A Very Scientific Visit to the Shire

Today, I went on an adventure.  It was epic.  It happened in the Shire, where I was entrusted with the care of two hobbit children.  Only it was more like in a cul-de-sac in a neighborhood.  But still...hobbits.

Well, it's hard for me to really judge actual hobbits, since I'm pretty short myself.  But I'm really pretty sure these younglings are hobbits.  I would like you to picture what they look like (without actually showing you a picture).  Picture in your head the most adorable brown-eyed, brown curly haired five year old boy in the world.  In the world.  Now multiply that by 20.

His sister?  She has blue blue eyes and the cutest little golden ringlet curls that would make Rosie Cotton want to pull out her own hair in envy.  And I wish she would.  Try putting ribbons in THAT, Rosie Cotton, and see if Samwise Gamgee would still want to marry you.

By the way, the hobbit boy child said I could call him Sam.  So that's what I'll call him in this blog.  And the girl--okay, I guess I'll call her Rosie.  Cuz if Samwise fell in love with this little doll, I really couldn't blame him.

Anyway, this adventure to the Shire began with the building of a hobbit house.  I knew that we would be building a hobbit house, because I accidentally promised Sam a hobbit house.

Cuz if you see an adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child in the hallways at preschool, and you tell adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child, jokingly, that you want to take him home with you, and if adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child says, "OKAY! Let's go," and you find yourself having to backtrack and think of all the reasons why adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child can't come home with you, and if you tell adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child that you don't have room for him, so he'd have to sleep in the bathtub, then adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child genius might say, "Well, then build me a house so I can stay with you."  And when you look in the big brown eyes of adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child, there's little you can do besides say, "Absolutely."

And then for the next three months, adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child will remind you that you promised to build a house with him.  A hobbit house.  With a blue door and a yellow door.

We didn't build a hobbit house with a blue door and a yellow door, but we took over Sam's driveway to build a hobbit house of epic proportions.

Only, it wasn't really a hobbit house.  It was a castle.  Only it wasn't really a castle.  It was a wall to ward off the evil Dragons.  Because when you're a hobbit child, imaginary buildings can be whatever you want whenever you want.  And regarding the wall to ward off evil Dragons, Sam knew without me having to tell him that there are both evil Dragons and good Dragons.  That's because Sam is awesome.  Sam also liked using the word awesome ALMOST as much as I did.  Because he's awesome.

Well, the neighbor's kid came over and somehow the hobbit house/castle/evil Dragon prevention wall fell over.  We tried to build it again, but somehow Sam wasn't the biggest fan of being inside a fortress that simply warded off the scented bubbles his little sister was blowing.

So we went to play with playdough.  I made snails.  According to Sam, they were the most amazingly awesome epic playdough snails he'd ever seen.  I'm inclined to agree

Sam made a monster truck/race car/rocket ship/war machine.  With a horn on top.  It was also awesome and good.

Rosie made a mess.

Sam asked me how old I was.  I told him I was "this many," and held up all my fingers three times, then added a four, because that's how many I am.  He said, "TEN?"  I said, "No."  Again, I held up ALL my fingers three times, then held up four.  He said, "TWENTY-FOUR?!?"  I said, "No."  Again, I held up all of my fingers three times, then held up four.  He said, "FOURTEEN MILLION?!?"  I said, "Yes."

This is why I am not a math teacher.

I am reminded of this video, which you should watch after you finish reading this post.  And then you should watch all the other videos that Bored Shorts TV has ever made in the history of ever.  You'll thank me later.




Then Rosie, Sam ,and I went into the garage to color.  That's when SCIENCE happened.  Sam was drawing me a flower.  He wouldn't let me look at it until it was done, because, according to him, it was an awesome magical rainbow flower that was so beautiful it would make me cry.

Indeed

So I was looking away from his picture, asking Rosie to name her colors.

Just then, an evil Dragon flew over head.  And Rosie, aged three, plainly said, "What?  It's thunder!  I'm freaking out, here!"

