Really?

Nothing says white trash to me more than diapers made to look like Daisy Dukes. But, according to Marketplace on NPR last night, these diapers are flying off the shelf, regardless of the fact that they cost much more than a normal pack of diapers.

The world is full of STRANGE people.

You know you're a New Yorker when...

...you've had your first nightmare about bedbugs.

For those of you who don't live here, there is a current bedbug epidemic. Bedbugs are tiny, horrid, vampires that lodge in your mattress, emerge at night, and suck your blood. They will leave you with horrid bites that resemble welts and they will make you broke. Exterminators have dogs that can sniff them out, extermination can cost thousands of dollars, and many a family has literally gone bankrupt because of a bedbug invasion. I am terrified of them: I don't let students put their coats anywhere near mine during the winter, I don't sit between people on the subway during the winter (bedbugs can travel in coats easily b/c lots of folks put coats on beds), I am skeeved out by hotels now (another big bedbug home)...Oh, ick ick ick. bedbugs.

I have lived in New York 11 years now, and I had my first bedbug nightmare last night.

I dreamed that we were staying at a hotel on 5th Avenue in our neighborhood, literally right around the corner from our apartment (makes NO sense, but it is a dream). I was in the hotel bed pregnant and napping when Adam came into the room and turned on the lights and a million tiny bedbugs were ALL OVER THE MATTRESS. I screamed, got up, and realized I had been bitten all over. I then ran around freaked out asking others' opinions--I didn't want to go home b/c I was afraid I would bring the bedbugs into my apartment, but I obviously didn't want to stay in the hotel--what should I do? It was like I was banished from everywhere. It felt horrible.

I'm sure someone could say something profound about this dream and how it signifies that I'm in a state of transition or indecision or something in my life, but all day long I have only been able to think of those little bugs.

Photo of Alexandra showing Nico an enlarged image of a bedbug, from New York Magazine's story on bedbugs on the Upper East Side, the richest neighborhood in New York City. Bedbugs do not discriminate.

(Note: Ever since learning of and fearing bedbugs, I can't bring myself to say "Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite"--what my parents always said to me. Ewwww....Gawd forbid.)

Stats on the Kiddos

Took both kids to the doctor today. Here are the stats:

Alexandra Osa: The Amazon
3 years old
40 inches tall (97th percentile)
37.5 lbs (93rd percentile)
Highlight of the visit: Was asked by doctor if Alexandra could draw a circle. Felt like a bad parent, but honestly replied, "Uh, I don't know." Doctor handed her the pen and Alexandra drew one right on the paper of the examination table. She said to me, "I just drew a little one." Awesome.

Nicholas (Nico) Acer: The String Bean
9 months old
30 inches tall (95th percentile)
20 lbs (35th percentile)
Highlight of the visit: Was told that crawling is an "optional milestone" and my anxieties immediately vanished. Was also told to toss food restrictions to the wind--give egg white, peanut butter, etc. and to watch. That it's the parent's responsibility to make food fun and watch for allergies, but to go for it. Nico ate a scrambled egg for dinner and a bit of Alexandra's mac & cheese. He was so happy.

So thankful for our healthy kids.

Graduation Hater

'Tis the season....or 'tis has been the season since about mid-May until present for graduations.

When I first started teaching I taught 8th grade. At the end of that school year we had an 8th grade graduation. And I don't mean a 8th grade awards ceremony, I mean a full-fledged graduation with caps and gowns, "Pomp & Circumstance" playing, tassles on the caps turned at the end of the ceremony, caps tossed in the air, names called and diplomas handed out--THAT kind of graduation.

And it really irked me.

YES, I understand the argument that a fellow teacher made to me when I complained that they were making too big of a deal out finishing middle school. He said to me, "This will be the only graduation these kids get; they won't make it out of high school." After having taught ten years now (!!!!!), nine of those years in high school, I understand that on a much deeper level, but I still have not changed my stance.

Now it seems everyone graduates with a cap and gown, "Pomp and Circumstance," flowers, diploma presentation. Preschool, kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, and finally high school. And I think it's bullshit.

Not that we should not celebrate our children's accomplishments. We should. But does it have be a graduation ceremony? With all that that entails? I mean, it's great when you finish kindergarten, but you're SUPPOSED to finish kindergarten. Same with elementary school. Well, yeah, yay for you if you finished 5th grade, but YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO FINISH FIFTH GRADE. It is a milestone in life, but does it warrant a literal graduation ceremony?

I just remember high school graduation being a BIG DEAL. It was like a John Hughes movie come to fruition. Is it a big deal when you have already graduated four times prior? I don't know.

Cheese is Christ

As many of you know, I was raised by a fairly religious mom (understatement).

