Why Sierra's school can go f*ck itself...Or reason #52 I wish I could just homeschool

Around noon yesterday my telephone rang.

"Hello." "Ms. Sullivan this is Principal Noonan calling from the school."

I stop breathing, my heart starts to sink...

"Nothing is wrong! I just want you to know nothing is wrong I know it's scary when the principal calls you. Sierra is ok."

Breathing resumes....

Basically she goes on to tell me that Sierra was sent to her office because she told someone she was going to "kill them." Sierra had told this person a secret and they went and told the whole class. She got upset and said that (to quote the principal) "in passing". Sierra spent her lunch and recess in the office writing letters of apology to the kid she said it too, the person who overheard and the teacher. That those notes were going home and that she was going to call their parents.

Now at first I was pretty upset because...my KID got sent to the principals office. MY KID!? The kid who spends her free time drawing pictures of rainbows and people holding hands? The kid who bandages up her stuff animals and writes us all love notes on a daily basis? The kid who hasn't had a time out since....I don't remember when?

WHAT!?

So I apologize, ask what I can do to follow up at home ect. Principal is almost laughing about it because Sierra is such a harmless little thing. Comments how she doesn't expect she'll ever see her in the office again ect.

I get off the phone, I start digesting what happened, I become LIVID. LIVID!

Sierra should not have said that, obviously it's not a very nice thing to say but kids say that to each other ALL.THE.TIME. My GRANDMOTHER says that to us. When I was a kid if I got in trouble I would say "Oh no my mom is going to KILL ME!" And quite frankly if someone told the entire class my secret I wouldn't be surprised if those words came out of my mouth. Not in a "I have you up against the wall with my switch blade" way, but in a figure of speech way.

Then I picked her up from school and I got even more upset. She burst into tears the second she saw me. She wouldn't talk for an hour. Finally when she was ready to talk about it I asked if they had explained why that is not a nice thing to say.

No.

So I explained it.

I asked if they had said that she had ever right to be upset with the person who told her secret to the whole class.

No. They didn't even bother to validate her feelings.

So what happened is they sent these letters home with the kids involved. They CALLED THEIR PARENTS to tell them what had happened and they made my child feel like a fucking criminal. Last year Sierra was PUNCHED in the stomach by another student. Did I get a phone call? Did I get a letter of apology sent home?

No.

The year before a kid intentionally slammed her fingers in a desk. Letter? Phone call? No and No.

I understand that the world is crazy today. I understand that there are school shootings and teachers need to be on the look out for these kinds of things but for crying out loud this is an 8 year old girl who hasn't even SEEN a gun. An 8 year old girl who has never touched a hair on another human beings head in a violent way. The way they reacted to this was so completely over the top and inappropriate that I wish I could just pull her out of that stupid fucking school and be done with it.

She spent all this morning crying and not wanting to go. She asked if she could switch schools, or take a sick day. I want to go in there and yell at people but I know that isn't the solution. And then I start to think "Gosh, if Scott's mom was here she would know *exactly* what to do" and then I cry.

awesome today is really starting out super swell. At least it's sunny, I think if I can get the house in decent shape (boy does it ever fall apart when I am sick!) I am going to sit out on the deck in a big patch of sun and read something lighthearted.

** not edited. In fact I doubt i'll ever edit any of these so just embrace my typos. Ok?

A lesson in what to never say to your customers if you run a dress shop

So just for fun my friend and I went out looking at wedding dresses the other day. I was shocked to learn that people who are getting married in 2012 have already been in to order dresses. What? And I thought I was being over prepared! So after looking at a couple regular dress shops we found an ad in magazine for a vintage wedding dress shop in Orleans. SWEET! Let's GO!!!

It was probably one of the the most mortifying moments of my life. At first it was awesome, I walked in and started looking at the dresses dated 1890-1990 and I almost started to cry they were so awesome. And then I picked some to try on.....annnnnd I didn't fit in a SINGLE DRESS. NOT ONE. Too small...every effing one.

The woman who owned the shop said "Well you have a year, maybe if you lost a few pounds". To which I replied "ehh I don't think so, i'm not really a dieting kind of girl." Then I think in some attempt to soothe my bruised and battered ego she asked my age. When I replied "Thirty" she said "Well yeah you are probably at a comfortable weight for you age." Then she measured my waist and told me it was really my waist I had to worry about because everything was "very forgiving" in the hips."

