Sandy Hook

I'm not a very good writer but I want to not make this about me at all, and yet, I'm sure it won't come across that way. In the middle of teaching class today, I got a schoolwide email from our principal about the "incident" in Connecticut that she was sure we all knew about. 20 children killed. 6 adults killed. One mother killed. And one killer killed. I don't know if I've ever been so instantly shocked by news. I still can't believe it. I'm having real trouble dealing with this. Why? I just spoke a couple of days ago about how it only takes one person to ruin things so much for so many. I wish I hadn't. I wish there wasn't an even better example of what I was trying to say before. So many beautiful lives. Not just the 27 dead. But the hundreds and thousands of lives that are directly and indirectly connected to those lives lost. They are forever changed. And it just took one person on one day with one act. We have to do better. Maybe it's politics and gun policy, though we know that's not the only answer (although I will always believe it's a big piece), I mean look at Norway. Maybe it's talk about mental health issues and the lack of intervention and support in that area. Maybe it's talk about a million other topics. But whatever it is, we can't keep doing this to ourselves. Or maybe we will and we can. Maybe it's the human condition and it's a horrible matter of luck as to whether or not one of us is in the reach of someone who snaps. My heart is broken. I broke down in front of my students today. They comforted me when it should have been me that was strong for them. I came home and held my children way too long. I can not imagine what these families are going through tonight. There can be nothing worse. I want to believe that everyone in this country and maybe around the world are thinking about the students and staff at Sandy Hook. There's a natural push to try to think about something else. Distract yourself. Don't focus on something that is so upsetting and that hurts so much. But what's the alternative? Not think about them? No. What happened today should be what everyone is thinking about. And how can we prevent things like this from happening again, ever, in the way we love each other and take care of each other and look out for one another forever? There is nothing worse than what happened today.

12/12/12

It's 12/12/12. It just seems like I should say something about that. I can't remember. I haven't seen the movie. Is the world suppose to end today or on 12-21-12? If it's suppose to end today, we seem to be in the clear. If it's suppose to end in... 9 days, I'm clearly not prepared. It's kind of like the whole New Year's Eve 1999-2000 thing, but with much less attention. Maybe Prince could, or a lesser known artist, could make a song about this, too. What do ya think? Too bad I don't buy into it a little. Would be kind of cool to be one of those crazy survivalist people. I kind of want a bunker and some survival gear and some dried food. Ooh, and flashlights and water and first aid gear. I would probably make it about a week. I can see that now.

Click on My Ads

Sounds almost sexy, doesn't it? Click on my ads. That's right. Go ahead. Do it. You know you want to. Ok. So I'm not a real blogger. It's not like a profession. And since I can hardly manage to do it more than 4 times a month, I'd starve if I depended on it. But apparently, Google will pay me for every time you click on my ads. Now, I wouldn't want to jack up your computer or flood you with spam or something. So don't hurt yourself. But if you feel so moved, give it a shot. I'll share my $11 a month with you and throw a party. You'll probably have to bring your own booze... and food... and entertainment. But we'll have a good time!

It Just Takes One

Seeing the movie Lincoln got me thinking about how one person can really mess things up. I don't think I need to say "spoiler alert" here or anything, I mean, we all know how things end for Abraham Lincoln. So, he gets the 13th amendment passed, the end of the Civil War is in sight, things are looking up, he can maybe relax a little, start to be happy, the country can start to heal, and then someone goes and shoots him. One person. That's it. All that work, all the fighting, all the time, all the toil, to start to finally have some light and then one person doesn't ruin it all but sure hurts a lot of people and gives a major setback.

Or take September 11th. So it wasn't one person, but it was a small group of people, in effect, almost one person if we're comparing the terrorist group to the whole number of people on Earth. Things are going ok, they are what they are, and then the attacks. It changes everything. It doesn't destroy us or ruin our lives (at least not for those of us that weren't immediately involved), but it still changes everything. We don't feel as safe and probably never will. We can't travel with near as much freedom. We changed policies that limit our freedom now in all aspects of life: workplaces, airports, schools, post offices, etc.

Think about a marriage. Isn't there a saying about how it takes two to make it work but only one to break it? It's true. It takes both people doing everything they can to keep a marriage strong. But if only one of the two decides not to, it will never matter how hard the other works or how much they want it.

I also think about it in my classroom. So often I hear other teachers talking about the difficult students: the students that take all their time, the ones that won't listen, the ones that won't seem to try or don't care and so on. And I can't help it myself. I have between 38-43 students in each of my 6 classes. And 90% of them really seem to care, really want to work hard, really are motivated to improve and do their best, etc. And I know there's a whole discussion to be had about why the kids are showing the effort that they are, good or bad, and a discussion about their backgrounds and level of support at home, etc. But that's not what I'm talking about here.

I'm just talking about how easy it is for one individual or just a few to steal all of our attention and entirely change the path we take. Even when so many are doing so much right and working so hard, we can't look away from or sometimes recover from one or a few that are doing things so wrong. Life would be so much easier if negative actions had the same impact that positive actions did. Does that make sense? No matter what, we have to remember to try not to focus on the negative and those that seem to ruin things. We have to remember how many people really are doing their very best to make the world around them a better place. And we have to remember that we need 100 times more positive than we do negative. It seems like a lot, but I think it's one of the things that make life worth it.

Oscar Watch #3: Lincoln

Ok, it's been about a week since I saw Lincoln. So the feelings are not quite as potent as they were when I first came home, but I still know this movie is an Oscar contender. If Daniel Day-Lewis and Tommy Lee Jones are not nominated for Oscars, something is seriously wrong. It's a fantastic movie. It didn't feel like it was trying to impress you by shocking you with graphic civil war battle scenes, though I think that made them feel even more real. They were raw and ugly and primitive and intimate. But they weren't even the focus, in any way, other than to show you how horrible the Civil War was and how much hung on the decisions to end it.

I'm not an historian by any means, so my feelings are all just based on my own opinions, and well, feelings. But I was able to get into the movie so much, and Daniel Day-Lewis' performance, that I believed I was really seeing Abraham Lincoln. He was phenomenal. It made me wish I was more of an historian and made me want to run out and find the best books I can about him. He seemed like the best example of what a leader is in truly awful times having to make impossible decisions knowing any decision would be far from perfect. Go see it.

Ornament Hooks

The holidays are here and we just got our Christmas tree up. It actually went really well. We went to pick it out and it had just rained so the tree farm was literally underwater. The type of trees I like best were impossible to get near, so we had to look at different types of trees. I'm fairly OCD about the Christmas tree, but was so proud of myself for letting it all go this year. My daughter picked the tree, not my favorite, but who cares. She was thrilled. We got home and after getting it in the stand, it was time for lights. Again, I'm weird about the lights. It takes me like 4 hours and 50 strands and I wrap every single branch from the tip all the way in to the trunk. But my daughter decided to do the lights! I had a momentary internal stab of fear and a strange flash of stress about the potential outcome, then realized I'm insane, and told her to go for it. And she did an amazing job! She only needed a little help at the top. It was a very good lesson in not sweating the small stuff, focusing on what's really important, letting it go, blah, blah, blah.

SO, it comes time to put the ornaments on. We unpacked the boxes of ornaments and started putting them on the tree. But we were delayed because we couldn't find the ornament hooks. Eventually we found them and pulled them out and they were the way they are every year, a giant tangled ball. So I stood there untangling them, dropping the occasional ornament into the carpet where it instantly becomes invisible only to be chewed up by the vacuum eventually or stepped on painfully. And I began to wonder, does everyone do this every year with the ornament hooks? Am I doing something wrong? Is there another magic trick to putting the ornament hooks away that stops them from getting tangled? Or, and I never considered this before now, do people throw them away and buy new ones every year? Seems like a waste. So, if there is something I'm missing, please tell me. Who knows, I may just come up with the first tangle free ornament hanging device! Or not. I think I kind of actually like standing there and untangling them each year. I'm weird like that.

