There is something wrong with me

Aside from the obvious emotional problems, that is. I'm itchy. Some places in particular are worse than others, but my skin is dry and itchy. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME. I cannot express that enough. When words fail, you are left with google images:



I love that web site. An illustration for everything that ails you. SWEET.

Up Yours, Always

I tend to be brand loyal. For some products, when I find something that works for me, I stick with it. The selection of feminine hygiene products is a fine example. A very personal thing, pads and whatnot, and there is a myriad of brands and options available. With or without wings, scented or unscented, regular or super, flushable applicators, quiet wrapping, I could go on and on. I have long been an avid fan of a particular Always product. Always has gone through some changes, and every time I would be slightly terrified: are they going to change? Will my favorite Always product be discontinued? But, the classics never go out of style, so I have been safe, thus far. I have seen Always through packaging changes, logo changes, and a temporary per-product assignation of colorful shapes that was dropped rather quickly after they kept changing the shapes and confusing the consumer.

I have one complaint with Always: the little tear-off strip that covers the wings is emblazoned, not just once but over and over, with the phrase "Have a happy period".


What? Uh-uh. There's very little happiness to be found in periods. Except for when they are over. Don't condescend to me, Always. I'm not in the mood. Don't tell me to have a happy period. I'm bloated, cramping, have a headache that would kill a lesser person, I am bleeding in an uncomfortable place, and I think I smell funny. What do I have to be happy about? Up yours, Always. Every time I see that little phrase it just cheeses me off. Would Valtrex include the phrase 'Have a happy herpes outbreak' on their product? I don't think so. Would Monistat put 'Have a happy yeast infection' on their packaging? NO. Smug Always bastards.

There are far better ideas for that tear-off strip. Here are mine:
-Jokes. Print jokes. Possibly off-color, or about men. That would lighten up the experience.
-A story in parts. Or a poem. Every pad would have one line, or paragraph, progressing through a package of pads. Or maybe limericks. That would be awesome.
-Cartoons. Maybe political in nature, or just standard cartoons. Like the Family Circus. You could sit there, laughing and shaking your head and saying, "Oh, that Jeffy".
-Sell it as advertising space. While annoying, you could at least appreciate the ingenuity.

That's my rant for the day. I'm gone to fire off a hormonally charged e-mail to the Always company. I love their product, but hate their message.

Thank You, Teresa

I was actually in the process of writing a post earlier which I had titled "I am so freaking thankful", and it was very dire and grim and full of dread and woe. And then I got my present from Teresa, and it made me happy. And I am really freaking thankful now. It wasn't the material gift, although I certainly appreciated it. It was the fact that she just sent me something because she's good and nice and sweet, therefore restoring my faith in....well, everything. Thank you, Teresa. And thank you, Jen. I am thankful for my sisters, because they remind me of what family is all about. Because, regardless of the fact that we are three people who are SOOOOOO very different, we can still get together and laugh and giggle and argue good naturedly. The baptist theologian, the pagan, and the confused soon-to-be catholic. I love you guys, and I'm glad to have you around. And because I think Dad is trying to defect from our family, and if we don't have each other we won't have squat. Love y'all!

Meet Butterscotch

Jacelyn loves this horsey. I was looking at it on Amazon this morning, and check this out:

* Furreal Friends Butterscotch Pony. Every girls dream of having her very own Pony... and now that dream can come true!
* This amazing animatronic Pony moves head and ears, and blinks its eyes! This fantastic creature responds to touch and voice, 'eats' a carrot, and makes real pony sounds.
* The FurReal Friends Butterscotch Pony comes with carrot and brush. Requires 6 'D' batteries, not included.
* Adults take note: Pony comes unassembled in box with head detatched.
* You may wish to not open the box around your children if they may be frightened by a box with a decapitated horse inside.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. What if you weren't aware of Butterscotch's headless state, and just left it in the box? I can picture Jacelyn excitedly tearing open the Butterscotch box only to discover a severed horse's head inside. It could make that awkward mane brushing a little easier, I suppose. Or you could use it to send a message to someone. It would be really creepy if the head contains the batteries and moves independently of the body. WEIRD. Who comes up with this crap? "Yeah, pull the head off, saves on shipping!".

