Evil Witches Newsletter Vol. 6

•  Greetings • 

My three box service startup ideas, based on this completely unstaged photo in my basement (this I swear to you: I will never get good at internet photography):

 

Old towels: When the sump pump breaks, the toilet overflows, someone is barfing on the floor, or the kids are playing outside and somehow find mud even though it hasn’t rained in a week, a few little paper towels aren’t going to cut it. Use towels that you no longer use on your own body. You will always be glad they are there. I have a small farm of old towels that I tend to lovingly and am happy to share with my subscribers, whom I’ll call “Towelettes.”

Uncrating: Pay me a small fee to take away your child’s craft tinker crate leftovers. Just put them outside—the half-made projects, the completed and forgotten projects, the completed-and-broken projects, and the packaging. What am I going to do with them? Do you really care as long as I tell you it’s sustainable and has a charitable function? Shhhh. Don’t worry about it. They’re gone now!

Hats and gloves: This one is simple. Customers sign up once and every year around October they will get a box of winter gear for their children. They’re not cute or anything and may not even match, but do you even care when you’re trying to get the kids out the door on a wintry day and you just remembered the class is taking a field trip to the ice skating rink? It costs $500 to sign up because that’s how much I know most people would be willing to pay for a magical box of hats and gloves and snow pants when they need them.

 

I will never get these projects off the ground, of course. As I sit here this very moment I have to put away dishes, nag my kids to put away Legos, put away laundry, make the grocery list, go to the grocery store, put the groceries away, nag my kids to put away Legos again, think about putting away the Christmas decorations, make dinner, wash those dishes, put those dishes away, and repeat forever.

 

However, what I will get off the ground in ‘19 is the growth of Witches. Right now I’d say it’s a 3 month old: just getting cute and holding up its head and smiling. By the spring I want it to start to walk—but as you know, it takes a proverbial village. If you have the inclination, please do write or Tweet any input you have—what you’ve loved, what you’d like to see more of, any witchy questions you’d like crowdsourced and curated, and if you'd like to chat about contributing something. One veteran witch, for instance, told me she’d like to see an “old bitches” issue and thus I have one in the works (topics include: letting your hair go gray without looking nuts and what to do when your child gets married too young.) When we roll out witches prime I want it to be stuff you really love.

 

Are your kids back to school this week? If so, blast this and substitute “in” for “out,” “winter” for “summer,” and “yes” for all the “no”s:

~ Claire

Relationships • Those Meme People

 

A friend of mine posted this meme in exasperation recently because her prior daycare provider, of all people, shared it: 

We can wax on about wisdom of a daycare provider sharing online her hands-off philosophy re: children’s safety but my favorite response to the meme came via my friend Jennifer:

Food • An Open Letter to Trader Giotto the Tyrant • By Genie Gratto

Dear Trader Giotto,

 

I measure out motherhood with great specificity:
 

  • I know, for example, it takes the length of three Thomas the Tank Engine songs to get my son to preschool in the morning.
     

  • My son will drink 11 ounces of milk during an average dinner -- his cup holds 5 ounces, which means that second time I have to get up to refill the cup is usually, mostly, a big waste of everyone’s time.
     

  • It requires, at the moment, two different pandas, one elephant, one dog, one bunny, one monkey, one raccoon, one Paddington Bear, one star-projecting turtle, and three blankets for my son to consider his bed to be a reasonable place to spend the night.

 

And yet, despite all the metrics I hold dear, here’s one that causes me to fly into a rage: you expect me to cook your fresh spinach tortellini to an internal temperature of 165 degrees Fahrenheit.

 

You’d think I’d have more tolerance for anything you want to print on your packages of magic tortellini, which my son eats happily without investigating why they are green inside. But this part of the instructions causes me to go into a rage.

 

Think about it: inserting an auto-read thermometer into a bouncing, boiling, baby ear-sized tortellini is akin to rinsing the shampoo out of a squirming kid’s hair without getting a single drop of water in his eyes. This story only ends with me measuring the temperature of the steam burn on my hand.

