I will tell you about how stupid my kids at school are.  We recently finished going over and watching Romeo and Juliet.

We read a dumbed-down version of the play.  Kids actually fought over some of the roles.  They butchered the names.  One wanted to read the part of "Lord Monument," while another kept talking about the the "Caplet" family.

We watched all kinds of things on YouTube referencing Romeo and Juliet.  My principal hooked my computer up to a nice little projector and put a large screen in my room.  I made a point to show 

 from

the_zaniak.  Out of everything I showed them, this was what they have referenced the most.

We watched the 1996 movie of Romeo + Juliet starring Leonardo DeCaprio and Claire Danes.  Surprise, Surprise (said with extremely sarcastic tone) they liked the guns used in the movies and acted all homophobic to Mercutio dressing in drag for the masquerade.

My favorite is when two of my classes wanted me to turn on the English subtitles for a translation from the Shakespearean language to something they could understand.  I tried to explain that this would not happen, but was met with such disbelief and denial that I had to show them.  I am not sure if they were wanting ghetto-speak or what, but when the subtitles failed to produce the desired effects they wanted, I heard, "turn that shit off."  

I love my job, I love my job, I love my job...

 

I have  been going on too little sleep for too many days. 

Last night, after the Fourth of July fireworks (for some unknown reason, a day early in the tiny village next to which live) , I was irritating my sister by being bossy.  I apologized and made excuses for myself.  I complained about getting only four to five hours of sleep every night and being someone that requires at least seven.

My lovely six-year old niece piped up and said, "Well, I haven't had much sleep this week either.  I was up all night the other night with a nightmare, so welcome to my world, Traci."

She is such a little smart ass, but I love her.  I just get the urge to show her my middle finger quite often.

I  am going outside to jump on a trampoline with the kids! 

 We went to see Wall-E yesterday.  My four-year old son, Evan, loved it.

Yesterday, I finally put some pieces together about something he had told me Tuesday evening.  With his speech impairment, understanding sometimes comes slowly.  I make every effort to understand and usually do pretty well.  Sometimes though he has to work pretty hard to help us understand.  

On Tuesday, he had been watching cartoons while I was playing a game on the computer.  Suddenly, he burst into the room and excitedly said three unintelligible words.  When Evan is excited, he is even harder to understand.  I guessed (as I usually do) and was wrong.  

He walked over to his bin of Thomas and Friends trains, pulled out one named Molly, so I said, "Oh, Molly!"  

He nodded and said, "Molly, (two unintelligible words)."  

"Bubby, I don't understand."

He drew a circle in the air while saying, "Circle."  Then he put his arms straight out from his sides and moved his hips.

It clicked for me.  "Molly was using a hula hoop?!"

He nodded again.  I was left thinking how clever he is to figure out a way to make me understand.  I also assumed there was some cartoon character I was not familiar with named Molly and she was playing with a hula hoop.

Well, yesterday, I figured out it wasn't Molly that had the hula hoop.  It was Wall-E.  Something in Evan's brain does not always process sounds correctly.  Wall-E and Molly sound a lot alike to him.  I may take awhile for me to piece together things he says, but I keep trying to figure them out.


Earlier this week, I was making myself breakfast and kept asking him what he wanted.  He wouldn't respond as I was expecting.  He said no and just stood there.

Suddenly, he said the word "orange."  It took me two guesses to figure this out.  Of course, any time I can get him to repeat a word as correctly as possible, I do.  He said it much better the third time.

I kept on fixing my breakfast.  He continued standing there.  

I heard him say, "It have a lip."  

I repeated it quizzically just to be sure I heard him correctly.  He nodded.

I continued working.

Evan then said something else I did not understand.  

"What, Bubby?"

He put his finger in the air and drew a triangle and tried his best to say the word.  I did my best to get him to say it properly, and he did not do too bad a job.  

I left the kitchen for about 30 seconds, walked back in, and he was still standing there.  He suddenly said something that sounded like "crusty."  I was thinking of the Spongebob and the "Krusty Krab."

I said, "Crusty?"

He said, "No, cruSTY," and then chomped his teeth up and down.

"Oh....you mean crunchy!"

Evan nodded.  Then he said pretty plainly, "What i' it?"