I assured her that it wasn't thunder.  She said, "You're right.  It's a BEAUTIFUL day outside."  But she still wanted to know what was making the growly sound overhead.  She was still freaking out.

It wasn't ACTUALLY an evil Dragon.  It was actually a nice jet plane.  So I told them that it was just a plane, and if they waved really hard, the people in the airplane might see them and feel happy.  So we all waved at the sky like fools.

As if that wasn't enough SCIENCE for them, Sam asked me why the jet noise was so loud and kept going for so long.

I said, "Well, sound travels really really fast.  And when sound travels really fast, it doesn't like anything to travel faster than it.  So when the jet plane gets SO FAST that it flies FASTER THAN SOUND, sound gets REALLY angry and just shouts 'BOOM!'"

Rosie and Sam were both like, "Whoa."

This is why I am not a science teacher.

The day ended with a Dragon hunt (a good Dragon hunt--we were saving the good Dragons from the evil ones), in which Sam became a secret agent (who, of his own volition, lifted up his sunglasses and winked at me), Rosie became an elf, and I became a good ogre/spy/fairy/elf who is also a ninja.  And we went through mystical portals and caves and dungeons, until our quest ended with the great battle of Sam's Driveway.  Sam led the charge, so Rosie and I lifted our imaginary swords and ran down the hill, defeating all the evil Dragons and saving all the good ones.

Afterwards, Sam, the mighty hero, got hugs, high fives, and fist bumps from who he described to be the "two pretty princesses," and we all went in for some yogurt.

And also, we rolled up in blankets and pretended to be caterpillars.  Then we were all butterflies.  Then we were all caterpillars again, because that's how we roll in the Shire.  Literally.  ...we roll in blankets.  ...as caterpillars.  ...that's how we roll.

You know, I'm not a kid anymore.  I'm all my fingers three times plus four, but there's something amazing about getting to hang out with hobbit children.  You remember how to be a hobbit child, yourself.  I can almost guarantee that my day was more epic than yours, even if I didn't really go to the Shire.  But I kinda sorta did.

Be jealous.

SAA Ep. #67: SPRING BREAK SURVIVAL

When most people think of Spring Break, they either think of time off, fun vacations, or of fond memories of their teenage years when they went on wild and crazy road trips to the beach.  I work in drop-in childcare, so when I think of Spring Break, I think of beating my head against a brick wall.

Cuz let’s face it.  When school’s out, a lot of people still have to work.  And those people bring their kids to drop-in childcare centers.  At the same time.  After all the craziness that took place this week, I really feel like I deserve a t-shirt or something that says, “I Survived Spring Break at the Drop-In Center!”

Okay, okay, so it really was a lot of fun.  In fact, I think that for a kid, spending Spring Break at the drop-in center might be good training for the wild and crazy road trips they’re probably going to take when they’re teenagers. 

I was never cool enough to go on one of those wild and crazy Spring Break road trips, but I saw a movie about one of those wild and crazy Spring Break road trips once, so I figure I know all there is to know about them.  Basically, you have a lot of young people dancing and running around, whilst making as much noise as humanly possible.  Cars are zipping by, heedless of pedestrians.  Beach balls are zooming through the air, knocking over anyone who dares to get in the way.  People are doing weird and potentially dangerous things (like trying to race the riding cars down the slide), just because they can.  Yeah.  It’s just like that at the drop-in center during Spring Break. 

We even had the obligatory Spring Break streakers and flashers, those rebel toddlers who decided pants were optional…we had to start doing "pants checks" at the bathroom doors....

And then there were the kids who couldn’t hold their apple juice, the ones that partied just a little too hard.  The other bouncers child care providers and I even had to take matters into our own hands a few times.  “Johnny, no more juice.  You’ve had enough.”  “I tew-woo when I haz enuff!” Johnny cried, right before passing out on a pillow in the movie center.

A few kids even had to go in time out for their reckless driving on the riding cars.  You’ve never lived until you’ve issued a DUI to a seven-year-old.

