What I did on my summer vacation....

My loveable load has lessened, so much so that at this very moment I only have one.

(poor kid)

He comes to me after the academic potion of his day and believe me when I say "poor kid".

Not much could be worse for a punk rotten kid than to have to play nice with a cray-cray old woman who loves to hear herself babble.

In an effort to keep ourselves busy and get something accomplished we started off making mini meatloaves.

I sent the loveable to the big kitchen to fetch some eggs.

This kid's ADHD is the WORST I've ever encountered so I often find myself breaking down chores and being annoyingly through in my requests..

"Please go to the large kitchen and get a half dozen eggs. Don't let the eggs fall on the floor. Could you take a bowl, so you don't have to try and carry all 6 in your hands. Please don't get lost in the freezer. And don't touch anything else in there. Walk, don't run in the kitchen, Miss Sue doesn't like it when we run in her kitchen"

He stops twirling in circles and looks at me.

I point toward the bowls, he picks up three different sizes, one at a time and says "this one?"

"what about this one"

"this one or this one"

"Pick a bowl kid, any bowl and go get the eggs" I advise.

He comes back with an extra egg and it turns out to be a good thing when he begins to juggle three and drops one on the counter.

"Good thing you had an extra one" I say "don't do that at home, luck will have you having just enough and then you won't be able to make your recipe"

While we gather ingredients to make the meat loaf mixture, he takes a momentary "time out".

With a large spoon he "stirs" inside the huge metal bowl, which is empty.

His actions make quite a racket, but not as much as when the bowl spins off the counter and hits the floor.

(the sound rattles the metal fillings in my teeth)

"Wow" I say "lucky for you that bowl is empty".

He smiles and nods his head.

He dances back and forth, hops on one foot, then the other as we put the seasonings and the meat in a pile in the middle of the big bowl.

Like a race horse ready to run he leans and gestures his body forward, it's evident he can hardly wait to dig his gloved hands into the bowl to combine the mixture.

"Be careful" I say "go slow" I caution.

He dives in, both hands, up to his elbows.

A blob of the meat flies out of the bowl and hits the ground.

Shit, I think.... you need to frickin S-L-OOOOOOOOOOOO-W it down kid, slow down, slow down.

"Stand still" I say as I go near his feet to gather the ground beef off the floor.

He backs up from the bowl to give me room.

He steps on my pinky finger.

His size 13 shoe makes an impression.

I wonder if my nail will turn black and fall off..?

A sticky clump of meat mixture falls from his extended hands.

It falls in my hair.

"I'm sorry" he says, then as I stand up he reaches to get it out.

"I'm good" I say, backing away from his meat covered gloves.

I pulled out as much of the sticky burger as I can and back to work we go.

I leave him alone for a minute to get a cloth from the back room.

When I round the corner entering the room I see him lifting up a volley ball sized hunk of meatloaf mixture high above his head. He was just about ready to toss that into the air when I yelled for him to stop. He jumped so hard he knocked over the plastic measuring cup.

It bounced off the floor and hit my shin.

The cup doesn't break... I'm not too sure about my shin bone.

"YOU OKAY?" the lovable asks.

"I'm (FLIPPIN AZZ) fine, I'm good, put the meat back in the bowl" I respond.

While I look at the recipe for a baking time he shapes the meat into baseball sized mounds.

I want to scream "STOP PLAYING WITH YOUR MEAT"...

but I don't because I've done that before and not had the best reaction.

We end up having a lot of class time left when I make the executive (saving both our azzs') decision to finish the meat loaf (MYSELF) in the morning.

What to do what to do what to do.

"Ever make cupcakes?" I ask.

I send him, along with 17 "rules" to gather 6 more eggs from the big kitchen.

He brings 7, just in case.

We use a box mix, I like to teach them how to read the directions figuring that this is what they will most likely bake at home.

I tell him to always read left to right..following the band across the top of the cake mix box showing the ingredients needed and how much of each.

He chooses to use brute force (instead of the scissors sitting next to him) to open the plastic bag containing the dry mix.

The bag pulls apart sideways and half the mix poufs into the air and into both our faces.

As I wipe up the mess I'm not paying attention when he says "One cup of oil"....

Just as he's about to pour it in it hits me that that doesn't sound right.

"Wait a minute" I yell...

Oil sloshes sideways and over the edge of the cup's rim when he jerks his hand back to "STOP" like I order.

The oil hits the counter and threatens to go over the edge onto the floor.

I mop up the oil watching closely while he finishes with the next few additions.

"Have you ever used a hand mixer?" I ask him.

I demonstrate even though he tells me he has.

"If you lift these beaters up out of this bowl and any liquid flies anywhere it shouldn't" I warn him..."you WILL be washing walls and where ever else it hits...understand?"

He promises he does.

And for a second or two he remembers, then he does exactly what I told him not to do.

The beaters lift and turn with his body when he tries to say something to me.

I catch most of the flying batter.

Only not with my hands.

He comes at me with the oil covered cloth and I duck and weave and tell him "thank you very much, but I'll clean my own face".

He doesn't seem dissapointed when I tell him that we have to wait until tomorrow to frost our cupcakes.

I'm pooped.

And dirty and sticky.

And done with this day.

Later a co-worker would gesture that I had something on my face. I wiped left. He nodded, then gestured right. I wiped right, he nodded again. "Under your eye" he said "and on your eyebrow". I wiped both spots.

"There's something really gross in your hair" he said, then added "only one kid today...almost like a mini vacation huh?"

"Yeah, something like that" I reply.

Photo of messy kitchen "borrowed" from foodieinberlin's blog

****** PS

I would like to thank each and every one of you who read this blog. I want to thank those who comment, your thoughts and kind words delight me more than words can say. I always think I should "comment" back... but I don't know if you circle back and look to see if I did...??? When I make a comment on a blog I never go back and see if the author replied... so I don't know if they did... I want you to know that I read each and every comment and smile every time I do... If you comment, please let me know if you circle back or not...? Either way, I appreciate you and I owe you big time for taking the time to comment... saves me some ching on a therapist..kwim?

