The best part....

The BEST part of my job is a tie between the crazy, weird, strange children....and the teachers.

I have alot to do in a day, but I love it when I can squeeze in a circle time, or listening to Mrs. Maria sing a mexican song to the children....(I always sing it wrong, but the toddlers still rock back and forth because the tune is the same.)

"Kay saree Kar sarah
laadee laadee laadee daaaaa
peter pan
peter queso
laadee laadeee laddeee daaaaaaaaa
beso beso beso!"

This is my interpretation. I dunno...the teachers laugh at me.

I love walking like a gorilla into the Pre-K room while the children are sitting quietly for Mrs. Brandee. I make them all giggle and she stares at me sternly.

I love it when Rob makes us coffee, and tells me he saved me a bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy because he loves me.

I love that when our staff room light went out, instead of complaining while we waited a week for maintenance, Rob and Tabitha still went in there for their break. They claimed it Intimate and I downloaded a candle app for them to use.

I love putting on my Beast costume, and bursting into the two's room RAWRing and chasing them around.

I love it when the teachers sling me down the hallway in Dawns roll-ey chair.

I love how excited everyone is about their secret santa. I love guessing who everyone has.

I love that Kingston LOVED my fuzzy, but then got mad at me for making him sit in the office, so he told me my fuzzy was the worst fuzzy ever.

I love that I chased him around with said fuzzy and told him that I was ganna rub it on his skin and make his skin look JUST like my fuzzy.

I love that he believed me.

(sorry Monica)

I love that even when things go wrong, and a child has an allergic reaction and I have to call 911, I know that despite us being silly sometimes, our staff is the BEST, and can handle any situation that comes along. (Including an allergic reaction that starts on a childs butt.)

 All in all, it is Friday and I am happy. I just KNOW my secret santa is ganna bring me something!!!

Thankful...

I love this time of year because people stop bitching about their lives and share what they are thankful for.
 Some more so then others, regardless it is nice to get a break from football banter and running stats.

I am thankful that I have a job to go to each and every day. I am aware that many do not, and no matter how much paper work I have to file, or booboo's I have to fetch ice for. I love my job, and I am thankful of it.

I am thankful that despite Dawn wanting to puke at the smell of Turkey, she bought and prepared an entire Thanksgiving meal for my children and I. I am thankful that despite my snores, she snuggled me the night before and that Jesse was there to drive me home when I heard of my old mans passing. I am thankful Dawn, that once upon a million years ago, you stepped in when a hell of alot of people stepped out.
I am thankful that I got to feel my baby wriggle in your tummy. I love him already.

I am thankful for Brandee and Mandy, who never let me wallow in despair. Friends who will allow me to cry, but will catch me before I fall to my knees. Without you, I would have curled into a fluffy ball a million years ago and become addicted to depression medication. I am more then thankful for you.
Thank you for always being there. For laughter and misery. Thank you for allowing me to sing "Gangsta Lean, This is for your memory" at the top of my lungs in your backyard for Grampa.

I am thankful that my sister still answers my phone calls, and despite her busy schedule, she will brew a pot of coffee and we will squish in conversation and laughter. Thank you sister. I am thankful that despite the fact that texting would be more convienient....you still give me that time.

Facebook is a wonderful tool, but it can never replace a cup of coffee and conversation.

I am thankful that I have a home that provides for my children.

I am thankful that I work with amazing quirky people, whom I enjoy each and every day.

I am thankful for every single "I love you Miss.Beanie" That I hear every day.

I am thankful that I have the ability to appear strong for my children, even when sometimes I am weak.

But more then anything, I am thankful for where my life decisions have brought me so far. Life is messy, it is chaotic and crazy and sometimes you have to blink through the tears and wonder, what the fuck am I doing???!!!....And then Your daughter does the wiggle dance, or your son, who is a giant, makes you belly laugh and you are AMAZED at what Fantastic children you squished out of your body...and I am thankful for those two things, more then anything else.

Douchebook.

I love Facebook. Hey I get that shit on my phone, and any spare second I have, I eagerly scroll through the updates.
I love that instant connection with friends and loved ones.

I do have my pet peeves status updates though. I shall share with you all....

FB Pet Peeve #1 The always unhappy, sick or generally grumpy ones.

EXAMPLE:

"Can anyone tell me why I woke up today?"

8 hours ago 

"Ugh....This day sucks."

6 hours ago

"Seriously? Work was horrible."

4 hours ago

"Ugh..Morning already? I just know it's going down hill from here."

just now

I can't stand these ones. they just MIGHT be THE douchey-est updates on the planet. I really want to reply "Good God get a rope already " But I don't... because Lord knows their next update will be:

"Ugh...the rope broke"

FB Pet Peeve #2 Rub my nose in it.

These ones are the bitches and assholes who constantly rub my nose in the fact that I am broke and they are not.

Yay! Im so happy that the recession does not apply to you, and I dont want to hear how your husband has to work one free day a month when he brings home 5 grand.

Fuck you.

I'm working all day, schooling at night and generally busting my ass. Plus I just used dishsoap in my laundry machine because I'm too exhausted to go to the store, and even IF I did drag my hump to the store, I doubt I could afford Gain, and I'd have to buy the Mexican shit with the seal on it.... you know.... 80 lbs for $3.00

No I do not get pissed off when EVERYONE buy's a new JetSkii...Just the ones who sit on their ass all day OR shop daily at Pier 1.

Fuck you one more time, because Im jelous that you can do that at all.


FB Pet Peeve #3 Attention whores

Not all attention whores mind you. Just the ones who post updates that MAKE you ask them what's wrong.

EXAMPLE:

"I'm so sad, when will this end?"

8 hours ago 

"Seriously?? Did that JUST happen?"

5 hours ago

"Wondering what to do now....My life feels empty without you."

23 minutes ago

Really?!!! Fuck You.

You KNOW you post that update and just WAIT for someone to ask what is wrong with you.

If you picked up the phone/sat on the computer, pulled up your facebook, sat there and thought "I am going to tell the world my business..but first they must ask...." Just fucking say it. We are busy people. And half of your friends are asking because they feel they have too.

These are the kind of people that can be in Disneyland and complain about the lines. YOU frustrate me. Dig yourself out of the perpetual funk you're in and masturbate a little.

It has been proven that a little slap and tickle (even if its by your own hand) is good for your general happiness.

FB Pet peeve #4  I am an adult but I speak like an uneducated douche bag.
EXAMPLE:

"U n0 I can C U frm here."

"Dis is the place to be"

"T0day is 4 winn3rs."

Really? You spent that much time HUNTING around your keypad JUST to use a zero in the place of an O. Or Dis...DIS??? What are we all black 13 year olds now? YOU are a douchebag, and the worst part is you spell like a dumbass too. You are 30. Grow up and write like it.

These are a few of my pet peeves. However please don't get me wrong. I do not hunt for these, and quite often I delete people on my list who just can't stop. I try to ignore, but usually can't. And quite often Dawn or my sister will call each other and alk about what assholes these people are.

I however love so many updates. Like ones from Anna, who shares her crazy life and her coupon deals.

Dawn, who is just simply funny and plus my BFF and is carrying my love child.

Bobby, because I love to hear anything from him.

My cousin Brian, because he is a hunk who handles his three boys like woah. And he is funny and makes me laugh.

Michelle. Cuz she is perfect, and so is her family.

Cyn because she is crazy.

Liz and Sharon. You could post about the shape and consistency of poop and I would love it simply because it came from your fingertips.

mostly all of my friends, because I have deleted most of the douche bags. Some I have kept simply to rant about.

Poopy Pants!

I had a bad 15 minutes at work today when a child almost as big as I am pooped his 4 year old pants.

"Miss Beanie!!! I smell something funny!" I hear called out to me from a classroom.

"Oh no!.." And I stand up.

I walk into the pre-K class and peek around a corner, sniffing and snuffing like a poop sniffing dog.
There is a child.
A tall child.
A huge child.
A child that stopped pooping his pants a long time ago, or so I thought.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask him


"No..Beanie I am not kidding you. Hey Beanie guess what! I got a cool shirt!"


"Let's go." I lead the way into the toddler room and the whole way he is spouting on about his cool shirt that Daniel gave him.

The teacher calls out "I can do it Beanie." But seriously teachers have the hardest jobs in the whole entire world, okay?
                    Teachers should be on that show 'Deadliest Jobs'

                                     Teachers, should be paid more then we are.

"No way, you are entirely too busy!" I say back to the AMAZING teacher who I would change a poop for any day of the week,


"Hey...Hey Beanie. I gotta COOL SHIRT!" The little boy announces (yet again)

"Hey...really? I think you have some chonies full of poo...that's what I think you've got Yo."


"Yeah." he says while I strap on my gloves.

