"Are we there yet?"
My kids don't actually use this phrase very often. Years of long-distance car travel have trained them well to sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
March 31st is here, and we have arrived. When I consider the journey I've taken this month, I'm thankful for the many bumps, dips, and full out stops along the way. More than anything, I'm grateful to have traveled with so many wonderful people who had kind words to share and great stories of their own to brighten my day or to make me feel like I'm not alone in this (sometimes) crazy world we live in!
Thank you to everyone involved at Two Writing Teachers who help make Slice of Life happen. Though it seems like a simple undertaking, I know there are probably many behind the scenes people giving hours of their lives to share their gift of writing with others who are trying to cultivate that gift as well.
Til next year...
may your writing journey continue.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Monday, March 30, 2015
Fences
Growing up, everyone who lived in my town had a fence around their yard. Most of them were constructed of some kind of metal posts and wire, sometimes chain-link, but often more simply constructed. Their purpose was to keep dogs in the yard and small children from wandering off. Other than that, I think they were meant to fade into the background. They were definitely not meant for privacy. Despite all the neighbors on my street having one, I could see from one end of the block to the other. I knew when my friends were out playing, when the old lady at the end of the street was in her garden and when the the children I babysat for were out in their sandbox. These fences were easy to climb over (sometimes under) and often had gates to allow easy access for neighborly visits.
The neighborhood I live in now also has fences surrounding each yard. They are all made of wood, and stand at least 6 feet high. They are meant to keep dogs in the yard and small children from wandering off. They are also intended to provide privacy and a sense of security. I guess our current fence makes me feel secure...but I'm not so sure the fences of my childhood didn't make me feel more so. Back then, I knew all my neighbors. We knew which dogs and cats could be outside and which ones shouldn't be. We knew whose yard we could climb into to fetch lost balls and frisbees and who would prefer that we use the gate. We knew when someone needed a helping hand with raking leaves or mowing a lawn. We KNEW. Now, I barely know my neighbors. The ones I do know, are "front yard" neighbors. We say hello, and give a wave...but there is not the familiar feeling that we are all a community of people living on one block, sharing our lives with each other.
Rather than relying on our neighbors to help us feel safe, we rely on wooden sentries...sturdily constructed but greatly lacking in kindness and compassion. Something to think about.
The neighborhood I live in now also has fences surrounding each yard. They are all made of wood, and stand at least 6 feet high. They are meant to keep dogs in the yard and small children from wandering off. They are also intended to provide privacy and a sense of security. I guess our current fence makes me feel secure...but I'm not so sure the fences of my childhood didn't make me feel more so. Back then, I knew all my neighbors. We knew which dogs and cats could be outside and which ones shouldn't be. We knew whose yard we could climb into to fetch lost balls and frisbees and who would prefer that we use the gate. We knew when someone needed a helping hand with raking leaves or mowing a lawn. We KNEW. Now, I barely know my neighbors. The ones I do know, are "front yard" neighbors. We say hello, and give a wave...but there is not the familiar feeling that we are all a community of people living on one block, sharing our lives with each other.
Rather than relying on our neighbors to help us feel safe, we rely on wooden sentries...sturdily constructed but greatly lacking in kindness and compassion. Something to think about.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
The Sweet Spot
When I began the Slice of Life Challenge on the first of March, I really did not think I would be able to keep up with it. Writing has always been something I put on the back burner... a hobby to play with if I ever have time, or when I don't have a good book to read. It was convenient to say I wanted to be a writer, but just didn't have the time.
Committing to this challenge wasn't difficult. I already had a blog I started some years back and posted on for a short time. I'm not afraid of technology (though I'm not very sophisticated about using it.) My concern about publicly displaying my writing was not really a road block either. As a teacher, I feel like I'm always being evaluated in some way by someone for something. I was confident I could handle the constructive feedback I would receive from other members of the challenge.
Honestly, at the beginning of the month, I was really my only road block. Belief in myself that I could/would make writing each day a priority. I've tried committing to other things in the past, journal writing, running, walking, yoga, dieting, not eating sugar. I just have a hard time sticking to something when life's little messes get in the way. So starting out the month, I really didn't think I'd make it.
But then at some point, I hit a sweet spot. I don't know what day it was. It may have happened over several days. But at some point, I got to a place where there was no a shred of doubt that I could complete the challenge. It wasn't that the writing ideas were coming more easily, or that I was any less pressed for time to write. Something just clicked one day and writing no longer became an optional activity for me. It's become a habit, and one that I am beginning to feel like I cannot do without. I'm excited for my writing life...and I'm also excited about applying this process to other things I really value but have never been able to commit to. This challenge has made me feel empowered to own my time, being proactive about my priorities, rather than letting my responsibilities outweigh my possibilities. Feeling inspired!
Committing to this challenge wasn't difficult. I already had a blog I started some years back and posted on for a short time. I'm not afraid of technology (though I'm not very sophisticated about using it.) My concern about publicly displaying my writing was not really a road block either. As a teacher, I feel like I'm always being evaluated in some way by someone for something. I was confident I could handle the constructive feedback I would receive from other members of the challenge.
Honestly, at the beginning of the month, I was really my only road block. Belief in myself that I could/would make writing each day a priority. I've tried committing to other things in the past, journal writing, running, walking, yoga, dieting, not eating sugar. I just have a hard time sticking to something when life's little messes get in the way. So starting out the month, I really didn't think I'd make it.
But then at some point, I hit a sweet spot. I don't know what day it was. It may have happened over several days. But at some point, I got to a place where there was no a shred of doubt that I could complete the challenge. It wasn't that the writing ideas were coming more easily, or that I was any less pressed for time to write. Something just clicked one day and writing no longer became an optional activity for me. It's become a habit, and one that I am beginning to feel like I cannot do without. I'm excited for my writing life...and I'm also excited about applying this process to other things I really value but have never been able to commit to. This challenge has made me feel empowered to own my time, being proactive about my priorities, rather than letting my responsibilities outweigh my possibilities. Feeling inspired!
Saturday, March 28, 2015
If butterflies can talk
If butterflies can talk, then the injured swallowtail under our trampoline just issued this entomological service announcement to the butterfly community.
Despite its abundance of citrus blossoms, jasmine and bottle-brush bushes dripping with sweet smelling nectar, this place is guarded by one beautiful, clawed, terroristic cat. Beware, all flying things who enter here!
Friday, March 27, 2015
Friday's Love Language
My husband knows my love language...and thankfully he delivered tonight. No, nothing racy. I'm not much for flowers or gifts. I don't want to be romanced or sweet talked either. My love language is him taking charge of something that would normally be my responsibility, rather than leaving it in my hands. Tonight he came home with salmon to throw on the grill, veggies to make a salad and fresh asparagus. He poured me a glass and wine and forced (well suggested really) that we go sit out on the patio and enjoy the beautiful weather.
I've had a somewhat trying week. He knows I feel better when I eat healthfully, but stress can cause me to snack incessantly on whatever sweet I can find laying around the house. Tonight, I really needed him to come through for dinner and he did...without me even asking him to. Score one for the hubby. I'm feeling loved.
What's your love language?
I've had a somewhat trying week. He knows I feel better when I eat healthfully, but stress can cause me to snack incessantly on whatever sweet I can find laying around the house. Tonight, I really needed him to come through for dinner and he did...without me even asking him to. Score one for the hubby. I'm feeling loved.
What's your love language?
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Wrong side of the bed
Today was one of those days when everything felt wrong. Fortunately, my class time with my students was fantastic. They were engaged and energetic which helped make all the little things going wrong fade into the background for a part of the day.
I woke up late and had to rush through my morning routine. Things just seemed to go downhill from there. Looking back, most things were insignificant enough that on another day, I might not have noticed them at all. But, then I got to school.
I have great difficulty dealing with drama. I can accept it from my students, but it's very hard for me to take it from grown adults. I tried to circumvent some drama today within my teaching team, which just escalated the situation, causing more drama...
I woke up late and had to rush through my morning routine. Things just seemed to go downhill from there. Looking back, most things were insignificant enough that on another day, I might not have noticed them at all. But, then I got to school.
I have great difficulty dealing with drama. I can accept it from my students, but it's very hard for me to take it from grown adults. I tried to circumvent some drama today within my teaching team, which just escalated the situation, causing more drama...