I love how you...

We had a going away "party" yesterday for one of our loveables. He's not going far, or for long, but he still wanted to be fussed over.

He was asked what activity he'd like to do for the last "group" he would be joining us for.

He wanted to do a bonding game they'd played once before. The youth gather in a circle and take turns (counter clockwise) telling each other what they like about one another.

The facilitator schools them on the rules.

"You can't just say "yer cool" she says.

"You can't like someone's clothes" she continues.

"Well, you can say something like "you wear cool hats", but you can't say "I like your hat".

Around the group they go.

I love to watch them soften before my eyes.

And they amaze me with some of the things they say about one another.

The stuff that appears important to them is the stuff that is important to me too...

"I like that you got my back" says one.

"I like the times when you've been on my team, that we work tight".

"I like that you are funny as hell and do all kinds of crazy stuff to get us to laugh".

"You know I don't just like you man... I love you"

Sounds about right...

Watch over me, help me, let me count on you, make me laugh and love me.

To the staff they say things like,

"You are so easy to talk to"

"I love how you mother us" (this one was to me... (my heart heart heart's a flutter).

To a staff member who both loves and hates,

to think he's mostly invisible, the leaving loveable says,

"I love how you help us do our work, and I know you push us because you care, I know that man, I get it and I appreciate it"

The staff member refuses to let go of a huge smile (threatening to blossom in spite of his stoic facade) and instead tips his head in response.

They continue on with each other and when they're done they turn to the staff to allow us to say something to the departing loveable.

I tell him that I love how hard he always works for me. I never ask you for anything, I say, that you don't do.

You are respectful to me and I love that about you.

I tell him about a country song that I love that talks about how you don't have to be the person you used to be...that you can change, and the change can be for the better.

The staff, in private, talk often about leopards changing their spots.

It can be done, I insist.

It helps to be a diehard optimist in my line of work.

One who lives to believe "they will live up to,

 or down to,

 your expectations of them".

The young man is off to a 30 day program to help him straighten his life (a rehab of sorts).

He is voluntarily entering the program.

You gotta get up once more than you're knocked down.

I love that about him.

This song is for you J. 

Your school mother has lots of faith in you, a diamond under all that dust, fer sure. 

PS... While I know my readers are all smart as all get out (you're a reader of my blog...right?) please don't click on commentor's comments that are horribly misspelled and hard to understand. Or they just plain "don't look too right" know what I mean? ..to do so could result in your computer getting a virus. 

Mutiny and Martha ( a wannabe story)....

I had it in my mind to do an old fashioned home economics class with the loveables.

Button sewing, ironing creases in dress pants and shirt sleeves.

Sharp lines and clean looking and how to get that way.

I'd add a bit about the proper way to sort a load of laundry.

How to remember to clean out your pockets before you toss your things into the washer.

(on a side note... teacher, may want to teach thyself, yo. Some dummy at my house washes things that shouldn't be washed all the damn time)

I'd talk to them about keeping themselves safe while cooking, how not to sicken themselves with raw meat juices, how to put out a grease fire and how to know when the milk has gone sour.

Hot damn, I was on to something.

I was feeling really full of myself planning this class out, minute by delicious minute, in my head.

What the loveable's mothers (grandmothers, guardians) had failed to teach them about basic house keeping, mending, cooking... all the old fashioned Marthy Stewert-ery type things I was going to step right up and enlighten them.

I would do such a good job that one day, maybe 50 years from now, a reformed loveable would be showing a grandson how to sew on a button.

How to iron a shirt, and properly clean a toilet.

And he'd have me to thank.

I found myself on the morning of the class not as prepared as I should have (or would have liked to have) been, I also found myself having to take half a day off work to attend a doctor appointment with a loved one.

(that's how life rolls sometimes... a chink in the already chinked up armor)

As the day wore on and I wasn't making much progress in my planning I came to the (not so startling) conclusion that I must really like flying by the seat of my pants since I seem to do it so often..

(my attempted pep talk to myself in the car on the way in sounded a bit like this...just get r' done.... just do it....fake it till you make it...crap, I'm going to have call in dead).

Man, I was screwed.

I had no choice other than to go ahead with what I had (not) planned.

People who work with juvenile offenders know that these dawgs smell fear...

I came in to class smellin to high heaven.

Reeked may be a better word.

After clearing my throat for five straight minutes, and taking up about ten more shifting from leg to leg trying to see which was more comfortable to rest on I was ready to launch into an introduction of my juicy subject matter.

Right off the bat one particularly surly loveable had a nice thought he wanted to share with me and the entire group (of very suggestible youth)

"Are you freakin kidding me, what a waste of my time, this is paaa-thet-ic" he hollered when I told them what we'd be doing this day in Life Skills class.

"Please sir, be respectful" I said, then added "who is your PO?"

The loveables don't like being asked that question.

I usually don't go any further than just asking...them not knowing why I'm asking is usually enough to get them squirming in their seats,

and when they're squirming in their seats they shut their traps.

(hey, don't judge...whatever it takes people, being on the front line with these hooligans can sometimes be a thankless hard ass job and some days you gotta do whatcha gotta do)

"Okay, Mr" I say "you know how to do this, well then, here ya go" and I tossed on his desk some material, a spool of thread, a needle, a pair of scissors and all my confidence.

"Go ahead, sew on that button" I challenged him.

He did, in record time.

He also sewed on the next one I tossed him, and the one after that too.

Even the one with the loop on the underneath.

Flawlessly, the loveable thug sewed the buttons on the material.

The others followed suit, and with the exception of one youth they had their buttons done in about 3 minutes flat.

Then they began to grumble and wiggle in their seats.

The looked out the window and pulled out their phones and looked at them low in their laps where they thought I wouldn't notice them texting.

I tried to pull all kinds of useful information from my ass, tried to remember all the things that I wanted to tell them about,  but the little guy on my shoulder had different plans.

He rudely kept pointing out that the children were bored and totally uninterested and he wouldn't stop telling me to put a lid on it.

At one point, because I was trying so hard not to listen, he decided to scream in my ear about my shitty class and my lack of proper planning.

