Sunday, April 24, 2011

HRH Non-Mommy, Princess of Non-Mommyhood

This week, my little, cranky, quirky (oh boy, you have no idea!) grandmother comes for a visit.  She is basically all that I have in the world of grandparents.  I am actually pretty close to her, even though she's a little...unique.  You can read about one interesting experience I had with her here, or here, or here.

Anyway, I'm going to spend the day with her on Friday and thought we would watch the Royal Wedding together.  I want to make it into a theme party!  There is nothing I love more than a good theme party.  I was thinking tea and sandwiches, and now I need to find some hats or something that looks rather distinguished.  I think my grandma would look so cute wearing a hat or a hair piece.

I did consider making some sort of feather hair piece or something, but I am NOT crafty.  I need ideas, people!  How can I make something that is fairly cheap and easy, and yet looks like this...


or this (WOOF)...


or this...


or even this?


I'm not opposed to finding some sort of cute, dressy hats but the problem is that finding a hat like something that would be worn to a royal occasion requires money.  I know that I could go the thrift store route, but that just gives me the heeby-jeebies.  Lice, here I come!  I did see some interesting hats online.


Is this some sort of satellite dish?  What is the point of wearing a hat on the front of your head?  And also, Princess Eugenie, you appear to be channeling your inner Mennonite.  I'm confused by this outfit.


This is the kind of hat I wear every day to recess because I won't get sunburned in a hat like this.  You know, being half-albino and all.  Apparently if I glued some feathers on it, and sold it for hundreds of dollars, I could be a fashion trailblazer myself!


Cruella DeVille, Cruella DeVille, if she doesn't scare you, no evil thing will.  To see her is to take a sudden chill!  Cruella, Cruella DeVille!


Wow.  I don't know if I should do the Mexican hat dance, or use it as a barf bowl, or maybe even as a cistern?


From "My Fair Lady," Come on Dover, come on Dover, come on Dover, move your bloomin' a$$!


So, as you can see, I think that a hair piece would be a much easier thing to deal with.  Help, crafty internet people!

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Friday, April 22, 2011

Hold Me Closer, Tony Danza!

I've tried to write this post a thousand times.  I just can't get it right.

I went to an Elton John concert.  It was freaking amazing.  A-MAZ-ING.  It was incredibly awesome.  If you will recall, I had purchased some very good seats.  Prior to attending the concert, I had made plenty of jokes about being excited to see Elton, and hoping that I wouldn't make a fool of myself.  But as I arrived, and saw Elton's bus(es), I could sense an animal coming to life inside of me.  And like a total geek, when I saw a window open on one of the buses, I yelled "HI ELTON!"  Yes.  I am that annoying girl that the people in the bus hate.

Then we entered, and I saw his piano.  And I lost my breath for a minute.  Then we got to our seats, and the excitement was building.

I'd like to thank the best optometrist in the world for what happened next.  You see, it was time for the concert to start.  I saw them pull back the curtain.  Given my eagle eyes (Thanks, Dr. Awesome!), I think I was one of the very first people in the room to spot by new BFF, Elton.  At that moment, a mania unlike no other took over, and I screamed.  Like, really, really screamed.  I'm pretty sure I screamed "I SEE HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  ELLLLLTOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNN!!!"  Apparently, I also grabbed my poor skinny sister by the arm.  According to her, I could have snapped that arm in half.  Also, she tells me that the people directly in front of me jumped and turned around in alarm, thinking something was wrong.  I only became embarrassed when I noticed that others around me were laughing at me.


The concert was incredible.  The man can sing and play the piano like no other.  At one point, he decided to get up on top of his piano.  He unsteadily, and very carefully climbed on top.  When he went to get down, he stumbled a bit, and missed the first few words of the song he was to be singing.  I wanted to shout "You're too old for this, Elton!"

He sang for three hours straight with no break.  He hardly talked, but when he did he was incredibly friendly and warm.  I spent three hours jumping up and down in shoes that were terribly uncomfortable, shouting and waving my arms just in case he was making eye contact with me.

After the concert, he came down to the edge of the stage and signed autographs.  I was so impressed by his kindness!  I thought he'd be all snobby and like "I'm stuck in this bloody midwest city!" but he was not.  I had no idea he would do autographs - he is a MAJOR star.  I won't deny that I did consider vaulting over all the people in front of me.  The only problem was, what would I have him sign?  My bra?


I left completely exhausted, but on cloud nine.  It was incredible.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Single Woman Saturday

Single?  Hoping to find love on a Saturday night?  Try using this seductive pose to pick up the man of your dreams!

My Evil Twin


I recently found out that the father of a student of mine (from last year) told someone else that he saw me.  He saw me and I was "letting my hair down."

I'm curious.  Was I letting my hair down in Wal-Mart?  Or maybe on my way to church?  Or buying 400,000 cookies at the Dollar Store (for school)?

Because there has been no letting down of hair, literally or figuratively.

