Christmas is OVER

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring not even a mouse.  Or in my case, thing in the wall, thing on the floor, thing in my slipper, and thing in Shaun’s dresser.

As quick as Santa put a finger on his nose and up the chimney he rose, Christmas is over.  Where did it go?  I say this every year.  We hustle and bustle and as quick as we hustle, it is done….over….caput.  I do have to say, I am one of those people who wants everything down right after Christmas.  The cute decorations are not so cute and seem to be closing in on me.  My Mickey Claus and Minnie Claus now have their arms outstretched in a zombie like way, and moving in a menacing way.  All these cute decorations NOW look like clutter!  I know I am not alone.  Some may admit, some may not and just nod their heads in agreement.

So it goes, another Christmas over and another year gone.  Christmas doesn’t have to be just a once a year thing.  I like to think I have Christmas in my heart all year long, where it counts.  Spending time with family and friends throughout the year.  Knowing it is not the monetary presents, but your presence that counts.

This brings me to my final thought.  COME ON SUMMER!  Bring on the sunlight.  Get rid of dark thirty already.  J

Dedicated to all of us suffering on the inside

It is time for me to get on my podium and say to all of us suffering on the inside, “I get it and understand.”

Autoimmune diseases are evil things living in your body.  This is how I continue to describe an autoimmune disease to people.  “It is like an army in my body where my cells are wearing helmets and as soon as they see “good cells” they attack.”  As in many wars, nobody is a winner.  In the Battle of AI, no winners are allowed.

I get my strength from many.  My best friend gets up every day for work.  I know what she battles daily yet she continues on.  She looks fine on the inside yet again, the army inside of her attacks.  You would never know because if you go up to her, she has a smile on her face.

My girlfriend from high school has two little ones and she is so brave and has so much courage.  Battling an AI disease is hard enough with a grown child; however, having little ones that need your attention at all times is difficult.  I can only imagine her daily issues and pain, and yet she continues on.  We gather strength from chatting and listening to each other.

There is a mother where I work whose child is now a 2^nd grader.  When this child was in kindergarten, you would never have known she was sick and in and out of the hospital.  His homework was ALWAYS complete, on time for school, etc.  Yet her army inside of her was attacking at full force. 

I go to the doctor this Wednesday, ready with my list of issues.  The latest issues are falling and the neverending exhaustion.  I think the falling issue is due to the feeling of stepping on nails when I get up.  I have not mastered the art of nail walking or walking on fire yet.   My bruises that I’ve had for over two months still glare at me.

Many have told me I look great; however, I hate the mirror.  I try and not look at it because when I do I want to go down a dark path.  I stand in front of the mirror and glare at that person in the mirror.  When I bounce around at work and don’t see myself, I picture me as a healthy pretty me.  How about this one, I weigh more now than I did pregnant with Shaun.  Thank you steroids, et al for all you do to my body to help me look like a bloated mess.

How am I dealing?  Work, work, and more work.  When I move, the stiffness eases up.  Yet I know I have to get some rest in somewhere.  When I work on Saturday, the shop I work at has mirrors behind the cabinets.  All I see are these huge black eyes, which makeup does not cover.

Another way to deal?  Music, music, and more music.  It takes my mind off things.  God help me if Adele comes on though.  Yikes!  She can bring a massive sob.  J  I sing as loud as I want because it makes me happy.

Today is another day.  I am quiet, which is something for me, and I continue on.  I may get to things around the house, or I may not.  I just don’t care.  I just want to make it in this world to see Shaun grow up.  I made it past the deadline of high school, now I need to get through college.  Then whatever Shaun does after that…..I want to see or hear.

One day at a time, one minute at a time, and sometimes, one second at a time.

Hugs and love to all the AI people out there.  I understand your suffering.  With each other we can gather strength… one day at a time, one minute at a time, and sometimes, one second at a time.

The Empty Nest

The empty nest.  Isn’t this what we strive for?  We raise our children to the best of our abilities and then let them go free.  Free to fly.  Free to experience life, their life.  Key words?  THEIR life.

Since Shaun is now studying in the Country of Tasmania, I am cursing myself for raising an independent child.  Oh, you didn’t know Columbia College moved to the Country of Tasmania?  Well, in this mom’s eyes it might as well be.

