Are You Ready for Some Football?!

My first laundry load as a mother of a football player. My son has decided that he wants to get in on the pigskin action this year as an 8th grader. I am very excited for him. My husband is nervous and my dad is worried...I, on the other hand, am nothing but excited. I absolutely LOVE all things football...if only we could have fall weather during the entire season instead of the last game...

Tonight my son is attending his very first Texas A&M football game-in College Station nonetheless! He was asked to go by a friend of his and I am so thankful for the invite. One never knows when "the seed" is planted and I am hopeful that this experience will spark quite the interest in him...both for football as well as the whole "college experience." He has been known to wear the color orange from time to time...but that is only due to his love of the General Lee from the Dukes of Hazzard!!!

I have very fond memories of both the game of football as well as the football players themselves. I memorized the players' numbers (as well as their backsides) and I knew my offense from defense. I understood the downs and I especially liked that sweaty hair look. Okay...so football was more about the guys than the game. It was all just so darn appealing. The slap of the pads, the crack of the helmets connecting...the hard-hitting tackles and the zig-zagging yard-gainers...who wouldn't love those guys?! But in the end I learned the game and have loved it ever since. I love the lights and the energy that hovers over the field and drifts into the stadium. I love the aluminum bleachers and the moment when it is officially dark outside. Whistles blow, crowds cheer, and boys give it their all. Win or lose it is better entertainment than any reality show on television...and to think...this year my son will be one of the players. For the first time ever I don't think I'll mind doing laundry.

Blowing It All Away

After school my daughter and I drove over to Walmart where I dropped off her prescription and then proceeded to walk out the doors, into the parking lot where she and I waited for 30 minutes for a covert deal to go down. I had received the call thirty minutes earlier to "meet me at the gas station in front of Walmart...I'll be in a silver truck parked in the shade." While waiting and wondering if we had missed him my daughter and I shared a 6 months past it's expiration date granola bar (tasted like corregated cardboard). My cell rang and I was asked what kind of car I drove. "I'm in a gray VW Jetta...near a rock wall underneath the only shade tree in the parking lot." The caller's response was, "I know exactly where you are."
In my rearview mirror I watched as a silver truck pulled in behind me. The driver got out and we exchanged goods: I gave him a check and a flute and he promised to fix it and clean it up good as new.

Almost 30 years ago, when I was in 6th grade, I began playing the flute in the middle school band. I can vividly recall going with my mom to a real true music store...the kind that had French Horns mounted on the walls. Money was tight and I remember that Mom was willing to get me an instrument no matter what by golly. I walked out of that store with a Gehmeinhart flute (my apologies to the makers of this flute as I know I have butchered the spelling !) I thought I was really something. I held that slender black case by it's suspended handle and just knew that I was hot stuff. My dad gave me one of his thin, white handkerchiefs to keep inside the royal blue velvet lined case to polish my flute with. He also engraved my last name on each of the three pieces to ensure that it never got mixed up or-gasp-stolen (of course, having a surname on an instrument is not that great of a deterrant to theft...it only allows the thief to know exactly who he/she stole it from).

I practiced and I was quite good----first chair for the majority of the two years I played thankyouverymuch. But once I hit high school it was not considered "cool" in my circle of "friends" to continue on and so I did not pursue band any longer. My flute rested in its case for almost thirty years and now, it is being played again. Of course, the boll weevils have feasted on the pads beneath all of the keys thus resulting in the need to call in a flute fixer upper. There is such a person and I met him in the Walmart parking lot. I already owed him $75.00 for fixing my husband's trumpet he pretended to play when he was in 6th grade (which my son resurrected to pretend to play his 6th and 7th grade years). Ah...money well spent. So now my daughter is following in her mother's footsteps and I was happy...until flute man told me it would cost $200.00 to repair. Time to get out the engraver and scratch through my maiden name.

PSA

As the new school year opens before us we have to convince our bodies to cooperate with us. During the summer we got in the habit of going to bed when we were sleepy, getting out of bed when our bodies were awake enough to do so, eating when we were hungry, and going to the restroom when nature called. Newsflash: we are not in nature anymore...we are in public education.

I Wake Up and Smell the Coffee...I Just Don't Have Time to Drink It

As the new school year opens before us we have to convince our bodies to cooperate with us. We were in the habit of going to bed when we were sleepy, getting out of bed when our bodies were awake enough to do so, eating when we were hungry, and going to the restroom when nature called. Newsflash: we are not in nature anymore...we are in public education. Far from the land of OZ there are no Glindas nearby to wave a star-topped wand over our heads granting our every wish. We eat when we are told-if we can make it through the cafeteria line in time. We know better than to hydrate ourselves since using the restroom is a luxury we simply cannot afford to have. We force ourselves to go to bed way earlier than we have for the past two and a half months knowing that we will pay the consequences if we don't. The trouble is our internal clocks are not in sync with our alarm clocks. We toss and we turn and end up falling asleep hours after lying in bed. When our alarm sounds before the rooster's first crow our brain and our bodies are not on speaking terms.

During the lazy months of summer I drank coffee at leisure...and I didn't even need it because I was so caught up on my sleep. Now that I could use a jolt of caffeine to rev my engine I am too tired to make it, doctor it, pour it and drink it. In fact, I am usually dashing around so much in the mornings that I leave the house without even having a single cup. What a mixed up scenario!

