Bringing in the new

Christmas 2011 is history.  I know because there are piles everywhere needing to find a home because new things have inhabited the island of Cummins.  The girls were blessed once again with Barbies and Calico Critters to play with and lots of new clothes from their cousins and aunt so they don't have to go to school naked or in clothes that no longer fit them. All in all it was a great holiday for them and one that has brought forth some changes ahead.

Tis the season of goal setting.  I'm not a huge goal setter simply because I can't stand failing and it seems like when I set them, it requires following through and although I follow through on most of the tasks in my life, there are two little creatures in my world (well four if you count the furry ones) that I can honestly not control.  Control tends to be an issue for me, but that's a whole other post.  Back to the whole goals thing. I consider New Years another day, mostly because my year runs basically from August to August.  When school ends, the year ends and when school starts, it's New Year's for me.  I have large goals and plans and usually they crash about three weeks into the school year.  Suddenly, the whole "I'm going to be sure to take attendance immediately every class period" goes by the wayside and if I get to it, hurrah, and if I don't, well, shame on me. Something I've noticed since school has begun is there are two creatures in my world becoming sloths. Yes, sloths. And so is their mom for that matter.  Sloths aren't pretty and aren't necessarily nice. Not only that, but they represent lazy.  That is where I get to yell, "Bingo!" because you've just identified my family.

Tonight I just finished two major things.  One is my monthly budget.  I MUST return to the Dave Ramsey method of using cash envelopes and that entails lots of preplanning.  So, come Jan 1, I will be returning to that method and hoping to be able to stay on track whereas to not go past my income level each month. As it appears, I can do it, with $10 to spare a month.....whoohoooo......look at me go with the speed of a sloth, but at least it's forward....

The other task completed was my children's responsibility charts.  I do believe I have good kids. I also believe they're both con artists and can sneak out of doing work every single cotton pickin' day. We're talking simple things really, like brushing your teeth before bed or showering every other day.  Seriously?  Yep. Seriously.  I suppose I was similar when I was that age, which maybe gives me more incentive to fix the issue before I see the tail of the sloth forming a permanent residency on my children's behinds.  So, the responsibility charts are hanging in the bathroom and have been discussed.  Even the three year old has smiley faces and sad faces to circle daily for her chores.  We'll see how it goes.  Once again, it's a goal.

For me.....well, plenty of them.  Be a better mom.  Be a better teacher.  Get lesson plans done a month in advance. Stay on top of finances.  Love God more and absorb his Word for guidance more.  Get healthy.  Drink more wine. (Well, you have to throw in one that is easily attainable or you give up.)

And now, I must go close the Barbie Glamour Vacation Jet which was a huge hit and turn off the Mobigo computer my three year old is playing IN HER OWN BED....who thought I would type those words before June.....and then hit the hay and dream of all the great things that will come from these recent revelations I refer to as goals, not resolutions. Hate resolutions. They always strike me as giving up of something, whereas goals represent adding something.  Plus resolutions remind of New Year's Eve and that reminds me of the fact that I'm so old I haven't seen a ball drop in years and my typical date that night is Dick Clark.  My midnight kiss usually comes from a golden retriever needing to go potty.  Bring on 2012.

Eclectic Day.....

My mind is a wandering one.  Sleep doesn't come easily when I've got a full mind, which is where writing comes in handy, but again, in order to complete that task in my household, it would require being able to hold a flashlight and write at the same time since a three year old sleeps next to me, clinging fearfully to my flesh most of the night.  Yeah, that's a whole other blog post.  Anyway, my mind is eclectic and my day has proven to be the same so figured I'd allow a glimpse into what that means.

The day began with a 9 year old yelling at me that I didn't allow her enough time to sleep. She was serious, as was I when I said, "You will be late for school and it's not because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, so move it, buttercup." Begrudgingly, she got up still blaming me that she had just got in bed and it was time to wake up.  Not sure what she thought those nine hours were in between, but I find it fun to watch children learn things and figure things out. Thing 1 is usually much quicker than she proved this morning. 

At school the dreaded psycho parent has made her appearance.  Although it appears she isn't aiming quite at me yet, I know inevitably I will be a target and a big one at that.  It is unnerving to deal with parents who blame teachers for things and who listen to one side of every story assuming the worst in regard to the professional who simply wants to help her child. My mind was menaced by thoughts of this upcoming encounter which doesn't get any easier after 20 years of them. 

During class as we're starting vocabulary, I have the students tell me what word they were assigned to be an expert at (in other words, which one they will teach us about).  As I called a girl's name, I asked what word she had. She quickly said, "Slut."  I hear giggles and gasping from the popular side of the room.  Then of course, there is always Mr. Clown who bursts out with, "What did you just say? Did you just say...." To which I quickly attempt to regain control by saying, "Umm, look again at that word."  She blushes and says, "Sulk, not slut." The giggling continues as I glare toward The Cheerleader and as Mr. Clown begins to form a word, I immediately call the next name.  Needless to say, I felt sorry for the kid, although I had to admit, it was rather funny. 

Following this encounter I go to the administration building for an English department meeting for the middle school teachers. It was okay and it was also at this point that I realized I'm a free book whore.  There were a pile of books to be given away free that were newly published ones and I sat staring at them trying to figure out how I could snag a few of them. At the end of the meeting, the owner of said books offers them to anyone who is in their first five years of teaching. What?!!!!  To myself I knew there would be a way to get a book out of this deal so I walked up front with a rookie from our school and helped her choose a free book, knowing that sooner or later, the owner will give in and see these rookies aren't going to take more than one or two and there were probably 40 of them.  My ears perked up and my heart practically skipped a beat when she said, "Anyone else who wants books, go ahead and grab one."  As I was grabbing books, I saw some others had four so my competitive spirit kicked in and I grabbed five.  Winner.  No clue if any of them are good. No clue if they're appropriate for 7th graders yet.  Don't care.  Free. Books. Free anything to a teacher is better than sex.  I think. 

Leavin' on a jet plane....

Tis the season. The season the Toys R Us Big Book of Toys arrives.  The season where every single day my mailbox has some sort of toy catalog in it. The season my daughters who normally aren't majorly greedy individuals suddenly become fiends for the new commercials that are appropriately placed on Disney and Nickelodeon. And of course, it comes the time when I have to decide upon a budget for Christmas gifts and remember to stick to it since the "wants" outweigh the "money" to pay.

