Mom to the Screaming Masses

Working with beginners

Like I said a few days ago, my first job was teaching ballet to beginners. I was good at it.  I liked it and I was young enough to find it exciting.  But I don't have the patience for it now and that's one of the reasons I stopped teaching.  When it stopped being fun for me, it wasn't fair to the students.

The teachers at the Martial Arts studio that I attend ARE great with beginners.  I stunk at capoeira in the beginning, and the two classes of Thai boxing were great fun and wildly exhausting, but incredibly challenging.  There are a couple of students in my classes that are having a hard time getting the (really difficult) steps down.  I have been extremely impressed with the fact that the instructors never ever EVER lose patience - in fact, the opposite is true.  They are patience personified, and that's tough.  They are a credit to the owner.  I've seen them with teeny tinies, with recalcitrant teens and pouting five year olds, grumpy housewives and staunchy old men - everyone is treated the same.  With respect and a healthy dose of "What a great job!"  It's awe inspiring and affirming and what learning a new skill should be like.

Mother's Day, my husband surprised me with a private ballroom dancing lesson for the two of us.  With my ballet background, it was pretty easy to pick up, but he struggled a little.  The female instructor that we had was awesome as well. When we mastered the waltz, she clapped giddly and cheered.  It was corny, sure, but it felt good.

I've also seen some teachers who have no business teaching beginners.  Learning new skills requires rewiring parts of the brain, unlearning some actions and replacing them with others.  Some people have the patience for it and some people don't.  It isn't awful if you don't have the talent, but it is if you don't have it and you force yourself to teach regardless. 

An Update

Posted from my bed, cuz that's where I've been and that's where I'll continue to be.

Let's skip through going to the hospital, getting changed, iv'ed, gowned and hairnetted.  Let's get to the part where I'm laying on the gurney, feeling like I'm going to puke. 

That was a fun part.  See, I have coffee in the mornings, about 5:30.  Here it was 11 and I had developed a full blown migraine.  I asked each nurse that came in the room - and there were a ton of them - if I could just have something.  "No, nothing until Dr. B gets here."  Well, when will that be?"  "Oh, soon.  You'll know when she gets here - you can hear her coming down the hall."

Pretty soon, I heard just that.  The most amazingly energetic voice greeting everyone she came in contact with.  She breezed down the hall and opened my door with the words, "Showtime!"  She could tell right away that I wasn't doing well and she agreed that as soon as she'd finished with my pre-op, I'd get some meds. She took her marker and drew a big circle on my hernia, with the words, "hernia here" and then added, "not for long!".  She asked if I had any questions, and I did, but my head hurt too badly to ask them so I just said no.  Due to my extensive list of allergies to medicine, we debated the pain relief thought for after surgery, and she decided it'd be darvocet.  I did.not.care.  I just wanted to stab myself in the head.  So Dr. B asked a nurse to give me some Versed. Said nurse whipped the syringe out of her pocket, where she'd been holding out on me for hours.  I was not impressed.

She injected it into my iv and a minute after, asked if I felt anything.  "No,"  I grumped.  I felt miserable and nervous and about to puke and I wanted everyone to know it. She lifted up the side bars on the gurney and chirped "It's time to go!" as she wheeled me into the hallway.

D-Day

Is today.  If all goes well, this will post after I'm out of surgery.  I will have:

• removed all makeup
• removed my contact lenses
• donned a paper gown and hairnet
• been given a stiff cocktail of anti anxiety meds, WHICH I badly needed yesterday, after completing not one, but TWO of the worst days in recent history
• gotten a pedicure and eyebrow wax before arriving at the hospital - who says my priorities are whacked?
• bought groceries and booze and filled my prescription for narcotics
• been deposited into my bed to sleep the sleep of utter peace

Wish me luck, eh? 

Looking For Employment

No, not me - my son.  My sixteen year old, lay around the house, GameCube playing, needs to be gainfully employed son.  We just got a quote for car insurance, he wants $80 Driving shoes and spikes for cross country, gas is a fortune - in short, he just needs to BRING in some cash rather than being a drain on my pocket.

He submitted an online application for a grocery store.  Part of the process was a personality quiz - do you become angry easily, do you think people make mistakes, can you trust everyone, that sort of thing.  And now we wait.

This got me thinking about my first job.  I taught ballet to beginners, the baby classes of 3, 4 and 5 year olds.  In the beginning I made $5 an hour.  At my next ballet teaching job, I asked for $15.  The third one, $25.  I taught ballet from the time I was 14 until my third child was born at 28.  I loved it. 

I want him to get a job, not just for the money but for the experience.  I think a person's first job is invaluable - it teaches you to follow commands from people other than our parents, and that rules are made for a reason.

What was your first job?  Was it a positive or negative experience?

The Creepy Crawlies

While at work today, I had an interesting conversation and it reminded me of something that happened when I was a kid.

It was summer, and it was beastly hot.  My parents didn't really use the air conditioning much, relying on circulating air from open windows to keep it cool. That night, it was HOT.  In a vain attempt to cool off, I threw my sheet and bedspread off the end of the bed.  Ten or so minutes later, I lifted the covers up high over me and let them drop in a billowly cloud onto my body.  They felt cooler - maybe it was just mental - like most things with me - but I was happy and drifted off to sleep.

I woke no more than an hour later, aware that something just wasn't right.  I lifted the covers and saw a gigantic slug on my thigh - that sucker must have been 6 inches long. I screamed and used the edge of my covers to slide it off me - euww, gross, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little, remembering.  I remember running into my parents room and getting my father to get the thing out of my bed.