Going back to the OZ comparison -I am now surrounded by hundreds of munchkins who all want my time. While they are certainly cute and their little kid voices make my day, they are still munchkins and I am outnumbered. Like Dorothy I have my friends who journey throughout the school year with me and I couldn't make it without them. They all already have hearts of gold and brains to match; and they show courage on a daily basis. We may be tired and we may be hungry but in the end the kids are our reason for setting that darn alarm.

I love what I do even though on any given day I feel more like the man behind the curtain than Dorothy...always trying to make it appear like I know what I am doing. But, like Dorothy, while it's always an interesting day where I work there is still no place like home.

School Daze

One down-174 more to go...school days that is. Today was suppose to be one of those mornings that set the tone for the entire school year. Today my daughter lost the privilege of sitting up front before the keys were in the ignition. After my out-loud prayer (said through gritted teeth) I peeled out in Duke's of Hazzard fashion and we careened down the highway en route to the first day of school. To the shock and amazement of the entire faculty we were actually there early. And I even made scrambled eggs this morning...go figure.

My daughter declared it a "bad hair day" from the get-go and my son must have pulled his shorts out from beneath on elephant as they were beyond ironing. Tears were shed (after the annual photo session in front of the crepe myrtle) and voices were raised. Why must it always be like this? Is is hormones? Is it stress? Is it, dare I say it, me?

The dog was locked away and took her anger out on the situation by shredding her bed and the newspaper left for her to ... uh...read. Thank goodness there were left-overs for us to eat tonight. Tomorrow it'll have to be something along the lines of crackers.

I had sweat running down my cheeks (take your pick) during the afternoon bus/car duty. So glad that I dressed up today. I actually had to wash everything that I wore! Ugh! Tomorrow promises more of the same as do the other 174 days. Being in the library I didn't have classes coming and going today but even so I am starting to wonder how it's all going to get done.

On a happy note both of my kids came home with smiles on their faces and each had positive things to say about their teachers and their experiences. That makes it all worth it--knowing that your kids' lives are moving along just fine. Right now school is their world and it is my prayer that they are successful in all that they attempt. I hope that they are able to find out some really cool things about their world and about themselves as well.

Today was a day of firsts: kindergarten for some, college for others. Today many parents let go of their kids' hands and waved goodbye; if only for a few hours. My daughter had her first male teacher. My son acquired his first football jersey. While our mornings may be rushed and our evenings may be crammed we cannot get these days back. So I choose not to think that today set the tone for the entire school year. Instead, I choose to believe that today was today-warts and all. That is why we all laughed when we got home and kissed each other goodnight after saying our "I love yous."

Bomp and Circumstance

The Olympic Games have finally come to a close; the torch has been extinguished. We will have to wait four long years before we can see Michael Phelps and his Speedo again (...if he grows any taller and still wears the same lucky Speedo that helped him win 8 gold medals...not real sure there's much room for error if you know what I mean...he was sporting that suit mighty low on the hips...but I digress...) Where was I? Oh, right...four more years. Holy Moley ...my kids will be 15 and 17 years old the next time we watch the summer olympics...WOW! I should get some medals if I make it through the next four years without too many torch extinguishing moments.

Speaking of torches going out...our television is on the fritz. It has become possessed. If any of you ever saw Stephen King's 'Maximum Overdrive' (where machines come alive and go on killing sprees), or Steven Spielberg's 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind' (where a huge spaceship "speaks" to Earthlings via harmonic notes) then you might have an inkling into what I am dealing with over here. We have lost our satellite signal for long stretches of time; the image on our screen becomes digitized and frozen EVERY single time our air conditioning comes on or shuts off (keep in mind it has been a HOT summer); and for the past couple of weeks our television will simply turn itself off. It does not care if your favorite show is on, if the punchline is just about to be delivered, or if Brad Pitt is about to get in the shower. Click.

To add fuel to the flame our possessed telenovision has started to switch channels at random. Back-forth-back-forth-back-forth. Click. Just today it started switching to a looped infomercial feed that is set up to sell you on the satellite company...well, that and a menu of choices to interact with like horoscopes and forecasts. Click. And then it started bomping. That's right, bomping. There is no other word for it folks, sorry. Our telenovision makes a repetitve bomping sound over and over and over and over. It sounds very much like what it would sound like if you had a poltergeist inside of your television and it was thumping on the speakers. BompBompBompBompBompBompBompBompBompBomp. Click.

Guess what was on t.v. tonight? THE CLOSING CEREMONIES!!! Guess what was suppose to be so impressive about it....the use of DRUMS!!! Guess what we couldn't hear because of our own alien bongo player???!!! And when we weren't watching the show (albeit on mute by this time) we were learning whether or not the full moon on the 15th of September was going to lift our relationship. Click. BompBompBompBompBomp. "Oh, look! They are getting ready to raise the British flag"-BompBompBomp-Switch-'30% chance of rain'...-Switch- "This is Bob Costas saying, Good Night."

Yup, we missed the torch part...no closure over here. No biggie. I'm sure it was nothing spectacular; probably only 2008 Chinese children shooting arrows of water-filled balloons up up and away...all choreographed to the sound of drums beating like a thunderstorm...like a 30% chance of rainfall would sound...on the 15th of September. Now that's some serious bomp and circumstance! Click.

