...Construction...

There's construction directly in front of my house. I could open the living room blinds in the morning and wave to the construction workers. They're replacing the sidewalk and fixing the curb which is nice because we didn't have actual sidewalk before. However, these extravagances come at a cost where convenience is concerned. There's a gap of about five feet between the end of our driveway and the beginning of the road. We've been parking at the bingo hall down the street. We have to jump a rope, walk a block through dirt and skip over a ditch to get to our house. Kind of a pain in the ass.

I left the house about twenty minutes before my shift was supposed to start. It usually only takes about eight minutes tops to get from my house to work. My sister had parked on the road and wanted to move her car so I jumped in with her. The construction worker had to stop traffic so she could get out, drive two seconds down the street and turn into the bingo hall lot. We live on a busy street and I was really happy someone helped us out. After that delay, I got in my car (parents car) and set off for work only to hit more construction about a minute and a half later. I didn't even know construction was going on there. By the time I got to work, I was right on time. Because there's also construction at work, parking has been a bit of an issue. I drove through the daycare parking lot and noticed that there were no cars in it. I assumed that there was some construction thing going on and parked along the side of the building. I stopped by the office on my way in to make sure I was okay where I was parked. I was. I was also late.

When I jumped the baby gate to the baby room, one of my coworkers looked to the clock and informed me that I was two minutes late. After all the other bullshit she's put me through I was really tempted to simply tell her to go f*ck herself. Rather than say that and lose my job, I continued walking to the closet where we leave our things and said: "When there's construction right in front of your house, then come talk to me." Kind of wish there were more people there to see it because it was delicious. We left it at that. I didn't have the desire or feel the need to tell her more.

I got sent to one of the satellite sites after 12:00 so I didn't see much of that particular coworker today. Oh darn. Where maturity is clearly lacking in some people, it is not in others. I hadn't been to this particular site since I was attacked by three of the girls I was supposed to be watching. The two more serious offenders were gone, but the girl who was more... she goaded the others more than anything, was still in attendance. I walked in, sat at a table, played cards with some kids, talked to her like I talked to everyone else. I had no intention of bringing up what happened. Later, when we were outside, a few of the kids were roaming toward the back of the school. I told my other coworkers that I wouldn't go back there alone. Naturally they asked why so I gave them a very brief summary of what happened, omitting the name of the girl still attending the daycare. What I didn't know was that she was standing about five feet away from me. When I'd finished, she got my attention and apologized. Sincerely.  I was shocked and so failed to thank her and acknowledge the guts and character it must have taken to come up to me, a woman twice her age, in a position of authority, conversing with other adults, and apologize without being asked or expected to. I'm kind of annoyed at myself because today was her last day and I would really like to tell her that I appreciate what she did. I'll see about finding another opportunity.

Amazing how someone half my age can act with more maturity than a coworker more than twice my age.

That's the kind of day it was here in Laurenland. Not the greatest, but some definite shining moments.

Lauren.

Never Arriving Friday

I can't believe today is only Wednesday. It's the week that won't end! Why won't it end?!

I'm exhausted and I can't get my thoughts in order to write a post for today. Here's the point form version.

• I got my eardrums nearly blown out by a kid
• Babies attract creepy people who hang out by dumpsters and attempt to hit on you
• A twenty minute walk can be extended into an hour long walk if need be. Need be.
• There are good people out there... they're just quieter than the bad, irritating people.

And there you have it.

Night!

Lauren.

Baby-Visible Trolls

Two peculiar things happened today. Normally one is enough. The first was a moment of... bizarre luck. The second is an odd phenomena I discovered. And I'm not just talking about how you get an itchy head when you start talking about head lice. Because I learned that today too. The phenomena I wish to discuss is about shoes. Or feet. Well, they kind of go together, so shoes and feet.

Luck first! I have a few professors who have mentioned, some more casually than others, that I should continue my education after an MA. Honestly, I did some research and it sounds fun. I'm aware of how that sounds. In any case, given that I'm interested in events that occurred during the Holocaust, I'm going to have to learn to, at the very least, read in German. It's a program requirement and it makes perfect sense. I've never had to learn another language before so I don't really know what's out there in terms of resources. I emailed a high school teacher I know who teaches German and asked about good resources. I never heard back. Well, I ran into her today. She asked me what I was up to. I told her and mentioned continuing my education and that it would require learning German. Honestly, I expected her to give me a few good book titles, maybe a computer program to look into or some other educational tool. Nope. She invited me to sit in on her class and go more in depth with me afterward. Given that I know very little German, not even enough to make up a sentence, it might not be a bad place to get a base knowledge going. And to think I considered calling in sick.

As for the phenomena, it's about left feet and left shoes.

I never thought so much wisdom could be derived from How to Train Your Dragon. Which, admittedly, was foolish of me.

I first noticed it with one girl. She kept taking off her left shoe. I kept putting it on, she kept taking it off. She kept the right shoe on, never even attempted to take it off. So, she ran around most of the day wearing only one shoe. Later, I noticed another girl doing the same thing. She kept throwing off her left shoe. I kept putting it on, she kept taking it off. She too was content to run around in only one shoe. And then one of the boys started, again with the left shoe. Two or three times we put it back on after he'd ripped it off. Finally, we let him run around in one shoe. Technically crawl... he hasn't learned to walk yet. So my question: Is this a troll thing? Is there something I should know about left feet and shoes? Are trolls invisible? I've never seen one! Are they only visible to babies who are then forced to surrender their left shoe? BASTARDS! Pick a fight with someone worthy!

Clearly I have no idea. In actuality, it's probably just the one kid being mimicked by the others because for some reason, walking around on one shoe is hilariously funny. It gets them a lot of attention. I'm going to hang onto the troll theory. It'll make my day a little more exciting.

Lauren.

Name Game

I wrote before about how I was thought to be the mother of one of the daycare kids. He's cute, his name isn't weird, he's a sweetie, but he's not mine. That experience was kind of weird for me. Mainly because I'm so far away from having children that it's pretty much laughable. Well, there's one experience that tops that one in weird/awkward feelingness. I bet you can guess what it is.

I was back in the preschooler group (ages 2.5-4). It had been quite a while since I'd been in that class. It took a while for the kids to warm up to me again, but they did. Anyway, one of the kids doesn't nap. The rest of the class does. It's a bit difficult to keep him entertained and relatively quiet for two hours. We wound up looking out the window and discussing the lunch habits of construction workers. And then I was called away to lunch. I left him at the door after promising that I would be back in an hour and that I would play with him.

Upon my return an hour later, I was greeted with the one thing I've never heard anyone call me: "Mommy". Again, he's cute, his name isn't weird, he's generally a pretty good kid, but definitely not mine. For one, I doubt my ability to produce children out of thin air (Mary I am not). Two, I'm unsure that I am genetically capable of producing a blonde child. Three, possibly the most important point, he has a mom who seems to be an all around good person. In short, I have no idea where the hell calling me Mommy came from.

Yup, ugly baby. Arnold, pregnant, Junior. Strange movie.

He said it more than once too. The first time I thought it was an innocent slip. The second time, I wasn't sure I heard correctly. The third time I was pretty sure I heard right. He was finally corrected.

Really a weird moment for me. Not bad, just... unexpected. Then again, I suppose he could have said "Daddy" to really throw me off.

And if that wasn't hilarious enough, there was more name confusion where I'm concerned. I was charged with washing hands and faces after the afternoon snack. My coworker kept telling the kids to go see Madame Lauren (aka me). A bunch of kids started crowding the door. They were redirected to me and couldn't have looked more confused if they were trying. Finally one of the girls, a recent graduate from the class I've spent a month in, looked at me, pointed to the door and said "Madame Lauren?" Lightbulb. I'm The Other Lauren. They thought they were being sent across the hall to my coworker named Lauren. The Original Lauren. Note to self: Introduce self to children on a regular basis.

What's in a name... indeed.

Lauren.

Must Shop...

