I’m bringing the weekly dose back. That is the plan anyway.

Books: If nothing else I have maintained my ability to consume several books at one time. The past few weeks has seen all The Dexter books, save the fourth one, devoured and enjoyed. I have also (thanks to my voracious reader son) picked up and read the first 3 Artemis Fowl books. I am currently reading the fourth ( I believe there are 3 more after that!). I also have to finish Tim Winton’s Turning Point and Neil Gaiman’s Smoke and Mirrors.

That’s about it folks. I’m hoping to make a point of doing some journal work each night  and once a week posting the best bits here….watch this space!!

I have returned to teaching full-time. I am back at the school I was teaching previously but I have climbed up the food-chain and instead of 5 year olds I now teach 9 and 10 year olds. My afternoons are spent with the ten year old students. This term is easier than last term but I use a lot of energy keeping ahead of the Pack. I am trying to impart this skill to a student teacher but I know it is something you learn only from having a class of your own and making your own mistakes.

The suburb I teach in is rough and the kids don’t see alot of joy. Most of these 10 year olds have been through more than any of us would care to imagine. The one constant in their life is school. Possibly the only safe place they know. The only place they can let off steam and vent their frustration.

It makes me look at my own boys and realise that what I think is a bad day for one of them is truly nothing compared to the home live’s some of my students endure.

This is a snippet that came to me one evening after a particularly exhausting afternoon at school.

The Pack 

Teeth bared, grinning and drooling,
Waiting and watching
Eager for a drop, for one mistake.
Waiting to pounce and tear anyone to shreds.
Tiny assassins. Needle sharp teeth
Razor eyes. Brutal and heartless.
 But inside I know their fear.
I know how fragile they are.
How fleeting and rare their sweetness.

I had forgotten how good Friday feels, really feels, until today.

I had my first week with students this week. They are good kids but engaging 10 year old boys who can barely read and write is challenging.

Keepng one step ahead in order to head off small boy meltdowns is extremely challenging.

More so on a Friday afternoon.

I had to keep reminding myself I was the adult in the room.

I had to keep reminding myself I am almost 4 times their age.

Then I felt worse.

 All I wanted to do was this.

But then I remembered it was Friday.

It’s all good.

Even better  since a good friend told me that tomorrow is Saturday.

Happy happy joy joy.

It’s Sunday and I am already suffering Mondayitis.

I need a little something to get me through.

Uh huh.

Mmmhmmm.

That’ll take the edge off.

Have a good Monday people!

I had an extremely blonde moment at work the other day.

I am unlocking the door to my room. I cannot open the sliding door. The key only turns so far either way and the door will not slide at all. I try holding the door tightly to me as I unlock it, I try jiggling the key. I wonder briefly if I have been given the wrong key.  I think about returning to the office to get a new key. Then for some unknown reason I push the door away from me and it opens. Not a sliding door. Like all the other classroom doors. A hinged door. I feel somewhat foolish. Fortunately nobody saw me.

This is the only time I’m going to mention work as things are pretty bleh and stressful for me there at the mo.

On the bright side we have our four legged mouse trap at home.

Raaaaaar

Meet Chunks.

He is 9 weeks old and has come from a house with 8 children and a dog. So my 3 boys and our dog are a barely a blip on his radar screen. His is sooooo chilled out. The first evening  here he kept getting out of his bed in the back room and lying down in the middle of the loungeroom (where we all were) to sleep.  He eats anything. He stole a Brussels Sprout off my dinner plate the other night. Yes, he is naughty. Buts he’s cute. The mice seem to be quieter. I have heard that once they smell a cat they make themselves scarce. Yay for Chunks.

Pleased to say I have survived my first day at school.

It might have had something to do with there being no kids there.

They return tomorrow

Which should be interesting aas I have it on good authority that one of my potential students is a nasty piece of work (chair throwing was mentioned).

Hmmm. I’m trying not to think about that too much.

I have no timetable at the moment but that will be rectified tomorrow. I will spend the next couple of days meeting teachers and discussing how I can help their students.