It Dozen Get Better Than This

Lulu lays one egg every 25 hours. That is her job. When she is not working she eats continuously while strutting around the yard. She especially loves to nibble on our telephone connection and the plants on our front porch. In a way she has helped me simplify my life-I no longer talk on the phone and I don't have to water the dead plants anymore. In fact, I don't even use my front door anymore as I don't care to look at the plant carnage or step in the chicken schtuff on my welcome mat. If we only had a cow I would no longer need to navigate the dairy section of the grocery store as I now have my farm fresh eggs delivered right to my fridge.

My son started raising chickens last year. He competed in the 4-H Stockshow for the first time and walked away with the Jr. Showmanship Award! He built the chicken coop from the ground up (along with a little help from Dad) and is very diligent about researching all things chicken. He truly loves his chickens. So much so that he refused to let Lulu "go." Here's the story: When the chickens were but young, growing teenchickers, it was very obvious that little Lulu was no longer little. Little Lulu was LARGE LULU. She was three times the size of the other teenchickers. She was so obese that her skinny, yellow chicken legs simply could not support her weight (that, or else she was paralyzed--in fact, I kept thinking that maybe she had gotten stung by a poisonous spider???).

Lulu could not walk. We had to place her feeder and water directly underneath her beak so that she would be able to eat and drink (I know...talk about aiding and abetting). The poor bird would sit (and this is no lie) on her haunches with her legs stretched out in front of her (Lulu is black and her legs are yellow---just picture it--hilarious is it not?) But I felt so sorry for her. I knew that something was wrong and I didn't want her to be suffering. But my son insisted that we give her "just one more day." This went on for over a week and then my son began telling us that he was beginning to see improvement. Before we knew it Lulu was running! And now Lulu is our prized egg layer! Lulu is sustaining us!

We have just started to fill our second egg carton and have enjoyed her beautifully tanned eggs. The whites are clear and the yolks are a stunning sunshine yellow. The only side effect I've experienced so far is the overwhelming desire to sit on my haunches with my legs stretched out before me...now if I could just get someone to feed me...

On the Big Screen

What if when we get to heaven we have to sit in an IMAX theater and watch our life play out before us? What if while it is playing our entire network of family and friends are in the audience with us...to see and hear all our hidden thoughts and actions...in High Definition nonetheless? I don't know about you, but I get that twisted gut feeling that always surfaces whenever someone tells me things like: "We need to talk." My mind starts racing and the wrinkles in my brain cringe tightly (probably trying to keep those thoughts from escaping). While I try to be a "good person" I am still far from my goal. I am gripped with fear knowing that I can't have any "do-overs" and wonder if I should contact anyone and everyone I've ever mumbled and grumbled about. Ugh. And then it struck me: what would it feel like to be a member of the viewing audience? Double Ugh. Now I'm starting to sweat and am feeling queasy. Why can't we all just get along?!

But what about a different scenario: what if the video of our life has been spliced and edited to show only our good qualities. What if we could invite the world to sit in and view us at our best? Would the movie be a brief commercial? A thirty minute sitcom? Or a life-long series that was so enjoyable to watch the audience lost all track of time? Talk about scary! You see, I think it is such a part of our human nature to have sinful thoughts and actions leak out of our being. But what if we started really trying to take the leading role in our lives knowing that only the good thoughts, actions and deeds would be showing on the Big Screen?

Food for Thought

My team met for lunch at the home of one of our own. We were treated like queens and our palates were delighted. We knew in advance that the meal would be delicious and we could hardly wait for today to arrive. Knowing that our meal was lovingly prepared by someone who knows her way around a kitchen and who truly cares about us made the meal all the more perfect.

We enjoyed a fantastic lunch of perogis with homemade sauce, garlic bread, salad, olives, pickled okra, and Italian pomegranite soda. Our dessert was a decadent chocolate and vanilla ice cream cake with peanut butter, chocolate syrup, and a granola crust. We dined in a warm and inviting house and we shared stories and laughter.

We are a team and we are a family. We know how to laugh at ourselves and each other without anyone being offended. We know how to relax and we know how to work hard. We know how to listen to each other and we know when to speak up. We applaud each other's successes and we cry for each other when life doesn't quite go according to plan. We are the Enrichment Team and while it is our "job" to enrich the curriculum and students at the school where we work, it is truly the lives of each other that we enrich the most. I love you guys!

Wax On Wax Off

All I can say is, OUCH! As soon as I came home today I sat myself up on my kitchen counter and slapped on the wax. My daughter served as my assistant and had no problem ripping the paper strip from my leg. Notice I did not use the plural. I think that I only used four or five strips on my right shin and that was it. I can generally endure pain but for some reason I decided that tonight was not the night to endure it. Geez Louise my leg was on fire! And after each torture session there were still patches of hair left behind. The wax was a sticky nightmare and I never once felt like the end was going to justify the means. I never really spent that much time on shaving anyway. At least I tried. In truth it was an ill fated attempt to save money on razor blades. Perhaps I'll just settle for a one strip pit stop in the future.

Hair Today-Gone Tomorrow

In an attempt to streamline my morning and evening routines now that we are a weekend away from D-Day, I have decided to wax myself. Since I don't want to even think about making an appointment (not to mention showing up for it) I went ahead and snatched a Sally Hanson box off the Walmart shelf the other day. I was fully prepared to pour the contents over the top of my head and rip away...head to toe. Then I read the instructions: make sure hair is at least 1/4" long. Great...I had just wasted a shave and now I'd have to wait a whole day. Yes, my hair grows quickly...well...everywhere except on my head wouldn't you know it. Anyway, the weird thing was my morning and evening routines were already quicker because I wasn't shaving. It was so nice not to maintain anything. Now, keep in mind I hadn't waxed yet so even though I was becoming a speedy bather I now had to limit my clothing choices to pants and long sleeves.

