This Is Your Brain On Work

My brain, she is fried. This has been a supremely busy week. My bi-annual newsletter -- my 34 page bi-annual newsletter in which I have written 4 articles -- is due to the graphic designer this week.

And this weekend? Is our bi-annual board meeting for which I have to help prepare numerous reports and charts.

So, my brain is tired. All I have running through my head are terms like "the importance of endowments" and "the treasures of our collections."

Perhaps tomorrow I can come up with something more entertaining, but for now I'm resorting to the test pattern.

What Do I Know?

So, this weekend was a little bit weird. On Friday I drove around for about a half hour looking for gas. Ever since Hurricane Ike our supply has been sparse at best. Right before Ike gas prices had dropped to about $3.55/gal. which we were all actually excited about. But right before Ike hit word got out that gas would be scarce in the days following and panic ensued.

Ever since then, stations have been running out of gas on a regular basis. On Friday, an oil exec actually urged Georgia's governor to cancel the GA/AL football game, an action which would have had him run out of town on a rail (though in retrospect it might have been a good idea. UGH!).

We didn't really go anywhere this weekend so that we could preserve the gas that we had. On the way to work this morning I passed 7 gas stations with no gas, and even though I had more than a quarter of a tank I still felt a little panicky. When you commute 50+ miles a day, gas is critical and I have no way of knowing when those gas stations will get a new delivery. And then when they do, everybody will rush to that station and in a matter of hours that station will be empty again.

Now, I know some of this "panic" is self-created. We get all worked up and get gas even when we don't need it, but really, what is going on? Why do we still not have gas? How is this situation going to right itself?

And speaking of situations righting themselves, what about the stock market? And the $700 billion dollar bailout? Frankly, I wasn't sure if I should be glad or sad that the bill didn't pass today. This is a huge decision and everything about it just feels rushed to me. I think the market can correct itself with the right kind of stimulus and maybe throwing $700 BILLION dollars at these failing companies would be the answer, but I can think of lots of other ways to stimulate the economy. Whatever they decide they just need to make sure that there's lots of oversight and lots of accountability.

But what do I know? I'm just a little old American worker, plugging away at my 8-5 job every day. Trying to pay off bills. Trying to save for a retirement that is seeming farther and farther away. Trying to pay for daycare and essentials for my children.

But I don't need any stimulus. Nooooo. Not me. I just need some gas.

What Do You Think?

So last night Mr. Daddy stopped by a local grocery store to pick up some Sam Adams beer.

As he was walking away from the beer section, a guy standing nearby said, out of the blue, "That's a really good beer. And the roofers like it too."

Huh? The roofers? What in the sam hill?

Mr. Daddy got the vague feeling that the guy was attempting to pick him up.

What do you think? Is "roofers" some kind of code?

Is A Bully Born or Made?

Bubba has a bully. Well, sort of.

One evening a couple of weeks into the school year, Bubba told me that a kid in his class named Aidan* had hit and kicked him.

"On purpose?" I asked. "Are you sure it wasn't an accident?" I questioned him only because a few days earlier he had told us that a boy had kicked him in the chest, but upon further questioning he admitted that the kick had been an accident while they were playing.

"No, Mommy. He did it on purpose. He hits me all the time. I don't like him."

Hmmmm. "Well, just stay away from him if you can Bubba. And if he hits you again, tell your teacher. Don't run to the teacher about every little thing, but if somebody hits you, it's okay to tell the teacher about that. Does Aidan hit other people too?"

"Yes, Mommy. He hits everybody. He hit Thomas in the head and knocked him to the floor."

Well good grief.

A few weeks went by and no more mention was made of Aidan but when we went to our parent teacher conference last week, I asked his teacher. She wasn't really aware of what had happened because Aidan isn't in Bubba's actual class and they only see each other in the before and after school program, which she's not a part of .

But two days ago, Bubba came home and told us that Aidan had hit him in the eye and had tried to bite him. Two teachers had intervened and had apparently had a "discussion" about whether to pull a red card on Aidan. A red card is the highest level of discipline a child can receive and usually merits a trip to the office, but apparently they decided this behavior did not warrant a red card.

Well hell, what DOES warrant a red card?

So, short story long, we emailed all three teachers involved (his teacher and the two teachers who witnessed the incident) and asked that action be taken to prevent Aidan from hitting Bubba anymore. Bubba's teacher emailed back the next morning and assured us that she had already spoken to the morning and afternoon monitors to keep Aidan and Bubba separated. And thus far it seems to be working.