Some kids tried to sneak some illegal, hazardous substances into the facility, but our staff is highly trained to detect and eliminate any potential breeches.  “What’s that in your lunch box, Sally?  That looks like a sandwich.  What’s on that sandwich, Sally?  That’s not sun butter, is it, Sally.  No.  That’s not soy butter, either.  I know what kind of sandwich that is.  You know, too, don't you, Sally?  Do you know how many kids we have with peanut allergies, Sally?  Hmm?  Do you see the sign on the door that says we’re a peanut-free facility?  Sigh.  You leave me no choice.  Looks like we’re going to have to call your mom and ask her what she wants us to order you from Subway, because your sandwich is contraband.  Hand over the sandwich, Sally, nice and slow, and nobody gets hurt.”

Now, the saddest sight I saw all week was this one particular two-year-old.  You could tell this kid had done some serious Spring Break partying in her younger days.  But those days are over.  Now, two years old, can’t hold down a job, no education, no spouse, not even potty trained.  Life for her is pretty grim.  I saw her slumped over in the corner, crying pathetically into a box of raisins that some generous soul had been kind enough to give her.  I thought to myself, “For a toddler, it doesn’t get any lower than this.”  Of course, it probably does.  I mean, the substance abuse didn’t start with raisins, and it probably won’t end there.  It probably started with Cheerios, the gateway drug of toddlers.  The first handful is always free.  Once addicted to Cheerios, many kids move on to the harder stuff.  First, it’s a few Cheerios here, a box of raisins there.  Before you know it, the Cheerios and raisins aren’t enough.  I wouldn’t be surprised if she moves on to Goldfish crackers, especially with all the dealers here in the area.  It’s a sad, sad life. 

Yeah.  You go ahead and cry into your raisins, kid.

The really interesting thing about this week at the drop-in center was that we had a new trainee.  Trainees are so adorable in the way they have energy and care and want to do everything perfectly.  Don’t get me wrong—I genuinely care about the kids and try to do my job well.  It’s just that during Spring Break week, it becomes necessary to kick it into “Survival Mode.”  I don’t think too far ahead; I just do what needs to be done when it needs to be done.  My main goal: No one dies. 

That’s very important.  Yes.

Of course, there are lots of secondary goals, such as “Remember to feed the animals children” and “Investigate any unusual smells, puddles, etc.,” “Make sure Timmy isn’t trying to race the riding car down the slide again,” and “For the love of Mr. Potato Head, get that child to stop screaming!” 

But in “Survival Mode,” I don’t have time to make sure that everything is perfect.  Neither do the other workers.  So when Perky Trainee encountered my “Survival Mode,” I think it kind of scared her a little.  And it should scare her.  It should scare her a lot.

Because I was once Perky Trainee.  Once I thought that everything could be perfect.  Once, I too, had a dream.  I had a dream of 40 children playing quietly and peacefully together, giving the other workers and I adequate time to deep clean the entire facility and do all the administrative work whilst dancing to show tunes, turning cartwheels, and flinging handfuls of white rose petals into the air.  Yes, I once had a dream, Perky Trainee.  I had a dream. 

But my soul has died. 

Yours is next.

Toss back a handful of Goldfish crackers, sweetie, and get used to it.

The good thing about “Survival Mode” is that it forces one to be creative in difficult situations.  For instance, during snack time one day this past week, I decided there were too many kids to bother with conventional snack time things—like tables, chairs, plates, cups…and real food.  No, no.  Inspired by the genius of a fellow worker, I had all the kids sit down in a large mob on the carpet.  Then I started flinging packets of fruit snacks (which aren’t real food—they’re like glorified gummy bears—which might be an even harder kid drug than Goldfish) into their midst.  The kids liked this, though they seemed a bit weirded out.  I suspect they might have been less weirded out had I not gone a bit crazy and started exclaiming, “FRUIT SNACKS!  FRUIT SNACKS FOR EVERYONE!  YES!  HAHA!  FRUIT SNACKS FOR THE CHILDREN!  MUWAHAHAHA!” in a semi-creepy voice.  For no apparent reason.

