Where Are They Now?

People often ask me what my kids are up to these days. I started this blog over 16 years ago. It's hard to believe so much time has passed because it feels like it was just yesterday. Folks always told me, "The days are long, but the years are short." Now I fully understand the meaning of that phrase. 

Here's a brief run-down on what the kids are up to these days.

Austin is married, has a daughter and a son, and is a pastry chef.

Savannah is married, has two girls and a step-son, and is a stay-at-home mom.

Jackson lives with his girlfriend and manages a smoke shop.

Lexington lives with her fiance and is the manager of a pizza place.

Clayton lives with his girlfriend and works at a steel mill.

Brooklyn is a senior in high school, attends college at the same time, and works part-time at Lexi's restaurant.

They all still live in Florida within an hour of me.

But better than that little summary are the interviews I had with the kids. Here they are weighing in on life's important questions. I hope it makes you laugh as much as it does me!

And let me know what questions you'd like them to answer next time. :)

My Weight-Loss Journey (Otherwise Entitled: How I Haven't Lost a Single Pound)

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I lay awake, berating myself for eating half a Pepperidge Farm coconut cake. You know, those frozen cakes that serve 8? I hadn't even taken the time to defrost it, and it's a good bet I would've eaten the entire partially-frozen cake in one sitting had my daughter not come home when she did. 

My stomach hurt, I felt like throwing up, and I had heartburn, but greater than all the physical discomfort was the crushing disappointment in myself. Yet despite the utter disgust with myself, there was a little part of my brain that was thinking, I can't wait until I get home from work tomorrow so I can eat the rest of it.

What the hell is wrong with you? the voice in my head spit out. Seriously! You ate so well all day and then completely blew it with half a cake! You've wasted your life being fat. Your whole life! Being fat has held you back from so many things. An extraordinary number of things! You won't date. You won't buy cute clothes. You won't let anyone take a full-length picture of you. You don't want to put on a bathing suit when you go to the beach. You won't do anything that'll draw attention to you. And what do you do about it? Nothing! You do nothing.

Every morning I awake with a clean slate, thinking, Today I will control myself. I'll make good decisions about food. All day. 

And every night I go to bed, a big fat failure.

Although I'll start the day with a healthy mindset: a scrambled egg with mushrooms and spinach for breakfast, some blueberries for a snack, a kale salad with rotisserie chicken, walnuts, feta, apples and balsamic vinaigrette, I'll end the day with 14 cookies, 4 slices of pizza, cheese and crackers, a bag of Hershey's kisses, half a bag of chips, and 2 stale donuts. Then I go to bed feeling sick. Sick to my stomach. Sick of my bingeing behavior. Sick of being fat. Sick of failing.

I get to a point where I try in earnest to get it together, to make healthy choices, to drop excess pounds. And it works. For a while. Maybe a day or two, maybe a week or two, or even a month or two. And then I revert to old habits in the snap of a finger. One doughnut, cookie, muffin, pastry, just one, flips a switch in my brain that starts a frenzy that ends all my hard work. I'm certain I'd be bulimic if didn't so completely detest vomiting.

I know, as people read this, I'll have well-meaning (and probably some self-serving) folks tell me about the program, plan, exercise, diet food, magical miracle whatever that changed their lives. I believe that __insert name of magical diet miracle__ worked for them and I'm truly happy for their success. I feel like pretty much any program can work for a person if they have the right mindset, and I believe that's the key - having the right mindset. I'm quite certain my mind is broken because how else do you explain how an otherwise intelligent person with a fair amount of common sense could spend FORTY years struggling with her weight? How? It's not that I don't know what to do. Eat less, move more. It's not rocket science. Yet, here I am, after literally 40 years of hating the way I look, still fat.

And now it's not just that I'm fat, or rather - obese (I love that word as much as I love the words applicable, moist, panties, and when people who don't know what literally means, use the word literally) but thanks to the magic of menopause, my health is being affected by my weight as well. I've always had excellent cholesterol and low blood pressure, but now those numbers are starting to creep up. And although I've been overweight, I could climb stairs, walk for miles, do whatever. But now I pull have to pull myself up a flight of stairs by the handrail, and when I get to the top, I look like Fred Sanford, grabbing my chest and announcing, "It's the BIG ONE!" My joints are so painful, I can't make it from the parking lot to my office without limping. I take Tylenol like Tic Tacs to deal with the pain. I have no cartilage behind my knee caps so it sounds like corn flakes being crushed under a rolling pin when I bend my knees, as the bones rub against each other. The number one way I could combat this never-ending pain? Lose weight. Simple.

I vacillate between two mindsets: Love yourself as you are, give yourself a break, stop stressing about food or the way you look.

And: What the hell is wrong with you? Show some damn control! If you don't like the way you look, it's real simple - change!

I've lost and gained the same 10 pounds a good 300 times in my life. I'm embarrassed to admit all the things I've tried and failed. But I know I can't be alone and there are others out that who can relate to the never-ending struggle. I've tried sound and sensible programs like Weight Watchers, walking, step aerobics, Omada. I've tried more alternative solutions like hypnosis, Healthy Wage, and Sensa. And I've tried the positively absurd like drinking lemon juice, cayenne pepper, and maple syrup for every meal because Kelly Kapoor did that on The Office. Or this gem from The Devil Wears Prada - I'm on this new diet. Well, I don't eat anything and when I feel like I'm about to faint I eat a cube of cheese. I have literally (and I actually mean literally) tried those. 