Another little tidbit from Amazon:

"Kids can even sit on Butterscotch and she will gently bounce."

Hmmm, maybe we DO need one of these.

Hey, Teresa.....

I got it. "Harry for the Holidays", baby. It's quite good. It has a more New Orleans sound than his earlier CD, a little more gumbo in it, to quote a friend of mine. The first track is 'Frosty the Snowman', and has such good brass in it that I actually got goosebumps. How nerdy is that? Musical goosebumps. But I just wanted to gloat, it is mine, it is mine, it is mine. Sweet!

I am DISGUSTING

Taking a page from dear Mike, I decided to express my feelings via items found on the much-beloved google images. I have been sick. I feel like this:



With a little bit of this:



I have had a stomach bug for a week. I think I am starting the upswing, but I am unsure. I'm afraid to eat. I haven't been drinking ANY coffee, and for those of you that know me that is a big deal. Blurg. Here's hoping I feel much, much better by church time tomorrow, so I don't have end up locked in the ladies room during the Rite of Acceptance.

Nothing

I have nothing to say. Me! I have nothing to say. Can you believe it?

There is no pressing issue, nothing weighing on my mind. Jacelyn hasn't done anything terrible or amusing in the last 24 hours. Life has been stagnating along at its' normal operating level, and nothing eventful has occurred.

I can't wait for the GGAF next weekend. I was just looking at their website: here. We had a lot of fun last year. I would like to actually maybe purchase something this year, but that would be flagrantly breaking my 'no new stuff' rule.

Two more hours at work and then I'm bound for home. Actually, I'm bound for the Halloween celebration out where Brian's father works. Then dinner at McDonald's, then I think we're all supposed to go bowling tonight. Tomorrow there's church, and then we're celebrating Brian's birthday at some point, and then I think we're going to the fair. Michelle and I went halfsies on some speakers for his car. To me, that would be a horrible gift, but he will love it. Hopefully.

That's about it. I'm tired, and bored. Ready to go home. I wish that someone, anyone, would take the yummy homemade cake that's in the breakroom away from me before I eat it all. I've already had two pieces today. And there's still two hours left in my day, and the thought of those two hours being entirely cake-free is making me upset.

Well, I certainly said a lot for having nothing to day. Good weekend to all.

Picture Day

I absolutely HATE mornings. Today is picture day for Jacelyn, and the pressure was on for her hair to look good. Now, anyone who knows me knows that hair isn't exactly something I spend a lot of time on. I'm lucky if I remember to brush my own hair. Jacelyn's hair is a nightmare. Thin, baby fine, and cowlicks, EVERYWHERE. We have decided to let her bangs grow out, because she has a cowlick right on her forehead that sends her bangs askew if they are short. So her hairstyle is in an awkward, growing-out stage. I spent twenty minutes on her hair this morning. I finally ended up just pulling her hair into two pigtails in front, getting her bangs out of her face and leaving the back of her hair down. It took me forever to get the two pigtails aligned properly. The blame for bad hair will fall solely on my shoulders if her pictures turn out poorly.

I was a little dismayed yesterday when I opened her backpack. I knew picture day was coming, because it was on the calender, but that was all I knew. So yesterday, THE AFTERNOON BEFORE they take pictures, they send home the flier with all the package and payment options. The day before. And payment is due with the order form the next day. That might be OK for some people, but for me, if I don't budget it in advance, there's a chance the money won't be there. Last night, after church, I was looking at the picture flier and wondering what to do. I couldn't not buy her first school pictures! Brian's mother and sister were torn, when I asked for their thoughts. Brian's mother said we didn't even know if the pictures were going to be good (but I'm biased, I think pretty much every picture of my daughter is good). I called Brian to get his thoughts, and he told me to sign up for the biggest package and he would bring money with him that night, because he was coming into town. Ok, whew.

This morning, after spending far too long on Jacelyn's hair, I had to rush around to get myself ready. I poked a sleeping Brian and asked him where the picture money was, and he said by his wallet. So I go to retrieve said money, and the amount is $10 short. I poked him again, and asked if he had the other $10. He mumbled no. I wanted to meltdown. I was stressed because I was running late, and because I didn't have any cash on me and didn't have time to stop by an ATM. And because I had told him the night before, multiple times, how much the amount was, and that I didn't have any cash, and he still didn't bring enough. He always does that. Example: I will say, because I know him and his ways: "Brian, I need twenty dollars for ______ for Jacelyn, and I have no money. If I do not have $20 for Jacelyn for _____, she will not be able to do it. Please understand that I DO NOT have the money, any money, and need the full $20". He will say "Ok, Ok, geez, I'm not an idiot" and then give me twelve dollars. It's a vicious, dumb pattern that makes me want to choke him.

