Good Bye 2011

First, goodbye holidays; and I have to say thank goodness! It's always great to be with the family during the holidays, but it's always so great to have it finished! It's fascinating to me that my sister and I were raised by the same parents, but when we all get together for more than two days, all of our differences come out in a big way. And boy can it get stressful! Please let me remember that when my kids become adults if I go visit I do not stay more than three days. Three is the magic number. So, I blow the holidays a big kiss goodbye.

I have two resolutions. I want to write an hour everyday, no matter what. It's going to be tough on the days I teach and have the kids. I just get so worn out. But I am going to do it. Wouldn't it be great if I could actually get a YA Adult novel written and published. I may be dreaming.

The other resolution is to be more social with groups of friends (not work!). This can be really difficult for me. I am naturally an introvert and shy, so I really have to gear up. It is so difficult to go into a group of people I don't know and introduce myself. But I think it's really time. I need to have some outlets.

It's been a good year. I've learned a lot, I've felt healthier than I have in a long time. I feel blessed.

Living

So I'm getting out there and starting to live again. I'm actually wanting to do this. This year has been a good year, and I think next year will be just as good. I'm starting to be with people and want to be with them. I'm starting to trust again. I'm starting to want to really know people, to look beyond what they present to the world and go behind their curtains. And it doesn't feel that scary. This is such a good thing, I think. What does life hold? I don't know, but breathing and living again is a good thing.

9/11

Many, no most, of the blogs that I follow have something about the 10th anniversary of 9/11 today. It is a time to remember-those who died in sacrifice and to an unmentionable evil. I have seen many TV programs today remembering that horrible day, and the same feeling I had then floods back to me. It was such a feeling of hopelessness to see the two towers go down on TV and know there was not a thing I could do about it from my home. I remember my mom calling me that morning. I had actually been out walking with my four month old twins and had not seen or heard about the first tower until I got back and received my mom's phone call. I couldn't believe what she was telling me. I immediately turned the TV on and shortly saw the second plane hit the second tower. I actually thought it was a re-play of the first plane and tower and was shocked when I found out it wasn't. When the towers went down it was so devastating. I had previously visited NYC and had driven by the towers. One cannot imagine how massive these buildings were. To think of all of those people in an instant, dead. As everyone knows, it was beyond depressing.

And our country was sent into a tailspin that I think it is still just crawling out of. I truly believe our economic status is a result in part due to that fateful day. But we hopefully are crawling out of it. I guess my hope would be that we continue to go forward, to thrive. We will forever be different, but I hope we are not forever defeated.

My daughter recently shared a conversation with me about a couple of girls at her school who snottily had told her that she wore too much pink. This hurt my daughter and caused her to doubt herself. As a result, she has stopped wearing so much pink. I told her that if she loves pink, she needs to keep wearing, to tell those girls that it's her body, not theirs and she will wear pink if she wants to. I told her if she stops doing what she wants and being who she is, then she lets these bullies win. This is a simplistic, juvenile comparison; but one I hope we Americans can take to heart. Keep going, keep being the wonderful nation that we are. Provide for each other, care for each other, support and love each other. Stand up for each other. Don't tear each other down. Don't let the bullies win.

What a Three Weeks

School has been in session for three weeks, and I have a cold! This is almost unheard of for me. But this year we have budget cuts. So, that means because the district closed some schools that we have more kids and more teachers. So, we're sharing rooms and computers and spaces. Also, the custodians have been cut, so they don't sweep our rooms everyday (can you believe that?). It's gross. They already were not cleaning off the desks (which are filled with icky, yucky middle school germs). Not sweeping the floors is utterly disgusting. All of this equals sickness being spread. So, I have a cold, along with every other teacher in the building. I guess I'm going to have to arm myself with a constant supply of hand sanitizer.

On a brighter note, my students are great! Yay! I'm sorry, but I do feel like I deserve this this year. My 8th graders last year were my own personal nightmare, and I had them for 7th grade too. So, cheers to me.