And I've tried everything in between - Richard Simmons Deal a Meal, Tae bo, prescription medication that curbed my appetite but made me feel like I was having a heart attack, keto, otc meds, bee pollen, Thrive, cabbage soup, Slimfast, weight loss doctor, Healthy Wage, Biggest Loser contests at work, Atkins, vegan, stationary bike, low-fat, swimming, fiber pills, Jenny Craig, My Fitness Pal, Freedom Formula, Bikram yoga, Overeaters Anonymous, Zumba, Women's Workout World, to name a few.

And here I still am. Letting my weight hold me back from living, yet not altering my habits to affect change.

The Taming of the Frizz

I have thick, coarse hair. I always have. When I was a kid, my mom kept my hair short. I looked like a boy - a boy in cute little smocked-top dresses. Maybe she really wanted a boy. I don't know. 

My mom would also have the hairdresser "thin" my hair by using thinning shears. The only thing that really accomplished was making my hair look even frizzier with all those shorter strands sticking out.

After amassing a portfolio of cringe-worthy pictures from youth, I decided to keep my girls' hair very long when they were little. I loved braiding it and trying out complicated updos on them. 

With age (read: copious amounts of gray hair) and decades of coloring, my hair has gotten even more unruly. Of course, living in Florida, where on any given day, the temperature is roughly the same as the surface of the sun with 100% humidity, doesn't help. 

I've pretty much given up on styling my hair. I don't have the time, patience, or the arm strength to blow it out. I occasionally, rarely, straighten it with a flat iron. It'll look cute until I walk outside, at which point I look like Monica in Barbados.

By the time I make my way through the parking lot from my car to my office, my hair has grown to Hagrid proportions.

By lunch, I'm Roseanne Roseannadanna.

And when I leave for the day, I look like Diana Ross circa 1975.

I have to drive home with my head hanging out the window because my car isn't big enough to contain my mane. It's a struggle.

Most days, I just embrace the frizz. I mean, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right? I put some sort of anti-frizz goop in my hair and throw it up in a clip. I could probably open a store called Frizzy Hair Solutions with all the defrizzing/smoothing/curl enhancing products I own. I don't know that it would actually provide "solutions" per say, but it would give customers plenty of products that promise to tame frizz. I've tried expensive salon products, and I've tried Suave products, and everything in between. I can say with confidence that it doesn't matter how much it costs, all products work the same. Or don't work the same. In my experience, no product completely tames the frizz (although I am partial to Suave's anti-frizz smoothing serum as it works pretty well and doesn't cost a ridiculous amount of money.)

So recently I went and got my hair all chopped off. I tend todo these spur-of-the-moment things  and then I cry and ask myself why I'm such an idiot. After a couple years of growing it out, I chop it off again. It's a never-ending cycle of stupidity.

BEFORE

                                                                            AFTER

It took a while, but I've gotten used to the new 'do, and I've gotta say, I really like it short. It only takes me a couple minutes to flat-iron it and that Suave anti-frizz stuff really does work now that I've gotten rid of all the dry, damaged ends.

Suave didn't pay me to write this. I think when I did do some writing for Suave years ago, I came to love their products (and more importantly, the price of their products) so I still use them.

Language Lessons (Otherwise Entitled: What on Earth are These Teens Saying???)

I've worked in a middle school since 2011, and these kids have taught me as much as I've taught them over the years. They've taught me that when you have new shoes, you have to walk like a crippled penguin so the shoes don't get creases. They've shown me that flipping a water bottle, trying to get it land upright is a legitimate pastime. And every year they teach me So. Many. New. Words. I like to try them out with students to see how many eye rolls I can get. For example, last week a couple kids were complaining about the cafeteria food. 

"Are you kidding? You've got it good! You know what cafeteria was like when I went to school? There was no kitchen in the school! They didn't make food there. It was shipped in. We got a plastic-wrapped plastic container with some sort of cold food in it, and we got a foil-covered foil pack with some mystery hot food in it. It was about as good as you would think a mass-produced school lunch that was sitting there for an unspecified amount of time would be. You guys are lucky. These days school lunches be bussin."

The kids cracked up. I'm not sure if it was because I told them an old-timey story about the good ole days. Or if I used bussin incorrectly. Or if bussin is so last week and no one says that anymore. Or if (most likely) it's because I'm a giant dork.

I'll share my knowledge of teen slang here so you can try out these expressions yourself and gather some of your own eye rolls! You're welcome.

Bussin - really good. 

This is especially used when describing food. But not cafeteria food.

Spill the tea - what's the gossip? 

Last year I had a student who walked in my class and asked, "Do you want to know the tea, Ms. Damalas?"

I think I responded with something like, "Yeah, I like tea. I prefer coffee, but I drink tea sometimes."

That got me an eye roll, and an explanation. And a daily tea update of all the girl drama on campus.

Bet - okay. 

"Brooklyn, do you want to go to the store with me after school?"

"Bet."

"Huh?"

"Bet."

"So do you want to go??"

Slay - okay. See bet.

Real - I agree. 

"These 7th graders are insane this year."

"Real."

User Error - your fault, or that sucks. 

"I forgot to bring my umbrella to work, and I got drenched walking out to the parking lot."

"Sounds like user error, Mom."

The drip - a cool outfit. 

I overheard this from one student to another... "Watch the drip, bruh!" 

I looked up to see if there was anything dripping down. Our school is centered around an open courtyard and every time it rains (daily because it's Florida) there is plenty of dripping from the eves. Brooklyn had to explain this one to me. Drip is clothes, especially a cool outfit. Respect the drip, bruh.

