This Christmas Was Brought to You By....

Snow days. I hate having to make up school in June, but any teacher who is a mom will tell you that a snow day in December is a blessing. That's the only reason many gals are able to get some holiday baking done, cards written, and gifts wrapped. We were stuck at home for two days during a whopper of a snowstorm, when I think the whole state of Iowa was closed. It was nice to be snug and safe at home, and I secretly said thank you prayers for the gift of time at home to prepare for the holidays.

Teaching full time and keeping up with family activities leaves little extra time for holiday preparations. Some days I stumble home from a crazy day in first grade with barely enough energy to throw some supper together. The weekends fly by in a flurry of all the jobs that didn't get done during the week. A day of Christmas shopping at the mall kept getting squeezed out by other pesky responsibilities like groceries, cleaning, and lesson planning.

About a week later, freezing rain brought another day off. I grumbled to myself at the way the school year was going to be extended, and activities at school would need to be rescheduled. Then I smiled to myself as I sat down at the computer, searched for online deals with free shipping, and nearly finished the Christmas shopping.

Yesterday was our first day of Christmas break. As I listened to the rain outside and watched it freeze on the tree branches, many school cancellations scrolled across the bottom of the tv screen. My heart was filled with sympathy for districts who would have a fourth day to make up. Then I wondered why any district would scheduled classes on December 23rd? I wanted to give the superintendents of those districts a head-thump. Those administrators obviously aren't the ones in the family responsible for the shopping, baking, wrapping necessary to "do" Christmas. I imagined hearing the thank you prayers of women all over Iowa yesterday as they reveled in a bonus day to bake some goodies with their kids or get the gifts wrapped and under the tree.

Jesus is the reason for the season, but the worker bees that are responsible for the festivities deserve some time to make it happen!

My First Thanksgiving

I'm forty-five years old and I just cooked my first turkey. It's about time, don't you think? This was a special thanksgiving for me. It was the first time we celebrated in our home and the grandparents came to us. Planning the details of the meal and getting the house ready added extra excitement to the holiday. I wasn't stressed about making the food. The grandmas were bringing pies, salad and rolls. Besides, my years of cooking mass quantities for football players made this event seem less daunting.

The only thing I wasn't sure about was the turkey. Since I had never cooked one before, it felt like a mysterious challenge to me. Maybe it was the literal size of the task. More likely, being up close and personal with a animal carcass was the reason I had avoided it over the years.

I did my homework and spent some time researching the easiest way to cook a turkey. I didn't really comprehend the benefits of soaking the bird in brine, and the the health related cautions about cooking the stuff inside the bird scared me off. I decided to keep things as simple as possible and use our electric roaster.

As I wrestled the bird into the sink, I questioned Perry's decision to buy a 21 pounder. I grabbed the sprayer, considered that cold, pimply-looking carcass, and wondered where to begin. The dogs sat at my feet, probably feeling relieved that someone else was getting a bath for a change. I washed it off, careful to lift its little wings and apologetically rinsed under the little armpits.

The cavity search just about did me in. I groped inside and shuddered as my hands closed around it's slimy neck. I chucked in the garbage in disgust, reconsidering my childhood thoughts of going vegetarian. I knew there was a little baggie of other unwanted "parts" but no matter how many times I plunged my hand back in there, my fingers couldn't locate it.

Finally, I gave up and hoisted the turkey into the roaster. I grabbed Perry's jar of "Butt Rub", a seasoning Perry uses when he smokes pork loin, and grimaced as I gave the bird one last massage. Just as I was closing the lid on the roaster, I spotted the corner of a little bag peeking out of the other end of the bird. Two openings to search...Who knew?

Shortly after that, it started to smell like Thanksgiving in our kitchen. Perry was especially concerned about how we'd know when the turkey was cooked. A couple hours later, we lifted the lid and saw that the bird was no longer intact. It had apparently fallen apart while it cooked. Perry pulled the drumstick which came off in his hand. As we lifted the turkey out of the roaster, it essentially carved itself. The red pop-up button thingy was floating in the juices at the bottom of the pan. I took that as a sure sign that the bird was done.

So, I survived my first attempt at turkey making. It didn't resemble anything from a Martha Stewart magazine cover, but it sure tasted good. It wasn't pretty, but we must have done something right.

Breaking Ground

I have never been so glad to see heavy machinery and mounds of dirt in my whole life! Our church has finally broken ground and after many years, we will have an actually church building.

We started attending Grace about seven years ago. It was a little nondenominational start-up church that didn't have a building but it had everything else we needed in a church. We've grown together and become a real church family but the years have not been easy.

We meet in our high school every Sunday morning and hold worship service in the auditorium. All the supplies are hauled in a trailer and people have to set up everything...from the speakers and sound system to the toys for the nursery. Most of the materials are packed and repacked in huge plastic totes each week. The children meet for Sunday school at tables in the school commons. Not an ideal environment for the kids or the poor teachers. Our adult Sunday school classes meet in the science classrooms. It's kind of funny to look around at beakers, bunsen burners and biology displays while we are having discussions about the bible. Our worship services get pretty colorful when there is a school play coming up. The pastor and worship band stand in front of the set's backdrop and maneuver around the cardboard walls of scenery to conduct the service. A morning after a high school dance is always an adventure. Streamers and other decorations litter the commons as we enter the building for church. The regular attenders have learned to look past the fact that we're in a school. We just focus on each other. But I always wonder what visitors think on mornings like that.

Even though we haven't had ideal conditions, our church has thrived and grown. We have a huge youth program, lots of bible studies, and many from Grace are active in mission activities in Latvia.

Now that we've broken ground and the construction has begun, I can't wait to have a building to hold all the "stuff" of our church. I'm so happy that the volunteers that unload the trailer and repack it every week will have extra hours in their week for other things. The Sunday school teachers and nursery workers will actually have walls around them to contain the noise and activities. We will no longer be Rubbermaid-toting-vagabonds, but our church will have a home.

There's an old song running through my head as I begin to type this: The church is not a building, the church is not a steeple, the church is not a resting place, the church is a people...

