The Magic of Walt

We spent the week of Thanksgiving at Disney and it truly was magical in all Disney ways. We went to The Animal Kingdom and rode through the wilds of Africa. Sarah danced in a street show in Africa. We walked through the gardens of Asia. We went on the famous magic teacups. We braved Space Mountain. We went on Star Tours and Buzz Lightyears shoot 'em out game/ride. We met characters. We shopped in the ridiculously expensive Disney souvenir shops.

Of course.

And we also experienced our usual family antics along the way. Because, really, what vacation is complete without a few hang ups ? And a trip the ER. On the day we arrived.

Of course.

Let me explain . . .

We woke the kids up at 4 am on Saturday morning and said, " Get dressed because WE'RE GOING TO DISNEY!"

Violet stared at us blankly. John said, "I'm tired." Sarah's mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. Then the questions started: did I pack shorts? (pretty sure I had that covered) Swim suits? (even goggles) sneakers? (gee, I hadn't thought of shoes!)

We arrived in Florida at 10 am without any problems at all. The kids were great on the plane and didn't even need the books and games I'd packed in their carry ons. We went to the condo where there  was an incredible water park with heated water and a lazy river. We played for a few hours then the kids all napped. We cooked a Thanksgiving dinner (my mom even made a turkey and all the fixings) and had family over that I hadn't seen in at least 14 years. We laughed and talked for hours.

Violet couldn't seem to wake up. When she participated with the family she was reserved and quiet. Very unlike her. After everybody left she really started complaining that her neck hurt, she had a terrible headache and she couldn't swallow. We've had enough cases of strep in the house for me to recognize the signs -- and we were a thousand miles from home, on vacation and about to do Disney World.

So we took her to the ER. They quickly diagnosed strep.

Of course.

They prescribed us antibiotics and sent us on our way.

She felt well enough the next day to visit The Kennedy Space Center. (a colossal waste of money, but they had fun) and go to our special dinner that evening. 'The Hoop De Doo Revue.' It was PERFECT. They put the spotlight on Sarah and announced her birthday. One of the actors teased my husband. One growled and pawed at Violet when he was dressed as a bear. John smiled, laughed and clapped along with the songs.  They had a full gluten free dinner for me. We couldn't stop smiling. When we got back to the condo they acted out their favorite parts for my parents.

In the morning, Sarah's birthday, we got up early and headed out The Animal Kingdom. On the way into the park Sarah, my least coordinated child, was galloping and dancing along, asking what time it was so she could mark the exact time she was born. A lady heard her and said, "Happy Birthday!" Sarah looked up to say thank you, tripped and hit the sidewalk on one knee. Hard.

Of course.

It immediately started bleeding, quite nicely, too. She was sobbing and yelling as I whipped out my handy dandy first aid kit and cleaned it up. But it was big. And the brand new kit had one small band aid.

Of course.

The Animal Kingdom was incredible. We all had a great day without any other problems.

On Tuesday we visited my parents new house and had another good day.

On Wednesday I carefully packed our bags and coolers, put my schedule in my pocket and we headed out to The Magic Kingdom. We parked, took the little train to the Tram, the Tram to the front gates and waited for the park to open. It opened and we continued to wait to go through security. We went through, no problem. We got to the ticket taker, put the first ticket in and it spit it out, fast.

I had the wrong tickets.

The WRONG tickets.

Of course.

Cue uncontrollable sobbing -- from me.

I had to wind and push my way back the opposite way, find where to buy tickets and buy 5 tickets. All while sobbing. Then I had to get back into the security line, where the worker asked me several times if I was OK.

No, no I was not OK.

Then I sobbed my way back through the line, apologizing over and over to the people I was cutting in front off, trying to explain, "I brought the wrong tickets -sob- my family is up front -sob- I'm sooo sorry -sob-"

But I got through it, we put our tickets in and off we went. We went on all the rides the kids wanted then stopped for lunch. Where we discovered that we hadn't packed any bread sandwiches.

Of course.

We just ate the meat and cheese and soldiered on.

The kids went on more rides and met The Fairy Godmother. They had a blast.

We got home about 11:30, shoved everybody in bed and slept in the next day. When we woke up we took our time and went to Hollywood Studios.

