Red Hot Mutha'

It was so hard to see Vincent with the IV in his little hand, to see him strain to breathe, to see him pale with those dark circles under his eyes. I never want to see him like that again. I was so scared, but thanks to my meds I only "freaked out" twice: when we checked in the E.R. and I forgot his birthdate, and the night that they told us they might have to move him to the Pediatric ICU at another hospital. During the rest of it, I kinda felt like I wasn't really there all the way, like I was witnessing this whole scene and not participating. I don't want to talk about this anymore, only to say that having him has made me realize how fragile I am; that in spite of my nine lives anything that happened to him would finish me. Having him has made me feel so vulnerable, and if I think about it too much I'm scared.

Explain to me why it is okay to send religious spam emails to everyone at work ("send this to everyone you know within one hour and Jesus will love you even more") and be the great, holier-than-thou person you think you are, and then not go to someone's baby shower at work because they're gay? And then, to talk about it to someone else in the faculty room (you whispered but I could still hear you, you asshole) and tell them how you "don't agree" with her having a partner that's a woman and how you "don't believe" that that's the right way. WWJD? Fuck you, you don't even know him.

Lots has been going on: V-man had his first birthday on March 10th, our dog Laurel died (Kidney failure), and we have had some quasi-spring weather which has made it difficult for me to concentrate. Thanks goodness its back in the 40's...not really. I slept for the longest I've ever slept today, from about nine o'clock this morning 'till about 3:30 this afternoon. No, I wasn't at work. Home sick with some kind of flu or something. My mom came and picked up the V-man and now I'm ready to go back to bed. I'm trying to make it to American Idol, 'cause I'm hopelessly addicted to that damn show. My vote is for Chris or Taylor. Did I mention we also adopted another dog? Mercy is a dalmatian and she's deaf. Steve drove all the way to a dalmatian rescue in Lynchburg, Virginia to get her. She's real floppy but she's gotta learn her manners.
At work, I've been told I'm writing too many office referrals, and I really don't feel like going into the whole story, but the bottom line is that I'm not really going to change anything that I'm doing. In faculty meetings, they tell us that we need students to learn how to work independently, yet none of the children really have the skills to do this yet. In art, they have to do this, so my way of looking at this whole this is that I'm ahead of the curve. I was told at one meeting a month ago that, "Ms. G.W. hardly writes any referrals, so when she does it's a big deal." (Direct quote from administrator) Than last week, I was pulled into some meeting which frankly was some lame cock-and-bull story that was a cover for the "real" meeting which was to tell me that "We are getting too many referrals from you.". I'm sorry, but after ten years of this, I can recognize the shit when it's offered to me. Let's see...you throw away all my visuals, put me in a trailer with no real source of running water and expect me to teach art? The sad thing is that I still love the look on a kid's face when he finally gets it, or when I teach him to use his natural creativity. I still love teaching art. I'm just not up for the bull anymore.