OK, here it is. I am a teacher. I am a teacher of small children. These kids will walk across the room to wipe their nose on me, or worse. I have a six inch band of snot running a perfect circle around my waist. None of these little kidlets are aware that they are sliming me, it's just what they do.
It is cold and flu season in our neck of the woods, so you can just imagine the mucus that is flowing around me. Last week, the vomiting started. My teaching partner and I draw up vomit charts every year, the way football coaches draw up a schematic of the field. We keep a record of who has upchucked, where they were at the time, and who they sit by. With this in hand we can triangulate the area, and get a pretty good idea where the spew will come from next. Of course, you have to factor in the, 'get up to walk across the room to my teacher' component. (Small children will bypass two other adults, a bathroom, three sinks, several trash cans, and a field of grass to get to their teacher just in time to vomit on her new $150 Naturalizer boots).
Body fluids aren't the only freebie my little darlings share. They just do weird things, which any other child will find fascinating or disgusting, but will still join in on. The other day I found an entire table group licking the name tags on their desks. I don't know why I took the time to question this behavior (sometimes I only ask myself, "Why ask why?"), but this time I did pause to inquire. Each child looked up, startled, and immediately pointed a finger at someone else, "He/She did it first!", of course. What was I thinking to even wonder?
Small children will put anything in their mouth; I am here to tell you that, "Yes", I have seen it all. One poor little bow-headed girl, in my room sits by a particularly hedonistic little boy. This boy will, and does put anything in his mouth. My dear, bow-headed, little cupie doll spends much of her day, being horrified, with her hand in the air, "Teacher, Teacher, he's eating my crayons!", "Teacher, Teacher, he's eating his hair, his scab, his eraser, my eraser, my scab . . ." She doesn't get that she is way more annoying to me than her seat mate. While he keeps himself quietly occupied, she is quite the lesson interrupter. And, as she has not spent time cultivating the appropriate public school immunities, she was the first to throw up. Not a surprise to me, of course; I have been keeping a close record of germ accumulation since day one. The little scab eater will be the last to spew, if he even spews at all. Frankly, I doubt that he will miss one day of school -- EVER.
May peace and a good constitution be yours from: The Goddess of Everything.
It is not warm outside. The sky is blue. The sun is shining. It is damn cold. It's so cold the outdoor animals want in. Barn kitty mewled at the front door until I realized that he wanted to be let in. I couldn't figure out why he was making all of that noise so close to the house. Even our dog, who prefers being outside above all else, was reluctant to go out for a quick potty sojourn. I'm sure that if the goats were free to leave the barnyard, they would be knocking at the front door, bleating to be led to the rug in front of the fire.
I've been cozily, wrapped up in a fluffy blanket, reading by the fire all day. My book finished, I carefully maneuvered my way out from underneath a blanket, a cat, and two dogs (praise the saints, no goats) to refill my cocoa cup and find a new book. All hell broke lose as everyone realized that their lazy goddess, was actually, and finally, available to put food in food dishes. Oh, the barking, and the meowing. What a cacophony. It was only two hours later than usual. How the day goes by when it is cold, and there is nothing to be done but read.
I honestly don't think that I should have to go to work when it is this cold. I could get frostbitten walking to the car. That would not do. I Cold Day is most certainly called for. I doubt the phone tree will be activated though. People, in power, can be such cretins. The pioneers knew to hunker down in the winter; to keep the wood on the fire, and conserve energy. Hmmm. . . 'conserve energy'. That is what I have been doing all day. I was not lazy at all. I was being as a pioneer.
I've always known that had I been a pioneer, I would have died on the trail; probably very early on in the trip. My husband would have had to take on a child-wife to raise the children that my early demise left behind. Of course, had there been a pregnancy, I would have died in childbirth. There might have been one child, but no more. No, not even that. I would have died of dehydration during my pregnancy. Had it not been for demoral and IV fluids, I would have died in the 20th century. The century in which I actually did incubate, and deliver two children. So, I am positive I wouldn't have made it as a pioneer. If I ever go back in time, I will not leave the east to follow an adventuring husband. He will have to understand that I already know the ordeal would kill me. In fact, I wouldn't survive my teen years. I would throw myself off of a cliff during a P.M.S. episode. No need to wonder if I would have made it as a pioneer then.
I do like the idea of conserving energy, in winter, anyway. Why must we race about, acting as if these arctic days are no different than any other cold day? Why can't the world stop for a week, or two? We could all use the time to hunker down, and enjoy a good book, by a crackling fire. The animals seem to have the right idea. It was probably a cat who wrote, "It was not a night for either man, or beast".
May peace, a warm fire, and a cat on your lap be yours from: The Goddess of Everything
In considering my last post, I am reminded that when I party, I sometimes do sleep for a few, restful hours. This was the case on New Year's Eve. I know, I know, I complained hardily of having to change out of my pajamas. But, change I did. Of course, just as I predicted, I had a fabulous time. We were the first to arrive to the party, and one of the last to leave. It was the dancing. We danced and danced. In fact, I danced so much that the many champagne cocktails I enjoyed had no ill after- effects whatsoever. Mmmm. . . champagne cocktails. It was my first time. Who knew? Champagne usually gives me a headache. Adding more alcohol to it never seemed like a good idea. Now I know that it is the best idea ever! I was also introduced to the music of a true party princess (albeit a train wreck), Amy Winehouse. I have danced to, "Rehab", nearly every day since. What was truly amazing, is that I did sleep. I slept well. It was between the hours of 4 a.m. and noon -- not exactly real world hours, but it was a great sleep. Some may say I was passed out, but I beg to differ. If only every night were New Year's Eve. . .
May peace and a comfortable couch be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.
Tonight the goddess speaks about herself: Why can't I sleep? Where does sleep go when it is not with me? Does it miss me? Does it dis me? I wish I remembered what it feels like to wake up refreshed. I'd really, really like to sleep like a baby. I've tried everything from herbs to acupuncture, and meditation to heavy doses of alcohol. Hot baths help, but I can't be getting in and out of the tub at all hours of the night. Melatonin only works to make me more relaxed, which is nice, but not an answer to my not sleeping problem. Sex works great! It works great for the guy in my bed. While he happily snores away, I am left tossing and turning. I'm beginning to develop a theory that my brain won't switch off. Somehow it isn't getting the right signal. It is like a workaholic on cocaine. I can't seem to stop thinking.
Thinking, thinking, thinking . . . . . . thinking about what?! Nothing can be this important that I have to be in a constant state of processing information. Do I really have to be alert when I am filing away my day, or assimilating new information? What about osmosis? Osmosis sounds like a lovely cocktail served by cabana boys, on a tropical island, under a swaying palm tree. Please, I'd like some osmosis.
Dreams. I don't remember dreams because I apparently don't have time for them. Could my brain be protecting me from bad dreams? If I knew, would I prefer my constant state of 'awake'? Perhaps. Perhaps, but I'll never know.
If I were a party girl this would be the perfect situation. I would party all night, and sleep all day. Oh, didn't I mention? Falling asleep during the day isn't too much of a problem. I could doze off at anytime. I just don't let myself for fear that any sleep during the day will make it harder to fall asleep at night. Ha!! I don't seem to have any problem falling asleep after 7 a.m., or when I am in Hawaii, or during long vacations. This wouldn't be a problem if I didn't lead a normal life; a normal life that includes a job -- DURING THE DAY. Sigh. I guess I was meant to lead the life of a rich party girl. The answer is now glaringly obvious to me. I am not fulfilling my contract on this little blue planet. Would that I could.
May peace and a fashionable pair of dark glasses be yours from: The Goddess of Everything.