I haven't had a wake-up call like this since my freshman year in college when I visited the dressing room of the Gap and realized I could no longer button a pair of size ten jeans...not a big deal to some, but since I had begun the semester as a size six...I'm sure you get the picture.
Today's wake-up call started much the same way, except is was an Old Navy dressing room, and I haven't gone up a size in a while (which is surprising since I go through a bottle of Spiced Vanilla Chai coffee creamer every three days) but it was distressing none the less.
It started about a month and a half ago when I went ahead and did what all good spa-junkie girls know they should never do... I peeled off my malibu sunset acrylic nails. It had been about a year and I needed a break, I figured it was an expense I didn't need in my life and I couldn't really find a good time to get a fill anyway...so I peeled. I followed that little ritual up by taking a bottle of nail polish remover to my toes. The paint was chipping a little anyway, so I figured what the heck, I'll leave them bare. From there I'm guessing it just kept snowballing because without even realizing it, I ended up in the Old Navy dressing room this afternoon looking at the reflection of a girl I didn't even recognize. Now I realize that many of you are already rolling your eyes, but for those of you who know me well...I know you can feel my pain.
I was trying on the first of many pairs of half-priced shorts when I looked up into the face of a girl with a greasy ponytail and bushy eyebrows. Seriously, I did a double take. When I tell you that my ponytail was greasy, I mean it looked like the Exxon Valdez had sailed across my head and left behind an oil spill...it was bad. To top it all off, my ponytail holder was stretched out so the pony hung limply in the middle of my head - not perky, not sleak and shiny, just greasy and floppy - the worst combination.
Slightly below the oil slick on my head sat two caterpillers...oh, my bad, those are my eyebrows! They were thick and prickly and I think I even had a little hair curling up right in the middle. But wait...it gets worse. As I began to panic about what I had let myself become I realized that I was also wearing a bright red summer camp t-shirt about a size and a half too big for me, a pair of black pinstriped capri pants with a bleach stain on the right leg, and flip flops...not cute, sassy, flirty flip-flops...ugly ones black, thick flip flops, ones designed for hiking - not for shopping.
It's okay, I know that not everyone will get it, and many of you are already tossing around words like "vain," and itching for the chance to remind me that beauty is only skin deep, but honestly, as a self-proclaimed spa junkie, it was bad...even if I weren't a spa girl it still would've been bad. There is a light at the end of the tunnel however, I've already plucked and tweezed those stray eyebrow hairs (what I didn't catch the wax girl will fix later this week), I scheduled a haircut for next weekend (not to mention deep conditioned right when I got home). And just to set things right and correct any wrongs that started me on this slippery slope, I'll be at the Nail Haven tomorrow getting a pedicure and a new set of acrylics, and when I get the urge to peel them off, I'll head to the Old Navy dressing room, stand in front of the mirror and remind myself that beauty may only be skin deep, but my skin deep looks much better with a pluck and a shine!
Lots of Love from the Florida Chick
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Florida Chick is an Embarrassment
It's official, my daughter has finally crossed the line from "girl" to "tween." I should have realized that the obsession with Hannah Montana and the innocent crush on The Jonas Brothers were first signs of this twisted journey into pre-adolescence, but no, I just chalked it up to the marketing genius of Disney and continued tacking posters onto the walls, oblivious to what I'm sure any notable psychiatrist would have picked up as the daughter stage known as "mom, I'm way too cool for you."
Which brings me to my current dilemma...and the reason I have finally realized that my daughter is moving into tween-hood. It's not her age, not the Hannah/Jonas obsession, not even the fact that she is now better at math than I am...It's the fact that two days ago she said, "oh my gosh mom, stop dancing, you are embarrassing me!" Not only that, but she said it while I was dancing in the living room...with the curtains closed.
Now I understand the dilemma of the daughter whose mom is a "professional dancer" (read my blog about Rock of Love if you have any questions on the definition of this occupation) and is saying "oh my gosh mom, stop dancing, you are embarrassing me because men are putting dollars in your thong." But really, in the living room? curtains closed? getting down to Toby Mac? It's too much. To top it off, I thought I was a cool mom...I mean, not a cool mom like in Mean Girls (you know, you know what I'm talking about) but a cool mom none the less. I wear low-rise bootcut jeans (seriously, skinny jeans...not happening) with my Hannah Montana t-shirt, and wear cool shoes and shiny lipgloss, and big sunglasses. I read BOP magazine with her and pick out who was a fashion hot or not at the Nick Kids awards, and most importantly, my students at school think I'm cool...why wouldn't she? Even worse, it was my dancing that embarrassed her... I have flashbacks of Elaine on Seinfeld doing the thumb-out half-kick dance that made Jerry and George cringe and wonder when I went from center-of-the-dancefloor-girl to girl-who-reminds-daughter-of-a-Seinfeld-episode. Sigh...
