Auntie's Hideaway

I'm busy, busy, busy, trying to finish working on a piece, but I just wanted y'all to see how much the Impertinent Daughter's artwork has improved.



She's come to the attention of the art teacher at her junior high, who has encouraged her to participate in this year's art UIL. And that, in turn, has encouraged her to sign up to take art in high school. Of course, you know I'm incredibly proud!

You ever have one of those moments when you're wholly absorbed in something, and then something happens that reminds you of why you have come to this particular place in your life?

We were at the library. The Husbandly One and the Impossible Son had gone off into the children's section to look for books, and the Impertinent Daughter and I had gone to look for manga. The manga and graphic novel section is right across from the yarn crafts section, so when I didn't find what I wanted in manga, I walked over to look at books on knitting, since I'm trying to learn. And I found what looked like a fascinating book, No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting by Anne L. Macdonald (no, that's not a typo, that's the way it's spelled on the cover of the book), so I slipped it off the shelf, opened it, and started reading. You'd think a book about knitting, especially the history of knitting, would be boring, but I was wholly and completely absorbed within seconds. How could I not be, reading about how Boy Scout troops during World War I spent hours knitting squares to be sewn together to make blankets for soldiers heading to France? Or when the township of Andover, Massachusetts, decreed in 1642: </i>"The court doe hereupon order and decree that in every towne then chosen men are to take care of such as are sent to keep cattle that they are sett to some other employment withall as spinning upon the rock, knitting & weaving tape &c that boyes and girls will be not suffered to converse together..."</i>

Oh, I was lost! I was standing there, head bent, book open, completely and totally absorbed and then, I don't know how to describe it adequately. There I was, one moment lost in the book, the next, suddenly aware of a presence, breath against the back of my neck, and then lips on my skin. I gasped and turned... to see bright blue eyes looking into mine, and the Husbandly One smiling at me with mischief.

Normally, any one sneaking up behind me and taking the liberty of kissing me on the neck like that would end up with a bloody nose, because Auntie is a little tightly wired, if you know what I mean! But... somehow, even though I never heard him coming up, even though I wasn't even aware of him until half a second before he did it... I just knew. Somehow, I just knew. And that was just... mind-blowing. After nearly 19 years, you'd think I'd be used to this kind of thing, to just having this... awareness of my husband... but it's constantly a surprise, and it makes me ridiculously happy. Totally ridiculously happy.

*contented sigh*

Miss Priss had a soccer game both on Saturday and on Sunday. And her team lost both of them. *sigh* After yesterday's game, we had a party for the kids, they got their trophies, and had a "Parents VS Kids" game afterwards, which was a HUGE amount of fun. And yes, the Husbandly One played, and so did I! And even more important, I did NOT end up, splayed on the ground, doing a face-plant. Y'all should be immensely proud of me! It was exhausting, and I coughed my lungs up last night, but it was entirely worth seeing the look of delight on the Impertinent One's face when she spotted me playing defense across the field from her. Totally!

Mom, in cleats, running down a forward and keeping him from scoring. Mom, blocking the ball and passing it to midfield. Mom, not dying and not falling. Mom is awesome!

I've won enough awesome points to last me through Christmas!!

Yes, as a matter of fact, I am a Star Wars nerd... why do you ask?






My kids found this, and dragged me to the computer to watch it. They've been singing it for days!! And I can't tell you how funny it is to walk in on my son, dancing in his room and singing, "Kiss a Wookeeeeeeeee, kick a drooooooid, drive the Falcooooooooon through an as-terrrrrroooooooooid, till the Princeeesss gets annnooooooyed....."

*dies*

Um... is it me? Or has LJ gone tits up? Again?

There I was, there I was, there I was... reading a perfectly lovely story, with these really cool D/s elements in it, and... LJ went x_x.

I've tried logging out, clearing caches, and... nope, can't get back on for anything.

So... anybody else having this problem or is it just me?

Because... I really, really want to get back to that story, you know?

*grumbling*

I just thought you should all like to know that yesterday was a very, very important day for me.

One of the hallmarks of hypo-thyroidism is... puffy fingers or swollen hands. Because of this latest bought of adventure on the Thyroid Seas, I have not been able to wear my wedding band for about three years or so. In fact, I've been wearing my paternal grandmother's ring for about a year now, so that I didn't feel "unmarried." However, yesterday, on a whim, I picked up my wedding band and slipped it on and you can see the result here...



I cannot even begin to tell you how happy I am!! And I'm still wearing it! The Husbandly One congratulated me and said that perhaps the current dosage of thyroid hormone is working for me. I think he may be right! We'll see if the endocrinologist agrees in two weeks!

*dances off, ridiculously happy*

Every once in a while, I run a Google search on my username, and on my real name, the Husbandly One's real name, the kids' names, etc, just to see what comes up, and to keep track of things.

Today, on a whim, I ran a Google on "Impertinent Daughter," just to see what comes up. And I ran across an entry from an LJ user who is a fellow member of eat_my_bento, and back in March commented about an entry I had made on the comm. You know... I don't know exactly how to...