This brings me to my first seasonal dilemma. Thing 1 decided she wanted to buy the Barbie Glamour Vacation Jet with three dolls. She saw it on tv.  She's been looking at it for a couple of years since Barbie has invaded the house. This was the year she asked for it.  Like a good 21st Century Mom, I went to Amazon to check on reviews for said jet.  They were terrible. Everything from overpriced (to which I agree) to flimsy material to it never stays together to "I'm still finding parts to it and I sold it at a rummage sale months ago."  I didn't feel right making a purchase that would pretty much exhaust Thing 1's entire Christmas budget when the reviews were like that. So, I asked her to the computer one day and asked her to read the reviews.  She did as asked and said, "I still want it."  Being the level-headed mom I am, I said, "Sleep on it for three days and if you still want it, we'll leave it on the list."

Morning one arrived.  Thing 1 was barely out of her bed when she said, "I slept on it and I still want it."

Morning two arrived. Thing 1 woke up and said, "I slept again on it. I still want it."  I countered her reply with, "You do realize if you get this that Thing 2 will have more presents to open than you will."  Silence.  Thing 1 walked away and I smirked thinking I was making progress.

Morning three arrived. "Mom, I want the jet. I know it's a big present and it has bad reviews but I think it will be my favorite toy ever."

That day I went to the website for ToysrUs and ordered it.  I have no clue if it will be a good investment. I have a pretty good idea that when Thing 2 is opening more toys, Thing 1 will be slightly hurt and upset, but will fake it and pretend it doesn't bother her.  But I remember wanting certain things for Christmas that I look back on and wonder why I wasted my time wanting them.  Some broke the night of Christmas Eve.  Some were so pathetic they were never touched again after Christmas Eve.  But the point is, I got what I asked for regardless of anything else (no, there were no Amazon reviews when I was growing up).  I think that meant more to me than weighing out the bad parts of the purchase.

So, the jet has already arrived (two days after purchasing it) and there is no turning back now.  Here's hoping for a halfway surprised Thing 1 and a durable, fun-filled toy pink jet with its own jacuzzi and karaoke area. Ken and Barbie will never be alone in there unsupervised though. It's a rule in this house.

A coloring class....hmmm...

Last night Thing 1's school had their Fall Festival.  Knowing there is a limited number of people who help out with PTA at the school, I decided it was something we should do as a family, even though it wasn't something Thing 1 was real thrilled about doing.  So, I volunteered to do something behind the scenes....set up.  However, that fell through as they had plenty who offered to do that, so they assigned me to the craft tables for the last shift. I shuddered as I responded with a "No problem. We'll be there."

Upon entering the school grounds, the first thing I'm greeted with was  "Hi Miss Cummins! What are YOU doing here?" by a kid who was absent from my class because he was sick.  I returned the greeting with "Hi Casey. The question is what are YOU doing here if you're sick?"  His response was quick.  "I'm all better. Bye."  He literally jumped on his bike and rode away like he was on fire.  I shook my head and continued walking only to hear another, "Hi Miss Cummins. AAARRRGGGGGHHHH!" from another student who was chasing Casey with a bag of garbage and literally caught him and hit him over the head with it.  At this point, Thing 1 looked at me and said, "Do we have to do this?"

I feel it necessary to remind you that this was an elementary fall festival, NOT a middle school one.  Yet, as we walked into the gym area where the food was being served (walking tacos---loved it, my kids, not so much--yet one more food to cross off my list of supper options) and found many of my students and former students helping out.  It was nice to see them working since that's a rarity in my classroom, but nonetheless, they were everywhere.  It makes sense since I live in the same neighborhood I teach in.  Probably not the wisest choice, but hey, it is what it is.

The point of this post is to say that a couple of my wildest, naughtiest students were running like wild maniacs through that fair and of course, decided to join me at the craft table once I took over the shift.  It was almost like magic when they were given these Oriental Trade magnets to color and foam book marks to make and little white pumpkins to color. I watched them transform into little kids, quietly concentrating and watching carefully as they filled in the white with something much brighter.  No punching each other.  No weird antics like tapping their markers continuously as they do in my room. No rude comments.  It was so good that I literally got a little scared for a moment.  It was at that moment that I realized there should be a coloring class offered at school for kids and adults alike who simply need that moment to unwind.....to focus on nothing but creating....to see something lifeless come to life and most importantly, to get approval from all those around on how cool your creation is no matter what it really looks like.  Yep, I'm on to something here.

The New Morning Face

Oh yes, I sense your jealousy upon seeing this lovely morning face.....ugh.  I'm not sure what has invaded the body of my three year old other than simply being three, but I seriously can't wait to drop the kid at daycare and get the heck to work! This particular face came this morning after she wanted me to help her with her coat, no she didn't, yes she did, no she DIDN'T.  Man, I simply can't win in this situation and the problem is the situation isn't a single event, nor a star of Jersey Shore.  The situation has become a morning routine and I'm going crazy....emphasis on CRAZY.

If I had only one drama queen in the house, this might be a tolerable time in life.  However, God saw fit to bless me with two very dramatic children and if it's not Thing 2 throwing a fit, it seems Thing 1 has her share of moments lately, too.  What the heck is going on?  Is it the change in weather?  Is it their ages?  Is it me?  Is it fatigue?  Is it illness?  Are they both perimenopausal with me?

Understanding a three year old is in and of itself, a feat simply because of her three year old accent.  No, not a Chinese accent like some seem to think.  She's never spoken Chinese. She's three and words don't always work.  I did however understand when she said, "Help me with my coat, Mommy."

So, I, believing I'm the mommy and I'm being requested to help will walk toward said child and reach out to help with her coat.  "NO! I do it!"  And the screams start.

Since I'm still the mommy and I see we're running late because said child's coat is now stuck behind her back because she can't quite reach the sleeves, I reach out and grab it anyway and help her ease her arm into the sleeve. One would think this would easily bring a "Thank you, Mommy" from the mouth of child no longer being strangled by her coat, but instead this is what I get:

"I SAID NO. I DO IT."  Then she runs down the hall completely opposite of the way we were heading to leave so I can by some form of miracle, maybe be on time for work.

I say, "Thing 2, you need to come back here and we need to go to daycare. Now. No argument."

"Mommy, I NEED HELP!"

I stand stunned, yet I walk forward hearing the ticking of the clock reminding me I'm going to be late to work. I reach my arm out to help her.

From the depths of the drama queen soul arises this sound, similar to one associated with demons: "I SSSAAAAIIIIDDDDD I DO IT!"

