The Math in the Things I Don't Like to Talk About

That will most likely be the only thing funny about this post.  And it's basically because any time I get ready to talk about anything serious, in my head I hear the words "On a very special, Xena: Warrior Princess".  I tend to handle things that make me uncomfortable with humor.  But in the end- some things aren't funny.

I've been Sunday Scooping for the past few weeks- but I had told myself I was going to do a Math is Real Life post.  And I should do that before I scoop.  And I don't want to lump all of this together in one big post, because it needs to be on its own.

You ever have those dreams where your all teeth fall out?  Or you've got, like, old gum stuck in them and you keep trying to pull it out and it just keeps coming out in long never breaking strings?  Even if you haven't- it's a thing.  Apparently, according to dream psychology, it means you have something to say but you aren't saying it.  Surprising, I know, but there are some things I don't say out loud. Often.

This past Tuesday my chickens died.  I went out in the morning to check on them and found them dead.  Killed by a cat or something during the night.  I'd say my reaction was intense.  My parents worried a bit that I might have been having "an episode".  But I wasn't.  It was just a moment of terrible despair.  I had a lot of emotions wrapped up in those two girls.  I buried them yesterday. My dad helped quite a bit, and now they have a very lovely spot in the back yard.  I won't be getting any new chickens any time soon.  I suppose I will try to hatch some eggs with my class again next May, but we'll see.

 Statistically speaking, Grief happens to everyone.  People work through the stages in different ways and at various rates - all depending on the situation and background of the individual affected.

In the following two infographics, you can see how children experience grief slightly differently than adults:

Now, I am not saying that the death of my chickens is comparable to huge moments of life crisis.  But grief is wrapped up into the things I don't talk about much.

The first being autism.

My oldest son has "moderately severe" autism.  He is not in public education, but goes to a private school.  He will never be a candidate for mainstreaming.  Thus far, he is not capable of learning a trade skill either.  So the reality of my situation is that I can choose to place him a residential home, or he will live with me the rest of his life.  I'm not someone who is comfortable with a residential program.

And why would that have anything to do with grief?

Honestly, because the day they diagnosed him when he was three - the son I thought I had, died.  I had already imagined his whole life by then. I had decided what he'd look like riding a bike, and playing sports, and getting his first car, and dressing up for Senior Prom. The ideas of going to college and meeting a woman and getting married and having children of his own- all gone.  I can remember being in his bedroom watching him sleep that night that they decided.  Just watching him sleep.  Not really realizing it yet, the inevitability of it all, but sensing a great loss.

There was, of course, a period of time where not only I remained hopeful- but also received tons of encouragement from friends, family, and church people on how my son would be healed by God.  Either by miracle or scientific discovery, my son would be "free from autism" by the time he was out of elementary school (note: he's in his last year of middle school now).  I can remember doing two different 40 day prayer fastings for parents of children of autism. I can remember a few different church speakers known supposedly for great healings praying over him. I can remember being told that perhaps I wasn't faithful enough. I can remember being told that God would never help a woman like me.  I haven't taken him to church for years.  And I can't say I much care for going anymore myself.

And not because I feel like I was not faithful enough.  Or that God wouldn't help a woman like me.  I don't have an issue with God at all.  I have an issue with people that pretend God speaks to them.

The math of autism:

Click to go to website and better view of infographic

I don't talk about it because people make this weird face if I do. A mixed face of feeling bad, but happy it's not them, and not even knowing what to say.  And actually- no one has to say anything. I'd be glad if it wasn't me either.  I've actually found myself jealous of women whose children "only" have Asperger's.  But it's all perspective- because they're going through something too.

My second source of grief being wrapped up around my youngest son's father.

The relationship was abusive.  For the last five years up until this past May.  And I have struggled quite a lot in the grief aspect of the failure of that relationship - because I had wanted it to have been the real magical thing I thought it was in the beginning.  And I have a lot of anger at myself for being stupid and letting myself stay in that situation.  But that's because I never understood the math of abusive relationships myself.

Every single one.

#1, #3, #4, #5, #7, #10

This occurred in my thirties- but they say that teenagers in high school and the college years are going through this right now and their parents don't even realize.  Their parents think everything is fine.  It's worth educating yourself about if you have any contact with teens.

And the math behind why I finally got out:

Some folks think it's terrible that I don't want my son to ever see his father again.  And I agree that it's an ugly thing to do.  It causes me a lot of turmoil to have made the decision.  But in the end, I love my son too much.  I don't ever want him to change because of being exposed to domestic violence.

I'm willing to be ugly to save my son from this.

Yesterday, when I buried my chickens, I realized that in five months, I received more love from Peep and Ruby than I had in five years from this man that I lamented the loss of.  And why was I going to cry myself to sleep over someone who can't hold a candle to a chicken?  So, at the moment, I'm feeling peaceful.  Not over it, mind you.  I still have PTSD because of the relationship and will deal with that for some time- but I don't feel like I need to cry.