All my life, I have struggled with having close female relationships. When things get messy, I just want to tuck tail and run. That's exactly how I feel today. Miscommunication can cause such damage.
I will get up on time tomorrow.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Month's Shortest Post
Tonight might be the month's shortest post. I'm not particularly inspired today; however, I just spent 30 minutes pep-talking my very frustrated, 11-year old, beginning French Horn player. During the conversation, I brought up this monthly challenge. I've always loved writing. I had people throughout my life compliment me and tell me that I was good at writing. I've thought about making a career of writing; however, I never put in the work and the effort that it would take to achieve that dream. I let other things take priority. I use tiredness as an excuse (among other things.) I get frustrated when it doesn't feel good/right. I'm just like my beginning French Horn player.
This month (present post excluded) has shown me how dedicating time to a craft can yield growth and positive results, even in a short time. I'm thankful for the opportunity to make this writing commitment. I hope it has put me on the path I've been wanting to walk for some time now. I never imagined this experience might help me help my daughter. Hopefully this model will show her that we all have to work and struggle in pursuit of what we really want to achieve.
Good Night!
This month (present post excluded) has shown me how dedicating time to a craft can yield growth and positive results, even in a short time. I'm thankful for the opportunity to make this writing commitment. I hope it has put me on the path I've been wanting to walk for some time now. I never imagined this experience might help me help my daughter. Hopefully this model will show her that we all have to work and struggle in pursuit of what we really want to achieve.
Good Night!
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Year of Change
THE UPSIDE
They come home on their own and fix a snack.
They start their homework and help each other when they are stuck.
They sleep in on the weekends.
They are choosing to spend time upstairs on their own.
They go on bike rides unaccompanied.
They call their friends for help with school work.
They get their own water ready for soccer
and put on their own shin guards.
They tell jokes and laugh at the ones we tell.
They (sort of) fold and put their laundry away.
They keep track of their own grades and assignments.
They pack their own lunches.
They sit in the front seat of the car.
They can watch more interesting movies.
They come to me for advice.
They solve their own disputes (most of the time.)
They are fun to hang out with.
They are growing up.
THE DOWNSIDE
They don't need me as much any more.
They sometimes choose their friends over me.
They don't tell me everything anymore.
They ALWAYS need money for something.
They are moody (sometimes.)
They are no longer satisfied with a hug and a kiss when they are hurting or upset.
They have fewer years left at home than the years they've spent living here.
They are growing up.
What a difference a year can make.
They come home on their own and fix a snack.
They start their homework and help each other when they are stuck.
They sleep in on the weekends.
They are choosing to spend time upstairs on their own.
They go on bike rides unaccompanied.
They call their friends for help with school work.
They get their own water ready for soccer
and put on their own shin guards.
They tell jokes and laugh at the ones we tell.
They (sort of) fold and put their laundry away.
They keep track of their own grades and assignments.
They pack their own lunches.
They sit in the front seat of the car.
They can watch more interesting movies.
They come to me for advice.
They solve their own disputes (most of the time.)
They are fun to hang out with.
They are growing up.
THE DOWNSIDE
They don't need me as much any more.
They sometimes choose their friends over me.
They don't tell me everything anymore.
They ALWAYS need money for something.
They are moody (sometimes.)
They are no longer satisfied with a hug and a kiss when they are hurting or upset.
They have fewer years left at home than the years they've spent living here.
They are growing up.
What a difference a year can make.
Monday, March 23, 2015
Just Don't Say Anything
My 11 year old daughter started a conversation with me today by saying,
"I'm about to tell you something, and I don't want you to SAY anything."
So I sat, literally, with my elbows on the office desk, hands over my mouth. I avoided eye contact with her and just LISTENED. Was that ever hard! It took all my self control to stop myself from dispensing advice, or trying to reason with her, or from telling her she was being overly dramatic.
But, I held it in. She made it very clear from the outset that she did NOT care to know my opinion on the subject. She simply wanted me to know that she's figured out the reason behind a problem she's been having with her band class. She didn't want me to tell her she was silly, or needs to work harder, or that her theory is unfounded. In her mind, she just needed someone to hear and understand that her problem is not, in fact, playing the horn, but the way in which she is being coached (or rather not being coached.)
Now that she's walked away, I want to tell her that I think it's pretty smart of her to analyze the situation and to uncover the truth about her struggles. A month ago she wanted to quit because she thought she was no good. She's taken the time to discover what really bothers her is not her lack of talent, but rather the interaction she has with her teachers. They are not, "her kind" of teachers. She needs someone, who above all else, wants the kids to have fun and someone who is going to praise as much as they push. That is not her current reality in band class. How wise of her to figure this out rather than continue to blame herself, her horn, or her attitude.
She told me that maybe when she gets out of middle school and has different teachers, she'll feel differently about it. Maybe I should shut up more often and let my smart kiddos figure some things out for themselves.
SO GLAD I could get this out by sharing it on my blog. Being silent is WAY hard!
"I'm about to tell you something, and I don't want you to SAY anything."
So I sat, literally, with my elbows on the office desk, hands over my mouth. I avoided eye contact with her and just LISTENED. Was that ever hard! It took all my self control to stop myself from dispensing advice, or trying to reason with her, or from telling her she was being overly dramatic.
But, I held it in. She made it very clear from the outset that she did NOT care to know my opinion on the subject. She simply wanted me to know that she's figured out the reason behind a problem she's been having with her band class. She didn't want me to tell her she was silly, or needs to work harder, or that her theory is unfounded. In her mind, she just needed someone to hear and understand that her problem is not, in fact, playing the horn, but the way in which she is being coached (or rather not being coached.)
Now that she's walked away, I want to tell her that I think it's pretty smart of her to analyze the situation and to uncover the truth about her struggles. A month ago she wanted to quit because she thought she was no good. She's taken the time to discover what really bothers her is not her lack of talent, but rather the interaction she has with her teachers. They are not, "her kind" of teachers. She needs someone, who above all else, wants the kids to have fun and someone who is going to praise as much as they push. That is not her current reality in band class. How wise of her to figure this out rather than continue to blame herself, her horn, or her attitude.
She told me that maybe when she gets out of middle school and has different teachers, she'll feel differently about it. Maybe I should shut up more often and let my smart kiddos figure some things out for themselves.
SO GLAD I could get this out by sharing it on my blog. Being silent is WAY hard!
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Reflections
I blinked...and suddenly spring break is less than 24 hours from coming to an end. It seems like I just sat down on my bed to make a list of possibilities for the week, and now here I am trying to force myself not to obsess about work when I still technically have a day of vacation left. After all, people with 'regular' jobs don't feel compelled to go back to work a day before they are supposed to go back to work. At least that's what my husband tells me. There are two ways to reflect on the week...I could sit here and ruminate about all the things I wanted to do, but didn't. Or I could make a list of all the things I DID do. Today I chose the latter...
- We spent time with my nieces and the girls got to have them spend the night.
- We watched Iowa State win the Big 12 Tournament (and then sadly lose early in the NCAA.)
- We bought a bike rack for the car.
- We packed/traveled/camped/biked/hiked...with friends and family for 3 days.
- I did LOTS of laundry.
- I 'deeply' cleaned the kitchen...which needed to be done.
- I got a cold and forced myself to lay on the couch for a day and a half, reading and watching 80's/90's chick flicks.
- I made two batches of soup as we usher out winter.
- I read (nearly every day.)
- I wrote (every day.)
- We watched some movies together as a family.
- I prepared clothes I'm selling at a consignment sale later this week.
I'm torn when I look at this list. It's missing some big 'rocks' that I really wanted to climb over this week; however, I'm working hard to keep perspective. Going back to work does not mean I need to put other things in my life on hold. It just means I need to be more creative and intentional about how I get things done.
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Confession
I have a confession to make.
I am a recipe addict. A collector of the delicious possibilities. A keeper of culinary potential. An organizer of clippings and cards.
My addiction started when I was young. My mom and both my grandmothers were bakers and had a collection of cook books as well as beloved recipes saved on cards in little metal boxes. (I now collect those too.) I loved browsing through all these potential projects as much as I loved sampling the delicacies they produced. The beautiful photographs, the unique (or simple) ingredient lists, the pages of useful tips for the home cook. I loved them all.
