Clever Escape

Sunshine arrived last night, looking just as she always does and with the stuff she always brings (or rather, doesn’t bring). No surprises.

I suppose one thing that was new is that she brought a pile of stories she had written and a bunch of her school work from the end of school. We hardly ever get to see this stuff…her kindergarten and first grade teacher were really good about sending samples of her work every couple of weeks, but her second grade teacher didn’t. She didn’t even send report cards unless we called and specifically asked for them. But she was really good about mailing us her weekly newsletters, which kept us up on what she was doing in school which was really nice. Can’t complain too much when really it is more than I realistically expect out of the schools up there. Sad, isn’t it?

My husband called her mother yesterday afternoon to make sure everything was going well. Sunshine wasn’t with her. Apparently her father (Sunshine’s grandfather) was taking her to the airport.

He asked her if she had gotten the insurance cards yet and if she could mail us a copy for the summer.

And, I know you will be shocked by this, cause I was…she said she had been laid off.

Right.

Well, maybe. But I doubt it. She gets “laid off” a whole hell of a lot. But whatever.

At least my husband hadn’t dropped her from his health insurance yet. Which he had not done on purpose, he had every intention of dropping her last month but forgot (heh). Least it worked out.

So I suppose we should check and see if his dental plan has dentists up there, or if she will need a checkup before she flies back at the end of the summer. I am thinking we should just take her. Her grandfather always takes her and pays for it. I don’t like that.

For those of you who don’t know, he views Sunshine as his “second (or fourth, rather) chance” at raising a child, since he has thus far failed on his first three attempts and created losers.

Oops, trying to be more positive…um…no really I can only describe them as losers.

He pretends to be her father. She already has a father. And a stepfather, actually. She is all full up in that department. But her mother is content to sit back and let him do all the work. Oh well. Not our business what goes on up there, right? Unless, of course, it is actually harming Sunshine. But there isn’t any evidence of that (not real harm, anyhow) so we don’t worry about it.

Anyway back to the beginning. Sunshine is here and summer is really starting now. I really liked my full month off of not having anything to do. Definitely in favor of that. Though now I kind of miss it, despite how bored I was. Doing nothing was nice.

Ah well. Next summer.

I don’t know how all you people do at keeping your houses clean, since I can’t really see you or your houses through the internet (wouldn’t it be cool to spy on that too? instead of just each others blogs? Go in and check out other people’s houses too? Hmm. Kind of creepy, but interesting all the same…).

My housekeeping comes in waves. The clean waves are usually much shorter than the messy waves. And most of it revolves around the time of year.

For instance, I usually start out the beginning of the school year with a pretty clean house that was the result of a summer of absolute boredom. Then I get super busy and cleaning my home is the first thing that goes.

By the end of the school year, I am barely at home for sleeping much less cleaning. So my house is total chaos.

Then everything in between is the clean-messy-clean-messy waves that last days, weeks or months, depending on, well, I suppose my level of laziness or business at work. And whether we are having anyone over. And how motivated I can get my husband. But that usually doesn’t work.

Give me a couple of weeks in the summer, though, and it is pristine. Not only does it take me less than two weeks of not working to drive me nutso with boredom (after being so ridiculously busy during the end of the year) but I am at home, looking at the mess, all the time.

Thus far this summer I have cleaned up and out most of the apartment. The outside parts anyhow. Haven’t really gotten into cupboards and drawers…oh wait I completely emptied, cleaned, and reorganized the pantry the other day. Guess I have started the insides.

Yesterday I decided to clean my sink.

Turns out, it was much, much dirtier than I had first thought.

Cleaning my sink:

• Emptied it all, washed the dishes, ran the dishwasher
• Filled up each side with hot, hot water and bleach
• Left for a long time, like an hour or something
• Water was still ridiculously hot, and it was bleach water, so I used tongs to take the stoppers out
• Broke out the Barkeeper’s Friend and scrubbed the bitch till it shined
• Wasn’t shiny enough so I rinsed it all off and wiped it down with Windex

Damn if that thing doesn’t practically glow. My husband got home and was messing around in the kitchen and I just stood there, looking at him, waiting for him to notice the new light that we had in our kitchen.

He didn’t.

The man is distracted by any shiny object in five miles of him, but he doesn’t notice the new reflectant light source in our kitchen?

WTF.

Anyhow, he was like, yep, that’s shiny all right.

And went on with life.

Not nearly as excited as me.

Well, I like my shiny sink and it is going to stay that way. Shiny and empty. He tried to put a spoon in it this morning and I stood there until he moved it the two feet required to place it into the dishwasher.

He ran water into the sink (gasp!) and I had to wipe it all out with a towel so it wouldn’t get water spots.

I have the feeling that I am going to be going through lots of towels because of this sink.

I looked at the sink in our new apartment, and it needs some more shininess.

Task number one, when we move in…clean the sink.

And this is what summers off get me. An obsession with my sink being shiny. I think I need a new hobby.

