So.Much.Anger

Are you like me? Can you forgive someone who hurt you more easily than you can forgive someone who has hurt someone you love?

My good friend Jennifer has had a string of unfortunate events befall her lately. "Unfortunate events" aren't fitting words. Not at all, but I can't find the right ones. When I went to visit her this evening, she said she must have been really horrible in a past life for all this to be happening to her now. I think she was only partly serious; she's not the kind of person to have pity parties for herself, and she's strong, sensible, and pragmatic. She's all these things even as her divorce is finalized and her mother kills herself.

Is unfair the right word? No. Still not right.

She just got over the anger she held for her ex-husband, but now she's dealing with the anger over what her mother did. And she's helping her kids through it, still figuring out how to deal with their father, learning her way as a single-parent and working-mom, and wondering when she'll find love again. That's a lot, no matter how strong, sensible, and practical you are. But I know she'll find her way because she wants to and knows she has to.

While I was at her house, her ex-husband brought the kids home from their weekend. I hadn't seen him in a year and a half, and I wasn't excited to unexpectedly see him tonight. I hardly looked at him and didn't say anything besides a weak, "Hi." I'm so angry at that guy! I know none of us is perfect, but he hurt her. It has nothing to do with me, but I'm still angry and probably always will be because I'll never see him enough to allow him to redeem himself in my eyes. In fact, I don't ever want to see him. Just the thought of him and what he did makes me queasy. I've tried to find some sense of compassion for him, but I got nothin' and that failure only makes me angrier. As I left tonight, I walked past his shiny new Jeep in her driveway and I punched it. I thought it would make me feel better, but it only hurt my hand.

It's all his fault.

Peace, Love, Family

Excitement really is overrated.

I found much delight in all four of us being home today. I did laundry; Brian washed the cars. Elizabeth and I went to the library and ran some errands; Brian and Matthew worked on the bikes, fixed the leaf blower, and hung up some outdoor wreaths. Elizabeth played her violin, and Matthew and Brian lay on the grass and watched the clouds. We all came together for leftovers this evening and had family game night. 

It sort of feels like we lived in a Subaru commercial today.

Thanksgiving in AZ

Our Thanksgivings are traditional in the sense that we have turkey and Grandma comes over, but it's hard to think of it as a holiday when we see her every weekend anyway, our dinner isn't formal or fancy, and it's usually 80 degrees outside. Brian took the kids mountain biking this morning while I got the house in order and prepared our meal. These Arizona Thanksgivings are like none that I had growing up, yet it's all my own kids know. I hope someday they are able to wear cozy sweaters and dine by candlelight surrounded by a whole bunch of family members. Until then, this is what they get.

We didn't even get a group shot at the table because we were so hungry for turkey and the fixings. We did have to wait a whole day, you know. Gee whiz. Sometimes I can't even give my kids Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving.

Thanks a Lot

...I say to the kid at school who gave me pink eye yesterday. Okay, I'm done. There's no place at Thanksgiving for sarcasm. I'm moving on, just like I moved Thanksgiving dinner to tomorrow. I'm thankful Brian found a CVS minute clinic open today, for being the first one in line at 8:15, and for being able to get a flu shot while I was there lest any kids want to share their germs with me again. It could have been worse, and I recognize that. I have my drops and warm compresses, clean sheets and towels, and sanitized doorknobs, light switches, faucets, and handles throughout our house. Hopefully no one else gets it.

It's been a week. On Monday, I experienced my first lockdown as a teacher and then fell in front of a classroom of fourth graders. On Tuesday, I got something out of the PTO freezer at school, stood there to answer a text to my friend, and then startled someone who walked by, thereby making me the creepy stalker girl who hangs out in the custodian's closet. On Wednesday, I helped Matthew's class make caramel apples for their Thanksgiving party. His teacher told me to hold the backs of their hands as they dragged the apples on sticks through the caramel in the crockpot, and, um, I really hope it was that last kid who had pink eye. Then today as I was driving to the clinic, my water bottle leaked and dripped all over my lap.

All those things initially made me want to scream, but the feelings lasted only about three to five minutes. I think I've really improved my perspective lately, and these little things (because they really are little) are starting to make me laugh. Of course you fell after being rattled by the lockdown. Of course that person walks by because you're trying so hard to show you're not crazy. Of course you get pink eye the day you're supposed to cook a big dinner that no one will want to eat or at which no one will want to sit across from you because you look like Sochi Bob Costas.

See? #stilllaughing. Happy Thanksgiving. And tomorrow, too.

Turkey Bowl

Today was the annual Turkey Bowl at the kids' school. It's also known as the day the teachers ride roughshod over the sixth graders. I get it; they have to show the kids who's boss because it's only November. I think they could show a little mercy, but I'm not going to get into it. Again. Instead, I'll share some photos that show how much fun Elizabeth had playing in this year's game, even if her team didn't win. Now there's a good sport!

Six Grade Team Huddle

Elizabeth and her friend Nina

I watched the game with Matthew and his class while his teacher played.

My friend Candi's husband was one of the refs, our principal is from Pittsburgh, my friend Julie's kid is in the red, Matthew's teacher is no. 4, and Elizabeth's first grade teacher is in the orange. Too bad Elizabeth wasn't near the action here!

I was proud of her. She really played!

Who will he throw it to?

Elizabeth made the catch!

But Mrs. Cavanaugh got her. :-(

Then Mrs. Cavanaugh felt bad about it. :-)

And as the Turkey Bowl teaches the kids every year, Elizabeth learned you can't win 'em all.

Songs of the Season

Much to Matthew's chagrin, Elizabeth and I have been playing 1989 in the car non-stop for two weeks. Sometimes we catch him singing along and he angrily exclaims, "Yeah, well it's because of you!" We can't help it; we love her and her music. Today I realized that I'm thirteen years older than Taylor Swift (Really? I would have guessed we were further apart than that.), and Elizabeth is fourteen years younger than her. That doesn't mean anything, really, but I thought maybe it would explain why we both like her. She's right in the middle of two generations? Sure. Okay. Maybe.

