Calipanderrr

Dirty

2010-02-16T21:59:00.000-08:00

My college roommate and I were beyond lazy about cleaning. We once left a pile of spilled birdseed on the carpet until a friend down the hall drew a smiley face in it with her toe and we left it there...for weeks. Our microwave had noodles hanging from the top, and dishes were only done when they needed to be used again. I didn’t mind it then, and even now I chuckle about it.

I am still lazy about cleaning, but now the mess gets to me. Because I am on the floor playing trucks with my son all day, I a close up view of the cookie crumbs, dirt and debris, and an occasional dead bug. I am not one to volunteer to vacuum, but it sure comes out of the closet more often these days...or atleast I want to take it out of the closet more these days.

I can’t wait till my son is old enough to do chores.

Sick

2010-02-11T21:19:00.000-08:00

When my son gets sick, he gets very clingy. He has followed me around the last few days with his hands up in the air, begging to be picked up. When I scooped him up, he would just rest his head on my shoulder. I did the best I could to give him the love and cuddles he needed, but after a few days of this it was hard not to get frustrated. Please, play with your trucks for a while.

Then this morning, I woke up feeling terribly sick. My throat hurt, my joints ached, and my head just wanted to stay on the pillow. After a warm cup of tea and a short, but much needed nap during my son's nap, I scooped him up and held his warm little body close to mine and said, "Don't you just want to cuddle all day?"

Arrivals

2010-02-10T21:39:00.000-08:00

The moms of kids who nap well come to playgroups and classes showered, have their make-up applied, and bring homemade baked goods to share.

The moms of kids who do not nap well come wearing a modified version of their pajamas, their hair up in a ponytail, and are eating left-over cookies found in the diaper bag on the way over.

Guess which one I am.

Adult Dinner

2009-07-22T21:35:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, my husband and I got to do something we hadn’t done in months: have a completely relaxing adult dinner out on our back porch. After realizing there was no time to make and eat dinner before baby’s bath and bed routine, we delayed dinner and took a short family walk instead. After getting our son to bed, we stepped outside, grilled up some food, and relaxed on the porch with a glass of wine. It has been enjoyable and important to us to sit down as a family at dinnertime, but there was something so satisfying about being done with the parent responsibilities while we ate. There was no entertaining a little one, no slamming toys or stories interrupted. It was peaceful sitting in the warm summer weather and late sunset. I felt like a wife again, and not just a mom. We both enjoyed it so much, we did it again the next night.

Sound Asleep

2009-05-08T17:36:00.000-07:00

My son went to sleep on his own tonight. Just when I had convinced myself I had enough of the bouncing and shushing routine, he squirmed to get out of my arms. As soon as I let him down, he noticed the familiar patterns and pictures along the crib’s edge and relaxed. His hand rushed out to touch the fabric and he began to quietly babble. Not knowing if I should stay or go, I sat on the edge of the rocker.

I should go, I decided. The dishes could be done. I could run the video monitor and be close if this experiment went south. But it didn’t. He talked to himself, looked around, and tossed his legs a few times before he was out. His eyes were closed with a hand outstretched, softly reaching out. What a relief, he can fall asleep without my bouncing routine. He just showed me so.

This is great...I think. He will still want to be held some before bedtime, right? As this milestone comes, another phase ends. As exhausting and difficult as it has been, there is nothing better than the warm, weary weight of my son cradled between my cheek and shoulder as he falls asleep.

This transition to falling asleep on his own leaves me heartbroken and relieved all at the same time.

Perfect

2009-05-07T21:26:00.001-07:00

This is why I live in California.

Dawn

2009-02-17T09:50:00.000-08:00

When I could be sleeping,

I can't stop watching him.

When I should be sleeping,

I keep gazing at his face.

He has on that special expression,

the one that makes him look so sweet.

He's made that small sound,

Like he's about to awake.

So I hold him still,

In a warm embrace.

