a slightly late Valentines post

Me and Shaun have always had Valentines traditions. First of all we don't make a huge deal out of the day. I love an excuse to be sappy and lately it feels like I need to schedule romantic......but we don't let Halmark steal all the glory. Our first Valentines we put a 5$ limit on our gifts and were told to be creative. For me that was writing why I loved him on the back of every StarWars valentine in the box. For Shaun it meant bouncy balls and a bag of half eaten candy. So we upped the limit and threw the creativity clause out the window. Back in Lubbock we used to always go to Orlandos on Q ( because no one goes past University) and savored the mafia queso. Here we have always gone out the night or 2 before to skip the big crowds. Plus I am impatient and can never wait that long. With O and another on the way I was looking especially forward to a special date. Then we all got the flu. No one felt like eating out or going out or being even a little bit romantic. To give Shaun credit he got me a card, one from O and Starbucks card. I got him nothing ( I had the bathroom re-tiled so he didn't have to do it...does that count?). I planned to get a fun cookie cake from the mall and deliver it to him at work. But I couldn't get myself off the couch. ( He is the one who gave me the flu after all). Later that afternoon managed to bake some cupcakes. O added sprinkles but did not feel limited by red. I don't remember dinner. Possibly Quiznos. No candles. No restraunt. No steak dinner (which is fine by me, red meat makes me want to puke right now). I went to bed early determined to go to the work for the first full day all week on Friday. As I laid in bed watching cartoons with Owen I taught him to hold hands like a big boy. All five fingers intertwined, not me just holding on to the one. Every time I let go he said, "He said no mommy, hold hands". So I laid there, sick in bed before 9, with my hand engulfing his.....thinkning it wasn't such a bad Valentines after all.

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break a leg

I do the math on my hand. This is my 5th end of the year dance recital and you think by now I’d know to remember to pack hair spray and snacks. Someone hands my daughter a bag of chips and I want to hug her. I want to tell her that I am not a total failure, that we did not lose the wristbands, we wore the right color tights and that I do at least have a few bobby pins in my pocket. I can not handle the crazy that is backstage. It is a whirlwind of squealing girls in sequins, lycra and tulle. Moms wielding curling hours and more eye makeup than the entire MAC counter, I start to sweat in my ponytail. I quickly look away as an entire row of dancers peel off EVERYTHING for a quick costume change. I was not made for this. I unashamedly let an eight-year-old I have never met teach me how to get my daughter’s hair in place and I make the fastest exit I can. We sit in the balcony. Where we have been for hours. Dance recital day is all consuming. Rehersal, hair and finding the right ti...

different

Someone recently sent me a meme about tattoos. I reminded them that I have over half a dozen, although none in such obvious places as the picture. I thought about it while I washed my hair, and how once my hair was also purple, and what kind of memes could be found about that. And also, my nose was pierced. Other than the first two tattoos, none of these were things I did in my youth. All were in my thirties. Currently my hair is a plain brown in a sensible cut. My tattoos all easily hidden with most clothing and only my ears are pierced. As this decade closes I have made efforts to dress more professionally, drink less, stay on top of the laundry although I still refuse to make my bed and talk at an appropriate volume level. Yet, I only looked back on my purple-haired days with longing rather than regret. See, I used to do those things to be different. Sometimes I’d feel just a little trapped by my suburban life although perfect, felt a little too predictable. I fel...

voice

I remember waking up the day after the election tired and stunned. When I got to work I went downstairs to make copies and make some tea and did not make it back to my classroom until right before the tardy bell rang. I have a large class, full of all kinds of students from all kinds of backgrounds. I had not even thought about how they would respond to the election and that since we begin school so early that I might be the first adult they saw that day. Immediately an African American on the front row told me that she was disappointed in our country. I teach science, not government and thought that I needed to turn the conversation as quickly as I could safely back to the objectives on the board, but I could not ignore her hurt and the rest of the quiet in the room. I told her that regardless of what candidate she supported that this country is run by more than one person, that very soon she would be able to vote, that she had a voice. Behind her, a student that also ha...

idontbelieveingrammar

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