I don't particularly like the song. It's tune isn't all that catchy. But it sticks in my head because I think the words are so true. I hope and pray that with the construction and building activity, I will not lose focus on what has really made us "a church" all this time.

People are Funny

Now that my drive to school takes 6 minutes instead of two, I feel like a commuter. (I know all my friends in the city are rolling their eyes and shaking their heads at my ignorance.) No, it isn't the length of time that I drive; it's the people along my route that I can set my watch by, the predictable (and quirky) behaviors I see that give me a smile as I head to school in the morning.

As I drive along one of the main streets of town, there is a crossing guard at her post, waiting for youngsters to arrive on their way to school. She doesn't sit in her car like most crossing guards I see. This woman takes pride in her work and brings a broom with her. Most mornings I see her sweeping the edge of the street, clearing leaves and construction dirt away from the area. I want to nominate this lady for citizen of the year. Seeing her gives me hope for the day and and an optimistic feeling about people.

My school is near a nursing home, and drive along the narrow street that borders the home. Rain or shine, warm or cold, there is always a group of "health care professionals" from the nursing home outside having a smoke break. They stare vacantly as I roll past, apparently waiting for the nicotine to kick in so they can return to their duties inside. Several times a week, I see my favorite employee. She brings a lawn chair outside for her smoke break, and sets it up in the street! Chatting with her friends and inhaling deeply, she casually ignores the cars that have to maneuver around her just to drive down the road.

As I park my car at the school, I glance across the street at one of the school's "neighbors". It makes me giggle to see the sawhorse with the PRIVATE PROPERTY sign stationed at the end of his driveway. Apparently, this individual is so bothered by cars that may use his driveway to turn around in before parking, it became necessary to craft this blockade. I imagine this man carrying the sawhorse out to his driveway twice each day to protect his property from invaders.

I don't know any of these people personally, yet they are part of my morning "commute", and I'd wonder about them if their routines varied. These folks show me a glimpse of the good and the not-so-good in this world... an interesting way to start the work day.

Unexpected Visitor

Most churches welcome visitors with open arms, but we had an unwelcome one last Sunday morning. Our pastor had just started his sermon when I heard rounds of laughter erupting at a little mouse who had scampered onto the stage. It was boldly stealing the show while Pastor Tim considered whether to exterminate him with his shoe or try to continue. He went on with his sermon, but all eyes followed the little critter as it explored around the worship band's instruments and equipment. As a teacher, I sympathized with how frustrating it is to talk to a group when they are more interested in the distraction than the lesson.

I struggled to concentrate on the sermon about the fish and the loaves while Perry visually tracked the little critter. "It just went over the edge of the stage" he updated. I assumed it went underneath the stage to hide like a sensible mouse should, and I refocused my attention to the sermon notes. Seconds later, it was apparent that our little friend was meandering among the congregation. It was easy to spot its location by the swivel of the heads of the people in front of me.

When I noticed the people in the rows ahead doing something that looked like the wave, I knew it wasn't in enthusiastic response to the Holy Spirit. The mouse was heading toward the back of the auditorium and someone muttered, "It's coming this way." I looked down, but saw nothing but my purse and book bag on the floor near my feet.

A friend of ours had seized a paper cup and was silently walking up the aisle, stalking the little rodent. I moved the edge of my book bag and peered down hesitantly only to see a little pair of beady eyes peering back at me. That mouse apparently thought hiding behind my bags would provide just the safe haven he needed. "He's right here", I called to Mick, and he leaned down to flick the mouse into the cup. Instead the critter flipped into my purse!

Perry, Mick and I made a quick exit with my bags in tow. When I reached the grass outside, I flung my purse on the ground, then shook it until my little friend evacuated himself. Meanwhile, Perry dug through my book bag suspiciously, as if the mouse had suddenly multiplied himself like the fish and the loaves.

We returned to the auditorium, laughing about the adventure yet sheepish about the way we added to the disruption of the church service. I set down my purse (on my lap this time) and remembered my rationale when I purchased it a few weeks ago. I remembered thinking that bag would be handy to have and would hold all sorts of things... How right I was.

The Husband The Wife and The Wardrobe

My parents are doing some major sorting at their house and getting rid of extra furniture they don't use anymore. They had a wardrobe in their basement, and mom thought I might want it. She knows my excitement about any storage related item... so I immediately said yes! It could go in my work room and hold craft supplies or teaching materials. I might use it in the basement for out of season clothing. Joe or Ben might need it for apartment life at college someday. Over Labor Day weekend, I got busy clearing a space for the cabinet so Perry and I could go get it.

My helpful husband went to the car dealership where he works to borrow a small pickup. When we got to my parents' house, we realized that moving that huge wardrobe up the stairs would be no small job. More cumbersome than heavy, we somehow heaved it up one step at a time and carried it to the pickup. I was sweaty and covered in dirt, but feeling very smug to see that large cabinet filling the back end of the truck and knowing I'd had the muscle to manage my end. I collapsed into my seat, Perry carefully shifted gears, and we slowly rolled homeward.

Stopping at a busy intersection in town, Perry chatted on his cell phone while I considered the storage possibilities for this handy piece of furniture. We were barely across the street when we heard a sickening crash. Looking behind us, we saw the cabinet laying in pieces after being launched out of the back of the truck.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as we did a u-turn to pick up the pieces and toss them back in the truck. Passing motorists maneuvered carefully around our vehicle and the pile of wardrobe rubble, probably laughing hysterically and thanking their lucky stars they weren't in our shoes.

We returned home, chucked the pieces of splintered wood at the curb, and I called my parents to explain what had happened. Thankfully, they had a sense of humor about the whole ordeal. It might be awhile before they offer us anything else of value from their house though.

A Different Dream for My Child

What I would have given for a book like this nearly 13 years ago, when I was sitting in the NICU with a sick baby.

My heart was nearly paralyzed with fear for so many things. I was afraid that Sam might not live, I was afraid that he was suffering and I couldn't do anything to make it better, I was afraid of the endless number of needle sticks and invasive tests his tiny body was forced to endure. I was afraid of what was yet to come, but I didn't know how to process these fears and worries. I wanted to hand them over to God and trust Him with my baby's fragile condition but I didn't quite know how.

