You know how you go to work at your lunch lady job, and the maintenance man retires, the one who is the nicest man on the planet, who greets your son at school every day with a high-five and a smile and treats him like he doesn't have a special need in the world, when really your son would rather listen to "Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy" on his electric piano on the highest volume, ALL day long than do anything else, and the nicest man on the planet draws you funny pictures, and would do anything for anyone, and makes work totally non-work-like, and the school has an assembly for him and the kids sing "In My Life" and you start crying SUPER hard, and then the nicest man on the planet sees your son in the crowd and picks him up, and your son says, "I wish that you would never leave", and then they hug in front of the entire school and you sob so violently that when you go back to the cafeteria you can barely roll up the turkey wraps?

Yeah, me too.

Goodbye, Mr. B.  We love you.

Labels: Lunch Lady Land, Question of the Day, Ramblings

The principal at the school where I work, and where my children attend, was walking through the cafeteria the other day when I saw her stop to talk to my son.  A few minutes later, I took a big gulp as she approached the kitchen where I was working. 

Not that I was terribly worried, as his blatant honesty has prepared me for anything.

Let's review, shall we?

He once told a doctor that she had a, "really, really, really big nose" and he told an elderly woman that she was dead.  He saw a wrinkled, old lady at the store and said that she needed to use lotion and has even complimented large people...by telling them that he likes their "chinny chin chins."

And, let's not forget when he named his testicles, Racer and Jennifer, then proceeded to tell complete strangers about his "babies".

My son keeps things interesting.  Although he has a whole lot of quirks, there is one part of his behavior that is constant; you never know what he is going to say.

I was thinking of this when the principal walked up to me and stated, "Diane, I have to tell you what your son just said."

I began to form an apology in my head, but then she continued, "He wanted to wish me a happy afternoon and tell me that he's been praying for my sister.  He says the most appropriate things!"

To which I replied, "Give him a minute."

Labels: Kids, Lunch Lady Land, Shameless Statements, Special Needs

On July 4th, 1998, I found out I was pregnant. My period was a couple of days late and there was a huge jug of vodka and cranberry waiting at a party with my name on it. Late periods and vodka don't mix, so I took a test. Don't worry, friends don't let friends' liquor go to waste.

My husband and I had closed on, and began to renovate, our first house in February, 1998. We got a puppy in May and the pregnancy news came just before our first anniversary that August.

At the time, we both had great jobs. We both worked together for a successful local business. It was a mom and pop corporation...big responsibilities with a family atmosphere. It was intense work, but I enjoyed it.

Just before Christmas that year, my pregnant self said goodbye to my co-workers for an extended holiday vacation. I never came back to work. Our daughter was born 10 weeks early on December 29th.

One preemie led to two and that second one? Well, he came complete with problems galore. I stopped working in the corporate world and, instead, became a nurse, physical therapist, occupational therapist and occasional Heimlich provider. I walked around with a phone attached to my ear listening to a permanent loop of health insurance voice systems.

Two years ago, when my son was in Kindergarten, I was offered a unique opportunity to work at the school as a teacher's aide during the hours he attended. It worked out great. And last year, when he was at school all day and eating in the cafeteria for the first time, I became a lunch lady. That Heimlich thing? Well, it doesn't always work if you're not there to do it.

But, now my son is going into the second grade. He has made advances we never thought possible, one of which is clearing food from his mouth before he chokes on it. My daughter will be in middle school and my mom recently moved back to our neighborhood after many years away. Clearly, I'm running out of reasons to hang out with my children all day.

As much as I would love to be a housewife, take care of my home and laundry, plan meals and otherwise be organized instead of chaotic all the time, those things don't pay the bills.

We have been struggling for a long time. My car is 13 years old and sometimes the doors don't open and the horn doesn't work, which totally gets in the way of me telling people what bad drivers they are.

Our washer and dryer are not long for this world, our computers are starting to implode and the stove is like a hormonal woman and only cooks when it wants to.

I have committed to the school until 2011. Basically, I have a year. I have a year to decide what I want to be when I grow up. I am almost 40 and though I'm not afraid to go back to school, I just don't know what I want to do when I get there.

I want to write, I want to design, I want to be creative. I want to be passionate about something in the way I have been passionate about my children. I want to be fulfilled.

I also want to pay the bills and I just don't know if the two go hand in hand.

Labels: Aiding the Teacher, Lunch Lady Land, Prematurity, Ramblings

I have five more work days until summer break starts. FIVE. I am excited about this for many reasons, but mostly because it will free up time to paint peeling ceilings and doors which dogs slam their noses into because they think they are ajar. Judging by the velocity at which our two dogs run into our storm doors, they clearly picture an enormous lamb shank on the other side.