I prided myself with making Shaun this independent person when he was growing up.  I did this in every aspect of his life, from school to even doing his own laundry when he decided to continue to put dirty clothes on top of clean clothes.  Now, at times, I want to kick myself.  I keep saying to myself, “You did this.  You made him independent, ready to face the world and leave your nest.  Now look at you?  You are a mess.”

Definite kudos to Shaun for his independence and never afraid to try or do anything.  When Shaun was in 3^rd grade, his teacher had said to me, “He may not appreciate what you are doing now, but in the future he will thank you.”  This quote from his teacher has stayed with me for years.  Again, shame on me for raising this independent person.  I know I shouldn’t shame myself but pat myself on the back.  It is due to all my pushing that Shaun has succeeded in many things, from spelling, to writing, to music.  When Shaun would write, I would always say, “Visualize what you are writing.  Can you see what you are trying to say?”  What do you know; lyrics are now written on paper instead of stories.  In all actuality, musical lyrics do tell a story.

As I continue to kick myself for the independence, I guess I also need to give myself a break and realize it is ok that I am feeling this way.  Feeling possessive of this creature I molded is normal.  Just as I was there when Shaun took his very first steps from the nest while holding my hand, I am also the one who released his hand to fly into the start of his life….away from my nest.

Never ending for the Class of 2010

Shaun and Alec before their trip to California.

I am ANGRY.  People can say all they want regarding when “God” takes someone he has “something great” for them planned.  Tell that to the parents, relatives, and friends who have lost someone at a young age.  How could this “something great” be better when they have yet to start their life?  Maybe these young people had something great to share with us in the living world.  However, we will never know.

Yet another member of the Class of 2010 has passed.  Yet again, it is a friend of Shaun’s.  Yet AGAIN I am worried about Shaun and how he will handle this.  I also worry about how his friend’s will handle this.  When I asked Shaun how he was, of course his answer was “I’m ok. I’ve dealt with this before.  What is going to suck is the wake/funeral and watching everybody else.”  As an adult it is hard to deal with, but having to deal with it as teenagers?  I can’t even grasp this. 

I don’t like to talk religion.  I used to think we would all end up in this happy spot called Heaven, but now I am not so sure.  The Catholics use scare tactics.  I was taught, at a young age, the devil is on one shoulder and an angel was on the other.  If I took a cookie, the devil made me do it and I had black marks on my soul.  Scary stuff for a 5-year old.  Shaun hit it on the head; the Catholics are trained, like a lamb, at a young age.  He had said this regarding my nieces, “The twins don’t have a chance to even think for themselves because they are being brainwashed.”  I agree.  Every week it is the same routine.  If you want to talk about worshipping idols?  The Catholic religion has plenty of them.  Then there is the whole “Mary was a whore” issue.  But we won’t go into that.  The Catholic religion left a bad taste in my mouth when my nieces were going to be baptized.  The good old Catholic religion wanted to see how much money we donated BEFORE they would “sign off” that we would make good godparents.  Really?  So I guess I could be this awful person, but if I handed you enough money, Catholic church, you would be okay with this.  See ya.

Is there a higher power out there?  Possibly.  But please don’t shove things down my throat about religion.  I have my own thoughts and will not shove them down your throat.  I don’t like to hear “God is good.”  My family and friends are good.  Right now, taking a son from his mother is not good.  They say a parent should never have to bury their child.  Well, God, we don’t have the luxury of having our sons or daughters resurrected. 

My husband lost his brother, Dan at a young age.  My husband, I truly believe, has never dealt with this.  Imagine carrying your brother home from a place you used to hang out as kids.  Imagine this…being arrested because people thought you did something to your own brother.  Where was God?  Was he watching over my husband?  Watching him while my husband had to sit in a jail cell until he was cleared, maybe.  Dan did leave behind my nephew, Tom, who is a wonderful, intelligent young man.  I guess if you can say “great things were planned,” my nephew is a success.

So as I sit here and try to digest what happened to this young man…who am I kidding?  I can’t digest this.  All I can do is be here for Shaun and any of his friends who stop by.  When their friend Brandon passed away, I was hit with the question, “Why?”  Or this heart wrenching statement said to me by a 16-year old, “We are doomed.  Our class is doomed.”  What does God say to this?

