Mom always said, "Two things you don't ever talk about with a mixed group are politics and religion. These subjects can change the mood very quickly and make new friends into enemies."
Mom is a wise lady. However, no one seems to listen anymore. Politics is all I hear about on the news, commercials, phone calls, Facebook, etc. And most don't seem to be as irritated as me. Can you imagine the stir it would cause if the Pope called your house and wanted to talk religion with you? Yet, no one seems to be too upset when Bill Clinton calls to discuss voting on Tuesday. What's the difference?
I don't think there is one.
So this isn't a blog post to tell you who I am going to vote for or who I think you should vote for. It is just to show you that all of these campaign ads/phone calls, etc does nothing but waste time, waste good commercial space, waste of money, and sometimes even waste friendships.
I was reading Time magazine and came across an interesting study by Georgia State University.
They "gathered conservative and liberal students to test their resistance to factual information. First they as the group to read an article that included President George W. Bush's claim that his tax cuts had increased revenue for the U.S. Treasure which was provably false. they they added a factual correction: the Bush tax cuts led to a three-year decline in tax revenue from $2 trillion in 2000 to $1.8 trillion in 2003. The correction worked among liberals, but among conservatives it produced a curious backfire effect: conservatives were nearly twice as likely to say the Bush tax cuts increased revenue after they had been told this was not true."
They did the same study with a distortion to the liberals and it had the same effect.
So, basically people are set in their ways and they are only going to take in the information that supports what they believe about their candidate. That means they aren't going to change their mind on which candidate is best to lead the US for the next four years. That means,
STOP TRYING TO CHANGE THEIR MINDS!
STOP CALLING
STOP STUPID ADS WITH SWEAR WORDS IN IT
STOP FACEBOOK RECOMMENDING PAGES TO ME
STOP FACEBOOK POLITICAL POSTS
AND PLEASE, just go back to funny cat videos or other make-me-laugh posts.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Let Me Tell You About Cool!
It was a chilly high of 45 degrees yesterday. I had recess duty and, just like every school year, there were several kids outside in short sleeves, shorts, dresses without tights, etc. Their reason? Winter coats are not cool. According to one student, "They make you look all chubby and fat!"
My poor, poor third graders! What has society done to you already?
For the last three years I have written persuasive pieces in my classroom trying to get kids to wear coats/hats/boots/(God-Forbid) snow-pants out to recess. Although I think I am a pretty adequate writer, I have convinced few students. The desire to be cool in front of your peers is a much stronger argument.
This year a will be taking a different approach...
You want to look cool? Let me tell you about cool! Let me paint a picture of how I used to dress to go outside and play:
First, I wore a blaze orange hat. I had to wear this because most of my play time was at Grandma's house up north. We had to wear something blaze orange so the hunters would easily spot us. Now blaze orange was a little easier for my camo-clad brothers and male cousins to match with but for a girl, blaze orange does not match pink or purple. At. All! But I sucked it up because I would rather the hunters not mistake me for a deer.
Second, I wore cotton in my ears. I am not entirely sure why Grandma had us wear cotton in our ears. I think it has something to do with ear infections. I am pretty sure she still wears cotton on very cold days. The purpose is not the point. The fact is, Grandma says "wear cotton" so we wore cotton....and we ROCKED it!
Third, Great-Grandma knitted our mittens for us. Every time we went to Great-Grandma's house she would grab a scrap or some cardboard and trace our hands so she could knit mittens for us. So sweet of her. But Great-Grandma was practical. She used the yarn that was on sale. The yarn that no one in their right mind would pay full price for. The yarn that often had a vomit color to it. This did not match blaze orange, pink, or purple. But you wore them because that is what you had and Great-Grandma made them for you. (I question the resistance to water with these mittens still. The moment you touched the snow, you got wet, which made you toss your mittens off and get cold anyway....)
Fourth, and most popular, I wore bread bags in my boots. This kept my feet/socks from getting wet if I had a leak in my boot. The bread bags were always longer than my boots so I was able to fold them over the outside and display the Wonder Bread logo proudly.
Now, my third graders, what do you say you toss on that North Face fleece of yours and the matching hat and mittens, and head outside to play? Stop trying to be cool, we all know my cousins and siblings and I have set the bar pretty high.
