That wasn't very nice.

Saw the movie Dark Water the other day.  After watching the gut-wrenching ending I spent the next 35 minutes (NO LIE) bawling my eyes out. 

Note to movie producers:  consider putting a disclaimer on your movies for those of us that are pregnant and a wee bit hormonal.  No matter where you are, your studio is NOT too far away for me to march my happy ass in there and smack you silly for making me cry like that.

Gah.  I can't even talk about it anymore, it's going to make me cry again.  Bastards.

How does this happen?

That I can be sooooooooooo freakin' boooooooooooored, but I have a ton of stuff to do?  Someone explain this to me, please?  I have slings to size, fabric to shop for, clothes to finish sewing up, I have Marissa's sweater and Phoebe's blankie to finish crocheting....  AND I'M BORED.

Anyway.  I think Marissa is having some sort of existential crisis that is manifesting itself in her hairdos.  She insisted last night that I cut her hair.  AGAIN.  But this time she wanted it really really really short, she said.  So I cut it really short in the back, but longer in the front, and OH MY GOD IT LOOKS SO DAMN CUTE. 

Also, I traded a couple of Marissa's old clothes for some jeans for her in a size 8.  The jeans came, and wouldn't you know that they're too small and too short?  So I added side panels and pulled out the hems.  I also whipped up a quick little shirt to go with it.  Although her hair isn't done, here she is making her toast before heading off to school this morning, sporting the new 'do and wearing her new outfit.

Maybe one of these days I'll have something profound and funny and witty to say, but in the meantime, I'm just BORED.

Bangs in the hizzouse!

For the first time ever, let me introduce MARISSA'S BANGS!

Ta-daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa....

Nothing exciting. I promise.

I've been bad about blogging lately.  I don't want to bore you all to death with my lame-ass life, but I've decided to quit being nice and just blog about everything.  Right down to my potty habits and how many hangnails I have.

HA.

Anywho, the meeting with the principal went pretty well.  He was very nice and respectful, and apologetic, and he actually understood where we were coming from.  I actually think something really good came out of this, because now he knows who *we* are, and he knows who Marissa is, and in a big new school I think it's a benefit that Marissa will stand out to him.

Oh, and he didn't have a problem with the blue streak.  I almost wish he had, because I have pregnant hormones that are looking for a fight, and I was perfecting a little dance I like to call, "Look at the damn dresscode rules, you CAD!" that was quite entertaining.  I guess I'll have to pick my battles elsewhere.  *snort*

So, yeah, been busy sewing stuff.  Got a couple of new things up at the store, and I've made some clothes and outfits for the girls.  My real coup-de-grace was a t-shirt I made for Marissa.  I found some really cheap sweatshirt knit, and I took apart one of her old t-shirts, altered it a bit to fit her better, and used that as a pattern for the new shirt.  I did a neck binding and EVERYTHING.  Please keep in mind that I don't sew knits (you know, the stretchy material that t-shirts are made out of).  Because it's stretchy.  And it hates me.  And we innately don't understand one another.

But, I made this kickass shirt, and it was wonderful and perfect......... until Marissa tried it on.  It wouldn't fit over her big pumpkin head.  Okay, maybe her head is normally sized and the neckhole on the t-shirt was just too small, but that's a pretty big maybe.  So I had to cut the back and add a loop and button closure.  Now it fits fine, and she can get it on and off without the need for a neck brace or the jaws of life!  Hooray!  I also made her some patchy side panel pants, and I'll take a pic of all that stuff after she gets dressed for school.  Because really, it's not fair to wake her up 45 minutes early just for a photo op.  Or is it?

**Okay, got Marissa off to school, and got some outfit pictures.  Check out this shizzle!**

                     

Word.

Why does it have to be so hard??

Written to the principal of Marissa's new school, after an incident between Bryan and said principal just this morning:

Mr. ****:

This morning my husband attempted to walk our daughter to her classroom, and was told he could not do so.  I have read and re-read the District's policy, as well as the paperwork sent home by [the school], and I must say that I can find no evidence anywhere that parents aren't allowed on campus to walk their children to the classroom doors.  I do see a note here where students not eating breakfast may not arrive any earlier than 8:10am, and that is the extent of it.

Thus far I have been heartily unimpressed with the way the school has been run.  To put it mildly, it has been a zoo.  On the first day of school we approached two different staff members to locate our daughter's classroom, and both of them pointed in a general area and said, "It's somewhere over there."  In both cases, they were wrong.

The school is still under construction, the students haven't been going to this school for a full week, things are disorganized and haphazard, and now all of a sudden parents aren't allowed to walk their children to the classroom doors?  Is this a prison, or a school?  Not to mention that if staff members are unfamiliar with classroom locations, don't you think the students are, as well?

My husband told you that, by law, you could not keep him off campus.  You told him, by law, that yes you could.  Is this really an attitude and tone you feel necessary to adopt when dealing with a concerned parent?  Furthermore, I would be INCREDIBLY interested if you could cite the law (and by law I don't mean Board/District policy) that would prohibit a parent from walking his child to their classroom.  If such a law exists, as you say, then I would certainly like to bring it to the attention of other local parents, as well as the state legislature.

Furthermore, you informed my husband that you would walk our daughter to her classroom on his behalf.  You did not do so.  You stood there arguing with him, instead.  I'm not impressed by your behavior, by the behavior of your staff, and I do not feel that you have our daughter's best interests, or the best interests of the students at [the school] at heart.

We will be contacting the school district and filing a complaint against the school.  We are contemplating pulling our daughter from your disorganized school, or pulling her out of the district altogether.  We had a perfectly fine experience at my daughter's school last year.  Although the school was overcrowded we were still able to walk her safely to her classroom doors, pick her up in an organized fashion, and we were treated with respect.

 

Feel free to respond to this e-mail, however, please be aware that I do not respond well to combative attitudes, and that this is my child we are talking about.  Regardless of whether or not she is at your school between the hours of 8:30am-2:40pm, she is our daughter 100% of the time, and her safety and well-being, as well as her education, are our utmost priorities.

Sincerely,

blah blah blah

I am so tired of dealing with ignorant, unimformed, hypocritical and rude staff and District workers.  I'm so tired of these schools in general.  I was hopeful that this would be a better school, and a better school year, and it's just gotten off to a rotten start.  I'm currently exploring the possibility of putting Marissa in a charter school.

After I mailed that message to Mr. Pissy Principal pants he called and apologized to Bryan.  We have a meeting scheduled with him for tomorrow, but I'm tired of the meetings, I'm tired of the fighting, and I'm really tired of having to be that bitchy parent because the school is run by clowns.

I was going to write a post about the special fun thing Bryan and I did for Marissa yesterday, but I suppose it can just be incorporated into this one.  Marissa doesn't really ask for much, but recently she asked if we could color her hair.  After much careful consideration, and reading of the school district's dress code, and thinking about the crap she had to deal with up north, Bryan and I decided it would be okay to do a streak of semi-permanent hair color in her hair.  The catch?  She got to pick the color.

We love it, and she was super excited about it.  Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Principal.