If I have ticked you off, I can’t say I apologize.  I am still a good person and have beliefs.  I take what you say into consideration, as well.  I would give the shirt off my back to help anyone.  For the parents of Alec McKinney, my thoughts are with you.  Gone too soon. 

"Gone Too Soon"

By:  Michael Jackson

Like A Comet
Blazing 'Cross The Evening Sky
Gone Too Soon

Like A Rainbow
Fading In The Twinkling Of An Eye
Gone Too Soon

Shiny And Sparkly
And Splendidly Bright
Here One Day
Gone One Night

Like The Loss Of Sunlight
On A Cloudy Afternoon
Gone Too Soon

Like A Castle
Built Upon A Sandy Beach
Gone Too Soon

Like A Perfect Flower
That Is Just Beyond Your Reach
Gone Too Soon

Born To Amuse, To Inspire, To Delight
Here One Day
Gone One Night

Like A Sunset
Dying With The Rising Of The Moon
Gone Too Soon

Gone Too Soon

Chapters of Your Life

"Rock star" status...ready to perform.

When you are young, the world is an open book.  Well, maybe not open…you have to be the one to do the opening and write your own chapters.  When I graduated from high school, my book was blank.  No chapters, no beginning or end.  Or so I thought. 

If we really think and start to analyze our book, complete with chapters, it begins at birth.  My parents are the ones who could really live the early chapters of my life.  Although I do not remember the so called early chapters, I do know I had to wear braces on my legs.  My mom has said many times she had felt bad because while I was in my crib, she could hear the “click, click” of me kicking my legs.  Other chapters were me falling out of the shopping cart, head first and thankfully all bundled up and no harm done.  Or falling the down the stairs when I was little.  The best chapters growing up?  Spending time with the family.

What has me thinking of the chapters of my life is taking a trip to Chicago.  Chapter 18 of my book is when I began to work downtown.  As I got off the train and exited onto the street, it was like time had stood still.  My pace was as if I was 18 again, and I got right into step moving around the city.  I made many great friends while working downtown.  Unfortunately, I do not see these people anymore but there are many chapters of my life that I shared with them.  Chapter 18 through 26 to be exact.  They were there for my “rock star” years, along with the birth of my son, Shaun.  I was also there for chapters of their lives.  Weddings, births, and Monday night bowling.  All I have to say is, the bowling alley was never the same after our butts left.  Thank goodness for Facebook.  At least we are in contact this way.

As I wandered the streets of Chicago and eventually made it to Columbia College, it touched me to see all these young people continuing the chapters of their lives.  Such talent.  All the music that was played around the campus was by students of Columbia College.  Amazing.  I have to admit, I envy them.  I always wanted to sing, act, or teach, but my book took me on an entirely different route.

I am not happy with the current chapter in my book.  However, since I am the writer of my story I am the only one who can do the revisions.  When I was young, it was easy to do the revisions.  I revised where I had to, and then went on from there.  During these chapters, there was also no responsibility.  Since I am older, some part of me has stopped these revisions.  It appears I am pouring myself into other books.  Maybe I am scared to revise, or maybe I am too old to. No, you are never too old to revise so I will go with the scared revision.

I will continue on with my chapters since my book is not complete.  Maybe I can get over the scared feelings of making revisions.  Your revisions are only complete when you re-enter the earth or when your ashes are scattered. How are the chapters in your book?  Should you, too, make revisions?

Reading, writing, cursive, and colors

Since I couldn’t sleep last night, I started to replay a status I read from Purdue University regarding removing cursive writing from the curriculum.  There were various opinions regarding this.  Teaching cursive is not my area of expertise, and will gladly let my teacher peeps/teacher aides peeps teach this.  Now printing, on the other hand, I can teach.  When I first started my job, I had to relearn how to print.  It sounds funny, but it is true.  In order to teach the correct way to print, you yourself have to print correctly.  Now I am a master printer with the help of Lisa Kelly, the Kindergarten teacher, and Itchy’s Alphabet. When I started, Lisa also provided me with my own handwriting book.

The doing away with cursive writing isn’t what really caught my eye.  What caught my eye was a person complaining about what kids need to know before entering Kindergarten.  The person had said that she couldn’t believe kids needed to know numbers, colors, address and phone number, etc.  This person also said that this was the teacher’s job.  Okay, let’s stop right there.  This was where I got on my soapbox.