At this point, I've had it. I grab the kid, put the coat on her and carry her to the car screaming, "I SAID I DO IT! I DON'T LIKE YOU AT ALL."

Sigh. Welcome New Morning Face.

Passion

Oh yes....you're here because of the title, right?  I'm pretty sure the traffic to my minimalist blog won't increase because of this title, but today, I'm thinking about passion.  Unfortunately, those hoping to get a glimpse into my Passionate life, are probably going to say, "I told ya she has no life."

Teaching for 21 years has brought many trends to light in my life. I've seen whole language come and go.  I've seen RAD, which was a binder training strategy for middle school to aid in organization.  I've watched as we have gone from a profession demanding rigor and responsibility to a profession that allows many chances....and by many, I mean at the very least 10.  Prepubescent kids are still pretty much hormones on rollerblades with the inability to put the brakes on when necessary.  But what I see changing in our world, especially with younger generations, is passion.

This passion isn't the kind that is displayed by two groping teens in the corner under the stairway where they don't think the video cameras nor teachers will locate them.  This passion I speak of is not as simplistic as hormones---it's the thing that grows in one's heart from when they are young and it drives him/her.  It is a reason.  It is a purpose.  It is a skill sometimes or a desire. In my humble opinion, our youth lack it.  Why is that?

I've gone through many scenarios of why young people and passion don't go hand in hand anymore except in the confines of the backseat of a car.  Could it be they have too many things available to specialize in an area?  Is that any different than those of us who grew up in a smaller town and were able to do various activities instead of marrying one like kids do today? (I would have died if basketball went year round like it does for kids nowadays instead of having merely a season and a couple camps in the summer.)  Could it be they're too lazy to commit to anything?  Well, judging by their desire to complete homework, this is a stronger possibility for me than the former reason.  But I still don't think that is it.

I believe we as adults don't share with our younger generations our own passions.  Yeah, I know---blame the parents again.  That's not where I'm going.  I'm basically thinking too many of us do our jobs and stop there.  Or we give up our passions because life takes over and there isn't enough time.  Or some of us, like me, get to call their passion their job, which can be both good and bad.  Good for my kids to see I've chosen something I love to do, but on those bad days, it's not always encouraging for them to see Mama has chosen her passion and that's why she's about ready to strangle you.

Deep within I believe we all have a passion.  We have a drive that is satisfied by something and sometimes it will take awhile to figure out what that passion is. Yet, I want to be the type of person who can help my own children, both in and outside of the classroom, find their passions. I can't imagine my life without teaching kids...without music....without writing....without photography.....without animals.....without God.  Those were my passions when I was younger and guess what?  They still are.  Now if I can only instill in my shadows the fact that pursuing and living with passion is a good thing, I will feel much more complete.  And I might worry less about who is going to make sure I get my meds on time when I'm in the nursing home and the workers there aren't passionate about their jobs.......

The Weirdest Day Ever.....May 11th, 2001

It was a day I will not forget until senility hits. My father died at 3 AM on May 11, 2001.  I was there.  But that's not what makes it the weirdest day ever.  What makes it weird is the part that takes place after the moment he took his last breath.

We left the hospital five hours later (complications with Mom caused an ER visit right after we lost Dad) and drove home to Woonsocket, which is about a half hour drive from where Dad died.  I remember vividly driving my car through the streets of Mitchell and looking at people in cars and on the sidewalk.  They were normal.  They were going on with their day, talking on phones, jamming to the music on their car stereos and laughing with their friends or family.  It was surreal because my world had just received a major blow to it and I knew that I would never hear my dad's voice again nor fish with him nor talk to him face to face and these people didn't understand.  They were living like nothing tragic had happened that day. I literally wanted to scream, "My dad just died!  Don't you people care? Don't you understand that you are supposed to be sad and you're supposed to stop what you're doing and notice? He is dead!"  Tears streamed down my cheeks as I drove the 30 miles home through the country of central SD.

It was this day that I believe I suddenly understood what it means when people say everyone is fighting a war within themselves daily.  There was no logic to my wanting to scream---it was simply grief in its purest and rarest form.  Those people weren't the issue.  Death was the issue.  My ache inside that I knew would never fully heal was the problem.  And I definitely will always remember that day as the weirdest day ever because of this experience.

The reason this surfaced now is because a friend's mom died this morning.  Young, like my dad.  From cancer, like my dad. Surrounded by family, like my dad. And the only thing I could tell her was that today may be the weirdest day of your life...

They Sounded Like Chipmunks

Last Friday was a monumental day for my students as it was Outsider's Day, which is the day they not only get to drink Pepsi, eat chocolate cake and chocolate candy, but they also get to watch the beginning of the movie with some pretty hot actors in it (Patrick Swayze, Rob Lowe, Matt Dillon, Ralph Macchio, and Tom Cruise in their younger years).  I usually dress the part as well as I possibly can, but with my recent decision to grow my hair out to see what it does, it left much fewer choices for me.  Nonethless, I tried to look like a Greaser (think "hood" from the 60's) but fear it's more of a PeeWee Herman movie character.

See what I mean?  Regardless of how I looked, I didn't care as it was all in fun for the kids and I was pretty excited myself to see how they dressed and so on.  Some did well, others, well, they were too cool, no pun intended. 

In the middle of the day, I get a call from the office telling me my daughter's school was calling so I took the call to hear that she was sitting in the office pretty upset as she got hurt on the playground. When they handed her the phone, I heard sobbing which is rare for Thing 1, so I decided I needed to go get her.  Luckily, my school is amazing with helping out at the last second so off I went, looking like the photo above to pick up my daughter from her school where they know I'm a teacher.  The look on the secretary's face was priceless. 

The whole drive over I was trying to envision what happened to Thing 1. She isn't a klutzy kid but I know she plays hard so when she told me she fell backward onto the ground and hit her back and her head, then she stood up and couldn't breathe so she passed out and fell forward and hit the front of her head, I realized this might be a little more serious than having someone cover my class for a few minutes.  Her head hurt and her eyes were red from crying but otherwise, she was great.  However, when she said, "Mom, when I started falling forward, all of the voices around me sounded like chipmunks and the next thing I know, the teacher is looking at me and saying my name," I decided the ER was pretty much where we were headed. 

