Four Feet More

Time to wipe off the dust and sweep away the cobwebs hanging around Four Feet More.  I've wanted to post oh so many times in recent weeks, but life keeps getting in the way.

A constant distraction is my little student (we'll call her Jane), who I believe has Oppositional Defiant Disorder.  I've begun playing a covert game of "opposites" with her, just to get through the day.  If I want her to stand I'll say, "Jane, can you please sit over there?  Thanks!"  Then she'll come and stand by me.  If I want her to sit, I'll say, "Jane, I need you to stand over here.  Please do NOT sit in that chair."  Then she'll go and sit in the chair, looking quite smug about defying me.  This of course sends the rest of the kindergartners into a tizzy, "Mrs. ____!  Jane is sitting in the chair!"  I just sigh and say, "Jane's going to do what she wants, I guess."  So far, this game has been working, but it's a bit tedious and exhausting.  And I'm not sure if it will last through the end of the school year.  Fingers crossed, it will, and hopefully next year's teacher will have more success curbing her ODD than I.  We've got just 18 days left until Summer Break - I think I can make it!

About next year... I've been told by both my principal and the union that because there are so many surplussed tenured teachers (due to education budget cuts), the chances of temporary (non-tenured) teachers getting hired back next year is, "slim-to-none."  Here we go again.  Another summer of uncertainty and that unsettling feeling of "will we make it financially?"  Part of me is looking forward to being laid off though.  I can maybe do substitute teaching, and help Jeff with his real estate business.  Or perhaps I'll homeschool Eamon (Vika would not be a good homeschooling candidate, for a variety of reasons).  With the increased class sizes, no prep time, and 10% pay cut teachers in my district are facing next year, it might be a good time to sub.  Maybe by the Fall of 2011, the state of California will open it's eyes and start making education more of a funding priority.

On the homefront, May has been a bit unsettled too.  Perhaps because of the stress I'm dealing with at work, I don't have the patience to deal with the stresses at home.  Jeff and I have been very conscious of our reactions and trying to remain calm, but the kids definitely do test us.  One such moment came last weekend.  Eamon's PTSD was in full swing and he was in a rage about something so minor,  that now I don't even remember what it was.  The rage took on a scary form though, kind of like those we saw during our first months home with the kids.  I actually had to do holding time with Eames, something we haven't done in years.  For those of you not experienced with therapeutic parenting, "holding time" is essentially when a parent holds a child through their rages, both to keep them and the people around them safe, but also to show them that even when their behavior is at it's ugliest, we are still there, helping them through it and loving them.  And Eamon's rage was ugly.  He was screaming at me, yelling hurtful things and trying to hit me.  It was almost as if I was exorcising a demon.  You have to know Eamon to understand how bad this was. He is such a sweet, affectionate child who would give up his favorite toy if it would make someone happy.  He is constantly telling me he loves me and saying "Cheek!" - my signal to give him my cheek to kiss and then kiss his cheek in return.  For him to act like this, something had to be really wrong.  The frustrating thing is, I have no idea what it was!  He has no idea what was causing him to behave that way either.  It's a problem with no clear source and no clear fix.  So, I held him through his rage, breathing calmly, telling him I loved him in a soft voice and encouraging him to calm down.  Which he eventually did do.  Then I got up, went into my bedroom and cried. 

I was so drained, both physically and emotionally, and it was incredibly painful to see my son acting that way.  While I was hiding, Eamon burst into the bedroom, perhaps ready to initiate another fight.  But then he saw me crying, and his little body just deflated.  He sat down beside me, kissed my head and began rubbing my back.  I hugged him and then asked if I could have some time alone to collect myself.  He said yes, and left the room.  About 5 minutes later, there was a knock on the door and Eamon came in carrying the drawing below.  I asked him what it showed and he said, "That's you, Mama, being calm and showing love, and that's me being angry.  But you're still holding my hand."  On the back of the paper was written in big green letters, "I am sory mama."


Poor guy.  I didn't mean to make him feel guilty, which is why I went into the bedroom to cry.  But he saw me and felt guilty anyway.  However, since that day, it seems that Eamon and I have come to a bit of an understanding.  We're almost back to the relationship we had before he started school, and he seems much happier this week than he's been in months.  So, while this incident was one of the worst ever, I think it was good that it happened.  Hopefully we'll soon get to the bottom of what's been eating at the boy so that we can deal with the problem and move forward.

On a positive note, Vika's progress report from school came back with outstanding marks!  She has struggled a bit academically, so it was wonderful to see her success.  She even received and A+ on a science test (an especially impressive achievement to her science-challenged mama)!  The girl's been devouring chapter books and really seems to be coming into her own academically.  In a month of "steps back," this was a very satisfying "step forward."  Go Vika!

So, there is it.  My month so far in a rather large nutshell.  Hopefully once school gets out I'll be a more regular blog poster and reader.  Thank goodness for Facebook, or I'd be out of the loop entirely!

I knit a lot this Fall.  I may have only completed two projects, but they were pretty big projects - two sweaters that I absolutely love and wear all the time.  However, that last cardigan kind of did me in.  After it was completed, I simply lost the desire to knit.  I thought about knitting something else, but my heart wasn't really in it. 

During the Winter Olympics, I began to feel inspired to knit again.  Team USA's Opening Ceremony hat was awesome, but since Spring was approaching, it seemed a bit to wintery of a project to begin that late in the season.  I also absolutely loved Team Sweden's crocheted hat, and really wanted to make on for my friend J9's new baby (J9 lived in Sweden for a while, so I thought she would dig it).  Only problem is, I don't know how to crochet.  I tried several times, but it didn't work out so well.  It's like I have a crocheting mental block or something.  A friend finally gave me a tutorial, and while I think I could now crochet a fairly decent scarf, the Sweden hat is still beyond my capabilities. 

So I set aside my yarn and needles for a while and took a hiatus.  I've enjoyed watching TV without counting rows and doing nerdy things in my free time like working on puzzles.  But there is one pattern that has been on my mind since the fall - the Slanting Gretel Tee.  Last week, my fingers began to itch for the knitting needles again.  I also got the new Knit Picks catalogue in the mail, and wouldn't you know it, there was the perfect yarn in the exact color I was thinking of for the Slanting Gretel Tee.  It was a sign! I ordered the yarn and it came in the mail today.   Perfect.  Now I can begin a new project while watching "The Power of Madonna" episode of Glee!  Sounds like the perfect evening.

