When it rains, it pours.

Two weeks in the baby sitter quit and she is worried about doing all she needs to do. Normally, I could roll with the punches on this one. But I can’t. I cried. It is too much. Honestly, how much is a person supposed to handle? I already struggled with her being the the first kiddo I have not been there for 100% and now the baby sitter she calls “my babysitter” is not gonna be her baby sitter. I  am not mad at her. The exact reason she is quitting is the exact reason we were a bit leery in hiring her. We were convinced we could pay her enough to make it work. Not the case. That is unless of course we could pay what a 40 hour week normal job would pay. And we could but that is far above the average wage for this area and it is a 3 day a week job.

So we do have some other options, but I didn’t really want to be interviewing and making decisions out of desperation and the immediate need for help. Our options seem viable and maybe even more reliable. And some may ask why not day care? You know they will be there. And that is certainly an option but my own screwed up sense of right and wrong thanks to OCD struggles with child care and this horrified version of it. And no…I know none of it true. Well not entirely. I have seen some shady dealings at day care in my parenting day and those things stand strong in my mind. But more than anything OCD reminds of all the germs in those places and those germs unidentified equal “unsafe” and remember when I look at things in the world they are labeled “unsafe” and “safe” and so basically it is my own issue and I may just have to get over it.

I have gone and made my family upset at me because I opted to leave my # 2 and # 3 home from the funeral. The #2 was the obvious issues of anyone that knows her and yes I could have taken her and would have become exhausted at the barrage of questions on why she is acting the way she is. Again I need that damn sign to hang around her neck and one for mine that says, “Leave me alone. I am with her.” I needed to grieve on Friday. I needed to be in that moment. So did my guy. It was just better off. And # 3 didn’t come cause she was sick. Why drag a cranky, snotty three year old to a funeral when you don’t have to and have a baby sitter already paid? She ended up sleeping most of the day anyway.

Oh and the icing on my cake is my students were supposed to have access to the internet to use their ipads. The majority of the novels I have assigned you have to have access to the internet to even get them. They don’t have them and I cannot assume they can get them at home. I had to go with plan b or C. The upside of that is all of this week we are exploring mood and tone in the blues. The job is good. There are few students I am trying to figure out and have pushed me to my boundaries and suffered the wrath. But there are those few students who remind me why I do this. They just need someone to have faith in them and remind them the can do it. But I do love it. I think I need to let go of that idea that I will be for everyone. I won’t. It is hard to accept.

I need some peace. I need some love. I need some silence. I hope to get a little bit of it all soon.


Death and Me. . . We AIN’T friends.

I haven’t really experienced death all that much. My grandmother passed and my guys grandparents. But I did this week. My grandfather passed. I spent most of my life within a stone’s throw of him literally. Blocks away for most of my childhood. Then my guy and I bought our first house we were blocks away. There was just always a special fondness there.

I knew he was sick and I knew the direction it was headed. But my work allowed me to push it off to tell myself there was more time. I knew it got really bad last week. My mom encouraged me to come and see him one last time. I will be honest I refused. I couldn’t see him like that anymore. I knew too much. He wasn’t himself. I know there was judgement out there but the grandpa I remember and loved would never ever want me to see him in the manner he was in even if it was the last time I saw him.

I saw him as I will always remember him at Christmas time. He didn’t have an oxygen tank, or an adult diaper. He was not in pain. He fixed me a huge glass of instant ice tea. I am not a huge fan of instant but it taste good. Somehow he managed to be the one person who made it taste alright. We reminisced as we often have the last few times I saw him. We talked about the few years my guy and I lived down the road. We both knew that time was special.

He taught us things about being a homeowner. And when my guy was off during football or police stuff I would take my lonely self to his house hoping for my grandma’s latest meal. We would sit and talk for hours and eventually I was pregnant and he loved to put his hand on my belly and feel her. We laughed and talked about what she would be, who she would be and he was proud.