What I needed at that time was an experienced friend to come alongside me and gently offer to share her story with me. It would have been so helpful to hear about someone else's journey with a child who had a serious medical condition. I craved practical advice from someone who had been where I was and lived to tell about it. Praying for me and praying with me when I couldn't find the words, this friend could share insights from the bible in language I could understand. She could explain how God could help me find the strength to survive my baby's health crisis and be the parent I wanted to be. I also needed encouragement and advice on the minor logistical challenges I faced while caring for my child.

That support I wished for is now available in the form of an amazing little book of meditations called A Different Dream for My Child. You can preview the book here. Jolene Philo shares her own story as well as the stories of many other parents who have faced the scary reality of a seriously ill child. The medical situations are all so different, and yet the emotions each family faced were universal and startlingly similar to mine. It was so heartwarming to read these meditations and feel encouraged and supported.

In this book, my friend Jolene offers heartwarming encouragement on the major issues parents may face, but she also offers helpful advice on the little logistics many parents must deal with during a child's extended illness. Like all good friends do, she offers bits of well-timed humor from her own situation in order for us to see glimmers of hope in ours.

If you know someone who is going through a health crisis and wish there was something you could do to help or support the family, start by getting this book into their hands. For anyone who is drowning in the emotional challenges of parenting a child with a chronic illness, this book will feel like a lifeline.

Looking on the Bright Side

The day was going smoothly, so I should have guessed something like this would happen. I was only home from school for a few minutes when it was time to pick Sam up from football practice and hurry him to piano lessons. The dogs looked at me with pleading eyes, begging me not to put them back in their cages, so I let them ride along.

While driving to piano lessons, Pearl stood in my lap, and I realized with horror that she had a huge, shiny, purple lump on her rear end. Being a dog without much hair and no tail, it was alarming looking and unmistakable that something was horribly wrong. Some sort of infection had obviously taken over her backside and somehow I had neglected to notice. Thoughts ping-ponged around in my brain....how long had THAT been there?...looks awfully painful, poor dog... I must be a bad pet owner to have a pet suffering from a hideous growth like that and not even realize it....it's 5:30, and the vet clinic is surely closed....what am I gonna do if that thing BLOWS??

With shaking hands, I dialed the clinic's number and nearly cried with relief when they answered. They were open late tonight (proof to any non-believer that there is a God) and I could come right over.

By the grimaces on the office staff's face, I knew it was a bad abscess. The doctor got her haz-mat suit and several gauze pads for the "procedure". Yes, it involved pain and blood, but Pearl was a good little patient. I was brave too and didn't keel over, I'm proud to report.

$83.00 later, I left the vet's office with antibiotics, prednisone, and a towel wrapped around Pearl's still-oozing backside. Somehow I made it back to pick up Sam from piano lessons before he even had a chance to know anything had happened.

Tonight I am counting my blessings. Thankful the vet was open and available to help us, thankful that awful thing didn't rupture in my bed while she was sleeping with me, and thankful for feminine products that double as emergency doggie-diapers. No matter what kind of day a person has had...no matter how bad a person's life gets, one can look on the bright side if they don't have a ruptured abscess on their rear-end.

Confessions of a Bag Lady

I think I've become a bit of a bag lady this summer. My efforts to be organized and keep things simple led me to brilliantly decide I needed a different bag for every activity in my life. I visualized myself being amazingly organized and prepared for any event on my busy calendar, grabbing a bag and punctually dashing out of the house at a moment's notice. It hasn't worked out exactly as expected, but I think the system has promise.

First, I have a baseball bag, a cute little tote with a sports print that I keep all the handy essentials for traveling to ball games. From bug repellant to m&ms, sun screen and an extra sweatshirt, that bag stayed packed and ready for life at the ballpark.

Next, I need my church bag. It carries my bible, hard candy, water bottle, pens, and other necessary items. Right now it probably also has about 3 months worth of old church bulletins in it.

I also need my school bag. The problem is, school work this summer varies between grad school classes and teaching summer school to little ones. Repacking this tote bag each time I left the house seemed a bit too straightforward and logical so I needed to add another bag to my collection. My dad picked up on the fact that I was becoming a bag lady and he has an abundance of freebie tote bags from continuing ed conferences, so he offered me a couple of blue DMACC bags. I couldn't decide which one I liked best, so it made perfect sense to me to use both of them.

Life as a bag lady has it's ups and downs, though. I have run out of door handles to hang all the bags I need. Remembering which dark blue bag has my flash drive in the bottom causes me some frantic last minute searches. The bag of m&ms I discretely reach for during a long Viterbo class sometimes eludes me because it's actually in the baseball bag. There have also been some close calls when I'm headed to my educational research class and grab the bag that contains picture books and phonics games. It appears that my system has a few glitches, but with a little refining, I can be really organized and prepared. Last night I was browsing online at some cool Kavu tote bags. I think having one of those might be just exactly what I need....

The Final Week

When you think of my son Ben, sports automatically come to mind. He has had a ball in his hand since he was a toddler, and team sports have played a huge role in his life since he was old enough to sign up. His idea of fun has always been competing on a field somewhere. Over the years, we have spent a LOT of time on bleachers watching him play.

This week marks the last chapter in his high school career. His senior baseball season has been a great one and his team was thrilled to qualify for the state tournament. This is exciting for our whole town because it's been 23 years since Boone has gone to state. Playing at Principal Park is a life long goal for Ben and he's never lost sight of that. I have to pinch myself when I realize this dream has actually become a reality for this group of boys. God has blessed them with talent and He has provided this amazing opportunity for them. What a way to end a season and high school career.

I think the town of Boone must have closed down for a few hours yesterday! I was so touched as I looked around the stadium at the sea of red and black and saw how many people showed up to cheer for the boys. I know it meant a lot to the team to have so much support. The team played well, won big and are now setting their sights on the next game. We are having a blast being a part of this.

Perry and I will definitely miss watching Ben play baseball next year. The families of the other players have become close friends. We've spent hours together on the bleachers and have made great memories traveling together to tournaments over the years.