It's that time of year again.  The time when school districts across California lay off teachers in an effort to save money.  You may have seen something on the news last Thursday when protesters shut down a major freeway near Oakland in an effort to raise awareness of the educational crisis.  I'm sure their actions raised a lot of sympathy with the commuters who were stuck in gridlocked traffic for hours as a result.  *sigh*  Anyway, traditionally, we get our pink slips on the "Ides of March" (March 15th for the less Shakespearean of my readers).  This year they came a week early.

On Friday afternoon I received a call from the secretary asking me to meet with our principal in her office.  I immediately stopped what I was doing and headed out (it's rarely a good thing to be called to the principal's office).  As I was leaving my class, one of the women who works at our after school daycare, said, "Are you going to the office?"  At my affirmative answer she warned, "Well watch out!  Jenna's mom is down there and she's FURIOUS!"  To provide a little background, Jenna (name has been changed) is an extremely bright student of mine who has the misfortune of having a mother who is less-than-pleasant, thinks of school as free daycare, and rarely gets her daughter to class on time.  Oh, and she's got a major chip on her shoulder.  Like a Rock-of-Gibraltar-sized-chip.  But back to my story....  In alarm I asked, "What's she mad about?"  Apparently Jenna had an accident (pooped) in her pants at daycare, and mom was mad that she had to take time out of her day to deal with it. 

In growing dread, I walked down to the office, ready to fend off any attack this woman might throw at me.  Past history has shown that she's the type of person who believes a good defense is an offense and will try to blame anyone else but herself for failures on her daughter's part. 

As I approached the office, I saw my friend, T, another temporary teacher, heading there as well.  She mimed something about signing papers, but I still expected a confrontation with Jenna's mom.  When T explained that we were probably getting our pink slips, I felt tremendous relief!  As the principal asked me to sign for my lay-off letter, I said, "Oh good!  I thought I was going to have to deal with Jenna's angry mom and poop pants!"  We all laughed and then T and I merrily went on our way.

That's the way things are now.  We've been laid-off so much that we've become desensitized to losing our jobs!  And this year is even more dire than last year was, with class sizes increasing across the board and all prep classes going away.  Unless there is a huge wave of retirement (which some people think is likely), there simply won't be positions available for the laid-off teachers to fill in the Fall.  It's the same old story.  But after three years, it's getting less interesting.

The past couple of weeks have just flown by! In between work and the kids, a few other things have occurred which are worth mentioning.

• I am sick. AGAIN. Darn, germy kindergartners. The upside is that all this coughing is giving my abs one heck of a workout! The downside is that I have no creative energy at the moment, which means you get this: a bulleted list of the marginally interesting things that happened since my last post.

• My nephew Tyson turned 1 year old last week! We went to his birthday party last weekend, and hoped to get a photo of him with cake all over his face. However, he just daintily dipped his fingertips into the frosting, keeping very clean and tidy, so I finally told my brother to push the piece of cake in Ty's face. Which he actually did! After a moment of stunned silence, Ty thought it was fun and began smiling through the layers of blue frosting covering his cheeks and mouth. Photos were taken all around.

• I received notice of new budget cuts coming to our school district next year. Proposed cuts include 105 teaching positions (in Elementary Ed), P.E. for elementary students, the elimination of class-size reduction in all elementary classes, custodial services, etc. The list goes on and on until $35 million is cut from the budget. *sigh* Looks like it's going to be another summer of uncertainty for me.

• And, to end on a high note, I finally finished my Rosamund's Cardigan! I got the pattern from Interweave Knits' Fall 2009 issue and used worsted weight yarn purchased from Knit Picks online. There are a few problem areas in the finished sweater (which probably would be eliminated if I blocked it), but overall, I'm happy with the results! Now, on to my next project (whatever that will be...).

Vika's gotten into a bit of a scrap at school lately. Before the whole "Sassy Girls" vs. "Cool Girls" discussion, she told me a secret, which I found slightly alarming, but kept for her anyway. Well, the bag's been opened and that cat has bounced right out, thanks to a boy who likes to kiss and tell.

Here's the deal (which I can now share): Vika kissed a boy at school. A 10 year old boy, who for some reason, is still in 3rd grade. She told me about this not long after, and while I didn't scold her, I did express my concern that the boy (let's call him Cassanova) would spread the tale, and then she would be known as "the girl who kisses boys." Of course, Cassanova did not keep the secret and told all his friends. There was some chanting of "Vika and Cassanova, sittin' in a tree...." and I told Vika that she may be hearing from her teacher when she finds out what is going on.

Well, she found out today. Mrs. M called Vika and Cassanova into her classroom and said that while they weren't in trouble, they were lucky to be in 3rd grade. If they were in 4th grade or older, the police might be called about something like this (???!!!). I hope Vika was paraphrasing Mrs. M's words here, and that she misunderstood them, because I don't think making children scared of the police is an effective way to deal with inappropriate displays of affection. But I digress.... Vika said that while Mrs. M was talking to them, Cassanova started crying. Apparently, he always cries when he gets into trouble (which seems to be quite a lot).

Mom and I listened as Vika described another incident when Cassanova cried to get off the hook. I'll quote her here, because really, there's no other way to do the conversation justice.

Vika: Can you believe it? A 10 year old boy in 3rd grade is crying to get out of trouble! It's like that time, when he called this girl a "ditch," he cried, and didn't even get into trouble!

Me: I'm sorry, what did he call her?

V: A "ditch!"

Me: A "ditch?"

V: Yeah, a "ditch."

(Mom and I look at each other and burst into laughter)

V: What? What's so funny?

Me: Poor "Cassanova"...

Mom: Yeah, his mind's sure in the gutter!

(More laughter ensues while Vika stares at us in bewilderment)

V: What are you guys laughing at? Is it what he called her?

Me: (wiping the tears from my eyes) I'll tell you when you're older.

This resulted in the expected eye-roll from Vix, who was now a bit irritated with both of us. "Vika," I said, "I think maybe Cassanova is not the best person for you to be hanging around with." Fortunately, she agreed. Although this may have more to do with her crush on a nice, studious boy ("I'm in love Mama!"), rather than any words of wisdom on my part.

