Anxiety and Depression

I have anxiety and depression.

It gets easier to say. Acknowledging this makes it easier to accept the feelings and not feel there is something wrong with me.

It fees a little like driving a car in Chicago traffic at rush hour, knowing how to drive, but being physically unable to steer or touch the brakes.

I know what would make things better, but I would rather crawl under the bed and hope that it will all be over when I crawl out again.

Friday is the last day of school...for the year, and forever for our family. Our youngest is graduating high school, and I have resigned my position at the elementary after 12 years.  I have so many problems with the way our district is run that I am just done. I am happy to not be dealing with it all any more. But, I love working with kids, I care about these kids, and knowing I won't be back is hard.

I am resigning. because hubby has been living and working 2 hours away for the last 7 years. He's come home on weekends and for school functions and holidays, but I have been a part time single mom for 7 years. With both boys in college in the fall, we can live together again.

To live together again, we have to sell our house here. That means packing and sorting and storing and figuring out what to keep and what to get rid of. We have a lot of clutter after 13 years in this house. The stress of all of it is a huge weight. On the one hand, I want to just throw everything into boxes and throw into storage and be done. But the monumental task has me wanting to crawl under the bed and hope a clone of me, that isn't a mess, will take the initiative and do it for me.

Hubby wants to wait until after graduation to think about a storage shed. Youngest wants a party and parties are a huge stressor for me. How do we plan for people? How much food to plan? Activities--yes or no? Order a cake or make a cake? What if only family shows up, since he doesn't have a lot of friends? He will be crushed. I think. One sister just had a mastectomy. Will she be OK? And all of this is the evening of graduation, after seeing our baby walk across the stage and into adulthood.

Both boys are working at camp this summer. Oldest loves it and has changed his major in school and thus has changed colleges because of camp. Will youngest love it? Will he gain maturity?

Oldest is visually impaired, but has had training in adaptive driving and has his license. He now has a car. We have driven with him, but not a lot before he left for camp. I worry about him driving up there.

They will both be at Ball State in the fall. Will they find friends? Will they find their passion? Will they meet girls that will be girlfriends? I don't want them to be alone.

Moving to where hubby lives and has a life will be stressful, because those people can't wait for me to be there. Hubby is going to try to protect me from the onslaught, but I'm going to have to meet new people. I'm going to have to interact. That is stressful.

When we sell our house, we can look for one there. I will miss this house, so what will we find? Something with the view we have now?

I am taking the summer off to figure out who I am again. I will eventually have to get a job-- two kids in college remember. I have no idea what I want to do. I have only ever worked with kids. What do I do if I don't work with kids?

And to top it all off I turn 50 in October.

There is so much in such a short span of time, I'm drowning. I wish I could thrive on the challenge and live in every moment as they happen, but I can't. I feel bad for wishing it all to be over and settled, because I will miss the individual moments.

Hubby is great, but he has his own ideas of how things should progress. I have friends, but they have things going on in their lives as well. Hence the out of control car.

I have anxiety and depression, but by saying it out loud, I can start to take some form of control. I still can't steer, but maybe by listing it all and acknowledging it is a huge weight, I can maybe tap the brakes before wind up a sobbing ball in the corner.

I have anxiety and depression, but I'll get through and be stronger..stay tuned.

A Bit of Dirty Laundry

We have 13 days left in this school year, and it will be my last 13 days in Public Education. Our youngest is graduating, and we will be moving to where my husband and the boys' dad lives during the week. I could look for, and probably get, a job in a school there, but I can't even fathom trying. Before working in education, I knew in my heart I was meant to work with kids. I changed my major after working at camp, because I knew I didn't want to be a teacher any more. I wanted to work in a recreational setting.

That I do well.
Or at least I did.
I don't believe in myself enough any more to know if I could be worthwhile in an informal setting any more.
And that is a testament to our district's education system. From what I hear, it is like that other places as well, so I can't trust it would be any different somewhere else.

Others, when they have left, have left quietly, because repercussions are  assured. And when you still have kids in the district, you can't take that chance. Our youngest is done and so am I, so I am leaving, but I can't in good conscious leave quietly.

Honestly, I could give you a 13 year blow by blow, but it comes down to respect and lack of courage and commitment.