 

And you cannot expect me to extract a half-cooked tortellini from the pot at the one-minute mark and delicately measure its inner temperature either. I’m quite likely to knock the tortellini on my disgusting floor, and then my kid will then dash in to grab it, and then he’ll eat a piece of hot, dirty, undercooked pasta that’s liable to kill him, apparently, since why else are you actually warning me about this?

 

Whatever, Trader Giotto. I shall cook your tortellini the requisite two to three minutes, then live on the edge. I shall assume I’ve attained food safety standards that are close enough. I shall never, ever succumb to your instructional tyranny.


Defiantly yours,
Genie Gratto


Genie reps Oakland. You can follow her on Twitter and IG. 

Kids • A survival kit for the flupocalypse • By Kim Bosch 

The other day I was in a cafeteria, waiting for my food with my two-year old. The place was packed with families. Right in the middle of it all I spotted a kid, standing up on his booster seat above the crowd. He was distressed, but no one was paying attention to him. And then it came. Vomit ejected from his mouth like a low-pressure fountain. Waves of sick splattered onto the tables, floor, plates and spoons, toys and bags. Instinctually, I picked up my kid like I was fleeing hot lava and got the heck out of there.

 

Because I could tell this wasn’t your regular barf. It was norovirus (aka. gastro, aka stomach flu), the kind of sickness that presents itself suddenly, usually with bad diarrhea and vomiting, and occasionally a low-grade fever and body aches. We had lost five days to it last March, first me, then my kid, then my husband. It was the kind of flu where you asked God why with your head in the toilet.

 

Because norovirus is so contagious, you can't call the grandparents or nanny to help out. You gotta go on lock down. When my family caught the bug last year, I found myself wholly unprepared, stinking of death and barely alive, reading the labels on sanitizing wipes at the grocery store. So before you or someone in your family starts calling for Huey and Ralph, I suggest you do what I’ve done for 2019 and create your very own gastro preparedness kit.

 

Here’s some suggestions for your barf bag:

 

  • Extra linens and towels (the thicker the better) old sheets (fitted ones are especially great for over couches). Put them everywhere barfing may occur. 
     

  • Flat bottom buckets – This is key for two reasons:
    1) You don’t want to be cleaning chunks out of the crevices of fanciful sand castle building buckets 2) you don’t want something like a salad bowl with a rounded bottom filled with throw up to tip. Have one for every family member in case it’s every person/bucket for themselves and if toilets are…being used otherwise.

     

  • Pedialyte freeze pops – when the first person starts talking to the bowl, throw these in the freezer. For babies, try doing what my wise friend JW suggests and dip a washcloth corner into the traditional liquid version and let them suckle away.
     

  • Gatorade – Remember when you used to barf from fun things like drinking all night? Well this old standard for electrolyte replenishing works for gastro, too. Mix it with water to make the Mango Extreamo flavor a little less intense.
     

  • Rubber gloves, masks and even goggles - this seems excessive, but it’s really not when you consider this fact from a recent NYT article that it “it takes only about 20 viral particles to make a person sick. Yet one tablespoon of vomit contains a whopping 15 million viruses.” So cover your crevasses, people!
     

  • OTC Anti-nausea medication - If you can keep it down for 30 minutes, that's great and means it’s doing its work. If you barf it back up within 15 minutes, try again later when you feel a little more intestinally confident.  
     

  • Bleach cleaner – What’s most cruel about norovirus is its ability to come back again and again like some sort of disgusting boomerang (barferang?). It can live on surfaces for several weeks, which is why you have to clean the crap out of your house. And not that vinegar and water hippy kind of clean. Get wipes that kill everything like these. An all-purpose bleach cleaner works, too. This is a good one, but good old skull and crossbones Clorox with a bit of water will also do nicely.
     

  • Heavy duty dishwasher soap - Yep, these germs can outlast an extra hot wash if you don't use a strong cleaner with bleach. Skip the “natural alternatives” and go for the strong stuff.
     