I made sure that every child got exactly one packet of fruit snacks, though a small part of me wondered what would have happened if I had just thrown one packet of fruit snacks in the air and let them fight over it.  That sounds horrible, but I would only be doing them a favor.  It would have been excellent preparation for the annual celebration of kids beating each other senseless in a free-for-all melee to locate and acquire plastic eggs.

Yes.  The main school system here was kind enough to schedule their Spring Break the week before Easter, just so all the drop-in childcare workers would end their “I Survived” week with one last SHABANG!  Wasn’t that nice of them?

You know what I think?  I think that Easter Egg Hunts can almost, almost be compared with the Hunger Games.  (And maybe I’m slightly obsessed with the Hunger Games.  And maybe I’ve considered naming a future pet “Peeta Mellark.”  And maybe I wish Mockingjays were real because I kind of sort of want one (potentially named Peeta Mellark).  And maybe I want to be Effie Trinket for Halloween.  And maybe I’ve been braiding my hair more often lately because it makes me feel like Katniss Everdeen.  And maybe I’M AWESOME DON’T JUDGE ME!)  

I mean, you’ve got these kids hunting eggs.  Sounds simple and innocent enough, right?  But, dude, kids take Easter Egg hunts pretty seriously.  I mean, I’ve seen kids risk permanent self injury in order to grab an egg before their “friend” can reach it.  I’ve seen kids shamelessly steal eggs from other kids’ baskets.  I’ve seen kids who seemed willing to fight to the death over a pastel colored egg that might hold the coveted Starburst candy, or might hold the lame stickers.  The kids don’t even know what’s inside, but they want it.  They want it bad. 

And luckily, at the drop-in center, parents aren’t there for the Easter Egg hunts—but I’ve witnessed parents do some ridiculous stuff in order to make sure their little Suzie gets more eggs than the neighbor’s kid.  You wanna see some good wrestling?  Forget that stuff they show on Spike TV.  Just go to a nice family Easter Egg hunt. 

…or come spend your next Spring Break at the drop-in center.  You, too, can be a Survivor!  You won’t get a tshirt, but there’s Goldfish.

The first handful is free.

Disclaimer (AKA the stuff I feel the need to say so I hopefully won’t get fired): Work was hectic this week, but it was also a lot of fun for both the kids and for me.  I was thankful for an opportunity to see many familiar kids/families I haven’t seen in a while, as well as meet new kids/families.  I enjoyed playing some group games with the kids that we don’t usually play.  There were so many kids of different backgrounds, ages, and personalities, and it was awesome seeing how they interacted.  The kids all went home, not only alive (always a good thing), but also mostly happy, well-fed, and (when applicable) with dry/clean diapers (and pants).  The drop-in center(s) where I work are safe, clean, fun places for kids to play.  The staff is attentive and caring.  I will tell you that the “Survival Mode” bit is true—sometimes we have to just do what it takes to keep everyone safe, but under normal circumstances, the “Survival Mode” is not needed.  Any crying/unhappy children described above were not being neglected or ignored in any way.  They were just in need of a good nap—and possibly a box of Sunmaids….  I can laugh about the things that happened this week, and write about them in a humorous way, because life is funny and kids are funny.  Life with kids is even funnier.  And I’m just grateful for the amazing privilege of caring for the some of the most precious little people in the world.  …I’m more grateful when those precious little people aren’t screaming their heads off, but…that’s why God invented ibuprofen.  …and chocolate.  …and coffee.  …and, yes, Goldfish crackers.

SAA Ep. #66: What WE Learned In Preschool Today

If there was ever a time when I didn't refer to a toilet as a "potty" or a minor injury as a "boo-boo," I really can't remember when it was.  Working with small children for the past decade or so has definitely taken a toll on my vocabulary.

Sometimes I get the impression that childcare workers believe themselves to be royalty.  Maybe it's because we get to boss our little "subjects" around all day.  I don't know.  But it seems strange to me that every single childcare worker I've ever met uses the "royal we."  "WE don't hit our friends.  WE keep our shoes on at school.  WE share our toys with everyone.  WE keep our food to ourselves.  WE always listen to our teachers."  Um...why do I include myself in all those directions? 

