School Moms

I must say that school moms are a breed of their own.  I will not, shall not talk bad about them.  But, I will say that sometimes, they’re kind of scary. 

There are two in particular at B-Wops’ school that take their roles very seriously.  And, before I continue I will throw out my disclaimer: Ahem…these two women are great women and awesome mothers.  I appreciate them greatly and all that they do to look after my child while he is actin’ a fool at school. I also will add that I am very fond of both of these women and enjoy speaking to them outside of their roles as school moms.

OK, with that being said, I will now say that these two moms are what the school bully is to the smaller kids on the yard. They’re mean, they bark orders, and they are pushy.

This morning, one of said school moms snapped at a little girl (who was standing with her mother) to hurry up and get inside because the bell had already rung. Now, I’m all for punctuality (theirs, not mine), but if a little girl is with her mother then what is the reason to demand something from that child?

All I’m saying is that school moms take on a whole different life from the regular mom who just has a child enrolled in the school. And, although these women volunteer to be on the campus, they assume the position of being on salary. And, what scares me…or makes me wonder, I should say is, aren’t these women worried about how their children feel with having such bossy moms? I mean, after all, these moms are direct reflections of their children, and if the other kids don’t like the moms,then how do they expect their children to have any friends?

I will admit that there is a little jealousy from my part because they can be completely involved in their child’s education and I cannot. I can only volunteer for small things.  I would, however, love to be at his school once a week, but because a) I’m poor and need my job, b) was stupid and never finished school, and c) would probably make some kids cry doesn’t allow me to be more active.

I just wonder that if at one point these school moms didn’t use such excessive force when they started or if it has always been like this.  I just wonder if I do ever get the chance (you know, if I get laid off and all) will I morph into that typical school mom who barks out orders to helpless children on the schoolyard.

 

Lay Offs Galore

I found out earlier this week that the City I work for is planning on doing another round of layoffs in its agencies.  And, being that I work for one of these city departments, I may be up for the chopping block.  My department is facing at least 100 lay offs, but nobody is really sure around here of the exact number.

I honestly don’t know what to think either.  I have only been in this current position for a year.  So, I may actually get the boot.  Pink slips are being sent home tomorrow. And, here is the crappiest part, if a position is getting eliminated, but a person has high seniority, they have the capability of bumping a lower senioritied person out of their position.  So, even if I do not get a pink slip, I may very well become jobless if somebody with more seniority vies for my job.

My boss keeps telling me not to worry and I’m trying my hardest not to. I guess I’m just going to have to wait and see.  But, if it happens it happens.  I already told my mom I may move back in with her if I do get laid off.  She’s not excited, but she’s at least willing to take the monkeys and me back in.

I also have already started thinking about different scenarios if I do get laid off.  Maybe I’d just go back to school full time and collect unemployment.  Or, maybe I lose like a million pounds, tone up, and go become a stripper to make money! Who knows.  I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.

One thing is for sure, I guess I should really stop blogging at work and be more productive.  I’ll start that tomorrow too.

 

The Joy Of Family

Out of all of the years that I have been of legal age to drink alcohol, I have never really partied at a bar with my sisters.  When I was 21, I was fat and pregnant.  When I was 23, and my sister, Smell, was graduating from Law School and the celebrations were occuring, I was fat and pregnant and miserable. When Smell turned 30, and my whole family surprised her in LA, Pee and I fought so much that drinking and being merry was not on my mind.  Beating her with a stick was.

All I’m saying is that I have never really shared that bonding moment with my sisters.  Maybe because I am the youngest, but for some reason it has never really happened.  Not to say that I haven’t hung out with them separately at bars, but one) there’s always very minimal drinking on my part, and two) it is never the three of us.

Enter Friday night. (How come all of my fun always happens on Friday nights?) My sister Pee and her friend drove down to visit since she had missed Thanksgiving due to work. Plus, my mom had been watching her monkeys most of the week, so Pee was on a recon mission to swoop her kiddos too. Well, Smell had already been in town because of the holiday, and Thursday afternoon we made plans to head out to a bar when Pee and her girl showed up. I even recruited my bff, Gordo, to come out with us.

Before we headed to the bar/club, we decided to go get some sangria from a restaurant across the street. We left my mom’s early enough to be able to share one large pitcher of the magic elixer. Now, I don’t like red wine one bit, but sangria, that is a whole different story. Yum. And, yum.

My sisters are both lushes (they get it from their mama), so they were completely sober after the sangria, but me on the other hand, I was already red-faced. Anyway, we head across the street and let the wild rompous begin.

I really don’t remember how much we drank/danced. (And not that it was a lot, at least the drinking part, but there was just too much fun happening to keep track). I do however remember, going pee with a random stranger ( a female of course), dropping Gordo off at another bar after we left that one, dancing in the middle of the street, and realizing that my car had been at my mom’s house the entire time.

Saturday morning came by quick.  All of us were sore from dancing so much. But, to be honest with you, it was worth it.  I had the best time hanging out with my sisters. Smell even complimented Pee and I to my mom, saying that she has come to the realization that Pee will always be the better dancer, and I’ll always be funnier than her. (But she, my sister Smell, will always be the prettier one.  She didn’t say that, but it’s true.  So, seriously, I’d much rather be the pretty one than the funny one, so maybe it wasn’t a compliment after all. Hmmm.)

Anyway, what I am trying to say is that my sisters are amazing women. I mean, we all get on each other’s nerves (me, more than the others) but that’s what family is for. Right?

Growing up, we never had that sisterly connection.  Smell raised Pee and I, so there has always been that authoritive type of relationship with her instead of a sisterly kind. And, only until I got into high school did I really find out how cool of a person Smell was.  She became my friend instead of the older sister. It was definitely a weird, but beautiful transition. And, with Pee, well, we’ve always been like oil and water.  I still get yelled at instead of her, but I guess I can laugh at it.  Ha. Ha. But she’s been through a lot in her life, so I respect her for being strong and an awesome mom. And, if my monkeys ever act up, they’re going to Tia Pee’s Boot Camp.