My poor, poor third graders! What has society done to you already?
For the last three years I have written persuasive pieces in my classroom trying to get kids to wear coats/hats/boots/(God-Forbid) snow-pants out to recess. Although I think I am a pretty adequate writer, I have convinced few students. The desire to be cool in front of your peers is a much stronger argument.
This year a will be taking a different approach...
You want to look cool? Let me tell you about cool! Let me paint a picture of how I used to dress to go outside and play:
First, I wore a blaze orange hat. I had to wear this because most of my play time was at Grandma's house up north. We had to wear something blaze orange so the hunters would easily spot us. Now blaze orange was a little easier for my camo-clad brothers and male cousins to match with but for a girl, blaze orange does not match pink or purple. At. All! But I sucked it up because I would rather the hunters not mistake me for a deer.
Second, I wore cotton in my ears. I am not entirely sure why Grandma had us wear cotton in our ears. I think it has something to do with ear infections. I am pretty sure she still wears cotton on very cold days. The purpose is not the point. The fact is, Grandma says "wear cotton" so we wore cotton....and we ROCKED it!
Third, Great-Grandma knitted our mittens for us. Every time we went to Great-Grandma's house she would grab a scrap or some cardboard and trace our hands so she could knit mittens for us. So sweet of her. But Great-Grandma was practical. She used the yarn that was on sale. The yarn that no one in their right mind would pay full price for. The yarn that often had a vomit color to it. This did not match blaze orange, pink, or purple. But you wore them because that is what you had and Great-Grandma made them for you. (I question the resistance to water with these mittens still. The moment you touched the snow, you got wet, which made you toss your mittens off and get cold anyway....)
Fourth, and most popular, I wore bread bags in my boots. This kept my feet/socks from getting wet if I had a leak in my boot. The bread bags were always longer than my boots so I was able to fold them over the outside and display the Wonder Bread logo proudly.
Now, my third graders, what do you say you toss on that North Face fleece of yours and the matching hat and mittens, and head outside to play? Stop trying to be cool, we all know my cousins and siblings and I have set the bar pretty high.
Monday, October 29, 2012
There Are Signs Everywhere...
Maybe I started believing in signs when the hopeless romantic in me saw this movie in 1997. Maybe it was earlier than that?
All I know is that I am a highly superstitious believer in signs and searcher for patterns in a usually random life.
This may seem like an over-exaggeration of my life, but it is not.
I once had a pair of Packer underwear. I noticed that each time I wore them, the Packers lost. Clearly it was the fault of the undergarment and not the professional athletes' ability to score touchdowns and hold the other team from scoring points. I threw the underwear out immediately upon realizing this pattern.
This season I noticed that our losses were due to the fact that I did not put my Clay Matthews jersey on approximately 1 hour before the game. Contrary to belief, the loss in Seattle was not due to the replacement refs, it was my own negligence that warranted the loss.
I see real signs and am superstitious about other things in life too, not just our professional sports teams. When we first found out the price of adoption and IVF (starting at $17,000 each), we were panicking about how we would ever be able to support such a thing. We questioned whether or not this was the right choice for us. Then, I made an extreme error when taking out my student loan for graduate school. I didn't understand that you weren't supposed to take out the full amount that they offered you. I didn't realize that they gave you over the amount one would need to pay for tuition and books. Imagine my surprise and excitement when I was issued a check for $17,000.
Crazy, right?
Well, there was another sign at my house this weekend (or maybe an omen). The girls were playing with the sno-globes in the living room. One was a snowman, one was a winter scene, one was engraved from our wedding, and the last one had four dolphins in it and it said:
Kate and Neddy
Family Complete
Guess which one broke?
When we got the dolphin sno-globe from Brent's parents for Christmas I was kind of sad because, really? This is all done? No more babies? I asked Brent's mom what she would do if I miraculously got pregnant at 40 years old (yes, it would be a miracle, but not a surprise because I know this is going to happen to me.) We laughed at the thought of having to buy a new sno-globe.
But now there is a sign.
I explained this to Brent and he told me I was ridiculous. Maybe he is just being realistic because we can't fit another body into our house, maybe he is just being practical because the reality of this being an actual sign that we would have another child is kind of silly.