I suppose it helps the kid relate to the teacher if the teacher is including herself in the direction.  If the kid believes that the rules are for everyone, he or she might be more likely to obey.  But probably not.  And half the time, when I'm using the "royal we," I'm not even being honest. 

"WE don't throw fits when WE don't get our way."

Actually...yes WE do.  And when WE do, WE have to go sit in the crying corner. 

I have one in my bedroom.  It's awesome.

Since I work with particularly small children, I like to play a little game with them--mainly because I can get away with it.  This game is called, "LET'S use ridiculously big words for no apparent reason and see what happens."  Like the other day, we were talking about shapes.  My one and two-year-olds kept bringing me shapes from the shape-sorter.  They brought me a red circle, so I said, "Look!  A red circle!"  They brought me a blue square, so I said, "Look!  A blue square!"  I think you get the idea.

Well, then a kid brought me another shape.  I'm not sure how this one ended up in our "basic preschool shapes" shape-sorter, but there it was.  So I said, "Look!  A yellow trapezoid!  Can you say 'trapezoid'?"  Most of the kids just smiled at me, because they're smart enough to know I was just being weird again (they catch on quick).  The youngest of the group, though, raised her one year old chin in the air and exclaimed, "BLUP-BLE-BO!" 

Close enough, kid.  Close enough.  My bad for trying to teach you middle school geometry when you're not even out of diapers.

I also like to have in-depth conversations with this particular child about the artificial sweeteners in her yogurt.  I gotta say, she's a good listener, but she doesn't have much to say about aspertame or sucralose.  Probably because her mouth is too full of said artificially sweetened yogurt.  ...or because she's not even two yet.

Sometimes I really get a kick out of the things I hear myself saying while working with small children.  There was one day in particular when I had to use the same phrase in THREE different childcare environments on the SAME day.  It's not a phrase one normally even uses once a day--or ever.  The phrase, "It's not nice to sit on your friends."  Yes.  Yes.  That SHOULD go without saying.  It must have been "Sit on Your Friend Day," and I missed the memo.  Again.  Just wait till next year, when "Sit On Your Friend Day" rolls around again.  Save a spot for me...on your face.

But today at preschool, I think I said the most amazing thing ever. 

What did WE learn in preschool today?

"WE can't just go around taking babies from people and putting them in OUR mouths."

Preschool lesson #1: Kidnapping is bad.
Preschool lesson #2: So is cannibalism.

I guess it's never too early to learn...

SAA Ep.#62: Unforeseen Occupational Hazards

There are certain ideas most people have when they think of the childcare field.  Some people might have happy images in their minds of happy children sitting in a happy circle around a happy teacher, while happy songs are happily being sung about happy people who like happy things and think happy thoughts. 

Yeah.  I’m not sure where some people got that idea, because in reality, working with children is kind of like living inside a blender. 

While I truly love all of the childcare jobs I have, and I love the children I watch, there are definitely some drawbacks.   Most of these occupational hazards, as I like to call them, are pretty obvious.  Kids whine.  They fight.  They cry.  They poke and tap and jab at you with their persistent little fingers.  Their bodies leak various liquid-type substances.  They play with poo sometimes.  They make messes when they eat.  They get into stuff.  As Shawn Spencer (seriously, I am far too addicted to Psych) once said, “I think children are sticky.”

But in the past several years of working with children, I’ve noticed that there are some other occupational hazards involved in the childcare field.  These are occupational hazards I did not anticipate.  I will now list and briefly discuss five of these unforeseen occupational hazards.  And you will now read them (if you want to).  And I will now stop stating the obvious for no apparent reason….

1) Leading the Monkeys

My love of all things Dragon burst forth in abundance earlier this year, as we celebrated the “2012: The Year of the Dragon.”  I went a little crazy (who me?) and did Dragon crafts and coloring sheets with the kids at work.  While passing out the Dragon coloring sheets, I was talking with one of my coworkers.  I said, “I wish I had been born in the ‘Year of the Dragon.’  I was born in the ‘Year of the Monkey.’” 

My coworker smiled and happily exclaimed, “So was I!”