It was perfect. Not too crowed at all, we got the Fast Passes we wanted and went in everything except Fantasmic.  Because it was Sarah's birthday she had on a pin that said, "It's my birthday!" and all the cast members wished her happy birthday constantly. The ticket taker at The Indiana Jones Stunt Show saw her pin and asked if we wanted VIP seats. Yes please! So down to the front row we went!

The kids met "Green Army Man" from Toy Story, Sully and Mike from Monsters Inc, Wreck it Ralph and the little girl. Then? MICKEY MOUSE. During our wait at Indiana Jones, John had drawn Mickey a picture, then put it in his pocket and carried it there - safely- the rest of the day. When we saw Mickey -- and no line - he whipped that picture out and rushed the line. He danced his way up to Mickey and thrust the picture in Mickey's hand. Then Mickey took it, hugged John, turned and showed the note off to the photographer and everybody in line behind us.

::headexplosion::

We went home, so happy.

Friday we went to Downtown Disney and got ready for our flight out at 7:00. Sometime during 11 and 12 I received 2 calls from an unknown number in Texas. Which I ignored. About 1:30 I noticed that the number had left 2 voice mails, so I reluctantly decided to listen to them.

It was Southwest. Our flight time had been "updated" to 9:00. We wouldn't be getting home until well after midnight.

Of course.

In the end we switched flights. We did have a connection in Ft.  Lauderdale, but we made it without a problem. Sarah was complaining about her knee and we noticed that it had puss coming out of it.

Of course.

We got home and were in bed by 12:00.

Saturday morning we got up very late and went to a diner for breakfast. Sarah took two bites of her favorite pancakes and refused to drink her hot chocolate. Her knee was still kind of gross and she wouldn't bend it.

So off to the walk in clinic we went. For a scraped knee.

It was infected. (but not badly)

Of course.

We got home and put all the kids on the sofa to watch as much TV as they wanted. I went upstairs and unpacked us. I came back downstairs and Sarah hugged me.

And was hot. So I took her temperature.

102.2

Of course.

The walk in clinics check out instructions said to take her to the ER if she developed a fever/chills.

She had both.

Of course.

So we bundled her up. She asked for a drink before we left.

And promptly puked it all up.

Of course.

So my husband drove us the ER while I held the puke bucket in the back seat.

They took us right in, worried about her knee.

It looked the same.

Her throat? Did not.

She has strep.

Of course.

Today we are all sitting on the sofa watching as much TV as we want, refusing to do a.single.thing. Drugging Sarah with Motrin and Tylenol.

Of course.

But did we truly have a magical time at the most magical place?

Of course. :)

I Guess I Didn't Really Want To Go

My 20 year high school reunion is in a couple weeks. When I received the invite I just assumed I'd be going. Then, as the days passed, I realized . . . I wasn't sure. Which surprized me, because despite the usual high school angst, I really enjoyed that time. I was busy and had a great group of friends. I've recently reconnected with a few of them via FaceBook and I'd like to see them.

Just them. That's about, oh, three people. The rest? Meh.

And let's be honest, even after 20 years there are still a couple people I actively don't want to see. 

My husband tried hard to get me here for the reunion, until it occured to me that I didn't want to go. That there were three or four people I wanted to see and that was it. Then, I saw this on my FaceBook wall:

Guy who duct taped small guys to lockers and tortured them: Happy Birthday Brotha!

Guy who was duct taped by said guy: Thanks. When is the reunion?

Guy who duct taped small guys to lockers and laughed: August 14. Hope you'll be there! We can party like we did back in the day!

Uhm. . . you two never partied together. You duct taped him to a locker. I know because I helped take him down. And now you're all, "Let's party like we used to!" How is that? Because I was present at some of your parties. And the way you partied would be to make fun of this very person.

So, I was done.

Yes, it's been 20 years. Maybe he's apologized. I know that I had to do some apologizing when FaceBook first reconnected me. But I was disgusted.

I'm sad to be missing out on seeing these couple people. But it turns out one of them, who I had my senior pictures taken with (holy big hair Batman) will be coming into town just as we're leaving. So we're getting together. I've known her since 9th grade. It's been 20 years, 2 husbands, 5 kids and too long since we've seen each other. I can't wait.