Teaching begins AT HOME FOLKS!  I remember when my son was getting ready for Kindergarten, I was worried he didn’t know enough!  I read to my son.  He colored and guess what?  He KNEW his colors when entering kindergarten.  He also knew how to count.  It is also very important to know address and phone number. Trust me, it is not because we want to call parents up and come over for dinner, but how about if your child is lost?  Better yet, if your child needs to call home from school.  I have tutored kids in 4^th grade and when you ask them what their phone number is they answer, “I don’t know.”  What??

For those of you who do not know what the first day of Kindergarten is like, I will tell you in one word:  CHAOS.  Not only is it stressful for the brand new Kindergartener, it is stressful for the parents. One form of chaos?  Lining up. This is no lie, we have to teach the new Kindergarteners how to stand in line.  That’s right, some have no clue about following the person in front of you.  Part of a math lesson deals with who is in front, who is behind, who is first, and who is last.  For some, this is a difficult concept.  Then of course there is the homework that gets graded and is wrong because some don’t know what first and last mean.  That is an entirely different story, but I will give you a clue.  Look at which direction the toes are pointed in the line.  Better yet, who would LEAD this line?  If the animal to the far right of the page can lead the line, HE IS FIRST IN LINE.  The first in line does not necessarily mean the one to the far left.  Many papers get marked wrong, but now I have given you a clue into Kindergarten math.  J

Now let’s get to colors.  I find it very sad when you ask the new kindergarten class to take out a red, blue, and yellow crayon and some have NO CLUE.  Come on parents, basic colors are pretty easy.  It is not like we say, “Ok, I want you to take out an alizarin crimson, cerulean, and citrine colored crayon.”  It is at this point you would expect a dumbfounded look.  Here is a though, think of how your child must feel not knowing colors.

Another thing.  How do you not know your numbers 1-10?  Or AT LEAST 1-5?  The child has had five birthdays by the time they get to Kindergarten and for them not to know these numbers….sad.

To sum this up, parents please work with your child.  Yes, teachers do know they have to teach your child; however, you should ALSO want to teach your child.  I have no regrets about how I helped my son.  Including going out of order when studying for a spelling test.  He would say to me, “But Mrs. Callaway doesn’t do it that way.”  I would say, “That is fine; however, you are going to learn these words from top to bottom, bottom to top, mixed up and jumbled.  Or when working on a spelling homework assignment, he would misspell a word and I would not tell him which word was wrong.  My mom thought that was mean.  My response, “There is NO REASON why he should misspell a word, especially since all he has to do is copy it from the other page.”  That may be mean or harsh, but there is no excuse for being lazy.

Help prepare your child for school.  The transition, for some, is hard enough without the added stress of something as simple as knowing colors.

Skin and Bones

You look great!  I hear that a lot, but sometimes the trouble isn’t on the outside, but the inside.  This trouble on the inside sometimes has a result of the problem on the outside.  Make sense?

I knew it was too good to be true.  Last weekend I had the BEST weekend in a long time.  I wasn’t “sick.”  People were over my house all weekend and I was “healed.”  No problems whatsoever.  Energy was flying around me and I took advantage of it because I knew my body would turn on me at some time.  This was the weekend for “the turn.”  Actually, I should say it started during the middle of the week. 

Autoimmune diseases….many of us have them.  We may “look normal” but for some, our bodies are tore up from the floor up.  For many, we are taking chemo drugs, like me, to keep things in control.  Here are just a few of my reactions:

·        stomach pain

·        nausea

·        dizziness

·        hair loss

·        lowered resistance to infection

·        mouth sores

I won’t go on, as these are reactions from ONE medication.  I am sure you get the picture.   Although last week my husband said that I looked like I had a bruise on my cheek.  Nope, just discoloration from the disease.  And wouldn’t you know it; one part of my discoloration is right under my nose.  I have a summer moustache without the hair.  Isn’t life great?

I am a people person.  I LOVE being around people and I hate the fact that I have to remove myself from a get together and have my husband escort me home because I am doubled over, with tears in my eyes. 

Do I sometimes want to give up?  You bet I do.  Do I want to not take my meds because I am sick and tired?  Another, you bet I do.    But I have shared before what happens when I remove the chemicals from my body….I can’t move.  I fall into things because the bottoms of my feet aren’t working.