I'm not sure how I didn't cry but I didn't. We left there with me feeling like a big fat cow. I came home and apologized to Scott for being such a fatty. He just hugged me and said "Those women were obviously malnourished." I fit into a size 14 in kids pants I can't be THAT fat. I checked my bmi I am at the very low end. Why did I allow this woman to get into my head and make me feel like a heffer?

Anyway I hate her. It was traumatic but I think i'm recovering. Although I'm still thinking about it, four days later so I must not be that over it. I think now I am mostly angry that I let this woman shake me and make me feel like there was something wrong with me. I don't like letting anyone do that ever, especially not some bitch who couldn't have fit a leg into any of those dresses.

*this isn't edited for typos or grammatical errors, I'm sick I don't care.

April Vacation

Well the third week of april is rapidly approaching, I realized this a few minutes ago and then a giant wave of sadness washed over me. April vacation is when Sierra and I go to Vermont. The first time we went she was 3, and every year it's really wonderful. Steve asked me to switch vacations with him this year because he was having some issues with work or something, and I said "fine" not thinking much of it. Now that it's here I feel a little devastated.

People talk about how much they love their kids, but it's not something you can put into words. I usually go away on some kind of trip when she's with her father for awhile to try to keep my mind occupied. It's like a piece of my heart is missing, and I hate every second of it.

I have no idea what I'm going to do when she grows up and goes to college. I suppose I'll have some kind of nervous breakdown and wind up in a mental institution. Or maybe I'll just buy several puppies and treat them like children like so many other people do when their kids grow up and move away.

I am sitting in my bed crying, wishing next week would hold mountains, the teddy bear factory, shelburne farms, Church Street, Echo, ice cream and all the other things it usually holds. Instead I will be here, not tucking Sierra into bed and singing "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star", not hugging her and asking how her day was, not waking up to find a picture and a note that says something like "To Mom, I love you. I hope you have a good day. From Sierra".

Gosh this is really hitting me hard....

blech.

So we're getting married!

As most of you know...I've done this before. Only it was under very different circumstances and I was taking one for Team Sullivan. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts I could *not* just suck it up and live the rest of my life miserable and with a partner who I did not mesh with at all. Steve isn't a bad guy, but we are like oil and water and it makes for a chaotic marriage.

Oh my god they are making fresh tortillas on the television and I want one in my belly right now.

Yeah so anyway, Steve and I not so much. I swore I'd never get married again. Never ever. What's the point? It's just a piece of paper. I never like anyone after a year of dating anyway, how I am going to spend the rest of my life with someone?

And then there was Scott.

Oh come on...now they are stuffing squash flowers with cheese. I wish Sierra would change the channel this is extremely distracting.

3.5 years later not only can I tolerate Scott, but I might love him more now than ever. He's my very best friend, and I can't imagine not spending the rest of my life with him. Scott is probably the nicest, most sincere person I have ever met. He listens when you talk, he genuinely cares about people and he says some of the funniest things out of absolutely no where.

Our politics are the same, our taste in music, movies and sense of humor are all very similar. He still thinks I'm beautiful when I am wearing my old lady nightgown and he brings me tea in bed. I don't really know how I got so lucky, but I am so thankful that I did.

So here we are, engaged. I'm thrilled but I'm tweeking about wedding planning. There is a part of both of us that just wants to take off to vermont, go to the top of a mountain or a farm and get married. No pressure, no one staring at us, but then we think..."How else are we going to get our friends and family from all over the country together in one place for an epic party?"

We're not. So I think we are planning a wedding. Thankfully last year I attended two really fantastic weddings that made me feel a little better about weddings. I cannot STAND cheesy traditional weddings. I don't want people to confuse this with me being cantankerous and disliking love. I LOVE love, but uber cheesy engagement photos, save the date cards with the bride and groom in some lame posed setting, engraved cake cutters, and way over the top extravagant food and flowers ect. That stuff grates on my nerves. It just does. Oh and bad music oh no no noooooo. Oh please for the love of god do NOT play bad music, or have any sort of group dancing going on like the electric slide or the chicken dance.

