tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-283536325332628322023-11-15T08:41:10.061-08:00musings - thoughts of a single mom Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-77575670418706818482013-07-29T13:57:00.000-07:002013-07-29T13:57:00.375-07:00Opposite of FearThis has been a summer of overcoming fear and trusting God. This has not been the summer I thought it would be. I planned to be much more industrious, but there were other plans for me. At the beginning of June I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. On the way back to bed I smacked my head into the door frame. I know it sounds funny, but it really has not been. Even though it didn't feel like it hurt that much I believe I got a concussion. It has taken the rest of the summer to recover. I have felt out of it, pain, and swelling. The doctor checked me out and gave me the okay, but it has taken most of the summer for me to feel like myself. I still feel swelling sometimes.<br />
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What I really took away from this was the spiritual lessons I learned. I prayed-a lot. I prayed that God would heal me, that I would not have brain damage, that I would be "myself" again. I had my sister and mom pray as well. I claimed the scripture that says that where two or more are gathered in His name he hears and answers our prayers. Then I just really had to trust and believe that was true, even though I didn't see immediate results and some days felt like I was going backward instead of forward.<br />
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I also learned more about fear. Fear is a big part of my nature. I have always been afraid of everything I do. For someone who doesn't deal with fear that might sound funny, but people who deal with fear know exactly what I'm talking about. No matter what you do, you deal with that sinking pit in your stomach. And I know I just have to rely on God and walk through the fear anyway.<br />
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So again, I had to rely on God. I had to trust and believe that He would do what He said in His word. It seemed circumstantial to me, but I knew God had been faithful to me before-so faithful even when, or especially when, I was not faithfully to Him. So I chose to take the leap of faith and believe that He would answer the prayers that I knew I , my mom, and my sister were praying.<br />
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Sure enough, He has been faithful; and I believe He will continue to heal me until I am completely myself again. I always thought the antithesis of fear was courage. Now I believe, at least spiritually, the opposite of fear is belief and trust. Think of Jesus walking on the water. The opposite of that fear of sinking was the belief that Jesus could hold you up on the water. It wasn't just believing in Him, but believing that He could do something that He said He could do that seemed unrealistic or impossible. He is always is faithful.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-803747588065910172013-05-11T09:42:00.002-07:002013-05-11T09:42:27.672-07:00So Glad I'm OlderIt's true. I am glad I'm older. I see things so much clearer, less emotionally. Things that used to matter just don't anymore.<br />
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My son had to go to the hospital and stay two nights this week because he had an asthma attack. His dad and I didn't even know he had asthma. I just thought he had severe allergies. It was a shock when the doctor said that he should go to the emergency room. I know my jaw dropped and I saw his dad's jaw drop.<br />
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It was stressful. Any trip to the er and stay in the hospital is. What I hate most about crises with my kids is the feeling of loneliness. I always feel so alone. It's the worst feeling ever. I know there are people there to comfort me, but I always feel purely isolated and alone. In my head I know I'm not the only one who has gone through a situation, but it feels like it at the time. I felt that aloneness this time, as well; and I shed some tears-more as a stress reliever than anything. But because I'm older now, I didn't feel like my world was crashing down. I didn't feel like I was never going to get out of this situation. I didn't feel like there was no light at the end of the tunnel.<br />
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Another sign that I'm okay with getting older: I'm going to go gray. I know that is what some would consider a mortal sin, especially since I'm only forty-four; but I just can't take it anymore. I've been dying my hair since I was about twenty-eight, and I cannot put up with the mess and time that it takes anymore. Even if I went to a salon (because I have done before), it would take so much time. So this summer before school starts again, I'm letting it go. I'm a little tenuous. How will people receive me? But honestly, I don't care. I actually feel so free. I will be able to feel confident when the wind blows that people will not look askance at me when they see the ring of white around my face. I can emerge from the pool without my silver halo.<br />
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The truth is my forties have been amazing, because I feel free to be me. I don't care what most people think of or about me anymore. I see things clearer and can handle situations more decisively and calmly. I am losing my body and some of my looks. Men do not look up when I pass by anymore. But it's great. I would trade youth and beauty any day for this freedom and clarity. I happily embrace getting older!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-48383775702147450642012-12-30T17:26:00.003-08:002012-12-30T17:26:33.822-08:00PRESENT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4yvDZCJh0hU/UODmokk6FzI/AAAAAAAAAEY/n0zBlQDpbls/s1600/past-present-future-thumb19100576.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4yvDZCJh0hU/UODmokk6FzI/AAAAAAAAAEY/n0zBlQDpbls/s320/past-present-future-thumb19100576.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I was going to write about something else today, but it has really hit me hard over this break about how much I want to be present in my present. I know that sounds funny. But this has always been a failing of mine. Being present, enjoying what I have when I have it, being fully there for the people around me or even just for myself if I'm alone-it's always been a struggle.<br />
