I can’t seem to get my mind focused enough to put together one cohesive blog post. I’ve started four and have finished none of them. As a result I’m just going to combine them into one sort of mish-mash post.

My Tiny Guy
The kids and I ventured across the street yesterday to visit our neighbor. Their little boy is 18 months old. As we stood their chatting we both could not help but notice that our sons were the EXACT same size (as a matter of fact her son had at least 8 lbs on Max). This means my 31 month old son is the same size as an 18 month old. In a panic I called the doctor who assured me that since January Max has grown 2 inches and based on his growth trend is just fine. And yet….he’s short. Because my kids have never attended school I don’t normally see them in context with other children and although I always knew Max wasn’t particularly big for his size his “petite stature” didn’t fully hit me until yesterday.

Bad Food
I started putting together a list of foods that I find gross and will never require my kids to eat. Any of these on your list?

1.) Green Peas
2.) Lima Beans
3.) Cauliflower
4.) Kidney (or other animal organ)
5.) pureed meat – so glad I’m past baby food

The Body Wonder
I had a physical last week because, well, I’m 38 and it seemed like the thing to do. Well low and behold my thyroid isn’t working. As a result I’ve started some new fangled medication that is supposed to give me more energy and allow me to lose weight (versus exercising in some sort of self-torturous adventure). Glad I got that physical – like seriously.

That’s it – that is what has been on my mind. See how I could never really tie all those things together? I don’t know – I’m blaming my newly malfunctioning thyroid.

This is a warning, that for the second time this week I will be stepping upon my soap-box. I promise to not make this a trend.

It’s the first week of school here in Dallas, as it is in most states. I teach college English and like most teachers I start every year with a couple of key goals in mind:

1.) How do I inspire my students to do their best work?
2.) How do I get my students to engage with my subject and as a result learn something?
3.) How do I make my subject matter relevant to them without deluding the quality of the assignment?
4.) How do I make them better skilled as a human so they can go be successful in the world?

I will be the first to admit that some semesters I am more successful than others. I am more successful with some students than I am with others. Teaching is never going to have a 100% success rate. EVER. Why? Because it takes at least two people to be successful in the classroom me and the student and as a teacher I can only control half of that equation. As a result, it infuriates me when bureaucrats, legislators and parents become enraged when they look at dropout rates or failure rates and blame the teachers. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of bad teachers out there, but you cannot legislate success.

This summer, in anticipation of this school year, the Dallas ISD passed a new grading policy that is effective across the district. Here are some highlights (for the full article go here):

1.) Teachers MUST accept late homework from all students
2.) If a student fails a test they are automatically given a chance to retake the test
3.) Teachers MUST drop any low grade that would lower a students overall average
4.) A teacher cannot give any grade lower than a 50%

Their defense of this policy is that they have a high dropout rate among 9th grade students who fail 2 or more classes within the first 6 weeks of school. However, the reason why they are failing the first 6 weeks of class isn’t because the teachers are failing them it is because THEY CAN’T READ! Nothing like treating the symptom but not fixing the cold. Just because we pretend that these kids aren’t failing doesn’t mean they aren’t. This policy absolutely horrifies me — it is neither helping the students nor assisting the teachers. Why as a society are we incapable of saying the tough things about our own education system?

I’m retreating from my soap-box and will place it back in the closet. Thank you for your patience.

I woke up to the sound of gunfire in my house. I rarely take a nap on the weekends, but with my sinus infection still putting up a good battle and the kids safely tucked away in my bed with a movie I thought it would be safe. I sneaked into Max’s room, laid down among the stuffed dinosaurs and fell asleep. It couldn’t have been twenty minutes when I heard the unmistakable sound of machine guns ripping through our house. I jumped out of bed and walked into our family room.

David was sitting in the family room with the TV on “fine-tuning” our home stereo system. Apparently, this delicate task can only happen by watching “Saving Private Ryan” with the volume set to a level that was so loud David didn’t notice I was actually talking to him. When he did turn the volume down we could hear Lucy crying in the next room. Not just a small weeping but a full-on “I’m going to throw up I’m crying so hard”. I innocently asked “why is she crying?”. And David, with only the wisdom a husband could possess said “Oh, I turned off their movie and told them to lay down and take a nap.” I stood there for a moment dumbfounded. First, Lucy is almost 5 and hasn’t been required to take a nap for at least 6 months which would clearly explain the tears. However, even if that weren’t the case is playing “Saving Private Ryan” at a decibel level that actually will cause the entire family to have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder conducive to nap time? The good part to this story is that I didn’t say any of those things. Instead, I said “I don’t think they can nap with the volume so loud”. When I went into my room to check on the kids they were both sitting straight up on the bed crying and David – in an apparent effort to make the environment more soothing – had put on classical music at a very low volume level. The volume on the radio was low enough that the kids could still very clearly feel and hear the effects of the tanks rolling through Normandy.

