Juggle Jingle Jangle

Ridiculous. Absurd. Ludicrous. Astoundingly preposterous. Such is life. Such is love. Such is money. Such is I. Yes, I know, it should be ‘such am i.’ I know that. I was in a flow. Go write your own blog. Tonight is one of the first nights I have had to myself in weeks. I honestly don’t remember the last time this happened. When I am not with Chad, I am off with my family, off on camping trips with the kids, or at work. Tonight, Chad is at a concert. At a concert so late that he will not come over afterwards, as I have been passing out around 9:30 or 10:00. I wish I was exaggerating. One of the few ‘complaints’ I have had about being in a relationship was that I have lost all time to myself. Time to write. Time to watch endless hours of TV on DVD. Time to read one of countless Vampire novels. So, what have I done since I spoke to him on the phone at 5:30? Well, I made it to about 7:30 (after my second episode of Charmed—the final season [never saw it before {very excited}]), before I started watching my phone and wondering why he forgot that I existed. Did he consciously choose to overlook that he has a boyfriend? Or were thoughts of me simply lost in the glitz of all that is without me? I took the dogs on a walk, reminded myself that sane couples can breathe when they have not had contact in less time than it takes to boil the milk and butter for instant potatoes. I decided to write about my feelings of not being thought of every second of every day. You know, try to work through my neurosis by condemning you to sort through the pieces. No sooner had I sat down to begin this very outpouring of self-reflected therapy at 8:17, then Chad texted telling me the concert was getting ready to start and that he loved me. Way to ruin a perfectly good opportunity to muddle over this impossible conundrum! Now I am back to being contented by insecure ego fluffing. Thanks a lot, babe! While we are on the subject of the insane and unstable, let me tell you about one of the issues of moral dilemma that is the life a teacher. I have a wonderfully textbook example of SIED (significantly identifiable emotional disability) in the form of a sixth grade boy in my classroom. He constantly is mean to other children in the class. Ninety-five percent of our interactions are of me getting him into trouble. They say that for every negative interaction you need to have at least two or three positive. Well, unless someone ties this boy up and stuffs a sock in his mouth, I simply do not have that many hours in the day to be able to begin that particular upward ratio. After presenting him with a referral, he chose to continue to increase his abusive behavior to other hapless souls under my care. Thus, I was forced to call his father. His giant of a father arrived within fifteen minutes of my school ending. Even though I interjected as many positive aspects of his son (believe me, I stretched better than elastic) the only part the father heard was the negative. He assured me that this type of behavior would end tonight. While there is no tangible proof (nor will there be) there is no doubt in my mind that his manual for rectifying situations of such nature is vastly different than the one that I subscribe to. With a glance at the clock to determine that I would be staying over an hour past quittin’ time and tears in my eyes, I turned and entered the classroom that connects with mine (the younger SIED classroom) to assist with the eight year old who’s behavior required the presence of a policeman who was now discussing things with his tearful, tired, and overworked mother. Later, after my first workout in more time than I recall (which used to a ninety minute process and has now shrunk to 20 minutes), I came home, shoved in my DVD’s, ate two of my pre-made frozen dinners, and began obsessing over the deserted desert (interestingly similar words, eh?) that was my phone. Dessert anyone?