"But Hey...HEY BEANIE! Look at my shirt. it's cool. It has a hole in it."

I sit down on a toddler chair, which, if you have never sat down on one as a grown up, it is exactly like 4 inches from the ground. And if you have never seen a fattie sit in a chair 4 inches off the ground, it is quite a sight. Even poop pants chuckled at me.

I ask him to take off his shoes, then socks, then pants. And that's where 4 years of poo changing abilities comes into play. I mean, could I write that on a resume? 

"Able to slip off underwear FULL of poo without getting a smear on a child."
That should get me like..i dunno...50 cents more an hour ALONE.

"Hey..Hey..Hey Beanie...Guess what Beanie! Look at my shirt it's got a hole in it. Its so cool."

"Listen. I know you are trying to make me notice the shirt more then I notice your poo okay? I get it. Right now I don't think your shirt is too amazing. Let's see how I feel when i am done with the poo. Kay?"

"Kay..beanie...okay. Let's see."

"Deal?"


"Yes...hey Beanie! Yes. Deal."

So I withdrawl the child from his poopey smeary undies, without spreading the love, and clean him off. He obliges quietly. He bends when I tell him too and turns when I tell him too. I get him cleaned up and dressed in fresh undies, new pants, but his same holey shirt.

"Hey...Hey Beanie. look at my shirt. It is SO cool! It has a hole it in!"

I turn as I dry my hands off from washing and look at his shirt. It is white. It has paint smears on it from painting and green slime on it as well. He turns so that I can admire the hole in the back that is so UH-MAZING.

"Yes love, it is amazing."

He smiles and jumps 4 times in a row. His hair is red and his cheeks are flushed with pleasure.

"Remember what I am about to tell you, because it will get you through life... okay?" I ask


"Okay...Hey Beanie Yes...Ill remember..." He leans in. His smile is HUGE.


"Shirts always look cooler when you don't poop in the pants beneath them." I say and look wisely at him from my great height of 5'3


"Oh!!! Okay beanie! Okay...hey beanie! I have a cool shirt and no poop!" And I walk him back into his class.

Chi-ghetti....

When my sister came down the first time she warmed my heart.

She cleaned my house, which... I felt sorta bad about, but then again she has to pay for the .001 % raising of my electricity bill SOMEHOW...so I got over it.

The very BEST thing she does is make dinner for us.

The first week she was here I wanted to CRY when I smelled dinner cooking. She whipped out delicious entrees and I swore she wore a Halo... (Which if you know my sister is wicked odd.)

But to me she did.

One night she popped a lasagne in the oven and sided it with a delicious chunky salad, covered in Ranch.

The next night she introduced me to Chili covered tater tots, complete with cheese and sour creme. I. ALMOST.DIED of fatty happiness.

Tacos, chili beans and rice and perfectly seasoned spaghetti as well.

I was in bliss. Every DAY I went to work the next day and bragged about my chihuahua sister.

"Last night she made delicious spaghetti! I wanted to DIE."

(It doesnt take much to make me happy okay?)

My co-workers all "oooohed" and "ahhhhhed" and smiled at my happiness.

I was queen of the delicious dinner world!!!!

My sister went home, And I missed her very much. I missed her company the most. Laughing over coffee, both in the morning and in the evening.

She was gone a week and a half or so, and came back to stay a bit longer.....or so I thought.

We went grocery shopping, so I could be sure she had enough fabulous ingredients...

Monday she made spaghetti. I had bought ground turkey at her urging. (It was cheaper) The noodles and sauce were fab, but the turkey was strange.

Tuesday she made sheperds Pie. Ground taco-y beef, mixed vegi's and mashed potatoes, smothered in cheese.
Mmmmmmm right?

I loved this once, but since I hate beef...or any meat really, I waited until she went potty, picked out all of the chunks of meat and plopped them in Karmas bowl.

I sat at work tonight at stared at Dawn. "Im so scared."

"Of what?"

"Dinner."

She laughed "Why?"

"I dunno...I don't understand it. And I don't want to complain about my tiny chihuahua sister cooking for me. plus I appreciate her doing it at all."

"Okay." She smiled.
And I left the office.

So I left work with a strange nervousness in my belly. I opened the front door and smelled dinner cooking. I peeked around the corner at my chihuahua and smiled.

I felt like a husband scared to death of his harridan wife.

"Hi chihuahua!" I called out with glee, praying that she couldnt tell I was nervous.

"Hi! Guess what! We're trying something new Chili Spaghetti! I had left overs so I wanted to use it."

My body shook with fright. I peeked into the pan. "Oh...OH!" I tried to smile.

The tone crept into her voice. The tone that says "Don't fucking piss me off, I slaved over the stove for a hot meal for you and you are ganna sneer at it!"

My eyes went left, and then right looking for a frying pan swinging tword my head.
I wanted to duck.
I mean...I really really wanted to duck.

"It looks interesting" was the only thing I could say.

"TRY it." she told me. Her smile gone. Her chihuahua eyes boring into my soul.

"No."

"WHY NOT! You're not ganna eat!?"

"O...of course I'm ganna eat! Just...later!" I smiled at her and felt my skin shiver.
I left the room calmly, turned the corner and RAN into my bathroom.

I called Dawn.

"Hello?" she squeaked

"Im so scared I'm so scared, I'm FROZEN in fear!"

"What's wrong?"

I peeked out of my bathroom and quickly shut the door.

"My sister made dinnerrrrrrrrrrrr......" my hands were clenched.


"Uh oh...what was it?"

"chilispaghetti" I whispered into my Motorola Defy

She laughed. "Say what now?"


"CHILI.SPAGHETTI...I dunnowhattodooooooooooooooo"

"Chili spaghetti???? What the heck is that?"

Jesse piped up in the background "What's wrong with chilispaghetti! That sounds delich!"

I hated him right then.

"Shut up Jesse! ....Maybe your sister doesn't to be there anymore?"


"You think?" I whispered, as I peeked out the door once more.

"For sure. She wants you to kick her out. that's why she made chilispaghetti"

"Oh no..." I gasped. "Okay I gatta go..."


"Goodluck dude."

I opened the door and ran into shanes room. I squished up next to him and burrowed my head into his lap. "Hidemehidemefromaunty. Im so scared, I don't understand!"

He laughed. "Calm Down Ma. It's just chili spaghetti. Noodles instead of rice."

"But...But...I don't get it! Aunty hates me. I just KNOW it! We have food. I just went shopping! Tht can of chili was 5 bucks! I woulda bought some rice!!! I have money!"

"MA!" shane laughed "Calm the fuck down Ma.." He laughed and I burrowed in closer. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh she's coming...she is hunting me! OHMYGOD she's ganna find me whatdoi dooooooo!"

"Just stop being a pussy and TRY it. Sheesh."

Shane is a traitor.

I saw her tiny form move past, and then she came into the room with a plate.
I flinched and moaned.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Im sorry im scared! I don't understand it!"

My sister is very small, and shaky and she is terrifying.

TERRIFYING.

She poked her finger in my butt and made me jump out of shanes bed. "Get out here and try this, stop being a baby!"

"....Kay..." I muttered, and followed her out.

She gave me a plate and stood over me with her fist on her hip. Like a teeny weeny nazi.

I ate the whole thing. "Mmmmm" I said. And flinched when she stared at me with her mean look.


"Oh stopit! If you want something else there is sheperds pie in the fridge." 

"Ew. Nooooo!"

"EW!??? I thought you liked it"


"I just said that...im sorry!!! I don't like meat!"

I saw the hurt look on her face and I felt like a giant fat bag of douche.


"Ummmm.let's go smoke!!!" I said, trying to cheer her up.

It didn't work, but she pretended like It did.

We sat outside and I looked at her as we chatted. My sister thinks that one side of her face sags.
It does NOT. She thinks she is chubby, and she is a bone. She thinks her face has jowls and she does not.

She whispered to me tonight "I think I have body dismorphic disorder!"

I had to use everything inside of me not to pop off with "I think you have dinner dismorphic disorder"
But She would punch me in the kidney and I would probably die and not be able to hump my boyfriend in 83 days.....

In the end, I am thankful for everything she cooks.
But I won't lie, I may be nervous again tomorrow when I clock off.

More poo...and a chihuahua...

 I call my sister a chihuahua.
Because she is tiny and skinny and she shivers a lot....


My tiny chihuahua sister and I were enjoying our morning coffee and a smoke.
The sun was shining.
The birds were chirping.
And all was well in our tiny corner of the ghetto.

All of a sudden, the front door opened and a blonde head emerged. Bright blue eyes looking frightened and a rosebud mouth whispered "Grampa had an accident...." and the door shut again.

My sister and I looked at each other, and walked into the house.

We could see some doodle by his chair....
But grampa was no where to be found.

