Love and Loss in Second Grade

What really got me going today was a little conversation I overheard during my third grade class. One of the coolest things about teaching art is that it sparks conversation between the kids, and I hear all SORTS of things! And they don't even realize I can hear them. Muahahahaha! This particular class is full of boy-crazy girls and girl-crazy boys. I've never seen anything like it at this age. It seems to all be contained in this one group of kids. My other third grade classes aren't like this one. The conversation at one particular table was about boyfriends and girlfriends. They were discussing who they've "dated." Yes, dated. One girl was telling her friends about a boy she "dated", but that was like, in second grade. They ended up breaking up because he cheated on her. Okay, so, what is cheating like when you are 7 years old? What do you have to do to cheat? Hold hands with someone else? Look at someone else? Talk to someone else? Play on the playground with someone else? I am quite certain it wouldn't be our definition of cheating, but considering the way the world is these days, I was too frightened to ask. I just don't want to know. All you parents out there hoping your child is still innocent, well, they learn things a lot sooner these days. Just sayin'. A lot of stuff gets overheard.

I am NOT a Tree.

Dear Buster,

Despite what you may think, or perhaps what you may have experienced before coming into my life, I am NOT a tree. God did not create me to be climbed, even though you have witnessed this from my children. Have you not noticed how I cry out in anguish when your claws enter my thighs? Have you not heard my screams as I nurse the four deep puncture wounds in my forearm? Also, if you cannot jump high enough to land on top of the bed during the night, just stay off my bed altogether. One does not like to be climbed at 3:00am, only to notice the swollen whelps on the body once morning arrives. Your meat scavenging perturbs me. Your thieving ways frustrate me. The way you claw at the carpet will surely get you killed. When I lock you outside, please don't scale the house using the window screens. Not only will it tear them up, it is rather disturbing to look outside the window and see a kitty seemingly floating in midair, suspended against the window, like one of those Garfield window suction things from the 80's. If you cannot show more respect, I shall wrap the pads of your feet with masking tape and put a tube sock over your head. Sleep on that, kitty cat.

Your loving owner

Husband with a Death Wish

After I got home this afternoon, I put some sausage in a big plastic bowl of hot water to thaw. Then I covered the bowl with a lid. It was snapped on almost all the way. Good enough. Well enough to keep a cat out, anyway. Well, Phillip walks up and watches what I'm doing.

Phillip: The lid's not even on all the way!

Me: It's tight enough. The cat won't get in.

Phillip: You must not know our cat. (Proceeds to

completely seal the lid on the bowl.) Our cat is really smart.

Me: Are you saying I'm not as smart as the cat?

Phillip: Yes.

After some dirty looks and a few minutes later...

Phillip: I missed you today.

Me: You could actually miss someone who is dumber

than a cat?

Phillip: You don't have to be smart for me to miss you.

This is the part where I pause and get the blank stare on my face as I envision myself performing a few acts of violence. Phillip giggles. Good thing he can't see into my mind's eye.

Let us rewind a bit. Have you ever planned something for dinner, just so you could eat one tiny thing in particular? For instance, made spaghetti because you were in the mood for garlic bread or something like that? Well, I bought this new jelly at the store, and it is so good! I've only had a small taste on a spoon. I splurged and bought that "Simply Fruit" kind by Smuckers. It's the blueberry variety. Yum. I asked Phillip what he wanted for dinner, and he said "make me something I can eat 'this' on" (he was holding up the jelly). So, we are having breakfast for dinner so that we can eat English muffins with the jelly (note the sausage thawing--mmm...eggs, sausage, and English muffins.) Are we weird? Wait. Don't answer that.

Feline update: Buster still can't reach the bread, though he spends a lot of time opening and closing the cabinet door. I moved the bread to the top shelf. Muahahahaha! He got his revenge, though. This morning, as I was attempting to get ready for work, the cat writhed and wretched in the floor, clawing at my legs and feet. He unleashed his kitty fangs into the back of my heel, right below my ankle, and I cried out in anguish and kicked my leg away, out of instinct. In the process, slicing my heel open in two spots. There are two slashes where the kitty fangs were. Cat was still attached when I kicked my foot out. Can you believe it? He actually broke the skin and left two razor-like cuts. It hurt most of the morning as my shoe rubbed against it.

Phillip has some sort of psychic power over Buster. All he has to do is give him the 'evil eye', and Buster runs off in a fit of terror. No joke. Where can I learn that?

Pants on the Ground!

Apparently my son is embarking on the phase in his life where he feels he must change his clothes a million times a day. Yesterday he must have changed his pants 12 times. He emptied out his pants drawer and has been "folding" them over and over. Well, at the moment he is burying me in his pants. I had no idea he owned so many pants. Some of them are too big for him, so that explains part of it. He ended up in a pair of pants that was a size too big last night. They were sagging off his hips, so Phillip started singing that "Pants on the Ground" song. I asked Wyatt, "Are you ghetto?" And Wyatt tells me, "No, mama, I'm not ghetto."