Then again, this is the man that made me sit in the kitchen during a Packer game because each time I entered the living room something bad happened for our team.
This may seem like an over-exaggeration of my life, but it is not.
I once had a pair of Packer underwear. I noticed that each time I wore them, the Packers lost. Clearly it was the fault of the undergarment and not the professional athletes' ability to score touchdowns and hold the other team from scoring points. I threw the underwear out immediately upon realizing this pattern.
This season I noticed that our losses were due to the fact that I did not put my Clay Matthews jersey on approximately 1 hour before the game. Contrary to belief, the loss in Seattle was not due to the replacement refs, it was my own negligence that warranted the loss.
I see real signs and am superstitious about other things in life too, not just our professional sports teams. When we first found out the price of adoption and IVF (starting at $17,000 each), we were panicking about how we would ever be able to support such a thing. We questioned whether or not this was the right choice for us. Then, I made an extreme error when taking out my student loan for graduate school. I didn't understand that you weren't supposed to take out the full amount that they offered you. I didn't realize that they gave you over the amount one would need to pay for tuition and books. Imagine my surprise and excitement when I was issued a check for $17,000.
Crazy, right?
Well, there was another sign at my house this weekend (or maybe an omen). The girls were playing with the sno-globes in the living room. One was a snowman, one was a winter scene, one was engraved from our wedding, and the last one had four dolphins in it and it said:
Kate and Neddy
Family Complete
Guess which one broke?
When we got the dolphin sno-globe from Brent's parents for Christmas I was kind of sad because, really? This is all done? No more babies? I asked Brent's mom what she would do if I miraculously got pregnant at 40 years old (yes, it would be a miracle, but not a surprise because I know this is going to happen to me.) We laughed at the thought of having to buy a new sno-globe.
But now there is a sign.
I explained this to Brent and he told me I was ridiculous. Maybe he is just being realistic because we can't fit another body into our house, maybe he is just being practical because the reality of this being an actual sign that we would have another child is kind of silly.
Then again, this is the man that made me sit in the kitchen during a Packer game because each time I entered the living room something bad happened for our team.
Monday, October 15, 2012
A Mommy House
I like to rearrange my house a couple of times a year. It makes me feel clean and happy and like I can start fresh. It makes hubby feel uncomfortable and crazed but he lets me do it anyway. As of late, I feel more depressed than clean/happy/starting fresh...
Why can't my house look like those really nice, clean, decorated ones in the Pottery Barn?
How come those kids don't destroy all of the items that are set out for decoration?
Where do those kids put their toys so that their house doesn't have the Fischer Price Hell appearance that my house has taken on?
How come those houses aren't surrounded by STICKY and finger-prints? You think I'm joking? Every time I leave my house I feel sticky. I don't even eat breakfast. Sometimes, my kids haven't even had breakfast yet and they are sticky. Yes, I bathe them! They still stick! It's like it comes out of their pores!
Where are the Goldfish crackers on the furniture and why isn't there anything ground into the carpet? I think our vacuum cleaner spits out Goldfish behind me as it cleans because my house seems to be dirtier after I vacuum than when I first started.
I bet those houses smell good too! My house usually smells like dirty diapers. How do they do that?
I know some of you smart mommas/grandmommas will tell me that I will miss this stage someday and I probably will because that will be a sign that my babies are grown and out of the house. Still, wouldn't it be nice to live in a Pottery Barn for a couple of hours instead of a Mommy House?
Why can't my house look like those really nice, clean, decorated ones in the Pottery Barn?
How come those kids don't destroy all of the items that are set out for decoration?
Where do those kids put their toys so that their house doesn't have the Fischer Price Hell appearance that my house has taken on?
How come those houses aren't surrounded by STICKY and finger-prints? You think I'm joking? Every time I leave my house I feel sticky. I don't even eat breakfast. Sometimes, my kids haven't even had breakfast yet and they are sticky. Yes, I bathe them! They still stick! It's like it comes out of their pores!
Where are the Goldfish crackers on the furniture and why isn't there anything ground into the carpet? I think our vacuum cleaner spits out Goldfish behind me as it cleans because my house seems to be dirtier after I vacuum than when I first started.
I bet those houses smell good too! My house usually smells like dirty diapers. How do they do that?