And why talk about any of this anyway?  Why even open my mouth since I haven't much wanted to?  I'm tired of being a prisoner, I guess.  And I also believe I'm not the only one. Teachers tend to have a nurturing personality.  We take on fixer-uppers.  We have a belief that we can help and change someone through the power of love.  So I think, yeah, there are other women out there still holding on to tomorrow- believing that he'll change, he'll see the light.  Like a child who finally makes progress in reading.  But it's not like that.  And it's not going to be like that.  And you're killing yourself waiting on tomorrow.  And you don't have to wait.  You could start healing and living today.

Teachers who aren't experiencing this- your students might be.  And it's worth researching so you can identify signs.

I didn't write this post at all for comments.  If you'd like to leave one, that is fine.  If you'd like to send me an email, that's fine too.  But I don't need an "I'm so sorry."  Really, I don't. Even though I appreciate the love and encouragement I get from so many different people.  I wrote this because I needed to. Maybe I'll be able to keep my teeth in my dreams for awhile.  And because I think there is someone who needed to read it.  And I hope it helped, whoever you might be.

County Fair Math - The Meek Moose Rides a Mechanical Bull and Other Adventures

You know that one part of the Katy Perry "Dark Horse" song where Juicy J is rapping his heart out about how she rode him like a roller coaster and turned her bedroom into a "fur".  Yes- it sounds like FUR.  But, apparently, he means fair.  Which makes more sense than fur.  But still.  Forcing the rhyme, methinks.

I also think Aloe Blacc sounds like he's saying "lift your spirits, and toasted cheese".  Enunciate people. ENUNCIATE.

Love both songs and artists though. No need to throw tomatoes.

So anyway- I went to the "fur" before school started.  It was awesome!  Rode the zipper three times and even the mechanical bull!  On the first ride, however, I had to come face to face with math in real life.  So let's begin.

Click picture to visit the linky at Miss Math Dork!

Now- this County Fair is by no means large.  So when I say the roller coaster broke down- I was not a million feet up in the air. I might have been twenty.  I don't think I would have died falling off.  Just maybe, broken an ankle or something.  Still though.  Breaking down at the tippy top point just before the "plunge" is not the greatest feeling in the world.



How the engineering of roller coasters actually work- I have no idea. Wouldn't be a bad idea to get the kids to find out for me though- wouldn't it?  After I stopped filming- the guy ended up climbing up and pulling the front of the car forward, and momentum took us back to the landing zone.  I decided not to try the roller coaster again.  I did see them working on it later though.  They'd loaded up the cart with four of the largest men I have ever seen.

That led me to believe weight has something to do with it. And therefore, it is a complete validation of all the weight I lost.  #skinnybitch

Weight played a big part in the zipper ride as well.  You know the zipper, right?  Cages of death that spin?  Yessssss.

I rode it the first time with my oldest son.  He has moderately severe autism.  But he loves a good ride.  Try as I might, I could not get that cage to spin around.  And he would have loved it, had I managed it.  All the same, we both cackled the entire ride.

I then forced my ten year old daughter.  I said- "Let's have a mother-daughter memory."  She screamed that she was going to die, and cried deep scarred childhood trauma tears. It will come up in future therapy sessions when she becomes an adult, I am sure.  One of the sentences she kept screaming was how this was not a memory she wanted.  And how she was going to die.  And how it was all my fault.  We spun a bit.  Turned out the lighter the load the easier it goes around.  I hadn't thought that through...  Anyhow, I am always in the running for Mother of the Year.  Vote early and often, folks.

Third time through grabbed my sister.  I decided that we wouldn't spin much.  However, the ride operator was very impressed that I was going through a third time in a row.  He also apparently noticed that there weren't any nervous children on the ride this time.  Turns out- when the ride goes three times faster than normal, this compensates for the weight issue and you spin EVEN MORE!!!  I am thankful to have not given in to the lure of a fair corndog, and my stomach remained intact.  I screamed with delight the whole ride.

Weight is also a big deal over in the livestock barns.  All of these animals are on show and are judged in a number of different stats.  I saw so many families who had seating arrangements with their animals.  It really made me think about how much time is put into this.  Not only the time to raise the animals, but the schedules of feeding and caring for, and watching over them at the fair.  All in the hopes of getting a ribbon and also making some money during the animal auction phase of the fair.

I'm not sure I could ever do the whole process myself.  I'd hate to have spent all that time with an animal and then have to sell it off.  I'd cry for sure.

Money, of course, huge issue at the fair.  Between paying for armbands for five people, and feeding five people - $140 was laid out.  And we didn't even have to pay for parking, because we got there early.  Had we been ten minutes later though- the total would have gone UP.  Even though I went on an overcast day with intermittent sprinkling showers- plenty of people still turned out for the fair.  It wasn't crowded- but that place still made bank.

Notice that most things are priced at $5.  This was noticeable all over the fair.  And I know the reason.  Everyone only takes cash- and a five is easy to hand over, skip count by, and not have to give change for.  Financial robbers geniuses, they are.  It was dang good food though...

