Tuesday a very sad event began taking place here in my city.  It was the demolition of my elementary and high school building, the building that from 1974-2004 housed Dayton Christian Schools.  I attended kindergarten through 4th grade here, then shuffled over to a different building for middle school (where I met Bobby), and then back to this glorious building for high school.

I won’t use their pictures, but if you have just a minute I hope you’ll click here to see this gallery from the Dayton Daily News of some beautiful pictures of the building as I remember it.

The building was first opened in 1927 as the Julienne Catholic Girls High School.  From 1927-1973 high school girls got a Catholic education there.  The Sisters who ran the school lived in the convent that was attached to the high school building.  In 1974, Julienne merged with the boys’ Catholic high school, Chaminade, and Dayton Christian found a home in the “Julienne building”.  The Catholic church de-consecrated it for us Protestants but it was still sacred to most of us who walked it’s halls thereafter.

The convent where the nuns lived was converted into the elementary school.  So, our bathrooms had tubs in them which was a little weird but for the most part it was like any elementary – just much more beautiful.  The chapel (there is a picture on that gallery I linked to, I hope you’ll look at it) in the elementary was the nuns’ chapel, and it was gorgeous. Absolutely breathtaking, and I have SUCH special memories of that room.  We had chapel in there once a week, and it was where I learned to worship as a child.  I learned it at church, too, of course, but also at school.  We had such fun chapel services conducted by people who wanted to help kids learn about God in a fun way.  So, that room is very special to me, and it’s beauty still speaks to me, even though it’s gone.

The top row of windows overlooking this courtyard were right outside my 4th grade classroom

A hallway with beautiful arched windows in my high school

I can’t count the number of times I walked up and down this hallway…isn’t it beautiful?  The building won all kinds of awards when it was designed, and was recently listed on the National Register of Historic Places, although that did not save it from demolition.  It was just a beautiful, beautiful place.  It not only had the arched windows you see here but plenty of stained glass, a lovely courtyard, and pretty marble-ish floors.

It was a gorgeous place to go to school.

But it outlived it’s usefulness, and now it’s gone.

In 2004, after Dayton Christian moved out of the building, which was basically too expensive to maintain because of it’s age, Dayton Public Schools bought it.  They used it for a couple of years to house Stivers School for the Arts, a 7-12 grade school whose own old beautiful building WAS being saved from demolition and was going through huge renovations. After Stivers was done, it sat empty, and Dayton Public decided to demo it.  The neighborhood association and Julienne alumni fought hard to save it, but to no avail.  It’s very sad.

But it’s not why I’m upset.  Because I’ll always have my memories.

What upsets me is that as I was looking through the pictures of my old school on the Dayton Daily News website, I also read every single article pertaining to the demolition that they had on their front page, like this one and the captions of the gallery linked to above, and all these articles called the building “the Julienne building” and mentioned that it was “most recently home to Stivers School for the Arts”.

Not one mention was made of the fact that from 1974-2004, Dayton Christian Schools owned and used that building.  THIRTY YEARS, as if they never happened.  Thousands of graduates, forgotten.  It’s despicable. Despicable, despicable, despicable.

It seems to me that Dayton Daily only prints news about Dayton Christian if it is negative.  And since for the thirty years DC was in that building, it was a positive thing for the building and the neighborhood, there was of course, no mention of it even though it was clearly relevant to the background of this story.

Let me tell you something, Dayton Daily News.  That building was important to ME.  And not because it was beautiful and historic, but because I went to school there – Dayton Christian School.  For THIRTY YEARS that was the Dayton Christian building.  And you act like it NEVER HAPPENED.  That’s some crack journalism there.  Really.  Way. To. Go.

When you fail to mention DC, you make a glaring omission in the history of the building in question.  Stivers only occupied the building for two years and yet they always make the cut.  Why gloss over thirty years of top-notch education that was done there?  It doesn’t make any sense, and actually it’s completely and totally FREAKING RIDICULOUS.

Tuesday when I griped on my Facebook status about the Dayton Daily News’ gross error in their coverage, one of my friends commented, “useless newspaper.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself.  And I mean that in the most Christian way possible.

I was weepy after looking at your photo galleries the other night, Dayton Daily, but now I’m just pissed. (Yes, Christians get pissed.  Sometimes even righteously.) You took thirty years of good and made it into nothing. You really pulled one over on us Christ-ers, great job. Did you think we wouldn’t notice?