As I started college, my addiction went electronic. It was the very beginning of the internet and everything was text only. After typing up assignments for class in the computer lab, I would venture into list serves looking for recipes others had posted online. At this same time, I worked in the book store at my university, so I had ready access to cookbooks and cooking magazines. Browsing the bargain shelves for cookbooks became a past-time and once I even talked a publishing company rep into giving me a free copy of a huge culinary arts book with step by step directions and pictures for everything from artfully carving vegetables to cooking a rabbit. (Yuck)
Next came the cookbook clubs, where for a commitment to purchase just 3 books at regular price, I could pick out 8 free. (Never mind the fact that shipping costs were outrageous.) What a deal! Many of the books that are stacked in an upstairs closet came from those books clubs.
Then, I got really into magazines. I subscribed (and impulse bought) probably hundreds of cooking magazines over the years. Eventually, my stacks get so huge I'm forced to either throw them out or sit for hours pulling out potential cooking and baking projects that I might want to try.
Wait, try a recipe? Not once have I mentioned actually cooking as I describe this addiction of mine. Do I actually cook or bake? Yes. But where do my recipes usually come from? The internet, of course. Or possibly from something I've seen on TV that I then look up on the internet. Yes, I have boxes and binders and shelves full of recipes I've collected over the years, but the inefficiency of looking through them all prevents me from using them a lot of the time. I have my go-to favorites of course, but 9 times out of 10, I end up searching and printing (and then storing) a recipe from a web-site.
So, what do I do with my addiction? I've tried selling my cook books. (They don't bring a lot of $ second-hand.) I've tried hiding them in boxes in the attic. I've tried picking one or two...determined to cook my way through those (and only those) books. I've banned myself from buying more books or magazines. I've gone through my collection and donated books I never use. But, I can't seem to get rid of them. Each one brings with it a memory of a particular time in my life. I love the color photos (I never buy a book without pictures.) In some ways, they are like art to me. And so...my shelves are crammed full, some of my closets too, and a new magazine just arrived in the mail. (That subscription was a Christmas gift.)
Friday, March 20, 2015
Mailboxes
On the way home from the grocery store today, I was admiring all the neighborhood azaleas. They are in full bloom and thanks to all the rain, they are beautiful. Despite their explosion of colorful blossoms, I found myself noticing mailboxes.
Someone on the next block just had their mailbox replaced. It is an immense stone structure. I giggled to myself thinking about the little mail truck hitting it (as it so often hits the stone planter around our mailbox.) Our stones just fall out and we have to pick them up and replace them. This mailbox will withstand the next hurricane and a direct hit from an SUV. The little mail truck will likely just bounce off.
This led me to think about the other mailboxes I've had in my life. Our last house had a community mailbox down at the end of my street. Each day when we returned home from work we would walk down the street to fetch the mail. My girls were young then and liked the adventure of taking the little key and opening our small box. The dog appreciated the walk. I'm sure it was convenient for mail delivery, but it always seemed a little impersonal to me.
The house I grew up in, had a mailbox on the side of the house right next to the front door. I can remember trying to hang out the door to grab the mail in the pouring rain or to avoid the snow drift that had formed on our front porch. On Saturdays, I would watch for the mailman and race to the front door to meet him and take the mail from him. My mom baked him Christmas cookies during the holidays. Though I don't remember his name, he was our mailman for a long time. He was a tried and true member of our community...someone who was pleasant and trustworthy. Sometimes I miss those days.
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Mom is Sick
Well, it doesn't happen very often, but last night I woke up with a burning sore throat. This morning, the sore throat was accompanied by a runny nose and dull headache. I took some allergy medicine, hoping that I was suffering the effects of the pollen that's EVERYWHERE right now. It seemed the allergy medicine was helping for a bit, but then I started sneezing and feeling a tightness in my chest.
By this afternoon I had a sinus headache, and was feeling very run down. I guess it's time for me to REALLY take a break. Of course I have a to-do list a mile and a half long that I was hoping to make a dent in before I go back to work next Monday. Resting and relaxing is going to have to move to the top of the list. I always stress out about trying to accomplish as much as possible when I'm on a break, but I need to remember that even when I go back to work, I still have time to do personal things too. We never have it ALL finished. That's what living life is all about.
So, tonight we ordered take-out. I'm curled under a blanket watching a moving with my family, and I'm trying not to stress about the grocery shopping and laundry that need to get done tomorrow. Maybe I'll drink a hot cup of tea before bed, and hopefully I'll get some better sleep than I did last night.
By this afternoon I had a sinus headache, and was feeling very run down. I guess it's time for me to REALLY take a break. Of course I have a to-do list a mile and a half long that I was hoping to make a dent in before I go back to work next Monday. Resting and relaxing is going to have to move to the top of the list. I always stress out about trying to accomplish as much as possible when I'm on a break, but I need to remember that even when I go back to work, I still have time to do personal things too. We never have it ALL finished. That's what living life is all about.
So, tonight we ordered take-out. I'm curled under a blanket watching a moving with my family, and I'm trying not to stress about the grocery shopping and laundry that need to get done tomorrow. Maybe I'll drink a hot cup of tea before bed, and hopefully I'll get some better sleep than I did last night.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Back to Civilization
This morning, we awakened to the pitter-pat of rain on the metal roof of our camping shelter. The rain did not deter the birds. Their symphony began just as it did the other mornings...with one lone peeper who was joined by several more and then what sounded like hundreds. It was relaxing just to lay and listen to it all, knowing we couldn't pack the car in the rain.
The gentle spring shower grew to a steady down-beat on the roof above us. Then came the flash and a rumble of thunder. From seemingly nowhere, the north wind picked up and suddenly, it was POURING rain. We packed up all the supplies, bedding and dirty clothes that we could, ate some powdered donuts (you know...the really processed ones in the blue bag that we ONLY eat on camping trips) and drank coffee. It's so infrequently that we have to let go and just, "be." There was absolutely no way we could load the car in the deluge, so we visited, reminisced about our trip and pulled out the Uno cards. Even the 11 year-olds had a great time.
Eventually, the rain cleared up enough that we were able to get things to our vehicle without getting totally drenched. We did have to load the bikes after the rain started up again, but it was actually a blessing. They were muddy from time spent on the trails over the weekend. Just as we left the park, the sun peeked its head out to say good-bye. This trip was a much needed respite from the busy-ness of day to day. I needed the rejuvenation to help me press through this very busy time at school.
Tomorrow, I tackle all the muddy laundry!
The gentle spring shower grew to a steady down-beat on the roof above us. Then came the flash and a rumble of thunder. From seemingly nowhere, the north wind picked up and suddenly, it was POURING rain. We packed up all the supplies, bedding and dirty clothes that we could, ate some powdered donuts (you know...the really processed ones in the blue bag that we ONLY eat on camping trips) and drank coffee. It's so infrequently that we have to let go and just, "be." There was absolutely no way we could load the car in the deluge, so we visited, reminisced about our trip and pulled out the Uno cards. Even the 11 year-olds had a great time.
Eventually, the rain cleared up enough that we were able to get things to our vehicle without getting totally drenched. We did have to load the bikes after the rain started up again, but it was actually a blessing. They were muddy from time spent on the trails over the weekend. Just as we left the park, the sun peeked its head out to say good-bye. This trip was a much needed respite from the busy-ness of day to day. I needed the rejuvenation to help me press through this very busy time at school.
Tomorrow, I tackle all the muddy laundry!
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Camping Part 3
Today is the day we try to eat as much as possible so the load going home is a little lighter. Hubby cooked pancakes and sausage for breakfast. We ate a lot of fruit.
Now we are getting ready to grill burgers, and jalapeño poppers along with some Dutch oven cheesy potatoes.
We have earned the calories biking, hiking, and fishing. We will be headed back to civilization tomorrow... Hopefully ahead of the cold front and thunderstorms!
Back on the grid, soon.
Monday, March 16, 2015
Camping part 2
Day two of camping.
Today we are hikers.
We are bike riders.
We are muddy .
We are sweaty.
We are lovers of nature.
We are a little tired.
We are camp fire smoky.
We are full of smores.
We are happy!
Sunday, March 15, 2015
Camping
We are out in the woods with very little cell service. Today we are celebrating sunshine, warm spring weather and Swiss army knives.
So far we've cut fishing line out of a tree, fixed an ingrown toenail, and opened a can of peaches!
I hope this posts. We are on the edge of the grid!