It then dawned on me that he was giving me clues: orange, has a lip (lid), triangle, and crunchy.  I was getting clues as to what he wanted for breakfast.  We didn't have the Doritos in a canister, but I did let him eat Pringles from one.  He worked so hard to give me clues that I couldn't say no.  Now, I know that he could have easily just told me that he wanted chips for breakfast, but I was so moved to see him making such an effort to play a game with me that I decided potato chips would be okay for breakfast just this once. 








 

 I have had intentions of posting since Monday, but I have so many things I want to get finished before I have to go back to work this coming Monday.  

Camden Park (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camden_Park_(amusement_park)) totally wore me out.  The my son and my niece loved it.  My sister...not so much.  I also put pictures of the day on Facebook.  http://www.facebook.com/photos.php?id=1200366420

There was an interesting and funny event that occurred that day:  my sister, Laura, fell into a little pond called Swan Lake.  It has these huge swan-shaped foot paddle boats.  My sister was trying to get out of her swan and onto the bank of the pond which was noy the place to get out of it.  I looked over from my swan and saw that she was straddling the grassy bank and her swan.  I looked over again and saw her in the water.  The little old man in charge of the swans was flipping out.  I could hear Laura laughing and crying all at the same time.  Her feet were stuck in the mud of the little pond.   I was paddling my swan so I get back to the Swan dock to possibly help Laura or at least lend emotional.  I saw her upper body flat on the grass and the rest of her was in the water.  Some man, who did not even work there, came to pull her out of the water.  I was really proud of my sister.  Even though she had mud on her clothes and smelled of pond scum, she stayed at the amusement park the rest of the day.  She really was a good sport about the entire humiliating event.  If I had known she would have been able to laugh about falling in the pond, I would have taken pictures.  She told me that she even found mud in her belly-button later that evening.

I have also been busy reading a Terry Pratchett book called The Hogfather.  My wonderful internet friend Ian, aka Ugly Girl on YouTube sent me a care package.  He parted with his favorite Terry Pratchett book and  a CD from Alisha's Attic.  He also sent Jaffa cakes, Galaxy bars, Cadbury bars, and chocolate-covered Turkish Delight.  I have eaten some of the chocolate but put the rest in the freezer to share with friends.  The chocolate is much sweeter than the chocolate we have in the States.  I have also never had Turkish Delight.  If someone mentions it here, someone else is bound to say, "Oh, that's what the little boy in Chronicles of Narnia asked for from the witch."  

Evan now has a new fish to replace Peter the fish.  He also has a small aquarium now.  I was cleaning the smelly fish bowl at least once a day so the other fish would stay in good health.  
I told Evan the new fish is the "new Peter."  He told me that Peter is not the name of his new fish, but it is "Andy-Do-Peter."  He is starting to come up with his own names for things.  Yay!  Now, I won't have to.

Today, my sister and I are taking our children to a fairly local amusement park that is over 100 years old.  Even though it is really, really old, it is in good repair.  I have many childhood memories of being at Camden Park except for the one time where I got lost and cried like a maniac.    I think I was five years-old.  http://www.camdenpark.com/rides.html

Here's to hoping it will be great day and that the kids won't be whiners and no one get lost..

I regret to inform you that loo-side services were held yesterday at noon for Peter the fish.  There was one person in attendance as Evan was too distraught to be present.  He could be heard sobbing and wailing, "Why my friend Peter haveta die?"  I lieu of flowers a fragrant candle was lit.  The song "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" was played per Evan's wishes.  Donations are being accepted until the total has reached 28 cents so the purchase of Peter the II can be made. 

 The fish have survived over night, and Evan fed them a wonderful breakfast of fish flakes.  

This morning's conversation:

Me: Do you remember the names of your fish?
Evan: Ian
Me: and?
Evan:  I don't know.
Me: Gavin
Evan: Gabin
Me: and Peter
Evan: Pe'er.  What does Gabin start with?
Me: "G"
Evan: What does Pe'er start with?
Me: "P"
Evan:  Hmmm...what does Ian start with?
Me: an "I"
Evan: Oh.


I don't know why, but recently he wants to know what everything starts with.

My last favorite conversation of Evan's that I listened to recently was about tires (not written with his speech impairment).  He and my hubby had just come inside.  Evan has this puzzled look on his face and just looked like he was thinking really hard.  During the conversation I could see on his face that he was making connections. 