On Thursday night I'm getting together with another friend I've known since 8th grade. We were at each other's college graduations and she helped move me to Delaware. We were married on the same day 10 years ago. Now we get to hang out at a nice restaurant with our handsome husbands and be adults (because we are just playing at this adult thing. Still.).

On Friday I'm seeing a friend of mine that I've known since I was four years old. Four. How cool is that? We both have three kids around the same age. So we're going to let them run around together at the park. Maybe share some silly stories with the older ones. "I remember when your mom . . . " gah.

These are the people I really want to see. This is what I'm excited about. It's going to be so fun, so nice. I can't wait!

**I'm also meeting Alexia from Babies & Bacon! We're having our own super mini BlogHer '11 at a local Panera.**

****my spell check will NOT work from my lap top!! So please, please forgive any typo's!!****

The Definition of Crazy, Take Two

If you're just joining us, read this first. Oh, you want to, you really, really want to.

So, we get to Michigan.

~We literally fall out of the car. John has yakked and had a blow out. Haiiii!

~I meet my brother's girlfriend, Kerry, and immediately love her. Plus? John throws up on me mere hours after meeting here, causing me to have to have to shower both John and myself, fully dressed. I need help with this. As I'm holding John, covered in puke, I look at her and say, "We're about to get to know each other really well. Can you help?" And she just does. Later, I find out that she has a big problem with vomit. Ooops!

~As a *treat* my mom, my Grandma and I go to a salon for some girl time. I get my hair hi-lighted. And the power goes out halfway through the process. I have to go back the next day to finish it, which causes some weird chemical reaction. I am now a blond.

~On Saturday we put up the tents for Grandpa's memorial/Bryan's 30th Birthday party. Because who doesn't party like that?? A storm comes through and blows one of the tents onto the roof of the house. While we stand in front of the sliding glass door and watch. Because that's the safest place to be, duh.

~Many people come on Saturday to celebrate two amazing lives. Bryan gives an amaze-balls speech, ending it with a marriage proposal. Kerry is completely surprised and says yes!

~That night, in bed, my husband tells me, "I love you. You're like my left leg."

~The next morning my mom tells us that while she and Bryan were buying Kerry's ring, John vomited all over the ring display. The velvet, the rings, everything. And then, while they were cleaning him, he had a total blow out. Good times.

~On our way home from Michigan we make pretty good time. No lost tickets. No attempting to leave wives and children at random rest stops. Although I do consume many drinks at Starbucks.

~We stop at a hotel and get one of the two last rooms. Yes!

~Once in the room I frantically scrub the stench of the latest blow out/vomit from both John's and my clothing. (I'm sure you're seeing a pattern here. Yes, we figured out the problem. His epiglottis didn't work. He's totally fine now.)

~After we're all clean, I pull back the sheets on the bed the kids will share and OH MY SWEET LORD IN HEAVEN THERE IS BLOOD ON THEM.

~Call front desk. The other room? Has been taken. *Of Course*And housekeeping is closed. I start to laugh maniacally. They manage to find sheets. We toss the sheets on the bed and I resolve to not think about it.

~Violet refuses to use any of the restrooms all.the.way home. So she urinates in disposable diapers in the back of the van. And I? Do.not.care.

~Sarah eats ketchup and chocolate milk for lunch and I consider this a major win.

~And then, we are HOME AT LAST, HOME AT LAST, THANK GOD ALMIGHTY, WE ARE HOME AT LAST!

Did I mention that we are making this drive again? I know we've done it since, without all this drama. And we laughed all the way home. We did. Because who has all this happen to them? But I'm still afraid . . .

A Bitter, Yet Oh So Sweet Day

Two years ago a dear friend of mine called me. She said she was driving through the town where we taught in Michigan. When I asked why she was in Michigan she told me her brother had commited suicide.

I told her I was sorry. But I had to go. I had a thing to get to.

Really. 

I worked through some of the hardest, most shocking days of my teaching career with this woman. We met the week before our first day of teaching -- ever.

One day, very early on in our first year of teaching, I walked into her classroom and found her curled up next to one of her students, just talking to him. She calmly wiped the drool, gently blocked his spastic movements, laughed when he laughed, and I'm telling you right now -- they were having a full on conversation. I learned more in that one moment about teaching and loving children with severe mental impairments than I had in three classes and a five week practical.