It was quite fun to walk into ER dressed like a Greaser, but I suppose they see lots of different things during their day. They chuckled and off we went to our own room. Again, I was calm, cool (pun intended) and collected as the doctor talked to us and examined her briefly, then said a CT scan was next.  It was when the man came to take her away to the CT scan when my heart skipped a beat. I was sitting alone, in an ER room, my 9 year old was being wheeled away with great big eyes filled with terror, and Megamind was playing on the TV.  I paused the movie so Thing 1 wouldn't miss it.  Then I cried.  I cried in fear. I didn't sob, just cried as all the complications that could be happening came flooding into my mind and of course, I went immediately to the worst case scenario. I just cannot fathom what parents who have injured or ill children go through. Just can't fathom it. 

It turns out everything appears to be fine for Thing 1 albeit she does have a concussion.  I have a new perspective on having her in my world and I also have now learned that when you're passing out, people's voices sound like chipmunks.

The Insecure Leading the Insecure

It's been many years since I've led a Bible study.  I believe the last group I led were teen girls who now are mostly close to their mid twenties now and a few have married and reproduced even.  And now I am leading a Beth Moore book (not the ones that can induce stress-related coronary issues when you realize how long it takes to get through one day's lessons) on insecurity.  I just chuckle when I say that, whether it be in my ever-so-busy mind or out loud.  Me, leading a study on insecurity.  Priceless.

I've enjoyed the study so much and have an awesome group of women involved in the study. God has shown me there is a way to conquer this monster that consumes so many of us, but me in large ways. The essence of getting through insecurity is simple: understand you are God's treasure.  Really?  That simple?  I think not.

I review my life repeatedly, especially now that I'm studying insecurity, the root of many of my issues.  I see very little reason for God to consider me his TREASURE.  Actually, I see very little evidence of me even coming close to grasping this concept. It could be I've not ever been called a treasure by others. Or at least by others whom I believe mean it in the way it is meant. It could be I'm a Comparison Monster and can't break that stupid habit.  Maybe the fact that financially there is very little security to be found for me and never will be plays a role in the inability to take God at His word. So would that make me insecure in my God, too?

What's weird is that I find when I view my life retrospectively, I see that I was secure in the big things---when illness struck, when devastation lay around the corner, when I was super scared, when Dad died---big things have shown me much more secure than daily small things. I really want to change that.  I don't want to pass my insecurity to my daughters. I work so hard to give them a balance to what society tells them regarding women's looks, people's hearts, and so on. But I'd hate to someday have them say, "Mom, remember how you could never get past _________?  Now I'm there, too."  Realistically they'll be telling their therapist this as I know living with me will definitely induce a reason for therapy later in life, but still.  I'd hate to be the topic ALL the time.

Anyway, not totally sure of the purpose of this post besides the fact that I'm heading to lead the insecure to security in a bit and felt the need to do some writing therapy myself.  I'm so wanting to understand that God adores me, calls me his Beloved, and simply can be my strength when my weakness overtakes me.  It's getting to that point that has me baffled and yet, I trudge forward, daily, hoping to claim victory over the 21st Century's New Plague on people everywhere.

Explaining Evil

Today is September 11, 2011.  Ten years ago our world was changed with the decisions of a few terrorists to attack the USA. Although I remember it vividly like it was yesterday, my main thoughts today were on explaining what evil is to my daughters. Wouldn't it be amazing if we didn't have to ponder that?

It's hard to miss the coverage that was everywhere this week. Thing 1 watched one of the documentaries I had on about the second plane that crashed into the towers and then I watched the Heroes of the 88th Floor.  I was careful to watch ones that weren't too graphic and these were fine in that realm of things.  But the obvious tragedy was hard to explain.

Thing 1 watched and wondered what kind of movie this was. When I told her it wasn't a movie, but it was something that happened in real life in the US, she just stared at me.  "Why would anyone crash a plane on purpose?"

"Well, I'm not completely sure, but they mostly wanted to hurt America and they did. Innocent people died in large amounts that day."

After a little silence she then asked, "What did God think?"

I just sat there. Then said, "God probably thought this is what evil looks like."

The conversation continued for a little bit on the whole idea of evil and what it is.  Is evil that mean little boy at the playground or does it have to be something big like a plane crash?  Is evil as simple as kicking a dog or swerving to hit a squirrel, or is it driving drunk?  Are we ever evil or is it simply human sinfulness?

I will never forget the moments as I watched 9-11 unfold. Dad had died only four months before and I was still struggling with the freshness of missing him when this happened.  All that came to mind was how many people were going to be feeling like I felt (extreme grief) after that day of tragedy.  I wondered what Dad was thinking in Heaven as he saw all of the various people entering at once.  Weird, I know, but I thought it.  And then I reminded myself that we are in a world that is basically run by evil in many ways and I needed to strive to stand up to any of the evil I face daily, and most importantly, I need to try not to be the one bringing the evil in.

The words that echo in my mind today were ones of a mother whose son was on the second plane that crashed. She said, "Every time I see that video, I see my son's death."  How incredibly sad, horrifying and needless.  May God bless those who will forever have this day stained in their hearts.

Could there be a band-o in the future?

Tonight I ventured into unknown territory for my girls.  Thing 1 and Thing 2 went tailgating with me to the LHS and RHS game.  Last time I attempted to take a child to a football game (have I mentioned how much I love football?) was when Thing 1 was only three.  That's how WELL it went.  But today, I felt a new little skip in my step and decided it was beautiful weather and it was time to try it again.

The tailgating went great, simply because they played with friends and could run around.  It would have gone better had I brought wine with me, but figured since I'm probably going to know many in the crowd as students, both former and current, I shouldn't be smelling of the grapes.  Once we went in the game, Thing 2 immediately turned to whining. I mean immediately.  My butt hadn't even made it's marks in the blanket on the bleachers and I could hear the extremely whiny voice saying, "I want to go home."  Suddenly, current students swooped in and took her away with them to who knows where, although they brought her back with cotton candy hanging out of her mouth so I guess she was happy, they were happy and ultimately I was happy.

That left Thing 1 with her dear old mom.  She was given the opportunity to go various times but kept choosing to stay by me. The kid hates football.  I love it.  She doesn't understand it.  I do.  She didn't eat supper because one time she had an awful experience with a hotdog and heat exhaustion so she simply won't touch them so on top of it all, she was starving.  I could sense it but more importantly, I was so proud of the way she was trying to appease her mom's interest when really she probably would rather be scrubbing the toilets out (which she abhors).  An ice cream cone became her reward as I knew she was hungry. Still not the best part.  The best part came when I asked, "Do you want to leave at half time or would you like to watch the band? They're pretty much the best in the city."  Thing 1 said, "I want to watch the band, even if it's a long time from now."  Music, literally, to my ears.