Oscar Watch #2: Silver Linings

Go see it. Jennifer Lawrence and Bradley Cooper were sensational. It feels so nice to watch a movie that doesn't feel like watching a movie. I mean you want to be taken away and entertained but also be able to suspend disbelief long enough to forget it's a movie. It was really good. I think it's the best role I've seen him in. And she's just good. She hasn't not been good ever. They're just crazy enough to remember they need help, but sane enough to not scare you. It's funny. It's heartbreaking. But ultimately, it's happy and feels good. And I'm the kind of person that needs to ultimately feel good. If there's pain in the middle, there has to be happy at the end. And there was. Go see it.

Linger

Some things just linger. I'm approaching the first year anniversary of the day my husband told me he was "having an affair". It really came down to him having seen something shiny and just not being in love or even in like with me anymore. It's been a long road since then. 6 months of "trying" (not really) and then him moving out for 5 months (5 really bad months) and then him moving back in a month ago. Regardless of why he left or why he's back or what it means or where we're going, it's still really weird, for lack of a better word, to be entering back into this season one year after such a horrible time.

The day he told me was the day we brought home our Christmas tree last year. He suggested we go get the tree last weekend. I didn't want to, partly because it was just too soon before Christmas and I thought it would be dry by then, but partly because I just don't want to do it. I feel like getting a Christmas tree has been ruined. Christmas is my favorite time of year and it feels tainted. Last year's terrible awfulness lingers and I think of it now more than over the past year as I repeat things I was doing last year at this time.

So I guess all of that is expected and predicable and understandable and cliche but also a little pathetic. I need to get over it. Last Christmas may have been mostly ruined, but letting Christmas be ruined for the rest of my life would be stupid. So I'm choosing to get over it. I know I won't all the way. I know there will be moments when I'm reminded of what happened and that not just the memories, but the feelings will come back as well. But I think it's important that I make a conscious choice to not let it linger to the point that it ruins something so special. I don't know how to say this, but it's like I want to let it linger to have something else to blame on him. Something to point at and say, "look, you ruined this, too." And I know that's pathetic and bitter, but I really think that's what it is. When we let something be ruined by something in the past, it's a conscious choice to ruin it ourselves so we can blame it on something else. I'm sure there are lots of examples where that's not true. But that's what I'm telling myself to kick myself in the butt and not pretend like the Christmas season is ruined forever because of something that happened one time during Christmas. I choose now not to be bitter and hurt forever. I choose to be happy and live fully. When painful reminders come back and I know they will, I will try to acknowledge them and then remember that they don't have to be the present or the future. Sounds good. We'll see how I do.

My religion is Make It Work Figure It Out Get Over It

Last night I was at a friends' product party and a friend of hers was there with her kids. All of our kids were playing in a back bedroom and watching movies back there. One of the friends' daughters came out into the kitchen and said, "Mommy, he won't listen to me." She said, "He doesn't have to. Now go." And the little girl did. It was awesome! Truly refreshing. I wanted to get up and applaud. I have to admit, I was expecting the thing I usually see parents, probably including myself, do, which is, stop the adult conversation, go have a talk with the child, try to comfort, try to go back and see if we can work something out with the other child. But the real truth is, he doesn't have to listen to you, no one does. And the sooner we figure that out, the better. Make it work. Figure it out. Get over it.

I'm finding the same thing in my classroom this year more than I ever have in the past eleven years of teaching. Kids are waiting to be told exactly what to do, including turning the page, putting their name on the paper or turning the paper over to do the work on the back. I've made my content the second priority and working on resiliency, following directions, listening, independence, confidence and perseverance my first priority. I've made it clear to kids I will give directions very clearly one time and make sure that I have everyone's attention. I will give them a chance to ask questions. After that, no repeating directions. I've let them know they'll lose points if they don't follow directions. I've told them I will not do anything for them that they can do for themselves. I've told them I know they can Make It Work, Figure It Out, and Get Over It. I'll be there to help and guide. But they have to do it and they can.

I really think we need a whole lot more of this kind of religion. A lot more of developing people that really believe they can Make It Work, Figure It Out, and Get Over It.

Rejection

Things have gotten a little easier for me recently. By recently, I mean the last 4 days. Because 6 days ago things were really bad. Like the worst they've ever been between my separated husband and I. Let's just say things sank to a level I'd never imagined they could sink. I sank to a level I never thought possible for me. But anyway, they seem to be better now. I know it's temporary. I know we're not through the woods. I have come to believe I'll never really be through the woods. I mean, once you head down this road, things are never the same. They never can be. We are both changed for the worse forever. But with that in mind, right now, they're decent. And I think I know why. I've changed my mindset. I've been so mad and hurt for so long. And it's because of my expectations. I realize that I've been filled with hope. Hope that he will come home, that he will want to be around me, that he will smile when he sees me, that he will compliment me or not say negative things about me, that he will laugh or smile sometimes, that he will engage when I share something, that he will seem interested in me, that he will ask how I am, that he will say "I love you", that he won't recoil from my touch or that he won't look annoyed with my very presence. I've stopped hoping. I know that's sad, but the truth is, it feels much better. I don't expect anything from him anymore. Whatever happens, happens. And with a change in mindset, it truly hurts less. What hurt the most and was killing me really was a thousand rejections over and over again. Big rejections and small rejections many times every day for a long time. But I've just figured out, you can't be rejected if you don't offer anything. So don't share, don't reach out, don't touch, don't give... all of these things can be rejected. So I'm not. Not with him anyway. It feels better.

Reconciliation: What is That?

When should you give in? When should you say you're sorry? When should you forgive all? Ya see, there are different levels of reconciliation. Let's be honest. If there are no kids: reconciliation is harsh. You don't do it. You get rejected, cheated on, ignored, unappreciated... you call it quits. But when there are kids, you've entered a whole new game. Today in class, I read some cards from the kids. Yesterday, I gave the kids a couple minutes to write something on an index card. I told all students to put their name on it and told them they were all turning it in. I said they could ask me a question they hadn't been able to ask up until now or share something with me they thought I ought to know to help me be a better teacher to them or say nothing at all.

I got many cards with nothing but names on them. I got many cards with, "I feel better about this class, and you seem nice, and I'm excited about science", etc. But I got a few (4/108) that scare me, make me sad, make me want to adopt kids and take them home tomorrow. I got a card A with., "I'm sensitive about my height, I'm sensitive about my race, I'm sensitive about my family". I got card B with, "I'm weird. Nobody likes me. I don't like me. No one wants to be around me. I am struggling in school. Everything is hard." I got card C with, "My dad left my house two days ago and I'm having a hard time focusing on homework and classwork." I got card D with, "I have some problems at home. My dad is in jail. I feel insecure. I have a weak bladder. I feel depressed sometimes. I hurt myself sometimes, but not recently." Rest at ease, each of these students have interventions going on the minute I saw their cards.

But for me, personally, the idea is, what is reconciliation? The moment you get a hint of an apology or any hint of an appreciation of the past or what matters, do you forgive it all and give it a shot? Here's what I think: if you have kids, you give it a shot forever. Unless there's some unforgivable line, you give it a shot forever. If there's ever a chance that kids can have their parents together in a friendly way, I think it should happen. So, some of you may know that I seem to be swallowing a whole lot of craziness when I shouldn't be anymore. I'm not a martyr, but believe me when I say I think it's far better for the kids to have two parents together, even when they aren't two great parent. I think the alternative is yuckier (up to a point, I know).

Oscar Watch #1: Argo

I saw Argo today. It is SO good. I don't know enough to know how historically accurate it is. And maybe that's better. I use to be a big fan of gotta read the book before seeing the movie. But now, not so much. If the book is really good, the movie can only disappoint. Even if the movie is also really good, it can never be as good as the book. Or maybe it's as good, but because of the format, it has to tell the story differently and leave parts out and that's frustrating, too. Twilight, Hunger Games, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, the whole Bourne series, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, The Help (though that was close to being as good), and on and on. You read the book. You see the movie. You are disappointed.

