Tag Archives: kids

As Christmas Approaches… My Emotions Are Off The Chart

After blogging about Christmas music yesterday, I decided to load up my ¡POD with some new holiday tunes and listen to them on the way to work.

As usual, I left my house in an utter tizzy, trying to feed 4 cats, get my lunch together and set the alarm.  I hopped in my car and plugged in my ¡POD – but first I had to wait for the traffic report.

As a Garden State Parkway commuter, I have to listen to the traffic BEFORE I leave in the morning because there is always some accident, rubber-necker or left lane dick who gets in my way.

I turned onto the main drag and saw something lying in the road.

Oh no!  A kitty!  OMG!  Someone just left him in the street to get squished.  Why do people let their cats out?

My eyes filled up with tears and I started bawling over this poor unknown (to me) kitty’s life and how his or her family would feel when they saw the lifeless, innocent corpse laying in the middle of the road right before Christmas.

What a shame!  Maybe I should get out and put it on the side of the road?  Who just left him there?

This is ridiculous.  I need to get my mind off the cat.  Ok.  I already heard the traffic so I’ll listen to my Christmas Playlist.  That should work.

That did not work!

I can only imagine what the people on the Parkway were saying about the hysterical woman in the faux chinchilla in the black BMW soaring up the GSP like a fighter jet involved in serious combat over a hostile territory.

They thought – no – knew I was losing it… and I was.

Dammit!  My eyeliner!

I tried to stop crying so my eye makeup would not be a total mess but it didn’t work.  I composed myself somewhat only to drift back in to a sob or two and one too many tears over the dead cat, my dead mom, my dead family, my cat that I’m going to give away so she can have a good home where she will be the queen of the castle and not just one of the many royalty milling around at Versailles, my marriage, my bills, my weight gain and then back to the dead cat and my dead mother.

And that was all before I got to work!

Ten seconds into Amy Winehouse singing “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus“, I started to sob uncontrollably and think about when I was little and how my mom and dad created so many great Christmas memories for me.

I remember waking up early on Christmas morning and creeping down the stairs.  Once I peeked into the living room and saw all the presents under the tree, I ran back upstairs, jumped in bed with my parents so excited that Santa came during the night.  I couldn’t contain my joy.

I ran downstairs with Mommy and Daddy checking to see if Santa ate the cookies that I left and drank the glass of milk alongside.  All that was left were crumbs and an empty milk-stained glass.

Santa!  Thank you for coming!

I  flew under the tree and started examining the gift tags.

  • To:  Jackie  From:  Mommy & Daddy.
  • To:  Jackie  From:  Santa
  • To:  Daddy  From:  Santa
  • To:  Daddy  From:  Mommy
  • To:  Mommy  From:  Jackie

and the list goes on.

I was always happy about Santa’s choices.  I loved my Barbies – anything Barbie!  I loved it all!  The only thing I never got that I wanted was a motorized, battery-powered car from Sears.  Oh well….

I used to mark-off everything that I wanted in the Sears Catalog so that my parents could tell Santa what I really fancied each Christmas.

Mommy has been gone for almost 6 years and it still seems like yesterday yet so far away.  And every year I get melancholy over my family who cannot be here with us on this Earth – but I do hope and pray that they are watching over us from Heaven.  Guiding us.  Protecting us.  Yet somehow celebrating Christmas in Heaven so they can be around family too.

Pretty soon there will be more of us up there than there are down here – if there isn’t already.

I usually start my holiday depression in November but somehow it seemed to be better this year.  What was really happening is my head and my heart were storing it all up so I could have a proper emotional breakdown today.

The funny thing is that I never stopped listening to the Christmas music!

My battle has just started.  I love the holiday season but often pine away for yesteryear and long to see my loved ones again.

I hope you can survive the same because I know my mom would not want me to be upset but would want me to celebrate the life that I have and the life that’s ahead of me.  I hope you can do the same.

Merry Christmas!

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Image: graur codrin / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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Do The Excuses Ever Stop? Enabling, Mommy Texting & Other Evils

The school year is winding down and most World Language classes are preparing for final exams. Both the students taking exams and the teachers giving them are stressed, to say the least.

EVIL NUMBER ONE: Enabling.  The last thing we need is more stress.  It’s the end of the year for Christ’s sake!  Four full days.  Four full days of exams.  Four half days for students and 1 day of graduation.  So why are parents still making excuses?  Why are guidance and the CST still ENABLING?