For the chance

to admire him

longer.

Two Car Garage

2008-04-13T14:31:00.002-07:00

I don’t know if I should be proud or embarrassed.

People don’t use their garages in California they way they do in the Midwest. Here, when garage doors are open, boxes and old furniture are stacked next to washers and bikes. The Californian garage is the Midwestern basement; a room for storage. People here keep their cars parked on the driveway year round. Instead of following our neighbors, we cleaned it out, added some toolboxes and a mower, and called it home for our cars. Not one, but two cars can squeeze in.

There's not much room to swing the door, but as spring is blossoming, sap is dripping. And although I feel a little less Californian pulling into the garage, I sure as hell won’t miss the gobs of sap* stuck to my hood.

*Gobs of sticky sap is still way better than ice and snow.

I know this is cheesy, but....

2008-03-11T19:30:00.000-07:00

Name one thing you do every day: 

Roll my eyes.

Name 2 things you wish you could learn:  

1. How to be Organized. I spend a lot of time shifting piles from one place to another and sifting through papers looking for something I misplaced. I keep promising myself that one day I will get rid of the clutter.

2. How to Parallel Park Well. This inability has caused many, many embarrassing parking situations and caused me to miss out on way too many good parking spots.

Name 3 things that remind you of your childhood:  

1. The Sunday Comics. My family always passed the comics around the table on Sunday mornings while we ate muffins and drank tea. We could sit there for hours.

2. A Chore List. Inevitably, after the comics or any other day of the week, there would be a list of chores to be divvied up amongst the siblings. Vacuuming, emptying the trashcans, and putting away the dishes were common items.

3. Bunk Beds. I had to share my room for many years with my younger sister. One great advantage to being the older one was I got the top bunk, and she always had to turn out the lights and the TV (pre-remote control days!).

Name 4 things you love to eat but rarely do:  

1. Sweet Potatoes. Love them with butter and browned sugar. I never cook them for myself, but often go out to eat at a steakhouse to get one!

2. Pumpkin Pie. Ok, this is making it sound like Thanksgiving, but sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie are the best part of T-day. It’s one of the few days you do eat pumpkin pie...ooh and lots of whip cream.

3. Artichokes. Not just the hearts, but when you eat (scrape) them leaf-by-leaf. Yummy. I have never cooked one myself, but I heard it’s a lot of cooking time for just a little bit of food.

4. Breakfast. I love the greasy diner kind, with eggs, pancakes, waffles, strawberries, syrup, and coffee.

Name 5 things/people that make you feel good:  

1. Bookstores. As soon as I enter them, I relax and get excited at the same time. There is so much to read, so much to learn, and not enough money or time to satisfy my interest in reading.

2. The Warm Sun. Having a morning with clear blue skies and the sun warming my shoulders and face is just about the best way to feel good about the day.

3. My Morning Coffee Hour. Alone with morning cup of joe. Ahhhhh.

4. Campfires. Love to camp, but just an evening with the fire will do. The energy that flows from the fire itself and the people surrounding it always warms me up and keeps me smiling.

5. My Husband and My Family. They listen, they support, and they prove to me again and again how much they care.

Click, Clack, and Dad

2008-02-25T23:09:00.000-08:00

I once poked fun at my sister when her car broke down in the middle of the road, and she called our dad, who was many miles away, to help her out. Until recently I thought she called him because she expected him to run down the street, take a look under her hood, and make everything right. I thought, call AAA, duh!

This week I had a similar, though way less immediate, car concern. I went from getting a simple oil change to possibly paying hundreds in repairs for things I hadn’t seen coming. When I felt helpless, confused, and just plain pissed off about spending my well-earned day off trying to deal with adult issues like car troubles, I called my dad. See my sister knew years ago what I rediscovered that morning with my car in jeopardy: Husbands have no clue (especially when they always lease their cars) and dads have the patience and the wisdom to deal with their crying daughters.

