Saturday mornings, oh ... how I loathe you.
I know what you are all thinking ... WTF?
Need I explain ... two toddlers. Four (yes, in my "blogdom" absence ... Max turned four) and two. Do they understand SATURDAY MORNING? Ofcourse not. They still want waffles or MickeyMouse Clubhouse at 5:42am whether mummy has to go to work or not.
I am a working mum, so Saturday is my day to get stuff done. You know, cleaning, washing, magic eraser-ing crayon from walls, finding missing socks, bank, post office, groceries, mow the lawn, rake leaves, persuade a toddler to take a nap, read War and Peace ... all in a day's work. Now I know I do not have to explain my next statement ...
I am heard before seen at the grocery store.
I am that cart that takes up the entire aisle with two scrambling "hanging out the side there are no limbs inside this vehicle" toddlers because the straps on the funky car cart are broken. I am the cart with excessive amounts of frozen waffles, string cheese, mandarin oranges, apple juice, and coffee. I am the cart that can be heard two aisles away as my children fight over the car cart's seats. I am that mum who you might hear threatening their loud children that they will leave if they do not behave, yet I know I really won't because I NEED GROCERIES because dry pasta and one month old cereal in the pantry will not cut it. I am the mum who hands her children each the largest bagel she can find in the coffee bar at Wegman's and hold her large coffee in hand as she tries to set a new record on shopping in the time it takes a toddler to eat a bagel.
DISCLAIMER - I have had to go back for more bagels before. I'm just sayin'.
Errand running with children is my worst weekend nightmare. It used to be so much easier when they were immobile, slept in the Moby, allowed me to enjoy my coffee instead of spill my coffee. Now it is as though Dennis the Menace has left Mr. Wilson behind and found me to be easier prey. I know it will get better. They'll stay by my side someday instead of trying to take out the entire spaghetti sauce collection.
Today after school, before picking up the boys, I left at 3:11pm. I went to Dick's Sporting Goods to buy a t-shirt for Spirit Day tomorrow, picked up a VENTI Salted Caramel Mocha Frappuccino from the 'bucks, went to Party City for a few door decorating supplies, filled the car up with gas, and sent a package at the post office. By the time I was leaving the post office, it was 4:13pm.
Un-freakin'-believable.
Then I got my children.
October 4th, 2013
My Little Picasso's
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
for the daddy's
When I was growing up, I always needed help with my math homework. I always did better in math than anything else, until I got to high school. Then it got really hard. It surely helped to have a man in the house with a degree in mathematics. That would be my dad. He was an engineer by trade, but truly it's all math isn't it? My dad could solve anything with the quadratic equation. Anything. I would tell him that we didn't learn what I was doing that way, but he did solve anything with the quadratic equation.
Last week these memories came rushing back to me. When I needed math help, I always stood or sat on the floor next to my dad as he sat in his armchair doing his own work. Even though my dad worked very long hours and traveled to all 6 "livable" continents, he always had work to do at home. He would stop no matter what he was doing to help my sister or I with our math homework. I can tell you I needed help much more often than my sister. As my dad helped me with my work, he would often be watching old movies. (So, maybe they weren't so old, but old to me.) One of those favorites was "The Sting." Always had a crush on Robert Redford after seeing it for the first time. The other night I re-watched "The Sting" as I stayed up late writing lesson plans, grading homework assignments, making PowerPoint presentations, etc.
I have some very fond memories with my dad. I can remember him mowing the grass as I grew up and he would ask me to run to the fridge to get him a beer. I often took a sip without him knowing! There is a photo that sticks out in my mind; he is riding behind me on the Carousel at Disneyland when I was likely only 4 years old. Saturday mornings we would go to Hechinger's together to get supplies for his DIY projects. My dad to this day does amazing woodwork. I would tell him my throat hurt and I needed a hot chocolate or ice cream sundae from the McDonald's. He saw me be a silly teenage girl and put up with my long late phone calls and crushes on the New Kids on the Block. When he won his Saturday golf match, my sister and I got part of the cut. He won often! My dad was often a man of few words, but he would do anything for me.
I know Michael followed his dad around like a puppy as he grew up. He was his dad's shadow. That's why he had his father as his best man in our wedding. Because my father-in-law is my husband's best friend. John Walizer taught my husband how to golf, how to hold the door for a woman, how to be grateful. Michael would tell me that he and his brother's would work outside with their dad as the radio played. John would ask what a song was called or who sang it and it was a contest of who could get it first. John taught his boys to work hard. He taught them to manage their money. He raised them on Penn State Football and summer golf leagues.
Now I am beginning to see these same relationships build between Michael and Max and Charlie. When Michael is home on a weekend day, Max is his shadow. They cut the grass, wash the cars, do projects, watch football, everything together. It is an inseparable moment. You can often hear Max telling Michael, "You're my best friend." It's heart melting.