Despite the germs and crowded halls, I think this is going to be a good year. The atmosphere is a little different, because some of the students who transferred over think that it's unfair that they have to be at this school instead of their old school. But I think after this year that will blow over. Here's hoping for a fantastic year!

I Don't Want This Burden Anymore

Do you ever have an issue or struggle that you just can't get rid of? You pray about it, you wrestle with it, you say "no more," but it's always there in the back of your head, getting its tentacles into your heart. It is like the heaviest backpack that you cannot take off. Why is that? What is it about that particular struggle that makes it nearly impossible to get rid of? Is it denial? Do you think the struggle is going to end up the way you want? Is it because you've gotten used to the feeling of the struggle? Maybe you just have to get so sick of yourself, because you've held on to the struggle so long. I am usually a person who continues inner struggles for a long time. I hate that about myself. It's not something that I admire about myself, but it is something I just unconsciously, habitually do. I think I go through all the stages associated with grief when I go through letting go of a struggle. I go through bargaining, anger, denial, sadness (I think I'm missing a stage.) until I come to acceptance. Then one day I wake up, and I say okay, that's it, I'm done.

I recently earnestly prayed about my struggle, just asking what God wanted. Whatever He wanted, I just needed to know so that I could go forward. God is always good to let me know. Sometimes He lets me know right away, sometimes it's awhile before I get to know. I always love it when it's sudden and dramatic, because then I have absolutely no doubts as to what God wants me to do. But that usually only happens when I'm in dire circumstances that need to be remedied immediately. This time God was pretty quick, but He was gradual. He let me see things through things I read or saw on TV or the movies. He'd show me these things then would say, "Now what do you think? I think you already know and have known for quite awhile." And He's right, I have. So, that's when I start steps. And I put things in order so that I don't look back that way again. And it's okay, I don't feel the need to anymore. I'm just so ready to go forward with a new chapter in my life without that burden on my back.

I love the Foo Fighters' song, "Walk" because it exemplifies this so perfectly: "I'm learning to walk again, I believe I've waited long enough...I'm learning to talk again, Don't you see I've waited long enough..." That's how I feel. I've waited long enough on this struggle, and I'm walking again, walking away from this struggle and not looking back.

Meandering in the Quiet

Just a week and half to go until I go back to school. And my kids are on vacation with their dad. All is quiet here. So, that's when my brain starts meandering all over the place. Today I was totally lazy. I did nothing but read and watch TV. I watched episodes of Dexter and White Collar, Covert Affairs. I finished reading a book called Healer. I can't recall the author at this moment and am too lazy to go look. It was a mediocre book, but somehow kept my attention. And believe me, if my attention is not grabbed within the first five pages, I toss it aside. Obviously, I don't have too much of a social life. That was one of the things that I was pondering this weekend. I was thinking, is this it? Is this all God has for me? Teaching and raising kids? It's just that I know soon my kids will leave. And before they leave, they will become teenagers and not want me around too much. And I love teaching. I'm always trying to improve upon it. This year is no exception. Now that I finally fee like I have my feet under me, I'm going to try to work on Differentiation. I'll have to write about that later. What I'd also really like to do is be a writer. I try to work on it a little bit every day that I don't have the kids. I just can't do it on the days that I have them. My focus is too much on them. And when I work and have them, well forget it. I just come home, finish guiding any homework that needs to be finished up, cook dinner, clean up, and collapse in front of the TV for about an hour. But oh, I would love to be a writer. Maybe that's the next turn in my road. I guess we'll see. But for now, I'll relish these next two weeks. Now I have to go. Dexter is calling to me.

Eeeek!

There is nothing that strikes fear in my heart like mice (or spiders or bugs of any sort). And when a mouse is invading my house, it is close to catastrophic. A couple of weeks ago a mouse invaded my home late, late one night during a taped DVR watching of Friday Night Lights. That was bad enough, since there are only a few more episodes where I can watch Coach Taylor motivate his boys to be their very best off and on the field. After screaming at the poor rodent and throwing my slipper on the floor (jamming my finger in the process), I retreated to the safety of my bedroom and immediately went to get DCon the next day.