After the debacle at Smell’s 30th birthday, my mom was pissed at me for starting shit between myself and Pee.  Although, I still stand strong on the fact that I was only defending myself, and it’s not my fault that I’m mouthy. Anyway, she had made a comment to me when she finally started speaking to me again (which was pretty hard since I was living with her at the time), saying that she wished that we were more like the mom and daughters in the movie, “Because I Said So.” Which really made me sad that my mom was so hurt by my “actions” (I say this in quotations because I still believe I’m innocent) that she started comparing us to a Mandy Moore movie.

Well, move over Mandy Moore.  This weekend, proved that my sisters and I can coexist.  All we need is some booty shaking music and some good ol’ sangria.

 

Offensive Language

Somebody called me a hypocrite the other day and it made me think of how much I despise certain people.  No, but really, it made me think about if there were any truth to the jackass’ claim of me being a hypocrite. And, I came to the conclusion that there wasn’t.  I was right and he was wrong, and that about sums it up. End of story with that one.

What I also realized, in seeing him call me this, was how quick certain people are real quick to call other people names when there are no more excuses left. He called me a hypocrite and that I needed to grow up and that I was insecure.  Now, however much most of these may be true, there was no reason for name calling. Because I was nice enough to refrain from calling him a short, ball-headed, lonely man. See, I was nice. He didn’t want to face the fact that in my argument, I had valid points of why he need not bother me and he couldn’t figure out a way to rebut without calling names.

It is just funny though, how in my life, the men around me are very touchy. This is not to say just the men in my personal life (i.e. Grumps, B-Wops, Gordo, the CBD, my mother’s sperm donor, and my step-dad), because yes, they are ALL touchy, but even the men that I work with.

On more than one occasion I have had to say to the fine gentlemen I work with that they are all worse than a bunch of hormonal teenage girls. They whine, they complain, they talk behind each other’s backs. I don’t know if I have mentioned this, but there is a great gender discrepancy in my job.  I’m the only female by gender, but by stereotypical behavior, half of the men I work with are what ol’ Arnie would call “girly men.”

Case in point: my boss had to call me today to apologize for a joke he made in front of all of the guys and myself this morning because he was worried that what he said may come off as offensive and that I, or somebody in the department, would complain. 

Let me describe what happened: he was holding a safety training with the guys and when it finished he started asking about what type of safety equipment the guys needed to do the job properly. He went down the list of items, gloves, steel-toed boots, tools, equipment for the trucks.  And, because of the weather he started asking about rain equipment, and said, “Do any of you need rubbers?”

Now, this was definitely not offensive by nature, but because the target audience was male, they all started to laugh and began to joke with the youngest stating that he always needs rubbers. And that was that. We all laughed and moved on.

Anyway, my boss called me to apologize because of the “rubbers” joke.  I told him I wasn’t offended, and in fact joined in saying that we work at a great place where they are interested in keeping us protected. And then he reminded me that we work with highly sensitive people. Especially because we (as in the whole department) are still going through our Civil Rights Department to squash all of the drama that these guys have made with each other.

Now I ask, where are the days when we can be crude at work? I’m not saying to step over the line by any means, but if something said may have a double meaning why should we be offended?

After all, a new playground is being built outside of our building come Monday, and the drawings of it make the slide look like a penis.  Now that’s offensive. (Not really, I think it’s funny, but I’m just trying to prove a point.)

 

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

 

Beating Other People’s Children

I am sure that I am not the only mom out there when I say that it is really hard to watch my child get picked on.  And, it makes me feel even worse because I don’t want to be “that mom” that doesn’t allow her child to solve the issue at hand on his own. Right now, I feel torn between protecting my child from the bullies and overstepping my grounds.

I can’t help that I am raising my child with morals and teaching him that we should not hit other people. But, on Saturday afternoon at B-Wops’ gymnastics class, I just wanted him to forget everything I had taught him and to turn around and deck one of the other little boys in the face.  Yes, I know that is a little harsh, but it is a constant battle between four brothers/cousins and my poor son.  They pick on him, push him, cut him in line, talk shit (like a 6/7 year old does) to him, and on Saturday, they finally made him cry.

The crappy part of it all, was that the normal coach wasn’t there for some reason, so those boys had free reign to act like little fools.  And, they seek out my child to just tear him down. I tried not to say anything, but when I saw that my child just couldn’t take it anymore I got pissed. I started shaking and my eyes started watering for my poor son who is too nice to these punks.

I was so horribly mad that I yanked B-Wops from the final few minutes of the class. If I’m not the one picking on him, then nobody should be. But seriously, I honestly don’t know what to do.  Should I punish my child by taking him out of this class because there are some little twerps in the class? B-Wops is no longer enjoying his class, and it is making it hard for him to even function properly.

I would try to speak to their parents, but one) there is a language barrier, and two) they just drop the kids off at the class and bounce. And, on top of that, the kids don’t listen to their parents one bit.

Now, let me reiterate that I am, nor have I ever been, big on spanking my children.  It’s one of those, “this hurts me more than it hurts you” type of deal, but after Saturday’s class, I seriously started to rethink my stance on that.  And, not the beating of my own children, but the beating of other people’s children.

My best friend told me that I should act like the crazy nanny and just scare the shit out of them like in “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle.” And honestly, if it happens again, I just may cause a scene (and then take my children out of classes there all together.)

OK, but seriously, I really may have to follow the leader of that gang to the bathroom one day and shake the shit out of him until he pees in his pants. I’m just saying.