I suppose there is a reason that God gave tweens and moms multiple years to figure this whole thing out, in the midst of the eye-rolling embarrassment, he gives us moments like last night when Kaitlyn looked up and me and said, don't forget to check on me before you go to bed, or moments like this morning when she handed me the brush to make the perfect ponytail...or moments like right now as she's playing "school" with her best friend and says in her best teacher voice "I'm Mrs. VanHekken..." and then looks at me... and smiles.
Lots of Love from the Florida Chick
Which brings me to my current dilemma...and the reason I have finally realized that my daughter is moving into tween-hood. It's not her age, not the Hannah/Jonas obsession, not even the fact that she is now better at math than I am...It's the fact that two days ago she said, "oh my gosh mom, stop dancing, you are embarrassing me!" Not only that, but she said it while I was dancing in the living room...with the curtains closed.
Now I understand the dilemma of the daughter whose mom is a "professional dancer" (read my blog about Rock of Love if you have any questions on the definition of this occupation) and is saying "oh my gosh mom, stop dancing, you are embarrassing me because men are putting dollars in your thong." But really, in the living room? curtains closed? getting down to Toby Mac? It's too much. To top it off, I thought I was a cool mom...I mean, not a cool mom like in Mean Girls (you know, you know what I'm talking about) but a cool mom none the less. I wear low-rise bootcut jeans (seriously, skinny jeans...not happening) with my Hannah Montana t-shirt, and wear cool shoes and shiny lipgloss, and big sunglasses. I read BOP magazine with her and pick out who was a fashion hot or not at the Nick Kids awards, and most importantly, my students at school think I'm cool...why wouldn't she? Even worse, it was my dancing that embarrassed her... I have flashbacks of Elaine on Seinfeld doing the thumb-out half-kick dance that made Jerry and George cringe and wonder when I went from center-of-the-dancefloor-girl to girl-who-reminds-daughter-of-a-Seinfeld-episode. Sigh...
I suppose there is a reason that God gave tweens and moms multiple years to figure this whole thing out, in the midst of the eye-rolling embarrassment, he gives us moments like last night when Kaitlyn looked up and me and said, don't forget to check on me before you go to bed, or moments like this morning when she handed me the brush to make the perfect ponytail...or moments like right now as she's playing "school" with her best friend and says in her best teacher voice "I'm Mrs. VanHekken..." and then looks at me... and smiles.
Lots of Love from the Florida Chick
Florida Chick's Poison
So, here is my confession...
I cannot stop watching Bret Michaels' Rock of Love on VHI.
I know, this confession is probably less exciting than if I were to tell you that I were growing pot in the basement or something equally oh, I don't know...illegal? But seriously, if you grew up like me, listening to Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant, you will understand my complete fascination with this amazing subculture of women who feel the need to flaunt the fact that they have chosen stripping as their career in order to attract the likes of a severely needy rocker who is obviously in need of a reality show to boost any sort of music he may want to write in the future (yes, I know that was a very long sentence).
Let me start from the beginning for those of you unfamiliar with "Rock of Love." You first need to know that Bret Michaels is (or was) the lead singer of Poison - you know, big hair band, eyeliner, drugs, etc. It is quite possible that some of you may not have been able to listen to Poison because again, like me, your parents probably thought that they were Satan worshippers (although c'mon, Every Rose Has its Thorn? One of the best rock ballads of all time - I danced to it with my 7th grade boyfriend in Kevin Crandall's basement - yes!!) Apparently Bret, who is on the road a lot and loves to party, has had a difficult time finding that one special woman to call his own. Now seriously, is this a surprise? You're in concert every night, women are throwing their underwear at you, you have an unlimited supply of vodka and whiskey and through the haze of marijuana that you have been smoking all night you can't find the woman that you want to spend the rest of your life with? Shocking.
