My life is again becoming a bit unbloggable. Though I'm sure that many people have already seen this, it was a bright spot in my day. Hey?! Maybe it's God forcing me into another Thankful Thursday . . . .

http://xtranormal.com/watch/7451115/

Getting some things off my chest

So, old people at the gym: Congratulations on still being able to get around and everything. But could you not annoy me with your annoying, narrow political rhetoric while I'm on the treadmill? It's already pretty unpleasant that I'm still gaining half a pound on the regular despite my time on said treadmill. Your self-involved and greedy ideology isn't helping. Move to the machine on the other side of the room, please. Or just shut up.

The Diva: If you need a wife, I guess I need a nanny. The Babydoll just wrote a note to me that read, "To Mommy. I don't like you. From The Babydoll." I told her that it hurt my feelings, so she sighed, then returned with a note that read, "I like you." I'm thinking this is going to show up in her Freshman Composition literacy narrative assignment.

Abusive parents and other jackholes: What the yuck is wrong with you???!! I watched Tyler Perry on Oprah and seriously wanted to cut off some folks' hands . . . and other parts. Human beings were not created for this kind of evil. Someone should have protected the little boy that Perry was. His stories are so raw (which makes me wonder why his writing isn't better). I keep wondering if there's some child who I see regularly who's wishing that I would be the one to protect him.

Students who either didn't read or just didn't come to class today: I realize that there is a big game tomorrow. Yes--Tomorrow. Today is class. And we covered Douglass today. Douglass! You should be ashamed.

DVR: I hear you calling me. I'm coming soon. I miss you, too. Smooches!

I Need a Wife

I am exhausted. And I don't have the time or energy to do it all. I have an extremely time-consuming project going on at work in addition to my three different class preps; midterm grades are due tomorrow and I haven't finished grading the midterm exams; I have a paper presentation in November for a paper I have yet to even begin researching; there is a pile of clothes on my bathroom floor that is screaming to be washed; additionally, there is a pile of clothes on my den floor screaming to be put up; there is paper strewn about my office; my fingernails bend and break when I pick up the tiniest thing (which wouldn't matter so much at this point except it hurts like heck); my daughter will not allow me to make a move without her right there, on my heels or in my arms; I need to select and purchase a new cell phone since my child broke mine; there are prescriptions I need to find time to call in and pick up; and I have to force myself not to scream out loud at least once a day.

Is this what being an adult woman is all about? Y'all can have it. I'm going back to my teen years. As soon as I find time to build a time machine. . . .

Pooped from the poster project

I'm tired. I've spent untold amounts of time during the last two nights working on The Babydoll's social studies project. The teacher was explicit in stating that the students should do the work and not the parents. Great. I tried to adhere to that. She chose the pictures she wanted to use. She glued the pictures. She decided where they should go on the poster. She wrote the sentences to caption the pictures (of course, I had to interject a bit here--what kind of English teacher doesn't correct the grammar?) So why is "supervising" so exhausting???

"That's Gay"

Over the years I've had students who have willingly exposed their sexual difference in my classes. I've had students who I suspected were struggling with their sexuality. I've had students who were clear about their own sexuality and who were painfullly clear about other people's sexuality, too. I've even had a student, no joke, whose gender I was pretty unsure of during the entire term. I hope that I've been able to make my classroom a place where students don't have to be afraid of being intentially hurt, for any reason. I hope that I'm getting it right. I know that there have been times when I clearly did not. I'm working on it. But we've been looking at a text recently that forces our discussion of sexuality and I've been afraid that the students who are homosexual are uncomfortable, not because of mean or homophobic comments; just because there are all these words and thoughts flying through the air and they seem to land on them specifically. Still, I don't want to force us to be silent as a class. That's worse.

A post over at CocoMamas today makes it palpably and poignantly clear why we HAVE to get it right. I hope you'll take a look.

Who's the Teacher?

I'm watching my recorded version of "Teach" with Tony Danza. I think it would have been awesome to have him as my English teacher! And most of the students in his class only have a vague idea of who he is. Of course, my students are a few years older than these students and they were thrown by the idea that Madonna was more original and artistic than Lady Gaga.

I wonder if other 50 or 60 year olds could teach a class like Danza is doing, especially since too many of them probably need money these days. Teaching ONE class can be kind of fun, unlike having a full load and all the annoying surrounding stuff. Maybe. Anyway, he was so incredibly nervous. And he made lots of mistakes. I'm sure I must have looked just like him--talking way too much and sweating and making lame jokes--in my first class. Bless his heart.

Indulgent Parenting Moment

The Babydoll told us, with her arms raised ominously in front of her, in a deep, slow, beyond-the-grave voice, "I'm a mummy! I'm a muuuuuummmmmyyy."

Not to be outdone The Baby Boy raised his arms, too and moaned, "I'm a daddy!"

Insert your own punchline here.