Good lord--and if you're going to be petty and bitchy, in email, where it's always on record, is not the way to do it!!
I would be all for requiring national service, here. It would be a massive change and I'm not sure how the heck we'd work it, but I think it would be good for both the nation and the people who did it. But there would definitely have to be some serious options besides military--though I think were we still in peacetime, some people might be surprised by who chose military service.
It is snowing so hard outside! Which now that I don't have to go anywhere, is really pretty. I just wish I'd known I wouldn't have to go anywhere, and N had spent the night, that would've been fun, all cuddly. Sigh.
A lot of US schools are requiring some sort of public service as a graduation requirement. But that doesn't necessarily translate into the students getting outside of their own groups and neighborhoods or to work with those somewhat different from themselves. My niece managed to do her service requirement at her own church, at a function where she would have been volunteering anyway. Not much of a gain there.
Van: Needs new fuel pump.
Checking account: Overdrawn.
Christmas: Imminent and I am unprepared.
Shoulders: So tense you could bounce a bullet off them.
Neck: See: Shoulders.
Headache: Back. Had it for four days, lost it for about three hours, but now...
Brain: 'sploded.
We had a "service learning" requirement in grad school and they said it was becoming more common in education in general. I think it's a great idea. It's how I got involved at the juvenile hall.
ION, I am way grumpy. Harumph.
This whole conversation made me text my sis an "I love you, hold on" message.
She's gonna think I lost it. I expect an "are you dying?" message back.
Now I'm grumpy, too: [link]
Van: Needs new fuel pump.
I know that game! It costs more to fix it than the car is worth. Hence we are car shopping right now.
Sparky, that is infuriating. Another kick from old Bush on the way out. GGGGRRRRRR!
It costs more to fix it than the car is worth. Hence we are car shopping right now.
ARGH! If we car shop we go upside-down on the deal.
Grr.
Oy, I've become one of those semi-intolerant parents. I had to take Abby to the orthodontist this morning and while she was in the back, another woman came in with her adolescent son and toddler daughter. The son went back into the treatment area, the mother proceeded to sit down in the waiting area and allow her daughter to make the entire waiting room her personal play space. In the span of ten minutes, Wonder Toddler had:
Taken a tin of pencils set out as holiday favors for the patients and upended it on the floor.
Taken half the board books and spread them around the floor.
Climbed up on the chairs and started taking the magazines from the rack.
Used the chairs as a jungle gym.
Tried to appropriate the video game controls from the toddler who was playing quietly.
Emptied her mother's purse all over the floor, grabbed the cell phone and was apparently trying to dial China.
In that time Mumsy was:
Chatting up the other mother of the quietly playing toddler
Saying "Lilah, no, don't do that," without making any discernible effort to keep the child from actually doing anything.
Regaling the entire waiting room with tales of how Lilah had emptied the dog food bowl all over herself that morning and how they had to have all plastic ornaments on their tree because she'd already broken all the glass ones.
Kept saying to the room at large how they had to watch out for her because she was a monster, delivered with a smile meant to convey we should all think it was just That Precious.
Lilah tried to climb over the back of my chair and reach for my iPhone. I gave her The Look and little Lilah just slunk back off.
And worst part was, aside from trying to excuse the girl's behavior with the smiles and "she's a monster" comments, the mother did NOTHING to help straighten the mess her kid was making. I mean, the pencils alone had spilled across the floor of the relatively small waiting area, including in front of the door leading into the treatment area. If someone had opened that door and not realized the pencils were there, it could've been ugly. It was all I could do not to pick them up myself, but I was DAMNED if I was going to make things easier for that woman.
I mean, I remember what it was like when they were toddlers, but there were certain things I never let my kids do and fiddling with stuff that wasn't theirs or appropriate for them to touch was big with me.
And no, the irony that the kid's name is Lilah didn't escape me.