So anyway, back to Argo. I acknowledge that the people involved in the real story may not think it was a good movie at all. I'm sure it would be hard to be absolutely factually accurate and be entertaining and fit it into two hours (although it was by no means "Unstoppable" where you have to suspend disbelief the entire time and know that it is definitely very loosely based on a true story). But given all that, it was so good. There was humor and tension in perfect amounts. Nothing was overdone. Ben Affleck is fantastic. It feels real. It feels the way life really is: unglamorous, straightforward, scary, risky, messy, funny, caring, complicated. This one will be in the running for an Oscar. Go see it.

Cause I Need Freedom Now

 Mumford and Sons' "The Cave" came on the radio in the car today. I've heard it before but never really heard it. Ya know? Sometimes words only mean something when you've been in the same place as whomever is saying them. And if you haven't, you don't understand. It's like when non-parents try to talk to parents about parenting. They can't. They don't know. I felt this song to my core. So even though it's poetic and open to interpretation, I understand enough to know I feel what the author was feeling when they wrote this. http://www.jango.com/music/Mumford+Sons?l=0

The Cave Lyrics

It's empty in the valley of your heart
The sun, it rises slowly as you walk
Away from all the fears
And all the faults you've left behind

The harvest left no food for you to eat
You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see
But I have seen the same
I know the shame in your defeat

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

Cause I have other things to fill my time
You take what is yours and I'll take mine
Now let me at the truth
Which will refresh my broken mind

So tie me to a post and block my ears
I can see widows and orphans through my tears
I know my call despite my faults
And despite my growing fears

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

So come out of your cave walking on your hands
And see the world hanging upside down
You can understand dependence
When you know the maker's land

So make your siren's call
And sing all you want
I will not hear what you have to say

Cause I need freedom now
And I need to know how
To live my life as it's meant to be

And I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

Where's the Line?

Apparently there is none.

Red wine, Pandora, Flash smart phones and sexual exploration in adolescence

So tonight I hung out with an old friend. Old friend like i think we had the same babysitter in kindergarten. We're 37 now. We agreed on our dislikes and likes on Pandora, or at least I paid attention enough to the opportunity to click on the "like" and the "dislike" with songs I liked. Ok, there's a song I like now... Jason Mraz.. "The Remedy". Sing it. You're too fast for me Jason Mraz, but I believe you have my best interests in my mind, so I keep listening to you. Every song. It's even gotten me into a little bit of trouble, but that's another story.

A friend came over. We drank my red wine the whole time. And who knows what I picked and why. It might have been because a cute guy at Trader Jo's suggested it, or because a wine club suggested it, or my most pretentious friends said I should like it. But in the end, we had a good night. We clicked "like" on the songs I actually liked on Pandora. We drank a lot of red wine of some sort. We tried to figure out our new phones and that they can only take flash pictures from one side. And we figured out that our children might actually be entering the age of sexual exploration and that we might need to get over it (gasp), and figure out how to help them through it.

I Love Awards Shows

I do. I love awards shows. It took a long time to admit it. I use to be the kind of person that would only admit to reading things like Scientific American and National Geographic. Then someone gave me a year-long subscription to People Magazine. I won't lie. I love it. I get my People renewed each year and I have no shame. None. And, not that I need to defend myself, I don't, but I don't watch cable tv, so I have no idea what's going on in popular culture. And I am a middle school teacher, so really, it's research. I mean if I'm not up on what's popular, they'll eat me alive. And really, I'm barely holding my own.

So anyway, I love People magazine which says something, not sure what. In addition to that, I LOVE movies. I mean I really love them. Ever since high school I've been the one that wanted to go to movies alone. I mean I'd like to go with someone, but if no one wants to go, I'm going anyway. I still get excited walking into a movie and waiting for it to start. I could go to a movie everyday if there were more hours in the day. And it's turned into a bit of a fixation. I now have to watch every movie that's nominated for best movie for an Academy Award. Now that there are ten movies nominated per year, that's a lot of movies. And I try to watch every best actor and best actress movie as well. Then, I always pretend that I'm going to have a fancy Oscars' party and invite friends over and roll out the red carpet... err.. butcher paper, but let's face it, they'll talk through the speeches and ruin it so I watch it alone drinking my homemade lemon drop martinis (with lemons from my lemon drop martini tree) in my jammies, quite happily, I might add.

Now the Oscars is the finale. I like the other ones, too. But people can talk during those. I won't get mad. They're the warm ups. I love the speeches. I love the clothes. I love the hosts, sometimes. Hugh Jackman was still my favorite Oscars host. You gotta sing and dance and be happy and not make people feel bad. I guess that's kind of how I feel about life, too. You gotta sing and dance and be happy and not make people feel bad.

Wine is Lovely

You can see why it's been around a long time. I keep trying to figure out why I should not like wine, but I can't. I like it. I like the ancient history of it. I like the snobbery of it. I like the warmth of it. I like how whenever we spend time trying to find it, it always ends up with a good story, a good time, new and interesting people and places we found.

There is a story about finding wine in Levenworth, Washington, on someone's wedding day with the bride and groom that took us to a corner of a vintner's yard under a trellis of wine grapes on a sunny afternoon in the corner of a vineyard with a wicker basket of wine glasses and a hand shake promise to pay for the 6 bottles of wine I just verbally and physically bought with no check book or credit card or ID, but a committment to return tomorrow with my checkbook and driver's license. That's why wine is nice.

There are stories of wine tasting with new friends, only to end with purple lips at the end of the evening and a general feeling of warmth and happiness and friendship.

There are stories of being exposed to expensive wine and sometimes thinking that wine is just silly and who would pay so much for something that would move through the human body so fast just to be eliminated and then sometimes thinking that I would pay anything to drink that wonderful elixir again because it meant feeling that way again. There were moments when I finally understood the value in wine, the expense. It's not just some beverage that quenches a thirst. It's sustenance to satisfy the soul. It's almost a friend. Sometimes it's better than a friend. And I know that makes me sound like an alcoholic. Maybe I am. So be it.

Wine is lovely. It's history. It's culture. It's sustenance. It's romance. It's tradition, memory, experience, luxury, friendship, comfort, strength and so much more. I love it. I will always love it. I would like to spend the rest of my life enjoying it in the company of good food and interesting conversation with people I love.

I Knew You Were Drunk When...

So many stories could start this way. My favorite perspective on drunk stories is my own though. I think it's hysterical, in hindsight, when I realize I was super worried about being a fool and a drunk in front of people and working so hard to maintain my respectability and dignity when I realize none of the people I was with would ever have noticed anything since they were on pace with me and probably equally worried about themselves!

So, I knew you were drunk when:

1. You decided to leave a message for the boys in their gravel driveway on a 100 degree day with your bare hand. You felt nothing, but yes, there were blisters the next day.
2. You challenged the guys to shots.
3. You wanted to never ever leave or stop dancing.
4. You wanted to "relax" on the couch with your eyes closed and refused to let me hold your glass of wine.
5. You went to sleep in the hot tub and were ok with it.
6. You went to sleep with me on "The Zipper" at the county fair in high school.
7. You kissed me.
8. You let me kiss you.
9. You pulled down the shower curtain when trying to find the door or bathroom light switch.
10. You ate pasta like you were going on Hunger Games tomorrow.

Ok. I could dig and come up with many more. But sadly, or not, I realize all I'm coming up with are "I knew I was drunk when" memories. Looking back, I think I've been the ridiculously entertaining drunk friend. I won't even start to share my "I knew I was drunk when" stories because, well, that's just embarrassing. So, what are your best, "I knew you" or "I knew I was drunk when" stories? It should be a bathroom book.

SAY IT: I'm Not Dying, Well Not Any Faster Than You, Promise.

Tonight I found out that someone I know is dying faster than she should. I can't say anything to anyone because, at this point, it's still confidential information. But I'm devastated and don't even want to say "I" in that sentence. It has nothing to do with me but it's the way I feel thinking about her. She's talented and smart and caring and generous and selfless and influential and important. She can not go. She can not disappear from her sphere of influence. And yet, it seems she will. She is important to my children, but I can't tell them yet. She is important in her work community, but they can't talk about it yet. She will be missed, but she's still here. My friends, who are much closer to her than I am, are falling apart, and I can't do anything to make it better. This can't be happening. But it is and it will.