I also work as a cook (read: lunch lady) in an old school with a single window air conditioner which blows out such a lack of cold air that we might as well have a politician standing in the corner. Or my hair dryer. Same difference.

I took the job because my son sometimes chokes when he eats, which has happened this school year exactly none times. I'm pretty sure my boss thinks it was a lie and that I really wanted to work there because I truly enjoy smelling like pepperoni.

There are benefits to my work outside of that choking thing and the fact that I have the same days off as my kids and never have to worry about child care. Mainly, that I can occasionally sneak a curly fry and that when we make green beans there is a veggie steam that coats my skin. That's right. Free facial.

But, my house misses me. A lot. If I could read her emotions by looking at her cluttered basement or weed-filled flowerbeds I would see her crying. Crying like she just watched The Champ. She's tired of her stained carpet and unwashed windows. I think my house would leave me for another owner if it could.

So I have started my list of summer chores. It's long and ambitious, but I'm confident that I will have the energy and motivation to get some stuff done. If I can cook for 200 people in a kitchen that is to me what water was to the Wicked Witch of the West, than I can certainly get a few chores crossed off of my list.

Because even though my house is falling apart, the central air conditioning works like a charm.

Labels: House of Horrors, Lunch Lady Land, Ramblings

1. If you work in a school kitchen and introduce your seven year old son to some of the delivery people, you may find him telling the milkman all about his lactose intolerance.

2. When your husband quits his job and the next day he tears his calf muscle and needs an MRI and a walking boot and physical therapy, then two weeks later your son gets an ear infection, and a few days after that you get a sinus infection that requires five antibiotic pills that cost $178.00, you may find out that your husband's former employer didn't give him any grace period and instead canceled his health insurance the DAY HE LEFT.

3. And you may find yourself wanting to tell everyone you know what a horrible, greedy, downright nasty company for which your husband used to work.

4. Then you may consider using your blog for evil purposes.

5. Twitter and Facebook too.

6. If you spend months considering whether or not to have your hair shortened, and you finally muster the guts to have five inches cut off, it's possible no one will notice.

7. Except for your husband.

8. And he knew you were going to get your hair cut.

9. If your family gets Super Mario Bros. for the Wii, you may find it brings about some extra-special, family bonding time.

10. Or, maybe everyone will just yell at each other a lot.

11. The DVR is the best invention ever, especially when you're using it to fast forward through American Idol.

12. But, then you might get spoiled and think you can fast forward through your laundry.

13. And then you will be sorely disappointed.

Labels: Family Life, Lunch Lady Land, Ramblings, Random Realizations

Do you ever wake up with a zit in your ear, a pulled muscle in your back from lifting a case of water and a nose that will not stop running no matter how many times you blow it, then notice that one of your favorite shirts has a hole in it and that your super-expensive work shoes are all scuffed up, and then you laugh as you think, "Who cares...I'm a lunch lady" and remember how, because of your line of work, you went to the grocery store yesterday with baked rotini on your forehead?

Yeah. Me too.

Labels: Lunch Lady Land, Question of the Day, Ramblings

Every weekday, I prepare meals for roughly 200 kids. Sometimes we go all old school cafeteria and heat up prepackaged, frozen food, but there are many days when the entire menu is fresh and made from scratch.

This picture shows my latest burns. I also have a scar on my wrist, a scar near my elbow and a scar on my left forearm. I decided to add some marks to the right side so that my forearms would match.

Earlier this week, in addition to my new burns, I was dicing tomatoes when I cut through my glove and into the tip of my thumb. I also sliced my palm with the wire tie that was holding closed the frozen corn.

And then, when we were eating dinner the other night, my 11 year old daughter finished chewing a bite and said, "Mom, this is really good! You should be a cook!"

All that suffering and I can't even get any props.

Labels: Lunch Lady Land, Shameless Statements

My mind is rarely at rest. As an insomniac, I have taken to keeping my phone on my nightstand so I can jot down the thoughts that pop into my head at 3:00am. It seems that the middle of the night is when I frequently remember that I need to pick up a birthday card, or that we need eggs or that the permission slip for my daughter's field trip is two days overdue.

During the day, my mind is constantly occupied as well. If I'm not reading, writing or watching television, then my brain starts getting busy. But, this isn't when I have coherent thoughts...this is when my head is filled with irritating music.

For instance, every day when I make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at work, I sing "Bootylicious". That's right. I don't think you're ready for this jelly. On Sloppy Joe days, I channel Adam Sandler. When we serve fruit salad, it's The Wiggles.