I know the boys will miss playing ball together. They have been a team since they were nine years old. In a few days, most of them will put down their bats and gloves for good. A few weeks from now they will leave home for college and begin an exciting new chapter in life.

I know they will look back on this final season with no regrets. And that's a wonderful thing.

A Different Kind of Summer

The little purple flowers in this hanging basket are so unforgiving. They don't realize it's been a different kind of summer. I've gone back to school to get my masters degree, so my usual summer vacation activities have gone by the wayside. In my rush to get out the door by 7AM for class, I sometimes (often) forgot to water my flowers. I would make a mental note to turn on the hose when I had some time, but apparently part of the flowers didn't appreciate my IOU of water.

My family, on the other hand, is very understanding and supportive of my new schedule. Sam is a great sport when I am in Des Moines for class all day. He's content to stay home alone, and Ben is very self sufficient-even washing his baseball uniform when needed. My parents are more than happy to have Sam and the dogs at their house, to make sure they are eating what they are supposed to, along with getting some exercise and fresh air. Perry has been so encouraging as I take on this new challenge in my life. Even though writing reflection papers is a foreign concept to him, he understands the time involved with my classwork and picks up the slack around the house.

There hasn't been time for scrapbooking, home decorating projects or planting a vegetable garden this summer. My priority is to complete my 10 credits of classwork, go to Ben's baseball games, spend time with Sam, and maybe even put away the stuff from Ben's graduation party. I haven't trimmed the dead flowers from the hanging basket yet, but it's on a list somewhere. It's just a different kind of summer.

The Flamingos

Sam's youth group at church has been doing a fundraiser to raise money for a trip this summer. You may have heard of something like this... a flock of plastic flamingos are secretly placed in a person's yard with a note. For a donation to the youth group, the flamingos will be removed. For a slightly bigger donation, they can choose the next yard for the flamingos to go.

My son Sam was enthusiastic about this project, so he volunteered to be in charge of transporting the huge group of flamingos from yard to yard. Problem is, the flockmaster can't drive and needed a car to haul the 16 large plastic birds. Perry and I became involved in this project by default, so we have been on too many late-night-stealth-bird-placing-missions.

One night Perry was busy, so Sam and I packed the trunk and I dressed in black for the newest job. We had the address of the next targeted victim, a yard on a quiet street in town. I crept slowly down the street, straining to see the address numbers. Pausing in front of one house, I felt sure I'd found the correct place. It was curious to see the garage door open and outside lights on. Before I could park I was horrified to see the owner of this house, an older gentleman who used to be our town's mayor, a few yards away walking his dog and probably wondering what in the world we were up to.

With heart pounding, I drove off. Since it was a dead end street, of course I had to turn around and pass him again. That way he got an even better look at the shady characters in the suspicious looking blue Focus. (He was probably making a mental note of my license plate numbers and getting ready to call his friends at the police department.)

Sam and I laughed nervously as we waited a few more minutes before going back, hoping the lights would be off and we could get the job done. I longed for my other life back at home, where I lived innocently as an upstanding citizen who doesn't sneak around in the dark.

About a half hour later, we returned to the scene of the crime. I trolled nearly silently down the street with headlights off (I saw that in a spy movie once) and I parked in a neighbor's driveway. Trying to be quiet in the dark magnifies even the softest noises. I cringed at the click of the car door and the clank of the flamingos as we dodged behind bushes to set them up in the targeted yard. I kept my eyes on the house, straining to see a face in the window. I expected the lights to come on at any moment, the door would open and an accusing voice would boom across the yard as I died of embarrassment on the spot.

With relief, we poked the last flamingo in the grass, ran back to the car and escaped the scene without being noticed. Speeding back home, I felt more than ready to hand over the flock to another pre-teen's family in our youth group. They can live on the dark side now. I'll even give them my black face mask. I'm retiring from this shady lifestyle.

Packing Up

My school district is going through a big year of changes....closing one of the oldest school buildings, building on to the newer schools in town and shuffling the grades and attendance centers around. It kind of feels like a game of "Musical Teachers". As the numbers enrolled from grade to grade fluctuates a lot, it seems like the teachers are required to migrate around from building to building and grade to grade. Many teachers got bumped to another grade level. I was one of the fortunate ones that only got bumped to another building.

I felt lucky...until I started to pack up my classroom. Having taught in this room for three years, I had no idea how much stuff I was accumulating. Not junk, but stuff that little people need in order to learn to spell, do math and understand science.  The more I sorted and boxed, the more there seemed to be. It reminded me of one of those giant salads I order at a restaurant that seems to grow bigger as I eat.

Several days after school got out for the summer, my packing was complete and my bright and cheerful little classroom has been reduced to piles of boxes in the middle of the classroom. It's sad for me to say goodbye to Page. I feel sentimental because it's where I attended elementary school, plus all three of my children went there. This room was actually my old first grade classroom. I will miss seeing my Page friends on a daily basis. 

Change is hard, but I know change can be good. It's time to go make some new memories and Bloom where I am Planted.

No More Pilates

Perry's hobby is smoking. Smoking meat that is. When he is preparing pork loin on the smoker, he is ALL business. There is an urgency about his mannerisms and tone of voice when he is smoking meat. Preparing pork loin in great quantities for Ben's graduation party only magnified this quirky trait of his. He has quite a collection of tools that he dramatically arranges around him for meat preparation...Trays, rolls of foil, assortments of rubs, spices, and even a scary looking syringe for injecting marinade into the meat. In fact, his tone of voice even resembles that of a surgeon when he is at work. "Scapel!... Paper towels!....Foil pan!.... Stat!" 

Ok, I'm exaggerating, but only a little.

He also loves nothing more than the ceremony of the meat cutting. He has a fancy meat slicer and generally likes to have a committee of helpers around him while he operates the slicer...someone to catch the slices, someone to hold the tray, and help him sample the scraps, I suspect.