What I am certain of is that whenever I hear any of these songs over the course of my lifetime, I will come back to this time of my life. It's the soundtrack of me starting to substitute teach, going back to work, not staying home anymore, and getting back to being me again. One of the songs that she wrote with Ryan Tedder is my favorite. I know. You're all astonishment! At first I didn't like it because the repetitive "I" was off-putting, but it picks up after 40 seconds. That's all I'm going to say about it because I don't know what I'm talking about except that the minor to major change is magical. You just have to feel it. Hang on for 50 seconds. I promise. It's literally Taylor Swift-meets-OneRepublic. What's not to love? Click it and enjoy.

I Know Places

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This

She really did. Because she was a teacher, you know.

I've had bad days. Today wasn't great, either. A few things out of the ordinary happened, yes, but it's important to note that it wasn't as bad as that one day in that disaster of a kindergarten classroom. I'm pretty sure my tires squealed as I left the parking lot at the end of that assignment. Upon arrival, the teacher's desk was such a mess that the drawers were open and would not shut, there were two plastic containers with the remnants of old lunches, and three half-drunk Diet Coke bottles sprinkled around the room. I could find no paperclip container on top of her desk but somehow found enough clips scattered around for all the students' completed assignments. Her students were as organized as she was. They would not shut up and were in my face the entire day. I will never go back, and it's really saying something that that day was worse than today.

On this lovely Monday, I was in one of my favorite classrooms with some of my favorite fourth-grade kids. We were having a good morning until the office announced, "This is a lockdown. This is a lockdown." The kids knew immediately what to do and found their places. I quickly got to the door, made sure it was locked, and did the rest of the stuff I'm supposed to do. Fortunately, I've been to that school enough and have had enough downtime there to completely familiarize myself with the procedures. Still, it was stressful and alarming and, though I held it together, I was admittedly a bit rattled. We quietly sat together on the floor, and after about ten or fifteen minutes I figured it wasn't a drill. I didn't know for certain at the time, but nothing was happening on campus, thankfully; there had been an incident within the neighborhood. As we sat, all accounted for, I just hoped that nothing bad would happen and attempted to calculate how many of those kids I could fit in the cabinets if I had to. I was also hoping that this whole thing would not take long. I kept glancing at that five-gallon bucket in the corner and thinking, Oh. Please, no.

Turns out, it didn't take too long. After 35 minutes, we carried on right where we had left off. Then about an hour later, my heel caught on the carpet and I went down like a ton of bricks. Seriously. The kids were sweet about it: "Are you okay?! Mrs. Nakai!" It felt as though I sat there on the ground for hours, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before I jumped up and started to laugh. "Yes. I'm fine. Wow. I just fell. Well that's a story!" They all laughed and we kept on going. I still crack up thinking about it because it could have been so much worse. I was wearing pants. Hurray! It was in front of this sweet class (as opposed to Elizabeth's class in which case we both would have died of embarrassment right on the spot). Hurray! And I was able to bounce right back up. Hurray! One must always search for the silver linings.

So that was my day in fourth grade which was still better than that day in kindergarten. Good times.

The I'm Not Hungry Anymore Games

Brian's been working on a big project lately, and last night he was at work until 11:30 pm. After I put the kids to bed, I sat down to relax. I should have picked up a book, but instead I flipped through the channels. I noticed that The Hunger Games was on ABC Family, so I figured I'd tune in to see what all the fuss was about.

It was a bad move. Now, I know a lot of people love these books and love these movies. But I have just one question for those people: Why?

I realize I don't think like a lot of people in this world. I'm certainly my own person, and sometimes the way I see things and my beliefs make me an outcast. To that, I say at least I think for myself. I have no problem stepping back from the crowd if I don't believe in something, and The Hunger Games is not something I am able to enjoy or applaud.

At first I was shocked. I'd heard it had something to do with kids killing kids, but I didn't realize that innocent children were being forced to fight to the death with twenty-three other innocent children in a woodland arena for the rest of the country to watch on television. The whole concept is so disturbing that I nearly turned it off after fifteen minutes. However, this Katniss character seemed like a fairly reasonable young woman who recognized what poppycock this tradition is, so I decided to hold out a little longer. I thought that perhaps this book series carries and anti-war theme, and the heroine figures out a way to end the madness. I'd be on board with that, so I gave it a chance.

I looked past the bizarre, Willy Wonka-ness of the Capitol's characters, but their blood-thirsty attitudes, complete disregard for human life, and penchant for violent entertainment was difficult to stomach. I recognized the parallels of the Career Tributes with today's terrorist groups that raise killing machines and the absurdity of it all, so I continued to watch with the hope that this was somehow going to be stopped before it even started. Silly me. There are three books and four movies. How did I think that something wasn't going to happen?

Then it started. And I watched through my hands. Within seconds blood was flying, and three or four kids were dead. It was gruesome and gory, and the only reason I kept watching is because I know that my little Elizabeth read this book. I let her read this book. Why did I let her read this book? I didn't think I'd have to read everything first! We are going to have to talk about this in the morning.

Within minutes, half the kids were already dead, and the other half were walking through the forest in terror. Katniss hiked so far away from all the other kids that the people running the show set a forest fire to either kill her or force her to get closer to her competitors. Huh. So maybe I went too deep with this. Is it more about making a mockery of reality television? Maybe. But I feel like it takes it too far. I admit that I still don't know what it's all about because halfway into it, I'd had enough and turned it off to go to bed. Then I had three or four different nightmares about it, and woke myself up in the middle of the night shaking thousands of imaginary bees off myself.

