How do you supervise?

Supervise - to oversee during execution or performance; superintend; have the oversight and direction of. Also, to watch over as to maintain order.

from dictionary.com


According to this definition, supervise means more than just watching over something. It also means keeping things in order and in line. I'm pretty sure, after what happened last week, that I need to show this to the PTA at my kids' school so they can paste it on any and all permission forms. Let me explain...


This elementary school, in particular, the PTA, does a lot for the students. We have a Halloween Dance, Ornament decorating night, and family bingo. This year the officers decided to add a monthly family movie night.

The month of October held the first family movie night. There were a few bumps during the evening, but being the first of such events, it was almost expected. Last week was our 2nd movie night - Cars 2.

Both of my kids were so excited to see this movie, but especially my son. Every student in his class won 2 free tickets for being the class who brought in the most Box Tops. I dug out of popcorn bowls, my son grabbed one of his favorite blankets, and off we went.

The first half of the movie went off without a hitch, but during the second half, all hell broke loose. Some of the younger kids (Kindergarten and 1st grade) were growing restless and began to run around the gym where the movie was being shown. A few thought it was funny to stick their hands in front of the projector to block the movie. One boy was having a grand time smashing a candy necklace all over the floor. Where were his parents? Neither myself or the 2 women in charge ever figured that out.

In the back of the gym, another boy was running back and forth screaming. This boy is a first or second grader. He was also trying to scale the walls and when he was bored with that activity, eh began to smash Pop Rocks on the floor because "he liked the sound they made". Where was his mom? Again, not sure. She got up and walked out at one point. It was assumed she had to use the ladies room or stepped outside to smoke. She was no where to be found. Until 30 minutes later when she returned. Stumbling through the door, slurring her speech.

I could see by their faces that I was not the only parent annoyed with the children in the front of the room causing a disruption. With some of those troublesome kids, their parents did nothing but watch them bounce to and fro. Or look on as another student told them not to touch something, like the projector.

Regarding the boy in the back of the gym, 2 families spoke to the women in charge. They felt this child was causing too much of a disruption and they had decided to go home because of him.

It clearly states on the permission form that parental supervision is required. I guess the exact definition of supervision needs to be made clearer.

I have mostly enjoyed the first 2 movie nights, but if situations like this continue, I fear movie nights won't last long. It would be a damn shame if a large group of children have to miss out on something fun because of a handful of troublemakers.

Friends don't let friends...

Do each other's hair.

I recently read a blog post about bad hair. My hair is nothing short of a hot mess! I'm sure it wouldn't be so bad if I got a haircut more than once a year. Add that to this crushing heat and humidity and it's a nightmare. Even a ponytail doesn't help!

stupid baby fine curls that aren't long enough to be pulled back


Anyway, this blog post reminded me of a time I was stupid enough to let a friend fix my fair. I'm not sure if fix is the right word, but I'll stick with it for now. It's too damn hot to think straight!


I was in fifth grade I believe and sleeping over a best friend's house. It was your typical grade school girl sleepover. We watched a scary movie that made us want to stay up all night. Stupid Carrie! Since we couldn't sleep, she asked if she could do my hair. My hair was always long and I rarely did anything with it. I agreed. Even after she pulled out the hot rollers.

We turned on a lamp, not only so she could see but to most likely keep hands from punching through the floor. Again, thank you Carrie!

My friend sat in an arm chair and I on the floor between her legs. With a roller in one hand, my friend gently grabbed a piece of my hair and rolled it. And rolled it. And rolled it. She kept rolling until I could no longer feel my head. Damn those things hurt!

As those rollers were working their magic in my already wavy hair, we chatted about boys, our favorite band (NKOTB, thank you very much), and whatever happened to be the latest gossip among our class.


It was finally time to pull those suckers out of my hair (thank god!). After each one came out, I thought I heard a chuckle coming from her. I wrote it off as my mind playing tricks on me from watching the movie. After the last roller came out, my friend grabbed a pick and began to separate each curl. Her laughter grew louder as she continued to pick away at my hair. I finally asked for a mirror.


Have you ever watched a dog show? Random, I know, but bear with me.

Sometimes they have poodles in those shows. Of course each and every one of the dogs in those shows are groomed. I always thought the poodles looked the most ridiculous. Most of them were shaved, but only in certain places. The rest of their bodies had big poof balls of fur - at the tips of their tails, tips of their ears, around the mid-section (what the hell?!).