For other husbands let me just clear something up so this mistake won’t happen in your house.

See the kind of public service I provide here?

I don’t like to talk about controversial things here – on my blog – because frankly that is not what this space is for. However, the front page of MSNBC had an article this morning and I just cannot ignore it. Vaccines. I’m for them. You can yell at me all you want but this is why:

• After reading research on both sides of the issue I feel that the risk of my child suffering a side effect is much smaller than the risk of them catching small pox. Mercury, which supposedly has been linked to autism (and yet vaccines are not required at all in Japan and they have seen the same increase in autism we have) has not been put in vaccines since 2000. The other argument I’ve read is that a child’s immune system is not strong enough. But it is – and that is the point – to make it stronger.
• The reason why the risk of children getting small pox is so low is because EVERYBODY ELSE IS IMMUNIZED. Which means that those who don’t immunize are in some fashion (conscious or not) relying on everybody else to immunize their child.
• When enough people don’t immunize diseases come back — which they are – like measles, whooping cough and mumps. (see link to this article on MSNBC). Personally I don’t want to be the one person responsible for an outbreak of measles in my school or to watch my child needlessly suffer in a hospital because they contracted whooping cough.

Perhaps it is because I am an “older” mother but I remember my parents telling stories of kids in their schools dying from Polio, being in the hospital for whooping cough, scars from the measles, etc. Everybody has to make their own decisions but when your decision starts effecting MY family (like drunk driving, robbing, etc) then I get a bit passionate about it. Go ahead – get mad at me – I’ve braced myself.

Being a mother is a 24/7 job where your boss is a tiny person who rules like a dictator with no care for your own personal well-being. It is the only job where your employer truly could care less how much sleep you got, if you are sick, if you recently had a death in the family, if you need to go to the bathroom or if you are in the middle of throwing up. There is no union to fight for vacation days, health care, or paid time leave. You are not allowed to take a 15 minute lunch break, coffee break or potty break. (Unless you don’t mind your tiny boss standing with you in the bathroom asking you why you wipe your bottom THAT WAY).

Last night I sat at a table with a lovely woman from Ireland and discussed the various interpretations of Macbeth, how all great literature has sex and violence in it and the best authors are addicted to opium or are mentally insane. This is what I love about my job. For 8 hours yesterday I got to talk to people about how I cry at the end of Othello EVERY TIME I read it and nobody in the room thought I was strange. I discussed the benefits of teaching Henry V over the Tempest and how Henry fits beautifully into the transition from epic hero to modern hero and nobody thought I was being a snob. For twenty hours a week I get to be the Beth that worked really hard to earn her Masters degree in a subject that she is passionate about. For twenty hours I am MY OWN boss.

When my school day is over I find myself racing home. What have the kids been doing? What have they been saying? What did they eat? What did they play with? What did they discover? Did they learn anything new? I’m panicked that I might have missed something. When I walk in the door and the kids squeal in delight at my arrival I realize why being a mom is such a good gig. Teaching keeps me grateful. Teaching keeps me patient. Teaching makes me appreciate the little dictators that rule my life.

I’ve actually really enjoyed watching the Olympics this time around and I’m not sure if it is because NBC has done such a good job broadcasting or if it is because China has done such a good job of organizing. China is the ultimate case of OCD. If a country could have a psychological, anxiety disorder China would have it. It doesn’t hurt that Michael Phelps is a gold-winning machine and rather easy on the eyes (oh and swims out of Michigan — GO BLUE!!)

I’m rather tired of all the complaining about everything being in English. I know this may seem American-focused but ironically that attitude is ethno-centric because we are NOT the only country that speaks English. Ever heard of England? Ireland? South Africa? Australia? Canada? New Zealand? Really the list is long and as a result English is the International language for all International venues. So no, I don’t think the Chinese are angry — besides they have a lot more to be angry about – like who left the door open and did they wash their hands enough times.

And speaking of China they are fooling nobody that their gymnasts are 16. Lets all as a world agree that China is a big fat liar — they are not 16. OBVIOUSLY NOT 16. Now, does this mean they didn’t do a phenomenal job? Heck no – their gymnasts were amazing, but they weren’t 16 and those are the rules (much like the rule that broke the gymnastics tie that gave them the gold). They broke the rules – period. No need to debate. Oh and don’t even mention those phoney baloney passports that some guy made that “proves” that they are 16. Right, and I’m Princess Diana.

