put me in coach!

I'm not sure how I will come across after I write this, but let me start by saying I am a huge Howard Stern fan.
I love that he makes retarded people feel happy and important, example. "Gary and Wendy the Retard, How's You News?"
i was a special education teacher for 10 years before I became an administrator. I worked with all ages and saw it all.
I have learned that mentally retarded people do not want pity, they do not give a shit, they are the HAPPIEST people on earth. I'll bet there are zero cases of suicide from the mentally retarded sector, and if their is, it is because some idiot with average intelligence, told them to do it.
Ok that is my disclaimer, listen to this...
Today I go to youngest Steakbellie's football game. They are the cutest things! 7 and 8 year olds with these huge pads on .
( it reminds me of the younger brother in The Christmas Story, when the Mom puts the snow suit on the kid and he falls and can't get up because he has so much shit on!) anyway, these boys work hard. they are tough.
There is a kid on McDoogle's (youngest steakbellie's nickname), whose Dad is a group home director for young men about, 16-20 years old. He works Sundays and always brings 2-4 of his "clients" to his kids game as their outing for Sundays. Its really cool, they love it.
I happen to be a retard magnet , I say that affectionately. Everywhere I go, if there is a M.R anywhere in the vicinity they will find me and make me their best friend. It's okay, it feels natural.
So, one particular client sits with me on the side lines, he has his schedule board with him, that tells what he is doing for the day and at what time. He shares it with me. The highlight is this game. He has that very stereotypical retarded voice, the one that sounds a lot like a deaf person attempting to speak. He looks and carries himself alot like Napoleon Dynamight with short hair. He is cheering, "Go Raiders!" through out the game. We are losing. He is beginning to get upset. We haven't lost yet this season. I tell him not to worry, we still have the second half.
He gives a smile and cheers "YOu can do it Raiders"
Half time comes and goes, Trevon (his case worker and dad of player) checks in to makes sure he is ok. i give him the thumbs up. Trevon's other son is there and has brought an old Raiders helmet. My M.R (mentally retarded) friend keeps eyeing it up and telling me how much he likes it. "That's for the Raiders, I want one of those" as he begins to rock back and forth. I say "maybe we can get you one", remembering I have one from last year in my basement I forgot to return, I'll give it to him next week.
We are in the 3rd quarter, the other team scores again, 12-0 . M.R friend is not happy. "We are losing, oh man. we are losing, oh man! Go Raiders, c'mon Raiders you can do it!" Trevon looks over at us and gives a gracious wave to me.
At that, I see my M.R friend take the old helmet that is sitting in front of him, place it on his head, and just as we are setting up to snap the ball, M.R friend charges on the field yelling, "DON'T WORRY RAIDERS, I WILL HELP YOU! WE CAN WIN!" It was as if time was in slow motion dashes onto the field, I'm yelling, "STOP! WAIT! "
Trevon has dropped his fountain soda and is running after him toward the field.
M.R friend grabs the ball and sits down right in front of the center. "They can't have it, we have to win, i will help!!!"
I can't help but giggle at what I am witnessing. Imagine a retarded Napoleon Dynamite in a football helmet stealing the ball at a 7-8 year olds game. It was hilarious! Whistles are blown, kids stop in their tracks! Coaches and ref are all clueless!
M.R friend sits and refuses to move. It took poor Trevon 10 minutes to get him off the field, which ended up as dragging off the field, literally! If they would have let him just throw the ball to one of the kids I'm sure he would have gone willingly.
I laugh to myself admiring this guys drive and determination, I pick up his schedule pad and next to where he wrote
"10:30- Go to game. " I cross out "go" and put "play in" game .
What a great game!

Muy Bonita

I grew up as one of the only "gringas" in my neighbor hood from age 5-13. Translation- "white girl".
I went to Spanish catholic mass with my amigas and then we would go back to Jeanette Corderos house and make the after mass meal which consisted of:
cutting the head off a chicken in the back yard (it was sooo much fun running after this clucking chicken and seeing who could catch it first),
plucking the feathers
turning it upside down in the back yard to drain the blood,
and then gathering in the kitchen to help Mrs. Cordero make an incredile Adobo chicken dinner with rice and beans.
i could speak fluent Spanish (or at least hold my own). This was the case because my parents worked numerous jobs and I was with the neighbors 24/7 . While the chicken was cooking the adults would be conversing on the plastic covered couches, drinking Sangrai and Milwaukees Best while Jeanette, Lissette, Hector and I would be singing into deoderant conainers and hairbrushes pretending to be the new and improved version of Menudo.
We eventually moved, as my parents got it together (they started to worry when I began to speak with a puerto rican accent and mumble things like "bendajo" under my breath, translation "asshole").
I took 6 years of Spanish after that, in high school and college. I never did well, but it was what was comfortable, I had to take a language.
15 years later ( okay closer to 20) I haven't touched the language (other than when my brother and I get together and we reminise and make our parents crazy, we sit and curse during every holiday!),
until today.
Many of you know I am a vice-principal/special education-student services/athletic director by day, basically i run an elementary school, outside of Camden, Nj. Not the best area, not terribly the worst, very blue coller.
I was paged to the nurse.
We have a new preschooler, age 4, Griselda Flores. Beautiful child, dark eyes, dark hair, a peanut of a thing.
Throwing up and crying.
It is her first day in preschool, parents speak no english, she was dropped off at school and is throwing up because she is crying so hard. Nurse and teacher are looking at me helpless. She has beeen crying and trying to run out the main entrance for an hour, screaming "Mama!" They are fresh off the plane/boat from Puerto Rico. She is terrrified, (what are these concrete walls, with people speaking this crazy language, expecting me to sit in a circle and sing?)
At that moment the Cordero family comes backto me , and i immediately get on one knee, open my arms and tell her to come to me, "ven aca" she runs to me and i tell her she is "muy bonita", very pretty.
She calms iimmediately. The familiar language soothes her.
As I hold her I remember Mrs. Cordero, 25 years ago, in her kitchen, as I cry, missing my mom (because she is working her third shift), "Es muy bonita mi Kelly, es muy bonita."

