Puppy Therapy for Lunch

Puppy Therapy for Lunch

GUYS!! I told you previously that I got a new job, right? Well, it’s not really new anymore now that I have been here a little over a year, but new compared to the 10 years I spent at my last job….

I’m pretty lucky, because although the job was pretty uncomfortable for me at first, it has proven to be the best change I could have made in the last few years. I work with these really AWESOME people who GET ME. I mean, I’d like to think I’m special, but we all know I’m quirky. Having people who get me feels amazing. It’s like I have found my tribe, professionally. This is no easy feat in life, so I feel incredibly blessed to have this opportunity in my life. I also work for the best director I have ever had the privilege of working for. It really is crazy how your quality of life changes when you work for someone who actually cares and supports you. I work for someone who trusts my opinions and sort of just lets me free to go with my ideas (with boundaries). This is so important for the left side of my brain that needs creativity. It makes me feel valued and important.

Anydoodles, I have these fantastic co-workers, and let’s be honest – a few bad eggs, too. But, every workplace/office has the annoying co-worker. Everything can’t be perfect all the time guys! Mostly, the people are great, though. Today, we had a coordinator lunch together. This, in of itself, is so cool to me, because as a school teacher you don’t get lunch, let alone go out with friends. So, it is such a treat to get to have lunch outside the office amongst friends.

Today we took it up a notch and stopped at a puppy place. OH.EM.GEE!

Yeah, I know it is a puppy mill for breeders. I don’t plan on buying any dogs. But, they need love, too, right?

BEST.HUMP DAY.EVER!

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Let’s save the world one slitten at a time, shall we?

Let’s save the world one slitten at a time, shall we?

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I snagged this picture from google, but I have no idea where it originates from. I did not take this picture. I repeat, I do not take credit for this photo….

Confession time: I do not watch tv. Nor, do I read the news.

I do follow social media, though, but only sort of. This weekend, unfortunately, I found myself in a rabbit hole of tweets. A dark tunnel I can never come back from. Naturally, I now have a ton questions….

Who’s Stormy Daniels, and why is her interview so important?

Why does everyone care about Elon Musk and his dad right now?

Why is Christina Aguilera’s make-up free face news?

Who actually cares about these Kardashian babies?

WTF, with the woman who cooked a pet Chihuahua?????

More importantly, why are idiots talking shit about the Parkland students and creating fake propaganda with their photos?

I’m reminded why I need to never watch the news again and live in my make-believe world of rainbows and kittens. I’m so disappointed with the world right now…. Instead of focusing on all that bullshit, I have now immersed myself in pictures of kittens. I am  literally following 3 Instagram pages full of cute kitten photos. Anyone know of any kitten twitter accounts I can follow? I’m serious. Kittens are the only thing keeping me going at this moment. I’m obsessed.

I mean, if you don’t think this is cute, you have a cold black heart….

ZZMNJui

Image found here

Also, I found Slittens.

Slittens = kitten + sloth faces

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The innerwebs win again. Guys, this slitten tumbler is amazing.

I know.

You’re Welcome!

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Free-Range Parenting – Are you in?

Free-Range Parenting – Are you in?

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This image retrieved from Unsplash

I recently read an article that came out last week from Deseret News. When I first saw the title, “Utah governor signs law legalizing ‘free-range parenting’” I was pretty skeptical. I mean, it sounds crunchy and all. Also, I’m frequently annoyed that we all have to label ourselves into a type of parenting, when instead we could just be supporting and empowering each other in solidarity that parenting is HARD. Can’t we all just be friends??

However, I read the article against my initial judgement and I was pleasantly surprised. I’m on board, you guys. I’m ready to drink the kool-aid of free-range parenting!

First of all, I’m a kid of the eighties. I won’t be the first to tell you that I had to play outside and was frequently told not to come back until the street lights came on. We had a neighborhood of moms with different whistles- so you knew when it was time to come home for dinner. I rode my bike about two miles to the Kmart for flavored lipgloss – and it was on a major road. If you transplanted my kid-self playing in the park without supervision to 2018, my parents would have had DCF called on them.

With that said, I am well aware that we are living in a different world now. I’m not necessarily saying kids need to be off playing in the streets alone til the sun comes down and the whistle calls. However, I’ve seen the trend towards  helicopter parenting, and its ill effects. When I taught high school, I had students who didn’t know how to do laundry or make boxed cup-cakes. These were kids months away from being “adults.”

When I was in middle school, I was walking to and from school and staying home alone until my parents got home from work. No, I was not walking up a hill, backwards, and in the snow- I was living in Florida, people! It was HOT as Hades, but I picked oranges off the neighbors trees for snacks, and I was FINE. One day, I decided that I was going to make bacon. I’m not particularly sure why, because I’ve never been a fan of pork, and that was probably the last day I ate/attempted to make it. Anydoodles, Oprah was on and I got distracted while the grease was warming up. I’m sure you can predict what happened next… you would be correct….