The afternoon of the graduation party, he and the meat-slicing-committee were in the garage while I put up decorations in the backyard. I heard him yelling my name again with his clipped surgeon-like tone and I rolled my eyes, wondering what he needed next. "The meat slicer keeps sliding on the table. I need something to put under it to keep it from slipping." Seconds later he followed, "I found a roll of some tan stuff that would work. Can I use that?" I happily waved and nodded, thrilled that he was able to find the Rubbermaid shelf liner. Proud of my husband for being so resourceful and marveling at his sudden ability to find household supplies, I went back to the decorations. 

A few moments later, Sam ran across the backyard with a confused look on his face. "Did you tell Dad he could cut up your Pilates mat to use under the meat slicer?" 

Sigh. I knew Perry's burst of resourcefulness was too good to be true.

Even though summer break is here and I am working out at the Y again, I can't go back to Pilates class with a 2 foot section hacked off the end of my mat. It would be too humiliating.

Preparing to Let Go

I've spent the last few weeks doing what many mothers do before graduation...sorting through pictures and memorabilia of their child. Having pictures to display at a graduation party adds a nice personal touch to the celebration. I always enjoy looking at the photographs and memories that families have set out to display.

It's fun to see friends laughing at old pictures of themselves and re-living memories from middle school, the elementary years, and even preschool. Having photos displayed on boards gives the guests a chance to see an overview of the graduate's growing-up years. It's neat to see the chubby toddler and baby grins, which are later replaced by the first self conscious school picture smiles.  Later the pictures feature more toothless grins and the lopsided, permanent-teeth-are-too-big-for-their-face-years. By middle school, the pictures show a sweet kind of awkwardness as their budding fashion sense is revealed. The high school pictures give visitors a chance to see photos from many high school activities as well as a glimpse of the future adult that is evolving.

As I poured over baby pictures of Ben, I remembered what an easy going infant he was. He grew into a shy toddler who never wanted to be away from my side. I remember him chasing me down the hall after I'd dropped him off at preschool asking for "one mo hug and kiss! " As I held some pictures in my hand, I could almost hear his little voice as he often whispered in my ear, "Yo my best friend, mommy."

While I continued sorting, it became clear to me that I needed to do a whole picture board of baseball photos.  It was a central part of his childhood and his primary passion for many years. I truly believe we watched that child grow up from behind chain link fence. It was so much fun to locate pictures from the t-shirt league and contrast them with the high school action shots. I remembered all the miles we traveled to tournaments and the time we spent on bleachers and dugouts. Ben's biggest joys and defining moments of maturity happened on the ball field and we were so privileged to be a part of it.

Now that the boards are done and it's nearly time for his graduation celebration, I realize that it doesn't matter a bit if anyone looks at these pictures tomorrow. The reason for putting them together has nothing to do with party guests and everything to do with me. My child is about to make a huge life transition and will leave for college. It's also a life transition for me and part of it requires me to relive the memories of where he's been, so we can celebrate with him as he moves on in his life. I am preparing to let go.

My Own Little Easter Celebration

I celebrated easter yesterday, but not in the way a person might expect. This event didn't require dressing up, preparing or eating food, or getting together with loved ones. I celebrated in grungy clothes, sunglasses and work gloves. I look forward to this, and if the weather cooperates, easter weekend seems the most meaningful time to do it.

Yesterday afternoon I spent a couple hours cleaning up the yard from the mess of winter. It has looked so dreary and lifeless for months. Layers of soggy leaves have clustered around the bare branches of everything that used to grow here. Dry, dead stems stuck up in the air like grave markers from the sedums, and the remains of last year's day lilies lay matted to the ground. The memory of last year's blooms and foliage is pretty dim in my mind, but, clinging to the promise of new life, I grabbed my trimmers and trash bag and got to work.

As I trimmed away last year's dead growth, the dreariness turned to hope as soon as I saw the little green shoots hiding under that gloomy cover of dead stuff. I marveled at the tiny green green plants that have pushed their way up to greet a new season of life.

I spend a lot of time praying when I do yard work, not fancy sounding prayers...just talking to God and thanking Him for where He is at work around me. I love the way there is no tv noise in the background, and no phones ringing to distract me. Seeing what He does in nature to bring new life in the spring truly amazes me. How he designed perennials to grow is a beautiful mystery that I can hardly get my little brain around. Magnifying that a million times, I still won't be able to comprehend the love He had for us to send Jesus to the cross and endure what He did. 

After my time in the yard yesterday, my back is stiff from bending and reaching, and my mind is overloaded with wonder at how death doesn't have to be the end. I'm headed to church this morning ready to celebrate another way. Hopefully without lingering bits of dirt under my fingernails, but a renewed sense of wonder and hope for new life.

A Sign of Our Times

The notice arrived in the mail. In this economy it's the news every employee dreads. We hear of layoffs and pray that our loved ones' jobs will be secure. We hope that the effects of the recession will not have dramatic effects on our lives. Unfortunately, a member of our family has received the dreaded pink slip, but it was the last one I would have expected.

Sam was layed-off from his job as a paperboy. It appears that our local paper is downsizing it's number of editions per week, and will be using other sources to deliver for their scaled-down operations.

He was understandably upset when he received this news. His paper route has been a good experience for him...a chance to learn responsibility and earn his own spending money. He's trying not to take it personally, but feels a bit like he's been fired.

It makes me sad to see more evidence of financial hard times affecting our little town. As one of my co-workers said, "It seems un-American not to have paper boys around anymore." Will I miss arranging my after school schedule and Saturday mornings to make sure Sam can get his route done? Not a bit. Will I miss having to fill in for him when he is sick or away at camp? Nope.

It's not like he paid for groceries with income from that paper route.  But it was nice for him to have a constructive daily activity that required fresh air, exercise and initiative, along with earning spending money of his own. In the future, I'm sure there will be lawns to mow and sidewalks to shovel to earn money and  practice saving and spending. 

I'm also sure he'll never forget his first big lesson on economics.

Remembering How to Relax

Once we arrived in Florida, and recovered our luggage, it was time to relax and enjoy the visit with family. Compared to the hectic pace of school days at home...not having a schedule, household jobs, or responsibilities has been a bit of a shock to my system.

My brother's family has gone out of their way to take care of us. My sister in law is an amazing cook and is feeding us well. Lounging on their patio, and hanging out in the hot tub feels heavenly. Even Oliver is doing his part to make our visit a positive experience.