But back to that time, we talked about a lot that day. My girls were there playing in toys and he played with them too. Or tried. It was  hard for him even then to breath but he never let that stop him. He wore his signature slippers and Kmart jeans with a white shirt. He joked with me about bring “that” meaning my guy. We laughed some more.

When I announced we had to leave. Before I could get up he was standing next to Kyle and I and he gave us the biggest hug. I rushed and grabbed my camera wanting to grab a picture of him and my grandma with my girls announcing, “You never know when we will get to do this again.” The ironic thing is I got into the car and knew and felt it would be the last picture I would snap. I even said so to my guy.

I would be lying if I said I would not have wanted to see him one more time.  That man, he left soon after that Christmas visit. He soon found out his cancer had returned, quickly had surgery and truthfully, has slipped ever since.

So yesterday naturally at the funeral people trickle to see this body, this person, this caricature of a body that was.  And they push me forward or wonder why I won’t walk up. I just can’t and won’t. It isn’t avoiding. It just isn’t my thing. That person isn’t a person anymore in the physical sense.

The sermon by the preacher reiterated my very point and family tried to use that against me to convince me walking up the do and just thing to do and maybe it was for them. By view not all that different. I know he was there yesterday. Not the body and no matter how many times I walked by the casket and looked at this man it wouldn’t ever be my grandpa again.

My grandpa was the one in the car with me pushing me to go. He was the one that gave me the courage to write a special memory that seemed to tie it all together. I so profusely did not want a public display of my grief that I could not read what I wrote and I had someone else do so. My words still echoed just the same. My grandpa kept me there in that second row snuggled in my guys arms. He helped my guy to carry his coffin to its destination. And he kept me walking when I was blind to tears.

With my life and decisions I make I try really hard to make decisions that I know I can live with. Others often don’t understand them or say hurtful things because they don’t agree with them. But that is  because even though I am public here in this space, I am private in my life.

I always welcome others to talk to me about them, not attack me. I walked into that funeral yesterday with only my #1 and I heard more than one person ask me why. The whole way home I cried about the things that were said to me. But I know in reality that no one lives this life. My life. No one knows the hardships that my guy and I face and the decision to have #2 stay home was no different. And maybe some people don’t agree with what we decided, but I welcome others to ask why and I am happy to share.

More than anything I know that I am my grandfathers grand daughter because I did what he would have done and that is proceed how I saw best to proceed. No one else matters. Sure their thoughts hurt, but mostly because they never bother to educate themselves passed them. I know if they did they would understand.

So the day was sad. I am still sad. But I know it will get better.

He’s gone: Just Write.

Have you ever fought back tears in front of a room full of teenagers. I am actually grateful they were there. I couldn’t soak it in. I could just let it bounce off. My eyes a little watery. They dripped. I blamed allergies and giggled it off. Inside I knew.

I looked at the clock this morning on my drive to work. I knew then. I said to myself, “Today’s the day.” He will be gone. He hasn’t eaten in over a week. It won’t be long now. And two hours later the call came. That time. The time on the clock. It was the time he took his last breath.

How did that land on my hear in that moment at that time? But it did. And I felt relief. Relief for no more suffering. And relief that he can now see me. See my life. Sometimes they don’t understand. Why I do what I do. What it is like to be me.

I think he got it. I felt like he did. He was never one that jumped at me with all the reasons why I was wrong. He just enjoyed the moments I was there. He didn’t tell me how I should just flip that OCD switch off. It doesn’t exist world because if it did. I would flip it. It would make life more simple and make sense. But it doesn’t. I don’t have it.

So off to a funeral I go. Decisions to make. Do I take # 2? Can she even handle such a social setting? And right now? Am I ready to be sad like that? I am not sure I am. What is my choice really? I will be there. I will grieve and cry. I will survive. It is what he would want us to do. Survive and celebrate him in another way. I imagine my guy and I will memorialize him in our own way. He was special to us for such a sweet and special time in our lives. And I know that due to us is a special dinner where we toast to him in only a way he would appreciate.

His favorite song…His favorite song.

MommyJargon Reports In!