I went to the bathroom, and there he was.

"You okay kent?" I asked

"Yeah...dammit..."

"okay hold on. Ill be right back!" I cheerfully squacked.

I passed my sister in the hallway, she had cleaner in her hands.

I grabbed some bags from under the sink and I passed her again, she was on the way out.

I helped grampa take off his shoes, and pants and socks.

I disposed of them and met my sister in the kitchen, She was wearing 'ghetto gloves' (walmart bags over her hands) and she was staring over in the living room... "Did you clean up the poo?"

"No..." I whispered "I thought YOU did."

We both Turned to Karma, who lay in the living room licking her lips.

We both laughed, and my sister offered my very own old man an offer he couldn't refuse "You feel like a shower Kent?"

"Oh yeah!" he crowed


We undressed him and my sister manuvered him into the shower. He let out a groan of happiness as the warm water hit his body.

We shut the curtain and ushered in the bleach water and a mop. We squirted and sprayed and moped and disinfected.

I was so happy to have my sister here with me....soo sooo fucking happy.

When Grampa was done, we dressed him in a pair of "Spank me, I've been naughty" pajamma bottoms and a "Dont get Caulky!" t-shirt (It has a calking gun on the front.)

We declaired him a pimp and he rolled outside to enjoy some coffee.

All in all, my sister may be a teeny chihuahua, but she sure as hell knows how to shower an old man.

Replace yourself.

It's kinda hard to replace yourself.

This is something I am finding is true.

Lately I have been conducting interviews to fill my position as a school age teacher. I won't mention WHY, because that is like spitting in the face of Fate and Karma, so instead I will gloss over the why of it all.

On Monday I interviewed someone whose eyeballs kept freaking me out. They sort of wriggled around every time she moved her eyes.

In one sense I figured that might be pretty awesome as a scare factor....but then I realized I was glossing over her perfectly boring speech about how "awesome" she is.

Rule #1. Please don't tell me how awesome you are. If you truly ARE amazing, I will be able to tell. Don't speak about it BE about it YO!

I think to be a good teacher you should have great like-a-bility....which may be a made up word, I am unsure.

Like-a-bility comes when you are funny and sweet and confident about your abilities to teach a room full of children. Parents will love you, Staff will too and the children wont be able to help it either.

This is a skill that SEEMS easy, but alas, It is not.

You should be fun. If a child wants to paint with his nose, you should be open to that and even be able to suggest other body parts he should experiment painting with.

You should be a 'strong' teacher. One who is confident and take charge.

You should feel absolutely loyal to your coworkers and if it ever looks like they need a hand, you will offer yours before they can even ask.

So ..on my interviews I've been asking questions like "If you noticed a co-teacher is frusterated, what would you do?"

"If a child feels like today is a good day for painting with their toes...how would you handle it?"

"Tell me how you would talk to a parent who is very nervous about leaving their child with you."

Stuff like that.

I am not sad to be replaced...it is just an interesting quest.

We will see how it goes.

A bucketfull of boogers!

My Dinga is 7 weeks pregnant today.

I know this for several reasons.

1) She is my best freckily friend, and any BFF worth her salt knows the date of her knocked up friend.

2) I have a pregnancy calendar on my phone that tracks the development of "cletus" and the emotions that Dinga could, should or WILL be going through.

So far The smell of smoke makes her puke. Which in hindsight is good. No smoking for baby. It might make him retarded or his ears automatically bigger.

She has no desire for chocolate. Wierd if you know Dawn.

Soda, a drink that she used to guzzle all day long, makes her nauseous. For a single day, she enjoyed Arizona fruit punch, but today it made her sick.

She is at a loss over what she should drink.

Today, as I walked into work, Dawn was sitting at her desk talking to a very small, very cute old lady. Soon she walked her around the classes, but I could tell by the pinkish color beneath her freckils, that something was wrong.

As the lady left she started muttering under her breath about smelly old ladies.

"She smelled?" I asked

"YES! Like boogers!"

I looked at Mindy, and back to Dawn "Boogers DON'T smell."

"Yes they do..you know when a kid is sick, (gag) and they are snotty..and they...(gag)..smell like boogers?!"

My head shook in time with Mindy's.

5 minutes later the sound of her wretching could be heard.

She exploded out of the bathroom "She smelled like ....a BUCKET of boogers!"

I laughed because, well, I couldn't help it. Plus, since Dawn is the mate to my soul, I'm ecstatic to be here during this whole pregnancy thing. (I even saved her pee test for Beanies baby book ..a work in progress)

A few hours later Dawn kept sniffing around the office. "You smell that?" She muttered.

"Boogers again?"

"No...someone pooped dude. Did you Fart?"

"Nope...don't even gatta."

*sniffsniff*

"But I smell doo doo."

I sniffed my shoulder, I sniffed the air. I smelled nothing.

5 Minutes later....

*sniffsniff* "I smell poo!"

I finally made her sniff me because she had me convinced a fart was stuck in my underware or something, Thankfully ....no.

I feel bad for my Dawn Dinga, But at the same time, I am loving sharing all of these experiences with her. I cannot wait for the next ultrasound. (This time I will NOT wear a rainbow mumu and a viking hat!

And old man makes.....interesting,

I don't know what makes me offer people things. Lord knows that in the past three years, everyone and their cat has lived with me.

My house has been called home by a sister, a gardner, a boyfriend and an exhusband.
...A bastard cat and a very old man.

Don't get me wrong. I love living alone. With just my two wonderful kids and my Beast of a pitbull.

Alas, Life...is never perfect. And family is family.

Thankfully the Ex-husband has been chucked and left behind is two very happy children and a frail old man.

After I politely asked Chris to never darken my door again, if you please...Well...(Okay, okay I told him to get the fuck out, but let's not mince words.)

...Grampa didn't want to go, and Lord knows who could blame him. His son did not properly take care of him, and when he did he huffed and cussed and was generally pissed off because of it.

It's gross really, but hey. There is nothing I can do about the attitude of an Ex-husband.

So Grampa stayed, and I was fine with it...why? Well...I just couldn't tell him No.

So he is here, and we have muddled through this week just fine...The first day I had to do everything for him. We arranged things in the bathroom, and tried out new directions to get his wheelchair the furthest inside.

After bathroom time, my back ached and I was out of breathe, but I just told him that was due to my fat.

When he went to bed that night, in his clean and happy room I told him, "Don't worry Kent, we got this...we will figure this out." And he nodded "Yes. We do...and we will."

On Friday I changed my first poopy adult diaper. It was...interesting, and Kent sat there, his cheeks red..his head hung.

I shushed his embarrassment and told him "We all shit ourselves sometimes." Which made him laugh.
It's the first time I had to wipe a grown mans butt, but strangely I didn't mind.

When I look at this shrunkien old man I see a great father, I see the man who rocked my son to sleep and stared at him for hours because he was "So darn beautiful" I see the man who took in a scared pregnant woman and made her feel like family....I see a Veteran of this country and a man to be respected and honored.

I know that when his son was small and he couldn't walk, he was there. To guide him and help him be strong. He deserves that back.

I don't know why Chris thought this was too much for him. I guess he figured that with me working, raising two kids and starting school again, not to mention trying my best to take care of the house, yard and everything else...I could just take on One more thing....

What's an 79 year old man in the scheme of things?

But I am happy, and even though I didn't know what the fuck I was doing (or still am for that matter,) I know that together we will figure it out.

Together we got this.

The worst part.

I love my job.

For many different reasons. One of which, is if, at any certain time of the day, you stand still and just listen... you will hear at least 3 things that are funny.

SOMEtimes my job is stressful. but ALL times, it is funny.

The only drawback to my job, is when a child that you absolutely LOVE...leaves.

I remember one time, my cousin asked me if we teachers have favorites. And my reply was..Absolutely.

It doesn't mean that we care less for the other children, or that the quality of care that they receive is any less...it just means, that every once in a while, a child who is so unique...so Different comes along...that we LOVE.

MY first heartbreak occurred in 2008. I will never forget the little boy that stole my heart. He wore the most awesome VANS shoes and had the cutest feet in the world. I LOVED him. When he left,
I wrote my number on his daily communications sheet and his mom scoffed at my sadness "Sheesh Beanie!"

I remember she ran out to the car to get some paperwork and I lifted him up to my desk. "I love you Ryan."

"I know!" He giggled "I love you TOO BEANIE!" and he threw himself against me...his arms squeezed around my neck.

I gulped back my tears. I couldnt believe I was so sad.

"Just remember that I love you, and I will think of you all of the time."

"...Kay..." He laughed and I set him back on the floor.

His mom came, she rolled her eyes at my tears and he walked away....His shark shoes skipping...and hopping...away. He was two.