So anyway, Bret has decided to follow in the very classy shoes of Flavor Flav (who I am proud to say, I never watched) and decided to star in a reality show similar to The Bachelor - except that he has added to the Bachelorette house an unlimited supply of vodka and beer and I'm not positive, but it seems like one of the requirements just might be that the women are required to dance around in their underwear at least once a day. So far, there have been a lot of tears over the fact that Bret has made out with all of the girls at one point or another leaving someone with hurt feelings, and there is a lot of cattiness over who has real breasts and who has fake as well as whether or not being a stripper makes you a "ho." Hmmm...good questions.
OK, so I'm making fun, but there is something completely addicting about watching tacky drunk girls cry because Bret slipped someone else the tongue and they only got a peck. Maybe, I like watching because afterward I feel so much better about myself knowing that I would never be caught dead trying to get Bret Michaels into bed - especially on TV. And then again, maybe I just like it because it makes me laugh and gives me something to watch that I don't have to think too hard about...I don't have to call in my vote or become emotionally attached to one of the contestants and then become heartbroken when they are voted off (think Daughtry or Melinda Doolittle). So OK, I confess, it's tacky, it's tasteless, it's just plain wrong...but I love to watch it - and next Sunday night, when there is another episode and two more girls go home, completely shocked that they haven't made a connection even though they've spent countless hours in a liplock with a hopeless badboy, I'll cuddle up with Chris and feel a little better about myself knowing that at least I didn't have to throw my underwear on stage to get my husband to marry me. Until next time...
Lots of Love from the Florida Chick
I cannot stop watching Bret Michaels' Rock of Love on VHI.
I know, this confession is probably less exciting than if I were to tell you that I were growing pot in the basement or something equally oh, I don't know...illegal? But seriously, if you grew up like me, listening to Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant, you will understand my complete fascination with this amazing subculture of women who feel the need to flaunt the fact that they have chosen stripping as their career in order to attract the likes of a severely needy rocker who is obviously in need of a reality show to boost any sort of music he may want to write in the future (yes, I know that was a very long sentence).
Let me start from the beginning for those of you unfamiliar with "Rock of Love." You first need to know that Bret Michaels is (or was) the lead singer of Poison - you know, big hair band, eyeliner, drugs, etc. It is quite possible that some of you may not have been able to listen to Poison because again, like me, your parents probably thought that they were Satan worshippers (although c'mon, Every Rose Has its Thorn? One of the best rock ballads of all time - I danced to it with my 7th grade boyfriend in Kevin Crandall's basement - yes!!) Apparently Bret, who is on the road a lot and loves to party, has had a difficult time finding that one special woman to call his own. Now seriously, is this a surprise? You're in concert every night, women are throwing their underwear at you, you have an unlimited supply of vodka and whiskey and through the haze of marijuana that you have been smoking all night you can't find the woman that you want to spend the rest of your life with? Shocking.
So anyway, Bret has decided to follow in the very classy shoes of Flavor Flav (who I am proud to say, I never watched) and decided to star in a reality show similar to The Bachelor - except that he has added to the Bachelorette house an unlimited supply of vodka and beer and I'm not positive, but it seems like one of the requirements just might be that the women are required to dance around in their underwear at least once a day. So far, there have been a lot of tears over the fact that Bret has made out with all of the girls at one point or another leaving someone with hurt feelings, and there is a lot of cattiness over who has real breasts and who has fake as well as whether or not being a stripper makes you a "ho." Hmmm...good questions.
OK, so I'm making fun, but there is something completely addicting about watching tacky drunk girls cry because Bret slipped someone else the tongue and they only got a peck. Maybe, I like watching because afterward I feel so much better about myself knowing that I would never be caught dead trying to get Bret Michaels into bed - especially on TV. And then again, maybe I just like it because it makes me laugh and gives me something to watch that I don't have to think too hard about...I don't have to call in my vote or become emotionally attached to one of the contestants and then become heartbroken when they are voted off (think Daughtry or Melinda Doolittle). So OK, I confess, it's tacky, it's tasteless, it's just plain wrong...but I love to watch it - and next Sunday night, when there is another episode and two more girls go home, completely shocked that they haven't made a connection even though they've spent countless hours in a liplock with a hopeless badboy, I'll cuddle up with Chris and feel a little better about myself knowing that at least I didn't have to throw my underwear on stage to get my husband to marry me. Until next time...