That's it. Our entire lives, wise people tell us to make the most of each day, live like we're dying, love like we have nothing to lose, don't waste any time, and on and on. I've decided, I will. I will start with this person. This person who deserves the gratitude of so many. When it becomes public that she is not going to live a full life, I will sit down and tell her how much she means to me and my family. I will ask my family to do the same and we will say it to her. But after that, I will say it to each person in my life that I think has made my life better in any way. I've decided to SAY IT now and not wait until I feel the desperation of saying it in a hurry. I hope this goes well. She should not die in vain. She makes a difference.

I promise I'm not dying, not any faster than you. But I want to talk to you like I am. So that's what I'm going to try to do when I SAY IT.

Just a Gentle Reminder

Ok. This is my new latest annoyance. This heading in a subject line on a work email: "Gentle Reminder". Seriously? Anytime anyone has to tell you HOW they are doing something means that they are not doing it that way. If you have to tell me you are "gently" reminding me of anything, it stops being gentle. The receiver gets to interpret how something is done. The person doing it doesn't get to tell you how they are doing it and have it be so.

And it's become a trend. One administrator saw another administrator do it, and they thought, "Hey, that's a good idea. People will like me more if they think I'm only gently reminding them of something instead of telling them there is something they need to do because it's their job.". No. I want to be told: Do this because it's your job. That, I can respect. Many things are our job that we don't want to do. And it takes a real boss to stand up and say it sometimes. I'm sick of getting "disciplined" for things I don't do wrong because my boss won't sit down with the one person that continuously messes up and tell that person to stop messing up. So in an indirect, inoffensive, impersonal, disconnected, non-accusatory way, bosses tell us all to stop doing things we're not doing instead of telling someone who really is doing something wrong directly to stop doing it! Did you get that? What I'm learning is that I can screw up as often as I would like to, because no one will be able to tell me directly and independently to stop. They will just change the rules for everyone in the hopes that I may be encouraged to change my behavior.

The person that tells you they:

• "have no ego", thinks they are God's gift to the world. 
• "don't take things personally" will be the most sensitive person you ever met. 
• "can take a joke", can't. 
• "are spontaneous", thinks about everything. 
•  "just want to be happy" will make your life miserable.
• "are open to anything", will judge you.
• "are gently reminding you of something", mean you need to do this right now.

Say what you actually mean and stop trying to tell me how to take what you say. I get to decide that.

The Barbarian and The Classy Lady

Recently, I was super stressed and packing for an early morning flight. It was getting late and there were things to do for the kids and the house and I still hadn't packed. A million things going on: dinner, kids, homework, work stuff, you get the idea. I'm in the bathroom and my seven year old daughter walks in and sees me putting toe nail polish on. She says, "Mom, really?" (with total disbelief and disgust, by the way). "With all you have to do tonight and with how stressed out you are, is that really what you should be doing?" I say, "I'm getting on a plane tomorrow and my nail polish is chipped. I'm just covering up the white spots." She says, "Puhlease, look at my nails mom. Seriously. I go to school every day with chips everywhere and nobody notices." I say, "Yeah, but you're a barbarian and I'm a classy lady." To which she says, "Your shorts are on inside out."

They were.

Midget Boobies

Since living alone and being a single parent for the most part, I've started to let a few things slip. We've always been pretty strict about what our children could or couldn't see. For example, we don't have cable tv and never have in the lives of either of our children. We haven't liked them seeing the commercials or 90% of what's on television as it seems inappropriate for young children. We've limited screen time and kept them away from what we thought was violent or rude. But as I said, I've gotten a little lazy in my need to, well, just not try so hard all the time I guess.

So recently, the kids have seen The Big Bang Theory more often than they should, which really should be not at all. One night after watching, my son comes into the kitchen and says, "Mom, if Howard has sex so much, how come he doesn't have a lot of babies?" Good question. After all, my kids know on a very biological level what makes babies. So I decided I could take one of two roads, the biological or the social, and opted for both.

I explained how a woman's egg is not present all the time. It's only released into the "open" for about 3 days per month. And it's only around that time that it will be available for a sperm to meet it and for her to get pregnant. Of course, I emphasized the, "but you NEVER KNOW when that time is" message, but he got the idea. I then went on to say there were things people could do to prevent pregnancy during sex in other ways like taking a pill that tricks a woman's body into thinking the egg has already been released so that it won't actually release one. He seemed satisfied.

So then my daughter comes into the kitchen and says, "Mom, I heard there is a penis cover that you can use to not get pregnant." First thing I did was ask her where she heard it. Of course, she couldn't remember. Then she drew a picture that looked like a finger and said that was the penis, then draw a line just around it and said that was the penis cover and that she thought it would be a little bit bigger than the penis. I said, basically yes. It was called a condom and it could prevent sperm from getting to the egg as well. She said, "So you would use that just so that you could have sex? EWW, weird." Ok, perfect, mission accomplished.

Fast forward one day. I'm giving my daughter a bath and she says, "Mommy, when were my three days?" To which I said, "Huh?" And she said, "You know, when was my egg ready?" Ok, wasn't ready for that one. I said it was Valentine's Day. To which she responded, "Well I was a good present!" Can't argue with that. Then she jumped topics and asked how big my bra size was. I told her. She said, "Is that big?" I said yes it was. She asked if it was the biggest. I said no it wasn't. She said, "Well I saw the biggest in the Guinness Book of World Records and they were like this!" at which point she held her arms in a giant invisible bear hug a foot away from her chest. She asked if you could make boobies bigger. And I said yes you can, but you have to go through surgery. She said she'd never do that. If anything, she'd make her boobies smaller to be just like her aunt's, because she had perfect little midget boobies! When I burst out laughing and she realized she'd said something funny, she went on to say, "Yeah, they're just like daddies!" And then I ran out and called my sister, because that what we're here for. :)

Stupid Fist Bump

The fist bump is stupid and I'm sick of it. Seriously, does anyone else not see this? I keep waiting for the witty social commentary on the news or in a sitcom about how stupid the fist bump is. But I wait in vain. It came and now it's time for it to go. But it's lingering a little longer than expected. I really believe everyone thinks it's stupid, but due to group mentality and the pressure to fit in and be cool and act younger, no one wants to say anything.

Ok. Let's get to the crux of it. Describe the moments in which you'd typically like to "fist bump"... ok, screw it, "high five" someone (because no one really wants to fist bump anyone)? What do every single one of these moments have in common: adrenaline and emotion. When you high five someone, you can get as carried away as you want. You can really wind up and smack that hand. Sometimes it hurts and you regret it a little bit, true. But you're not going to break any bones. The fist bump is precarious in nature, not an action that matches the emotion of the moment. By definition, you must approach fist bumps gingerly, with a controlled, gentle knocking of knuckles. These are none of the things I want to be distracted with in the heat of the moment. I want to smack someone's hand and smack it hard. And I believe, everyone else feels the same way. Can you imagine a full force fist bump in the heat of the moment at the end of some championship of anything other than chess? There would be broken bones. It's just stupid. And who ever invented it was not thinking. But everyone else who does it is not thinking even more. Take a stand. Refuse to fist bump. High five like God intended.

Finding My Clavicle

I'm sure I have one, a clavicle that is. But I can't remember if I've ever really seen it. So it's time. I'm on a mission to find my clavicle. Actually, I guess there are two of them. So I want to find them both. I mean, I can reach up and dig around and feel them. But I want more than tactile evidence. I want visual confirmation. People magazine had a section this week on a bunch of "regular" people that lost 100 pounds or more. And what did they all have in common? That's right, clavicles. Before pictures: no clavicles. After pictures: glorious, arrogant clavicles. So apparently, if you lose weight, you get a couple clavicles. That's what I want. Now I don't have 100 pounds to lose. I'd be dead if I did. But I definitely have weight to lose in multiples of ten. Once you see them, clavicles, that is, it's hard not to see them. In fact, I see these skinny people and I can't deny it, I want their clavicles. I know, creepy. And apparently there's no other way to reveal them than through an excavation of sorts. So I'm beginning my personal dig to unearth my clavicles. Wish me luck and I promise to share if I can ever see them when I look in the mirror. I might even let you touch 'em.

