Dude

Dude, I’m exhausted. And so is Dan. This weather mixed with our crazy schedules are draining us. I mean, hell, if Mother Nature could throw us a bone and give us some 70 degree weather and sunshine then I’m sure we could muster up some energy. But this hot mess of a Spring we are having is making us crabby and want to take naps.

The girls, Dan and I have finally gotten into a routine with me teaching, which makes life a bit easier. But because I am a gluten for punishment, I am also busy doing photoshoots nights and weekends. Oh, and I am also researching about graduate programs. And figuring out childcare for next year. And you’d think that once I cross one of these things off my list I rejoice and kick my feet up to relax, but nooooo. I decide to add another ‘to-do’ on the list and keep on trucking. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I enjoy being crazy busy and completely exhausted.

On a completely different note- holy shit, La Toya Jackson looks a hot mess these days. I’m not even sure where to start. I randomly turned on TV and saw her on Celebrity Apprentice and wow. Wow. Her face looks like a wax mold.

So on this Easter Sunday, I lay here in bed ready to pass out. I still have to pull out my work clothes, pack my lunch and take my damn bra off. Oh the agony.

Hood rat

I am learning as much, if not more, then my students. You see, I am working in an inner city school. And it is pretty amazing.

There are a lot of awesome, wonderfully hilarious and ridiculous things about this job and this school. Let me digress.

First is the amazing response I get when I tell people I work in East Cleveland. I have been asked:

1. Do you wear a bullet proof vest to work?

2. How BAD are the kids?

3. What are the parents like?

4. You don’t want to work there long-term, right?!?

5. Are all of your co-workers black?

6. Are all of your students black?

No vest. The children are rowdy and sassy, but what do you expect from 26 ten year olds? The parents have heads, two arms and two legs- similar to other parents you would see in other schools. There are also aunts, grandmothers and grandfathers involved. Believe it or not, I prefer working with inner city children or at-risk youth. My co-workers are from all different backgrounds. The 26 students in my class are black.

 

People nearly go into cardiac arrest when they hear that all of my students are black, but it really isn’t that big of a deal. Nor should it be a big deal. I am the teacher. They are my students. And that is about it.

 

These kids are effin’ hilarious. The things I hear in the classroom- my oh my. My day flies by because they keep me on my toes.

They like to talk about each others mommas. The boys tell the girls that they are hood rats. There is a lot of lip smacking, eye rolling and attitude. One of the students told me that the school was, “like slavery.” So yeah, you could say they are a bit dramatic.

My first day in the classroom was, umm, a bit rough. Those kids pushed me as far as they could push me and it was a struggle. But come Tuesday morning I was prepared with an arsenal of behavior management tools that could take on a classroom three times the size. By 10am I had those kids walking in straight silent lines, sitting at their desks with hands folded and engaging in the lessons. Take THAT, skeptics.

I know teachers who would prefer not to work than work in an inner city school. And to me, that is just plain sad. The schools that are struggling are the schools that need our help, not the Blue Ribbon buildings. The kids I am working with now also need more than a teacher. They need a mentor, they need someone to look out for them, they need to be shown love and compassion more then any other group of children I have worked with before.

I could stand on this soapbox for a lifetime, preaching about education in our country, teaching and how it is all screwed up, but I won’t.

Life as a working mom

I’ve always been a working mom, but as a photographer my schedule allowed for me to do most of my shoots, editing and meetings at night or on the weekend, when Dan the Man was able to watch the children. But now? Now I am in the classroom. Working Monday thru Friday. Eight hours a day.

 

The girls are with my wonderful father two days a week and that both helps us with daycare costs, but more importantly, with the girls easing into the whole mommy is going to work thing. The other three days they go to a neighbors house who has two boys of her own. She is wonderful. Beyond wonderful. And a teacher. It is an ideal situation in terms of childcare.

 

And the verdict about being a stay at home mom versus a working mom?

 

I’m not sure if this makes me a bad mother, but I am actually enjoying the work/life balance and getting some time to pursue my own career and passions. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the time I spend with my girls. They are the center of my world and being a mom is the best and most important job I will ever have. But, I don’t think being a mother defines me, rather it is one piece of the puzzle that makes up my life.