Stupid crackhead cat is at it again. He attacked my mom's head last night. My parents came over to drop their car off (ours was in the shop) so that I could get the boys dropped off and get myself to work this morning. She was sitting there in the chair, and Buster comes climbing up all innocent-like. Then he dug is claws into her back and attached himself to her head, biting at her hair and scalp like a half-starved maniacal beast. This afternoon I heard a clunking, then a bang and crash, coming from the kitchen. I rushed over to see, and it was that wretched feline digging in the cabinet again. He had gotten the hotdog buns and was making a run for the baby gate. I caught him and hissed at him. Put the hotdog buns back. Five minutes later, he did it again! Only this time, some plates toppled to the floor. Luckily they were the boys' plastic plates. I moved the hotdog buns to the top shelf. I've been lucky so far...

Buster was just now clawing at the carpet under the kitchen baby gate, so I picked up a pair of Wyatt's pants that I happen to be buried in, and chunked them at the cat. It is so much fun watching those vertical jumps. Now he is underneath the coat rack trying to do God knows what. Sigh. Never a dull moment. Now to heat up a frozen pizza which Buster will enjoy stealing a piece of and eating it under the kitchen table.

Kitty Pattern Baldness and Vehicular Despair

Hello people. It's been a couple of days since I've written. I've been a busy girl! Let's see...Thursday night I went to a friends house and foolishly looked into the eyes of her evil, maniacal cat. It's an orange cat with weird, dark eyes. I have been told that when the sun goes down, the cat becomes strangely possessed by dark forces. I witnessed some strange kitty behavior that evening. The cat (I don't even remember its name) randomly jumped at nothing. He'd be sitting there and all of a sudden do a crazy vertical jump. Then it would get down on the ground, belly to the floor, and army crawl, pawing madly at imaginary creatures. Bizarre.

This morning I discovered something most disturbing. As you can see from the above picture, it was a bald spot in my carpet. It really upset me because this area in the floor is a nice little spot that would look strange covered up by a rug. The cat is tearing up our house! There are little carpet shreds here and there, but it's usually at a corner where the carpet meets the tile floor, or the little area under my bedroom door. Phillip seriously wants to murder the cat. I don't know how much longer I can protect him. Stupid cat also stole Ben's chicken nuggets at lunch time. Sigh.

I know this entry hasn't been very entertaining. We tried to go to the store earlier, and started to have car trouble. We're thinking it has to do with the fuel system, and of course, it has to be complicated on a Nissan, so Phillip isn't able to fix it. I'm sure a few of you can relate to this: You know how you have dreams of what you want to do with your tax return? We always have these dreams of taking a family vacation, or updating some fixtures in our house, but when it comes down to it, some crisis ALWAYS manages to happen. Year after year after year. It gets so old! This year we have to fork over the big bucks to get our foundation repaired so that Wyatt's bedroom won't break off from the house and roll down the hill. Then fix the driveway that's a huge mud pit after the snow storms. Now hundreds of dollars on the car. Woe is me.

You Can Run, but You Can't Hide

Alas. The kitty found the loaf of bread. For those of you who may not remember, the bread was hidden in a kitchen cabinet to prevent kitty from ripping the package to shreds and scattering pieces of bread throughout the house. The hiding spot was working fine until sometime over the weekend, I think, when he figured out how to open the cabinet door and get stuff out. I moved the bread to the top of the refrigerator. He hadn't taken any notice. Until now. Last night I got home and noticed about 6 pieces of bread leaning against the kitchen wall, near the baby gate. Where was the rest of the package? I was too tired to care. I got my answer this morning when I was gathering Wyatt's clothes for the day. Crunch. I stepped on a piece of crust, right there in the middle of Wyatt's floor. Okay...still missing the rest of the loaf. There was a piece between the wall and his dresser, one next to his toy box...but still no plastic bag. But wait! I saw a corner of a demolished bread sack peeking out from under Wyatt's bed. Shredded. Mystery solved, another mess to clean, and no sandwiches until I get to the store to buy more bread. I've got to think of another hiding place.

Went to work, had a good time with the kids. Listened to a kindergarten girl trying to convince me that her real name was Taylor Swift. "I'm not even lying!!" she said. Did some jump roping in front of all my students and peers and showed the world how pitifully out of shape I am. Hopefully I hid that well.

Went home, attempted to make the kids happy. Snuck off to the bathroom. All of you mothers (and some fathers) can relate to this. There is absolutely NOWHERE I can go in my house to escape. Someone or something (feline) will always come after me, screaming "MAMA!!" or meowing and scratching at the door. The above picture shows Buster's leg reaching for me under the door as he's crying for me. Like he's telling me I can run, but I can't hide. He will always find me. He will always find my loaf of bread. He's crouching, waiting, for that pound of unattended hamburger meat.