I saw him again when he was 4. He was in my class for a few weeks....but he left again soon.

I saw him again a month or so ago. He stood there with his dad, his hair silky and justin bieber-ish.
"Ryan?"

He smiled at me


"Do you remember me?"

He nodded shyly

His dad said "of course he remembers you."

"Ohmygosh..can I have a hug?"

He shyly came forward and hugged me softly. I didn't know what else to say, so I made a comment on his still adorable vans shoes.

He smiled, they picked up his cousin and he left.

My heart went unscathed for awhile, until I met Byron.
I loved him so much. I love him STILL and its been almost a year since I have seen him.
He was so funny. So smart. He loved Halloween and I taught him how to draw Zombies with brains leaking out of their heads.

He would, at times get so frusterated, because people interrupted him, or someone didn't understand him, and he would cry and run across the room.

I would always follow and hug him and calm him.


He would sit next to me, and we would color all sorts of scenes. One of my favorites was a circus scene....complete with balloons and a ferris wheel.

Every day he would make me laugh, and when he was going to leave, he knew it.

I remember him coming up to me and telling me that he remembers his last life, and he asked me to wait for him in heaven when I die....so that we could come back to earth together.
But he made me double pinky promise that I would remember to be funny and wierd.

Which I did.

When he left, it was the worst. To THIS day....The worst.
I made him a card and I couldn't even read it to him. I was crying so much. My co-teachers laughed and "aweee'd" at me.

They hugged me and tried to make me laugh...But they couldn't.

ALL year at certain times in our curriculumn, I would ask my co-teacher "Remember last year when Byron said ......."

She would laugh and  "Aweee"

Today I woke up and the first word I uttered was "Shit."
It's one of my kids last days. My favorite dinosaur meal.
Today i will cry, I just know it.

Yesterday he sat down in front of me, criss cross applesauce, and listened to me read Yurtle the Turtle. (one of my favs) He stared at me and finally said "Beanie...Its my last day tomorrow."

RIGHT in the middle of Yurtle stomping up another turtles back...
(And if you are 4 years old, and in my class, you KNOW that you NEVER interrupt Beanie when she is reading a story.)

I put the book down and stared at him. "I know. I'm ignoring it."
I picked the book up and tried to concentrate on what a bastard Yurtle was.
....But I couldn't.

I looked at him and sighed.

He smiled at me sadly.

"What am I supposed to do without you?"
He shrugged his shoulders "You know beanie."
"What do I know?"
"You just know!"

"Who will the dinosaurs eat if it isnt you?"

He shook his head and looked down. "Maybe....Noah."

"No...too bony."

I sighed and put the book down.

I stood up and left the room to another teacher.

I don't know if parents realize how much their children impact our lives. They make us laugh, and they embed themselves into our hearts.

TORNADO!

We made wind socks in class today, Only I called them tornado warners.

The news had me so freaked out this morning.

"65 mile an hour winds...torrential rain...tornado warning!"

Waitaminute...

Tornado?......TORmutherfuckinNADO?

I was immediately freaked out, and felt that it was MY job to warn everyone that I saw. I sounded like chicken little, warning everyone about the damn sky falling....

Ya know...except it was tornao-y and Im wicked fat.

On my break the wind blew and I spread my arms out and screamed at Dinga "Here it comes Dinga!!! OHMYGOD!!!! "......then the wind stopped and I muttered "oh."

Dinga laughed at me, then i did too.

I was sorta dissapointed by lunchtime, that there was no tornado yet.
Not that I want one, but...Im pretty sure we would have been sent home early.

I spent 15 minutes or so stomping on the floor..CONVINCED that our Kindercare was SO old, that there simply MUST be an old army shelter beneath its newly waxed floors.

To my dissapointment, My foot tapping hearalded nothing. (except 12 children following behind me laughing.)


"Miss Beanie is SO crazy."

"What is Beanie doing NOW!"

"I dunno.." another child answered "But we should do it too....just incase."

"SHUSH children!" I exclaimed "Beanie is trying to save your lives. It is a hard job, but somebody has to do it!"

"Wow! Miss. Beanie is saving our lives!"


"I love Beanie!"

They whispered behind me..... (And that is how you do THAT.)

I drilled the children on black out procautions...JUST INCASE the lights went off. They picked it up quick.

I asked Lou Lou..."What do we do if there IS a tornado?! Get under a desk?"

She laughed.."I don't think so!!! I think that's an earthquake!"

"Do we stand in a doorway?"

"No THAT'S an earthquake too!"

Oh lord. We're screwed.

Plus I had already told my children to hide under a desk....crap.

I made "tornado watchers" (which are basically windsocks)

The children were fascinated at my amazing technological  skills. "Beanie..How does this help us know when a tornado is coming?

"well...You hang it outside your window right?"

"Uh huh!" They chorused

"Usually it will show you the visual aspects of the wind, which means if its not windy, it wont move...if it is very windy, then it will swing back and forth. So.... this here Tornado watcher....basically... if it disappears...hide in a closet!"

They all nodded very seriously at me.

Later in the afternoon, I moved over to my school age class, where I continued making tornado watchers.

As it got later the rain got LOUDER....and louder...Until the roof shook.

My head went up...and it was all a blur.

"CHILDREN! It's here! Stop drop and roll...STOP DROP AND ROLL!"

Half of the class ran to the window, a parent walking in laughed at me, Rob said over the din of noise "Beanie! That's for a fire!"

Dammit, I thought....

A little girl ran, and knee slid under a table.

Dawn came in, saw all the chaos, laughed and turned back around.

Me?

I  yelled "I'm coming Elizabeth!" clutched my chest and opened the door...

And found hail.

"Oh." I said and sighed.

The children oohed and ahhed and I let them catch it in buckets, and bins and pencil cases.

They made teeny snowballs and had contests on who could keep their hands submerged the longest in the icy water.

I had to stop that though, by telling the children that if they wanted to freeze off their hands, then they would do it at home, and not in my class, as I would surely be excused from my place of employment.

The groaned, but stopped trying to self induce frost bite.

In the end, no tornado came, and surely...a child is terrified because of me.

And also very very confused.

Porn Ass.

When my sister lived with me, I loved it.

Not only was she holding down the fort while I ventured into the world and figured out how to be a single mom, a student AND a teacher...But she walked me to my very first day of class, (and refused to leave until she absolutely had too) .....she also welcomed me home each night with a huge pot of coffee and a talk.

OH how we laughed, snorted and gasped with each other.

It was during one of our 'talks' that we found ourselves discussing porn stars ass holes.

Meaning, we HAD to find out why in the world their assholes were prefect and pink and ours were....well....not.

"What the hell. That's not normal right?" I questioned

"Oh HELL no...they do something to their assholes. That shit is bleached or something." My sister scoffed

So we researched it. I asked all of my friends at work about THEIR assholes, and FINALLY we decided that we were going to have a set of our very own perfectly pink porn assholes.

We found a site that SOLD asshole bleaching kits, but sadly...we were broke.

(NO....They didn't call it 'asshole bleaching', but SERIOUSLY saying the word asshole, just brings a smile to my heart.)

We then researched the ingredients, and set out to find our very own generic version at Walmart.

Which...we did. It was seriously 3 bucks.

We felt like friggen asshole geniuses...we also KNEW the cashier KNEW just what we were doing.

This cream from walmart was actually something else...scar dimminisher or something....But still..The ingredients were the same.

We rang up, and all the way home we sang songs. "OOOOH our assholes will be pink and pretty, pink and pretty, pink and pretty...our assholes will be pink and pretty JUST LIKE THE PORN STARSSSS!"

We giggled and debated who would go first.

Cyn did. (of course)

Then I did.

Wanna know if we have porn star assholes?

The answer is no, cuz we shmeared it on once, and never throught about it again.


Which leads me to Tuesday morning.

I was illegally talking on the phone during my morning commute to work. I had my sister on speaker while she ranted and raved about her husband blowing up her computer with porn.

I just smiled and shook my head while she talked.

I drove around a corner, laughing maniacally at her vicious rant. "I swear to GOD. If I was 5'8" tall, had HUGE fake tits and a porn star ass my husband would fuck me more!!!"

I almost pee'd my pants.

I had to press my knees together, which, while you are driving is reeeeeally hard.

My laughter made her laugh...."remember...remember our porn ass?" I snorted and wiped the drool off of my bellspalsy cheek.


"YES!" *silence* "Fuck porn ass."

That made me laugh even harder.

We ended our conversation, and her laughter still echoed in my heart.

Our Gramma used to always tell us "You girls remember, all you have is each other. You can fight. But you better make up. You're all you got."

Porn ass and all.

Tales of a day..1

I wish I didn't have to wash pee sheets, like ONCE a week. Just ONE day that someone doesn't pee their bed, and I would be a happy teacher.