Lots of Love from the Florida Chick
Florida Chick goes to the Beach
The arrival of Memorial Day seems to always announce the unofficial beginning of Summer. The calendar still says Spring, and school is not quite out, but really... watermelon, corn on the cob and the opening of seasonal ice cream stores are really what Summer is all about, so unofficially...it's here! Down here in Florida, it seems that Summer is a year round season. The temperature drifts from the low 70's in December to Hotter than Hades in the Summer... but really, it doesn't change all that much and unlike in the North, tourist season is over, so it's relatively quiet in this neck of the woods - apparently with the exception of Memorial Day - when all of the locals come out of hiding, and really, only one thing can be said..."Put some clothes on Miami!!"
I have to say that in general, Hollywood Beach is a very family friendly beach. There is South Beach to the, well, South and Fort Lauderdale to the North so Hollywood (which is right in the middle) has fallen into the laid back, friendly spot for families and senior citizens...and that's really the problem, see, I personally don't think that Senior Citizens should be wearing thongs in public. (Yes, you heard me correctly). Actually, I really don't think that anyone should wear thongs in public - remember the workout fad of the 80's with the thongs and the spandex - I'm sorry, but the public thong is just not flattering - not on a 1980's aerobics instructor, and not on a 70 year old man, no one wants to see wrinkled, pasty, buns while sunning themselves on the beach - frankly, it's an unneccessary visual that is very hard to get rid of.
I also don't think that the string bikini was designed for workouts. First of all running shoes with a swimsuit make an odd combination (followed by the combinations of swimsuits and rollerblades, swimsuits and bicycle helmets, and swimsuits and skateboards). I can understand the sturdy speedo brand swimsuit top with running shorts so as to not sweat as much while working out...but the string bikini? Please, that is just an accident waiting to happen - either by the runner (rollerblader, skater, etc.) who has an escaped body part and gives herself a black eye, or by someone watching who accidently walks into a wall while waiting for an escaped body part to cause the black eye - seriously, it's a no-win situation.
Finally, and I know this is a sensitive issue, but please, a two piece should not be worn, if your stomach hangs so far over your bottoms, that people don't know you are wearing any...find a one-piece. There are millions of magazine articles every year that give various flattering swimsuits for all body types...and not one of them has ever said that the itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, yellow polka dot bikini should be worn by someone who can hide their suit underneath their belly - no! It shouldn't happen - and really, I have to wonder, which clothing company actually decided to make their bikini in a size 52?
I know, I know...I'm being judgmental. But the truth is, I know I'm not perfect so I try my hardest to cover it up. I wouldn't be caught dead in a public thong because no one really needs to know what my rear end looks like. I definately don't want anyone watching me closely when I work out just in case my swimsuit loses control (also because I tend to stop to walk when I'm supposed to be running) and while I do wear a two piece to the beach, at this point everyone can still see both halves and it pretty much covers up most of the dimples and flappies that need to remain hidden. So, in an effort to make Hollywood Beach a better place for the community, I once again offer this advice... Put some clothes on, Miami!!
Lots of Love from the Florida Chick...welcome to Summer!
I have to say that in general, Hollywood Beach is a very family friendly beach. There is South Beach to the, well, South and Fort Lauderdale to the North so Hollywood (which is right in the middle) has fallen into the laid back, friendly spot for families and senior citizens...and that's really the problem, see, I personally don't think that Senior Citizens should be wearing thongs in public. (Yes, you heard me correctly). Actually, I really don't think that anyone should wear thongs in public - remember the workout fad of the 80's with the thongs and the spandex - I'm sorry, but the public thong is just not flattering - not on a 1980's aerobics instructor, and not on a 70 year old man, no one wants to see wrinkled, pasty, buns while sunning themselves on the beach - frankly, it's an unneccessary visual that is very hard to get rid of.
I also don't think that the string bikini was designed for workouts. First of all running shoes with a swimsuit make an odd combination (followed by the combinations of swimsuits and rollerblades, swimsuits and bicycle helmets, and swimsuits and skateboards). I can understand the sturdy speedo brand swimsuit top with running shorts so as to not sweat as much while working out...but the string bikini? Please, that is just an accident waiting to happen - either by the runner (rollerblader, skater, etc.) who has an escaped body part and gives herself a black eye, or by someone watching who accidently walks into a wall while waiting for an escaped body part to cause the black eye - seriously, it's a no-win situation.