Already-Been-Used Tissues, Double Dutch, and Pizza Trough Lady

Another uneventful day for the cat. Once again, it's because I haven't been home, and there was no meat thawing in the sink. However, it was an interesting day for me for a few different reasons.

Kindergarten class:

Boy #1 has a very tiny spot of blood on his leg and wants a band-aid. I'm talking pin-prick, people. I tell him that he will be fine, but if he would like, he could dab it with a tissue. Boy #2 approaches to see what is going on. Of course the mention of blood always draws a crowd.

Boy #1: Where's the tissue?

Me: On my desk.

Boy #2: (reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of crumpled tissue) Here, you can use mine.

Boy #1: (gives it a suspicious look) Is it clean?

Boy #2: Yes, it's clean. I haven't used it.

Boy #1 hesitates, then dabs his leg with it.

Boy #2: I mean, I haven't used it in a while. Just be careful. I mean, it's clean on the outside, but there's stuff on the inside. Just don't open it up.

Boy #1 didn't appear to have noticed, but I am quite positive that I had a look of disgust on my face that I just couldn't hide.

After School:

A few brave souls who are sacrificing body and dignity for the good of the American Heart Association gathered in the gym after school for a short meeting. The P.E. teachers are kicking off their annual Jump Rope for Heart fundraiser with a jump rope assembly on Thursday. Some fellow professionals and I volunteered to be on the jump rope "team" and show the world our skills, or lack, thereof. I have discovered that I am fairly good at double dutch. This makes me feel awesome, since I couldn't even do it as a child. I am quite certain, though, that I will end up making a fool of myself in front of my students and peers. I do plan on wearing some wicked sexy socks under my jeans, which I'll likely have rolled up to my knees. Maybe I'll think of something super dorky to wear. My knees hurt.

Dinner Time:

I had a coupon for the pizza buffet at Mazzio's, so the family and I headed out to eat some pizza. Everything was fine and dandy. The kids behaved themselves. Phillip behaved himself. It was a good time. I couldn't help but notice this woman standing at the buffet. At first I thought she was waiting on someone, but I kept watching. She grabbed a plate and made a salad. Then she stood at the buffet while she ate it. Okay, a little weird. Then she put her plate on the buffet, and got another plate and put pizza on it. She stood at the buffet with her two plates and ate. People came and went, serving themselves and leaving. The whole time she stood there, like a horse eating from a trough. I kept watching out of morbid curiosity whether or not she'd ever get a table. She'd walk off and get a drink, then stand at the buffet again. Move out of the way for the workers, then move back in. I'd say she was there for a good 15 minutes, just standing and eating. She was still standing there when we left. Obviously she wasn't waiting on a pizza or anything. Maybe she was afraid that everyone else would eat the pizza before she got a piece. I hope she didn't drop any crumbs into the salad. It did sort of gross me out a little that she made the entire buffet her dinner table.

Headaches, Pads, and Man Logic

Other than waking my youngest son twice during his nap, the cat has been pretty well behaved today. I guess it kind of helps that I wasn't home this afternoon. However, late this afternoon, he did the flying squirrel thing onto Wyatt's head. "Mama, make him stop!" Awesome.

Do you ever wonder how a child's mind works? The way they come up with things, or their method of reasoning? I was pondering this subject for quite a while this morning. Wyatt told me he needed to go potty, and let himself into the bathroom. After he was in there for a while and it became mysteriously quiet (the kind of quiet every parent knows--there's a difference between quiet and quiet), I decided to get up and check on him. I slowly opened the bathroom door, afraid of what I might find. I peeked in, and lo and behold, Wyatt was standing there looking up at me all innocently.

"Mama, I have a headache," he said sweetly. I told him that I would get him a nice, cold drink, and he could rest on the couch and watch TV. "But Mama, I have a headache."

I wasn't quite following the conversation as well as I thought I was. He held up his foot for me to see. He had gotten into a box of feminine pads, took the sticker thing off the back, and stuck it to the top of his foot, with the ends of the pad wrapped under either side. I stared at him, puzzled and amused. A headache? Really? What does a pad have to do with a headache? (Well, a lot of things, but he doesn't know that.) I bent down to peel the pad off his foot and throw it away. Wyatt got upset, and I tried to explain that pads were not for headaches, but for big girls. Yeah, I don't think the concept went far. I can use this story for blackmail later on, though. And if he had a headache, why did he put the pad on his foot? I have been puzzling over his thought processes most of the day. Could this fall under the category that I have named "Man Logic"? You know, the stupid crap some men come up with, that only men do. Like, why spend so much time backing into a parking place? The man will say that it's because it will be easier to pull out. Well, isn't it just as easy pulling into a parking place and backing out of it later? I mean, why spend so much time trying to perfectly back into a spot? One way or another, there will be some backing out eventually. That, my friends, is an example of "Man Logic." Pad on foot for headache. Man Logic at age 3? Perhaps.