Believe me, I had other plans

Evan's been on an antibiotic for the past week to kill off any traces of a cold-turned-sinus-infection. He handled the antibiotic pretty well the first few days. Over the weekend, he developed the worst case of diaper rash/burn-butt I've yet seen-- the result of many many poopy diapers-- far more than normal. Aveeno baths didn't work; Aveeno lotion didn't work; he was screaming and arching his back when ever he had to lay down for someone to change his diaper.

Last night, he was in so much pain after yet another crappy diaper change that I gave him some Motrin just so his little ass/little body could get some relief and sleep. I also vowed to stop his course of antibiotics, no matter what, because I surely wasn't going to send him to school with fire-ass. It was getting really traumatic for ME. I was crying while I was rocking him in the chair last night.

After an early AM call to his doc, who did say it was OK for Evan to stop taking his antibiotic today (having been on it for a week), I decided to keep him home from school to agressively treat the problem. The treatment involves this: changing Evan's diaper every two hours, gently patting the affected area with a damp washcloth, and letting him air dry, naked from the waist down, for as long as he's comfortable. What this has meant: Evan's watched a lot of TV today, laying on a blanket on the floor. It's the only way to keep him still, thus confining the area of potential arc-ing piss accidents to a small space.

(Aside: I just had my little perc of coffee on the stove, and let it cook too long. It's probably going to taste like burning now. How fitting: I spend the day tending to Evan's ass, and my fave beverage is going to taste exactly the same way.)

Me and the Flunkies

So, today one of the main points in my life skills class was trying to get my students to understand that it doesn't take much work to be a C student. It definitely doesn't take much work to be a C student at CMU-- show up to class and do the work, and you'll probably pass. I had several separate points related to this one typed out on a sheet of notes I was going to put on the visualizer-- but, sometime between discussing the course schedule, passing out corrected papers, collecting extra credit ones, and distributing a handout, I lost my notes.

Believe it: my students thought this was really funny. They were like, "For every second it takes you to find your notes, you have to let us out of class one minute early." And then another student was like: "You appear unprepared. You're going to get a '0' in my gradebook for today." A more sympathetic student finally said: "Oh, well, you're just gonna have to wing it." My reply: "That's OK, I have some of it commited to memory."

We went on to have a fairly productive discussion in spite of the fact I'd lost my notes. They asked me what grades I got in college. I said I graduated CMU with a 3.3 GPA, which is definitely well above the required 2.0, but still nowhere near close to even an A- average. And my students said: "What! They let you teach college with that GPA?" "Then again, you do teach the fuck-ups." My reply: "You said that, not me. I think that all of you are capable of earning at least a 2.0, and probably more, you just have to want it and adopt the behaviors that will allow you to achieve that."

Am I realistic about the limitations of the kind of student I teach? Yes. Many of them are dull, unable to reason clearly or solve problems, and can't make wise choices in school or in life. However, I teach my class like I believe they CAN do those things, because they need to feel like someone thinks they can. When they do something really stupid, and tell me about it, I say stuff like, "Well, now that you look back on it, what would've been a better way to handle that situation?" Sometimes they give decent answers. Sometimes they don't, but at least they had to stop to consider the question.

Evan Imagines-- I hope

Evan is getting really good at imagining things. No joke. The other day, we were dressing in our winter clothes to go play outside. I pulled a hat on, a different one from my usual beret, and he said, "Mama, moooooo," and pointed at me.

I said, "What? Mama's a cow?"

"Uh-huh!" he said, smiling.

(While I sincerely hope he was pretending, we all know kids don't lie. I'm certain Evan is no exception. Just call me Elsie.)

Dissertation-Land: Thanks for Leaving

Bacon finished writing the bulk of his dissertation over Christmas Break. He had a few bits left to fine tune: formatting, bulking up of the intro and conclusion, etc. but basically it was complete.

Last night, Bacon finished all that stuff. The monstrosity, in total, is 278 pages long. I know a lot of you are like, "WOW! 278 pages! That's pretty impressive." Yes, it is-- sort of. Keep in mind, though, that I actually wrote most of it. (hahahahaha) Bacon really did very little, other than take credit for all the pure and original thought.

That's a man for ya.

Evan Begins to Say The Darndest Things

As we all know, Evan has been rather behind in the development of his speech. Since starting to attend his speech and language intensive classroom, he's already made progress. Some of the progress is subtle-- he isn't necessarily adding new vocabulary every day, but he is beginning to say certain things more clearly, so that even strangers can understand.

Saturday: Evan and I coming out of Wal-Mart. We are stopped at the vending and treat machines-- I've given him two quarters to buy a bouncy ball. Right as he's about to turn the handle, a midget father and his midget daughter come through the entrance. Evan points and says loudly, "What's that?" I say, "Those are little people. That's a dada and his girl." Midget Dada says, "Hi!" and waves. Evan stares.