Ice - jewelry. 

There are a few kids at my school who would rival Mr. T with their "ice."

Rizz - charisma. 

I was flipping through some old pictures recently and I pulled out one and told Brooklyn, "I remember this! Jackson was invited to this birthday party when he was in elementary school and he was the only boy invited among all these girls. I showed Brooklyn the photo.

"Jax had all the rizz!"

". . . "

"Rizz? Charisma?" Duh.

"Okay then."

Cap - fake

"I'm really going to miss school over the summer, "I said as sarcastically as possible.

"Cap."

No cap - For real/Are you serious?

When they announced who next year's drum majors would be and she heard her name, Brooklyn responded incredulously, "No cap??"

Off da perc - crazy, insane, bizarre.

There are a couple weeks left in the school year so these middle-schoolers are off da perk, bruh!

Touch grass - reality check. 

When one of the most annoying kids in school asks me, "Ms. Damalas, I'm your favorite student, aren't I?" I have to respond with, "LOL, you need to go outside and touch grass, child."

It's giving - like. 

Our upstairs neighbors are so loud it's giving clog-dancing water buffalo.

Era - phase

Brooklyn's going through her chocolate era. She feels the need to run to Walgreens for chocolate on a nightly basis. I'm going through my frizz-head era.

Sus - suspicious

When a kid who has bad grades says something like, "I have all As," I have to respond with, "That's sus" accompanied with a raised eyebrow.

Stan - crazy fan

My students think I'm such an awesome instructor, they stan me.

Simp - someone who does too much for someone they like.

"Why would you choose to hang with your girlfriend instead of us? You're such a simp!"

Middle Schoolers are JUST LIKE TODDLERS!

We had school-wide testing yesterday in my district. As a test administrator, it's my job to ensure test security while administering the assessment, and to babysit a bunch of 7th graders when they finish testing until the end of the testing block (which was after 2:00 yesterday.) The first part is a breeze - follow the directions, read the instructions verbatim, constantly monitor the class. The second part - oy vey! (I don't know why I'm suddenly typing in Yiddish. The students melted my brain yesterday.)

After testing was completed, all materials collected, and everything was over and done with, we still had 2 hours left in the testing block. Because other classes may have still been testing, it was important to keep my students quiet during this block. 

This is how that task went.

"Other classes may still be testing so you need to be quiet. You can go on your laptops and do missing work, but you may not get out of your seats or talk. I know it's boring. I get it. It's boring for me too, but until this testing block is over, we have to be considerate of others, and maintain a quiet environment."

But these guys are like toddlers who are incapable of being quiet for more than 5 minutes. Because these tweens are constantly bombarded by stimulation via phones and social media, they are incapable of just sitting still and being bored for any length of time.

A couple boys sitting on opposite sides of the classroom started shadow boxing. Because this is what middle schoolers do. It entails one student making weird boxing/karate/kung fu type moves while the other student ducks and bobs avoiding the "punches" the kid is "throwing" from across the room.

A minute later, a couple other students start playing chopsticks across the room. If my kids hadn't played this when they were younger, I probably would've thought the students were flashing gang symbols.

Another student starts ripping a gum wrapper into a million shreds.

And yet another kid takes the little Jibbetz (shoe charms) off his Crocs and starts spinning them around like tops on the surface of his desk. When he got bored with that, he started playing with the charms like they were dolls.

Another student drew all over his hands and arms, practicing the fine art of tattoo design.

A couple kids (again, sitting on opposite sides of the room) start playing rock, paper, scissors with each other. I told them they were doing it wrong and it was really rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Spock. They didn't get it. Apparently they don't watch Big Bang Theory.

A couple other kids continuously flipped their water bottles, trying to get them to land right-side-up until I confiscated them. That was met by choruses of, "What? What did I do? I didn't do anything. Why did you take our water bottles?"

"Because I'm mean."

As all these "activities" were going on, I continuously told kids, "Stop talking. Quiet down. Turn around. Stop talking. Shhhhh. Sit back down. Stop talking. Get off YouTube. Stop talking. Put your shoes on. No, you can't move your desks around. Stop talking.

And of course, in between all that fun, there was a constant stream of students asking to go to the bathroom, not because they had to pee, but because they were bored and wanted something to do.

When I got home from work, I was so exhausted, I pondered the wisdom of going to bed at 5:00.

I know I, for one, am looking forward to another testing day tomorrow.

These Names for Grandparents are Truly Unique

When my oldest son told me that he and his wife were expecting their first child, I could hardly contain my excitement and anticipation. I have the best memories of visiting my grandparents. I know my own kids loved playing with my parents, and sleeping over at their house was a total treat. I couldn't wait to create those amazing memories with my own grandchild. Thoughts of a snuggly little, sweet-smelling baby filled my head. Austin continued, "So what do you think, Grandma?"

Wait what? Grandma? Grandma??? No. Oh no, no, no. I am much too young to be a grandma. I mean, I know that having a grandbaby and being a grandma aren't exclusive; it's kind of a combo deal. You have a grandbaby - you become a grandmother. But no. Just no.

When I hear the word grandma, I think of a little old lady, her gray hair in a bun, a shawl draped around her stooped shoulders, as she knits and slowly creaks back and forth in a wooden rocking chair.

