The Land of Earth Muffin

A conversation between Big M. and his dad

2009-11-08T10:58:00.003-06:00

Big M. has a list of chores to do for which he earns a meager allowance. Most of these chores are pretty quick and easy for him to do and he is, for the most part, pretty good-natured about doing them.

Except for the yard work.

Oh, how he hates to do yard work: the weeding, the watering, the picking up of sticks and outside toys, the sweeping of the porch, the picking up of dog poop. Worst of all, he hates the raking. He finds it rather infuriating that there are so many leaves in our yard, considering that we have only one small tree. Our neighbor has a gigantic, old oak tree in her front yard that overlooks our yard. In Mr. EM's and my opinion, picking up the acorns and raking the leaves from that tree is a small price to pay for the shade it provides in the summer and the sheer beauty of it all the time. Big M. disagrees.

Every weekend is a never-ending litany of complaints from him about yard work, but it's ten-fold in the fall. Grumbling, groaning, whining, complaining, arguing and even crying on occasion...to no avail. We make him do it anyway and, for crying out loud, he gets paid to do it. All the drama he brings to this chore drives Mr. EM up one wall and down another and there have been many front yard battles over it in the past. It's taken a lot of restraint on Mr. EM's part, but he has finally realized that ignoring the drama is the best way to handle it, as Big M. drops it much sooner if he's not getting attention for it.

So, this morning, there they are in the front yard raking and raking and raking and raking and so on and so forth. We are finally experiencing Indian summer here along the Mississippi and our windows are open. As I'm cleaning up in the living room, I witness the following conversation:

Big M.: "Gawd, I hate this. I wish there was some kind of big vacuum that would just suck up all the leaves in a few seconds. Then they'd already be in a bag and you could just put it on the curb and be done with it."

Mr. EM: "Well, you're smart. Why don't you invent something like that? Then you'd be rich because a lot of people would buy it."

Big M. chews on this idea for a little while, then says, "Yeah. That's a good idea. Then I'd hire you to do my yard work."

Pretty clever, no?

(Little M., by the way, loves to "help" his daddy with yard work, and he especially LOVES to "rake" the leaves. Sure, he wields his little toy rake like it's a Samurai sword and makes more work for his dad and brother, rather than less, but he's enthusiastic nonetheless. To his brother's endless complaining, he can often be heard shouting, "Shut up, Pantyhose!" Now, we do get on him about the "shut up"...but, "Pantyhose"? No idea where he got that from or why he considers it an insult, but he does. In his four-year-old opinion, it is the lowest of the low.)

I've been dissed by my kids

2009-11-01T16:48:00.003-06:00

Last April the trailer for the Where the Wild Things Are movie started circling the internet. I can remember all 4 of us huddled together around the computer watching it, loving every precious second of it and wishing it were just a little bit longer. I even had tears in my eyes, because it looked like someone had finally done a beloved children's book justice on the big screen. We watched it a second time and talked about how we couldn't wait for October when it would finally be in theaters. Throughout the summer, every now and then, one or both of the boys would ask, "Can we watch the Where the Wild Things Are trailer?" Actually, Little M. would ask to see the "movie", he doesn't get the whole movie-trailer concept, he just knew it was beautiful and mesmerizing and he wanted to see it again.

I took them to see Up at the theater this summer (which was excellent, by the way) and the WTWTA trailer was shown before that movie, which re-ignited our excitement. To see it on the big screen rather than our little computer monitor was so cool. As we drove home that day, Big M. asked if we could see it right away on October 16th, the day it opened. I declined, saying the crowds would be too big, and that I wanted to read some reviews and make sure it wasn't too scary for Little M.* We'd wait just a little while and then we'd go as a family to see what was sure to be one of our favorite family movies ever.

Fast forward to this October and life in the Land of Earth Muffin is a study in chaos. Football games every weekend, practices 3 nights a week, plus Big M. took up an instrument in the school orchestra, which he has to practice every day. Little M. took ice skating lessons for 3 Saturdays before deciding he hated them, but dropping that did little to free up our schedule. We had a few different fall/Halloween activities keeping us on the go and I was involved in a few things at the community theater, plus the general day-to-day family stuff going on. Looking at our calendar for October, there were three days out of that month that we didn't have something to do and they were all before the movie even came out. Seeing a movie together was just not in the cards for us.

Until today...

Big M. had a football game today at noon that ended (they won in overtime...HOLLA!) around 2:00. The movie was playing at a theater about 20 minutes away at 4:40. SCORE! We got home, all of us in good spirits from the outcome of the game and I said, "Do I have some boys who'd like to go see Where the Wild Things Are this afternoon?" Little M. screeched, "Yes!" Big M. and Mr. EM both kind of stared blankely at me. Mr. EM had his heart set on watching the Packers/Vikings game...ok, fine. I don't mind taking them by myself. Big M., however, just wanted to invite his friend over to play for the afternoon. He didn't feel like seeing a movie and would rather just wait for it to come out on DVD. Once Big M. vetoed the idea, Little M. jumped on that bandwagon and suddenly, the movie we all were waiting on pins and needles to see didn't rate as a fun thing to do on a Sunday afternoon.

Sigh.

This may seem like an overreaction to you, but I was devastated. I calmly said, "This really is about the only time we're going to have to see it. I don't know how much longer it'll be in theaters." That was not a big deal to them. "Ok, but keep in mind that this movie is not going to look or sound as good on DVD as it will in the theater." They didn't care, well, Big M. didn't care so Little M. decided he didn't care either. I shrugged my shoulders, kicked off my shoes and headed upstairs to change into comfy sweats for an afternoon at home. I didn't cry, but I almost did. That may seem silly to you, but damn. I'd just been blown off by my kids. Mr. EM not wanting to go didn't bother me at all. He's lukewarm at best about kids' movies, though he did think this one looked pretty cool. However, NFL football is his favorite thing in the world and something about Bret Favre playing in Green Bay and blah blah blah. Besides, as much as I love my husband, this was a movie I wanted to experience with my children. I wanted to sit between them with a big tub of popcorn on my lap that I would eventually have to pass to Big M. because Little M. would get tired of his seat and want to snuggle with me. I wanted us to marvel at the beauty of the Wild Things alive on the big screen. I wanted to talk about the fleshed-out storyline on the way home. I wanted to do something fun with my boys this afternoon.

They just didn't want to do anything with me.

More than likely, I could have talked Little M. into tagging along with me. More than likely, I could have guilted Big M. into going. As Mr. EM pointed out, I could have gone by myself and it would have been quieter and cheaper. But none of those options really appealed to me. This wasn't something I wanted to MAKE them do, I wanted them to want to go as much as I wanted to go. And, Mr. EM is right, going by myself would have been both cheaper and quieter and I have no qualms about going to movies by myself, I've done it before and I'll do it again...just not this movie. This was a movie I wanted to share with my boys, just as we've shared the book countless time throughout both of their lives.

Really, this is probably not the last chance we have to see WTWTA at the theater. It's doing very well, so next weekend could still be an option. Looking at the calendar for November, I see that we are free on both Wednesday and Friday of this week, so there are two options as well. If they blow me off again, I probably will go see it by myself because I know that it will be better on the big screen than on DVD, whether my kids believe me or not. It's just that their rejection today stings. I got my first dose of my very-near future, a future where more often than not the M.'s are going to find better things to do than spend time with me.

I'm not sure how comfortable I am with that.

"Please don't go...we'll eat you up, we love you so."

*And, yes, I did read dozens of reviews and, yes, most of them said that it was for children ages 8 and up, and, yes, Little M. is only 4. However, he watches Harry Potter movies without being scared and from what I've read this movie sounds to be on par with those, as far as the fright factor goes. We are somewhat liberal on what we allow our kids to see, as long as we're watching it with them. Little M. actually has a pretty firm foot in reality and while he might be a little scared of the Wild Things, he knows they're not real. I really doubt they'll haunt him for nights to come.

Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ, I have seen the light!

2009-10-30T17:34:00.006-05:00

Happy Halloween from the Land of Earth Muffin! If we happen to stop by your house, please put some plain white toast, 4 fried chickens and a Coke in Jake and Elwood's bags, ok?

Autumn in the Land of Earth Muffin: a photographic essay

2009-10-23T20:26:00.008-05:00

Big M.'s first (and only, so far) winning football game

My brother came to visit for the Octoberfest and took in his nephew's football game

A gigantic sweet potato from our community garden

Trip to the pumpkin farm with Little M.'s preschool class

Eating tofu hot dogs, cooked on the bonfire at the "Enchanted Forest"...a party at a local nature preserve.

Lots going on around here lately, been too busy to blog. Football has been a great experience for Big M., but it will be nice when the season is over so things can slow down a little bit. Work is crazy, but still going well...fingers crossed! The weather has been awfully temperamental lately, freakishly cold and way too rainy more days than not. I hear we have sunshine in our weekend forecast, but I'll believe it when I see it. I can't believe we're nearing the end of October already! Next time I post pictures, I have a feeling they will be of the M.'s in their awesome Halloween costumes. No hints, you'll just have to wait and see!

