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Posts Tagged ‘Kids’

My transformation is now complete. I am now part of the “Mom” species. Yes, I know I have two kids and have been a mom for a while. But this week, I became a Mom with a capital M.

One of my students said about me, “She is like the cool mom.” And that aged me 10 years.

Then Dominic started soccer practice. And that added 10 more. I’m a freakin’ Soccer Mom. Feeling middle-aged and frumpy. How did this happen?

Soon, I’ll be shopping at JCPenney for Mom jeans. Thanks to SNL, I can show you what I mean.

The good news is that the boys love soccer. I’m happy because they’ll learn teamwork and get some exercise. Too bad the sand gnats like soccer practice too.

Dominic (blue shorts) learns fundamentals

Gideon's got mad skillz

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Trish La Gallina was laid to rest in a private funeral service held Wednesday morning

Funeral service held for murder victim
From Staff Reports

Distraught family members stood solemnly at Trish La Gallina’s graveside as Beth Concepción, La Gallina’s mother, delivered the eulogy.

“We’ll miss you so much,” she said, her voice cracking. “No other chicken can replace you.”

La Gallina, 1, died Monday after an altercation with her sister, Maggie The Dog, 8, in the family’s back yard. Their father, Eddie Concepción, found the body Tuesday morning. Maggie is in custody, and has confessed to the murder. She is represented by their brother, attorney Vince The Dog, who said he plans to enter a plea of temporary insanity.

The family held a private, side yard service Wednesday morning. In addition to Beth and Eddie Concepción, La Gallina’s older brothers Dominic, 5, and Gideon, 3, were in attendance.

“We love you, Trish,” Dominic said as their father threw the first shovel-full of dirt into the hole he dug next to La Gallina’s coop.

The family banned both Maggie and Vince from the ceremony. There is no date scheduled yet for Maggie’s trial.

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In 2005, when SCAD was considering offering a writing major, I thought to myself, “Self, it would be great to teach in that department.” Though I had oodles of work experience, I knew that SCAD’s accrediting body prefers terminal degrees in the field of instruction. So I had two choices: Get another M.F.A. (the one I have is in performing arts) or get a Ph.D. I chose the latter.

I had three criteria in mind as I researched programs: areas of study offered (journalism or communications), proximity and reputation. The one that fulfilled all these requirements was University of South Carolina.

Eddie badgered me to apply. “But that would require taking the GRE!” I whined. “And I’m pregnant!”

“So?” he said, with very little compassion, I might add.

Lest you think he is heartless, his philosophy was that I might as well get on it while the kids were very young. That way I would be done when they got old enough to start extracurricular activities that I wouldn’t want to miss.

I knew he was right. I forced myself to take the GRE and apply to the doctoral program in the USC School of Journalism and Mass Communications. I was accepted, and began coursework Fall 2006. The total courses involved for most folks: 16 (48 semester hours). For me: 18 (because my master’s is not in the specific area).

I finished the coursework in April 2009. I spent the summer procrastinating on my dissertation proposal, and dreading the comprehensive exams (four days, three hours a day of answering questions in four areas: theory, methods, ethics and rhetoric, which is my outside area). I passed the foreign language proficiency test in October (see related post). The comps dread continued.

The time came, though, for me to put up or shut up. I studied my haunches off in preparation for the comps, which I stupidly scheduled for the week after Thanksgiving. The 19 people in my house for the holiday might not have fully understood why I was so stressed out.

Along with the written comps, there is an oral defense. That happened today. After my committee slowly roasted me over an open fire for two hours, they decreed that I had passed. To be honest, the first 20 minutes were horrendous, but then the rest was fine. The discussion will help me hone my dissertation proposal, for sure.

And that is the next step. I defend said proposal in front of my committee Feb. 19. Once I pass (the power of positive thinking), I will work exclusively on my own research for my dissertation. Then I will have to defend my dissertation in front of the same committee. Thumbs up, and my hooding awaits. Thumbs down, and … well, that’s really not an option for me.

So if I look a little frazzled in February (and over the summer), you’ll know why.

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Tonight I became “that person.” But I did what I had to do.

I couldn’t just sit there and let it continue to happen.

I answered the call. The call of the abused apostrophe.

Though I love, LOVE my children’s school, I am sometimes surprised by the notes that come home. Notes about “Dress-down Fridays” bothered me greatly. They bothered me because they advertised “Dress Down Friday’s.”

I could hear the abused apostrophe screaming.

I let it go, for a time.

But tonight in the PTO meeting, I heeded the call. The chair asked for corrections to the minutes. I saw my opportunity and took it. I begged him to allow Friday to be plural, not possessive. “Let the minutes reflect the change,” said the chair. And the apostrophe and I wept.

Afterward, a couple of other parents thanked me. And there was much rejoicing.

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… crickets … crickets … crickets …

Yes, I know the silence here has been deafening. I’ve got a good excuse: dissertation proposal. That is the cause of the many gray hairs I’ve found over the past few days. Seriously. My doctoral work is causing gray hair.

But back to the story.

SHE SAID:

Eddie and I officially started dating Sept. 27, 1994. Three months later, on Dec. 31, 1994, Eddie and I and our two friends, Alex and Brenon, headed to City Market to ring in the new year with a dropping peach and dropping drunks.