As a profession we lament all the ills that face our kids and affect our teaching: poverty, lack of parent involvement, too much parent involvement, government interference, society today...the list goes on. But you know what? Kids adapt to their environment and what is expected of them. This is where we fail.

Our Assistant Superintendent, who is also our curriculum director, is the driving force behind the chaos and exodus. If you look at her LinkedIn account, you will see that she worked the first 5 years after college as a teacher in 3 different grade levels. This was in the early 1990s. After that she worked for various data collection aspects of education. She came to us about 7 years ago and was the driving force behind our 1:1 technology, which we jumped into whole school without any training or preparation.

Turns out her doctoral thesis was about technology in schools.

Under her we have changed curriculum every year for the last 5 years. Under her, we have eliminated industrial arts.
Under her, we have been told to give homework every night.
Under her, we have been told not to give homework.
Under her, we have moved to an extended calendar.
Under her, we adopted scope and sequence of a reading program, but not the actual materials to carry it out.
Under her, we have adopted, Daily 5, eliminated reading groups, and eliminated text books.
Under her, we have gone to having "Maker Space."
Under her, we now have "Standards Based Grading" with which we have eliminated "due dates."

Under her we have switched from Character Counts, to University Time, to PBIS.

We have been in a state of constant flux for the last 7 years. Nothing is eliminated, just emphasized less and less until it fades away.

Questions are met with hostility and derision.

And there is no one to be the buffer between administration and teachers.

Our last principal was a disaster. She was a black and white person. If she was told to do X, there were no shades of gray. X meant X...
as she interpreted it and we better darn well execute with fidelity.

Parents have been conditioned to go up the chain to a, "yes." And they eventually get their way. The louder the complaint, the quicker the capitulation. And yes, the superintendent has reversed a decision by the principal without finding out details or supporting the principals decision.

And this is the biggest problem in education. We can teach in temporary trailers.  We can teach without resources. Heck, we can teach with a stick and a patch of dirt. What we can't do is teach without support.

The rules and climate of a building have to be set by the principal and enforced by the principal. I would love to see what a school could do with a principal who said to both administration and parents, "These are my staff, and I won't allow you to treat them this way."  This takes a courage they don't teach in Principal school, I'm guessing by what I've seen?

Support is the thing we need most, but are least likely to get.

I will be laying this out in my end of the year review. I'm leaving, but the kids I care about, and the staff who aren't leaving at the end of this year will still be there.  If I can leave one last impression... if I have a shot at making a difference for those left behind, it is my obligation to do so. I can't go quietly. My conscience won't let me.

Encyclopedia of Me: Volume K

Loosely based on Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krause Rosenthal.

Encyclopedia of Me: Volume K

Kaluah- I am not a drinker. I am 49 and I can honestly say I have never been drunk. In High School, we'd go to parties with friends, and I'd have a couple of Coolers. Beer was never my thing, but then again there weren't flavors then. (Do flavored beers make a difference?) 
My sister, Sheri, let me try a Kaluah and Cream once and I loved it. Now, I have an occasional glass of wine, but still, I'm not that into it. I do however have a shot of Kaluah over vanilla ice cream every now and then. Add a little homemade Magic Shell and you have a yummy dessert.

Key- When we were counselors at Camp, nearly every thing with a padlock, used the same key. They were bought in bulk. There were several floating around, and since we worked over weekends, we aquired a key.  After the second summer, and the difficulty it contained, the key became a symbol of standing up for what was right. It represents doing something hard because it is what is right. (See also Camp)

Kids- My own: I always knew I wanted to be a mom, but not right away. I worked in Child Care and was happy, as parents drug whiny kids away, that I got to go home to a kid free existence. Once I felt, "My kids won't be that way," I knew we were ready. I tried at first to be both a Mom and a Child Care/ Camp Director, but couldn't do both 100%. We chose together for me to be a stay at home mom. It is the best and only decision for us. WE chose to have THEM. WE owed it to them to be there for them. No regrets.
Others: My favorite quote is, " The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you figure out why." I realized through my work with the Y that I was meant to work with kids. That time may have passed, because with the kids today it is harder to find the magic. I miss the magic.