So yes. I was highly affected by The Hunger Games but not in the love-struck way so many others were. I didn't read the books, but I have a sneaking suspicion that they're on par with those horribly-written Twilight books. Young-adult fiction isn't really my cup of tea, but where I find Twilight laughable I find The Hunger Games absolutely distressing. This is what we've come to. This is what our society deems appropriate for teens and preteens to read. How can that be anything but distressing?

Teacher Appreciation

Since I've started substitute teaching, I've been given several trinkets and tokens from students. A girl gave me a Rainbow Loom bracelet, another girl gave me flowers she picked from a bush during recess, and a little boy gave me a stone. I was touched when a student mentioned me in her "Being Thankful" journal entry yesterday, too. However, my friend Kathy passed on this note to me from one of her band students I had last week, and I may keep it forever.

Sixth grade boys are troublemakers with guilty consciences, I guess.

Good Night, Ladies

It's been a long, fun week, but my body is still not used to this pace. I probably should have worked up to this schedule more gradually; it's a bit like going out and running a marathon cold. What? I must be delirious. It's nothing like a marathon! (Oh, most horrible day, how you haunt me.) Regardless, I'm tired, achy, and my throat hurts. Hope the teacher for whom I'm subbing on Monday doesn't have to find a sub for his sub, because I like him and his class. I just need to relax and take it easy this weekend. Starting now. Good night.

My Baby!

This evening I went to an informational meeting for parents at a junior high we're considering for Elizabeth. It's a small school in the district that offers a rigorous, accelerated program. I think she could do well there, so we'll take a tour and she'll spend a day shadowing a student soon. We'll see how it goes and decide whether or not she will apply.

Last year I took her to the junior high we are zoned for when they had an open house, and Brian took her last week for this year's. I wasn't impressed last year, and he wasn't impressed this year. I've heard it's a good school, but I didn't feel like they did a good job telling us that. The "showcase" didn't tell us much of anything, and I left with more unanswered questions than when I'd arrived. We'll watch for more information on how things work over there with "houses, "blocks," and whatever else we don't even know we don't know.

Tonight, though, I started to feel like this other school might be a better fit for Elizabeth. It's small. The classes would challenge her, but I think she could handle the work. They wear uniforms, but she's fine with that. However, the biggest difference I can see is that the students who attend this school like to learn and like to go to school. Like Elizabeth.

Just yesterday, a teacher said to me, "I'm tired of teaching. It's the same kids doing the same bad things. I'm grateful for kids like your daughter who do what they're supposed to do and you don't have to worry that they'll do something stupid when you turn your back." Well now that I'm subbing and in lots of classrooms, I completely get that. Teachers are forced to spend far too much time disciplining, redirecting, and scolding kids who just don't want to work or be at school. It's frustrating and annoying to teachers, but the hardworking kids are the ones who suffer the most. Why should they lose out on instructional time because their teacher has to deal with the doofus over there? For that reason alone I think Elizabeth would love going to a school with kids who share her ideals.

Unless she gets there and she's the doofus. Well, it could happen. I'm not sure what kind of kids go there, so the best thing to do is check it out and see. I don't listen to hearsay or we might not have ended up at our elementary school. I'm into seeing things for myself, and so is Elizabeth. I came home and told her about it, and she's looking forward to a tour and spending a day there.

On the way home, I had an ugly cry when the realization that my baby girl is headed to junior high soon. Really. I probably should have pulled over. I've known it for a long time, but tonight it really hit me. Hard. She's going to junior high. But she's still so little! How can this be?

Bono Who?

One of my favorite musicians (who isn't even considered a musician by most) covered one of my favorite U2 songs the other night with the help of the Legendary Roots Crew. If you missed it, you shouldn't have.



Jimmy can sub for Bono anytime. He's so money, money, money, money, money, money.

Parental Advisory

I'm a member of our school district's parent advisory panel/committee/board. I can't recall the official name, and it really is nothing impressive. Every school in the district is represented by one parent who attends four meetings facilitated by the superintendent. It's essentially a public relations move for the district because they tell us what's coming up as far as bond elections, overrides, website changes, and more and expect us to pass on the information. I believe for one of the meetings we take a tour of the central kitchen, the site that makes all the meals for all the schools. I'm looking forward to that one because the two meetings so far haven't been very exciting.

This afternoon, the assistant superintendent who is responsible for every single building and parking lot in the school district performed a dog and pony show on all the reasons why an upcoming bond election (in the next year or two) should be passed. None of us was going to argue that roofs, floors, running tracks, air conditioners and more should be replaced at schools that are over twenty years old, but after sitting in that room (in the dark, right after lunch) watching a slideshow presentation on everything from asbestos to asphalt, people, please vote yes on the next bond election. Just do it.

The real entertainment in these meetings are the other attendees. As I sit down, I scan the room and predict who's going to make sure everyone knows they are there. There are always a few. Anyone who's ever been in any meeting knows what I mean. They are the people who are not only more important than you, but they know more about everything than anyone else in the room and their concerns or questions (no matter how specific and/or self-centered they are) should be addressed in front of fifty people rather than discussed one-on-one or through an email. Yes, there was some of that but, thankfully(?), his presentation ran too long for too many questions. Though as soon as he mentioned the word "asbestos" the tension rose and, naturally, one mom practically shouted, "Where? At which schools? What's wrong?" Cases like that prove that it's good the district opts to educate parents as well as children.

These meetings aren't all bad. In fact, I do enjoy going if only to be in the presence of greatness. Our superintendent is one of the most respected women in our state, and as long as she's in charge I wouldn't send my children to any other schools. She knows what she's doing, and she does it well. She's a visionary who's led the district through unprecedented growth over the past twenty years, and before that she spent another twenty years as a teacher, principal, and administrator. She's brilliant in education, business, and diplomacy, and I don't think there's another district in our state in which the school board, administrators, teachers, parents, and students work so well together. They're usually all on the same page, but when they're not they respectfully hash it out to find the best solution. She is one strong leader.