Now, realistically, I know I'm bigger than a slug.  I shouldn't be afraid of them.  But I HATE them.  For some people, it's spiders, for others, rolly polly bugs.  Other people are (rightfully) afraid of bees.

What's your insect nemesis, and why?

Tell us your story.

Small pieces of random posts

Snippets too short to make into real posts, but, there you go - the reality of my attention span right now.

• I went to the hospital to preregister and do my blood work today. I took Riley with me, as she was having a rawther tough day and I didn't wish to inflict her special form of misery on anyone - I prefer to save it all to my very ownself.  I brought GO FISH! and I taught her to play. She LOVED it and we spent a pretty peaceful hour.  That's good, because we have to go back tomorrow - the tech took the wrong tubes of blood by mistake. 
• New songs on my iPod - Wake Up Everybody, 4 Minutes, I Want You Back, 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover, L'Arlesienne Suite No. 2: IV. Farandole, Pocketful of Sunshine and some acoustic version of Stairway to Heaven.  What's your new music discovery?
• I LOVE my new phone.  LOVE it more than just about anything.  Seriously - buy one if you at all can - the thing rocks HARD.
• One of my special forms of insanity is overplanning.  When I have a baby, go on a trip, or know something is coming up, I cook a lot, so that my family can eat.  Not like they will starve, but, you know, it's a form of control.  I'm cool with that - I'm a control freak.  Today I made NoPudge Brownies and whole wheat banana bread, and I attempted to make spice cookies.  I say "attempted", because I was sidetracked and only added in half of the flour.  I made two trays of cookie goo, and now need to clean my oven. 
• My 5 year old loves Naked juice.  That cracks me up every day, when she asks for it for breakfast.
• I am currently IM'ing with my oldest son.  Rather than get up and go into the next room.  Which of us is the lazy one?
• New posts up at Zwaggle and Scrutiny by The Masses.  Come visit me!

Honesty about Motherhood from me

Feel free to add your own truisms.

You never know how many times you'll say things like Eat over your plate!  and Everyone wears underpants.

You will rejoice if you catch the puke in your hands and it doesn't hit the carpet.

You will never know how one kid can generate SO much dirty laundry.

You will hurt, like never before, if your child is hurt. 

Especially if another of your children hurts a sibling.  How can you hurt so much?

Things like GLASSES and BRACES and MILK and SOCKS become line items on your budget.

You'll never know how you will change.  The mother who was militant about natural birth and cloth diapers can, and will, morph into a person obsessed with a child's Campaign posters.  Change is good. Embrace the change.

You will just KNOW if your kid is faking an illness.  You will become an expert at discovering that the child has a test that same day.

You will never drink so much coffee ever.

You will never have enough money, enough time, or enough patience. You will feel as if you've lost your mind.  You'll wonder, after you've picked up something off the floor for the 1,00th time in a day, why you don't have abs of steel. 

You will leave the house without a change of clothing for your child under five exactly ONCE.  You'll learn your lesson VERY quickly.   You may learn to bring an extra shirt for yourself as well. 

You'll be calm in the ER, dealing with a broken bone, a food allergy exposure, or dehydration. You'll fall to pieces later.

You'll laugh when your child does, cry when your child does, feel excitement and delight on a schedule not your own.

You will be happy, sad, glorified, crabby, delighted, fulfilled, disappointed and thrilled - all in the same day.

The Infamous Pot

Happy Mother's Day to all of the Mothers out there - I hope it was a great day, a celebration of all you do for your family.  I hope you were treated like the royalty you are!

Three Minutes in the Grocery Store

That kind of sounds like that old party game Seven minutes in Heaven, where you'd go into a closet with a boy at a party and, oh never mind.  I never played it.  But my parents read here. 'Nuff said.

No, what I wanted to ask was this - there is a contest locally that, if you win, you are provided a shopping cart and three minutes to toss in whatever you'd like.  Where would you go - what sections of the store would you avoid, what would you stock up on?  Where would you concentrate?

I'm thinking meat, frozen veg and breakfast stuff, and cereal. You?

I fully expect to get lots of mail on this one

Because I am certain that, after reading this, you will all be MOST envious of my life. 

Emma has been talking all week about the Mother's Day gift that she has been creating in class.  All WEEK, I have heard about this - it will be so great, the best present you ever got, I can't wait to tell you, can I tell you now - it's been THE topic of conversation this week.

Today when I picked her up at school, she came running out to me, carrying a pink gift bag.  It was stapled closed - "so you won't peek, Mom" - and a handmade card was attached, on which was painstakingly lettered M O M.  Tucked between the card and the bag were dandelions, clover flowers, and buttercups - the teacher had let them go out and pick flowers.  She fairly vibrated with excitement, and gushed about the gift all the way to the car.  She chattered nonstop on the trip home.  "You will love it, Mommy!  I can't wait to give it to you - it's your favorite colors and you are going to be so happy!"

Let me interject in here that I had a moderate headache all day long. This is important to the story, but has nothing to do with her.

I listened to her until we got home.  She quickly unbuckled and grabbed her gift, calling to me, "I'm going to hide this in my room, so you can't find it!"  She stepped out of the van...

and she dropped the bag on the driveway.  I heard a crash and I knew whatever it was had shattered.She whipped around to me, mouth and eyes wide, and immediately began to wail.  She flew all the way through upset into hysteria in the space of .2 seconds.  "It was my - sob, sob - present to you!  Sob, sob - it was - hiccup - your favorite colors, and sob, hiccup, wail - it had my FINGERPRINT on it!"