SilverSpiral.net

The Dark Lord would like you to know that the only approved way to rock out to AC/DC is in your Lighting McQueen underpants.

A collection of random thoughts, strung together in no coherent order with numbers and called a post:

1. Something I never expected to have to say to any person (regardless of preschooler status or Autism label) is “Stop eating the laundry basket!” He ripped the bottom off and was chewing on the straw. Why? For the same reason he eats acorns and leaves on the playground. TO MAKE ME CRAZY.

2. Voldemort has gotten progressively more hilarious. Yesterday, he saw helicopters, and when I asked where he thought they were going, he said to our house to pick up Dora treats and then go to the moon.

…it’s cuter if you know him. Otherwise, it’s probably just an annoying story told by an annoying parent who thinks everything her average child does is adorable. NOT THAT MY KID IS AVERAGE. MY KID IS A GENIUS. A GENIUS WHO THINKS THE FUNNIEST KNOCK KNOCK JOKE IS:
Knock knock!
Who’s there?
Griffin!
Griffin who?
Griffin KITTY!

3. I have a tendency to get sucked into certain books and topics. This happened with Julie and Julia, where I saw the movie, which lead to the book, which lead to the blog, where I eventually lost interest.

There was also a previous example where i ran across a post about Tom Cruise and a video he did about Scientology where he basically made no sense, which lead to information about L Ron Hubbard and him being BAT SHIT INSANE, which lead to several weeks where I researched creepy stuff and being brainwashed, and then I started having reoccurring dreams about thetas and being audited, and at that point I decided the crazy was coming from inside the house, so I cut myself off cold turkey and now avoid any and all research into Scientology to avoid active hallucinations about Tom Cruise cracking my skull open and stealing my brain.

Instead, I just finished Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders, so Im about to go locate the Manson documentaries on Netflix and do some research on youtube. I’m absolutely sure this won’t cause me any nightmares or mental trauma!

4. I have now had to remove an obscene amount of materials from my classroom, because I have students who tend to fixate. I had to remove any and all references to Thomas the Train, because I had one student who would do absolutely NOTHING ELSE but drive Thomas and make Thomas noises. Then I had to remove all crayons and small objects that were blue, as a different student would line them all up and would have a complete meltdown when asked to put them away, or do, i dont know, ANYTHING. Then a singing frog, because OMG MAKE THE STUPID SONG STOP FOR THE LOVE OF TOAST. And now, we’re carefully hidden a crock of fake plastic cookies with fake candy on the top, because of the student with the blue fixation has lately been refusing to do things like eat, nap, or participate in circle time for the joy of rubbing two of the cookies together. Ah, sensory issues. HOW FUN!

5. For those of you who know me in real life, you know I
A)love Glee
B)love Asian entertainment
so this promo for Glee on Fox Japan leaves me rolling on the floor laughing.

Several months ago, I saw where Signing Time was looking for instructors to offer classes in their own areas. “OOOOH,” said I, “I want to do that!”

Well, after several ASL refresher classes and me freaking out about things, I am extremely excited to announce that I have been certified as an Advanced Signing Time Instructor!

This means I can teach babies to adults using the Signing Time music and dvds, as well as sell Signing Time materials…but frankly, I am much more interested in teaching ASL!

If you want to know more about the Signing Time Academy, or check out a teacher in your area, you can check it out through my link here: Signing Time Academy, and click “Find a Class.”

That’s my personal link (I HAVE A PERSONAL LINK!), and if you have any questions about Signing Time or about the Academy, feel free to ask!

When we moved from Alaska, I was hoping we were doing our last move. Less then 6 months later, I knew we weren’t. Brandus hates it here, which has more to do with the school district and the political crap in his school than with hating the actual physical place. Although, there are issues with the physical place as well.

We live on an island, and we love it. We’re only 2 blocks away from the beach or the sound. But the biggest city close to us is Jacksonville, and there is a very large Marine base there. Which means the majority of the people in our area are military – and by extension, the majority are..conservative.

Being conservative (in whatever way, political or whatever) isn’t a problem. What IS a problem is how brandus feels like he has to bite his tongue about his basic beliefs in school. Brandus isn’t Christian. He’s vegetarian. We’re liberal. This makes us very different from most people around here – and so he feels like he can’t even be himself or express himself to his co-workers.

Add to that the fact that, here, if a child, a third grade child, an EIGHT YEAR OLD, fails the end of year exams, they have failed the whole grade. An eight year old. Failing an entire grade the first year they even have to take a high stakes test. It’s ridiculous.