I walked into the kitchen and there was a grease fire that hit straight up to the ceiling. I remembered from school that you “starve a grease fire.” Guess what? There was no internets back then, so I did not learn this from Lifehacker or YouTube. I learned it from the local fire department in my Life Skills Class. So, I threw a lid on the pan and turned off the heat, and then I ran over to my neighbor’s house, a school teacher who was grading papers at her kitchen table. She ran over with me, ready to call 911. But the fire was out.

Thankfully, I had problem-solving skills. And, I had education at school (and home) that helped me to prepare for this moment. AND, I was mature enough to stay home, even though I was 11 years old. My parents felt comfortable letting me stay home alone, because they knew me and knew that I was smart enough to critically think about situations that could potentially happen without supervision.

Back to the Child Neglect Amendment in Utah: This law basically says it will not be considered neglect when a child is at least 9 years old and they are:

  • traveling to and from school, including walking, running, or biking
  • traveling to and from nearby commercial and recreational facilities (i.e. parks and rec centers)
  • engaging in outdoor play
  • remaining in a car unattended, except in certain circumstances
  • remaining home unattended

Way to go, UTAH! I’m 100% in agreement with this amendment, and I look forward to other states following in its lead. Like some of the commentary I have seen in regards to this topic, I’m equally surprised this even needs to be a law. The only other thing I think we need to add is that we need to bring back life skills classes (as early as 5th grade).

Here’s my two cents on parenting:

  1. Kids need unconditional love.
  2. Give the  kids some independence.
  3. Teach kids problem-solving skills  (*hint: bring back Family & Consumer Science classes all the way back to elementary school)
  4. Encourage kids when they make mistakes and help them learn from them.
  5. Teach kids kindness and empathy.
  6. Give kids boundaries and make them accountable (with consistency) when they cross parameters.

Ole, Ole!!

Happy Saturday,

 

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Vodka, anyone?

Vodka, anyone?

stron drink

I love this meme.

It’s basically the truest meme that could describe my life.

Guys, I don’t come from a line of frail little docile women.

NOPE.

I come from tiny, strong, independent, don’t fuck with me, kinda women going all the way back to my great grandmothers- at least! I never met my great great grandmothers, but I imagine the others came from similar strong women. And by the way, this isn’t one-sided. It runs on both side of my family. I’m like a double dose of fierce, which makes me one dose of awesome sassafras sauce. And my 7-year-old daughter…….well, she’s like a tiny Chelsea Handler with a taste of Mariah Carey. It’s frightening.

Today, we went on a play date with some friends at McDonald’s and the first thing out of her mouth when I open my purse to pay for her imitation chicken and high fructose soda nectar is, “MOM! I know what the thing is in your purse. It’s called a TAMPON!” (echo: TAMPON! TAMPON! TAMPON!).

*Um, yeah. Ok, smarty pants. You caught me. I have a tampon in my purse. (frantically throws debit card in the purse and ushers kids to the fizzy fructose fountain of diabetes.)*

Later, we find ourselves sitting at the table when she sees a little girl walk in. She walks up to me and whispers in my ear,

“Mom, I know that girl coming in. She goes to my school and she is sooooo annoying.”

So, I give her the whole kindness speech and remind her to treat her like she would a friend, and blah, blah, blah, blah….

You know what?

The girl WAS annoying as all hell! Seriously, my daughter nailed that one on the head, but she treated her kindly and I was very proud of her for including her in play.

Hours later  Shortly after, a couple of boys walked in. It took about 30 seconds for her to come running back up to me to let me know,

“MOM, THAT BOY IS SO RUDE! HE KEEPS YELLING AND CALLING ME NAMES. HE’S POINTING IN MY FACE!”

Of course, she would say that at the top of her lungs next to the kids dad. Of course! So, I calmly tell her to relax and that she just continue to play and not worry about it. After a few minutes, I ask my kids to gather their things and put their shoes on so we can go home.

That’s when this kid starts yelling from the equipment, “Poopy pants, butt face! Pffffffft!!”

“DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN! THAT KID IS RUDE!!!” *waves hands in the air

OH MY GOSH, you guys…..I had to hold in the laughter. But, I asked her to please lower her voice and get her shoes on quickly and off we went to the car. It was in those 30 seconds to the car that I started going into over-thinking drive.

There is no manual for raising kids, as you know. I feel right now like we are in this grey area of weird parenting societal rules. Weird, in that you want to show your kids how to be independent, but not too independent because they are still kids and they need guidance. You want to raise your girls to be strong, but not too strong, because then they can come across as bitchy or brass. Kids need learn how to resolve conflict on their own, unless they are bothering others, and then you need to interfere. You want your girls to be able to say what they mean, but don’t raise your voice, just use a medium firm tone, blah, blah, blah….

Then I thought about a situation when I was at a bar last year with a friend of mine. A man I had been chatting with actually walked up behind me at the bar and grabbed my ass. I very firmly let him know that it was inappropriate and unacceptable and not to touch ANY woman like that ever again. Ok, I wasn’t firm, I was a bitch. And, I said those words with much less class than I am describing now. My my point is that if my daughter were in that situation, I would definitely want her to handle it exactly the way I did.

So, we got in the car and she was still complaining about this kid, and I said, “Yeah, you’re right. He was an ass.”