After weeks of putting it off, I was forced to acknowledge what I've been suspecting for a good six weeks. The majority of my clothes have been sitting in two hampers. It's all clean, it was folded. I've just been too lazy to put it away.

I usually dread putting away my clothes because in my closet, everything falls over. I think the shelves must be slanted forward or something. In any case,  my closet gets a little messy on the one side, which makes putting things away rather difficult. And let's face it, it's easier to procrastinate.

Today, my mother "gave me a mission". She didn't actually have to tell me what the mission was. Imagine if Chief Quimby had a similar relationship with Inspector Gadget. He never would have had the experience of being blown up. I stalled but eventually, I had to face facts. I would have to clean out my clothes. Gah!

Once again, I'm getting rid of a quite a few sweaters, t-shirts, as well as a few odds and ends. Why I have eight pairs of soccer socks, I don't know. One pair I've had since I was... maybe twelve? Granted, my feet have only grown a size or two since then (yeah, my feet came in long before my boobs) but do I really need eight pairs? The cleaning out is the easy part. I don't really get attached to my clothes emotionally. They're there to cover what needs to be covered and keep me warm. Sorting my books to sell would be debilitating. But back to my clothes. I cleaned out my shelves, sorted my drawers and put everything back where it should be. It looks nice. But all that organization comes at a terrible cost.

I realized that I need new pretty much everything. I definitely need new shirts, new underwear, new jeans, new sweaters, new pyjama bottoms (for tops I just wear old t-shirts no longer suitable for public viewing). The only thing I don't need is socks. I think that's weird. Don't holes constantly form? And what of fuzzles? Do they not thin out socks, making them even more vulnerable to holes? Apparently not. I still have a tonne of socks from when I worked at the restaurant. I know that because working at the restaurant was the only reason I bought black sports socks.

I must now venture forth and shop. Great. My favourite thing in the whole world. Clothes shopping. It's right up there with shoe shopping. I should probably do that too... I have a new mission!

Lauren.

The Sound of SIlence

It's past midnight and I can't think of a single thing I want to say.

I spent the majority of today indulging in the pastime of colonial women. Then again, it wasn't really a pastime, it served an actual function. I'm talking about embroidery. I just lined up a bunch of movies, parked myself next to a lamp and sewed. All day. It was kind of nice to focus on something simple and outside of my head. I enjoyed not listening to the regular cacophony in my brain and just being able to... do something quiet. I work in a daycare, nothing is ever quiet. Silence is a sound I miss dearly. I'm relieved to have a hobby that offers the opportunity to work at something that doesn't require noise, that gives me control and a sense of gratification at seeing everything coming together.

I've nearly finished my first real project. My mother and I had to get a little creative to get it started. Tomorrow we'll find out if that creativity paid off or blew up in our faces. Kind of hoping for the former, not going to lie.

Anyway, silence is a sound that is sorely underrated.

As a random note, I didn't watch The Sound of Music. I stuck mostly to silly comedies.

Lauren.

Discipline Fail

According to my mother, I am a softie. This is apparently news. What brought on this statement? I was telling her about a moment from work when I was attempting to discipline a child but wound up laughing instead. Because those two things go together so well. He laughed too!

I was actually having an anxiety attack. Too many kids, too much noise, not enough sleep the night before, not enough personal space. Lunch had just ended and I was washing everyone's hands and face before sending them off to play. There were a few stragglers still chowing down at the table. One of them is a kid who will eat anything. He always has something in his mouth. Always. Fingers, toy cars, books, rocks. As far as I know, he's only successfully ingested the rocks. And that's in spite of me fishing them out of his mouth. But that's a high point of yesterday. The reason I'm telling you all of this is because he effectively ended my anxiety attack.

He was sitting at the table, his apron completely covered in food. I don't know why, but he'd smooshed his piece of bread with the bottom of his glass until the bread was stuck to the glass. He then went about eating the bread from the bottom of the glass. We do give them spoons, but the majority of them just hold the spoon in one hand and eat with the other. Anyway, I turned around and saw what he was up to. I called his name and didn't get any farther in my telling off.

He put his glass down. The bread stayed stuck in his mouth, kind of beak-like. He was looking at me with his big brown eyes, his messy, floppy brown hair, looking just so darn cute and with an expression that surely meant: "Sorry, yeah, that's me. What can I do for ya?" I stared at him. He stared at me. I burst out laughing. He continued to stare at me for a few moments, until he realized he wasn't in trouble. The corners of his mouth turned up, the bread fell out of his mouth and he too started to laugh. I just turned back to the sink and kept working. There was no point attempting to tell him anything after all that. Talk about your mixed messages. Still... he didn't do it again.

As crappy as the day can get, I can always count on one of those kids to make me laugh.

Lauren.

The Crazies and the Comforter

So sleepy. Once again, the kids caught a case of the crazies. I don't know what the hell is going on. I suspect it's an airborne pathogen being released into the air due to the construction going on. Whatever it is, it must stop! My sanity depends on it!

In other news, I learned that in spite of not being very touchy-feely (probably an asset at a daycare) I'm becoming the comforter of choice. No, I'm not a blanket. I had four kids run for me, arms stretched above their heads, tears streaming down their faces, begging to be picked up. I repeat, running for me, not from me. I don't know what I did to deserve the honour but it's nice. I like that they feel comfortable and safe with me. I find it strange that the majority of kids running at me are boys, but that's okay. Boys need hugs too. Actually, I'm not really a hugger. Too much bending and kneeling. I like bringing them up to me. That way I can move around if I need to.

The strangest incident involved a particular boy. He's probably the most likely to get in trouble and lead others into a situation that will get them in trouble. Still, I think he's a very pleasant, active, bright, special kid. I'm probably one of the few. Before the afternoon snack, while we were singing about buses, spiders, frogs and men who live in rooms upstairs, he walked up to me and plopped down in my lap. He wasn't comfortable so he laid down sideways, across my lap. Normally he tries and succeeds in escaping our jolly sing alongs. Weird. Later, at the end of the day, I brought all of the kids to the baby room. I had to leave for a moment to get something for a parent. When I returned, he was crying and about two seconds later, he ran for me. I looked to my coworker for an explanation. He'd fallen off a toy when it slipped. I'm new. He's known me three weeks. He's known my coworker at least a year.

Anyway, weird though it may seem, that was a highlight today. Not him getting hurt. I would have preferred to avoid that. But feeling liked, like I'm doing a good job. That was pretty amazing.

Lauren.

A Compliment Sandwich with Brakes

Up until about 5:15 this afternoon, the top moments of my day included:

• Discovering at 4:30 that my deodorant was still working. 
• Singing "The Wheels on the Bus". There were still several things to happen on the bus when all of a sudden we had to discipline three or four kids. My one coworker asked our lead singer if we were taking the song back up. The lead singer responded very curtly: No, I'm over it. I cracked up laughing, totally ruining the effect. She looked at me and smirked before embarking on another song. 

Yeah, it was that kind of day. There must have been something in the water because every single kid arrived cranky and in desperate need of a nap. There were countless near-bitings and quite a few bitings in the first degree. There was a lot of pushing, a lot of hitting, sooo much screaming and crying.

But at 5:15, an event occurred that saved the day for me. I'd brought all of my class over to the baby room. I only had five kids left. I think there were only two babies. I was just waiting for 5:30. One of my kids' parents arrived. I gave them the daily report. He had a good day, a few minor issues, he had a good nap and all in all, pretty good. I left for a moment to get something for another parent and when I returned, one of the girls from the baby room decided to instruct me on giving the parent report. I had to do the compliment sandwich. It's important to bury the negatives so that parents don't feel attacked.

When she finished, I went to the counter and filled in the departure time for three of my kids. Then I heard: "That looks like a government car". Random. The discussion about the alleged government car continued. I eventually walked over and stared in the direction everyone else was looking in. I didn't know what I was looking at. Finally, I clued in. I read the licence plate off and asked if that was the car everyone was worrying about. It was. It was also my mom's car. She'd come from work to pick me up. Working at a bank... not a government position. Everyone exhaled. Apparently this government woman is really cranky or something. I've never met her. I giggled on the inside about the whole incident. But it only got better from there.