It seems like forever since my last post!  I am happy to report that our new pet is still alive.  I was a little worried for awhile!  He has to be pretty tough for life around here.  Youngest loves to drive him around in a little Lego car and puts him in Lego houses he makes.  See, toughness is required!


My Barbie photos were a huge hit with my family.  My aunt from New York was in town visiting last week and she told us about her upcoming trip to Paris this fall.  Guess who went home with a Barbie?  Yep, my aunt!  So the traveling, photogenic Barbie will be back again someday!

I am wishing that I could travel a little closer to home next week; the Create Chicago Retreat looks like so much fun!  If I were going, I would have a very hard time deciding on which workshops to attend!  They all sound amazing!  Unfortunately, the cost is not something I have been planning for, nor did I plan ahead and find a buddy to tag along with me.

Painted Lace Cuffs

In more recent news (hee hee!) the first day of school was today for my kiddos.  Oldest was super excited.  It was her first day at Middle School and we live close enough that she gets to walk with the other neighborhood kiddos.  She ended up having a really fantastic day.  I was not worried about her though, we had already found out that she was in a class with all of her buddies.

The one I was worried about was Middle.

Middle was less enthusiastic to start today as a third grader.  He has never been one to actually want to go to school.  Luckily, he doesn’t actually complain or put up any kind of fight about going though.  His face was so sad though as he headed out for the bus.  I probably would have teared up except Husband was still home and he would have made fun of me.  We knew he wasn’t in the same class as his best friend, and to top it off, Husband forgot to take Middle to Back To School Night last week while I was out with my aunt and mom.  So he hadn’t met his teacher and didn’t know where his classroom was.  Now you see why I was tearing up!  Poor Middle!  He ended up doing fine though.

Youngest is going to start preschool after Labor Day and even then it will only be two days a week.  So we were on our own today.  I thought he would be really bored and missing the older kiddos, but he did great.  He was stuck like glue to Middle when he got home though!

Saturday Sharing – My Truths

I’d be lying if I said my blog won’t change from my working full time now. It will. I will work it out to blog everyday eventually. It won’t be right now and it won’t be in the next week. But I will. I have already made sure to set boundaries with no blogging at work. My school is a 1:1 ipad school and what that means is I have to preach daily the importance of students separating their personal selves with their public selves. What a great opportunity to model that for them. Plus the thought of the two mingling is scary to me right now. When I am in front of them I am professor or Mrs. I am not MR. What that means is my blog posts will take planning, scheduled posts and more thought because I know you don’t always want to hear about teaching.

So my sharing for today is simple. I promise to share this transition in my life and my adjustments to it as timely as I can. I share that I will not disappear into the oblivion of dead and gone blogs.  And last but not least I promise to always share my true self. Recently I have been accused that that is not happening. And that is fine but it is just an opinion and I take it as such. Life is far too short to try and please and convince everyone of who I am.

I always revert back to the old saying…. PERCEPTION IS REALITY. What you get here is Mommy Rhetoric’s perception of MY WORLD. No one else’s and I speak for nobody else. I speak for me. I am passed the stage in my life where I will apologize for who I am on here or in the real world. If you don’t like, it is fairly simple. Take your mouse to the top right and click that glaring red x. If you know me in real life and feel the same, “Well great!” Same thing just apply it to life by exiting from mine. It may seem heartless, but I am over pleasing and answering to anyone else. I know who I answer to. It is God, it is my family and it is me.

I am proud of who I am. What I have become and how I feel like as a wife, mother, teacher, friend, sister, daughter in law and really the list goes on. I can spend my whole life worrying about impressing you or you or even you and never win. Or I can spend my life being me and surrounding myself with those who love me for me. Life is too short and too precious to get caught up anywhere else.

Take note: I will never ever address this again. If you choose to read my blog and accept that that means you know me inside and out then you are three steps by behind. I am a real person, with real feelings with a real life. So refer to the above and proceed accordingly.

When one door opens another closes.