Oliver is their cat. He has always hated me. Correction: he has always hated most people. Being the animal lover that I am, it's been hard to accept the idea of a pet that won't warm up to me. I've tried several times over the years, only to come to the conclusion that he's just a cranky cat. If I pass by him, he growls in warning, then darts away as if he can't stand to be in the same room with me. He has stalked me as I walked down their hall, springing from out of nowhere and whacking my ankles like I'm some sort of cat-sized prey. I've lost my dignity once or twice when I've broken into a run to avoid his attack.

I'd given up any hope of befriending this unapproachable creature, but this year, OIiver surprised us. He's about sixteen years old now, and apparently age (or senility) has mellowed him. I was breathless when he voluntarily jumped in my lap yesterday. At first I hardly dared to move, for fear his old personality would come back and he'd bat me in the head before running away. 

I guess Oliver doesn't hate us after all. I'm watching in amazement as he sleeps with my son at night, and goes from one lap to another while we watched a movie after supper. I've decided if Oliver can learn to be cuddly and nice after all these years, I can learn to give up a few of my Type-A habits and learn to relax a bit more. 

This trip has been full of pleasant surprises. I guess you can teach an old cat new tricks after all.

Travel Hassles

We never go anywhere for spring break. This is a first. Since Joe is in college and Ben is graduating, we decided that this was the year to scrape some money together and go somewhere for a family vacation. All the boys agreed that Uncle David's house was their top choice, so we made the plane reservations.

Perry knows how hard it is for me to go anywhere during spring break. Being the Type-A person that I am (make that Double A) I use days off from school to work on projects around the house, or get school work done. Stretching my comfort zone is good for me though, so as we prepared for the trip last week, I did my best to ignore the dirty floors at home and the stacks of papers at school. I was doing remarkably well until the travel hassles began, and then I began shrieking, "See! This is why we don't go anywhere on spring break!!"

Travel Hassle #1 I found out at 4:30 Friday afternoon that some new doggie vaccination was required before we could drop Buddy and Pearl at the kennel the next morning. So, I had to round up the dogs and make a frantic dash to the vet clinic. The dogs received the necessary shot and I and handed over $56.oo, mentally calculating the total cost of leaving pets at a kennel for a week. As I drove home, I mumbled, "This is why we don't go anywhere on spring break."

Travel Hassle #2 We arrived in Kansas City promptly 2 hours early for our flight, cleared security, and settled down at our boarding time, only to find out that our flight had been delayed at least an hour, creating the possibility that we'd miss our connecting flight in Atlanta. As we waited, I reminded "Perry, See, there is a reason why I don't like to go places on spring break."

Travel Hassle #3 We arrived in Atlanta with 5 minutes before our next flight departed. Racing to the next concourse, we found our gate, only to see that flight had been delayed, first 1 hour, then 2 hours.  This time, I grumbled to complete strangers sitting next to me, "This is why I don't travel on spring break!"

Travel Hassle #4 Arriving in Miami at midnight and waiting what seemed like an eternity at the baggage claim, only to realize that the thingy had stopped turning and the lights were being turned off. Our hearts sank as we realized our luggage did not make it on the plane. I resisted the urge to fling myself to the floor of the terminal and beat my fists, but I'm sure I made it clear to the Russian woman next to me in line that this is why I hardly ever travel.

Travel Hassle #5  Waiting in line another hour and a half to fill out the necessary paperwork so our lost luggage could be delivered to us when located. The airport representative kindly took down all our information and politely ignored my incoherant mumbling.  We left the airport at 1:30 AM with our complimentary overnight kits in hand and me reminding everyone within earshot that this would probably be our first and LAST spring break trip anywhere. 

Think I made my point?

Lining Up for Lunch

I must confess that I do something unusual when lining my class up for lunch. In most classrooms, the students find the friend(s) they want to sit by and line up accordingly. The thing I HATE about this is : the same kids race to the front, the same kids linger in the back, plus the same kids tend to sit by each other day after day. I hate how early cliques can form. My heart can't take seeing the kids who repeatedly get left out, so I have developed a system of lining the class up differently each day. They are forced to sit by different "friends" each day, and no one gets left out. The kids don't always like this, but they know I'm firm about not leaving anyone out of our school friendships, so each day's line order doesn't get questioned.

This takes a little extra time, I must admit. Sometimes I dismiss them by the tables where they sit, or by the individuals who are sitting the quietest. Other times I line them up according to the colors they are wearing that day. Often, I try to make a connection to something we are learning. The students have lined up alphabetically by first name, last name. They have also lined up according to how many syllables are in their name or the month of their birthday.

We have been doing a dental health unit and talking about the proper care of our teeth, including regular brushing. My main focus with the kids is getting them into a habit of brushing twice a day. I have handed out new toothbrushes and we've made reminder signs to take home and use. We have reminded each other, clapped and celebrated for the children who are starting to remember good brushing habits.

The other day I took a chance with lining up. First I called for all the kids to get in line if they remembered to brush their teeth that morning.  It surprised me to to see six kids who stayed at their tables and waited sheepishly. I was amazed because I never would have known whether they brushed that morning or not. Then I called for the students who "accidently forgot to brush, but they promise to remember tomorrow". They hopped up and happily joined the rest of the group, ready for lunch.

Their dental health habits may be a little disgusting, but the innocence and honesty of those 6 kiddos warmed my heart! 

My Little Scientists

My kids at school have been so funny during science lately. We are studying solids, liquids and gases, and there have been lots of hands-on activities. These kids are like little sponges....soaking up every thing I tell them. We have melted crayons, crumbled crackers into "particles",  and tried to freeze everything from dish soap to oil. The kids watched in fascination as I dumped ice into a hot pan. After they watched it melt, boil, then evaporate, they cheered like I invented the concept of water vapor. One little girl bounced up to me and said, "You told us so many things! Now I think my head is going to pop!"

When their mittens dried out on the rack in the hall, I've never seen so much excitement. The children buzzed around enthusiastically, showing each other how the water must have gone into the air.

