Oh, Jama

There's always a chance for mayhem when Jama calls.

Carrie is upstairs cooking dinner, and I'm downstairs taking care of Shane when my cell phone rings. Jama is calling to warn me that Mother's Day is coming up.

Jama: "Mikey, now you be sure to get Carrie a good present. This is her first Mother's Day!

We talk back and forth for a little bit. I assure her that I have something planned.

Jama: "Well all right, Mikey. I just don't want you to find some ribbon and wrap that in a bow around your tally-whacker and call that a gift!"

Those may not be her exact words, but in my defense it's hard to breathe when you're laughing your guts off because your grandmother felt like she had to warn you about gift-wrapping your penis for a Mother's Day present.

But she didn't stop there....

Jama: "There was one time your Papa (aka Grandpa) couldn't find a card, so do you know what he did? He..." 

...and I'll let your imagination fill in the rest of that blank!

Oh, Jama. I'm looking forward to when Shane's old enough to really get to know you, ha ha. I know I learned many colorful expressions that my mom did her best to avoid explaining to me until I was old enough to figure it out myself!

Have I mentioned I love my family? They're a hoot.

Carrie's first Mother's Day is Coming Soon

Carrie's first real mother's day is coming up this Sunday. She got to celebrate the holiday last year while she was pregnant, but now it's the genuine article. Its occurs to me that I have two options: A) mess things up and forever have the bar set low, or B) do it right and risk having the bar set at that level from here on out.

Decisions, decisions....

I called my mother on my way home from work. She told me exactly what she wants for Mother's Day: socks.  They must be beige or they must be blue jean colored. No exceptions. That I can do.

As my mom and I were talking, the subject of Mother's Day cards came up.

Mom: Mike, I know it's going to be your natural instinct to go for something funny, probably involving flatulence, but I'm telling you to avoid that type of card!  Go for something sweet and romantic. That's what I would like.

I'm laughing hysterically by the word flatulence.

Mom: Oh no, don't tell me....

Me: I've already bought the card!

The first few words on the card? Pull my finger.

Bagel Heaven

I'm excited.  I just bought a dozen fresh bagels and I had a coupon for 4 more!  We're talking good bagels, too. French toast, chocolate chip, poppy seed, asiago cheese....oh yeah!  I ate a chocolate chip one in the car on the way home. When I got home, I heard the siren's song again. I pulled out an asiago cheese bagel that was so fresh I could've almost torn it open with my hands. Shane was still in his car seat from our little errand and I sat on the floor in front of him chowing down with "Thank God, it's Saturday" going through my mind. Now, I'm sitting here with a cup of Earl Grey and a slobbering son bouncing merrily a few feet away.

It's nice to slow down and enjoy the simple things.

A Wet Diaper is at least a Warm One

Shane's developed a new habit. Whenever I change his diaper, he 'christens' the new one within the next five minutes.

That's right: my son loves himself a warm diaper. I've tried letting him 'air out' a little bit, catching him shortly after he pees, and even just putting the diaper on without fastening both sides, but he remains undeterred. I half suspect that he just finds the new diaper uncomfortable and a little pee warms it right up and molds it just how he likes it. Either that, or it's a baby conspiracy to make me buy more diapers for the landfill in Shane's name.

He's up in bed now. He's become very routine about his bed-time. Actually, he's been very predictable in general for the past month or so. It makes Carrie and I's job a lot easier. I enjoy being able to figure out what it is my son needs and wants rather than bumbling around trying various options until something works or he just gives up and conks out.

It's been a very very busy week at work. I always find it funny that I have so many side activities/jobs going on that teaching only takes up half my day. The rest is spent sorting out a butt-load of bureaucratic bombshells. Well, that may be a bit over-dramatic but I like the alliteration.

Anyway, I'm going to try to finish the book I picked up from a book swap a couple of months ago at school. It's a mystery called Nine Dragons by an author I can't remember the name of off the top of my head. I don't normally read mysteries, but it's been a fun read so far. Then again, maybe I should save it for the training I have to go to tomorrow. Yet another example of the 'bonus jobs' a teacher can get assigned that takes away from actually teaching...it's the job though.  Every job is going to have something like that, so I guess I should just be happy I have a job that pays the bills. I should probably start printing up directions so that I'm not scrambling in the morning.

You know something stinks...

You know something stinks when you're in such a hurry to cover it up you grab a can of Pledge Wood Polish and spray it into the air for a split second before you realize the Febreeze bottle is shaped differently.

Shane update!

Shane's now 4.5 months old!

When last measured, he was around the 75th percentiles for height, weight, and head circumference. I checked his weight this morning after feeding and he's clocking in at almost 18 lbs! He's a big'un.  Palm Sunday, I had to take him out of the service and do some walking to prevent him from chattering. We bumped into another father with his son doing the same thing.  Shane was several weeks older than the other child (Gabriel), but he was half again the size!  I must confess to having a bit of a baby-ego at that point. The way I figured it, Shane beat the other kid hands down in all the quality baby categories except for hair quantity.