So, are we moving? Maybe. At this point, it’s all down to finances. To move to where we want (which is currently Washington state, where Brandus can work at a BIA school, and I can do..something. I don’t care what) will be very expensive. Like, several thousand. Like five thousand OR MORE. And that doesn’t include our basic costs for the summer.

I think we’ll just..throw all of our stuff away and hitchhike cross country. It would be cheaper, and it would expose Voldemort to a vast array of new and terrifying and dirty adventures!

Sunday night, the very idea of going back to work felt a little like I was going to be pushed out of a plane in mid air. Possibly with a parachute, but it really doesn’t matter, I was still completely dreading it.

And getting up Monday morning required me to pry myself out of bed with a crowbar, but the kid popped right up and even dealt with the fact of NO WE CANNOT WATCH DORA RIGHT NOW, which is better than his normal reaction to that answer, which is to jump up and down and flail his arms and scream. Which is usually followed by my reaction, which is, IF YOU DO NOT STOP, NO DORA EVER. At which point he sniffles and says, Ok. Can I have juice?

Regardless, Monday actually went well, which just goes to show that pre-emptive dreading actually solves problems, and lack of whining leads to a happier Mommy and a non-Dora free house.

Now, today? Today was another ballgame. Complete with preschoolers climbing on top of furniture and staring at me to see what I would do, preschoolers stripping, and Voldemort getting time out after time out at daycare for snatching toys to watch other kids cry. AWESOME. WE’RE BACK IN THE GROOVE.

Mostly, Ive heard stories of people dancing the year out, burning 2009 calenders, and being generally gleeful that the year is OVER. Now, it hasn’t been all hugs and puppies over here, but neither am I burning the year in effigy.

For me, this past year has been hard, yes. Back to teaching full time, bounced around in places of employment, on anti-anxiety…but I havent hated this year as much as some.

This year, with planning, we might be in another place. We might be having another baby. I might be doing something I really want to do.

This year.

As of this writing, we have gotten the child a very small pile of gifts. Very small. Like..8. If you split the 6 finger puppets in half.

As of this writing, Im very content with that. Why? One, i dont want Voldemort going crazy over presents. Two, we are generally broke, thanks to repaying student loans.

However.

As of this writing, my parents sent us home at Thanksgiving with two big bags full of gifts from them and extended family on that side. Then, my mother tells me that she has sent two more boxes of gifts up here.

Then, we get three BIG boxes full of gifts from Brandus’ parents. And then they tell us today on the phone that they have sent another two boxes, AND they have a “few more things” at the house to send.

Holy crap.

We’ve been opening things in bits and pieces, so that he doesn’t get completely overwhelmed. So far, he’s gotten some very cool toys, some very LOUD toys, and some stuff that I have no idea what anyone was thinking…like the inflatable Winnie the Pooh doll.

Brandus and I? So far, he’s gotten a tie. I’ve got a mini umbrella. And we both got flashlights.

I think we can clearly tell who is more important, here.

Friday morning, the alarm went off, and I, in the muzziness of sleep, asked Brandus, “Is it Saturday?”

He said, (and he claims he laughed because he thought I was joking) “Yes, it’s Saturday.”

I sighed happily, and rolled back over to go back to sleep.

At which point he said, “Hey, can you take the boy today? I have a meeting.”

“Take him where?”

“To school!”

“YOU JUST TOLD ME IT WAS SATURDAY!”

That was bad enough. Having your Saturday stolen from you like that is a nasty shock.

But then this morning occurred.

I sat up and vaguely registered that the clock said 6:20am. I lay back down, and thought for a second. I distinctly remembered Voldemort and Brandus coming to wake me up the day before, which meant…

“BRANDUS! It’s 6:20!”

Quoth he, rather irritably, “So?”

“We’re going to be late for work!”

“It’s SUNDAY!”

I’m so confused. Why isn’t it winter break yet?

Wow, I really love Taylor Swift’s new song, Fifteen, don’t you?

I mean, all the lyrics really remind me of being in high school. And I can’t even imagine her poor friend, Abigail, who had a boy steal all of her life savings. I mean, I’d be pissed too if my best friend had been taken advantage of and bought him everything he wanted, and then he broke up with her when she went broke.

…What? Of course it’s talking about her life savings. The lyrics say quite clearly, “Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind.” What else would she be talking about?

*scoff* Oh, please. Be serious. There’s no way she’s talking about sex. Come on. No one is dumb enough to believe that. I mean, “everything she had?” She can’t be talking about sex, because that would mean that without her virginity, Abigail is left with nothing. That a woman’s worth is only measured in her remaining a virgin, and that if a girl has sex, she is nothing.