She's also quite a classy lady. I'm not sure how close to retirement she is, but she obviously takes care of herself. She has a sense of humor, and I've heard higher-ups in these meetings joke about "all the vitamins she takes." Her suits are pressed, her hair is smooth, her nails are polished, and today she was wearing the same boots I purchased last week. I rejoiced and was validated.

Nevermind

Our school is still Home. With tonight's last-minute sub line call, I now have three assignments there this week. Tomorrow is my first time as a sixth grade teacher, and I'm going to have Elizabeth for math. I haven't had one of my own kids in class yet, either. Yikes. At least it's just a morning. And I can do it! If I didn't think I could, I would have hit the decline button.

It's a day of firsts. This morning I was a band teacher! It wasn't a big deal. I simply passed out quizzes and worksheets, but it was still a pretty sweet gig and I got to travel to a couple different schools. Plus, the worksheets had everything to do with music, I was able to help a few kids, and that felt good. It was a fun morning.

Sara's growing up.

Second Home

The two schools at which I sub the most are my kids' school and another elementary school about three miles away. These are, without a doubt, my favorite places to spend a day. When I see open assignments online at either school, I snatch them up right away. Unless it's kindergarten. Then I hem and haw and wait until the sub line calls me to see if it's meant to be.

At our school, I'm very familiar with the site so I have no problem finding my way. That's a plus. Another advantage is that teachers sometimes give me the lesson plans ahead of time so that I have as few surprises as possible before I go in. However, there are some disadvantages to subbing at our school.

For one, I don't feel as confident there. That probably sounds strange; out of all the places I go, shouldn't I be most confident at the school my kids have attended for the past seven years? Maybe, but there are genuine reasons why I'm sometimes more nervous walking in there as a substitute than another school that I've never set foot in before. Here, the teachers know me, I know them, and I'm afraid of letting them down. I want to show I am able to keep order in their class and get their students to be as productive as they can be. Outside the classroom, I feel like a spotlight is on our line to lunch or specials. The line-walking part is stressful and difficult everywhere, but I'm particularly self-conscious here about whether the line is straight and if the kids are walking calmly and quietly, because if it's not, well then everyone might think Sara (not just that random lady subbing for ____) is a terrible sub. Another challenge at our school is that I don't feel as respected by the students. They've seen me around a lot, and it's true that I haven't looked very scary; I look like a friendly mom to them more than a strict substitute teacher. Or maybe they're picking up on a she's-scared-too vibe I might be putting off. Who knows? What I do know is that at no other school do everyday teachers scold kids in my line or come into my classroom to tell them to be quiet and listen to me. And both of those situations have occurred at our school. When the teacher next door came into my classroom and shouted at the students, "She counted down! Why are you not sitting quietly yet?," I seriously wanted to kick off my heels and run home. Maybe the teachers are trying to help me out because they know me and they like me. Do they try to help all substitutes in those ways? I wonder. But when those kinds of things happen, it doesn't feel like help. It feels like failure. And I'm not failing at this. I'm finding I'm pretty good at it, and I want people to see that. It's frustrating to think that people I've known for a long time might believe that I can't do this on my own. Then again, they've been doing this for years and years and I've been doing this for six weeks, so I should gratefully accept every bit of assistance they offer for what it probably is--compassion.

So why do I keep going back to our school? Because, most importantly, it's convenient with our family's schedule. Also, I want to have as many chances as I can to prove myself. I figure the more I do it, the more comfortable I will get, and the students will get used to seeing me more as a teacher than as Elizabeth's and Matthew's mom.

Now the other school I like to go to is starting to feel like a second home to me. I'm meeting quite a few people over there, and they are all very friendly and kind. I've found that the staff members at some schools treat subs as second-class citizens, while other schools' staff go out of their way to make subs feel welcome. Which kind of school would you rather go to? It's a no-brainer. Teachers and staff there call me by my first name, invite me to join them at lunch, request me, and recommend me to other teachers. Even staff members I don't know ask me how my day is going while I'm walking through the halls. I feel appreciated by the teachers and respected by the students at that school. I'm more comfortable there than anywhere. I'm glad I found that place. Second home? Maybe I should call it my first home.

Camping Party Round 2

Tonight we celebrated Matthew's birthday with some friends from his class. He wanted a camping party like his sister, but I strongly feel second graders are not ready for sleepovers, especially those that take place in a tent in the backyard. So he accepted the compromise to do everything but the sleeping-over part.They made their own trail mix, ate hot dogs, and ran around like crazy. There was also a campfire, marshmallows, and s'mores of course. Post-party Matthew had a hoarse voice (from so much excited screaming and yelling), and he's so exhausted we just caught him sleepwalking. And right after the party he said, "We forgot to have cake!" I reminded him there was no cake, only s'mores. "I didn't get one!" So yeah, he had such a good time running around with his friends he completely missed the campfire in the middle of the patio. Such an 8 year old boy! Ha!

The big hit of the party was when Brian helped them put together their own marshmallow shooters out of PVC. They had a blast with those, and tomorrow we're going to pick up the hundreds of marshmallows around the yard that the ants haven't gotten to yet.

I'm glad he had a good party with his buddies. We don't have many photos because it's difficult to capture good shots of 7 and 8 year old boys and they require far more supervision, especially around fires, than Elizabeth and her friends. We did our best.

Luke, Eli, Dane, Alex, Jeremy, Andy, Matthew, Grahm

Happy Birthday to Matthew!

