Have a Heart

And adopt a Catahoula today! Visit this site for more info, and to see pics of the cutest little 'houlas around.
As you may know, my Ilio is a Catahoula. He's my buddy, my protector, and my garbage disposal. Everyone deserves that kind of loyalty in their lives!

Murder Scene

That was Isaiah's bed this morning. When I walked in, it became highly apparent that he either had a nosebleed during the night, or he sacrificed a chicken in his bed.

He keeps drawing on random things in the house. With marker, of course. I mean, he's SIX, not 2! What the hell? He drew a basketball scene on the toilet paper/tissue tower thingie in the bathroom. I told him to erase it and he said, totally straight faced, "But momma, it's in PEN." Duh. Then he drew a shooting scene on the bunk bed frame. THEN I saw a few red, I don't know, amoebas? on the side table in the living room. Damn it! I asked him WHY on earth he'd do that when I already told him not to draw on anything but paper. His reply? "That one was before you told me."

One of these days.....

Almost Got Me

Yeah, I know why 90% of the people I go to school with are going for early childhood ed. Because they can do the education major and then just pick a minor. But me? Oh no, I'm doing secondary education. I have to have a real major, and then another education major. The result? Takes me twice as long.
So last night, in the wee hours, when I tend to obsess over everything, I almost broke down. I thought, if I drop the history major to a minor, I can finish a lot sooner and actually start teaching. BUT I wouldn't get to teach older kids.
This morning I awoke with a new sense of purpose, and my resolve is strong. I. WILL. FINISH.
Eventually.

I Know I'm Good

When Isaiah finished his homework last night, he took a red marker and drew a star and wrote "100" on it. I asked him what the heck he was doing, and he said, "Well, that's what my teacher does. I was just helping, I did it for her!"

Such confidence!!!

Not A Cry For Help

Oh, insecurity, you're a tricky little bastard, aren't you?

School and work and parenting and everything else at once isn't easy, but I had this idea that it was something like noble suffering, you know? Something like a trial. If I can make it through with my sanity (somewhat) intact, I win.
But what do I win?
The many times I've been told, directly and indirectly, that my hopes of getting a teaching position teaching high school history are nil, well, they're starting to create cracks in my fragile facade. What if I haul ass through school, somehow make it through student teaching, but DON'T get hired full time anywhere? I mean, look what happened with the police dept. Hauled ass through school, passed all their exams.... and still never got called. Yeah, I've been burned before.

Damn you, insecurity, for making me doubt myself.

And Each Other, Apparently

Dear Lord these children are going to be the death of me... and each other.

Hubs and I are still sitting over dinner, kids are done and playing. They start to fight over a pen. A freakin' pen. And not the Bic kind, with a soft ball at the end. Oh no. A fountain pen with a very sharp point.

You see where I'm going with this, don't you?

Isaiah asks for the pen. Daimean says no. Isaiah grabs for it, Daimean won't let go. He bends over, clutching the pen by his knees. Isaiah tugs, pulls it free, and it goes STRAIGHT INTO HIS NOSE.

They both knew something bad just happened. They moved apart, and Isaiah covered his nose with his hands, while tears filled his eyes. I reach for him, and calmly ask what happened - because at this point I believe they had bumped heads or something like that. Daimean tells me the pen went into Isaiah's nose, while Isaiah starts to cry.

And bleed. A lot.

Some ice, paper towels and love helped, and all is well now. Oh, except when he sneezed about 5 minutes later and gushed blood. But really, he's fine now.

And I've lost 5 more years of life expectancy.

My Kids Are Trying to Kill Me

Yesterday Isaiah gave me a heart attak, then just made me mildly uneasy.

In the morning, I don't know what the heck the kids were talking about, but Daimean asked Isaiah what he would do if someone in a van told him they'd give him candy if he'd go with them. Isaiah replies, "I'd check it out."
WHAT!?
Daimean says, "No! You never take candy from strangers!" to which Isaiah calmly replies, "I didn't say I'd take it! I said I'd check it out!"
So I called him over and talked to him about stranger danger (which we've talked about before, and they learn in school as well) and how bad people will try to lure kids in with candy, but you should run the other way and tell an adult you trust. Well, not I think I've scared him, because he's got tears in his eyes and his lip is quivering... so I ask what's wrong, and he says, "But I like candy!" *sigh*

Then later in the evening, I overhear him ask Daimean, "D, who's your favorite serial killer?"
WHAT!?!?
Daimean handled it like a pro, and I told him so. Afterwards. I didn't interfere, I wanted to see how this was going to unfold.

D: Isaiah, why would you even ask that?
I: I just wanna know. I won't tell!
D: It's not about whether you'll tell. Serial killers aren't funny. That's not a joke, and it's not something you should even be knowing about. Now stop talking about it.
I: Okay.


Serial killers, strangers with candy, too much SVU.... I'm going to have a heart attack before I'm 40!