I am not quite sure where this very "Father's Day"entry is coming from? It might simply be that I now work with older students who are already Daddy's themselves. I have a health class in my room each morning where they are learning about being parents. The scary part is that some of them will be parents before they ever imagined or planned. I hope they have as memorable or as impressionable relationships as fathers that I had with mine, that my husband had with his, that my children have with their's.
September 17th, 2013
Last week these memories came rushing back to me. When I needed math help, I always stood or sat on the floor next to my dad as he sat in his armchair doing his own work. Even though my dad worked very long hours and traveled to all 6 "livable" continents, he always had work to do at home. He would stop no matter what he was doing to help my sister or I with our math homework. I can tell you I needed help much more often than my sister. As my dad helped me with my work, he would often be watching old movies. (So, maybe they weren't so old, but old to me.) One of those favorites was "The Sting." Always had a crush on Robert Redford after seeing it for the first time. The other night I re-watched "The Sting" as I stayed up late writing lesson plans, grading homework assignments, making PowerPoint presentations, etc.
I have some very fond memories with my dad. I can remember him mowing the grass as I grew up and he would ask me to run to the fridge to get him a beer. I often took a sip without him knowing! There is a photo that sticks out in my mind; he is riding behind me on the Carousel at Disneyland when I was likely only 4 years old. Saturday mornings we would go to Hechinger's together to get supplies for his DIY projects. My dad to this day does amazing woodwork. I would tell him my throat hurt and I needed a hot chocolate or ice cream sundae from the McDonald's. He saw me be a silly teenage girl and put up with my long late phone calls and crushes on the New Kids on the Block. When he won his Saturday golf match, my sister and I got part of the cut. He won often! My dad was often a man of few words, but he would do anything for me.
I know Michael followed his dad around like a puppy as he grew up. He was his dad's shadow. That's why he had his father as his best man in our wedding. Because my father-in-law is my husband's best friend. John Walizer taught my husband how to golf, how to hold the door for a woman, how to be grateful. Michael would tell me that he and his brother's would work outside with their dad as the radio played. John would ask what a song was called or who sang it and it was a contest of who could get it first. John taught his boys to work hard. He taught them to manage their money. He raised them on Penn State Football and summer golf leagues.
Now I am beginning to see these same relationships build between Michael and Max and Charlie. When Michael is home on a weekend day, Max is his shadow. They cut the grass, wash the cars, do projects, watch football, everything together. It is an inseparable moment. You can often hear Max telling Michael, "You're my best friend." It's heart melting.
I am not quite sure where this very "Father's Day"entry is coming from? It might simply be that I now work with older students who are already Daddy's themselves. I have a health class in my room each morning where they are learning about being parents. The scary part is that some of them will be parents before they ever imagined or planned. I hope they have as memorable or as impressionable relationships as fathers that I had with mine, that my husband had with his, that my children have with their's.
September 17th, 2013
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Let's call this one "A Teachable Moment"
School began again this past week. I only have 21 more first days of school until I can retire. Actually I can retire whenever I want, yet after this past week and the occurrence of a specific event, I do not see myself retiring for quite some time.
It was hectic. I did not have near as much coffee as I needed. Students showed up. Students skipped class. Students spoke when I spoke. They didn't raise their hands. I got frustrated. I missed my children. My alarm clock still works. Girls wore their shirts too low. Boys wore their pants too low. I handed out textbooks. I reviewed French numbers. I had my first taste of a week at high school ... as a teacher. All in a day's work. Nothing new.
However something new did happen this week that I am not used to at all. I heard a "thank you." A true honest heart felt thank you, from a parent.
As I pulled into a gas station after school, I noticed a previous student in a car with a parent. I drove in, not really noticing much else. Before I knew it, as I pumped gas, this parent had turned round, pulled back into the gas station, got out of his car, came over to me, and introduced himself as a student's parent. This student, we'll call him T, I have known since he was in 6th grade. Supposedly, T talked about me all the time last year and now that I got moved to the high school with all the freshmen, the talk continues. T's father stood there, telling me this, and I just wanted to cry. This was one of the moments I had heard of before. The moment when you hear that what you did on a daily basis mattered to someone. T listened to me and still listens to me. He valued me. He valued what I was trying to do for these kids, for him and all his friends.
T has three older siblings. Unfortunately they have all taken Spanish instead of French, but I still know them all. This family of brothers and sisters are a few of the best I have had. They are some of the most polite, dedicated, respectful, and just nice kids I have known in my 9 years of teaching at Susquehanna Township School District. I can truly say I love them all dearly. As I said to T's father, I hope my boys end up like his boys, and I truly mean that.
This very short few minutes of conversation I had with T's father, with his sister there, made my year. I felt so appreciated. I felt so loved. I felt so accepted. T's father thanked me for what I did. He said I must be doing something right. I had made an impression.