For weeks I have been on the lookout for any brave mouse that might make its way into my abode. But I had been lulled into a false security the mice knew that entering my house meant certain death. If I didn't get them the poison would. Yesterday, I was up in my room putting my make-up on when my son yells up at me that he sees a mouse. Incredulous, I yell back, "Inside?" He says that yes, he is looking at it.

I bounded down the stairs, and sure enough there was a tiny mouse running back and forth on my baseboards underneath the window between my couch and TV armoire.

I ran to get my broom and started yelling at the thing. My son joined in. But the poor mouse didn't know what to do . It just kept running back and forth. In retrospect, I think the mouse had already sampled some of the poison, it was so discombobulated. At the time, though, I just wanted the thing out of my house. The mouse made a dash for it behind my armoire, and he promptly jumped on top of the poison that was artfully placed behind my armoire. My daughter peeked behind the armoire in fascination. "It's eating the poison!" she said reverently. Then tears gathered in her eyes. "It's just a baby," she said. This is was Disney cartoons do to people. They make defenseless kids think that mice are cuddly friends and that Prince Charming is going to show up to save the day. Neither are true.

After telling her that she needed to dry her eyes, we all took up residence in front of the armoire, waiting for the enemy to leave the fortifications. I was armed and ready with a shovel and a broom. But the mouse would not budge; it was still nesting on the poison. Finally, I told my kids that I was going to go finish getting ready and that if they saw the mouse to let me know. About a half an hour later (it takes a while to get this face presentable), I came downstairs to find out that the mouse was still behind the armoire. I decided to fix and lunch and hope that maybe the food smells would lure it out.

I guess lunch did the trick. In the middle of pulling pizza out of the microwave, my daughter shrieked that the mouse was leaving its hiding place. I ran over quickly, broom in hand. The poison was definitely taking affect, because the mouse ran back and forth, spun in circles, and landed it on its back. You would think this was the end, but this was like a little horror movie. The mouse got back up and started coming towards me. I screamed a blood curdling scream and the mouse ran back to the floor boards. Then the mouse darted under the couch. I was actually glad about this. The couch is in front of the fireplace, which is how the mice are getting in. I thought, now the mouse will leave. But then I had visions of the mouse actually dying under the couch, soon smelling the stench of decaying rodent. That would never do. So, I moved the couch forward, and the mouse darted forward again.

What to do? This could not go on all day! So, I decided to launch a bold move. If I could sweep the mouse out the garage door (which it was closest to), then I could sweep it on out of the garage and onto the driveway, then the yard, where a cat could then take care of it. Brilliant! So, I opened the garage door, steadily gripped my weapon, and hit that mouse like it was a hockey puck. Unfortunately, my athletic prowess (or lack of) showed itself at this time. Did the mouse launch out the door. No, it stopped just short of the door and started to gather itself together to fun. I would not be stopped. I drew my broom back and undeterred, aimed again. Again, my aim-not that good. Because, even though I was inches from the door, the mouse scooted under the door and hit the wall. At least that was enough to daze the mouse who laid motionless. With determination in my voice, I ordered my daughter to open the back door. I triumphantly picked up the shovel, scooped up the pesky enemy, and screaming wildly ran the mouse out the back door. I screamed the entire time, but I was not alone. I heard shrill outcries behind me-not from my daughter; but from my son. Buoyed by our cries of outrage, I flung my shovel back and catapulted the probably very regretful mouse into the yard.

Victory!

If Only, I'd Be

I read such an interesting article in O magazine. The author was saying that unconditional love is loving someone no matter what they do. Or, not caring what they do. Instead of saying, "I would feel more secure about our relationship if he would call," say "I will feel more secure about our relationship." Basically, that what other people say and do should not be the basis about how you feel about yourself. I love this, because I think it is true. However, when emotions, expectations, etc get in the way it can be really difficult to do this.