 

I was starting to get burned out being at home. I found myself getting irritated at the girls for things that I shouldn’t be getting irritated at. Snapping at them. Getting angry at myself. And wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I felt there was something missing and that maybe this was causing me to get all pissy pants.

 

My daily routine allows me to come home after work and spend 3-4 hours with the girls before they go to bed. And days like today, a snow day, are bonuses on top of holidays off, summers off and other miscellaneous days off.

 

The girls have adjusted very slowly to this. The first week Mel-Bell told me that she wanted to “keep me” and that she wanted to go to work with me. When I picked her up from the neighbor’s house, she literally burst into tears because she was so excited to see me. It broke my heart.

 

JuneBug has been very fussy. She still hasn’t gotten into her rhythm with napping while I am at work. The poor neighbor cannot even leave a room without her screaming to be held. She ends up carrying her around in the sling most of the day. JuneBug is extra clingy and more sensitive then normal, but I know she will get used to this. And I know, for both of the girls, that this experience will help them grow.

 

My work in the classroom thus far has been rewarding. I am at a school that is in an urban area of Cleveland. My entire class is made up of black students. People are horrified when I tell them that I (a) work in East Cleveland (they try to clarify and ask if I work on the east side of Cleveland and I tell them, no, I actually work in East Cleveland) or (b) that my entire class is black. I don’t think either is particularly horrifying.

 

So. So far, so good. Things haven’t been perfect with the transition, but it has gone as good as anyone could expect. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

To blog or not to blog

Let me preface this debate with the exciting news that I will be starting a new job on Monday. As a teacher. For the first time. Ever.

 

After two degrees and countless hours of classes, I’m excited to be starting my career. And one of the best parts of this career choice is that I am still able to maintain my photography business. That and the summers off.  And getting off of work at 3:45p.  I’m also looking forward to having my kids gaining a little independence while going into a home daycare 3 days a week. I’m also starting to get preemptively tired because, holy shiz, my days are going to be long. I know all of the working mothers who are reading this are probably giving me the side eye right now. Dan the Man seems to think the days will be longer, but possibly more fulfilling because I will have a career and family now, instead of just the latter.

 

But, now I am stuck with the question: To blog or not to blog? I know a lot of teachers have to be very careful on Facebook and any other public internet forum. So, should I just work more carefully and not write anything controversial (which may be impossible) or just stop blogging? Or blog anonymously?  I’ve been debating this for the past month, while I have been job searching and interviewing.

 

I’m not sure if I have made a decision yet or am anywhere close to making a decision.

My first blog giveaway!

If you follow me on Twitter, Facebook or stalk me in real life, you know my current obsession is with my schweet new necklaces. Necklaces made by my daddio. Also known as Papa T. He has a new jewelry collection made up of handstamped, handmade, super unique necklaces, bracelets and earrings. Me, personally, am a necklace kind of gal, so I asked him ever so nicely to make me something. And he did!

My first necklace. Two photos of the Handstamped Heart and Initial Necklace:

And my second necklace. Antiquity Necklace with Two Beads and Handstamped Disc:

I love wearing them together.

You can purchase items from Concorde Artisans through the website or through the Etsy page. There is a great selection of handmade pieces, but the best part is my dad also does a lot of custom orders. For example, for my second necklace I wanted a German coin on it. My dad went through the hundreds of thousands of coins that my grandfather collected over 60+ years and found me the perfect coin. My necklace, just like every other piece of his collection, is one of a kind.

And because I think everyone else needs to see how really interesting, unique and pretty awesome his handmade jewelry is, I told him I wanted to do a giveaway on my blog.

So here are the details….

One lucky winner will have one of three options. (a) A necklace just like my Handstamped Heart and Initial Necklace pictured above (b) A necklace just like my Antiquity Necklace with Two Beads and Handstamped Disc (with a coin from your country of choice) or (c) Something else you find on his Etsy page or website valued at $40 or less.

To Enter:

Visit the Concorde Artisans website or Etsy page and leave a comment below telling me what your favorite piece of jewelry is.

One Extra Entry (Leave a separate comment):

Tweet about this giveaway and link people back to the blog post.