You know what she said? She said,

“Mom, what’s a tampon?”

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Sheriff of the Butt Patrol

Sheriff of the Butt Patrol

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A friend of mine sent me this meme to me today, so of course I had to share. Also, it is pretty spot on for the type of week I’m having. You know when you’re a kid and your parents say something like, “If you want to complain, I’ll give you something to complain about!”???

Well, I’m pretty sure karma got me good for complaining about having “one of THOSE Mondays” on my last post, cause Tuesday pretty much kicked me in the butt for that choice.

Speaking of butt’s, how long is too long to wipe your child’s butt? (asking for a friend)

I’ll just be frank and tell you that both of my children sing a little ditty whenever they need me to wipe their asses.

“Mommy, I went poop. Can you wipe my butt.” (lyrics).

FYI-They were very creative and made up their own tune. They BOTH sing this song, and if we’re honest, it pretty much drives me to drink. My revenge will be teaching my grandchildren that song in the future…

Most of my bathroom conversations involve me speaking to myself:

“Who does this for you at school?”

“Oh, no one. Ok, so you CAN do it.”

“Why won’t you do it then?”

“Can, you please just try?”

“You’re getting too damn big for Mommy to wipe your bottom.”

“I’m getting serious, it’s time to wipe your own fucking ass little bottom.”

Fast forward to yesterday when an anonymous child screams for me to wipe their bottom while I’m just getting started in the shower.

Me: “You’re going to need to try by yourself. Mommy is in the shower!”

Child: “Ok, for how long? I’ll wait!”

Me: “A long time! Mommy is very dirty.”

So, I took my sweet ole time, hoping that they would chicken and do it themselves, and it worked….. Sort of…..

(10 minutes later) “Never mind, Mommy! I did it!”

This sounds like victory!

(30 minutes later) I walk into the bathroom and realize that there is no toilet paper in there. And, then I remember there wasn’t toilet paper in there, earlier, either. I mean, I meant to change it….

Me: “Um, so….I just remembered that I forgot to replenish the toilet paper in the bathroom. What did you wipe your bottom with?”

Child: “Oh, I found some paper!” (cheerfully)

Me: “Alriigghht….what kind of paper? Where is it?”

Child:”I don’t know. But, I did it!” (bounces off to go play)

Any bets on how long it takes me to find shitty paper (literally) in my house? This would be a perfect time to use that stupid grinning poop emoji…

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Apparently, I’m going to live FOREVER!

Apparently, I’m going to live FOREVER!

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Image found here.

I’m having one of THOSE Mondays! The kind of Monday’s when you spill coffee on yourself on the way to work and then can’t log into your computer, kind of Monday.

Wine, yet?

While struggling to focus, I decided to have a “lunch break” at my desk. I began doing some light reading and came across this little gem.

For those of you who want the cliff notes:

  1. Woman is 116 years old in article, born in 1899 (she passed away in April 2017 at 117 yrs old).
  2. She provides tips for how she has lived so long.
    1. She eats two eggs a day.
    2. She has remained single since her divorce when she was in her late 30’s.

Alright, do you people even know me? Do you know that I’m like an old man/woman inside and I eat practically the same thing each and every day?

Guess what I eat for breakfast every.damn.day. Two soft-boiled eggs!! Guess who got divorced at 35?

Ok, so let’s pretend I don’t get hit by a car and/or have some other fatal accident and I live to 117. That is the year 2095.

2095.

I can’t even imagine it. Do I even want to live this long?  I’m not sure. But, it makes me think about the year 1987….

I was in the 4th grade in a gifted class and our project was to create a shoe box diorama of the year 2000. I clearly remember this memory where I was sitting in the hallway with my friends listening to the song “I wear my sunglasses at night.” We thought that we would all be living on the moon or some other planet at that time. I believed we would be zipping around in Jetson like cars with robots for friends, er cleaning people.

So, 2095…. Will we be living on the moon or another planet? I guess only time will tell. In the meantime I’ve got the song, “I wear sunglasses at night,” trapped in my brain!

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Saturday Quickie

Saturday Quickie

Guys, yesterday I took an Allegra-D with a large cup of coffee and I felt Crrraaaaazzzzyy. I mean, I actually got worried about myself for a solid 5 minutes, crazy. *Note to self- look up side effects and read directions clearly on next allergy meds I take.

Anydoodle, I had a meeting at another campus in the morning, so I didn’t get to my office until noon and at that point, I was at full-throttle-allergy-meds-wired. You can imagine, that when I drove by what I thought was a police car, that I second guessed myself when I thought I saw “beer patrol” on the side of the vehicle.

Buuuuut, then I had to drive to another campus for another meeting about 2 hours later, and though I was still on an Allegra-d high, I FOR SURE thought I saw “beer patrol” when I drove by this vehicle again.

On my way back to the office, I drove by same vehicle, but this time I stopped and pulled over. Folks, I was not hallucinating. That was “beer patrol” painted on the side of an old cop car.

What I want to know is how can I become the Sheriff of beer patrol?

Happy St. Patty’s, my friends!!