so I hugged him and I said, "You're not too old for me to hug you, right?"

And he said, "No, I'm only 9. You can hug me when I'm 10, too, but I don't know about 11."

God, I love that kid.

I took them to see Alvin and the Chipmunks. Good God that is one stuuuuuupid movie. They seemed to enjoy it though.

I heard lots from them about their stepfather (an asshole), their real father (another asshole), and their half-sister's father (yup, an asshole). Their life revolves around their mother's abysmal taste in men. And you know, it's easy for me to judge her for making poor choices and subjecting her children to this but the reality is more complicated than that.

Anyway, it was fun to spend time with Tony and Oscar and I hope to do it again soon.

*   *   *

Oh dear. This post seems boring to me. I'm just not feeling all that clever right now.

Wednesday.

Evangeline stayed home from work yesterday because she didn't feel well. By late afternoon she was running a fever of 102.3 and sounded piteous when I talked to her on the phone.

The phone call from Evangeline was followed almost immediately by a phone call from my dentist's office saying that they had a cancellation for Wednesday and could I come in to get my teeth cleaned AND DON'T FORGET TO PRE-MEDICATE.

Now I had two good reasons to take off work so I did, by golly.

Evangeline has not been sick, not even a little bit, since she was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes almost 2 years ago. The reason I know this for sure is because we were warned specifically about the difficulty of managing diabetes during even minor illnesses. The body releases hormones that can can send glucose levels soaring, or your blood glucose can drop severely due to loss of appetite or nausea. Also, over the counter medications can affect blood glucose.

Because of this, I have monitored Evangeline's every cough or sneeze even when she is a thousand miles away at college.

Anyway, she's fine, just feverish and pathetic and paler than usual (I know! I didn't think it was possible either!).

I used the time off today to catch up on laundry and vacuuming and cat boxes because my life is glamorous that way. And I went to get my teeth cleaned and no, I didn't pre-medicate and I lied without remorse when they asked me.

My dentist, by the way, hugs me when I come in. I don't mind this, in fact I rather like it, but I swear she didn't used to hug me and lately she does. I guess she misses me when I'm not there. Don't tell her I lied, okay?

I kind of wish she were my gynecologist, too. I would like her to be in charge of all my orifices.

OH MY GOD EVANGELINE IS LEAVING FOR RUSSIA NEXT WEEK.

Oh, sorry. Did I say that out loud? 

Be on the lookout for ramped-up tension as we move towards January 24th. Do you have any fucking idea how crazy Russia is? WELL, DO YOU???

Let's try bullets, shall we?

Pushkin is bored. Photo credit: Sasha.

I tried to write an update last night but all my leads went nowhere, NOWHERE I tells ya. I bored myself silly. So this morning I am resorting to bullets and maybe a couple of pictures. It may still be boring but at least it's short.

• Sasha headed back to college yesterday with NO birthday present from her parents. We tramped the mall on Saturday seeking the perfect pair of knee-high, flat-heel boots but they were not to be found. She is going to look on-line and let me know if she finds them.
• Both boyfriends were here for most of the weekend, and part of Sasha's birthday celebration included inviting Josh's parents over for a rousing game of Fictionary. I cannot help but love that my 20-something daughters wanted to spend a Saturday night playing parlor games with their aged relatives.
• Josh and I spent a lot of time looking at Russia stuff online. Evangeline leaves on January 24, and we will visit her in March.
• Evangeline and Nathanial dressed up like spies and went to the Spy Museum yesterday.
• I started doing that Daily Plate thing where you track your food and exercise online. All I can say is Good GOD I eat a lot of crap! I should stop complaining about the 10 extra pounds I am carrying and fall on my knees and give thanks that it is not 50 extra pounds. Oh, and maybe stop eating so much crap.
• My house feels small and falling-apart right now. A bunch of tiles in the basement bathroom just fell off the wall yesterday, and the wall was wet behind the tiles and we don't know why. I kind of wish we were moving.
• That's all I got for you. But here are some random photos that I am too lazy to center.

Ha! April managed to fit herself into Clyde's old bed.

Aw. Look at Rosie.

Nathanial and Evangeline.

Last sister picture for 4 months.

The Littlest Tsarina.

Sasha was an imperious little toddler and thus was dubbed The Littlest Tsarina by my  sister Julie.  Julie's only child, Benjamin, was already five when Sasha was born and Julie doted on her first niece. The  nieces arrived fast and furious over the next few years and Julie loved them all, but she seemed especially amused by Sasha with her penchant for loud demands and dramatic tantrums.

Today we celebrate the 22nd birthday of Sasha. Well, actually, she is out celebrating it with her boyfriend. Tomorrow I am taking her shopping for some new clothes and she has requested a special dinner for Saturday night, but other than that we haven't done much. After the big 21 milestone there aren't anymore good birthdays for awhile. Well, forever actually.

Dude, I do NOT miss the little kid birthday parties. Oy, the stress of planning and buying junky party favors. And I had this wacky idea that it was cheating somehow to have a party at Chuck E Cheese so we always had the parties here at our house.

I have done the gushy mom stuff in other posts. Here's what I wrote about her when she was 20 years old.  And when she came home from college her freshman year I wrote this.  I link those posts not because I actually expect you to read them, but because I enjoy reading them myself. What can I say? I'm her mother, and I am helplessly ensnared by her charms.

America's Next Top Crybaby.

The good thing about having a busy job is that one minute it's Monday morning and you are gloomily calculating the odds of surviving until Friday, and the next minute it is Wednesday morning and you are perking up and thinking that you maybe, just maybe, will live to enjoy another weekend.

Last night we went to a reunion of sorts. We used to be very involved with a Christian-Jewish interfaith families organization. It was part of our bumbling attempt to ground our daughters in their religious backgrounds without actually, y'know, setting foot in a church or a synagogue GOD FORBID. It worked in the sense that both of them are religiously screwed up just like their parents. Ha! I kid! A little.

Anyway, it was fun to see old friends and chat. To my great disappointment my favorite one was not there. IAN IF YOU LURK HERE I STILL LOVE YOU. You know, my husband reads this blog and ordinarily it might be awkward to profess my love for another man but Josh loves him too so I think it's okay. I really wanted either Sasha or Evangeline to marry Ian's son, Izak, so that I could be sort of related to Ian, but so far that hasn't worked out.

Anyways.

Before we left our house to go to the event, we had family drama.

Let's see. How can I blog about this while protecting the privacy of the individuals who were involved? I know! I won't use real names!

Okay. You see, one person felt resentful about something. Another person felt annoyed and exasperated about the first person's sense of resentment. A third person was wise and sympathetic and did a lot of "reflective listening," while the annoyed person just sighed heavily and looked pissed. A fourth person wandered around upstairs singing songs from musicals.

Time passed. Eventually, we could not postpone the inevitable, which was a car ride to the event. A bitter, silent car ride.  But suddenly not so silent, because now the resentful person was hostile, and the exasperated person decided that she had been wronged and was Hurt. Weepily hurt. The insightful, rational person tried to broker a peace deal.

We drove around and around the block. Formerly Annoyed But Now Hurt Person dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and sniffled. Rational person went back and forth between the two warring parties and finally worked out the details of the ceasefire.

We parked and went to our event. The champagne and chocolate did much to lessen the sense of aggrievement that someone still secretly harbored.

By the time we got back home all had been smoothed over (or swept under the rug, at least) and genuine apologies were exchanged. Family unity was restored, and everyone sat down to watch America's Next Top Model.

Except me because it was way past my bedtime which is 9:00 these days GOD I'M FUN.

There you go! And update AND a family fight! What more could you want?