But grandparents today don't fit the picture of the little old lady in a rocking chair, they're vibrant and active. It's understandable why they may not want to be called grandma/grandpa because of the little-old-lady/man connotation, and have come up with these creative alternatives.

Abba

Amma                   

Babcha                  

Birdie

Bop

Buddy

Bumpa

Deeta

Dude

Gaga                     

Gammy

Gampy

Ganny                        

GG

Gigi

Grammy               

Gran                        

Granny

Grumpy

Hada

Honey

Jaja

Jeddoo

Lovey

Ma

Mamaw               

Mamie                  

Manna

Meemo

Memaw 

Memom

Mimere                    

Mimi

Mowmow

Naama

Nan                        

Nan Nan

Nana                        

Nanny                    

Nice Lady                

NieNie                    

Nonna                    

Nonni

Papa

Papaw

Papou

PeePaw

PopPop

Poppy

Powpow

Reenie

Teta

YiaYia

Then again, like Donk on Downton Abbey, sometimes it doesn't matter what name you pick for yourself because those grandkids can come up with some pretty, uh, interesting names on their own!

My granddaughter, Islah's other grandmother is known as Lela (pronounced Layla.) She's Latina and her first granddaughter couldn't say abuela (Spanish for grandma.) So she became Lela and it stuck.

Dede: My grandson came up with Memoo. My daughter was going for Memaw. 

Krista: When my twins were toddlers, the word “Grandma” came out “Gaga”. They are 19 now and my mom is still Gaga.

Elisabeth:

When my nephew was little he called his dad's mom white grandma his mom's mom brown grandma. It was their hair colors. 

Amanda: My cousin referred to our Grandma as "Grandma Blue" when he was little. She used a blue tint on her hair.

Lisa: My favorite story is about a former coworker's mother who wanted to be called Grandmother. The first grandchild couldn't say Grandmother (duh) but could say Uffer, and that is what she was called. 

Jennifer: My mother-in-law was nana-shh because we would tell them to be quiet just in case she was asleep.

Anna: My grandkids call me Merma because my oldest couldn’t say Grandmom.

Megan: My kids call my mom "Pooh Pooh". There's a story behind the Pooh Pooh as that is definitely not what she envisioned being called.

Sandy: I was called grandma tomato when my granddaughter was maybe 3 we were teasing each other she said she was a good girl and I said that was debatable , Some how in her little mine she heard tomato so she started calling me grandma tomato.

Kim: I was supposed to be Grammy but when my granddaughter started referring to me she always said “Day” and that’s what both of my grandchildren call me.

Amy: My daughter calls her grandmother "hams". She had a hard time saying "grandma" and would say "hamm-ma" which as she got older just became hams. 

Don: The three younger grandkids call us guppy and gummy. The older of this group had a hard time saying grandpa and it came out something like guppy. So Guppy I became.

Five years ago, when I got to hold that first little, minutes-old grandbaby, I thought, You can call me whatever you want! That granddaughter now calls me Grandma and I wear it with honor. Because being a grandparent is pretty awesome no matter what you're called. 

How to Get Rid of Forehead Wrinkles

I’m thirty-twenty-two years old. That somehow sounds better than “52.” Or maybe that just makes it sound like I’m seriously math impaired. Which I am. But still . . .

Anyway, so I’m thirty-twenty-two and I feel old. I mean, my grandmother is 101 so in comparison, I’m still youngish. But really, yeah, I feel old. Recently I’ve noticed wrinkles on my face. I don’t look like the crypt keeper, or you know, Keith Richards or anything. Yet. But it’s coming. I can tell. And I’m torn between wanting to grow old gracefully, and wanting to fight it tooth and nail.

Anyway, maybe it’s because this summer, I binge-watched the show Botched. Have you seen this? In the show, these L.A. plastic surgeons fix botched nose jobs, boob jobs, and other plastic-surgeries-gone-bad. That should deter me from wanting to fight the aging process, right? But nope. It made me start considering Botox. By “considering,” really I mean that the thought of Botox fleetingly crossed my brain only to be instantly discarded because

1. I can’t afford anything like that!

2  I don’t think I want needles stuck in my face.

3. What if I have a bad reaction and I end up looking like Glimmer in The Hunger Games after being stung by Tracker Jackers.

    Or this guy in Just go with It.

    So, instead of searching for dermatologists, I looked for miracle creams, lotions, and potions that claimed to smooth out wrinkles. I found a product on Amazon. It had a 4.9 rating and the reviews were promising. This product wasn’t a face mask, or a moisturizing cream. No, it was stickers. Yes, you read that correctly. It was a pack of stickers that one applies to one’s face before bed. One sleeps with these stickers affixed to one’s face, and in the morning, one peels them off to reveal fresh, wrinkle-free skin. The reviews claimed, “This product worked amazingly!” “Wow this really does help!” “ . . . immediate results” “. . .  easy to use” “. . .  great results” “. . . lines a lot less noticeable” “My wrinkles have vanished!”

Sign me up! 135 people can’t be wrong. Face stickers for the win!

So I got these stickers, and the first thing I noticed was the packaging. There was an address on the box that listed Ireland. Perhaps the verbiage on the package was translated from Irish? I thought that English was the language most spoken in Ireland, but who knows? Or maybe it was written by illiterate 2^nd graders. Or monkeys. Still, if you’re going to save money by having a monkey write your advertising, you might want to consider splurging on an editor to translate the monkey-ese to English. Just a suggestion.

random capitalization, spelling errors, poor grammar , , ,

Despite the poorly written verbiage on the packaging, I excitedly applied the stickers to my face before bedtime. I held my skin taut and carefully smoothed the sticker across my forehead. I continued with a few more stickers around my mouth. Ta da! I went to sleep with the knowledge I was going to look amazing when I awoke!

wrinkles on my forehead

wrinkles all around my mouth

I pulled the tape off as soon as I woke up. Are you ready for the "after" pictures? Brace yourselves for the awesomeness!

