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...