And nobody believes crap like that anymore, right?

….Right?

So, there is nothing like getting home after work, after trying to call your husband several times, to find him completely zoned on the couch, and for him to tell you:

a) work sent him home at 10 or so. Maybe. He thinks. He’s not really sure.
b) he had to slap himself in the face repeatedly on the 15 minute drive home to keep from going completely comatose
c) he fell asleep on the couch instantly upon getting home, and the next thing he knows it’s 4:30 and he has to go get the kid. THE TIME IN BETWEEN IS COMPLETELY MISSING.
d) brandus might not be dealing too well with some of his parents’ health issues, but he is NEVER TAKING XANAX AGAIN HOLY CRAP.

When it was prescribed to me, the doc warned it might make me sleepy, and to take one on a weekend to see how i did. the first couple of days, I was a little woozy about 30 minutes after I took it, but I was otherwise completely ok. I dont even need it now the zoloft has kicked in, but I keep it in case I’m having a bad day and might need some help to not freak out when dealing with That One at my job.

Brandus looked up some of the common side effects:
changes in sexual desire; constipation; dizziness; drowsiness; dry mouth; increased saliva production; lightheadedness; tiredness; trouble concentrating; unsteadiness; weight changes

Wow. Out of the eleven most common side effects, Brandus got to experience the joy of SEVEN of them.

I don’t know why Im surprised. After all, we are talking about the man who, when I know he is talking cold or flu medicine, I cringe, and wrestle the phone away from him before he can call his best friend in second grade to apologize for that time he made fun of Mickey Mouse.

We are staying home for Christmas/Solstice/Hannakah/whatevermas this year, so we went to see my fam over Thanksgiving instead. I only got 2 guilt trips about the decision, so hey, success! And this way, the Dark Lord got to hang out with his cousin, the Critter. There’s only four months difference between them, so getting them together was HILARIOUS.

They spent the entire time chasing each other around the house and occasionally tackling each other to the floor for no apparent reason. It was awesome.

In other news, my sisters and I are very very mature.

My kid is currently sitting on the couch, fascinated by the movie showing.

Frankly, I’m amazed, as the animals in it aren’t animated, and there really isn’t any singing, but how can you resist Elsa from Born Free?

We used to watch this as kids, and I hadn’t realized how much I remembered until I put it in for him tonight. I’ve never seen Living Free, the sequel to Born Free, but seeing as the first thing the blurb talks about is ELSA DYING, I don’t think I want to.

I charge you to watch this, if you never seen it, and those of you who have, I know that you have, either mentally or physically, just broken out in song – “BOOORN FREEEE!”

Voldemort has hit the imagination stage and the whiny stage, all in conjunction with each other. I dont so much care for the whining, but the imagination plus his ability to deliver bizarre lines with a straight face means he is bound to be in trouble in school a lot.

My personal favorite happened just yesterday. I came in to pick him up from daycare to see him poking one of the girls with a wooden spoon as she spun around on this bouncy zebra thing.
“Kiddo, what are you doing?”
“I’m ‘tagonizing Payton!”

Payton is the girl he identifies as his girlfriend. We don’t know why, as we’ve never encouraged it, and daycare says they don’t talk about it. This is also the girl with whom my child has a “special” relationship. Daycare identifies it as “a married couple in the middle of a nasty divorce.”

Ah, the sweet smell of young love.

My child has decided, after a discussion with his father, who was trying to get him to stop crying and crying and crying for no apparent reason, that this year, we shall celebrate Hanukkah. This seems like a downright swell idea to me, so we’re going with it. The fact that we aren’t Jewish doesn’t matter all that much, does it?

We’ll grab a Menorah, light some candles, and have 8 days of presents. I like that better anyway.

It might help me deal with the sheer utter stupid that I ran into today. So, I pass my boss in the hall twice today, smile as she passes, I think one time I even said ‘Hi,’ once. She doesnt so much as glance my way. Seriously, not a flicker. Not a nod. Nothing.

Um. I figured maybe she was just…distracted. So i go about my day, get my kids on the bus with no major drama…and when I get home, Brandus says, “Um..”

“Yes?”

“My principal pulled me aside today, and said I should have a talk with you.”

“….Uh…..why?”

“She wants to know what you did to get on your principal’s bad side, and that you better kiss ass FAST to get on her good side.”

Let me rephrase this whole conversation. Brandus was pulled aside, BY HIS PRINCIPAL, to warn me I needed to get on MY PRINCIPAL’S good side.

She’s talking shit about me, people. TO OTHER PRINCIPALS. And let us review – what exactly have i done so wrong?