Evan:  You got me thinkin' 'bout tires.
Hubby:  What about tires?
Evan:  Tires go flat.
Hubby: Yes.
Evan: Tires hit something sharp.
Hubby:  Yes.
Evan: Then you need a regular tire.
Hubby: You mean a spare tire.
Evan:  Then you go home and put a band-aid on flat tire.
Hubby: Yes.
Evan:  Why?
Hubby:  So that it can hold air in it.
Evan:  Why?  
Hubby:  So it won't be flat anymore.
Evan:  Why?  
Hubby: If you drive on a flat tire, you will break your wheel.
Evan:  Why?
Hubby:  Air in the tire helps you go really fast.
Evan:  Ohhh!
Evan:  You pump it up with air.
Hubby:  Yes.

He can now talk to anyone about tires.  I have introduced the word "patch" to him, so he can use it in place of "band-aid."  

Finally, his conversations are growing.  I just hope he outgrows saying "why?"  all the time.  :P 

My mother bought my son three goldfish.  This was his "pise," otherwise known as a "surprise."    We drove into town to retrieve his surprise from her house.  I wish I had thought to bring my camera to capture his surprised look.  

The fishies were still in a bag.  Immediately, he began to ask the names of his three new fishies.  Everything and everyone has to have a name.  He creates something with his Legos and gives me the task of  coming up with its name.  I am all named out, so when he asked me the names of his three fish, I tried to get him to name them.  Really, I did.  He was having none of that.  He asked me again, "Mommy, what are the fishies' names, pleeeeease?"  I quickly replied, "Peter, Gavin, and Ian."  These are the people whom I "talk" the most to on the internet, but not listed in any particular order. 
 
I then had to tell him which one was Peter, Gavin, and Ian.  The bigger one is Peter.  He also has darker eyes.  Gavin is the medium sized fish, while Ian is the smallest.  This is how it worked out as I was quickly trying to bluff my was through.    If I am not quick enough, he thinks I am not telling the truth, and I wind up having to think of new names.   Really though, Gavin and Ian are pretty much the same size.   He kept having me point out the one named Gavin, and saying, "I like Gabin."




In the picture, the fish look so much alike that it difficult to tell them apart.  I think, from right to left in the bottom picture, there is Ian, Gavin, and Peter. 

Not only did I get to kick some butt, but I got to play around with handcuffs, leg shackles, and full body restraints.  I have seen all of this since I have worked in corrections, but to actually practice putting all of this stuff on each other was different and more interesting than sitting through a lecture on it.  

The ornery jokes that went around the room did not hurt either.  It was rather entertaining as well as informative.  Who knew that when you put leg shackles on someone, they have to be on their knees in a chair and that the shackles have to be looser than expected?  If not, when the shackled person stands up, the shackles are too tight.  We did this to each other, and it is actually painful to have them on too tight.

One of the highlights was when, DB, one of our kind of loud and obnoxious, but strangely like-able teachers, tried to volunteer someone else to model a spit hood.  These are fairly new to our facility and we (the teachers) had never seen one before.  When someone tries to volunteer another person for a task, I always chose the former to volunteer.  I think it is only fair; I had to speak up.  I was  able to persuade DB to get in front of us and model the spit hood for us. 


Our instructor had DB'd nose covered with the white section, but in our instructor's defense, DB has a rather large head.  My colleagues and I decided that DB looked like a Who from Whoville.  If you imagine the nose covered, you can almost see it.  

At another institution, one of the staff put the spit hood on himself.  He then began searching for more spit hoods for the rest of the staff.  He did not realize that it is to be placed on the the head of the spit-offending inmate and no one else.  Yes, some do spit when they are angry.  One kid actually spit in the mouth of an officer during a restraint...nasty!  The officer has to be periodically tested for various diseases now.

At work, I am doing my yearly in-service training.  We (the other teachers and I) started on Friday and will wrap it up on Thursday.  It is the same training every year.  Ugh!  I have completed about 15 sudoku puzzles and two crossword puzzles so far.  I have mastered the art of looking like I pay attention.  

We have had training in first aid, CPR, suicide rescue, policy review, mental health issues, cultural competency (which used to be called cultural diversity and then cultural awareness), ethics, PREA (prison rape elimination act), and security in regards to technology.    I am sure there are some components of our training I have forgotten.  I am working 10 hour days and feeling quite stupid right now.  When I work 10 hour days, I have to be up at about 4:30 in the morning, get ready, take my son to daycare, and be at work by six.  Then, I don't get home until almost 5:00 that evening.  By Thursday, I am usually quite bitchy.  It is a good thing for the sake my husband and son that I am not often given the option of working 10 hour days.