The problem is that I don't invite this music. I don't ask it to come in, sit down and kick up its feet. But, it does. Sometimes it stays for tea, then grabs a pillow and plops down for a long nap.

Yesterday my day started with my son humming "Oh Susanna", which stayed in my head until I made the PBJ's. "Bootylicious" hung around until one of my co-workers asked if I had seen the guy on American Idol singing "Pants on the Ground". Maybe that song wouldn't be so bad if I knew more than ten words.

After school, my son mentioned how much he likes the song "Down by the Station". Which turned out to be awesome because it's completely normal for a 38 year old woman to be walking through Target singing songs about "little puffer bellies all in a row".

When I got home I found that someone had sent me a video of Justin Timberlake singing "Hallelujah" from the Hope for Haiti telethon. I knew it would be stuck in my head, likely for the rest of the day.

And after all that bad music, what was my first reaction when I saw that link in my in-box?

Hallelujah.

Labels: Lunch Lady Land, Ramblings, Things That Drove Me Crazy Yesterday

Yesterday afternoon, the cafeteria prefect at the school asked if it would be okay if she hurried my son along after he finishes his lunch. It turns out, that while I'm busily working 40 feet away, he is dilly-dallying through clean up.

Kids can't be dismissed until their area is tidy and although my son stays well into the next lunch period and gets back to class later than anyone else, he still feels the need to take his things to the trash can...one by one.

First it's the straw wrapper, then he walks around the entire row of tables to get his straw, then his milk carton, then his tray, then his napkin. I don't think he's stalling. I think it's just an aspect of his OCD.

I will be the first person to say that he gets his compulsions naturally. Between me, my mother and my mother-in-law you could lay our compulsions end-to-end and circle the earth. Twice.

My mom took her dog for a walk the other day and told me that she went 845 steps. Then she went on to say that if she had gone around the block she would have taken over 1000. She doesn't wear a pedometer. She also has a morning routine that you do not want to mess with. Trust me. I'm more of a have-to-have-the-dishwasher-loaded-correctly or laundry-has-to-be-folded-nicely-and-put-away-neatly kind of chick. So, you really can't call me odd.

A true compulsion would be if I reloaded the dishwasher every time someone else tried to do it, so I would know that all of the forks were tines up, all of the sharp knives were pointing down, all the ceramic dishes were on one side and all the plastic ones on the other and that all of the cooking utensils were in the top rack. Or, if I went back to the drawer where I had just put away laundry in order to make sure it hadn't folded over on itself. Not that I would know anything about that.

I mean, it would probably seem as if I had issues if I did something like say the exact same thing to my daughter every single night before she goes to bed and give her four kisses on her forehead. It would be stranger, still, if the words I uttered to her were the exact same ones my mother said to me as a child.

Or, if I also gave my son four kisses each night and rubbed the back of his furry little head in the spot where I first touched him as a baby.

I'm certainly not crazy! I don't line up my shirts by color, or always cough twice, or crack my neck, or constantly rub my chin to see if another gray hair has popped out. Oh wait...

Now that I think about it, my son is doomed.

Labels: Kids, Lunch Lady Land, OCD

On Monday night, my mom, the kids and I went to dinner to celebrate my sister's birthday. We hit the local Chinese restaurant, where we were all happily chomping on rice noodles when my seven year old son took a sip of his lukewarm tea and started to cough.

I remember when I would cough like that as a kid and my mom would make me put my arms in the air. I do that with my son too. I also make him look me in the eye as I slowly count to five, then tell him to take a breath. I do anything I can to get his attention off of coughing because, with him, coughing almost always leads to vomiting.

I held my napkin under his chin, as if that would contain his bellyful of Lo Mein and mushrooms. He began to gag as his sister firmly shut her eyes and plugged her ears, as she frequently does. Then my son threw up about a tablespoon of liquid before calming himself down.

I was thrilled! I was so proud of him! His grandmother even gave him a dollar.

He didn't vomit, and vomit, and vomit some more as he did on the first day of Christmas break. He had a cold and started coughing in the car as we were leaving the school, which is where he started throwing up. He coated his jacket and his booster seat, then leaned out the window and threw up some more. He finished on the ground in the parking lot where I had hurriedly pulled into a spot. I undressed my son next to the car in the frigid temperatures before driving him home to do laundry and bathe him.

That scene, or one like it, plays out about once a week. If we're lucky. Sometimes it's more. You might think this is disgusting. But, these are the moments that define the mother I am.

I am the mother of a sick kid. I am the mother of a boy who weighs 38 pounds and will soon be eight years old, who is hard to understand when he speaks and who hears everything as if he is holding his hands over his ears.