The Preamble

Why must my A.D.D., Dyslexic son have to memorize the Preamble by Friday?!?!?!?! Why? Why? Why?

I can't believe I just said that!!!!

So, my 7th grader comes home from football practice.
we have a long conversation about whether or not he should do winter swimming or wrestling.
all totally besides the point.
he eats left over dinner (take out) sitting on the kitchen counter in his pads. He is dirty and smelly. and growing up waaaaayyyy to fast!!
Anyway, I am finishing the dishes and say, "It's getting late and I need you to get in the shower."
He replies,"No prob. Let me check my email".
I go down to the basement, throw in laundry , dryer etc.
10 minutes later, I come upstairs, he is still on the computer.
I say in a stern voice, " C, I said I want you to get in the shower. "
Son- "Mom, c'mon give me a minute, I'm almost done talking to Brian (instant messaging)"
GD- " No, now!"
Son- "God Mom 1 more sec!!!!"
GD- " Dammit C, I have given you lots of secs, and I'm tired!!!!!!"
GD and Son- (Cracking up)- " I can't believe I just said that!" " Mom- that was just wrong!"

God Bless America

As I sit at my computer typing and listening to my boys play football in the front yard I can't help but feel such aweful, heartwrenching sympathy for the families of 9/11. It is days like this I really hope there is a heaven.

feeling overwhelmed and its only wednesday

Why do i get flustered? why do i even feel rattled?
There are people starving! There are men at war, people living on the streets and yet, I am exhausted and flustered.
I have serious issues!! I need to get over myself.
Look at the glass half full. Life is good! Something like that.
However, just to get it off my rather voluptous chest here was my day...
4:00 am- rather annoyed that my husband is snoring loudly with contentment, rubbing my eye after little one has decked me.
5:00am- hit SB to turn to his side, he usually can go about 45 minutes without snoring if he is on his left side.
6:00am- alarm beeps loudly in my ear- I have just started to dream about MArk Wahlberg, and now I must shower!! F---K!
6:30-am, waking SB for the 3rd time and demanding he make coffee!!!
6:50- on the road listening to Howard STern, laughing my ass off!!!
7:40- arrive at work to, "I'm so glad you here, what do we do about....?"
8:25- Students on there first day, putting on the cheesiest fake smile, hugging boogery kids and getting afro sheen on my silk blouse from a hug from way over done hair extensions. It does NOTcome out!!!!
8:30- 10:30- Deal with scheduling nightmares, and listening to the secretary say "You should probably take a number, she is swamped!!"
10:30- 11:00- check my Blog friends, the highlight of my day!!!!!!!!!!!
11:00- 1:30- lunch time , making sure 500 kids get what they ordered at 8:30, no fights break out, enough coverage is in the cafeteria, and avoid anaphalactic shock of a second grader with a severe peanut allergy. Damn, I'm quick!
1:30-2:00- Go around to classrooms and pretend I am interested in whether or not everyone is having a great first day.
2:00- 2:25- Eat a weight Watchers smart ones, check email, call SB and remind him that I love him.
2:25-3:00- Meet with middle school and go over my"expectations" of which the primary is to leave me alone!!!
3:00- Dismissal on playground, listen to numerous complaints, break up a make out session, worry that my OWN kids are safely getting home from school and consolng a crying Kindergartener whose Daddy forgot her.
3:30- Met with teacher whose father is undergoing major chemo and has to leave early every day.
3:45- on the road cell phoning with SB kids.
4:30- home, flip off high heels, run down to dryer, throw in football cleats.
4:40- start dinner, read homework get kids going with homework.
5:15- feed kids, empty dishwasher, take off my bra.
5:43- football practice- drop off 2 out of 3
6:00- answer phone, littlest one dosen't have practice, come back and pick him up.
6:15- Kiss SB hello, how was your day?
6:30- God dammit I need a drink, cosmo?
6:45- load dishwasher, go and read paper.
7:00- SBdoing homework w/middle son, I'm spent.
7:45- I need to BLog and release.
7:50- Son home from football, "Mom whadda we got to eat?"
Thanks guys I feel better!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wahhhhh-Wahhhhh!! AHHHHHHHHHHH. Much better!

Bottomless Pitt

DSC04391.JPG
Originally uploaded by steakbellie.

Today middle son showed he truly takes after his father. We went out on an end of summer breakfast date. He ordered the bottom less pit. I felt like I was dining with Mega Munch Dave. It consisted of...
-2 VERY large pancakes
- 2 pieces of bacon
- 2 pieces of scrapple
-an order of home fries
-2 poached eggs
-an english muffin
the only things left were 2 little home fries, aprox. 3 bited of the english muffin and a poached egg. Now theres something to be proud of!! Damn you Steakbellie!!