Finally, and I know this is a sensitive issue, but please, a two piece should not be worn, if your stomach hangs so far over your bottoms, that people don't know you are wearing any...find a one-piece. There are millions of magazine articles every year that give various flattering swimsuits for all body types...and not one of them has ever said that the itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, yellow polka dot bikini should be worn by someone who can hide their suit underneath their belly - no! It shouldn't happen - and really, I have to wonder, which clothing company actually decided to make their bikini in a size 52?
I know, I know...I'm being judgmental. But the truth is, I know I'm not perfect so I try my hardest to cover it up. I wouldn't be caught dead in a public thong because no one really needs to know what my rear end looks like. I definately don't want anyone watching me closely when I work out just in case my swimsuit loses control (also because I tend to stop to walk when I'm supposed to be running) and while I do wear a two piece to the beach, at this point everyone can still see both halves and it pretty much covers up most of the dimples and flappies that need to remain hidden. So, in an effort to make Hollywood Beach a better place for the community, I once again offer this advice... Put some clothes on, Miami!!
Lots of Love from the Florida Chick...welcome to Summer!
Florida Chick in Love
Well, it's official - 10 years ago today I was a stressed out bag of nerves getting ready for my rehearsal dinner and wondering if I was really ready to spend the rest of my life with one person. I'm not sure whether or not I was really ready, but here we are, three cities, two kids and a whole lot of craziness later.
Most of you know that I'm always up for a celebration, and since I'm not able to throw an anniversary sleepover (my personal choice for celebrating anything!) I thought I'd just let you in on all that has changed (and all that really hasn't) in the past 10 years.
1. Then: I was coaching gymnastics and taking classes at Grand Valley State. Now: I am coaching gymnastics and studying for a State Certification Exam at Broward Community College.
2. Then: We lived with 2 dogs and 2 cats with the names Alex, Haley, Katie & Tommy. Now: We live with a mixture of kids and animals with the names Alex, Haley, Kaitlyn & Tommy. (Carson seems to be the only child not named after a pet - sorry kids!)
3. Then: We lived in my parent's house while they were in Europe and rented out ours. Now: We live in my parent's house and are looking for renters for ours.
4. Then: We laughed a lot, cried a lot and loved to make up. Now: I laughed this morning, cried yesterday afternoon, and am definitely looking forward to making up tonight.
A lot of things have stayed the same but the best thing about growing older together is that every year gets better than the one before. I have a husband who buys the worst gifts imaginable, holds his spoon like a caveman, and forgets to balance the checkbook - but the one thing I know for sure is that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but in his arms. Tomorrow, I'm celebrating 10 years with him, and the truth is, I can't wait to celebrate 10 more! Happy Anniversary to me! (And for all of you Michiganders - I'll hold a celebration sleepover when I get home - yay!)
Lots of Love from a somewhat mushy Florida Chick!
Most of you know that I'm always up for a celebration, and since I'm not able to throw an anniversary sleepover (my personal choice for celebrating anything!) I thought I'd just let you in on all that has changed (and all that really hasn't) in the past 10 years.
1. Then: I was coaching gymnastics and taking classes at Grand Valley State. Now: I am coaching gymnastics and studying for a State Certification Exam at Broward Community College.
2. Then: We lived with 2 dogs and 2 cats with the names Alex, Haley, Katie & Tommy. Now: We live with a mixture of kids and animals with the names Alex, Haley, Kaitlyn & Tommy. (Carson seems to be the only child not named after a pet - sorry kids!)
3. Then: We lived in my parent's house while they were in Europe and rented out ours. Now: We live in my parent's house and are looking for renters for ours.
4. Then: We laughed a lot, cried a lot and loved to make up. Now: I laughed this morning, cried yesterday afternoon, and am definitely looking forward to making up tonight.
A lot of things have stayed the same but the best thing about growing older together is that every year gets better than the one before. I have a husband who buys the worst gifts imaginable, holds his spoon like a caveman, and forgets to balance the checkbook - but the one thing I know for sure is that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but in his arms. Tomorrow, I'm celebrating 10 years with him, and the truth is, I can't wait to celebrate 10 more! Happy Anniversary to me! (And for all of you Michiganders - I'll hold a celebration sleepover when I get home - yay!)
Lots of Love from a somewhat mushy Florida Chick!