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My tendency is to look back, to think about what I used to have or who I used to be. I think about all of the mistakes I made, how I could have done things differently. Would I have done things differently? It's not so much that I want to live what I did over. I usually just wish I could have done things better, made better choices, perhaps so my present would be different.<br />
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My other tendency is to look to the future. What is waiting for me just around the bend? Will I be able to change my circumstances? If so, how. I'm already making plans for a year from now, five years from now, even ten years from now. It's got to be better, the grass has to be greener.<br />
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Tonight, as I sent my kids out the door to spend the remainder of the holiday with their dad, my daughter clung to me, telling me how much she would miss me. And I thought, did I fully engage with them? Was I present during this time? Was I fully here? I think I was. We spend a lot of time with relatives, so it wasn't just me and the kids. But when I was with them, I think I was fully engaged. However, I have to admit there have been times that I haven't been (see I'm doing it again-thinking how I could have changed my past).<br />
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And I have to say the last couple of days spent with relatives I spent quite a bit of time counting down some minutes so I could get back to my normal routine. I know that's a normal holiday time response. But this is just a failing of mine. I said in an earlier post that I was going to try to post thankful posts everyday. So far, so good. I've been putting them on facebook. Sometimes I've said what I'm thankful for. Sometimes I've put quotes (which has sparked some interesting conversations). But I think thinking about what I'm thankful for has sparked this thought in my head. One key to being thankful is to live in the present fully.<br />
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I think living fully in the present for me is living purposefully, thoughtfully, with an effort. Thank God for God, because I honestly don't think I could do it without Him. I know He's molding me into who He wants me to be, and this is part of it. But it is hard. I may have to come back to this post throughout this year. Yeah, I definitely will (see I'm already looking into the future :) ).Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-43577565329336895222012-12-28T13:30:00.000-08:002012-12-28T13:30:23.746-08:00A Grateful HeartI read on one of the other blogs that I follow that one way to be positive is to have a "thankful" journal. It really struck me. I am naturally a pessimistic person. I know that is not a valuable trait in our society, and yes I can be negative. Luckily, I have a mother who taught this dark cloud of a daughter to look at the negatives, acknowledge them, and get to the other side of the positives. I think negative people can have their value. They are more realistic and they do keep the overly-optomistics grounded, but they can also get stuck in negativity and only see the cloudy days. I can really fall into that.<br />
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Another thing I struggle with because of this is being content in the situation that I'm in. Discontent is something I struggle with all the time. I have moments of contentedness, but it is easy for me to look at what someone else has or what I would like to have instead of being thankful for my circumstances. If I experience something fun or gratifying, it can be very tempting for me to feel irritation when I return to everyday circumstances.<br />
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So I'm really excited to try to pick out that one positive or great thing that happens every day to share and give thanks for. I decided to post these things on facebook. I think making myself make it public will hold me accountable, and I hope that it will subtly change the seed of discontent that I have been struggling with lately. I hope that facebook users don't see me as a goody-goody. I (being negative) get irritated with those posters who only say happy, positive things. But maybe instead of being irritated with me, people will see a change in me (for the better!)!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-68630724424694564902012-12-15T21:27:00.003-08:002012-12-15T21:27:36.394-08:00Never Able to Crawl OutWhat is it like to be stuck in your greatest character flaw or deficit, not able to get out or change? No matter how hard you try, no matter how good your intentions, you find yourself back in that place again. We all have that struggle or deficit in ourselves that we have to work on for our entire lives. No one gets away from it. Some people are aware of it; some aren't. Mine is fear. Fear can choke me, disable me, help me not to see things clearly. Fear can physically take me out. But I have a lot of strategies to overcome my fear. In fact, if I am fearful of something I will almost certainly go through whatever is scaring me just to overcome that monster.<br />
I have been trained from childhood how to do this. My mother, bless her amazing heart, knew that I was a fearful child, and she started teaching me how to overcome and triumph over my fear. And most importantly, because I am a Christian, God gets me through that blanket of fear that grips me. I know that ultimately, even if I mess up He will be there to catch me. When I feel fear's steely grip, I turn to Him and He tells me what to do.<br />