It is finally Friday and the great American Wax-off will officially begin this evening. I know enough to know that the wax won't strip away the spider veins and blisters, but I am hopeful that it will shave off a few morning minutes spent in the bathroom.

Male Call

We all like to think that we've still "got it" when it comes to the opposite sex. This afternoon I was the recipient of a generous gift of chocolate. Now, before any of you jump to conclusions, let me explain. While on my lunch break I made a mad dash to H.E.B. to pick up a few things so that I wouldn't have to make any pit stops after work. I didn't have anything all that exciting laid out on the conveyor belt; Kibbles and Bits, toothpaste, fluoride, paper plates. But the man behind me plunked down three cans of Hatch picante sauce and two tall bottles of Mildly Wild! barbecue sauce. Then, after a moment of obvious contemplation, he dashes out of line to retrieve a third bottle of sauce. I asked him if it was really that good and he said that, yes, it was. I then asked, "Is it Rudy's Bar-B-Que Sauce Good?" "Even better," was his reply. I told him that I was always looking for a good barbeque sauce and that I was going to take his word for it and grab me a bottle. So I dashed over to the end aisle display, and as soon as I got there I noticed that he was right behind me! He started explaining the different kinds there were and he suggested the "mildly hot."

When we were both back in line he told me that he is a mail carrier in the hill country and that today was his day off. He explained that an older gentelman on one of his routes introduced him to this barbeque sauce and that is how he knew about it. In a matter of minutes I learned that he has been a mail carrier for over 35 years and he loves what he does. As I was grabbing my bags to leave he reached over into the candy bin and grabbed a candy bar. He told me that he isn't a big sweet eater but that the 3 Musketeers with Mint was actually very good. I told him that I was going to stop at the sauce, but thanks anyway. He immediately thrust the candy bar into the hands of the checker so she could quickly scan it, and he handed it to me. "I'm getting this for you...I want you to try it!"

I have to say, that is one of the nicest things someone has done for me in a long time. A total and complete stranger bought me a candy bar...just because. I have to say, I couldn't decide whether to wolf that thing down pronto or save it until later. I ended up saving it until after work for my drive home. I put on my sunglasses, cranked up the radio, opened my sun roof, and enjoyed my 3 Musketeers;savoring each bite with the knowledge that I've still got it!!!

Dress Rehearsal

The "good" thing (if you could call it that) about a week's worth of inservices is that it allows you some full dress rehearsals before the real deal. Fortunately I do not have to report to these meetings until 8:30 instead of the regular 7:30 (this is awesome because I have a lot more "free time" in the mornings-plus it's just ME getting MYSELF ready). Anyway, it has become blaringly apparent that I am not ready for the premiere. Take yesterday morning for example: I found myself all dressed and ready to go with 15 minutes to spare. Before I even got dressed I had showered, washed my hair, had a cup of coffee, read my daily devotions, and checked my email. I applied full makeup and got dressed up. When I went to the mirror to get one last look at myself I noticed that I still had my wet hair wrapped up in a turban. I had completely forgotten all about it. And, while we're talking about failing memories, I also forgot to apply moisturizer before slathering on my concealor. So then I had to rub moisturizing lotion on top of the concealor hoping that it would all congeal into a nice dewey finish.

Once I was at work I noticed that the band aids I slapped on both of my feet were pushed back and crumpled to the point where the newly formed blisters (a direct result of having to wear something other than flip flops for two days in a row) were exposed and the balled up band aids were quite the eye sore. The strap on the side of my favorite low-heeled-yet-still-comfortable sandals was one thread away from forcing me to spend the rest of the work day in my fuzzy house shoes I keep in my bottom desk drawer. So much for the "I'm going to dress for success" attitude. The folks at work better be glad that I can even dress myself at all!

Let There Be Light

Last night, while watching Michael Phelps establish his place in Olympic history, I listened as he answered questions about what spurred him on to achieve such greatness. He said that he welcomed any and all comments. He said that if someone tells him he can't do something that just makes him want to try that much harder. One would think that a man with eight gold medals around his neck would respond best to positive comments, but the overall desire to "prove 'em wrong" wins out in the end. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure that a ton of positive emotions fuel Michael's training sessions and competition swims, but the competitive nature surely kicks in if for no other reason than to outswim that single "you can't."

We are all surrounded by cheerleaders and naysayers in life. Both are often the people who love us the most. I have been very blessed to have been able to surround myself with many cheerleaders (I'm not stupid). They back me up with neverending chants of "You can do it!" and "I believe in you!" Nevertheless, there are still some joy suckers in my circle whose apparent purpose in life is to douse my light and snuff my joy. As a sensitive, emotional, and people-pleasing person I respond very well to my cheerleaders. I stand taller, I gain confidence, and I start pushing forward. As an independent, sarcastic, and stubborn person I respond slightly different toward the joy suckers. I can't help but to shrink a little when their dark shadows threaten to blanket me. I can't help but to question and doubt myself as their negativity grips my heart. But, little do they know, I always keep a light on inside of myself (kind of like keeping a flashlight handy in the event of a power outage). And, for some reason, it shines brightest when everything around me is dark. Much like Michael Phelps, in his attempt to prove 'em wrong, I respond well to the joy suckers. While a gold medal may not be in the cards for me I will never stop heading toward my own finish line in my life's journey. My cheerleaders will never tire of spurring me on and as for those joy suckers...well, I may not be able to get them off my back...but out of the kindness of my heart I will still allow them to buy my books...I mean...they'll probably enjoy reading what I had to say about them...or not.