Technology V Unplugging
We are leaving on a three day camping trip. Our rule for camping is generally NO technology other than using a cell phone to look for geo-cache sites. We let the girls use phones in the car to listen to music or play games; however, as soon as we arrive everyone unplugs. We try hard to leave behind the modern world for a little bit of R and R and quality family time.
Of course, this year, I'm faced with a bit of a problem. This is my first year slicing, and I honestly didn't think I'd be able to keep up. Thankfully I've been inspired by others' examples/support and my words have managed to keep flowing each and every day. I really want to keep up with the challenge, which means that I'm going to have to "plug in" each day to post to my blog and comment on others.
This evening, one of my daughters asked me what I was going to do about my blog while we were gone. I was honest with her and told her I would probably be using my phone once a day to link up and post, explaining that I felt strongly about pushing myself to complete the challenge. She asked me why and, funny enough, I mentioned being eligible for prizes at the end. I think I said that because I believed it was something her 11 year old self would be able to relate to. Quickly, I corrected myself and told her it really had nothing to do with being eligible to win anything. It's really about accomplishing something I set out to do. I really want to follow through even if it will take some effort to do so. She looked at me sideways for a minute, then nodded her head as if to say, "I get that...carry on."
So, I think I have one 11-year-old's permission to break our, "no technology" rule. The other one, might not be quite as easy to convince. I may have to bargain with her.
Of course, this year, I'm faced with a bit of a problem. This is my first year slicing, and I honestly didn't think I'd be able to keep up. Thankfully I've been inspired by others' examples/support and my words have managed to keep flowing each and every day. I really want to keep up with the challenge, which means that I'm going to have to "plug in" each day to post to my blog and comment on others.
This evening, one of my daughters asked me what I was going to do about my blog while we were gone. I was honest with her and told her I would probably be using my phone once a day to link up and post, explaining that I felt strongly about pushing myself to complete the challenge. She asked me why and, funny enough, I mentioned being eligible for prizes at the end. I think I said that because I believed it was something her 11 year old self would be able to relate to. Quickly, I corrected myself and told her it really had nothing to do with being eligible to win anything. It's really about accomplishing something I set out to do. I really want to follow through even if it will take some effort to do so. She looked at me sideways for a minute, then nodded her head as if to say, "I get that...carry on."
So, I think I have one 11-year-old's permission to break our, "no technology" rule. The other one, might not be quite as easy to convince. I may have to bargain with her.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Hurry Up Cinnamon Rolls
Hurry Up Cinnamon Rolls...
This is not a wish.
This the new name of the cinnamon rolls I'm trying to make tonight.
They are not normally a, "hurry up" kind of thing.
But tomorrow we leave to go camping. For our assigned breakfast, I'm bringing cinnamon rolls. I want to bring cinnamon rolls. I love to bake them, they are great for a crowd and perfect when I can get them out of my house and into the mouths of others. I've been known to eat quite a few myself.
My family really enjoys camping, but getting ready for camping sometimes feels like it takes longer than the time we spend actually camping. That's why I'm starting cinnamon rolls at 9:30 the night before we leave. Shopping and packing took longer than expected today.
I heated the milk and sugar very quickly...I hope it didn't scorch.
Added the yeast...Please be the right temperature.
Scooped and poured flour...So, there's a little on the floor.
Please rise, please rise, please rise.
We will see in an hour.
Then up at the crack of dawn to roll, fill, rise and bake! They are totally worth it in the end when the soft, gooey, spicy, sweet, melt-in your mouth rolls fill the house with their luscious aroma. Not to mention getting to eat them.
I just hope "Hurry Up Cinnamon Rolls" are as good as the ones I usually make.
This is not a wish.
This the new name of the cinnamon rolls I'm trying to make tonight.
They are not normally a, "hurry up" kind of thing.
But tomorrow we leave to go camping. For our assigned breakfast, I'm bringing cinnamon rolls. I want to bring cinnamon rolls. I love to bake them, they are great for a crowd and perfect when I can get them out of my house and into the mouths of others. I've been known to eat quite a few myself.
My family really enjoys camping, but getting ready for camping sometimes feels like it takes longer than the time we spend actually camping. That's why I'm starting cinnamon rolls at 9:30 the night before we leave. Shopping and packing took longer than expected today.
I heated the milk and sugar very quickly...I hope it didn't scorch.
Added the yeast...Please be the right temperature.
Scooped and poured flour...So, there's a little on the floor.
Please rise, please rise, please rise.
We will see in an hour.
Then up at the crack of dawn to roll, fill, rise and bake! They are totally worth it in the end when the soft, gooey, spicy, sweet, melt-in your mouth rolls fill the house with their luscious aroma. Not to mention getting to eat them.
I just hope "Hurry Up Cinnamon Rolls" are as good as the ones I usually make.
Friday, March 13, 2015
Possibilities
It's the eve of spring break. I don't really count tonight, since I did have to work today. My nieces are here spending the night, and the girls are upstairs putting on makeup and preparing for a concert or theatrical performance. Big 12 Basketball is on tonight. Go Cyclones! I'm buzzing a little with excitement and possibilities for this spring break.
I didn't always feel this way about vacations.
I used to stress out a lot about the long list of things that I hoped to do...both things that needed to be done and things I wanted to do. Guilt always made me start with the things that needed doing, and I often ended my time off feeling unfulfilled and a little sad that I didn't spend more time relaxing and enjoying my life.
Not anymore. After years of struggle with uncontrolled anxiety, I can finally stand on the precipice of spring break and actually feel energized with the possibilities. I know I will do some things on my, "to-do" list (but not all of them). I know I will do some of the things I want to do (but not all of them). And I know I will probably get to do some things I haven't even conceived of yet, because they are waiting for me to discover in a day or two. I'm no longer paralyzed with the need to plan everything out to the last detail. Countless times I've been reminded that few things work out the way I intended them to anyway.
It's calming to be present focused and living in the moment. Will I make mistakes? Sure. Will I fail to accomplish all that I might be able to? Absolutely. But more than anything I want to enjoy my family and make time for writing and outdoor activities. Anything above and beyond that is just a bonus. (Though I may need to do some laundry.)
I didn't always feel this way about vacations.
I used to stress out a lot about the long list of things that I hoped to do...both things that needed to be done and things I wanted to do. Guilt always made me start with the things that needed doing, and I often ended my time off feeling unfulfilled and a little sad that I didn't spend more time relaxing and enjoying my life.
Not anymore. After years of struggle with uncontrolled anxiety, I can finally stand on the precipice of spring break and actually feel energized with the possibilities. I know I will do some things on my, "to-do" list (but not all of them). I know I will do some of the things I want to do (but not all of them). And I know I will probably get to do some things I haven't even conceived of yet, because they are waiting for me to discover in a day or two. I'm no longer paralyzed with the need to plan everything out to the last detail. Countless times I've been reminded that few things work out the way I intended them to anyway.
It's calming to be present focused and living in the moment. Will I make mistakes? Sure. Will I fail to accomplish all that I might be able to? Absolutely. But more than anything I want to enjoy my family and make time for writing and outdoor activities. Anything above and beyond that is just a bonus. (Though I may need to do some laundry.)
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Tired
Today I'm tired because:
I woke up to lightening and thunder at 5:30 this morning.
It rained ALL DAY, (again) and while I'm so grateful for the moisture to help heal our drought, I'm soooo sleepy when the sun doesn't show its face.
My students had to deal with the disappointment of a canceled field day and somehow muster the self-control to make it through a semi-regular school day. Which in turn, took a lot of my energy to remain patient and positive.
We tested for two full days this week. That alone is enough to drain all my energy.
I had to stare at/pour over/analyze, and plan using data from aforementioned tests.
I've eaten too many carbs this week due to aforementioned tests.
Writing samples for my ELL students were due today, and there are so many things to check and verify in order to avoid "testing irregularities."
Report cards go home tomorrow which must include latest test results, reminders that state testing is approaching and current reading levels.
Soccer practice got canceled which means dinner to make and homework to help with (no alone time for mom!)
Spring break starts in 24 hours and my brain is racing with all the things I want to do (for fun and for "catch up.") Starting my mental to-do list is forcing me out of the present into the future which often drains my energy.
I'm thankful to have all these blessings (well most of them) in life to wear me out! Overall it was a good day. I'll go to bed feeling exhausted but blessed!!