I hope fall is treating you nicely. Drink some hot cider, eat a caramel apple, carve a pumpkin and take in the crisp air...in Earth Muffin's opinion, this is the most wonderful time of the year.

Things my boys said at my grandma's visitation and funeral

2009-10-11T17:10:00.004-05:00

Big M.: "Huh...for some reason I thought she'd be behind glass or something." (as we stood in front of the casket, very near all of my dad's side of the family)

"So, what are you going to want Little M. and me to dress you in when you die? Because I don't really know what's in your closet, Mom. Do you think you could write it down for us?" (after asking why Great-Grandma was so dressed up even though she was dead)

Little M.: "(big sigh) How come there's no fun stuff here?" (after being told that we would be staying at the funeral home for a little while longer)

"What's the bwood of Chwist?" (VERY loudly in a Catholic church during the funeral...I had forgotten just how great the acoustics are in that place.)

Mr. EM: "You look really hot in that dress." (After witnessing plenty of ugly-crying from me all week long, dressing himself and the kids in acceptable clothing and driving in the rain to the funeral home, standing in line for a good 30 minutes to get to the receiving line of my relatives, shaking all their hands and answering the 30 million questions the boys had about death and church so that I wouldn't have to. Is he awesome or what?)

And, by the way, I did look pretty good in that dress...

They love each other

2009-10-10T09:04:00.006-05:00

On the heels of grief comes something happy.

Today is our 11th wedding anniversary!

Last year at this time we were kicking up our heels in Kansas City. Nothing so exciting this year, but we do have fun plans. We are dumping the M.'s off at MIL's and lounging in a jacuzzi suite in the Holiday Inn Express in her town. She has a gift certificate for a restaurant that she's letting us have, so a good dinner will be eaten as well. We can't wait to get out of town!

I feel very blessed to have such a good marriage. Over our time together we have watched some of our friends wander from one doomed relationship to the next. We've watched some of our friends move in with or marry people we could tell from the start were wrong for them. We've watched seemingly happy marriages fall apart over the strain of children, money and infidelity. And every time, we've looked at each other and said in some way or another, "Thank you for being with me." We have our ups and downs, as any relationship does, but our marriage is solid, based on a mutual love and respect for each other.

In 11 years, we've gone from this...

(Look at that smug, satisfied smile on his face!)

...to this...

It's a good thing we've got going on here.

Good-bye Grandma

2009-10-06T18:08:00.005-05:00

"The word 'happiness' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness"...Carl Jung

My grandma passed away early yesterday morning.

It was not an unexpected death. To be completely honest, I'm surprised she held out this long. 2009 had not been kind to her...she went through a bout of pneumonia in the spring and then broke her hip in the early summer. She got through the pneumonia relatively unscathed, prompting one of my younger cousins to remark, "Man, Grandma's bad-ass!" The hip, however, and all the therapy and recovery-time that went with it, seemed to be the beginning of the end. My cousin was right though. Grandma was bad-ass. She went down fighting.

I'm quite sad about it. She was my last living grandparent and, though I adored them all, she was most definitely my favorite. She "got" me, I "got" her. In many ways she was the stereotypical Roman Catholic grandmother.

Her: "Are you hungry?"
Me: "No, thanks."
Her: "Why aren't you hungry?"
Me: "I just ate something at home."
Her: "Just a little something? I'll make some polenta."
Me: "No, Grandma. Thanks, though."
Her: "What...are you on a diet?", as she got out the ingredients to make polenta.

In many ways, however, she was not. She had no qualms about going on senior citizen bus tours with her friends and leaving my grandpa to fend for himself for several days. She didn't care how long Mr. EM's hair was when she first met him. He was "good" to me and respectful to her, so how bad could he be? So what if he'd been married once before...what, a person can't make a mistake? She loved when my aunt and uncle had their annual 4th of July barbecue so she could don her swimming suit and spend the day in their pool. At the age of 81, she saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time and waded waist-deep in it.

Most of all, she LOVED LOVED LOVED babies. She had six children of her own, one a stillborn, but five of which she kept in the house as long she could hold onto them. Those five children gave her nine grandchildren and two step-grandchildren. Not that there was anything "step" about them in her eyes. In her home, children were family, regardless of DNA. Her grandchildren (steps included) gave her nine great-grandchildren and when she spent time with them, you could actually see her getting younger. Even the last time I took the boys to see her in the nursing home, she was joking around with Big M. and playing silly rhyming games with Little M. She gave Big M. some advice he could use on the football field and helped Little M. recite his ABC's.

That was the last time I saw her, it was right before school started, not quite two months ago. Once I'm working, it's hard for me to find time to get to my hometown very often. When my dad called with the news yesterday, I felt guilty for a few moments that I hadn't made time to see her one last time. I'm over that now. My brother saw her towards the end and said it was the saddest thing he'd ever done. She wasn't herself, she wasn't really anybody any more. She'd become a shell of who she'd been and she just stared at him blankly while he held her hand. I'm glad that my last visit with her was one of her last lucid days. She smiled, she joked, she knew who we were, she hugged and kissed us good-bye. I like that I have that memory of her as my last.

So, we have her visitation on Thursday. We have her funeral on Friday...a Catholic mass. I will be reading a 3 page eulogy that my favorite aunt has written, trying not to lose my shit in front of what I'm sure will be a packed congregation. And then, we'll all do the only thing she would have really wanted us to do in the first place, eat. A lot. Until we're all so stuffed we can hardly move. And then we might eat a little more. And that would make her very, very happy.

Little M. and Great-Grandma, June '05

Big M. and Great-Grandma at his 7th birthday party, March '07

She was a great lady, the best. She will be missed.

Oh, Earth Muffin, where art thou?

2009-10-03T20:14:00.003-05:00

Right here, just really busy. I haven't had the time to blog and, though I am very busy these days, I'm not really busy with much that's blog-worthy.

Except for Tuesday night...

Because on Tuesday night I took Big M. to his first rock concert. Because I'm a cool mom like that. We saw these guys...

(That's Blink 182, for those of you who aren't cool enough to know.)

They are totally his favorite band and the guy in the middle, Travis Barker, is totally his favorite person in the whole wide world. Going to this concert was his "treat" for getting straight A's all last school year. He was blown away...had a blast. It was great to share his first concert experience with him, and I like Blink 182 also, so at least I didn't have to sit through Hannah Montana or some shit like that. They played all our favorite songs and there were only a small handful of inappropriate things shouted out by the band. Big M. saved up his allowance money to buy a t-shirt, which he proudly wore to school the next day. Our seats were on the lawn, so we weren't close enough to really see them, but there were huge screens all over the place so we could see everything going on onstage really well. We listened to their greatest hits CD on the way there, and on the way home. It was a really nice date-night for me and my oldest son.

The only gripe I have of the whole evening was the new stupid rules at the stupid venue. It's an outdoor amphitheater that always been just a little full of itself, if you ask me. Every time we've been to a show there, they have added another "policy" to their list. I understand that it's important in a large venue during an event where there is drinking and a large crowd that it's important to maintain control. I do not, however, think that control should extend to not being able to take in a freakin' blanket to sit on when you have lawn seats, for crying out loud. We've ALWAYS been able to take in a blanket, I have no idea why they have instituted this policy and they won't tell you if you ask. I know this because the kid in line ahead of me asked and the answer he was given was, "You can either throw your blanket in the trash or donate it to charity at that van over there." I didn't even bother asking when it was my turn to be frisked like I was there to visit my lover in prison, partly because I knew it was fruitless to ask and partly because they frisked Big M. ahead of me and shuttled him away from me and I didn't want to lose him in the crowd.

And let me just get this off my chest, "THROW IT IN THE TRASH"?????????????????? Why is that even an option? Donate it to charity, fine. Good idea. Leaving out big trash barrels to throw perfectly good blankets away in, not fine. The choices should be, "You can either take it back to your car (on the north 40) or you can donate it to charity." Of course the choice should REALLY be, take in a blanket or rent one of our little lawn chairs, like the choice has always been, but whatever. I mentioned this ridiculous policy at work and someone suggested that maybe people were smuggling contraband items in their blankets. Negative. They have always made you open up your blanket and shake it out when you brought one in. Someone else suggested that maybe it was a deterrent to folks "gettin' busy" underneath blankets on the lawn. Maybe, I don't know. I do know that there's enough security walking around the lawn to qualify it as a military state so it would be pretty hard to have any kind of satisfying sexual experience up there during a show.