My hands are covered in gloves. "Uh...Miss.Beanie...I'm SOAKED."

*sigh* "It's okay...Here's some clothes." I take the bed strip the sheet and disinfect, while I hear behind me "I'M WET!"

I wanna bite all the bed pee'ers...maybe then they would be too terrified to pee, but alas....That would get me fired.

I had a child tell his mom "Miss.Beanie won't let me pee. THAT'S why I pee the bed."

I wanted to shank him. SHANK his little body. "Um...Your child can pee whenever he likes, the door is open AND he pee's at least 5 times between lunch and nap. Your child is a liarpants, he should be punished."

********************

I had to tell a child today "STOP saying 'In the butt in the butt in the butt' please before I call child welfare on your parents." (WHO has to say that in their daily life?...Me and Mindy that's who)

********************

"Why are you fat?"

"Why are you white? Cuz God made me this way....that and I eat pie....but that is besides the point. Don't you wish YOU could be as fluff-o-rific as me?"

"Yes I do."

"Next time you go to Burger king, order the pie... It'll be 'aight kid."

*********************




"Beanie...Why you do you always draw hearts on my notes home?"

"Because I love you."


"Oh....I Like your hair."

"Thanks..I like your nostrils."

"Thanks."

********************

"What in the world is going on over here?"

"I'm Building a bridge."


"WHY do YOU get to build a bridge, when all of the other children have to sit down at the table?"

"Because I just HAVE too!"


"That's a pretty great bridge."

"Thanks."

"Build away, I'll cover you."

***********************

Change Happens...

"Miss Beanie! Ayden heard you were ganna be my teacher, and not his, so he PUNCHED me in the nose!"

"WHAT!?" I looked at Ayden cradled in his daddies arms "Did you seriously punch her in the nose Ayden?!"

He nodded shyly, tucking his face against his daddies chest.

"I am still your teacher Ayden....I am just in your sisters class in the evenings."

He nodded. That seemed to be except able to him.


Uh Oh....

Last week I was asked to take over School age in the evenings. A feat that, challenges me and excites me. I now have TWO classrooms.

I immediately took my bosses news (that I was to have my full hours and revamp school age) and RAN with it. Anything that gets me 8 hours....I like just fine.

In the morning I run my Pre-K and at 2:45, I am in schoolage. Wheew. I cleaned and rearranged, cussed and threw fits over the absolute MESS that I found in that room.

I was absolutely APPALLED at the children running around, wasting art supplies (They were painting on the bare wood) Opening the locked teacher cabinet, fighting, yelling.....OHMYGOD.

Am I over my head?

I don't know if i can do this!

What am I doing!?

The first day I cleaned, re-arranged and readied my class. When the children walked in they threw their backpacks on the ground, and tossed their jackets on the tables.

"Um...Yeah, I don't think so. Hang it up right or I WILL throw these away. My classroom is not a trash can." I had the big black trash bag at the ready.....They hurried to pick it up.

I stood at the table and asked each child "Do you have homework?"

"No."


"Okay I will write your parents a note letting them know that you have said you have no homework, and if this becomes an issue, I WILL call your teacher."

"I mean yes....I forgot."

"Okay, that happens sometimes." And I filled out my homework log.

My tummy fluttered a bit, I seriously had no Idea what I was doing. I figured my best bet was to treat them like I do when I get a new class. One that doesn't knows the rules and thinks they can run around crazy....So yeah...treat 'em like 4 year olds...that was my plan.

I stood in front of the class as they sat down to eat their snack, and explained my rules.

It's simple. I am a nice teacher. I am fun. I love giving squishes. If you want to use your nose to paint..I'm all for it...BUT you will respect my classroom. You will be kind to EVERYONE and you will ask my permission for EVERYTHING.

They all nodded, I saw one smile at another sneakily. I didn't say a word.

The previous teachers would make the children write 100 sentences if they did something wrong.
Negative.
If my child had to do that I'd be PISSED.

A girl was being mean to another I pulled her aside. "I know I know...I'm getting my paper..." She groaned at me.

"No. No sentences."


"NO SENTENCES?!" She grinned and looked over at her friends.

"Nope. Writing isn't punishment. It is a beautiful way to express yourself...No..you sit over there. Just sit there until your body is calm, and then come and see me." She sat.
And sat.

And sat.

And finally walked over to me "Im BORED Miss.Beanie."

I looked at her.."I want you to know that there is no room in MY class for mean or cruel children. If you feel the need to be mean, You walk away. You go sit...Take a breather. It is ABSOLUTELY intolerable for you to be rude, do you understand me?"

"Yes Miss.Beanie"

"Alright. You want to be mean or cruel you come talk to me. I protect this class and the children in it. Including yourself. Now..go apologize and tell her something beautiful about her outfit."

"Yes Miss.Beanie." And off she went.

"MISS.BEANIE!!! I HAD THIS FIRST AND SHE TOOK IT!!!"

"Don't yell at me." I replied


The child blinked their eyes at me "HUH?"


"I can hear you just fine, please lower your tone...now what is the problem?"

The other child ran up to us "She wont share!"

I looked at the child, grief was all over her face at the last baby doll that she wanted.

"She doesn't have to share."

"HUH?!" they both asked.


"If Harmke has the doll, then she is playing with it. Harmke, when you are done with the doll, will you please give it to Jayda?"

"umm..sure!" And off they went. Yes. I don't believe in sharing until you are ready to share. Sue me.

A child walked out of the bathroom, and I approached him "What are you doing?"

"Uh...I just went pee!"

"Did I TELL you that you can go pee?"

"Ummmm no."

"You need to ask my permission to use the restroom. I am to know where you are, every moment that you are signed into my classroom"

"Yes Miss. Beanie."

I know it sounds mean. But the classroom was out of control. The kids had absolutely no respect for the teachers or the classroom.

Fast forward to today. The children walked in, They got out their homework.
They washed their hands and sat down to snack, chatting in normal tones.

I had three different art stations out for them, the excitedly kept asking "Miss Beanie! Can I make a Tiki Face?!"

And I would reply "Of COURSE you can! I love all of my artists."

They made Tiki Faces, and valentines and little tiny bodies with big ole bobble heads, that made me giggle so they ALL made them.

When I can back from my break, The teacher who gave it to me (And USED to be the teacher in that room) said to me "Beanie, i'd love to know your trick."


"Whaddya mean?"

"I can't believe these kids! I want to know what you are doing? they all just ran around the room cleaning for you....I don't get it."

I just shrugged....

"Miss.Beanie can I use the restroom please?"

"Miss. Beanie, may I play Mancala please?"

"Miss.Beanie, may I play in the block area?"

Yeah....So far so good. But like I told my boss...Ask me how it's going on Friday.

Spirits at play **ARCHIVE** December 2008

When my father died.
The shock was so great. It was so deep and raw that I turned my face away from it and instead focused my eyes on my mother. And her pain.

I barely cried.

I did gasp and bend and wrap my arms about myself. The pains of it was physical. An ache the I couldn't rub out.

I remember calmly discussing things with my mom. This is the way we both are. No time for anything else. Lets focus on what needs to be done....and do it.
Let's figure out the steps that need to be taken...and take them.

I held on tight to my moms voice. Forcing calmness inside my own. I figured that if I was calm then she would be as well. I'm almost sure that she was focusing on the very same thing.

I insisted on calling the family. I needed to spare her the grief of others. The tears and the sobs that bound over the line and enter into your heart becoming your own. Compounding it. Thickening it.

I needed to do this for her.

Three phone calls later found me on the floor of my bathroom, hunched over with the phone to my ear.

Grief. Is a powerful thing.

Grief. Is an emotion that the heart simply cannot stand to feel.

It torments us. It rips at you and smiles while it does it.

5 months later. I stand over my Fathers headstone.

Towering over it. Casting the shadows of my body upon his name.

Above me the sun and below me dirt.

The wind is fierce and warm. Which is nice. Very nice.

It picks at my skirts and plays with the hem. Swirling it around my body. It tickles my ankles and kisses my toes.

This warm wind plays with me. It seems to be a million hugs afloat. Flying and whirling and smiling. Trying to find just the right person to land on.

I am assaulted by warm windy hugs. Spirits at play. light and laughter.

In my hand is a plastic bag. The wind kicks at it and it goes flying out of my hands.

"Oh no." I watch the bag and the wrappers inside tumble over headstones and hop over rocks.
I take off after them.

It seems to me as soon as I get to one of the shiny purple wrappers...the wind blows it further out of my reach.

I run. I stop. I bend. It blows. I giggle. I run.

I am focused on these wrappers. Scattering. A small smile plays on my lips.

I hear behind me. "Laurieeeeeeeeeeeeeee leave it go. Well get em later"

But I still giggle and run. I hope over headstones and saying "oop sorry" to the ones I tripped over.