*pauses*

I love my children very, very much. They sometimes exasperate me, drive me to the edge of my reason, and make me want to either tear my hair out, or find a quiet corner and weep. But they also fill me with joy, make me unbelievably proud, remind me why I'm glad to be a parent, and make my life complete in ways I'm still discovering.

And I hope very much that this comes across in my journal.

When I read this particular entry, I was horrified to discover that this person has deducted, from the fact that I call my daughter the Impertinent Daughter, and Miss Priss, that I don't like my daughter, and said if her mother had called her that, she'd "be walking around with a massive inferiority complex." She also took exception to my calling my son Impossible, and based on an entry I'd made about him having stomach flu, felt I considered him an inconvenience.

Dear gods, y'all... do I really sound like that???

And yes, I do know what "impertinent" means. "Not showing proper respect; rude; exceeding the bounds of propriety." And I do know the alternative meaning, "not pertinent to a particular matter; irrelevant." I am using impertinent in the "not showing proper respect" meaning. Why? Because when my daughter was three, a man who was a complete stranger to her, to myself, and to her father, wanted her to kiss him on the cheek. He was an elderly man, said she reminded him of his granddaughter, and wanted to her to kiss him because she was "such a little darling."

She drew away from him and wrapped herself around my legs, and I knelt down and picked her up, backing away from this perfectly nice man because I didn't like him, either. He said, "Aw, don't you want to give me a little kiss?"

She said, "No. I don't know you, and I don't like you. Go away!"

Of course, he was terribly offended and said, "What an impertinent daughter you have!"

And I said, "Yes, yes, I do, and I'm very proud of her! And you should be ashamed of yourself for trying to force a little girl to kiss a complete stranger!!"

Nope, I have never forced either of my kids to kiss or hug anyone, whether it's a relative, a friend, or a complete stranger. Never wanted to take away their power to say, "NO!" in that sort of situation at all.

But at that time, I was proud to think my child was impertinent. And she has been impertinent... in some very pertinent ways. When a boy tells her he likes her, and she does not like him, she's told him so, and when he persisted, went so far as to threaten to rip his arm off and beat him over the head with it. Yes, very Impertinent, and I'm glad of it. So you could say my calling her the "Impertinent Daughter" is my way of celebrating her inner strength, determination, and personal empowerment. Self-esteem issues? Not at all.

This is not to say she isn't polite, because she is. But, she will very much stand up for herself, and I'm glad.

And as for the Impossible Son, well... he is, sometimes. My son is generous to a fault, affectionate, bright, easy-going... and incredibly stubborn. It is a trait he shares with his mother, meaning me. And there are times when I have to walk out of the room, grab a pillow, and scream into it, then scrounge around deep inside myself for another scrap of patience so I can go back and try to explain/deal with/help my son without losing my mind. I am trying like heck to follow my mother's example, and channel his stubbornness into something positive, rather than something intractible and counterproductive.

And, gods help me, sometimes, I need more patience than one small woman can possibly possess.

But sometimes, he's the Impossible Son, because he manages to do things that should be impossible for him. He's so tiny (people sometimes think he's in first grade) but can lift things that should be far too heavy for him. He can climb things that give us all horrors, finding finger and toe-holds that just... aren't there. I could go on and on, but... y'all already know the stories.

Besides which, in real life, I don't actually call my kids, "Impertinent Daughter" and "Impossible Son." I call them by their names. I call them "Honey," and "Love," and "Bubba," and "Button," and "Honey-Girl," and "Sugar-Bee," and "Peanut," and "Punkin," and all the endearments a Texas and Southern heritage has emplanted in my brain. When I do say to my son, "You, sir, are impossible!" with a hint of exasperation in my voice, I ruffle his hair, and he beams up at me and says, "Yeah, I know, but I come by it honest, right?" and I say, "Right!" Because he knows he has a long line of stubborn and impossible coming from both sides of his family.

And my daughter comes from a long line of strong, "impertinent" women.

That's what was in my mind when I chose those names for my kids to use in this journal. I don't use their real life names in this journal, and there are only a very, very few of you who know those names, for a reason. I protect my children. And that is that.

I love my children very, very much. They are not an inconvenience to me, and I have never let them think so. Neither has my husband. Both of us have had our full share of crap in our childhoods that we made a conscious decision to NOT pass on. I shouldn't let what someone who doesn't know me said bother me so much, but the thought that I have implied, in some way, shape, or form, that I don't like my kids, or ignore them, or find them "inconvenient" somewhere or somehow in this journal makes me... well... furious. And horrified.

I get exasperated with them, but then, I'm human, and I don't know a woman on this planet who doesn't get exasperated with her kids at least two or three times a day. Anyone who doesn't isn't normal.

I'm starting to lose the focus of what I was saying, but jays, this really, really got under my skin.

I think I'll go rip up some weeds, or bake some bread so I can pound the dough and vent my spleen!!!!