No matter what distance he was from our ailments, he dropped everything to listen, instruct, and do whatever he could. I knew my dad couldn’t see my balding tires, and he couldn’t talk to the mechanic about my check engine light, but calling him was the first thing I did when I had no idea what to do. He listened to my immature tears and woes, he gave the best advice he could, and he reminded me that it was just a car.

Even though my eyes had dried while my wheels were replaced and my engine was inspected, I kept my dad updated on my progress. Like my sister, I didn’t expect him to physically come fix all my car woes, but by being my contact, my support while I made grown-up decisions, he did make everything a bit better.

And that is what dads are for. Thanks Dad!

Now if only I wasn’t off the books....

Hello Again

2008-02-18T21:22:00.000-08:00

It’s been awhile, so I have decided to reintroduce myself. In my first post I was in search of a definition, but here I just want to share some defining moments of 2007 that sum up who I am at the start 2008.

The things that stick out the most are:

1. I got married. What a high; the day, today, and the rest of my life.

2. We bought our first house. A lot of money and a lot of work, but its worth it. To make it feel like our own, we ripped out floors, knocked down walls, and expanded the bathroom. Slowly we are hanging pictures and buying furniture to really make it feel like home.

3. My first earthquake. It was just a small one, but it made me feel just a bit more Californian.

4. A netty pot. After dealing with sinus migraines and watery ears, I ventured into a natural way of dealing with my California allergies. Now I drain the mucus from my nostrils with a little salt water almost everyday!

As 2008 has begun, I have decided to make some conscience changes: more consistent blog entries and more yoga. So far I have been pretty good about the yoga, but here it is mid-February and I just now got this post up. I am working on it.

A Bathroom All to Myself

2007-06-21T23:55:00.000-07:00

For the past last four years I have been boasting that having separate bathrooms is one secret to having a healthy relationship. Your own bathroom provides you with a personal space where you are rarely bothered, and you can have control over the organization and decoration. If you want to leave the curling iron out, or have a variety of hair products and lotions scattered on the counter, nobody really complains until the company comes over. This prevents countless disagreements about counter space and our mismatched tolerance of messiness.

This all came to a halt when we moved into our new house and shut one bathroom down for remodeling. All of a sudden I found myself elbowing past my fiance to get to my hairbrush. We had to take turns in front of the mirror and share spaces for hot curling irons and shaving tools. I even had to learn to put the cap on the toothpaste.

This week my fiance moved out of the bathroom. He packed up his toothbrush, emptied his shelf, snatched up his magazine and claimed the newly remodeled one down the hall. Now I have all the space to stretch out and apply body lotions, and there is room in front of the mirror pluck my eyebrows.

Only now, its too quiet in there. It lacks the shared morning grunts and groans, and it feels empty without another body to squeeze past. Staring at the one face in the mirror, I realized... I am kind of lonely in there.

We All Live in a Yellow Submarine

2007-03-06T22:15:00.000-08:00

Our living room is now lemon chiffon. That is the official name, but it looks a bit heavier on the lemon side.

I try to keep reminding my better half that it will look different with a little furniture, bookshelves and framed artwork in the room. But he still sees a repaint in the near future. My parents once told me that there comes a time when you are tired of beige. When the walls, carpets, furniture are all neutral for so long, you start starving for some color; something bold enough to stand-up against all the camouflaged surroundings. All of our furniture fits into that beige category, but maybe we are skipping forward past all those years of bland walls and carpets and moving into bright new colors.

We really don’t have much to put into our new yellow room, and maybe this gives us the excuse we need to start a new look with some styling new curtains or decorative plants, new dark furniture and colorful paintings. Almost all of our old furnishings fit into the family room, office, and bedrooms, so this room is like a clean slate. A yellow one.