People think I am nuts when I say my best form of therapy is working with the kids at school.  It really is because there is no time to think of you.  When I have my infamous Mickey Mouse hands, I just walk myself to the office and get an ice pack to cool them down.

I know this too shall pass; I just need to be patient.  I will just continue working through each day hour to hour, minute to minute, and sometimes second to second.

I have a new favorite song called Skin and Bones by David J. Koch.  Powerful song.  I have posted the clip from So You Think You Can Dance, showing how beautiful the pairing of dance is with the song.

After all, when it is all said and done, aren’t we all just Skin and Bones?

What is your name?

Parenthood.  Nothing quite like it.  You look at your baby, and in this case my baby boy, you look at him smiling at you as you are bouncing him up and down and say to him in the voice you use with a baby, “You are so cute!  And remember; don’t bring any sluts in this house!  Yes, that’s right!  No sluts.”  He continues to look at you with that toothless grin and laughs with you.  Whew, I think to myself, I got this thing covered.  He will surely remember this when he gets older.  Yes, people who are reading this, not quite what you expected me to say, right?

Flash forward to when the baby boy is now in third grade.  Even though my son was not in the game Survivor, he received “tree mail.”  My husband was the lucky one to find this “cute” little tree mail.  As he is looking at this he says to me, “You need to read this letter written to Shaun.”  I say to my husband, “Oh, how cute!  Shaun got a love letter.”  How bad could this be, right?  I mean he is only in third grade.  Well, as I look at this letter I believe smoke started coming out of my nose and ears.  Horns popped out of my head, fangs appeared in my mouth and I ROARED.  This innocent love letter, from another third grader, was requesting the presence of my son in bed and wanted to bare his children, among other things.  SLUT!!  Obviously she had not been here for my conversation with Shaun when I was bouncing him up and down, smiling, and telling him “No sluts in the house!”  I was livid.  I was ready to bring my bat to this little girl’s house and tell her a thing or two or twenty.  My husband ended up tying me in a chair to restrain me as he went to talk to the parents about what the little girl had written.  I think the girl’s dad had about as much smoke coming out of his head as I did.

Which brings me to the current year, as baby boy is now much older.  I love having the kids at the house.  Really, they are now young adults.  Apparently a good time was had by all the young adults.  But to my HORROR there was another woman in baby boy’s room.  As I fidgeted most of the day I was subliminally trying to get through the walls the following words, “Remember, don’t bring any sluts in the house!”  I don’t think it worked.

My husband looked at me, also in horror, when I told him the dog was in Shaun’s room so I just opened the door and let her out.  “What?  You didn’t knock?  That was rude” My response, “What?  I didn’t request the presence of another woman in the house, and the dog had to go out!”  It’s not like I burst through the door and hacked up a lung to let them know I was coming in either. 

When the happy pool goers finally awoke, I did get to meet her…well kind of.  I introduced myself, “Hi, I am Shaun’s mom.” Her response, “Hi, I am a slut.”  Okay, okay, she didn’t say that.  To tell you the truth, I didn’t hear what she said her name was.  I felt like I was in a movie, like Father of the Bride, where he tells the kids to fasten their condoms when they get in the car.  I had to ask Shaun what her name was when he came home, since I didn’t hear it correctly the first time.  I am sure she felt mortified too having to meet Shaun’s parents in a driveway.

I know males out there high five each other about girls…unless of course it is their own daughter.  Yes, that story changes real quick.  But you know us mothers feel this way about our baby boys.  Nobody could possibly be good enough.  One day I know he will have a serious girlfriend…but UNTIL that time I will continue to slam open his door whenever I like.  That’s how this mom rolls! J

Motherly Instinct

Mother:  something or someone that gives rise to or exercises protecting care over something else; origin or source.

Instinct:  a natural or innate impulse, inclination, or tendency.

I believe a majority of people were on edge today waiting to hear about a verdict.  Did this mother kill her own child?  Verdict?  Not guilty.  A loud “WHAT?????” could be heard through all of Facebook land.

When you are a mother that “motherly instinct” kicks in.  You hurt if your child hurts.  You want to make everything better.