I looked at my coworker very carefully and did some mental math.  I knew there was no way she was my age, but I didn’t realize how large the age gap was.  Tentatively, I asked her, “You were born in 1992, weren’t you?” 

She nodded enthusiastically.

I nodded, but not quite so enthusiastically.  “I wasn’t.  I was born in 1980.  So that means I’m twelve years older than you are.”

One of the kids shouted out, “HEY!  I was born in the ‘Year of the Monkey,’ too!”

“2004?” I asked him.

He nodded.

“Great,” I said.  “I’m twenty-four years older than you.  There are three generations of ‘Year of the Monkey’ people here.  And I get to be the oldest.”

The kid said, “You’re so lucky!  The oldest monkey gets to be the leader of the group.  I saw that on Tarzan.  So you get to be the leader of the monkeys.”

“Just what I always wanted,” I said.  “Yay me.”

Unforeseen Occupational Hazard #1: Feeling Old.

2) Can I Call You ‘Mommy?’

Since I’m not quite as young as I used to be, I’m finding myself in a really unusual predicament.  A lot of the parents of the kids I watch are now younger than I am.  This isn’t really that big of a deal, but it leads to some awkwardness. 

Maybe it’s because I don’t feel like a grown up because I’m not married and don’t have kids of my own, but sometimes I feel a little uncomfortable calling parents by their first names.  Even if I’m older than the parents, I sometimes feel younger than them because they’ve got all this responsibility that I don’t have.  So sometimes I don’t really know if it’s okay to call a parent by his or her first name. 

One of my coworkers likes to just refer to all parents as ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’ so she never has to use their names at all.  When greeting a parent, she says, “How’s Mom doing today?” or something like that.  Most parents don’t mind that at all, but I don’t like it.  I just feel a little more awkward calling someone “Mom” than I do calling them by their first name, unless that someone is my actual mother. 

But then, sometimes I have a feeling that this awkwardness goes both ways.  I’ve noticed that some parents always call me “Miss Ruth,” even when their kids aren’t around.  I guess they don’t know if it’s okay to just call me by my name, either. 

There is a parent that always calls me “Miss ROOF,” because that’s what her kid calls me.  And I think that’s the most amazing thing ever.  Just don’t call me that unless you have an adorable kid who calls me that, or there will be trouble.

Usually, if I’m uncertain, I just don’t address the parent by any name, which can lead to other unforeseen occupational hazards….

Unforeseen Occupational Hazard #2: Awkward Name Confusion.

3) Wait…Parent?  Parent who?

Sometimes, while avoiding addressing the parents by any name, I slip into another awkward situation.  Sometimes, I slip into this habit even when I know the parents and know how to address them.

Maybe it’s because I’m short, but I have a tendency to look down when I see kids.  I look down and talk to the kids, and sometimes I forget to look back up again and talk to the adults.  Sometimes I never even acknowledge a parent is there; I speak only to the child (maybe because I relate better to children).  What’s worse is when I don’t speak directly to the parent, but instead have a vicarious conversation with the parent while talking to the child.

“Sammy, did your mom take you to the zoo yesterday?  Did your mom buy you ice cream?  Don’t you just love your mom?  Your mom sure loves you a lot.  What was your mom’s favorite animal?  Were you nice to your mom at the zoo?  Did your mom buy you anything at the gift shop?  Did your mom like the reptile house as much as you did?  I’ll bet she didn’t.”  It really is too easy to have a conversation with a parent without even talking to a parent.  Scary, really.

Unforeseen Occupational Hazard #3: Developing the Inability to Communicate With Anyone Taller than 4’2.

4) AAAAHHHH!  I NEED More Sunflowers!!!!

If I didn’t work with children, I might have never heard of the game “Plants VS. Zombies,” and even if I had heard of it, I would have thought it silly.  Okay, so it is silly.  The silliness of it did not prevent me from getting completely, hopelessly addicted to the game. 

It all started out so innocently.  I was watching some of the kids play it, and eventually I understood the concept of the game.  I thought it looked interesting, so I downloaded the trial version at home so I could see what it was all about.  Big mistake. 