The angry look is just my usual "morning face."

Well, the wrinkles ARE less visible. However, my skin is all rippled and wavy from the way the tape bunched up which, I'm sure you'll all agree, is a huge improvement.

And here we have the original wrinkles plus some extra BONUS wrinkles! Score!

Feeling a little extra stupid after this um, experiment, I decided there was only one reasonable way to fix the wrinkles on my forehead.

Bangs!

1988 called. They want their hairstyle back.

I began blow-drying my hair, but stopped when I realized I was starting to resemble my high school pictures. If only I had a can of Aquanet. Do they even still make Aquanet? I'm pretty sure the females (actually, the males too. I mean, this was the 80s afterall) in the senior class of my high school alone are probably responsible for the hole in the ozone. 

Anyway, my forehead wrinkles are gone. It didn't cost me a cent, and I didn't end up looking like poor Glimmer. I am a beauty EXPERT, you guys!

Procrastinators Unite! . . . Tomorrow

 I was talking to my sister on the phone today and we were commiserating like we often do. 

"I've had this whole summer to write and I haven't written a word. One time, ONCE, I opened my laptop, pulled up a fresh new Word doc and stared at it. I muttered to myself, 'Just write. Write something. Anything." The cursor continued to blink in the upper left corner. I gave myself a little pep talk. "C'mon, you know once you start writing, the words will come. Just START! Write something.' A half an hour later, I closed my computer and played the Harry Potter game on my phone."

My sister, nodding in agreement, responded, "I was supposed to look for a job this summer. The summer's not over though, right? I keep thinking I should be cleaning my basement and doing productive things because when I start working again, I'll look back and be like 'why did I waste all that time?' Then again, I think - I'll be working soon and I don't want to look back and wonder why I didn't have more fun doing the things I want to do, you know?"

"I understand. It's a conundrum. But I haven't even been having fun or anything. I think I'm becoming agoraphobic. I never leave my apartment. I just sit here, escaping life by watching tv. My cats are starting to think maybe I died."

"Yes, I saw on Facebook that you've finished Netflix."

"And Prime and Peacock too," I added.

"Impressive."

"I figure I'll just win the lottery and then I can quit my job and write. Although, having all the time in the world this month hasn't given me the ability to write so . . ." I trailed off.

"Have you bought a ticket?"

"Uh no. I actually ran to Publix the other night to buy some heavy whipping cream because I got a sudden hankerin' for chocolate mousse. I saw ropes strung out across the store with a sign directing people where to line up in order to buy lottery tickets. Only 2 people were in line because it was like 9:45 at night (which is a perfectly normal time to feel the need to make chocolate mousse.) I thought about getting a ticket because there wasn't a long wait, and because the jackpot was like $830 million dollars. But alas, I never buy tickets so I wasn't sure what the process was and being the tender age of 52, of course I couldn't just ask the guy at Publix. So I paid for the whipping cream and left, all the while thinking I was stupid for not just asking how to buy a stupid ticket and knowing that I would be so pissed off if the winning ticket ended up being sold at that Publix. I mean, how do you go on from something like that?

"Oh my gosh, you're turning into me!" My sister has always been a super introvert. I mean, she's super, in that she's very introverted. I guess she is super at being introverted also. Like she's an expert-level introvert. I, on the other hand, have always been quite extroverted. Until recently with my whole shut-in status, and my fantasizing about being a hermit when I grow up.

"I know!" I said in my best Monica voice. (My sis always gets my Friends references. And literally any TV show or movie quotes. It makes our parents crazy because it's like we speak another language. The language of love! <--- Sorry, I got sidetracked with a Better off Dead quote. As I was saying, we speak the language of random movie quotes. Our mother especially LOVES when we go off with the quotes in the middle of a group chat. She'll be talking about something serious, like telling us about her visit with our grandma who has dementia. She'll mention that our grandma had mashed potatoes for dinner and my sister and I will cut in with:

These mashed potatoes are so creamy.
l could never make a good pot roast.
You need good beef.
John Wayne was tall.
Dustin Hoffman was five-six.

Argentina has great beef. Beef and Nazis.

At that point our mom generally gives up and leaves the conversation.

 "So if I'm going to be a shut-in, I should at least spend my time writing, right?" I asked.

"Yes, you should! You need to move back here to Chicagoland so I can motivate you to write! And you can motivate me to clean my basement!"

"You know that wouldn't work. We'd both be like, 'Meh, why rush it? Let's have margaritas instead!' And we'd spend the day drinking."

"Good point. Well, I'm telling you now to write something. You have to give me a half an hour of work. I want it on my desk by 9:00."

"Okay Ross." (Friends again.)

"I mean it," she insisted.

"A half an hour of work is too loose. I mean I stared at a blank screen for half an hour earlier this week. You need to be more specific. Give me a word count. Or wait! How about if I don't work on my stupid book, but I'll write a blog post. Does that work?"

"Yes! Do it! Don't forget! Put a post-it on your cat or something so you don't forget."

So this is my blog post about wanting to write a blog post because, as I told my sister, "I can't keep saying I'm a writer if I never write anything."