A few minutes to midnight, Alex and Brenon cleared a little spot in the melee and Eddie dropped to one knee and proposed. I was a little stunned, and was uncharacteristically quiet. Eddie said, “You have just a couple of minutes to say yes!” I did, of course.

HE SAID:

I thought she was going to begin another waiting game! Beth is never one to be short on words, but this day she did not say much. Dare I say, she was speechless.

SHE SAID:

While our families thought it was very sudden, our friends were not surprised at all and just wondered why it took so long. (Heidi, I’m talking about you.)

HE SAID:

Yeah, her friends were all on my side.

SHE SAID:

We got married in Forsyth Park Sept. 9, 1995. We deliberately chose an easy date to remember (9.9.95) because neither of us is good with remembering dates. This is why I have a journal.

HE SAID:

I loved having a rainbow wedding party.  All those guys have remained good friends through all these years. I can remember hugging Dad (Beth’s Dad) and we both had tears. I said, “I’ve always wanted a Dad.” He said, “I always wanted a son.” Dad has really been the dad I never had. He is an awesome person.

SHE SAID:

Ten years and many adventures later, we added Dominic to our family, followed by Gideon.

HE SAID:

It’s crazy how little things — such as writing about  how you met — can make you think about how great your partner is. This has been fun, and I can’t come close to telling everyone how Beth has changed my life. She took a character like me and made me a much better person. Now she gave me two awesome boys, and I can’t get enough of them. She is a great mom, which is number one on the list of her many great traits.

SHE SAID:

Our life together so far has been pretty great. And that’s an understatement.

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Two readers (!) asked for the story of how Eddie and I met. I will get to that later this week. Today, though, I want to list 10 of the things I have said this week that I never thought, never planned and never wanted to say:

1. Get your Wolverine claws off the coffee table.

2. Pick your Wolverine claw off of the floor.

3. Stop harassing the dog.

4. Leave your wiener alone.

5. Did you wipe your butt?

6. Stop messing with each other.

7. Get off the back of the couch.

8. No one is going to be killing anybody.

9. No, the chicken cannot come inside the house.

10. Because I said so. (That’s the worst one of all.)

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It’s an odd evening in our house. Eddie is trying to learn some new moves for the kickboxing class he is teaching tomorrow. He hasn’t taught it in a while because of his shoulder surgery. And, of course, the kids can’t stand someone doing anything without them. So this is the scene:

Gideon is actually pretty good at getting the moves. Dominic just wants to play.

Anyway, the really odd aspect is that Eddie had a hard time getting some of the moves because they run contrary to his training as an actual boxer. So I had to help.

Shocking, I know.

Especially considering that I shun exercise (obviously). And the fact that I was incapable of learning drill team or cheerleading moves well enough to be chosen for the squads in high school. But I did learn the heck out of some ice skating choreography. Everyone has some latent ability somewhere, I guess.

Now I think I need to ice my quads.

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A contest!

In the words of that prophet Whitney Houston, “I believe that children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way.” Yet how are they supposed to learn correct English when adults don’t even know?

Case in point: The “top secret” file that came with Dominic’s Iron Man action figure.

Top secret file

There are two glaring errors of the homonym variety. The first readers of this blog who identify the two errors win lovely virtual prizes.

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I could give Rachael Ray a run for her money. I’ve baked four different kinds of cookies over the past two days.

Gingerbread, Hamantaschen, Peanut Butter Munchies and Snow-caps

The pumpkin pie is in the oven, and I plan to make empanadas for dinner. The pernil al horno for tomorrow is rolling around in special spices in the refrigerator. I might make some Christmas bark this afternoon.

The boys are on their best behavior, naturally, although they are so excited they can barely stand it. I did have to threaten to use the special Parent Hotline to Santa yesterday, though.

I finished wrapping all the presents last night. There may not be much, but we chose each gift with care. I may be as excited about tomorrow as they are!

It really is the most wonderful time of the year. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Rapturous Festivus and Joyous Kwanzaa to all!

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Dominic asked me last night what I asked for from Santa Claus for Christmas. I said I had everything I needed. That’s true. But like most folks, I have an Amazon wish list in case Santa wants to reward me for being a good girl this year. (Though I’m sure I’ve spent time on the naughty list too.)

There are a couple of things I can’t add to Amazon, though, that are in keeping with my role as the grammar guru. One is a Grammar Nerd Corrective Label Pack. (I actually thought about making my own.) In that same vein, another site sells copyeditor marks, but the site appears to be down right now (in the biggest purchasing season of all, no less). And there are a bunch of other funny grammar-themed items out there. There’s also the AP Stylebook iPhone app. For regular readers of this blog who wondered if I won the Thanksgiving contest with my haiku, I did not. I was a little pissed, because I did not think the winning entries were better than mine. Yes, I know I’m biased. Judge for yourself. Here are the winners:

What I really want is time. Or maybe a clone. The clone could work on the research for my dissertation, and I’ll do the fun stuff like teaching, preparing for class, and hanging out with Eddie and the boys. I implemented a No Work Week this week, and I plan to make gingerbread people with the boys today. Wish me luck!

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