My dad has kind of taken my son under his wing in the area of baseball. This is the first year my son has played, and he is ten years old. My son comes from two parents who are not athletic. But he wanted to play, so I signed him up. He actually showed some promise, and my dad must have seen this, because he asked if he could start practicing with my son on a fairly regular basis. I allowed this, because as I said before, neither myself nor my ex-husband are athletic, I'm not dating anyone, so where else would my son get this training? Plus, it filled a void in my dad's life after the defection of his son and grandson (which is a whole other story). And it was a win-win situation.

The last couple of games occurred after summer had started. My kids and I had our vacation time together, and we were pretty busy. So, my son didn't get to practice as much as he had in the past. Consequently, his last couple of games didn't go so well for him. He was frustrated, and my dad stated that he wanted to keep practicing through the summer so that my son could keep up these skills. I was great with that, and my son was too. So, Saturday came. At 10am, I still had not heard from my dad. He was supposed to practice with my son, but there had been no set time that he was coming over. I called him, and he was at a barbeque contest, where he was a judge. He said that he wouldn't probably get home until after 3pm, but he would call then and he and my son could practice then. So, I took my kids to the movies. The movie got out a little before 3pm, and I told the kids that if my dad hadn't called by 3:30pm, we would go to the pool. 3:30came and went, and we had not heard from my dad. We got ready for the pool, and my dad calls at 3:40. We agreed that it would be best to practice at 7pm, because it was really hot. My kids and I went to the pool, then we ran to get something to eat. We pulled into my driveway around 6pm, and my mom and dad were in my driveway. They had brought over some of the barbeque from the competition. Then my dad asked my son if it would be okay if they didn't practice that night. My son it said it would be great. He said he was tired too.

Now, it has to be understood that my son tends to be a little slothful. He sometimes, a lot of the times, has to be made to do things. If fact, this is a trait that runs in the males on my side of the family. So, he will always say that he doesn't want to do something if he is given the chance. It also has to be understood that there is a lot of history of my dad not following through with the things that he says he will do. There is also a ton of history of him always doing the fun things that he wants to do for himself instead of sacrificing that fun for his family. My sister would attest to this. MAYBE he sacrificed these things for his son, but definitely not for my sister or for myself. I have come to grips with this for myself. I never expect him to do a thing for me, I am frankly surprised when he does. I honestly, at this point, would prefer that he not even attempt to do things for me. But when he starts to do this with my son, it tends to make me angry.

So, now I should try to apply the principle that I mentioned at the beginning of this entry. "I would feel less angry if my dad would put my son before himself and his desires." What I should say is, "I will not be angry." And the fact is, I will not be angry. My dad is never going to change. At 64, I just don't see him and his slothful nature changing-not even for my son. And just as I have let my children see their father's true nature, staying out of tainting that, so that they can come to their own judgements about him; I will also stay out of this relationship. My son has to see his poppy for who he is. My son may be okay with my dad's traits. He may not be. And if he's not okay with them, he has to be the one to figure out how he will deal with that. I've figured out how to deal with it-to have a pretty surface relationship, spend limited time, and not expect that I will ever be put first before his own desires. And I'm not angry with it (after years of being angry). So, I will not be angry about my son's relationship with him either.

Letting Go

42 years old has been a little (no, a lot) disconcerting in the body image department. I am not exaggerating or kidding when I say that one day I could control my weight by what I ate and the very next day no matter what I ate or how much I exercised, my weight went up by 5 pounds and would not budge. I can't express how frustrating this has been for me. Body image has always been something that I'm very aware of. I'm short (5'1"), so I've always kept a pretty tight rein on it. But I've also always been able to do this. Now, it's just not working. Not only that, my weight has shifted weirdly. I now have a poochy stomach, and, well it's just weird.

