On the Home Front

Let's see where the blog takes us today, shall we? Let me answer for
you: "Yes, Hillbilly Mom, I've always wanted to know what it's like to
be a lower-middle-class redneck teacher in the midwest with two kids
and a Hillbilly Husband and no talent. Tell us more about your life.
Oh, please!" Be careful what you wish for, people.

HH is on his way to Germany as I write this. At least on his way from
Detroit to the Netherlands, and from there to Germany. It's a work
thing. We are not world travelers. He had some odd-looking stuff in
his luggage, including a couple coils of plastic air hose. He said he
couldn't put them in his carry-on luggage, because they might think
he was planning to strangle someone. No, that would be me. And
why would he want to put that in his carry-on? Maybe he has some
secret life that I don't know about. A glamorous drug smuggler, a
paid assassin? Nawwww. He can barely remember to breathe in
and breathe out.

#1 son is excited to have a part in the school Christmas play.
Every year he has tried out, and has been rejected while the same
kids get parts year after year. In K, 1, and 2 he was in tears on the
day they were announced. Of course, that made me cry. One year
his friend, who had had a part every year, took #1 to the teacher
and said, "Mrs. Teacher, I want #1 to have my part, because I've
been in it every year." And she replied, "Just because you give up
your part doesn't mean #1 will get it." Are you crying yet, because
I'm about to. He's a good kid, a model student (OK, a teacher's
pet). Just ask my friend Mabel, she knows him. So I don't know
what the deal is. He's never been in trouble. He is an A student.
So I was very proud that he got a part, and then he said, "I think
I only got it because I was the only one to try out for that part."
Hey, take what you can get, kid. A reindeer with 2 lines is better
than no part at all.

#2 son has been in trouble on the bus for switching seats. Some
of my high school kids have been talking to him, and he's been
giving them the "fish-eye." I can't explain it. He rolls his eyes and
kind of crosses them, and he looks like a fish. Yep, my spawn
are mighty attractive. I told him not to talk to the big kids, they
are up to no good. The only reason a big kid talks to little kids
on the bus is to tease them. I don't think he buys into it--he gave
me the fish-eye.

On the work front, I have a substitute tomorrow afternoon due
to a doctor's appointment. It seems kind of unremarkable, but
for 3 of the 7 years I have been teaching here, I have had perfect
attendance. "Oooh, Hillbilly Mom, did you get a certificate and
your name in the paper?" Well, since you've asked...NO. But
I got an extra $150 check in the summer. WooHoo!

Now don't think I'm unappreciative of that stipend. They don't
have to give me nuthin'. My friend Mabel tells me not to worry
about it, that when I retire, nobody is going to say, "Remember
when Hillbilly Mom came to school with a 104 degree fever?
Remember when Hillbilly Mom didn't miss a day for 5 years in
a row?" No, she says, they will say: "Who's Hillbilly Mom?"
She's quite an ego-booster, that Mabel.