I am the mother of a child with OCD tendencies, who easily gags, and chokes, and has horrible reflux, heart defects, hearing loss, a missing tear duct and stubby ear canals. I work as a lunch lady so I can be there to watch over him when he eats. I give him stomach and allergy medicine, sinus rinses, eye drops and ear drops. And, I carry special bags in my car to catch his vomit (when I can).

I am the mother who helps my kids with homework as I am making a dinner that I know my son can eat. Nothing stringy, nothing too spicy, nothing pasty or with an odd texture. Bites need to be dime-sized.

I am the mother who drives her daughter to basketball practice and makes sure to bring a blanket to keep her son warm, because his heart problems make him extra cold.

I am the mother whose son sees not only a pediatrician, but a cardiologist, gastroenterologist, opthamologist, geneticist, allergist, ENT...oh, and we were just told to consult with an orthodontist too. I am the mother who is a pharmacist's dream and a health insurer's nightmare.

I am also the mother who cheers when her son doesn't throw up in the middle of a restaurant during her sister's birthday dinner.

I am the mother who takes her victories whenever she can.

Labels: A Day in the Life, Family Life, Kids, Lunch Lady Land, Prematurity

In the school kitchen where I work, things get hot. Not hot like a humid day in Florida, but hot like a humid day on the face of the sun.

At any given moment we could have our ancient oven running, along with the convection oven and three warmers. Add in the steam from the dishwashing sinks and you have yourself your very own steam room. You know, kind of like a spa. Yesterday, I gave myself a green bean facial.

The school doesn't have central air, so to cool the area we use a window air conditioner. That's right. A window air conditioner. If you stand in one particular spot by the trash can, you can almost feel a small breeze. Almost.

But, the heat doesn't cause me to have a bad attitude. Quite the contrary. Because yesterday I told the ladies I work with that if I ever hit the lottery, I'll totally buy them a new window unit.

I'm generous like that.

Labels: Lunch Lady Land

I work in a school cafeteria. Okay, I'll just say it. I'm a lunch lady. Stop laughing before I shove my mole in your face.

If you want to read why it's the best job in the world, go here. If you don't want to read that, just know. It is the best. I enjoy the work, I get to see my kids and the people I work with are fantastic. I really love my job. If it paid better I would call it downright perfection instead of referring to it as glorified volunteer work.

There are four of us permanently stationed in the cafeteria. There is my neighbor/friend/manager, who knows all the ins and outs of everything. From when to place the produce order, to the intricacies of the computer program, to which kids like to try to sneak an extra dessert.

I am Worker #1. I sometimes help with the computer work and lunch count, I do a lot of the food prep, serve the kids and help clean up.

Worker #2 arrives at 10:30 and helps with serving and clean up.

The last employee is the prefect. She controls the kids. She keeps the volume low and the mess to a minimum. She is the one who dismisses the children and keeps things orderly. She also has a different parent volunteer who comes in to help her every day.

With the exception of a couple of burns on my arms, nearly running out of taco meat and a few burned French fries, this has been a stress-free job. Until yesterday.

Yesterday, my neighbor/friend/manager went to a funeral and left me to work the computer in her absence. Because I would be doing that, a parent substitute came in to cover for me in the kitchen. Keep in mind, lunch begins being served at 11:15. Here's a recap:

* At 10:30 Worker #2 arrives and says she has a migraine. She never complains and is always reliable and would never leave me hanging out to dry, so I know it's the real deal.

* At 10:31 we determine the parent substitute can't be the only person serving, as the entree is chef salad. The server has to ask each student if they want cheese, ham, pepperoni and/or croutons and add them to the bowl of lettuce. One server = Kids not eating until sunset.

* At 10:35 I begin calling every parent I can think of who might be able to come in and sub for Worker #2 so she can go home and have throbbing head and nausea in peace.

* At 10:45 I give up on finding a substitute.

* At 10:50 I call my pharmacist and ask her this hypothetical question. "Say I have a migraine and I took one Excedrin Migraine at 5:30 AM and another one at 10:15 AM, would it be okay to now take a pleurisy pain pill left over from when I had pneumonia?"

* At 10:51 pharmacist says, "No."

* At 10:55 I run up to the office where there is a parent volunteer covering for the secretary, because the secretary is also at the funeral. I ask the parent if she can come volunteer in the cafeteria after she finishes volunteering in the office. She says, "Yes." Yay! Problem solved!

* At 11:00 I explain the situation to everyone. The permanent prefect will help my substitute in the kitchen and they will both serve the kids. The volunteer who is scheduled to come in will be joined by the volunteer who will be coming down from the office. They will control the kids. I will work on the computer as planned. Got that? No? Me either.