THEN, I mentioned this hair letting incident to another friend, who knows the father.  She tells me that he's been asking questions about me!  Knock me over with a feather, seriously.  I never see the man.  Never.   I only saw him last year when he picked up his child from tutoring after school.  I'm absolutely baffled.

So now, I'm dying of curiosity.  Who is my evil twin, and what is she up to?  Does she look like me?  Is she hotter than me?  And more importantly, is she doing evil deeds and secretly throwing me under the bus?  I need to know!

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Surviving Standardized Testing



The big, scary standardized tests are upon us.  Let's just be honest.  We spend the entire school year preparing for the tests.  As the testing days approach, we spend a great deal of time reminding the children that they should get lots of rest, eat a good breakfast, have their materials ready, etc.

But who thinks about the teachers?  You know, the ones that will this week be trapped in a classroom that is already not large enough to hold 31 students, even with the desks grouped together.  The teacher that has to give tests all day long to children during fantastically beautiful weather.  The teacher that literally won't be able to squeeze through the rooms because of the desks all pulled apart.  The teacher who knows that a visit is imminent from THE TEST POLICE, meaning that from 8:30 to 2:55, the teacher will not be permitted to sit, or use the computer.  The teacher who knows that if her students bomb the test, it reflects poorly on her, can affect her salary, and will undoubtedly require more work.

For these brave souls, I present

THE TEACHER'S CHECKLIST FOR STANDARDIZED TESTING

Comfortable clothes  (Check!)

Comfortable shoes that make no noise when you walk  (Check!)

Small pieces of chocolate that require no packaging to be opened  (Still need)

Three bottles of red wine (Check!)

Large bottle of Exedrin Migraine (Check!)

Massage appointment scheduled (Still need)

Have key phrases memorized, such as "I can't help you, just do your best.  I can't give you the answer, just do your best.  If you're stuck, come back to it, and do your best.  I know, honey, just do your best."  (Check!)

Cattle prod for students who just aren't working (Still need)

Deep breathing exercises (Still need)

A miracle (Still need)

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Single Woman Saturday

Single on a Saturday night?  Needing tips on how to make it work with your latest romantic interest?  Take some of these dating tips and experience success!








One Year Later

In the past year, a lot has happened to me.  All the small things seem insignificant compared to the loss of my beloved father.  As the year mark of his passing approaches, I wanted to document a few of my thoughts and feelings.  Going through the grief process is incredibly wild - exhausting, frustrating, uplifting, and blessed all rolled into one.  While my intention for this blog is to remain generally lighthearted, I think it is important to not only document these life changes, but also to help others going through the same thing.  No one grieves in the same way, but maybe something I've experienced can help you.

If you're wanting something less serious, skip this post.  As I write more entries about grief, you will be able to locate them at the top under "Non-Mommy Gets Serious."


It's been a little over a year since I unexpectedly lost my dear father.  I wanted to write about it on the anniversary of his death, but the week of the anniversary of his death was extremely difficult for me.  I think that I cried more that week than I had the past year.


The past year has just been surreal.  It's really odd to understand that someone you love is really and truly gone.  The reality sets in.  If you're walking through a journey of grief, you may be wondering what it is like a year later.


First of all, you cry less.  You still cry, but not as often.  I find that on days where I am very stressed or tired, I think about him more and become emotional.  A year later, you find that little things catch you completely off guard, and sometimes, they will make you cry.  Recently, I was in church and a song my father sang often was played.  I've heard it a thousand times, but I started bawling like a baby (even though in just a few minutes, I would have to go up in front of everyone!).  


I also had an odd experience recently.  I noticed that someone was staring at me.  I had no idea who she was.  She finally approached me, and asked who my parents were.  I told her, and she smiled broadly.  She grew up on a farm near my father and attended a one room school house with him.  She recognized his face in mine.  It was difficult to swallow the lump in my throat.


One year later, I dream about him a lot more.  I remember, vividly, the first time he was in one of my dreams.  I saw him, and I couldn't stop crying because I was so happy to see him.  I didn't tell him that I was crying because he was dead, and he didn't ask.  I just remember sobbing with joy.  Later, I had dreams where I would be speaking to him on the phone and I'd ask him where he was.  He'd never answer, just say "It's three o'clock.  I have to go."  Someone later asked me if 3:00 meant something, but I don't think it does.  Now, a year afterwards, I dream about him fairly regularly, but it's not me searching for him, or crying as much.


I still think that I see him, occasionally, but not often.  This makes me sad in a way, because it's like I am accepting that he's really gone.  It almost makes me feel guilty somehow, but I couldn't tell you why.  Every once in a while, though, I'll see a man that looks like him and I catch my breath.


It is easier to talk about him a year later.  It used to be that talking about him would send me into a very sad state, but now I can speak about him without crying (for the most part - although I am crying typing this).  I still refer to him as alive every now and then, but less than I used to.  Again, this makes me incredibly sad and feel guilty.  