So then, resigned to the fact that we'd be sitting on the cold grass all night, we headed to the concession stand for some overpriced snacks and drinks. I ordered a bottled water, Big M. got a bottled lemonade. Before the counter girl handed us our drinks, she opened them and threw away the caps. Yes, she threw away the caps. When she handed them to us, I looked at them and then at her. I asked why she threw away our caps and she said, "It's a new policy." When I probed further, she really didn't have an answer for me, she'd just been trained to throw away caps to bottled beverages. WTF?! Had I known they were going to do this, I'd have bought us drinks out of the vending machines. I paid $5.00 apiece for those drinks, I should get to keep my caps! If you're keeping track, this means that not only were we going to be sitting on a cold lawn (it was one of our first really chilly fall nights in StL) sans blanket, we also had to precariously balance bottled beverages without lids on said cold lawn, which has quite a slope to it. Not an easy feat, gentle readers.

Big M. is still talking about the show, though, and still listening to the CD. I had to practically pry the t-shirt off of him today to wash it. He had a great first concert experience. That's what's important. It's not quite as cool as Maria's concert post, but it'll do for me.

(And, BTW, Fall Out Boy opened for Blink 182 and, while I'll never be a Fall Out Boy fan, I have to say that they did a kick-ass cover of "Don't Stop Believin'". I was impressed.)

WTF Wednesday, but in a good way

2009-09-23T08:24:00.001-05:00

Some posted one of these on Facebook and it made me laugh so hard I couldn't not share it.

You're welcome.

All the freaky people make the beauty of the world

2009-09-22T07:32:00.002-05:00

Michael Franti and Spearhead are coming to St. Louis on October 2nd. Mr. EM just bought us tickets.

Woo-Hoo!!!

I love Michael Franti. His music has a message...love yourself, love each other, celebrate diversity, question authority, be respectful of the world around you. Most of all his message is, "Stay Human", which is my favorite of his songs. Below is an acoustic version of it, not the best video (and it cuts off the end of the song) but the audio is very clear. Please take a listen...

My favorite lyric is "We need to heed the words of Dalai Lama, or at least the words of your mama." God, I love that song!

Most of his music is a reggae/hip-hop/rap hybrid, not everyone's cup of tea, but the message is always there...stay human. He also has an album of acoustic versions of some of his songs called "Songs From the Front Porch", which is just great. If you like mellow, acoustic music, I highly recommend checking it out.

The main purpose of this post is to put him out there for people who may have never heard of him before. Spearhead has a big following in the, ahem, hippie community, but outside of that I'm not sure how well-known Michael Franti is. What I do know is that many more people could stand to listen to what he has to say and take it to heart.

Every flower got a right to be bloomin', stay human.

It appears that I can still be embarrassed by my dad.

2009-09-18T22:19:00.002-05:00

When I was growing up, mostly during my teen years, my dad drove me nuts griping about the music I listened to. This is not an uncommon phenomena, I realize. Most parents and their children lock horns over popular music. I came of age when the hair bands ruled the airwaves: Poison, Bon Jovi, Skid Row, Ratt, Def Lepard and so on and so forth. Looking back on that time, I can really feel for my parents because that music SUCKS. I was young and stupid, that is my only excuse.

Then I went away to college and was exposed to so many other bands and genres of music that I felt like a kid in a candy store. I wanted to listen to it all, over and over again, totally immerse myself in it. R.E.M., Arrested Development, the Pixies, Nirvana, the Cure, They Might Be Giants, the Smiths, the Beastie Boys, Peter Gabriel, Tracy Chapman, Nine Inch Nails, Rage Against the Machine...not to mention older music I hadn't bothered to check out until then like Leonard Cohen, Parliament, the Band, Joan Baez. Music became like crack, I wanted/needed/had to have it. When I was home for holidays, it was no different. I tried to keep it at a respectful volume, but I was not about to shut it off. My mom was not a fan of much of what I played, but she was tolerant. My brother loved it, as it provided more fodder for him with which to ridicule me, as I was fast becoming his "weird" older sister...the one who left Farmtown for the "big city college and her fancy book learnin'". My dad, however, never skipped an opportunity to tell me that "crap" was "nothing but noise" by some "talentless hack", especially if what I was playing was either rap or some sort of heavier style of music.

And it's not that I didn't appreciate the music my dad liked. We could bond over Jimi Hendrix, the Beatles, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, B.B. King, Jeff Healy and Big Mama Thornton. We both had an affinity for all things Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones. He just couldn't understand the eclectic nature of some of the things I was getting into and I just couldn't understand how someone with such good taste wouldn't be interested in broadening that taste a little bit. My dad is not what I'd consider a racist man, but once when I was playing Arrested Development, he blustered into my room and made a comment about turning that "jungle bunny" music off and I decided then and there that I would not be the kind of parent who insults and belittles her children's taste in music. Even if it was nails-on-a-chalkboard to my ears, I would keep an open mind and find something positive to say about it. And I would be the kind of parent who kept a wide variety of music in the house, to educate and entertain and hopefully inspire.

I think it's worked out ok. Big M. leans towards the "skater" style of music right now...Green Day, Blink 182, Jimmy Eat World, 311, the Clash. He likes Maroon 5 and Matchbox 20. He likes what little rap we allow him to listen to: Lupe Fiasco, Lucious Jackson, extremely edited Eminem and Public Enemy. Little M. is more a fan of classic rock: the Cars, Alice Cooper, the Grateful Dead. Both boys like Dan Zanes and Friends, Barenaked Ladies and Johnny Cash. We let them pick music on long car trips and sometimes for dinner. We always get them new music for Christmas. We encourage them to explore new music and we listen to it with them. Not at all like when I was a kid, "If you're going to listen to that junk, turn it down and close your door." Car trips were whatever static-y baseball game they could find on an AM station. I spent a small fortune on batteries for my Walkman as a teenager.

So, now my dad and I are "friends" on Facebook. And earlier this week, his status read as follows..."Why isn't anyone commenting on the passing of Mary Travers of Peter, Paul, and Mary fame. Are you too busy listning to head-banging suicide music and idiotic rap? They gave us music that really meant something." GAWD!!! (Insert me rolling my eyes here.)

Yes, I like Peter, Paul and Mary. Yes, it's a bummer that Mary has passed away. But "head-banging suicide music and idiotic rap"? I think he's being just a bit melodramatic here. Nothing like lecturing your Facebook friends to insure that they'll be making fun of you before too long! At first, I commented something along the lines of "Geez, Dad. Nice lecture." Other people either agreed with him or teased him a little. He commented individually to everyone, taking the teasing in stride and thanking those who agreed with him. Then he said that he expected a little support from his "feminist, environmentalist peacenik daughter". I replied.

"Peter, Paul and Mary DID create a lot of great, relevant music and it is a shame that Mary is no longer with us.

However...just because you don't like a certain kind of music does not automatically mean that it isn't great and/or relevant. Some rap is idiotic, not all of it. And if someone commits suicide, it's because they have mental problems. It has nothing to do with the music they listen to, head-banging or otherwise.

They can't all be Johnny Cash. Diversity makes the world go 'round. I think Peter, Paul and Mary would agree with me."

Haven't gotten a response, but he only gets on Facebook once in a blue moon, so that's not unusual. If he does respond, it'll more than likely be something to the effect of rock and roll dying with Jimi Hendrix and how no musician has had anything relevant to say since John Lennon died.

Gawd, my dad is, like, so LAME.

Earth Muffin hits the gridiron...that's a football term, right?

2009-09-13T18:32:00.004-05:00

So, Big M. is playing little league football now.

The Pros:

He is working harder at this than anything he has done in his 9 years on this planet. He's tried basketball, baseball and soccer, to no avail. So far, school has come really easy to him. When he doesn't immediately conquer a video game or a Lego kit, he just quits playing it. But football...football is apparently very important to him. The first week of practices kicked his little butt. He came home sweaty, sore, exhausted and feeling just a little defeated. When I asked him how he liked it, his reply was, "It's hard and I'm scared of tackling and being tackled." I told him that it would be hard for a while because he wasn't used to such heavy physical activity, but that it wouldn't be long before his body was accustomed to it and he'd be in great shape. As far as the tackling goes, his peace-loving mama had some words of wisdom, "You know how I'm always telling you NOT to be physcially aggressive? Well, in football you HAVE to be physically aggressive. That's the game. And don't worry about hurting yourself or anyone else, everyone has pads on and that's what the pads are for. As long as you're not playing dirty, then get mad, get mean. Get in there and knock those guys down!"

And at the next practice that's exactly what he did. My skinny little 70 pounder was kicking ass all over that field. Sure, he's a diamond in the rough, but it seems he has a little defensive talent. Who knew? Mr. EM came home amazed and said that he couldn't believe that of all people, I was the one who inspired Big M. to be all he could be on the football field.

(Because here's the ironic part...I cannot stand football. It takes for-freakin-ever to get through a game and to me it just looks like a bunch of people crashing into each other. I also don't know shit about football. I've had the game explained to me more times than I can count. Something in my brain refuses to let me comprehend the rules of football. So, Mr. EM's amazement is based on fact.)

He has made a new friend, too. A kid in his class is on his team and lives in our neighborhood. They've been sitting together on the bus and spending time together on the weekends and it's been nice. (Well, not if you ask Little M., but don't ask him.) The last two "best" friends Big M. had both moved away and this summer he just didn't pursue spending time with any school friends he has. I was a bit concerned. Now he's got someone to hang out with who is not 4 years old, and that's good for him.