We lined up for lunch today, and I reminded the kids that we needed to walk quietly in the hall. One boy struck a Steve-Martin-like pose and started to slink. "Let's be liquid!" he exclaimed to the others.

Planning new activities for science can be time consuming, messy, and even expensive at times. Weeks like this make it all worthwhile, though.

Valentine's Day

My husband knows me so well. On Valentines Day, he surprised me with my favorite candy...chocolate covered raisins. Many women wouldn't think this was a romantic gift, but I was thrilled to pieces! He knows I'm a practical gal... I shuddered at the advertised cost of roses this Valentines Day...wondering how anyone could get $60.00 worth of enjoyment out of a bouquet?

With the current situation of the economy and our personal finances, extravagant gifts are not in the budget. But even if money was no object, Perry knows I'm a practical person. He might even tell you I've turned into a bit of a tightwad lately. It's hard for me to enjoy things that cost more than a tank of gas (keep in mind that I drive a Focus) Expensive jewelry or lingerie are SO not my thing. My husband also knows that I don't enjoy collections of figurines or other collectibles. Our life feels cluttered enough without having more "stuff" to dust around.

But I've always loved surprising the people in my family with a small little gift on February 14th. When the boys were little, I'd wrap up a puzzle or a book with red wrapping paper and set it at their place at the dinner table. The gifts have always been small, but a fun part of the celebration of the day. 

After school today, I sat at my desk, doing school work and happily nibbling my chocolate covered raisins. Perry may have thought he was only buying a $3.00 bag of Raisinettes, but simple little gifts like that score big points with me!

Regrets

Last week, the world lost an amazing person. The whole town of Boone seemed to take time to memorialize a former Boone High teacher that seemed to impact nearly everyone in town. Shortly after word of his death, a Facebook memorial group appeared. Hundreds of former students joined and left touching comments about their wonderful memories of him as a teacher.

When I was in high school, Mr. Lyness taught Economics and International Topics. I remember seeing students carrying around their "text book" for Econ--the Wall Street Journal, and hearing about the marathon tests they had to take in his classes. Everyone who took his classes really valued what they were learning because the lessons seemed to come alive with this teacher. Mr. Lyness was a colorful person, with his high waisted plaid pants and unique stride as he walked down the school halls. Students picked up the strange expressions he used in class, even exclaiming, "Katie, bar the door!" randomly at lunch or in study hall. When he taught, Mr. Lyness spoke enthusiastically from experience, sharing stories from days in the military and various other events that held even the most self centered teenager in rapt attention.

Well, maybe not every teenager. I signed up to take his International Topics class during my senior year, but got bit by the senioritis bug and in a moment of stupidity, dropped his class and added something fluffy my schedule. I think it was "Industrial Arts for the Homemaker". The decision made perfect sense to me at the time and I'm sure I justified it by considering how the hours of studying might get in the way of my social life. Sigh.

If I felt guilty about this decision to be a slacker, I either covered it up well, or else those feelings were lost in the cloud of self centeredness that the senior year brings. That is, until the week of graduation. There was a knock at our front door, and when I opened it, there was Mr. Lyness, bringing ME a graduation card. Me..the one who couldn't make the effort to take his class, and there he was, going out of his way to bring me good wishes.  I mumbled my thanks in disbelief, and as he walked back to his car, I sat down on the steps to open the card. Inside was a full page of his signature script, with a touching  message of encouragement for me. 

The waves of humility and regret crashed over me at that moment, and I bawled. I cried because my heart had been touched by the unexpected kindness of someone who barely knew me, and I cried tears of sorrow for a missed opportunity.

After I completed college and moved back to Boone to teach, I didn't cross paths often with this man. Yet anytime I saw him, he greeted me with the warmth of a favorite former student. He retired from teaching, and continued to substitute teach at the high school. Everyone on staff was amazed, but not surprised at his dedication to the profession of teaching.

25+years later, I still regret not taking that International Topics class, but I realized I still learned a lot from that man. He modeled enthusiasm for teaching and learning, and setting high expectations for all students. I can honor his memory by striving to be a little more like him.

Except maybe for the plaid pants, but I think he'd completely understand.

Random Things...

I have been challenged to write 25 random things about me. Ok, here goes:

1. I was born on Midway Island. My dad was stationed there in the navy, so my birth certificate says "State of Hawaii" on the top. What? I don't look like a Hawaiian native??

2.I teach in the same elementary building where I went to school as a child. In fact, I teach first grade in my old first grade classroom.

3. All 3 of my babies were born by c-section.

4. I have a very difficult time sitting still. I fidget. A lot. This drives my husband insane.

5. My whole life I planned to be a nurse and now I'm a teacher.

6. I am a hopeless animal lover. Seeing my dogs is one of the best things about coming home at the end of each day. I have a hard time sleeping if they're not next to me.

7. I have one younger brother who used to spend his childhood days thinking of ways to antagonize me. Now I think he's hilarious.

8. I'm a pretty adventurous eater. My kids tease me about always ordering the weirdest thing on the menu at restaurants. One thing I really dislike is ketchup.

9. I don't like going to concerts. This is weird, I know. I like the idea of going to concerts, I just don't like paying for the tickets, and fighting the crowds. Plus I think I have a short attention span.

10. I used to be a perfectionist before kids. Now I stay sane because I keep lowering my standards.

11. I love to read and can't get to sleep at night if I don't read something first.

12.I have had laser eye surgery. It was the best thing I ever did!

13. I'm working on re-learning spanish, and hope to become fluent one day.

14. A few years ago, I decided to quit just calling myself a Christian, and start working on living like one.

15. I hardly ever cry. If I go to a movie that everyone says is a tear-jerker, mine will be the only dry eyes in the place.   The rare times I shed tears, it catches me completely off guard.

16. I was once Joey's cub scout leader. Really. Stop laughing.

17. My hands hurt almost every day. I have been told this is an early form of arthritis.

18. I am way too young and cool to have an early form of arthritis.

19. I love to sing and have a song running through my head almost continually. 

20. Laughter is an important part of my life. I continually look for the humor in life's situations. The only thing I like better than a good laugh is an opportunity to crack somebody else up.