I am thoroughly disgusted.

You can gloss over our memories but you can’t make them go away.

What do you think, DC Alumni?  I hope you’ll share a special memory of OUR building in the comments.  And maybe tell DDN where to stick it. In the most Christian way possible.

____________

I ganked those photos from Flickr. Click on the images for the credit. Please don’t sue me random guy from Flickr, I’m totes broke.

Evidently things are going along SO SWIMMINGLY in our country that real actual news sources – not just Perez – have nothing better to do than report on utterly meaningless controversies.

For example.

Here’s what’s making headline news in our country today.

Crawling helmets: Have over-protective parents finally gone too far?

I have no words for this. Actually, I have a lot of (four letter) words for this based on the fact that my husband and I deal with kids ages 14-22 on a daily basis, but for the sake of our livelihoods I will refrain.

Bat on a plane! Rabies scare prompts health warning
Here’s how this vitally important article starts out: On an August morning last year, 53 people aboard a commercial airplane from Wisconsin were potentially exposed to the rabies virus when a bat flew through the cabin soon after takeoff, according to a government report of the incident released today.
Ok let’s review. The bat flew out of the plane before it could bite anyone AND this happened last August. Correct me if I’m wrong but if any of the 53 passengers who were in mortal danger had actually contracted rabies from the bat who didn’t bite anyone and probably wasn’t rabid in the first place, they would be long dead by now. Let me give you another quote from the article. Simply seeing a bat doesn’t put a person at risk of rabies. OH MY GOD are we seriously this stupid? UGH.

Also, in case you were worried about it, let me clear something up for you. Freeman isn’t marrying his step-granddaughter. It’s time to put the rumors to rest: Morgan Freeman isn’t planning to tie the knot with his step-granddaughter E’Dena Hines, who is 47 years his junior. I am so relieved to hear this, I had totally lost sleep over it. Actually now that I think of it, I DON’T CARE. I wouldn’t even care if Morgan Freeman was planning to marry his step-grandson, but that is a conversation for another time.

BLT potato chip and more crazy flavors. Someone clue me in on how to get a job in which I get paid to come up with life-changing concepts like Australian BBQ Kangaroo-flavored potato chips. I don’t know what a kangaroo tastes like, nor do I care to find out. The article then goes on to describe this:

Doritos Late Night All-Nighter Cheeseburger-Flavored Tortilla Chips pack all the flavors of cheese, ketchup, onions, pickles, beef, and buns into individual tortilla chips. OMG I am going to throw up. Don’t even get me started on the seaweed-flavored Pringles. I think I’d rather eat pink slime.

Let’s keep our eyes on the prize here, America. We have more important things to deal with. Like the fact that 17 million children in our country don’t know where their next meal will come from. The fact that the U.S. infant mortality rate is one of the highest among all developed countries. Or maybe that the Army diagnosed 76,176 soldiers with PTSD between 2000 and 2011. No worries, though. I’m sure they’ll be all fixed up as soon as they get a bag of Spanish Chicken Paella-flavored Lays.

I need a drink.

I keep seeing something around the blogosphere, links on Facebook and twitter, etc. that is really disturbing to me.  And no, it’s not politics, or child soldiers, or anything of any actual consequence that has me riled up.

It is the over-targeting, from a marketing standpoint, of women who have children.  It’s the heavy, ridiculous, almost comical marketing to “MOMS”.  Sure, there are many products and services (such as diapers!) that only a mom would have a need for.  But there are also many things that should be marketed to women in general that are now pointedly being marketed with ” a twist” FOR MOMS.

Because apparently, once you give birth to or adopt a child, you are no longer just a woman.  And you need to be told SPECIFICALLY what to wear, and how to wear it.  You need to be told what meals to make your family, and how to make them.  And you need to only read blog posts and articles that have the word “mom” in the title.

Let me urge you to no longer read blog posts with the word “mom” in the title unless it is a post or article about parenting.

I am tired of reading about fashion FOR MOMS, cooking FOR MOMS, products FOR MOMS.

I’m a woman.  If I read an article about how to wear the latest fashion trend, I am going to be reading about WOMEN’S FASHION, not MOM FASHION.