Anyway, the lesson I hope she learns from this enlightening experience is this: boys who kiss and tell and call girls nasty names (even if they don't get it right) aren't worth your time or affection.

God, I'm dreading her teen years....

I saw these online and kind of had to have them. They'll go nicely with the matryoshka plates my friend J9 gave to our family for Christmas.

http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=873473&navAction=jump&search=true&parentid=SEARCH_RESULTS

What do you think? Cute, huh?

Actually, I don't think this will be my last impulse buy of 2009. I just read that Season 1 of "Glee" was released today. Heading off to Target now....

For some reason, I can't shake this cold. I felt like I was getting better last week, but then it came up on me again, even worse than before. I went into school on Monday, but barely made it through class. Thank goodness I teach the morning kindergarten class, so I was able to leave in the afternoon without inconveniencing anyone too much. And I've been home ever since, resting on the couch and in bed, taking meds and drinking lots of tea.

The kids have been pretty good about me staying home sick. This morning they put together quite a surprise. Jeff went downstairs around 7:30 am, and I heard Vika and Eamon yell, "Surprise!" I went down and saw that not only had they gotten themselves up and ready for school, but they had set the table beautifully with a choice of cereals, milk, toast, and even a pot of tea (which is a very nice pot that we keep up high - I'm so glad they didn't get hurt or drop the dang thing while getting it down!). Despite the many opportunities they had to burn themselves with the hot tea or break various dining ware, Vika and Eamon took care of everything really well! My kids are growing up. The only mishap of the morning was provided by Jeff, who put a frozen loaf of bread in the microwave to defrost, while it was still in its plastic wrap with a gold label, and the loaf caught on fire. Vika said, "It's like a candle went off in there!" when looking at the scorched ceiling and melted plastic on the glass of the microwave. Poor Jeff. He's scrubbing the appliance as I type this.

Hopefully another day of rest at home will help me kick this cold once and for all. I'm going back to work tomorrow, and our Metcha Day feast is this Saturday, so I'd really like to get better now. In the meantime, I'll snuggle back with a pot of tea and a good book and enjoy the few hours of quiet I have until the kids get home from school.

So, kindergarten.... It's going well, and I think I am adjusting OK without emotionally scarring any of my students. They are just so tiny and tend to cry very easily. Something I'm not really used to in my students. Here are some other things I didn't expect:

• "Johnny Ringo." He's this very cute little boy who cusses like a sailor and tends to scream "I GIVE UP" when he doesn't want to do something. He also likes to yell, "IT'S NO FRICKIN' FAIR!" and "DAMN IT!!!" when things don't go his way. As you can probably imagine, Johnny Ringo has been in more than a few time-outs (another thing I'm not used to giving my students).
• My Jehovah's Witness student who said "Shit!" when she dropped her crayon. I don't know... I guess I just assumed that Jehovah's Witnesses didn't use curse words!
• A student I think of as "Little Boy Blue" because he is so very tiny and has big blue eyes. He's 4 years old and likes to suck his thumb. His hands also tend to roam up my shirt and up my pants, leaving a wet trail wherever they go. On Friday, while I was reading a story to the class he sat next to me and held my arm. I just ignored it, until I felt warm wetness and looked down to see him sucking my arm. Ewww. Just ewwww.

There are some fun times with the kinders too. For example, my birthday was yesterday, and when I told them I was having a birthday, they naturally asked, "HOW OLD ARE YOU GOING TO BE?" (kindergarten kids tend to shout out when they are excited). I responded that I was going to be 6 years old, and they exploded into raptures, "I"M GOING TO BE SIX THIS YEAR TOO!!!!" They love it that we have something in common, and a few of them have wondered aloud if they will be as tall as me when they turn 6. Later on I might have them add 30 to that number to get my actual age, but probably not. ;)

In the end, despite the learning curve, I am enjoying kindergarten. I love being done with the direct teaching at 11:25 am when my kids (the early birds) leave for the day. I only have to be "on" for half a day, and it's quite nice! I also like having a bit of prep time during the afternoon, something that is a rare commodity in my school district these days (teacher prep time was cut because of the budget). And fortunately, I am working with a great partner who has everything I could possibly need to teach the hands-on lessons. She's also great about letting me pick her brain as I learn the new grade level.

I think it is going to be a good year, and, at the very least, it should give me some great stories!

This week, the kids have been in day camp, and it has been GLORIOUS! From around 8:30 am until 3 pm, they are at the local community center doing fun activities with friends. This week's theme is "Totally Talented," which translates to a lot of karaoke, camp songs, and talent shows. Although they did learn the dance to Michael Jackson's "Thriller" the other day. It was funny to see them dancing (jerking) around with their zombie faces on. Unfortunately, the video camera was not charged, and by the time it was, Vika and Eamon had forgotten most of the dance. *sigh*

The best part about camp is not that the kids get to be out of the house having fun, but it's that I have some actual free time to myself. I haven't had that for over 3 years now, and I'm enjoying every minute of it! I've been knitting my sweater (this little number,which I really want to complete in time to wear this Fall) and watching a lot of "The Tudors" on Netflix. Although I was a bit put off by some of the explicit scenes at first, I have come to love "The Tudors." I must admit that I am lured as much by my admiration of Henry Cavill as by my interest in English history - however fictionalized it may be for dramatic effect. "The Tudors" is something you definitely don't want to watch when kids are around, so having Vika and Eamon at camp has been a perfect opportunity to catch up.

Next week, we're off to Florida and Disney World. It may be hot and sticky, but since we haven't had a lot of hot weather in Northern California this summer, I figure we're about due for some heat. Although the poor kids did get a bit sunbured on their faces yesterday. I lathered on the sunscreen, but they went on a field trip to the waterpark and forgot to reapply later in the day. This prompted a mini-lecture from Jeff on the merits of sunscreen and why it's important to protect your skin. He did a wrinkle demonstration and then said that "once the damage is done, there's nothing you can do about it."

Eamon, ever the optimist, replied, "We could wish...on a star...."

Now, is that a kid who's ready for Disney World or what?

This morning, I received a notification in my e-mail that a person named "comcastcares5" had commented on my last post offering assistance in solving my problem. I was thinking about e-mailing him when the phone rang. It was Comcast. Finally, someone was calling to help me fix this mess!

"Hello!" I said, "Is this Comcast?"

The terse voice on the other line said, "Yes it is Ma'am. How are you going to pay?"

