SilverSpiral.net

Voldemort is 26 months old, and, while he has yet to try climbing out of his crib, he does try climbing into it.

And, he’s getting really tall.

And, while he and Brandus were in Colorado visiting Brandus’ folks, Voldemort was sleeping on a mattress on the floor.

So, today? We’re converting the crib.

I have no idea what this will do to his sleep schedule, but I am truly terrified of what we will start waking up to.

Naked and jumping on the crib mattress, Im used to. Naked and standing on top of his dresser is a bit more scary.

HELP. I HAVE A TWO YEAR OLD.

I’ve been in Seattle for the past week, and except for getting stuck in the airport yesterday for 8 hours, have had an awesome time.

Im a little afraid I stressed out my friend Rinny, somewhat, as she seems a little flabbergasted by me.

I told her I would get a tshirt that warned, “Talks to Strangers,” if she thought it would help.

But talking to strangers is fun, so long as nobody is crazy.

This week, talking to strangers meant that I talked to a guy in a tree, discussed the joys and pains of house sitting with a woman on the bus, had a road worker offer me the chance to pour concrete, and got to drive a gangster car.

It was really that last one that made Rinny hiss, “YOU ARE OUT OF YOUR MIND. YOU ARE GOING TO DIE.”

But, she doesn’t lock the door to her house. Ever. At all. So, I maintain I am infinitely safer. I can always walk away from the stranger I am talking to.

I was linked to this post about rape and men and the culture surrounding rape, and Ive been reading through the comments and the linked posts for the past four hours.

To me, it all boils down to how tragic it is that there are not more men who are willing to be “That Guy” who stands up to his friends/guy he doesnt know/stranger on a train when a woman is being hassled/is unable to consent/looks uncomfortable with the attention. What is worse is that when a man is That Guy, he gets praise and thanks and grateful expressions that he didn’t take advantage when she was drunk/stopped when she said no/walked her back to her house and made sure she was safe – instead of it being a standard of common human decency.

I think men who are That Guy SHOULD be praised, but I also think that it’s horrifying that they need to be.

I’m lucky, I’ve never been in a situation where I was honestly afraid of being assaulted. I’ve been groped (I was 12. He was a grown man), I’ve been pushed past my point of comfort in sexual situations (full conversation- Me: no, i’m not comfortable with that. Him: Just trust me. – and because I was 16, and wanted to be liked, or whatever, let it continue), I’ve been leered at, and I’ve had lewd suggestions offered – but I’ve never been afraid for my life or my body. Does that make what has happened to me any better? No.

I’ve met That Guy. I’ve been around That Guy. I married That Guy. That Guy who goes pelting down a dark alley IN THAILAND because he hears screaming. That Guy who interrupts a friend and goes, “dude, she’s way too drunk for that.” That Guy who doesn’t try to “talk me into it.” That Guy who approaches the mom and daughters of our next door neighbor who have locked themselves in a van, and stays there with them trying to talk the drunk dad down until the cops got there.

Before him, though, there was a whole group of That Guy – both boys and girls. I was just a kid, and so were they. But there was a boy harassing me, and the group of That Guy closed ranks. They didn’t leave me alone – not ever. The boy wasn’t allowed to sit anywhere near me at group times. They kept me safe – and at that age, I was probably not in danger of anything other then annoyance. And that is what sticks with me. That a group of kids who were maybe nine years old were willing to stick up for another kid they had just met.

For me, I need to learn how to better step up and be That Woman. That Woman who says, “excuse me, you’re in my seat,” to a guy who is clearly coming on to someone who doesn’t want it. That Woman who calls the cops when the couple on the street looks to be in an argument that could turn nasty. That Woman who speaks up when someone says something derogatory or joking about a woman, or rape. I’m pretty darn good at doing it when it comes to someone using the word “retard” or someone saying nasty things about people who are gay, so why do I have such trouble when it’s someone who is talking about women?

The other thing I pulled from this is the sheer rage I feel over rape being classified as a “woman’s issue.” Rape is NOT a “woman’s issue.” A woman (or man, or transgender person, or child) should not EVER be raped. Rape should be fully accountable as a MAN’S issue. As a HUMAN issue.

I know the statistics. I know how lucky I am. I can point at some of the women I know and say, “a man raped her.” I was involved in the Vagina Monologues, I’ve gone to Take Back the Night events, and I still feel like I can’t do enough.