I knew in my heart I was washed up,

and then I choked up,

and with nothing left but a hairy arm up my sleeve, I was forced to throw in the towel.

And feed them brownies.

I so freaking hate it when they do that to me... (and I let them)


Loveable thugs 1

BethKoby (one TOTALLY unprepared, confidence lacking, ink pen washer) 0

Selfish thoughts abound....

Tonight's Life Skills class will feature a speaker... a college admissions specialist.

Or rather fresh meat for the loveables.

My co-worker set it up and frankly I've been stressing just a tad about how this is going to pan out.

It doesn't take a rocket surgeon to know that not all people are college material.

Many of my loveables probably won't go to college, many won't live their life on the good side of the law for long enough to pursue an education.

Lets call a spade a spade.

I truly am often the best cheerleader the loveables have, and while I do like (and am prone to) spending an inordinate amount of time lulling about in dipsy la la land, sometimes I do have moments and flashes of total and extreme brilliance (if I do say so myself)...

And today, concerning this class, the brain scientist inside me screams "we're (potentially) screwed".

At best, I envision the thugs with their heads down on the desks sleeping "her" off.

At best, I imagine expressionless mugs and shark eyed stare off(s) when she asks "any questions?".

(non acknowledgement may be best, trust me on this one)

I've been told that I am too easy on the loveables and that I spoil them (when not an ounce of spoiling has been earned or deserved).

I'm figuring the general consensus will (once again) sway that way when I come in today arms loaded with popcorn, candy and MickyD's gift card(s) for tonight's class.

What "they" just don't get is that I am soooo not thinking of the loveables when I do the things I do.

With fists full of popcorn and non perils to shove in their pie holes the lovables won't be sleeping and they also won't be offering opinions about anything.

At least not whilst the presenter is presenting.

The cards are bribes for later...along with a gentle sprinkling of guidance the loveables will be given slips of paper, for each relevant question asked, they get one entry into a drawing for the Micky D cards.

The more questions, the more entries.

Of course the loveables will be brought up on game before the speaker arrives so she will be led to believe she is speaking to a grateful group of socialized animals nice teens.

Fake it till you make it, I always say.

The whole plan...absolute brilliance, if you ask me.

Proactivity breeds success.

Not everyone is college material... but we can all pretend that we are for 90 minutes.

Wish me well....

PS...edited to add, If in my wildest, most hopeful dream(s) concerning my loveable thugs that one (or good grief!! more than one) would truly gather some interest and information about a future college education, take it and run with it... I would have certain, beyond a doubt proof, that God does indeed answers prayers.

Amen

The future of Alice...

I've been dying to tell you all about my latest Life Skills class.

How the boys (?), the one's large as California Coastal Redwoods, almost made me lose my mind.

How they pushed every button and tweaked every raw nerve I had to offer.

Then dug deeper to find even more.

I wanted to tell you how they came in reeking of marijuana and then blamed it on one's dad (he be burnin a blunt in da car, yo).

And while I would be on the subject of these smelly Redwood trees I would tell you how they intimidated all the other youth,

and the co-facilitator of this class.

I'd be withholding information if I also didn't mention that they intimidated me too.

And that, in and of itself, really, totally, and sin-cere-ly pissed me the eff off.

(I have underwear older than these punks)

(the small pretty ones, the ones that aren't classified "granny panties" the ones I keep hoping to fit back into someway, somehow, someday)

(Horders uuuuu-nite, just sayin)

If I were telling you all about my latest Life Skills class I would tell you how when we walked down the hallway the big boys got into the old man janitor's face,

and I would tell you that I ran up front and got into the Redwood's face...

I would say that except there was no chair (on which I could stand) in the hallway...so I was really pretty much yelling into his bellybutton..

which, much like the cavernous abyss that is his head, didn't appear to have ears.

Ohh, well.

So if I were to go on and on about the cluster doink that was our latest Life Skills class I would rat out on the boys for stealing ice cream from the fridge.

Another program's ice cream.

We frown on behavior like that.

Yep, while I was out of the room, and my co-worker was fooling around with the other thugs these cloud scrapers were scavenging through drawers in search of spoons to put in a previously unopened (HUGE) carton of ice cream ( I probably, in order to really bring home the point, would reiterate that it was someone else's ice cream).

IOW (inotherwords) it be someone else's shit..keep your mo fo hands off..

If I were telling that story I would certainly end it with the information that an email was sent from me to my superiors (at 10pm) indicating that these children would not be allowed to continue (something about over my dead body) in my Life Skills classes.

I would also recall using the term "feral animals..."

(ohh yes I did)

I would hope my little tale would end with a pop, a bang, a climax if you wish...

but like many a good story, it would have a bittersweet ending.

While turning the ice cream container around (for picture evidence, yo) it was discovered (teeeeeeee-heeeeeee) that while the ice cream belonged to another program it apparently had been left in this community fridge for quite some time...

like for nearly a year.

Close to a year ago the printing on the side of the container cried in warning "EXPIRES 3/01/11".

Some Hershey (SQUIRTS) with your ice cream boys, Y-oooooo.

This girl does dream.

The title of this post, The future of Alice... did it have you scratching yer noggin?

(Random Post Idea Generator... I was looking for an amazing thing to write about since I didn't want to write about my latest Life Skills class)

I wish you smiles aplenty today...
xoxoxo

While visions of sugar plums danced in her head....

If I had a nickel for every time I had some hair brained idea that started as a nugget of gold in my heart and blossomed into a hair brained plan that tried really hard to live up to my expectations.. yet managed to fall flat on its face and melt like butter on a scalding hot sidewalk I'd probably be having a secretary typing this blog for me...

and a butler to tie my shoes,

and a personal chef,

and someone to hand feed me (peeled) purple grapes...

I'd be that damn filthy rich.

One of those nuggets had me daydreaming about the loveables doing some type of giving back random act of kindness this holiday season.

They had a few bucks in a stash they'd earned by doing a recycling project.

Not really enough to make a dent in my fantasy project.