"Laurieeeeeeee! What is that girl doing!" I can hear my aunt. There is a smile in her voice.

I stop. And the bag stops as well.

I am out of breath. I lift my face to the sun and I laugh. My breath blowing out of me.

The wind picks up my pony tail and blows it over my cheeks like smiling kisses.

I look back and the wrappers are gone. Blown to who knows where. Out of my sight.

As I walk back to my family the sun is warm and the wind has died down a bit. I do believe that it has found the right person to land on.

A very Boobie conversation.

I hear giggeling behind me.

I turn and see a very squishy lovely boy (one of my favorites) sticking his small basketball inside of his shirt.

"I have boooooooooobies!"

I laugh and so does his friends....all crowded around. EXCEPT for his 'girlfriend'.

"That is not funny! That is very naughty of you!" She pouts and runs to tell on him.


"Mrs. Beanie! Mrs.Beanie! Ayden has a ball inside of his shirt...and he says it is his booooooooobie!"

I laugh again (under my breath) and tell her seriously "alright, alright, calm down....Go get a drink of water and ignore these boys." She runs off to do that, throwing Ayden the stink eye over her shoulder.

I sit down in my chair and call Ayden over to me. Here he comes....all crystal blue eyes, sweet face and gruff soft voice.

Inside of his shirt....there is the boobie. He tries to hide it with his hands...

"Hey Ayden..."

He walks between my knees and puts his head on my chest. I squish him and stand him up to face me. "Whacha got there?"

"Where?"

"There." I poke at his singular boob.


"Umm...I was putting this ball inside of my shirt."

"Why."

"Cuz...for it looks like a boobies." He lowers his head.

"Hmmmm. Is there some reason you only have one boob..im pretty sure most people, who have boobs, have two....I might be mistaken though."

He smiles. "Yeah. I only have one ball Mrs.Beanie"

"Ah."  I sit in my chair and try my best not to laugh. "I want you to go into the office, and I want you to show Miss.Dawn your boob."

He smiles and runs in there "Hey Miss.Dawn...I got one boob." He runs out just as fast.

He runs up to me and throws himself at my legs. "I love you Mrs.Beanie."


"I love you too. But...I cannot have you talking about Boobies in my class. You are four years old...and I'm pretty sure, there is a law somewhere, that says you simply mustn't speak about boobies until you are 12."

"Oh. I'm sorry Mrs.Beanie....I dinnt know."

"It's okay. Some children don't know about the 12 year old boobie rule. Now you know."


"Kay...Your reeeally smart Mrs.Beanie."


"I know. I went to college and took an entire semester on stuff like that. When it is polite to fart, rules about boobs....ya know..." I shrug my shoulders. Inside I am smiling.


"WOW." He runs off.

Later.....


"Mrs.Beanie....My ball fell out of the class."

It is Ayden again.

"Really?" I cock my head and stare down at his face. "It fell OUT of class?"

"Mmmhmmm" He starts to squirm

"I think it bounced out of class, because you have been bouncing it off the walls like a beast."

"Yeah Mrs.Beanie. I'm sorry."

The kid is seriously so cute I want to bite his cheeks. The End.

I sigh (very dramatically) and go fetch said ball.

I then stand on a chair and pinch the ball into the ceiling slats.
And there it hangs.

Ayden stares at it.

He hops.

He squats then hops.

I am laughing histerically.

"Use your Jedi mind tricks Obi Wan."

The kids turn as one and stare upon the face of the woman who teaches them.

"You gatta concentrate....use your mind power!"

The stare at me...and then the ball....Ayden squints his eyes and purses his lips.

"Mrs.Beanie...I don't think any of us have mind powers."

"No???"

"Uh uh."


"Oh that's right...in order to have super Jedi mind powers you have to pay attention during circle time, and always learn something EVERY DAY....plus..ya know...college."

I stand back up on the chair, un pinch the ball and hurl it against the far wall.


"WOAH!!! MRS.BEANIE!!!!!" All of the kids laugh, scream and chase after the ball.

I hear Ayden Yell "MRS.BEANIE IS SO COOL! IM GANNA GROW UP AND GO TO COLLEGE TO GET MIND POWERS! I AM SO GANNA LEARN TOMARROW!!!"

I hear all of the boys yell "ME TOO!"

"Im ganna learn MORE then YOU!"

"NO I am!"

And I smile, because these boys believe in Jedi Mind tricks, The 12 year old rule...And because they love me so.

Shanes movies...Check em out and share with a friend!!!!

And of course the Bloopers!

BEANIE!

 I hear my name a ZILLION times a day, but when it is said in EXAUSTION...That means I had a productive day....


A mom walks by my classroom.

She is SO happy to see her son. I bite my lip. "Ummm...I gave your son a tattoo again today."
I say this sorta quiet, but alas, she swivels on her heels and walks up to me.

Thankfully she is smiling.

"Oh really? What did you do THIS time?"


"Well! HE asked for it, and here at kindercare, we believe in a child's right to choose."


"Mmhmm....well WHAT did HE choose?"

I shift...and look away from her eyes. "Well...just a little...tiny, minuscule really....Sleeve."

Her eyes widen. "A tiny...SLEEVE?" She laughs and walks to the next room. I count my kids and laugh under my breath, and look over at the office. Oh CRAP.

Thankfully I know this mom is cool with my tattoo skills...

I hear a pounding of feet and Kaiden runs up to me "Baby beanie...guess WHAT! I showed my mom...my mom I showed her my TATTOO!"

He is smiling and his shorn red hair shines.

I kneel down "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh Kaiden! Ohmygosh" and then I laugh because he thinks he is a rockstar now, thanks to me.

His mom walks up behind him as he is pulling up his shirt... "And MOM...look! LOOKIT..Beanie did on my BACK!"

I quickly rush "Oh yes...YES um ...i FORGOT...you know...about the back."

She peeks at what he is proudly showing her, pats his head and laughs at me "You wrote his last name across his whole back?!"

"I was feeling artistic, don't you think that a child should have the right to express his feelings through art?" I quickly stammer. I stand up. "Im SORRY. I'm a bad person!"

She laughs. "Hey...you KNOW this is ganna last for a few weeks, just remember I BATHE my son." And off they walk.

I hear Kaiden run to my boss and exclaim "HEY BABY BEANIE GAVE ME A TATTOO LOOK!!!!"

5 seconds later I hear from the office:  "BEEEEEANIE!...I SWEAR that girl..."

***********

A mom walks into my classroom. She has eyes ONLY for her son.
He wanders over to her and pulls on her leg. He is EXTREAMLY concentrated... "Mom...I gatta give Beanie 5 dollars."

She smiles and laughs at me.


"Oh REALLY? Now why do YOU have to give Beanie 5 dollars?"

"Not me mom..you...you have to give her five dollars, because I don't have 5 dollars, so can you give Beanie 5 dollars?

"Okay..." The mom laughs "Tell me why I have to give Beanie 5 dollars?"
I stand there very serious. Trying not to laugh.

"Well...I don't want a magic finger..so.." and off he wanders.

I won't lie, I dig around my house trying to find things to show this kid. He is hilarious and fascinating at the same time.

The mom looks at me.

"Well...I have this miraculous magic item (and I pull it out to show her) It makes your finger glow. I say a few magic words..and BAM! You now have a magic finger, and your boogers will be the most magical crustiest boogers ever!" I exclaim with excitment.

At this moment 15 children crowd around my legs...
"I want a magic finger!"
"Hey Beanie..I want one too!"

The mom laughs...."So he doesn't WANT a magic finger...and so now has to give you 5 dollars?"

"Yeah..." I replied, leaning against the cubbies, "He DID have a magic finger, but he wiped it off...so...He decided Magic fingers were bad. We shook on it and double pinky promised. The kid owes me 5 bucks dude."

"Okaaaay...well see what we can do...He DID shake and double pinky promise!"

The next day Kingston walks in with a baggie in his hands. "Umm Beanie...Here." He shoves it into my hands and wanders to the block area.

I look at his ma..."What's this?"

"Well..Kingston wants to know if you will accept these peanut butter chocolate chip rice crispy treats INSTEAD of the 5 bucks."

I take a square out.

I sniff it.

I lick it.

I nod.


"This is acceptable in trade." And i walk over to Kingston to shake his hand. Deal met.
I then yell "Woooooooooooooooooooohooooooooooooooooo I LOVE my job!" 

 Dawn see's me, spots the treats and laughs.
"Beanie!"

*************

I2 shiny faces look up at me from circle time.

I hold up a picture of a dinosaur... "What kind of Dinosaur is this?"

They inspect the picture and shout "Herbivore!!!!!"