When I had Shaun, I never thought I had any type of instinct.  If he would cry as a baby, I would cry with him saying, “I don’t know what you want!  I fed you, changed you, burped you!  I just don’t know!”  What a sight, two bawling babies looking at each other.  The only difference was I was a 24-year old baby.  I had no clue what to do for this screaming child, and it was frustrating.

Have I been frustrated over the years with various scenarios in Shaun’s life?  You bet.  One of the most trying times was when Shaun was in 5^th and 6^th grade.  Shaun was one of the short boys, which really got to him.  It didn’t matter that he was on the basketball team, quick, in karate, all he saw was how short he was.  He would cry about it.  I found journal entries about it.  The heart wrenching part of this was when he came to me and said that he wanted an operation to make him taller.  Apparently, through research, Shaun found a type of operation where they break bones, put metal in you and stretch you.  He was adamant about this.  He didn’t care about repercussions; he just wanted to be taller.  It is tough to see your child hurt.  Needless to say, there was NO OPERATION.  After all my talk about “once you get to middle school, you will see all shapes and sizes” this finally happened.  Shaun was no longer the shortest of the bunch.

How I wished I could have “protected my young” with the death of his childhood best friend.  Another example of wanting to take this pain away, but I couldn’t.  Shaun did get through it, but it hasn’t been until recently that he has shared things.  Shaun has said, “I was done with high school after my sophomore year.”  When I thought about this, I realized the “doneness” of high school was after his best friend Brandon passed away, followed by his grandfather, followed by another classmate.  All within a month.  Again, motherly instinct kicked in and you want to take away that pain, but you can’t.  All you can do is just be there and listen.

All parents have at one time or another been frustrated with their children.  We wouldn’t be HUMAN!  We also need time to ourselves just for our own sanity.  But in the end, we want our children with us. 

When Shaun was going to Purdue, the day before we took him I was sobbing my eyes out.  I was sobbing so hard it took my breath away.  Anytime he goes anywhere, it is like he is going across the country.  And when he returns, I have balloons and a band to welcome him home even when he just goes to Chicago.  Okay, no balloons or a band, but neighbors can attest that I walk quickly home to see him and hear how his trip was.  I am getting so good at the translation of “grunts.”

As I heard the “not guilty” verdict today, it got me thinking of motherly instinct.  Yesterday was the 4^th of July.  Fireworks were going off and one got a little too close to my neighbor and her child.  Her motherly instinct was there, as she grabbed her child to protect her from any type of debris.  I believe she didn’t have to even ask herself, “What should I do?”  She just reacted……motherly instinct…..protecting her young.

So as I sit here and think about this monster of a mom they are letting go, she will get hers. To all of us wonderful moms, and dads who act as a mom, that have our motherly instinct 24/7, kudos to us.  May we all stay strong and continue protecting the ones we love.

Imagination

I am reading Steven Tyler’s book Does The Noise In My Head Bother You?  Anyone who is clueless regarding who Steven Tyler is I will clue you in.  Steven Tyler is the lead singer of Aerosmith and for those who just discovered him, he was one of the judges on American Idol. 

Okay, now that we aren’t all clueless in Highland, or wherever you live, what prompted me to write is Steven’s imagination as a child.  Come to find out, Steven had an imaginary family just like me!  I KNEW that is why I have a connection with him.

My imaginary family was the Smith family.  All first names started with a “K,” with the exception of the boy in the family.  The Smith family consisted of, in order or age, Kathleen, Karen, Kathy, Karolyn, Kim, and Phillip.  I believe I named the boy Phillip because I had a crush on a Phil in grade school. 

What is quite interesting about this family is imaginary Karen Smith was a teacher in this family.  Why is this interesting?  I now work with a teacher whose name is, you guessed it, Karen Smith.  Imaginary Karen Smith was also the teacher to my 50+ student stuffed animals piled on my bed.  “Real” Karen Smith would pull her hair out if she walked in with 50 students sitting there.

Thank goodness in the 70’s I wasn’t marked as a “Sybil” with all these multiple personalities.  My parents didn’t rush me to the nuthouse because I had this imaginary family with me.  In a time where there were no constant video games or cable TV, kids were actually using their imagination to create fun. 

Does anybody ever just lie on the grass and look up at the clouds to see what shape they are forming?  Probably not.  When my son was younger at times he would say, “I am bored.”  My response?  “It is good to be bored.  When you are an adult, you will have many moments when you wish you are bored.”