The mother of another of my kids arrive shortly after we were all obviously staring out the window. She works with my mom and eventually, that little tidbit wormed its way into our discussion. All of a sudden, the girl who'd suggested the compliment sandwich was at attention. She was listening in on my report, but at the mention of my mom, suddenly she was looking at me differently.

CSG: Your mom is P?

Lauren: Yes, my mother is P.

CSG: Seriously? She interviewed me for a job at the bank! I'm hoping to hear back soon!

Ah. In that moment, I knew what power felt like. For the most part, she'd been indifferent to my presence since we'd met. She was never mean to me or rude or anything like that... she just didn't really pay much attention to me. And that's fine. I don't mind in the least. All of a sudden though, I found myself in the longest conversation we'd ever had. I asked her if she'd like to talk to my mom since we were both leaving at the same time and it would be impossible to leave without going by my mom's car. She responded with: "Goodness no! I look like a walking turd. She wouldn't even recognize me." She said all of that in French. The translation is nowhere near as funny as the original. In any case, she was all flustered and chatty. I thought it was damn funny.

Naturally I told this entire story to my mom on the way home. She laughed. I laughed. We sat down for supper half an hour later and randomly laughed again. Tomorrow might be a fun day after all.

Lauren.

Run Around

I booked today off work. No, it was not for my sanity or health. It was because I had a tonne of errands to run that I'd never get through if I went about accomplishing them on my lunch hours.

The People I Dealt with Today:

1. Bank lady. I always get awesome service because my mom works there. Woot!
2. Mom (in her professional capacity)
3. High school secretary for random business.
4. Woman in the Registrar's office who made me fill out a pointless form
5. Woman in the Finance office who thought I was funny (hey, it's my first time with OSAP)
6. Woman at police station who informed me that for committing the crime of becoming an adult (when the hell did that happen!?) I had to pay 16$ more for a background check. Hello, 911? I'd like to report a robbery. 36$ for five minutes of work? Nice.  
7. Cranky ass, old fart of a security guard at the public parking lot downtown. Make your damn signs less ambiguous and I might consider following them. 
8. Really chipper postal worker who started quizzing me about MPs and their offices the second I set foot in the post office. She was quite pleasant actually, once I got over my sudden episode of pop-quiz anxiety. 
9. Friend because she's been away all summer and we had to catch up. Though I had to dash off, I enjoyed the visit.
10. Dental hygienist who did not overzealously floss my teeth! Yay! The last time, I think my dental hygienist was testing whether or not floss could be used as a weapon. In case you're curious, it can.

I think this song is very fitting for my day... even though I haven't seen Digimon since I was maybe... nine years old? Whatever. It works. The big scary monsters can be my tuition fees, the thing getting punched by the cactus can be the security guard.

I don't usually interact with this many people in a day. Now I know why. I did a lot of running around, obviously, but none of it was particularly straining. Why the hell am I so tired? At least I can nap on my lunch hour tomorrow. All my errands are finished. At least for a few weeks. Until I have another pay check to deposit, have to mail off some documents... Is this why that police woman thought I was a grown up?

Lauren.

So Close

It could have been worse. Much, much worse. I was anticipating a pretty awful day. I didn't get it. Yay! Of course there were a few incidents that made me question, but in the end, I have to say, not that bad.

The first incident happened around 9:00. Yeah, it's about diapers. Surprise. Once again my lack of speed was irritating people. I asked them to request the children stop pooping after I'd changed them in order to improve my speed. Fourteen kids plus three redoes. Thanks a lot kids.

The next incident happened around 1:00. My boss moved up my lunch break which meant I would be taking it at the same time as another girl in our room. In order for the ratios to be respected, the assistant director arrived to replace one of us. Since I was having no luck getting the kids to sleep at nap time, I took out the trash and picked up their daily books. We have to write down everything they eat, do, how much they sleep. Anyway, I'd never done these books before but I sat down and got to it. Not rocket science really. And then my other coworker comes back in (right after the assistant director), sees me at work and says: Awesome! I didn't even have to tell you! I refrained from reminding her that she'd never let me see the books before let alone write in them.

Incident number three happened around 4:30. The kids were antsy because we couldn't take them outside. I don't know where I got this brilliant idea from but we'll just deny it was mine. I tossed a scarf over a kid's head and pretended that he was invisible. After a few seconds, I very dramatically pulled off the scarf, declaring him to be visible again. He thought it was friggin' hilarious. He was shrieking, actually shrieking, with laughter. His little buddy also thought that was funny. I did it over and over again. And then parents started arriving. They were more baffled and were looking at me like I was a crazy person. Because naturally, that would be the moment the kids stop enjoying it. My only defence was: Hey, he's laughing.

It was about 5:27 when the second to last incident occurred. I was off work at 5:30. I could almost taste freedom! And then we smelled a diaper change. Because the guilty party was from my class (we combine groups at the end of the day) I got the honour. So close.

And lastly, I was closing the room for the night. I felt bad leaving everything to the janitor when I was perfectly capable of taking out the trash and doing a quick sweep. Well, that didn't quite work out. I took out the trash alright. I stepped out into the playground. At the one end, there's a fence. The garbage cans are lined up against a wall outside the fence. The fence was padlocked. Damn. Then I heard a click. The door had closed and locked behind me. Double damn. Garbage still in hand, I walked across the playground toward the windows of the Senior (5-6 year olds) classroom and knocked. Thankfully there was still someone there or I would have had to jump the fence. Given my present state of physical fitness and permanent case of clumsiness, I can't imagine that would have ended well.

See, clearly my day could have been much worse. I'm in my bed instead of a hospital bed.

Lauren.

Damn Evolution!

I honestly have very little to say about today. I didn't do much. Just relaxed for the most part.

I'm now at the portion of my day where I'm dreading going to work tomorrow. There are going to be more kids than usual. My coworkers have already made a big deal about this fact and have assured me that I'm going to freak out, or suck or... whatever it is they talk about. Again the issue of my slow diaper changing was brought up. Seriously, why is my life now about diapers? Whatever will I do with two more children to change? I believe my response was: change two more children. Duh... My coworkers kind of make me wish I was a monkey. Then it would be socially acceptable to throw poo at them. Hey, all I'm saying is that I have access... I'm already tossing dirty diapers in the trash. I wouldn't require much more effort to turn around and toss in a different direction.Yes, I'm just that mature. Damn you evolution! I would have had my satisfaction by now if it weren't for you!

At least they've stopped calling me "the other Lauren" and "hey you". One small step for Lauren, one giant leap for dignity!

One day, I don't know when, but one day I'm going to have a job I'm excited about, that I'll wake up in the morning and won't mind getting out of bed for. This job, whenever I get it, will make me happy. I won't have to chant "you're paying for your MA" or whatever equivalent thing I require money for, whenever I walk through the door.

Too dramatic? Too dramatic.

I don't hate my job. Once again, I love the kids. It's the adults I have a problem with. It's just little things, sometimes subtle things that bother me. Oh well... we'll see what tomorrow brings. Hopefully good weather so the kids can play outside. Positive attitude! 

Lauren.

I Got Riled Up

Do you know how hard it is to find a movie on Netflix with only "George Clooney" as a guideline? It's hard. My parents were looking for a movie and so, were cruising about the various categories. They came across a movie starring George Clooney. I don't know why, but they navigated away from it. No, they didn't take note of the movie's title. No, they didn't remember which category it was in. All they could remember was that the image was second from the left and the movie had George Clooney in it. My mom tried to find this movie, asking repeatedly for my help. Finally, she gave me the remote. Crap.