"Good...goood...how do you KNOW this is a Herbivore?"

"He has no sharp teef!"


"He has no sharp claws!"


"He has spines on his back to protect them from Carnivores!"

I smile, and hold up another picture "And what sort of Dinosaur is this?"

They shout at me (Their favorite thing) "CARNIVORE!!!!"

"Niiiice....how can you tell?"

"He has sharp clackity claws!" and the curl their fingers.

"He has sharp pointy TEEF!" and they show me their teeth.


"He looks MEAN! and is not pretty!"

I laugh.

"And what sort of things does a carnivore eat ?" My eyes keep landing on Ayden.
He smiles and squirmes.


"They eat bones!"


"They eat other dinosaurs!"


"They eat AYDEN!"

"Oh yes...They eat bones, and other dinosaurs....But their  FAVORITE thing to eat has got to be...most defenitly AYDEN CUSHENBERRY!!!!" I growl and stomp over to Ayden.

He runs and the children giggle.

I grab him up and eat his guts. I pretend to burp and let his now lifeless body slide out of my grasp.

I stick out my stomache and pat it...

"MMMMM. Now that is a GOOD Ayden Cushenberry!"

The kids all laugh and fall at my feet. They kick their legs and hold their sides.

I sit back down and they sit up too.

I hold up a card that reads "Carnivores" "Who knows what this says?"
I see their eyes connect with the word.
I see their mouths move silently.
And then I hear it.
"C.....C......"

I gasp and point my finger at one girl. "DID YOU JUST SOUND THAT OUT!?"
She moves back a little. Shy.

I sit there and stare at these kids. "I want to cry because you are all so friggen smart. I am so proud of you, and you are all BEAUTIFUL."

They laugh and squeal "BEANIEEEE!!!!"

And THAT is my favorite way to hear my name.

My son the Viking.

When I came across the viking hat at Christmas time, I KNEW that I had to have it.
I gasped.
I pointed.
I hopped up and down trying to get my stubby body high enough to reach it.

"Beanie! You have bought Foofy ENOUGH stuff! Concentrate on Emma!"

Dinga was right of course, But still...STILL...this was the last hat he would get.

I double pinky promised.

She sighed and above the x-box 360 and the Dungeons and Dragons he got... THIS is what I was most excited about.

Christmas eve I wrapped it with care, and laughed maniacly when I was done.
He will NEVER guess what THAT is!!! I proudly exclaimed to my brother.

I jammed it on Santa's head, and got to work on the rest of the stuff I had to do. Still....my eyes kept wandering back to the genius hat that I had purchased.

Let's not pretend, I actually woke up my kids on Christmas morning.... I peeked into Shanes room and saw him on his computer.

"Pssssssssssssssst...Is Emma awake?!" I stage whispered

Shane turned and looked. "Nope. She FINALLY is asleep."

"Good....Now WAKE HER UP! I'm ganna hop into bed, have her wake me up! SANTA CAME!" I squealed with glee and hid in my bed.
The snores that softly escaped my lips, were in fact brilliant.

Soon enough we wandered into the living room, Emma's hair was messy and her eyes were alight with Magic. She stood at the bottom of our dead... dry, Christmas tree, covered in a pound of tinsel and her mouth dropped open.

I clapped and promptly flopped onto the couch.

Shanes eyes wandered...and beheld....The wrapped hat-o-viking.

"Oh mom....." He smiled at me...so HUGE. "Mom...Oh come one!!!!...REALLY?!!!"

I clapped, and laughed and screamed with happiness. "Yes!!"

"He looked at the blue wrapped package and folded his arms. "Oh now..I will NEVER guess what THAT is!"

He looked at me with such happiness, I wanted to pee on my foot.

When he unwrapped the hat of glee, he plopped it in his head and wore it for exactly 5 minutes. Until he unwrapped his soda drinking hat....his fancy cap....His umbrella hat....His towering pillar of hats...that Emma and I had pieced together TYVM.

Last week I snatched up my babies and took them out to Denny's.

Shane, as usual, stood infront of his massive hat collection and stroked his budding chin hair.


"Hmmmm...Which one shall I grace people with tonight? Choices ...choices..."

I suggested the Viking, and he suggested I was a genius!

I will tell you this. I love my son for an inumerable reasons. But at the top of that list HAS to be his ability to walk amongst the people at walmart and Denny's, capped with horns and returning peoples stares with "Hey, how ya doing?"....."What's up?"

Franks and Beans...Things they don't tell you.

Today, January 17th. 12:20 pm

Dawn giggles as she smokes her cigarette. We are huddled in my car on our lunch break.

"I'm ganna ask people if that happens to them...watch. I will."

Dawn laughs again, which, is sorta like a high pitched giggle. "Beanie, I'm pretty sure NO body in the ENTIRE world has stared at their sons penis and screamed "Franks and beans...FRANKS AND BEANS!"

She laughs again, and so do I.

"No?....You don't think so?"


"NO Beanie. You're not normal." she giggles and I wonder. About all of the things people don't EVER tell you when they place your newborn child in your arms.

Let's backtrack a bit...

My son is 15 and a half. He has absolutely no shame in his body. Every night he takes a shower, walks down the hall, butt ass nekkid, and tells me "I love you, G'night Ma."

Some nights he will remind me that his gym clothes need washing....Or he needs school supplies...what have you.

If Emma is about, he will hide behind the door. It never really bothered me.

That is, until I noticed my sweet baby boy ( 6 ft tall or not) has the penis of a man.

I was shocked....and I did the only think I could. I pointed....and I screamed "Franks and beans....FRANKS AND BEANS!"

Now.

You would think this would shock my child, but no. He rolled his eyes and said "Anyway Ma, don't forget my friends are coming over okay? Love you G'night."


People never told me this. And so I say to YOU. One day you will discover that your child has the junk of a man, and you will be prepared.

You're welcome.

Nose picker.

I really wish 3 year olds wouldnt fight with me.


"Mrs. Beanie...." A little girl softly whispers.

"Yes Squish?" 

"Can you put on some Micheal Jackson for me?" Her huge blue eyes stare into mine. So bright they almost hurt.

"Course I can."

I make my way over to the radio and pick out a properly amazing song "Change the world".
I thought it was appropriate due to the fact that today is MLK day and we were making lovely art to celebrate his birthday.

I sway to the music and the children swarm around me. They giggle and proclaime me "Silly!"
From my left I hear a grumble "That is NOT Micheal Jackson."

I smile and reply... "Yes it is."

He stands up and faces me "NO IT'S NOT!" His body vibrated with the force of his Yell.


I turn and face him, my eyes skinnying up "Yes it IS...."

"NO it's not. That is not Micheal Jackson!"

Okay. The kid is starting to raise my ire. I close my eyes...breathe....realize that, Hey, who cares if the twirp doesn't believe me? He's 3.

I turn my back and dance with the children....And I hear the child plop himself in a chair. "You are all dancing to something ELSE, that is NOT Micheal Jackson!" And he proceeds to laugh.

The little girl, with the bright blue eyes starts to frown.
She stops dancing.
I see tears.

I walk over to the little boy, "How old are you?"

"Three."

"I'm Thirty Three and I am telling you this IS Micheal Jackson!"

"Is NOT!"

"Is too!"


"Is NOT!"

"Is Too!"

(Yes...I'm arguing with a 3 year old.)

A co-teacher walks by the room and laughs. "Beanie!" She screeches...she keeps walking.

"Is NOT!"

"IS.TOO..Infinity times 12 no take backs Pfffft!"

The child stares at me....Prolly cuz he doesn't know what infinity is. My heart swells with the pride of winning the "is not" game, which, if you didn't know...is BIG in Preschool. HUGE.

He keeps staring at me. "Plus...you eat your boogers. That means I'm automatically always right. The end."

He stood there for a second. Then he ran over to us.... "hey...Mrs.Beanie...Can I dance to Micheal Jackson too?"

"Of course you can."

And we danced.....


The "Is not" game ALWAYS works!

Evolution.

I have come to believe that women have evolved in such a way, that we no longer crave Mr.Right.
We crave Mr.Ridiculous.

Example #1: (Right)
Late 30's
Great career
No children
not hilarious...but funny.
Intelligent
Polite
Sweet
Loves kids
Loves Dogs
Thoughtful
BUT...
Is unattractive to me in every way
I find him entirely TOO nice
I think he is absolutely TOO polite. (no need to apologize to the dishrag for stepping on it)
When he is UBER sweet, I find it kind of a turn off.
When he texts me, telling me that he is thinking of me. I sorta find it clingy.