I recently saw a post titled something to the effect of “How to wear skinny jeans if you’re a mom”  - that is not the exact title because I don’t want to be a total jerkwad, after all this rant is completely impersonal – there are dozens if not more bloggers and writers using the word “mom” to get search engine traffic (plenty of whom I think are super-great people).  I was immediately incensed when I read the title. Because really, if you’re a mom, why would you wear skinny jeans any differently from any other woman?  If that’s the case, shouldn’t women who delivered vaginally wear their jeans differently from c-section moms? OH MY GOSH WHAT IF YOU’VE HAD BOTH TYPES OF DELIVERIES??? Then HOW IN THE WORLD DO YOU KNOW HOW TO WEAR YOUR SKINNY JEANS?  Oh! Or what if you’re a mom by ADOPTION!!??  Or a STEPMOM?  Ohmagah I am hyperventilating just thinking about the crisis I would have over skinny jeans if I were a MOM OF MULTIPLES!  Or a mom with biological, adopted, AND stepkids.  That type of mom probably shouldn’t even wear clothes at all.  Too difficult!

{Are you picking up my sarcasm?  I hope so because I am laying it on pretttttty thickly.}

It’s not mom fashion, it’s fashion.  And females who have children should not have separate rules for wearing clothing.  There should be fashion difference for women of different ages, perhaps, but not rules, articles, tips, or tricks based on being a mom. The reason these articles and post exists is because the word “mom” brings in good search engine traffic.  That is the bottom line.

To give you another example of this ridiculousness, I saw another post the other day, the title of which began with “Mom Fashion:” – then the rest of the title was about the appropriateness of teen clothing for prom or something like that.  You see, the article was not about mom fashion at all.  It was about whether you should let your daughters wear slutty clothes to the school dance.  Sure, moms were the article’s intended audience, but the title was written just for search engine optimization (SEO), not to, you know, MAKE ACTUAL SENSE.

So if you see those posts, don’t click on them.  Go to a fashion website instead.

Because you are a woman.  Even if you have a child.  You are a woman.

Don’t you guys love it when I get pissed off??

Let me say in closing, that I realize this is what some feel they have to do to be successful in business, if their business is a blog or website. Perhaps this is just a game you have to play these days.  But I am 100% uninterested in participating in it as blogger or a reader of blogs. (Or a WOMAN).

As much as it pains me to say this, however, I know my opinion is not the only valid one on the subject? Anyone care to add theirs?  Just please be nice and respectful in your comments.

Photo by jpeepz on flickr

Saturday was my hubby’s birthday and to celebrate we took the big kids to see The Muppets. Bobby and I were really excited about it because we looove the Muppets. We have some of the episodes on DVD and the kids have seen a few, but it had been awhile since we’d watched any.  They were a little nervous about it, Joshua because he’s always a little nervous about ev.er.y.thing. and Sophie because she was being a total booger and had just decided she was going to be difficult that day (Happy Birthday, Daddy!).

But, by the time we got into the theatre and began plying them with candy, everyone was in a pretty good mood.  Until the opening little ads for whatever-the-hell company that invented surround sound and digital picture and all that started – you know – the ones where they play theater-filling musical, vibratory tones as LOUDLY as possible so that all your seats shake and your eardrums beg for mercy?  Yeah, we were doing great until those.  My kids didn’t enjoy thinking that there was an earthquake happening in the theater.

And then.

The previews.

Preview after preview after preview after preview.

I remember when the previews were the best part of the movie.  Well, those days are gone.  Because back then, there were three previews max, and now, there are 487 and they are all so loud you want to crawl under your seats.  Both of my kids had their hands covering their ears during many of the previews.  It was ridiculous.  And then, there are of course the commercials that run before the previews, the friendly message about turning off your cell phone, and the short cartoon that precedes the main event.  By the time we got to the Toy Story cartoon, which was admittedly cute, I was so pissed, and so tired of the kids fussing about the previews and asking if NOW the movie was going to come on, I wanted to break Buzz Lightyear’s neck just to get the story overwith.

When the movie finally started, Bobby held up his cell phone so I could see the time.  It was 1:19.  The movie start time was supposed to have been 12:55.

Twenty-four minutes of previews.  Twenty-four minutes of a fidgety five-year-old’s attention span GONE.  Twenty-four minutes of stress for the two parents who were just trying to show their children a good time.  Twenty-four minutes of torture that we paid for.

UGH.  I am pretty unhappy.  The MPAA should be ASHAMED of themselves.