Because it’s all about the CHILDREN?  Give me a break.  If it were all about the children, there would be consequences.  Consequences for bad behavior, laziness and truancy are just a few.  If it were about the children there would be more administrative discipline, more in and out of school suspensions and more children being retained.

Why do the powers that be insist on pushing kids through when they do absolutely NOTHING, they can’t read or write and they are horrible disruptions to the entire class?  Let them fail.  Maybe it would be a good wake-up call for these students and their parents.  Maybe if their kid is 16 and still 7th grade, they would be so ashamed that they would finally stand up and be good parents.

Parents need to stop being their children’s friends and start acting like moms and dads.  Start acting like parents.  Kids need discipline.  Kids need consequences and boundaries.  Caregivers at home and school should be able to recognize the manipulators – and there are many.  I get sick to my stomach every time I think about it.

I know teenagers.  They will manipulate, lie and try to get away with as much as possible if you let them.  That’s normal.  Allowing them to have a free-for-all is NOT!  We were all teenagers once.  We were the same but we had the fear of God and our parents.

I was afraid of my parents.  Afraid of disappointing them and afraid of getting trouble.  So many children nowadays have NO FEAR.  Seriously, no fear.  I’ve been in IEP meeting when a young girl stood up and called her mother a Bitch.  Mommy would have back-handed me – but I don’t think I would have had the nerve to say something like that to begin with.

EVIL NUMBER TWO:  Mommy Texting.  Did you ever e-mail a parent or give them a call to update them on their child’s progress or lack thereof and 10 minutes later, their child comes bursting into your room, in the middle of your class, protesting with a foul attitude?  This is a result of Mommy Texting.  A text sent to a student by his or her mommy telling them what Ms. So And So said about them.  Where do they get their nerve?  No cell phones in school means NOTHING.

EVIL NUMBER THREE:  Rewards for social retardation.  Ice cream for the mal élévé.  How can rewards, such as pretzels, candy and ice cream be a punishment for bad social behavior.  Slamming your backpack on a desk, fighting with classmates, overtly hating and alienating everyone around you and doing ZERO, nothing, nada, niente and rien are surely great reasons to be penalized by ice cream and sugar.  All the other kids talk about it.  It’s embarrassing.  I’m embarrassed for them.

EVIL NUMBER THREE:  The Running Excuse Via Parental Manipulation. “Ms. Jones, please e-mail me as soon as Fred starts having problems.”  Why do I bother?  With 13 days left of school I’m still hearing the same old song.  He said he did the work.  He said he’s not talking.  He said he’s paying attention but just doesn’t get it.  Well… get your ass in here for extra help and stop whining!  We did it in class TOGETHER.  It was a class assignment and if you did nothing (which is probably the case), you had to take it home for homework.  I can’t wipe your asses for you dears.  Someday YOU will be accountable.  I cannot wait for the day!

So when will this generation (and I’m not talking about all of you – you know who you are) of parents rise to the occasion and step up to mold their children into hard-working, productive, non-whining members of society?  When?

I don’t know if that day will ever come but I wish they would stop masking their poor parenting skills and own up to it.  In my opinion we’re raising a weak generation of complainers.

Ladies and Gentlemen, step right up to see the pussification of America at its best!

Image: Francesco Marino / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image: Suat Eman / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Penis Colorforms And Boobie Tassels

Teaching is always an interesting profession.  When you work with teenagers, you never know what will happen from minute to minute.  Their hormones are raging and I think that many people forget that they were young once.  I haven’t forgotten but I do think that many gamins circa 2010 cross the line a bit too much.  The things they say, I would never have said to a teacher.  But who am I to talk?  I flirted incessantly with my male teachers.   Thank God they were stand-up guys because God only knows what could have happened if they weren’t.

My eleventh period class is always a handful.  Who’s suspended.  Who’s in ASP.  Who’s in impending danger of the dreaded phone call from the office.  It’s never-ending.  Yesterday the boys in my class decided to make penis cut-outs.  Many penis cut-outs.  And of course, they had to make me aware of their artwork.  Getting a rise out of their teachers is the thrill of their day.  They live for it and pursue its pleasure to the ends of the earth – or end of the school day.