Tomorrow, we have our review in our defensive techniques.  There are all these techniques with various names and then those techniques to the ground.  There are also tons of blocking techniques.  My partner will be my friend Lola.  She better watch out!  I am ready to kick butt and take names.  Then afterward, my butt will be dragging.

The highlight of my week so far was when I was kind of in a stupor during the CPR training video and was gazing across the room in the direction of my friend Barb.  She was looking down at her sudoku puzzles.  The voice on the video suddenly said the word "nipples," and her head shot up so quickly I thought she was going to have whiplash.  This brought me out of my stupor and into laughter I couldn't stifle. 

I stood outside in the pouring rain today grilling 800 hot dogs.  Have you ever seen 800 hot dogs?  I had never.  Right now, I don't care if I ever see a hot dog again.  One of my principals bribed our kids (all of our kids) to take an assessment test yesterday by promising them hot dogs.  You wouldn't believe what our kids will do for food.  Last week, I was actually chosen to get an order together for 1,200 hot dogs, buns, and condiments for that massive amount of dogs.  Damn me and my dependability!  The business office cut us back on the amount.  Alas, we grilled 800 hot dogs instead of 1,200.  

It also decided to rain today.  Actually, it was more than rain.  We've had two tornado warnings today.  All youth movement was stopped.  They couldn't move from building to building which also mean not going to the cafeteria.  A few other loyal teachers trekked about in the rain delivering the hot dogs to the units.  I am soaking wet and tired.  Actually, my pant legs are still soaked.  My hair and shirt are dry.  My feet hurt so much that I cannot tell if they are wet.

There is no electricity at my house.  I am at my mother's house.  I am hoping to take a shower and wash off the smell of charcoal briquettes. 

Okay, I will try not bore anyone with more Kelly Family stuff...that is after this post.

I finally have all of my favorite songs by the Kelly Family (or members of)! I will be making my own CD of what I think are their greatest songs to play as I bebop my way to and from work.

My brother very recently came through with an mp3 download of Mrs. Speechless for me. I was able to find some of the older songs online, and I purchased two albums, La Patata and Homerun, from ebay. My most prized CD, In Exile by Paddy Kelly, came from my wonderful YouTube friend, Ian, otherwise known as Ugly Girl. He was able to order it from Germany's ebay which I couldn't access in the States. It is nice to have kind friends in faraway places. Right now it is the CD of choice in my little car. Sometimes my son sings some of the lyrics in the car with me(once again rather badly...he takes after me).



I like the song and part of me likes the video. I like the numerous costume changes. I just have trouble with the fact that Angelo (the youngest) is naked with his brothers and sisters are dressing him...but if you have to be naked, I guess that your brothers and sisters wouldn't be the worst choice of people to put clothes on you.

My question for everyone is...of what are you a big fan?

It could be something that no one else gets (like me being a fan of the Kellys) or something that tons of others around you are fans of too. Be brutally honest, especially if others tolerate your fandom or just don't see what you see.

My son and I went to the longest running (continuous) Memorial Day parade in the States.  It is in Ironton, Ohio and has just had its 140th run.   I enjoy going to honor the veterans of war in my country.  There are many touching and sad moments in the parade: people honoring relatives that died in service and the floats that honor the survivors can be extremely touching.  Since I started bringing my son to the parade, I must confess it is much harder for me to focus on that aspect of the parade.  I want it to be a fun event for him.  He, hopefully, has enough time to learn about all the terrible happenings in the world.

Anyway, I tried out my new camera.  I need to get a memory card for it, so I didn't take that many shots.  If you would like to view the pictures I did get then you can go to my Facebook album of the event.

We actually went to the parade with my son's babysitter (oops! daycare provider).  Someone in her husband's family has a home right on the route of the parade.  This is great since I have a little one who needs often trips to the bathroom to "go potty" or wash his OCD-can't-get-dirty hands.  It is also nice to know someone on the parade route because we can have a hot-dog and chips if we get hungry.  The above mentioned relatives always cook out.  To not be a total mooch, I brought some tasty chips and salsa.