Some of the sports this year have been surprising. Synchronized diving? I didn’t even know this existed. BMX bike riding? When did this become an Olympic event and how? Sailing? How long has sailing been an Olympic sport? I don’t know. It seems that the credientials to be accepted into the Olympics seems a bit random at best.

Bob Costas – some people like him – I don’t. Does this guy know anything about sports? He seems like he is barely even interested in sports plus it seems that he and Katie Couric were accidentally separated at birth. They are like the Luke and Leia of broadcasting. Well, I’m sure he’ll still be in fine form for the winter Olympics. When do those happen? In two years? Well, I better brush up on my Olympic rule book now so I’m prepared.

5:30 AM: I wake up with a killer headache and sinus pain. Knowing my propensity for really bad headaches I take 2 Sudafed Cold & Sinus. I then read the box and realize that it expired in June of 2007. Oops, I knew I should have cleaned out the medicine cabinet.

8:30 AM: Headache developing into a full-blown migraine. I take 2 Migraine Excedrine. Those things can knock a migraine right out of ya.

12:30: Migraine getting exponentially worst so I take an Advil Cold & Sinus

1:30: My brain starts to feel like it is doing the Samba in my skull and Max refuses to take a nap. I break out the ice pack

3:30: House has become a free-for-all since I can no longer open my eyes or stand vertical. The pain is unbearable and it feels like one of Max’s tiny toy screwdrivers is going right through my left eye and into my skull

5:30: Call my sister and in choked back tears ask if it would be dangerous to take 2 more Excedrin. She says no danger – swallow away.

5:37: I call David and beg him to instantly come home. He gets on the Dallas freeway and begins his long commuter crawl home (2 accidents and increased blood pressure he gets home in an hour)

7:30: I begin to realize that taking those 2 extra Excedrin not such a good idea. I am now nauseous AND have a blinding headache. Lights, noise, smells, movement and general breathing is now causing me pain.

8:30: I take a hot shower in hopes that it will make the pain ease up. It does not. I now have a fever of 100.1. This is beginning to feel like a crazy torture mechanism since the pain is never relenting and only getting worst.

1:30 AM: I drive myself to the emergency room. Thankfully no other cars on the road since it was pouring rain and it hurt to actually look at the road. I drove most of the way only using 1 eye. I arrive where nurse Jill takes my stats and tells me it sounds like a sinus infection. I meet Dr. Cox who also says it sounds like a sinus infection (and not a brain tumor – wow, what a relief). I then meet nurse Beverly who tells me she is going to stick this giant needle in my “hip”. Then, sharp prick and then burning, burning, BURNING, MY ASS IS ON FIRE!! And nurse Beverly says “yes, it does hurt a little bit”. They give me some antibiotics and tell me it is indeed a sinus infection. The shot will help with the inflammation, take your meds and you should feel better in a couple of days.

4:00 AM: I drive myself home – in the pouring rain. I unlock the door which makes the door chime go off. I then use the bathroom, flush the toilet, turn on a light, get a blanket and a pillow from our bed. David never stirs. This tells me that he indeed HAS NOT been lying about not being able to hear the baby cry in the middle of the night. Because I could have taken every electronic device in our house and walked out and I don’t think his snoring would have missed a beat.

I’m telling you all this to tell you that I won’t be posting today. I now just have a dull aching headache that makes me feel like I had too good of a time last night but wait, I didn’t. I’ll resume my normal posting tomorrow.

First of all, thank you to everybody who sent me birthday wishes. It was a lovely weekend and I appreciate all the warm thoughts. We took the family and headed to Nacogdoches to visit the in-laws for the weekend. Nacogdoches is home to Stephen F Austin University, and a hospital. It is also in the middle of East Texas. This means that it is a magical combination of educated, cultured individuals and completely ignorant, back-woods citizens who don’t understand the dangers of in-breeding. (It makes for one heck of a Christmas festival). It is this kind of unique combination of cultures that led us to dine at “Asian City” where they have large hibachi grills and the waiters play harmonica. Yes, I said harmonica. We watched them slice & dice our vegetables and then they played “Happy Birthday” on the harmonica. We had some dear friends join us and as I wore my birthday, princess tiara (thanks, Rennie & Chris) I could not have felt more blessed or appreciated. Overall, it was a fantastic birthday. I ate cake, my mother-in-law let me sleep in, and I got to watch the Olympics.