So, I'm learning to let go and come to grips with it. I don't even know if I have any kind of control on my weight or not. If I choose to eat wisely will it at least keep the weight gain at some kind of bay, or does it not even matter. Because if I'm eating fruits, vegetables, and whole grains when I could be eating a cupcake, I'm going to be a little steamed. If I'm giving up pasta for nothing, then I'm about to say, who cares?

I ask myself, why do I care? I'm beyond the dating days. I truly feel like those days are gone for me. And I might just be totally okay with that. I think I've talked before how freeing that is to me. And even if I was still interested in attracting the opposite sex, do men really like someone who's rounder, softer? You've got me.

How many other women are dealing with this?

Writing

Getting ready to attempt a day of writing. This is what I told myself I'd do this summer, but I am so scared! Can I really do this? Do I really have enough to write about and will it be interesting or creative? Could there be the smallest chance that I could get published? I guess I'll really never know unless I try. And at least if I try and fail I will know I tried. I think I would always think lower of myself if I didn't find out.

This feeling of thinking I will not succeed is very familiar to me. I felt that way about teaching. For the first two years, my stomach was nervous pretty much every day. I so felt that way about being a mom. Those first two years-don't get me started. But I think I do fairly well in those two areas now. It seems like the areas where I thought I'd do great are where I haven't done so well (2 failed marriages!). So, maybe it will be all right. But my teeth are on edge.

Sex Ed Talk

It is spring, and that means that every teacher seems to be required to talk about sex with students. I know the Science teacher across the hall has a unit, and it can be hilarious, what the kids say and ask. Well, I guess the talks start in 4th grade, because my kids got the sex movie this year. My daughter seemed pretty neutral. We've been talking about this stuff for awhile. My son seemed a little disconcerted. We sat down to talk about it, and do you know what he was most concerned about? That he was going to get hair on his feet! Of all the things! I told the Science teacher across the hall and she speculated that he thought he was going to be like the Hobbit. And by gollly, I bet she's right. The kids' dad showed them all of The Lord of the Rings, and it had a profound effect on him, and not really in a good way. I thought he was going to have a heart attack of Gollum. My poor son thinks he's going to turn into the Hobbit!

Another funny sex quip: My son said that a classmate of his told another guy that he like to play with his balls. My son asked me if he was talking about the balls of feet, and how could this happen? I had to explain to him what of course this meant. To see his face go from quizzical to a dawning of realization was priceless. Oh, such innocence!

The End is Near!

No, I am not talking about May 21st, the supposed Apocalypse (I'm sorry but I do have to shake my head at these people. They obviously don't read the Bible, which say that no man knows what day Christ is coming back. He comes like a thief in the night. That means you don't expect him.). I'm talking about the last day of school! Hooray! You know, I really do love teaching, but this year has been a booger. It was not as bad as last year. But I had two of the same group of kids from last year, as 8th graders. I am counting down the days until they walk out of my door and out of my life. They tested every single thing every single day, and I will not shed any tears when they leave. I am supposed to teach 8th grade next year. I have always been a 7th grade teacher in my heart, but I have to say I'm kind of excited. I like the curriculum better, and I'll get to bond with the 8th graders that are now my 7th graders. I think I held off bonding with them because the 8th graders had such an effect on me. That's sad, isn't it? We'll see what next year's like.
Also, I'm wondering if there will be a library job open at my school. I don't know. I'm in a good place, because I feel happy whatever life brings. That's such a good place and unusual place for me to be. I think I'll stay here for awhile.