I was the student that moment. I listened and I learned that I was doing something right.
September 1, 2013
It was hectic. I did not have near as much coffee as I needed. Students showed up. Students skipped class. Students spoke when I spoke. They didn't raise their hands. I got frustrated. I missed my children. My alarm clock still works. Girls wore their shirts too low. Boys wore their pants too low. I handed out textbooks. I reviewed French numbers. I had my first taste of a week at high school ... as a teacher. All in a day's work. Nothing new.
However something new did happen this week that I am not used to at all. I heard a "thank you." A true honest heart felt thank you, from a parent.
As I pulled into a gas station after school, I noticed a previous student in a car with a parent. I drove in, not really noticing much else. Before I knew it, as I pumped gas, this parent had turned round, pulled back into the gas station, got out of his car, came over to me, and introduced himself as a student's parent. This student, we'll call him T, I have known since he was in 6th grade. Supposedly, T talked about me all the time last year and now that I got moved to the high school with all the freshmen, the talk continues. T's father stood there, telling me this, and I just wanted to cry. This was one of the moments I had heard of before. The moment when you hear that what you did on a daily basis mattered to someone. T listened to me and still listens to me. He valued me. He valued what I was trying to do for these kids, for him and all his friends.
T has three older siblings. Unfortunately they have all taken Spanish instead of French, but I still know them all. This family of brothers and sisters are a few of the best I have had. They are some of the most polite, dedicated, respectful, and just nice kids I have known in my 9 years of teaching at Susquehanna Township School District. I can truly say I love them all dearly. As I said to T's father, I hope my boys end up like his boys, and I truly mean that.
This very short few minutes of conversation I had with T's father, with his sister there, made my year. I felt so appreciated. I felt so loved. I felt so accepted. T's father thanked me for what I did. He said I must be doing something right. I had made an impression.
I was the student that moment. I listened and I learned that I was doing something right.
September 1, 2013
Friday, August 30, 2013
10 years later ...
Ten years ago today, I married my love. The day began with rain, tears of joy from heaven. The day ended with lots of laughs, a few tears, the wrong cake, many drinks, family and friends, and a future to build.
Why do I love Michael:
10. He has this very canny way of turning tantrum children into happy children.
9. He knows that I like my coffee black and he saves all the folded over potato chips or Doritos for me.
8. He appreciates my profession. He thinks I am amazing for what I do every day in a classroom.
7. He tells me I am beautiful.
6. He just brought me these:
Why do I love Michael:
10. He has this very canny way of turning tantrum children into happy children.
9. He knows that I like my coffee black and he saves all the folded over potato chips or Doritos for me.
8. He appreciates my profession. He thinks I am amazing for what I do every day in a classroom.
7. He tells me I am beautiful.
6. He just brought me these:
5. He says thank you for dinner. He'll remember to start the dishwasher at night. He washes my car.
4. When I am stressed, he'll bring me wine.
3. He works hard. He works really hard. And do you know who he works really hard for? His children and me.
2. When we disagree we still love each other.
1. Because God meant me to love him.
August 30th, 2013
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Go to your room ...
Do not pass go.
Do not collect 200 dollars or a juice box from the fridge.
Do you need to go potty? Don't lie to me. Do you need to go. Go potty, then go in your room. Do not come out of your room until I come get you.
Do you need a diaper? Are you wet? Did you poop? Go to your room. (F&$%, this is when I realize that Charlie still sleeps in a crib and I have to lift him into this crib.) Here's a book. I'm not happy with you, Charlie.
Max go to your room. Do not come out. Here's a book. Take a rest. I'm not happy with you, Max.
Now, that I am in my basement, let me tell you what has happened. I have discovered my children's monster identities. The Tazmanian Devil, Chip and Dale, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, and Veruca Salt, Nellie Olsen, and Randy from "A Christmas Story" all rolled up together in two magnificent packages. I was going to pull my hair out ... before they actually did.
Max
Max whines.
Max stands at the top of the staircase whining and pleading to be picked up BECAUSE he doesn't want to walk down the stairs.
Max will push Charlie out of the way so he can get to me and be closer to me. Physically closer.
Max believes the answer to everything is NO. Just ... NO.
Charlie
Charlie screams ... whenever he wants. 6:13am as we wake up ... he screams.
He hits. "nice touches Charlie." Hits.
He wants the car keys.
He wants to turn the car on.
He doesn't want to get in his car seat.
He will kick, push, scream, thrash about, holler, cry, bend, twist, launch himself across the car to get out of his car seat.
So ... today I had it and they knew it. And I blessedly had almost an hour to myself. And for the rest of the day, all I had to say was "room" and they stopped.