I did get my duty roster today as, like the other staff, I have 3 duties a week to perfom at recess and lunchtimes.

The Gods have smiled on me.

Over the week I have a 20 minutes recess with pre-primaries, half a lunch in the library and half a lunch in the detention room.

No trudging across the oval in the cold after errant, footy wielding boys.

Hurrah.

Lets hope I’m as lucky next term when the duty rosta changes again.

In the meantime I’m hoping for smiling, happy students and all chairs remaining on the floor.

After 3 years of fighting a losing battle against the mice running rampant in our house we are biting the bullet and buying a mouse bomb. It will be small, furry, have four legs and it will purr. Most importantly it will decimate our out of control and unwelcome mouse population.

Hurrah.

This is one of my favourites.

All I can say is
“Not Happy Birthday…..Not that”

Enjoy your weekend!

There is a buzz of excitement at our place. The Milkman has only one day of work left. After tomorrow he downs tools, we spend the long weekend together and then I (as you know) return to work and The Milkman will henceforth be known as Stay Home Dad  or, as I like to call him, My House Bitch.

This is going to be fabulous for the littlest boys. Soon to be 3 Year Old is very happy at the thought of playing with Dad all day and our One Year Old Mummy’s Boy (birthday yesterday!) will adjust in time.

MHB is ecstatic because he gets to spend the next 3  years with his sons before they go to school. He has been counting the days for this!

As a self-proclaimed Anti-Domestic Goddess I  am excited because MHB is far more house-proud than I. The house will be clean. No more floordrobe, clear kitchen benches. It’s not going to know what hit it.

Everybody wins.

So my big news is, apart from surviving the Man-Flu house, I am going back to work for the first time in 3 years.

I start next week.

I am having the odd night where I can’t sleep or if I do sleep I have vivid nightmares about a madman chasing me through orange groves, shooting me and trying to feed me to his dog.

So why the bloody nightmares and insomnia?

This could be for any number of reasons…

I am not returning to my regular preprimary (5 year olds) classroom. I have a challenging new position assisting Aboriginal students with literacy and numeracy problems in year 3 and 4 (8 and 9 year olds). I haven’t taught in big school for 5 or 6 years and I will be working in classrooms alongside the classroom teacher.

I could be these reasons but it’s not.

I am returning to the school I was teaching at 3 years ago so I know the majority of the staff there. I can use my pre-primary teaching resources to tutor the at risk students. I know a few of the students as I taught them when they were pre-primary students. I am a big fan of cooperative learning (Barry Bennett and Peter Smilanich are my heroes!) I am ready for some stimulation that doesn’t involve changing nappies and singing songs about vegemite toast and diggers (though I love this challenge dearly!)
 
So I am mostly cool calm and collected…

I have a lovely MIL who sent me an early birthday present of a gift voucher for a local chain store so I could buy some clothes to add to my preexisting wardrobe. Now I have a modest collection of 5 shirts (2 new), 4 skirts, 2 pairs of trousers and 5 ( if I am brave/stupid enough to wear heels) pairs of shoes (2 new pairs). Husband thinks I am turning in Imelda Marcos!!!!

So why the dreams and insomnia?

One word.

Accessorising.

I have had nothing to worry about for the past 3 years. All my clothes have been covered with, at one time or another, poo, vomit, wee, weetbix, vegemite and snot. My clothes have been thrown on at the last minute and I have left the house, whether or not I have had a shower, brushed my hair or teeth, without much though as to how I look (or smell) to the outside world.

I consider my self relatively sensible. I am not a fashion victim.

So why am I losing sleep over wondering which of my meagre collection of clothes and shoes will mix and match???? Lets face it. I’m not Paris or Angelina. There will be no paparazzi waiting outside my door next Tuesday mroning waiting to publish photos of my fashion faux pax. 

All  I have to think about when leaving the house next week is that my shoes match, my clothes are clean and preferably I am not crusted with extract of  baby.

Wish me luck!