"Excuse me?" I asked. Wasn't this the person whom the Comcast Office said was supposed to call me to sort things out? "Where are you calling from?" I asked the agent.

"This is Collections Ma'am." She then explained that my account was past due and that our service had been discontinued. "WHAT???!!!" I shouted, getting really fed up. I explained to her that we had yet to receive a correct bill on our account and that I had been trying for a month to get this corrected.

Her response: "You still need to pay your bill Ma'am."

"But I haven't ever received a correct bill!!!!" I screeched. "The bills say different amounts and accounts each time! How am I supposed to know what to pay, and why didn't the lady at the Comcast office tell me any of this yesterday???!!! Don't you guys talk to each other???!!!"

I mean, really. They're a telecommunications company - can't they communicate better?

The agent responded, "I believe we do Ma'am. Now how did you want to pay your bill?"

At this point I asked her to clarify the charges for me. It seems the discrepancy in her amount and the amount I was told by billing on Friday was due to late fees that had been applied. I protested that it was ridiculous that we were being charged late fees on bills that had been sent to the wrong address and that had incorrect information on them. I also reminded her that I've been trying to get a correct bill for nearly a month and insisted that she remove the late charges.

The agent agreed to credit the late fees to my account, and I paid what I hope was the correct amount for July. I also learned that the $390 one-time service fee had been dropped. The agent then tried unsuccessfully to "reinstate service" for the account. She became confused when the system wouldn't let her reconnect service, and even more befuddled when I said that our service was working fine and had been all day. I explained again that the problem might be because there are 3 accounts open under our name at 2 different addresses. Then I asked her which account/address I had actually paid. Was it our neighbor's service that was disconnected, and did I just pay his bill for July?

At this point the agent began looking at our accounts a little more closely and said, "Oh, this is all messed up!" "Yes it is" I replied. "And I need it fixed TODAY."

"I need to transfer you to Billing so that they can help you."

"NO!!!" I shouted. "DON'T! The Billing Department told me to go to the Comcast Office to get it fixed, and the Comcast Office redirected me to Credit and Collections, and now you're sending me back to Billing!!! I'm getting the run-around, BIG TIME."

The agent said she would see what she could do and put me on hold. By this point, I was ready to spit nails, so I punched out a quick e-mail to Mark (comcastcares5 who commented on my last post). As I was typing, a woman named Diana came on the phone and told me she was getting in touch with a supervisor to sort things out. Slowly I began to relax and feel a bit more positive.

And then my call was disconnected. Lovely.

I finished up my e-mail to Mark (including the part about being disconnected) and gave him my home phone number. Then I sat and waited for Diana to call me back. But after a while I began to think that she might not call, so I picked up the phone and dialed 1-800-COMCAST, pushing all the necessary numbers to try and get back to a live person in the Billing Department. A woman came on the line and began asking me for my account info. As she accessed my account, I could tell that she was trying to make sense of what she was seeing. "It's a mess, right?" I asked. She kind of laughed and I said, "Look, I was just on the phone with a supervisor but got disconnected. Can you please put me through to someone who can help?"

BEEEEEEP - the other line rang, and it was a call from Philadelphia.

"Are you in Philadelphia?" I asked the woman. "What?" she replied, sounding confused. "Are you in Philadelphia? I have a call on the other line and I'm wondering if it's the Comcast supervisor calling me back."

"Well, Ma'am, I don't know. I'm in Wisconsin!" Perfect.

"Can you hang on a minute?" I asked, and then switched over to the other line to see who was calling.

Lo' and behold, it was comcastcares5, Mark! I quickly greeted him and then asked him to hold while I hung up with the agent on the other line. When I switched back over, Mark again apologized for the trouble I was having and said he had contacts in my area who could help out. He said he would have someone give me a call today to address the issue. "When can they call me?" I asked. The question seemed to catch Mark by surprise, but hey, I have things to do, and I can't really hang around the house all day! Mark asked, "Where are you located?" (which I found a little strange since he said he knew contacts in my area) I told him we were in California, and when he started speaking again, I heard a strange, high-pitched noise, and we were disconnected. *sigh*

BEEEEEEP - another call coming through on the other line.

Since Mark got disconnected, I switched over, and was surprised to hear Diana's voice. "Diana!" I exclaimed with joy (this was all starting to get a bit amusing to me by now), "I was just on the other line with Mark, but we got disconnected!" "Oh, don't worry about that." she said, "We've been working all this time to solve your problem and..."

BEEEEEEP - Philadelphia on the other line

"That's Mark" I said, "Can you hold please?" She said yes, and I switched back over to Mark. "Mark! Diana's on the other line! She's trying to sort things out." He said, "Take your time," but I didn't really want to have him hanging around waiting, so I said that was OK, I would try to fix things with Diana and e-mail him later.

When I switched back to Diana, she said that the other accounts had been closed and that my account was now current. "Which account would that be?" I asked. After all, it could be any one of the three. She confirmed the account number that I had thought was correct all along (Yay me!), and assured me that the late fees would be reversed and that I would receive correct bills in the future. "I sure hope that's true this time!" I replied, and Diana laughed. I was only half-joking.

So, hopefully all's well that ends well and the problem truly is fixed this time. If not, I'm sure you'll be hearing about it.

What I've been going through for the past month with Comc@st not only is extremely irritating, it is almost surreal. I mean, how could a company's customer service be THAT bad? Well, it takes a lot of hard work, let me tell you, and Comc@st has gotten it down to an artform.

The saga began when we were notified by our homeowner's association that June 30th would be the last day that they would be covering our cable costs. If we wanted to continue our service, we would have to set up an appointment with Comc@st to have our account transferred over. No problem. We made an appointment and the cable guy came out on July 1st to transfer our service. There were a few glitches with our TiVo, but otherwise the set-up went smoothly. When we signed the paperwork, we noticed that they had the wrong address down (it was actually our neighbor's address, and that house was currently vacant). So we changed the address on the paperwork, the cable guy wrote a brief note and we initialed it. Problem solved, right? Wrong.

A week later, a new neighbor moved in to the previously vacant house and brought over a Comc@st bill that had been delivered to him. Sure enough, it was our account, but they had the wrong address. Complicating matters further, we received another bill for a different account at our address (the previous account from the homeowner's association). We tried to fix this address and billing mix-up with Comc@st over the phone, but they recommended that we go into their regional office to straighten it out. Since we had just purchased an HD TV and needed to upgrade our service anyway, it wasn't too big of an inconvenience to drive to the office and request assistance. We talked to the service lady at the desk, and she assured us that the address and billing problem had been solved.