The head coach leaves a bit to be desired, but the 4 assistant coaches more than make up for it. They are consistent, enthusiastic and positive. Not a single play goes by where every player involved in it doesn't get a compliment, even if it's just, "You were right where you were supposed to be, good job!" They don't criticize, they teach, and at this age, that's important. In order to instill a love for the sport, they have to actually enjoy what they're doing. The assistant coaches make it fun.

The Cons:

The head coach. He's kind of stoic and he definitely favors the black kids over the white. He gives up easily on a kid who's not quite catching on to a play and he's a bit on the impatient side. He speaks way over their heads. It's as if (and maybe this is true) he'd rather be coaching a high school team, but got stuck with the little kids. He did pay out of his own pocket for a couple of kids' registration fees and buy them cleats, and that's cool. It just doesn't seem like he likes working with kids this age much. So why does he?

The fund-raising...MY GOD, THE FUND-RAISING!!! His first practice was August 3rd. Since then, we've had 3...THREE, PEOPLE...fund-raisers. The first one was raffle tickets. No problem, we sent out an email to the grandparents and my brother. Between what they bought and what we bought, we made the team almost a hundred dollars. And then the Little Ceasars pizza brochure. Is Little Ceasars a national chain? If not, allow me to enlighten you...Little Ceasar's is like fast food pizza. A large one-topping is $5.00 and they are "hot and ready", so you can just walk in and ask for 3 cheese pizzas, hand the clerk $15+tax and walk out in about 5 minutes. For this fund-raiser, I could have bought the necessary items to MAKE three Little Ceasars for the special low price of...$18.95! Um, no. I bought one package of frozen cookie dough and didn't even solicite the grandparents for that one. It was ridiculous. Last (but I'm guessing it's not really the last) was Tupperware, and each team member was "required" to sell at least 4 items. Have you been to a Tupperware party lately? Tupperware is kind of expensive, I had no idea. We actually exceeded our 4 item quota with very little effort, but still. It's just a bit much. We've heard that in the past the city has given the league a $2000 check and this year they didn't have the funds to do that. That really is unfortunate, but surely there is a better way to raise money.

That said, this is the most disorganized organization I've ever been witness too. The first game was today and we didn't get a schedule until this past Thursday. Practices will be called or cancelled at the last minute. The website had been under construction all summer, then when it was fixed they had it misprinted on the hand-out they gave us. Yesterday...YESTERDAY...at their spur-of-the-moment practice they were told they had to have red mouthguards and red socks or they wouldn't get to play in today's game. The only sporting goods store in the area that sold those items closed about an hour after practice ended. We got there in the nick of time, but what about the parents who didn't? Or who may have needed to wait until their next paycheck to buy these items? (Maybe because they were strapped for cash after all the damn fund-raising?) This league has been in existence for at least 15 years, but they function like someone just pulled it together a few weeks ago on a whim.

The Rest:

To say that I don't quite fit in with the rest of the football moms is a bit of an understatement. Oh, Maria, how I wish Liv played on Big M.'s team so you and I could sit together and people-watch! Mr. EM usually goes to the practices and he played football growing up and he loves the sport, so he doesn't mingle with the other parents much at all. He's busy walking along the sidelines, taking in every nuance of what goes on. (If nuances actually go on in little league football.) I take a book and a bottle of water. Don't get me wrong, they are all very nice. They bring their younger kids with them, set up a blanket with snacks and toys and they are there every single practice supporting the team. There's no egos, no snark and, sadly for two of them, very few teeth. One of them said to the other one night, "Well, I'm 33 so..." and I almost fell out of my chair. That woman has led one rough life to be only 33 and look like that. Then there's the hyper, well-dressed, private-school mom who stands nervously on the sidelines and gasps every time her son hits the ground. One practice her son's chin strap had come loose and he asked a coach to help him with it. She ran out on the field, yelling, "What's wrong?!" There's also the Team Mom, who I actually know through some other friends of ours, who is WAY overbooked and doesn't really have time to be the Team Mom, but god forbid she say no to anything, so the Team Mom she is. When you approach her about something team-related, she pulls out this bulging day-planner that is so full of crap she has to do that there's no where left to write anything down or stuff another piece of paper in it. So, yeah, I read during practices. When they scrimmage, I try to follow what's going on and where Big M. is, but they don't have numbers on their practice jerseys so it's hard for me to find him, so I read. It's just best that way, I think.

First game today. They lost. Miserably. Big M. did his job pretty well though and afterwards, while he guzzled a Gatorade, he said he still had fun even though they lost.

And that's what's most important. GO TEAM!!!

Don't care, loved it anyway

2009-09-06T10:23:00.002-05:00

I just finished reading this book...

...and it was fantastic. And, no, Oprah, I don't feel betrayed by James Frey. I am not angry that some of the details in the book were embellished. Maybe it helped that I went into reading it knowing all about the "scandal" behind it. Maybe it helped that the copy I read was printed after the "scandal" was uncovered and it has forewards from both James Frey and the publisher stating their sides of the story. Whatever, I don't care. I found it to be shocking, moving and inspiring. Since when is that a bad thing in a book?

Completely true, partially embellished or totally fiction, James Frey tells a story that will haunt you. There are four different scenes in the book that are still with me and I'm not sure I'll ever shake them. The first is a dental procedure that he endures soon after entering the rehab facility...I wouldn't recommend eating lunch when reading it, as I learned that lesson the hard way. The second is when James is forced to come clean to his parents about his addiction as part of his recovery process: when it started, how much, how often, what he did under the influence. As a parent, I can't imagine listening to my child tell me such terrible things. As a child, I can't imagine having to put my parents through such agony. The third is when he goes after someone he cares deeply for in order to bring that person back to the facility. He puts himself in the line of fire and you can actually feel the moment when he knows he has overcome his demons. The last scene is at the end when he leaves the treatment clinic with his brother...felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest.

I can't say this was a can't-put-it-down kind of book, because sometimes I had to put it down. Sometimes I had to get away from him for a little while. Sometimes I just couldn't be there with him any longer. Sometimes I wanted to slap him and sometimes I wanted to cry with him and sometimes I wanted to pull him into my arms and never, ever let him go. Sometimes I needed distance from him so I would put the book down. And then I would find that I needed to pick it up again and see where he was and how he was and find out what was going to happen next.

And let's face it, gentle readers, if you read as a hobby ("read for need", I like to call it), then you have felt that way about characters before. We read to connect with another place, another time, another person. We lose ourselves in books, fact or fiction, because the story and the characters and the setting are so compelling that we can't help ourselves. This book is a memoir, not a biography, and a great memoirist is at heart a great storyteller. James Frey is a great storyteller.

Bite me, Oprah.

So, am I ready for the scrap heap?

2009-09-02T20:31:00.003-05:00

OC passed this award on to me, which I really appreciate. She's one cool lady and she really lays it all out there on her blog. To get this award from her it truly an honor!

Apparently the conditions of this award are that I have to list 10 random facts about myself. I'm never very good at this, so bear with me...

1. I love Broadway musicals. Like sing-along-to-the-soundtracks-out-loud-in-the-car love them. My favorites are Avenue Q, Hair and Jesus Christ Superstar.

2. When I was 5, I had a huge crush on John Denver. I told anyone who'd listen that he was my boyfriend. To this day I still enjoy his music and while I'm not a big fan of his alcoholism, he was quite the environmentalist and spoke out in defense of the First Amendment...so even back then I had a thing for blonde haired, blue eyed guys who leaned to the left politically!

3. I'm somewhat ashamed to say this, but watching the news and reading a newspaper bores me. Usually even the well-written National Affairs articles in Rolling Stone bore me. I know it is very important to keep up on current events and I do have very strong political opinions, but GAWD. Booooooooooooooooring. I get most of my current events from Mr. EM who breaks it down and gives me just enough information to keep my informed AND awake.

4. I like tofu. I like it in stir-fry. I like it marinated and grilled. I like it dipped in balsamic vinegar. I just plain like it.

5. I almost never drink soda and when I do, it's just a small bit at a time. Sometimes Mr. EM will buy me a 20 oz. bottle of Wild Cherry Pepsi because it's my favorite. Then he'll make fun of me for 3 days because that's how long it takes me to get through 20 oz. of soda. I guess I'm a soda lightweight. There are worse things to be, no?

6. The Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder was one of my favorite things to read growing up. I couldn't begin to guess how many times I read those books.

7. That said, I've never gotten into the Chronicles of Narnia. I tried reading them as a kid and as an adult, never got past when Lucy meets the Snow Queen for the first time. I just don't get what all the fuss is about. I didn't like the first movie either, never bothered watching the second one.

8. I really, really want a clothesline for my backyard. Never mind that it would take up a shit-ton of space back there. I just want one. Yes, partly because it would help us save money on our energy bill, but that's not the main reason. I truly would enjoy taking my laundry outside to dry.