What I Learned in School Today

Every day when my kids come home from school, I ask them what they learned. They know I do not accept "nothing," so they always come up with at least one thing to share. Now that I'm back in the classroom, I'm learning again, too. You should see how good I'm getting at remembering my times tables. I really let those get rusty. I mean, my phone's right there and it has a calculator. Sue me! Today we added and subtracted fractions that included whole numbers, and I did okay. It takes a moment (and sometimes a text to Brian while my class is at specials), but it comes back. Then again, there's the stuff that's either new or I don't remember learning at all. Yesterday it was division using partial quotient. Huh? I solved it the old fashion way, found a student who got the same answer as me, and asked him if he would like to demonstrate on the board how he solved that problem. I've obviously also learned several lessons on how to not look like an idiot.

It's not just math. After the Pledge of Allegiance, most older classes recite the Declaration of Independence. I know it, but not the second half. Yet.

Though I use them often, I've been reminded of the definitions of figurative language terms like onomatopoeia, idioms, and hyperbole. Yesterday, a potentially dark moment was made bright through substitute teaching creativity. The classroom phone rang, the office said a student was leaving for the day, I told him to pack up, and about twenty-five kids said to me in rounds, "His homework! Don't forget to give him his homework!" I was walking in that direction and found myself a little insulted that they'd think I'd forget something so critical. So I kindly said, "Everyone. Please calm down. I haven't forgotten his homework. I'm getting there. I don't need seventy-thousand people telling me what to do." Right then a girl said, "You just used hyperbole!" Indeed I did. And let's pretend I did it on purpose.

What else have I learned? Well, there were those science lessons on parallel circuits and magnets and those social studies lessons on China and Canada. The common core reading curriculum is mostly non-fiction so I'm practically an expert on jellyfish, tree kangaroos, manatees, and storms. Today my class had to read TIME for Kids and complete several comprehension worksheets on the articles. I always do the work so I can better assist students who have questions. While reading the magazine, it was pretty cool to learn this fact. It's one of the most interesting things I've learned so far, but how did I never know such a popular trend began at Carnegie Mellon? :-o

Future Design Engineer?

Hmmm. Maybe.

Engineers don't think like the rest of us. I know this is true because I'm married to one. I believe that I may also be a mother to another engineer. This kid uses ordinary things around the house to create leprechaun traps, laptops, and even an alarm for his bedroom door. Probably the funniest thing he uses is my foam roller. Yes, I said my foam roller.

A few months ago, he casually walks into the room and says, "Mom. I'm a Ghostbuster!"

I laughed so hard tears rolled down my face, and then I said what any mother would say. "Don't cross the streams, Matt. That would be bad."

Tonight, he found another use for the roller. He was running up and down the hallway screaming, "I have a jetpack! I have a jetpack!"

You know, he really did seem faster. :-)

With a Little Help from My Friends

That's certainly how I get by. I think most of us do. And during this month of thankfulness (Are people again offering thirty days of platitudinous comments of gratitude on Facebook? Yawn.), I was inspired to sincerely reflect on my friendships. I'm grateful for my family, of course, but we don't pick our families. You get what you get and you're happy with it! Friends, on the other hand, are carefully chosen and mine constantly remind me why I chose them.

My Lori
We met each other in fifth grade in Mrs. Cooper's homeroom. We became friends the first day of school in a class full of slackers, misfits, and class clowns. At least we (two awkward nerds) had each other. We stuck together through high school with hardly ever an argument. If we disagreed, it was sure to be my fault as Lori is above average in every way. She's brilliant; she went to Carnegie Mellon and is now an architect. She's also highly virtuous. Lori knows what matters most, and if a particular viewpoint isn't the popular choice, she takes it anyway. And I follow her because she is good at teaching me what matters most. She's witty. She's funny. I have eight yearbooks that she signed, always mentioning the same inside joke about the horrid bridesmaid dress she would force me to wear at her wedding. I am anxiously waiting for Elizabeth to find her Lori. Until then, I'm paying it forward by trying to be the best Lori for her. Lori and I don't see each other often, but we are still very much in other's lives. We keep in touch in the best of ways--with handwritten notes on birthdays and homemade cookies at Christmas. And that bridesmaid dress was gorgeous.

My Jill
I've known Jill since our daughters were babies. She lived two doors down from us, but I hadn't talked to her until Halloween night 2003. Elizabeth was just a few weeks old and crying uncontrollably just about every evening, including that night. Jill carried Lauren (dressed as an adorable ladybug) to our door and, new mom to new mom, we bonded. I asked her how old her baby was, and when she told me Lauren was five months old I thought to myself, Wow. Five months. She must really know what she's doing by now. Since then, we neighbors (though she's moved--sniff, sniff!) offered each other more than the occasional cup of sugar or spare egg. We've led Girl Scout troops and served on PTO boards together, shared recipes and food, exercised together on Saturday mornings, and now she graciously picks up my kids after school and watches them if I'm working at a school with a later dismissal bell. I've heard Jill say that people come into your life for a reason. I'm pretty sure I came into hers to stress her out, but her calm demeanor, bright outlook, and helpfulness certainly bring a much needed element of tranquility to my life.

My Janette
My friend Janette is always smiling. She's friendly and bubbly and seems to always be in a good mood. She's told me that she's not, but it's hard to picture her angry. On Saturdays she makes us laugh at workout sessions, brightens the conversation over coffee, and because she's a few years younger than us, makes us feel like we're not so old. Early thirties? Kids in preschool? That wasn't so long ago.

My Aimee
If ever there was someone who could be my sister, it's Aimee. Though we have a few differences (politics, religion, guns--okay we have major differences but we never talk about those!), we are oddly similar in so many ways. At school, people confuse us on just about a daily basis. It's okay; we're used to it. And if I was going to be confused with anyone, I'd want it to be Aimee. And maybe Jennifer Garner. I digress. Aimee and I have seen each other at our absolute worst, yet we still care for and love each other. In fact, we know so much about each other that sometimes we have to speak in code around others. As a result, we've developed clever nicknames for nearly all our mutual acquaintances. She's there for me when I'm low--texting, calling, or showing up with chocolate, wine, advice, or just a shoulder to cry on. She's also there to cheer me on and celebrate my highs. She's my soul sister.