Oh. And we dated the same boy. (And he was such a boy.) At the same time. Only at first we didn't know it.  And when I continued to date him ::head desk:: she didn't stop being my friend. Instead she helped me find an apartment in town and helped move me. We actually grew closer. I joined the same gym as her. We did aerobics together, went for long walks (oh sweet lord, those long walks with her long legs!), and after our marathon workouts we'd go to this great little ice cream hut and get a shake or cone. Totally makes sense.

When she was pregnant with her second, I was pregnant with John. When she was in early labor I was lucky enough to be on the phone with her. That right there is beyond awesome. John was born about two weeks after her second daughter.

So. Why did I say I had a 'thing' to get to?

Well, because I was at the height of my depression, and on my way into the hospital. I went to that 'thing,' only I remember very little about it. My friends, Mary, Kendall, and Carolyn tell me about that day every now and again. I honestly only remember bits and pieces.

I remember what I wore. (Because that's important.) And that I had to get Mary's house to borrow a Silpada ring. (Becasue, again, important.) I remember walking through Mary's house for the first time and having tunnel vision. I remember that I couldn't find my way there and it's two turns and five miles from my house.  I remember thinking, "I got this. Totally." Those friends now tell me they all thought, "What the fuck is wrong with Kim?" (That's word for word, all told to me without the knowldege of the other person. And these are all classy ladies, so don't go judging them for dropping the F-bomb. That's how messed up I was.)

That is so frightening. So very sad.

Mary actually tried to track me down, get me to go to lunch,  but I had gotten lost in the parking garage. For a half an hour.

On the way home I called my sister in law, Kerry and told her I was on the way home. Then I got in an accident. That I don't remember. NOT  because it was terrible and tramautic. It wasn't. It was just my van and the curb. I remember calling Kerry back and laughingly saying something like, "I won't be home! I just got in an accident!" And then thinking, "I don't know what to do." By the grace of God  a tow truck driver was following me. He knocked on my window and asked if I was OK. I do clearly remember looking at him and saying, "Yes. But I don't know what to do. I just don't  know. Should I call my husband?" And he must have walked me through what to do.

I don't remember anything else of that day.

The next morning my husband took me to the hospital.

Two months later I off handedly said, to my therapist, "And then I got into the accident. Wait. WHAT?"

I'd forgotten that I'd forgotten. How's that for messed up?

But today. Today is two years later. Today I will call my friend and tell her thank you. For still talking to me. For understanding. For giving me a second chance. For letting me explain why I didn't listen to her at the worst possible moment in her life. She, somehow, understands that I entering one of the worst possible moments in my life.

Today I will take care of my children. I will possibly paint, weed the garden and clean the kitchen.

Most importantly? I will remember this day.

And all the days that come after. I will remember the smiles and sighs, the laughs and cries. The 'I love you's' and 'How dare you's'.' I will remember the way John grabs our face and turns it towards him when wants something. I will remember the way Sarah screamed, "Today is the day! This is it!" When she got the news telling her she was going to be an angel in the Nutcracker this December. I will remember the way Violet beamed and said, "Thank you, Mom. I just love my nails and hair. I love you." After her spa and salon birthday party with her three best friends on Saturday. I will remember the way my husband makes chocolate appear every time I say, "I could go for some chocolate." and how I see love in his eyes when he looks at me. I will remember the amazing family and girlfriends I've surrounded myself with.

And now I have a phone call to make.

20 Years Later . . .

I just got the invitation to my 20 year High School reunion. How insane is that? I was all excited when I got it, thinking about seeing everybody again. Then I really began thinking about it . . . and well, I'm not so excited. I'm conflicted, actually. I'm not even sure I'm going anymore.

See, about two years after graduation something happened that made me realize some of the people I counted as friends from high school were in fact, anything but. For some reason, that I'll never understand, a guy, who I was not friends with, told somebody he and I had slept together. We had not. Or even kissed.  I don't think we ever had a conversation. I assume somebody was drunk and got the facts wrong. However, his girlfriend got wind of this. And believed.  My 'friends' believed all the rumors, as well.  And never said anything to me.