But,  (if their fearless leader had enough ballzs) we could borrow from the general fund and pay it back later with a bake sale or some other low paying big-ass project.

(She (me) was stupid enough to gather those borrowed funds)

I spouted my poetry laden, watercolor, misty eyed game plan to the thugs and they grunted their approval..

Ohhhh, this was going to be simply lovely... I could feel it in my bones.

With a hundred bucks burning a hole in my pocket I drove to the big box Meijer store in our town.

I spoke with the manager and told him that a gang of thugs group of teens, a group of staff and I would be there around lunch time to scope out his customers and choose a few at random to receive gifts cards (in ten dollar increments) to spend in his store.

"No one has done anything like that here, I don't think" he said with a big grin.

Back at the Mill we gathered the posse and armed them with poinsettia decorated papers proclaiming the receiver "A recipient of a random act of kindness" which were to be given, with the gift cards and a small explanation to the people of their choosing.

I'd asked the cashier that sold me the gift cards to ring the gift cards up separately so that they'd all carry a taped on the back receipt, proving they'd were authentic and had been paid for... (hot damn, I sure was thinking straight).

The lovables were instructed to case the joint and find someone they deemed "worthy" to be surprised and delighted and totally blown away by their random act of kindness.

I know now I should have held some kind of pre-screening effort.

"Gift cards in aisle 9... free to the first 10 or so people who smile and act pleasantly surprised and grateful by these young people's actions."

Yes, in hind site, I shuda known betta....

I didn't count on my loveables scaring people.

When three of them (all different shades of chocolate) ran up to an old white haired (Pillsbury flour colored) woman, she clutched her handbag and looked for an escape route.

"NOOOO, I don't want anything" wild eyed, she cried, as the boys attempted to give her a card.

As this same scenario happened again and again I felt the wind leaving my sails...

(It's okay Marmie,  I know you just put your hand to your mouth and said "ohhhh noooo" shaking your head)

The people who did receive the gifts had to be patient and had to have been gifted with really good ears to hear the kids projectile vomit- whisper their giving speech...

"hereyougoweraisedthismoneyatourschoolandweboughtgiftcardsandwechooseyou.... (a small breath)

torecievethisrandomactofkindness"

I'd asked one of the staff to bring a camera to record the momentous occasion of the implementation of my most recent grandioso idea.

He couldn't figure out how to turn it on.

And when he did, he wasn't fast enough to capture the kids delivering the cards (diarrhea attack style) to the lucky gifted.

Or the people took one look at our motley crew and declined to be caught in a photo op with our gang.

Ohhh, the disappointment welled in me like a Great Lake...

And I was mad at all the stupid people, the ones who it appeared couldn't see past the color of the skin of my loveables or ignore their thugwear.. the ones who couldn't pause for a moment and hear what they were trying to say, the shoppers who rudely shook their heads no as they put up their hand to wave us off...

bastards...

Stupid plan ruining bastards.

How could they not see past the clothes and the piercings and the tattoos and the swaggers to see the hearts behind the hands that offered the cards...?

In my planning I never gave that a thought.

When the second to the last card was given away we got the recipient of my dreams..

well, she didn't do a cartwheel or sob with sheer joy or anything like that... but she did get teary eyed and say "ohh my goodness, this is sooo nice, no one ever gives me anything, let me hug you, here let me hug you all"....

Back at school I was worried about rehashing what had just happened, but I felt it necessary...

"What did you guys think about our random act of kindness event? I asked and waited for the egg to be cracked on my head or the pie to be thrown in my face.

"THAT WAS AWESOME" one of my loveables said...

"We need to do that again" another one added...

Maybe I'm rubbing off on them after all... their brains had turned to sugar plums.

The event surely wasn't the Norman Rockwell'esque event of my heart led imagination, however, I felt the stirrings of a nugget that could very well morph into next year's plan.

So this is Christmas...

Clarity....

The young female loveable that I wrote about a couple of posts ago came to school yesterday with her long chestnut brown hair hanging, she usually wears it up.. so I took note, and complimented her.

At lunch, when she turned sideways to grab something I noticed marks on her neck.

Hickeys, g-d hickeys...

Well, the boyfriend's back and obviously he currently finds her good enough...

Arrgh....

stupid stupid stupid...

When I lean in to take a closer peek at her neck she demurely tucks her chin to her chest so that her hair covers the marks.

"Wow... looks like you got bit..? Halloween mishap...? Clearly there must be some truth in that vampire literature all you chicklets like to read...?"

She refuses to be pulled into my nonsense.

And her look of shame makes me feel the same for teasing her.

Later, she and I are alone in the kitchen washing some things... always a good time to talk with a teen, face to face creeps them out.

"Soooo, is your boyfriend back...?" I ask, careful not to judge with my tone.

She nods yes.

(You may remember him as the idiot that has a small son that he has dumped on my young loveable and her family, the one that is out sowing his wild oats as others take care of his responsibility... you can read about that foolish fool no good for nuthin here )

Before I can say more she says...

"I have a friend who has a boyfriend that treats her like crap.  He goes out on her, tells her she's fat, just a real douchebag. I tell her all the time that he's not good enough for her and she needs to see other people...  from the outside I see how bad he is to her, she seems like it doesn't matter though, as long as she sometimes has him..."

she bowed her head and continued...

"I get it Beth, I do"....

My heart just about broke in half...

Damn it all to freakin hell...

How can it be so clear....
and yet so unclear...?

She is sooooo worth "saving" from her own worst ememy... but why do I feel so alone in that sentiment?

xo

My loveable thugs spew psychobabble....

Two statements recently overheard....

Talk of anger and reaction to it turned to this...

"Anger is an umbrella emotion.. now lets figure out what emotion is under that umbrella?"

A discussion about the benefits of medicinal marihuana...

"Weed helps with anxiety and depression"

"Oh my friend that may be true, but when you come down off the weed mellow you still have the issues that caused the anxiety and the depression!"

Out of the mouth of (my loveable) babes.....

Now, were they making fun of their therapists or could they be "getting it"... ?

Like my sister likes to say "hope springs eternal".