Thank God the movie was great, or I probably would have gone all MacGyver, made something spark-y out of the contents of my purse, and torched the place on our way out!

PREVIEW MY RAGE, people!!

Like pretty much everywhere on the face of the earth, it’s been hideously hot in Ohio for the last week. So, in an effort to beat the heat, we went to our local water park over the weekend. This was smart for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which being A) the temperature is always 20 degrees hotter inside the gates of an amusement park than outside; B) the concrete had soaked up every bit of the heat and was like walking on fire; and C) everyone else in southwestern Ohio had the same bright idea.

Not that I’m bitter.

But the best part is that it was slightly overcast while we were there and, in an effort to not leave as the whitest person in attendance, I decided to forgo sunscreen.

BAD MOVE.

I am so burnt. Those are not my actual legs pictured above (mine are just as red but slightly less hairy) but take that image and apply it to my entire body and that should give you a good idea of what I’ve got going on.

And it’s making me mad. Seeing as how my skin tone is akin to copier paper, I have had a number of bad burns in my life. There was the time I thought putting on suntan oil at the beach was a good idea, and the time I spent a few days on the coast of Spain, not accounting for the fact that I was laying my beach towel directly on the equator. Burning is nothing new to me – but getting mad about it is. I think I am getting grumpy in my old age or something, because this time around any benefit I might eventually get from this scenario (as in possibly no longer being florescent) is vastly outweighed by the fact that I am extremely uncomfortable. And apparently at the ripe old age of 32, I’ve decided that comfort trumps all.

If you need me, I’ll be out shopping for zinc oxide and elastic waist pants.

Ok, it’s not fair to say I just discovered them – I tried a few when they were first offered (oh, about 3 years ago) but haven’t been back since. A couple weeks ago, though, I gave them another try, and I absolutely love them. I’ve done sports cardio, circuit training, pilates, cardio toning and tai chi (not going back to that one, but the others are great).

So anyway, the problem is that Wednesday’s cardio toning class just about killed me. I didn’t even know it at the time – it didn’t seem TOO bad, and I felt good after it. The class contained about 30 minutes of upper body free weight exercises. And now? I don’t think I’ll ever have use of my arms again.

I have seriously never been so sore in my life. My biceps are KILLING ME. It hurts to lift anything at all. I can barely even straighten them, they hurt so bad. I feel like a complete wimp, but apparently I overdid it and now I’m paying the price.

Ugh.

Oh, and in case you were wondering – since I wrote about doing the Couch to 5k program again… I haven’t run a step.

I am the awesome.

Oh hi. Remember me? Probably not, but I’m the driver of one of the many cars you zoomed by in the last week or so. I imagine you didn’t see me, though, because you were in such a hurry. In fact, from the way you were driving, I must assume that you were either bleeding, in labor, or practicing for a local drag race.

I’m sure wherever you’re going is super duper important – you don’t want to be late for work, or maybe you don’t want to miss the first three minutes of The Bachelor.

But here’s the thing.

We live in rural Ohio. In case you haven’t noticed, the roads we travel down every day look pretty much like this.

And it is spring. Otherwise known as the time farmers plant shit. So it stands to reason that every once in a while we’re going to be caught behind one of these.

See that orange triangle on the back? Unless I’m remembering the study guide from my driver’s ed class incorrectly, that indicates a slow moving vehicle.

In other words, it means “Calm your ass down.”

Now, I’m no more of a fan of driving 30 miles per hour than you are. But I am, however, a fan of being alive. And I’m a fan of my kids being alive and even you being alive. I would prefer we all remain that way. So please, please stop passing me, the nice farmers, and the other drivers who have some sense when it’s not safe to do so. By “not safe,” I mean when there’s a double yellow, a curvy road, an upcoming hill… that kind of thing.

And for the love of all that is holy, please stop passing 14 cars and the offending farm equipment all at once.

Thank you.

XOXO,
Emily

And I want him to go BACK TO SCHOOL.

Because at 8:30 a.m. he’s wandering around the house with his “I’m bored” look (he doesn’t DARE say those words to me out loud), NOT playing with any of his THOUSANDS of toys, OR his sister, who by the way, would LOVE to play with him.

We need to get to the library today and check out every book you suggested yesterday!

Because right now, I am about to call my mom and figure out how she refrained from locking my brother and I in our rooms every school holiday. (Notice, Charles, I am leaving you out of this equation. Pretty sure you were not a problem.)