So, a few months later when we were all together at a wedding  and they were rude and hostile toward me, I was confused. Then one of them spoke up. "How could you do that to Mary*? How could you sleep with Joe*?" I was speechless. (And you know it takes a lot to leave me speechless, right??) A guy, Mike,* I was barely friends, stood up for me. "Come on you guys. Kim isn't like that. I was there, and nothing happened between them. Nothing." 

I was in tears.  Mike explained what he knew. I was furious, and so incredibly hurt.  That my 'friends' would not only not tell me this vile thing was being said about me, but that they would believe it? Well, it shook me to my very core.

I realize this was all 20 years ago. I do. But honestly? Do I have any desire to revisit these people again? I know, we were young, reckless etc. But this wounded me. And it opened my eyes to the fact that high school is not real life. That the people I believed were my friends were not and they could not even stand up for one another. They just followed the crowd.  Somebody I barely knew, but who was an independent thinker, stood up for me.

But there were some people who never believed any of this, I found out much later. These are the people I'd like to see. And they are most likely not going to the reunion.

Here's the other part. FaceBook. All the people from high school are on it, we're all 'friends.' Only we weren't 'friends in high school. Back then there were definite lines. Remember? Today, those lines are erased. Or are they? I see the Birthday wishes. I see the 'popular' guy wishing the guy he made fun, horrendously made fun of, wishing him a 'Happy Birthday, Brother!' on FaceBook.

Really? Are the lines totally erased and I'm stuck back then? Or am I being honest? Will the reunion be all fun and reminiscing and the wounds wont' be there? Are the wounds still there?

I just don't know.
*names have been changed, duh :)

PS. If I know you In Real Life (IRL)? I don't want to talk about this with you. Unless I knew you in high school -- as in we went to high school together. Thank you.

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You Know . . .That Song?

You know how a song can remind you of a certain person or time in your life? Today I was driving along when a song came on the radio, and BAM, I was 17 again. In love for the first time. Just.like.that. The song started, I knew all the words, still. Remember 'mix tapes'? *cringes* yeah, I put it on one. I had to change the station because it was actually so bittersweet. Friends, that was 21 years ago! 21. Gah. But the song yanked me back in time so fast . . . it was nuts. And obviously, I don't still have feelings for that boy, but I remembered those feelings. That first rush. That first feeling of, "Oh, he likes me." The hopefulness for a first kiss. The song? Richard Marx, "I'll Be Right Here Waiting For You." Talk about cheese city! Oh, man, did I feel so old and so young all at once. It got me thinking about other songs that take me places, so I wrote them down for your viewing pleasure.

Neil Diamond's "Forever In Blue Jean's" but really it's "Reverend Blue Jean's." I'll always think of my friend Judy when I hear this song. We've known each other since the age of four, and one of us thought "Reverend Blue Jean's" was the actual name of the song. It's been so long now that I  don't know which one of us. But any Neil Diamond song reminds me of that song, which reminds me of her.

Harry Connick Jr's "We Are In Love" reminds me of two people, both from high school. My friend Tracy and an old boyfriend. We all went to see Harry Connick Jr in concert our Senior year, and it was such fun! Unfortunately, somehow even after 20 years when I hear that song I am reminded of the bad memories. Why is that? (and no. NOT the same boy.)

MC Hammer, "Can't Touch This" Prom. And my friend, Heather. Heather and I had a blast dancing to this song that night and all that summer. When I see 'Hammer Pants' I still think of her!

"Mary Moon" and "Oh What A Night" and some song by a guy who's name is "Toe" all remind me of my days at Central Michigan. The dancing, the bars. Dear lord, the dancing and bars. And especially dancing one night, to a live band with this guy, 'Toe' in it, with my friend, Kim. We thought, no we knew, we were all that. We were at the front of the stage, totally rocking out. She knew the guy, 'Toe' so we were beyond cool. I had to use the bathroom, so I left her for a minute. As I walked across the dance floor I glanced back to see her totally rocking out all by herself. As in alone. On the dance floor. With nobody else. The dance floor was empty except for her. I laughed at her and thought, "Ha! She's totally rocking out all by herself! What a goof!" Then I realized that the floor was empty. Which meant that she and I were the only ones on it. There wasn't one goof there, but two. However, we had the best time. We were all that, thankyouverymuch.