Giveaway ends Friday, February 4th at 11:59pm EST. I will e-mail the winner. No compensation was received for this giveaway. Two necklaces were provided for review because my daddio loves me! The opinions are my own.

And anxiety gone

Or at least some of it.

For the last 2.5 years, since the Mel-Bell was born, I have been stressing out about family photos. Since I am a photographer maybe I put more pressure on myself? Or maybe this is a normal mother thing. Either way, the anxiety has been building since Day One of Parenthood about organizing photos into an album.

Aaaaaand flash forward to a few weeks ago, aproximately 2.5 years later, I am still anxiety ridden about family photo albums. But after hearing banter on Twitter about other mom’s catching up on their shiz I decided to do it.

Oh. Mah. Gawd. Did that freaking suck. Never will I ever (I hope) let photographs go that long without being organized. Per the usual, I took an ungodly large number of photos of our first born. Based on my calculations, I took AT LEAST 2.3 photos a day of her for the first year of life. Trying to pull that shat together was torture. Beyond torture.

But FINALLY I organized it all. And five albums, two and a half years and two children later, I am pretty much done. Thank you baby jeebus.

In other news, I am so sad and so delighted that my little JuneBug is changing from a ball o’ fat to a sassy, soon to be, one year old. I am excited to say goodbye to the days when she is crying for no apparent reason and needs multiple different steps to be followed to be laid down to bed. To throw away the bottles and stop buying formula. But as she gets older I realize that having a baby around the house is slipping through my fingers like sand and her milestones are most likely the last baby milestones we will ever see.

She is THISCLOSE to walking. She is starting to have opinions about things. She has favorite toys. She knows screaming will sometimes get her way. Where did my rolly polly newborn go?

And, because only the coolest of the cool dress alike, I have decided to bless my girls with the tramatic experience of being dressed like twins. Every. Chance. I. Get.

Hey, mister, you are a douche bag

Last weekend, to celebrate the New Years holiday, we headed
up to Peek N’ Peak for a weekend of skiing, snowboarding and family
fun. It was Dan the Man, our two girls, Dan’s niece and her
husband, their two kids and moi. We did the usual. Skied and
boarded, swam, played at the indoor playground, ate, drank and were
generally merry.

On one fateful evening we were leaving the main
resort area to take the shuttle back to our condo. With four kids
in tow, we were pretty anxious to get on that shuttle. The kind of
anxiousness that makes you eye ball the concierge and body check
anyone that thinks they are going to get on before you. Luckily, we
didn’t have to do either because the shuttle arrived fairly
quickly.

We go to hop on the bus and realize it is kind of full. Oh
shiz. One of the male adults in our group says, “Oh lets wait for
the next one.” Another female adult says, “We can just stand.” And
I side with the latter. We were close to bedtime, I had forgotten a
bottle for JuneBug and I wanted to get on that damn shuttle. Plus,
when the people on the shuttle see that we are dragging four young
children with us, they insist we just hop on. So we do. The people
already on the bus also graciously insist, INSIST, that we take
their seats while they stand. We try to tell them over and over
that it is just as easy to stand, but they INSIST.

So we are doing twister on the bus trying to move around and get seats that we
really don’t need, but feel bad telling them for the 834784th time
that we don’t really need them. So we sit. And unknown to us
the concierge tells the driver to drop us off first. Probably
because we look all pathetic and tired with the four kids while the
other group was a little tipsy and full of life. The other group
has to go about 100 yards and our destination is probably 3/4 mile.
So, not far in either direction. One of the guys already on the bus
gets all happy happy with us and the bus driver and drops the
driver a $20 tip while we are all getting close and personal before
the bus starts moving.

And then. And then it happens.

The bus starts moving towards our destination.

Tipsy Guy: Umm, where are you going?

Driver: My boss told me to drop these people off first?

TG: Are you kidding me?

Miscellaneous people on the bus: What?!? WHAT?!? You’ve got to be kidding me. This is ridiculous. OH MY FREAKING GOD. ::::mass hysteria insues::::

TG: This is effin’ ridiculous. This is total bullshit. TOTAL BULLSHIT.

Driver: My boss told me to drop them off first.

TG: I just tipped this asshole $20. OH MY GOD. This is bullshit. What the eff is wrong with this guy.