9. This is the first start to a school year that has gone really well for me in 4 years and it is absolutely freakin' heavenly. I actually like getting up to go to work lately. I remember now why I wanted to teach. I can safely say that I currently like all of my students and that I truly enjoy my job again. Ask me again in 3 months and there may be a different answer, but for now I'm holding on tight to this feeling.

10. (I think I may have used this one before but it's getting late and I want to watch an episode of True Blood before I go to bed) I didn't get chicken pox until I was 22 and it was by far the sickest I have ever been. Totally miserable for 5 days and I still have scars. Yuck.

Can't remember now how many people I'm supposed to pass this on to. So, how about this? I'd like to present this award to all of you that I read and comment on a regular basis. If I read you, then I think you're worth reading and if I comment then I'm moved enough by what you write to tell you about it. Therefore, you're all worthy of an award! Time to dole out 10 random facts, my friends!

Before the traffic jam...

2009-08-29T10:42:00.020-05:00

Tuesday was Little M.'s first day of preschool. It wasn't a full attendance day, rather it was a meet-the-teacher-see-your-classroom-so-hopefully-you-don't-melt-down-tomorrow-when-Mommy-and-Daddy-aren't-there-with-you day. Mr. EM and I took the day off work to attend this monumental event. Little M. was one excited little boy.

(By the way, those new shoes make him "run the fastest", in case you were wondering.)

His teacher is a lovely, energetic grandmotherly lady with several years of experience. I love when you see teachers interacting with their students and you can see how they were truly born to be doing what they are doing. She's one of those teachers and that makes me really, really happy. Her classroom is well-organized, but very inviting. Little M. had a blast checking it all out.

(Creating a masterpiece using his favorite color pallette.)

(He really liked the science table, as I suspected he would. That was always Big M.'s favorite area in his preschool classroom too.)

(When it was time to leave we had to pull him away from the sensory table. He actually clung to it for a second, starting to tear up a bit, until we told him he would could come back the next day.)

We stopped for donuts at our favorite local bakery after school. Little M. was thrilled.

(A long john with white icing, his "usual".)

Mr. EM and I took the whole day off so we could do something special with him after school to celebrate his new status as a "Student". We decided to take him to the Missouri Botanical Garden, which boasts a very cool children's garden for kids Little M.'s age.

Gawd, that place is beautiful. It's smack in the middle of St. Louis, but you'd never know it. It's so peaceful. Being the losers that we are, Mr. EM and I had never been to the Botanical Garden before. Now, of course, we can't wait to go back without the kids to walk around at our leisure. After a "certified green" lunch, Little M. had recharged enough that he was willing to walk around a bit and see some of the garden outside the children's area. The water lilies are in bloom right now.

(We could not get over the size of these giant lily pads. I don't know if the picture does them justice. They were seriously big enough that Little M. could have ridden on one comfortably. Awesome.)

My favorite part of this visit was our walk through the Japanese garden. Stunning. Next time we go, I'll take more pictures. This time around all I got from that area is the Koi pond. We fed the Koi for about a half hour. Little M. just loved it.

(There were SO MANY of them! At one point a lone duck swam his way over and was competing for the food as well, just swimming over the tops of the fish like he totally belonged there. Too funny!)

I was even able to convince Mr. EM to have his picture taken a couple of times.

(Two of the handsomest guys I know!)

(And of course we finally take a decent family photo and we're missing one member of our family! After seeing this shot, I wished Big M. had been able to be along for the day.)

And you'll just have to humor Mr. EM here...

(His exact words when we saw this rock were, "You have GOT to take a picture of that. I'm totally putting it in a frame." He's such a dork sometimes.)

We sufficiently wore out Little M. for the ride home...had the ride only taken the normal 45 minutes.

(But as you all know now, it took almost 3 hours. His car nap lasted a little over half an hour.)

But this post is about the good part of that day. If you are ever in the St. Louis area, please consider checking out the Missouri Botanical Garden. You won't be disappointed! And let me know when you're going...I'd love to stroll through there with you!

And then I almost bit his head right off his neck

2009-08-25T18:53:00.003-05:00

Dear Mr. EM,

It really did suck that we were stuck in traffic for over two hours today due to an accident on the only highway that would get us home, especially since it came on the heels of such a lovely day with Little M. (Another post for the very near future, gentle readers.), and especially since Big M. was waiting for us at home alone and waiting for you to take him to football practice. It really, really, really did suck.

But here's the thing...

That was no reason for you to behave worse than the four year old in the back seat, for crying out loud. (To quote Maria...) JAYSUS!!! The sighing, the shaking of the head, the pounding of the steering wheel, the swearing, the yelling, the snapping at your wife and child...not a single one of these things made the traffic move any faster, did it? The other people in cars around us were not "dildos"...be they f&*king dildos or stupid dildos...they were just a bunch of people in the same boat as us, trying to get somewhere and not able to do that. I hardly think that whoever was involved in the accident that caused this traffic jam woke up this morning and thought to themselves, "Hmmm...how can I ruin Mr. EM's day? I know! I'll get in a car accident and cause a major highway in St. Louis to shut down just before rush hour! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Barking at your wife to call Mr. Granola and Big M.? Not cool. Telling your four year old to "just be quiet" when he pointed out the Arch and asked questions about the billboards? Not cool.

You know what was cool? The fact that Mr. Granola dropped what he was doing to run by our house and take Big M. to football practice and stay there with him until you got there. You know what else was cool? The fact that we listened to the same Grateful Dead album four times in a row and I didn't turn it off even though I thought my ears would bleed if I had to listen to "Greatest Story Ever Told" again. That was partly for you, because I hoped against hope that it would mellow you out a bit, and partly for Little M., because I love it when he sings, "Fire...fire on the mountain!" It's going to be a long time before I take "Dead Set" into the car again, believe me. Another cool thing? The fact that I didn't touch the air conditioner, even though a thin layer of frost formed on my arms...AFTER I closed my vent. Even cooler than all of those things combined? Little M. hardly complained at all. He was an absolute angel through this whole ordeal and for that we should erect a monument in his name. Cooler than that? The only slightly bitchy thing I uttered at you was, "Sweetie? Could you PLEASE chill out?"

Coolest of all? We weren't in the accident. How's that for a happy ending?

Sincerely,
Earth Muffin

(Seriously, gentle readers, he was such a total dick. I briefly gave thought to getting out of the car and walking for a little while. It was clear that we were going to move at that snail's pace for quite a while, he'd have caught up to me eventually. Little M. was the only reason I didn't do it. Mr. EM certainly can have his crazy moments, but he is usually a really mellow guy. I've never seen him like this, not even during the debacle at the Nashville airport in May. GAWD!!!)

For these things I'm grateful and for the other...not so much.

2009-08-23T19:07:00.003-05:00

I have been sick this weekend with some kind of stomach thing, and that's all I'll say about that under the category "TMI". It has sucked, as I had lots of things planned to get done and very few of them actually came to fruition, therefore putting them at the top of NEXT weekend's to-do list.

Mr. EM has been a wonderful husband in the following ways:
1. He grabbed all the groceries out of the car when I returned from the store (just at the start of my illness) and put them all away, IN THEIR PROPER PLACES MIND YOU, while telling me to sit my butt on the couch and rest.
2. He made me whatever I could stomach eating or drinking, which was albeit very little, but still...he gets a few points there.
3. He kept the kids away from me and quiet on Friday night to the best of his abilities. I've had that job before and it is not an easy one, gentle readers.
4. Yesterday afternoon he took them swimming at the Y for 2 hours!!! (Again, not an easy job. Saturdays are downright chaotic at our Y.)
5. He kept them quiet while I napped yesterday afternoon.
6. When I woke up from said nap, there was a note on the dry-erase board saying, "We're at the Granola's house". They stayed until 9:30 pm. Perfectly silent bliss, my friends.

Mr. EM could have improved upon the following areas during my confinement:
1. He washed one load of laundry, put it in the dryer, started another load in the washer and then...promptly forgot he was doing laundry, forcing me to finish the task. This included washing 2 more loads, drying them all, TAKING THEM OUT OF THE DRYER, folding them and putting them away.
2. He left a HUGE lunch mess out on the kitchen counter when he took them to the Granola's house. I could have handled a few plates and glasses sitting out. However, my OCD kicks into overdrive when there are perishable condiment bottles, part of a cut-up tomato, half-drank glasses of MILK and partially eaten bowls of applesauce and pudding sitting out with the plates and glasses. It is literally impossible for me to relax when that kind of scene is going on in my kitchen, regardless of what illness I may have. WHY on earth would someone leave all of that sitting out?!
3. They walked to the Y, pushing Little M. is his stroller. When they came home, Little M. wanted to bring the stroller in himself, which he did...laying it on its side in the middle of the living room floor. He left it sitting there when they left for the evening. Again, WHY?! It only took me maybe 3 seconds to drag it into the dining room corner where it lives when not in use, but still. WHY?!
4. Turns out they went to the Granola house because Mrs. Granola wasn't home and Mr. Granola was up for a little company and some distraction for his girls. As I said before, they came home at 9:30. Once they were all inside, Mr. EM says, "Ok, what do you guys want for dinner?" Five children in the care of two adult males for roughly five hours were NOT FED ANYTHING. Little M. fell asleep on the couch before his meal could even be prepared. And Mr. EM proceeded to look put out that he went to the trouble of making this food that his exhaused four year old could not stay awake to eat. Sigh.