When this all began in the paint store, we overheard this first-time painter choosing mustard brown in semi-gloss for all his living space. At the time we left giggling about his shiny brown walls. I can only imagine that when we got our paint mixed, there was someone thinking, “They want to paint their room banana peel yellow?”

Note: the picture above is not our real living room

Movin' Up

2007-02-18T21:28:00.000-08:00

All weekend we have been packing up boxes, shuttling them to our new place, and stacking them up again. Our life is boxed and covered--waiting for a dust storm to accompany the buffing and painting yet to come.

Today, the balance between which place was home kept swaying as we went from sorting through what was left at the apartment and cleaning up the new house. This afternoon, after storing all of our content, I came back to the apartment where the furniture and cabinets left bare and open. I looked out through the kitchen window at the dark, cemented patio and thought of our new backyard where we sat during lunch today. The spring’s early sun warmed the brick patio as we discussed the state of the yard and ate our sandwiches. As I stood there in my empty kitchen, it hit. We had a new home.

With one official night at the apartment left, we have nothing essential here but our selves, our computers, and our toothbrushes.

I am reminded that it’s amazing how little you need to live: Somewhere to sleep, something to do, and a way to wash up.

Misc.

2007-01-16T22:50:00.000-08:00

I accidentally wore my underwear inside out and the tag was sticking out the back of my pants all day. This is the day after wearing my turtleneck backwards at a friend's birthday dinner. Is it a sign of bad karma that it happened the same day I didn't tell a coworker about the tag sticking out of her sweater?

Last night when I thought I was at school alone, the fire alarm went off. It was 7:00 at night. I grabbed my things and ran outside to where my class would normally line up for a fire drill and waited for the fire truck. I couldn't just leave, right? Thank goodness I was soon joined by the Boy Scouts and church people that came to school for meetings after I did. I hung out in the cold, was passed by several police and firemen, and must have looked innocent enough (or not official enough) because nobody asked me any questions. I eventually just grew cold, bored, and hungry for dinner, so I left. Are you allowed to leave blaring fire alarms?

Just some recent random things I wanted to share.

The Young and Old

2006-12-03T21:41:00.000-08:00

The Little Boy and the Old Man

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the little old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded, "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of the wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean, " said the little old man.

Shel Silverstein
The Light in the Attic

The other day during chapel service, I was reminded of this poem when we celebrated the 83rd birthday of our organ player. I felt like his 83 years were being mocked by being treated like a kid See, while this man stood in front of the congregation, the chaplain kept referring to him as the birthday “boy” in this voice saved for 3 year olds. As the homemade cards were brought up to him, she had him read the front messages, and since the man can barely see, she had to help him read. It sounded just like a mother coaxing her little son through his first Dick and Jane book.

The situation just made me uncomfortable; like I was watching his dignity float away. Yes he needs assistance to walk, he is almost deaf, and can barely see, but this is a man of 83 years of experience and wisdom to celebrate. It just made me wonder about how we treat our elders, and when do they go from being a wealth of advice and knowledge, to the equivalent of a child?

Trying to Separate Work and Personal Life

2006-11-12T21:44:00.000-08:00

When you see people out of context, does it throw you too?

Tonight I ran into a family I know from school at a local restaurant and it felt weird. It's a Sunday night, I am there to eat dinner and watch the Bears play Sunday night football. Working at school on Monday is the farthest thing from my mind. But no, a gathering of Little League Baseball teams has to spoil my animosity. First I forgot the parents' names, became self-conscious of my lack of makeup and sneakers, and then worried about the beer at my table. Maybe it’s a bit different for me because I am an elementary teacher and those kids are just as shocked at seeing me in the real world as I am to see them. This has happened to me twice before. Once it happened at Trader Joe’s after school when my former student just tapped me on my back and then had nothing really to say to me. I just smiled at her, made a joke about all the food I was buying, and then tried to avoid her family at the checkout. The other time I was on a date. I was all dressed up to celebrate an anniversary, and we got seated right next to a table where my student and his family were sitting. Making the initial eye contact was followed by awkward introductions, and then I tried to act normal while my student kept turning his head over the booth to see me sipping a glass of wine.