21. I can't stand it if my bed doesn't get made each day. The entire bedroom can be a mess, but as long as the bed is made, I'm happy. 

22. IKEA is my all time favorite store.

23. I am cold all the time and wear turtlenecks every day from November to March.

24. My pet peeve? when people don't do what they say they're going to.

25. I am a small-car kind of person. I drive a Focus and it suits me perfectly. Big trucks and SUVs overwhelm me. I can't seem to manage the running boards and they are impossible to get out of without embarrassing myself.

Nothing Good to Say

My mother used to tell me," If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." Guess that's why I haven't updated my blog lately. No, I won't blame it on the weather, the winter blues or cabin fever. I've lived in the midwest all my life and winter comes every year. Even though the current weather is the main topic for small talk around here, I refuse to let the climate dictate my frame of mind.

The past week was a challenging one. Trying to get back into the swing of things after last week's weather roller coaster was totally beyond my expectations . It felt so much like starting over with class routines, behavior expectations, and reading skills. Very depressing for a teacher painfully aware of grade level goals and benchmarks, realizing the year is half over, and each day of staff development and school dismissed due to weather feels like another missed opportunity for progress. Monday I sat at our inservice meetings, trying to listen attentively about state core curriculum. I wished I could drive around to my students houses, tell them to jump in the car because what we REALLY needed that day was to DO SCHOOL!

So in the midst of a frustrating week, with piles of paperwork all around me, unfinished projects to be completed, and January's reading assessments barely started, what did I do?

I rearranged the furniture in my classroom! Psychologists would have a lot to say about my coping strategies, but when faced with challenged I can't seem to fix,  I find that the answer to my problems is almost always ...moving furniture.

Inside Recess Game

It's the time of year when "inside recess" becomes an unfortunate part of the school routine. The temperatures plunge and the wind chills are too cold for the kiddos to play outside. That means several things. The boys and girls are not able to expend their extra energy outside which makes learning time challenging, my classroom gets trashed with stray legos, pegs, and miscellaneous game pieces, and new social conflicts arise over Candyland or the Playmobil indian set.

While the children played yesterday, I sat at my computer and  tried to catch up on some much needed record keeping for the end of the second quarter. Our school monitors reading progress with a spreadsheet chart for each class, with shaded cells representing growth over the different months of the school year. When things are going well, this chart looks like a multicolored quilt of sorts. I was updating my Record of Progress, by clicking the boxes and filling yellow and purple squares when I sensed someone watching over my shoulder.

One of my little guys had been watching me intently and came to get a closer look. "Are you playin' a game too?" he innocently asked.

Did I look like I was having THAT much fun??

Jeans Quest

Tonight Sam and I went on a shopping adventure. Since Perry was playing poker with the guys, Sam agreed to come along and hang out with me.

I was a woman on a mission. My "good jeans" now have worn spots all over them, so it was time to begin the search for a new pair. Plus, I had a $25 North Grand Mall gift card burning a hole in my pocket. Sam's a good natured kid, but I knew I couldn't subject him to following me around various stores, and waiting outside ladies dressing rooms while I struggled and grumbled behind the door.

Tonight I let him venture off by himself for about an hour, and we agreed to meet in front of Younkers. He was pleased with this new freedom and happily took off for the arcade and video game store. 

There was no time to waste...I hurried to the first store and was faced with THOUSANDS of different pairs. Scanning the labels low rise, natural fit, slimming stretch, and contour fit gave me a false sense of security. It couldn't be that hard to find a pair that fit my body, surrounded by all these options.

I tried four pairs....then four more. Too tight... too loose....too gappy in the waist...can't get them past my thighs....who proportions these pants anyway??! !  By the time I exhausted all the options there, I'd broken a sweat from all the dressing room contortions. 

The next store presented no helpful options. I wandered through the third, wishing to find a sign that read "JEANS FOR PEOPLE WITH REAL BUTTS". Another armload of jeans...another disappointing calorie burning session in the dressing room.  I hung them all back, defeated, and thinking I'd better resign myself to a future of dumpy denim jumpers. 

Sam returned, safe and sound, from his video game adventures, and looked concerned when he saw me continuing to loop around the ladies department. Last call announcements could be heard from the overhead speakers, but I spotted one more rack of jeans. Scrambling for my size, I dashed back to the dressing room, and felt like singing the Hallelujah chorus when they actually fit.  The $48 dollar price tag made me panic but there was no time to waste. I crossed my fingers and hoped there would be some sort of discount when the clerk rang up my purchase. 

Let's just say that I got out of the mall before they lowered the metal gates for the night, with a huge sense of accomplishment and a $19 pair of jeans !!!

Resolutions

When people ask me if I'm making a New Year's resolution, I'm always tempted to say yes. I really don't make resolutions for the new year, because as anyone who knows me well, I fill the ENTIRE year making resolutions for myself. March 11? I'm sure to have a new goal for keeping my classroom organized. October 3? Bet I'm resolving to get to exercise class at the Y. June 24? I'm probably mapping out a plan for my family to eat healthier. 

I drive myself a bit crazy with things like this, and my mom has often told me that I'm my own worst enemy. So, making a special resolution just because it's the new year feels unnecessary to me. Maybe I should just resolve to keep all my other resolutions going. But in the spirit of the season, it's tempting to jot down a few....

My new(est) resolutions:

Stop eating Christmas cookies for breakfast. (The supply is dwindling, so I may succeed at this one. Always set goals that are attainable, right?)

Quit bringing so much school work home with me in the evening. Leave school at school, and quit using family time for lesson plans.

Resist the urge to log on to Facebook until my bible study is done for the day. (Sigh.)

Learn to shave my legs without being such a hacker. Do this before I become anemic. It's getting ridiculous.

Keep up with my ironing pile. At least get clothes pressed and on a hanger before they go out of season (or out of style)

Keep exercising on a regular basis. Maybe stop yelling "Uncle!" during weightlifting class when it gets hard. It's supposed to be hard. Duh.

Simplify my life, instead of just hanging decorative signs around my house with that word on it. Maybe show some integrity and buy a sign that says, "COMPLICATE"

Stop making so many resolutions.