What is the value of x? x = IDC!

When I was in school, my absolute WORST subject was math.  Uggg, how I hated every part of the subject.  I remember one of the first struggles was telling time.  I dreaded the part of the day where my second grade teacher would whip out those telling time flashcards.  Being the “brilliant” student that I thought I was, I was sure the teacher knew that I must definitely know the answer since my hand was raised.  Okay, so my arm shot up right after she called on another student, but I knew the answer…..or not.

It’s not just telling time that made my brain hurt.  How about when you divide fractions you actually multiply after you flip the second fraction.  What!!  Or those story problems that make you do 20 steps just to get to the right answer to the following question:  “How long will it take Johnny to get home when he departs the station riding a tractor going 5 miles an hour, stopping at the seed store, hopping a train going west all the while eating crackers?”  Please show your work.  My brain hurts just typing that problem. 

What about those order of operations, better known as PEMDAS, of which you have to make sure you do the order correctly or you will surely burn in the pits of hell!  PEMDAS is actually parenthesis, exponents, multiplication, division, addition and subtraction.  But to the people who are not in favor of math, PEMDAS may mean: putrid, evil, mindboggling, dislike, aggravating, stupid.  What is the value of x?  x = I don’t care!

So the girl (me) who hated math (me again) is now tutoring this subject.  Actually, I have sympathy for the struggling kids because I have been there myself.  Every week I have a student tell me they are going to show me “their way” to do math.  I oblige because I want to see the method to their madness.  I sit back, nod my head, and when they turn to me and say, “See?” with the totally wrong answer I say, “Okay, please, when you write the next math book and have it published you can do it “your way.”  But for now, do you think we can try my way?”

The “phrase that pays” during today’s math session was when I asked the student, “How did you come up with your answer?”  Her answer, “I felt it in my heart.”  Well honey, don’t listen to your heart for math because your heart was WRONG!

As my son has said to me numerous times, “Math is NOT English, so quit trying to analyze.  Just follow the rules and don’t pick things apart.”  Thank you, captain obvious, for reminding me that Math is not English.  So glad he clarified this because instead of ending a sentence with a period, I might have ended it with the number 9.

Wait, you just said WHAT??

So a guy walks into this bar, comes up to me and says…..wait, let me rephrase this.

So a 6-year old walks into the classroom, comes up to me and says, “What’s up, guuurrrl?”

Wait, WHAT did you just say?  Ah yes, the new generation of kiddos.  I mean can I see myself going up to my second grade teacher and saying to her, “What’s shakin bacon?”  Okay, so maybe that’s not the term for the 70’s, when I was in grade school, but you get the picture.  When this little darling came up to me and said this I believe my jaw had struck the floor causing a split in the cement.  So what do you say to a 6-year old that calls you “gurl?”  Well, after you lift your now pulsating chin from the concrete floor, you tell him nicely, “I AM NOT YOUR GUUURRRL!  NOR WILL I EVER BE YOUR GIRL AND I AM MARRIED!!  GO SIT DOWN AND WRITE YOUR ABC’S!”  Okay, so maybe I didn’t say it to him this way, but I did tell him this is not appropriate to say to your teacher.

They are the CUTEST little things, these 5 and 6-year olds.  But don’t be fooled.  Underneath the cute ponytails and little haircuts are HORNS.  And they are not afraid to show them.  Whenever a “newbie” walks into a Kindergarten class and they start with the “Oh they are so cute” routine, you need to set them straight, for this is the only way the newbie will survive.  When you tread into a Kindergarten class, you are entering a danger zone.

My husband was able to see what I was talking about.  He always said, “Oh, they can’t be that bad!”  You shall see, dear.  My husband came to see me, but little did he know Night Of The Living Dead was playing in our classroom.  Wait, not playing, it was ACTUALLY happening.  He sat down and next thing you know one zombie, I mean student, was behind him, followed by another…then another.  He didn’t know what to do!  Should he throw these “zombies” a piece of flesh?  What would make them stop!

Do you know how hard it is to explain to the “zombies” about the pretend center?  Not ALL 25 can get into the pretend center at once.  Plus, can you even imagine how well they would play together, as they grab Mickey Mouse’s arm and rip it off.  And kindergarteners don’t understand the “you will get your turn” thing.   So, we tried the explanation, told the students who were in the pretend center for that day and everyone else STAY OUT.  But no, one zombie at a time (complete with arms out in front of them) tried to get into this pretend center.  Two of us had to barricade the zombie’s from entering, and then throw them a bone so they would stay out.