She was mistaken. A week later, we received another two bills, for both our address and our neighbor's address, and one of them now said we were past due (this was the homeowner's account which had been closed on June 30th). Meanwhile, our new neighbor has been unable to set up his cable service because Comc@st already has our account listed at his address! I called in again and this time spoke with a very nice lady who assured me that the problem was now cleared up and we should be receiving correct bills in the future.

Then she promptly canceled our service.

By this time, I was ready to commit mayhem. Our phones, internet and TV were down and I could only call Comc@st on my cell phone. Which gets terrible reception in the house. So I kept getting disconnected with the Comc@st guy. At one point he said, "Ma'am, I'm having trouble hearing you," which prompted me to shout into the receiver, "That's because you canceled my dang home phone!!!!" Fortunately, I had been cut off by that point and he didn't hear my outburst. After 45 minutes shivereing outside in the cold night air (the only place I could get good cell reception), the Comc@st technician had reinstated my service temporarily and scheduled a cable guy to come to our house on Friday to "verify the equipment" and correct the address.

Friday came along and Comc@st called at 12 pm to confirm the appointment. I did so and verified that they were coming to our address, and not the neighbor's. The service person assured me that it was our address and that the technician would be here within the half hour. 20 minutes later, I see a Comc@st van pull up and a technician go to the neighbor's house. "Effin-ay!!!" I yelled as I ran down the stairs asking Jeff to redirect the guy to the right place (I was not in the right mood to speak to him in a friendly manner). Jeff asked Cable guy if he should be at our address, but he just gave him a blank look and mumbled something incoherent. Then he hung out in his van for about 15 minutes and drove off. When I called Comc@st an hour later to see what had happened to our service guy, they said that the order had been closed. AAARRRGGGHHH!!!!!! I explained, as calmly as I could, that the guy had gone to the wrong house and that they needed to get another technician here TODAY to fix this problem. Around 3 pm, a different cable guy showed up with no idea what he was supposed to do. After Jeff explained the job to him, he verified the equipment, corrected our address and drove away.

When I spoke to a technician on Friday, she said our current balance was $54 and that she would send us a new bill with the correct address immediately. Well, today I got the bill. It is for $449 and includes a $390 one-time service fee. After a brief temper tantrum, I called Comc@st again to find out what the hell was going on. I explained to the poor technician that we have been trying to fix this problem for a month now and that instead of getting fixed, it seems to be getting more and more mixed-up!!! Then I asked her if we still had two accounts under our name and why we were being charged a $390 service fee.

An audible gulp could be heard on the other end of the phone and the woman timidly said, "Ma'am, it looks like there are now three accounts under your name."

"WHAT???!!!" I exclaimed. How could this be???!!! Apparently, the first Comc@st guy who came out on Friday set up a new account under our name at the neighbor's address. That's what he was doing as he sat in his van for 15 minutes. And apparently we were charged $390 for this service.

So today, I am ready to kick @ss and take names! I'm heading down to that Comc@st office with our three accounts in hand to get this mess straightened out once and for all. Wish me luck, because the way things have been going, I think I'm going to need it!

It's too bad I don't have a brick wall nearby. I think banging my head against it would be easier than dealing with Comc@st's "customer service."

***** UPDATE *****

Just got back from the Comc@st office, where I had to wait in a long-@ss line and was again given a blank look by the "customer service" representative. She said she could not help and that there was no supervisor on duty to assist me. She then took copies of my bills, wrote a note and told me that "Credit and Collections" would be contacting me within 48 hours to clear things up.

F@%$#%@K!!!!

This is Rupert (with our brown tabby, Oona laying on top of him). Rupert Guaca Molay, to be precise. He came to our family when he was just 2 days old, eyes still closed and umbilical cord still attached. I was working in a Pet Hospital at the time, and a whole litter of newborn kittens was brought in, huddled together in a little shoebox. Six other employees and I each took one home, to bottle feed and eventually adopt out. Of the seven kittens, Rupert is the only one who survived. This is not due to my superior cat-raising skills, I assure you. The whole litter was just not healthy, and I think that Rupert may have been the strongest of the lot.

I remember those early days, waking up at all hours of the night to bottle feed this scruffy looking white kitten with a yellow stain on his back. He would scream out with a squeaky meow and would knead the air (we call it “making biscuits”) while I fed him. In fact, the only thing other than food that kept him quiet in those days was music by Sting. Go figure.

This little cat, despite his various anomalies, began to thrive and grow. The yellow stain on his back became a silver/gray patch that wound up extending to cover his head, half his face and his tail (which is striped, like a tabby’s). His eyes developed into a clear blue color, and his back legs grew to be much longer than his front, giving him a bit of a hot-rod-like appearance. People who met him would say, “Man, that is a freaky looking cat!” But I thought he was handsome, and when it came time to adopt him out, I decided that it would be better if he stayed with me instead.

And so he has been a member of our family for 14 years. He chirps in pleasure when I say his name and if I scratch him just right on the back of his neck, he starts grooming himself manically. He loves to play with the tabs you pull off the top of a bottle of milk, and will even mock fight you for them (his growling used to crack my brother up. The two of them engaged in many mock-milk-top-battles).

As Rupert has gotten older, his medical problems have increased. First it was feline acne, which would cause his face to swell up most unbecomingly. Then feline asthma was added to the mix, making him wheeze and cough like an old man. A few years ago he was diagnosed with mega-colon, a condition that causes him to get blocked up and requires daily medication (a laxative) with his food to keep the plumbing working properly.