Other links of interest:
Men Speak Up – men for gender equality and sexual respect
An Emotional Missive to Men – women have a checklist to even leave their house. modestly dressed? not asking for it? female?
Anti-rape role models – a discussion of men in tv/movies/books who are That Guy. Surprisingly, Austin Powers is on this list.
Thoughts on Men and Rape – a man’s take on it. And he’s just as pissed as I am.
Sex, Thugs, and Rotten Role Models – opinion piece on the murkiness of “consent.” I heartily endorse the idea of replacing consent with “mutual pleasure.”

1. “I just farted out my mouth.”

2. “Can I stand on your tummy?”

3. “Girls dont have a penis. They go shopping.”

We have a newish kitty. We’ve had her for a couple of months by now, and the other two are still picking on her a good deal. She spends a lot of time under my chair, hanging out, and grabbing my shoelaces playfully when I walk by.

She comes out at night when I’ve settled into my chair, to drape herself over my arms and my keyboard, because what is a cat for if not to impede typing abilities.

During these lazy times, I have come to the very definite conclusion that Yuki’s nails are very very sharp. I would know, Im generally wearing shorts or thin pajama pants while hanging out in my chair, and she likes to knead.

Last night, I made the mistake of idling mentioning her sharp nails to brandus.

We have one of those Pedipaw things, which are supposed to be better for kitty nails and such. We’ve only really used it once, and before I realized it, he had turned it on, grabbed her claw, and started filing away.

Now, if you’re familiar with Pedipaws, there is this entire “training” you are supposed to do first. This involves things like, “how to get your cat comfortable with Pedipaws.”

Brandus neglected to follow the training.

Five seconds later, I’m sitting in shock in my chair, cat having levitated through my arms and over my head to get away from the spinning file of death, and brandus is rushing to get gauze and rubbing alcohol to keep my finger, thigh, belly, and head from bleeding all over everything.

Blood is a bitch to get out of fabric.

Next time, I’ll wield the weapon of filing terror, and BRANDUS can hold the cat.

A while ago, i helped stimulate the economy..and that will NEVER stop sounding dirty to me, really..and bought a new laptop.

Madmartigan was about five years old, and pieces were falling off of him, and the Dark Lord had shown his displeasure with my attention to Mad by ripping multiple keys off the keyboard until I was unable to shift or use the letter A, and I need capital A’s, ok? Plus, the fact was that Dell was having a kick ass sale, and I had money in my savings account and i desperately wanted a new toy.

So, Usagi came to live with me, and she’s very pretty and shiny and green and happy, and I put Madmartigan to the side with the vague idea that I would delete many things and clean him up all spiffy and try and sell him for enough to buy me some ice cream and a new pair of cheap sunglasses, as the child tore the arm off of my old ones.

So, of course, Madmartigan has been silently suffering in the back corner of the side table – the one protected from toddlers made of the blood of their enemies and pure evil. I keep thinking, wow, I should really turn him on and reformat and list him on craigslist and such, but honestly, aside from being furniture now, and therefore completely overlooked, I have no idea how to even type up a listing.

In need of loving home: Dell desktop replacement. Heavy as hell. Answers to Madmartigan. Reformatted, but if you see any episodes of weird Japanese television floating around, please return them to me. You can buy a computer with twice the ram and abilities for $500, but I paid several thousand for him, and he just wants to be loved. Please send family background and a picture of your workspace.

Posting hasnt been working for me, so i just upgraded my wordpress to the newest version.

If you can see this, it worked!

Recently, I joined facebook. Which is basically a place for people I knew and didnt like in high school to want to read about what i do everyday.

or something.

regardless, on this facebook thing, where people i havent seen or talked to in years halfway communicate with me and other people, im finding myself censoring.

it’s weird.

like, one of my favorite people from college recently posted about how disappointed she was in Obama for “canceling” the National Day of Prayer. Now, seeing as, in college, she was a theater person, which, in my experience, generally means you are a little more open minded, I thought she might be joking.

She wasn’t. And the 10 or so people who had commented on that status update weren’t either.

I hesitated. My fingers stopped. I deleted and revised and deleted and stared at the screen. Trying to find a polite way of saying, “I’m so glad Obama isn’t going to stand up and endorse a national religion, as those of us who aren’t Christian don’t pray to the god you do.” without coming off as RUDE.

More importantly, soon after that, I got directed to an awesome link about Obama cutting funding for abstinence only education, which thrills me to pieces.

I went to facebook, intending to plaster the link all over, and..i hesitated.

Why haven’t I posted this link, even though i think it’s an awesome step in the right direction? Why am I stopping to consider how people i havent seen in EIGHT YEARS are going to see me? think about me? Find out that Im *gasp* a dirty hippie liberal?