  • Lysol laundry additive – Add this to your regular soap for a deeper, you guessed it, bleach clean. And as another wise witch told me, “don't forget to remove the barf chunks before you wash!”
     

  • Can of peaches – Witch Elizabeth (from Vol. 1) recommended this to me and it worked like a charm. The juice acts as a gauge of whether things are staying down and also coats the stomach. Kids like it because it’s basically just sugar water with the promise that summer will be here again before we know it.

  • Instant noodles– Once you’ve managed to keep down some sweet peach, switch it up for a salty broth. I’m Canadian, so I love Mr. Noodles. They are cheap and so damn easy to make, plus they have a long shelf life.

 

Additional Tips:

 

  • One crafty witch I know created a barfing station (air mattress, waterproof tablecloths on the floor, bucket and old blankets) on which to park kids in front of the TV.
     

  • If you haven’t done this already, I suggest you layer your child’s bedsheets (this is the single best piece of witch parenting advice I’ve received, from none other than HWIC Claire). Do this now unless you feel like changing sheets at 3 AM while your child sobs.
     

  • If you want to be especially proactive, get some prescription anti-nausea medication Zofran from your doctor ahead of time. It cuts down the amount of barfing exponentially.

 

Few things feel worse than a bad case of stomach virus, but with this kit, even if you’re doing the technicolor yawn, you’ll feel a vague sense of accomplishment.

Kim is a proud teacher, writer, and witch. You can find her on Twitter.

A Word With • Teacher Moms

How did becoming a parent change how you teach or see kids?

 

Amy in Evanston (preschool): All of the years of teaching before kids, I was like “These boys are coming in with their bedhead and super short pants. My kids will never be like that.” I judged so many parents. My kids' pants are mid-shin now and the last thing I care about is brushing their hair.

 

How did becoming a parent change how you see your students’ parents?

 

Amy: I now think, “Oh crap, I have to tell you something amazing about your kid.” From the teacher side I used to be like, “Well, this is what I’m telling you,” and now if I'm about to tell them something negative I realize, “This sucks, you'll be really hurt by this.”

 

Sara in Evanston (high school): Something I’ve learned is that bribes help—last year I gave all the main teachers bouquet of flowers. If a parent come in with treats I’d feel more favorably towards them.  

How did teaching inform how you view parenting in general?

 

Helen in Chapel Hill (Speech Language Pathologist, formerly in a first grade classroom): White middle class boys in particular are smart, they can ask and answer questions, they can tell you about dinosaurs and thermodynamics—but then it’d be time to clean up and all my little Latina students would get a broom, but Hudson would have his head on the desk looking out the window. He was like “Martina’s cleaning up for me!” I see upper middle class white children have no social skills and no responsibility for anything other than their own curiosity and interests. This made me determined to teach my children to have some basic manners, coping, and life skills.

 

Kate in Portland, ME (third grade): I have perspective, more than my husband, on what’s normal for a 7 year old. He gets so mad at our son because he doesn’t want to make is lunch or doesn’t want to clean up when he’s told. I’m like, “That’s what 7 year old boys do.”

 

How do you maintain enough energy to teach children and then parent?

 

Sara: I work close to where I live and have my kids in aftercare so I can go exercise and have a break in between. I cannot help them with homework. That's why my daughter’s recent project was so crappy.
 

Kate:  Coming home to kids after working with them all day is freaking brutal. I used to have a really long commute and now it is only 10 minutes, which is great, but I do miss the time to come down and regroup. In addition, my older son is now in my school. He was coming right in my classroom after school, sometimes even overlapping with my students. I could not even breathe for a moment between teaching and parenting, so I increased his aftercare. It’s more expensive, but even my husband was like, “Something's got to give.” By the time it got to 7 PM I wanted to to kill everyone because I’d been with kids all day. We also have a secret code when either of us are about to lose it:  “I need the dark cave.” It’s a grownup time out. Shut the door, turn the lights off, pull out your phone, do what you want for 15-20, a half an hour. Do what you need to do so you don’t explode on the kids, or each other.
 