I went to the less than handy search feature. It only searches for titles. Not helpful. I went through at least three categories, trying to scan for the elusive cover image. I hadn't even seen it, but was repeatedly assured that it was the second from the left... not near the top, near the bottom. In spite of those awesome directions, the movie was not there and thus, was not identified. My parents were not open to choosing a different movie. They were stuck on this one. Personally, I'm not a George Clooney fan. I think he's made way too many boring, stupid movies to invest so much effort into seeking him out. I again voiced that I didn't know what they wanted me to do, that I didn't have enough information and that we were better off finding something different. My dad noted the irritation in my tone and asked for the remote. Just as well really. I'd spent the majority of the day working on my embroidery. The prospect of a fight over a likely crappy movie was all the motivation I needed to find something else to do.

Oh, I forgot. I hate Netflix...

Instead, I took a shower... much needed. I then settled in to read a number of articles about the issue of Muslim women in Quebec being forced to remove their niqabs and burqas to recite the oath of citizenship. I was disgusted and confused by the articles. I was even more disgusted by the comments posted under the articles. It did however make writing my article on the topic much easier. The next issue of the magazine I help edit and write for is coming out at the end of September and deals with identity. I may have to go over my article again. I was pretty... biting. I just don't understand how we as Canadians can champion diversity, acceptance and multiculturalism when we're forcing innocent people to put aside their beliefs. It makes perfect sense to violate a person's right to choose for themselves what they believe, what they wear and what values they follow in order to give them rights and citizenship. Really. Bravo. While we're at it, let's take their dignity and their cultural heritage for good measure. Ah, so refreshing to be Canadian and inclusive. Reading the articles... all I could see was ignorance and discrimination. I'm Canadian. I have the right to vote. I didn't vote for that crap. That Canada isn't my Canada. And I resent politicians, people who represent me, making these kinds of ignorant, discriminatory, narrow-minded decisions in my name.

As you can see, got a little riled up. In case anyone is wondering, no, I am not Muslim and no, I have never worn a niqab or burqa. I believe in choice, in being who you are and in respecting people. Because we're all people, we all make choices and we're all a little different.

Right, so, that's what I think about that.

Off to read some more.

Lauren.

NO! MINE!

As I've likely stated a few times, I'm working with 1-2 year olds now. They're very interesting little people. They're quite funny. They're about 98% honest, because even if they try to lie about things, like the fact that they just pooped, you can smell it. They're also really possessive.

It doesn't matter if they were playing with a toy two seconds ago or ten minutes ago. It's theirs. They can forget about it completely, but as soon as another kid touches it, they want it back. They grab, they bite, they scream. If I didn't fear the biting, I'd find the screaming kind of funny. It's what I'm going to call an "end of the world futility" scream.

Now, given that many of these children are learning language, we're encouraging them to use their words instead of scream. Rarely works. The phrase we're teaching them is "Non! À Lauren!" which translates roughly to "No, belongs to Lauren". Of course, they substitute their own name in the place of mine. Although I suppose I could use them as little pickpocket monkeys... Next time we go on a field trip... I say this phrase a million and a half times a day. It's normally one of the first things out of my mouth when I'm breaking up a fight. After WOAH! which has become a scary word believe it or not.

So today I was sitting in the staffroom, eating my lunch. The phone rang. Everyone in the office was busy so the girl next to me answered. She needed to take a message. I rummaged through my bag and eventually found a pen. When she was done taking down the information, she was moving away toward the counter with my pen. She was just going to leave it there and not give it back to me. Unintentionally. Still, without thinking about it, not at all trying to be funny, I very loudly said "Non! À moi la plume!" or in English: "No! The pen belongs to me". At least I used proper sentence structure... sort of.

Well, we all stared at each other for a maybe a millisecond before we were all laughing. I couldn't believe that had just come out of my mouth. The only justification I had was the crowd I'm presently hanging out with. I maintain that it's their fault. The girl who took the message was the first to recover (after she gave back my pen) and left to deliver the previously mentioned message. I was left alone with another co-worker. She's probably in her mid fifties. Anyway, we calmed down, the eating resumed and all of a sudden, I was laughing again. I still couldn't believe the passion and emphasis I put on my demand for the return of my pen. I was assured that these things happen. Somehow I doubt it...

This story is a sign of:

A Friday afternoon
Hanging out with kids too long
Being exhausted

I love weekends.

Lauren.

Sandman vs Lauren

You know that scene in GI Jane where Demi Moore and the others in her SEAL class are made to sit in a hot classroom with soothing music playing? They've been training, doing super physical drills for who knows how many hours. They're finally allowed to sit down, conditions are set to entice them to fall asleep, but they aren't allowed. They have to write an essay.

In a smaller scale way, I know what that feels like.

Every day, nap time comes around. The room is incredibly hot from having twelve 1-2 year olds running around without stopping. Neither does it help that there are two huge windows wide open and welcoming in the sun most of the day. Still, little cots are set out, the kids have their own blankets, pillows and stuffed animals brought from home. There's soothing music playing in the background. We go around rubbing their backs to help them get to sleep. One by one they drift off and slowly, snores and deep breathing are added to the room's soundtrack. Need a visual? Got you covered.

Yes, I do that number everyday. I keep getting the strangest looks...

Finally, when everyone is asleep, you have time to realize how much energy you've been using to demand everyone wear a hat, to keep Child X from sinking his little chompers into Child Y, sucking up the bullshit your co-workers are dealing you. There's the heat, there's the music, there's the opportunity for your brain to completely shut down. But you're not allowed. You have to watch and listen to the kids sleeping... like they're candy and you're the fat kid who's had to eat nothing but lettuce all summer. All the factors are against you but you mustn't sleep.

It's just mean. I thank God I only have to sit there an hour before I run off to lunch. It's so hard to stay awake! Especially when you have nothing else to do but watch and wait. Staring at the clock is not advisable either.

I was watching a kid nodding off in his plate today at lunch and felt my jealousy rise up. He'd get to sleep in half an hour. I'd get to sit on the floor watching him, having my senses assailed by the Sandman. I resisted! I won the battle today! Lost rather spectacularly yesterday but that's in the past! It was only ten minutes! I kind of missed that ten minute nap today.

Tomorrow I shall enter into another battle. We're evenly matched. We'll see who comes out ahead.

Lauren.

The Eating Sand Question

I've noticed something peculiar. Kids and sand have a love/hate relationship. My first week at work, kids would be kicking off their shoes because they were annoyed with the sand getting caught in them. Today, a kid started throwing sand and became upset when it covered his shirt sleeve. He also threw some sand at me... good times. I showered when I got home and created a beach in the bathtub. That's not the point, nor is it peculiar. I found having sand in my bra to be incredibly uncomfortable, I don't like it in my shoes and I really don't like it in my hair.

Now, here's my question: If sand is such an awful substance to have on the outside of your body, why are kids so intent on eating it?

I don't get it. I could see doing it for attention, but they do it when no one's looking. We only find out afterward because they're messy eaters and they have rings of sand around their mouths. I keep catching kids drinking sand out of a plastic, toy cup. Part of me wants to congratulate them for using the appropriate dish in the appropriate manner, but they're eating sand! You'd think it would be just as uncomfortable inside your body as it is outside. Are there nutritional benefits? Don't some birds eat rocks and chalk to make up for mineral deficiencies?

I used to throw the bigger rocks over the fence to prevent kids throwing or clubbing each other with them. Turns out it's the little rocks I should have been worrying about. They aren't even doing it because they're hungry. We have snack time right before we go outside. I'm not a huge fan of bananas or peaches but I will eat them over a heaping helping of nature's finest gravel.

Are they just curious? I wish I knew... some kids go back for seconds and thirds on the sand. It can't taste good. I imagine it would taste... metallic? Obviously it's very dry and hard so it's gross texturally as well. Hmmm, maybe it's just experimenting with texture? How is an orange's texture revolting beyond belief but sand is fine? These kids have just gotten their teeth. I don't see why they want to test them by attempting to chew what wind, rain, the treading of hundreds of feet and God know's what else, have failed to destroy.