Sunday: Andrew giving Evan a bath. Evan is playing with a rubber duck and a wind-up killer whale. The whale and the duck are having a conversation, which Evan narrates:

Duck: Wanna see a show?
Whale: Uh-huh!
Duck: Wanna see CARS?
Whale: Uh-huh!
Duck: Let's go!

Hm. This time last year he was barely saying "Mama."

Imagine my disappoinment....

Everyone who knows me well knows I'm not the most optimistic person in the world. The only people who think I'm an optimist are my study skills students... and my life skills students. Sometimes, though, I have a day where I'm filled with the idea that there's so much in life to look forward to; so much to experience and discover and enjoy; so many interesting people to talk to, etc... and I even fool myself into believing that I am an eternal optimist.

Take yesterday evening. Bacon and I were having an excellent time with our friends, Courtney and Dan (the lovely couple whose mangy mongrel-y mutt bit my first and only wee boy), and the topic of conversation turned to high school memories. Dan had a very different perspective to things, having gone to high school at an all-male Jesuit private school. Apparently, cliques exist in this type of educational setting, but not to the same degree as a co-ed school.

So, Bacon, Courtney, and I took over the conversation from there... reminiscing about old friends and such. Then, it turned to reminiscing about old loves.

This was when Bacon admitted that the girl he had mad love for in high school was none other than the head cheerleader. (BARF!)

I had higher expectations for Bacon. I thought he'd be the sort of guy who would've liked the artsy cool girls who were into ceramics and journalism and other stuff that truly matters. But, no. He is terribly cliche.

(Inside, I was crying. Bacon wanted the head cheerleader. I am most definitely NOT the head cheerleader, or the cheerleader who has torn the miniscus in her knee and has had surgery and is sitting on the bench wearing her uniform to support the team.)

Oh, the horror.

One Would Think....

I might've had the time or energy to update this over the entire Winter Break. After I finished grading final exams, I sat around at home and finished getting reaqdy for the holiday season-- a little baking, a little shopping, a little wrapping, etc. After a good festive Christmas Eve with my MIL we went down to Troy to be with my side of the fam for Christmas Day.

Evan and I spent a week in Troy; Andrew came back up to Mt P to write and write some more (with favorable results, I might add-- last night, about 9:00 PM, I got a phone call from Andrew--who was at his office-- saying that he'd completed the draft of that-bitch-of-a-thing-we-call-the-dissertation. Call me selfish, but I hope that I'll be allowed to be married to my husband now-- that I'll be able to command all his attention, all the time, and that I will finally be able to build the bathroom of my dreams-- with side-by-side his and hers toilets, that we can use at exactly the same moments every single day...)

So, while Andrew typed away, Evan and I spend a lot of time having a lot of FUN! Here are some highlights:

1. Evan turned 3. We had a Curious George-themed party. I spent a crap load on decorations and such, only to have Evan refuse to eat at the table with everyone, refuse to wear the party hat, and also refuse that I wear a party hat ("No, Mom, no hoo-hoo hat. Off with that.")

2. Evan got about 1000 Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars of all varieties. He got a crap ton of other toys as well-- but none more played with than the cars and trucks. We spent a large portion of every day playing cars... parking them, crashing them, driving them on one another's heads and arms, etc.

3. I rung in the New Year in the company of my beloved Grandmother; my sister Angela and her fiance, Kevin, and realized-- for certain-- that Carson Daly sucks serious ass. He basically produced a New Year's Rockin' Eve that only people ages 18-25 with absolutely no personality would like. If I was one of the people ringing in the New Year in Times Square, I would've felt truly gypped. They confetti engineer would've done a better job designing some razor-sharp pieces that would fallen conveniently (and solely) on Carson Daly.

4. I had a very good meal with two dearest friends, Monica and Chris. It was sushi. I don't know crap about sushi. So, I said, you order whatever you want and I'll try it, but please no eel. They liked ordering for us; they are experienced sushi-eaters. As much as I enjoyed the experience and the food, and would most definitely eat sushi again, I kept looking for a bowl of rolls on the table. It never appeared. I went home and had a bowl of chili with beans. I can't be filled on seaweed, rice, and fish alone. This is further proof that I am indeed a man. A man with a hollow leg. The restaurant did make a very good, smooth, dirty martini.

5. I got a gift certificate to TJ Maxx. My favorite store (other than Avoca in Dublin). I was upset with myself having to buy workout pants, which I desperately needed, but hated to buy. Xmas money is for something a little wacky, indulgent, etc. Luckily, since I didn't spend all the cash, I redeemed myself this evening buying a pair of coppery colored pointy-toed boots, which I will rock with, well, whatever I want.

6. Evan started a language-intensive early childhood program. He goes five mornings a week, from 8:50-11:20. I went to school with him the first day, but he hasn't appeared to need me since. The past two days I've gone to pick him up from the playground only to find him pushing other children around on the fire-engine bike. He's adapted well to all the changes so far. The teachers love him and comment that he is a very good listener. I believe he will continue to grow and change with this experience.

7. Evan refuses to wear sweaters. Only long-sleeved t-shirts will do.

8. Classes start on 1/8. I'm ready. I think.