Games at the fair are all based on force, motion, kinetic and potential energy.  It's a smorgus of science going on down at the midway.  And also probability and chance.  The rest of the kiddie rides - lots of simple machines and magnetic force.  It gave me lots to think about. The kids enjoyed it all- and Boyzilla especially, as it was his first time.  The only ride he didn't enjoy was the Tilt-a-whirlish one called Dizzy Dragons.  Here, you can see the excitement change to "What the holy hell?".  My sister knows how to catch a memory on camera.

For those of you that have been following the blog, but not the FB page.  Court turned out well.  Justice prevailed and will not be changing her mind.  Thank you everyone, for your prayers and well wishes. All is well in the world.

I leave you with the much anticipated mechanical bull ride.  If I win the lottery ever, I think I will buy one so I can practice. Yeehaw!

The Real-Life Math of Animal Keeping - The Meek Moose Adds it Up

So- admittedly, I have a *few* pets. We've got my baby, Jackson.

He's not really a baby anymore though.  He's seven.  Still.  How can you resist?  I was there the day he was born.  I held him when he was still wet.  And I visited him every day and cuddled him until his eyes opened.  So we are bonded, he and I. *sigh* He'd eat my chickens though, if I let him. Bird Killer. And the mice aren't safe either...

I have found that the type of math that seems to encompass Jackson's life a this point is weight.  I am constantly trying to decide if he looks fat.  Or, fatter, I should say.  I was doing really well with only feeding him dog food until the Boyzilla arrived on the scene.  However, Jackson and Xavier have a complete wink wink under the table deal going on with each other.  Which, of course, means Jackson's belly keeps expanding, though his dog food bowl remains "full".

We have begun to try to take "measures" (oooo-punny) to keep his weight under control by limiting his portions.  This doesn't take care of him trailing behind the boy for scraps though.

I also have 2 Betta Fish.  The left hand side is the female- Treasure.  And the right hand side is the male- Jewel.  They were named based on the concept that in Thailand they are called Jewels of the Sea.  or something like that.

With these two, I find I am constantly determining liquid volume and air pressure.  There is this special stuff you put in the water to make sure it's safe for the Bettas every week when you clean their bowls, and you have to measure it out based on how many gallons your tank holds.  Treasure is swimming in a two and a half gallon goblet, and Jewel is hanging out in a one and a half gallon bowl.  I think I'll be upgrading him when I return to school, so they can be all symmetrical.  Aha!  Another math tie in.

I also recently put in air bubbler stones, to keep their water from getting a film on the top.  I constantly have to twiddle with the knobs to get both bubblers going at once.  And I know there is math going on there with how much is being pushed down which tube to get the bubbles going.  I just haven't figured it out yet.  I probably curse at least once a day over those bubblers.  I want need them to bubble equally.  Because, you know... I'm me.

And temperature is also a factor with these guys.  A lot of folks think you can just throw them in a bowl, and they're good- but it turns out, they prefer warmer water.  I mean, they are from Thailand, so that makes sense.  Alone in the bowl without a heater, they rest at the bottom.  Sluggish.  Add in a water heater and they get nice an happy around 75-78 degrees.

I also put live plant bulbs in their bowls and wait for them to sprout.  The package says 21 days- so it's fun to plot it out on the calendar and then check to see if they grew on time or not.  Sometimes one of the bulbs ends up being a dud.  But usually at least one plant grows.

Back in January I got two mice for my classroom.  I bought a brown one and a white one so I could name them after characters in a favorite book.  So this is Mr. Ages and Mrs. Frisby. Now- I do not like wild mice. They are different.  Wild mice move like snakes.  These two were $4 bucks each and don't move like that.  I can deal.

Names aside, they are both girls.  I do not do rodent testicles.  Just no. And I don't want babies.  So they are both girls. End of that story.

What's so mathy about mice?  They are serious engineers. So our picture on the left is before I cleaned their tank today.  And then on the right, that's what it looked like when I first put them back in.  It will not stay like that for long.

I tried to take some stop motion film for you so you could see them getting busy. It's not brilliant, however. But I liked the idea, so I'll do another one another time, to get a real good one.

Here's a picture though of what they've managed to do after three hours.  And I've managed to rearrange my room completely too- which a whole other real-life math post...

They've removed the bedding from under the stones and sunk them down.  Wild mice naturally live under the roots of trees, so my pals here are natural burrowers.

Now- my glory, my loves, my chickens!

Free Range Action Shot.
I took a video for you this morning.  And yes- I am completely out of shape/breath after walking up a hill for an acre to get to their coop.  Forgive me.

So tons of measuring with chickens.  Designing their new coop is going to be a grand adventure in perimeter and area.  I'm looking forward to it though.
I had to go get them another bag of food today- 50lbs is not easy to lift, let me tell you.  But it's very easy to make new friends in the chicken feed aisle at the tractor supply!  Just be honest, say you have no idea what you're doing, and someone always feels bad for you and attempts to educate you in under three minutes.
Of course, the biggest piece of math that comes in to play with all of my animals is time.  The passing days of the calendar and their life spans.  Daily schedules for feeding.  Free range time for the chooks.  Outside time for Jackson.  Once you have a pet, you become one with the clock.
What kind of real-life math are you up to?  Let's hear about it!  Link up with Jamie too!

May the math be with you,