Today was The Return Of Night Of The Living Dead, or return from Spring break. and I am happy to say that I survived!  I truly love what I do and probably have thousands of stories about these creatures. J  They keep me laughing and always on my toes.  Hey, if a zombie can’t keep my mind off of my health issues, I don’t know who can!

Tissues may be required

Something happened this weekend which compels me to write.  My cousin’s son was involved in a skateboarding accident and is now in intensive care.  They are trying to relieve the pressure from his brain, and also an infection has creeped up to throw more into the equation.  Why does this make me want to write?  Well, my family went through something like this when I was only seven years old.  My brother was hit by a car, while riding his bike, out of our cul-de-sac.  His bike was launched all the way to the end of the street.

My brother suffered an ear to ear fraction of his skull, just like my cousin’s son has.  My brother was also in a coma, for 30 days.  My brother’s head was so swollen that the only way my parents recognized him was by his crooked teeth.  Not only did my parents have to deal with my brother in the hospital, but they also had to deal with my brother’s cries of pain that was due to a blood clot on his brain.  Imagine yourself, if you are a parent, and your child is crying in pain and you can do NOTHING to help ease the pain.  No one would have ever known that the boy lying on the hospital bed, head covered in bandages, was the boy everyone knew. 

This kind of thing is hard to grasp at any age, but especially hard at the age of seven.  I hardly saw my parents that summer, and the trip to Kentucky to see my grandma, aunt, and cousin, was long gone.  They were constantly at the hospital, in Chicago, spending the night with my brother.  I was shuffled back and forth, staying with various relatives.  At the time, it was hard to comprehend what was actually happening.  All I could understand was my brother was hit by a car, in the hospital, and I was not able to visit him.  Since the injury was so extensive, my parents did not want to subject anyone to the shock and pain they were feeling.

The day finally came for my brother to come home.  I can still remember the anticipation I was feeling.  My heart was pounding out of my chest, as I waited at my grandparent’s house.  We could all start right where we left off!  As my parents helped my brother out of the car, the boy who stood before me was not the same person.  My brother’s thick head of hair that was always uncombed was now shaved.  He had scars on his head that went from ear to ear.  He also had to wear a protective helmet so as not to bump or bruise his now delicate head.  My brother did not remember I was his sister, nor did he remember all the good times we had prior to the accident.  I was devastated and kind of shy. 

My brother had to go through a lot of physical, as well as speech therapy.  School was also difficult for my brother.  He went from straight A’s to a constant struggle.  Even to this day, he struggles; however, I am so glad he is around. He has a wife and I have two beautiful nieces.

I am hoping my cousin’s son will come through this with flying colors.  My parents know firsthand it will be a long road. 

Live life to the fullest and do not ever judge people for you may not have walked in their shoes. 

When I grow up I wanna be….a singer or an actress.

When I grow up I wanna be….a singer or an actress.

Yes, those were dreams of mine, to be a singer or an actress.  After all, my mom did say to me, “You are so dramatic you should be an actress!”   What could she be talking about?  Could it have been the time when I was painting my nails red and accidentally spilled it on my bed?  Good grief I couldn’t let my mother know that I spilled this on the bed, especially since she had warned me about the red nail polish.  So what does any good academy award winning actress do?  They scream at the top of their lungs, “I’M BLEEDING, I’M BLEEDING!”  As any good mother does when their child is hollering bloody murder, my mom comes into my room to see this “blood.”  “That’s not blood, that’s NAIL POLISH!”  “No it’s not!  I’m bleeding!!”  At this point I am sure my mother just looked at me with the oh so common expression we all use today and said, “Really?”  Let’s not forget my mom is a nurse and was the head of Infection Control at the hospital where she worked.  I think she had a time or thousand dealing with the sick and the bleeding.  Needless to say, I didn’t win an Oscar that year.

Anybody who knows me also knows I love to sing.  It’s always been one of my “things.”  This, too, started when I was young.  I used to love to sit in front of the stereo and sing while holding a record.  I was possibly the inventor of the term “spinning records.”  When I would sit in front of the stereo I would also be “spinning a record” in my hands.  Only my spinning was holding an album and turning it like a steering wheel.  One after the other, this is what I would do.  Total entertainment for all!