I woke up to lightening and thunder at 5:30 this morning.
It rained ALL DAY, (again) and while I'm so grateful for the moisture to help heal our drought, I'm soooo sleepy when the sun doesn't show its face.
My students had to deal with the disappointment of a canceled field day and somehow muster the self-control to make it through a semi-regular school day. Which in turn, took a lot of my energy to remain patient and positive.
We tested for two full days this week. That alone is enough to drain all my energy.
I had to stare at/pour over/analyze, and plan using data from aforementioned tests.
I've eaten too many carbs this week due to aforementioned tests.
Writing samples for my ELL students were due today, and there are so many things to check and verify in order to avoid "testing irregularities."
Report cards go home tomorrow which must include latest test results, reminders that state testing is approaching and current reading levels.
Soccer practice got canceled which means dinner to make and homework to help with (no alone time for mom!)
Spring break starts in 24 hours and my brain is racing with all the things I want to do (for fun and for "catch up.") Starting my mental to-do list is forcing me out of the present into the future which often drains my energy.
I'm thankful to have all these blessings (well most of them) in life to wear me out! Overall it was a good day. I'll go to bed feeling exhausted but blessed!!
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Stop Stressing About the Gatorade
Early morning bird twitter roused me from a deep sleep. (It's actually my alarm. Thanks to daylight savings time, I now get up in the dark...before the real birds.) Slowly I rolled over, pulling the blankets around me and snuggling up for one more 10 minute snooze when, BAM! It hit me. Once again, I forgot to put more bottles of Gatorade in the fridge for the girls' lunches.
My next thought was, "I need to get up and put them in the freezer so they will get cold before the girls pack their lunches.". Ugh! I silently berated myself for being so lazy last night and forgetting to take care of this chore once again. Already tension pulsed through my shoulders, and I hadn't even stepped out of bed and tripped over the cat yet.
But then, some divine intervention took control of my self- depricating thoughts and my nerves calmed immediately."Wait a minute. The girls are almost 12 years old. You've reminded them countless times that they need to restock the fridge when they take out the last drink. They know exactly where the Gatorade is stored, and they know they will need a drink for their lunches today. LET IT GO! Obviously they don't care too much about having a cold drink, or they would remember to put new drinks in the fridge themselves. If they don't mind, why should you let yourself get so stressed over it?"
As a working mom, sometimes I get carried away trying to make sure everyone's ducks are in a row. It's one part survival instinct and one part guilt for not being able to do as much as I wish I could. My head knows it's important that they take ownership and learn responsibility. But sometimes my heart hurts when I think about all they already have to do on their own. One thing's for certain, I'm going to stop beating myself up over the Gatorade and focus on things that really matter.
My next thought was, "I need to get up and put them in the freezer so they will get cold before the girls pack their lunches.". Ugh! I silently berated myself for being so lazy last night and forgetting to take care of this chore once again. Already tension pulsed through my shoulders, and I hadn't even stepped out of bed and tripped over the cat yet.
But then, some divine intervention took control of my self- depricating thoughts and my nerves calmed immediately."Wait a minute. The girls are almost 12 years old. You've reminded them countless times that they need to restock the fridge when they take out the last drink. They know exactly where the Gatorade is stored, and they know they will need a drink for their lunches today. LET IT GO! Obviously they don't care too much about having a cold drink, or they would remember to put new drinks in the fridge themselves. If they don't mind, why should you let yourself get so stressed over it?"
As a working mom, sometimes I get carried away trying to make sure everyone's ducks are in a row. It's one part survival instinct and one part guilt for not being able to do as much as I wish I could. My head knows it's important that they take ownership and learn responsibility. But sometimes my heart hurts when I think about all they already have to do on their own. One thing's for certain, I'm going to stop beating myself up over the Gatorade and focus on things that really matter.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Cat Commentary
"Please give me permission to take out the squirrels."
My cat "talks" to us. She communicates with her meows for sure. But she also uses her eyes, her head and her body position. She is very easy to read. We often have running commentary in our household with one of the humans doing her voice over.
This morning, her glaring eyes and snarky meows combined with her perched position, right on the edge of the platform where she eats, effectively communicated her displeasure with being fed ONLY dry food. "This dry kibble is unacceptable. Where do you humans get off denying me the meaty deliciousness of my wet food?"
Right now, she sits tall and straight on the coffee table, and stares at me without blinking. Her green eyes bore into my soul and she implores me, "Before you start pounding away at that electronic box on your lap, please let the ridiculous dog in. Can't you hear her scratching at the door? And while you are at it, my bowl is completely empty of treats."
Because I do not immediately comply with her requests, she moves positions to the ledge by the back door. Again, she sits straight upright, her tail moving menacingly from side to side, just enough to catch my eye. She rubs her head against the wall as she gazes out the window at the dog who wants to come inside. "Life stinks for you smelly dog. Too bad you won't fit through my cat door."
Monday, March 9, 2015
Faded Memories
A torn photograph
corners bent
faded colors
lines
creases
time
has passed and the
photograph remains
a sign-post
of
history.
Marking a moment
passed
and almost
(but not quite)
forgotten.
Lately, I've had several friends share stories about their children coming across photographs of them in their, "younger days." My own girls dug out an old prom photo a week or so ago. "Wow," is all they could say about my 80's bangs! Reliving some memories, both fond and better off forgotten, was the inspiration for this poem.
corners bent
faded colors
lines
creases
time
has passed and the
photograph remains
a sign-post
of
history.
Marking a moment
passed
and almost
(but not quite)
forgotten.
Lately, I've had several friends share stories about their children coming across photographs of them in their, "younger days." My own girls dug out an old prom photo a week or so ago. "Wow," is all they could say about my 80's bangs! Reliving some memories, both fond and better off forgotten, was the inspiration for this poem.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
I'm OK With the Truth
The truth can hurt sometimes. Humans are naturally prideful creatures . It can be difficult to face reality and admit that you are less competent than another. Tonight, I concede. The truth is, my husband is a better cook than I am.
Last week was, "one of those weeks," where we seemed to subsist on frozen pizza and take-out. Today, my body rebelled against me and wanted some REAL food. As we drank coffee this morning watching an episode of one of my favorite cooking shows, we saw a pasta dish and hubby said, "That looks good for dinner. Let's have that." So I planned on cooking a REAL dinner, with REAL produce and REAL ingredients.
Well, as Sundays tend to do, this one went by too quickly. Before I knew it, it was 4 pm (Day Light Savings Time) and we hadn't even been to the grocery store yet. Grudgingly, we set out in the cold rain to brave Supermarket Hell. (Yes, that's the only way it can be described on Sunday afternoon.) Determined to cook a meal, shopping had to be done. Within an hour, we were on our way home with the car full of goodies just waiting to be chopped, boiled, and sauteed. Of course, by this time, I was exhausted. The thought of ordering out seemed very tempting!
Darling Husband to the rescue. He gave me a quick pep talk reminding me that the meal I planned wasn't too complicated. Which was true, but still at least an hour worth of work in the kitchen after I got all the groceries unpacked and put away. Hesitantly, I hinted at wanting some help. When I didn't get a rousing, "Sure!," I just came out and begged for his help. He agreed to tackle the salad while I made the pasta dish.
As much as I like to cook, I like it much better when we cook together. There is something about the synergy that happens when we are both in the kitchen. I'm faster, more efficient, and better able to multi-task. He is calm, patient and great at prep work and layering flavors. We seem to balance each other out. In the end though, his meticulousness wins out over my efficiency. He can produce the best flavors and cook almost anything to perfection. Even his salads taste better than mine. Many times I've tried to turn the kitchen duties over to him, but truthfully he doesn't like to cook as much as I do. So I will continue to keep hold of the reins in the kitchen while proudly admitting the truth.
The truth is, my husband is a better cook than I am. And I'm OK with that!
Last week was, "one of those weeks," where we seemed to subsist on frozen pizza and take-out. Today, my body rebelled against me and wanted some REAL food. As we drank coffee this morning watching an episode of one of my favorite cooking shows, we saw a pasta dish and hubby said, "That looks good for dinner. Let's have that." So I planned on cooking a REAL dinner, with REAL produce and REAL ingredients.