I know some of you smart mommas/grandmommas will tell me that I will miss this stage someday and I probably will because that will be a sign that my babies are grown and out of the house. Still, wouldn't it be nice to live in a Pottery Barn for a couple of hours instead of a Mommy House?
Friday, September 28, 2012
What I Learned from the NFL Ref Lock-out Part 1
I have given myself some time to heal from the MNF fiasco. As you can see, we are huge sports fans at our house, in our family, and we usually take these losses quite hard...especially hubby. He can be found pacing back and forth wearing the carpet thin during a Packer game. He has gotten better with time. With a loss, he used to pout and act like he was just diagnosed with a terminal illness for at least 3 days and then he would move on just in time for the next game. As of late, he has been able to suffer in silence and then sees that there are much bigger things in life to stress about (he usually chooses gas prices or the ozone layer -- you know, things he can control).
I am not going to lie, I even felt a little gray cloud following me around in the morning. To make matters worse, I had to go into a room of 24 students. Going to my beloved classroom was not the hard part. The hard part was listening to all of them parrot back their parents' interpretations of the big game. Some parents are pro-Packers, some not.
Then came the moment of truth..."Mrs. Sanderfoot, how did you feel about that game last night?"
As teacher, I am supposed to teach these children to be open-minded and to accept others and to have good character. So I avoided the question with, "Oh my, what a rough game."
Yet, my buddy Nick pressed on, "But did you think it was a touchdown?"
I avoided further, "It was a tough call to make." In my head all I could think was: No it wasn't. It was so clearly an interception.
Nick still wasn't satisfied, "Mrs. Sanderfoot, did you think it was a bad call? My dad said the refs sucked."
I can agree or I can make this a teachable moment. And this is where I had an epiphany (good word, right?).
I had just read a book to my students about the Girl Who Never Makes Mistakes. The title kind of gives away the plot but the important lesson in the story is that everyone makes mistakes and we need to get a sense of humor about them and move on. Time for the"text to world connection."
Everyone makes mistakes everyday -- big and small. Now imagine that your mistakes were broadcast on national television and then everyone repeatedly analyzed your mistake for a full week afterward on ESPN and local/national news stations.
You would see that moment when my mouth can't find the right words, you would definitely see me falling or tripping up the stairs (Grace is not my middle name), you would see me lose my temper with my kids, and even forget to save my receipt from grocery shopping so that hubby could balance my check-book. While some parts would be quite entertaining for others, I would have to relive those mistakes over and over.
Now it is obviously easier if people admit that they made a mistake so that we can forgive and try to forget, but who likes to do that.
So that is how I explained it to my students. Hopefully I taught them a little about empathy and forgiveness. And it is a great reminder to myself each time I see that interception....I mean mistake replayed on TV.
Part 2 maybe later....I have to get ready for school. Have a great day!
t
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Sweating It Out
Neddy had a doctor's appointment last week. I hate bringing my children to the doctor. They each grow horns and a tail the minute we step through the fascinating motorized-assistance doors.
Have you ever noticed that the doctor's office is always kept at a steamy 85 degrees? Why do they do this? It is so blasted hot in there and then I get embarrassed because my kids are licking the fish tank or breaking toys so I sweat more. Then I am forced to keep the madness to a minimum in a tiny room for 20 minutes while I wait for the doctor to grace us with her presence. This causes sweat rings to form under my arms and around my neck. I can't imagine what I look like when she finally enters the room.
This particular visit Kate decided to develop OCD and had to wash her hands 50 times. At her 51st request, I denied her and she threw herself on the floor for a tantrum that I have never seen before. She ended up in time out. A second fit started upon reentry to the world when she realized that we were at an appointment for Neddy and the doctor wasn't going to look in her ears. She went back to time out and then screamed, "I TIIIIIRED! I NEEEDDD GO BED! I NEEEED NUKKKK-EEEEEE!!" Awesome. Now the doctor knows that you still get a nuk. Get ready for dirty looks and a scolding.
Then it was discovered that Neddy had a red throat and might have strep. Why didn't I know this? Way to go loser mom. Your kid might be really sick which is probably why she has been so naughty lately. We survived the awesome strep test and then just whined and cried for the remainder of the appointment. Truthfully I got nothing out of it but an increase in my body temperature and lots of pit stains. I couldn't hear anything over the screams and whines of my children.