1. I didnt check in when I went on a home visit that lasted longer than usual, leading me to be, in her eyes, an hour late returning to the school. And leaving my room a mess…even though they hadn’t delivered my furniture until we had already left for the home visit, and we didn’t KNOW the room was a mess.

2. My lesson plans printed off strangely, cutting off a sliver of the letters down one side.

THESE ARE THE ONLY THINGS I KNOW I’VE DONE WRONG. Every single freaking thing she has told me to do, we have done. And we have hopped to every single time she has said hop.

I can’t even hate her. She’s too fucking ridiculous.

I got called down to the office this morning and told to reprint my weekly lesson plans.

My offense? The first letters on the right hand side were cut off. Not the whole letter, just a tiny fraction. The word could still easily be read.

I was given a stern look, and told not to let this happen again.

SERIOUSLY?

I have thoughts to share.

An entire story about the sheer ridiculousness that I encountered one day while picking up Voldemort from daycare, when the assistant manager told me, giggling and almost blushing, that she had never known another 2 year old who uses anatomically correct terms for his genitalia.

Because “wee wee” and “pee pee” are so much more appropriate then “penis,” I guess.

More insane stories about my job and the micromanaging, which has now progressed to a degree of inanity where the work room is no longer available to the teaching public of the school. It is kept locked, and all things which must be photocopied, cut, laminated, or die cut must be submitted to the office at least 2 weeks before it is needed.

No, Im really not kidding. Teachers and TAs are no longer allowed to set foot in the workroom.

Stories about the fact my sister is coming to visit tomorrow, and she’s making Indian food, and we’re trying to plot out the best way to make a cake that looks like brains so we can pretend to be zombies.

Instead, I leave you with the song that has been stuck in my head for the past week. It’s a damned addicting vid, too. It’s fairly obvious the guys who dressed them were on crack. I’m very fond of the girl whose hair sticks straight up.

Butterball soup is one of my very favorite things in the entire whole world. Seriously.

Now, my husband is one of “those” cooks. The ones who don’t use a recipe or measure things and just throw stuff in and see what happens. And it turns out amazing. But never the same way twice. So, attempting to give a recipe for butterball soup is a little tricky, but I’m going to try.

First things first: this soup is not for the faint of heart. It is also not for the weak hearted, because the word BUTTER is featured predominantly in the title for a reason.

This comes with photos, because it’s easier to see then it is to fully explain, sometimes. Also, the amount of soup we make at one time is hilarious. We eat it until we’re out of butterballs. Then we make more of those, and eat it until the broth is all gone. Then we make more broth. So, sometimes, this is the never ending soup, and we make a huge pot of it for the three of us. So, adjust amounts as you see fit. Or go for it, make the huge pot, and see what happens.

Basic ingredient list:
veggies of whatever sort – celery and carrots and garlic are required, but throw in whatever else you’ve got
bullion – chicken or veggie
loaf of bread – sourdough is best, italian is fine, sandwich loaf works if you’ve got nothing else
eggs – two or three
small shaped pasta
parm cheese
mozzarella cheese
butter – and a lot of it

To start: obtain bigass pot. Add heart attack worthy glob of butter.

Chop/dice/cut up veggies. Really, it doesn’t matter how – here’s the food processor version. Carrots, celery and garlic are required, but anything else is fine, really. We’ve even done artichoke hearts when we didn’t have anything else. I wouldn’t suggest a lot of a strong tasting veggies, though.

Saute the veggies til translucent. Brandus also throws in a couple of chicken breasts at this point – they aren’t necessary, as we’ve done it plenty of times without it. We don’t even eat the chicken in it – Brandus due to vegetarianism, and me due to not liking chicken in butterball soup. We pull it out and use it in something else, so no worries if you don’t want to add it.

Add bullion and water to pot to make a fuck ton of broth. Seriously, this jar was FULL when we started. The broth for butterball soup needs to be a very strong, rich, tangy broth. We use this kind of bullion, as it’s very yummy, and very strong.

I wasn’t kidding about a lot of broth.

At this point, turn the heat up and let it simmer. You’ve got the fuck ton of broth, so this will take a while. That’s ok, you have something else to do.

Take your loaf and bread and tear it up into small chunks. Dump some parm cheese in there on top of it. Add spices if you want – sometimes we add bits of the carrots and celery in there, too. Yummy.

Melt more butter – one loaf of regular sized French bread equals about a stick a butter. Beat in two or three eggs into the butter. Pour over the top of the bread chunks.

Remove rings, stick your hands in the bread and butter mess, and squish to a uniform consistency.