AND, last night, on the phone, he started complaining about his rent going up when he renewed his lease. How long did he renew it for? 7 MONTHS. One of us will not survive if we have to do this for another seven months. He really picked the wrong time to mention that. Frustration has been simmering for some time now, and frankly, I'm either going to boil over or burn out. I think I'm going to attempt a conversation with him this evening, after work. Attempt being the key word. It will be another drive of doom. Lacking privacy in the household, we have to drive around if we want to have a discussion and/or argument, and even though I will try my hardest to stay on my best behavior and watch my mouth, this has all the promise of an argument. Sigh. I don't want and don't intend to be disrespectful or mean. I just want him to know a few things. Like how his daughter doesn't talk about him when he's not there. About how she has become a bed-wetter for a couple of days after he leaves. The fact that he might be golden at work right now, but he's poo-brown with his family, and I don't mean me, I mean his parents and sister. That people joke about him not existing, about me just making him up.

Here's hoping the pictures and the discussion go well.

The First Report Card

Jacelyn puked in another parent's car yesterday on the way home from her class field trip. The woman said, "I have four kids, those things don't bother me". Whew. She was very nice about it.

I had a conference with Jacelyn's teacher today, during which I got her report card. The front cover, both inner pages and the back was a listing of skills, achievements, goals, etc. and the 'grade' for each. She got an 'S' for 'Demonstrates Strength' in almost everything. The only 'G's that she received (stands for grade/age understanding) were for 'Knows Jesus' and some other religious thing, and then she got 'G's in all of her special classes--technology, library and art. Much to my smug satisfaction, she did get all 'S' in one special class---music! Da da da da! Mama's girl! It means nothing, or at least very little, I know, but I still will enjoy pointing that out. "She got a G in all her special classes except music, she demonstrates strength in music" I will tell people, anyone who will listen, probably.

Her teacher said she listens very well (who does? my daughter? wha?), she is one of the best helpers in the class (that's more believable), and she is a smart little girl (I've known that, duh). Sigh. My big, smart girl. Growing up waaaaay too fast. So that's it, then.

Tagged

Ok, here we go, the instructions:
The Rules of this tag game are:
1. Grab the book nearest to you...no cheating!
2. Open to page 123.
3. Scroll down to the fifth sentence.
4. Post text of next 3 sentences on to your blog.

'We will write out the dominant seventh in C major and C minor, in its three positions, following each position by the appropriate position of the tonic chord, according to the foregoing directions for the leading of the parts or voices. Let the student write out the same Progressions in the remaining major and minor scales, in the spaces provided. Look out for the chromatically raised thirds in dominant chords of the minor scales.'

from Harmony Book for Beginners, Preston Ware Orem

I'm at work, what did you expect. I had this book nearby because I was thinking about reading it, but now I'm not so sure.

I tag Jen, TX Jen, Teresa and Mike.

Sigh

What a looooooooooooong day this has been. Already. And its not even 11:30 yet. And I just heard from Michelle - Jacelyn wet the bed at some point, apparently in a spectacular manner. And instead of walking into the bedroom and waking up Brian, who is in town, Brian's mother called Michelle, who had to come over and take care of the problem. AND, she got Jacelyn dressed and fed her breakfast, all without waking up her dear brother. She didn't wake Brian up until she had to leave. CRAZY. He is her father. Make him get up and deal with it.

I'm so ready for a day off. I'm so ready to just relax. That is my goal for tomorrow. To relax. I'll let you know how it goes.

So Tired

Yesterday was my day off. I got up early, took Jacelyn to school. Included a note in her folder about her cough, saying I was medicating it (she reeked of Vicks) and that she feels fine but if I needed to come back and get her I would. Got home, cleaned up, did some laundry. Spent three hours at the commisary with Brian's mother and Michelle. Came home, unloaded the metric ton of groceries and got it all put away. I was walking through the kitchen, thinking about a ham sandwich, when the phone rang.