Teachers don’t live in their classrooms, and I guess I have to remember that my students also have a life outside of school. Sometimes those worlds collide.

Maybe I should wear more disguises.

Update--I just ran into another parent of a former student. Only this time neither one of us was showered and we were at Taco Bell. Perhaps embarrassing to us both.

Follow up on Money Rambles

2006-11-02T21:15:00.000-08:00

I would like the world to know that I after I ranted about my banking concerns, I finally set-up my first CD! And I did it all online with e*trade. I transferred money, started a new account, and now am gaining interest off the money I don't touch. I have to thank my beau for sitting next to me confirming all my steps before I hit each "Continue" button. Here I come financial world. I see green in my future.

"Good Morning Sunshine"

2006-10-29T21:10:00.000-08:00

There is an hour in the morning, especially on weekends, that I need to take slowly and ease into the day. Waking up with no alarm clock is nice and so is no rush hour to work, but no matter how late I sleep in on Sunday, I need one hour to be happy about my day. Just give me an hour to sip on coffee, read my email, browse through the comics, and whatever. Even though I have a lot of house chores to catch up on, or should take advantage of a beautiful morning, I can’t just get up and go. Vacuuming is too loud, showering sounds chilly, and leaving the house moves the morning too fast. I’ll take my time with a cup of coffee, herbal tea, or a tall OJ, but I can’t brush my hair, get out of my pajamas, or even plan out the day until I had my hour, to wake up my smile.

Random Rambling about Money

2006-10-14T13:45:00.000-07:00

The dentist makes me cry.
Anybody working with my car makes me cry.
And just recently the new admin in the grad school office made me cry.
But I just realized the common thread with all of them. Money.

They all hit me in the wallet in an unplanned and unwelcomed way.
My smile must be worth a lot after all the work the dentist has done in my mouth. In the past my car always needed something fixed when I finally had a little extra cash, and most recently I became an example of how dropping a class after the deadline will be expensive no matter how good the excuse.

Money has always made me emotional. You would think that would mean I loved money, invested wisely and was frugal. Not true. It only means money makes me cry.

When I was a kid I remember being sensitive to bills at a restaurant. My family would be on a vacation in Florida at a modest restaurant and I would hold back nervous tears because everyone was ordering lobster or ribs. As if the $150 bill was actually going to make or break the vacation budget.

So I have financial goals, but haven't started on the action plan. While I have little excuse, it did get me thinking about why I have not moved on this and came up with an idea. Virtual bankers. My banking brother, this could be your million-dollar bank idea! Hear me out.

Banks hold odd hours, well common hours with all the other working people, making it hard for me get there. If I actually make it there, I wait in lines to talk to people behind a desk, out in the open where I find to be missing information that could be found on my desk or within computer files. Or I could really use the presence of a friend that could help advise me when making important financial decisions.

If I had a waiting chair like my couch, all my information at an arms reach, and was in my familiar and comfortable home, I would talk money more often. I picture evening hours when I have my checkbook out, questions about my savings, and brainstorming about my financial future. I log in to my financial advisor, ask questions and get advice from with my beau upstairs, my family by phone, with a friend on ichat, or research all the options online as we speak. Not just a website that lists options, has a FAQ section, or lets you move money around, but a live person to chat with via instant messaging, audio, or video conferencing.

What do you think? Or does this already exist and I missed the memo?

Ahhhh

2006-09-25T00:21:00.000-07:00

I just made it back home after an incredibly fun weekend. The kind of weekend that is full of hugs, tears, and new memories.

Congratulations little sister and new brother-in-law. May this the be beginning of a blessed union.

And to my family, you are the best. We sure know how to have a good time! I love you and miss you already.

Picking the Date

2006-09-22T10:58:00.000-07:00

“That’s an expensive time to travel.”