Another medical blow was delivered last week. About a month ago, Rupert's back foot began to swell up. At first I thought it was a bug bite. He’s had swelling reactions to those before, and usually some oral Prednisone helps them go away. But this time it didn’t work. Then I began soaking the foot and prodding around to see if there was a bite wound or some other injury. I could find nothing, but the foot continued to swell. Friday, I took Rupert in to the vet and got the bad news. Rupert has a tumor on his back foot. While it’s pretty big and ugly, it doesn't seem to be giving him any pain. He's not limping, he doesn't flinch when I touch his foot, and he's eating and playing around normally. We don't know if the tumor is malignant or not, but pretty much the only treatment is to amputate the foot. Which there is no way in hell I am going to do. Rupert is 14 years old, and the thought of him going through the pain of an amputation and living out his remaining few years with a missing foot just seems wrong. Plus, if it is cancer, he'd have to go through chemo in addition to the amputation, which would be even worse. I just can’t see putting him through that, especially given all his other medical conditions. For now, he is his usual happy self, playing, eating and drinking normally, with an enlarged back foot. I guess we'll reassess if it starts to cause him pain, but until then, I'm going to let things ride. Hopefully the tumor is benign and will stay localized, adding to his freakish appearance while not being life-threatening. Only time will tell.

School's been out for a week now, and finally I feel as if I'm beginning to relax. That anxious feeling that I have to grade papers or prepare lesson plans is gone and I'm getting into the rhythm of being home with the kids during the day. A few updates from my summer so far:

• I may be a Trekkie. I saw the new Star Trek movie on Mother's Day (and again since then), and absolutely loved it. I've always been more of a Star Wars fan than Star Trek, but I enjoyed the movie so much that I've begun watching episodes from the original series on Netflix. And let me tell you, they are HILARIOUS (probably not intentionally so, but that's besides the point). Seriously, if you have some time, you should check them out. "The Enemy Within" from Season 1 has some especially smashing acting from William Shattner (and I mean that literally) as well as an extraordinary space dog (some poor mutt in a shag carpet with dixie straw antennas).

• Lately, Vika is asking me to do her hair "like Uhura's" and Eamon wants his hair to be like Bones'. So I may be making my kinds into Trekkies too. Poor things. They don't really stand a chance. I'm making them into geeks already!
  

• Tomorrow we are going to see the King Tut exhibit in San Francisco. My parents visited it in San Francisco back in the 70's, and I remember as a child looking through the King Tut picture book they bought, amazed at all the treasures and the story of the boy king. I tried to see the exhibit in Chicago a couple years back, but tickets were sold out. So we bought our tickets for this one way in advance and are planning to take the kids (I hope they aren't bored out of their minds). We're going to see the exhibit on the same day as the Gay Pride Parade in San Francisco, so I hope it's not too crazy there. Nevertheless, I don't think we'll take public transportation. Seeing a grown man with his bare bottom peeking out of backless leather chaps is not an image that the kids need to have burned into their brains at this young age. ;)

For your enjoyment, and in honor of the occasion, I give you King Tut. Have a great weekend!

On the last day of school (which was Wednesday - YAY!), I agreed to watch another teacher's pet walking stick, Sharpie. In his brief life, Sharpie has suffered a lot of trauma, and... well... to make a long story short, he now only has 5 legs.

But Sharpie's a little trooper, and I agreed to "bugsit" the stick, thinking it would be fun for Vika and Eamon.

I was wrong. Vika immediately tipped over Sharpie's enclosure, dumping his log and lettuce everywhere. Luckily, he was clinging to the grate at the top of his pen and didn't really seem to notice. But ever since, I've been a bit stressed about injuring (or killing) the already disabled insect. I've put him up on a shelf, out of reach of both child and cat, and am just hoping for the best.

This morning, as I went to check on the insect, I saw what appeared to be a shriveled up, quite dead, stick bug laying on the log.

"Oh my God, I killed Sharpie!" I cried out, panic setting in and plans quickly forming in my mind of where I could find another five-legged walking stick to replace this one.

When I opened the lid to investigate, there was Sharpie, hanging from his usual place on the grate, wondering what all the fuss was about.

Apparently, walking sticks shed their skin. So, the shriveled up bug was actually an old epidermis my little friend no longer needed.

Friggin' insect!

I was driving home from work the other day, and a song came on the radio that I secretly love. I immediately rolled up my windows so that no one else would hear the music coming from my car, and covertly sang along during the times I was alone on the road. A part of me was disappointed that it wasn't dark out because then I could sing a long to my heart's content and no one would notice!

This got me thinking about my "guilty pleasures" - the things I love, but really wish I didn't. I like to flatter myself that I have better taste than this, but apparently, I don't. Then it occurred to me that I am 35, for crying out loud, and really should just get over it. I mean, at this point my "cool cover" has pretty much been blown, and it's not like I have anything to lose, right?

So, here's my list of guilty pleasures. Feel free to mock me at will. I can take it. ;)

Songs:

• "I want it that way" by The Backstreet Boys I'm not a fan of boy bands in general. They are too manufactured and pretty for my taste. But there is something about this song that makes me want to turn up the radio and sing along every single time.

• "Hit Me Baby One More Time" by Britney Spears. Despite all the insane head-shaving, child-endangering antics of recent years, I still love this song.

• "Date Rape" by Sublime. The title of this alone makes we want to hate it, but "Date Rape" is the song that got me into Sublime back in college. It's so wrong, but the way the victim takes control and the rapist gets his due, all to the tune of upbeat ska music, is brilliant.

Books:

• Lisa Kleypas' "Wallflower" series. I know they are trashy romance (or as we joking refer to them in my house - "throbbing member" books) but I still enjoy them. And I'm happy to say that the words "throbbing member" or "creamy thighs" are not used once in any of these books.

Movie:

• "A Knight's Tale" with Heath Ledger. From the opening scene where medieval peasants and nobles are pounding out "We Will Rock You" at a jousting match to the celebration dance where the knights and their ladies get funky to "Golden Years" by David Bowie, this movie makes no attempt to stay true to period. Usually this bugs me in a film, but "A Knight's Tale" makes it work in some strange way. Plus, Paul Bettanty as Chaucer has some of the best lines ever. (Ha! Didn't know that Geoffrey Chaucer used to follow around jousting tournaments as a herald, did ya? Or that this is how he got the idea to write "The Knight's Tale" in Canterbury Tales. See, "A Knight's Tale" taught you something new. Even if it's not true.)

TV Shows:

• "Survivor" - It's been on forever now, and things play out in familiar ways each season, but I still find the interactions between contestants highly entertaining. Except for Coach, who's been on this season. Every time he speaks, I feel irritated and want to hurl my remote control at the TV! Yet I can't look away. I want to see him get called out so badly that I keep watching.

