Sorry, I have words. Too many. They are all caught in my throat somewhere and are threatening to come out in screams. So I will reign them in and allow tears and typeface. Hmm, perhaps the title of my emo alter ego?
Anyway, do you know this book?
Anyway, do you know this book?
I didn't really like it as a kid (or any book that didn't feature a girl or cute animal as the main character). Alexander was on to something. Some days just suck. It's not one "horrible" thing after another, but its just one thing after another.
Let's be clear. I don't like complainers and make it a point to keep my own complaining to a minimum. The unfortunate result of taking it all in stride and pretending from the minute the students enter my room til the minute they leave that life is GREAT is that one small thing like losing a pacifier right before bedtime can send me into a tailspin of quiet sobs.
The day really started last night with my new "neighbor", who is really our deceased neighbor's lucky grandson who gets to live in grandpa's house for free. Said "neighbor" has a habit of playing his music (starting at 10:00pm) so loud that it sounds like there is a block party of Russian heavy metal playing on the driveway. I went over once a few weeks ago and informed him that we could hear him and pulled the baby card. Larkyn could care less, but the baby card works, right? Apparently NOT. Last night, we turned the TV off and there it was again. I laid there absolutely fuming. How rude to put me in this position, that I have to be the bitchy neighbor. That we moved to this quiet street and pay a mortgage payment and taxes to ensure our quality of life. I fantasized about calling the cops, writing a note and taping it to the door, and looking up his father's address to send him a letter about his noisy son. I eventually fell asleep.
Next up, a staff meeting. A staff meeting to address people arriving late to work. Yes, in my routine of dog-feeding, dog pottying, baby-feeding, baby-changing, baby-dressing, dressing and feeding myself (sometimes) and dropping baby off at the sitter....*gasp* sometimes I am LATE. By a maximum of 10 minutes. But now this has been noticed and I feel like the entire full-staff meeting is about me. It's not, but I feel that way. Oh yes, we also addressed cell-phone use and that our phones should be silenced and put away.
Lunch is canceled with my friend (not her fault at all). I didn't pack my lunch because we were going out and I was excited.
Because of the cell phone "memo", I put it in my purse, which I never do. I never use it during class, of course, but should there be an emergency, I have it on my desk just in case. As soon as the kids leave, I check my phone to see this text from my mom: "On my way to OSU hospital. Dad was in an accident..."
Yes. He is OK. But his car is not and they are keeping him overnight to run x rays on whatever side has his liver and gall bladder. His pride is not OK. And I am not OK. You see, if you want to get to the core of me, the part that will make me cry at the mere suggestion that he might not be OK or that you don't think he is perfect, you mention my dad. In many scary ways, we are very similar. Similar in ways that have made us butt heads like those rams you see on the side of Swiss mountains. Yeah, he was furious at the thought of me being an unwed mother at first. But who was there IN the delivery room at her birth, who calls to ask how "his" baby is? That's right. I am fiercely protective of this man who has lived, I mean lived, every second of his life. There is not enough room on the internet for me to list all the places he has been and the amazing things he has built and accomplished, so just believe me.
This man who raised me was born in 1925. That means he is 86. This also means that I was raised a bit different than most people my age. A very hands-off approach, but I turned out alright. It has shaped me to fear death at a pretty young age and to probably make me all twisty inside when it comes to aging. He is getting older and events like this really upset me. They make the loud neighbor music, the missing pacifier, the failed Rice A Roni dinner that remains untouched all a much more devastating issue than they should be. My daddy is getting older and he blacked out at the wheel. It is not OK.
Yeah, Alexander's cat slept on his brother's bed instead of his. But, Alexander, wait til you get older. Wait til you are faced with grown-up things like calling the cops on neighbors, being "punctual" to work, and coming to terms with an aging parent. Just wait.
I don't like complaining, but I sure feel better.
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