I know little kids stick absolutely everything in their mouths. I've picked up their toys. At the same time, it's not like they try eating the slide, or the tube thing they hide in. They don't chew on the trees or eat the leaves. It's just the sand. So what the hell is so special about sand? You can at least chew a leaf... it might even be tea worthy. Is it because sometimes sand is shiny? I love shiny things and I'm 23. Before you ask, no, I do not eat sand. I like food too much.

Anyway, that's my question. I suspect that it's a little bit of all my theories. When I catch them, I tell them that sand isn't food, make a really grossed out face and say "yuk" just to emphasize the non-foodness of sand. I've even made tragic attempts at sign language (which we do teach and use) that are probably more hilarious than effective. Finished. Eating. Sand. I don't know the sign for sand so I usually just point at the ground. At least I can make them laugh.

This is my sand story. Thank you and good night.

Lauren.

DCA, Workouts and Inappropriate Laughter

Okay, so I finally missed a day. My internet was down last night and I didn't have time to blog before going to work. I am still alive. I haven't imploded. I'm actually a little surprised.

I'm sorry to say that the last two days have been... horrendously routine. Of course, there were slight variations. I had a headache today. And I got the morning shift where diaper changing is concerned. I can now say with absolute certainty that the morning shift is the shittiest, both literally and figuratively speaking. Why has my life come down to constant talk of changing diapers? Is that supposed to be some cosmic symbol or sign? ... it's the one thing I'm still being consistently criticized for. I'm too slow at changing diapers. You didn't know there was a time limit? There is. The DCA (Diaper Changing Association) is very strict about how much time each step requires. You didn't know there were steps? There are. The DCA is very strict about those too.

1) Setting out the kid's stuff/getting necessary equipment
2) Hunt down kid and return him/her to table

Guess who I am. Hint: I'm not the one with feathers.

3) Change
4) Put on shoes (after nap)
5) Put on sunscreen (if sunny)

An hour for twelve kids is too long... Stab me in the face.

After that I did some exercise. I found two new work out buddies. They both love weights and upper body work. One is particularly fond of bicep curls and rowing-like activities. The other one just likes pretending he's dead-weight. Yes, the children are my weights, but they're happy to do it. They think it's funny. And frankly, I could use the upper body workout.

I also laughed at a kid who made the most depressing, agonizing, desperate scream... because he was told he had to eat his orange slices before getting more grapes. No tears, no carrying on. He just screamed once and stared at his orange slices. It was funny because it was sudden. It came out of nowhere. I chose to assume that his reaction meant he doesn't like oranges. I may be wrong.

I don't know... more of the same I suppose. And back at it tomorrow.

Lauren.

Potter Distractions

Alright. My day wasn't incredibly eventful. It involved shopping for embroidery supplies. Yes, I've finished my training wheels project and am now moving on to an overly ambitious project (OAP) with a ridiculous deadline. That's just how I do things.

When I explained my OAP to Dana (after a night of coffee and bitching, we had a lot to bitch about) she seemed to rather like my plans. So naturally, I offered to embroider her something as well. Given that we both like Harry Potter, I scoured google for ideas. I didn't want to do something obvious. She mentioned the Hogwarts Express. While looking into that, I found a lot of stuff that made me laugh that probably shouldn't have. For instance:

I felt really bad for laughing. I don't dislike Rebecca Black. I just wish her song would go away. I should email JK Rowling and ask if the Avada Kadavra curse can be used on a song. Or would a worldwide Memory Charm have to be performed? Probably the second... Friday, Friday...

And then there was this one:

I really, really didn't want to laugh. But I did. Generally speaking (because this picture is incredibly unflattering), I find Emma Watson to be really attractive. I'll admit it, I have a crush on Hermione. So... she can't go turning into Justin Bieber. That doesn't work with my lesbianism. Because Polyjuice Potion is real and therefore, my opinion should matter. 

And lastly, because I had to:

So true. Thank you JK Rowling for giving girls a good role model, for making it okay to be smart, self-reliant, strong in the face of heartbreak and comfortable with just being who you are. Stephanie Meyers... I have nothing to say to you. I have more of a scoffing sound for you but it doesn't translate well over the computer. 

After being temporarily distracted, I did get back to Dana's embroidery project. I think I have it planned out. Now if only I can find decent transfer sheets... an adventure for tomorrow.

Lauren.

Give Me My Books

Netflix is the devil. It may not look like it, but it is.

My sister and I have been bugging our parents to look into Netflix for a while. Finally, my sister decided that it was a lost cause. She somehow roped me into helping her set up an account and making the Netflix technology work on the TV in her room. I really wish I knew how to say no sometimes. Anyway, her proactive approach to greater TV options propelled our parents into action. All of a sudden, they were trying to install Netflix on their TVs and required my assistance.

Yes, I can be good with electronics and tech stuff, but I'm kind of hit and miss. I'm not an expert. I'm logical, I can often figure things out through trial and error. Often is not always. When summoned to the basement to magically make Netflix work, I found myself stumped. My sister brought up the screen to make the Internet available on our TV. We didn't have an option for a wireless connection. Right there I knew I wouldn't be of much help. Even before we started I was doubtful, but I chose to keep that to myself. Upon seeing this screen my mom, sister and dad all took off trying different solutions. At the same time. They were carrying on three different conversations with each other. At the same time. I was just kind of there. While no one was listening to me, I decided to google magicking Internet onto a TV. I realized that this was an essential first step before getting to the Netflix portion of the process. For whatever reason, I wasn't able to concentrate much. I am however fairly certain that we need some equipment that we are not presently in possession of. Which I kind of assumed would be the case.

The three separate conversations and solutions continued while I read. I lost my patience and requested that everyone shut up and let me read. That didn't go over well. I was told that I was being f***ing rude, a statement I found ironic for obvious reasons. Voicing that opinion didn't make things better. Personally, I thought it was funny. Not a good time to laugh... I should really work on that.

In the end, everyone left the room. The lamp remained on, almost as a reminder of the dark events that had taken place in a room we often congregate in. No one dared enter the basement. It remained empty, vacant... lit only by that single lamp... until my cat started snoring too loud and we moved back downstairs to watch a movie. Neither was Netflix installed in my sister's room. I tried everything I could think of. I tried everything the help site told me to. Still, it would not work. So no Nintendo, that page was not helpful.

All I wanted to do with my evening was read Harry Potter.

It was a headdesk kind of night if ever I've had one. We need to get a male in to install this thing. Life is so much easier when men install things. Sexist? Yeah, it is. But when one of my male cousins, or my sister's boyfriend come over to help with stuff, there's no yelling, or stubborn scoffing sounds. Just cooperative, patient work, perhaps even a laugh or two. The best part of that arrangement is that I get to stay out of the way and spend that time with my nose in a book. I love books. They don't require any plug-ins, add-ons or 1-800 numbers to run to for assistance. They just are and that is a beautiful thing.

Lauren.

Staffroom Banter

The staffroom can be an interesting place. I don't generally hang out there but I didn't have a ride home, so I stayed at work. Today a weird thing happened.

I have a number of minor issues with my coworkers. They aren't serious things, just things that annoy me. For instance, I'm working in a room with another girl named Lauren. Since she's been there six years, that makes me Other Lauren. That's actually what they call me. I don't like it. They also tend to talk about me like I'm not there, often using my disliked name. I haven't said anything about it. I haven't corrected anyone. Why? I suppose I didn't want to rock the boat... anymore than I already have.

When it comes to the kids, I'm usually pretty easy going, fairly permissive. As long as they aren't hurting themselves or others, I'm generally willing to let them figure things out on their own. I don't like being an authoritarian all the time. I don't want kids listening to me out of fear. I want to be respected, not feared. I don't feel the need to constantly be asserting my authority over them. I also hate nitpicking. I'm fine passing off noises and screaming and other such actions as kids simply being kids. I don't want to correct every single aspect of their behaviour. There's time to learn everything. Let's just master getting water from the glass to their mouths before we criticize how they do it. Maybe that's a bad thing, I don't know.

So, I ignore a lot and downplay a lot. Which is what made the following incident kind of peculiar.