Before the parade began, we walked a couple of block to the local Catholic school for  fresh-squeezed lemonade and snow cones.  They always have this three day carnival at the school.  I suspect they make lots of money from the parade.  I can tell you, the lemonade is worth the three dollars I paid for it.  The parade has become such a big event that there are people selling overpriced mylar character balloons for $10.00.   Others walk around selling cotton candy and snow cones at fairly reasonable prices. 

Long ago, I actually marched in the parade with my high school's marching band.  I was in the flag corp.  Ahhh...the memories of sore feet and sun stroke.

 

I haven't been able to post or keep up with any of my email friends as of late.  I have been so busy stressing and being angry over the poor treatment I have received while trying to get my four-year old son help with his speech through our local school district that I can hardly focus on anything.

I have been appalled to find out that administrators and principals have actually been schooled in how to keep parents in the dark over the services they are legally bound to provide and pay for.   I have been lied to and treated like an imbecile.  I have the feeling that the people (mainly one woman I refer to as a not so name name) are used to not being challenged on the laws or policies and getting away with denying services.  She even tried to quote law to me that does not exist.  Now, I have her back-pedaling and kissing my lily-white behind.   I am also now an expert in preschool special speech therapy requirements in the state of Ohio.  

Tomorrow, I have my next meeting with this crazy woman. 

I have hopefully found an alliance in our county's fairly new special education supervisor.  This lady, who is not crazy, actually came to my place of employment on Friday to get information from me and I had only spoken to her for the first time the day before.  She was the recipient of several of my complaints.  She will also be at the meeting.  One person who cannot make it is a child advocate who I have been in touch with.  She will be involved through a conference call.  My husband, whom I have educated on all of the information I have found discovered, will also be attending.  I need all the prayers, luck, and positive thoughts sent my way.  

Through all of this, I have discovered that my son has a phonological disorder.  Our private speech therapist suspected as much and did the testing to prove this.   She was already working on this with him.  I now know, without a doubt in my mind or heart, that getting him the extra help will be worth it.  If not, he could have problems with literacy development when he begins to learn to read.  These problems could affect him for life, but with the right help at the right time, he has a great chance of doing well.  It has also been shown that he has no cognitive delays.  This is something that I, as a mother, already knew, but it is nice to have it confirmed through testing.

My brother is an extremely private person.  He is in from Texas this week, and I took the day off to spend with him when I may have been better off to go to work and save my personal leave.  

I really would like to have a close relationship with my brother, but it never seems to happen or even feel remotely close.  I know he loves me because in an emergency situation at work one day I sent an email to his now ex-wife and  received a short but worried response back from my brother.  

While we were growing up, I felt closer to him, but we lived in the same house.  My sister, with whom I also grew up in the same house, and I are still close and have a good rapport.  It makes me wonder if living in the same house as my brother was just that.  We lived in the same house but did not have any rapport and that is why I don't feel close to him now.  

The whole situation causes me to feel extremely sad.  It also makes me wish I had cherished and appreciated the time we spent together when we were young.

My only hope is that he does feel close to me, but does not need conversation (as I do) to feel close.

 Since I have now worked in a prison for four years, I rarely carry a purse.  On the first day of my job, my purse was searched, so I quit carrying one.  I found it too aggravating to have to wait for every compartment to be searched and didn't want to put someone through the hassle of searching it everyday while I tripped my way through the metal detector.  When I began working the prison, my son was three months old.  I carried a diaper bag everywhere I went out side of work.  At work, I used my lunch bag to carry anything I needed like chap-stick or a sanitary napkin (a lady never knows when she might be in need of one). The sanitary napkin is the funniest thing to have some male officer discover when he searches my lunch bag.  I keep it in a top section that has nothing else in it.  When the men who seldom work the front lobby see it, most of them become embarrassed.  Secretly, I cannot help but laugh.

Anyway, since I rarely carry my purse, I carry money and my debit card in a front pants pocket, my keys usually go in the other front pocket, so my cell phone winds up in one of my back pockets.  Today, while I was out running errands, I did an experiment.  I have found that when I place my phone in my pocket, somehow a number or numbers end up punched in on my phone.  I took note today of what numbers were dialed when my phone was placed in different pockets.  I tested this more than once and came up with same numbers each time.

My left butt cheek dialed just the number 1 consistently.  My right butt cheek is a little more active and dialed 0011 every time.  For good measure, I placed my phone in my front left pocket.  The numbers 11004  were dialed consistently from that pocket.   Should I play a combination of these numbers in the next lottery drawing?