Our group: :::::silence….pins drop….averting eyes::::

TG: YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. WHERE THE HELL IS THIS PLACE?!?

Random Chick: HOW LONG IS THIS GOING TO TAKE US?!? ::::we are now about 30 seconds into the drive, about 50 feet from the condo now:::

TG: THIS IS GODDAMN RIDICULOUS. WHAT THE HELL?!?!

::::driver pulls into condo and we hastily get out while Tipsy Guy is now arguing with a member of his group:::

I mean, are you kidding me? We were on that bus for about 2 minutes AT THE MOST
and this guy literally lost his shit. His family was also losing
their shit. Some yelling at the driver, some yelling at the guy.
Meanwhile, he is swearing like a douche bag in front of all of the
kids and talking in a very aggressive manner while they are all
sitting there wide-eyed. Once off the bus the guys talked about how
he deserved to be punched in the face. And, he did. And I think if
he would have taken that any further one of the guys in our group
would of done it. But beyond our little run in with the little
drunk loser, we had a great trip. It was nice to get away and spend
some time with family.

Want to see something horrifying?

Ummm. Holy shit.

Let me go ahead and make all of your wishes come true this holiday season by saying, yes, this is in fact me. I was probably about 9 years old.

My parents broke this photo out at some point within the last year and they think it is super hilarious to display it in random parts of the house. Like, for example, I walked into their house yesterday and this was on their weird ass Christmas reindeer thing. Right in the middle of the kitchen.

There are several things wrong with this photo- many of these, I’m sure, you can point out yourself.

1. My glasses. My mom tried to convince me yesterday that I put someone else’s glasses on for the photo. WRONG. These are the horrific glasses I wore when I was nine, MOTHER. You bought these for me. There is a special place in hell for people who buy glasses like this for their children.

2. My outfit. What in god’s name am I wearing? I look like a total assjacket. My pants, which I can only assume are stirrups, are damn near an inch away from my nips. And, somehow, these super flattery pants have made my 9 year old body look like a frumpy middle-aged woman with some FUPA issues.

3. My hair. Matted. Headband. ::::puke::::

4. My birthday. Oh yes, this is the outfit my mother decided to dress me in for MY FREAKING BIRTHDAY. If this is how I was dressed on that special day of the year, I cannot even imagine what she put me in when we went to the grocery store.

5. Earrings. The cute hooker hoop earrings are a nice touch. My dad told me yesterday that those, like the glasses, were borrowed. Umm, from who? No one. Those were mine. You dressed your daughter like a hooker, daddio, please come to terms with this.

I remember looking back at pictures of my brother at several of our Easter celebrations and my mom, every year, dressed him like a sad little leprechaun.  So I guess it is only fitting that I have this horrific photo floating around.

This photo also begs the question- did my parents do heavy drugs while we were children? Or, did they do heavy drugs while they were young adults, enough so that their sense of judgment was permanently impaired? Or did they just hate us? Me thinks it might be a little bit of each.

Even though I look simply pathetic in the picture, I still love looking at it. It (a) boosts my self-confidence because, let’s be honest, you have nowhere to go but up from that sad state (b) reminds me to never let me girls ever leave the house looking like this, EVER, and (c)brings back memories of my great-grandmother.

Our birthdays were a week apart and every single year we celebrated them together. I was, and still am, terrified of the birthday song. I hate the attention and it makes me feel so uncomfortable…I know, I know, I’m not 9 anymore and I need to get over it. Either way, people singing happy birthday to both me and my great-grandmother somehow made it a little easier for me to tolerate.

We called her Bubba, which is the American translation of Baba (meaning grandmother). She lived until I was 18 years old, a few months before her 95 birthday. When we would spend time together she would tell me lots of great stories about her life. Sailing across the ocean and coming to America on the Carpathia. How she always wanted a baby doll for Christmas, but her mother always bought her a ribbon instead. And the days when she went to secret speakeasies (because she was a bad ass).

So, despite the fact that this photo makes me want to puke a little in my mouth, I don’t mind it being displayed because it reminds me of such a wonderful person I had in my life.

Want a glimpse into hell?

