If not me, then who?

The "meeting" with the little girl (who got spit on) and her mama went as to be expected. That is to say that we were humble, and apologized, and were looking forward to moving on. I sat there quietly while she went on about how the behavior my children have now, can affect people well into adulthood. (um, yeah, so? they happen to be kids, have you heard of it?) Then about how Layla has always behaved this way. (since they have known her, almost 2 years. ps complete BS) and she also went into an area that seemed to me to be questioning my parenting. (really?!) Layla also sat quietly (after giving her sincere apology) with her eyes swollen and red from crying (for reals this time). I thought it went pretty well, I managed my behavior, and learned a couple of valuable lessons: you can't be friends with everyone, and also, sometimes people that look perfectly normal on the outside, are completely bat shit crazy.

Later I was recounting to my mom the way things went and she was appalled. She couldn't believe I just sat there whilst BSC berated my daughter and myself (for no reason). In my mind I was just surviving it, so we could be done. To Mom, we weren't standing up for ourselves or what we thought was right.

My whole life, my mom has been no one to reckon with. She is sometimes severe, and has even been called a bitch. (true story, unbelievable I know) I used to think these were less than complimentary terms, but as an adult I realise that, even though they sound bad, they are just adjectives like any other. I clearly remember a piece of advice that was "Janina, someone always has to be the bitch, and it might as well be you." This my friends, is TRUE information.
I sat in that classroom, letting someone else be the bitch. I let an adult pick on me and my child. I like to think that every negative experience is an opportunity to learn (this way, it's not just a horrible thing that happened, we can also grow from it... yeah) My mom is a strong woman, and always stands up for those that don't have their own voice. I think of myself as a strong woman, but if I see something that I don't think is right, more often I will just let it go and try to not get involved (since that is the easier and more comfortable route to take).

A favorite quote is this "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." (Margaret Mead)

Maybe just surviving isn't enough, if I can't stand up for myself or my children, who can I trust to do so? Being an adult is more than just getting older, it comes with the responsibility of being the voice for those of us who aren't as strong, or able to do it themselves.

I remember once at the mall (cringe), I was probably in high school, we saw a mama (I use the term loosely here, as to me it is a reverent word) yelling at her very small child and grab him by the ear and twist it. We were across the store at the time, and Mom shot over there like she was wearing a jet pack. I remember the feeling right now. I was more than embarrassed, I was mortified. She proceeded to inform the lady that what she was doing was no way to treat a child, and that if she didn't stop immediately, Mom was going to do something about it. (I am trying to melt into the floor at this point) I honestly think before that day, I had never been so humiliated in my life. (possibly never since. probably I have though, and was just too drunk to remember..) Anyway, that memory has stuck in my brain ever since, and I just realized, just a minute ago, my mom is a freaking SUPER HERO. I would have died a little inside seeing a child treated in that way, but I think I would have not gotten involved. I'm sure it was uncomfortable for her too, but she felt convicted, and knew that if she didn't stand up for that little boy, right then, no one would do it.

I think maybe bitch is a synonym for strong, or maybe even badass (neither of which are negative terms). As an adult now, I realise that it takes guts to be strong, it is far from easy, and there is always a fight. If I was ever to tangle with anyone, Mom would be the first person I would pick to be on my team. Damn right she's a bitch. Someone has to be. Lesson learned. (also, now that she has moved me to action, she will be the one I call to post my bail.) Thanks MOM!!!

ps, new favorite quote: "Well behaved women seldom make history."  indeed.

hello again.

After an on again, off again relationship, where I have been lifted to my highest highs, and plunged down to my lowest lows, where I have been sweetly tempted, and then left feeling depressed, lost many sleepless nights, and wasted so so so many empty calories, it is back on. Coffee, be mine, now and forever. I am sorry that I tried to ignore you, when the whole time, your dark, rich kiss helped me get through early mornings, and hard days. My breakfast is hollow without you, I want to wake up to you every morning. I dream of your smell, and the way you taste in my mouth, the way you make me feel. I think this is the real thing. I love you.

And, in other news.......

Layla had an incident the other day. A mom approached me in the school parking lot visibly upset. She proceeded to tell me that Layla had pushed her daughter in class (this wasn't the first time she claims) and then Layla SPIT in her hair. Um, WHAT?!?!
This mom was shaking and sounded like she could pop a vessel at any moment.

Well, I had just survived a lengthy visit from my in laws and I tell you, if I was ever ready to get into a fight, today was the day. I calmly set down my basket and got ready to rumble. I had so much pent up aggression I could have body slammed "the Rock", this little mousy haired, station wagon driving mama had NO IDEA what she was getting herself into. (I almost felt sorry for her...almost).

I guess she was smart enough to see the crazy in my eyes, or felt like I could handle the situation from there, but she scooted right along, which was a good thing for us both.

Please know that I am no stranger to getting the boot, but looking back, fist fighting another mama over my daughter's bad behavior would probably not send quite the right message. (bonus points for me realizing that, before actually getting us all expelled from the program-yay me!!)

Fast forward to a few hours later after I have endlessly grilled Layla about this entire ordeal. I am shouting (since spitting in hair is totally not how we behave...well, I guess unless provoked. oops) and she is crying. And crying. And crying. I am having a hard time getting past it. Why would she behave this way?! What made her think that her behavior was acceptable. She spends the next 2 days with me spouting questions and expletives in a tourettes fashion, and her looking VERY sorry and remorseful, almost fighting back tears the entire time. Or so I thought.