Again, Mommy, Again.

So I'm singing to my daughter tonight, and she says, "Again, Mommy, again." And in that moment it struck me that there is no greater validation that a parent ever receives than when their child says, "Again." I was singing a Mary Poppins song. It's what I sing to them most nights when I want to sooth them and settle them and put them at ease and get them to hurry up, for the love of God, and go to sleep. Tonight she tells me, "You could have tried out for the part of Mary Poppins." She's seven. She doesn't know Julie Andrews from Dora the Explorer or Adele. But she thinks I'm good and that's all that matters. And I told her that. I said, "As long as you think I could be Mary Poppins, I'm happy." And she said, "You're my Mama Poppins and Daddy is my Daddy Poppins." If you knew what we were going through right now, you would know that was pretty special, pretty significant.

Right now, in this part of my life, I am working hard to focus on what is good in my life. It was actually an assignment given to me this week. And my children continuously remind me of how much I have that is good. Every time your children ask you to do something again, you can know that you did something great. You did something that makes someone so happy they need you to do it again and are not afraid to request it. You win. All we want, by we, I mean parents, is to help these little people be the best people they can be, and along the way, not hate us, preferably like us... a lot. And when they say, "Again, Mommy," I know I'm on the way.

You Know You're a Stalker When...

Ok. First of all, the word "stalker" has such negative connotations. And up 'till now, I would have been one to suggest that stalking was absolutely not ok. But now I may be slightly on the other side of the fence. I wouldn't say I was for it, but I would say I was sympathetic. Let's just say I've found myself in a category that may be able to sympathize with the everyday, run-of-the-mill, not pathologic stalker. So, here it goes, YOU KNOW YOU'RE A STALKER WHEN...

1. You google the name of a boyfriend from more than 20 years ago.
2. You consider paying money for the "finder fee" to gather more information on the boyfriend from 20 years ago when you find him on a google search.
3. You're really pissed when, even though you're philosophically opposed to the whole idea of facebook, you're ex is apparently too good for the rest of the world to even consider having a facebook account. Shit, now I can't even check in on him. 
4. You're friends with your ex-boyfriend's (like 20 years ago from high school) mom, I mean it was a small town, so why not try to send her a Christmas card and maybe she'll start sending one back and maybe she'll tell him how fantastic you are. Seems reasonable.
5. You have the number for said ex-boyfriend, who by the way, has never, not once, contacted you in the 20 years since high school, so you're really not life-long friends, and you call it on New Year's Eve and leave a long message about how lame it is that he's never even made an attempt to keep in touch and what a snob he is, only to find out later that he was in fact possibly proposing to his future fiance that same night. Nice, classy!
6. You randomly head to your ex from high school's town with your own children and happen to arrange a couple of visits to his new businesses in said town. You may even make your children do any necessary inquiries about the whereabouts of said ex-boyfriend so as not to draw attention to yourself.
7. When paying a visit to the business of ex-boyfriend in the town that you're randomly visiting, you pay cash for your hot chocolate so that your name won't show up on some random credit card receipt that someone somewhere might look at... in the investigation?
8. You have to tell yourself to stop thinking about the ex-boyfriend and to promise not to do anything stupid like contacting his mother or sister to get his number.
9. You through out the number of the ex-boyfriend to prevent yourself from further humiliation only to regret not having the number later when you would like to further humiliate yourself.
10. You find yourself defending other stalkers because really, it's not their faults.

Networking

I am now convinced that all human life is about connections. The more connected each of us are, the more alive we are. Rich people understand that you have to connect with other rich people to increase opportunity. Poor people do not necessarily understand this (I realize this generalization is offensive). But  I bet poorer people understand that you have to connect to certain people to survive the reality of the situation with which they exist. If you want to get shit around your house fixed, it helps if you're in tight with the landlord, or have a handyman friend. If your car breaks down, it helps if you know a mechanic. And if you're paying attention to the kind of school your kid attends or happen to think about the idea that your kid might not just have the option of attending the public school within your property boundaries, but might have the option of attending a private school in the area, you might start to consider the people within you sphere of influence that have connections to the "best" private schools around. But you first have to have the experience to even consider this.

All life is who we know. Because who we know and what we experience determines the kind of questions that we ask of ourselves and those around us. This thought comes from many directions. It doesn't really matter why or where it comes from, but what I now believe is that the more connected we are, the more opportunity we have. Seems pretty obvious, really. And, yet, there isn't a class on this, or there wasn't when I was in school. Nobody said, "look, kid, you need to reach out and talk to lots of people and make connections and establish relationships because you never know which person will be able to open doors that would otherwise remained closed to you." But that's really what it is.

So, here is what I'm thinking. Do not keep to yourself. No matter what you are experiencing in life. It can never really hurt to reach out. Extend yourself. Look like an idiot. Expose your vulnerability. Talk to people. Share who you really are. And as you connect, a door opens. That's it. That's what I will do from here on out. I will connect with as many people as I can for many reasons. Because it selfishly gives me more opportunities. Because it feels good to make new friends. Because it's nice to think about a lot of people "filling my room" whenever I need it (only Scott will understand this). Because, ultimately, if you think about it, it is possible to connect with everyone on Earth (a few people have come close: Martin Luther King, Jr., Ghandi, Oprah, Mother Theresa, etc.), and if we do so, the ability to impact change through our sphere of influence is immeasurable. That is my goal. I want to have the most positive influence on the biggest number of people as I can. Time to "network".

To Confirm or Not to Confirm

Facebook is weird. Seriously, does anyone not agree with me? That was a double negative, by the way, a little confusing. You go on there and hope for something. I don't know what it is we hope for, but we go on there anyway. Maybe it's the hope that we say something witty enough that 50 people "like" us, or even better, "comment". Then someone requests to be our "friend" and we must "confirm" or "ignore". I can't even remember how I know 90% of the people that "request" my friendship. If we're friends, shouldn't I be able to place them in my life somehow? Now I realize a part of this is my lack of observation skills and inability to remember a majority of my life or the people that crossed my path. For that, I apologize and feel really bad. But anyway, I sit here and deliberate over the click of the "confirm" or "ignore" button. What a snob I am! Ok, so from here on out, I just click "confirm". But you should be warned, I say offensive stuff. I talk before I think. I really only write on facebook after having something to drink. So, don't judge me after you asked to be my friend (see previous "drunkbook" blog entry). I'm going to say what I want to say from here on out and now worry about who sees it and how they might now change their opinion of me. Life is too short, seriously. I am what I am, I say what I say, and the same goes for you. Confirm?

20th Reunion Project

Ok. I've thought of a random project for this year to keep me busy. Next June will be my 20th high school graduation reunion. What if I found every single person from the graduating class and asked them the same 10 questions before the reunion? I don't know why. But somehow it feels like it would be some type of wonderful adventure to try to track down each of these people in and of itself. Then, what would be the most concise, profound, meaningful, possibly humorous and insightful questions to ask each one of them? Then, how do I somehow capture it and summarize it to present in some way at the reunion? Thoughts? What do you want to be asked? Anyone want to help me with this project? We've got ten months and less than 100 people to find and interview. Think we can do it?

• What would you want your high school classmates to know about you now? 
• What part of your youth would you like to get back? 
• How does life now compare to what you imagined in high school?
• Which high school classmate are you the most curious about today and why?
• Which high school classmate impacted you the most and why?
• If you could go back and tell your high school self one thing, what would it be?
• What things do you wish someone had told you or warned you about when you were in high school? 
• What is your best high school memory?
• How do you think your old high school classmates would describe you in high school?
• If you could have kissed anyone in high school, who would it have been?
• If you were asked to be the keynote speaker at a high school graduation today, what would be the take home message you would give to today's graduating seniors?
• Who were you most envious of in high school?
• Who did you most hope would show up at the reunion?
• ???
• Ideas for more questions?