Well, as Sundays tend to do, this one went by too quickly. Before I knew it, it was 4 pm (Day Light Savings Time) and we hadn't even been to the grocery store yet. Grudgingly, we set out in the cold rain to brave Supermarket Hell. (Yes, that's the only way it can be described on Sunday afternoon.) Determined to cook a meal, shopping had to be done. Within an hour, we were on our way home with the car full of goodies just waiting to be chopped, boiled, and sauteed. Of course, by this time, I was exhausted. The thought of ordering out seemed very tempting!
Darling Husband to the rescue. He gave me a quick pep talk reminding me that the meal I planned wasn't too complicated. Which was true, but still at least an hour worth of work in the kitchen after I got all the groceries unpacked and put away. Hesitantly, I hinted at wanting some help. When I didn't get a rousing, "Sure!," I just came out and begged for his help. He agreed to tackle the salad while I made the pasta dish.
As much as I like to cook, I like it much better when we cook together. There is something about the synergy that happens when we are both in the kitchen. I'm faster, more efficient, and better able to multi-task. He is calm, patient and great at prep work and layering flavors. We seem to balance each other out. In the end though, his meticulousness wins out over my efficiency. He can produce the best flavors and cook almost anything to perfection. Even his salads taste better than mine. Many times I've tried to turn the kitchen duties over to him, but truthfully he doesn't like to cook as much as I do. So I will continue to keep hold of the reins in the kitchen while proudly admitting the truth.
The truth is, my husband is a better cook than I am. And I'm OK with that!
Saturday, March 7, 2015
A quick write
Today will be a quick post as we have family in town for the weekend. I passed a milestone today that I just need to celebrate publicly. I wrote my last entry in my notebook today. It's the first notebook I have ever filled from cover to cover which is very exciting.
For years, I was a collector of notebooks and journals, yet I think I was afraid to use them. They often sat empty or with only a few entries. For a time, I tried having different notebooks for different purposes. But in July 2012, I started my "butterfly" journal, committed to filling its pages.
Nearly three years later it's complete. That seems crazy. Three years to fill one journal? Yes, three years. The journey has been a difficult one personally, and professionally. As I read back over some of my entries, my emotional healing is apparent. As the time passed, I wrote more and more. My entries three years ago sound nothing like me. But I can hear my own voice again in my more recent writing. The "butterfly" journal was an important part of my growth and healing. It's bittersweet to have finished it, but I have a new one waiting.
Happy Writing!!
For years, I was a collector of notebooks and journals, yet I think I was afraid to use them. They often sat empty or with only a few entries. For a time, I tried having different notebooks for different purposes. But in July 2012, I started my "butterfly" journal, committed to filling its pages.
Nearly three years later it's complete. That seems crazy. Three years to fill one journal? Yes, three years. The journey has been a difficult one personally, and professionally. As I read back over some of my entries, my emotional healing is apparent. As the time passed, I wrote more and more. My entries three years ago sound nothing like me. But I can hear my own voice again in my more recent writing. The "butterfly" journal was an important part of my growth and healing. It's bittersweet to have finished it, but I have a new one waiting.
Happy Writing!!
Friday, March 6, 2015
Friday Playground Antics
It was a long week. We are in the midst of test prep. The PE coaches are doing fitness testing which means a lot of sitting around instead of running around. It was warm and rainy. Then cold and rainy. Both of which meant indoor recess for the entire week. Needless to say, the kids were antsy, and the teachers were exhausted.
Today however, was one of those, "clear blue sky" days. The air was cool and crisp, but the sun warmed your skin and only a light breeze ruffled the trees. Finally, we were able to get outside for some fresh air and vitamin D. As we (teachers) sat on the benches, our attention was drawn to a group of my homeroom students.
They like to play, just beyond the playground equipment where they think we can't see them. Little do they know, we watch those playing back there with especially close scrutiny. Today, two of my boys were crawling around on the ground while a group of girls milled about and followed them in a semi-circle wherever they went. Of course my first thought was the possibility of muddy knees and trips to the nurse to change clothes, but then another concern popped into my head. The crawling, turned into some semi-rough contact...but then they quit for a bit. A group of girls gathered around one boy. The rest (plus a few boys) gathered around the other. Something was about to go down behind the playground.
My teaching partner asked if we should intervene. To which I replied, "Wait a minute and let's see how this plays out." Sometimes I think we are too quick to squelch their imaginative play because we are being over-protective. The two boys crawled quickly away in opposite directions. Then they turned to face each other. One began to "paw" at the ground. "Uh oh, I think they might be playing bulls." There was a brief pause as one boy lowered his head. We slowly eased ourselves off the bench, ready to intervene. Suddenly, he charged toward the other boy, crawling at super speed. As he reached the second boy, he quickly...
lifted his leg and pretended to pee on him.
I guess they were playing puppies and not bulls. No intervention required. But we had a much needed laugh after a long week!
Today however, was one of those, "clear blue sky" days. The air was cool and crisp, but the sun warmed your skin and only a light breeze ruffled the trees. Finally, we were able to get outside for some fresh air and vitamin D. As we (teachers) sat on the benches, our attention was drawn to a group of my homeroom students.
They like to play, just beyond the playground equipment where they think we can't see them. Little do they know, we watch those playing back there with especially close scrutiny. Today, two of my boys were crawling around on the ground while a group of girls milled about and followed them in a semi-circle wherever they went. Of course my first thought was the possibility of muddy knees and trips to the nurse to change clothes, but then another concern popped into my head. The crawling, turned into some semi-rough contact...but then they quit for a bit. A group of girls gathered around one boy. The rest (plus a few boys) gathered around the other. Something was about to go down behind the playground.
My teaching partner asked if we should intervene. To which I replied, "Wait a minute and let's see how this plays out." Sometimes I think we are too quick to squelch their imaginative play because we are being over-protective. The two boys crawled quickly away in opposite directions. Then they turned to face each other. One began to "paw" at the ground. "Uh oh, I think they might be playing bulls." There was a brief pause as one boy lowered his head. We slowly eased ourselves off the bench, ready to intervene. Suddenly, he charged toward the other boy, crawling at super speed. As he reached the second boy, he quickly...
lifted his leg and pretended to pee on him.
I guess they were playing puppies and not bulls. No intervention required. But we had a much needed laugh after a long week!
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Perfectly Imperfect
In a world that constantly touts the benefits of being perfect...
how do you convince your kids that perfection does not really exist? That learning new things is hard. That anything worth doing well, takes sacrifice, patience, and lots of getting it wrong before you get it right.
We're struggling with these issue at our house. My daughters are both learning instruments for the first time and just can't seem to come to terms with the fact that the reason we practice is because we don't know how to do something we need to know how to do in order to move on and learn more.
They are so easily frustrated when they "squeek" or "bobble" or "fall off" the note. If a skill isn't mastered in 10 minutes, they are ready to quit. "I stink at clarinet." "I don't think I'm meant to play the French horn. Sadly, they both have some natural musical ability that has thus fair remained untapped because neither of them wants to work or put forth any effort to hone their skills. It's too much work, and they don't see results fast enough. (After all, those kids on the Disney Channel have everything work out perfectly for them in just under 22 minutes.)
ARGH!
I know it's partially my fault. Sometimes I hide my own struggles from them. In one sense, I don't want them to worry about me. However, part of me wants to keep my failures quiet. Hidden. I'm independent in that way and have always been the, "suffer in silence" type. I avoid showing my weaknesses or asking for help.
But I realize now that it's wrong to hide my struggles and frustrations from them. I'm trying to be more intentional about letting them in on how hard my job can be, or how difficult it is to prepare for a new lesson I've never taught. Sometimes I struggle with recipes several times before I get the desired outcome. There was this one time, I even challenged myself to write every day for a month and post it on a blog for others to read. I've told them all about the SOL challenge this month. I'm determined to share the good and the bad with them as the month rolls along!
Here's to learning through trial, error, success, failure and trying again!
how do you convince your kids that perfection does not really exist? That learning new things is hard. That anything worth doing well, takes sacrifice, patience, and lots of getting it wrong before you get it right.
We're struggling with these issue at our house. My daughters are both learning instruments for the first time and just can't seem to come to terms with the fact that the reason we practice is because we don't know how to do something we need to know how to do in order to move on and learn more.