They are slowly growing up, hopefully sooner than later when it comes to their maturity(for their age ofcourse). But my little men are still my little men. If I ever want to snuggle up to Max in bed, he won't kick me out. If Charlie wants to wrestle on the floor, I'll always let him win. I still struggle to be the tough mum, yet laying down the the law today felt pretty damn good.
Do not collect 200 dollars or a juice box from the fridge.
Do you need to go potty? Don't lie to me. Do you need to go. Go potty, then go in your room. Do not come out of your room until I come get you.
Do you need a diaper? Are you wet? Did you poop? Go to your room. (F&$%, this is when I realize that Charlie still sleeps in a crib and I have to lift him into this crib.) Here's a book. I'm not happy with you, Charlie.
Max go to your room. Do not come out. Here's a book. Take a rest. I'm not happy with you, Max.
Now, that I am in my basement, let me tell you what has happened. I have discovered my children's monster identities. The Tazmanian Devil, Chip and Dale, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, and Veruca Salt, Nellie Olsen, and Randy from "A Christmas Story" all rolled up together in two magnificent packages. I was going to pull my hair out ... before they actually did.
Max
Max whines.
Max stands at the top of the staircase whining and pleading to be picked up BECAUSE he doesn't want to walk down the stairs.
Max will push Charlie out of the way so he can get to me and be closer to me. Physically closer.
Max believes the answer to everything is NO. Just ... NO.
Charlie
Charlie screams ... whenever he wants. 6:13am as we wake up ... he screams.
He hits. "nice touches Charlie." Hits.
He wants the car keys.
He wants to turn the car on.
He doesn't want to get in his car seat.
He will kick, push, scream, thrash about, holler, cry, bend, twist, launch himself across the car to get out of his car seat.
So ... today I had it and they knew it. And I blessedly had almost an hour to myself. And for the rest of the day, all I had to say was "room" and they stopped.
They are slowly growing up, hopefully sooner than later when it comes to their maturity(for their age ofcourse). But my little men are still my little men. If I ever want to snuggle up to Max in bed, he won't kick me out. If Charlie wants to wrestle on the floor, I'll always let him win. I still struggle to be the tough mum, yet laying down the the law today felt pretty damn good.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
get to know your surroundings
I have lived in Hershey, Pennsylvania for just over a month now. I am slowly learning the back roads, where the closest Starbucks is, NOT to even venture down HersheyPark Drive during a weekend or concert night (unless I want the kids to nap in the car), and that it can smell like chocolate one day and sewage the next.
It is fun to say I live in Hershey. My husband works for Hershey. My kids attend the U-Gro center in Hershey and we now live in Hershey. Our church is right here. I am starting to recognize people when I go out.
My new house gives me such joy. The boys love the back yard and I love walking our little streets, searching for cicadas.
So today I got to know something else nearby. Max, Charlie, and I ventured out to the nearest farm for some fruit picking. It was blackberry day and we had a blast.
 |
| on our way out ... |
 |
| we picked the black ones |
 |
| caught in the act of taste-testing ... the evidence was all over his shirt |
 |
| "Charlie ... chickens." |
 |
| on our way in ... |
 |
| 2.2 lbs. of blackberries |
August 10th, 2013
Sunday, July 21, 2013
so ... we moved.
 |
| I think we need a bigger pool. |
 |
| finally ... a hydrangea bush |
 |
| yardwork |
The food choices become that long lost box of Cream of Wheat, Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup, and dry cereal. I say dry cereal because you have not had milk for three days and refuse to buy any. It's one less thing you will have to move. Your kids become very familiar with take out or fast food or macaroni and cheese or your favorite restaurant that serves alcohol because we all know that is needed.
Your kids DO NOT understand the concept of packed, or being packed, or going to be packed, or will be packed tomorrow. They do not understand where everything went. For some reason your almost four year old remembers that Halloween book, "Room on the Broom," and they want it for story time RIGHT NOW. Can I tell you how many times I repacked the trains ... THREE.
You and your husband HATE EACH OTHER. Then you love each other. THEN you HATE EACH OTHER EVEN MORE. Then you love each other ... eternally.
Movers ... our movers came at 2pm. They were supposed to be there at 9am. I am NOT going to get into this but this was one part I was not in charge of.
Unpacking ... lots more fun than packing.
Cleaning a house ... much more fun than cleaning an apartment.
Backyard. First of all, after 5 years our lawn mower started up on the first try. Score. The boys are in heaven - they can dash where they want and we don't have to worry about any tenants below us. We have the toys out, balls everywhere, toy trucks, and my husband is in his glory with a garage (At least I have a place to send him.)
All in all, we're surviving our move and the kids are being ... CRAY CRAY. They love it which is the most important thing. And so do we. We're not doing this for a very long time.
And Michael and I leave for our 10th anniversary trip WITHOUT kids in two days to Florida. I hear a pool, Minnie Mouse, and many adult beverages calling my name. Not necessarily in that order.
July 21st, 2013
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