It was Jacelyn's school. Before the woman could tell me what was wrong, I said, "Let me guess, she isn't feeling well". She wasn't, but it wasn't because of her cough. "She was running in the playground and fell and hit the ground with her face" the nurse explained. I asked if she was OK, and the nurse said yes, she was, but she had a small cut on her nose and under her eye, nothing that needed stitches. "Do I need to come get her?" I asked. The nurse asked Jacelyn if she was feeling well, and Jacelyn said she was. Then she put Jacelyn on the phone, and Jacelyn started crying and saying she wanted to come home. That was enough for me - all thoughts of ham sandwiches gone, I hopped in the car - Michelle decided to come along - and went to get her.

I got into the office and the entire staff was around her, patting her, rubbing her face. Her back was to me at the moment. Sister Patricia was talking to her, and looked up at me. "She looks like a losing prizefighter" was what she said, and I laughed. After all, what's a little cut and scrape? When Jacelyn got up, I literally gasped a little. Sister said, "Well, I told you". She did look like she had been on the losing end of a fight - black eye, dirty, tear-stained face, cut up eye and nose. Poor baby.

We went home, and she seemed fine, but the eye with the cut underneath it was very red and watery. We ended up at an Urgent Care facility (which meant lots and lots of waiting), where it was discovered that Jacelyn had a corneal abrasion - a cut on her actual eye itself. Very painful, from what I've heard. They sent me home with a prescription for some antibiotic goo and a directive to return there today for a follow-up. We left there around 4:00 or so. I dropped Jacelyn and Michelle off at Michelle's apartment and went to Wal-Mart to get the scrip filled. An hour later her medicine was ready, and I went back and got her. Took her to Brian's mother's house, got her into a nightgown and pinned her down for an application of the eye medicine (not fun), and then had to meet up with the girl scout troop to drop off her fund raising money and pay her dues and for her ballet ticket.

At the girl scout meeting word had gotten out. When I walked in one mother said, "Gracie said Jacelyn got hurt and had to go home - is she ok?". I told the story, and there was much 'poor-baby-ing' all around. On the way out I ran into another girl from school who asked me, "How is Jacelyn's eye? Is she ok?". It was sweet and made me happy to know that she has little friends.

Back home, where Jacelyn was knocked out asleep on the sofa. I ate, cleaned up, woke her up and tried to coax some food into her. The poor baby was in agony. Worked around the house until 11pm, when I finally got Jacelyn into bed with me. She was restless all night - not crying, just tossing and turning and occasionally moaning. I couldn't sleep for a few hours, and when sleep finally did come it was fragmented. Every time Jacelyn moved I would wake up.

Got up early this morning, got ready for work. Got Jacelyn out of bed, fixed her some cereal and then went and picked up Michelle. Back to the house, medicate Jacelyn (a nightmare) and then off to work. I'm exhausted. At some point today I have to take her back to the urgent care center for a follow-up. I'm so tired. I'm so glad she's ok.

The Bernardo's are certain there's some sort of cover-up or conspiracy at hand at school. "I'll bet they were playing tag" I remember someone saying, in a very accusatory tone, as if they were playing with loaded firearms. Children, especially my child, are going to fall. Down, off things, out of things, onto things. It happens. And after some of the stories I heard yesterday about Brian and Michelle, I am not the only relative that added clumsy into the gene pool. They spent more than their fair share of time in the emergency room as children. No one pushed her, there was no plot, the child just fell. Good grief. Everyone wants to know "what really happened". Huh? They think there has to be more to the story. Because Jacelyn said that she fell on one of her classmates, and no one in the office mentioned that to me. Well, Jacelyn did say that she fell on Mitch, but she also said she fell on a rock the size of a car and had on three shoes at the time. Bless her sweet soul, Jacelyn has a very active imagination and her version of events cannot always be trusted.

I would like to know if she did fall on Mitch, and if she did, if he is ok. Other than I'm not worried. The doctor said these cuts generally heal in 24 hours. So hopefully by tomorrow all will be well. I'm not looking forward to a return trip to the urgent care - if we could have followed up with our doctor we could have made an appointment, been in and out, but whatever. As long as she gets better.