I was addicted to “Plants VS. Zombies” for months.  Even now, when I see a child playing it, I start getting a little twitchy.  If a child isn’t particularly good at it, part of me wants to seize the mouse from their little fingers and strategically plant peashooters that will actually protect my his house from the huge wave of zombies that is approaching. 

…and I have to walk away….

I’ve had similar experiences with “Angry Birds,” “Insane Aquarium,” “Feeding Frenzy,” “Fashion Craze,” and “Diner Dash.”  …not to mention Super Mario Kart and Lego Star Wars. 

This is why I’m not allowed to have a Wii.

Unforeseen Occupational Hazard #4: Becoming a Children’s Video Game Addict

5) Disobedient Children!  I told you to STOP growing!

I’ve worked in the same drop-in childcare center for six years.  That means that I used to change the diapers of some kids who are now EIGHT years old.  Sometimes I tell the kids this because I like to see their reactions.  Usually it’s denial.

Yes, I’m blessed that I’ve formed some really amazing relationships with families over the years, but it is heartbreaking to see a child grow from little to big.  Kids who once thought I was the coolest thing ever now act as if they don’t even know my name.  I don’t know how parents deal with it with their own kids, because I get really emotional about it sometimes.  But I feel better when I realize that I’m not the one who’s going to have to pay for their college in a few very short years.

And of course, there are still those rare kids who still think I’m the coolest thing ever, as long as I keep quiet about that “I used to change your diapers” thing.

Unforeseen Occupational Hazard #5: Growing Pains

Are there any Unforeseen Occupational Hazards you’ve noticed in your job (whatever it might be) or in your own child-related experiences? 

SAA Ep. #31: The Awkward Auto-Reply and the Resulting Reactions

This post doesn't have to relate to Mother's Day, but since today IS Mother's Day, that's the direction it is going to go. 

In all seriousness, this day is hard for some people.  Some moms have lost children.  Other moms have miscarried before even getting to hold their children.  Some people have recently lost their mothers--or even if that loss isn't so recent, this day can still be painful.  Some people have strained relationships with their mothers.  Some women can't have children, either because they're single or because they just haven't been able to get pregnant.  There are a lot of reasons why Mother's Day can be painful.  I understand that. 

I'm just not one of those single people who gets sad on Mother's Day.  I happen to have an amazing mother who raised me well and is now one of my best friends.  So I love having another excuse to just celebrate her.  I also enjoy celebrating all the other remarkable moms I know.  Mother's Day is a great idea.  I know some people can't appreciate it the way I do because of different emotions is brings up, and I understand that perfectly, but I happen to like Mother's Day a lot.  There are SO many amazing moms out there who deserve to be celebrated.  That's how I see it. 

But I've just so happened to see a lot of moms in the past few days...you know, because I work with kids.  So I thought it would be nice to at least give these moms a sincere, "Happy Mother's Day" greeting.  So over the course of the past four days, I've probably wished about 50 different women, "Happy Mother's Day," and I've noticed something funny that happens.

You see, it seems to be human nature to respond to a "Happy Wish Greeting" such as "Merry Christmas" with the words, "Thanks, you too!"  (Unless the words "Merry Christmas" offend you, and then you might respond "Bah, Humbug!")  So about 9 out of 10 times I've wished someone a "Happy Mother's Day," I've gotten the traditional, "Thanks, you too!" 

Then comes the funny part.

About 0.3 seconds after the other person responds, "Thanks, you too," she realizes that I'm not a mom.  Then comes the reaction.  One of two things typically happens.  1) The mom just awkwardly smiles and walks away as fast as she can, or 2) The mom starts with the apologetic explanation that goes something like, "Oh, I realize you're not a mom, but...thank you so much for taking care of my kids.  I hope you have a...truly great day...uh...bye." 

I think both of these reactions are funny.