Marching band, heck any band, gave me such fond memories.  Music brings something into ones life that is indescribably important and it has the ability to reach spots in people that nothing else in this world can.  I so hope that my love of music can be shared by one of my Things. I do believe I even had a tear in my eye as she watched the whole show with big eyes, loving it.

As we got in the car to leave, Thing 2 was screaming, of course, and Thing 1 said, "Mom, thanks for the cone and thanks for letting me see the band. It was my second favorite thing next to being able to sit with you all night."  Sniff. I love that kid.

I got nothing. Awesome!

So, no poop on the floor.....no pee on the floor.....laundry is almost done....lessons are planned out for the month.  I'm actually cooking supper tonight and Thing 1 is wielding a knife through some fresh garden veggies so I can roast them for the week.  Thing 2 is on the floor putting together puzzles that are much too easy for her, but she is busy and quiet for the moment. Do I dare say it?  Life is uneventful at this particular moment and no, I'm not trying to jinx it, just savoring the moment.  I am reminded quite quickly that when that alarm goes off at 5:45 AM life will shift into high gear and we'll be off an running to my first IEP meeting of the year, piano lessons and quite possibly more.

I've decided my children are home bodies, like their mom.  We will venture out to Mitchell on occasion and maybe to Woonsocket if Mom is around, but it's so evident they love to be at home with me doing their things, which consist of playing Barbies and Calico Critters and crafts and watching movies.  Yesterday as we were returning to Sioux Falls, I asked the girls if they wanted to go out to Lifelight.  We haven't gone for a few years as I'm so not a concert going person, usually because of cost, but this is free.  So, last time we went, the girls were smaller and it was hot, windy and not a fun experience.  But I thought, maybe this is the year as they both are into Christian music and can sing the lyrics to lots of the songs.  Thing 1's first question: "How many people are going to be there?"  When I answered back probably 100,000 or so, she said, "Let's just go home."  My thoughts exactly, but I didn't want her to feel like she was missing out on things in life that might be important.  I don't necessarily see how attending a music festival with 100,000 others would qualify as an important thing in her life, until maybe she is in middle school and she can run around with her friends.  It was fascinating to me, though, to see how my preference at the end of a day is to be home and have no plans.  It has become theirs, too.  Nature or nurture?  Hmmm....

I Have A Big But

Loved this video from church last weekend.....it might even speak to you, too.

http://www.sermonspice.com/product/37571/big-but

Week One of School 2011--H.I.S.T.O.R.Y

Surviving the first week of school in our district is a feat worthy of an award.  And I'm not just talking about teachers.

Yes, teachers have a little more stress on them since they are in charge.  However, our district feels it's necessary to try to kill off teachers, students and parents all at once.  Elementary teachers have an open house the first "official" day back to work.  High school teachers have PST on their first "official" day back to work.  Middle school teachers in my building have two nights at school for PST which equals out to two 14 hour work days. One of those happens to fall on the first day of school....so add to that mix students who are still in shock from waking up before noon and parents who are sick already of being at school for meetings and we have a lethal combination.  But, it appears my opinion counts little to nothing, so until the parents start throwing fits, nothing will change.

Thing 1 started 4th grade and had an incredible teacher whom she bonded with immediately and loved.  Had.  Three days into the week we were notified they had enough extra kids to hire an additional teacher so they were going to take her teacher (she was in a 4-5th blend) and put her at 5th grade and move the 4th graders to a new teacher.  Most kids are probably fine with the switch, but Thing 1 doesn't do well with change and is freaking out.  Friday night was a sob session for her as she revealed the reason she was so naughty was she didn't want to leave Mrs. Cronin.  (That was half of it--the other half was she was exhausted from the week.)  Anyway, Monday brings a new teacher, and by new I mean brand new out of college.  Thing 1 is a teacher's dream come true, so she will be fine eventually.

Thing 2 loves her daycare and has a new playmate there so she is doing great and is still potty trained.  She is however, much more vocal in her protests and also in her happiness. Screaming when happy has become the new norm. Although it's headache inducing for me, there's something rather awesome about a very happy little girl. Even if her sweet little face doesn't match her potty mouth, as exhibited by her recent, "Goodnight, Butthole" to her sister, who by the way, taught her that lovely word.

My students appear to be pretty normal 12 year olds.  There's a few naughty boys who have surfaced quite quickly, and even more lazy ones who have emerged quite quickly, too.  I haven't found many issues with the girls yet, but I believe they're still a little intimidated by me and will refrain from the girl drama for another week.  My motto is to use whatever works to make them understand you're in charge---so intimidation works for me, at least until they figure me out a little more....which means I have about one more week of "the honeymoon" period.

Letting go of control paid off!

I have an issue with not being in control of situations.  It's basically a curse from my younger years and it is still pretty strong. I come by it naturally since when I was molested as a child, I vowed that I would NEVER let myself be in a situation where I was the one being controlled instead of in control.  Obviously, that doesn't work in every situation, but it was what pushed me to be the control freak I am now.

I'd like to think I don't control my children's every move in life, but I'm sure I do more than necessary.  One of those situations was of course, posted about a few weeks back regarding Thing 2's refusal to go on the potty.  I gave up control and decided I totally didn't care if she was potty trained, and truly, I didn't.  I didn't bother asking her or putting her on the toilet or even showing any interest. It was rather freeing.

Fast forward to this week when she decided she wanted to be potty trained.  And guess what?  The day she decided, she was trained.  She hasn't even wet in her sleep the last two nights.  And she even pooped in the potty chair yesterday, which was a quick lesson for me on how much dogs love kid poop (or any poop for that matter) when Jersey had it sucked up and swallowed by the time Thing 2 could proudly show me her creation.  After gagging like crazy, I finally believe I talked her into trying the big toilet for those kind of creations.

This was a good lesson for me.  Not the dog eating the poop, but Thing 2 being able to control her own potty destiny. It reminded me how often I try to take control from God in my life and how it has been a constant battle for me to allow Him to control things.  I don't even like to be a passenger in anyone's car!  But my prayer is that each day God will break down those barriers I've built and will convince me once and for all, that He's a safe and superb driver.

Where's the turn off switch?

