Don't Be an Ass

We are all asses.  There-- I said it.  You.  Me.  Your mom and dad.  The President.  Mother Teresa.  Your priest.  Your mail carrier.  Your favorite elementary school teacher.  You name it-- no matter who you come up with, they are all asses, too.  Now why in the world am I calling you and everyone you know an ass?  Well, you've heard the old adage "don't judge a book by its cover", haven't you?  It's an adage for a reason:  Everyone, and I mean everyone, is guilty of looking at another human being and making assumptions about them based on what they see.  And you know what happens when you assume...

What A Waste (previously published on ScaryMommy.com)

For those of you that missed it back in July, here is the article I wrote for Scary Mommy's Society page.  


If I've heard it once, I've heard it a thousand times.  It's the old one-two kiss-of-death combo that used to destroy my self-confidence.  A friend or acquaintance, thinking that she is paying me the highest of compliments, will say something like:

"It is such a waste that you don't have your teaching certificate/ haven't gone to grad school/ haven't gone to law school/ blah blah blah (pick one or all).  You could be doing so much more!

And there it is.

The remark starts off sounding like a compliment... but then its implications crash down around me like a rogue wave.  I have to face the fact that this person thinks: 1.) I have a big brain (yay, me!), and 2.) it's gathering dust.  Ouch.  Funny how something that I assume was intended as a compliment-- I refuse to believe otherwise-- ends up making me feel completely invalidated.  Or at least, it used to.

Affection- A Sensory Fairy Tale

Image from stockfresh

Not too long ago, in the kingdom of Autism, lived Princess Crazy, of the Crazy Train Crazies, and Birdie, her Not-A-Princess twin.  While ruling the land of Second Grade in Kingdom Autism, the lovely Princess Crazy was quite the stingy girl.  Where most all the other children in her kingdom were willing to hug and kiss and say hello, Princess Crazy would go out of her way to avoid activities such as these, deeming them an "invasion of her personal space".  *gasp*  Right up to the end of her reign in Second Grade, the princess would not bestow her love and affection on the grown-ups in her kingdom, with the exception of an elite few.  (Quite frankly, it seemed that most of the grown-ups that did receive Princess Crazy's hugs and kisses were grown ups upon which she depended for food, shelter, transportation, and good grades... but I digress.)

Schooooool's Out for Sum-mah

Borrowed image

Friday, we said goodbye to second grade and hello to summer.  To start our summer off right, Birdie had a dance recital on Saturday morning.  The best part?  I didn't have get to go.

Why was Mom not there for the big show, you wonder?  When buying tickets to see this dance extravaganza back in May, Hubby didn't know whether or not he would be in town to see the recital.  Seeing that the tickets were $15 apiece, and Birdie's dance was all of two minutes long (and that's being generous), I couldn't bring myself to buy a third ticket, not knowing if we would use it.  So I bought only two-- one for Princess and one for the lucky grown-up that got to accompany her.  By now you've guessed that wasn't me.  The reason Daddy went instead of Mommy was simple:  I had seen the dress rehearsal the weekend before.  It only made sense that Dad should go to the live show and watch his little girl perform.

Boy, did Dad get screwed.

Hersheypark and Its Many Signs

The obligatory "we're here" photo.

After our troublesome false start last Friday, we finally made it all the way to Hershey, PA around 9:00 p.m.  Needless to say, we put Princess and Birdie straight to bed, with us to follow soon after.  The next morning, my ladies were up and at 'em only a little later than usual (a whoppin' 20 minutes of sleeping in for missing their bedtime by 2 full hours).  We were soon in the hotel's breakfast area, trying to decide which of the assorted pastries, yogurt, cereal, and "cooked" breakfast foods would give us the most stamina at the amusement park that day.

The Student Teacher

Late last week, after the final bell had rung for the day at school, Birdie found me chatting with a couple of teachers in the hall.  Birdie butted in joined the conversation and instantly began wowing Ms. H-- a third grade teacher-- with her random bits of knowledge.  Off the cuff, Ms. H said to Birdie "you should just come teach my class for me, you're so smart!  I could really use a day off."  Birdie hardly reacted at all-- she actually looked quite flummoxed by the notion of teaching third grade-- and then she moved on.  It seemed that she had dismissed the whole interaction for the haha that it had been.  My only concern was that Ms. H might not have realized Birdie really does have a sense of humor, but she might not have understood the situation.

And then the whole thing was out of my head, gone and done...

Oh yeah!  I'm gon-na be a teeea-cher!  Gon-na teach some thirrrrrd grade!

...until last night, that is.

A Milestone in the Making

This is how Birdie's feet fit on the scooter--
 in Kindergarten!  Imagine how they look now!

This afternoon we had a major breakthrough in the land of the Crazy Train.  After Birdie concluded her performance of the first annual K Lane Big Top Circus (which I can't even describe in words, so don't ask), she and the rest of the neighborhood kids began to play in the front common yard.  Eventually the playing turned to riding, and all the kids went to retrieve their "wheels".  A couple of kids came out with their Razor scooters, several more brought their bikes (sans training wheels), and Birdie dragged out her 3-wheeled Dora the Explorer scooter.  She's had this thing since she was four-- and it shows!