It shouldn't annoy me really. It's the cheesy peoples day, good for them! It does though. I'm a snob in really weird ways, but I admit it so...that's the first step to not being a total asshole right?

Anyway I'm rambling the point is, I'm glad that I attended some weddings that weren't super lame. I'm glad I didn't go home from those weddings with shell shaped chocolates as a wedding favor. In fact the last one I went too, they donated money in our name to the American cancer society. Brilliant. I think we might follow their lead and do that at ours.

What I want is a really awesome party for our friends, but I also want it to be full of personal touches. We also have...no money so this poses a rather interesting problem. It's not like Scott and I are going to have ice luges for shots or chocolate fountains or some crazy ass over the top flowers and cigar rollers, but even my modest ideas are pricey when you times it by 100 people.

So I think I need to take some deep breaths and make a list. I do NOT want to be one of those crazy brides who does nothing but talk about her wedding planning. Actually you have my word that I will keep my wedding planning blogage to a minimum. I just had to put this somewhere because it's all looming and I feel like I will explode if I don't put something somewhere.

Anyway if anyone has any tips or is a really awesome seamstress, knows a good (cheap) photographer or can make killer handmade wedding invitations let me know. I have an idea for the invites but I think if I tried to make them myself it would end with me throwing things, swearing and possibly setting the card stock on fire in a fit of rage.

Ryan

I met Ryan weeks before my 17th birthday on the steps of community hall in woods hole.

"Hi my name is Ryan. You're really beautiful."

I think my reply was something like "Umm...thank you" and then he took the headphones from around his neck and said "Listen to this". It was Aphex Twin, and it was the start of our friendship that was cut short far too soon.

When I think of Ryan I think of his mixtapes that were put together so perfectly, his backpack full of beer, his outrageous stories that would get on my nerves, the secret spots in the woods we'd make fires at and drink around. I think of the time we broke into my cousins apartment while he was living somewhere else to watch "Helter Skelter" and my cousin showing and almost kicking the crap out of him.

Ryan was a major reason I spent my highschool years watching foreign films, listening to bands like NomeansNo, The Pixies, The Pogues. He was the reason I smoked expensive cigarettes and only drank stouts and microbrews. I will never forget the night we all drank *way* too much "Southern Comfort" (god you couldn't pay me to drink that garbage now!) and we stumbled around woods hole at 2am and he took the last swig and opened the big mailbox by the post office and yelled "I'M MAILING IT OFF!" and we laughed so hard our stomachs hurt.

Ryan could drive you crazy. He would take over your car stereo, he would talk and talk and talk and he could be stubborn as hell. He was however a true friend, and he wore his heart on his sleeve. He would give you the shirt off of his back if you needed it. And he would randomly give me these really awesome out of nowhere gifts.

The last time I saw Ryan he came into my work to say hello. I was pregnant and it was the day after I had a level 2 ultrasound so I had this really amazing picture of Sierra. I ran out to my car and got it and showed it to him. I feel really good about that. I am really glad he got to see Sierra even if it was just in an ultrasound.

Six months later he was gone. Six months later he decided to take his own life. None of us really know why. And all of us, I think, struggled with the "What if's". What if I had been more present? What if I wasn't so wrapped up in taking care of my two month old? Could I have said something to change this? Could I have somehow kept this from happening?

Eight years later I still hear songs and think "Ryan would have liked this". I still watch "The Evil Dead" and think of him. I never realized it as I was living it, but Ryan had such an impact on me. I have the worst memory ever, but I somehow I can relive memories of him so clearly. Sitting on the rocks at Ganset, swimming in the ocean at 1 in the morning, endlessly searching for land land never, drinking cup after cup of coffee at coffee o, and arguing with Hugh about being able to smoke outside.

I miss him. I wish I could show him my record collection. I wish he could come sit by our fire pit and tell us stories that were so far fetched we would roll our eyes at him. I remember at his memorial service the minister saying something about him being meek and the ENTIRE place erupting in laughter. Meek? Clearly you didn't know Ryan T. Leary...

For some reason I can't figure out how to end this post so I guess I'll just end it with some "Slint" lyrics because I think he'd approve of that.

"I miss you.
I've grown taller now.
I want the police to be notified.
I'll make it up to you,
I swear, I'll make it up to you.

I miss you."