Sunday, May 06, 2007

**Update on the "shooting"**

In total, eight schools were on lockdown on Friday, four of them nowhere close to the area that the supposed shooting was. A schizophrenic man was apparently between the middle and elementary schools, on the fields when some kids thought they heard some loud popping sounds which turned into a police and media frenzy and affected hundreds of families. The man was brought in for questioning. No weapon. No shooting. No injury. Just a lot of commotion.

What a strange, scary world I have to raise my kids in. The biggest threat when I attended elementary school was kidnapping or being hit by a car when crossing the somewhat busy road to get to the school itself. Now we have to talk to our five year olds about abduction and drugs, creepy adults with lures such as puppies or candy who want things that aren’t even conceivable to a little mind. The news talked about helicopter parents: those who are in constant hover mode over their kids, always wanting to know where they are and what they’re doing. Well, no wonder.

Friday, May 04, 2007

My child is still at school, and I’m here penning a blog. Why? Because his school, along with three others in the same area, two of which I attended as a child, are on lockdown. LOCKDOWN. I was irritated to be stuck in the traffic leading up to the area, knowing I was already running a few minutes behind and not having a clue as to what was going on. Police and news helicopters swarmed overhead. The 7-11 on the corner is filled with flashing blue lights and the principal of my kid’s private school met me in the parking lot and told me to go home and call in an hour.

There’re reports that there was a shooting between the elementary and middle school…where I went…not that long ago. So far, no one is reporting an injury. I’m going to log off and continue watching the news coverage.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

Meet me at the bike rack at 3:00

So I’m reading this book titled The Highly Sensitive Child because, well, I have at least one of those kinds of kids. I’m learning so much more about myself where I thought I’d be learning about my kid. I say this because of my momma drama that happened this morning. Generally, I will take something out of context and make it into a huge production (internally of course, no need to bring attention to myself) where all of a sudden so-and-so hates me/is judging me/is plotting an awful massacre upon me. Yeah, I’m a little anxiety ridden. I’ve been getting better. Just learning that not everyone thinks like I do has been a huge weight lifted off my shoulders because I can envision that they are probably not dissecting our conversation into tiny morsels and re-masticating them like I do.

This morning was my last MOPS meeting. Period. I’d planned it that way anyway due to scheduling conflicts coming up with kindergarten and I just want to have some mommy and Leah time while Trey’s in school. If I’d been on the fence, however, as silly as it is to say, I probably wouldn’t be back. Today was my day to stay late. As a leadership member of this group, I take one of the two meetings a month and stay anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour late to clean up and put all of our stuff in it’s proper place. Washing out coffee pots, putting doodads and knickknacks, paper cups and individual creamers in their rightful containers. Our coordinator called me last night and asked for my help. Would I be able to come in and figure out if the DVD she wanted to play would work better in our actual DVD player, or the one on the computer. Sure. No problem. I told her I could come in and check that before everyone showed up at 9:15. The job is at absolute most, a two minute job. I show up at 9:00. She looks at me and says, “I thought you were coming in early to help me.” I tell her I got there as early as I could. She then asks me where a remote mic is. Why would I have this info? I don’t know. I walk into our meeting room after dropping off my kids in their rooms and I go to check the DVD. She coldly looks at me and snaps, “I’ve already taken care of it”. Um, ok. I ask her if she wants me to take a look at it. “No, it’s done” she says to me with a wave of her hand and a look of disgust on her face. Whoa. I was there when I needed to be. My ask from her was to check the DVD, not look for a mic, not set up the audio or the lights or anything else. She ruined my whole day. I tried to not let it get to me, I tried to enjoy my time, but it was tainted with her dirty look and her annoyance with me that came from her assumption of my help, which she didn’t even imply, let alone ask.

Not only am I irritate with her, I’m irritated that I let it get to me. I’m irritated that I can’t brush things off and I’m irritated that my last day of this group will be a memory I could life without.

To make it all better, I’m going to see my friend Amanda tonight while Bill stays home with the kids. Normally, going to see a friend wouldn’t be such a big deal, but she’s been living out of state since 2003 due to Uncle Sam and it’s time we had some girl time. And maybe a margarita.