It Happened!

Brian got his car, gave me his car. He got a 99 Acura Integra, white, 5 speed. It looks like this (not his car, but it looks kind of like it, without the wing on back):



I am now driving his Jetta, which looks like this (again, not my actual car):



So...whew. All taken care of. Brian is thrilled with his car, I am grateful for having something that gets me where I need to go. All is well with out automotive world. Relief!

Movin' On Up

We got a note from Jack, Jacelyn's karate instructor, notifying us that she will be ready to test for her yellow belt Thursday. My baby is going to (possibly) be a yellow belt! I got to watch her in class for the first time yesterday, and it's the cutest thing in the world. Jack likes to yell at her - he'll get up to her and growl and yell and tell her, "Be mean! You're mean! Make a mean face!" and then she'll scowl at him. He called her a maniac at one point - as in, "Watch this, you boys watch this little girl do this, she's a maniac, you'll see". She loves it, so I'm cool with it.

Brian is possibly trading-in my Camry for a car for himself, and passing the Jetta along to me. If all goes well. Which I'm cool with, because I can't really afford a car payment right now. I'll let you know.

That's pretty much it. I'm ready for life to settle down into some sort of routine. I like routine, in some cases - the same old thing can sometimes be a good thing.

I have been VIOLATED

Someone broke into my car last night. They didn't actually take anything, for which I'm very, very grateful, but they pilfered through my stuff, which makes me very, very mad.

I went out this morning to leave for work and my rear passenger door was open a few inches, which I found odd since Jacelyn had not been in the car since that morning. That door is funny - hard to close, doesn't lock all the way with the rest of the doors, which is why I dismissed it so easily at first - maybe I had opened it last night, it didn't close properly, and I didn't notice. So I open the front passenger door to sit my purse down, and lo and behold, everything is open. The glove box, the center console, even the ash tray. Both visors are down.

At this point I realize that someone has been in the car, and start to panic, because sitting in the front seat, thankfully still where I left it the night before, is my black bag. My black bag contains my life. There's all my church stuff -my bible and my RCIA books, some folders about Jacelyn's school, my organizer (with an envelope inside containing Jacelyn's social security card, birth certificate, and other important information), and a file of important paperwork from school, including a copy of the auto-draft form for tuition payments that has my name, address, social security number, drivers license number AND the routing and account number of my checking account. All of that was still there. I almost cried, I was so relieved.

Something funny: in order to open the ash tray, car-pilferer had to take two almost empty sodas out of my cupholder. Pilferer did so, but in a very nice way - he/she sat one soda on the driver floorboard, and the other in the center console. Nothing spilled, so it was a thoughtful pilferer, I suppose, something else to be grateful for.

Everything seems to be still there, including all my CD's, as far as I can tell. I have CD's shoved everywhere (there's probably 30 CDs in the car, easily) - the glove box is FULL of them, the little panels in the doors are full of them, they are piled on the passenger seat floorboard, and fill the CD wallet that attatches to my visor. All seemingly still there, although I haven't taken a thorough inventory yet. I was relieved, and then confused. Are my musical tastes so poor that whomever rifled through my belongings couldn't even find one thing they liked? My musical tastes do run the gamut, from classical to mariachi to jazz, big band and swing to some rap, some pop, some harder rock type stuff, some alternative type music, and some 'adult contemporary rock', whatever that means.

So I am very, very thankful that nothing was missing, but I am very, very confused about WHY someone did this. What was the point? I mean, I'm eternally grateful that nothing was stolen, don't get me wrong. But what was this person or persons looking for? I suppose I'll never know. But it made me SO MAD. I have no privacy in my life as it is, and my car is the only space I have that is MINE. There are other people in it from time to time, but that is MY SPACE. And someone, some stranger, invaded MY SPACE. Moved my stuff around. God help this person should I ever find out who it is. I didn't call the police - nothing was missing, why waste time? I'll just be more careful about that back door from now on.

And, probably as some ne'er-do-well was sifting through my personal belonging in my car, I was dealing with a very fussy, sick daughter. A little fever, and a congested nose. She woke up at 1am and didn't fall back asleep until close to 3:30. So I'm exhausted, and righteously indignant. Sigh. What a way to start off the weekend.