Men are from Mars, women are from Venus. Fortunately, his list of good things outweighs his list of not-so-good things.

And fortunately, I'm starting to feel better.

An update for Mama Tried...

2009-08-19T19:36:00.002-05:00

Mama Tried has asked me to update my millions of readers on the situation in my classroom and I'd never dream of disappointing a woman who titles her blog after a Grateful Dead song, so here's what's what...

I just went straight to the office on Tuesday morning because I didn't know what had been accomplished overnight. The principal told me to get what I thought I'd need for the day out of my room and go into the resource teacher's room for the morning. Students only attended a half day, so that would have worked out fine. When I got up there, aside from a truly grotesque smell and a still-wet carpet, the room looked fantastic. They had replaced all the ceiling tiles (again) and put everything back in place just like I'd had it (again). And the carpet was still wet, but not sopping-soggy-squishy wet. I wouldn't have been able to tell it was wet if I hadn't slipped my foot out of my sandal and felt it. I decided to open the windows, put my box fan on high, prop the door open and make do for the day. As nice as it is that the resource teacher opened her door to me, I really didn't want to invade her space and I'm sure she appreciated that. The students all asked, "What is that smell?" when they entered the room, but there were activities going on outside the room all morning so they weren't subjected to it for all that long. Throughout the course of the day I noticed one ceiling tile develop a wet spot on it, and I still couldn't use the outlets on the wall where my computer sits, but I was otherwise able to be productive. We were back in there all day today too and it's been ok. Turns out my computer is fine. The tech support guy came in today and I cringed as he knelt down and stuck the plug in that outlet, trying to remember exactly what I'm supposed to do if someone is electrocuted in my presence...but he has lived another day, so all is well. The maintenance supervisor assured me that they pulled all the wet insulation out and replaced it...though that doesn't explain the one wet ceiling tile, and I told him that. By the end of today the floor was a little drier and the smell is a little less prevalent. Hopefully this will all be a non-issue in another week or so.

Oh yeah, and my boss is buying me a new computer too. Woo-Hoo!!! So, something good has come out of all of this.

And now, for Mama Tried and the rest of you, "Mama Tried" by the Grateful Dead...

One of my favorites!!!

This is not a good omen

2009-08-17T19:47:00.002-05:00

In my last post, I mentioned the clusterf*&k otherwise known as the roofing project going on at my school.

This morning when I dropped the boys off at Super Sitter's, a teacher from my district was there telling her about the leaking going on in her classroom during yesterday's storm. I listened in and panicked...her room is in the building connected to mine by a breezeway and she is on the top floor too.

When I arrived at work, the first person I ran into said, "Man, your room doesn't look good." I didn't even want to go up there, but I had to. And she was right, it didn't look good. Twenty-five ceiling tiles were gone, plaster was covering the floor and sopping wet insulation hung over the desks, drip-drip-dripping on the giant puddle that was my carpet. The damage was all in the back half of the room and my desk and classroom library and game shelf were spared. My computer? Was not. The poor teacher next to me got it even worse, way more ceiling tiles out, way more sopping wet insulation, lots of personal belongings damaged. He lives very near the school and came in last night to see about the damage. He took a bunch of pictures of his room and mine, put them on a cd and handed them over to the superintendent. He rocks.

I headed into my room this morning after a couple of beginning-of-the-year meetings to find some of the roofing crew vacuuming my carpet and replacing ceiling tiles. They assured me that my room would look as good as new in time for Meet the Teacher Night. When I told Mr. EM at lunch what they were doing, he said, "That's stupid. They need to repair the roof before they even think about replacing those tiles. And there's no way they cleared out all that wet insulation, which will start molding soon." Yep, that's pretty much what I had been thinking, but I had hoped that I just didn't "get" construction projects and these guys did.

As I finished arranging my room, my eye was drawn upward to the new ceiling tiles. Three of them already had wet spots on them and one of those spots was quite large. I let the principal know about it. Her face told me that was not the kind of news she wanted to hear. I asked her not to shoot the messenger and headed out to pick up the boys.

As we pulled into the driveway, it started POURING. Not just pouring, but POURING, like time-to-build-an-ark POURING. Little M. was fascinated by it. I was not. Mr. EM got home soon after us and said, "I wonder what your room looks like about now?" I shuddered to think.

When I arrived at Meet the Teacher Night, I was not able to park in our parking lot because of the caution tape and the crowd of roofers and various ladders and what-not. I parked two blocks away, walked through the rain in my pretty shoes and entered the cafeteria. One of my colleagues said, "Were you here before they roped off our hallway, or were you gone by then?" Before I could answer him, the principal came up to me and said, "Don't go in your room tonight. It's a war zone in there and the smell will knock you over." I was the homeless person on the faculty, wandering from room to room, since I didn't have a room of my own to hang out it. BD kids are not known for their attendance at extra-curricular events so it wasn't a big deal.

Except it is a big deal.

My classroom is worse off than it was this morning. None of my teaching materials have been damaged fortunately, but I have no classroom in which to teach. We will either have to bunk in with the resource teacher down the hall or pass the time in the computer lab until the job is finished. The teacher next to me definitely got it worse than me and he's in a similar predicament, though he's got seventy-eight seventh graders to accomodate throughout the course of each day, so he's worse off all around. And this afternoon's storm also damaged the ceiling in another teacher's room as well.

To top it off, the roofing crew is comprised entirely of Mexicans so you can imagine the intolerant things being uttered by the staff all day long. If I hear one more racial slur, I'm going to have to get mean. If this was a crew of schlubby redneck white guys, everyone would be just as angry about this situation, but not one word would be uttered about the color of their skin or their accents. That pisses me off and it certainly doesn't help clean up the mess in my room.

Welcome back, Earth Muffin. Sigh.

Summer dreams ripped at the seams...

2009-08-16T16:31:00.002-05:00

Today is the last day of my 2009 summer vacation. This is always my least favorite day of the year.

Looking back on the last 10 weeks, I feel pretty good about what went on around here. Sure, I spent plenty of time reading blogs and taking silly Facebook quizzes and bribing the kids with gum and popsicles so I could finish up a few episodes of True Blood. However, I also read a lot of interesting books, visited with several friends, kept this house pretty dang cleaned and organized, unloaded a shit-ton of crap on Good Will and prepared delicious, garden-fresh meals that my family truly enjoyed eating. This was not a summer in which I was a slug on the couch, doing nothing all day long. The boys and I went to parks and pools at least 2 times a week. Even when we didn't go somewhere, we did things around here...played in the sandbox and sprinkler, made cookies, played board games, did art projects. We were a productive bunch, we were.

It's a challenge for me not to turn into a slug in the summer. Because I go-go-go all school year, it's easy to slip into a lazy state of being. What starts out as "this is my first week of summer vacation so I'll take it easy" can quickly turn into "holy shit, it's the end of July already?". I tried hard not to let that happen this summer, not just for my boys, but for myself as well. I don't mind taking a lazy day every now and then, but I feel much better when I stay active.

It really helped that we had fantastic summer weather around here this year. Much of the summer was beautiful, mild and sunny. It is so much easier to get outside and do something when it's not 120 degrees with 400% humidity. It also helped that I got back into my exercise routine, prompting me to not want to sit around the house snacking all day long. Getting out of the house and staying busy helped me consume more water, less junk food and, as I learned at a recent doctor visit, drop 2 BMI points. Woo-hoo! And, duh, my children are much more pleasant to be around when they aren't bored. Big M. worked on his skateboarding skills, Little M. learned to write his name and a few other short words. Engaged kids are happy kids, it turns out. Whodathunkit?

And so, tomorrow it's back to the daily grind for Earth Muffin. And that's ok. I've made my peace with the end of my summer. I've been getting up during the week at 7:00, so the alarm wouldn't be too much of a shock tomorrow morning. And I'm actually looking forward to my class this year. All of the criminal minds from last year have moved on to high school and that in itself is a huge relief. I only have three kids on my class list right now. That will change, quite possibly before the end of September, but to start the year with only three will be heavenly. I've been to my classroom a couple of times to unpack a few boxes, decorate my bulletin board and arrange furniture. I have tomorrow and Tuesday afternoons to get a week or two of lesson plans written. I feel ready.