A Smile

Today I left school with a smile on my face, and this was after having 2 block classes of 8th graders. 8th graders do not bring a smile to my face, particularly this class. Maybe it's because testing is almost over, or that I do not feel the pressure anymore. But I was able to be loose enough to actually meet on the same plain as these 8th graders. We have not been simpatico this year. I have felt like I have just had to be constantly on them from day one. I could not even teach, because they were so out of control, so immature. I think they were still immature today, but for some reason I felt really in control. Their inane behavior did not affect or upset me. In my study hall, the day was ended perfectly when one student was talking about the song Friday by Rebecca Black or Taylor, I can't remember. I said I didn't know who this was. He wanted me to pull it up on Youtube. I did and played it through the projector. And all of the kids started singing and dancing to this song. It was adorable. These are the moments I love. I would like to be the kind of teacher that could always reach this plane of connectedness. It's difficult when you really need them to learn about text structures, but still possible I think. Something to strive for, but for now I'll take the smile on my face. :)

Is This Going to Be My Day?

So, I'm rushing around this morning-signing permission forms, packing lunches, giving hugs and kisses, refereeing between two almost ten-year olds who get some kind of satisfaction from teasing each other, spritzing down my son's hair with water because he's growing it out and in the morning it sticks out in all kinds of directions, hearing my son complain about the spider that is on the ceiling of his bathroom afraid that it's going to drop on him but I'm afraid to go in and kill it so I tell him to go in and tough it out that if the spider hasn't moved yet it's not going to (and it didn't), signing planners, making my own lunch, putting Netflix in the mail (because right now I'm addicted to 7th Heaven and I won't get to watch the next season unless it gets in the mail), getting everybody out the door and into the car. We are almost to the kids' school and I look in my rear view mirror and realize I have not brushed my hair! I announce this to the kids, and they look at me like I'm crazy, and maybe I have actually gone to that place. I'm heading to go teach middle school after dropping them off, so I can't go back. But luckily, ever resourceful, I remember the pink, plastic doll's brush in my glove compartment and save my sanity and dignity (even though my kids are still looking at me like I've just lost my mind. I know better)!

Blah!

I am in a gray mode. Spring is joyous and full of anticipation, but it is also just down and out wearing! It's a stressful time of year. At school, coming back from spring break means coming back to state assessments, feeling like what I do is not good enough. I don't ever receive praise as a teacher, rarely from parents, never from students, and I can't think of a time from my principal. Assessments make me feel like I can see the end of the race, but can never hit the mark. If I did hit the mark last year, this year the mark is higher, and I have different kids. So, it's not as if I can build upon what I did last year. It's pretty demoralizing. Also, the cuts that are going on are disheartening. I do feel like I've missed the cuts. I'll know in April. I've been five years at my school, and I think I just missed the line where cut offs seem to be happening. But until I know, I swear I have and probably will continue to have nightmares. The last drainer is 8th graders. Disrespect. I don't think I need to say more.

This is also an expensive time of the year. My twins were born in April. They will be ten this year. That means two birthday parties. It's not cheap. Thank goodness for income tax refunds!

And the Kansas weather! It is gray! And it is spitting snow! Come on, get with the program!

Thoughts of Summer

This is the time of year when I start to yearn for summer! This is when I start to feel the pressure of assessments coming up, when I start to wonder if I'm a good teacher. Sometimes I feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin and run my fingers down my whiteboard in my classroom (it doesn't quite have the same effect as a chalk board, though). The students ask the same questions over and over. I tell them to do tasks, and they still do not put their names on their papers, they still ask me to explain something right after I've explained it. Insolence starts to abound. I've seen one too many teenager's sullen eyes looking back at me. I've heard one too many whiney voice ask me why they have to complete the assignment. I've been to one too many meetings, wondering why I'm there, wishing I could be in my classroom, grading the mounds of work that I have to do. There are so many aspects of teaching that have nothing to do with teaching. This year I've just felt all I have taught is assessments. And I'm not sure the students have gotten it as well as I would like them to have.

I'm thoroughly convinced that this is why summer was invented, for teachers. I can hear all of the rantings and ravings from the public now, criticism of what cushy jobs teachers have. But summer is what lets a teacher come back to teaching. A teacher needs those two and half months to forget. It's like childbirth. A mother forgets about what it was like, and she has another child (so I'm told; I had twins and that was way enough for me. I haven't forgotten.). After summer, I kind of forgot about the pressures and irritations of the year before. I actually get excited and psyched for the upcoming year. I actually start to miss it.