And here is a picture of my post-it, reminding me to write.

The Mass Exodus of Educators Is Real, And It Isn't Why You Think

Remember at the start of Covid, when kids around the country were having to do school from home, and frazzled parents everywhere said, "Dear teachers, we're so sorry we didn't appreciate you! We'll give you whatever you want! Anything at all! Just please take our kids back"? Yeah, I don't really remember that either. It was rather a short-lived phase. As soon as the kids were back in school, parents forgot all about the stress of home-schooling. And honestly, it wasn't even home-schooling. Parents didn't need to curate curriculum, ensuring standards were met. They didn't need to differentiate instruction, or really give any instruction at all. Parents didn't need to collect data, make sure IEPs were met, or administer assessments while trying to ascertain if cheating was going on from afar. They didn't need to monitor kids working from home while also teaching to the students physically in their classrooms, attempting to give adequate attention to both groups, but failing because it's a literally impossible task. Parents had to simply monitor their kids and make sure they were logging into classes and doing work (something they should be doing anyway.)

But here we are. And teachers are leaving the profession in droves. According to the National Education Association survey of its members, "a staggering 55 percent of educators are thinking about leaving the profession earlier than they had planned. This represents a significant increase from 37 percent in August and is true for educators regardless of age or years teaching, driving buses, or serving meals to students."

It's a vicious circle. As more and more educators leave, those who stay are left to pick up the slack. In an already trying year, staff is constantly being forced to combine classes, give up planning periods to cover colleagues who are sick, and take on more responsibility as people leave and aren't replaced. At some point, those who stick around meet their breaking points, and join the ranks of those who have left the field. And so the circle goes round and round.

What does that really look like? On any given day, a school can easily have 12 teachers out, another 2 teachers who left and haven't been replaced yet, and 3 administrators out. And that school will have 4 substitutes show up. So where do the other 10 classes of students go? Schools double and triple up classes and put them in the media center, the cafeteria, the gym. School health assistants, bookkeepers, librarians, and clerks are pulled from their responsibilities to sub in classes. Students lose yet more instructional time when they're already suffering educational deficits, and the teachers sticking it out and staying are held accountable for these losses.

It's not just the teachers who are leaving. It's all support staff, and this includes bus drivers. Like teachers, bus drivers are having to double-up, packing students 3 to a seat while driving combined routes. Students are oftentimes stuck at school for an hour after dismissal before a bus arrives to take them home. My nephews' schools had to pivot back to home-learning because there simply weren't enough bus drivers to take the students to school.

But that's not the main reason people are leaving. 

I have teacher friends with masters degrees who say if it weren't for their spouses, they don't know where they could live because they don't make enough to afford housing on their own. There's something extremely sad about individuals with masters degrees who can't afford the rent by themselves. And every year, they have to fight to get any kind of raise, or to keep the districts from raising their health insurance, or cutting coverage. If we entrust our future generations to teachers and expect them to turn out self-sustaining, educated, productive members of society, we need to give them the tools to do that.

But that's not even the main reason people are leaving.

According to my own unscientific survey of my coworkers, we're leaving because of the ridiculous amount of disruptive and disrespectful behavior from students with absolutely no accountability. Aside from the unruly behavior and disruption, there are the students with zero motivation to learn. I call them the TikTok kids. Their attention span is the length of a Tik Tok video and then they're "bored." So many teachers spend an insane amount of time dealing with behavior issues, and trying to coax kids to just do. their. work. that they don't have time to teach the students who are actually there to learn. It is absolutely draining. I know I personally leave work, mentally exhausted. And there are so very many parents that are just checked out. Those are the good ones. The others condone their child's abominable behavior choices, and try to place the blame on the teacher.

Those not in education might not understand the kind of behavior teachers are dealing with. And of course, this varies from elementary to middle to high school, and from school to school, district to district, and state to state. But I think I can say with absolute certainty that student behavior has gotten much worse over the years, no matter where you are. Here are a couple recent comments I got from teacher friends around the country:

I had a student walk in to class, shout, "'Sup b*tches?!" then proceed to jump on top of a desk and hop from desktop to desktop across the classroom.

I called a student in to my class so I could give her help making up some missing assignments in a class she's failing. She was so mad that I took her out of PE to help her do the work she'd been blowing off. She whipped out her phone, called her mom right then and there in class, and angrily stated, "This lady is making me work instead of going to PE!" From across the room, I could hear her mom's outraged voice through the phone say, "Let me talk to that lady. That's disrespectful!" Wait what? I'm the one being disrespectful here??

I had a student come in already angry.  I asked him to pick his head up and listen to the instructions (after offering all kinds of "cool down" time and options.)  Well, that set him off.  He stood up, flipped my table (others were sitting at it as well), cussed me out including saying that he was going to beat my a**, etc.  The SRO (school resource officer)  had to come and physically restrain him to calm him down and get him out. He was sent back to my class.  Same day.  Same class period. ...with a Dum Dum in his mouth from the SRO. That was almost a career change day for me.

The student behavior coupled with a lack of support from parents and/or administration, all while teachers are stretched thin because they're so short-staffed is what is driving educators away from the profession.

Education was already this big snowball, gathering mass as it rolled along toward a cliff. Covid pushed it over, and now it's on a downhill path, gaining momentum and girth at a staggering rate. But never fear, the powers-that-be are armed and shooting Nerf darts at the mammoth problem cannonballing out of control so I'm sure that will divert its crash course in no time. Either that, or that statistic of 55% of educators thinking of leaving will turn into 55% gone. Poof.