My Favorite Things

Alright. So things have not been great lately. But each day continues to happen. The sun comes up, the alarm clock goes off, and the day must begin. There are things to do. The kids must get up, must have a breakfast, must brush their teeth, bills must get paid, etc. So, we go on. And along the way we think about what going on should look like. Do I want to change everything? What do I really want? What do I dream about? Life is short. I've got to figure this stuff out. So, today, instead of thinking about what I don't like and what's wrong, I figured it would help to focus on what are my favorite things. Because, really, a lot about life is really lucky and good and fortunate. So here it is, off the top of my head, my favorite things:

• I love everything about my kids. I love their creativity, spontaneity, humor, effort, love for others, brains, heart, goodness, compassion, generosity, and so much more.
• I love popcorn.
• I love movies.
• I love happy people.
• I love wine.
• I love good conversation with interesting people.
• I love to talk.
• I love tennis.
• I love watching any athletic competition, in general. I love the inspiration and message that is portrayed in the battle that comes from any good athletic competition.
• I love Wimbledon and will be present at least once in this life.
• I love a comfortable bed.
• I love to drive.
• I love to read.
• I love to swim.
• I love sailing.
• I love my family and the way they make me feel that I'm doing the right things.
• I love to laugh.
• I love the country.
• I love competition. 
• I love friendly banter.
• I love gardens, including: birds, butterflies, plants and flowers.
• I love road trips.
• I love the ocean. I don't love dark, open, cold water.
• I would love to travel and meet interesting people.
• I love adventure.
• I love the smell of honeysuckle the most.
• I love to dance.
• I love good food.
• I love facials and massage

For it, this is done. It's important to focus on what we like and not always what we don't like. 

I'm Sorry. There's Nothing We Can Do About It.

"There's nothing we can do about it." How many times have you heard that? Our kids belong to a swim team. We have day-long meets on weekends. We basically camp out at our local facility (water/rec center). Shades tents are erected everywhere around the pool. Each time we set up tents, we are on lawns that are super saturated with water from over sprinkling. It turns into mud. It gets everyone's feet filthy. Mud splatters end up up our legs. Then, the kids go jump in the pool with filthy legs. Must be great for their filtration system. Each time this occurs, different people give feedback to the facility that they are over-watering and it's hurting their lawn and their pool and maybe they could talk to their facilities manager and try to change the watering system to cut it back to help everyone. Win-win, right? Apparently not. The final decision from the facility is, "So sorry. We can't do anything about it." Really? Because turning off a faucet seems pretty easy to me. Ok, maybe it's more than that. Maybe it's a timer. Still, you really can't do anything about it? And of course, you can't vent on the person sharing the information, it's not their fault, of course, it never is. And of course, they have no power to do anything. I'm tired of standing in front of some nameless representative for any entity who's only job seems to be to tell you they can't do anything about it and they can't get you to someone that can do something about it. It's time to rise up and start turning off faucets every chance we get.

Broken

What does it take to "break" a person? I just finished watching the 2012 Wimbledon Men's Final between Andy Murray and Roger Federer. Andy is British, 25 years old and just played in his first Wimbledon Final. He's never made it past the semi's. He played against Roger Federer who was going for his 7th Wimbledon Final. No one from Britain has won Wimbledon in 72 years! And Andy is the only player even close to the level possible to win it. He's never won a grand slam, and in fact, never made it past the semis. And here he was in his country's grand slam tournament.

He won the first set. I was so excited. I believed he could do it. He could have won the second set. And then he didn't. He could have won the third, but the rain delay and closed roof favored Federer. Then, in the 4th, he lost, and it seemed inevitable.

What does it take to "break" a person? He had to stand up, accept his runner's up trophy (dish) and face the crowd of screaming fans and talk to them. He knows how badly they all want it. He knows he's their only hope. And he has to look at them and talk to them and say something after he failed. And he did. He spoke so beautifully. He broke down in front of them and you could hear them love him more. He told them he was getting closer. He complimented Roger and told him that he deserved it. He thanked his family. Then he broke down and told the fans that he thanked them and that they hadn't added pressure, but that they'd added support.

What does it take to break a person? It depends on the person. I believe there are some people that you can never break. There are some people that believe in themselves and believe in hope and confidence and in always doing their personal best and believe that the best you can do is good enough. Those people can never be broken. I hope I'm one of those people.

Maybe I Like That I'm Not Alright

"Maybe I like that I'm not alright." I saw a friend post that today on Facebook. I would have thought she said it herself if it weren't for the reference to the group Shinedown. Tells you how current I am. I've been up and down lately, and unfortunately, the last couple days have been really difficult. But  strangely her quote made me feel a lot better. I'm not alright. But somehow saying that seems to make people panic. People that know what I'm going through ask how I'm doing all the time. A part of me feels compelled to tell them that I'm ok so that they'll feel better. But it's not the truth. I'm not alright. But I know I will be someday. I think what makes this suffering feel worse is when I try to act normal and act like I'm ok and like I feel good. It feels better to say out loud, "I'm not alright." And it's not that I like being unhappy or hurting, but I like being able to admit the truth. I also think there would be something wrong with me if I was alright given the circumstances. I believe I'll have a new kind of strength after making it through this time in life. Maybe we all need to embrace the times when we are "not alright" a little more. I don't want to linger here longer than needed, but I do intend to pay attention to the lessons I'm learning and the things I'm feeling while I'm here. I know I'll come out the other side stronger, more willing to change and relinquish control, more resilient, more focused on what matters most, less petty, more grateful and definitely know myself better. For that, "maybe I like that I'm not alright". Thank you, my friend, for getting me thinking today in a way I hadn't yet.

Pain and Love

Ok. So it's been a while since I posted. Life is complicated and fast and doesn't run on a schedule. It's upside down right now, literally and completely. It's almost, almost funny. Not in the ha ha way, but in the 'are you kidding me' way. Is ridiculousness a word? It is now. So I stopped posting on this blog because I am afraid. I'm afraid that words that I say here in this free style rant will someday hurt someone I love. I'm afraid that my private, free-flowing thoughts will come back to haunt me. But the truth is, while I write them, I feel really good. It's like talking to someone without actually having to talk and choke down the lump in your throat by forcing out words you don't want to hear out loud. Now, why not write to a diary, you say. Well, there's something much more gratifying about knowing that someone other than me will hear me. So, I haven't written, but now I am writing.

Is it possible to experience too much pain and love at the same time? Two days ago, I had to wake up and face the day knowing that at some point during the day, my husband and I would sit down and tell our children that he was moving out. I didn't want him to. I perceived it as his fault. But I committed to saying that this was a mutual decision and that we were having problems and that we both loved them equally and... I can't remember the rest. I hated him in that moment. Hated him for making me an accomplice to a lie. Hated him for putting me in a position to lie to my children. Hated him for thinking leaving would make it better. Hated him for thinking leaving was the best example to them on how to face life's challenges. But we did it. We sat. We told them. She cried and begged him not to go. Our son asked questions to understand and wanted to be sure we were not just thinking of them, the kids, but of ourselves and each other. And then he left.

The next day, we each connected with our parents and closest friends and relatives to tell them of this change. When he called his mom, he found out his Oma (grandma), and really, the only grandparent he was ever close to, probably only had a week to live. Not a good day. I wanted to be detached from him for a long time. If we were going to be apart, then I wanted to be apart all the way. But, no. We needed to connect and discuss how to handle this. The very next day, this is what happened: His grandmother died in the morning, the refinance fell through and needed to be corrected immediately, my sisters' dog died or at least word of the dog dying reached me (this dog is like a God to my children), the microwave broke and needed replacing and scheduling, the wrecked van (having just been in an accident last week) needed scheduling for maintenance, the van needs new tires before the upcoming trip, our renter decided to move out and needs a checkout walk through whenever he decides to have it and will continue to change that time, etc. Obviously, I'm all messed up right now because there should not be a list. Nothing should be compared to a person dying. But somehow it all adds up to a lot. At some point during this day I had to laugh. I had to laugh at what I perceived as ridiculousness. I huffed and announced to myself that of course I could handle all this. Sometime, probably only minutes later, I cringed and begged for help because I can't handle all of this.