About two weeks ago I got the stomach flu. I know, wah, wah, wah, poor me. It sucked, but I muscled my way through it with some help from My Lover, Dr. A. You see, I e-mailed him out of desperation, asking for ANY help/advice to make me feel better. He offered advice that really did help and within a few hours I was on the mend. But, that is not the glimpse into hell I was referring to.

Almost a week goes by and neither of the kids gets sick. I’m thinking, “Hell to the yeah!” I plan a girls night out with a friend and some of her friends and off I go to see Chelsea Handler and enjoy a superb dinner and some red wine. I roll back into the house around 11pm (yeah, I know, WAY past my bedtime) and am presented with a 2 year old. A 2 year old who is puking every ten minutes. I’m interpreting this as god’s punishment for going out and thus will be putting any fun on hold until I can confirm.

So Mel-Bell is puking like crazy until 4am at which point I am exhausted and she is exhausted. She is begging to lay in her bed and go to sleep. So I put her in bed and she sleeps. Until 6:15am. When she wakes, yells for us and I inform Dan the Man, in my Darth Vader voice, that I need him to get up with her because I had gotten about an hour of sleep. He gets a little sassy, but dutifully gets her up. And she is, as expected, covered in puke.

Side Note: Dan the Man so wonderfully let me stay out with the girls and enjoy the comedy show because he knows I barely get out to do these sorts of things and he wanted me to enjoy my night before I entered the depths of hell. For that, I am very thankful.

I digress.

So, he lets me sleep a little more while he deals with what I have now labeled as Pukegate 2010. 8:30am and I am up. Both girls are up. And Mel is still puking. It is breaking my heart and Dan the Man’s heart to see her so sick.

Fast forward to Monday evening and the kid is STILL puking. This is going on four days people. In the meantime, in an effort to be a good little girl for Santa and get in the holiday spirit, Mel has shared with her little sister. So now my 9 month old little JuneBug is puking. She possesses a special puking skill, though. She can pinpoint the very worst time to puke and then has projectile vomit. Everywhere.

In the carseat? Oh yeah. Twice. We tried to wash it and scrub it, but I’m not kidding, this thing needs to be power washed. Blah.

Ok, so you are probably thinking to yourself, “Umm, my kids have been sick, what is this whiny beotch complaining about?” And you would be right, but…..

In addition to two puking kids my washing machine also decides to break at the VERY MOMENT Mel-Bell got sick. And it is not one of those call a repair man easy fixes. It isn’t draining properly in our pipes and our basement floods every time we run the damn thing. So the washing machine is technically working, however we cannot run it because we have a problem with our pipes. The pipes UNDERNEATH our concrete basement floor.

So now we have piles of sheets, blankets, pillows, towels, jackets, bath robes, scarfs, stuffed animals and clothes that are covered in puke and poop that fester in our basement. I will give you a moment to comprehend that, puke in your mouth a little, and regroup…………

Yesterday we had to take Mel to the doctor because she was still puking and was starting to get seriously dehydrated. Lethargic, not as responsive as she should be, etc. The doc gave us two options:

(A) Take her to the ER to get IV fluids for 6-8 hours

or

(B) Use a mouth syringe/dropper to give her at least 5 mL of Gatorade every 30 minutes, increasing as she will tolerate

As much fun as the ER has been for us in the past, we opted for the Gatorade option and would take her to the emergency room if she didn’t perk up within a few hours. THANKFULLY she is feeling better today. All feisty and “no, mommy, NO, my turn!” with me. Still not feeling 100%, but a vast improvement. JuneBug is still puking, but she is more of a ralph and rally kind of girl. Pukes and then wants to eat some Mac N Cheese. She’s a machine.

Right now I am going to pile up our delicious lump of dirty clothes/towels/sheets/etc. and take them to my parents house to be washed. Did I mention they are now sick too?

I love family photoshoots

My favorite, FA-VOR-ITE, photoshoots to do are families. They are so relaxed. So fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, some of the coolest people I have met have been through doing weddings, but there is just something about the laid back nature of family portraiture that makes me just freakin’ love it.

Just weeks before the snow hit I did a shoot with a really cute family. We went into town and in a mere 45 minutes captured some awesome pictures that they used for their holiday cards and to frame around the house. Two birds. One stone. Booyah!