You are currently browsing the monthly archive for April 2008.
A very sweet video for a sweet song. Happy Tuesday, y’all.
I think this is a little too.. cozy for a father/daughter, especially if she’s like, fifteen.
Am I jaded? What do you think?
Things Lorelei has done in the past week:
– Drank from the gallon of vinegar, like it was a jug of moonshine
– Splashed around in a clogged urinal
– Ate dirt out of the plant
– Licked my deoderant
– Dug dirt out of the windowsill, drew on the glass, then ate it off her finger.
– Ate my lipstick, after putting it on her cheeks so pretilly
-Chewed on a straw piece that broke off the broom
Really. Other states do it juuuuuust fine.
Sorry, I didn’t really think about the Youtube Tuesday installment until about three in the morning. And since we are halfway through the last season of The Wire, it’s on my brain.
Watch it immediately, people. I mean it.
Look, all I need is a pair of khakis. I’ve got to get dressed up tonight, and I quite literally have nothing that stays on my butt anymore, which is awesome, but frustrating, because it’s tacky to wear yoga pants everywhere. I just want a classy pair of nice pants. I don’t want beige cargoes, I don’t want beige cords. I WANT KHAKIS. I’d even settle for beige linen, really. I just need nice pants to wear mkay?
I don’t need them so high-waisted that they’re under my armpits. I don’t want pleats (really, no one wants pleats, would you learn that already?) and I don’t want wide leg – I think only Barbie or Heidi Klum can pull that off somehow. I am of average size and height, and it’s only April (i.e., an appropriate season). Yet I’ve been to four stores and somehow ended up with black pants. What am I missing here? Is there some sort of fashion boycott I don’t know about? Is this some cosmic manipulation to get me to spend a whole paycheck at Banana Republic? Surely there’s a better way.
Please. Don’t make me go to the mall.
Please just make a pair of simple (and slimming, if I’m really taking advantage of the demand) and reasonably-priced khakis. If you do this I promise to tell everyone I know and you will make a lot of money. OK? Please? Like, in an hour?
(First and totally unrelated to the rest of the post: we have a French press now to make our coffee, and SWEET MARY IS IT SO MUCH BETTER THAN OUR OLD DRIP COFFEE. And I love – no, subsist – on coffee as my morning ritual, so although this takes longer, it’s like graduating from Natty Light to Newcastle: I can’t ever have the old kind again without knowing the truth of what’s out there. Yum.)
So, yesterday was an emotional Jack day for me. I had his IEP meeting in the afternoon, and it was so overwhelming, which really threw me for a loop after a couple years of these. First, there were ten, maybe eleven people in the room, and I had no idea why or who all these professionals were. Speech, Occupational, Resource teacher, Pre-school teacher, Kindy teacher, Principal, Special Needs advocate, Psychologist and a few others thrown in to raise the temperature level it seemed like. And it was surreal the way they discussed Jack as if he were an inanimate object, a case-study maybe. And don’t get me wrong, they are very kind and loving people, I feel ridiculously blessed we are in the school district we are. But at one point they were clinically explaining all his deficits and below developmental-average percentages, and I just burst into tears. The whole room stared at me for a second, totally confused as to why I’d be crying, when the spark of realization that they were talking to the mother of this real child hit them.
I am more anxious about how successful Jack will be in Kindergarten than I have been about anything previously. His pre-k is a program geared towards kids with various special needs. There are at least 5 adults in the room, and most of the kids have IEPs of some sort. But next year will be Jack mainstreamed in a normal classroom where he most likely could be one of maybe two kids who are special needs. The IEP team had a heated and obviously old argument about how much Para time could be allocated to him. I mean, they’re arguing over whether “Jacoby” will succeed in a three hour class with 60 minutes, or if he really needs 90 minutes of personal adult attention, and I know they’re thinking solely of time and budget. But I, on the other hand, am picturing my sweet boy having an anxiety attack and melting down in this alien environment. And the truth is, we’re all a little nervous how it will go – and this is a new feeling for us as a team. This is a wonderful school filled with genuinely caring people who adore my son (thus I adore them), so I know he has a great support net. I just feel so helpless to help him sometimes. And basically, it scares the shite out of me to know the professionals who know him almost as well feel the same way. There’s just not a lot we can do besides pray and wait.