My Kathy
Kathy loves fun and games, and she's the one who proves there's nothing wrong with a little silliness. Who else can crack me up at 11:30 pm on a dark, chilly night in the desert when I'm waiting to run 7.5 miles in less than one hour? I will never forget the moment we were lying in the tent giggling like preteens at the absurdity of Ragnar Trail. She's just about the most fun person I know, and reminds me that you don't have to take everything so seriously. When something's not going her way, she pauses to ask herself, "What's the worst that can happen?" I've found that remarkably helpful for finding perspective. She's also a talented and accomplished musician, and I have a lot of respect for her hard work and admire her for passing along her passion to those she teaches.

My Candi
I will never cross Candi. I always want her in my corner. She is one tough broad, but when push comes to shove, every punch she's thrown (honestly!) or harsh word she's spoken has been out of love. She's no bully. She's the one who will stand up to the bully and fight for the people she cares about. There's a lot of love in her heart.

My Jennifer
Jennifer is another close friend I made when it felt like I could relate to no one else. Among the MOMS Club crowd, Jennifer and I were most definitely the black sheep. After awhile, we cut our losses and got the heck outta dodge. Together. MOMS Club served its purpose; it gave me Jennifer. A therapist and social worker by trade, she helps me see things in clearer ways, and she gets my mind to places it probably never could get to without her guidance and insights. She's also very influential, for better or worse. "Let's walk a half marathon!" "Let's do the 3-Day!" "Let's do triathlons!" Okay. Okay. Okay. She believes in me when I don't, talks me down when I'm distressed, and gets on her hands and knees to help me pick up the pieces when I crash and burn. Because of her, I do what I should after first asking myself, WWJD?

My Holli
If you have a lot of work that needs to be done right, call Holli. If you win tickets to a concert that starts in an hour and is forty-five minutes away, call Holli. She'll do anything to help you, and she'll also drop everything to go have fun with you. She's that perfect blend of no-nonsense and nonsense, and I love it. No one can get a ton of work accomplished and have as much fun doing it as Holli can. She and her family are moving to Wisconsin at the end of this school year, and words can't express how devastated all her friends here are. I think we're going to make like Holli by working hard to throw her an awesome going-away party.

My Susan
Though I've seen her angry once, there isn't much that upsets my friend Susan. She's unflappable and as cool as a cucumber in the worst of situations, which is really a plus in her line of work--teaching special education students. She's the teacher who signed up for this for all the right reasons. Fifteen or twenty years later, the work is harder, the hours are longer, yet she's still doing it for no one but her students. She cares. She also has peace running through her veins. She not only looks like a yoga teacher, but she adds that same sense of serenity to any conversation, and if you're looking for a bright side, Susan will show it to you. She sees the good in everything and everyone.

My Julie
If I could be anyone in mind, body, and spirit, it's Julie. Alas she is one of a kind, but she's an inspiration. Though an avid runner who comes in first a lot, she usually puts herself last. She's quite honestly the most selfless person I know, and yet she is sincerely content. She and her family are the epitome of happiness and love. They show that togetherness may not always be easy, but the challenge is definitely worth it. Julie has a very nurturing presence and always seems to know exactly what to say to someone whether they are in a state of triumph or despair. If that's not enough, her flexibility and her ability to adapt to change (whether gradual or sudden) is off the charts. Simply said, Julie makes me and everyone around her want to be a better person.

I realize I'm fortunate to have such great friends and such solid friendships. For that, I am thankful.

Joined the Club(s)

Brian and Sara finally grew up! We joined some exclusive clubs and feel that we've finally arrived. It's almost like when we got smartphones a whopping five years after everyone else got theirs. I don't text. Please stop texting me. It costs me eight cents every time you write, "K". We are obviously not early adopters, but we are catching up.

Last month, before our trip to Durango, we finally joined REI. It's not far away from us, but REI isn't around the corner, either. We've been meaning to join for years, and it was like a bucket list item to join before we turned 40. Well Brian's 39th birthday is next month, so you could say we're ahead of schedule. We joined so that he could buy the GoPro there because of the dividends. Always thinking, that guy.

The next club we signed with is even more exciting, so you might want to sit down for this. We are Costco members now! It's like I dream, I know. This weekend, Elizabeth and I went for the first time. We went around 10:15 so we'd beat the Saturday crowds. Holy moly! We didn't beat them. The parking lot was scary, and once inside we tried to stay out of everyone's way. I think next time I'll go during the week when I have a day off.  We didn't even get anything fun, and our bill still came to $235. At least we are well stocked with our staples like three beef roasts, two pork tenderloins, frozen fish, five pounds of baby carrots, three pounds of cherry tomatoes, spring mix greens, hummus, bread, maple syrup, and nuts. Hopefully I won't have to go to the grocery store as often now.

Next up? Maybe Netflix.

Manic Math

It's not news to say that I don't enjoy math. My brain is wired more for reading and writing rather than numbers and their concepts, and the first time I substitute taught at my kids' school I learned the hard way that, when possible, I need to ask for a copy of these math lessons ahead of time.

Their day begins with Saxon Math right away, and these eight-page scripted lessons intimidate the heck out of me. I made it through that first second-grade lesson, but it was very stressful. So now I like to be prepared. Yesterday afternoon I read through the fourth grade lesson I will teach today, and let's just say it's in everyone's best interest that I get a handle on it before going into the classroom. Because reading this for the first time at 7:30 and having to teach it at 8:15 is no way to start a day.