“The fog. Its always foggy that time of year.”

“Oh, that’s right around my birthday.”

These are all answers to the question I never asked: What do you think of my wedding date? You asked me when it was, I answered. The exchange should have ended there, unless you wanted to add something about how you were so excited for me.

Compared to picking a place to get married, picking the date has been a migraine. To pick the place where we exchange vows and party the night away was exhausting, but it remained a decision made between my sweetheart and myself. We listed addresses of places to visit (12 of them in 2 different areas) and made a weekend out of it. Sure there was some stress when we started talking about costs and details of each, but ultimately we found a place that looked like fun and felt right. Done.

Everyone has an opinion about when it should happen. I take that back. Everybody has an opinion about when it shouldn’t happen. It’s my day. Well, mine and my sweetheart’s day. We choose this day because it works for us (mostly me).

My father helped me see the light through all the frustrating pressure to pick a date that stressed me out, and almost had me eloping, by explaining, “There is never a good time to get married. Just pick a date and we will be there.” Thank you.

Am I wearing my bridezilla veil yet?

Snakes on a Hike

2006-09-06T22:10:00.000-07:00

Dedicated to my brave beau.

Being fortunate enough to live in an area where we can frequently be one with nature, we often come across families of deer, gliding hawks, millions of little lizards, and the scat of wildcats during our hikes.

Just recently, when we were casually hiking along in the warm sun, we walked right up on a big ol’ rattler. NO kidding, my beau practically stepped right on the snake before he stepped back to avoid the rattling tale and hissing noise coming right from the center of the path. Apparently the rattlesnake was casually warming himself in the sun too. My heart rate monitor recorded my heart going from 96 to high 126 bmp in a matter of seconds…not that I needed the monitor to tell me my heart was thumping. I could hear it!

My beau stood between the snake and I as it slowly slithered and rattled its way off to the side and under the brush. The rest of the hike we were both a bit more on edge when we heard the wind running through the grass, or a lizard scrambling by.

Perhaps the best indication (and my favorite) of how being startled by a rattlesnake effected our mindset, was how my beau continued to daydream about other encounters with dangerous animals. About half-way through our hike, he turned around to me and admitted, “I just had this daydream where a mountain lion came up on us from the woods, growling and pacing. You got scared and started to run away (which you are not supposed to do) and the lion chased after you. I ran up behind him and jumped on him to hold him back. I tried to pin him while he thrashed his claws around. When I got on top of him he kept scratching at me with his paws until he gradually scratched his way through my chest with his big paws. And that was it.”

I hope we never see a mountain lion. Ever.

Sunday Nights

2006-09-04T21:55:00.000-07:00

Of course I love the weekends. Turning up the volume on the radio as you drive from work to a possible Happy Hour on Friday. Sleeping in on Saturday morning with a whole day ahead of anything you want planned. Could be shopping, hiking, or meeting up with friends. You have the nights to watch movies, go out to eat, drink and be merry. When Sunday hits, you relax. This could be while shopping, hiking, or meeting up with friends again, or instead laying around with a cup of coffee and the newspaper.

But then comes Sunday night. It felt so far away on Friday when you threw aside your workbag. As the sun starts to set, this feeling creeps in and reminds you of all the chores you put off during the week to complete when you had all this time during the weekend; like vacuum the floor, 8 loads of laundry, pay the bills, buy the groceries.

I sit here on the couch tonight feeling content with my particularly lively weekend of driving to the beach, biking in the hills, exploring possible wedding locations, eating tasty food, and even sneaking in a load of laundry. And, as I contemplate if my clothes are ironed for tomorrow, or if my lessons are ready to teach, I realize…Its Monday night. Bless the three-day weekend. They should all be this long…. even if the anxiety creeps in just the same on Monday as it does on Sunday.

