Subbing Cucumbers for Croutons and Other Events

Yes.  My heart has been broken into a million pieces over the loss of Hazel.  I decided I would cry a river all night Tuesday, and then try to move along with my life on Wednesday.

Let’s talk about Wednesday.

On Wednesday, I was driving to school, with a crying headache from the night before, of course, because it was kindergarten pre-screener day.

On my way into town, I remembered how Hazel would get her head stuck in the cattle panel and not know how to remove it.

Remember?

She did it again a few days ago, and Hadley went and helped her out.  I remember thinking to myself, “Oh, I better keep tabs on her so she doesn’t get stuck and has no one to help her.”  So, naturally, on the drive into work, I started to panic and think that maybe that was what had happened to her.  She was laying right near a fence when I found her, although the area was not visible from the house.  I started to cry, of course, because I know within the past few days, I called for her from the deck, heard her moo back at me, did not see her, but got distracted and went on to other things.  So I was worried that she was stuck in the cattle panel and heard me and then I didn’t help her.

I know.  Bleeding hearts of the world.

I got to work and then looked again at my phone to see the picture I took of her when I found her, dead.  The fence she was near was just barbed wire with no cattle panels.  So it made me feel a bit better, although I don’t know why.  I think I am definitely heartbroken and also hopeful that it wasn’t my fault.

You know what else made me feel better?  Two things:  Kindergarteners and Lunch with Erika.

Kindergarteners:

Oh, mylanta, they are hilarious.

Boy:  Hey!  This is my first time here!

Girl:  So aren’t you supposed to do something fun with me now?

Boy:  I had a birthday a few years ago.  I turned five.

Boy:  I don’t know how to learn.

Me:  Ok, fellow teachers, I will take all the kinders because I love them all so much.

Lunch with Erika:

You know what is supes fun?  Packing a boring lunch, deciding not to eat it, and going out for a delish lunch with a pal instead.  I give it two thumbs up.

I had the most delicious salad and Erika let me talk a bit more about Hazel and even looked at the sad, dead Hazel picture, and that was just nice.  And the restaurant dude let me sub cucumbers for croutons and it was a great choice on my part and very kind on his part.

It was like two surprises in one:  a delish lunch and pleasant company.  And trust me, that picture of Hazel was no picnic.  And we should honor Erika for that.

Erika.  We honor you.

Also:  I got a fountain Diet Pepsi, and fountain Diet Sodas are just what this world needs.

Thursday.  Today.

Today I should get a medal for not flipping out on my boys, although, I must admit, I was close.

Please remember they deserve all the recognition for taking care of me when I found Hazel-for collecting her and burying her and planning for me to plant memorial plants in her honor.

But today.  Today, they were something else.  Especially LD.

LD stands for Little Dude, yet the only person he is taller than at this time is David.  And I feel like he will pass David up within a year.

Before we left for town, of which the boys ABSOLUTELY knew was the plan, we had somebody stopping by the house to buy pigs.

Because David was The Magical Turn Buyer and now we are flipping pigs.  For what we hope to be a profit.

LD, who is 13, and lived on a farm since he was 23 months old, CHOSE to wear white socks and slides (sandals) to help pig purchaser man purchase pigs.

In order to go help the aforementioned pig purchaser, LD would have walked by the boot box that contains a plethora of community mud boots that we encourage all family members to don when working with animals.

Anyways.  I was driving to school with the boys, because, I have to set up that dang classroom, and I smell pig poop.  And then I look at LD.  I look at his shorts and his legs and his white socks and everything is splattered with poo/mud and I feel like I have every right to kill him.

I didn’t.  Rest assured.  But you try driving 40 miles into town smelling pig poop and knowing that your child walked right by mud boots and chose this fate for himself.

Go ahead.  Try it.

Also.  We have a fly problem.  I blame David and his incessant need to purchase livestock. And sometimes flies get in our cars and when we are driving we roll down the windows in hopes that the flies will vacate, but they don’t, and then David said to me, very casually, one day:

“The flies will not fly into wind.  That will only work if you are stopped.”

And it has completely blown my mind.  How did he know that?

Did you know that?  Is he messing with me?

Anyways, I get to my classroom and HD was helping me and LD was in charge of giving himself a sponge bath in my classroom, and can you see me rolling my eyes from where you are?

Then Hadley surprises me with a quick drop by to see if I needed any help and she helped me to do many things and I did have to threaten the boys that I would kill them if they rolled down the hallways again with my rolling chair, but I did get some decoations hung, which was swell.

And three cheers for Hadley!  She is nice.

And then one boy said this:

Boy:  I have armpit hair now.  Like a man.

Other Boy:  Nuh-uh.

Boy:  Bet.

Other Boy:  Bet.

Boy:  Bet.

Other Boy:  Bet.

And then Boy decided to close my classroom door so he could prove the armit hair, yet I was trying to get some copies from the copy machine, so I opened the door.

Boy:  Mom!  Do you want to see my armpit hair?

Me:  I most certainly do not.

Boy:  Well, close the door so your teacher friends won’t see!

Then we went to get haircuts, the boys and I, and LD tried to talk me into letting him get a mullet, and can you see me rolling my eyes from where you are?

Because I am.

I am fit to be tied.   I am missing so many things from when I packed up for eSchool.  The most annoying thing:  my lunch count tray.

Reader.  I had the perfect lunch count system.  I had a try with three compartments labeled:  Main Dish, Choice, and Cold lunch.

Reader.  I cannot find that tray.

I bought the tray about 7 years ago at the dollar store.

For $1.

I went back to the dollar store and they have no such tray.

So I have no lunch count plan, and more annoyed, I could not be.

Anyways, I am now for surely (probably) teaching a kinder/1st combo.

(Most likely)

I went to physical therapy this afternoon and the poor dudes, who annoyed me all day with the rolling chair, had to wait in the waiting room for me.

PT:  Let’s see.  Last time we did 5 minutes on the bike.  Do you have time for 10?

Me:  Certainly.

PT:  Do you have time for the treadmill, too?

Me:  Absolutely.

PT:  Do you have time for the Russian Stem?

(Don’t ask.  I literally have no idea.  But I do it and I don’t like it)

Me:  Sure thing!

PT:  Can you do a full ten minutes or do you want to do five?

Me:  Let’s do 10.

And those boys had to wait a solid hour for me.  And that was good.

Oh, yes.  It was good.

Also.  I told them they are in charge of their own dinner.

I am such a Karen.