What my friend did to my hair put those dogs to shame. If I was in those dog shows with my new 'do, I would have won hands down in the grooming category. On either side of my head were giant dirty blond poof balls of hair. I looked like Princess Leia, but with poof balls, not braids.

This, my friends, is why I no longer let friends "fix' my hair.

What to be when I grow up

Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I wanted to be a teacher.

Quite often you would find my in the living room. My Cabbage Patch Dolls were lined up along the couch, with a few stuffed animals in between. I would pull the piano bench the the middle of the floor in front of the couch. This was my desk. I would teach my students to count, color, and sing. Those years of piano lessons did come in handy at times.


When I was a senior in high school, I began to look at colleges. I wanted to live on campus, but still close enough to come home on weekends should I choose. I found a school 2 hours away. I was still able to come home, but I was far enough away to have some freedom. That freedom eventually got the best of me. My grades begin to slip and after 2 years I realized that I was a little too far from home. I moved back home and transferred to a college in the city, 15 minutes away.

My grades continued to improve and I was moving into my education classes. I loved my classes and my professors. I made some new friends and discovered some old ones went to that same school as well. In my last year at this school, I started second guessing my major of Elementary Education. Psychology classes were some of my required classes, and I excelled in those. I began to contemplate changing to Child Psychology as my major. Or at the very least, adding it as a minor.

What held me back from making the switch was timing. I was already in my last year. If I switched, it would be taking a step backwards. Grants and loans also came into play. I wasn't sure if I could get anymore assistance if I went to school longer than I already had at this point.

While the wheels were turning in my head, someone else finally made my decision for me. My boyfriend, now husband, and I found out we were expecting. There was no way I could go to school and care for a newborn. I won't deny that I tried. I started my student teaching, but it just wasn't working out. I took a few months off and when I returned to school, I took a few classes to accrue the credits I needed to graduate.


This was 9 years ago. I have had various jobs with kids, and today I am a stay-at-home mom. I am happy where I am, but sometimes I still wonder, what if.

Occasionally I will hear a commercial for a school or see an ad. Sometimes I think about going back for some sort of psychology degree. But then I see a sign that proves I am where I need to be.



If you saw this picture next to an ad explaining you can get your social worker degree in as little as a year, would you choose this school?



Obviously this child is upset. Having a degree in social work would mean you could hopefully help this child to smile, not cry.



This picture? The itch to go back to school has been scratched, thank you very much! If I want to see a psycho child, I'll rent the Exorcist, k?

I need it and I can't have it

Why is it that you never truly want something until you can't have it. Even better than want, you need it! Right now!


This weekend is going to be one of those weekends.

What I want, what I truly need, won't even be in this state. My lover will be 467.77 miles away.

There will be no strutting around in a gorgeous pair of sleek, knee-high black boots. The kind that have just enough of a heel to make your ass look nothing short of perfect. No parading around in that cute little tee. Music? Movies? Won't need them. Ice cream and hot fudge? I may get them, even if I'm not in the mood for them.

4 days. That's what I have to wait before I can get what I want. I am not a patient person! When I want something, I want it now. I am really not happy that I can't travel 467.77 miles to get what I need. In fact I'm downright pissed off about it!

The husband is in Chicago and won't return until Monday night. This is going to be a long, long weekend!



You do realize I'm talking about shopping, right?



Maybe

The Hangover - Double vision

I absolutely love the Hangover!


The movie, not an actual hangover itself. I rarely get those, but when I do, it's never fun.


Imagine my surprise when I ran into Zach Galifianakis. And at the grocery store of all places! I suppose everyone needs to eat.

And what's even more amazing is that I saw him twice! I would have taken a picture but I didn't see him, um, them coming until he, er, they were right there.

Although looking back, I really don't think there are 2 Zach Galifianakis-es. Unless I missed the newsflash about his identical twin. What I really saw may have in fact been 2 kids trying to be him. All the way down to the beard. But their beards looked a little funny. They were either really good at trimming beards or one of them is really skilled with a Sharpie.


I might have been to slow to pull out my camera, but I was tempted to stop them and ask for an autograph.


Right before I headed to get some Depends. Pissing on oneself is typically frowned upon, even if you're laughing at something priceless!