Here's to where it comes to love and pain. I sent out a couple emails to let those closest to me know that we are separated. And the love that has come back is almost embarrassing. But, the truth is, it feels really good. I am feeling something like the whole "reap what you sow" thing or something. Whatever it comes down to, I have friendship and love bursting a the seems and it doesn't seem right compared to my failure and lack of love where it's needed most.

I've never hurt this much and also never felt this loved. It's confusing and complicated and I know I'll figure it out.

What If I'm Not the Good Things?

So most nights as I'm tucking the kids in bed and saying goodnight, I try to remember to say to them, "Be brave, be true, be bold, be kind, be you." I don't know where I heard it, but I know I didn't make it up. I heard it somewhere, but it seemed like a good mantra to imbed in their subconscious. After seeing "The Help", I decided that saying, "You is kind. You is smart. You is important", was also super good. I like the idea of focusing on attributes that have nothing to do with the way we look. I so often tell my children how pretty or handsome they are and I realize I'm feeding into them thinking about the way they look as being super important. So, anyway, sometimes, in the morning, we say, "you are smart, you are kind, you are important." I can't think of anything wrong with it.

Ok, so back to my original train of thought. One night last week, kneeling on the floor next to my daughter's bed, having just turned off the light and being surrounded by nothing but the glow of her fish tank (really it's a snail tank because we can't keep the guppies alive), I say, "Be brave, be true, be bold, be kind, be you." And she says, "But mama, what if I"m not kind? What if I'm not the good things?" Hmm. Touche. Now what? I do the best I can and tell her that she has so many strengths and that she can always keep working on whatever she thinks she's not good at. And, really, it was a pathetic reply from me. I was surprised and didn't know what to say. Think about it, we're not all kind, we're not all bold, we're not all brave or true for that matter. Being "you" might not be that great. What do we do then? I'm still thinking about it. My favorite response to this situation came from my good friend. She said, "then Be Sorry!"

Easter Bunny Sleepover

So we went away for a spontaneous weekend vacation to the mountains. We got a killer deal on a super nice hotel room with two bedrooms, full kitchen and living room (with a fireplace) and huge deck with lovely snowy mountain views. To limit spending, I shopped at Costco on Thursday and got food for the weekend so we wouldn't spend extra eating out.

Turned out to be perfect. We took the kids out of school Friday and headed to the mountains. We spent 3 hours at a super fun sledding hill for only $18 with 14 open runs! Sunny weather, not a cloud in the sky. Unfortunately, my daughter took two hard rolls and then wanted to leave and said that was the last time she would sled EVER! We let her relax and eventually she got back up and headed to some easy hills and ended on a high note. On a side, today is Monday and I'm just seeing the light bruising on her forehead and the scabbing raspberry on her cheek. She really did fall hard.

Anyway, we hung out at the resort Friday and Saturday enjoying tennis, pools, games, hot tubs, tv's and movies, game night with friends, arcades, gondola rides and more. Sunday morning came and we were reminded that it was Easter. The kids were a bit bummed to know that they wouldn't be home on Easter and that the Easter Bunny probably wouldn't find them. In fact, my daughter had left a note on the front door of our house saying, "I would like you to know that we'll be back this afternoon, soooo please give us eggs too. I bleav in you." Cutest thing ever. Luckily, the resort had an Easter Egg hunt. We got up early, dragged ourselves out of bed and walked down the hill to the hunt. The coordinator asked the kids not to take more than ten eggs so there would be enough for everyone. The kids went in, the kids came out, our kids straggled out last. She had two eggs and he had 3. He had a good attitude about it, she did not. Needless to say, they were a bit disappointed. So we head back up the hill to hit our room, pack up and drive home. By this time we realize our daughter is feeling sick. Turns out she had a bit of a cold.

So we head over the mountains to go home. She can't watch movies or play games in the car because she gets carsick. So she talks... and talks... and talks. She's a bit on the verbal side. Eventually, the poor thing passes out. After a couple of hours, we're home. She climbs out of the car first to head into the house for a nap. 10 seconds later she comes barrelin' back out through the garage screaming that the Easter Bunny was here! Her brother goes running in after her and my husband and I follow. It was amazing. The Easter Bunny hit every corner of the house. Horses were out on the floor in our daughter's room with eggs mixed in. There was a self portrait of the Easter Bunny on her bed drawn with her crayons on her favorite stickies. In our son's room, his Diary of a Wimpy Kid books were opened on his bed, his Harry Potter legos were out on the floor, and the letters "EB" were spelled out on his desk with pencils. In the living room, the movie "Grease" was out on the floor along with a bunch of XBox Kinects games. In the kitchen, there was a sad face on the fridge with the words "No Carrots" on a magnetic pad. On the kitchen island remained a piece of half eaten asparagus. This Easter Bunny was good! The kids had an amazing time. They said they truly believed in the Easter Bunny now. They spent the better part of the next three hours bartering over their candy and trading until they were both happy. At the end, they both sorted their candy into piles that were color coordinated (I suggested making a multiple bar graph. Sadly, no one was interested.).

At the end of the evening, before bed, the best part was my daughter's thoughts on the whole day. She thought that for the Easter Bunny to have accomplished so much in our house, he must have spent significant time here. In fact, she decided he must have had a sleep over Saturday night. He must have known we'd be out of town and he used our house as a respite before the big day. She's decided to write a children's book (you can't steal this idea). She decided each page of the book would show the bunny doing something at our house: Xbox Just Dance 3, Reading bed time stories in her bed, hiding eggs, chillaxin' in the hot tub, eating aspragus, watchin' Grease in full costume, playing with horses in her dress-up clothes, playing Harry Potter Legos in full Harry Potter Costume (yes, we have it), and so much more. Cutest idea ever! So when this book comes out on shelves, you'll have to check it out since you heard it here first! Hoppy Easter!

Drunkbook

I hate Facebook, and yet, once a month, after a night full of wine I sit up late, in the dark, after my husband has given up on trying to manage me, and sign in to Facebook and make a fool of myself. I've done some regrettable things. I believe I contacted a boyfriend from like 20 years ago and hounded him for not staying in touch (as it happened to be New Years Eve, turns out, I heard he happened to be spending a pleasant anniversary with his soon to be fiance... oops!) I come up with my best comments on those nights. I think I'm hysterical. And always, every single time, I regret my lack of inhibition the next day. I remember that my friend, family, coworkers, children's friend's parents, etc., see me on this thing, and that, what I think is witty and an hysterical social commentary, is not so hysterical to all of them. F*$# 'em. Cause it really is funny. Here's what we need to start: Drunkbook. Ok, you are my witness. I thought of it first. There needs to be a social media network that requires a failed breathalizer for you to login. You heard it here first. I'm sure there are 8 million possible lawsuits that stem from this line of thinking, but seriously, you know it should happen. We should all know whether or not the people we are reading posts from were under the influence or not at the time of said posting. It would also be nice to know there is a place where our posts will not be read unless the reader is under the influence. For example, two hours ago I sat down to do my blog. After sitting for 3 minutes, I told myself, "No, self, you promised not to touch the computer if you've had anything to drink." And as I had had a glass a wine, I walked away, very proud, I must admit. But here I am, 3 glasses of wine later, coming up with Drunkbook. Seriously, that's good stuff. There needs to be a place for moments like this. What do ya think?