In a strange twist, I happened to be the oldest person in the staff room. The other two girls were still in high school. All of a sudden another girl walked in and was greeted with "Hey faggot!" I looked to the girl who'd said it and without thinking, without even realizing it, I said: "Hey, watch your mouth!" She looked at me, stunned, then told me the girl who'd just arrived was her cousin. My reply was immediate and just as strong: "I don't care." Everyone stared at me. This girl is usually very vocal, but she completely backed down. There was a moment of awkward silence when the girl who walked in chuckled and said: "You tell her!"

They continued talking like nothing had happened but clearly I'd made some kind of impact. I don't know if it's because I really, really hate the word 'faggot', because I'm gay, because I was short on patience, or because I feel most comfortable with teenagers, but at the time I barely registered that I'd spoken. It's probably a combination of factors.

Got to love when those assertiveness moments sneak up and surprise you.

Lauren.

Two Discoveries, One Afternoon

I discovered two things today.

In a daycare, the word "disinfect" is something like a swear word. You use it on new people, people you don't like, people who don't know any better or people who have limited amounts of power. I'm an ever changing combination of three of those items and 'disinfect' was used on me. Basically, you wipe down any and every thing that could have come into contact with a child's mouth, hands or general germiness. Translation: spray everything with disinfectant and wipe. I got to disinfect the baby room today and I'm pretty sure I'm more thorough than most... just guessing but I think my margin for error is quite small. Like 1% just for the fun of it. Hello Mr. Dust-Bunny. If it hadn't irritated my bronchitis, it would have been pleasant. I was by myself, doing my own thing, relatively silent, going at my own pace. It was a nice change of pace.

And after that I discovered that choking is scary as hell. Again in the baby room, I was feeding one of the kids. He started refusing food. Then his throat started visibly contracting. He leaned his head back. The expression on his face did not look amused. My qualifications are limited and I wasn't scheduled to be working in the baby room. I jumped aside and calmly (in a firm tone) drew my co-workers' attention to this kid. One jumped forward, ready to rip the high chair apart to get to the kid. And then turns out he wasn't choking. I don't know what the hell he was doing, but he went back to normal a second later. It took the three of us a few minutes to stop panicking. We then complained about my calm tone and how if he was choking I should be more urgent and some other crap. Because I was really going to start flailing and wailing, getting everyone screaming and crying. There were six other babies in the room. Yes, that makes more sense. It kind of pisses me off that they thought I was being blasé. Of course I was scared! Some people shut down, some people freak out, some people, like me, can maintain a calm exterior which enables us to work through a crisis. We're still scared on the inside.

Not a great day. I was very happy to come home, curl up and forget about it. After venting. It's important to vent. Luckily, today was probably the worst day I'm willing to have, which means that tomorrow will be better.

Lauren.

The Shiny Silver Lining

You know those days when you wake up in the morning and you just know that you're going to have a bad day? Well, I woke up this morning and for whatever reason, I felt like I hadn't slept at all. When I finally convinced myself that I had to face the day, I made my way to the kitchen only to discover that we were out of bread. Okay, we weren't out of bread. We were out of MY bread. There was some Twelve Grain concoction but really? If I wanted to eat a field, I would go off and graze somewhere.

Obviously, I was running late. Between getting up late and resolving the bread debacle, I showed up at work pretty much right on time. I was there about twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, when we caught a whiff of someone. The other girl who was working with me was busy and asked if I could change this kid. Remember the super poop I mentioned yesterday? Yeah... forget that one. A new champ was crowned.

The morning continued along those lines and gave no indication that the course of events would change. But they did.

After lunch, it was my turn to change all the diapers. Somewhere near the end of my rounds, I came across a girl I'd just met today. She did not want me to change her. I can't blame her really. Though I'd been around all day, it was really our first interaction. Can you imagine officially meeting someone you've seen hanging around and the first thing that person does is remove your pants? I mean, if that's your thing, I'm not judging, but I think it's awkward. Nearly halfway through, she started pointing at a picture of a fish. I don't know why, but I started singing the song about the little fish who's just swimming around when out of nowhere, he gets eaten. It's a cute song though it sounds awful. I could remember that the fish got eaten by a turtle and that the turtle then gets eaten by an octopus, but I couldn't remember how the verse went. Thankfully, I didn't have to. She started singing the verse all by herself. I was quite impressed. By the time we finished, I was finished. I set her down on the floor and she scampered off. I don't really know why that moment made me feel better, but it did.

When I changed everyone, one of the ladies from the baby room stuck her head into our room. Apparently they're planning on moving one of the kids up from the baby room and so, they decided to bring him over to visit and get used to things. That meant that I had to go to the baby room. As soon as I got in the room, one of the little guys I met last week started freaking out. He was reaching for me from his high chair and whining. I went and sat next to him while he finished eating his snack. Not fifteen minutes later, he was freaking out again. He was done snacking and he wanted out of his chair. Immediately. I cleaned him up, unbuckled him and lifted him out of the chair. As soon as I had him in my arms, he wrapped his arms around my neck and gave me a huge hug. He didn't let go. He actually hugged me tighter before he decided that he preferred solid ground. I was only with the baby group for two days last week... Thursday and Friday.

At my other jobs, silver linings included finding expired food (because we couldn't sell it and therefore, we could eat it), having tons of extra food after a Feast (because we got to eat it) and not having a stupid remark made about my tasteless uniform ("the fun starts here" was written in parentheses across my boobs). Ironically, I now get groped on a daily basis. Different intention, same action. That's all I'm sayin'. My point is, the silver lining is so much shinier at this job.

Lauren.

Name That Kid

I was with a new group at work today. This time, they were aged 18 months to 2.5 years. It's always awkward when I join a new group. The kids kind of stare at me, not sure what to make of me or if I can be trusted. I don't really know what to do to make myself useful because of course, every room has its own routine and way of doing things. Much to my surprise, this group and this room turned out to be my favourite so far.

I liked the girls I was working with. They were chill with the kids and didn't look at me like I was an idiot when I asked questions. They were actually very nice about answering all my questions. For instance, in this room, they do the diaper changing in shifts based on when you come in and when you leave. I got the after-nap shift. There were twelve kids, all with different kinds of diapers, health needs, some who are potty training, some who definitely aren't and to top everything off, varying degrees of hatred for being changed. I'm sure you can imagine how many questions I had. Lots. I think I asked for a run down on every kid. Some kids got bonus questions along the lines of: "Oh God! Is that normal?", "So... do I just... apply that?", "And can she do that herself... or do I have to do it?" Only one child traumatized me. How can such tiny people produce so much?

Indeed... That's precisely what they want you to think.

Anyway, it took me an hour. Possibly the longest, sweatiest, smelliest, funniest hour of my life. I find the whole changing process rather uncomfortable so I tend to make faces and silly sounds or use stupid voices to get the kids laughing. Some of them are quite hilarious.

The other thing I notice I've started doing is inventing names for kids. I know the names are wrong, but for the life of me, their actual name eludes me. I think it comes from meeting so many people this year. In the baby group, I wound up naming a kid Stephen. His name isn't Stephen. In my defence, it's sort of close. Today, I named a kid Vincent. I have no excuse for that one... it's so far off. I think there are only two letters in common with his actual name and one of them is a vowel. Like there are so many of those to choose from. The weird thing is, I haven't met a Vincent this year and the Stephen I know does not resemble baby Stephen in the least.

If you think these moments represent my awkward moments of the day, you would be mistaken. On my lunch hour, I sped over to the bank to deposit my paycheck. Following that stop, I booted it up to the university across town to accept my acceptance and pay the tuition deposit. Somehow, after all that, I still had twenty minutes left to find lunch, get back to work and possibly eat lunch. I ran down to the Timmies on campus and bought coffee and a muffin. The clock down there gave me an extra five minutes. Those five minutes were lost when I ran into a prof. He asked me how the rest of my summer was going. Why I couldn't just lie and say "fine" is beyond me. Instead I replied: "Could be better. I have to get back to work to change a dozen diapers". Did I stop there? No. I did not. I continued with: "I either have snot or play dough on my jeans... I'm pretty sure it's play dough."That's when I decided to walk away.

