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Showing posts from October, 2011

the traditional halloween repost

Tonight is finally Halloween, but I feel like we are always dressed up around here. Owen is usually something from starwars, and Tess is a princess or a fairy or barbie or even occasionally all three. And I will put on pretty much anything to make meykids (or anyone else) laugh.... So far this week Owen has been Jango Fett and Waldo, and Tess Rainbow Brite, Super Woman and Tinkerbell (and if you were wondering, despite my facebook post I did not send her to school on "book character" day as Hester Prynne....although I still think it would have been funny!)

So here is to costumes and my annual Halloween repost from when he was 3 and spiderman:

Owen just scooted out the door for the day dressed as spiderman. His school is having a halloween party......but I am not sure he was supposed to show up ALL day in costume. I also considered the fact that they are serving lasagna for lunch, and the outfit is a one-piecer making "potty time" a nightmare. I thought maybe just ta…


This is my 12th year teaching. I have about 150 kids a year. Give or take a dozen.

And 150 X 12 is a lot.
And as much as I mean to. I don’t remember them all. I’ve been in four different schools and some of my students have multiple kids, multiple degrees and multiple marriages by now. Many of their faces and names sound familiar, but all too often they blur together.

I remember Virginia who shaved off her eyebrows and drew them in and intimidated me a little. Rumor is she came form Juvy. But she laughed really big and I did everything I could to make her laugh. And it paid off.

I remember Crystal, who, when I was young and new I went around the room and asked what their future goals were, told me she wanted to be a stripper. I quickly picked my jaw up off the floor and told her she better stay in school and learn how to manage all that money first. She didn’t let anyone mess with me. I took her out to eat once and think it was the only time she had been in a restaurant with men…

stuck in the middle

A few nights ago was Game 2 of the World Series I went to bed while St. Louis had the lead. It didn’t look good for the Rangers and call me a 2%er all you want. I leave my house while most of you are still snug in your beds and it was a work day. The next morning, while getting coffee I was shocked to see that Rangers win taking up a full page spread on a newspaper another customer discarded on the table. I went to sleep. And missed it. (and I wish I had slept through Game 3 but that is a different post)

Last night, my average college team took down the #3 team in the nation. And I went to bed at half time. Again I was worn out and exhausted. Even though we were up by several touchdowns I kind of expected them to lose it anyways. And I am totally into my college football (well at least my team, not like my husband who can somehow be into every team). But a rain delay and two trunk or treats with a Jawa and Rainbow Brite on too much candy had done me in. And when my husband came to be…

The three year old test

I’ve learned, the hard way that when I take my kids in for well child check ups that there will be questions. I like to call it the whatever-age-they-are-test. Mostly for the moms.

First come the questions about my kids that I should know, but might not. Like do they alternate their feet when climbing upstairs? I don’t know. She gets up the stairs. Is that all that matters. And I don’t exactly have stairs in my house. So this whole stair observation thing is pretty limited. Besides, she’d much rather take the alligator anyways. Which I clearly know means elevator, but took my husband a while to catch on.

Next are the questions that I know I should lie when asked, but unfortunately sometimes accidentally answer with the truth.
Like when she asks if she eats a balanced diet I respond with do chicken nuggets, fruit snacks, yogurt and cookies count as balanced?
Does she do chores? Uhm. She is 3. Is that too early to use the vacuum and iron. Because if not I am about to be one happy lady.

18 inches

The other day I got an email from a friend. She was in a bible study and they had to survey a few people with a question about how we view God. I don’t remember the question exactly, but something along the lines of “What do we think we have to do to get God to like us?”
And of course the right answer is “nothing”.
And I mean it. I know that the answer to that is nothing.
Nothing I can say or do makes God love me any less.
I’ve read it. I’ve heard it. I’ve even told other people that.

But really wrapping my heart around that. And living that way. And treating other people like it is true for them. Well. That is harder to do.

So I wrote her two answers.
The true one.
And also with the one that I know isn’t true, but sometimes think anyways.
And I could answer lots and lots of questions like that. With two answers.
The one my head knows is true, but that I struggle to really believe in my heart.

I’ve always read a lot. And so more often than not, I know the right answers to questions.…


Lately I have felt like I am drowning. And I’m not usually this girl…but I have written about a similar feeling before here. That I am just trying to get through. And as soon as I find my feet. Something else seems to land in my way and push me under again. And I feel ridiculous because theses things aren’t so rough. And I'm mostly fine. It is just that things seem to keep coming. And as soon as I recover from one thing. I get hit by another. I wrote something new about it about a week ago, but didn’t really know how to wrap it up or where to go with it. Or even if I wanted to put it out there. Because I don’t like to be a complainer or have people email me and ask if I’m ok or hint that maybe I should take some meds.

But then this morning I picked up a book that I've already read, and read this. Again.
It is first chapter in Shauna Niequist’s book Bittersweet. And I heart Shauna. But I almost never read b…

clean sheets and the nursery

When I’m dropping my kids off in the nursery at church, a nice sweet mom used to corner me to ask me where I’d like to serve in the children’s ministry.

And. Just because I have children does not mean you should put me in charge of other people’s.
Little people scare me. Sometimes even my own.

I’m so grateful that there are people with perfect hair and ironed skirts who want to sing songs and change diapers and dole out goldfish. But I’m not really that girl.
Don’t get me wrong, I am more than willing to do my share. As long as it doesn’t involve hand motions.

The last time she asked I said, “I’d really rather feed homeless people than teach Sunday School”. And she laughed like I’d just told her a funny joke.
“No, really, I insisted I mean that. I really like homeless people. And the thought of being left alone with a dozen three year olds makes me want to breathe into a paper bag. But, I’m happy to sub or fill in or whatever you need. Occasionally. Just let me know”.
“Oh.” She said.…

five minutes

The opposite of talking.
You would think is listening.
Or at least not talking.
But turns out for most of us. Or at least for me. Most of the time. Those aren’t the right answers.
The opposite of talking. Is waiting to talk.

And when I read that, in a coffee shop in Seattle, I cringed inside because I know it is more true than I want it to be.

My husband used to have a symbol to help me out in groups. He would tug on his ear when I needed to turn down the volume or worse when I kept interrupting. And I’d fill everyone else in on the joke. And usually keep going. Because awareness doesn’t always equal change.

And friends who have known me a while have their own way of dealing with my mouth.
One I work with just tries to tell people they just have to talk through me. And my oldest friends know to just ignore and eventually I tone it down and stop.  And might even tell you this if we are out together. And they will be right.

Sometimes this bad habit of mine comes in handy. When people do…

what she said

a few random conversations lately..

at Pappadeux while trying to convince Tess to put her shoes back on that she had kicked off under the table, while she was arguing that she wanted the purple ones with the flower on them..
Me: Tess, those shoes are at the house.
Tess: No! They are at MY house.
Me: My house IS your house.
Tess: Well, my house is messy then.
Me: Yes it is. Now, put your flip flops back on!

still at Pappadeux
Waiter to Shaun: Can I get you another Shiner?
Owen: Nope, I'm good. (with a slight head nod).
Me: (spit my entire mouthful of iced tea into my Greek salad)

while recouping on the couch after surgery last week, Owen comes comes strolling in the living room carrying a bottle of beer.
Owen: Mom, is this the yummy drink I was sharing with Annie (my mom) last weekend?
Me: I sure hope not! ...(got off the couch, rummaged in fridge until I found an IBC creme soda)...Is this it??
Owen: Oh, yes.
Me: good! and I only knew because you said Annie, not PawPaw

in class