Example #2 (Ridiculous)
Mid 20's
No career
No real education
Practically comes from another planet
AND...
His laugh makes me warm and fuzzy
I could stare at him for hours
Is competent at both Food AND Water fights
If he stepped on a dishrag, he would NOT apologize. He would pick it up and make it his bitch.
The above mentioned would make me pee from laughing.
Makes my tummy warm and fuzzy
Makes me laugh, even when I'm so pissed off my eyes cross.

Now. How is this right?
I have struggled and tried. I have stared at the first man with such concentration...hoping the next time I saw him...he would be exciting, hilarious, and fuzzy tummy inducing.

Negative.

That's not just it. I believe I have cracked the myth of many marriages. (Liz and Jody's aside)
I myself was married for 13 years, please remember. And in no way was it horrible.
It was perfectly fine.
It was meh.

Being a divorced woman, in her early 30's...I have come across so many women, who once were so in love....simply to find out. It was a lie, or at least a perfectly smoothed over untruth.
They were miserable, They were Gay, They were abused....But they married...know why?
Because they thought that they should. Because it was the right thing to do.

When I got divorced, you would have thought HORNS grew out of my head. I was an evil breaker-upper of the sanctity of marriage.
(Dawn was too..neener)
Dawn and I went from so many friends to just us.
And now??? *gasp*  Hahahaha...Percentage wise, how many of these women are divorced? How many of these women have confided in us, that they WISH to be?

Pffffftttt.

Most of em.

But as I have worked, Met many AMAZING women (both parents and co-workers) at least 75 percent of these amazing women (or men...I love the gays) Are with Mr.Rediculous.....Why?
"He makes me laugh."
"He's good with my kids"
"The man fucks like a Porn Star"
"No body has ever pissed me off and turned me on as much as him!"
"He's my bestfriend."
"He's my soulmate"

I have come to the conclusion that MEN are not the issue here, we women are. We have evolved. We work, we pay bills. We no longer need a provider. (Would it be nice? SURE as long as Mr. Ridiculous can find a job...which he can't...but whatever.)

It's all of our fault.

"Where are all of the nice guys?"

He's right there.
He's boring
He's shaves his armpits
He wears bad shoes
He has huge nostrils
He is a fatty
He is a little too soft spoken.

So the next time Mr.Ridiculous makes you cry, or cup-o-farts you. Simply blame it on the evolution of women.

Updating....

I moved some of my favorite blogs from Myspace to here. A friend asked where my blogs were, I guess her wife wants to read my ramblings.

"Oh god...ummmm...." Then it sorta made me sad That i didn't even know where to tell her to go.

I looked at Dawn. "Where would she go?"

"Ummmmmmm..." Dawn shook her freckily face.

I squinched up my face and replied "Myspace?"

"oh GOD!" Brandee huffed "People still go there?!"

It was then that i decided to update this blog.
The end.

The complicated lives of women *ARCHIVE* Mau 2009

I havent written in too long. It's just been too long.
Even now I stare at my screen and don't know what to write. I don't know how to describe this life of mine.

Up and down. Crazy and mundane. Days where I don't sit down and days when Im almost comatose.

Women.

That word is so complex, as we all are.
Love rules us. It defines our lives. Wether it is love of a child or that of a man. woman.
Or both.

Emma sleeps behind me on our couch. Her fingers curled next to her chin. Her hair is tangled and fanned out around her, she softly snores.

I look at my daughter and wonder what kind of a women she will become. I wonder who she will love and wether she will be a natural mother.

I hope that I will pass enough strength and love of self onto her. I hope that she is smart and confident.

Each day she grows, and each lesson she learns will help build her into the kind of woman she becomes.

She is surrounded by women. Myself, Aunty Dawn, Aunty Melanie, Aunty Jen.

She never ever see's her Auntie 'shoe' (Cyn) But she never forgets her and has her pictures taped on her pink princess wall.



I am interested in relationships. I am curious if anyone truely lives happily ever after. I feel I should study and learn...so that I can teach Emma.

I have this love for Dustin that is immense, and full and perfect...and I worry and wonder if that will change?

Will it always go away?

I listen to friends..and friends of friends confide. I am a listener and so I listen. And ingest. And realise.

How hard love is. How confusing women are. How complex our hearts are.

I have noticed that women who want simple things in love, are the happiest. Women who understand that nobody is perfect, "and anyway...if he WAS perfect..how boring would he be!"
But these women are confident and are far and few between.


We are seldom raised to pray and meditate and nurture love of ourselves, before we do it for others.

We want to grow quickly...reproduce naturally..and marry.
Done and done.

My parents had an emotianally tireing marriage. As a child I saw it as chaos. Now as an adult I can see it for what it was.

I wanted what I never had as a child. Security. I wanted a home. Someplace happy and stressfree. I wanted everyday to be the same and I wanted to infuse my children with security and love.

I did right by my children, but did a great disservice to Myself anf Christopher. Marrying for all the wrong reasons. Staying married for the same ones.

Luckily when we divorced our children became even happier. Luckily Toph and I are friends and our children have stayed first and formost...the important ones.


Even the most self assured, self made woman can fall in love and immediatly become an astounding idiot.

It happens the world over. We see it in our bestfriends and again in our sisters. We fall in love and the sun shines out of thier asses. They sleep and you when you wake you smile at the small bit of drool on thier pillow. You think its cute and perfect. They always smell nice and when they kiss you, your tummy flutters.

One year later... your scrubbing the pillows and cursing the idiot who drools when they sleep. Huffing at them when they want another kiss and waiting with baited breath for them to leave for work.

Women, albiet not everyone mind you, are in love ...with love.

Falling into it and announcing it into the world.

Telling their friends all about the stupid little things they do that make you happy. Giggeling over the nickname he calls you and secretly planning your firstborns name.

In reality your friends grunt and sigh when you go on about him, because they have been married for 5 years and know that in 2 more you will be asking him to PLEASE stop calling you pookiebutt in front of the kids.

Don't get me wrong dear readers, I am madly in love. So much so that I grumble about it.

I loved being single and talkig about what idiots married people were. But, as usual, Karma hits and I fall head over flips in love with a man much too young, who's skin smells like sunshine.

It's life. It's fucked up. And I find myself doing things that I swore I never would. Why?
Why is that? Why do women compromise themselves for love?

Is it, as a friend suggested to me, in our genetic makeup? Are we hardwired to procreate? Is there a scientific reason for the butterflies and the blinders?

I have heard men say that we women are crazy. That we cannot be pleased. That women, in general are confused.

Do I agree with them? Hell yes.

We are crazy.

This situation is a TRUE situation that a couple shared with me.

'Ruby' asks her man to run to a resteraunt and pick up her togo order. He gets dressed and does. When she recives it the following conversation ACTUALLY happened.

"IT HAS GRAVY!" she screeched

"Yes..it does." he replied

"HOW can you bring me gravy. Did i ASK you to get me mashed potatoes AND gravy?!?!"

By now her heart has accelerated. Her cheeks are flushed and she wants to kill him.

"Did you ask me NOT to get you gravy?" He yells back. Angry that he just went all the way across town and she cannot even say thank you.

"DO YOU EVER see me eating GRAVY on my fucking potatoes?!!"

Her husband stares at her. He is confused and pissed off. He knows that if he says yes she will call him a liar. If he says no then she will yell more and demand an apology.

He is silent.

This pisses her off.

She screams somemore and with much imphasis, she throws the potatoes in the garbage.

Which pisses him off, since HE paied for those potatoes.

"YOu ordered it. I didn't. I didn't order your fucking potatoes. You asked me to pick them up and I did. How is this my fault?! I can NEVER make you happy."

Which is right. He can't.

Neither one stops and realises that they are fighting over a vegitable.
Now this may just be that they are a crazy couple doomed for love, but i can say, quite honestly, that I once went balistic over a cheeseburger.

The happiest relationship that I know of to date would have to be that of my ex-coteacher and her wife. They are a happy, real life couple. Married for 5 years together for something like 12.

When we all go out my co-teacher drinks and dances and has fun, she can get crazy...but there in the background is her wife. Always smiling...calm. Happy. They have dogs and an amazing friendship.

Real.

My friend Jodee is getting married soon and she is madly in love. This is both of their second marriage.We tease Jodee because she thinks the raises and sets in Daves eyes.

I watch them together when I can. And I have come to conclusion that these people are real lifers. They have both made mistakes in life and just THRILL in love.

They are happy about it. They are thankful for it. They realise how fucked up life can be and just revel in each other.

How great is that? How great is this love. It beams off of them and if people scoff and make fun, it is because they themselves are jelous. They want that, or used to have that.


If you have no blinders, and you see that he drools...you don't think he's a god because of it. But you see the drool and you love him because of it.

If you accept another human being despite the one too many beers or the arm hair picking.  If you revel in the fact that you both are alive and in love and it feels good.
And life is not perfect. Love is not perfect...so lets just be unperfect together.

Then just how lovely is that?