But a couple of questions have come up for me. Did we do the right thing by handling this with the teachers? Should we have counseled Bubba to stick up for himself a little bit before getting the teachers involved? I have this vague, uneasy, feeling that perhaps we have let Bubba down in some way but not letting him fend for himself in some way.

But then I think, my God, he's only five. He shouldn't HAVE to fend for himself at this age. And those feelings I have are probably just the antiquated notions of what's proper masculine behavior. Boys are supposed to be rough and tumble and fight and take care of bullies, right? Whatever. I don't want Bubba to be bound by those same notions that boys have to be so tough and never cry and don't talk about their feelings.

But the other question that has come up for me is about Aidan. What is going on with this child that he feels like he must strike out at everyone? His brother apparently has no such issues and is actually a friend of Bubba's. That's part of what makes it so strange. Is Aidan just being "all boy"? Or is there more going on there? I have no way of knowing. I know Bubba has two great advocates behind him, fighting for him, helping him. But who is behind Aidan, fighting for him, fighting to find out why he's so angry? Who is helping Aidan?

*not his real name

Let's Go to the Fair!

It's county fair time in these parts. Our county's fair began tonight and the fair in the county I grew up in is the first week of October. I love the fair. I always have. When I was very small, we lived across the street from the fairground, and while I'm sure my mother wasn't thrilled with the lights and the noise night after night, to a child it was heaven.

We would watch the fair come into town. The big trucks would roll in and the rides would start going up. Sometimes we'd wander over and watch through the fence. Our ran a concession booth and my mom usually worked in it at least one night. I'd sit at the counter while she worked and when her shift was over we'd hit all the rides. When I was older I was allowed to roam the fairgrounds with a friend, checking in with my mom every once in a while.

Now I love taking my kids to the fair. I love to see their eyes shine when they see all the lights blinking and see all the games (the games!). I love to watch them on the rides, spinning around, smiling so big that their teeth are about to fall out, calling out "Mommy, look at me!"

Because my grandparents were in the dairy business, we always check out the livestock barns. There's something peaceful about cows. Their quiet chewing. The smell of hay. Our second favorite stop are the chicken pens. You know, there are some crazy looking chickens out there in the world.

Oh, and don't forget the food. Where else can you get polish sausages, cotton candy, candy and caramel apples, and funnel cake all in one place. For one night, our dietary restrictions are laid aside and we eat fair food. I mean seriously, for me it's not a trip to the fair until I get my caramel apple!

I still like to ride some of the bigger rides myself. I'm a little bit of a daredevil and I will ride just about anything out there. Now Mr. Daddy on the other hand, does not like the rides at all. He will ride the rides at official theme parks like Six Flags or Dollywood, but he just can't bring himself to trust that the rides at the fair have been put together properly.

Me? I guess I just suspend my disbelief for a while. And really? Isn't that what the fair is all about?

On A Bender

I've come to the conclusion that dealing with toddlers and very early preschoolers is very much like dealing with your drunk best friend. I came to this realization the other evening as I was helping Punkin put her pajamas on. She was doing the opposite of everything I said and trying to get her to focus on the task at hand was trying at best. I started thinking about it and the following are ways that toddlers/preschoolers are like drunks:

1. Prone to unexplained fits of crying.

2. Crying jags often followed by fits of hysterical giggles.

3. May remove all clothing with little to no provocation.

4. Likely to hang all over you while you're trying to help them get their clothes on, impeding all progress.

5. Insist that you go the bathroom with them. One hundred times a night.

6. May wet themselves.

7. Might throw up on you.

8. Gets more adamant that they can do it the more you try to help them (no matter what it is that they're trying to do.)

9. Will recount hilarious (to them!) story that is basically incomprehensible to the rest of us (often the plot of the latest Dora/Wow Wow Wubzy/Scooby Doo episode).

And finally,

10. They piss the ever loving crap out of you with their behavior, but you can't help but love them anyway.

Things That Make Me Happy on a Friday

Well, that's it's Friday for one thing.

My first cup of coffee was perfect. Just the right amount of cream and sugar. Mmmm.

That it's National Talk Like a Pirate Day. Avast ye scurvy dogs!

These boots:


I'm probably coveting these in vain -- I have kind of thick calves so they probably won't fit, but I can dream about them, right?

And lastly, the weather has finally cooled off a little. Ahhhh.