Weatherman chin

Tonight I asked John about his meeting with the school social worker.

He has really dark hair like daddy and a very unusual chin.

Unusual? How? (I've met this man before and don't remember anything unusual about his chin).

It comes down like this and hooks to his lip and then does this on both sides... It looks like a cartoon weatherman's chin.

Oh.

*** And read Beth's blog (here) for my take on the whole school fundraising thing-- I couldn't have said it better myself. Angry parents unite! ***

Conversations with Bogda

Bogda says she felt more freedom in

Communist Poland

than she does at

South Elementary.


What do you think that means?

First day pictures, self explanitory

First day jitters...

My sister Meri likes to write letters, especially when she is irritated.

I am irritated.

This is my letter:

Dear Little Blessings Preschool,

I am not a stupid parent. I passed preschool with flying colors. I know there are some stupid parents out there, I do, but I am not one of them. (Did you see how I used bold to emphasize my point? I thought you would like that seeing how you like to bold things in your parent handbook.)

I attended your parent meeting last week. I left with a strange taste in my mouth that I thought was the taste of the money I would be submitting to you monthly. At the beginning of the summer that money didn't taste so bad, but the summer was expensive. You are expensive.

I do, however, appreciate being notified no less than five times since my first interaction with you that the deposit and last month's tuition would be non-refundable and that under no circumstance would I ever see that money again. I get it.

I was annoyed at the meeting when you told me that I was not allowed to leave small children in my vehicle while checking my student into class. I have no small children to leave behind, but I took issue with your threat to call the police if you ever see it happen, even once. I understand that it is not safe and that it's unwise, but really, the police?

I was irritated when you discussed the late pick-up policy. Five minutes, is that really all the time you are going to give me before you call my emergency contacts? What if my watch is six minutes slow? What if I am caught in the construction in front of the building? (oh yeah, you emailed me notifying me to allow extra time due to said construction) And if no one on my contact list can be reached after 30 minutes, social services is called. Really? I know some parents are habitually late, but social services?

It was degrading when you mentioned that my child should bring a healthy snack and a healthy lunch every school day. It would have been fine to merely mention it, but to go on about how the children are learning the difference between healthy and unhealthy foods and how they will know if their lunch is unhealthy was just a little too much. Not to mention the bold use of the word healthy in the handbook. I get it- just don't expect me to deprive Katherine of the Zebra Cake that her Grammy bought for her as a special treat!

And finally, I am a stickler for sick kids staying home and sparing the rest of us the misery. But really, don't tell me that if my child comes down with a runny nose and you ask her if I gave her medicine before school that she will rat me out every time. I am not deceptive, you could ask me and I would tell you I gave her some medicine. How do you know it wasn't for allergies?

Tomorrow is our first day... I hope we can get along for Katherine's sake. I also hope you won't call the police on me, confiscate her lunch, or send her to social services for having a runny nose. Plus I wouldn't want to lose my deposit and last month's tuition.

Yours Truly,
Alyssa

Belly fat?

It all started at a gas station in Montana. I leaned a little too far into the counter and there it was-- my stomach resting on the ledge. I pulled away and thought, "I hope the cashier didn't notice..."

Today I sifted through clothes and found some jeans I don't quite love and decided to try them again. Don't ask me why I chose jeans in 90+ degree weather, I was just sick of everything else. As I zipped them up I looked in the mirror and realized they might be a little tight but were kind of flattering never-the-less.

Five minutes in I decided these jeans might be just what I need to break my addiction to Dr. Pepper and food. "If I wear tight pants everyday I might lose some unwanted bulk," I cleverly thought.

Ten minutes in and I decided to drink water instead the desired soda. "These pants really help me remember to make good choices," I congratulated myself.

After feeling every breath for 15 minutes I decided to pull the waist up a little. "There, that's more like it..."

Thirty minutes later I tried to do some squats to loosen them up a little.

An hour later I changed clothes.

Making it work

Why it's great to work from home:

• no driving in traffic
• flexibility
• you don't have to make friends with, let alone talk to, coworkers
• you can surf the web without having to click over to your Word document at a moments notice

Why it sucks to work from home:

• better things always come up
• screaming children in the background of important phone calls
• cringing when the phone rings
• not knowing any of your coworkers
• always feeling the nag of work

I should be grateful. I called my boss and asked if I could start working again after a 9 month hiatus. He lined me up right away. But this time he told me he would get me a cubicle and a computer so I could come in once a week. My heart stopped. Having my own cubicle means commitment. Commitment means responsibility and responsibility means anxiety.

Before John was born I suffered from some pretty bad anxiety surrounding my job. I had a real issue with feeling totally incompetent in my position. When it comes to archaeology I still feel like that.

I am pretty good at faking it. I think because I enjoy some aspects and not the rest. I am not passionate about it. I do not retain facts like my colleagues. I like the big picture. There is not enough big picture in a field dominated by minute details.

So I am trying again. It is a means to an end, not a way of life. That's what it is--a way of life for most of the professionals. I am content to sit at the computer and do the writing but don't ask me to commit my life to it.

Something to learn

I can't put my finger on it, but there is something to learn about life from this place:

Maybe it is the glistening fixtures that are repeatedly wiped down by the clean cut boy carrying a dish towel and broom.

Maybe it's the number of smiling employees eager to fulfill their part in the whole process (the picture of efficiency).

Maybe it's the simple menu.

Maybe it's the uniforms that hearken back to a simpler time

It could be enjoying the company of loved ones...

Whether it be the sparkle, the well polished employees with their effortless positive attitudes, or the company of family, I felt like I might have stepped into a Disney-run business for a brief moment.

Then I tasted the fries and realized it might just be heaven.