But on a lighter note, we had Jack’s first of two birthday parties last night, along with another little boy in his class with an April birthday. The kids all had fun, and I was so proud of how Jack handled it. He was a champ, even during the few moments when I could see he was overwhelmed. At one point he stood up on his bench in the noisy pizza room and hollered THIS IS THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER! Ha.
He’ll turn 5 next week, and he’s come so far it’s unbelievable. I love that little fartknocker so much my heart hurts with it.
And I mean really, who couldn’t?
So, like many people, one of my favorite things to do on Sunday is check the week’s newest entries on Post Secret. And I realize that it’s a slim chance there’s anyone who hasn’t heard of that site yet, but considering I’m about three years late for every popular trend, I thought I’d officially suggest it to that one possible person.
If it’s you – congrats and welcome. 🙂
So would you believe me if I told you that WordPress changed their internal design, and I feel like it stole my writing mojo? I open up a blank page and immediately my lip curls up at the unfamiliarity of it.
(That and I think it’s because Jon sent the blog to a thousand old friends as a way to tell them about our life and I have stage fright suddenly. Thanks, H. Pimp. Maybe you should update your blog more than once every three months, hmm?)
Anyway, how is everyone? Things are rolling merrily along here I s’pose. I saw an article recently about how the mumps vax is conclusively useless and I really wanted to rant/boast/drone on about it. But then I looked and saw a theme of my most recent posts and decided I’d lose more people if I became that person all the time. 😉
Royals season has started, we went on Tuesday and will again on Saturday. I love going to games, though probably not for the right reasons (i.e., the game – though it was pleasurable to see A-Rod play this week, heh). It’s funny how conditioned I’ve become to craving a hot dog as soon as I step into the stadium. A hot dog! Blech! Unfortunately for this week though, it’s cold and rainy with a chance of snow (SNOW! DO YOU HEAR ME? SNOW!) this weekend. This isn’t the Chiefs we’re watching here, people. Oh well. I love the adventure, if not the windburn.
The halflings are doing fairly well. School has become tremendously easier with Jack riding the bus home. We have his IEP meeting next week and I know I’ll be able to write in a bus schedule for next year. I’m debating about letting him ride both ways, but I’m torn. I was talking to a good friend yesterday who homeschools her kids, and the old guilt came back that I’ve just given up to let other people take care of Jack. And the deep-down truth is that the benefit of his learning social skills in a specifically-structured setting is only ancillary to the fact that I get a break every day. And I know I’m validated in wanting some respite, but I know that I chose the school option because of it, and that makes me sad. I really hope to re-examine homeschooling in a few years, maybe when I feel less tapped-out, because philosophically I think it can be an awesome learning possibility. But for now, this is what is best for everyone.
Lorelei is simply the cutest damn thing ever. I don’t know if it’s because she’s a girl, or that there’s just so much less stress because developmentally she’s on-time, but some days she is the brightest light in my life. Even her screeching tantrums can’t get to me, they just seem so.. understandable to me. And it’s another example of that autism-lens through which I find myself parenting even when I don’t want to, but I’m not sure I can always stop it. It’s bittersweet.
I’m still waiting to hear back from the Bradley academy to start provisionally teaching (really, have I mentioned the antiquity of that place? Bah. ) but I’m thinking of taking a writing course somewhere. We’ll see, though. I tend to hover between needing to be social and busy and resisting too much structured expectation of my time. Snort.
Jon’s work is picking up a bit after some crappy recession-induced drama, but he’s getting ready to go on a bunch of business trips, so I’m trying to shore up for that. We’re almost done with all seasons of The Wire, so I think I’ll arrange our Netflix queue to send me every chickflick available while he’s gone. Merchant Ivory, here I come!
And that’s it for now, methinks. We’ll follow the proverbial North Star back to my beloved Colorado in June sometime, so as the weather gets warmer that magnetic pull will keep me going. If anyone wants to join us, let me know – my uncle brews his own Guinness. *happy sigh*
Have a great weekend friends! I hope you’re all well.
I can’t get in! I remember Jen saying something about Firefox problems, but IE’s not an option for me.
Someone help a sister out please? Thanks 🙂
ETA: Figured it out, though now all my passwords are lost on other sites, ha.
(called Bonk Bonk)
Visit the site, and simply click your mouse within the circle, where the particles are swirling. Try clicking in different locations, or multiple clicks in one location, or try moving your cursor around in quick circles, holding the left mouse button down, and then abruptly releasing it. The effect is really quite beautiful.
That shot was stupidly amazing. Congrats.