Florida Chick Celebrates Mother's Day
I'm going to be honest here...and it's going to get ugly...but honestly, I hate Mother's Day. OK, there, I said it. Fortunately I didn't get hit by lightning or attacked by a Hallmark employee by giving this confession, but honestly, I just really, really hate it.
I'm going to blame this holiday aversion on the media. No matter that I have never, and don't plan on ever, wearing the Starburst Sparkle Pendant from Kay Jeweler, there is something slightly disappointing about waking up on Mother's Day and realizing that there is no velvet jewelry box with a giant bow calling your name. The local news is no better. I woke on Mother's Day to the smiling face of our local news anchor Jackie Nespral who declared that she hoped each and every mother out there was watching her while eating breakfast in bed. "No Jackie!" I wanted to yell, "I'm actually making breakfast for my kids at the moment!" And seriously, have you ever tried to eat breakfast in bed? It is not only difficult but slightly boring if your family makes you breakfast and then runs out of the room to go watch cartoons. I know, I know, I'm being fiesty - selfish and narcissistic even, but really, if you are going to call it Mother's Day, then mothers around the world (or 1246 Madison St. as it were) have the right to hold on to certain expectations. Anyway, in an effort to create a better holiday in the future I am implementing a few rules for my husband - here they are:
1. Do not, ever, buy me a card that you a)haven't first read OR b)don't really mean. For example, the card with the fuzzy mouse on the front that asks for more cuddle time (true story) was not a good choice. First of all, fuzzy mice belong on cards for children under the age of 10 and second, cuddle time has never been something that anyone (i.e. husband) has wanted more of, causing this mother to exclaim, "This was obviously the last card available" before throwing it away.
2. The kids' school Mother's Day cards/projects should not be the only gift given on Mother's Day morning. This is to be considered a gift from the children's teacher (probably also a mother) to the children's mother and not a suitable replacement for a gift from the children's father to their mother.
3. Mother's Day is a day for celebrating mothers and (especially for stay at home moms) does not mean that mom should spend one-on-one time with kids for 12 hours - otherwise it would be called Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday - and it's not...it's called Mother's Day!
I know, I know. Harsh, mean, selfish, blah, blah, blah. But truth be told, I'm fed up with Hallmark making the Mother's Day rules and so I'm taking them into my own hands. After my seventh Mother's Day, I'm finally laying down the rules - and next year, I'm going to follow in my sister's footsteps who celebrated Mother's Day by heading out to the spa for a pedicure and followed it with a shopping spree for new shoes, how perfect is that - add me a Starbucks latte and let's celebrate!
Lots of Love From the Florida Chick - Happy Mother's Day!!
I'm going to blame this holiday aversion on the media. No matter that I have never, and don't plan on ever, wearing the Starburst Sparkle Pendant from Kay Jeweler, there is something slightly disappointing about waking up on Mother's Day and realizing that there is no velvet jewelry box with a giant bow calling your name. The local news is no better. I woke on Mother's Day to the smiling face of our local news anchor Jackie Nespral who declared that she hoped each and every mother out there was watching her while eating breakfast in bed. "No Jackie!" I wanted to yell, "I'm actually making breakfast for my kids at the moment!" And seriously, have you ever tried to eat breakfast in bed? It is not only difficult but slightly boring if your family makes you breakfast and then runs out of the room to go watch cartoons. I know, I know, I'm being fiesty - selfish and narcissistic even, but really, if you are going to call it Mother's Day, then mothers around the world (or 1246 Madison St. as it were) have the right to hold on to certain expectations. Anyway, in an effort to create a better holiday in the future I am implementing a few rules for my husband - here they are:
1. Do not, ever, buy me a card that you a)haven't first read OR b)don't really mean. For example, the card with the fuzzy mouse on the front that asks for more cuddle time (true story) was not a good choice. First of all, fuzzy mice belong on cards for children under the age of 10 and second, cuddle time has never been something that anyone (i.e. husband) has wanted more of, causing this mother to exclaim, "This was obviously the last card available" before throwing it away.
2. The kids' school Mother's Day cards/projects should not be the only gift given on Mother's Day morning. This is to be considered a gift from the children's teacher (probably also a mother) to the children's mother and not a suitable replacement for a gift from the children's father to their mother.
3. Mother's Day is a day for celebrating mothers and (especially for stay at home moms) does not mean that mom should spend one-on-one time with kids for 12 hours - otherwise it would be called Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday - and it's not...it's called Mother's Day!