New Blog

In order to avoid boring and/or possibly offending anyone, I have started a second blog. I know I can count among my friends at least one or two agnostics and pagans. I don't want to bog you down in my faith-based prattling. For anyone interested, the second blog in entitled Pray To Who and can be found here. Teresa, especially, I might need you. No, I really need you. So check in, occasionally.

Family Pictures

Teresa put up some pictures of our family - Dad, Jen, herself and myself, doing very typical 'our family' things - check it out here. And also some good pictures of Cam and Jacelyn - look at those here. Ah, family.

Tiny Bubbles and Breaking Boards

There are tiny bubbles in my radiator, apparently signaling the imminent demise of my head gasket. Brian thinks the answer is not repair, but the purchasing of another car. For me. Because he can't afford a car payment right now. Hello, like I can? But I digress. He has found some lower priced, high mileage cars that he thinks I might like. My school of thought: better the evil that you know. We know my Camry. I know its' noises, its' smells, I can notice even the slightest decline in tire air pressure (although I don't always do anything about it right away), alignment, etc. I'm actually feeling very stressed about the idea of taking on a monthly car payment. I'll know more Friday when Brian returns to town.

Jacelyn is doing well. Still loves school, still love girl scouts. She received her magenta petal patch last night, which stands for "Respect Authority". Five minutes later, walking out to the parking lot, she flagrantly flouted said authority by running away from me (while I kept repeating, "Jacelyn, stop running and wait" over and over), down the sidewalk and almost into traffic on 57th, resulting in a lecture from mommy in the car and going to bed a half hour early.

She has karate this afternoon, which she still loves with a burning passion. Jack thinks she is only a couple more weeks away from her yellow belt. I read something online about Jack and his training, about how he basically sells belts on a monthly basis - if you participate in class for a month and pay your fees, you move to the next belt on a monthly basis. This bothered me slightly until I considered what dear Mr. Clark always has to point out to me: she's 4. It's really not that big of a deal. If she does decide, at some point way down the line, that she wants to continue on with karate, or maybe move to taekwondo or whatever, she might have a big fish little pond moment, but that will just inspire her to work harder. I don't really like the idea of her not really earning the higher level belt, but, again, she's 4. Not that big of a deal.

The older kids in her karate class have been breaking boards the last week or so, and Jacelyn is chomping at the bit to do the same. Jack, who calls Jacelyn "sister", keeps telling her to wait, that he will get some smaller boards for her and the other smaller kids. She insists that she does not need the small board, that she can break a big one, but he has managed to persaude her to wait. I have not been able to go to one of her classes since the one that we watched, so I'm looking forward to going with her next week. There's no girl scouts the first Tuesday of each month, so next week I will take her to karate at 6pm instead. Woo-hoo!

There is a place in town that will make an iron-on transfer of your last name along with the name of your karate school to put on the back of your uniform. Jacelyn wants her name on her uniform really badly, but the cost is, I'm sure, outrageous. I told her that's something she can ask one for from of her many doting relatives (auntie, Uncle Joe, paw-paw). She also knows that she will not survive to live another day unless she obtains the Daisy Girl Scout uniform in its' entirety - she has the smock, but she wants the shorts and the t-shirt. Together they will cost about $25, and then soon enough I'll have to buy pants. She's about to need some warmer school uniform stuff - some pants for non-PE days and sweatpants for PE. She has a sweatshirt, but no pants. I need to get her some tights to wear under her jumper. Just the apparel costs for her schooling and activities are breaking me, not even to speak of the cost of the schooling and activities themselves. But it's all worth it, it's all worth it.

Need to do some work and drink some coffee. Later!

The Dirty Politics of the PTA

I'm exhausted. I spent my day off yesterday running around, constantly. Picking up groceries for the house, dropping off and picking up the kid, cooking, cleaning. And I went to my first room parent meeting. I was unsure exactly what a 'room parent' was, and I'm still not positive. There are three room parents for every grade, and the school teaches grades K4 through 8th, so there were quite a few parents there. All mothers, interestingly enough.