Kindergarten- I worked in the Kindergarten classroom with one of the best teachers for 10 years. I loved working with them. I loved teaching them how to hold a pencil and form their letters correctly. I loved helping them learn to read and then how to Read. I loved seeing them grow from the beginning of the year to the end. They are funny and exhausting and I loved my time with them and learned a lot from Tracey-- the teacher and my friend.

Milestone

I experienced a milestone today. I rode in the van as a passenger while my son drove.

It may not seem a big deal, nearly everyone experiences it, but this was truly momentous. Our oldest is 20 and visually impaired. In order to drive he needed to be trained in the use of bi-optics and had to work with an instructor in order to pass the driving test at the DMV.

He recently passed that, and was waiting for the Low Vision Coordinatior for the state of Indiana to get him the aides he needs.

Because it is a government agency, it was taking forever, so we ordered parts ourselves. They came today and he got them set up in the van. A bigger mirror, a larger speedometer, and lane guides. We practiced at the school before having him drive us home.

He has been trained by professionals and trained by the state, but it was still a little nerve racking. I told hubby it felt a little like being Calvin and Hobbes at the top of that hill in the wagon. My stomach was in knots. I kept saying over and over in my head, "He knows what he's doing. We'll be fine. He knows what he's doing. We'll be fine." And you know what? He did great.

Really.

And he'll only get better with practice...just like any new driver.

So, we'll practice. Tomorrow he will drive us to Walmart.
"We'll be fine. He knows what he's doing."

ISTEP What Else?

This time of year, people like to comment on the fact that, "kids are not numbers," and "tests are not an indication of what kids are capable of," and all that is true, but can we take a moment to discuss the elephant in the room?

I don't think it's the potential test scores that stress us all out. No. I think it is the CIA level security we have to have.

Tests are in a locked room in the office where few have keys to open. Teachers have to sign out the tote with their class's information.
The totes are not to leave the teacher's sight.
Teachers must have proctors to help monitor the room.
Instructions must be read in the same way every test, every time.
The teacher and proctor must circle the room over and over and over, annoying the kids, in an attempt to be sure they aren't cheating.
The teacher and proctor may only say, "I'm sorry, I can't help you. Just do the best you can."
The teacher and proctor must keep their faces neutral so as not to indicate what the answer might be.
Once the test is over, scrap paper must be collected and counted to be sure no one copied questions.
Pencils must be collected and counted, because they can't use their own pencils-- they may use the wrong kind.
Every manipulative handed out must be collected and counted.
Once everything has been collected and counted, they are returned to the tote.
The teacher then must return the tote to the locked room.
The kids are told not to discuss the test with ANYONE.
Staff are forbidden to talk about the test with ANYONE including each other.

Then you have to take into account the kids who are sick and need to make up a test. The Sped kids who have accommodations need certified teachers to give the tests.

Life as usual, literally grinds to a halt, so the entire state can take spend thousands of dollars, not on resources to enhance education, but to testing companies who develop and implement tests that spotlight what we haven't taught properly (according to them). Doing well on the tests gives us money so we can afford next years tests.

So, no, The Test is not a representation of what our kids know, it is a representation of how we can keep secrets.

Encyclopedia of Me: Volume G

Loosely based on Amy Krause Rosenthal's book, Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life. 

Encyclopedia of Me: Volume G

Games:  We have Family Game Night, but there is a list of approved games. I prefer games that don't lead to nasty competition. Games that are supposed to be more competitive, we turn into cooperative games. For example, in Sorry we used to say you could share spaces and we didn't use the Sorry cards (as they got older we did). There is a place for competition, but not involving me. Mark fills that role for the boys.       
        The boys have eliminated Bananagrams from the list because it "makes their brains hurt."
           We take turns, each Sunday, picking a game and a dessert.
            Games have changed and evolved. We no longer play Scrabble Jr. Disney edition. We haven't played their creation of Block Cone -- played with cardboard blocks and mini soccer crowns, and Transformers as tokens.
            We play games inherited from my husbands youth that don't exist any more.
            And we have added card games they can understand strategy for now, like Euchre.
            Some favorites are Ticket to Ride, 5 Crowns, and Yahtzee.
            We have every sheet from Yahtzee saved, from when we started playing. It's like a piece of our history, because we started writing down details-- like the time everyone got a Yahtzee or when Will got a Yahtzee on the first roll. We write the date and keep track. Yes this is competitive, but it doesn't involve someone sabotaging you, so it's OK competition.
             Starting this summer, both boys will be gone, and I will miss our game nights with every fiber of my being.