While raised in the Catholic Church, not only was I made to do all the Holy Sacraments that occurred while living under my parents' roof, but I was also dragged to Aglow meetings where large groups of white middle class women spoke in tongues and I was sent to Awana Bible Meetings where Leslie Trotter and I competed to see who could memorize Bible verses more quickly. All that said, I left all religion when I left my parents' roof at age 18 and have never looked back. I figured I had had enough crammed into me by 18 that I could live to 90 and still have gone to church more than most and would still know more Bible verses than most, so I could take the next 3/4 of my life off and then reassess.

By the way, did you know I had to answer the phone "Praise the Lord, Lori speaking" until I was about 14? Yep.

Anyhoo, I have been working diligently to clean up my potty mouth. There is something that happens when your work environment = students saying "f*ck" "p*ssy" etc etc all day long. The words do really lose their shock value. Next thing you know, you can curse like a 14 year old from the worst projects in Brooklyn and YOU DO. Pretty funny when you're single and out drinking beer on a Friday night; not so funny when you have a parrot for a child.

While I have extracted many a bad word from my mouth, I still tend to take the Lord's name in vain (my poor mom...). "Jesus Christ!" is obviously still in my repetoire b/c this happened last night:

Alexandra was on the couch, and out of nowhere said, "Cheese is Christ!" I was bathing Nico and heard this and asked her to repeat it. Again, she said, "Cheese is Christ!" Adam and I were trying not to laugh, but it was hard. She has no idea who Jesus or Christ is, or that he's a person/prophet/messiah, or anything. Obviously, she thinks he's a type of cheese. And while we are big cheese people in this house, cheese has not yet reached messiah status (bacon is definitely above cheese in the running).

I stare at Adam in horror (as my mom is about to visit in one month) and say to Alexandra, "You mean, cheese and rice?" Oh no, she is not to be fooled. For the rest of the night she ran around screaming "Cheese is Christ!" over and over and over.

Guess I have some more work to do on that mouth of mine. Sigh.

A First

I wrote my last blog post in my classroom on Friday. Adam picked up the kids so I could work late--I was drowning under a pile of grading and it was the last day of the marking period. I only worked until about 5, as Adam wasn't feeling well and I felt guilty for staying late. I went to move my time card out, checked my mailbox, and found this:

Memorandum

To: Ms. U (me), Mr. D, Ms. R, Mr. P, and Mr. L

From: Ms. J, Guidance Counselor

Re: Female student name

Last week Tuesday, April 27th, female student name's brother was murdered. Please assist her with the classwork and homework assignments. Thank you.



That was a first.

Mother's Day

I had a hard week at work. Hard. Totally lost my sh*t and cried in my classroom, my Assistant Principal's office, and at home over these kids. Sometimes I think becoming a parent has been the worst thing for my teaching career. Before I was a parent, I'd have students with dead parents and I'd sympathize, listen to them, and tell them that they just needed to push through and make themselves into the remarkable people that their parents believed them to be. I mean, I had a sick dad my whole life, and while he didn't die until I was 22, there was always that threat. I thought I knew (kinda) what they were going through. But now, as a parent, I realize I don't know jack.

I have a ridiculous amount of students with dead parents. Both parents. And then there are the kids with one dead and one absent/incarcerated parent. These children are being cared for by older siblings, some who are only 21 years old and open gang members, who fight like rabid dogs over the orphaned children for the social security check that accompanies them. Rarely is the welfare of the child taken into consideration.

My complete emotional breakdown this week happened when I had to call home for a student whom I knew was living with his grandmother. I hadn't called since March b/c his grandmother was raising 8 grandkids and was losing her mind; she told me that she was about to sign my student and his twin off to foster care. We all know the foster care system is--at best--mediocre and at worst a nightmare. Although this kid has skipped my class, come to class high, inappropriately touches another girl in here (who lets him), and does no work and disturbs my class, I haven't called. Well, this week I had to. And his grandmother told me that she was going to family court today and giving him and his brother up. I got off the phone and cried. Wept.

I don't understand why I have so many kids with dead parents. I don't understand how they all died, when most of them were my age or younger. But I am beginning to understand the gigantic hole it leaves in these young people's lives. ENORMOUS. A mohterless child has to be the saddest thing ever. I just look at them and ache. I want to hug them, bake them cookies, etc, but it's not the same.

A student of mine lost him mom unexpectedly this fall while I was on maternity leave. He wrote a poem for our poetry unit that pretty much sums it up:

Ode

Ode to my mom for years of joy and fun.
I see many kids with their moms and I say to myself
"Wow, those kids are lucky."
So many people in my family try to take care of me
But none of them do it the correct way...
The Mommy way.

Mothers out there--love your kids like crazy. And all of us who still have our moms, be thankful....so so thankful.