But what about those who don't have that? What do those people feel? How they must feel that they are in a web that they can't step out of. I've encountered that lately. And though the struggle this person has spilled over onto me and stung me a bit, I mainly felt bad for this person. I kept thinking, how could this person live with this over and over, trying so hard to do the right thing, but making the same choices and mistake over and over again. And this person has been aware of this and doing this for a long time. Because of this person's desire to control that character flaw and fear of losing control, the person makes the same decisions and mistakes over and over.<br />
I can't imagine living this way. How desolate this person must feel! This person does a really good job of filling up time with activities and people, but it's all surface. Nothing and no one can get too close. I think when that person goes home and shuts the door, darkness must fall. And after observing this person pretty closely for about a year, I'm pretty sure this person can't change.<br />
And actually, can anyone, without God? I know the answer's no to that one. People on their own just aren't good enough.<br />
So then I started thinking, what a great young adult novel this would make-applying these principals in a spiritual way. I'm definitely going to do that. Because I know that every person who doesn't have Jesus in their lives must be miserable and in a dark, dark hole that they can't get out even their trying. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-7996102010407141292012-06-11T17:11:00.004-07:002012-06-11T17:54:41.081-07:00Swimming Pools<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YeY7yGZAB1w/T9aTSP0ak6I/AAAAAAAAAD0/0P95TtXii-Q/s1600/Junction%252C_TX%252C_swimming_pool_IMG_4344.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YeY7yGZAB1w/T9aTSP0ak6I/AAAAAAAAAD0/0P95TtXii-Q/s200/Junction%252C_TX%252C_swimming_pool_IMG_4344.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5752947515705693090" border="0" /></a><br />I love going to the pool, and I love going to our network of city pools. Buying a season pass means that my kids and I can go to six different pools, though we only frequent five of them because one of them is extremely difficult to get to. Each of the pools has its own personality. One pool is strictly blue-collar. People (And I'm going to tell you now that I am going to stereotype. I'm going to tell you what most of them are like, of course, not like all of them) are loud, and their etiquette is not always spot on. There is a mixture of races. A lot of the women are overweight and don't pick swimsuits that flatter them. My kids love to go to this pool, because there is a 30 foot slide. I love to go to this pool to see how people interact with each other. Because they are loud, you can easily observe their family dynamic. It's a hoot.<br />The pool on the opposite side of town is a totally opposite dynamic. This pool draws a wealthy side. The area used to be considered new money. The old money side of town uses either a different city pool or private pools. I've noticed that the new money is settling in, though. When we went to that pool it reminded me so much of the old money side (where I grew up). A young man and his girlfriend came into the pool and heartily greeted one of the life guards. The life guard asked the guy how he had done in his tournament. I'm thinking basketball, baseball? No, that would be golf. The guy tells him his score. It must have been good, because the lifeguard high- fived the guy and gave him a hug. Then he rubbed his head and spanked his butt. It was a fascinating dynamic to watch. The guy's girlfriend dutifully stood by and smiled. Then she saw a female lifeguard, lazily called her name, and ran towards her. It was all very Great Gatsby. I loved it, because it really did remind me of my high school days. I was never wealthy. I was like the author of Great Gatsby, the observer who was invited in for awhile. But I do understand that dynamic.<br />The pool in our part of town is definitely middle-class all the way. But it's filled with wanna-be, loud, vulgar women. They drive me crazy, and I can't write very objectively about them. They think they're the cat's pajamas, but they so are not. They are over-weight, brash, cliquey women who live vicariously through their kids. They act as if the class activities are about them. It makes me insane, and I don't understand it.<br />Another pool close by is full of young families. It's hilarious to watch the stunned parents watching their young progeny take to the water. The dads are the funniest. They swim around in a daze. They're wondering what happened to their knock-out, fun, party-girl wives. How were they replaced by these mothers who now very definitely put these children first. And oh, are they starting to go bald and get soft around the middle?<br />The final pool is a small pool that has been slated to close for a few years. Somehow, it gets enough support to keep it open. It hasn't been re-vamped. It's an old-fashioned swimming pool with two diving boards and a small slide. A small rock wall has been added, but that's it. I love this pool because it is so secluded. It's surrounded by a forest because it's located in a park. There are not a lot of people who attend the pool. And quite a few single parents patronize this pool. So I feel like I fit right in. I actually need to frequent this pool on my own, I think.<br />I don't know what it is about pools that make people feel free to be themselves. Maybe it's because we're all communing in water together, frolicking in the sun. I think it's because we're all half naked. It's the one place you can basically walk around in your underwear, no matter what you look like, and it's okay. It's freeing. People shed their clothes, and they shed their inhibitions too. But I love it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-51426405277607837162012-06-05T16:49:00.003-07:002012-06-05T16:54:23.376-07:00Target Contest for Beneath My HeartHello,<br />I'm entering a contest on Beneath my Heart to possibly win a $100 Target gift card. I'm all over that because I love Target. Beneath My Heart rated Sonia Kashuk's new makeup. And I have to say she made me want to get some of it.<br /><br />So her question was "How do you take your eye makeup from day to night?" I'm afraid I don't do anything that drastic. I apply a darker shade, put on more coats of mascara, and put on darker eyeliner.