Genealogy: I started working on genealogy in 2002, when putting together a scrapbook for my parents 50th wedding anniversary. I was doing a time line, and wanted to start with their parents. It led to wanting to go back further. Writing their story led me to want to know more of their story. I became addicted to finding out more, and how my family fit in this world.
        I continue to search. I have names and dates and locations. My search is for who they were.
       My mother-in-law says her grandmother had a journal that told stories of motherhood. My Mother- in- law would hear stories of what her dad was like as a child. The absolute tragedy of this, is that after mother-in-law died, her husband was so distraught, he got rid of those journals.
        Can you imagine?

Glasses: I had to get glasses when I was 14. I HATED them. I didn't wear them. I wanted contacts and couldn't have them, so I didn't wear the ugly glasses we could afford.
        Did you know if you don't wear something to correct your vision, your vision gets worse?
         When I was able to buy contacts for myself, I did just that. I loved contacts. I could see. They didn't fog up in the cold or get splattered by rain. I could wear sunglasses just like everyone else.
          Now I'm older and I can't wear contacts because my eyes get dried out. The eye doctor has even recommended...
           ...bifocals!!!!
          I tried them. I didn't like them. I wear glasses that I can just see out the bottom of and hold reading material closer.
           I used to think, "No way," when it came to Lasik.
          Now I think, "Maybe."

Something to write about

Last day. I made it! I wasn't trying for any prizes or anything, I just wanted to know I could do it again.

Days when nothing happens are hard, because then I'm just writing about how I have nothing to write, in an attempt to write something...a convoluted dog chasing it's tail scenario.

Days when I'm fired up are hard, because I have to breathe and try to coherently convey my passion, without alienating whatever audience I may have at the time.

Conveying the passion is hard, because I really want everyone to jump on the float and travel the parade route with me.

Writing every day on a blog is hard, because there is no continuation as there would be in a book or novel. Every day is new. Every day is a blank page asking for a completely new idea-- some revelation or take away on life. But, like I said, some days really are just a horse and a wagon on Mulberry Street. That's why I think I will continue my Encyclopedia of Me on days where I have nothing else to write, so I have that continuation to keep me going.

Today I planned to just write Volume C for my Encyclopedia of Me, but we got home from spending time with my in-laws, to find our power was out. How long it had been out, or how long it would be out, were unknown.
We ordered pizza.
We played a family game.
The boys played chess by flashlight while hubby and I read by flashlight.
The house grew darker and colder.
I got bored and worried I would miss posting on the last day because of the stupid power outage.

But 4 hours after we got home to no power, it came back on.
We only lost two degrees of temperature from the time we got home.
I got to start a load of laundry.
I got to write this post.

Ironically, the book I was reading by flashlight, while under a blanket,  was The Wilder Life by Wendy McClure. In it, she discusses her fascination with the world of Laura Ingalls Wilder. I was just at the part where she is visiting a farm in Southern Illinois, where people come to experience life as it was lived in pioneer days.

Every time we lose power is a reminder that I would not have survived in pioneer days. I like cooking on our stove. I like the washing machine and it's neighbor, dryer.

 I like electricity.

Now excuse me while I plug in my phone.

Encyclopedia of Me: Volume B

Encyclopedia of Me Volume B

Bells: I have started collecting bells. We go to a place in Fort Wayne called The Wood Shack. It is an architectural salvage place. I love the old doors, and wooden chests, and old cabinets, but we don't have the room for any those things in our current house. Last year there was a beautiful cast iron bell, the kind that you would hang outside and ring to call the  kids in to dinner. That we had room for. Since then I have added 4 other bells. The latest is like the kind a teacher would ring at a one room school house. I don't think new bells would have the same allure and I don't know how long this phase will last. But for right now, Bells goes on my list for "B".