It is quite sad when asking kindergarteners if they have ever played a board game and their response is, “no.”  This just baffles my mind.  The last day of school the entire class was building a “city.”  The city consisted of Lincoln Logs, blocks, etc. etc.  The goal?  Build an imaginary city.  How sad that some students had no clue how to do this.  Some didn’t even know where to begin!  I am sure some kids are just used to having a controller in their hand and face glued to a television set.  Your imagination can make up some of the best games……FOR FREE.

I did let my son play video games; however, there was a time limit.  His room was also filled with Legos and blocks.  Shaun could even build with K’NEX at an early age.  When I look at the K’NEX “how to” sheet, I stare at it and say, “Really?”  You might as well put a Calculus book in front of my face because it looks the same to me.  Plus, this child could play chess at an early age.  Me?  I would make my own Chess rules by using my imagination.  My Chess game was much more fun that all those “real” Chess rules.

As you read this, take a trip back into your imagination time.  Hopefully it will bring a smile to your face as you remember those simple childhood imagination days.    J

Bras

I was going through writer’s block today.  Sitting in my chair, looking to the left and to the right, as if doing this my fingers would suddenly come to life and words would pour out like there was no tomorrow.  Hmm, no such luck.

I then looked at a friend’s status and saw what kind of day she was having.  Apparently, her boys were trying on her bras.  Yes, that’s right.  I am sure she is quite entertained watching her boys, whom are in elementary school, parading in her bras.  Yes folks, summer don’t get better than that!  This friend had actually said, “Why not write about my family?”  My response?  “You might have something here.”

As her boys are parading around in bras, this got me thinking about my bra days, or lack thereof, when I really don’t care and feel like kicking them as I walk.

When you are a young girl, you just CANNOT WAIT to strap them in.  My first “strapping” was in 5^th grade.  But what did the strapping lead to in school?  Boys snapping them in the back.  Nothing like having hook marks in your back from the snapping.  This is what I have been waiting for?  To have battle scars from wearing a bra?

Now 6^th grade rolls around and things are quite different.  The boys who were master snappers are now ogling you from top to top.  Yes, top to top.  Lord help you now if you weren’t WEARING a bra, because then they would tease you to death.  They were curious about what size cup you were, too.  If you had an A cup, which I did at the time, why even bother?

So it goes and the battle of the bra continues through life.  Nice and perky when you are young.  Oh how good your boobages (my made up word) look in that million dollar bra you are wearing by Victoria’s Secret.  Who am I kidding?  At that point in your life you can attach two pieces of Kleenex to a string to cover you and you would look great!

As with everything else, when we get older our boobs like to go south.  Especially if you add having kids to the mix.  Thank you children!  I brought you life and my reward is kicking my boobs around.  I guess it gives you something to do when you are bored.  Imagine this conversation, “What did you do today, honey?”  “Well, since I had nothing better to do, I played a game of kickball with my boobs and I WON!”

Gone are the days of the single hook in the back.  Hello days of double and even triple hooks.  Padding, underwire, over wire, everywhere wire, that is what I have today.  No more using one hand to undo and release the beasts.  At times, at least for me, it can look like I am swatting flies or doing a Bollywood dance just to get out of the dreaded bolder holder.

So young girls, enjoy your A’s.  If those boys are picking on you when you are young and also giving you battle scars on your back, if you have the guts, give them a wedgey.  Let them see how it feels when something is pulling on the ballage (another word I made up) area.

For all of us getting older gals, I say let them hang sometimes.  Any form of suffocation is not good.  Besides, there is nothing better than playing a game of kickball with yourself and you always win.  J

*This entry is dedicated to Sheri Kollwitz Graegin and Family.  Thank you for the inspiration.

Breathe

Looking up at the clear blue sky, everything looks at peace.  Is it really?  The leaves are swaying and the sun is shining, as if all is okay in the world.

As I look closer, some of the leaves are waving wildly, as if in torment or perhaps doing a happy dance.  While other leaves are calm and just gently blowing in the wind, breathing in and out.

Today I sit, with my baseball cap on and my hood pulled over my head.  Not wanting to be seen.  My body is in torment today, and perhaps if I hide and sit still, I will be ok.  Like the gentle leaves blowing, I am calm just sitting.  No pain, just calm.  Just breathe.