What have you picked up from the classroom has helped you at home?
 

Kate: The power of positive reinforcement. Kids respond so well to it and I learned to do it at home. It’s really easy to get on the nag train—if you can point out something good they did they’re much more likely to do it the next time.  For every negative interaction, one positive goes a lot further in terms of getting the behavior you want. When we get into a bad cycle we start a “Noodle Jar.” A dry noodle goes in the jar each time my kid does something remotely good and we say, “Thank you for….” That’s it. No punishments, no big deal, just a thank you for something simple. Once the jar is full he gets to pick an outing with a parent. It’s effective for parents too—it forces you to notice the good things too, even while you say, “Thank you for not hitting your brother with that bat,” through gritted teeth.
 

How did parenting change how you teach?
 

Kate: I give so much less homework that I used to, now that I know it’s such a pain in the ass as a parent. I’ve seen some research that states pretty clearly that before 5th grade, homework can actually be harmful to students. It can be a struggle, which makes them feel negative about school, and it takes away from time doing other things kids need to do, like run around and play. Where I work, parents take homework really seriously, which is great, but then they get into these huge battles with their kids and the kids come in and they are miserable because they had a terrible night. Now that I know what a battle it is to get ANYTHING done between 5-7pm, let alone confusing homework, I try to keep it minimal.

 

Sara: I used to send emails home and I’d contact the mom, not the dad.

 

Does your spouse sympathize with you that you’re getting it at both ends, at work and at home?
 

Amy: It’s like, “We take it seriously but also we kind of think it’s a joke." The way it comes across to me is like, “You’re home by 4. Why don’t you do all these other things at home?”  

 

Kate: My husband had no idea what my day was like until he came to school to pick me up once. He sat in the back for the last hour or so. His perspective changed completely. He walked out and was like “I need a drink and a nap.” He kept saying, “They just kept saying your name over and over again.” 

 

What do you wish more parents understood about teachers?
 

Kate:  First, I am a human. And a mom. And I’m not crazy.  If your kid comes home and says something that I said and it sounds crazy, DON’T BELIEVE THEM. Give me the benefit of the doubt before you get all up in arms—chances are it was a misunderstanding.

 

Are bigger kids much easier to handle than littler kids?
 

Sara: There is an expression I learned in grad school that rings true: Toddlers and teenagers need you the most. I get to work at 8, and until I leave at 4, I’m nonstop needed. I’m needed all day long, and i’m needed after that, still.

 

Does teaching prepare you well for motherhood?
 

Kate: Fuck no! Nothing prepares you for that shit.

 

Helen: I wasn’t prepared for my own lovely children to freak out for not reason. It is disheartening to think “I’m so great with other people's kids” and I just don’t have it for my own.

 

What advice do you have for classroom teachers about to become mothers?
 

Amy:  If you are taking some amount of time off and you don’t feel at all ready to go back, don’t go back. Don’t push it. It would be a huge disaster, emotionally.

 

Also, back off your own kids’ teacher. What are you getting out of picking at them, trying to give them your expertise? You know it’s a hard job. You know, hopefully, that they’re trying to do their best.

 

Kate: If you can help it, don’t change schools/grades/jobs right before or after you have a baby. It’s hard enough to come back to a place where you're comfortable and you know what you are doing.  I started a new job when my youngest was only 8 months old and it was brutal. I was pumping in a closet, navigating new curriculum, and trying to set up a new classroom, all while still up 1-2 times a night. I love my job now, but that first year was a mess.

 

Helen: I remember a parent told me she had been a public school teacher and then became an ER doctor. She was like, "I needed something less intense!"

• End Credits •

 

Thanks for reading Evil Witches. You can follow us and talk to us here. If you know someone who'd like this sort of thing in their inbox about twice a month, forward it their way, and encourage them to subscribe. 

 

This issue is brought to you by the hair that grows an inch below my hairline that has recently gone gray. Godspeed, little buddy.

 • One Witchy Thing •

PO Box 6436 Evanston IL 60204

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