This fall is going to be an interesting one for us. Big M. is playing in a local football league. It was a rocky start, but he's found his groove and likes it. He'll be quite busy with school and three-nights-a-week practices, but that will be good for him. We've also given him a new responsibility...instead of attending the after-school program, he has his own house key and he'll be riding the bus home from school each day. I'm a little nervous about this milestone, but at the same time, I know he'll be fine. Little M. starts preschool next week and is almost bursting from the excitement building up in his little body. He has new skater shoes with skulls on them and a fancy Spiderman backpack. He struts around here like a peacock with it on his back...such a big boy! He will ride a bus there in the morning and Mr. EM and I will trade off each day who picks him up and drives him to Super Sitter's. Ah, and this is the last year that he will be attending Super Sitter's on a regular basis. That fact has only recently hit me and it feels so bittersweet. Of course I'm looking forward to the money we'll save on day-care once he's in kindergarten, but it will be hard to say goodbye to her. She has helped us raise Little M., helped us mold him into the awesome little boy he is right now, and it's hard to imagine his future without her as a daily part of it. But now I'm getting too far ahead of myself, so I'll stop here.

So, anyway, that's the Summer in Review for the Land of Earth Muffin. I hope that your summer has been a lovely one and that you have some exciting things planned for fall!

Are you kidding me?

2009-08-14T10:24:00.003-05:00

I'm currently sitting on hold with my mortgage company, which I have been doing for about 20 minutes now. They tell me that my call is very important to them and they would like me to please hold until the next available agent can assist me, as they are all still busy helping other customers. They would like me to know, however, that I can access my account online and that is a fast, easy and convenient way for me to make payments. See, that's the problem. I've been trying to do that for the last 3 days, to no avail. We've been paying our mortgage online since February with nary a problem. Suddenly, they no longer "recognize" our account and if I believe this is a "mistake", I have to contact Customer Assistance...aka Satan. This is the first time I haven't gotten a busy signal in three days, and I'll be damned if I'm going to hang up now. Except I have to get the oil changed in my car and I promised the boys I'd take them swimming this afternoon and we're meeting someone at the pool at 1:00 and I was hoping to get in a half hour of exercise before then and...

Ok, I just go through and guess what? Our mortgage company suddenly closed their doors and our loan is now being handled by a different company. I received NO information about this. I could go into a tirade about this...but I won't. At least this explains the busy signal for three days and the long wait on hold. I guess I should take back that "Satan" comment.

Maybe one day I'll just "suddenly" close my doors. I won't go to work, I won't care for my family, I won't pay my bills. I'll just transfer all of that over to some other mom without notice. I'll give my boss and my family and my debtors her phone number and they can work it all out with her. Sounds like a plan, huh?

WTF Wednesday, the Back To School edition

2009-08-12T07:12:00.002-05:00

WTF, Attila the Superintendent? Was is your swan song to make getting a new roof on the junior high school building a total fiasco? First a group of illegal immigrants shows up, most of whom could not speak English, some of whom refused to say their name, some of whom were hiding in the back of the van. On their heels, guess who showed up? INS...that's who! No, I'm not kidding. Mr. EM had one hell of a story to tell when he came home from work that day. Either Attila or his crony, the office bookkeeper, made a great, big, stinky mistake hiring that band of merry men to do this job.

WTF, new roofing company hired to replace the illegal one? We had a computer training scheduled for tomorrow, but I had a message yesterday saying that it had been postponed and I will be contacted when it's rescheduled. I mentioned this to Mr. EM and he said it's because the roofers have done some damage to the ceilings in the computer lab and ceiling tiles have fallen on the computers, knocking some of the monitors off the desks and there's not time before school starts to get all of that taken care of AND hold the training. Missing out on the training at this time is not that big of a deal to me, but when I walked into my classroom yesterday the WATER dripping onto one of my tables was. I have at least 5 ceiling tiles bulging with water, in addition to this one that's already dripping. It hasn't rained here in several days, where is all this water coming from and how have these roofers made themselves responsible for it? Really, with all the construction/roofing companies in the area and these troubling economic times, was it really so hard to find a roofing company who were safe, legal and KNEW HOW TO PUT A ROOF ON A SCHOOL BUILDING?

WTF, registration at Big M.'s school? Two hours for me to register one boy for fourth grade? TWO HOURS? And only about 12 minutes of those two hours was spent sitting in front of someone going through the actual registration process. I'm sure that if I asked why it had taken so long to get through registration, I would hear something about people not having correct paperwork or not having their money ready or whatever and I'm sure there were some parents who were guilty of this. However, in two hours time I had the opportunity to observe LOTS of parents and pretty much all of them seemed to have the paperwork they needed and many of them, like me, had their checks already made out and in their hands with that paperwork. This appeared to be a complete lack of organization on the part of the school and I don't understand it. Big M. has attended this school since first grade and we have never, ever witnessed such a clusterf*&k at registration. They were handing out line tickets, LINE TICKETS PEOPLE. This was an elementary school registration, not a Bon Jovi concert. From what I witnessed, at least two things could have been done differently: first, they should hold registration for more than two days. It's a pretty big school and that's a large volume of parents to try to accomodate in two days' time. Secondly, part of the hold-up seemed to be following up on proof of residency for new families. In the future, it may be helpful to have new/transfer families register in one area of the building and returning students register in another. I did make those suggestions to a teacher I know who asked what I thought could have made it easier. Stay tuned to find out if they are put to use.

WTF, alarm clock? Or should I blame local radio stations? Or perhaps the location of my bedroom in regards to the weak signal we get from those radio stations? Whatever...this can't happen on a regular basis. I finally talked Mr. EM into getting rid of the old-person alarm clock with the gigantic blue numbers that lit up our whole bedroom and the enormous snooze button located right next to the teeny-tiny off button. I replaced it with a much smaller, less-intrusive alarm clock that perfectly suited our needs...two alarms, small clock face, snooze button far away from off button. And it's been working out just great, until this morning. Well, technically, it worked this morning because it did go off. It's just the somehow the band was switched from FM to AM and so instead of being awakened to a local rock station, we were NOT awakened to an AM station because its signal is so weak that we can't get in in our bedroom. (This is probably my fault because in my fog-headedness yesterday morning I do recall it taking an inordinate amount of time and button-pushing for the alarm to be shut off.) Right now, only Mr. EM is waking up to the alarm and waking with a start to realize that it's a half hour later than he normally gets up is not the best way for him to start his day. Turns out it's not the best way for me to start mine either. Because I love him (and because I felt guilty), I got up with him and made his lunch, put a little something for breakfast together and poured his coffee for him...to be honest, I made him a way better lunch than he'd ever bother making for himself. And he was appreciative. He gave me a quick kiss and thanked me for getting all of that together for him. Then he told me that I really needed to figure out what was going on with that "piece of shit alarm clock" because he can't be running late like this "every day". Apparently, he thought this was fun for me or something. I explained what I thought the problem was and that I'd taken care of it. Stay tuned to find out if that's the case.

WTF, Summer? Haven't we already had this discussion? Did you not listen to me then? Why are you almost done here? Where do you have to go in such a hurry? I miss you already. Don't go yet...please. I still love you so very much. Just stay for a little while longer, please? Please?!

The story of my MIL

2009-08-06T08:57:00.005-05:00

(Big M., Stepson, Mr. EM, Little M. and MIL, summer 2005)

Inspired by Maria's recent funny anecdote about her mother-in-law, and her interest in her readers' mothers-in-law, I decided that mine required a blog post. Leaving a comment about her on Maria's blog just doesn't do her justice.

Mr. EM's parents had not been married long when he was conceived. FIL was thrilled, MIL was not. She gained 70 pounds while pregnant and had a long, difficult labor. Mr. EM was a colicky baby who, according to her, did not sleep through the night until he was 16. She nursed him for several months, but he wasn't gaining weight and she was eventually talked into giving him formula instead. This gave her a little comfort from the constantly screaming baby, but not much. Her husband was working much of the time and this baby she had grudgingly given birth to preferred his paternal grandmother to her. It was not a happy time in her life.

Then one night Mr. EM spiked a dangerously high fever and, since FIL was at work, she had to rush him to the emergency room by herself. Driving to the hospital late at night, she passed a familiar car in an unfamiliar driveway. In that car was FIL making out with someone that was definitely NOT her. She made a quick stop to rap on the driver-side window, tell her husband she wanted a divorce and that she was taking their son to the emergency room, and then continued her drive to the hospital. Mr. EM was around 2 years old.

Without even blinking, she gave custody of Mr. EM to FIL. She had not wanted to ever be a parent, didn't feel like she was a good one, but loved her son enough to know that this was the best situation for all of them. FIL, in spite of his cheating heart and crazy work schedule, was a loving father who relished every part of being a parent. This was quite a radical move for a woman in early 1972 and, while the mother in me cringes at the thought that she "never wanted" her child, the woman in me says, "You go, girl!" She was and is an independent woman who is not about to do something she doesn't want to do. She and FIL lived near each other and maintained a civil relationship. She still spent a lot of time with Mr. EM. Until his dad remarried when he was 9, Mr. EM has very nice memories of his childhood.