As I get up, I am like the wildly waving leaves…my body in torment.  I try and gently put my feet on the ground; however, the movement is not smooth.  If I am not careful, I will fall.  The movement is like the tormented leaves…swaying wildly back and forth, until I can get my balance.  Instead of a graceful walk, the steps are sharp movements.  I need to:

Just breathe.

Take a breath and look around you.

Gently close your eyes.

Inhale slowly and then exhale.

Listen to the birds chirping and feel the wind through your hair.

Just breathe, for a breath can be taken from you without warning.

Enjoy the peace that is nature, the peace that is your own breath.

Whenever life gets to you, close your eyes and just breathe.

A Kindergarten Tale

Now that I have been out of the classroom for about a week, I feel I can now delve into the wonderful world of the kindergarten class, or as I fondly call them The Children of the Corn.

Let me school you on those little 5 and 6-year olds.  Everyone, that is everyone not in the classroom, has said to me, “Oh how cute, kindergarten.”  Those people are DOOMED if they are to go into the classroom and teach, doomed and possibly tied up in the back of the classroom.  Yes, they appear cute on the outside but careful because they have horns.  Just ask any substitute who comes in nicely groomed to a kindergarten class all smiles. And what was she thinking wearing nice pants and stiletto heels?  Those nice pants turned into a step stool for the kindergartener who does now know how to tie their shoes. And those heels?  That’s a joke.  I am sure she should have rethought that one.  By the end of the day, she is disheveled.  Makeup smudged, hair standing straight up due to the glue that was “accidentally” put in her hair by one of the students. The smile that was on her face at the beginning of the day has turned into a “When do they get out of here?” look of panic. 

Each year brings in new faces and 25 different personalities.  Some may not realize these little people have NO CLUE how to line up.  Folks, they just don’t come in knowing how to do things.  At the beginning of kindergarten, the line kind of looks like the platoon in the movie Stripes….all over the place.  The following cadence is used to try and get things in order:

      Follow the person in front of you.

      Follow the person in front of you.

      Follow the person in front of you.

Sounds easy enough, right?  But to the new kindergartener, they have no clue what in front of you or behind you mean!

In our classroom we have a lot of “fests” going on, and it’s not the type of fests you may be thinking of.  Also, we add the year we are in to accentuate the word “fest”.  Here are some examples:

1. This is not “bathroom fest 2011” which means when one goes to the bathroom the next 24 all of a sudden are going to explode in their pants.

2. This is not “drink fest 2011” which means when one student needs a drink the next 24 are going to die of thirst.

3. This is not “talk fest 2011” which means we really don’t care what you have to say right now.

4. This is not “tattle fest 2011” which means we really don’t want to know that Johnny looked at you.

Cute, right?  Sure..maybe if you are new to the classroom, but try this for 180 days!

Like I said earlier, each year brings in a new set of students, with various personalities.  This year I was “flashed” by a little boy twice.  Why twice?  Perhaps he was thinking, “Hmm, maybe she didn’t catch me, I am going to try this again.  I need some sort of response.”  My response was, “Really?  Do you do that at home?”  He shook his head no and folded his hands in his lap.  I am happy to say there were no more flashes after this incident, thank God!

Kindergarteners just say whatever.  This is why many teachers could write books because YOU CANNOT MAKE THIS STUFF UP.  Case in point.  We were at bathroom break.  After you use the bathroom, wash your hands, and take a drink you sit down with your hands folded.  This one particular day, Johnny (whose name has been changed to protect the innocent.  Ha!  Innocent!).  Okay, getting back to the story, Johnny was sitting down; hands folded when he suddenly cocked his head to the side, put his finger to his lip and questioned himself, “Did I toot?  I think I tooted.”  I will give him this; at least he answered his own question.  The girl he sat next to, God bless her, remained quiet but was probably thinking to herself, “If you don’t know that was your air that escaped your cheeks, math and reading are sure going to be hard for you.”

To think, I quit a Financial Representative job to work with these creatures.  First I volunteered and eventually decided I loved it. Even when I was laid off, I continued to volunteer in the classroom.  I love what I do and it keeps me sane, or maybe a little insane.  J