* At 11:07 we realize that half the chairs are being used at the church for the funeral. Three of us make a beeline for the music room and steal all the chairs.

* At 11:10 I realize the mouse on the computer isn't working.

* At 11:11 I beg a teacher to help me. She finds me a new mouse. I doesn't work either.

* At 11:12 the mouse starts working and we all come to the realization that the parent prefect who is scheduled to come in, is not going to show up.

* At 11:13 the other volunteer comes down from her office post and tells us she has never prefected in the cafeteria before.

* At 11:14 I consider taking an Excedrin Migraine. Or five.

* At 11:20 my neighbor/friend/manager stops by after the funeral to check on things and sees that all hell has broken loose.

* At 11:30 my neighbor/friend/manager returns from running home and changing her clothes. Then she jumps in and starts serving the kids. You know? While I work the computer...as planned.

And would you believe that at the end of the day she actually said that she feels comfortable taking a day off now? Clearly, she dipped into my pleurisy pills.

Labels: A Day in the Life, Lunch Lady Land, Ramblings

I have been going to the same hair salon for many years. I LOVE my hair salon. I love my stylist, the atmosphere, the service and the fact that kids aren't allowed unless they have an appointment. It has been my little oasis.

However, it's not ideal. Sometimes it's hard to get in, it's a 20 minute drive from my house and it's not cheap. And, that whole not allowing kids thing? It means that getting an appointment is even more difficult because I have to coordinate it with my husband's schedule.

So last week, I walked into the little salon at the end of my street to check it out. Not only does this place allow you to bring your kids, but they'll turn on a TV show for them. It's also $30 cheaper than my regular place. Did I mention it's at the end of my street? Exactly a two minute walk from my front door?

Convenience + Lower Price = "Who Wants to Give Momo Some Highlights?"

Because I was a new customer, the guy took care to make sure the color was right. He used three different shades, then gave me a haircut and waxed my unibrow. I was there for three hours.

When you're sitting in a stylist's chair for the better part of an afternoon, you do a lot of talking. When I got home, I realized that the poor guy probably thinks my name isn't Momo, but rather Liar McLiarson. Why? Because these are a few of the things I told him:

1. That I had just got over swine flu and pneumonia, and that my doctor thought I had a pulmonary embolism.

2. That my son almost died from a strep pneumo infection.

3. That my son almost died after one of his surgeries.

4. That my mom was born in Honolulu and used to go to school barefoot and shimmy up trees to get away from wild boars.

5. That my mom was playing marbles outside a church when Pearl Harbor was bombed and saw fighter planes flying overhead. Then one of them crashed down the street.

6. That my daughter weighed 2 1/2 pounds when she was born.

7. That I used to have a high-pressure career and now I work as a lunch lady because my son sometimes chokes when he eats and I might need to perform the Heimlich.

8. That my husband and I went to Florida for a vacation, where we were greeted with temperatures in the 40's. Then it took us four hours to drive 90 miles and we were rear-ended by a semi.

9. That I'm scared of cats because my neighbor's cat used to stand on its hind legs and swat at me while hissing. Then it would attack me.

10. That I grew seven inches in nine months and ended up with stretch marks on my thighs when I was 12 years old.

Hopefully he thinks the chemicals soaked through my scalp and just made me seem crazy.

Labels: Getting to Know Me, Lunch Lady Land, Ramblings, Swine Flu

A long, long time ago I had a career. I left that life when my daughter was born and since that time I have tried my best to bring money in. I have run my own business, sold merchandise on e-bay, worked on a contract basis for a local company and was employed by my husband. Now I have this blog, which really helps pay the bills. The gumball bills.

Almost a year ago, I wrote a post about my new job as a second-grade teacher's aide. I worked the 2008/2009 school year in a classroom where I checked papers, listened to reading homework and helped 30 kids make abacuses out of pipe cleaners and Froot Loops. Where is Toucan Sam when you really need him?

That job served a great purpose. My son, with all his issues, had me right there in the building with him. If the teacher needed me, if my son needed me, if he was following the principal around like a mime...I could easily help.

My boy made it through half-day kindergarten like a champ and I'm certain he is ready for first grade, but there is still this one problem. He sometimes chokes when he eats.

And that is why I am starting another new job today. In the cafeteria.

That's right. I own it. But, check out these benefits! I get more hours, I might learn something about cooking, I get to talk to adults, I still have the same days off as my children which means I never have to worry about child-care, I get to wear jeans, I will don a baseball cap instead of a hairnet...and I might just get to save my kid's life.

You can't really ask for a better job than that.

Labels: Lunch Lady Land, Ramblings