I've Got a Gut Feeling

All of this talk about babies has me thinking about my own...belly. Back when I was pregnant the only cute maternity clothes were from The Pea in the Pod and they were out of my price range. I was so excited to be pregnant that I wanted everyone to know that I was expecting. So I went to the store that housed the clothes in my price range: Solo Serve...the one on San Pedro...next to the mall that housed The Pea in the Pod. I thought that I was being so very frugal and clever by not even buying maternity clothes, but instead clothes in larger sizes. This ingenious "trick" of mine helped me in my endeavor to appear as pregnant as possible for ALL 10 months of my pregnancy.

Not wanting to completely miss out on the maternity clothes "experience" I did find a top that had none other than WIDE VERTICAL STRIPES of navy and white combined with a sailor's knot of red underneath a rounded bib of a "collar." Just stretch on some navy leggings and some simple white Keds and Whallah! You've got yourself one unmistakably pregnant nautical nightmare. Ever since then I've only seen beautifully pregnant bellies...never the tent. That's right...the bellies are exposed, if only by an inch or two. The mothers-to-be are all into tight, form fitting clothing. And here's the kicker...they look great!

One other word about bellies: stretchmarks. I am a little dumbfounded about these "badges of honor." You see, I somehow managed to make it through two pregnancies without acquiring any stretchmarks...but just the other day, while accidentally catching an unplanned glimpse of myself in the mirror- I saw them! Right there on the sides of my hips...I am stretching...but I am not pregnant. I have "badges of horror" as these came not from the miracle of life, but from the battle of a metabolism that shorted out. But, alas, I am okay with it all. Now, if I start lactating and craving a minivan then, by all means, bring in the intervention team!!!

What the Duck?!

So there's this dead duck in my loft...no...REALLY...there is a dead duck in my loft. He is lying on his back atop a log; arms spread open wide as if he were making a snow angel. Although I do believe that when one makes snow angels they also use their legs...they don't leave them sticking straight up in the air like...well...like a dead duck. By now you are probably wondering just how this could have happened. I know I have alluded to the fact that my housekeeping skills are not exactly in line with Martha's and there have been times when fruit flies and mice call our house their home. I do, however, try to keep it clean enough that wildlife won't seek out my house as the best place to curl up and die. But, speaking of wildlife, my brother-in-law stopped me before I went upstairs to my loft and told me that his stuffed duck mount was going to be spending a few nights up there in an effort to keep the real wildlife (the ones that are still ALIVE) from carrying it away. Okie Dokey. I mean, just how does one respond to that? And so for the past day and a half I have tried my best not to take a picture of my tiny dog sniffing around the duck.

Enough with the dead animal talk...let's talk about life; as in brand new life...new beginnings. Having just been around all of my colleagues for the past two days it is apparent that love lives have been anything but dead! There are so many pregnancies and new babies we look more like a maternity ward than an elementary school! Too bad the rest of us can't walk around in gowns and slippers as we labor through each day. You know, the start up of school is a lot like having a baby...actually it is a lot like having close to 700 babies (barf!). We troll up and down the hallways rubbing the small of our back (sore from standing all day). We find our closest colleague and spit out as many obscenities under our breath as we can to help alleviate the pain that often comes with trying to push the little darlings along. There are times when our water starts to break due to the lack of water breaks. And then, after 9 1/2 long months of carrying these little beings along we release them out into the world and we somehow forget all about the pain and suffering (well, not totally) and smile a glowing smile as we realize that our work is "done". We start our summers off with that glow of being able to get our bodies back...get our groove back...and then WHAM! We find out that just when we thought it was safe...we get "the letter" in the mail informing us that we are expecting again...and a whole new growth period begins.

Something to Howl About

Today was one of those powerful days when you are actually glad that you showed up at work. I had the privilege of listening to the dynamic Angela Wigglesworth. She instantly charmed us with her beautiful smile, her delightful sense of humor, and her wonderful ability to tell a story. Her message was one of love and giving. She reminded us to help others every chance we can and to never be afraid to ask for help ourselves. When she spoke she did so from her soul, which one instantly recognized as a good one. I was most impressed with her delivery---she sure knows how to captivate a crowd. Angela, if you're reading this, I want to say "Thank You" for telling us your story! (For anyone interested in learning more about her you can visit her blog at http://www.littlewriggle.typepad.com/ ).

She got me thinking...what are my stories (as far as education is concerned)? Which moments made me know that I was where I was suppose to be? Which moments have yet to reveal themselves? As each new school year starts to unfold there is always a mixture of emotions that run through me. I find myself eagerly awaiting all things new: school supplies, outfits, seeing friends, meeting new teachers...much like when I was a kid in school myself. I also find myself having those back to school dreams a couple of weeks before school starts. You know...the ones where nothing goes right, you get lost, you hate it. In fact, just the other night I actually dreamed that my new book rep was none other than Wolf from the American Gladiators. He came howling through the front doors of the library dressed in red from head to toe; his wild hair following him; a motorcycle helmet tucked beneath his arm. If I were to attempt to analyze this myself I would have to say this: The 2008-2009 school year will get off to a red hot start. It will be a battle of American Gladiator proportions where the teachers work with the students encouraging them to try their best. We should expect the unexpected but never tire of preparing ourselves for the reward that lies ahead. There will no doubt be some howling and growling but hopefully we will rally as a pack and get the job done.