They are so easily frustrated when they "squeek" or "bobble" or "fall off" the note. If a skill isn't mastered in 10 minutes, they are ready to quit. "I stink at clarinet." "I don't think I'm meant to play the French horn. Sadly, they both have some natural musical ability that has thus fair remained untapped because neither of them wants to work or put forth any effort to hone their skills. It's too much work, and they don't see results fast enough. (After all, those kids on the Disney Channel have everything work out perfectly for them in just under 22 minutes.)
ARGH!
I know it's partially my fault. Sometimes I hide my own struggles from them. In one sense, I don't want them to worry about me. However, part of me wants to keep my failures quiet. Hidden. I'm independent in that way and have always been the, "suffer in silence" type. I avoid showing my weaknesses or asking for help.
But I realize now that it's wrong to hide my struggles and frustrations from them. I'm trying to be more intentional about letting them in on how hard my job can be, or how difficult it is to prepare for a new lesson I've never taught. Sometimes I struggle with recipes several times before I get the desired outcome. There was this one time, I even challenged myself to write every day for a month and post it on a blog for others to read. I've told them all about the SOL challenge this month. I'm determined to share the good and the bad with them as the month rolls along!
Here's to learning through trial, error, success, failure and trying again!
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
They Are Readers
This is the time of year when, despite my beliefs about what fuels growth in middle grade readers, I ask myself, "Did you do the right thing not focusing more of your instruction on test passages, test vocabulary, test language, test format?" I know the answer, but the little, "what ifs" sometimes find their way into the very corners of my mind.
Today we went to the library, and I found myself almost in tears. Here are just a few of the things I heard and saw as I stood in the midst of my fourth graders.
I saw:
Kids who had their book logs out and were actively searching for books in genres they hadn't yet explored.
Students pulling books off the shelves and reading the blurbs.
Students having a conversation and working on computers to find biographies on famous athletes (especially soccer players.)
Students pouring through the the graphic novel section (call number in hand) looking for a book one student was recommending to another.
Persistent students combing through the returned (but not yet shelved) books in search of the next book in a series.
Students sprawled all over the library, quietly reading, without being reminded!!
I heard:
"Yes!" (fist pump) when the librarian handed over the second book in a series he'd been waiting for.
"Hey Hanna, are you still looking for a humorous fiction? Have you tried Beverly Cleary? Her books are funny, but they are a little bit historical fiction too." (I giggled a lot about this one. Historical? Ramona?)
"Mrs. S., I used to not pay much attention to my reading log and didn't even use it. But now, I've already got 10 squares filled in. I just got a traditional tales and a humorous fiction so I can get two more squares. I think I read a lot more now."
"Can you help me find that book, Riding Freedom? I really liked the chapter we read together in class, and I think I want to try the whole book."
And 5 minutes later...
"Mrs. S., I found out what happened to her parents! They didn't tell us in the part we read together, but just listen to this..."
So, am I growing readers? With a sprinkling of proud tears...yes! Will some of them fail to pass the state exam? Probably. But those same students might read over the summer, discuss a book with a friend, write on online review and come back to school in the fall ready to tackle a new reading challenge...They are readers!
Today we went to the library, and I found myself almost in tears. Here are just a few of the things I heard and saw as I stood in the midst of my fourth graders.
I saw:
Kids who had their book logs out and were actively searching for books in genres they hadn't yet explored.
Students pulling books off the shelves and reading the blurbs.
Students having a conversation and working on computers to find biographies on famous athletes (especially soccer players.)
Students pouring through the the graphic novel section (call number in hand) looking for a book one student was recommending to another.
Persistent students combing through the returned (but not yet shelved) books in search of the next book in a series.
Students sprawled all over the library, quietly reading, without being reminded!!
I heard:
"Yes!" (fist pump) when the librarian handed over the second book in a series he'd been waiting for.
"Hey Hanna, are you still looking for a humorous fiction? Have you tried Beverly Cleary? Her books are funny, but they are a little bit historical fiction too." (I giggled a lot about this one. Historical? Ramona?)
"Mrs. S., I used to not pay much attention to my reading log and didn't even use it. But now, I've already got 10 squares filled in. I just got a traditional tales and a humorous fiction so I can get two more squares. I think I read a lot more now."
"Can you help me find that book, Riding Freedom? I really liked the chapter we read together in class, and I think I want to try the whole book."
And 5 minutes later...
"Mrs. S., I found out what happened to her parents! They didn't tell us in the part we read together, but just listen to this..."
So, am I growing readers? With a sprinkling of proud tears...yes! Will some of them fail to pass the state exam? Probably. But those same students might read over the summer, discuss a book with a friend, write on online review and come back to school in the fall ready to tackle a new reading challenge...They are readers!
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Breaking Rules
Sometimes I think I'm too much of a rule follower. Especially the self-imposed kind.
My husband is about to leave on a two day business trip. He doesn't travel often. In fact the last time was sometime last summer. I know this because I lost all sense of reason and let my twin girls sleep in my room with me while he was away. I would never have done that during the school year. That's one of my rules. Everyone needs a good night's sleep on school nights. The girls must have forgotten this rule because the minute we announced Dad was going out of town this week, they simultaneously yelled, "Slumber party!"
I told them no.
They were not pleased.
So I set out to convince myself that my reasoning was sound.
He'll be gone on two school nights (for goodness sake.) The girls won't sleep well, because I often sleep with the TV on when Dax is gone. I won't sleep well, because they toss and turn and make lots of noise. I get up super early...way before they want to get up. Then they'll be up, cross at me, and I won't even get my 30 minutes of morning alone time. None of us will be well-rested which will make for a stressful day. We will come home in the afternoon moody and grumpy...with no Dad to calm the nerves of 3 over-tired females. And besides, we don't let the girls sleep in our room. It's the one parenting promise we haven't broken...no kids in bed with us!
But then I got to thinking. Why all the rules? My nearly 12-year-old daughters still want to hang out with me and have a sleepover. How much longer until that's not fun for them anymore? How long will it be before they are staying up later than me doing homework, chatting with friends, or working part-time jobs?
I'm a rule follower, but maybe I need to bend a little on the self-imposed kind. Maybe a couple of nights of marginal sleep will be worth the girls feeling safe, and loved. Maybe I want them to have a memory that starts with, "When Dad would go out of town," and ends with, "We got some special time with mom." I think this might be the time to break my own rules. Shhh...it's a surprise.
My husband is about to leave on a two day business trip. He doesn't travel often. In fact the last time was sometime last summer. I know this because I lost all sense of reason and let my twin girls sleep in my room with me while he was away. I would never have done that during the school year. That's one of my rules. Everyone needs a good night's sleep on school nights. The girls must have forgotten this rule because the minute we announced Dad was going out of town this week, they simultaneously yelled, "Slumber party!"
I told them no.
They were not pleased.
So I set out to convince myself that my reasoning was sound.
He'll be gone on two school nights (for goodness sake.) The girls won't sleep well, because I often sleep with the TV on when Dax is gone. I won't sleep well, because they toss and turn and make lots of noise. I get up super early...way before they want to get up. Then they'll be up, cross at me, and I won't even get my 30 minutes of morning alone time. None of us will be well-rested which will make for a stressful day. We will come home in the afternoon moody and grumpy...with no Dad to calm the nerves of 3 over-tired females. And besides, we don't let the girls sleep in our room. It's the one parenting promise we haven't broken...no kids in bed with us!
But then I got to thinking. Why all the rules? My nearly 12-year-old daughters still want to hang out with me and have a sleepover. How much longer until that's not fun for them anymore? How long will it be before they are staying up later than me doing homework, chatting with friends, or working part-time jobs?
I'm a rule follower, but maybe I need to bend a little on the self-imposed kind. Maybe a couple of nights of marginal sleep will be worth the girls feeling safe, and loved. Maybe I want them to have a memory that starts with, "When Dad would go out of town," and ends with, "We got some special time with mom." I think this might be the time to break my own rules. Shhh...it's a surprise.
Monday, March 2, 2015
No One Was In a Hurry
Absolutely no one was in a hurry yesterday, except my husband.
We have a different style of driving. I used to think I was an obnoxious, over-anxious passenger with control issues, but my fears only seem to manifest themselves when I'm driving with him. No one else.