Books: Our family has an addiction. My husband and I have been the dealers for our kids. We started them as infants. We put board books in their cribs. I read to them every night until they were in 6th and 8th grade, when homework took over. Scholastic books, once they started school, furthered our dependence. When we go to Barnes and Noble and they ask if we have a members card, we laugh and hand them our member card and our Barnes and Noble credit card that gives us 1% cash back on every purchase. Our library has grown to over 4000 books combined between the 4 of us. We just can't get enough.

Boys: I am from a family of 6-- 5 of whom are girls. (see also brother) The neighborhood I grew up in was all girls. Even my cousins are mostly girls. So, when we found out we were pregnant, I was hoping for a girl. I knew how to do girls. But we had a boy. And I realized I loved having a boy. He was happy and curious and precious. When we got pregnant a  year later, I hoped it would be a boy, because now I knew how to do boys. And we were blessed once again with a boy. Now that they are 18 and 20, I don't know if I really know how to raise a boy, but I think we've done OK. And when I hear friends with girls talk, I know I wouldn't know how to raise a girl.

Brother:   I have one brother and he is 13 years older than I am. He left for college when I started Kindergarten. I don't know what it is like to have a brother, not really. I have snatches of memory.

My brother is 6'4. I am currently 5'3", but obviously when I was starting kindergarten, I was much smaller. I vividly remember walking with my brother, him on the sidewalk, me walking along the wall next to him.

 I remember him coming home and lifting me to the ceiling.

 I remember him informing us that "roof" had the "oo" sound like what an owl says, and that coupon did not start with the "q" sound. To this day it is a pet peeve when people say "roof" like a dog barking, or pronounce coupon with a "q" at the beginning.

 And I especially remember the time he came home from college... I was with my mom on the back porch where she was doing laundry. Ricky said something smart-alecy and my 5'4" stocky mother told him, "You're not so big, I can't take you over my knee and spank your butt!"  I decided then and there to be good. If she could take down my giant brother (theoretically) that I didn't stand a chance.

Rick and his wife took my husband and I to shows at Purdue -- where we attended and they were alumni.
 Rick paid for my drivers ed because my parents didn't have the money.

He is an engineer and the father of two beautiful daughters and 3 grandchildren. He's still more of and uncle because of the distance in age,  but he is my big brother and I love him.

Encyclopedia of Me A edition

This may be a cop out, but I'd like to think of it as killing two birds with one stone.

I've been planning on making an Encyclopedia of Me of my own for a couple of years now, but haven't gotten around to it. If I use it as blog posts, I'll at least have the journaling done in a short amount of time.

For A:

Ancestry-  I became interested in my family history in 2012 when I started preparing for my parents 50th anniversary. I realized at that point my time with them wasn't going to be forever and I needed to get the stories I could. My mom had a typical middle class life and had good memories to share. My dad grew up poor and had few stories to share that didn't include working hard. Those stories led to a subscription to Ancestry.com and my search for stories.

Dad died ten years later-- 7 months before what would have been their 60th anniversary. Mom died two years after that. They didn't know the stories I had discovered. I continue to search for more. I hope to be able to share the stories I've discovered with my siblings soon.

Anxiety:  I "suffer" from anxiety or depression. I had postpartum depression after my kids were born. I recognized it after watching Marie Osmond talking about hers on Oprah. Everything she said was me. I asked my doctor and he asked, "Is that not normal for you?"

He is an amazing doctor and I wished he could have moved with us when we moved away, but that question threw me. In a 3 year span of time I had had 2 children, found our first born might be legally blind, moved to a new house, I'd left my job that I loved, and become a stay at home mom. I didn't know what normal for me was. So, I let it go.

I became afraid of going out, being in public, being alone...

We moved here and things didn't get better. I asked our new doctor and she put me on a medication. It has helped...immensely.

I still get anxious about crowds. I still work on not getting bogged down. I still think...hard...about everything. So Anxiety is definitely under A for me.

Autumn:  Autumn is my favorite season. I chose Autumn for my camp name. My husband says it is the perfect description of me. Stormy, changing, colorful. My birthday is in Autumn. I met my husband in Autumn. Autumn is sunshine and sweatshirts. If they made a candle that smelled like burning leaves, I'd have a collection.