I have told you all before my grandfather is at deaths door. Well all measures that can be made, have been made and are done. No more given. Any life sustaining options shut down. A morphine drip added into his arm. His only real connection to this world. They call it comfort care, I call it get  yourself ready for a funeral time. And I hate it.

I actually hate it so much I could puke. He is sick. Horribly violently sick even with comfort care. So why the hell do they call it that? And how do I handle all of this when I start a new job? Start the last year of my Masters Education next week? To say I am life overwhelmed is an understatement.

And leaving my girls to work full time has been especially hard and way more emotional than I ever could have predicted. I am shocked it hit me as hard as it did. I mean I have worked the last two years. But now I leave when they do and I don’t get home till 5:30 really. I miss them, I feel detached from them. I have wanted them to sleep with me every night for the last week.

Oh and then there is more….it is the first of the year which means #2 and her issues are at an all time high. Two days this week I had to physically make her go to school. Through no fault of anyone, or any situation. It was merely her issues. I know this. But her way of coping. Blaming me. Why do I leave her? All she really wants is me there. That part of her doesn’t understand this job gives me the ability to get her 75 sessions of therapy if she needs them versus the 10 with our previous insurance. It also gives me more cash in my pocket to help her. Instead what she is seeing is her life changing so fast she can’t handle it. I feel that way sometimes too! So I hug her a little tighter and pray a little harder.

It has to get easier I know. But when in the midst of it, it feels like so much.


It is the ups and downs and then up and then and then up…

You get the picture right? It is bound to be ridiculous weird and awkward when your first day in your new school, your new room with your new students is done so with cameramen in the room. Holy shit the nerves. I would love to say it was all graceful and engaging. But it wasn’t. It was a harried bus duty. WTH is bus duty? Member folks I never helped my college students to the bus or to their parents car. And one of my students for the life himself or me couldn’t get his locker opened. Then Mrs MR YOU NEED TO GET TO YOUR CLASSROOM! Oh that is what I am supposed to do. Running, ended up in my first period class, frazzled, late, hot and sweaty. With two camera photographers and a video guy (Don’t believe me? Watch this!). I try and play professional as I sweat my ass off. But I know at one point I was just randomly saying words that I have no clue what they were.

Then all these people who I have no idea who they are come into my room and look at me judging. And maybe they weren’t but hey I am the new girl feeling just a little thrown to the wolves. I stumbled through that period and thanked my holy stars that I have prep period 2nd. I metaphorically picked myself up, dusted myself off and promised each period was a new beginning. Then two minutes before I thought 3rd period was to begin I looked down at my schedule and realized nope. HOMEROOM! Honestly, I just knew at that point I should leave and beg for my old job back!

I nervously scoured for my homeroom list and prepared. They walked in and what happened was a little bit miracle a little bit divine intervention. I got the greatest group of homeroom kids I could imagine. They were a bundle of positive energy and so curious about me. One girl in particular I have known for awhile and kind of watched her grow up. The even better news I realized that this group was my group. The concept of our school is relationships and it was my job to mentor, guide and lead this crew. And we fit well and over the last week as we have spent almost 2.5 hours together throughout the day I have realized that I am lucky. From there it had to get better and it did.

I quickly learned in the first day how a high school teacher acts. They scowl, say “good morning” or “afternoon”, they give couples standing too close the nudge to pull apart, they talk students through locker jitters, they remind them, “YES, lanyards have to be warn.” We act rough, tough and like we mean business. And maybe we do or maybe we just want to get into the classroom and get you learning. I realized 9th graders find freaking loopholes for everything. I mean seriously.

And yea, I may just be that “crazy” teacher, but that crazy teacher has had an amazing but exhausting week. I have cried about every day. Usually mom related but sometimes job related. I do really well with the teaching and the relationships  but the paperwork, the “have to do it this way or that” I struggle. But ironically that is what I think my students like about me.  I tell them all the time, be open, be mindful and don’t be everyone else. The rest will come with time. I am putting it all together and by the 2nd day I was ready for the real stuff.

