Me and Carl

"So it seems they are short on subs this week and all of the teachers have had to cover other classes during their planning periods and ohmygod they are complaining about it. All I heard all day today was 'I have another coverage today. That makes three this month, and I don't think Schmitt has had one yet this year! I feel like a frickin substitute teacher!!' wah wah wah. They are totally being little bitches about it."

"Yeah. You should tell them that they won't really feel like a substitute teacher until they do all of that and make the forty whole dollars that comes with it."

Post Post Post.

I am motivated. I paid the the babysitter for four days this week in advance. I called up the sub service to let them know that I was available all week. I waited by the phone every night this week, and how many days have I worked so far?

None. No days. No days worked.

Actually, they called me last night to schedule me for Friday. I don't have the babysitter for Friday. I called in my mom. She'll work for free, so at least I won't be that far in the hole this week.

But it's okay. I'm motivated. I took Wendy to the babysitter anyway, and this week, I've cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen, done six loads of laundry, made seven gwazee coats, applied for three teaching jobs, signed up for Twitter, vaccumed every room in the house, painted more of Wendy's room, gone grocery shopping, baked brownies, wrote out bills, ordered pictures, and been generally more productive in four days than I've been in four months.

Four days in a row of not working makes my buggy. But I wouldn't be sad if I had one of these days every week. They are delicious.

Mommy of the Year Moments

1. Thinking, she likes the slides at the other park, and then pushing the one-year old down the dark tube slide by herself. Yeah, Jaimie was waiting at the bottom, but the sounds of wailing and limbs flailing and bumping all the way down indicate that this is generally not a great idea.

2. Letting the one-year-old feed the exotic chickens at Linvilla Orchards herself. Corn kernals offered up through the fence to sharp pecking crazy beaks. With her own tiny fingers. Duh.