True Confessions

Tonight is the first time I've posted anything interesting (which I know is debatable) in several weeks, so I'm getting it all out of my system tonight, while the husband's at work. You're thrilled, I know.

True Confessions

I'm 40 years old, about as white bread as they come, and yet still I love "Forget about Dre" by Eminem and Dr. Dre.

I also write sentences that include "and yet still...."

True Confessions

I'm 40 years old, write and edit for a portion of my living, and I STILL cannot spell "occasionally" without having to spell check it--two c's? Two n's? Who knows?

Further Signs That I'm a Bad Parent

Emmeline's school has this thing called "happy grams." You're supposed to send notes to school occasionally, talking about something great your child did at home, which the teacher then reads aloud and posts on the blackboard. I think it's a great idea, and E really loves it when I send her to school with a happy gram--it's the least I can do, seeing as how I can't afford the tuition to send her to a school where she would by now be fluent in Mandarin or something.

Anyway--this week, I sent a happy gram to school, praising Emmeline for the fact that she had set the table all by herself one night this week. She was thrilled. Then, yesterday, when I went to pick her up from school, I stopped off at the bulletin board to peruse the happy grams. And there was E's note, praising her for setting the table, right next to the note that one her friend's mother wrote. It said something along the lines of "Sally is doing very well in the extra coursework we assign her at home. She can now count to 223, and, when using the abacus she got for Christmas, she can add sums up to 30." Our children are four. Am I supposed to be doing calculus with her at home now? How inadequate am I?

To further add to the mix, we got a notice in the mail today saying that the magnet schools in Jefferson Parish are accepting applications for next year. Kenny and I go back and forth on this idea--we're happy with her current school (my misgivings about Catholic education aside) and we don't necessarily want to move her. But, at the same time, $800/month for where she is now versus ZERO/month for a magnet school certainly makes it worth thinking about.

We applied last year, trying to get E in there this year for pre-K. We took her in for their required testing, and they said she did well. When the test scores came back, we were hopeful--she scored in the 96th percentile. Still, we knew that there were only 40 available slots for 400 children, so we weren't counting on her getting in and weren't surprised when we got the your-child-has-been-wait-listed letter.

Long story short, I called them today to see if we should even bother re-applying. I wasn't certain as to how the selection process went, as you have to score in the 75th percentile to be considered. My thinking was that if they put all of the kids' names who scored 75th percentile and above into a hat and just pulled names out until they'd reached their quota, it was pretty much impossible that she'd ever get in. But--but--if they were selecting kids based on their scores, maybe we had a chance. So, I called. Turns out, they do select kids based on their scores. But the woman said they didn't go any lower in scores than the 99.7th percentile, because the kids in the applicant pool were Just. That. Smart. So if E scored 96th percentile and they had at least 40 kids who were in the 99.7th percentile or above...yikes! Apparently, everyone but Emmeline got an abacus for Christmas last year. I don't know what we were thinking buying her that Sleeping Beauty outfit and Santa coloring book instead....

Wisdom of the Ancients

Tonight, I got to attempt to explain to Emmeline what a record player is. Needless to say, I was met with utter confusion. I can't wait until she's a teenager and I get to tell her about how I was 12 when we first got a microwave and a VCR and that I was in my mid-20's when the internet became accessible to the average person. (Of course, then I'll have to explain to her what a VCR is.) Now I know how my parents felt when they explained to me that they didn't have television until they were about eight or nine and that it was in black and white. The horror! This could be fun....

Signs That I'm a Bad Parent

Emmeline now has her very own library card. She's very excited about it, and it kept me from having to fork over the $45 in late fees that have accumulated on my card due to the Dora book that went missing in Emmeline's room for about six weeks. But kids can't rent movies with their cards, so I had to lie to E and tell her that the Muppet movie was rented out. Life's going to get a lot harder once she learns how to read and can tell when I'm lying.

I heard a news brief on the radio today that said that 75% of parents think it's important to teach their children not to lie but also admit to frequently lying to their children. I most definitely fall into this category. I will lie my ass off to E with a straight face, if it's in her (or my) best interest. Case in point? The day that Halloween costumes appeared in T.J. Maxx. There was no way in hell we were getting the sequined, bedazzled, hooker-looking cheerleading costume that she fell in love with. "Oh, I'm so sorry, honey, but they don't have that costume in your size. How about this adorable ladybug costume instead?" I'm sure you can guess what E will be for Halloween this year.

Loyalty

I love my dog, but some days, he drives me crazy. Am I the only one who has a dog that literally follows me everywhere I go? I'm serious. If I get up to go into the kitchen, he's right there with me. A side trip to the bedroom? There he is. And then he stands there and stares at me, making sure that I'm getting settled into whatever room I'm in before he'll lie down. Sometimes, just to screw with him, I'll walk into the living room, sit down, wait for him to sit down, and then walk into the kitchen, wait for him to sit down, then move on to the next room. If I'm really, really bored, this can go on for a good 10-15 minutes before he gives up. (Note to self: get a life.)