This is Not Working for Me

Okay...so I knew this moment was coming. I set my alarm for 5:45 in the morning if for no other reason than to allow me time to "just be me" without the rushing about part of getting ready for work. I knew that I didn't have to leave for work until 7:00. Nevertheless I found myself with a wet towel around my head and nothing on but a robe at 7:00. My travel coffee mug...both of my travel coffee mugs were dirty (dirty beyond cleaning them dirty) and on a morning where I desperately needed caffeine. This called for desperate measures...I had to resort to the "travel thermos." My travel thermos is the kind that keeps liquids H-O-T but doesn't have one of those convenient sippy cup spouts. In the end I ended up never having my second or third cup of joe because of this...not a good start. I spent the first hour and a half of my "first morning awake before the roosters" writing out a full legal page list of instructions for my kids to follow while I was at work. I also decided to do the whole "take a shower/wash your hair" kind of routine since I had a legitimate excuse to do so. I ended up changing clothes three times since I "had nothing to wear" and the things that did fit looked ridiculous on me. Even after purchasing a few cute things over the summer I ended up wearing something I have worn 88 times before. I washed my hair and blew it dry only to end up wearing it in a ponytail. For some insane reason I smeared on BLUE eyeshadow (who knows what I was thinking...I was wearing navy okay?!).

On the drive to work the lens fell out of my favorite pair of sunglasses (I expected as much since they were crooked already due to the fact that my daughter sat on them the night before). My goal of "only carrying a small, lightweight purse this school year", was shot to hell the minute I crammed in my book (just in case), my pencil/pen/highlighter pouch, my tape recorder (you never know when a great thought will present itself), my tube of Zovirax (fever blisters always pop up at inservices), my bottle of Germ X, my sunglasses, several colors of lipstick/gloss (in case I needed to update my look), my work keys, i.d. badge and lanyard, my name tag, my blue tooth, cell phone, and wallet; my hair clips, my bills, and my perfume samples; my pill box, my coupons, and my OxyClean spray bottle. Of course I brought my camera bag (as I have vowed never to leave it behind again) and my school folder that houses my "important papers."

School isn't even in session yet and I am a mess. I came home to a messy house and kids who did not do their chores. I did not make dinner (what's new?) and thankfully grandparents stopped by unexpectedly and got the kids' Blizzards from Sonic. I am praying that they are "full" and will forget that dinner never really took place. I don't know what I'm going to do once they are in school.

On the way to work I listened in as a DJ described his wife's emotional roller coaster of emotions as she was taking their daughter to her first day of kindergarten. She kept going on and on about videotaping everything including her daughter's trip "up the big school steps" (what school has big steps?). I know I need to honor her emotions but all I can think about is when my own kids were finally going into kindergarten I was like: "HURRY UP! GET OUT OF THE CAR-I'M GOING TO BE LATE-SEE YOU LATER-BYE!"

1st Day

I survived my first day back at work. For those of you not familiar with the life of an educator let me enlighten you: Once our summer is officially "over" we all, as a district, have to report back to "school" as one giant mass. In past years it has been at the old high school, but this year we all met at the brand new high school. This is a day when everyone in the district gets to see everyone else in the district. In a sense it is just like being back in high school yourself. I found myself going into the cafeteria with my head down rushing straight to the food section ignoring all of the people already seated at the tables (the "popular people" I assumed). I got my breakfast taco and fruit bowl and sat at the very first table filled with familiar faces. Fortunately for me they welcomed me into their "group." I had wanted to sit with my team (i.e. my "people") but did not want to have to search for them and so sat with the 6th grade teachers. I felt like I had arrived. I was accepted. Oh to be accepted. It made me think about the youth that will be in our care for the next school year. I have been on the outside of the "popular" circle before and it did not feel good. Now that I am older, and wiser, I wish that I had been comfortable with the me that I was (and still am). But, unfortunately, as kids, we always seem to want to fit a certain standard. I hope that I can help kids see that they are great the way that they are. I hope that I am able to feel great the way that I am.

Later, in the afternoon, we were all told to go to our "home campus." What awaited us there was something that was quite unexpected but completely enjoyable. The Drum Cafe had us all communicating via drums in a way that reminded us that we are all a family, beating as one. We need to listen to the soft beats as well as the loud beats. It was a welcome message and a great motivator. I am especially glad that our administrators had the insight and initiative to bring them to our campus in an effort to start our year off on a great note.

I love the people that I work with and I enjoy what I do. I feel very blessed and fortunate to be in a position where I get to interact with children in grades k-6th. This gives me the opportunity to watch them grow into themselves. I also enjoy watching my peers grow into the amazing teachers that they are. We all have separate lives and we all have baggage. I am just glad that we all get to be a family at work while we're away from our own.