Add in your small shaped pasta to the broth – not a ton, maybe a fourth of the box. You want to add this now, as you don’t want the pasta to get overcooked.

Back to your bread and butter mess. Pinch of a chunk and make a ball out of it. Add more butter or more bread if you can’t make a ball. It needs to be tightly packed – here’s one in Brandus’ hand to help you get an idea of size. No bigger then 2 inches, really.

Feel free to enlist help.

Make all the butterballs, and drop them in the soup. They’ll sink immediately, which is what you want.

The butterballs will float when they’re done.

Serve – 3 or 4 butterballs, some pasta and veggies and broth, and sprinkle with mozzarella. YUM.

If you make it, let me know. I’m curious to know what you think!

I kind of want to write love letters to Xanex right now, because instead of totally freaking out and biting off all of my fingers about being observed by the micromanager tomorrow, i really feel rather zen about the whole situation.

I’ve walked out of work twice this week humming.

Clearly, the antianxiety meds make me much less of a freak inclined to random collapse of insanity – and this is not at all a bad thing.

So, here’s the thing, really. This is my sixth or seventh year of teaching. I started freaking out about not wanting to teach…oh, my junior year of college. I was undiagnosed, but probably clinically depressed during student teaching. My first full time teaching job involved me throwing up before school and crying all the way home.

In those 6 or 7 years, I’ve made it maybe 3 years unmedicated or undepressed or anxious, and maybe 2 years where I didn’t feel like I was failing at it. And I’m fairly sure that one full year of that was because I only taught part of the year.

And yet, we’re discussing moving, and I’m contemplating Montessori training. To be a Montessori teacher.

Why? Do I expect it to be extremely different from what I know now? Do I expect to like it more and be excited about teaching for a change?

Should I throw it all over and go herd yaks for a living? There’s always my original plan of growing up to be Godzilla!

Back when I had Voldemort – and by “had,” i mean, “expelled him from my body,” people would ask about his birth, and I would say how fast it was, and how intense, and how disappointed I was that Brandus hadn’t gotten to be there.

And, I’m not sure if it’s because there is a large military community in Alaska, or what, but almost universally, if I said that, they would come back almost immediately with, “At least he isn’t in Iraq!”

Because, you know, obviously, I was being a selfish bitch to express the want to have my husband by my side while being in labor – when I was overwhelmed and hurting and alone.

I always had to resist the urge to punch the people who said that in the face.

Because what if he had been in Iraq, and I had said how disappointed I was that he hadn’t been there – what would they have said then? “At least he isn’t dead!” “At least he hasn’t abandoned you!” “At least he doesn’t hit you!”

I mean, just..what? Why CAN’T I be sad about something I wanted not happening?

And why can’t I be sad that I’m at a new school, in a new classroom, with a whole new set of expectations and stresses and stupidity?

Why do I have to hear, “At least you have a job!” “Just be happy you’re employed!” Why? I want to punch these people in the face, too. If it was someone who was unemployed saying it, at least they have an excuse to say it – bitterly, even. But every single person who says it to me is EMPLOYED. Usually in a better paying job then mine.

At least I have a job! At least I’m not on the streets! At least I’m not on meds to control the anxiety I feel about dealing with the principal and the expectations and the utter shit that goes with being in an intensive needs classroom!

…no, wait. Never mind about that last one. It’s too late. My one goal this year was to make it to January without anti depressants. I forgot to make a goal about anxiety.

At least Im on anti anxiety meds! At least I’m not suicidal!

I saw a recipe for German pancakes yesterday at Salt and Chocolate. Hm, says I, that sounds good. So, I bookmarked it, and went about my day.

A day which included a child who did not nap until we were in the car to go to a farm to have a hayride and pick a pumpkin with some friends. A day which included a child slipping and falling into a rotten pumpkin, and having to go on the return hayride wearing nothing but a pull up. A day which was very late, and by the time we got back, I was no longer thinking of anything involving pancakes.

Or was I?

The last dream I recall from before I woke up was me wandering around Racher from Yestertime’s house looking for her, so I could ask if the skillet I wanted to borrow was oven safe. So I could make a German pancake.

FINE SUBCONSCIOUS, I GET IT. Although why my subconscious felt the need to bring Racher in on it, when I’m pretty sure she has never talked to me about pancakes, German or otherwise, I have no idea.

Regardless, I made a German pancake this morning, much to Brandus’ confusion (”What are you doing?” “IM MAKING A PANCAKE DAMMIT.”)

It was yummy. I tastes a little bit like funnel cake and a little bit like french toast.

Also, it’s insanely easy, which I am a huge fan of.