• "I love the 80's" or "I love the 90's"or any retrospective show on VH1 really. I generally start watching these shows as "background noise" while I'm cleaning, but soon I am sucked in and cleaning only during the commercials. Nostalgia does it to me every time.

There they are. Just a few of the things that I am embarrassed to admit that I love. What are your guilty pleasures?

This past year has been a difficult one at school. In addition to the budget cuts and the knowledge that I most likely won't have a job next year is the increased work-load heaped upon us by the district. Just the other day we all received books for a new art program which we are supposed to implement somewhere in our already packed schedules. It's really hard to stay motivated and positive, but I'm doing my best for the sake of my students.

It's been a hard year for Jeff too. As a real estate broker during the current economic crisis, deals have been pretty thin. Add to that the fact that he has to make three trips to the kids' school each day (Eamon is a "late-bird" and therefore starts school 3 hours after Vika), and it seems that Jeff has had little or no free time since September.

The kids see our stress and exhaustion and I'm sure they're feeling it too. So, even though we don't have a huge amount of disposable income, it's clear that we all need a vacation this summer. But where could we get away from it all without spending a lot of money. The answer may surprise you: Walt Disney World.

At the risk of raising Kate's anti-Disney ire, I have to say that I absolutely LOVE both Disneyland and Disney World. I grew up taking road trips from Arizona to Disneyland, and the park is the highlight of many childhood memories. However, in recent years, we've gone to Disney World more than Dinseyland - even though it's on the other side of the country. There's one simple reason for this: the food. Jeff and I are foodies, and Disney World offers much more in the way of dining than Disneyland. The Animal Kingdom Lodge is home to one of our favorite restaurants, Boma, at which you can sample African dishes such as bobotie, fufu and cocomisu (probably not really African, but still good). Epcot also offers samples of cuisine from all over the world, which we enjoy despite the fact that much of it is "Disneyfied." Since I am on a personal mission to both give my kids wonderful childhood Disney memories and have them grow into foodies like their parents, Dinsey World is always on my list of potential vacation spots.

The last time we went, in September of 2006, we were able to get the free dining plan, which saved us around $1000! Jeff and I enjoyed it so much that we swore that if they offered free dining again, we would try to take advantage of it. Well, check it out: Score! Because of tough economic times across the country, we were able to get a discounted rate on a room and park tickets as well. And, thanks to our air miles program, we are flying to Florida practically for free! It's almost as if we can't afford not to go to Disney World. That's how I'm justifying it anyway.

So, now we all have something to look forward to this August. The idea that we wouldn't be able to swing a family vacation this year was depressing me quite a bit, truth be told. Jeff and I have worked too hard! And while Disney World may not be the relaxing vacation we probably need, is there really such a thing as a relaxing vacation with kids? My guess is no. So we'll just embrace the crowds, the humidity and the chaos of the four Disney parks and have a great time making memories.

It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that a child in possession of a new pack of gum must chew that gum ceaselessly until it is nothing more than a sticky mass of flavorless goo.

Such is the case with Eamon. Previous experience has taught us that Eamon is not the most responsible gum-chewer. In addition to the numerous wads he’s swallowed, we’ve found pieces of it ground into his bedroom carpet, a string of it attached to his sweater, and a chunk stuck in his hair. So it was a surprise when the Easter Bunny (dang his furry hide) decided to give the kids each a pack of Trident. This went along with his 2009 Easter basket theme of “Healthy Minds, Healthy Teeth” (I didn’t think up the theme, I just went along with it).

Right away, Eamon dug into his gum and began chewing it noisily. He did this throughout the day, looking and sounding much like a cow chewing its cud. Fortunately, Vika lost her pack of gum somewhere at Babushka’s house, or else I’m sure I would have had dueling gum smackers in my ear all day long.

Despite Eamon’s love of chewing gum, this time he took it a bit further than I ever would have anticipated. Each night when I go to bed, I “wake” the boy up and take him to the bathroom. I put “wake” in quotes because Eamon is seldom truly awake during these times. He’s generally still half-asleep, and he never remembers these trips the next morning. When I went to take the boy to the bathroom the other night, he began chewing his cheek. “What on earth is he dreaming about?” I wondered. Then the subtle scent of bubblegum wafted past my nose. Surely the boy was not chewing gum in his sleep. Unfortunately, that was exactly what he was doing. Thus began the frustrating exercise of trying to extract a piece of chewing gum from a not-quite-awake child’s mouth.

As Eamon sat on the toilet, eyes closed and head wobbling in semi-consciousness, I said, “Eamon…spit your gum out!” He just kept chewing. So I tried again, a little louder this time. “Eamon! Spit out your gum!” He still kept chewing. Soon I was saying loudly, “EAMON! YOUR GUM! SPIT IT OUT! “ By this point, his eyes were still closed, but he was frowning and shaking his head frantically from side to side indicating that no, he was not going to spit out his gum. Exasperated, I started tapping his cheeks and patting his shoulders to get him to fully wake-up. I tried tickling him, shaking him by the shoulders, and even prying his mouth open with my hands. The boy was not waking up and he was not giving me his gum.

By this point, Jeff had come upstairs to see what all the ruckus was about. With a “For crying out loud!” he grabbed the squirt bottle off the shelf and sprayed Eamon with cold water to wake him up. Eamon squealed in dismay, but kept his eyes firmly shut and his gum safely tucked in his cheek. It finally took a team effort to retrieve the wad. Jeff pried Eamon’s teeth apart while I reached in with my finger and swept the inside of his mouth. I scooped the gum from out of his cheek and triumphantly threw it in the trash! Then I calmly walked my slightly-damp, still half-asleep son back to his bed.

Easter Bunny, if you’re reading this, NEVER give my child gum again!

Thanks.

Things have been quite hectic at school lately. I feel like I've been running around non-stop with no breaks in sight. Added to this is the pressure of a parent, whom I'll call "Mrs. Helicopter" (Mrs. H for short). Her child did not do so well on his last report card, mostly because he doesn't turn in assignments and frequently "drifts off" in class, and she (for lack of a more delicate term) flipped out*. This has been a pattern with her son since 1st grade; however, Mrs. H is much more interested in blaming the teacher rather than addressing ways to help her son succeed. Last week, she spent hours in my classroom. Hours berating me for not suspending or retaining her son for his missing work; hours going through her son's extremely messy desk (in which we found numerous missing assignments); and hours sitting in the classroom so that she could make sure he finished an assignment and turned it in to the proper bin. Hence the name, Mrs. Helicopter. She hovers over her child so much that it's no wonder he's never learned to take responsibility for himself! When I voiced concerns about this, my words fell on deaf ears.