The More Things Change

Funny how the little things that once annoyed you don’t seem so bad after all. In fact, you actually find yourself welcoming them into your life. Take feeding the rabbit and listening to the incessant chatter of the parakeets for example. After just one day back at work I find myself looking forward to cleaning cages rather than being put back in one myself. I’d rather scoop it all out than have it all heaped upon me. But, such is the working world of which I am, unfortunately, a part of. After having spent many luxurious weeks at home doing what some would consider the mundane I am having to face the fact that the time I once claimed as my own is no longer that. But wait, maybe I can still carve out some of that time and reclaim it. Maybe I can go to bed a little earlier and rise a little earlier. Early enough to absorb the things that make me smile. Then, should my well run dry at work I will have a reservoir of memories to sustain me throughout the drought I consider work. I am so very grateful to have every summer off. I relish the opportunity to recharge and relinquish myself to all things slow and unhurried. My prayer for this coming school/work year is for inner peace. A quiet existence where I allow myself chances to take it all in and store it all up for future reference. I wish for self control and self assertiveness. I hope for happiness and contentment. I seek order and love. I hope for a life well lived.
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The above entry was written on August 15, 2006. I found it while I was going back through all of my old journal entries and printing them out. I find it amazing that no matter the year my feelings remain the same. This entry could have very well been written today…except for the fact that the rabbit and parakeets have died. I hope it wasn’t because I went back to work and thus neglected their basic needs.

Feeling the Burn

Well, here it is the Monday before the Thursday I return to work for the new school year. I finally made good on my promise to get up early and walk in the morning. My daughter has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon at 1:30 so I have plenty of time to wait for the internet to connect.

My face has been zit free all summer long, but now that I have to sit in an auditorium with 1000+colleagues my jaw line is peppered and the infamous Cyclops look is upon me…go figure. After purchasing nothing but accessories (read:PURSES) all summer I must now face the fact that I have nothing to wear but plenty to carry.

My daughter is now using a flat iron while I just experienced my first "fat" iron. Let me explain: I was ironing a blouse (only because I had a meeting with my boss) and I was fresh out of the shower (only because I had a meeting with my boss). As I stood there in my next to nothings I somehow managed to run over my stomach with the iron. Nothing says WAKE UP AND START THAT EXERCISE PROGRAM like a hot iron to the gut. Talk about feeling the burn!

As I walked past our chicken coop I heard the roosters crowing and thought to myself, MEN! They are so darn noisy! Especially in the mornings when us hens are wanting to savor each precious second before the chicks wake up and peck away at us. And then I thought, COOP…how appropriate. With the heat of the summer and the kids and I at home we are certainly feeling cooped up with not much to crow about.
I guess it really is time to head on back to school/work (did I really just say that?!) Oh CacaDoodleDo!

a la cart

Yesterday, while digging through the racks beneath a sign that reads: "Bienvenido a un mundo de ahorros" (translated as "Welcome to a world of savings") my jaw still drops and my face still contorts when I flip the tag and read that "they" want $19.99 for a shirt. Granted, in the "real world" (translated as "money is not an issue and off brands are not even an option...GAWD, can you even eeemadgine it?!") the original price tag would have read $79.99. Am I cheap? I don't think so. I know a good thing when I see it...I just want to have a lot of good things. Therefore I focus on quantity AND quality. And so, in order to do this, I must shop in un mundo de ahorros. This means shopping with the masses. This means pushing a blue plastic shopping cart (strip away the blue pastic and it is, in fact, a GROCERY cart) that has a six foot pole attached to its front..hell all it needs is a small, fluorescent orange triangular flag at it's top, a few streamers coming out of the cart's wheels and...BAM!...let's race!) This makes it extremely difficult to discover a hidden gem before any of the other three hundred and ninety five shoppers crammed in the store with you do. It also makes it hard to make a mad dash out of the store in an effort to pull a once over on the cop who guards the door. Of course, even if you did rob el mundo you couldn't wear your loot...unless you like those damn plastic theft deterrants that somehow never sound off when all of the alleged shoplifting occurs, but always forces the sensors to scream when I walk out of the doors even though I actually paid for my two-season's ago clothes. That, or else the clerk conveniently forgot to use her secret magical sensor slider thingy while swiping my clothes. It's funny, really, how I now shop for my clothes with a grocery cart but buy my groceries using soft, canvas totes.
Let's face it...I'm a Ross Dress For Less Girl in a La Cantera World.

Splitting Hairs

There are two weeks left before school starts and my soon-to-be 6th grade daughter now has bangs. Those angled, swinging, stay-in-your-eyes bangs. The kind that tickle your face but won't quite stay behind your ear. The kind that will more than likely drive me crazy. She looks cute and stylish and likes her new "do"...for now. I am mentally and emotionally trying to prepare myself for the moment (which, to be more precise, is any moment from now) that her opinion changes. I venture to say that every woman on the other side of her teens has battled with her bangs. We all know the turmoil of growing them out, wearing them too short, trying to curl them without having them look curled...
But I had to let her do it; all the while knowing that I would be paying the price in those early morning rush hour minutes.

But let me back up a bit and say that I applaud her for wanting to try new things. I hope that she always feels comfortable and confident enough to change her hair style. I ended up being a slave to other people's opinions about my hair and never experienced different looks. Now that I am not taking every single opinion to heart I am at a point where my hair "style" is the LAST thing I have time or energy for. My daughter, at least, has a mind of her own (don't I know it!).