Self-Space

2006-08-27T22:44:00.000-07:00

I once had a friend whose parents would always retreat to his or her own spots in the house after dinner. At the time, I thought it was a little weird that they spent this time apart. They each had their own TV; one would sit on the couch with the newspaper while casually watching baseball game or the nightly news, while the other would sit in the kitchen watching a variety of games shows or shopping networks while she sipped her wine and smoked her Virginia Slims.

Without realizing it, I have come to enjoy the same type of self-space. My sweetheart (flame, love, beau, fiancé…. I haven’t found the perfect permanent name for him yet) and I share dinner together where we bond over stories from the day and review any future plans. We clean up the table together, and then we retreat to our places. He sets himself up in the office area where he can do his thing: consulting work, searching the net, read a magazine, etc. Me, I have a desk in the office too. Only mine is covered in bills, receipts, and misc. things I want to review at a later date. Instead, I find myself on the couch more and more. Not as a potato, but as a magazine reader, Internet searcher, a homework grader, or occasionally a napper. Our couch is unbelievably comfortable and the wide coffee table is at just the right level. And, instead of yelling at each other between rooms, like my friend’s parents once did, my sweetheart (and other names mentioned previously) and I actually instant message each other on our computers with links to news stories, questions about our night’s timeframe, or just quick love notes. I do my thing and he does his. When we are ready, we reconvene to cuddle and watch a movie on our unbelievably comfortable couch, share a glass of wine, or brush our teeth and go to bed.

I like this. Whether its in the bathtub to read a magazine, or in your chair sipping coffee with a crossword, I feel having a place, or a time to be “you” is not rejection, but recognition of your self and the balance you need.

Going back to work

2006-08-26T11:39:00.000-07:00

Long after the Back to School Sales start, and before the kids enjoy their last few moments of summer; I have to go back to work. I have a classroom to clean and organize, meetings with other teachers, and lessons to consider for the first few days of school. However, I am ready. Well… I wish I could still sleep in every morning, and continue to casually sip coffee while I catch up on email, news and celebrity gossip. But when it comes down to filling my days up, I am getting a little bored. And honestly, I had one of my best summers ever, so I guess its time to start earning a living again.

When the schools bells declared that summer had begun, a warm rush of relief and excitement swept over me as I considered my time off. So many people may never understand how after 10 months of teaching, a teacher’s mind, body, and spirit become fried and the few weeks off in the summer ensure that teachers will be ready to do it all again next year.

At first I lapped in my luxury of time by eating long lunches with friends, going to the movies during the day, or to the outlet mall when it was crowd free. I resented the fact I committed myself to 2 weeks of summer camp. How could I give up such valuable time? I complained everyday, until the last day, when the counselors shared beers and we opened our paychecks, and we all agreed to do it again next year.

Then came my traveling. I got to see my family at a surprise birthday event in Wisconsin, extend a conference trip to San Diego with my sweetheart and met my parents there, had my first trip to Poland where I attended a Polish wedding, explored Warsaw and hiked around Zakopane. Then back in California I met up with my family again for a wedding at the Firestone Winery on the Central Coast and soon after had a Big Sur Surprise of my own! As one last fling, I flew out to Chicago area to celebrate my sister’s bridal shower and bachelorette, while also spending time with some friends I have had forever.

Whew.

So yes, after an amazing, productive, entertaining, celebratory summer, it is time to go back to work, and I am ready.

A Surprise Day in Paradise

2006-08-21T10:03:00.000-07:00

The drive...the views...the hike...the food...the love.

I think I can

2006-08-14T22:34:00.000-07:00

If you had to pick a personal mantra, what would it be? Is there a message you already rely on to help you feel more positive, confident, comforted, or thankful? What phrase provides focus when you need to get a grip and manage frustrations, but also helps you recognize a better way to be?

There is a Little Engine frozen in time saying, “I think I can. I think I can.”

And there’s a whole book convincing readers, “Don’t sweat the small stuff”

I’ve been using “Que Sera Sera” for years.