What needs to be turned off you ask?  Since it's 5 AM and I've been awake since 3:00 AM, the first thing I can think of that needs to be off is my brain.  But then I glance to my side and see the tooth fairy has left Thing 1 some money for the loss of another tooth.  Upon realizing that today we will go meet her new 4th grade teacher at her new school, I also would like to switch off the "growing up" button on my kids.  Add to that the 11 year old dog beside me who apparently can't see very well anymore as shown by her amazing ability to trip me at random times since she can't see me walking by, then I want to shut off the "growing old" button.

Wonder what it would be like to have that power---the power to stop things you want to stop from happening.  Yesterday morning a close friend's dad died. I knew this dad well and shared many great talks together.  As the broken heart spoke through my friend's voice, I wished I could have shut off that pain.  That led to the day my dad died and all the memories came flooding in since I truly knew what Bret was feeling at that moment---loss, fear, fatigue, numbness. The vision of my father's face after he died with one solitary tear running down his cheek resurfaced and once again, I was back at that hospital bedside, the same one Bret was at that very moment.  This is one memory I would also like to "shut off."

On the same day the sadness for losing Don was strong, I also had an amazing lunch with one of my favorite people in the world who was visiting Sioux Falls. His life is beautiful, and yet, his heart is also broken in so many ways, by people who should be celebrating every day of life with him, instead of avoiding it.  I wanted to stop those moments from happening in his world, reassure him of his unbelievable worth and value to so many, yet the validation he needs isn't from me. I want to remove the blinders from those in his world wearing them and turn off the power those blinders carry with them.

Unless I've been given some magical power, obviously I have no power to stop anything from entering my mind. I do have the power to deal with the things that enter it and the strength over the negative ones to turn them into positive ones. Yet, I struggle to do that, especially at this time of year when I'm preparing to return to the classroom so visions of students, lesson plans, bulletin boards, standards, grading, and excitement dance in my head.  Really hard to shut those babies down. So what does one do at times like these?  Yes, pray.  Yes, try to think it through so it stops. Maybe self medicate so one can sleep. Cry? Talk? (This one is hard to do unless it's the dogs I talk to since there are two little Things snoring away beside me right now.)  Apparently, write is one of my answers.

I just want everything to be okay.  No pain.  No loss (not just of life, but loss of my babies who are growing too quickly). No insomnia (lack of sleep = serious illness for me).  Just. Stop.

Stupid dog. Or brilliant one?

When one hears a crash at 1:20 AM in her kitchen, instantaneous heart rate increase occurs, which makes it difficult to not freak out.  As I lie there, not moving but getting a cardio work out nonetheless, I wondered why my Golden, named Jersey wasn't barking her head off. As I slowly gained vision in my tired eyes, I realized Jersey was into something.  Now mind you, this isn't the first time this realization has hit me and my gut instinct is usually spot on.

As I rounded the corner into the kitchen and flip on the big light, I see this dog with her snout buried into my brand new jar of peanut butter.  She ran like the dickens as soon as I set foot in the kitchen, but I could still hear her chops sticking together from her desire to down the peanut butter jar in minutes, knowing I would soon be appearing.

I picked up the jar, put the lid back on, went back to bed, ticked off of course knowing that peanut butter was now "dog pill peanut butter" but then was baffled as to how in the world the lid came off.  Assuming it was my fault for not tightening it, I took the blame.  But then I thought back and knew I had put it back on so couldn't quite grasp how this stupid dog got it off. Another reason for hidden cameras in my house.

Needless to say, I couldn't get back to sleep. I felt pretty mean and took the water away from her saying, "You got yourself into this mess, you can get yourself out."  But then gave in when I could only hear the sound that drives me crazy (think of someone with a mouth full of peanut butter trying to swallow without milk or water and add a bunch of smacking noises and you have the sound I despise).  This led to having to take the dog out three additional times after this event. Sigh. The dog is cute and kind or she would be gone.  Can't wait to see what adventures today will bring with a tired mama and a peanut butter-filled dog.

Morning rituals.

I so wish I was more of a morning person.  I think I could be given the right circumstances (like living in a place where the mountains are on one side of me and the ocean on the other) I wouldn't mind getting up at the buttcrack of dawn and enjoying the quiet moments that are few and far between in my world.

Summer will definitely be hard to come out of next week.  My girls have been given my "love" of mornings, too so it will probably be ugly around here for a few weeks.  What cracks me up is Thing 2 in the morning.  First off, she still sleeps with me and probably will for the rest of her life at this rate.  I'm okay with it, although there are moments, like this morning, when I realized I literally had six inches of the queen bed simply because she was once again, on top of me or my shoulder or my back if it's turned toward her.  She has this need to always touch me at night and know I've not gone anywhere, which is enduring, yet annoying. But I digress.

When I try to sneak out of bed, it's like a sound goes off in Thing 2's head and she instantly sits up, looks at me, smiles (love this so much) and says, "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, please."  I turn on the tv to Mickey and then I can escape while she watches or goes back to sleep.  It has become ritual, which isn't a bad one considering I have to get ready for work and need something to entertain her so she isn't in the shower with me, too.

Thing 1 on the other hand....she's snoozing away.  I believe the tweener is almost alive in her as she now hates to get up in the mornings and she was the only existing member of this household who would rise and shine without grumbling.  Now, not so much.  I believe she will be the most effected by the week ahead of us where I go back to work and she will head to school.

My ritual?  Simply doing what it takes to get from Point A to Point B on time with all children in tow. And now, I'm ready to go back to bed after being awake for two hours.  Ah, school.....you shall be an interesting transition!

Dear God.....

I try to instill in my munchkins a love for God and a respect for the things we have in this world as a gift from Him.  Thus, we pray before meals as often as possible (it would be a lie to say we always did, but we're trying).   Thing 2 is now talking quite a bit at the ripe old age of 3 and she really likes to repeat the prayers we do as a family.  It's rather cute, I must admit and very heartwarming to hear those little voices thanking God and asking for forgiveness.

Before I tell you the prayer, let me fill you in on our day. It was an amazing day outside, so I figured it was time we took the pool down since it had now become a fluorescent green color from the algae growing on the bottom since we hadn't run the filter nor put chemicals in for a week AND I left the cover off while we were in Omaha.  In addition, there was yard work that needed to be done (have I mentioned the deep hatred I have for lawn work after doing it alone for 20 years?).  So, the girls rolled up their sleeves, literally, and helped me scrape the algae (clothes are now soaking in OxyClean simply because they couldn't just stand in the pool---both had to eventually fall into the pool filled with algae), empty the pool and rinse things off.