Obviously they don’t know who they’re dealing with.  ME.  I am a little (ok – maybe a lot) outside of the box.  If I get flustered, it has to be something so inappropriate that even Ron Jeremy would blush.  So when they brought me their proud works of art, I said, “Nice.  Throw them out.  Put your penises away and stop playing with them.  Don’t you have enough time with them?  Ridiculous.”

This incited a shrill of laughter and disbelief, and even though they were delighted by my unexpected response, they were a little sad that they weren’t able to push my buttons.  When the bell rang I smiled at my triumphant win.

After work I had to go over to the high school for exam writing.  There was a school bus in front of me loaded with our kids.  When they realized that it was me, they started waving and calling my name.  I waved back and smiled and all of a sudden the color form penis that made an appearance in my class earlier, was in the window hopping from place to place.  I shook my head, gave them a thumbs-down and prayed that the bus would turn.  Blast!  My victory was short-lived.  They got me again.

Thinking I was out of the woods today, I carried on with my normal routine – knowing I wouldn’t see that group of seventh graders.  When period 7/8 rolled around my five eighth graders came in and sat down.  We’re working on clothing vocabulary, so I had a Power Point prepared.  As we were going through the vocab the conversation took a risqué turn when one of the boys asked me how to say thong.  I obliged because they were also learning underclothes like panties, bra and boxers.  What I didn’t bank on was the next question.

“Madame.  How do you say boobie tassels?”

OMG!  A little flustered, I half-laughed and screamed “INAPPROPRIATE!”  What the hell was going on?  Is it because it’s Spring and the hormones are dominant?  I don’t know but I definitely had a good giggle after they left.

I can’t wait to see (or maybe I can) what will happen tomorrow.  I DO love my job.  At least I’ll never be bored and will always have great blogging material.  You can’t make this stuff up!

© 2010 J. H-M. and CultureChoc2010.

Don’t Get Your Hair Done On Bring Your Pain In The Ass To Work Day

You all know that I love to be around little kids……NOT! My friends know that I get along great with teenagers but little ones scare me.  Children usually end up liking me but I could never figure out why.  I don’t give them the time of day.

I hated babysitting.  I always liked being around adults as a child.  I never had kids because I never had the urge to be a mom for more that a couple of hours.  I had a husband with 3 daughters so I figured I was set for children – we all know that didn’t work out.  Anyway, when I was a teenager a had a few babysitting jobs for some extra money.  I babysat my cousins, the neighbors kids, etc.  It was torture.  I was 15 years old when I changed my first and last diaper – and it was a doosie!

So being around rug rats is Hell for me because my patience and tolerance is limited.  In the past I have even suggested kennels for kids.  It would be like a 5 star hotel for brats when their parents want to have some quality time together.  I thought it was a good idea.

When I went to get my cut and color today I was hoping for a quiet, gossip magazine marathon.  I wasn’t thinking about “Bring Your Child To Work Day” but maybe I should have been.

I walked into the shop and walked back to the color chair where I saw a cute little girl playing with a variety of toys.  It was the owner’s niece and I thought nothing of it until the not-so-shy 5-year-old decided that she wanted to be my friend.  It’s like when someone doesn’t like dogs and the dog goes right to that person. I’m like that with gamins and gamines alike.

Once I got settled in the chair with my copy of US Weekly, the girl came up to me, stood next to me with no air in between us and started to chat.  When she finally went away I thought I was safe until I went over to get washed out in the sink.  She stuck her germ-infested puss in my grill and started making noises and faces in my personal space bubble.  If that wasn’t bad enough, while the operator was removing my foils, the kid turned the water on full-blast so the unattended hose exploded like a geyser all over my face and my body.

I stayed calm surprisingly.  I wiped myself off with a towel and started to enjoy the hair wash.  My peace was short-lived when the little guttersnipe ran into my arm (ouch!) and actually gave me a black and blue.  WTH?

With a smirk on my face and a bruise on my arm I made my way over to A’s chair for a much-needed cut.  A running child is not a good thing when there are scissors close to your face.  I was nervous wreck but I escaped the pointed weapons only to move on to yet another annoyance.

Of course the pain in the ass had to come right over and play with her horsies right next to my Guess bag.  She tried to move it and put in on the floor and thank God was promptly reprimanded and my purple baby was safe.

I felt like washing my purse and myself down with disinfectant as children breed disease like rats.  Do you think I’m being too harsh?

© 2010 J. H-M. and CultureChoc2010.