A Li'l Update

I know I've kinda dropped off the face of the earth. I was getting so annoyed by everyone and everything that I had to step back from all human interaction. (That is, all human interaction except the interaction I need to endure at work since I kind of like getting paid. I mean, if I can't pay my rent, I'll have to live in a van down by the river. And I don't even own a van anymore so essentially, I'd have to live in a compact car down by the river. And that is not appealing.) Anyway, I hit my limit of stupidity and simply couldn't absorb any more so I drifted away from all social media.

So, what's been going on with me, you ask? Let's see . . . 

I learned that the treatment for cancer is worse than the cancer itself. My dad got cancer in his parotid gland. This guy who gets teeth filled without novocaine, and literally never complains of pain of any kind has been in so much pain. Between the throat pain and the gross taste that is omnipresent in his mouth, he hasn't been able to eat for weeks. But he recently finished treatment and is anxiously waiting to feel better, and to start eating again.

I learned that if you complain loudly enough, you can get what you want. Clay, Brooklyn, and I were able to visit my parents in Chicago for Thanksgiving, right before he started chemo and radiation. My dad and I went to pick up my Aunt Vasiliki and my grandmother, Lavonne to bring them out to my parents' house for the day. My grandma was impatient to get out to the car (I mean, I can't blame her! She'd been stuck in her assisted living facility for ages, and she's 100! She's done enough waiting in her life.) Anyway, she was impatient to get out and didn't wait for a nurse to help her, or for me to come inside and walk her out. She ended up falling in the hallway, hitting her head, and getting a giant goose egg. The paramedics took her to the hospital to be checked out since her blood pressure was also sky high. She was MAD! She didn't care about her head or blood pressure; she just wanted to get out and see her family. And she let everyone in the ER know it. "I'm 100 and my granddaughter from Florida is here! You let me out now!"

Anyway, they did let her out and she and I were able to join the rest of the family. I told my grandmother that although I enjoyed spending some one-on-one time with her, the next time I come to visit, we should hang out at home, not in the ER. Or at least pick a hospital with some cute doctors to admire! She agreed.

I learned that I have a new grandson. I haven't seen or talked to Austin, Codi, or Colynn in over a year. I don't even know why. I reread their vitriolic texts to me now and then, looking for some clue as to why they don't have anything to do with me, but to no avail. (They hadn't talked to Savannah and her family in over 2 years, but just recently made amends there which makes me happy.) Anyway, they had another baby right before Savannah had Islah so I have another grandson named Sage. I've never seen him.

I learned that I am way too old and fat to use crutches. At the end of December, I stepped off a curb, heard a pop, and my right knee gave out on me. I was unable to bear weight for a few days.  Apparently, my left knee was feeling jealous of all the fun (you know, ice packs, brace, and steroid shot) that my right knee was receiving so it decided to even things out a bit. While walking out to my car a couple weeks later, my left knee popped and gave out on me. MRIs showed small meniscus tears, considerable bone marrow edema, and little to no cartilage left behind my kneecaps. Walking has become a very painful endeavor. 

I learned, once again, that no matter how hard you try to teach your kids not to act like idiots, sometimes they do anyway. Clay moved out in the middle of the night right before Christmas, and as far as I know, moved in with his girlfriend. He doesn't come around or really talk to anyone anymore.

I learned why people have kids when they're young. Savannah, Ish, and Islah were going to move to Georgia for Ish to accept a job there. Long story short - that didn't happen, thankfully, because I would've missed them way too much. However, they lost their apartment in preparing to move and ended up moving in with me until they're able to find a place. I love being able to see Islah every day. It's amazing how quickly she grows and changes, and I very thankful for this time with her. But lemme tell ya, babies are loud! And crawling babies that like to get into the cat food are exhausting to chase!

I learned all the words to the Spanish versions of every kids' song ever written. Because Ish speaks Spanish, Savannah and Ish speak English and Spanish to Islah so she can grow up being bilingual, which is awesome. To this end, they play songs in Spanish for her, and little gems like Baby Shark run through my head in Spanish on a nonstop loop until I want to stab my eardrums with a sharp stick. Bebé Tiburón do do do-do do . . . 

I'll leave you with a couple pictures and a promise to start writing again because this has GOT to be my last year in education! 

my dad ringing the bell after his last treatment

my grandma after leaving the ER on Thanksgiving

my adorable granddaughter, Islah

Florida, Are You Prepared for a Hurricane?

Having lived down here in Florida for the past 10 years, I've come to learn that hurricane preparedness to a Floridian means something entirely different than what the rest of the world thinks. To a Floridian, preparing for a hurricane means stocking up on alcohol, ice to keep your alcohol cold, flashlights to illuminate the area when pouring your alcohol, batteries to put in the flashlights so you can illuminate the area for, again, pouring alcohol, and juiced-up portable cell phone chargers so you can call your friends and invite them over to partake in some 'hurricane party' alcohol.

I haven't quite attained that level of "Floridian-ness, thank God. This is basically all my knowledge about hurricanes:

The One In Which We Survive A Hurricane (And Being Trapped In A Bathroom With Clayton)

Preparing for a Hurricane

Getting Ready for a Hurricane

The REAL Danger of a Hurricane

The One In Which I Dye Everything But My Hair Blue

Now is a great time to take inventory and stock up on your supplies. I mean, you all remember The Great Toilet Paper Shortage of 2020, right? Stock up on supplies now before Jim Cantore makes an appearance. And it's the perfect time to do it because there's a sales tax holiday on all disaster preparedness supplies (other than alcohol) between Friday, May 28 and Sunday, June 6.