Nothing

Today's quote couldn't be more perfect. "Sometimes the blank page wins."

It is Spring Break and today I did absolutely nothing. I subscribed to Newspapers.com and looked up people.

I watched reruns of ER and Supernatural.

I read.

I dropped youngest off at the movie theater and then picked him up.

I didn't watch or listen to news. I only interacted with the boys.

There was nothing to spark an idea or trigger an emotion.
Literally nothing.

So, like the kids in school, I wonder, "How many words does this have to be to receive credit?"

Procrastination Gets You in the End

It seemed OK to procrastinate. I mean, it took so long to scan, and there were so many that, "I'll do it later," seemed like a good idea.

It wasn't.

I am working on our family history. Everyone's history -- Mom, Dad, Mom-in-law, Dad-in-law and back and back.

I've acquired my mom's photos, gotten photos from in-laws, from Aunts and Uncles, from Mom's cousin, and from Ancestry.

I've located documents from old newspapers, from the courthouse, and from Ancestry.

Obituaries, gravestones, photos of people and places.... and many of them have numbers 0015723, 2963812... not actual identification.

Oh, and copies of some of these too.

Thousands of items I now need to go through one by one.

But first I need to think of a system that will make sense to me when I need to find something next time.

I'm the only one who can do it. No professional organizer or outside person knows these people (I don't even know all of them.) Me -I have to do it.

Think of the stories I'll be able to tell when I get it all together.

No more procrastination.

Who brings the pencils

Our trip to Indy today included a trip to one of the Half Price Books. As I perused the shelves, I found a book put out by the La Porte Historical Society. Because I'm working on my family history, and primarily the family that is from La Porte, I grabbed it.

As I looked at the pages, I found a description I found funny, as it is proof that things have really not changed much in 100 years of education.

Today teachers buy supplies for the students in their classrooms. Right?

The quote from the book:"A one- room school house is defined as a school with all grades one through eight, being taught by one teacher and a curriculum very different from today. The heating system in this school is a wood stove and the teacher was primarily responsible for supplying the wood. Some parents and students assisted, however."

So, I guess, teachers have always been counted on for taking care of their kids, with little to no support from the community. Huh.

Home

We will be putting our house up for sale after Youngest graduates in June.

This week makes 13 years in this house.

When we chose this house, I was a bit cautious. We are in the country with well and septic. I didn't know that was an option because I was an in town girl.

 Our old condo in Illinois was less than 1000 square feet. This house is around 1600 sq. ft.  It seemed like a palace, which made it feel like the kids were so far away when we put them to bed.

Our yard was huge. At the condo, I had a small purple plastic pool and a wheel barrow full of sand for playing in the yard, because it was shared space.

 It was all so overwhelming.

13 years later, we are still "not from here", because that is the kind of town we live in, but this house is home. It is where the Easter Bunny visited, leaving footprints behind. It is where Santa ate Maple Creams instead of cookies. It is where we learned pipes freeze when it gets to be 25 below zero windchill for several days in a row. And we learned you can prevent that, by leaving cabinets open and a trickle of water flowing from the faucet.

The garden tub was a zone of relaxation for me, and, when they were little, a swimming pool for the boys.

 The laundry room door has the marks of height from every first day of school.

I can still see in my mind, the epic Rescue Hero/ Transformer battles the boys set up -- like armies advancing-- stuffed cats set up as announcers. And I can see the cardboard ships they created from old boxes and duct tape.

The really cool sand box hubby built in the back yard, combined with the swing set when they got older, to become a sort of treeless tree house with turrets.

Husband has built tons of bookshelves to house our families addiction to books.

Oldest learned to make cookies and youngest has perfected homemade spaghetti sauce in our kitchen. Breakfast conversations have occurred at the kitchen counter.

All of these memories now need to be packed up.

Now we need to find a new place to call home.

First on my criteria list ...
                is a house in the country.

Matter of perspective

Many people are lauding the "teenagers trying to make a difference". It's a matter of perspective, isn't it?

Would you think a group of teens trying to get abortion laws changed brave?

Many were struck by all the pairs of shoes outside the Capitol representing the victims of school violence.

