Archive for April, 2010

Laughable (AKA, AK coming soonish)

“How are your legs doing this morning?” Mr. Cookie queried when I told him I was going to go for a 3 mile run.

“They’re actually okay,” I responded.  Both of us were a little surprised because I made a huge mileage jump yesterday up to 6 miles.  “Only six miles,” you ask.  “Didn’t you just do a half marathon?” Yes, well.  Be ye warned:  he who shalt sit on his ample bottom for a month shalt lose all semblance of athleticism.  And he shalt be SMOTE by the powers of the asphalt and bad pacing and the miles and a terrible sense of direction and his thigh cellulite chafing together.  You’ve been warned.

Well, my response jinxed me and my whole run.  Clearly it was all my response’s fault.  Not a lack of running.  Not a lack of eating properly.  Nothing so trivial as that.

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Unbelievable

This has me stunned.  For those not desiring to click on the link, a brief recap:

A woman who adopted a 6 year old boy from Russia last year sent him back, unaccompanied, with a note pinned to his jacket saying she wanted the adoption annulled because he was psychopathic.  Oh yeah.  And purportedly she found a man on the internet who agreed to pick him up from the airport for $215.  It’s hard to say exactly what happened because she’s refusing to talk and there seem to be a lot of stories floating around out there, but the fact remains that she put the child on a plane to Russia.  By himself.  After a year.  And returned him like a faulty item.

How can someone do something like that?  If you sign up to be a parent, whether it be by birth, adoption, or any other way, you’re in it for good.  Jesus.  How could she not think that a child who has grown up in an orphanage wouldn’t have issues?  That’s why there are psychologists.  And behavioral therapists.  And, oh I don’t know, adults who act like adults and take responsibility for raising their children!

I get so angry when parents blame their children for being bad as if they’re entirely separate entities not at all connected to the environment they’re raised in.  I mean, sure she didn’t have control over his earlier years.  BUT STILL!  It was her duty to nurture him and she had to have realized that this probably wasn’t going to be a perfect, Annie ending.  I see parents all the time who act shocked and stunned by their kid’s behavior and maybe I’m being overly harsh, but I really think that these  parents need to be examining their own actions.  I’m not saying that parents are solely responsible, and I’m not saying that every kid’s issues can be blamed on “bad” parents, but I am saying that usually it’s partly a result of nurture or environment and this woman had resources!  I can’t even imagine what kinds of issues this kid is going to have now, especially if he was already struggling with other problems.

You don’t get to just throw in the towel!  It makes me sick to think of all the other potential families that may be affected as a result of this selfish woman’s actions.  I mean, did she do her research?  Did she reach out to anyone for help when she became concerned about his behavior?  If she was having such problems, why was she already starting a second adoption?

Maybe I’m being too harsh.  Maybe if I was a parent I’d take offense to some of the things written here.  Weigh in on this people, please.  I want to know your thoughts.

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Top of the World

Okay, so maybe Alaska isn’t exactly on top, but it’s the closest I’ve gotten to that distinction.  Mr. Cookie and I just got back and it was heartening to see that you guys didn’t abandon us completely in the long period with no posts.  For now, you’ll have to wonder what the answers to the following questions are until a real post with pictures comes out:

* How many types of animal did we eat?

* What was the largest elevation change Mr. Cookie conquered on a run?

* What types of wildlife (and their poop) did we see?

* True or False:  we discovered a book titled Tracks and Scats

* Did Mrs. Cookie make friends with any taxidermied animals this time?

* Did  we see Sarah Palin, Bristol Palin, or anyone else with the last name of Palin???

* Did we abscond with Mom Cookie and her fiance’s adorable dog, Flash?

* add your own questions and we’ll try to answer them!

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Tightly Wound

I’m jittery.

I told a kid to get out of my face today.

In my defense (and believe me, I’m taking my side on this), he deserved it.  I’d booted him last period for

1) doing no work

2) not getting his stuff (binder, pencil) out

3) partially getting his stuff out, but only and inch from his bag and then only to say “see, I have it” before shoving it back in

4) interrupting me every two seconds to try to rat out someone else for doing something they weren’t doing

5) making faces at kids when he thought I wasn’t looking

6) saying “whatever” under his breath as I walked away after telling him to “start doing some work NOW!”