<br /><br />Kristin WrightUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-88565962745262416692012-06-04T20:01:00.002-07:002012-06-04T20:07:34.985-07:00Too PC?What is it about our country that goes to extremes? For awhile, a long while, people said and did hurtful things against others who were not them. People still do it, but it's done on the sly now or said behind closed doors. Now, everyone is included. Everyone is the same. There is no better or worse. Everyone has to be included in the same groups all the time and everyone has to get along.<br /><br />Well in theory that sounds like a good thing. But I think most of us know human nature is not like this. The hard plain truth is that this will always be mean, hateful people who will say mean, hateful things to people who are different, weaker, or are not like them. Only now people do it on the sly and put a smile on their faces when they're with the larger group of people while putting their arms around the people they just hurt.<br /><br />Because of our fear of hurting people we don't challenge things anymore. We don't call a spade a spade. We don't say what's wrong and what's right. We don't say that some people are just more talented or better suited in a position or smarter, even though this might be true and in the long run be better for all around them.<br /><br />I'm ready to be in the middle. I want to be able to say what's right and wrong or better and worse without being condemned, guilted, or ostracized. At the same time, I want to be kind and defend those who need it. Do you think there will ever be a middle?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-89875000402522704752012-03-21T20:57:00.002-07:002012-03-21T21:05:06.571-07:00What?<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bgJjvh9t0fI/T2qk5kCJ7hI/AAAAAAAAADc/q6P4ie3GJ_U/s1600/headscratch.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bgJjvh9t0fI/T2qk5kCJ7hI/AAAAAAAAADc/q6P4ie3GJ_U/s200/headscratch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722567585359851026" border="0" /></a><br />Funny student answer to a short essay question:<br />Students had to finish the following phrases<br />1. I still believe...<br />2. I used to believe, but don't any longer...<br />3. I know longer believe this because...<br /><br />One student wrote, "I no longer believe that George Washington was the first person in America. I don't believe this, because I really believe that African-Americans were the first people in America. They were here before anybody."<br /><br />What?<br /><br />I almost wrote, I don't believe George Washington was the first person in America either. And what's that about the African-Americans? What happened to the Native Americans?<br /><br />I laughed really hard at this one.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-37273284248262905422012-01-01T12:36:00.000-08:002012-01-01T12:51:14.200-08:00A Sweet New Year's EveThis was the first year my kids made it to midnight. They are ten, and I had serious doubts as to whether they were going to make it. But they did. I have to say that I'm the one hitting the wall right now. I sucking down coffee as I type, trying to rejuvenate myself.<br /><br />We started off the evening by going to a 4:45pm movie of The Adventures of Tin-Tin. My plan had been to go to a later movie, but those tricky movie owners scheduled only 3-D movies in the evening, which of course made the price of tickets higher. I was really reticent to go see this movie. We had seen Hugo over Thanksgiving. It was so bad. There's a reason the general public does not talk about Hugo and how good it was. The critics may love it, but it was so boring. I thought I was going to die. I knew we were in trouble with that movie when the first five minutes of the movie had no dialogue-at all. I know what they were doing. I know this was an homage to silent movies, but I felt like I was in a silent movie; and I wanted out. But Tin-Tin was pretty good. I could definitely tell that Stephen Spielberg directed it. It was kind of like Indiana Jones meets cartoons, but it was enjoyable.<br /><br />Then we came home and had a late dinner of tacos. After they took showers, we watched Ryan Seacrest. The problem was that Ryan cut off here in Kansas at 10pm. I know this was because of the delay. Ryan came back at 11:30, but what do I let my 10 year olds watch for the next hour? We went to MTV because Demi Lovato and Selena Gomez were on there. I thought it was ironic that bad boy MTV had two former Disney stars on their show, but I have to hand it to MTV. When their show was on, it was pretty wholesome, at least I felt it was watchable for my ten year olds. But MTV's commercials suck! They were either scary, like advertising for horror movies, or they were vulgar. So I would switch to Fox's NYE program, which actually was the most wholesome show on! At 11pm, we were reduced to watching Animal Planet's "Cute Puppies", and it was pretty darn cute. Finally, midnight inched forward, and we watched as the ball dropped down. Although, my daughter remarked, "Am I the only one who can't see it?" When I pointed on the TV to it, she was very unimpressed. I do agree with her and think that it could be a little more impressive. But maybe its cheesiness is what makes it so American and cherished. Who knows?<br /><br />With ten seconds to go, we counted down, then went outside and banged spoons on pots. They loved it, and it was a sweet reminder to me that the simplest things can be the sweetest.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-1335865387865955352011-12-28T20:35:00.000-08:002011-12-28T20:42:28.465-08:00Good Bye 2011First, 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-74855024278105117502011-12-03T16:25:00.000-08:002011-12-03T16:29:04.050-08:00LivingSo 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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-9144681876681413312011-09-11T11:23:00.001-07:002011-09-11T11:36:18.383-07:009/11Many, 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-16699045996704925202011-09-03T06:38:00.000-07:002011-09-03T06:51:21.297-07:00What a Three WeeksSchool 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.