This generation has no idea of what sitting and staring at an album cover, while a record is playing in the background, making that lovely “popping” noise is like.  I loved my parents’ albums and would stand on a stool and gaze at the record spinning around and around.  Plus, it also helped, the arm to the stereo looked like a black snake.  Cobra needles were also what were used in the stereo.  I am sure that at that time I thought there possibly could be a snake playing those records, and the snakes tongue was how the record played.  Talk about technology!  Beat that one, Apple IPOD.  Can you make a snake tongue play an album?

Unfortunately, through an awful flood, pretty much all my albums were destroyed.  My albums were in alphabetical order by name and by release date.  I do have things on cd and on a computer, but it just doesn’t have the same “pop” as listening to an album.  My son always teaches me things in this new electronic world.  Never did I think I would be teaching him how to listen to Stairway To Heaven on a record player.  When I told him to put the needle on the first song, he moved the needle all the way to the bottom of the album!  Aha!  Finally, I could show this little wise one something about technology!

Well, I never grew up to be an actress or a singer; however, my kindergarten class gets the opportunity to hear me belt out a tune every once in awhile, if they like it or not.

Have a great weekend and remember to laugh loudly and smile.

It's HOT!

Why is it that us girls have to start dealing with female things as young as 10.  Yikes, that is how old I was when the fun began with a period.  I think we all read the book by Judy Blume “Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret.”  What a great tale and it is soooo true how us girls want to start this “fun stuff.”  When I did start all this “fun” my grandmother was so right.  She said, “I feel so sorry for her.”  My mom said, “Don’t say that.”  Well, grandma was SO right!  It was hell from the get go and NOT fun.  Especially if you have a period that would just be like, “Oh, hello.  I’m here!  What, you don’t have any pads or tampons?  Oh, I’m sorry.  And I am REALLY sorry about those nice white pants of yours.”  Let’s also not forget the PMS.  I remember looking at my husband and saying to him, “Would you jump into a pack of wolves to save me.”  Or how about, “When I die, will you smell my clothes?”  How IS one supposed to answer this?  You know he couldn’t answer correctly because any answer would be the wrong answer.  But then NO answer is not the right answer either.   

Hot flashes.  Are they REALLY necessary???? I am one of those lucky girls who were put into surgical menopause back in 2006.  Then of course there is the “to HRT or not HRT” that is the question, question.  I did do the HRT but decided about a month ago I would try without.  When one of these flashes comes (it’s more like a torch than a flash) I feel like one of those cartoon characters who eat a hot pepper and smoke blows out of their ears.  Plus, it is quite embarrassing when I am driving with my husband or my son with my head hanging out the window, like a dog, tongue flapping in the breeze.  J    

I did decide this week to try some over the counter night sweat medications.  Still doesn’t seem to be working. Maybe I am misreading the label.  MAYBE because the label says, “for night sweats” this INDEED is what it is doing.  Making me sweat.  There is nothing sexier than turning toward your mate, looking into his eyes dreamily with your hair plastered to your head and face.  Or how about this, lifting UP those boobs and having AT LEAST a gallon of water underneath them.  I know you all know what I am talking about when I say this. 

There is a wonderful web site called http://www.hystersisters.com/.  This web site really helped me out during my before and after the hysterectomy surgery.  Such strong women with great stories and great ears that listen.  Anybody who has never been through female surgeries or any type of surgery does not really know until you go through it.   As I was visiting the web site yesterday I saw they had something called a “chillow.”  Now THIS may be something I can look into.  Either that or sleeping on a block of ice, which is totally possible at this point. J

As always, have a wonderful day and remember to laugh loudly and smile!

Disney here I come....or not

So I woke up this morning with Mickey Mouse hands.  Can I tell you Mickey Mouse hands look MUCH better on Mickey than they do on me!  But here is a thought.  What if I called the people at Disney and said that I am Mickey’s long lost great great great granddaughter.  Maybe then they would ship me to Disney and let me work there!  However, the cover would be blown as soon as they saw I didn’t have big black ears and a mousy tail.  This would be followed by a squad car waiting to haul me away in a strait jacket.