One problem stems from the fact that, day to day, he drives a mid-size passenger car which is low to the ground and has a pretty zippy engine. When we travel around as a family, we tend to drive in my SUV which (as one can imagine) handles a bit differently. For one thing, it does not have the "pick up" that his car has, nor the high speed turning capacity. I find myself gripping the dash, white-knuckled, every time he takes a freeway flyaway or tries to pull out in front of on-coming traffic. He laughs at me, and reminds me that exit ramp speed limits are merely a suggestion. We haven't rolled over yet. My super strength grip on the overhead handle surely is the only thing keeping us upright at times.
He's also not a fan of using his turn signal, preferring to use it only on a, "need to know" basis. Believing, of course, that most other drivers don't need to know his plans for turns or lane changes. Maybe this is the result of 10 years he spent living in the mid-west where everyone "drove friendly." Now, living in a city, lack of proper turn signalling can cause a major disruption in traffic flow. I keep trying to explain to him, as he curses not being able to change lanes, that if he would just SIGNAL...someone would likely let him in.
But this is not our biggest battle. Over the past 19 years we've been together, I finally figured out what causes me the most intense fear response when I'm driving with him. Actually, his brother in law revealed it to me because my husband's sister drives the EXACT same way. We do not look at the same things when we are driving. I tend to be a road scanner, especially driving on busy, multi-lane freeways. I focus my attention a bit down the road, monitoring brake lights, looking for lane changers or slow downs. That way, I can gradually adjust my speed as needed or change lanes to avoid a traffic tie up. Not my dear husband though. He's looking at the car directly in front of him. Or turning to talk to his passengers,. Or glancing at something on the roadside. Until the brake lights immediately ahead of us come on, he's not slowing down. Thus, I spend a good deal of my passenger time hitting my imaginary brake pedal, grabbing the dash to brace for impending impact, or giving him a play by play of what's happening down the road or in the lane next to us. "I can see brake lights in the right lane, people are moving into our lane." Sometimes, he does listen.
I tell this story out of love and with prayers for continued safety. Despite our differences in driving styles, he manages to avoid tickets and accidents. He does have an annoying habit of hitting EVERY red light driving around town, forcing him to slow down. Perhaps someone is looking out for him...
We have a different style of driving. I used to think I was an obnoxious, over-anxious passenger with control issues, but my fears only seem to manifest themselves when I'm driving with him. No one else.
One problem stems from the fact that, day to day, he drives a mid-size passenger car which is low to the ground and has a pretty zippy engine. When we travel around as a family, we tend to drive in my SUV which (as one can imagine) handles a bit differently. For one thing, it does not have the "pick up" that his car has, nor the high speed turning capacity. I find myself gripping the dash, white-knuckled, every time he takes a freeway flyaway or tries to pull out in front of on-coming traffic. He laughs at me, and reminds me that exit ramp speed limits are merely a suggestion. We haven't rolled over yet. My super strength grip on the overhead handle surely is the only thing keeping us upright at times.
He's also not a fan of using his turn signal, preferring to use it only on a, "need to know" basis. Believing, of course, that most other drivers don't need to know his plans for turns or lane changes. Maybe this is the result of 10 years he spent living in the mid-west where everyone "drove friendly." Now, living in a city, lack of proper turn signalling can cause a major disruption in traffic flow. I keep trying to explain to him, as he curses not being able to change lanes, that if he would just SIGNAL...someone would likely let him in.
But this is not our biggest battle. Over the past 19 years we've been together, I finally figured out what causes me the most intense fear response when I'm driving with him. Actually, his brother in law revealed it to me because my husband's sister drives the EXACT same way. We do not look at the same things when we are driving. I tend to be a road scanner, especially driving on busy, multi-lane freeways. I focus my attention a bit down the road, monitoring brake lights, looking for lane changers or slow downs. That way, I can gradually adjust my speed as needed or change lanes to avoid a traffic tie up. Not my dear husband though. He's looking at the car directly in front of him. Or turning to talk to his passengers,. Or glancing at something on the roadside. Until the brake lights immediately ahead of us come on, he's not slowing down. Thus, I spend a good deal of my passenger time hitting my imaginary brake pedal, grabbing the dash to brace for impending impact, or giving him a play by play of what's happening down the road or in the lane next to us. "I can see brake lights in the right lane, people are moving into our lane." Sometimes, he does listen.
I tell this story out of love and with prayers for continued safety. Despite our differences in driving styles, he manages to avoid tickets and accidents. He does have an annoying habit of hitting EVERY red light driving around town, forcing him to slow down. Perhaps someone is looking out for him...
Sunday, March 1, 2015
We had A cat
We had A cat. She came into our lives nearly 4 years ago when we rescued her from a life of certain despair on a Kentucky farm. A scrawny 6 pound ball of gray fluff, she was covered in fleas (not yet big enough to be treated.) She snuggled like a new born baby with claws like hypodermic needles. We drove 1,200 miles home with her on our laps and formally named her Princess Lucia Von Paw Paw (Lucy Lu or LuLu for short.)
Lucy quickly grew and thrived, spending hours perched on top of her cat tower surveying her kingdom. She would groom her thick silky fur and wait for her loyal servants (the rest of the household) to bring her treats or entertain her with a laser or her feather toy. Moreover, the Princess was ruling monarch over Abbie the dog...playing with her at will, leading her on injurious chases around the couch and up the stairs..only to lay her out on her back in dog submission. Yes, we had A cat...and then there were two.
Prince Leopold Dermot Von Paw Paw, came to us in December via Santa. Our lives, and the life of the Princess, were forever changed. At first, we thought Leo was certain to be submissive to Lucy. He was very affectionate, small for a 7 month old cat, and spent most of his young life living among other cats. Apparently this is not an acceptable resume for a cat joining a household ruled by a spoiled, snooty female. Lucy would have none of him for a good three weeks, growling, hissing and attacking him at every turn. But poor Leo would not give up. He wanted nothing more than to play and snuggle with her. Each time she would rebuff him, he would try again. They slowly developed some kind of cat understanding and began to spend time in the same room without hiss or injury. We often found them, each laying on a separate twin bed in my daughters' shared room, after Leo gave up trying to sleep next to Lucy.
Somehow, some way, time changed the heart of our precious Princess. This morning as I lay in bed, I watched as they took up positions on opposite sides of the room, Leo under the drying rack draped with clean clothes, Lucy hiding just outside the door to our room. There was silence, and then the attack...as they ran toward each other, fearlessly colliding and literally rolling in a ball together. It looked fierce and painful, but they were playing. This happens twice a day, right before we wake up and as we are trying to go to sleep at night. I guess they want us to know that all is well in the Cat Kingdom. Lucy is still the ruling Monarch, but she is willing to share the throne from time to time...occasionally the rocking chair too.
Lucy quickly grew and thrived, spending hours perched on top of her cat tower surveying her kingdom. She would groom her thick silky fur and wait for her loyal servants (the rest of the household) to bring her treats or entertain her with a laser or her feather toy. Moreover, the Princess was ruling monarch over Abbie the dog...playing with her at will, leading her on injurious chases around the couch and up the stairs..only to lay her out on her back in dog submission. Yes, we had A cat...and then there were two.
Prince Leopold Dermot Von Paw Paw, came to us in December via Santa. Our lives, and the life of the Princess, were forever changed. At first, we thought Leo was certain to be submissive to Lucy. He was very affectionate, small for a 7 month old cat, and spent most of his young life living among other cats. Apparently this is not an acceptable resume for a cat joining a household ruled by a spoiled, snooty female. Lucy would have none of him for a good three weeks, growling, hissing and attacking him at every turn. But poor Leo would not give up. He wanted nothing more than to play and snuggle with her. Each time she would rebuff him, he would try again. They slowly developed some kind of cat understanding and began to spend time in the same room without hiss or injury. We often found them, each laying on a separate twin bed in my daughters' shared room, after Leo gave up trying to sleep next to Lucy.
Somehow, some way, time changed the heart of our precious Princess. This morning as I lay in bed, I watched as they took up positions on opposite sides of the room, Leo under the drying rack draped with clean clothes, Lucy hiding just outside the door to our room. There was silence, and then the attack...as they ran toward each other, fearlessly colliding and literally rolling in a ball together. It looked fierce and painful, but they were playing. This happens twice a day, right before we wake up and as we are trying to go to sleep at night. I guess they want us to know that all is well in the Cat Kingdom. Lucy is still the ruling Monarch, but she is willing to share the throne from time to time...occasionally the rocking chair too.
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