Admittedly, I'm a bit biased.

Some baby updates in general:

Long day, but ended on a high note!

It's been a long several weeks with everything that's been going on, and today was no exception.  I woke up at 6:30 AM and didn't get home until 8:00 PM. From there I took care of my son and put him to bed by 8:30, and went into dishes, mail, scooped cat poop, and took out all the trash. Carrie's stressed and sore from her neck hurting and her meds acting funny, and working non-stop on her own work. The two rays of sunshine in my day are hearing about my brother's internship offer, and eating a burrito at Moe's for dinner for the first time in a year.

It's 9:00 PM and I'm ready for a break. I sit down at my computer and log in to my work email (of course).  I relax better if I don't find any fires that may need putting out the next day. What do I find? A bold, new email from a parent I had a meeting with this morning (#4 after a week-long blitz of IEPs and Re-Evals). In my mind, the meeting had gone well, so I'm really curious about what the parent could have wrote. I click on it, and the first thing I notice is that it's addressed to me, my department chair, and the principal of my school. Then, I read the contents:

Fussy babytude

Shane's been fussy at feeding for the past several days.  He's not eating as much and he's getting royally pissed if we try to keep offering him the bottle. He moves throughout the feedings, arches his back, and tries to suck his own thumb and play with the bottle. He's strong too!  He'll grab on to the bottle and start pushing it every which way and break the seal. This pisses him off and he gives me the WTFD look.  It'll be nice when he's old enough to realize when he's the one ripping the bottle out. In the mean time, the little tyrant has assigned me the role of "blame taker."

I was going to go to church today, but looking at the time it ain't gonna happen. Shane had me hopping at his bidding when I should have been showering and loading the diaper bag. He's been a super-baby up until this point, so maybe he's just trying to get me prepared for his teenage years. Shane's thoughtful like that!

To follow up on the 'dramatic email' my Thursday ended with, here's how my Friday began.

McCruari Humor

Today started off with a pain in the neck. Carrie's neck.

It started out innocuously enough. I was getting ready in the kitchen and Carrie was talking to me. Her hair had come forward so she swung her head to throw it back over her shoulder.  "OW! That really hurt!"  It was an action she'd done countless times before, but this time was different. Of course, I didn't know that yet. I figured it was just a quick pull and something that would pass fairly quickly. Wincing, Carrie went downstairs to pump and I grabbed my tea and was off to work.

An hour later, I'd be back at home and a couple of hours after that, Carrie would be hopped up on some Vicodin and muscle releaxers and be sporting a support collar. My brother Matt's response?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymKLymvwD2U

That's McCruari humor for you!

And if you want the long account...

To teach, or to do my job?

Funny thing about teaching some days: it's not about the kids.

It's all about the paperwork.

As a Special Educator, I sometimes feel like the paperwork I do is a higher priority to my school system than actually working with students. Why is that you ask?  Let's look at how I spend my time when I'm not teaching.
1. I go to re-evaluations and IEPs during my planning periods.
2. I write goals, narratives, and anecdotal records during my planning periods.
3. I spend my teacher workday compiling VGLA binders.
4. I usually spend a planning period after each quarter filling out IEP goal sheets (okay, so this isn't so much of a time sink. It's the SPED equivalent of sending out progress reports once a quarter, but I figured I'd throw it in).
5. A student came after school for help today, but I had to put him on hold to conference with another teacher for a meeting that had been rescheduled and there was no other time to meet.

That's right. I put helping a student on hold because heads would roll if I didn't attend to paperwork. Technically, the student was a kid I don't even teach (the teacher he wanted to stay after with wasn't at school so he asked if I could help him), but it still felt like my priorities were slightly backwards trying to finish paperwork that would keep me employed versus help a student which seems to be the definition of teaching. The kid got the help he needed in the end (plus a "why aren't you in honors?" comment because he picked it up so quickly), but I do wish there was less paperwork and legal woes tied into being a SPED Teacher. Still, it's those legal mandates that guarantee schools have special educators, so it won't be going away any time soon.  I do wonder if I'll look back at this journal years in the future and think "wuss" or "Wow, things have gotten so much better."

Either way, it's part of the job. You do what you got to do, make the best of it and go forward.  I don't know if it's confidence, pride, stupidity, or arrogance, but I figure if I'm going to have to do something anyways I may as well be good at it. Not the best mind you! I'm not going to live and breathe my job and give up all my free time, but I'll give it my all on the job so that I can make sure my family has all their needs met and some of their wants to boot.

Shane's still growing like a chia pet in the rainforest. When he kicks in his crib, I can hear it in the basement.  He's getting strong!