I was nervous, but Sister Patricia, the principal, was supposed to lead the meeting and was late, so there was time for conversation. I met some very nice people, very good-natured, very funny. I am an assistant room parent, much to my relief - I have no desire whatsoever to be in charge. The meeting opened up with a prayer, and then Sister laid down the law about class parties and school parties - when, why, what you can bring, etc.. They require healthy foods for their 'wellness curriculum', or else they lose their federal funding. I was intrigued that a private catholic school receives federal funding, but since my daughter attends said school I am grateful.

There was much made over some changes instituted by the new parish priest. If your ears burn when people talk about you, this poor man's ears must have been on fire, because there was much talk, and most of it unfavorable. Sister was quite the diplomat, and finally, after a certain point, just starting repeating, "He's the parish priest and this is his church and his school". She acknowledged the changes, and that many of them did, indeed, suck (although I'm certain she didn't actually use the word 'suck'), but said that anytime she encounters a brick wall she tries to paint it pretty.

Sister then left and turned the meeting over to the poor woman in charge of the room parents, a very nice woman who also happens to be Jacelyn's girl scout leader (I got the distinct impression that she prefers four and five year olds to room parents, and who could blame her? The kids behave better and are nicer to each other). She opened a discussion about teacher birthdays that turned into the biggest and most ridiculous hullabaloo I've ever seen. People were raising their voices, and stating the same thing over and over in whiny tones of voice. I was aghast. Over birthdays. The discussion had reached a fevered pitch when the bell rang and the intercom came on and the school secretary started the afternoon prayers. Everyone sort of begrudgingly crossed themselves and bowed their heads. It was a prayer of contrition, and I couldn't help but smile - surely these people would be rational after this. But I was wrong. They picked right up where they left off, complaining about mugs and cupcakes and gifts.

I had to leave to get Jacelyn, so I skipped out, slightly horrified. They are all nice people, don't get me wrong, but that was my first experience with school politics, and it has wounded me, slightly. Nothing was accomplished. It felt like one of those reality shows where there is a team of women and they manage to do nothing because they are constantly arguing amongst themselves. I kept looking around for cameras. It was kind of surreal. So I still don't know what I'm expected to do.

I do know that I want a "'06-'07 St. John's Volunteer" key chain lanyard with my name on it, so I'm going to be on my best and most helpful behaviour. Need some help? Sure! How 'bout one of those lanyards? I would even take one without my name on it. It's funny, what can drive you. I would probably never wear it, and my keys weigh about four pounds so I would certainly never put keys on it, but man, do I want one. Baaaaaad.

Oh, and also, I learned a valuable lesson about first impressions and making assumptions about people. There was a woman whom I first met last week at Jacelyn's girl scout meeting that I took an immediate dislike to. Then, working with her at the meeting and talking to her last night at Girl Scouts, I learned a lot more about her and it turns out she's a nice person with a lot to say and a lot to offer. So, lesson learned.

Now for coffee and work. I'm auditing the files our horrid billing company sent us for 2005 band rentals (see Jen the batch queen's blog), so I need lots of coffee and possibly a valium. Or a good stiff drink. And a valium.

My daughter can kick your a$$

And then she'll pray for you. My little karate queen. She's already testing for her yellow belt. She's not getting it yet, but Jack (the instructor) has been testing her every session and says she's amazingly close. He is testing her by puffing out his cheeks and telling her to do a punch combo on him, a right-left-right hook-uppercut. She's beaned him good a couple of times, made him rub his jaw. She's taking karate seriously, and wants to do well, but she is still enjoying it. And the 6:00 class makes her eat! She ate two whole pieces of pizza last night, crust and all. And then collapsed into bed and fell asleep right away. I love karate.

Last night I wouldn't let her eat until I got a plate and sat down beside her, and then told her we had to pray. She promptly crossed herself, watched me to make sure I did the same, stopped to criticize my crossing technique, we had to start all over, and then rattled off a blessing. It's amazing what she knows that I don't know that she knows. At breakfast there was some contention over whether or not you have to close your eyes when you pray. I thought you did, she swears you don't. I will have to wait for Clark to get to work to find out for certain. I almost made a bet with her on the subject, but betting on prayer and church tradition probably isn't the best example to set.

I'm going to get some coffee and get myself to work. I would like to take a moment to publicly thank Mr. Mike Clark, my knight in shining armor, for making it possible to drive home last night without my engine catching fire or exploding. Mad props, baby, mad props. I'm so uncool. Thank you, Mr. Clark.