I'm going to work on my lying in the mirror now. I'll let you know how it goes.

And in case you're curious, it was play dough on my jeans.

Lauren.

Internet Day

Long weekends are like a sandwich. Yes, I'm momentarily stealing Forest Gump's line about chocolate and life. Which by the way, isn't true. They have legends on the underside of the box lid now so that you DO know what you're getting. But back to the sandwich. The thought of having an extra day of leisure is amazing, refreshing and motivating. The thought of going back to work after an extended break is slightly more difficult than it is on your average Sunday. But then, you realize that you only have four days to work before the weekend which is also amazing, refreshing and motivating.

I know... I'm so wise.

That's why I spent today scouring the internet for sources on medical ethics, the history of medicine and the Nazi doctors trial at Nuremberg in 1946. This is what I do for fun (see Paragraph 3 of this post). I found some really good stuff too. I love the internet. Now of course, I have to read it all, but that's for another day. My advisor, I get to say that now, gave me some stuff to look into so we can nail down my topic and get me started on my research. When she asked if I wanted to get started now, I jumped. I'm typically a slow reader so the longer I have the better. That and I like having the time to let ideas percolate. Once the information is in my head, it'll sit there and then at an unexpected and usually inconvenient time, the bits and pieces will come together. Voila! Idea.

My appreciation for the internet continued beyond my scholastic pursuits as well. I brought it up months ago, but I did indeed take the internet dating plunge. I figured that if I had a social life, I'd probably be spending more than what the site's services cost so that problem went out the window. I was still apprehensive (likely an understatement) but I forced myself to see my subscription through. Yes, I still got some absolutely strange to the point of being funny results, but I also got a number of interesting results. I approached one and we've been emailing for the last two-ish months. Today I learned that she'll be coming to my hometown at some point this month and we've agreed to meet. After agreeing, I was faced with the reality of my dating history. As in I haven't been on a date in nearly four years. This is going to be interesting... It can't be worse than my past attempts: locking myself out of the house, hitting my head on the car door (twice), making an inappropriate but hilarious joke, reacting incorrectly to various cues. At least I recognized that they were cues.

And to cap off my day, I applied for OSAP. Because nothing says "Goodnight world" like applying to the province for grants/loans. Can you guess how I accomplished this feat? Indeed, it was the internet! What can't it do? It can't get me a glass of water, but give it time... we'll soon be fat floaty chair people just as Wall-E predicted! Anyway, there was just something so inexplicably right about filling out OSAP forms while watching Legally Blonde.

Back to work in the morning. I'll be separated from my beloved internet. I promised myself I wouldn't cry...

Lauren.

Popsicle Fallout

One of my earliest memories is of when I was around five or six years old. I remember it was late. I'd been coughing like crazy because I had a really bad cold. As she still does, my mom poked her head in my door. Usually she just suggests drinking water. That time I suppose my cough was bad enough to merit a stronger remedy. She brought me down to the kitchen. She was fiddling in the cabinet next to the microwave while I was drowsily standing in front of the oven. I saw her pull out a bottle with a green label. I don't know why I remember the colour of the label. I think the only reason she got the syrup into my mouth was because I was half asleep. It didn't however stay in my mouth. The taste was foul and I spit it out immediately. My mom was not impressed. I was coughing for an entirely different reason.

If you understand why this picture is here, YOU ARE AMAZING!
If you don't, that's okay... I'm random.

Why am I bringing up this story? Well, today was popsicle tasting day. When I tried the mojito popsicle, I had a flashback to that night and cringed. All I could think was "Green Syrup, Green Syrup, Green Syrup". Dana was eating hers rather delicately as well. Finally I admitted that it tasted like crap and that I couldn't eat it. There was way too much mint in that thing. My fault. 

The other popsicles did not bring back horrible memories of green liquids. Following the mojito popsicle, Dana and I hesitantly turned our attention to the much hated pumpkin pie popsicle. Dana didn't think she could handle a double dose of disappointment. I just wanted to get it over with. There was a lot riding on this popsicle. We were both surprised and thrilled that it tasted amazing. I'm definitely going to make it again. The recipe is kind of weird so I'm going to adjust it to my liking, but the end product was absolutely worth the stress of yesterday. Again, we recognize that we probably wouldn't have been so annoyed if we'd only worked on one recipe instead of nine.

The St. Patty Pops are my second place, followed by the white chocolate macadamia nut popsicle. The St Patty Pops need a cookie crust. It was alright with the Areo balls, but I think it would have been that little bit better with the actual cookie. If I make it again, I'll just use regular Oreos or another chocolate cookie. There's enough mint elsewhere. The only reason the WCMN popsicle is in third (yeah, I got lazy and made up an acronym) is because it's extremely rich. I had a hard time getting through one. Very good though.

All we did today was eat and watch movies. I saw Casablanca for the first time today. I liked it. I thought it was funny in that it was so... dramatic? It's also nice knowing the context for all the parodies. Before that, we watched Confessions of a Shopaholic. We acknowledge the randomosity of our film choices. The Shopaholic was kind of annoying me. Throughout the whole movie I was shouting "SELL YOUR CRAP IF YOU NEED MONEY!" She only listened to me at the very end. Of course. I would very much have enjoyed watching her go head to head with Gail Vaz Oxlade. 

I imagine it would have gone something like this... Gail is the one in red...

That was today. I'm off to sleep and hopefully not dream of popsicles.

Lauren.

Popsicles from Hell

Today, Dana and I decided that we would undertake what would become our greatest baking challenge EVER. (We agreed that we weren't technically baking, rather, we were freezing. However, if I simply wrote that we were freezing one would think we were coming down with hypothermia, an impressive feat given today's temperature. Happy now Dana?) I know. Sounds pretty epic right? We decided to pull an Anna and Christina and test a recipe book. Why? Because everything looked good. The book? Fun Stuff: Frozen Pops.

We decided that we would put together nine recipes. It didn't seem like so much. And then we read the recipes. Nine was a lot. Nine was ridiculous. Nine was pure evil. We made the following recipes:

Fruit-Filled Pops: They took three seconds to make. They were lovely. We shall eat them at breakfast tomorrow. It's just fruit in a popsicle mould and filled with a clear juice. We chose berries and filled it with lemonade. Gonna be good. Starting with this recipe was incredibly misleading.

White Chocolate Macadamia Pops: Not too bad... a few steps, but the mix was amazing. Can't wait to finally try them. They're in the freezer... freezing.

Frozen Chocolate-Covered Bananas: These were simple to make and quite good. Definitely recommend.

Dreamy Orange Creamy Pops: Also pretty simple. Not too difficult to make. They're still in the freezer. Waiting to be eaten. We don't really remember making these... they were made before everything went to hell.

Mojito Pops: By the time we got to these we were incredibly sorry that we had to simmer the mojito mix effectively cooking off the alcohol. These were quite simple to put together. Hopefully, they taste amazing because they're not very substantial. Kind of... ice cube-like.

Peanutty Pops: We were fed up by the time we got to these. So, we decided to put these off until tomorrow. They're really peanutty though.

Bellini Pops: Another straight forward recipe. We loved the straightforward ones. And! There was no cooking off of booze. Again, kind of lacking in substance... but! they might be good. Who knows? Dana hopes and thinks they'll be really good.

St. Patty's Pops: They'd better taste amazing. We couldn't find mint filled chocolate cookies. Dana unfortunately hasn't been a Girl Guide for quite some time. It's all her fault. We substituted for Mint Aero balls. We'll see how that works out.

Pumpkin Pie Pops: THEY ARE THE DEVIL! We don't know why we agreed to this recipe. There are half a dozen steps, half of which are pointless. There's a lot of freezing, waiting, freezing, waiting and yes, more freezing. If these don't taste like ambrosia, like actual divinely obtained ambrosia, we may suffer a psychotic break. In closing we'd like to add that: "It was a stupid, stupid recipe. We hate it."We are never cooking with pumpkin again. Too many bad memories.