I know, I know. Harsh, mean, selfish, blah, blah, blah. But truth be told, I'm fed up with Hallmark making the Mother's Day rules and so I'm taking them into my own hands. After my seventh Mother's Day, I'm finally laying down the rules - and next year, I'm going to follow in my sister's footsteps who celebrated Mother's Day by heading out to the spa for a pedicure and followed it with a shopping spree for new shoes, how perfect is that - add me a Starbucks latte and let's celebrate!
Lots of Love From the Florida Chick - Happy Mother's Day!!
Florida Chick on Lockdown
Seriously, I swear that stuff like this only happens in South Florida. I know that ever since Columbine all teachers, schools, and administation have rules and regulations, drills, and such for emergency situations - but I still can't imagine sweet little Grand Haven schools ever really being in lockdown - that's when I start to wonder what on Earth compelled me to taking a teaching job in Broward County, Florida.
It happened last Tuesday. There we were, minding our own buisiness, reading A Wrinkle in Time, when the intercom calmly but firmly advises us that we are under a lockdown...this is not a test. It's interesting to be in a classroom with 15 12-year olds who are all expecting you to be the calm one. It is also interesting to realize that if there happens to be a madman on campus you probably won't be in the newspapers as a hero...more like the headline would read, "Teacher breaks leg as she pushes students out of the way and jumps out a second story window trying to reach safety." I know you've seen the George Costanza/Fire episode...really, who here isn't a little bit like George but doesn't want to admit it.
Anyway...I was in lockdown. Fortunately I'm a rule breaker and I have my cell phone on at all times in my classroom. Chris called me to let me know that there was an escaped convict/police killer/armed and extremely dangerous running around Fort Lauderdale (oh, is that all?!) and his van had been left near our school. I wasn't really worried until the helicopters began circling our school and my students, who I forced to continue reading their sweet little novel, kept running to the windows to see what was going on. At one point one of my students yelled, "Ms. V...there's a guy in the yard next door...he's looking at us...maybe it's him...maybe he's going to get in and shoot us." Turns out, it was just the neighbor outside on a cigarette break.
ANYWAY, the guy was finally caught (thank goodness) but not before I played 532 games of hangman, answered 38 emails from concerned family members, the 6th graders graffittied my whiteboards with "I love Ms. V." in all the colors of the rainbow, and I allowed one game of tag (which was quickly ended when I realized someone might need first aid and wouldn't be able to leave the room.)
Teaching certainly is not what it used to be, but in the end, I'm grateful we are all safe...and this experience did in fact give me the opportunity to pick out the window, which I will push my students out of the way to get to, just in case it happens again...
Lots of Love!
It happened last Tuesday. There we were, minding our own buisiness, reading A Wrinkle in Time, when the intercom calmly but firmly advises us that we are under a lockdown...this is not a test. It's interesting to be in a classroom with 15 12-year olds who are all expecting you to be the calm one. It is also interesting to realize that if there happens to be a madman on campus you probably won't be in the newspapers as a hero...more like the headline would read, "Teacher breaks leg as she pushes students out of the way and jumps out a second story window trying to reach safety." I know you've seen the George Costanza/Fire episode...really, who here isn't a little bit like George but doesn't want to admit it.
Anyway...I was in lockdown. Fortunately I'm a rule breaker and I have my cell phone on at all times in my classroom. Chris called me to let me know that there was an escaped convict/police killer/armed and extremely dangerous running around Fort Lauderdale (oh, is that all?!) and his van had been left near our school. I wasn't really worried until the helicopters began circling our school and my students, who I forced to continue reading their sweet little novel, kept running to the windows to see what was going on. At one point one of my students yelled, "Ms. V...there's a guy in the yard next door...he's looking at us...maybe it's him...maybe he's going to get in and shoot us." Turns out, it was just the neighbor outside on a cigarette break.
ANYWAY, the guy was finally caught (thank goodness) but not before I played 532 games of hangman, answered 38 emails from concerned family members, the 6th graders graffittied my whiteboards with "I love Ms. V." in all the colors of the rainbow, and I allowed one game of tag (which was quickly ended when I realized someone might need first aid and wouldn't be able to leave the room.)
Teaching certainly is not what it used to be, but in the end, I'm grateful we are all safe...and this experience did in fact give me the opportunity to pick out the window, which I will push my students out of the way to get to, just in case it happens again...
Lots of Love!
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