Oh, boy, was yesterday a long day!!
( Lots of photos to follow, for soccer and Halloween, so clicky to see, and beware, oh users of Dial-Up! )

Dear Former Assistant Principal At My Son's School,

You should know, better than anyone, that the speed limit around the school is 20 mph. Therefore, getting on my rear bumper is not going to make me go faster! You were so close, I could see the crumbs from your breakfast still on your upper lip!!

And you also should know by now that the speed limit in the neighborhood is 30 mph, and that our town's cops like to sit partially hidden down the side street we have to pass to catch and ticket anyone going any faster... and there's always two of them! Riding my bumper is not going to speed me up. Sorry, I'm not willing to get a ticket so you can go faster. Besides, I gave you two opportunities to pass, which you ignored for the glory of scowling at me and gunning your motor.

So, yes, I laughed myself silly when I turned left, and looked in my rear view mirror in time to see you put on a burst of speed... only to get pulled over by one of the cops who had been hiding behind a parked van. You so totally deserved it! Yes, sometimes, there is cosmic justice in the universe!!

Just thought you ought to know.

Smugly,

Auntie

On a lighter note, here are some more of the notes I've slipped into my kids lunch boxes after I pack them. Now, keep in mind, I'm not quite awake when I write these, and I usually don't have my glasses on. And they've been in the lunch boxes of a 13 year old and an 8 year old all day long. What? Scan them before I put them in the lunch box? Didn't I mention, I'm not quite awake when I draw these? Sheesh!!

( here they are, for you to snicker over... )

First off, a big Thank You to elfwreck and eeyore9990 who helped the Impertinent Daughter with her algebra homework a couple of nights ago!



In case you're wondering, the AZ stands for "Angry Zangoose", which is her moniker on her DeviantArt account. She got an 88 on the test those questions were on, and said ruefully, "I would have gotten a higher grade, except on that one problem, I had memorized the formula and had the number 27 in my head, so when I worked the problem on the test, I write 27, instead of 47, which was on the test!"

But the important thing is, she understands it now!, so... no worries!

In other news, the Impossible Son is experiencing tummy trouble again, though it seems to be more serious now.

*sigh*

No bullying this time, but he is having anxiety about the TAKS "diagnostics" that they're taking this week. Yes, they take diagnostics to find out where the kids are weakest and see what they need to work on to improve their scores when the real test comes in April.

*sigh*

He went to the school nurse twice on Monday, had to come home on Tuesday and go to the doctor, who palpated his abdomen and said, "Well, he's not constipated, and he's not reacting when I push down and lift on his right side..."

So, we were sent for bloodwork, and his white cell levels are normal.

He stayed home yesterday, and was fine. Till afternoon, when he started complaining about his stomach again, and then by last night...

*sigh*

He didn't eat breakfast this morning, either. So, I proved to him again that he can handle addition and subtraction... and he decided to go to school.

Haven't gotten a phone call yet, so... I'm hoping for the best.

Thing is, it's not general stomach pain. This is very specific. It hurts... behind his belly button. Appendicitis and gall bladder problems run in my family. And on my dad's side, it's stealth appendicitis. My dad complained of vague stomach pain, and didn't want to eat. He never ran a fever or had any nausea, went to the doctor, had blood tests run and all that. Nothing. So, one day, he decides, "Enough lolly-gagging, the house needs painting, and it won't done any faster if I don't start." So, he hauls out the ladder and starts painting. Mom's in the house, and this was before we had air conditioning, so all the windows are open. She hears a groan, then the ladder hits the side of the house, and there's a loud thump. She rushes outside, and Dad has passed out and fallen off the ladder. He never faints, so she knows something's drastically wrong and calls the neighbors to help her get him up and get him to the hospital. The E.R. docs take one look at him and say, "Appendicitis," and get him into surgery just before it bursts. Then there was his dad, who was sitting at the table one morning, drinking his coffee and reading the paper one moment, then rolling on the floor, grabbing his stomach and howling in agony the next. His grandmother, who calmly finished cooking dinner, laying out the table, and making sure everyone was served before saying, "I'm going to see the doctor now," and promptly hitting the floor. Yep, appendicitis.

Is it any wonder I'm worried and waiting for the phone to ring?

What keeps me from freaking out is... he's eating. He's pooping. He's not running a fever. He doesn't complain when you press on his stomach with your hand. He's not rolling on the floor, grabbing his stomach and howling in agony.

What keeps me concerned is... he's complaining consistently that it hurts behind the belly-button (which rules out gall bladder in my mind), he does not like anything pressing against his waist or tummy (like jeans, underwear, passing butterflies), and he's content to curl up on the couch and watch TV or play games on the Wii.

My son likes to watch TV like any other kid, but give him a choice between TV and playing outside, and outside will win every single time. Having him curled up on the couch and not begging to go play outside is... unnatural.

Needless to say, the Husbandly One, the Impertinent Daughter, and I are all watching him like so many hawks. And I can't help but think, today is Thursday... you just know if anything is going to happen... it'll happen this weekend.

