I'm Not As Young As I Used To Be!

I'm fine with the aging process...for the most part. I mean, it's not like I really have a choice. Unless I figure out a way to reconfigure the time/space continuum then it is safe to say that the clock will continue to move forward. Besides, do I really want to go back to my 80's stretch pants and high hair? Probably not. I was all that and a bag of chips if I do say so myself...and I probably am the only one saying it. But it's not a look that I want to revisit.

At any rate, I can live with the fact that I am in the "middle aged" category. I'm young at heart and, quite frankly, in the best shape of my life at this juncture. It's all good. Except that, every once in a while, The Sheep gets a bit of a wake up call. That's "wake up call" not "booty call." Remember: Middle Aged?

Today at TCI training we got into more of the physical aspects of behavior managment. For those of you not in the field, this refers to the act of physically restraining a young person who has decided to harm self, property or their hapless teacher. As this happens to me once or twice a week, it is good information to have. Of course, if we want to do this safely, we need to practice. On people. The class broke into two groups and my trainer made the decision to have the two smallest people act as the children and have the others practice such classic moves as "The Small Child Hold," "The Takedown," and "The Two Man Restraint." Not everyone in the group was , shall we say, physically adept. In fact there was one lovely woman who, despite her bad knee, insisted on proceeding with the training. This Old Sheep was repeatedly dropped on her keister or contorted into odd positions by people as they learned the various moves. Once learned and performed correctly, these strategies really do keep kids safe while they are in crisis and I am grateful that we had the opportunity to learn them in such a well-supervised setting, however I am beginning to realize that I am not quite as spry as I once was. Someone from the other group approached me at one point and said, "Gee, we kept hearing this thudding sound and would look over and see you bouncing off the mat. I'll bet that hurt!" Uh, yeah!!!! I'm not what you would call a gal with "junk in the trunk" and each take-down resulted in me landing butt first then doing a bounce. This would result in a second shot to the tuchus.

On the positive side of things, the repeated jolts really jarred my sinuses and they were draining nicely. Of course this was while I was being held immobile by three classmates and I couldn't exactly wipe my nose, but this was a small matter. In addition, the large bruises on my a** will probably distract me from tomorrow's ordeal.

That's right: we all get to hear about me going back to the dentist. I'm not quite as stressed as I was before the last appointment. I have resigned myself to the fact that this will not go well. Once you let go and accept your lot in life things seem to go much better. Here's what will happen: Dr. DeSade, finally realizing that novacaine does not work well on me, will inject me repeatedly and painfully with the stuff. He will get that cocky, self-assured look he gets when he thinks he has acheived his goal of total numbness. He will then begin to drill with wild abandon, only noticing my agony when the chair starts to shake due to my death grip upon it. He will ask a stupid question regarding my "discomfort" and I will try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice when I answer. He will then attempt to distract me with stupid observations about kids today and the state of education and what he would do to make it better. His latest kick is that kids with disabilities should have to pay to go to public school. I mean, really, the idea that we offer a free and appropriate public education to all...what nonsense. Only the average should attend school. Perhaps we could even only allow the pretty ones...that would be so much easier on the eyes. I will sigh alot and refuse to engage with him and he will become defensive and frustrated. The hygenist will display obvious discomfort and the whole event will become emotionally and physically painful beyond my wildest dreams. Really, I'm OK with all this...I accept it.

In terms of knitting, all projects have been suspended until Son of Skinny Scarf and The Scary Stylist's fingerless gloves are complete. I worked on the gloves today during the workshop and will post some pix when I get a bit further along. As I'll be home with a frozen face tomorrow, maybe I can make some progress!

SA