(This week I'm really lovin my loveables)

Enjoy this beautiful Tuesday... xoxo

Our load of loveables has been steadily declining for a few weeks now.

As of this writing, we have three male youth and one female.

The pretty blond girl loveable is quiet and keeps to herself (or hangs with the adults and pretends to be staff) which means the boys pay her little or no attention which is nice..

No boy/girl drama to contend with.

The boy loveables are cooperative and eager to do what they are asked to do.

The ebb and flow of our program is what keeps me going... a bad day lasts about as long as a super horrible loveable.... just long enough to make you realize when you got it good.

Lately, it's been pretty much all good.

Except for last Wednesday, which started out bad, turned okay, went sour again and stayed that way (mostly)...

Wednesdays are normally a cluster fu*k where I work.... a Thug High reunion each and every Wednesday afternoon in the hallway just outside our "class room" door.

So this past Wednesday things were going surprisingly well as staff had managed to connect an invisible fence (sans the shocking component.. darn-it) and keep the Day Treatment Loveables in one spot (they scatter like cockroaches when they are able to escape through the cafeteria doors and join the "gang")...

The loveables had satisfied their responsibilities in culinary class and we were chillin.

Wednesday was turning into a beautiful day,

so we allowed the loveables to move out into the hallway where the drug screens are held.

When all the testing was done the screeners (the pee experts from the county) were gathering their things and moving toward the door.

As we shot the bull in the hallway I decided that all this pee activity had me thinking that I needed to take a pee too.

When I entered the small bathroom I smelled cigarette smoke.

Not an unusual occurrence in our smoke free building.

Our building has a good sized staff and a large population of quirky visitors daily.

Many of those quirky visitors apparently don't read and/or are disregardful of picture signs telling them NO SMOKING or THIS IS A SMOKE FREE BUILDING.

At the same moment I was entering the bathroom staff began gathering loveables to go back to their classroom to finish some computer work.

They began calling for one male youth who was nowhere in sight.

When I entered the little girls room I said (to the quirky smokestack who's feet I could see planted on the floor in one of the two stalls in the small room) "HEY A(sswipe) you had better not be smoking in the girls bathroom"....

(Just to clarify things, in case your bloomers have just made their way into a bunch... I called out the missing loveable's  real name, which starts with A... I would tell you what that name was and that I didn't really refer to him as Asswipe, I would tell you that information if I didn't have to respect the confidentiality statement I signed when I got my position...)

Carrying on...

My passive/aggressive tactic in calling out the loveable's name was to give a heads up to my bathroom mate Puff the Magic Dragon that there was a non smoking posse waiting on the other side of the door...waiting for the sole purpose of seeing the nervy rule breaking quirk-ster in person.

I wanted to say "LADY!!!! THERE IS NO SMOKING IN THIS BUILDING"...but I had to pee really bad and didn't want to be trapped in a stall next to a quirky lady who I'd just called out on her boorish behavior.

As I peed and gave the silent treatment (other than my tinkling pee) to the quirky rule breaker I could hear staff searching for the missing loveable.


Loveables don't go missing much so when they do we take it seriously...

We take it especially seriously when our Big Boss Bossman comes down to the drug screen hallway right at the very moment that that the staff is beginning to panic (and get really pissed off) that we've lost a teenage criminal in our building.

Big Boss Bossman takes a seat and observes our search team in action.

Meanwhile, I am tidying up my hands after my lengthy pee and still... STILL Puff, my stall neighbor hasn't made a move toward evacuating herself from the privacy of her stall.

It was obvious the wench was laying low...waiting for us to leave the hallway before she made a move.

We staff were beginning to feel the heat of a missing loveable...

The situation, made hotter when the Big Boss Bossman continues to sit at the drug screen table waiting for Puff to make her move and we still haven't located the AWOL loveable.

When I finished with my bathroom business another staff member went into the restroom.

Smokestack had raised her feet and was perched on the toilet seat.

The staff member said she peeked through the large crack that all stalls have and could see Puff teetering on the pot.

"WAIT A MINUTE" the staff member said when she came out of the bathroom..."WHAT COLOR SHIRT WAS Apeman wearing?"

Everyone thought a minute and came up with "red"....

Well if you're as fine a detective as I think you are then you figured out that the male loveable was the one hiding in the stall and smoking in the girls room.

An ingenious plan, if you ask me.

Since our intimate encounter last Wednesday I find it hard to look the kid in the eye...


I temper that by thinking of being more prepared should something like this ever happen again.

Ohhh the fun I can imagine myself having...

Straight from the "things to do to freak out your bathroom stall-mate" vault...

1. Say, "Uh oh, I knew I shouldn't have put my lips on that."

2. Say, "Damn, this water's cold."

3. Drop a marble and say, "Oh shit! My glass eye!"

4. Say, "Hmmm, I've never seen that color before."

5. Grunt and strain real loud for 30 seconds and then drop a cantaloupe into the toilet bowl from a height of 6 feet. Sigh relaxingly.

6. Say, "Now how did that get there?"

7. Say, "Humus. Reminds me of humus."

8.  Fill up a large flask with Mountain Dew. Squirt it erratically under the stall walls of your neighbors while yelling, "Whoa! Easy girl!"

9. Say, "Interesting... more floaters than sinkers."

10. Using a small squeeze tube, spread peanut butter on a wad of toilet paper and drop the wad under the stall wall of your neighbor. Then say, "Whoops, could you kick that back over here please?"

11. Fill a balloon with creamed corn. Rush into the stall with your hand over your mouth and let out a lengthy vomit impression while you squeeze the balloon and splatter cream corn all about. Apologize profusely and blame it on the fettucine alfredo you had for breakfast.

12. Say, "Boy, that sure looks like a maggot."

13. Say, "Damn, I knew that drain hole was a little too small. Now what am I gonna do?"

14. Play a well known drum cadence over and over again on your butt cheeks.

15. Before you unroll toilet paper, conspicuously lay down your "Cross-Dressers Anonymous" newsletter on the floor visible to the adjacent stall.