This morning she woke up with her eyes stuck shut, and I find out that the swollen, red eyes she has had these past two days are not from her guilt over her bad behavior, but pink eye. That's right, she has conjunctivitis. Thank you, thank you, I am now going to accept my "Mother of the Year Award".

Whatever, I took her to the doctor first thing, she got her very own roll of paper towels in the bathroom, and her own fancy lavender hand sanitizer, so I am still totally legit. (and we might have had a small talk about karma. that's how I roll bitches!)

my dad is cool

my dad had surgery on his finger recently, (don't laugh, fingers are legitimate body parts too) up at OHSU, so he is staying with us for a week, until his post-op, while he recuperates. I tell you, it's not exactly like a weekend at the spa here, we are BUSY, and loud and rascally, I wasn't sure he would be able to handle it. He used to be pretty fun, but lately he has been kind of quiet and grumpy (lately=the last decade or so). Usually when my folks come, my dad is on good behavior for a few days, and then threatens to leave about every 3 minutes until their actual departure.
This time something is different, it may be the meds that they gave him for pain (possible), or that he is excited to spend some quality time with us (without my mom--likely). I have been trying to include him in everything we do, since a major reason of less than ideal behavior is usually due to boredom.
Today he loaded up with me to go pick up Layla from school, and waited patiently in the car while I went inside. When we got back on the road, I spied a blue Volkswagen beetle (circa late 60s) so I gave him a "slug" (duh). It just so happened that the light turned red and we ended up right next to the bug. Dad motions for the (rather young and lovely, not that I noticed) guy to roll down his window. Here we go. "Hey dude! your car just got me punched!" says Dad. Young and Lovely just laughs (silly old man), luckily now our light turns green, so I start to pull away. Dad is still yelling at this kid across 4 lanes of traffic, something about how his lights weren't even on. (DAD! do you even know the rules to slug bug? There is only 1, and it doesn't have anything to do with lights)
He then turns to me and demands french fries. I whip around and find a drive through. We pull up to the speaker box, he leans over me and says "WE WANT FIVE DOLLARS WORTH OF NOTHING BUT FRENCH FRIES!!" (I don't know if you remember this about Dad, but he thinks that the speaker is more like a tin can telephone and he has to somehow project his order loud enough for them to hear it through the wires)
The drive through guy repeats his order, (which I thoroughly enjoy, since of course they don't sell fries by the pound, and also since it is THE BEST order ever!) and tells us to pull forward. We get the fries and pull back out onto the road. AC/DC comes on, so I crank it up and we start howling to Back in Black and drumming on the dash. Random people on the sidewalk give us weird looks, and we just smile and wave.
I am having a great time until the song is over and Layla insists that I "change it back to Coffee House". Geez, back to real life.

you won't believe this,

but not only did we survive, I fell in love. Again.

with bright, vivid colors, free, public art, living tradition, and simplicity. With fresh, delicious food, not being in charge, beauty in the details, and things too good to be true. With the possibility of the future, and once again, like every morning for the last 15 years, the love of my life.

it is so ridiculously amazing here, I am almost jealous of MYSELF!!

I decided to try blogging a little about the trip while I am still here this time, for a better chance of the story ever being told.
Warning, you will most likely hate me after you read this, so proceed with caution, and you may want to pour yourself a drink. (I know I am!)
OH! It's happy hour, I will have to update you later!

SALUD!

I don't have even one free minute, but I wanted to tell you that I am leaving for Mexico in the morning. My in-laws have told us that we probably won't make it out alive, (they tell us this every time) but it happens to be a risk I am willing to take.
In final preparation for take off, I need to paint my toenails (this is always a last minute item, as you may recall), find and conquer the beard hair, shave both legs (past the knee), pack (including new bathing suit with WAAAAAY too much cleavage-thanks mom), and try to get a little sleep before our 4:30 am departure (from home).
Also, my birthday is coming up in 3 days, and I couldn't be more excited. I will enjoy a birthday brunch at Lindo Mar (my very favorite brunch EVER, expect pictures), a cooking class at one of PV's top restaurants, and apparently Alan and Robert are in cahoots on some birthday beach adventure that promises to be amazing. I asked for a piece of jewelery a day for my birthday present, so I am excited to get started on picking out my new treasures, and I am currently down 27 pounds, so I look pretty cute in my beach wear. All in all, not a bad birthday I say.
If we do happen to survive our trip and make it home, there will be stories told and pictures shared. Stay tuned!

adventures in kindergarten

yesterday I was helping out in Maggie's kindergarten class, and they were learning about the letter "P". Each child has a laminated alphabet book that they have been working in since the beginning of the year, and each day they add a new letter or two to the pages. The kids were adding Ps and Rs to the book, along with a picture for each. I was circulating with stickers to encourage their work, so I would stop at each child, check their letters, and ask about their drawings. There were pandas, pencils, parrots and puppies, very strong work. Finally I made my way back to my little sweetie, her Ps were top shelf, I couldn't help but feel a little proud. Then I wanted to compliment her picture but I couldn't quite tell what it was. Trying to be delicate and supportive I said "Mags, I LOVE your drawing, what is happening in it?" She looked up at me, smiled sweetly and said "it's me POOPING!" and started cracking up. "Um, I'm not quite sure that is appropriate hun, for your alphabet book, could you please draw another "P" thing so we can write it on the line under the picture?" Without missing a beat, she picked up her pencil and drew herself some "paper". Indeed.