*sigh* I've already told the doctor I want a recommendation for a pediatric gastrologist, because I know Mr. Manzie has major acid-reflux as it is. Thanks, Dad, but you know, the tummy problem genes were in that group I wish you'd kept to yourself!

*grumbles*

All right, F-Listies, I am depending on you!!

The Impertinent Daughter has algebra homework that has completely stumped me. I have gone through my notes, gone through the book we got to help her, and even done a search on Google, but...

Okay, one, this problem makes NO sense to me whatsoever. And I can't refer to a text book because... there is no text book for this class. Why? Because the algebra teachers at the junior high decided this year that the text the district selected did not, and I quote, "adequately teach the algebra concepts that would be covered by the TAKS."

Okay, the last time I heard that, the Husbandly One and I decided to take over teaching Miss Priss math, and she was one of the few third grade students at her school who passed the Math TAKS.

Anyhow, because of that, the junior high's algebra teachers decided to write their own text book, so to speak, and they're writing it as they go along. Don't even ask me how I feel about this, because you probably know already.

Here is the problem:


The length of a rectangle is three more than twice its width. The perimeter of the rectangle is 27 inches. What are the dimensions of the rectangle?


She is expected to give the equation, and the dimensions (length and width).

Oh, and since she's supposed to take notes, and the teacher moves through this with blistering speed (being one of those people who knows her subject so well, she is lousy at teaching it), and explains things by teaching them shortcuts instead of showing them how to actually do the work... well, you see how we got here.

Oh, and just for shits and giggles (can you tell I am supremely annoyed?), there's another problem that is giving us both fits.


Tanya wrote four consecutive integers on the board. The sum of the fourth and five times the first was 957. What were the four integers that Tanya wrote?


Again, she's expected to give the equation, and the four integers.


She took notes on this type of problem today. Only... the formula she was given... won't work on this problem.

*bangs head into desk*

Please, if someone can tell us just how to work these damn problems (if they are, indeed, workable), we can come up with the answers ourselves, but... *flails*

Oh, and the teacher's solution when Miss Priss can't understand her explanations is to send her to the library until she can work the problem.

Perhaps she's hoping Miss Priss will find a real algebra teacher in there?

Help us, please!!

Dunno if y'all remember this post, but it was one of the saddest days in our little family's lives. Henry's was a wonderful restaurant, very relaxed and family friendly, intimate, and the food was good. Plain, but really good, tasty... and that Belgian Chocolate Cheesecake was to die for! Let me tell you, it was totally worth the migraine!!

We made going to Henry's after trick-or-treating on Halloween an annual tradition, thought it's not like we didn't go there regularly anyway. I sometimes went there after dropping off the kids at school and ordered hot chocolate, or a piece of pie, and sat there with my notebook, scribbling notes on whatever plot bunny had bitten me that day for a couple of hours. It was just that kind of place. And when it closed, it really hurt.

It didn't go out of business. What happened was... the building's owner raised the rent. Henry's was doing a booming business, one of the few "home-cookin'" type restaurants in town that didn't serve barbecue, and I guess the building owner wanted some of the profits, but... they got a little greedy. The owner of Henry's wouldn't stand for it, and threatened to shut down if the price wasn't lowered to a more reasonable level. The building owner thought it was a bluff. And Henry's closed.

I guess the building owner thought it would be no problem for another restaurant to open and do a booming business. So, a little Tex-Mex place opened. Only problem is, we have Mr. Taco. We have Guadalajara. We have Maria's. We have another little place, I can't remember the name, La Plaza or something. In other words, the place is crawling with little Tex-Mex places, so... it closed after two months. "Rogelio's" I think it was called. Food was... okay. Nothing to write home about. I've had better at my friend's houses growing up. Another Tex-Mex place opened up and closed after only a few weeks. The building has been empty since.

So, Tuesday, the Husbandly One had the day off, because we had to go to the junior high and meet with the Impertinent Daughter's guidance counselor to talk about her four year high school plan. And after that was done, we had gone wandering around town, looking at what was new and what was gone. A new bakery has opened up, which we enjoyed immensely, and a couple of new shops have opened. And a few have closed. We walked the square and looked sadly at the building Henry's had been in. "Man," THO had said, "it sure would have been great to have lunch at Henry's today."

"Yeah," I said sadly.

*sigh*

So, today, I was reading the town newspaper, and was skimming through the sports page when I saw an ad at the bottom of one page that made me rub my eyes and look at it again, then pick up my reading glasses, put them on, and read it yet again.

Henry's Restaurant, open daily...

The picture was the familiar, and I wondered if it was somebody's idea of a sick joke. But as I stared at it, and read it over and over, it began to sink in.

Henry's ... it's BACK!!

HENRY'S IS BACK!!!!

Oh, YEAH, you just KNOW we went there for dinner tonight!!

*happy, happy, joy, joy*

There's been a few changes; the long counter with the bar stools is gone (oh, how I'll miss that!), and you can no longer see the cooks working in the kitchen (I'll miss that, too!), but the food is still good, the waitresses friendly, and it was like it had never been gone! It was TOTALLY AWESOME!!!