So Ashamed

For the past week, I've been disappointed in myself and my attitude. Yet, I still kept feeling the way I was feeling. I tried hard to pinpoint why and also how to get over it, but it wasn't working. Then all my emotions came to a head on Thursday evening, and I realized what I was so upset about. And I finally got over it. Well, I got over myself. See? Shame!

You see, there's this lady at school. She has a lot of ideas. She has a lot of big ideas. She's always pitching them to PTO, yet she doesn't want to help in any way because she's too busy. Additionally, she criticizes and offers after-the-fact input on nearly every one of PTO's projects. But again, she simply talks. She never offers the suggestions beforehand or offers her support for the next time. To her, it's just so obvious that PTO should do this or should have done that, and she can't understand why it isn't done or why it wasn't done. She might as well follow up every comment with, "Duh. It's so easy, PTO."

After talking with the PTO president last year and getting nowhere on her fabulous fundraising idea, she went directly to the principal. He, naturally, told her to talk to PTO. So she did again but this time she said she'd do all the work. She offered to organize the entire event with the help of the school's Red Hats (the service club that consists of about twenty sixth graders). The event was a food truck festival in the school's parking lot. The school would get a cut of the trucks' proceeds and there would be a raffle, too. She had "tons of food truck connections" so she'd schedule the trucks, do the promotion, and even gather the donations for the raffle baskets. All PTO would need to do is buy water and sell it.

It all sounds great, right? It does. Except that I wanted to see her sweat (literally). I wanted her to understand that it's not easy. I wanted her to see that it takes a lot of hands and it's difficult to find those hands, that there are a lot of steps, a lot to think about, and that it takes a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. I also wanted it to be a big flop. And that's where the shame really comes in.

Anytime I organized an event, I was there all day long setting things up. Yet when I was leaving school at 3:10 on Thursday after having spent an entire day with first graders, she was just walking in to start setting up for the 5:00-8:00 event. Adding to my annoyance is that I looked harried and frazzled, yet she looked so fancy in her leggings, long sweater, boots, perfectly coiffed hair, and full make-up. An hour later, I showed up with my daughter (a Red Hat) and two coolers full of water and ice. The organizer was greeting food trucks while the Red Hats were dragging out tables, the DJ was setting up his sound system, and two other PTO ladies were organizing the water station. She still looked perfect because she hadn't lifted a finger. And I was so angry about it. I dropped off the stuff, left Elizabeth to work, and went home.

Matthew and I arrived shortly after five o'clock. There were four trucks and a lot of people. Darn it. People came. I should have added, Including you, Sara. So Matthew and I ordered our food, sat down, and calmly ate together and with our friends. Then he played on the playground, and I still got to sit there with my friends. Brian arrived, and he and Elizabeth had their dinner at our table. It was looking like it would be a profitable school event and, for the first time in six years, our whole family was able to enjoy it together.

Why? Because the Red Hats were working hard selling raffle tickets, some other PTO ladies were selling the water, and the food trucks were doing their own thing to feed the masses. More and more people came. More and more food and raffle tickets were sold. More and more money was made for the school. The lady had done it!

And there it was. She had succeeded where I could not. She promoted and delegated. She didn't lose her head--at least as far as I know--and she had no problem bossing people around and getting them to work for her. I had a no one-needs-you-anymore-Sara feeling and almost got swept away in that boo-hoo moment. Sara? No one needs her. But luckily, that moment was short-lived. Why? Because the only reason I had done it before was because no one else would. So I am more than happy to pass the torch.

Take it away and run with it. Please! And while you do, I'll relax over here with my family and friends. Happily from now on.

Cub Scout Pow Wow

Matthew and Brian spent the day at a Boy Scout camp at the base of South Mountain. They left around 7 am and didn't get home until 4 pm. Matthew had a blast, and Brian said it was a worthwhile day outdoors. Brian's dad is an Eagle Scout so he enjoys hearing about their scouting adventures and seeing the photos. These are for you, Bob!

Matthew learned how to set a cotton ball on fire using a flint stick.

There was a blacksmith demonstration.

They shot BB guns...

and he didn't shoot his eye out.

They learned about Native American culture.

There was a self-defense class, too.

Matthew and the kids from his den--Francisco, Alex, and Garrett.

Requisite silly photo.

He learned how to use a compass properly.

And tried archery for the first time!

More guns.

Finally, they respectfully retired some flags.

He said his day was a lot of fun. I think all this is good for him, and I'm glad he and Brian are spending some quality time together.

Forever Plaid

This will sound like I have nothing to write about, but the truth is there are so many things swirling around in my head right now that I could probably write five posts. The reason I'm not is because I'm so tired. Maybe over the weekend I will have some time to sort out my thoughts.

In the meantime, I was really happy to wear a plaid shirt today. I don't think I've worn plaid since the 90s, and even though it's been back for awhile.... Well, you know me. I'm always late to parties. I was happy to be more comfortable on this Friday, and I hope plaid is back forever. Because forever plaid is way better than forever twenty-one. Ick.

Matthew Is Eight!

It was Matthew's big day today. On the way to school this morning, he and I stopped at the donut shop to get donut holes to share with his class. Then his super fun teacher spun him around eight times in her swivel chair, his music teacher gave him candy, and luck would have it that he had a short homework assignment that took less than three minutes to complete. It was a happy birthday, indeed.

We didn't go out to dinner because there was a food truck festival fundraiser at school. Since he wrote a song about hamburgers in food trucks last year, this event was perfectly timed. He enjoyed a burrito but was so full we had to save the ice cream dessert for tomorrow. His birthday will continue!

He did open his presents after his shower tonight, though. He wanted a science experiment kit and a microscope. Santa may pull through on the microscope, but Matthew's science laboratory should be up and running this weekend.

Tonight as I tucked him into bed he asked, "I'm not too old for Barnaby, am I?" Barnaby is his stuffed dog. I told him he wasn't and that he could hug Barnaby at night for as long as he wanted. Then we cuddled, he thanked me for a good birthday, and I started to cry happy and grateful tears. I'm so glad he's mine.