Overall, making these recipes was alright. There are a lot of silly steps and some rather unnecessarily meticulous instructions, but if you're only making one or two of the recipes, it probably wouldn't be quite so annoying. We needed an actual chart to keep track of when to take things out, add layers, insert sticks... it was insane. As are we now. But it was fun.

In case you're still questioning our sanity, this is what my freezers presently look like.

Are we insane? Yeah... yeah we are.

Lauren and Dana.

Master Spinning Top

I did not want to go to work today. I haven't slept well all week and the lack of sleep from all those days combined made it really difficult to get out of bed. But I did.

I was again posted in the baby room. I'm also pleased to say that I didn't hurt anyone today. Nor was I responsible for any biting incidents (though one occurred). This time when I was taking kids out of their chairs, I made sure their hands were in plain sight. I'm learning! Look at me go!

I also learned that sound travels faster than sight. If that's not how it works scientifically, I can't remember at this point, it works that way when you can't see what the kid is doing because he's in a stroller. We took all the babies out for a walk today. I got to push a single stroller as opposed to those that seat three or four. Inside mine was "The Biter". After a good ten minutes, he got the bright idea to throw his hat to the ground. I heard it hit before I saw what it was. Of course, the split second delay gave one of my coworkers the time to again tell me that I have to watch because the kids throw their hats. I knew that and I was witness to it. Point taken. We walked another few minutes and again, I heard his hat hit the ground. I ended up running over it. But again, my coworker jumped in to tell me "I told you so". Yes... yes you did. I put his hat in the basket under the stroller and that was that.

The next thing I learned is that while chicken noodles soup was a staple of my childhood, these kids hate it.  I tried to feed three kids. Two of them took an initial spoonful. When I offered them a second, they made the most revolted face I think I've ever seen. The one girl, she has big brown eyes, was looking at me like "Who do you think you are? Are you seriously serving me this? God..." They then turned their faces away. That soup was not getting anywhere near their mouths. Only two kids out of the group wound up liking the soup. Everyone else survived on rations of cucumber, crackers and bread. Those who didn't throw their sippy cups across the room also drank milk. Incidentally, the soup was fine. We don't know why the kids hated it.

When I started working, I decided it would be wise to bring a spare pair of pants and a t-shirt. Turns out that was a really good call. One of the girls decided that I was okay. She let me pick her up when she was crying and sat with me for a while afterward. And then a bottle of milk was thrust at me. I figured out it was for my young companion, but apparently I was holding the bottle upside down. When the milk was gone and nap time was calling, I picked her up and was promptly hit with a stream of vomit. I stared at her, looked down at my shirt and started to laugh. I don't really know why. I got to go home about fifteen minutes later for lunch. Good thing too because for whatever reason, my spare shirt was not in my bag. Fail! Interestingly enough when I got home after work, I noticed that I'd been slimed again. Pretty sure it's boogers but I have no idea who did it or when it happened.

And now, for the single most important thing I learned. When a toy appears to be completely pointless, spin it. You'll discover that it's actually a top. The kids will stare into it, be fascinated, chase the damn thing around the room, fetch it and bring it back to you to do all over again. I am a Master Top Spinner. A new random skill to put on my resume! Love it!

Next week, I'll be in the next age group up. Should be interesting. So many names to learn...

Lauren.

Over Baby-phobia

I believe this month signals the turning of the tide. I sense the bad luck streak breaking! Is it bad luck to say that? I take it back!

First and foremost, I at last have paper-mailed-to-me confirmation that I have been accepted to the History MA program. YAY! Now I have to get reading. I'm actually pretty excited. I feel behind the ball a bit. Somehow I'll catch up.

Other than that, my fear of babies has also been eradicated. Let's talk about emersion therapy. When I got to work this morning, I discovered that I would not be working with the preschoolers I've gotten to know. I was going to be working with the babies. I'm guessing that the babies I was placed with are all in and around age 1. They can eat by themselves, many of them have some speech ability, they're all walking/running. This is how I'm justifying my guess.

In any case, I again managed to keep my tradition of hurting one child on my first day alive. Not that I wanted to. I was getting this little guy out of his high chair. First step: take the tray off. It's not hard at all. Unless of course you don't notice where his hands are, you depress the lever and pinch his fingers. Yeah... he wasn't a happy camper. Couldn't really blame him either. Following that incident was the biting fiasco. If it hadn't left a mark and hurt so much, it might be kind of funny. The regular lady who is always in this room was warning me that the two kids I was standing next to like to bite. I jokingly replied that they could bite one another. I turned around and Kid 2 had Kid 1's arm in his mouth. Damn... That is definitely not where arms should go. Why is it that children can't appreciate sarcasm?

Other things I learned. Giving babies spaghetti to eat is nothing short of masochism. I was cleaning up one kid who somehow had more food under his left leg, in his bib and on his tray than I'm sure went in his mouth. And he had the nerve to point at the floor to tell me that I'd missed a spot. He then started laughing. I swear, if I ever hear someone say that kids don't know what's going on around them... I do however understand his point. If you're going to do something, do it right. He wanted to cover himself in spaghetti and he did an amazing job. I removed a distraction noodle from his forehead twice. I don't really know how he got it in the exact same spot.

It wasn't the horrible situation I was anticipating. I actually enjoyed the end of the day. The first part was really long and... kind of boring... We were stuck inside due to rain. I'm there again tomorrow. Can't wait to see what happens.

Lauren.

Mistaken for Mom

If you've never seen a dogsled team, this is what it looks like.

Now, instead of dogs, imagine children. If you ever want to take twenty kids all the way downtown, you must leash them together. We didn't make them drag a sled though. I was the pack mule. I'll be honest, watching them was hilarious in a "this kind of makes me uncomfortable" kind of way. I would have hated it as a kid. HATED. And many of the kids did, but honestly, I wouldn't have felt comfortable travelling with that many kids without them being literally tied to one another. They don't listen, they're curious, they wander... I'd rather an uncomfortable kid than one playing chicken with a car.

Either way, back to the funny. Some kids walked fast and were hauling the other kids along. If you randomly heard someone shouting "ow! ow! ow!" you knew someone was going too fast. Some kids went really slow. That resulted in kids crashing into one another. We also had to battle the domino effect. If one kid fell, the kid beside him was usually dragged down as well. They're too young to understand that you have to move as a group rather than an individual so one kid would go left around a lamp post, one kid would go right. It was funny.

Anyway, all of this was done because we were bringing the kids to ride on a miniature train and carousel. When we got there, the kids were really excited. Except one. He did not want to go on the carousel. He was crying and calling for his mom. I felt bad for him. He was really scared. Given that I get motion sickness from blinking, I took him and held him. I stayed inside the carousel building and watched the kids go around, waving every now and then. I was told to stay there in case other kids decided they didn't want to ride twice. My little buddy was not calming down. He started freaking out that we were in the same building as the carousel.

I walked over to the operator and asked if he could let me out. Amusing part? The operator thought I was this kid's mom. It's funny because this kid has the same name as my dad and I can sort of see how he could be mistaken as mine. On the other hand, every kid from our group (including me) wore an orange t-shirt. So... should have clued in there was something going on. Still, I felt like a horrible mother. I didn't know my alleged son's date of birth, age (I know he's between 2 and 4 years old) or his last name. 

When the assistant director of the daycare showed up, the first thing she said to me was "you have boogers on your shirt". Sure enough, I did. I comfort a kid and I get slimed. Where's the upside? I'm kidding. It didn't really bother me. I told her it was the mark of where I work.

What else can I say... my back is killing me. Has been for a few days. Best thing for it? Kids taking flying leaps (literally) off of bleachers at you. It's not like you can't catch them. So sore. Never tell a kid to take a flying leap. If they trust you, they will and it will hurt. Especially if you aren't expecting it. These are my pearls of wisdom.

Lauren.