It's been one year and I have about the same amount of desire to visit his grave as I did when he was buried - none.  I don't know why, but I don't really care to go to his grave.  It doesn't feel like I'm visiting him when I am there.  In fact, I think I've been there maybe twice since he passed away.  Sorry, Dad, but you're not there, and I don't really want to hang around your headstone.


I have to take a moment to brag on my mother, too.  My mother has been incredibly strong.  I am so proud of her.  I cannot imagine having to live her life without my dad.  But she is moving forward, finding a path that works for her, and I am daily amazed by her ability to keep going.  If my father were here, he would literally be crying and telling her how very proud of her he is.  Well deserved praise indeed.


A year later, I have found that I have made it.  Even as an adult, I could not possibly imagine how I could live without one of my parents.  Now, I've done it.  It's not perfect, but I made it.  You can't expect everything to be ok.  It will NEVER be the same, and I still have to face a very sad prospect of life without my father.  It is still going to hurt, and you wish that everyone could keep his memory alive forever, but by God's grace, you will make it through. 


A year later and I still would absolutely love to hear his voice one more time.  I'd love to have him hug me so tightly, smelling like soap and toothpaste.  I wish he were here to give me a hard time about owning a Mac, or about how messy my car is, or telling me corny jokes.  One year down, how many more to go?


(I'm listening to this song very, very often right now.  Reminds me of him.  About three minutes in, it really gets to me.)

Friday, April 8, 2011

I Will be 95 When My Kids Graduate

Apparently, there has been some sort of conspiracy against me.   Or else, it's "National Bug the You-Know-What Out of Non-Mommy" week/year/decade/whatever.

I'm not making this up.  I'm also not really that bothered by this, but it's been a little repetitive this week/year/decade/whatever.  See if you can find what might be bugging me.


Student's parent: So, you should really take your children to that museum.  How old are your children? What?  You don't have children?  I'm sorry, I just assumed that you did, Mrs. Non-Mommy.  (How the heck do I have their child for a year and they don't know that I'm childless/not married?!  And it's MS. NON-MOMMY, thank you very much!!)


My dad, talking to someone else:  Oh, being a grandparent is just the most wonderful thing ever.  I just love that boy so much.  And I had to wait so long, too. I was beginning to think it was never going to happen!  My oldest daughter still hasn't found anyone yet.  (THANKS, Dad. Sorry I let you down! Oh geez.)


Friend who called me in the middle of the night:  I'm tired of you never being able to go out on dates with us, or that our kids can't play together.  Maybe you should go to a sperm bank!  You only have a few good years left before your eggs get old.

Insurance rep at work to talk to us about cafeteria plans, disability, etc.:  Well, Non-Mommy, is there any chance that you'll be trying for a baby soon?  If so, you definitely should sign up for disability because blah blah blah.  (No, there is no chance.)  Oh really? Not even in the next three years?  (No.) You really don't see yourself having a child in the next three years?  If there is even a chance, you should really take out this policy.  (LOOK, BUDDY, NO. If you can predict the future, then go right ahead, but no, as of now, the child forecast calls for no new action in the next three years! But thanks for the painful reminder!)  Ok, well, Non-Mommy, I also see that you're entering a new age bracket.   Now, if you are interested in taking out this policy, you really need to take it out now, because as you get older, and move into the next age bracket, it gets significantly more expensive.  (AHHHHH!!!! You have got to be kidding me.  First, children, now, you're calling me old?!  Get me out of here!  Where is the nearest exit?  Thank you for really hitting me below the belt, you fat loser!  YES, yes, I admit it, I'm no longer the cute, young teacher.  WAHHHH!!!)




Twit at a child's birthday party, where I was the only non-mother: You're going to be a great mother.  I can't wait to see what your kids look like.  (Thanks.  I'm a little curious, myself.)  So do you want to start a family any time soon?  (No. I don't.  I have a black heart.  I never want to be with anyone, or have children.  I've decided to go through life, shunning the traditional family unit and instead go to events such as this, and stare at other people's children.  What does she expect me to say? I  mutter something like "Sure, when the time is right.")  Well, have you considered single parent adoption? (Um, I don't need your help planning out my life, thanks!  And I'd kinda like the kid to have a father!   Wait. Hunkle, my sister's hot brother in law is available.  Maybe I should go work on him!   We'd have gorgeous children!  Excuse me while I go seduce this man who is physically a million times out of my league.)


Student who is going to give me gray hair before my time, in the middle of a lesson about the branches of government:  How come you're not married?  And don't have kids?   I've never had a teacher who wasn't married before.  Have you tried internet dating?


My own mother!!! (Holding my nephew on her lap.) All I need now, Non-Mommy, is another baby on my other leg. (I already have children.  With Superman.  They are currently  on another planet, safe from Lex Luther.)  [Really, Mom, I'm not mad at all.  Don't take this personally.]

But hey, no pressure.

Excuse me while I go reserve a space at the nearest nursing home, and try to convince my eggs to stay young.  And bang my head against the wall.

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