Im frustrated by this, and I dont get it. Why is something so stupid stopping me from talking about how i really think of things?

My kiddo is completely unable to say his own name.

He can say a number of random words, including “elephant,” “strawberry,” and “hippopotamus,” but he mangles his own name.

Instead of “Griffin,” it comes out MIFFIN.

Which is, frankly, hilarious.

However, I recently took the opportunity to try and correct this. We’ve been reading a lot of animal books lately, as he digs the animals. Instead of telling him that bear says rawr, I went with bear says grrr.

He gives me this evil toothy grin and says, GRRR.

Great! Says I, now say, GRRRR-IFFIN.

The little punk has been periodically looking up at me ever since, giving me that evil grin, and telling me his name is GRRR-MIFFIN..

My gmail headline bar, the one that is supposed to be influenced by the content of your emails, has offered me an exciting new recipe. One that I’m sure to run out and try:

Spam Fajitas – Serves 8, add extra salsa if desired

I’m sure the extra salsa really gives it a little something SPECIAL.

He came in
from the bathroom,
and said,
I think
there is an alarm clock
going off
somewhere next door.

I go in, too,
and listen.
A faint beep beep beep
is enough
to leave me looking in confusion.

The room
on the other side
is also a bathroom,
and who
would have
an alarm clock
in a bathroom?

I look for a moment,
and think,
and then glance down.

I say,
I think
you need
to recharge
your toothbrush.

Ive spent this week alternating between crippling depression over my job and how the entire profession of teaching hates me in very not subtle ways, and extreme irritation while i say things like, “IF YOU THROW YOURSELF ON THE FLOOR ONE MORE TIME, I AM CALLING THE WHINE WAGON TO COME AND GET YOU,” and “FOR THE LOVE OF TOAST, STOP LICKING THE TABLE.”

Preschoolers are weird.

Of course, I may only get this year to say that, because the licensure department – you know, the people who didn’t issue my license until MARCH when I applied in DECEMBER – says that I have to complete the 6 hours I need to clear my provisional PreK license by June.

Ok, no problem!

Except that it is, because only one of the classes I need is offered this summer. Can they extend the time frame, seeing as I didnt know what classes I needed until AFTER the deadline for spring registration?

WHY NO, NO THEY CANNOT. PS. IF I DONT TAKE THESE TWO CLASSES, THEY WON’T LET ME TEACH.

I call HR. they make thoughtful noises, and recommend i check with different colleges and universities to see if any offer the class I need.

I say…no, i really wasnt KIDDING when I told you this class was not being offered ANYWHERE IN NC. TRUST ME, I ALREADY LOOKED.

*facepalm* i think ive got it worked out, after talking to the Guy in Charge of something, who has agreed to let me take a different class and pretend it counts towards my license.

It’s possible that somewhere along the way in talking to HR and Guy in Charge and The Evil State that my head popped right off of my neck and rolled around on the floor. Because ever since, I’ve had a very difficult time making sentences that make sense. Or stringing words together in any order. Or not calling kids the wrong name.

Join me tomorrow, when I spam you with pictures of the TWO YEAR OLD VOLDEMORT. AHHHHHHH!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

I am so over this whole “working” thing.

Think I could find someone who would pay me to stay home and watch Asian television? Id be really great at it!

-My child is damned to hell
-I am a heathen, and need to take my child to church
-No, she doesn’t care that I don’t like church. SHE doesnt like church, either. I should still go.
-I dress like a highschooler
-My child is filthy and is never bathed.
-The child looks so CUTE in clothes covered in bunnies

This week has been rather insanely busy. Last weekend, I did very little on my to do list, and instead of doing taxes or cleaning the house or putting pants on the kid, I caught an 18 month old as she fell off the top of a ten foot slide, and listened to her mother, who was 30 feet away say, “Huh. Didn’t think she’d go up there.”

I then found out that daycare was going to be closed on Good Friday, and that the school wouldnt let brandus have the day off to stay home with him. SO GUESS WHO DID? I am now completely out of sick days. I must make a note to remind myself not to come down with the plague or tooth decay or oh-my-god-i-hate-kids until we get out for summer break.

We’re on spring break this week, and are about to take our heathen selves over to someone’s house to have Easter dinner. I’m trying to remind myself that wishing them a Happy Zombie Jesus day would probably be considered rude.

After that, it’s off to Georgia for the week. Instead of packing kid’s toys or washing clothes or trying to remember if my parents have a pack and play, Im transferring important Japanese documents to my portable hard drive. And by “important,” i mean “vital” and by “documents,” i mean “television.”