And if that's not enough to make my cup runneth over...

The Impossible Son did his homework... WITHOUT ANY PROMPTS OR REMINDERS FROM ME!! And you know what else? He did his math homework, it was all subtraction... he did it by himself AND ... HE GOT IT ALL RIGHT IN ONE GO!!!

*dance of joy, dance of joy*

I'm so happy for him!!! My son just totally ROCKS!!

*hugs everyone on her f-list in an excess of joy*

Just when I think I've gotten over being furious with the Impossible Son's second grade teacher... something happens that makes me furious all over again!!

*takes slow deep breaths to calm down*

I knew he had lost a lot of instruction time last year, thanks to Oblivious Teacher and the bully incident , but I didn't realize just how much until yesterday, when I was helping him with his math homework.

AAAAAUUGGHH!!!!
( Cut, because OMG, such a long story!! )

I'm doing research for the Book Bag Incident, but I came across an odd little study a Central Texas school did on the impact of inappropriately heavy backpacks on elementary age childrens' backs. Mostly it voiced concerns about children hauling extremely heavy backpacks that are just stuffed with textbooks, papers, extra reading material, school supplies, lunches, etc, and how their backs are just bowing under the weight.

*snort*

Um... two cures for that. One, parents going through their kids' backpacks every couple of days and eliminating the detrius children tend to accumulate that has nothing to do with school, such as pretty rocks, extra pencils that may or may not belong to them, that collection of rubber bands and paperclips that have mated and become their own species, etc, and just tossing them out!

The other cure is... properly adjusting the straps on the damn backpack. One of the things I do while waiting for the Impossible Son is look around at the other kids, and it's a habit of mine now to stop a kid or two, usually with a parent in tow, and adjust the straps on their backpacks so the damn bag's not hanging down and bumping the back of their calves. I do the same thing with other types of bags that have adjustable straps. There is no reason for an eight year old to be walking along with their messenger bag dragging on the ground, or for the child to be holding the bag UP while trying to walk with it over their shoulder.

Seriously, does no one know how to adjust straps around here??

I have also found that my Problem Principal had been "removed" from head principalship at the local alternative high school due to parent complaints. What about? Oh, about her wanting to ban... backpacks and book bags. Think I might raise that point in my letter to the board. I'm also planning to talk to some of my fellow soccer parents who have kids at the junior high and find out how many of them are bugged about this issue, and see if they are willing to join in making complaints to the school board. Half the time, people don't protest something because they don't realize they have the right to, or think they're the only one's who feel that way. The way I look at it, the more the merrier.

*off to do more research*

Okay, so... I talked to the 8th grade principal, who happened to be the person who took the Impertinent Daughter's bag. And I must thank elfwreck for her invaluable advice and suggestions!

Anyhow, I organized my thoughts and called for an appointment... only to have the school secretary take my number because Ms. Principal was in a conference with another parent and would call me back as soon as possible. Ms. Principal did call back, probably hoping to catch me off guard, and wanted to handle things over the phone. Fine. I had everything I wanted right in front of me, no problem.

The basic gist of the conversation was ...

(1) When the junior high was completed a little over ten years ago, a decision was made to not have lockers, and not allow backpacks, bags, etc. as a safety issue.

(2) Any bag large enough for a zippered binder to fit into was too big.

(3) The junior high had 1000 + students, and it was hard to keep track of them all and they are clever about hiding/concealing things they don't want the teachers/administrators to see.

(4) The one thing they had discovered over the years was that students were continually hiding things in their bags, things that weren't allowed at school, and it was causing problems. It's been a much safer, calmer school since they banned backpacks and book bags.

On that last one, I said, "What kinds of things were they hiding??"

She said, and yes, I am totally serious, she actually said this, "Things that aren't allowed by the Code of Conduct." You could actually hear the capital letters in that phrase.

*mental eye-roll*

"Can you be more specific than that?" I asked patiently.

"Well, electronics, cell phones..."

"Since cell phones are allowed by the Code of Conduct with permission note from parents, I don't see that as a problem. And I'm not sure I understand the danger of iPods and DS games, though I admit they are distractions." I considered, then said, "If you're talking about drugs or weapons, I should think you would keep parents informed and involved, since they are probably your best bet in preventing either from showing up at your school." Didn't want to mention the fact that if there were drugs in the school (and there are), it's likely that a teacher or other member of staff is part of the supply-line. During my time at high school, even the un-cool, straight edge kids knew which teacher or janitor to go to for something to either ease the pain or keep you happy for the weekend.

She said hastily, "We just find it's better overall if there aren't bags or backpacks in the school. Since the students aren't allowed to take text books home, and all they're carrying is their zippered binder and their lunch, it's not like they're loaded down."