My hair hates me.  I mean it always has, even when I was younger.  You put curlers in; you turn up looking like Bozo.  You want it to go one way, and it goes the other.  Well now my hair hates me due to my meds, etc. etc.  Each time I enter the shower it is like a spider has decided to live there and spin a massive amount of webs.  It is like some horror movie where I am trying to move but can’t because I am tangled in a web.  However, it is not the webs I am tangled in, it is my hair.  How CRUEL!!  I already have fine hair and for it to decide to come out is just not nice.  I am hoping with the million dollar shampoo I am using, the hair will stay on my head.  I also believe the Police song Wrapped Around My Fingers was written for me and talking about my hair.  Instead of singing some random tune in the shower, maybe this should be my new anthem.  Maybe the singing will scare my hair into staying on my head instead of, you guessed it, wrapped around my fingers.  Also, if anyone knows any producer for B movies in which a lady gets tangled up in her own hair, let me know.  Hmmm, would this movie even be worthy of a B rating?

I was excited when I saw that I had one follower on my blog.  How exciting!  This person happens to be an old friend, and I can say old because I am in my 40’s and have known her since grade school.  This friend, whose name is Deanna, just lived a block away.  Her house was so cool because she had a screened in porch attached to her garage.  Besides that, she had the cutest dog, a dachshund named Dash.  I used to love going there not only for the screened in porch, but to see this cute little dog.  Can I also tell you how grown up you feel, while in grade school, getting to play in this screened in porch, complete with snacks at times!  Deanna and I would travel back and forth to each other’s houses daily.  We were really good girls….HONEST!!

As always, you grow up and go different ways.  But those memories are always there.  It can be a song that can take you back and make you remember.  Or, just your mind wandering.  I feel I could write a country song about now.  I am so glad to say that I have reconnected with Deanna through our friend Facebook.  Even though we haven’t seen each other in years, I still consider her one of my very first friends.

Have a great day everyone.  Remember to laugh loudly and smile.

Here I am!

I love pink.  Wow, now that's a way to start a sentence, or a paragraph for that matter.  Why am I doing this?  Hmm, first I love to write.  Second, maybe what I have to say might have an impact on someone out there.  Or maybe it can cause a chuckle.

Here is a little about me.  For those of you who haven't seen me since high school, or don't know me, I have had numerous surgeries since I was 18.  Let's see, I have had about 9 female surgeries.  It wasn't until 2006 that someone LISTENED to me and ripped everything out of me.  Best decision ever made.  When you walk into a hospital every year and the dietician says, "you look familiar,"  THIS is a problem. 

To add to the lovely abdominal scares or, as I call it, a "butt stomach", I have a "Frankenfoot."  My son and I were involved in a car accident and I wound up with a plate and 13 screws in my right leg/ankle.  Love it when I stay out in the cold too long and the plate decides to "freeze."  Nothing that an electric blanket cannot cure to thaw out the old nuts and bolts.

If this entire mess isn't enough, I had thyroid troubles.  Couldn't swallow, so I decided it was time to go to the doctor.  Hmmm, due to the fact that I am Polish, the goiter was growing in instead of out.  This caused pressing on everything and anything possible in my throat.  Had the surgery, the thyroid was twice the size it should be.  Yeah!!  Problem solved and over!  Ummm, no.  Let's add some cancer in there, shall we?  Let's not forget that I learned this news by myself.  You see, I am stubborn.  My mom had said she would go with me to my follow up after surgery appointment.  I told mom, "Don't worry, they are just going to look at this scar and say looks good!."  That part IS true.  Scar and incision did look good.  The part that wasn't good was the cancer part.  However, doc said it was the best type of cancer to have.  Really?  No cancer is good cancer.  And to tell you the truth, I didn't hear much after the BIG C word.

After all this health goodness, I am now battling an autoimmune disease.  It sucks the life out of me daily; however, I am here.  Medications are a challenge.  My "Mickey Mouse" hands are not always pleasant.  I must be the only person that wears black gloves at night to reduce swelling.  Most people wearing black gloves in the night are usually robbing a store. Again, I am Polish!  There is no point in being Polish if you can't prove it.  (Thank you to my friend Marcia for this line.  I use it quite a bit.)  I was a Financial Representative; however, the traveling and stress of the job was wreaking havoc on my body.  What do I do now?  Work with 25 kindergarteners!  Crazy?  Maybe.  But these 5 and 6 year old creatures keep me focused on them and not me.  They are the best medicine.

Okay, this is my first post for now.  I have so much to say, and try to say it always in a joking matter.  A smile and a laugh is the best medicine. 

In my writings I will share my life.  My life with my illness and of course family.  This includes a 19-year old son who drives me insane on a daily basis.  Who also always points out my loudness.  HELLO, I want you to HEAR ME!

Till next time, laugh loudly and smile constantly!
Kathy