I should also be feeding the cats or cleaning the kitchen or eating breakfast, but im much happier trying to decide if I should be taking Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon episodes with me or if i should just be taking the truly important things – like gay porn.

-Finish and file taxes
-Hope vainly for a refund
-Grocery shopping, as there is no actual food left in the house
-Make a note to stop letting Brandus shop, as this leads to the prior problem
-Put pants on the kid at some point
-List and sell some of his fitted diapers that dont fit anymore (they’re SOS, they’re BEAUTIFUL, and I can barely fasten them *cry*)
-Deposit check from gay porn proofreading
-Buy shelf at Lowes for Voldemort
-Assemble shelf
-By “assemble,” I mean bribe Brandus to do it
-Order play kitchen and charge it to the parents
-Make felt food to point in play kitchen
-Marvel at inability to make felt food
-Attempt to bring order to the living room that the Dark Lord trashes repeatedly every day
-Determine summer plans for daycare and work and the Dark Lord
-Rest
-Laugh repeatedly at the “rest” idea

I was just reading a baking blog, and the blogger said, and I quote:

“We’re going to need these cookies toot sweet!”

*twitch*

TOOT. SWEET.

*claws at face*

The week before this last one, I got called down to the county office to sign my contract! Finally, I am a licensed teacher!

But wait..I AM a licensed teacher. I HAVE been a licensed teacher for the past 7 years! So, why, exactly, did it take North Carolina FOUR MONTHS to agree with me?

Because my Alaska license had expired. 2 days after NC received it. It was a provisional license anyway, so maybe NC just decided Alaska wouldn’t have relicensed me. Which is true, I never did take the Alaskan history classes that i needed to take to teach longer in Alaska. I didnt take them, because i knew we were leaving, and there was no point.

Well, finally, after having to write, call, and fax SOUTH Carolina, home of my first teaching certificate from 2001 (no, really, and thank goodness they still had it on file), North Carolina finally grudgingly said ok, and sent me my license.

But wait! I teach PreK now! I’m not licensed to teach PreK!

REALLY? says I, because my transcripts disagree with you!

NC sniffed haughtily and said FINE, MAYBE i can be licensed in PreK, BUT FIRST I HAVE TO TAKE THESE TWO CLASSES. And they HAVE to be done this summer, or no license for me!

Well, fine then.

They sent me a letter on 1/14/2009 (TWO MONTHS BEFORE THEY CLEARED MY LICENSE BTW) and listed the two classes I needed. This was, obviously, too late to apply to take the classes for Spring semester. So, im looking into summer classes. Makes sense, right?

NEITHER OF THE CLASSES I NEED ARE BEING OFFERED ANYWHERE CLOSE TO ME. Ive found ONE class that i need being offered. five days a week everyday for a month solid.

at a school 2 hours away.

They might have given me a teaching license because I bullied them into it, but right now, NC is laughing at me.

Ive recently been sucked into Facebook, and by sucked in, I mean I spend time examining the profiles of people I havent spoken to since junior high and debating about if i should ignore this person who i HATED but who I have a lot of friends in common with.

this is a really strange thing, honestly. and it makes me rather depressed to see how many people i grew up with identify themselves as Conservative, and even MORE depressed to see how many “flair” pieces are conservative, obnoxiously in-your-face preachy, or involve Edward Cullen.

there is one that says something to the effect of: Guys! Want to fall in love? Act like Edward Cullen!

Frankly, the LAST thing I want out of a guy is someone who will disable my car so I cant go see a friend and waits until Im asleep to SNEAK IN MY ROOM AND STARE AT ME AAAAHHH.

So, I need to come up with some smartass flair.

any suggestions?

I’ve dealt with daylight savings time since I was born, so you would think I would be a pro at it, or something.

I’ve handled it in the past – a day or two of whining about my hour of lost sleep, and I was over it.

This year? This year has me completely turned around and sideways, and feeling like I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.

I’ve spent the last four days in a confused daze, sinking into my chair at the end of the day for a nice few minutes of relaxing to stupid (asian) television, only to realize it’s way past time for bed and I havent done anything. Not even watch stupid tv.

Voldemort isn’t handling it much better, either. He’s clingy when we go to daycare, and has recently developed an aversion to his clothes being touched by anyone but himself.

If it was up to him, yesterday he would have slept in his sweater, because I had to take it off of him three times.

Trying to get him out of the shirt and into his pajamas was something akin to alligator wrestling.

Is it time to Fall Back, yet? This Spring Forward thing is killing me.