How many baby booties would there be for the same time period performed by Planned Parenthood?  Would you be just as saddened and appalled?

Those teenagers are brave for speaking up for what they believe in.

I wonder what the aborted would say, if their voices hadn't been silenced?

Infringement of rights?
Right and wrong?

It's a matter of perspective, isn't it?

Random Facts

Brain Dead. Doing the random facts thing.

I am 5th of 6 born in my family. I have a brother 13 years older, a sister 11 years older, a sister 10 years older, a sister who would have been 7 years older had she not died at the age of 5, 2 years before I was born, and I have a sister 2 years younger. 

My sister, Susie,  died at the age of 5 playing tag with the sister 10 years older. She tripped and fell, and instead of putting her hands out to break her fall, her fists hit her heart and stopped it. People told my mom she should have another child. My mom said, "If I have one, I have to have two, because I won't have a spoiled brat." So, I guess younger sister is here to keep me humble?

My parents would have been married for 60 years the year my dad died. All of us kids have lived by that example and have been married for between 28 and 40 years.

My husband and I will have been married for 28 years in April. Together for 33 in October.

I turn 50 in October.

We have two boys.

I love sunsets and collect rocks.

 I love music I can sing to. So this excludes Rap, Opera, and most instrumental music.

I hate going to movie theaters. 

I am a picky eater. Very picky eater.

Birds terrify me. One irrational fear I have is that of a bird flying through an open window on the van when I am driving. 

I've lived in Alaska, Delaware, Michigan, Illinois, and Indiana.

I hate shopping.

Love reading.

I am on Spring Break for two weeks. 

And even though I am a Night Owl, I am going to bed, because my job does not respect that I am not a fan of getting up at 5:30, so I am tired. 

Little Things

It has been an uphill climb on roller skates this week. And not fancy roller blades made for all terrain. I'm talkin' those old fashioned, skate key, roller skates... and a really big hill.

We are only allowed to wear jeans every other week, and tomorrow is not that Friday.

But...

Permission was asked for, since it is the last day before Spring Break and because it has been that kind of week.

And...

Permission was granted as long as we wear our staff shirts as well.

Everyone do your Snoopy Dance. It's the little things, that mean so much. 😀

Tired

Tomorrow I might make a list
or write a poem
or search my soul
or detail a revelation
or discuss a book
or remember a funny thing...
Tonight
I just want to go to bed.

Facepalm

There are phone calls you dread making. Needing to talk to a parent about a behavior or educational matter rarely goes well. Parents push back. They blame. They ask what the other child did. They go over your head looking for a different answer.

Making those phone calls is as difficult for the teacher to make as it is for the parents to hear.

So it was with great joy one of the teachers I work with called a parent today. The child had defended himself and classmates through the written word in an attempt to get things changed for the better.

"WE are so proud of this child, and just wanted you to know," the teacher told the mother.

 Mom was in tears on the phone and was saying she would make her son's favorite meal. The teacher hung up feeling pretty good.

Ten minutes later, the secretary calls over the phone intercom and said the mom was on the phone. "Mom says you just called, and she just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."

Facepalm

Apparently good phone calls should be condidered hard to make too.

Countdown

Vacation Will begin in...

5 Cities to visit
4 Books to Read
3 Research Libraries
2 Museums

1 Week to go

And then two weeks off to get it done

Lesson from the Back Seat

Our older son is a bi-optic driver, and when he travels with us, he rides in the front so he can practice spotting.
Our younger son has taken college visits, so he has ridden in the front, so hubby can ask the questions to get to the heart of what he is thinking about the schools.
That has left me with one of the captain's chairs in the middle row. These are my thoughts.


The back seat is a deprivation chamber
Music's loud from overhead
Darkness outside make the windows mirrors
No control over temperature

But sometimes windows are a giant Magna Doodle

Did you know the backseat is bumpy?
Open containers
like a coffee mug
spill or bump your teeth.
Bumps and brake taps
tighten seatbelts
and don't...let...go.

You can hear voices
but are not a part of the conversation
unless someone turns their head.

Yep.
I've learned a lesson.
When your kids ask,
"Are we there yet?"
it's because they'd be in
trouble if they said what they wanted to,

"Get me the heck outta here!"