"I'll Be There For You" the theme song from 'Friends." Will forever and ever remind me of my friend, Scott from CMU. We had matching shirts that said, "Just Friends" on them and he was probably the best part of college for me. I secretly still dance to that song, just like Monica in the music video. And I look awesome doing it.

Mark Cohn's "True Companion" is the song my husband and I danced our first dance to. So it gets me every time, but it's never on the radio. I have to hunt down the CD and put it on, which I don't do often enough.

Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me" reminds me of rocking out with the kids in the van. Soccer mom much? All three of them love that song and they can all sing along with it. Even John. It's a riot.

And just today, Violet and Sarah asked for the 'Punkin' Chunkin'' song. I was confused at first. Then Violet started singing it. Well, her version of it anyway. And I quickly realized what it was.

And NO, they have not seen the video.

What songs take you back in time?

Knit My Heart

This Christmas I received an amazing gift. It made me ugly cry. And when I showed it to other people, I ugly cried all over again. As I write this I'm ugly crying. It's that incredible.

My husband had a friend, Scott. They met in law school. They were both at Club Day, where students get info and sign up for various clubs. Scott was there representing the Christian Legal Society, and my husband was there for the Young Republicans. Their tables were next to each other and my husband looked at Scott and said, "We should put these two together and run heaven and earth." They were friends from then on.

Fast forward two years. My very conservative Christian husband is working in the computer lab. Scott had just been to the doctor,  walks in and says, "I have a problem. I'm gay and I have AIDS." My husband leaned back in his chair and said, "What are we going to do?" Years later when Scott told me this, it was one of the reasons I fell in love with my husband.

Six years later Scott would be a groomsman in our wedding. I'd dance with him on my wedding day. He'd hold my first born daughter gently in his arms and cry at her beauty. He visited her often in her first six months of life. He said she calmed him.

Scott fought many demons in his life. He was preyed upon as a child. He fought alcohol and drugs. He was a Republican and a Gay Activist -- this was a source of great amusement to both my husband and Scott. They spent hours telling jokes and discussing strategies along with politics. Scott started a group at Oral Roberts University, where he was a student, called ORU Out (the University didn't approve).

Through all of this Scott always showed great introspection and a poetic grace. Once his drug and alcohol abuse was on the table for us to see he was brutally honest about it. He'd stop by after meetings and when he needed company. That was when he'd hold Violet and walk with her through the house, just gazing at her.

One day I realized I hadn't heard from him in a while. Too long. Just as I started to worry I got a phone call from his mom. It was an ugly story of a relapse and he was in the hospital, on life support, and we needed to come say our good-byes.

We held his hand, told him we loved him and that it was alright to let go and stop fighting now.

My husband spoke at the memorial service and we all laughed about heaven and earth.

When I met my husband he had this beautiful table, made of a huge slab of maple. It was Scott's. It was our dining/kitchen table in our old house. We eventually gave the table to my husbands sister, Elaine and her husband, Chris, who has made various things from it, as it was too warped to use it as an actual table any more.

On Saturday when we opened our gifts, I found this inside

He made the knitting needles from Scott's table. Our Scott's.  While everyone else opened their gifts I knitted. And thought of Scott.

My husband got a letter opener made from the same table. What kind of thoughtful, inspiring gift is this? It's .. . there just isn't words.

We'll have a piece of Scott with us always now. Thank you, Elaine and Chris. You made my heart glad, even if I was ugly crying.

I Prefer The Word 'Breast'

My child says  the word 'breast.' And I'm totally fine with that. But that's not the story I want to share with  you. Oh no. The story I want to share with you is the one where another mom is not fine with her child saying the word breast. In fact she is anything but fine. She is all kinds of not fine.


I mentioned here that I taught special education for three years. I absolutely loved it. The kids were amazing and I learned something from them every single day. What I did not love? The parents.  Wait, wait, wait. Don't get all judgey. Let me explain. Most of the impairments that I dealt with were the kind you call 'familial.' Which means that most likely Grandma and Grandpa were slightly impaired, and had a child. Said child married another child like themselves. And they in turn had a child. Follow me? So the parents I saw every day were not always fully cognizant. They were not always on my side. They did not really understand the need for proper nutrition, clothing, diapering, behavior, hygiene, etc. It was an uphill battle. Not all the parents were like this, obviously. But most were, yes. I quickly learned that if I wanted to stay sane (a relative term, I understand)  I had to keep a sense of humor about these parents. I had to deal with them gently but state the expectations firmly. 