Oh wait, I do know. SHE GOT A JOB.  And sent us elsewhere.

Brilliant!

1) Very very slowly inch your way to the edge of the driveway so you can see on to the sidewalk

2) Very very slowly inch out a bit more so you can see on to the street

3) Wait forever until traffic is clear so you can go

I’ve lived here nine years and never had an incident. Why?  Because I am very, very CAREFUL.

Ok, so yesterday as I was in the *middle* of step 1, with my back tires barely even out to the sidewalk, I hear a scream. So I slam on the brakes, and see a lady whiz behind me on a bike. ON THE SIDEWALK.

I roll down my window.

Me: Are you ok?

Lady on Bike: YOU ALMOST HIT ME!

Me: Uh, I’m sorry, I was backing out very slowly. I can’t see until I get to a certain point.

Lady on Bike: YOU GOTTA LOOK! It would have been YOUR FAULT.

I could see I wasn’t going to get anywhere, so I rolled up my window, put the car back in reverse, and continued backing out of the driveway.  And there was NO TRAFFIC so I got out of the driveway right away. Which means she could have been and should have been riding on the road LIKE THE LAW SAYS.

Here’s how the conversation SHOULD have gone:

Me: Are you ok?

Lady on Bike: YOU ALMOST HIT ME!

Me: I think you mean that YOU almost hit ME.  But whatever,  I was backing out very slowly. I can’t see until I get to a certain point.

Lady on Bike: YOU GOTTA LOOK! It would have been YOUR FAULT.

Me: Really? Well, maybe if you were a pedestrian, but last time I checked it’s illegal to ride your bike on a sidewalk, so…and also, as I mentioned, I can’t SEE until I back out further than I already was. So I couldn’t SEE you. But you could SEE ME.  And also?  If you’re going to be STUPID and ride your bike REALLY FAST down a SIDEWALK, maybe you should wear a helmet. JUST AN IDEA.

And also, I’ve lived here 9 years and never even had ONE near-miss with a pedestrian or illegal bike rider. How many have you had?

GAH!!!!!!!!!!

Anyhoo, bike rider lady thoroughly irritated me and I couldn’t shake her yelling at me all day.  I know she was scared, but really, if you’re going to be stupid, prepare for a few bumps and bruises along the way.

And don’t YELL AT ME!

Friday afternoon I took my kids to the play place at a local mall. They had a great time, running off some energy and playing with other kids. But about 30 minutes into our visit, I noticed a little boy playing there, who looked to be about four years old, was wearing a t-shirt that said, in large letters, “No, YOU F***ing Calm Down!” Except it said the actual word, with no lovely asterisks, but with a real u-c-k.

Seriously.

I am guessing that by dressing their child this way, his parents, (who looked like BonQuiQui Barbie and Tupac Ken) were hoping to get a reaction of some sort out of someone. Fortunately, I am not dumb enough to confront two tough-looking strangers at the mall play place, so I kept my reaction silent.

Until now. An open letter.

Dear Parents of the Boy with the “F” Word T-shirt at the Mall Play Place,

What is WRONG with you? Perhaps it is a point of pride with you that your four-year-old’s lexicon (look it up) includes the “F” word, and that his clothing gave the proverbial middle finger to everyone who laid eyes on him. I don’t know. But it made me want to vomit. And I am so, so thankful that my six-year-old, who can read (bigger words than that even, try not to feel intimidated) didn’t see L’il Expletive (again, look it up) rockin’ the F-bomb shirt. Because, really, “Mommy, what does f***ing mean?” is not what I want to hear out of MY child’s mouth.

You made me really mad by bringing your son to the mall with that shirt on. But I got over being mad, and was just thankful that my son was oblivious. Then after FLEEING the play place (thanks for that), I just felt really, really sad. Sad for your son, because I am guessing if that’s what you clothe him with, that you’ve instilled an “f-you” attitude in him as well. Perhaps he thinks already, at his young age, that the world owes him something (everything?). I gotta tell you, this isn’t going to serve him well. Not in kindergarten, not in school, work, family relationships, friendships – not anywhere. You’re setting your son up for failure. And he deserves more than that. He’s a child. Don’t give him the adult responsibilities that come with wearing that word on his chest.

And also? Pick another play place.

And also? Don’t cut me.

Love,

Jenny