16. Lower a small mirror underneath the stall wall, adjust it so you can see your neighbor and say, "Peek-a-boo!"

hahahahahahahahh..... I'll get that sucka (or one just like him) next time.

Wednesday July 27, 2011... sunshine on a cloudy day

You may remember a post I wrote some time back about feeding a pair of wolves... (if you don't, you may read about it here)

On Wednesdays over at Thug High we host a piss-a-thon.

Our student body (and the rest of the baby criminals in the community) take a watched wizzle dripple they deposit into a small cup.

The specimen collected is then tested for evidence of foul play (drugs) and a full report to the Probation Officers (and to others who give a crap) follows...

This past Wednesday, like most every other Wednesday the hallway where the youth wait in line for a turn to piddle was filled with a majority of young men.

The male youth dress in wife-beater t-shirts (the better to display the tats, yo),

their female counterparts barely dress (the better to display the tatas and the butt cracks, yo),

and of course, a host of juvenile justice staff dressed in "I wanna slap each one-a-u upside the head" were there to supervise the social gathering of some of our area's "worst".

Often I visit the drug screen line to see some of my favorite loveables, other times, they come to see me in our Culinary Arts classroom (otherwise known as the small kitchen)...

I love to hear that they're doing well.

Lovely pictures of current life status', painted to impress, often do.

But are they real?

... mostly not, I've come to learn.

So the lovable that I wrote about in the post about the wolves fighting came to see me a few weeks back... his demeanor backed up his declaration of finally "getting it" ...

I was happy and proud of this lovable (and possibly former..?) thug....

Yesterday, after drug screens, staff got word of a beating behind one of our buildings.

A homeless man was beaten on the head with a whiskey bottle.

I understand that he was escorted into the safety of our building by a former employee when he was found in the parking lot.

I was told he was bleeding profusely and the cut was down to the bone.

Four of our youth are suspected in the attack.

One of those youths is the one I told you about in the post of the fighting wolves.

That I could think that a little story told in the back of a small kitchen created an "ah ha" moment that would would last more than...a moment.... was pretty stupid on my part, yo.

Also on Wednesday a darling dear niece gave birth to a healthy son....

And I am filled with hope for this little man sent to from above to be brought up by a wonderful family all who feed the good wolf.

God is good.

(and I won't say "yo" cause dat could be misconstrued as dissin... yo)

Girls, girls, girls.....

For the first time ever in the history of Thug High we have more female students than we do male. 

Don't think me disloyal when I say "wow, what a pain in the ass all these chicky-babes can be".

There is drama a plenty.

And cliques tighter than a new pair of boots.

I'm asked at least 16 times before class and then again after for the keys to unlock the purse closet.

(I'm thinking of giving them each a key)

On a fragrant note, the place usually smells like cotton candy body spray... and yesterday, while I took in that delicious aroma I also eavesdropped on an eyeshadow application lesson... (BONUS)

Up close and personal I see mother figures emerging.

The ones who nurture the weak, the sick.

It's kind of nice to split the work of being the mother with these girls.

Except when they think they know more than me.

Well, there is still some kind of pecking order...whether they like it or not.

I'm Mother Superior around here.

The Head Duck, Big Mama...whatever....

Sometimes they need reminding.

Yesterday's class went so smoothly I asked the other staff if we could take the gang to 7-11 to get a free Slurpee.

I transported all girls and one guy.

It took them a minute to figure out where they were all gonna sit....  each of them ordering around the next.

The poor, poor lil ol lone rooster.

"Sit here" they ordered.

"No...he needs to sit here".

"NO... he's gonna sit back here with me" another one said.

Finally, he sat next to the most alpha of the alphas.

And we were off to get our Slurpee's.

When we got near the store I pried the fingers of the alpha radio controller off the volume button and gave them the talk...

"Don't do this, don't do that, make sure you say please and thanks"... you'd have thought I was talking to a bunch of children, rather than child-mothers.

I wasn't too sure about how things would go with so many girls...

but so far, so good.

Have a terrific Tuesday....

A dirty story...

Fresh on the heels of a work week from hell was another work week from hell...

I'm somewhat exaggerating here... it just felt incredibly horrible since it took so long to be over (with a three day weekend waiting at the finish line I lost steam midway).

Since I'm all about easy I planned for a very light lunch for the loveables to prepare to be served Thursday, their last day of school for this week.

On Wednesday afternoon they worked hard to produce a fruit salad, a green salad and baked potato bar to be served the next day for lunch.

I put two male youth on potato scrubbing duty.

A relatively easy job.

I filled a sink with water, tossed in about 25 huge baking potatoes... (we're soaking off some of the dirt, I told the boys).

I handed them each a clean green scrubby pad.

They were instructed to give the spuds a final rinse and place them on a baking sheet.

The boys were done in record time...

And that should have set off some kind of warning flag...

of course it didn't..

and the dumn ass Pollyanna in charge of these freakin idiots believed that they had done as they were asked.

And I was proud of their accomplishment.

And if you knew these two you would know that getting them to walk six steps is a true accomplishment and that wasn't what was taken into consideration, but what should have been taken into consideration, when I saw that it only took them about sixty seconds to scrub 25 huge potatoes, yeah...

I took a peek at the potatoes and all seemed well.

Overnight that changed.

Those taters somehow sprouted little legs and went outside and played in the dirt.. each one of them dirtier than the next.

I was pissed.

Really pissed.

I filled the sink and scrubbed the potatoes, properly.

The water was nearly black with dirt when I was finished.

I told everyone who may have to come into contact with the dirty water in the sink to "leave it"...

I planned to ambush the team of Lazy and Lazy-er at lunch time.

And get to the bottom of the filthy potatoes.

My strategy was to offer them a potato... knowing full well they wouldn't take one since they'd left them dirty as hell.

They wouldn't get a chance to sit back and yuck it up while we chomped on the dirty potatoes.

No, before that could happen I would lead them to the sink and show them what I'd washed off the potatoes.

Let them know they didn't get one over on me.

(I really hate when they do that)

At lunch both boys took the potato I offered them...

with a smile and a thank you..

They took the (previously unscrubbed dirty filthy) potatoes...(with, I assume, the intention of eating them).