She has been doing her own hair in the mornings ever since she was itty bitty. For one I am always rushing around trying to get myself ready, get breakfast ready, clean up breakfast, get lunches ready, let the dog out, let the dog in, start the washer and dryer...you get the picture. Another reason she does her own hair is that she is such a perfectionist she and I don't mesh well before 7:00 a.m....especially when she insists there is still a hair (did you catch that...a hair...as in a SINGLE hair) on the wrong side of the part. WHATEVER!!?? Keep in mind, dear readers, that my hair is almost always pulled back in a hairball atop my head.

She and I never had the bonding-in-the-mornings-while-I-tied-ribbons-in-her-freshly-curled-hair kind of moments. Our morning hair experiences are more likely to have me screaming, "I've got a brush in the car-you can fix it on the way-now get your butt out of here we're late AGAIN!!!" Followed by lots of "it looks fine" and "no one will even notice" remarks.

Eventually the tears dry up and the eyes come out from beneath the eyebrows and the brush gets put back in the glove compartment. The winds blow and the rain falls and at the end of the day it's time to wash our hair and start all over again...wash, rinse, repeat...

Copy & Print

1500+ pages and 3 1/2 ink cartridges later I have finally finished printing out a hard copy of some of my journal entries from the past couple of years that I had saved on my computer. While I will jot things down on paper every now and then the bulk of my writing is done on the computer. I had often thought about spending a day or four at the library printing out hard copies but at .10c a copy I wasn't so sure. But at the same time I was always fearful that my computer would crash and then my life would end. I had backed everything up on a couple of flash drives, but nevertheless I wanted it printed (not to mention that it is much easier to read that way!).

Anyway I am so relieved now that it is done. From now on I'll be able to print as soon as I finish each entry. Wow! This "new technology" is amazing!!! I suppose now I should put everything on a CD and then I'll be up to snuff. It sure feels good to accomplish something!

On another note I am looking forward to meeting a friend for lunch this afternoon so we can catch up and enjoy being out. After our visit I am off to my best friend's house to check out her new and improved bathroom! (I'll do anything to get out of here lately!!) At least this way I'll have something "exciting" to tell people when they ask me what I did over the summer!

Tonight my husband and I are going to a dude ranch as invited guests. We will be in the "ghost town" area (go figure) and the attire is western (I'm wearing heels and a skirt...no bolos or conchos for moi). Considering the fact that the "worst drought in history" is still upon us I can't wait to walk around in the dust...although if I get enough on me it just might mask the veins around my ankles.

Running On Empty

It's getting closer and closer to my freedom pass's expiration date. But as I face the fact that all good things must end I have also hyped myself up with enough positive mumbo jumbo that I actually thought ahead for once and decided to be one of the first (instead of the last) to get my picture taken for my new school i.d. badge. Not to mention the fact that my hair looked GOOD! I was already in town and decided that it was time to kick the procrastination habit.

"I'm sorry...we're all out of ink. You'll have to come back tomorrow." Huh? She so did not just say that. How can you be out of ink on the very first day of picture taking? Did you not pack a spare?! OMG!! Well, as you can probably guess my "be prepared-don't procrastinate-keep a positive outlook mentality" was squelched before I could be told "...have a nice day!" Whatever!

This all happened after I had been over at my place of employment removing all of my belongings, books, files, manuals, notebooks, computers...out of my office so that ALL OF THE CARPET IN THE ENTIRE LIBRARY can be REMOVED next weekend!!! I have to go back later in the week to pack up the computes and all of the books that were on the bottom shelves in the nonfiction section that were initially removed during the flooding in an effort to save them (a HUGE thank you to everyone who did that while I was completely unaware of the "situation" that was going on...thanks to my dial up life).

Despite the fact that our school is ...uh..."not ready", my library books are a tad "out of order", all teachers report to duty in one week, there is a hurricane brewing in the Gulf...which means it will be RAINING WHEN I RETURN TO GET MY PICTURE TAKEN (think hair)...I can still say that I will do my best to plan ahead. In fact...after the no picture fiasco I drove straight to Walmart and bought not one, not two...but THREE INK CARTRIDGES THANKYOUVERYMUCH!!!

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Just saw the movie, Mama Mia, last night. I am still humming the catchy songs in my head. I am feeling a little elated and giddy right now. The whole time I was in the theater I couldn't help but to think that this movie is so GIRL!!! It had just the right mix of all of the things that speak to our inner chick. I can't say too much because I would hate to be the one to spoil one minute of the movie for any of you so all I can really say is this: GO SEE IT!! Hurry up before anyone tells you about it!!

I will say this though-although I can't sing to save my life I want to walk around on my tip toes singing while I go about my day. I want to reconnect with my girlfriends and quit trying to be someone I'm not...I want to celebrate the me that I am. Wow! All this from a musical?!

One the best things about the whole experience was that I saw it with three other women friends of mine. Technically we are coworkers but after multiple years of working together and sharing our lives with each other I am proud to call these ladies my friends. I want to go back and take my daughter and my mother to see it as soon as possible. I even went so far as to buy the soundtrack on my way home! I can't even remember the last time I bought a CD...I think it was back before the Dixie Chicks made their "comments."

And now, what is a girl to do? How must I cope with the sad fact that my family is not very likely to twirl a mop or broom with gusto all the while singing their smiling hearts out about the thrill of cleaning house. That is about as likely as my husband wearing rolled up, baggy ,white ,cotton pants; shirtless and barefoot (think Pierce Brosnan here). I guess I'll just have to resort to memorizing the lyrics so I can belt it out while scrubbing our toilets...at least the acoustics are great in the bathroom ...Mama Mia!