second six weeks playlist

I'm a teacher. I think in time frames of six weeks.
And today is the end of my kid's second six weeks in kindergarten.
(and thankfully, i have one more of mine b/c I haven't graded since progress reports!)

But today my son gets out early and is officially 1/3 of the way finished with his first year in school.
12 weeks ago he struggled to count to twenty. Tonight he fired off to 110.
12 weeks ago and I read the bedtime stories. Tonight he read me one.
12 weeks ago I was nervous about him making friends. Tonight I spent a good portion of the evening on the phone working out his social calendar.
11 weeks ago we had our share of ugly notes home. These days he comes home with a lot more stamps and smiley faces.

He loves school. He is totally hot for his teacher and some girl named Whitney in his class. And he can't wait to do his homework.
Tonight we didn't have any homework, but were planning for tomorrow's show and tell. His jumping beans have stopped jumping and he hasn't lost any teeth yet.
He was a little stumped so I suggested that he resort to what we did the first week when I wasn't sure if he was supposed to bring anything.
Dance. Because he totally has some new moves (well new old moves like the moonwalk, the runing man, the grocery cart and even the hammer)
AND
He told me that his teacher said you couldn't dance for show and tell.
I'm thinking of scheduling a conference.

(and the husband left the new dance footage at work, so I'll have to upload later....I promise I'll put it up but here is the original show and tell...)

Comments

pace yourself

Tonight I went running with a friend ten years my junior. I asked her how far she was running and when she said only about 1.5 or 2 miles, I teased her that I could go at least twice that far. And to just let me know when she needed to stop. I have been running pretty regularly for the last few weeks. It isn’t long but keep increasing my time and distance. I’ve stopped getting blisters. I don’t suck wind after five minutes anymore and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Thinking I might even be able to out run this girl who was so much younger and obviously in more shape than me. As we started to jog I told her that I run pretty slow. Like my husband used to walk beside me while I ran, slow. And she slowed her gait a little bit for me but it was still faster than I usually go. I was a little embarrassed and was not going to ask her to slow down again. So I just ran at her pace. I stayed close. And was fading fast. A little over a mile in I was ready to quit. Again, pride, which isn...

pursue something else.

Americans like the idea of happy. of pursuing happiness. It is even one of our inalienable rights at least according to the Declaration of Independance. But I think maybe we should pursue something else. like love or joy or peace or contentment. and leave happy alone. Don't read me wrong. I am neither bitter nor cynical. Even my problems are good problems. I am positive. Half full. And most days I laugh a whole lot more than I cry. And simple things like a dance party in the living room, an hour alone in Barnes and Noble, the yellow pajama pants my son picked out for me for mother's day, potstickers, clean sheets, someone surprising me with coffee, jeans fresh from the dryer, a good song on the radio, or squeals of delight when I walk in the door all make my heart sing. They make me happy. For a minute. But when the squealing turns to screaming, my new pants are dirty, the sheets are in a jumble on the floor or the coffee runs out....where does that leave me? And happy isn'...

my first dance

My wedding day is a little bit of a blur. And it was a great day. But so many people and so much going on and so many moments that it is hard to remember them all clearly without the help of photographs. But I totally remember my first dance as a bride. And it wasn’t with my husband. Or even my father, or brother. I had quickly kicked off my heels and hid them underneath a table. Said my hellos and hugs and smiled until my face hurt. Someone ushered us through the buffet line and I piled my plate with hors d'oeuvres and headed to a table. But before I could pop a single shrimp in my mouth someone grabbed me firmly by the arm and pulled me onto the dance floor and into a jitterbug before I could protest. It was my husband’s granddaddy. A man I had only met about a few times and heard say about as many words. So I was a little surprised when he spun me around the dance floor. Eventually that night I danced with my husband. And my dad. And probably even my brother. But my fir...

idontbelieveingrammar

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