And then when he's not following me physically, he's following me with his eyes. Right now, as I type this, he's staring at me fixedly, waiting and watching. It can get kind of creepy after a while. It's like he thinks that if he just stares at me hard enough, I'll put him in the car for a three-hour ride and then stop off for a couple of T-bone steaks and an ice cream sundae for him. Either that or he's waiting for monkeys to fly out of my butt. Or maybe he's trying to figure out if there's a way that he can kill me in my sleep?

Does anyone want a dog?

The Google, Redux

Y'all know how much I love my google searches--especially since I finally connected the dots that 92.3% of the searches for "gris" that turn up are mispelled versions of "girls," aka porn.

So, here's today's search of the month: "gris naket." Not "naked girls," mind you. Not even "girls, naked." But "gris naket." Gris. Naket. I love it. Is our children learning? Is our adults stupid?

E's Adventures in Catholic School

Request to dress up as the Virgin Mary for Halloween? Check.

Question about whether the dinosaurs are all in Heaven now? Check.

Request to pray before dinner and then beginning prayer with "God is grape, God is good?" Check.

Announcement about and subsequent performance of "Jesus dance" she made up? Check. (Complete with jazz hands and prayer hands, I might add.)

Catholic school for four-year-olds is fun.

Observations of a Four-Year-Old

I often think some of the most rewarding parts of parenthood are the times when I get to observe Emmeline in her, umm, natural habitat, shall we say? You know, like when I go to pick her up at school and she hasn't yet noticed that I'm there, so I get to watch her play. Or when I get to eavesdrop on her from time to time, listening in on those rare occasions when she'll play by herself with her dolls for a little while.

Last night, though, was a real doozy; I got to listen to my daughter compose and perform a patriotic song, complete with plastic flute accompaniment, all while she sat on the toilet. It was all I could do to not roll on the floor laughing--especially when she got to the part where she sang about this great country of ours, the Nighted Stick of America.

Financial Aid

Number of weeks that E has been in her new school so far: 3

Number of times that we've been hit up to give additional money and/or time so far: 12

Ah, the joys of private school.....

A Letter to My Daughter, 09/09

Dear Emmeline:

You're four-and-a-half now, and jeez, how the time has flown. You've become the model four-year-old that everyone talks about, the one that makes you laugh out loud at least 2-3 times a day with your antics.

Let's see, where to begin? You finish your third week at "big school" tomorrow and are doing wonderfully there. I think it's been more of an adjustment for me than you--you're attending a Catholic school, as public schools are out of the question. Nothing against Catholics, but I'm not one, so it's been a bit odd for me, and I've been concerned that you might feel left out at times, if you're considered different from the other kids because you don't share their faith. So far, though, you're taking it in stride. You've really warmed to the whole Jesus and Mary thing, including making me play songs about them on the way to school each day. Thank God (no pun intended) for my ipod with the Christmas song playlist on it, or you'd pretty much be out of luck. Last week, you informed me that instead of being Jasmine for Halloween, you want to be the Virgin Mary. I tried to keep a straight face for that one, while also thinking about what a ridiculously cheap Halloween costume that would be (blue sheet? check).

Four Years On

So, long story. When we moved back to New Orleans after Katrina, I didn't really know what to do with myself. I was despondent, I was depressed, I was angry, I was antsy. To sum it all up, I was feeling a bit crazy. I had a nine-month old baby, a husband who worked non-stop, and a lot of time on my hands. I didn't know how to process what had happened to me, to my mother and stepfather, to absolutely everyone in my husband's family, to my friends, to my co-workers, to the people I knew in passing--to everyone on this whole damn coast.

I drove around--a lot--and I pulled my camera out--a lot--and I took a lot of pictures. Four months after the storm, eight months after the storm, one year after the storm....Last weekend, I drove around Lakeview and the Lower 9th for the first time in about a year. Some houses have been repaired by now; about the same amount haven't. I heard on the news today that there are some 40,000 houses abandoned to Katrina still standing in the greater New Orleans area. Forty. Thousand. Abandoned. Houses. Can you even wrap your head around that? I can't, and I've driven past the majority of them.

This is What is What Like

Thanks to my friend Kelly, I've discovered a new blog that I absolutely love. I haven't had time to obsessively read every page yet (I do have a little bit of a life, I'll have you know--just not much of one), but I came across this post in his archives that just sums it up perfectly.

This is what is was like, in the days immediately following Katrina, when we had no news and everyone was telling us that it might be best to just cut our losses and move. This is what is was like when people were debating on CNN and Fox whether New Orleans should be rebuilt. This is what is was like. We weren't listening to anything anyone had to say. We were thinking about everyone we knew in New Orleans and the people whose names we didn't know but who were still a part of our lives. This is what is was like. I hope sturtle won't mind if I quote him in full:

Pre-K in a Good Way

Where did the time go? How is it that I already have a pre-kindergartener?


All dressed up in her uniform.