I just went through and updated the syllabus for each of my classes.

And I worked a little on my school website.

It is still June.

Someone stop me.

Three years ago Wednesday, my husband and I were married. Three years. Feels like longer…lol…We have been together closer to seven years. Hmm. 25% of my life.

I grew up in Central Michigan, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere. My town had (has) a grand total of 3000 people. My graduating class had around 110 people or so. I knew I wanted out, and wanted to go to a big city, and wanted to be in New York (My mom’s family is in New York), so I went to college in Buffalo, New York which is the second largest city in the state after “The City”.

In the dorms I got stuck with a crappy 18 year old roommate that was super annoying, so I managed to find another girl who was closer to my age and didn’t have a roommate. When they tried to move in an equally annoying roommate with her, who by some great coincidence had the same first name as my annoying roommate, we convinced everyone to shuffle and I moved in with Maria.

Thus commenced a year of bar hopping and partying at frat houses. It was fabulous fun! I did all the things that I knew that I didn’t want to look back and regret not doing. We made friends with our next door neighbors (one of whom was also from Michigan), some girls that lived down the hall, and one time when the garbage room on our floor caught on fire (literally) we met some guys that were pretty cool and started hanging out with them. It was good times.

Then Maria got a call from her older brother’s best friend telling her that if she brought some girls with her, he would pay for her ticket into an OAR concert that was in their hometown. Granted, the tickets were only eleven dollars, but to a college student that was a sweet deal. So she took me and one of our neighbors and off we went to the concert.

Once we got to the concert, we soon discovered that Maria’s brother’s best friend (haha) and I were the only two that were old enough to drink. So brother’s best friend (now my husband) basically dragged me over to the bar.

I asked for an amaretto sour, which was apparently a disappointment. Girly drink, you know?

So I suppose I surprised him when the next thing I wanted was a shot of Jim Beam, which was my drink of choice through high school and thereafter. I liked it because nobody else would drink or steal it from me.

We proceeded to spend all of his money, all of my money, all of his friend’s money, and all of the ticket money (he had bought everyone’s tickets and they paid him back), adding up to 200+ dollars, on alcohol.

Hello Long Island Iced Teas, more shots of Jim, some vodka cranberrys, vodka tonics…and on and on.

We were toasted.

We crossed back and forth, forward and back again through the crowd, up and down the stairs to the balcony. The next day I realized I hadn’t even paid attention to any of the music. I had no idea what kind of music they played.

Maria had to drive us home to her parent’s house where we both fell out of the car and passed out on her parent’s front lawn.

Classy, huh?

Good thing it was 3 in the morning and none of their neighbors were up. Somewhere in there we managed to crawl back into the backseat of is car and he sobered up enough to drive home (which was like a half mile away) and I stumbled inside and passed out on the couch.

And that is the story of how we met!

At least, I think…it’s all kind of blurry…

People never cease to amaze me.

I was watching “So you think you can dance” last night. I like watching what people can do. I have absolutely no physical coordination at all, and could not possibly do any of it. A lot of the dancers were really good. Quite a few people were entertaining.

And then there was Susie Garcia.

Who is supposed to be a…a…teacher?

WTF?

Not that I don’t think that she could be a teacher. Not that I don’t think she could be smart (though this kind of makes me wonder). I just think that her common sense is lacking a little bit.

And I wonder what the hell she teaches.

I have no issue at all with her trying out for the show. I do, however, have issue with her choice of clothing. Was that really necessary? To have her boobs hanging out everywhere, and an excuse for what I think was supposed to be a skirt flipping up everywhere? Bleach blonde hair, two feet of extensions and five pounds of makeup? She was way more appropriately dressed when she was dancing in choreography. I just wish she had dressed that way from the beginning.

I am a teacher. When asked about how the boys at school react to her being a teacher, she commented that she sometimes gets confused with the students. Well, I do too. But it isn’t because I’m dressed like them.

And I am pretty sure that is not what they were asking.

I have heard the argument that what you do outside of the classroom is your own business.

I do not buy it.

If you choose to become a teacher, you are choosing to behave like one, all the time. Teachers are role models. And not just when you are at school. ALL THE TIME. You do not stop being a teacher when you are off school grounds. This is because (gasp!) your students leave school grounds as well. They still see you as their teacher even when you are at Target, or the grocery store, or the movies…or national TV. You have to behave in such a way that garners respect in the classroom in all instances.

This is a choice you make when you enter the profession.

How effective can a teacher be when his or her students see him or her as one of them? Not as someone in a position of authority, but as an equal?

That does not mean that teachers cannot go out and have fun. I party. I drink. I go dancing and to bars. I run around and jump in pools in the middle of the night and play drinking games. But I do not do it in front of my students. Or anywhere that my student’s parents could be. And I sure as hell don’t do it on national television.

As a teacher, I am…I don’t even know…embarrassed? disgusted? disappointed?

I just hope she puts some clothes on for the next round.

And at the least, I hope she is reprimanded by her school.