The final straw came when she pointed at me from across the table, red-faced with tears in her eyes and said, "I'm going to rip you apart for this one!" The issue she took such a strong objection to was that her son had not put the date on one of his papers. I calmly explained that when this happens, I have the child do "name practice" 5 times, putting name, date and assignment on the page. This was not good enough for her. She demonstrated what she would do by ripping up the paper and throwing the torn pieces on her child's desk. Then she spat out, "But you won't do that! You're too nice!"

*sigh*

After this episode, Mrs. H going through my other students' papers (something I never let parents do), yelling at a student in class while I was teaching, telling my substitute that she was allowed to stay in my room unsupervised with her son during lunch (she wanted to help him finish his test), and having the janitor let her into my room after school so that she could go through her son's desk and organize his things only served to increase my irritation. With the help of some extremely wonderful colleagues, I believe I have finally let Mrs. H know that she cannot come into the classroom and disrupt things in such a way. Unfortunately, she still does not understand that her child is a 5th grader and really needs to learn to take responsibility for his own schoolwork. At our meeting this afternoon she proudly stated, "I've told my son that if he's still not turning in his work in college, then I will be sitting right next to him there too, making sure he gets those assignments in!"

Some people just never learn....

* I send home missing assignment lists with my students every other week and require a parent signature on them, so Mrs. H should not be surprised by her son's low grades.

What the heck am I supposed to do with a newborn for 4 hours?

I agreed to watch my nephew, Ty, this Sunday, and I'm not sure what to do other than feed him and change his diaper as needed. Never having had an infant myself, I'm feeling a bit inadequate.

Any tips for keeping a newborn entertained?

I finished this book last night, and I'm still not quite sure how I feel about it. While the ending was hopeful, I guess wanted it to be a bit happier. The story did make me look at the Afghan community differently though and made me start thinking about a group of Afghan friends I had in high school.

I spent my teen years in the city of Fremont, California, which is where a portion of The Kite Runner takes place. It was strange to read about streets and locations which used to be part of my everyday life. Lake Elizabeth, which is mentioned a few times in the book, is the park where I spent endless weekends both playing and coaching soccer. It was through soccer that I came in close contact with Fremont's Afghan community. My brother was on a traveling team with 3 Afghan guys who were all extremely talented soccer players. Mo, Fo, and Obaid were also very funny and became great friends to both my brother and myself. Obaid came over to our house all the time and his mother would frequently send us Afghan food to sample. These were strange dishes featuring a lot of cinnamon and cilantro, and I didn't really enjoy them. It wasn't until later that I found out Obaid's mother was not the best cook, and her meals were a poor representation of Afghan food (which is actually quite good). Mo, Fo and Obaid would talk endlessly about Afghanistan and their dreams of returning there once the country returned to normal (this was both during and shortly after the Soviet occupation). Their memories of Afghanistan were much like those of The Kite Runner's main character, Amir.

Towards the end of my friendship with these guys, things took a turn into uncomfortable territory. For about 6 months, I had a crush on Fo (short for Fowad). While not tall, he was dark and handsome. More importantly, he was the best soccer player of my age I had ever met. This guy did things on the field that I had only seen professional soccer players do, and I was smitten. Then one day Mo and Fo said to me, "You would make a good Muslim wife." They approved of the fact that I didn't drink alcohol or eat pork (I was 17 and going through a vegetarian phase). They also would say things when they came over to our house such as, "Now, if you were an Afghan woman, you would get us something to eat and drink" (instead, I had plopped down onto the couch next to them without even asking if they were hungry). These comments slowly doused the torch I had been carrying for Fo, but unfortunately, both his and Mo's interest seemed to be kindled.

My first inkling that they were interested in more than friendship came when Mo began calling me every night. In between discussions about soccer and school, he would insert comments about how much I would like Afghanistan and how he'd like to show me his country someday. My suspicions were confirmed when he asked me out to a movie and dinner. As I climbed into his car, I was still trying to delude myself into thinking this was just a friendly outing. The gift he gave me of a gold necklace with a heart charm (surrounding a "J") pretty much jolted me out of my state of denial. While he was a complete gentleman, the date wound up killing my friendship with Mo. I was just wasn't attracted to him in that way and, stupid teenager that I was, I began avoiding him.

This was when Fo moved in. While we were away at a soccer tournament, he took me aside to sit next to him on the ledge of a fountain. He was nervously fiddling with a piece of paper in his hand, which he explained was a poem he had written. Would I like to hear it? I warily said yes, and then listened in silence as he read flowery phrases about a woman he had come to adore. After he was done, he looked at me meaningfully and asked if I liked the poem. "Yeah, it was good!" I replied, pretending to be oblivious, and then I got up and walked briskly away. Poor guy. His poem, while very sweet, marked the death of any lingering attraction I had felt for him. It reminds me of the following conversation from Pride and Prejudice:

Mr. Darcy: I thought that poetry was the food of love.

Elizabeth Bennet: Of a fine stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination I'm convinced one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead.

Over the years since I last saw Mo, Fo, and Obaid, I have wondered about them frequently. Especially after the events of September 11th and America's battle against the Taliban in Afghanistan. I hoped that none of them had returned to their home country and that any family they had still living there were OK. About 5 years ago, I ran into Mo in the bar of a local restaurant. He was actually sitting at the bar, having a drink! I wasn't sure he would remember me, so I walked past, casting him covert glances. However, he did recognize both me and my mom (who I was having dinner with), and came to our table to say "Hi." He said his family was doing well and laughed at my surprise about him drinking alcohol. When mom asked him if he still wanted to return to Afghanistan he replied, "We're too corrupt for them now!" It was good to see that despite my awkward rejection of him, Mo harbored no ill feelings and was still the same funny guy he'd always been.

Even though I'm not sure how much I liked The Kite Runner, I did enjoy the memories it brought to mind. I gained a new understanding of friends whom I have not seen in a long time, and have begun to look at the city where I spent my teen years bit differently. Who knows? Maybe someday in the future I'll find myself at Lake Elizabeth again, this time with Jeff, Vika and Eamon, watching colorful kites flying in the air.