Following that we trimmed ferns.  On top of hating lawn work, I hate ferns and the families before me in this house obviously loved them.  So, I cut the suckers off.  The girls were responsible for picking up the cut ferns, which they did while singing and acting out parts of The Diamond Castle, a Barbie movie where the two main characters raise flowers for income.  Quite comical for me to listen to as I worked like a diehard.  In the midst of it all, my Golden Retriever Jersey caught a very small bunny and in one bite, killed it, complete with the removal of its eyeball with that bite (only pointed out by Thing 1 who freaked out at this point.)  In the midst of the fern cutting, I found the dead rabbit's brother or sister who began running from us and ran right off a five foot drop onto the concrete.  I presume it will either be a major brain damaged rabbit if it survives or it won't survive the night, but once again, Thing 1 freaked out worried about it so I picked it up gently with glove on hand and placed it near its nest.  In the meantime, Jersey was going crazy trying to get yet another rabbit to so proudly bring to me with eyeball askew.

So, to the prayer.  After bathing the bejeebers out of the girls and putting their green stained clothes in OxyClean, I made supper. Thing 1 led the prayer tonight and this was it:

"Dear God.  Thank you for our cute, sexy mom who made this supper for us.  Forgive us for killing two of your baby bunnies.  Please watch over our family and friends.  We love you. Amen."  The best part....hearing Thing 2 trying to say cute, sexy mom......lol.....

Soap never worked for me, either.

It has become quite apparent that my three year old is going to have the mouth of a sailor.  She does everything with energy and fervor so it's not like I'm surprised since it seems like the passionate tend to have the swearing thing down much sooner than those less "fervent."  This morning she called me a dummy, and within a second of it leaving her lips, followed it with a "Sorry, Mom."  Then she scurried away full speed and continued playing.  I've obviously dealt with her saying that word before since her immediate response, manipulative as it was, was to apologize.  Smart kid.

Fast forward three hours.  I had just left them to work upstairs and they are playing dolls and shopping, etc. in the basement but I can hear every word they utter.  Thing 2 suddenly is yelling about her Polly Pockets not having pants. I hear Thing 1 say, "Knock it off she doesn't need pants."  Thing 2 yells, "She needs pants, bitch!"  I stopped dead in my tracks since I hadn't heard that particular word leave her mouth ever.

Thing 1 asks, "Did you just call me a bitch?"

Thing 2 says nothing. Thing 1 repeats the question.

Thing 2 says, "Yes. I need pants."

Thing 1 says, "Well, that's a bad word and I may have to tell Mom on you."

Thing 2 responds, "Sorry, Sissy. I won't say it more."

And there ya have it. I didn't intervene since all that would cause at the moment would be me dealing with Thing 2 and punishing her and having her manipulatively say sorry only to use the word again when it most fits her mood. I'm no "dummy."  It isn't going to stop her just like soap didn't stop me from saying bad words. (I learned to mumble them from the first soap episode on as did Thing 1 when she had her first bad word episode.)

Another milestone reached in the family.  The B word has been said by both of the princesses.  Thing 1 said it when she a year older, but she said it to me.  I told her to go to sleep.  Her response: "I don't want to, bitch."  Of course, she really didn't know what she was saying and I honestly had no way to track where she had heard that word (I do swear on occasion, but mostly never around little ears.)  Once she knew it was a bad word, she used it to her benefit from there on out, but mostly, as mentioned before, under mumbling circumstances so her ever-aging mother couldn't decipher it (or so she thought).  Thing 2 said it because I'm sure she has heard it from Thing 1 or possibly on tv or in a moment of weakness, from me, maybe.

Thing 2 has had this unique way of bringing out the worst in me. The kid never stops. Ever.  Now that she talks, it's become increasingly harder to be patient. And understanding.  And pro-active instead of re-active.  This is seriously the toughest job ever...being a parent.  It's not that I'm doing it alone that makes it hard.  It's just that I'm doing it, period.  I think it'd be easier to not do it, like many do.  Just let the kids do as they please and be the pal they need in life instead of insisting they do what is right (which is usually what is hard) and doing what is good for them (again, usually what is hard).  But I don't want that kid.  I want the kid who has manners, is pleasant to be around, loves others no matter who they are, and most importantly, knows God deeply.  Tough row to hoe (being a former hoe-er, I understand this statement more than most.).

As I was sitting and sighing and pondering how to handle Thing 2 and her antics, I decided to open my blogroll and Max Lucado's entry spoke directly to me.  Maybe you need to hear it, too.

“He is able . . . to run to the cry of . . . those who are being . . . tested.”  Hebrews 2:18 AMP

Jesus was angry enough to purge the temple, hungry enough to eat raw grain, distraught enough to weep in public, fun loving enough to be called a drunkard, winsome enough to attract kids, . . . radical enough to get kicked out of town, responsible enough to care for his mother, tempted enough to know the smell of Satan, and fearful enough to sweat blood . . .

Whatever you are facing, he knows how you feel.

All in good time.....which isn't MY time.

Grandma is here for a few days.  My girls adore their grandma and when she is here, being held captive by a 3 and 9 year old, I believe she loves it, too.  I also believe she is quite exhausted by the end of the day since she gets the pleasure of playing Calico Critters, Barbie, baby dolls, and tea parties.  Amazing she is going to be 79 in a few weeks.

One of the most amusing things I've had the privilege of listening to the last couple days is mom trying to convince Thing 2 that she must go on the potty.  I do believe she's tried almost every line I have tried and has pretty much had the same results as I have......no success.  Thing 2 is not afraid to simply tell you she will not use the potty no matter what you say to her. But, Grandma isn't going to be beaten by a 3 year old. (I smirk, only because I know better.)

My children are quite phenomenal in most areas and I can say that because I've had relatively nothing to do with it. Thing 2 will figure out this potty thing when she is darn good and ready.  She has her own opinions on it and although she insists she will not wear a diaper to her prom, she still enjoys it enough to stay in it.  Case closed.  Diapers it will be and when she decides, I will then move on to the next phase of figuring out where every bathroom is when we are out shopping since I seem to remember a few times the bladder gave out on Thing 1 while we were shopping.

Maybe it is good advice to savor each phase a child goes through for what it is simply because the next one really isn't going to be any better.  And speaking of time, my children are currently making a list of things to get Grandma for her birthday in a few weeks.  So far I've heard a chicken, high heels, gum, and a new car.  Sounds like we'll be brainstorming for awhile.....