I pointed out that some kids carry considerably more than just a binder and their lunch. Some carry a binder, a lunch, gym clothes, instruments for band, special supplies for other classes that can't be kept in the classroom. And that since there is no textbook for my daughter's Algebra 1 class (and that is an entirely different rant I won't get into now), that binder is now crammed with notes and handouts from THAT class, as well as work from her other classes. "I'm not asking for an exception for my kid," I said, trying very hard not to sound angry. "I'm asking for a review of your policy, because y'all are being very inconsistent in enforcement of that policy."

Oh, it's not a policy. It's a procedure. And they're doing it because they've always done it, since the school was built ten years ago. She kept harping about that, ten years ago, we did this because it was decided ten years ago... over and over. This puzzled me greatly.

She told me that there was going to be an administrative meeting the next morning, and they would review the policy procedure at that time. The woman also seemed to have uniforms on the brain, too, because she said, "And the issue of school uniforms is not something the district can decide on its own. It has to have the input of the parents as well. I'm so glad you reminded me of this, Auntie! I'll put it on the agenda for the meeting tomorrow morning!"

I said, "Ms. Principal, I didn't say one word about uniforms. I'm talking to you about book bags, purses, and the no backpack policy..."

"Procedure," she said.

"Policy," I continued. "Do not count me as one of your supporters where uniforms are concerned."

She promised to call me after the meeting to tell me the results (like I couldn't predict the outcome of THAT meeting) and I said, "Thank you, please do call me, because if you don't, I will be calling you."

"Oh! Certainly!"

After I got off the phone, I kept hearing that "ten years ago," over and over, and having a little suspicion in my brain, went to do a bit of research. And BINGO! I was right.

Columbine happened ten years ago.

*shakes head*

I guess it makes no difference to her that the two boys involved did not "hide things in their backpacks," and sneak them into the school. Or that this happened in a high school, not a junior high. Or that there were concerns expressed about the two students involved, that they had been in therapy, had been investigated... and that law enforcement had failed to follow through in their original investigation.

This also explains the almost rabid fear of Goths in our district.

I also had forgotten that Ms. Principal had originally been the head principal at the junior high, and is responsible for the dress code that has been driving us all nuts. And she got fired for it... twice. And now she's back as the 8th grade principal.

So, I wasn't surprised at all when she called me yesterday to tell me that the administration had reviewed the situation and decided to keep the no backpacks/no book bags policy in place. And that they had sent an email to all the teachers at the junior high to remind them of this procedure and that it was part of their job to confiscate bags as they see them.

She also told me the teachers were quite happy about this.

My feeling is, if the teachers were quite happy about it, there wouldn't be so many kids openly walking around with beach bags/totebags/messenger bags.

So, I will be following up on this, either with a letter or an email to the principal, and a letter to our school board representative. This becomes a little more imperative since the Impertinent Daughter is now taking part in the UIL art competition (though she isn't taking art at the school) and is having to bring her sketchbook and art supplies to school.

I'm getting tired of this, and I am very glad that this is Miss Priss' last year at this school. Now, if I can just get her through the debacle that is her algebra class!

The Impertinent Daughter's bag was confiscated today.

*glowers*

See, the Husbandly One got us both Dumbledore's Army messenger bags. Mine was a birthday present, and hers was to keep her from absconding with mine. Because... she wanted one, too!

I am using mine as sort of a purse, because, well, Auntie is a mom, so... I carry Mom-type things in it (tissues, a small sewing kit, a few bandages in a small bag, Germex, etc), and I like to sketch sometimes, so... a small sketchbook and a bag of pencils, etc, and then there's my wallet, a small hairbrush, my DS Lite for those times when I'm waiting and unable to sketch or read... you get the picture, right?

The Impertinent One was using hers for pretty much the same purpose. She carried her wallet, her emergency moon cycle stuff, pencils, pens, phone ( I think in today's world, when a kid starts junior high, they need a basic, no frills cell phone), and had room for her gym clothes and her zippered binder. It's smaller than the bags most of the girls at her school carry as "purses," so we thought it would pass muster.

Besides, the dress code only bans backpacks. Not any other type bag. Just backpacks.

She's used this bag for two weeks with no problem. Then today, the 8th grade principal stopped her, thinking she was a new student (!!) and confiscated the bag. When Miss Priss said, "Ms. Principal, it's me, the Impertinent Daughter," Ms Principal frowned, then said, "Oh, my, you've had a hair cut!"

O_o???

Her hair was cut two weeks before school began.

Nonetheless, Ms. Principal took her bag, making her take everything out of it and saying it would be too easy for someone to steal her stuff.

Um... what??? What the hell does THAT mean?? If the bag is on Impertinent's shoulder, and it is closed with straps and buckles... then... how does that make it easy for someone to get into to steal her stuff??

Not only that, but it seems there were six other girls nearby, all with bags bigger than Miss Priss' bag, but... they weren't being confiscated.