Rest assured, I'm not offended if someone wishes me "Happy Mother's Day."  I'm not a mom, and I don't believe that there is any such thing as a "part time mom."  But if there WERE such a thing as a "part time mom," I would be one.  With that being said, I don't deserve to be wished "Happy Mother's Day," but I definitely don't mind if someone wishes me that anyway.  For one thing, I do take care of a lot of kids and feel pretty motherly most of the time.  In fact, some days, I feel like the old woman who lived in a shoe who had so many children she didn't know what to do (but then I go home from work and can sleep without someone waking me up in the middle of the night to get them a drink of water...so I'm NOT a mom).  I would like to have kids of my own someday...I don't hide that fact.  But if I never get to be a real mom, I'm okay with that, and celebrating Mother's Day doesn't make me feel bitter or sad at all.  As my life is right now, I get to experience all those happy kid smiles and laughs without being the mom who has to sit up all night and worry when her kid has a fever.  I can't complain.  God's blessed me with a lot of kids, as per my request.  I just didn't realize HOW He was going to grant that request...God has a sense of humor.

And another thing, I've already said that I see this day as a day to celebrate moms.  I have an amazing mom.  I know a lot of amazing moms.  If someone wishes me a "Happy Mother's Day," I see that as an encouragement to celebrate the amazing moms I know.

But that awkward auto-reply and the resulting reactions...too funny.  People are hilarious.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

Public Service Announcement: How to Stay Single in Ten Easy Steps

Meet Ruth.

Ruth is single.

How has a gorgeous, talented, and smart (not to mention, humble) young woman like Ruth remained single for all these years?

Hmmm....that's a mystery...

Ah, Ruth has remained single because she has learned the secrets--

The secrets to staying single!

She's going to share these secrets with you...in TEN EASY STEPS!

STEP ONE: Work as much as humanly possible.

Working three or more jobs makes it nearly impossible to have a social or dating life. If you find that you're working all the time and STILL have time for dating, try writing a novel. That will take away every last iota of your free time, making it impossible for you to find time for dating. For added singleness insurance, try working with kids. That way, you get that haggard, unattractive "my kids are driving me crazy" look without actually being a parent.

STEP TWO: Wear a ring that looks suspiciously like a wedding band near (or even on) your left ring finger.

Whether it's a "Purity Ring" or just some weird LOTR obsession, wearing a wedding-band-ish ring will confuse people enough to virtually guarantee your continual singleness. Also, biting your nails and having horrendously dry skin probably helps, too. No one wants to hold THAT unmanicured monstrosity!

STEP THREE: Surround yourself with children so that everyone, including single men/women, will assume you're a mommy/daddy.

(I don't have a cutesy pic for this step because I'm NOT a mommy and don't feel comfortable posting any of the MANY pictures I have of me with someone else's kids.)

If you want to appear as unattractive as possible to all eligible suitors, make sure you always have kids with you. If you aren't a child care provider by trade or don't have any kids to borrow, go rent some kids. There are kid rental places now, right?

And always make sure your facebook profile pic is of you and a kid that looks exactly like you.

STEP FOUR: Don't have mad cooking skills.

A lack of mad cooking skills makes you less desirable. 'Nuff said.

STEP FIVE: Have an imaginary boyfriend/girlfriend.

Whether you're the Captain Jack Sparrow type, the Edward Cullen type, or I don't know...whatever fictional female the boys are into these days... having a fictional significant other makes real potential significant others shy away. I mean, most eligible men and women know that they can't compete with the fictional perfection of a fictional person, so they just give up. And you remain single.

STEP SIX: Be a Grammar Nazi!

Because EVERYONE loves a Grammar Nazi...right? Right? Oh.

STEP SEVEN: Make friends with creatures that usually only exist in fantasy.

People will think you're crazy. Crazy people don't get dates as often as sane people, or so I have heard. I wouldn't know. I've never been sane.

STEP EIGHT: Do weird stuff in public for no apparent reason.

While some people actually appreciate weirdness in other people, it's probably not the best way to make a first impression on any single people who might be watching.

STEP NINE: Actually WANT to get married.

In my experience, nothing scares a single guy more than a woman who wants to get married. So just want to get married, and you'll scare away every single guy within a 100 mile radius.

STEP TEN: Be a socially awkward super hero.

Meh. Works for me.