The school is having half-days all this week, so Emmeline is getting to spend some time at work with me in the afternoons. Who knew that underneath the desk is the best place to hang out? I think I might try this the next time my boss comes looking for me.

Need office help? E can type 1.5 words per minute.

Going Mental

It’s nice to see that some things never change and that there’s still plenty of scorn to go around four years later. Earlier this month, an article appeared in The Washington Times (H/T, Charlotte) entitled “Mental Illness Tidal Wave Swamps New Orleans.” An excerpt:

That shortage of facilities is felt most strongly by residents like Byron Turner, who four years after Katrina still is haunted by visions that eventually drove him to seek professional help.

"Life was real good for me before Katrina," he said. "I had no mental health issues ever in my life. I was never homeless. I had jobs. I had two automobiles before the storm."

Today, he is homeless and taking medication to reduce his bouts of anger. Sometimes he's angry about his situation, sometimes he just gets frustrated with himself. Sometimes, he's still angry over the hurricane.

"I still see the bodies. I still see the dead children. I still see the elderly people floatin' in the water. I still see the water," Mr. Turner said.

Overwhelmed public health agencies in New Orleans can only guess how many of the city's residents are, like Mr. Turner, still struggling to cope with the mental and emotional consequences of a maelstrom that swept away whole neighborhoods and stole away friends, relatives, homes and social networks - the glue that holds people's psyches together. 

Old Wounds

I can feel it starting to set in on me. When I'm sitting, relatively relaxed, as I am now, I can feel the tenseness start to creep into my shoulders. I swear, for the first two years, I couldn't sit completely relaxed. When I was sitting, it was hunched over, with my shoulders rolled forward and tensed for flight, my hands constantly fidgeting or making that weird washing movement like Mr. Burns from "The Simpsons."

For the most part, these days, I put it aside. I live with the daily frustration of life in NOLA and remember all of the reasons that I still choose to live here. But when the height of hurricane season rolls around, sometimes it's still hard.

Sometimes, I hate to admit, I wait for the next big one--the one that will deal the finishing blow and allow us all to move on. To where? I don't know. But if there's one thing the Gustav scare taught me, it's that no matter how much I try to pretend that I'm inured to it now--that I can handle it again, if worse comes to worse, because I've been through it before--I'm lying to myself.

I'm tense. Four years later. And Jeanne Meserve echoes in my head.

CNN Transcript - August 29, 2005

MESERVE: It's been horrible. As I left tonight, darkness, of course, had fallen. And you can hear people yelling for help. You can hear the dogs yelping, all of them stranded, all of them hoping someone will come. But for tonight, they've had to suspend the rescue efforts. It's just too hazardous for them to be out on the boats. There are electrical lines that are still alive. There are gas lines that are still spewing gas. There are cars that are submerged. There are other large objects. The boats can't operate. So they had to suspend operations and leave those people in the homes. As we were driving back, we passed scores of boats, Fish and Wildlife boats that they brought in. They're flat bottomed. They've obviously going to put them in the water just as soon as they possibly can and go out and reach the people who are out there who desperately need help.We watched them, some of them, come in. They were in horrible shape, some of them. We watched one woman whose leg had been severed. Mark Biello, one of our cameramen, went out in one of the boats to help shoot. He ended up being out for hours and told horrific tales. He saw bodies. He saw where -- he saw other, just unfathomable things. Dogs wrapped in electrical -- electrical lines who were still alive that were being electrocuted.The police are having radio problems. At least they were earlier this evening. They didn't have enough boats. They put out an appeal to various police who had personal boats to bring them to the scene. But the problem was the people who had the boats couldn't get to the boats to bring them to the scene to go out and rescue the people.People are out there tonight. One of the EMS workers told us that the water is rising, and I can tell you that when we came back into the city tonight, it certainly was higher here. Whether it's rising in that neighborhood as much as it has here, I don't know.

One

I'm slowly but surely coming to the realization that my one child is probably my only child. Acceptance of that, however, is another matter.

I guess the best way to describe it would be completely conflicted. I had a dream last week in which I realized I was pregnant. And it wasn't a "happy-family-Oh-my-God-I'm-pregnant!" dream. It was an "Oh-my-God-I'm-pregnant" dream and all of the resultant panic. One of those wake up with a pit in your stomach dreams.

So, since then, I've been trying to figure out what the fact that I'm having non-happy dreams about pregnancy means. Needless to say, procreation has been on my mind a lot lately, especially now that I'm 40 and the window for actually being able to have another child is rapidly closing.

The Google Revisited

Today's top search on the google? "Nasty gris porn." Of course.

Today's weirdest search? "Big ass flying bug with two stripes on its butt." I haven't seen that bug yet, but I can assure you, if it exists, it will make an appearance on my porch soon.

Speaking of which, one of my neighbors is chainsawing something right now. At 9:50 p.m. WTF? Oh well--I guess that's a step up from crack dealing.

Keeping the Brand Out There, "No, Really" Edition

A favorable article from the New York Times.

H/T, Latin Teacher