Now, I have been in and out of that school. And I see girls on a frequent basis with bags that are about the size of your average beach bag. Big enough to literally hide behind, right? And no one has ever taken them away. Needless to say, I will be making an appointment to see Ms. Principal tomorrow to talk about this issue with the bags. Because, like so many other things at that school, they are not being consistent. Okay, you don't want the girls to carry large bags? Then you better start lining them up in the gym every damn morning for bag inspection, and if some of them are carrying bags that are too big, they better go, no matter WHO their daddy is and how much he donates to the football team!

Can you tell I'm getting all riled up? I wouldn't be so cranky about this if it was a district wide policy. But it isn't. It's only at the junior high. The freshman campus, and the high school allow backpacks. They also allow normal clothing choices. So why just at the junior high?

Not a clue.

Should be interesting tomorrow, that's for sure!

So, the Asthma Monster arrived with the ragweed pollen, and I'm ... not doing as badly as say... last year, but I'm still not a happy camper. After I got the kids off to school, I took my meds and pretty much passed out in bed till 1, then got up and groggily decided lunch wasn't happening for me and stared at the computer for a bit. Then I thought shower might help matters, and was in the process of getting in when... the phone rang. And at first, I was going to ignore it, thinking, "Oh, if it's important, they'll call back..."

But you know, there's this thing called "Mom Radar," and I just knew...

So, I answered it and... it's the nurse from the Impossible Son's school. And my first thought was, "Dammit, he's got a fever... I knew I should have kept him home when he said his throat was sore!"

But nooooo... now, y'all just know it's not going to be that simple for Auntie... right?

"Auntie? Yes, I have Mr. Impossible here in my office, and it seems he's been stuffing erasers up his nose."

O_o... wtf???

"Erasers? Up his nose?" I said intelligently.

"Yes. I got most of it out, but his little nose is so swollen, I can't be sure there isn't more still in there..."

"Erasers?? Up his nose??" I said, apparently still stuck in first gear.

"Yes. You're going to have to take him to the doctor or the clinic..."

"Erasers?? Up his nose??"

Gobsmacked does not even come close to covering it.

So, I got dressed (yes, shocolate, I talked to the school nurse on the phone NAKED) and called the family doctor. "No, we don't have any openings today, we're full up," the nurse said. Great, I thought. That means the so-called "urgent care clinic," in our town, which closes at 5 p.m. It's less an urgent care clinic, though, and more of a... well... let's put it this way... if your problem is urgent... you're better off going to the emergency room, because you aren't getting in to see so much as a nurse for at least two hours. So, I called the Husbandly One to let him know what was going on... and went straight to voice mail. I waited a couple of minutes, called again... and straight to voice mail. Fuck this, I thought, and called the office landline.

It was disconnected.

Wonderful, I thought, greatly frustrated. And decided to move on.

I went to pick up the little miscreant fezart eraser-up-the-nose-stuffing poor little guy, and found a rather embarrassed son standing in the nurse's office. The nurse pulled out a small bag with crumbled bits of eraser in it, and my stomach dropped. Now, when the nurse had said "eraser" (I think that's rubber for you Brits, right?), I thought she meant either the ubiquitous big pink eraser that has haunted primary school since time immemorial or those funny wedge shaped ones you put on top of the pencil when the built in eraser wears out.

But no, not even close.

It was... an art gum eraser!! The suckiest eraser known to mankind. The eraser that crumbles into bits the moment you touch it to paper. Yeah, THAT one.

Could he have picked a worse type of eraser to stuff up his nose or what?

"Where did you get this?" I asked, staring at it. "I didn't give you art gum erasers!"

"From the teacher," he said, shrugging.

I checked him out, and of course, I could not help asking The Question. You know the one I mean. The one parents have asked every time one of their kids does something so ridiculous and just plain weird, and just want to understand why??

"Why did you stuff eraser bits up your nose?"

He blinked and gave The Answer kids have always given their parents when they do something ridiculous and just plain weird. Shrug. "I don't know."

Because really, he doesn't. He has no idea, none at all. It just... seemed like the thing to do. He borrowed the eraser from the teacher, tried to use it, watched it crumble and suddenly thought, "Hey, you know, those are just the right size to fit up my nose." Or maybe he thought, "You know, those crumbly bits look just like nasty, dried up boogers. Hey, I'll stuff them up my nose and see if I can gross people out!!" Who knows??

Well... the clinic was stuffed to bursting. Literally. The parking lot was packed, there were cars parked up and down the street and there were people waiting outside. People who stood in little groups, hunched in misery, eyes streaming, sneezing and coughing, dabbing at eyes and noses with crumpled tissues...

I took one look at that and thought, "Oh, no, not today." Yeah, THAT'S what we need. The FLU!! I don't think so!

I took my stinker home and made one more call to my doctor. "Is there any way y'all can fit me in? The clinic is stuffed to the gills. Look, I'll sit and wait for the first available second..."

"Let me talk to the doctor," said the receptionist, and then came back with, "I talked to Dr. R, and the PA, and they both said that they don't have the equipment to deal with this, since you said the erasers are up in both nostrils. They said you should take him to the emergency room."