This is the kid who tells the guidance counselors he suffers from anxiety and the other kids pick on him.  This is the kid who will purposefully break his pencil by pressing down as hard as he can just so he has an excuse to make a leisurely, chatty trip to the pencil sharpener.  This is the kid has abused his mother.

This kid did a fist pump and shouted “yes!” when I told him to go to the office.

I’m usually very long on patience and sympathy.  I’m usually very good at giving kids the benefit of the doubt and seeing things from their point of view. I’ve bent over backwards trying to help him get caught up on his work (that he missed when he was out for two months because he wasn’t over the anxiety of his grandfather dying three years ago). I’ve been very patient with him when other teachers have booted him immediately.  I’ve taken him into my homeroom when his homeroom teacher told him to leave and gave him a place.  As evidenced by the list above, I go through a lot more redirection and I give a lot more chances to this guy than I would ever give to someone else.  Because I want him to succeed.

So today, when he came back to my room after school and accessorized his apology with rolled eyes, snickering, and giggles, I told him to get out of my face.  I told him that his apology was bogus.  I told him it was insulting how much had been done for him and how little he appreciated it.  I told him I don’t ever want to hear an apology from him again unless he truly means it and realizes just how much he upset me.

I got personal.

And for once, I’m totally okay with that.

In other news, I’m in a great mood today!  “Why,” you may ask.  Because my nails are a lovely shade of red.  Because my haircut is awesome.  Because tomorrow we’re going to Alaska.  Because my husband promised to make me dinner tonight.  Because A helped me pick out some seriously awesome new sunglasses yesterday.  And because she also just invited me to do the Cape Cod Relay with her team and I’m so excited to have a goal again.  Kick butt!

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Eight Years Old

Some people tell me that this date is not as important anymore.  But for me, it’s hard to ignore it.

Eight  years ago today, something big started.

Eight years ago today, I made a life altering decision.

Eight years ago today, the trajectory was set.

Eight years ago today, I said no.

Eight years ago today, my future husband sent me an im that asked “Hypothetically, if someone was to ask me if we were dating, and I said yes, would you be offended?”

Hypothetically, no.  In reality, no.

And so began a relationship.  It may not be our wedding anniversary, but it’s hard to just ignore 6.5 years of history.  So, on this day, happy [dating] anniversary, Handsome Man.

New Years Eve ’02

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Brick by Brick

On a wet and windy summer day three years ago, Mr. Cookie and I were riding our bikes through Portland, ME.  However, carrying camping gear and clothes through the rain and wind proved to be more tiring than our out of shape bodies were ready for.  Tired and dejected (and wet!), Mr. Cookie mentioned that he’d seen a sign for flatbread pizza a ways back and maybe we should head back and get some lunch.  Never one to argue with food, we did just that.

We walked in (Mr. Cookie would take this time to tell you all about how I tried to convince him that we should really go into the Irish pub next door instead) to a cheery, warm place with hand made art, wood hewn tables, and the friendliest staff I’ve ever run into.  But the part that drew our attention immediately was the clay oven holding court in one corner.  Perhaps the hostess saw how wet we were; perhaps she noticed the particularly rosy hue of our cheeks, but bless her heart she sat us down right near that oven.  We got to see our food cook while warming up.  The food was amazing.  The waitress was laid back and friendly.  The guy at the oven was outgoing and chatted with some children who came over to watch.  Did I mention the food?

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In the Name of Science!

Last week, we found out one of the teachers in our building was getting an award.  Last weekend, I made a cake.  Last weekend, I also managed to:  slap the counter so hard I formed a blood blister on one of my fingers, irritate my husband by asking him to go to the store just one more time, and drive around frantically to FOUR different stores (AC Moore- closed, Michael’s- closed, Stop & Shop, and Shaw’s) in the moments before ALL STORES MUST CLOSE BECAUSE OF THE HOLIDAY FOR ZOMBIES AND BUNNIES to find somewhere that would sell me a cake box (I finally found one at Shaw’s, thankyouverymuch).  It was a little chaotic.  But, I think this cake came out pretty well!  Take a peek!

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