What the frick?

That was not in the plan.

I asked them to step into the back room with me.

"Look at the dirt in the sink" I told them, pointing to the filth that had settled at the bottom of the deep stainless steel sink "I had to rewash your potatoes and that is what came off".

They peered into the sink and stared at the dirt...

And I watched (closely) for evidence of a shit eating grin.

I watched for a "uh oh, we've been caught" squrim.

I didn't get either.

They both looked back at me...

Big, round brown eyes, saucer wide.

I spoke in a firm tone...

"There... is... a.... TRUST and an EXPECTATION when you are in a position to offer and serve food to people.

Those people you are serving TRUST and EXPECT that you have done everything in your power to see to it that the food you are serving is clean and fresh and in all ways healthy and SAFE to eat."

Like deer in headlights the boys stared and didn't move a muscle.

Finally one spoke "you never said to scrub them" he said.

He was convincingly sincere.

They both mumbled "sorry".

And Pollyanna bought it.

Lock, stock, and dirty potato.

A couple of huggable loveables.....

There is a rule in place at my workplace..."keep a u hands offa da kids".

Roughly translated...you ain't supposed to touch the children.

You ain't possed to slap a knot on der heads, you ain't possed to kick em in da ass, you keep your emotion to yourself.

Touching in the form of a hug is also prohibited frowned upon.

Poppy-cosh...

When I used to work at a school as a teacher's aide I was told the same thing.

I didn't listen then, and I don't listen now.

(of course I make sure to never leave a mark when I beat em with my wooden spoon)

Seriously...  I hug em all the time and I dare anyone to try and stop me.

They need it.

And some days I need it too.

Two of my favorite evvvv-er loveables left the program this past week.

Hot damn... I'm so happy for them, but geeeeeeze ohhhh pete I'm sure gonna miss having them to back me up.

It's not often that I want to adopt my loveables...but these two, these two I could have made into little Koby's without a second thought.

(They probably would have had a bit of trouble fitting next to Daddio on the lazyboy..but hey, we coulda made it work)

I liked most everything about these boys and often found myself wondering how in the hell they got into this program in the first place...

I knew how, cause I'd read their social/offense histories.... but sometimes that document only speaks of a moment (okay, maybe a couple of hours) of stupidity, impulsive idiocy or some other random act of ass-holiness.

That was the case with these two.

My heart tells me they are good eggs.

I don't like to cry in front of the loveables...

Tears (even from an old "mother like" figure) equal weakness.

Or at the very least a very uncomfortable squirmy moment (s)...


(I guess a lot would depend on if I were crying heaving sobs...?)

Anyway...

I got lots (and gave lots) of hugs this week...

Some of the bright spots of my day have gone on to brighten the days of others... (I have no doubt that they will do just that).

I hate goodbyes....

I really do.

Forward moving...

So now that I'm all done with Googie's shower life has made a return to normal. Yesterday was my first day back at work...

I hate the first day back to work after a vacation.

I get anxiety.

And secretly hope that everything went a little less smoothly during my absence...

is that an odd hope?

I hope not.

I'd don't think I'm alone in thinking like that.

We all want to be missed.

We all want to feel valuable and needed.

So everything went well while I was away...

Good (and dammit).

A coworker, who isn't in my department welcomed me back and told me that she overheard my loveables missing me.

Now that's more like it.. I couldn't help but think as she told me what she'd heard.

When the loveables came down for lunch and saw me in the small kitchen one of my favorites (ever) almost bowled me over with a hug...

He blushed and looked at all the other loveables looking at him.

Then he hugged me again.

It's good to be missed.

xoxo

This could be what Heaven looks like...

Yesterday was a day I'd been dreading for weeks...

My anxiety was so bad I was up at 3am thinking of ways in which Murphy's Law was going to ruin my life.

We would run out of food, the tables holding the vats of delicious soups would buckle under the weight of said soups and the whole damn thing would fall to the ground, all 15,000 ounces of soup on the floor.

And when I prayed that image out of my head, another took it's place.

A hair, a looooooooong seemingly never-ending hair being pulled (slow motion) from the CEO's mouth.

(And of course, he'd be addressing the huge crowd from a podium, atop a large stage so everyone in the place would see him attempt to extract the hair that had wrapped itself around his uvula. He'd cough and hack like a cat)...

Ohhh my goodness, such silly thoughts.

Stuff like that doesn't happen.

Okay then...maybe one of the thugs would tell one of the guests to F*** off...ahhh, yes, now that could happen.

Now were on to a bona-fied worry.

When I finally lifted my sleep deprived weary can out of bed to begin my day the real anxiety set in.

Like a big, overfilled, about to explode teen pimple my neurosis threatened to pop and spew pus yellow all over everywhere... (yuck, I know, but that is how I felt)

I gave the loveables a speech about how they were a reflection of me and my program. How they were to put away all cell phones ("God help the fool who takes out his phone in front of me" I told them). How I expected them to be mature, and not to swear, no matter how mad or frustrated they got...

The speech was long (and probably very very annoying).

Oh well, the zoo keeper has to do what the zoo keeper has to do...right?

So the loveables and the other staff and I put the finishing touches on our event.

Almost show time...

Around this time I could feel something very strange starting to happen...

The loveables weren't as unhappy as I thought they would be when I handed them the serving Chef's coats I wanted them to wear.

And they actually agreed to wear the white Chef's hats I handed them too.

Then they smiled and mugged for a couple of pictures.

(And no one flipped anyone off...WOW)

A couple of loveables were situated behind the two long tables of soup.

Ladle and smile I instructed.

Another couple were seated behind the cupcake table.

Describe the various flavors and smile I instructed.

One loveable had to be sent home....

His "fu** you dawg, I ain't doin shi*" directed toward me when I suggested he listen to the other staff sealed the deal..

"Buh bye (dumbass) we don't need none like you around here today pal."

One loveable had to leave...

"I just puked in the bathroom" he told me, looking pale and feverish.

"Go stand over there" (in Ohio) I said pointing toward the door.