Out the Kitchen Window

So there's this man. I see him 2-3 times everyday. I leave for work about 6:30 AM and often see this man when I open the garage door and back out to drive away. Don't get the wrong idea, he's not a stalker or anything. He's just walking his dog. I see him in the morning, sometimes in the middle of the day and often in the evenings. So he walks his dog around the park frequently. He doesn't usually make eye contact. I've tried. I try to wave or smile and I think I've seen him smile back at me. He stands out to me for a couple of reasons: he walks so often, he wears the same outfit each time, he wears a turban and his wife (I think she's his wife) often walks about 50 paces behind him. Now, I'm sure I'm revealing a ton of assumptions and biases, though I hope not too many prejudices. I feel naive and ignorant about different cultures of the world. But I can't help deny that it's always bothered me that his wife walks behind him. I think about what it's like to be them. I wonder if they are in perfect agreement about the walking arrangement. I wonder if they even notice it or if it's something that's just natural and nothing to think about. I wonder if it bothers her but doesn't bother him. He always appears so calm and peaceful and I can't help but respect him for that and for the way he is clearly taking time to take care of himself by walking so frequently. I've wanted to stop and have an excuse to talk to him somehow, or even better, stop and talk to her. But it's so invasive of me to just want to talk to them to better understand how they feel about their walking arrangement. So, I just observe and wonder and try not to judge.

Well, yesterday, something different happened. I was standing in the kitchen, talking on the phone to my sister and staring out the kitchen window, when the man came walking by on the sidewalk opposite of my house as usual, and what do you know, his wife (I assume) was walking next to him, and for about 10 paces, he held her hand! I had to interrupt my sister to share the news! He was not only walking next to her, but he was holding her hand. By the time they were exiting the left side of my view out the kitchen window, they had dropped hands, but they were still walking side-by-side. Now, I'm sure they're perfectly happy the way they are with their own routines and patterns and that I'm just projecting my own images of what happiness looks like onto them, but I admit I felt better and smiled for quite a while after seeing them out the kitchen window.

You can get mosquito bites on the bottom of your feet! Who knew?

Turns out you can get mosquito bites on the bottom of your feet. The morning after the kitty litter volcano, my daughter complained of itchy bites on her feet. I thought maybe I'd neglected to wash the sheets or something horrible. But it turns out she got mosquito bites while building the kitty litter volcano outside. And not only did she get bites, but she got a bite on the bottom of her foot. For most people, this would merely be an annoyance, but for my daughter, it's catastrophic. She once got a bite on her thigh and the swelling went from her knee to her crotch. A bite on her cheek sealed her eye shut. And a bite on her hand filled up her hand like a rubber glove balloon. So, needless to say, she was up all night last night crying with the pain of swollen skin. A bite on her toe made her toe look like a little sausage about to burst. How do you fix that? We did the benadryl for the allergic reaction and ibuprofen for pain and ice for swelling and hugs and cool wash cloths and topical hydrocortizone for itching. No relief. Poor thing. Eventually, she just has to suck it up and wait for the swelling to go down. And, to make matters worse, we canceled our weekend train ride to the city, because she's definitely not spending the weekend walking around the streets of San Francisco in the rain on mosquito bitten feet. Who knew, you can get mosquito bites on the bottom of your feet?

Kitty Litter Volcano

Here's the second entry. So, last night, randomly, my daughter brings a book out of her "library" called Kitchen Science. She decides to build a volcano and do the whole baking soda and vinegar thing. She won't wait for anything (SO independent). She's up on the counter trying to find baking soda and is mad when I tell her this needs adult supervision. Well, right off the bat, she's super mad because we don't have baking soda. I convince her I can bring it home from school tomorrow, but she's still mad she can't do it RIGHT NOW. I delay the fit by suggesting she build the volcano today and we do the explosion tomorrow. At first, she decided to go "take" (steal) sand from the park across the street. She comes back in the house 2 minutes later and is deterred by the "crowds" at the park. Apparently, she knows this is stealing and can't bring herself to do it in front of others. So, we are at a draw. I suggest she use the dirt pile in the back yard. It's all the terrible dirt that we can't use for anything else. Nope, not good enough, she wants sand. All I can think of is the container of kitty litter in the garage that we don't use anymore. Ehh, can't think of anything wrong with it, so, I suggest a kitty litter volcano. She jumps on the idea and forgets that we can't still actually explode the volcano for another day. So, she and her brother go out in the back yard. They're busy for at least an hour. They keep coming into the house for cups of water. At the end, at least an hour later, there's a tall, perfectly conical volcano in a pie tin. She has 5 mosquito bites, including one on the bottom of her foot (how do you get a mosquito bite on the bottom of your foot? I don't know.).  This is actually bad because she seems to be allergic to mosquito bites... the doctor's actually prescribed an epi pen, "just in case." SO, anyway, the volcano is done and it's perfect. It weighs like 80 pounds and lands itself on the kitchen island. The two kiddos head to the shower, where I'm sure the kitty litter sludge made it down the drain to perfectly clog our sewer system. Perfect night over (see attached picture, if I can figure out how to attach it). SO, tonight, we decide to erupt the volcano when daddy can make it home from work to see. We do. We let my daughter run the show as it is her idea. She adds, red dye, then green dye to the vinegar. They get eruption after eruption and love every minute of it. We even film it. My husband and I decide they should know the science behind it. So we go on to have (over bowls of ice cream) a 30-minute discussion about chemical equations (it somehow begins with Democritus and ends with playing with refrigerator magnets. Ever seen the Big Bang Theory where Sheldon is trying to teach Penny about Physics?... Kind of like that!). Best night ever! The kids clearly love science. The moment that brought me to tears was when my 7-year-old says "So the atom with one electron is going to find an atom with 7 electrons... They want to be together!"  if only she could be in my 8th grade class. We end by talking about how fun learning is, and that, when they hear someone say, "I'm bored", that means, "I don't get it," because anything is interesting once we truly understand it. I love my kids. I love learning. I love teaching. Good night!

First Time

Ok. Never blogged before. I always thought I had tons to say but no one to say it to. The truth is, I have tons to say but, really, no one wants to hear all this. But this is for me, so here I go. I'm a mom first, a talker second, and a teacher third. I can't help but carry all three of those perspectives into whatever I say. I don't really want anyone to know who I am, so I'll just leave it with that general description.

As a mom, to start, here it is. I have the best children on the planet. If I didn't think so, I wouldn't be a mom, right? Having them and being their mom is the best thing that ever happened to me and is clearly what I was meant to do. But being a mom alone isn't enough. They become their own people and, slowly, you have to develop the rest of you. So, I am a mom, first, a teacher, second, and a talker third.

Why am I starting this now? I've been a teacher for ten years and a parent for 9. My  husband is not sure he wants to be a dad and husband anymore. I love him. We are great together. From the beginning, we've been connected. People ask what we see in each other and I don't really know. I just know that when we leave a gathering, I've never wanted to spend more time with any man we've ever met. I've always thought my husband and I just get each other. We connect like we don't with anyone else. It's like we were familiar with each other before we even met. We're just comfortable. And, apparently, that's not enough. I don't know what else we need, but I guess we need something. That's an intro to the mom/wife of me. More about that later.

I'm also a teacher. I teach middle school and have for ten years now. Of those ten years, I've been pink slipped (laid off) 5. That's a lot of instability. I seriously lost half of my hair last summer waiting to hear my fate... and I have a lot of hair. I'm good at teaching. That's not wildly egotistical or anything. That's the feedback I receive. I enjoy it. But it is also reaching it's end. There's more to do, less to do it with and I just believe there are so many other things I will have fun doing. So that's another perspective I'll be coming from.

Finally, I love to talk. I believe (well, my sister told me one time) that I'm the white Oprah. I don't really believe that. But I do love to talk. I think if I had good conversation with interesting people (with really good food and wine) for the rest of my life, that's all I need (and to know that my children are happy). So the third perspective that I carry is that of a person seeking interesting people to talk to and anyone willing to listen.

Here it goes: pay attention if you think you'll connect with a teacher in trying times, trying to be a mom in a struggling marriage, and someone that just believes in good conversation and the desire to talk. I don't think anyone will read this. I don't even know how anyone sees it, but I already feel better for writing it down.

Thank you for sharing in this conversation. Here we go!

--- Teaching Mom Talks