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<br />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.
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<br />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!
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-3826978720492840652011-08-02T15:34:00.000-07:002011-08-02T15:59:14.213-07:00I Don't Want This Burden AnymoreDo 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-29293037948557851772011-07-31T20:35:00.000-07:002011-07-31T20:43:49.151-07:00Meandering in the QuietJust 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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-27680484949550498242011-07-12T06:50:00.001-07:002011-07-12T07:22:51.476-07:00Eeeek!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UsrmUuKZ0HI/ThxYs2k0EYI/AAAAAAAAADU/koRVQO7KLj4/s1600/Pilliga_Mouse.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 114px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UsrmUuKZ0HI/ThxYs2k0EYI/AAAAAAAAADU/koRVQO7KLj4/s200/Pilliga_Mouse.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628471161893687682" border="0" /></a><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Victory!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-55678674103383452002011-06-27T06:32:00.000-07:002011-06-27T07:02:22.920-07:00If Only, I'd Be<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QhXtzunKKf0/TgiNYwI8SeI/AAAAAAAAADM/OilMvO6Yhn8/s1600/images.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 194px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QhXtzunKKf0/TgiNYwI8SeI/AAAAAAAAADM/OilMvO6Yhn8/s200/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622899591150848482" border="0" /></a><br />I read such an interesting article in <span style="font-style: italic;">O</span> 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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 <span style="font-style: italic;">his</span> 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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-34279178928893580402011-06-10T19:32:00.000-07:002011-06-10T19:42:58.954-07:00Letting Go<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8TqrklyO-3M/TfLUPZb1UKI/AAAAAAAAADE/AClg5pxBCFM/s1600/cupcake_lgl.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8TqrklyO-3M/TfLUPZb1UKI/AAAAAAAAADE/AClg5pxBCFM/s200/cupcake_lgl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616785046275182754" border="0" /></a>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.<br /><br />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?<br /><br />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.<br /><br />How many other women are dealing with this?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-80683033507124394232011-05-31T06:16:00.000-07:002011-05-31T06:20:47.447-07:00WritingGetting 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.<br /><br />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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-38012436418792232032011-05-20T17:57:00.000-07:002011-05-20T18:09:18.899-07:00Sex Ed TalkIt 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!<br /><br />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!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-30696460727792522512011-05-20T17:50:00.000-07:002011-05-20T17:57:38.945-07:00The 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.<br />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.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-10332047543827452512011-03-31T18:36:00.001-07:002011-03-31T18:44:00.947-07:00A SmileToday 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. :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-9616700056723591782011-03-30T15:50:00.000-07:002011-03-30T15:58:16.676-07:00Is 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)!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28353632533262832.post-19786473732649871492011-03-26T12:01:00.000-07:002011-03-26T12:09:00.566-07:00Blah!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BaZCZaOAhkg/TY45xBq7ujI/AAAAAAAAACw/1sIZIT4vPHE/s1600/gray-day.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 162px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BaZCZaOAhkg/TY45xBq7ujI/AAAAAAAAACw/1sIZIT4vPHE/s200/gray-day.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588467702038247986" border="0" /></a><br />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.<br /><br />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!<br /><br />And the Kansas weather! It is gray! And it is spitting snow! Come on, get with the program!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0