One last loveable sat out in the hallway, dressed in an outdoor hoody and a vest, with his cell phone in his hand... his rotten mood spilling out and threatening to ruin what was turning into a perfect day.

(Anyone got any superglue..? I wanna make sure this dufus stays put!!)

We left him alone.

One loveable I asked to be The Dining Room Manager.

Do you know what it feels like to get a home run, a three pointer, a field goal and an Academy Award all in one day...?

I think I do.

The Dining Room Manager marched this amazing group of loveables into MamaBethKoby's heart for all of eternity.

He charmed the crowds as he described (in wonderful CORRECT yummy sounding detail) the 6 different soups.

He walked around table to table and spot checked on the eating guests.

He refilled drinks.

He delivered forgotten napkins and he wore a bar towel on his left shoulder, just in case he witnessed a knocked over.

This kid STOLE THE SHOW...

I heard compliment after compliment after compliment after compliment about ALL my loveables and our event.

Have I died and gone to Heaven...?

Surely I must have.

Because this was one sweet azz day....!

Thank you for listening....

Friday January 21, 2011...

Dear Diary...

So many things to say...not much time to write.

The loveables have been all kinds of agitated the past couple of days...(full moon, remember I mentioned that it was coming).

One physically assaulted a staff member, another verbally assaulted a staff member, and finally one of the bold (dumb) smart ass's smoked in the small utility closet of the big kitchen...(you may remember when another of the (dumb) smart ass's smoked in the big walk in fridge, if not read about it here)..

When they do things like that I feel like...like...like...

have you ever seen one of those stress relieving little toys with the bulging eyes...you squeeze them real hard and their eyes bug way out...?

that's me...

only my eyes bug out even further,

threatening to fall out of the sockets.

So anyway, the little freaks left evidence in the small closet..(and really, that was a good thing..making the "crime" impossible to deny..it also helps my case when the kid's PO asks "do you think the stink was just lingering on his clothes...? Do you think that maybe he'd (they?) snuck outside and that he really DIDN'T smoke inside..?")

Ummm, that would be a provable "No".

The loveables are forced to produce either pee or spit for a drug screen. It is a court ordered requirement. Some test weekly, others randomly.

Most of them have done the forensic body fluid (slobber) test at least once...

While they denied any and all connection with the soggy cigarette butt...and I tried to hold my budging eyeballs in, an idea came to mind.

First I told them that I was going to sniff their fingers (allow me to clarify that..I'd be "looking" for odor of fresh cigarette smoking... ;-)

Then I thought, you have got to be out of your freakin mind..sniffing a teen boy's ANYTHING.

Suddenly, I had a plan "B".

I told them that the cigarette butt was going in for a full CSI worthy investigation.

We have loads of your DNA on hand...

Oh yeah, your slobber is gonna bring you down suckers....!!

Teeee-heeeee.

They looked a bit sick.

I hope they didn't figure out that I am totally full of shit...kinda hurts your cred.

I missed an opportunity to wish my sister-in-law a Happy Birthday on the 18th...we spoke on the phone so long the other day that I had a phone imprint on my face for two hours after we hung up...and I still forgot to mention it. Daddio remembered while we were eating dinner and we both talked about calling her..then we dropped the ball, or rather we dropped our heavy eyelids and hit the sack w/o making the call...so if you are reading this TeflonT...Happy Birthday, much love!!! xoxo

ps..sorry your brother and I are so lame.

One last thing...I have a dear friend who for my 16th birthday took me out to eat for every meal (on that special day). She took me shopping and let me pick out what ever I wanted. She made my day. This friend also left my brother's funeral, (right in the middle) to purchase a soft, warm, very expensive blanket so that my mother could wrap her son warmly before he was buried.

She refused to take a penny in repayment.

Everybody (and I mean EVERYBODY) needs a friend like her.

I want to wish that friend a wonderful Happy fun filled everything you could ever dream about Birthday.

ps...thanks too for the many times you picked me up by the elbows and helped me run after we'd egged a house and my hysterics rendered me giddy stupid and incapable of using my own two legs as a get-away..

Thank you for that having my back kinda stuff...

xoxo

1-11-11...how cool is that?

Odd numbers aren't usually my thing.

shocked?

Opposites attract, right?

So I usually like even things.

I am a Libra...

Balanced.

Ruled by the planet Venus.

I forgot my point here.

Anyway, I wanted to apologize if you wandered over to visit and all ya got was some old news...sorry if that happened to you...it was an early morning.

I had to be out of the house by 6:30am.

I had a tough choice to make...create a literary masterpiece or shi* shower and shave.

As you saw/see....my vanity won out.

Yesterday, I got four new loveables.

One chickie baby and three bad azz boys.

Chickie informed me almost immediately after meeting her that "I don't do dishes"...hmmm, I guess she's on dish duty first thing today...

One of the bad azz boys has already walked the halls of our thug-school.

He went away for an attitude tune-up and now he's back.

New and improved.

We'll see.

The other new loveable wore glasses and a mop of brown hair (Justin Badazz Beeber style) that just didn't quit.

It covered his face tight, like a mold of hot fudge.

I soooo had a couple of fantasy daydreams when I looked at him...each and every one involved a pair of haircutting shears.

Third badazz boy and I washed dishes.

A very nice, mannerly kid.

After a bit of small talk, mostly from me..I asked the Big One...

"So what brings you to this place..? What did you do to get placed on probation?"

"I stole a car"...he answered.

"Hmmm" I said " was it your mom's car? Or a stranger's?"

I think that makes a difference.

Kids sometimes take a parent's car...without permission, parents call the law and in a moment of anger, press charges,...usually not a horrible situation.

"A stranger's car" he answered " I don't know who's car it was."

"Do you have a substance abuse problem?" I asked.

"Like weed...?" he asked.

"Sure, weed, pills, booze... do you indulge"?

Of course he did/does..what else would make you so freakin dumb that you would steal some one's car...?

"Did you make your mother sad...?" I asked him.

"Yeah" he answered, lowering his head.

This one is gonna be easy.

Make it a great (odddddd numbered) day....

xoxo

Come tomorrow back...