FIL remarried a CRAZY lady, like a truly, medically diagnosed crazy lady. Mr. EM stuck it out with them until his sister was born. By that time he was old enough to realize he had a choice in the matter and said he wanted to try living with his mom, and so he went to live with her.

MIL was working days as a secretary for a construction company and nights at a bar. She was living a partying lifestyle and didn't exactly censor that from her 10 year old son. She left booze and pot laying around for him to see and eventually experiment with and she would go out on nights she wasn't working, saying, "Don't stay up too late and don't watch the cable channels." Well, what do you think Mr. EM did as soon as the door was shut behind her? To say that he grew up too fast under her care is an understatement. By the time he was in junior high, he was partying quite a bit himself and hanging out with the kind of kids that could get him into plenty of trouble. MIL didn't know how to handle this. She tried to be strict, but it's really not in her nature to be that way. When he finally got into enough trouble that he was being expelled from school and potentially headed to a juvenile detention facility, she called FIL and pretty much said, "I'm done." Mr. EM came home from school one day to find his bags packed and his dad waiting for him. He moved with his dad to Texas, then Georgia, and finally to Florida. His mom came to see him for their visits, she didn't want him at her house, which was probably a good idea. Mr. EM was an out-of-control teenager and the BD teacher in me could analyze the reasons for this for hours on end, but that's a story for another time.

FIL had become a Jesus freak by this time and expected Mr. EM to become one too. That, uh, didn't happen. That independent spirit so evident in MIL was clearly a major part of Mr. EM as well. While his relationship with his dad has been strained at best, he and MIL have always remained close. He has never looked at his mother's attitude towards parenting as "rejection" or "abandonment". He has always seen her as doing what she needed to do in order to be happy and at peace with herself, and through the years he has guided his own life in the much the same way.

MIL doesn't mince words. When he called her from Germany, drunk as a skunk, to tell her that he was marrying his pregnant girlfriend, she said, "Don't do it." He did anyway and when they divorced, she had no problem telling him, "I told you not to do it." When he had a few brushes with the law in his early 20's, she would ask, "Did you do it?", before offering to help him out, because her method of help would have varied depending on whether or not he was actually guilty. When his partying got out of hand, she intervened, sometimes in rather intrusive ways, but always out of love. When he brought me to meet her for the first time, she called him after we left and said, "You finally did it...you found one that was pretty and smart." When he called her to tell her that we were engaged, she asked, "Is she pregnant?" He told her that I was not, and she said, "Good, then I'm happy for you. I didn't think Earth Muffin was the type to get married just because she was pregnant, but I wanted to make sure. You two will make it, I can tell." And look at us, 10+ years later and she's right.

MIL is a great cook and loves to stuff us to the gills when we visit. She likes to surround herself with nice things, but only if she can find them at a bargain. The one exception is jewelry, which she likes flashy and expensive. She is a garage sale queen and a bit of a shop-a-holic. She loves animals, particularly cats. The history of her family and the town she lives in fascinates her. She likes to watch British sitcoms and black and white movies. She always, without fail, slips us at least $20 when we are leaving her house.

She often calls and emails us, informing us of the latest credit card scams, recalled foods and computer viruses. Oddly enough, we almost never get these viruses but she almost always does and then she calls, asking Mr. EM to "walk her through" fixing her computer. Every time one of the boys coughs, she asks if we're going to take him to the doctor because in her opinion there is no reason for anyone to ever get sick, with modern medicine as advanced as it is. She couldn't believe that I actually wanted a natural childbirth and when Mr. EM told her he was having a vasectomy, she told him not to go to one of our "witch doctors" to have it done. She's always falling for the "new and improved" items on the market. When we see a new product advertised on TV, we know that we'll see it on her shelf the next time we visit and we are almost never disappointed.

And, like Maria's MIL, she gives us bags full of the most random stuff you could imagine. "Here, I don't know why I bought these so you can just have them", passing us a large shopping bag stuffed full just as we're walking out the door. Of course we don't have time to look through it all right then so it has to wait until we get home. These bags contain any number of the following items:

Cans of vegetarian refried beans (she didn't realize they were vegetarian until she brought them home and Macho Man won't eat them)
Various cake mixes (there was a good sale she just couldn't pass up)
Various dip mixes (she just thought they sounded good, but she'd never get around to making them herself)
Picture frames (always, ALWAYS, at least one...she finds them at garage sales and sometimes I love them, but often they are hideous)
Magazines and catalogs (Martha Steward, LTD, Nostalgia, Paula Deen, Catalog Favorites, etc.)
Dried fruit (regardless of the fact that we've told her time and time again that we don't like it)
The remains of whatever dessert she's made for us (in a Tupperware container circa 1976 that she says she doesn't want back, but then asks for the next time we visit, forcing me to tell her that I sent it to Good Will because she said she didn't want it back and I had no use for it)
Toothbrushes and dental floss (she has terrible teeth and doesn't want us to suffer the same fate)
Teeny-tiny cans of Lysol ("I just love these," she'll tell us. We've never used ours, though I'm thinking I'll keep them in my classroom.)
Tie-dye t-shirts (Mr. EM made the mistake of asking for one for Christmas one year and now we get every hideous tie-dye she comes across. The last one had a giant peace sign on it...yuck it up trying to picture him in that, EBM and Jill!)
Some purse or another that she doesn't want any more but thinks I'll like (I almost never like them, she and I have dramatically differing tastes in purses)
The next big Crayola thing for the boys (last time it was the 3-D chalk, which really is pretty cool)
Tablecloths and quilts (I never, ever, ever use a tablecloth, the quilts are hit and miss...some I love and wouldn't part with to save my life, some are awful and clearly cheap and that's why she's passing them on to us)

MIL is a life-long smoker, a habit that I know will eventually kill her, one way or the other. She is a life-long claustrophobe, avoiding elevators at all costs. Once we went to visit her dad in his apartment and we had to walk the ELEVEN FLOORS UP to his place. Mr. EM and I couldn't use the elevator either because she was afraid of what would "happen" to us. She used to be a Harley Davidson fanatic, only dating bikers. She used to ride all the way to Daytona on the back of a motorcycle for Bike Week every year. Now she won't venture outside of her hometown without major coaxing and an anti-anxiety pill, even after each of the M.'s were born. She didn't see them, other than in pictures, until we brought them up to her. That has caused more than its fair share of grief over the years. She doesn't fully understand the phrase, "Children need your presence, not your presents". But, as both the boys and she have gotten older, her relationship with them has strengthened.

She is now almost 63 years old. She only works part-time now and, in spite of the smoking, her health is pretty good. She and Macho Man have been married for 9 years and, while she is content with her life, he makes her as crazy as he makes us sometimes. She once told him that she loves him "just fine", but one of the main reasons she married him was for security. When he balks at something she wants to do, she nods her head at him and proceeds to quietly do whatever it is anyway. I love that about her. Still, all these years later, she's not about to let her life be dictated by anyone but herself. I don't think Macho Man knew what he was getting himself into that day in April of 2000!

Like anyone, MIL has her good side and her bad side. Over the years she has driven me crazy and thrilled me beyond belief. She has hurt both me and Mr. EM, but I realize now that it was never her intention to do so. Sometimes her idiosynchrasies are a bit much deal with, but she never lets a conversation end without an "I love you" and her actions, though sometimes strange, always show that she does indeed love us. She has always made it very clear that she believes I am the best thing to happen to Mr. EM and I really, really appreciate that.

And that, gentle readers, is my MIL...the good, the bad, the ugly and the beautiful. All in all, I'm a pretty lucky daughter-in-law, I think.

Welcome Baby Danger Hawk!

2009-08-02T09:24:00.003-05:00

After two full days of labor for Earthy Birthy Mama, little Danger Hawk finally made his appearance at 7:04 this morning. He weighed 7 lbs. 4 oz. and was 19 3/4 inches long. I have not seen him yet, but have it on good authority that he has lots of dark hair. Labor was long and difficult for poor EBM, but she is recovering nicely. I can't wait to meet him!!!

My Unfortunate Erection

2009-07-31T13:54:00.003-05:00

That's just one of the catchy tunes from this musical...

...that I was privileged to see at New Line Theatre last night with my kick-ass Aunt Mary.

It was so incredibly funny and smart and, of course, it was a stinging commentary on how much pressure is often put on "smart" kids to succeed, often beyond their abilities and maturity level. That's what I love about New Line. They call themselves the "Bad Boy of Musical Theatre". It's theatre with BITE.

My favorite thing about the show was that about halfway through the first act, I found myself no longer looking at the actors as "actors playing children". They had become actual children to me. I felt thrilled for them when they spelled a word correctly and devastated when that bell rang, indicating their time in the Bee was over. When they sang about their difficult home lives or the incredible pressure they were living under or the fact that they had no friends, it almost broke my heart. That's good theatre, folks.

If you have the chance to see this show live, I highly recommend it. And if you live somewhere with an independent live theatre group, support them. They aren't doing it for the fame and the big paycheck. They're doing it because they love it and that makes all the difference.