I looked at the Impossible Son, who was dancing to New Found Glory on his iPod. Our E.R. co-pay went up, and I really wasn't looking forward to taking him someplace else where there would be MORE flu-stricken people. The closest urgent care centers to us are in Austin, New Braunfels, and Wimberly. I was not going to drive into Austin at 3:25 p.m.... not unless he was bleeding out his eyeballs. New Braunfels and Wimberly were out, too. And I still couldn't contact THO.

Thinking of THO reminded me that he had surgery three years ago in San Marcos... with an ear, nose, and throat guy who sees all ages. I googled him, called their office, and yes, yes, no problem, bring him on in.

YAY!! So, knowing that the Tall Blonde would pick up the Impertinent One, I took Mr. Manzie in to San Marcos to see Dr. T. who Mr. Manzie just LOVED, and after sticking a tube up that little nose that let him look into Mr. Manzie's sinuses, was able to tell me that the Impossible Son either sneezed the eraser crumbs out, or swallowed them, because his sinuses were clean.

Oh, happy day!!

He then gave Mr. Impossible the "Don't stick anything up your nose or in your ear that's smaller than your elbow," speech, which still cracks me up, because wow, kids always react the same way. The first thing they do is... try to stick their elbows in their ears!! I think doctors do that on purpose, just to see if a kid will do it!

Much relieved, we made our way back home, and then to the Tall Blonde's house to pick up the daughter.

The Husbandly One called not long after I'd arrived. "Where are you?" he asked, sounding frantic.

Turns out, he turned his phone off, because it needed to be charged and he was saving it in case he needed it while driving. And his company changed their phone numbers, but he never worried about it since he carries his mobile with him all the time. He'll be giving me that new number pretty quick, I think!

All in all, a more adventurous day than I'd anticipated. Ah, the adventure that is parenthood. It's not for sissies, or the faint of heart. And I still haven't gotten my shower!!

Every once in a while, the pathway between Auntie's brain and her mouth short-circuits, and gives her family fuel for entertainment for months, possibly years to come.

There was an open house at the Impossible Son's school this evening, and afterwards, we went to the grocery store to pick up a few things. It was on the way home from the grocery store that the discussion turned to Halloween and costumes. The Impossible Son asked me if I was going to dress up this year. "I dunno," I said tiredly, because I've got the Migraine of Doom. "What do you want me to go as?"

"I don't know," he said. "What do you want to go as?"

I wasn't in the mood to ride on that particular merry-go-round, so I sighed and said, "Maybe I'll just go as a hippie."

"No, I don't like that," he said and you could just hear the frown in his voice. "I don't want you to go as a hippy, Mom."

Great. "Okay, how 'bout I go as Molly Weasley?" I said. That shouldn't be too hard, right? I mean, she's a mom, I'm a mom, I just have to dress eccentrically and carry a wooden spoon and look harried. In other words, just... dress and look normal, and maybe a poofy red wig or something. And add a British accent.

"That would be AWESOME!!" said Mr. Impossible. "Do it! Do it! And Papa can be Mr. Weasley!"

I looked over at my husband and his tattoos and said, "Um, no, maybe he should be Charlie..."

"No!" said the Impossible Son. "I'm going to be Charlie Weasley!"

The Impertinent Daughter snorted at this, but didn't say anything.

"Okay," I said, willing to go along with this, and thinking about what pens I could use to draw "tattoos" on his arms. "You can carry your toy dragon under your arm to, and when you go up to people's porches, you can say, look! I'm handling my dragon!"

The moment that popped out of my mouth, I knew, instinctively, that I had Dropped A Brick. There was shocked silence in the van for about... oh... I'd say about maybe 9 nano-seconds that lasted approximately two thousand years... and then they all died laughing.

"MOM!!!" said my daughter, trying to sound outraged while nearly suffocating herself laughing. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU SAID THAT!!!"

"Wow, honey," said the Husbandly One, snorting and guffawing, "that's... wow! That's way beyond your usual!"

"What?" said the Impossible Son, lost for about ten seconds, and then, "OOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!! MOM!!! GEEZ!!! That's just... WRONG!!!"

See? Even with a migraine, I'm pretty damn entertaining... most especially when I don't mean to be!!

I'm sure my face will stop burning at some point. And I hope they will let me live it down sometime before I'm eighty!

*goes to hide*

Isn't it interesting to find out that David Wirtschafter represents Taylor Swift...

.... and Kanye West?

Very interesting...

OMG, have you guys seen THIS???

Lunch Bag Art!!

He's a dad, at home, he makes his kids' their lunches... and decorates the bags, just regular, brown paper bags, and he does it elaborately, with Sharpie markers, crayons, pencils, etc....

I'm stunned. And yet, I don't know if I could do that much work on something my kids were just going to crumple and toss!

My favorite? It's far down in the queue, but it's the Calvin and Hobbes one, where Calvin is throwing a hissy-fit and declaring he doesn't want to go to school. It got sent back home with a note from his son's teacher saying it was cool, but the comments on it weren't!!

Go look! Go look!! *pushes y'all*