This WWF Fighter Wants a Time Out

I heard the third bell. Doesn't that mean that this wrestling match is over? I'm bruised and battered and I think my last opponent bit off a chunk of my ear. Why do I keep getting drug back into the ring for more punishment? The only part of this game that I want to participate in is jumping off the top ring rope with a chair and bashing someone over the head. No, I don't need volunteers. I know who I'm going to take out!

Trip home, she's out cold. This is how she sleeps. It scares me to death!

I momentarily dozed off and woke up to find that Thing 3 had eaten a box of Cheez-Its. No wonder she wasn't interested in dinner.

Anyone else think this looks like a mug shot? It should be. The girl decided to sass me about her interpretation of the an assignment and what the actual instructions said. Show down at the dinner table until I came to my senses and threw her out. (Not literally - this time).

I went to help Grant find a box to complete another diorama in and returned to the holding tank to find Thing 3 eating the one remaining muffin that was to have been tomorrow's breakfast for someone. A child's independence can be highly overrated.

Thing 2 simply sat and ate his dinner whiling watching the show knowing that he was about to become a target, too, due to his grades. I only wish I had an "after" picture to post. Quite different.

I just don't even know how to get out of this wresting sport. I'm too old to play. I'm too fragile and I think I've been taken to the mat a few too many times. Those concussions just don't heal as quickly these days. The sheer feat of trying to coordinate all of the homework around here is a circus act. Despite the written homework tonight (I refused to do Dasha's tonight - it was LONG division with decimals and integers and she doesn't even have her multiplication facts memorized - I think NOT), Grant is supposed to have four scales and an etude memorized for his lesson tomorrow afternoon. I stood at the piano plucking out notes and singing, "Bohm, Bohm, Bohm, Bohm, Bohm, Bohm, Bohm," repeatedly until he found the correct pitches. While doing that, I was coloring a picture with Annie and helping Dasha with science homework. When I'd finally sung through those scales so many times that I was speaking in rhythmic scale-like cadences, I quit and went to bathe Annie. OK. So, she hasn't felt great the last couple of days. Yesterday, I noticed that she kept going to the bathroom. When I questioned her about the state of her tummy, she said she was fine. However, her teacher said that she'd asked to go to the bathroom every 15 minutes today and had not performed once she got there. Hmmmm.... I've had enough UTIs to know that story. After her bath, I knew that I needed to do a quick once-over of the area to make sure she didn't have a rash or something else going on downtown. Um. Here's another note to add to the potty training diaries. Once again, do NOT let a toddler use TP - especially by themselves. The girl was stuffed full of TP. I didn't know quite what to do. I put her back into the bathtub for a more detailed cleaning. Once I put her to bed in her Pull Up, she started screaming and saying that it hurt because she peed. I think we're going to have a long night AND we'll be headed to the doctor tomorrow. Yeah, well, I know that was TMI but this is what you get with a toddler. Her private business seems to end up being my public business.

Currently, the big kids are still working on homework. I'm about to start more school work myself. There simply aren't' enough hours in the day to get it all done. I have two choices during the day, 1) engage and interact with the students and take the paperwork home, or 2) give the kids busy work and get the paperwork done at school. I'm not ok with option 2 because I hate it when that happens with my own kids. It seems that the world is wondering why the US keeps slipping further and further behind in education and the almighty powers that be just keep putting more programs into place to prevent students from falling further and further behind. However, all of those programs basically translate into more paperwork for the teacher and less time to actually teach. If you're child has a teacher that actually teaches, be thankful. The juggling act of filling out paperwork and teaching has become overwhelming. I don't know if I can keep it up. I didn't sign up for this job in order to spend three hours a night filling out data forms and "covering my butt" to prove that I'm teaching. I signed up to make a difference in a child's life. I'm having a really hard time doing that right now. Anyway... I probably just lost my job over that little rant but...

So, while I'm getting my papers ready to work with, Dasha brings me a field trip form and tells me that she needs to return it tomorrow with the money. Sure. Not a problem. Let me go shake the money tree out back. Then, I looked at the form. Crapalicious! Are you kidding me? $50 to go see A Christmas Carol at The Alliance Theater. I can't keep this up. Between Grant's band needs, buying stuff for my own classroom, paying for a babysitter and preschool, and trying to keep the lights on, I feel like I'm one breath away from going under for the last time. I'm all about enriching the curriculum and providing opportunities for the students but this is getting ridiculous. I'm having to offset the budget cuts but my budget was one that got cut by 8 days! Oh wait. I'm back on that band wagon again. Did you see how I did that? Glug, glug, glug... sinking.

Here's the vision that I've finally come up with that might help you see where I'm at. Do you remember that scene from Indiana Jones where he has to step out onto the invisible bridge and just have faith that the map was right and that he wasn't going to tumble into a dark abyss below? That's where I'm at. I feel like the abyss is snapping at my heels to drag me under - not just financially or professionally. Honestly, there are days that I want to simply throw the map to the wind and scream, "Bite me, Dora! You and Boots can have your stupid map. Take it and shove it where the sun don't shine in Backpack!" Then, I come to my senses and realize that there are three kids who simply don't have a clue what the struggles in my life are and they just want to be "normal" kids who go on field trips and band competitions without any drama. I'm sure these lessons will give them a whole lot more character (after lots of therapy sessions where they'll blame me for everything) but for me, I'm weary of the battle. Like I said, I know I've heard that bell signaling the end of the round at least three times and this weary wrestler is ready for a time out.

Ok. I'm not sure where that all came from but I feel a bit better now. So, now I can continue on with my stack of red-tape encased paperwork and figure out when I'll get Annie to the doctor tomorrow. Hmmmm...

Good night, all.