So, I'm starting the countdown. I've got three months. I think I'm going to make it.

Why Am I Frustrated

I took my kids to my son's pinewood derby race tonight. This should have probably been a fun evening but ended up being a frustrating night. First of all, it was a cub scout event. I hate to say it, but most of the time this is very boring to me. I take my son, because he's in it. But I usually leave this to his father, because it's not my thing. But his dad was out of town tonight, so I decided I would take my son.

My son and my daughter both made a car with their dad. Supposedly the cars were fine. They just needed to be weighed to make sure that they qualified. Luckily, that part was taken care of. My dad took them to weigh the cars. Thank goodness, because my brain literally, and I am not exaggerating, cannot think in that mechanical way. It's not pretty when I try to put anything together. It never works. But, I forgot to add that before they went to weigh the cars, my son had taken his car out, raced it across my living room floor, slamming it into the baseboard. I don't know if the wheel was not put on correctly or if he just slammed the dickens out of it, but the wheel fell off. I was horrified. I could not get it back on. So, I sent it with my dad, hoping he could get it on. I guess he could not, because when they came back from the weighing it had been decided that my son and daughter would "share" my daughter's car. In other words, they would enter my daughter's car under my son's name. Any awards would be given to my son, but my daughter would get to share the trophy.

Let me say that this was a horrible idea. Sometimes my dad does not think. Actually, a lot of times when it comes to kids, he does not think. I love him, bless his heart, I really appreciate that he helped me out, but he does not think. When the wheel would not fit back on, he probably should have said, even though my son would have been upset, that Samuel was not going to be able to race. Consequently, Sofie would not be able to race either. If I'd known he would not be able to get the wheel on, I would have said that to them before they even left for the weighing. Sharing a car does not work with nine year old twins.

So, even though my son did not place for speed, he won Most Patriotic Car. Or rather, I should say that my daughter won. Even though she had agreed to be generous, she also wanted some of the glory, and why shouldn't she? She actually did win. So, as we're leaving the derby, I'm stuck with two kids arguing over who is going to have the car and trophy in their room tonight. And frankly, I don't know what to do. I'm stumped, I see both sides. And I'm frustrated because I don't know what to do, and I don't have anyone else to turn to. There is no partner to say, "What should we do with these arguing kids?" Talk about frustration. So I ended up telling them both to be quiet, that I would keep the car and trophy tonight, and to go up and get the pajamas on and go to bed. Not my best parenting moment.

It's hard. I try to be perfect parent. I know that's not really possible, but I always give the 110 % try. I when I don't hit it or when I miss it by so much, it is frustrating. It could really get me on a downward spiral, thinking of all the things I don't have and all the things that I am not.

The other side of this coin is that I spent two and half hours in a gymnasium bored out of my gourd, surrounded by a lot of nerdy cub scout fathers and their wives who think that they're still "all that" when they are so not "all that". I can't tell if they were popular in high school and think that they're still there, or they weren't popular in high school and are trying to live out that popularity now. But they make me crazy. It's all I can do to attend a function and have to be near them. I was not interested in this when I was in high school, I really don't want to be around it now. My kids' school is really bad with the cliquey moms. So that definitely did not help my mood.

As I told my daughter, I'm ready for this day to be over and start a new one tomorrow!

Pioneer Woman

The snow has finally arrived in KC! And thankfully, our school district called a snow day. I felt like , what my mom used to call, a pioneer woman. I got out the shovel and shoveled my entire drive not once, but twice. I admit, I am wiped out now; but, what a feeling! It is so liberating to take care of myself and to do what needs to be done. I love being an independent woman. It is such a liberating feeling to know I can do these things. I used to feel like the damsel in distress, always wanting someone to take care of me. But I am now evolved into... a pioneer woman.