We went to the front desk to schedule an appointment for Neddy's 18 month visit. The nurse was trying to schedule me for the wrong month. I tried to explain. She didn't want to hear. I think she just wanted us to leave. Kate was pounding on the fish tank. Neddy was climbing under the tunnels of chairs. It was loud. I was sweating more.
Then came the unexpected. A boy came sprinting at me from across the room. He was the same height as me (which doesn't say much) but clearly a boy. Stepped into my "hula hoop" of space and wiggled his fingers at the base of my neck....and kept wiggling them....and kept wiggling them. All I could mutter was, "OH!"
His mother came across the room with baby on her hip and said, "C'mon. Let's go."
His fingers kept wiggling.
I grabbed his hands and said, "You need to go."
Then I stood there feeling assaulted and laughing to myself because the poor kid probably had sweat all over his hands.
The nurse stared at me and said, "Well! I guess you don't see that everyday!"
"No you don't!"
Then nurse number two proceeded to overreact, "Oh my! That is not okay! You must be so frightened!"
I figured that the boy was somewhere on the spectrum and I tried to explain to her that I am a teacher and have worked with many kids like that but she continued. I couldn't wait to leave. I started sweating all over again.
At first I was irritated with that mother for not saying, "Excuse us" or "I'm sorry" or even offer an explanation like "He has autism."
Now I understand that she was just trying to survive the doctor's office too. I hope her appointment went better than mine!
Have you ever noticed that the doctor's office is always kept at a steamy 85 degrees? Why do they do this? It is so blasted hot in there and then I get embarrassed because my kids are licking the fish tank or breaking toys so I sweat more. Then I am forced to keep the madness to a minimum in a tiny room for 20 minutes while I wait for the doctor to grace us with her presence. This causes sweat rings to form under my arms and around my neck. I can't imagine what I look like when she finally enters the room.
This particular visit Kate decided to develop OCD and had to wash her hands 50 times. At her 51st request, I denied her and she threw herself on the floor for a tantrum that I have never seen before. She ended up in time out. A second fit started upon reentry to the world when she realized that we were at an appointment for Neddy and the doctor wasn't going to look in her ears. She went back to time out and then screamed, "I TIIIIIRED! I NEEEDDD GO BED! I NEEEED NUKKKK-EEEEEE!!" Awesome. Now the doctor knows that you still get a nuk. Get ready for dirty looks and a scolding.
Then it was discovered that Neddy had a red throat and might have strep. Why didn't I know this? Way to go loser mom. Your kid might be really sick which is probably why she has been so naughty lately. We survived the awesome strep test and then just whined and cried for the remainder of the appointment. Truthfully I got nothing out of it but an increase in my body temperature and lots of pit stains. I couldn't hear anything over the screams and whines of my children.
We went to the front desk to schedule an appointment for Neddy's 18 month visit. The nurse was trying to schedule me for the wrong month. I tried to explain. She didn't want to hear. I think she just wanted us to leave. Kate was pounding on the fish tank. Neddy was climbing under the tunnels of chairs. It was loud. I was sweating more.
Then came the unexpected. A boy came sprinting at me from across the room. He was the same height as me (which doesn't say much) but clearly a boy. Stepped into my "hula hoop" of space and wiggled his fingers at the base of my neck....and kept wiggling them....and kept wiggling them. All I could mutter was, "OH!"
His mother came across the room with baby on her hip and said, "C'mon. Let's go."
His fingers kept wiggling.
I grabbed his hands and said, "You need to go."
Then I stood there feeling assaulted and laughing to myself because the poor kid probably had sweat all over his hands.
The nurse stared at me and said, "Well! I guess you don't see that everyday!"
"No you don't!"
Then nurse number two proceeded to overreact, "Oh my! That is not okay! You must be so frightened!"
I figured that the boy was somewhere on the spectrum and I tried to explain to her that I am a teacher and have worked with many kids like that but she continued. I couldn't wait to leave. I started sweating all over again.
At first I was irritated with that mother for not saying, "Excuse us" or "I'm sorry" or even offer an explanation like "He has autism."