For full details on what's included in the tax holiday, check Floridarevenue.com/disasterprep

Could You be Unintentionally Harming Your Cats? (If You Have These Items in Your House, You Might Be)

This weekend, I learned something about cats and an item that is absolutely toxic to them. I feel the need to use this platform to warn other pet owners of this potentially fatal situation.

I spent over 7 hours at the emergency animal hospital this Saturday with my kitten, and as you can imagine, this was accompanied by a jaw-dropping bill.

When I woke up Saturday morning, my kitten (who ordinarily wakes me up by licking my nose) was nowhere to be seen. I walked out to the kitchen by myself, no kitten winding herself around my ankles, squeaking for food. I looked into the family where KitKat lay on the couch. She lazily stretched and hopped gracefully down to the floor. I flipped on the kitchen light and saw that her right eye was closed. Scooping her up, I nuzzled her soft little head and she looked up at me with her left eye. Her right eye only opened a crack and didn't look quite right. Her third eyelid was completely covering the part of her eye that was visible through her squinting lids.

At this point, I thought she was just sleepy and would open her eye more as she woke up. I filled her bowl with food; she sniffed it and walked back out to the family room. That's weird, I thought. She must be really tired. Usually she digs in when I feed her in the morning.

As the morning went on, KitKat continued to squint, keeping her right eye mostly closed. On inspection, I didn't see any debris or hair or anything in her eye that could be causing irritation. I was concerned, but as luck would have it, it was Saturday and her vet wasn't open. I called an after-hours emergency vet who told me I should bring her in if I was concerned. They also informed me there was a $95 fee to be seen.

I debated for a little while, asking myself what I would do if it was my kid whose eye was bothering them. I decided to take her in to be safe. After filling out the hospital's paperwork, I was told to wait with KitKat in my car. We waited for about an hour and a half, KitKat happily napping on my lap. I called the hospital to make sure they hadn't forgotten about us and asked if they thought we'd be seen soon. Apparently, 3 back-to-back emergencies had come in so we'd been bumped back a bit, which I understand. After 2 1/2 hours of waiting, I told them I had to leave to take my son to work. 

We went home, where I expected KitKat to run to her water bowl, assuming she was as thirsty as I was. She didn't eat or drink though. I thought she probably just didn't feel great because her eye was bothering her. Until Brooklyn mentioned, "That's the eye she had pollen on."

Oh right, I remembered. A couple days prior, KitKat had gotten into the vase of flowers Lexi had given me for Mother's Day. She had pollen on her face and her paw which I wiped off. 

I googled flowers poisonous to cats. Lo and behold, I learned that lilies especially are highly toxic to cats. Ingesting even a small amount of pollen, leaves, petals, or even the water in which they sit could be fatal. Guess what flowers were in my arrangement. Roses and lilies. That bright yellow powder that had been on her was from the lilies.

Freaking out that it wasn't just KitKat's eye, but that her kidneys were shutting down and that's why she wasn't eating or drinking, or being as playful as usual, I dropped Clay at work and then rushed back to the hospital with Brooklyn holding KitKat.

Long story short, after bloodwork to evaluate the state of KitKat's kidneys and liver, a shot of an anti-nausea medication, a stain of her eyeball to look for scratches, and medication for her eye, she was sent home with us. Thankfully, she didn't ingest any of the lilies when just a little bit of pollen on her face had caused such inflammation and irritation of her eye.

I was in tears, talking to the veterinarian, thinking that my ignorance could have killed my kitten. I didn't know. I didn't know that lilies were that toxic to cats. I had no idea. Since then I've been asking my fellow cat parents if they were aware. Only one of them knew. Only one out of a dozen or so people that I've spoken with this weekend. So I'm using this platform to bring awareness to the fact that there are actually several items that can be harmful, some fatally so, to your pets. Here are a few of the items that are especially harmful to cats.

1. Household Chemicals

Of course, things like bleach, detergent, insect/rodent bait, fertilizers, and such are toxic to anyone. Keep all such items out of kitty's reach (and all cat parents know a kitty's reach is far and wide!)

2. Human and Pet Medicine

Human medications like antidepressants, cold medicines, diet pills, and pain relievers are especially bad. Animal medicine is also harmful in the wrong dose, as is ingesting pet medicine that's for topical use. You should keep all medication out of kitty's reach.

3. Plants

Lilies, sago palms, aloe, mistletoe, azaleas, chrysanthemums, hyacinths, tulips, rhododendron, and marijuana are all toxic to cats. To be safe, don't keep them in your home or your garden if your cat is an outdoor cat.

4. Human food

Although some human food may be okay for kitty, there are many things that are seriously toxic. Some you may know like alcohol, caffeine, and chocolate. But also on this list of highly toxic substances are garlic, onions, chives, grapes, raisins, and the xylitol found in sugarless gum and candy.

This is not an exhaustive list. Talk to your cat's vet for more information.

If you suspect your pet has been poisoned, take samples of vomit, stool, and the suspected poison that was ingested.

Watch for symptoms of possible poisoning.

Know the number of your cat's vet, and the nearest 24-hour emergency facility.

ASPCA Animal Poison Control Center, 888-426-4435

Don't delay. Fast action can save your kitty's life if they've ingested something toxic.