So. One day, a parent came to me, Becky. Becky and I had a long history at this point. And it was not a good one. Just a few high lights:

* My first meeting with Becky found her in a sports bra, sheer prairie skirt, no underwear, and massively pregnant. Also? She was a very large woman. And she kept dipping her hands into her skirt to rub her lower belly.

* My first home visit to Becky's house. I'm pretty sure something was dead in there. I couldn't see it, but I know. I moved a pile of clothes to sit, then saw the dirt under them, and promptly moved them back for a barrier. There was a piece of sausage on the floor. A baby was crawling around. I assumed that when you live this way you don't really know you do. Like, you're blind to it. But as the baby grabbed the sausage, Becky snatched it out of his hand, smacked him and tossed it out of his reach, saying,


"Don't eat that! That's from dinner like a week ago! David threw it on the floor and it's been there since!"


 Note that she knew when it had landed on the floor, yet had not thrown it away nor did she throw it away then.

* Becky got a job at the local grocery store. In the bakery. Baking cakes. Don't ask me how, I have never understood this part. I went into the grocery store. I saw her mixing dough with her gloved arm, mixing that dough, up to her unshaven, unwashed armpit. I left very, very fast.  This is for real. I could not make this up. The stores sales of cakes, doughnuts etc dropped so much, they had to 'let' her go. (I mean, she was 'known' in the community. She was kind of hard to miss.)

* We had to mark David, her son, diapers' with a big 'X' on them to prove that they were ours. We'd put him in one of our diapers at 12:30 p.m on a Monday and he'd return on Tuesday at 12:30 with the same diaper on. We knew it was the same diaper because we had marked it with that great big 'X.' And I told Becky we were doing this, told her we were tracking how often his diaper was being changed.


 Back to the original point. Becky came to me one day. I was standing outside my classroom when she thrust herself in front of me and demanded,


 "Did you teach my kid the word 'breast?' Because we don't use that word!"


Remember, I taught 3 and 4 year olds with various impairments. Anatomy? Not a big subject. We concentrated more on, "My name is" and toilet training, walking, proper letter sounds etc. I assured her that no, I had not taught David, the word breast. She persisted that I had. I finally reminded her that David was in a class of 8 children, 4 of whom were non-verbal. It took me 3 months to teach David his name. I was pretty sure David didn't learn the word 'breast' in passing. She persisted. Finally, I said,


 "Becky. If one of the students had asked what that particular body part was, yes, I would have used the word 'breast.' But no student did."


Becky took a deep breath of victory and yelled at me,


"I knew it. You taught him breast. And we don't use that word in my house. We use the word 'teet' or 'tit.' Because a 'teet' could be anything. But I like the word tit. So if he asks, use it."


And she walked away.

Reactions?? (because really? I prefer the word 'breast')

Kim

I Wish I'd Known . . .

Oh, the things I wish I'd known . . . about boys. . .

I wish I'd known that
* Sweet sixteen and never been kissed is good and wonderful thing.
* Cultivate friendships with the right group of girlfriends. The boys will work themselves out.
* You can't get your innocence back, so hold onto it with both hands.
* If you have doubts, listen to them.
* But don't let doubts rule your life. (Follow that?)
* Take the time to observe. Step back and just watch every now and then.
* The boys in high school will still be boys in college.
* When someone says, "You're too good for him" LISTEN!
* Do not, under any circumstance, buy your own engagement ring.
* Sometimes snooping is called for.
* Trust is earned in high school.
* High school is not life. It is four years.
* Date, do not commit.
* Have fun, do not be serious.
* "Hooking up" is lame.
* College friendships are important.
* Your heart will get broken. That's not always a bad thing.
* You can break somebody else's heart.
* Look for a man. Ignore the boys.
* When you find the right man, you will know.
* When that man find you, he will know.
* Be patient and wait for him.

What do you wish you'd known?

Kim

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