My good friend should be reminding herself, “I deserve better.”

And I could name several people who ought to breathe and repeat “Relax.”

During my first year of teaching, I had two mantras. I don’t remember which one came first, probably because that first year felt like one long, terrible, never-ending day.

Once, after seriously losing my cool in front of the class, a close friend reminded me that I was a professional and I had to act like one. To reinforce this mind-set, I wrote on a slip of paper “I am a professional” and hid it in a locket necklace. Whenever I started to feel a surge in blood pressure at school, I held that locket, or I straightened that chain around my neck and internally repeated the phrase, “I am a professional” in my head. Not that this prevented me from ever losing my temper again, but I think it helped tone it down.

My students were well aware of this necklace; especially in the month of March and beyond. A few of the more meddlesome students noticed the tiny latch and were more than curious to know what was behind that green stone cover. Without revealing what the message said, I told them inside was a note to myself about something I wanted to remember every day. They begged to know for quite some time and I just never could share. I didn’t want them to mock it if it didn’t seem that serious to them.

Then, on this one day when I was sharing the poem “Mother to Son” by Langston Hughes with my class, we got to talking about troubles in our lives. Students expressed impatience and irritation with siblings, school, or home. At that point, my necklace held a slip of paper that said, “Its only a matter of time” to help me focus on finishing out the school year. I repeated this to myself to see past my daily failures and to remind me that the dragging year would end and I would survive with time. So at that appropriate moment, I shared with my students my necklace mantra, and I explained that when I got anxious or frustrated about something in my life, I would tell myself that it was only a matter of time before it would change. I encouraged them to use it when they needed to remember its only a matter of time before their friend stops ignoring them, or their mom finds a new job, or till summer break comes. They just had to look ahead to see how things would change.

Sitting there quietly, they just let me speak my piece and never did mention that necklace of mine again.

Those mantras meant something to me at the time. Today, they are only bookmarks to a time in my life where I needed those specific words to support me.

Currently I try to remind myself that, “Its another beautiful day and I am lucky enough to be in it.”

Now what?

2006-08-11T15:05:00.000-07:00

I am a regular reader of blogs and have wanted my own blog for some time now. At last, I had my official blog launch yesterday. I came home to a beautiful bouquet of flowers from my very supportive sweetheart to congratulate me for finally taking this blog on.

And now I have nothing to say.

Where did all my funny little stories go? Or my deep thoughts that demanded online attention? Or even my pesky complaints that I feel somebody ought to read about?

I am sure it is only a matter of time before I clog this space up with the details of my fascinating life.

Hello my name is....

2006-08-10T11:16:00.000-07:00

When I was a sophomore in college, I had to take Speech 101 and our first assignment was a two-minute speech about any topic we wanted. Trying to avoid being the geek who brought up note cards on such an informal assignment, but knowing if I didn’t use some kind of guide for my presentation I would just stumble through and sound like a geek anyway. So, I decided to use this two-minute opportunity to introduce myself to the class through how I chose to dress. Every article of clothing, accessory, or detail about my appearance, down to the way I hung my hair in a loosely managed ponytail, was a preplanned cue to keep my short bio flowing and prevent the ummms, uhhhs, and nervous giggle that would have otherwise filled my speech. When I was through, I was not sure the audience was impressed with what they learned from my worn-out doc martens, the drawstring pants, dmb shirt, tiny mushroom earrings, and a lip ring, but I thought I was being unique, natural, and honest.

So this leads me to my current situation. How do I introduce myself to the world wide web and my blogging audience? That girl in college who presented herself to the classroom of strangers no longer tells the story of who I am now years later (although I still can’t get rid of those drawstring pants). And, then there is the possibility that my audience will consist only of people who know me pretty well anyway, leaving this discussion unnecessary.

Either way, I am sure with time this written format will expose my assorted moods and accurately represent my current self.