And that happened yesterday. I got to introduce novel history to my students and they were so eager to talk, they were constantly with hands raised and asking more and more questions. They loved sharing what they knew about classic novels and contemporary novels.

But I am glad to come back to you hear my dear blog. Where I don’t have to say the same thing 6 periods a day. I know what you expect from me. Merely just words on a page. I don’t have to try and figure out what it is my students are referencing (manga/monga anyone?).

It is Friday and I was ready to leave but the good news I still want to go back!


Drifting Away – 30 Days of Truth

Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.

It has been awhile since the 30 days of truth have graced my blog. That last one was a hard one to get over. This one is equally as hard. I often get asked about my siblings. Sometimes I say it all and sometimes I don’t. But when I claim them all I always add a preface to explain my “weird” relationships with my siblings. I have three siblings.

My oldest sister is my guys age. She has three kiddos herself and is an amazingly strong inspiration to me. Many times in my life she lead me and protected me with a motherly type grace adding in a few cuss words cause she is known for ungraceful mouth. We look a lot alike and often get told we are “twin” like. But there is one massive difference. I am 5 feet 5 inches and she is 4 feet 9 inches. She is height challenged and I look like a giant next to her. I am so proud of her and what she has done with her life. All of my girls have some connection to her somehow. Here is the touchy part. We have the same parents therefore making her my “real” sister.

I fought to my death growing up that my other siblings were just as real. I loved them just as much and was just as close to them. Then we grew up and now we just share a mother that somehow tries to keep us all connected. Life changes, our directions changed and our views on life changed. I have a younger sister who, hope you will forgive me, I don’t even know her age anymore. My girls don’t really know her as their aunt. She is now married and has a child of her own. #1 got to experience some of life with her around but eventually she met a boy and that changed. Some could say good some could say bad. All I will say is the last time my girls saw her was for a party when my #2 was barely a few months old. I did go to her wedding a year or so later but I wasn’t a part of it and really watched from inside a building.

It actually kind of embarrasses me that it is that way because I have friends who would kill for a sister. But we just can’t get it right. I am a stubborn ass who has a lot of water of the bridge there that I am not willing to wade through and I suspect the same may hold true for her too. I never wish her any ill will and actually send nothing but love. I have reached out a few times and offered for us to be closer for her to know my girls and I her son but it just didn’t happen hence the water. I, for a fact, know that she reads my blog fairly regularly and I guess at times that makes me happy because she knows they exist and they are doing so well but I miss not knowing her son. At other times it makes me upset because I wonder if you go to the effort to read, why not go to the effort to return phone calls or emails. It just doesn’t happen.

I thankfully through faith have made as much peace as I can with this and know for now it has to be this way. I am sad about it and I miss that little sister who I loved so much. We just are not the same people and we don’t seek out the same things in life. But she is and will always be my real sister.

Then there is a brother. A much younger brother. He is an awesome kid. Our disconnect isn’t the same as above. It is just age and distance. We are 14 years apart. He was my momma’s late in life baby and we have always had more of a aunt/nephew relationship. I wish I could see him more but he is a poppa now and has a serious girlfriend. He is working, going to school and just trying to figure life out at his age. I get that and know with time that relationship can and will exist again.

Thankfully, I get to see him much more than sister #2. He usually attempts to come to my house once a year and see us. And his daughter, his baby girl has even made in my 365 photos. She is adorable and I just adore her am so grateful I get to have a relationship with her and so do my girls.  I pray and worry about him so much, but I trust that in time he will get it right. His heart is always in the right place in life.

Why the drifting away? I have just concluded for myself that life is like this for me. People come in and out. I even told my friend last night that my idea of important friendships and family is so different or even progressive. Some people you have a choice over and some you don’t. Some you need to let go and some you need to hold on fiercely too. I am never sure if it is right or wrong and I wish my girls could know both my brother and sister the way I knew them growing up. They are amazing and special people who will do/have done amazing and special things. And I know in my heart we will reconnect and that drift will move closer.


It may not be happening daily, but it will happen 30 times….My 30 Days of Truth