No more "Why?" questions

On the way to church today we drove over the Big Sioux River which is typically a SD looking river....dark brown and not one ounce of clarity that you'd see in a Colorado river.  It is always brown, but this week Sioux Falls had a rain storm which dropped anywhere from 3 to 5 inches on the city, depending on where you live. In order to not have raw sewage go into people's homes, the city opted to dump the raw sewage into the river to release the pressure on the system.  Thing 1 heard me talking to my sister about it as my sister was reminding me to stay away from parks by the river this week.  So, the questions started.

"Mom, is that the lake they dumped the poop into?"

"It's a river, J and yes, that's it."

"Mom, was it pee and poop they put in there?"

(Chuckling) "Yes."

"Were they floaters or sinkers, mom?"

"Well, I would imagine they were both, J. Kind of gross to think about though so can we change the subject?"

"I will never swim with my mouth open again, " she said matter of factly.

"Honey, you won't be swimming in that river, but overall, that's probably a good plan anyway."

We got to church and sat with one of J's favorite friends. This Sunday was a special Sunday with our church celebrating communion and baptisms.  Today was the first day I allowed J to take communion because she has asked Christ into her heart a few years ago and is slowly growing in Him so I thought maybe it was time.  I pulled her close to me and talked her through the whole process, explaining what an amazing thing Christ did for us on the cross and explained how we really need to clean our hearts by praying for forgiveness while we are waiting for everyone else to take their communion.  It was a moment I cherished, although it was bittersweet since I realized, my baby wasn't a baby anymore.

On the way home from church, out of the blue, J asked, "Mom, before Jesus died for our sins, was there a heaven and a hell?" I love when her mind thinks and I did my best to answer her question in a way she would understand.  It was then I realized that the little kid who asked "Why?" constantly had grown up and the advanced questions are just starting. Lord, give me wisdom to answer them and knowledge to know when to send her to someone who can if I can't.  Oh, and make all the poop sinkers, please.

"Poop on the floor, poop on the floor, looking like a fool with your poop on the floor."

Did the title give it away?  If you're still reading, then you must enjoy stories that involve bodily fluids. Then, my friend, you've come to the correct blog. Let's start the story from the beginning.

Thing 2 is just three and needs to be potty trained.  I've made three attempts and haven't been successful yet.  So, once again, I put on my potty training armor, made sure I had a bottle of wine in the house and started the process.  We stayed at home the entire day to accomplish this not-so-easy-nor-small feat.  Success was ours for the day.  Four times in the potty, one poop in the potty and one accident in the big girl panties.

Between the time Thing 2 went to sleep and woke up, her brain must have rallied and convinced her that potty training was a waste of time and there were no amount of M&M's that were worth it.  She refused to go on the potty the next day. In fact, she cried a little when I would mention it.  Yet, I wasn't going to allow this 33 pound creature get the best of me because let's face it, I have a masters degree for crying out loud.  So, the big girl panties went on and by golly she was going to get trained.

Soon I hear a sound from the kitchen of the potty chair being moved.  Pride swelled in me as I thought, "She's doing it! She's going on her potty!"  Soon I hear the stillness broken by the small voice saying, "I pooped."

I ran to the kitchen where she was located to find her standing with her undies around her ankle and two different piles of poop around her.  The potty chair was across the room, closed tightly.

"What are you doing?  You are supposed to poop IN the potty not on the floor!" I yelled.

"I pooped," she calmly said.

"I see that.  I smell that. I understand but why didn't you poop on the potty?" I asked, attempting to remain calm. (In the meantime Thing 1 came in disgusted and ran to get toilet paper for me start cleaning the mess.  The dogs also made an appearance to which I had to quickly shoo them away before they decided dessert had been served.)

"No way. No potty for me," she answered.

I proceeded to clean and restore order making her stand beside for it all and carry the stinky parts away since they were hers.  I then walked her back to the potty and said, "This is where you poop. Period.  Not on the floor. Ever. No way." Then I swatted her lightly, but enough that she knew I meant business.

She turned, looked me straight in the eye and said, "That tickled."

Sigh. It was at that exact moment I realized potty training session was over. I caved.  I admit defeat. The white flag with skid marks on it is flying high.  You win Thing 2.  I can lead a kid to the potty, but I can't make her pee/poop.  Words to live by.  And knowing her stubborn streak, she might just be THAT kid who goes to kindergarten in diapers.

Sisters......the bond.

Today I watched my girls fight before we got in the car and then when we were in the car and while they were at their designated play area.  We got back in the car and I was blessed with the rattling tattling of both of them.

"She was mean to my friends!" yelled Thing 1.

"No, I wasn't," said Thing 2.

I figured I was in for a long day, which isn't unheard of in my current summer days. So, I sighed, pulled into the library parking lot, yanked the three year old out of her car seat and in to the library we went.  There must be some sort of magic that occurs at a library because suddenly the love turned back on and Thing 1 was walking Thing 2  hand in hand. We get books and get in the car and boom, it hits me as I listen to Thing 1 reading to her little sister in this loving tone and then hearing her little sister repeat each word and giggle. They are officially sisters. Fighting one minute, hugging the next and knowing that at the end of the day, we'll still play Calico Critters and Barbies together.

I know that without my sister, my world would be quite empty. We talk practically daily.  She and I grew up quite a bit apart in age, (she's way old) but we share an incredible bond. Very little happens in my world she doesn't know and the same goes for her world.  Is it a rarity?  Maybe.

I hope my girls will always love each other beyond words. I know the reality that lies ahead of me.  Three women in one house with three sets of hormones going at once will get ugly at times.  I know that.  Yet, I don't give up the glimmer of hope that I call sisterhood for my girls.  I believe it can happen.  I pray it will.

The flight of the fleeting, fickle, freelancing writer....

Practicing alliteration after 10 PM at night.  How pathetic can I be?  Yep, pretty.  Either way, I've decided, yet again (thus the fleeting, fickle, flight words) to start a blog that can be a place for me to maybe keep track of life.  I'm not beyond dreaming so don't give me a reality check quite yet.

My scout's honor:

• I will randomly write. No set time nor date since my life is scheduled enough.
• My life as a single mom/teacher/survivor/God's child will be the topics. 
• God will be in here sometimes and for that, I don't apologize.
• I'm sanguine. Up, down, in-between so some posts may make you laugh while others make you weary of my whining.  

Join me if you dare.....(insert evil laughter and scary music which I wish I could remember what that sounds like but for the last nine years I've pretty much only watched rated G or PG movies so I forget....)