Code red — high likelihood of parental freak out.

Oddly enough, it’s the squeakiness of my left shoe, that seems to be irking me the most. I’m not at all flustered by the play dates, only mildly disturbed by the massive pile of dishes (oh HAI, dishes, you back again?! %^?!@@#!). I’m just a little bugged by the kitty in heat who makes a lot of those little eeping and beeping noises, and who keeps stepping on my hands as I try to write this blog post. The fact that she’s a stinky little cat doesn’t bother me, and it’s rather cute the way she demands physical affection constantly.

But my shoe. UGH. My Damned Left Shoe!

You see, I’m a very weird woman, this much my friends all know (and hopefully love, for the most part). I pretty much wear the same shoes and the same (style, size) jeans every day. (I have about 8 pairs of the same damn jeans). My shoes are Dr. Martens, and I love them dearly. But OH NO!!! I have worn out the bottom of my left shoe, and it has a little hole which leads to the air pocket (Air Wairs! Yay!), and that air pocket goes Squish, Squish every time I step with it.

I hate shoe shopping. (another sign that I am not a normal woman, right?) So I usually shop online for shoes and have them shipped to me. After all, I always buy the same brand, same size, so not a big risk. But you know what??? GRRR! I can’t seem to find the right shoes for me. Even the internet is against me.

And as I walk around trying to get things done around here (and there is MUCH to do), Squish, Step, Squish, Step…. UGH. I am going nuts from this.

Watch out world, the entropy level of the Pann household has hit an all time high, and the sound of doom goes Squish.

UGH! So much anxiety lately, so little posting to the blog.

Yesterday I actually spent about three hours working on a self-evaluation document for work. I hate how much anxiety I feel about my job. I love the job itself, especially when things go well. I’ve been doing this job for over a year now, and yet I still don’t feel relaxed at work.

Part of the problem is the work environment. I feel like I am being covertly judged by the other staff members at all times. I feel as if they don’t like what I am doing but won’t say what it is that they want me to do differently. I feel like every staff member has a different opinion, a different set of rules. Each teacher’s rules are fine for them to use, but not mine. It’s very uncomfortable, this sense that all is not right with the job.

And yet, when I sat down and wrote up my own self evaluation, I think I have been doing a very good job. If you look at the facts: kids are happy and safe. Parents — with perhaps one or two exceptions — are happy on the whole.

So what I suspect is that I am just insecure, and that other teachers are by and large NOT unhappy with my work. Again, with a notable exception. It’s crazy, but true — having one vocal critic can really undermine my sense of confidence.

I am not about to say to them that they can’t do things their way. Although I am sometimes tempted to do so. What pisses me off is that they seem to be saying that every teacher gets to have their own way of doing things, except that MY way happens to be wrong.

It’s hard to develop confidence when there is nobody helping you reinforce your decisions. When I try to find out what the rules are, I’m told that you have to make up your own. That seems really, really stupid to me, but I am game to make up my own rules if that’s what is wanted.

Except that I HAVE my own rules and certain people come along and give me a hard time because my way of doing things, my style, and my rules aren’t apparent to them.

One of these people told me recently that she doesn’t care about her evaluations because she doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her. She says she knows she’s bitchy and so what? If she’s bitchy to someone, it’s because they deserved it. Nice attitude, huh?

If I could try to cop that kind of attitude, what would it sound like? Here’s a fantasy conversation:

Bitchy Staff Member: Pann, OMG, you CAN’T let the kids DO that!
Me: Says who? I’m the teacher here. BUTT OUT!
Bitchy Staff Member: I would never allow that! This is ridiculous!
Me: Get out of my classroom, I don’t give a shit what you would allow or not allow. This is my group. Bugger off, bitch!

Hmmmm…… maybe I should try that!

Just got my car back from the shop, where they’d had to replace the brake lines, pads, rotors, etc. Yay for working brakes. And to think that I drove around with leaky brake lines for how long?? Waaaay too long. It took a long time to get the car fixed, since the part that they needed is no longer in stock and is discontinued by Isuzu. Luckily Honda still makes the same part. I didn’t put it together before, but the problems that the auto industry have? Well they affect used car repair too, since the companies can’t afford to keep making parts for old cars. Not so great for me, since old cars is what we’re going to keep having for quite a while.

We’ve spent over $1000 on this old car so far this year– but that’s a lot less than buying a new car. Carla and Annie think we should get a hybrid. They would rather walk than pollute, but it would be even better if we could drive without polluting when we have to. I think it’s great that they have such a good grasp on this: their generation is the one that is going to be most affected by the planet’s status.

Sometimes I just feel guilty, though. I think that this may be the default setting for motherhood. Better to cheerfully grin and bear it, than be hangdog. Guilty? Yup, I sure am! I’m your mom after all! Tell it to your therapist, baby!

I remember sitting in the hospital just hours before going home, when Carla was a wee little babe on my lap. She was tiny and perfect (to my eyes) and I could see that I had my hands full. I started to think… and cry. “I’m sorry that you’ll have to go through middle school someday, baby!” I murmured to her tiny self.

Looking back, I know that was at least partially those wonderful post-partum hormones kicking in, but something larger is at play when you think of your children as they grow. After all, adoptive moms go through just as much worry and stress and guilt as any other mom. It’s the thought that your child will go through some kind of adversity, and the knowledge that though you are protecting your child as much as you can, you still will see the day when SOMETHING goes amiss.

This underarm odor thing is really normal, and I shouldn’t get worked up over it. But like any little thing, it sure is easy to be alarmed. It’s like a Check Engine light. I can tell something is up, but I don’t really know what to do. I don’t want to make a big deal about a little odor — and I don’t want her to feel like her natural body is icky. But on the other hand, I would hate for her to be teased or just uncomfortable with herself.

When she and I talked about the body odor thing, I brought it up as follows:

“I’d like for you to get a bath tonight. Or, maybe, 8 and a half is a good age to start taking short showers in the morning. That way, you’re nice and fresh for school.”

C: “NO SHOWERS! I HATE SHOWERS. They’re like standing in boiling water rain! NO!”

“OK, bath tonight, then, that’s fine. I noticed that your body is starting to grow and change some, and it’s normal for kids your age to have more body odor, so a bath will help.”

C: “Maybe I should start wearing deodorant.”

Since she’s the one who brought it up, I think I should maybe follow her lead. I will want to research this and find something in the natural products range. Just deodorant, and not antiperspirant.

If only getting my car to work right were as easy. Or solving the global climate crisis, for that matter.

Unfortunately, on the way home the Check Engine light came on. Great!

I am feeling really weird about this: My daughter Carla is at the beginning of puberty.

She is 8 and a half years old, which seems so young!

But I have to face the facts that she’s growing up, and quickly. She’s clearly starting to develop little buds of breasts, nothing BIG, but yet it’s there. She is different in that way. Her hips are rounder than they used to be.

And her underarms are producing sweat, and the smell that goes with it. I cannot remember if I went through this so young, myself. I am kind of feeling freaked out by this.

Is this a normal time to be needing (needing? is that the right word?) to wear deodorant?