A Birthday Surprise

Tomorrow is Matthew's eighth birthday. For his birthday celebration at school, he's taking enough donut holes for each of his classmates to have three. That's reasonable, right? I thought so, but it's just about the polar opposite of the celebration a mom brought for her son in my class today. There were cupcakes, Minute Made bottles of juice for everyone, a huge mylar balloon bouquet, and a treat bag filled with chips and candy for each child to take home. I'd never seen treats like that before, and this was at a Title 1 school. It very well may be true that those who have the least are the most generous.

Decisions, Decisions

I took the day off today. GiGi needed some groceries, and I had some things to do around the house. Only GiGi called and said it could wait until next week, so after my chores I went clothes shopping. For myself.

It's getting cooler, and my work clothes consist mainly of sundresses. Hello? It's November! Though I need only half a wardrobe (because, yes, I do wear outfits twice in one week if I'm at different schools!), I did need some warmer and more seasonal options, so I headed to Old Navy to score some deals.

Afterwards, I went to DSW because I wanted to see if I could pull off boots. At first I was overwhelmed. Then I was afraid to try any on because I was wearing shorts and I knew I was going to look foolish. I got over that and then didn't know what the boots were supposed to look like so I kept taking photos and sending them to my fashionable (and honest!) friend Jennifer. She did her best from afar, but I was having no luck. Even a random lady in the store (to whom I had said, "This is worse than swimsuit shopping," and she commiserated), told me the boots I had on looked too clunky. When other people wear boots, they aren't so "baggy" in the calves. What gives?

So after trying on maybe fifteen styles, I finally purchased a pair of boots. I have to get some tights and try them on with some of my outfits before I decide whether or not they stay and also whether or not I'm a boot person. We shall see.

Happy Meal

I never, ever go to McDonald's. Wait. I take that back. I go twice a year. I go once in March to get a Shamrock Shake. Yes, I've read the nutritional information, but I rarely consume the whole thing in one sitting. It has to be a really bad year for that to happen. The second time we go is when the kids' school hosts a fundraising night. However, we go for ice cream because I cannot feed my family such crap food.

In any case and despite the title, this post has nothing to do with McDonald's Happy Meals. By happy meal, I was referring to my creation tonight--shrimp cilantro.

Looks good, huh? It was good. And no, the kids didn't eat it as it was much too colorful for their bland palates. So why was the meal so happy already, Sara?

Because of this pepper. It is so happy!

I felt kind of awful slicing him up, but then I remembered he was already dead. And I strongly feel he would have wanted it this way. You lived a good life, buddy, and you really spiced up our dinner. Cheers to you!

On the Same Page Now

Finally. The rest of the world is waking up and realizing what Elizabeth, I, and millions of preteen girls have known for years. Taylor Swift is awesome.



I know. She's young, pretty, very skinny, and blond so haters are gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. But what they can't deny is that she is a serious artist. When she first arrived on the scene, I didn't think she'd still be around today. Wow. She writes her own songs? But she's fifteen! How does she know anything about anything? What does she know about love and loss? But she somehow knew and was really good at capturing those emotions and setting them to music. Then her second time around was even better than the first and I thought, She must have really good producers. Then she kept getting better. Then she was her own producer. And when Speak Now and Red were released, Elizabeth and I were hooked for life.

Say what you want about her acting ability, her appearance, and her boyfriends and breakups, but don't try to convince me she's not good at songwriting. Because she is. If that was my job, I'd want to write like she does. Years ago, I sat down to write a song because I thought I could. I did it, too. I wrote lyrics for a whole song--four verses, a chorus, even a bridge. It's tied up in a lovely little package in my head, and I think it would make a good Taylor Swift song. Maybe I should send it to her so she can turn it into gold. Or platinum. Does she accept lyrics? From her fans' moms? Doubtful. But maybe. Now where did I put that? Nah, I kid.

In any case, I hope you're enjoying her new album as much as we are. Because you like her. You friggin' love her!

Saturday Night Service

Elizabeth participates in her school's Red Hats. It's a service-based group of great kids sponsored by one of my favorite teachers at the school. They do the morning announcements, help out at school events, coordinate food drives, help younger kids during lunch, and serve their community outside of school. They also wear red ball caps. :-)

Tonight, the Red Hats went to Feed My Starving Children in Tempe, an organization that has adults and children hand-packing meals to feed the world's malnourished children. I went along, too, and it was a fulfilling way to spend a Saturday evening with my daughter.

Shayne, Preston, Elizabeth, Melissa, Marissa, Abryanna, Sophia, Aliyah

Of course the evening starts with a video explaining their mission and tugging at your heartstrings with photos of hungry children throughout the world. Like when we went to the food bank a few months ago, again we were reminded how fortunate we are to have three meals a day plus snacks. It was emotional and I couldn't hold back the tears any longer when they shared the story of an 8-year-old boy who weighed 19 pounds. After just six months of eating these meals, he reached a healthy weight and looked like a normal, happy boy. Like Matthew. It didn't make me feel guilty, but it's good to be reminded every once in a while of how fortunate we really are. We shouldn't take so much for granted.

Our job tonight was to pack bags of manna rice (rice fortified with protein and dehydrated vegetables). Our group started slow, but we got the hang of it and fell into a rhythm. Two boys scooped the four ingredients into a funnel. Elizabeth and I held the bags under the funnel and weighed them. The computer teacher sealed the bag, and then another third-grade teacher packed the bags, 36 to a box. Our group finished 13 boxes, and all the stations in our two-hour session packed an impressive 98 boxes.

We had a blast working together and doing good. We're looking forward to going back, maybe with Red Hats, maybe with Girl Scouts, or maybe just on our own. It was rewarding and inspiring work.