Now I understand that she was just trying to survive the doctor's office too. I hope her appointment went better than mine!
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Appreciate the Quiet
That's right, friends! I am back to school and have added a "hat" back to my everyday wear. That means my posts will be short and few and far between.
It has been an interesting start to the school year. We had some sitter conflicts on the first week back and my wonderful step-mother and dad took the little Reds to their house for a couple of nights to help out. This was a dream come true. I always looked at other families that have grandparents take the kids for the night or week and felt totally jealous. So when this opportunity presented itself, I jumped at it...and then cried my eyes out on the way home.
I am such a dork. I couldn't get over the fact that my backseat was empty of car seats and toys leaving behind only random fruit loops and crusty french fries. There was no Elmo blaring on the DVD players behind my head, and no one was shouting or fighting behind me. It was quiet. Was life this quiet before the girls? Why, oh why didn't I appreciate it more?
So here's the thing, everyone has always said, oh...your life must be so busy with such busy little girls! And I always agreed but deep inside I thought, not really. So maybe I am missing something? Maybe I am not doing something right?
Well, it turns out, life was CRAZY busy! It took my kids leaving for a few nights to realize that I didn't have to get up at 5 and run around like my hair was on fire to get everyone diapered, changed, fed, packed, and in the car by 7:15. I was actually able to watch TV, exercise, get a coffee from the coffee shop, and be early to work and stay late without guilt! It was amazing! And I did it two days in a row!
But the bad part was my heart hurt. It felt as empty as our backseat.
So I gladly went to get my girls to fill my life back up again. I was happy as a clam until somewhere in the car around the 45 minute mark of playing "hide-and-seek nuk" in the car.
Kate hides the nuk cleverly under her leg (yes, each time is in the same spot.) Then she says, "Momma where nuk go?"
"I don't know?"
"Is in oven?" (At home we always look in the oven first...)
"Is it in the oven, Kate?"
"Nope! Is at park on swings?"
"Is it at the park on the swings, Kate?"
"Nope! (giggle, giggle) Is under my weg?"
"Is it under your leg?"
"AAAHHHH!"
Cute, right? Until you hit the 45 minute mark of the game on repeat. Then you would want to jerk the wheel too! Why, oh why didn't I appreciate that quiet more?
It has been an interesting start to the school year. We had some sitter conflicts on the first week back and my wonderful step-mother and dad took the little Reds to their house for a couple of nights to help out. This was a dream come true. I always looked at other families that have grandparents take the kids for the night or week and felt totally jealous. So when this opportunity presented itself, I jumped at it...and then cried my eyes out on the way home.
I am such a dork. I couldn't get over the fact that my backseat was empty of car seats and toys leaving behind only random fruit loops and crusty french fries. There was no Elmo blaring on the DVD players behind my head, and no one was shouting or fighting behind me. It was quiet. Was life this quiet before the girls? Why, oh why didn't I appreciate it more?
So here's the thing, everyone has always said, oh...your life must be so busy with such busy little girls! And I always agreed but deep inside I thought, not really. So maybe I am missing something? Maybe I am not doing something right?
Well, it turns out, life was CRAZY busy! It took my kids leaving for a few nights to realize that I didn't have to get up at 5 and run around like my hair was on fire to get everyone diapered, changed, fed, packed, and in the car by 7:15. I was actually able to watch TV, exercise, get a coffee from the coffee shop, and be early to work and stay late without guilt! It was amazing! And I did it two days in a row!
But the bad part was my heart hurt. It felt as empty as our backseat.
So I gladly went to get my girls to fill my life back up again. I was happy as a clam until somewhere in the car around the 45 minute mark of playing "hide-and-seek nuk" in the car.
Kate hides the nuk cleverly under her leg (yes, each time is in the same spot.) Then she says, "Momma where nuk go?"
"I don't know?"
"Is in oven?" (At home we always look in the oven first...)
"Is it in the oven, Kate?"
"Nope! Is at park on swings?"
"Is it at the park on the swings, Kate?"
"Nope! (giggle, giggle) Is under my weg?"
"Is it under your leg?"
"AAAHHHH!"
Cute, right? Until you hit the 45 minute mark of the game on repeat. Then you would want to jerk the wheel too! Why, oh why didn't I appreciate that quiet more?
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