Friday, May 31, 2013

Grace in the unexpected

Yesterday I lost my wallet and it was returned to me by two honest high schoolers and a police officer.
This morning we realized that yesterday I left Claire's scooter on the bike rack at school overnight and unlocked.  Adam immediately drove to the school and thankfully it was still there.
Claire needed allergy medicine and I couldn't find it and assumed that I would have to start searching through boxes.  Adam walked in and helped me locate it in the medicine cabinet instantly.
Claire announced she was ready to go to school but then I noticed she was wearing the same uniform as yesterday, complete with yesterday's stains.  After digging through 10 loads of laundry that are on our couch, we found the perfect uniform neatly hanging on her rack.
I overslept, but thankfully had planned for Claire to buy lunch today and I didn't have to make one.  Also, the coffeemaker greeted me with fresh coffee.
Right now, our life is chaos.  We still don't have new floors installed.  We may or may not have asbestos on the floor, or it might be stains from old asbestos.  We may or may not have to return all the flooring that is waiting to be installed and start over with a new contractor.
We have couches butted up against each other and all my cookbooks and many of my kitchen supplies are in boxes.  The coat closet lives on one of the couches. Another couch is against the wall and has become a major laundry collector.  It's all clean laundry, but there are no less than 10 loads waiting to be hung or folded.
Our kitchen table and dining room table are inches apart and we are unable to sit at one table like a family.  We have to sit caddy-cornered in different spaces along the edges.
My kitchen cabinets don't have doors and the ones that do are unpainted.  Painter's tape is a garland around the kitchen.  One of the cabinets is coming out of the wall and will need to be replaced or reinstalled.
It's just chaos, but it's full of grace.
We have some neighbors with a meticulous lawn.  They are both retired and spend hours each day maintaining their grass and flowers.  Recently the wife showed me her compost bin and rainwater barrel and how they are working to be more environmentally-conscious.  They have gorgeous flowers, but they have one that is my favorite.

This flower is growing in the street, right in the middle of the gutter.  Of course they didn't plant it there and it's a small mystery how it sprouted there.  But every day when I pass by this flower, I remember that love and beauty and grace will always come through the cracks in life.  That even when the street is determined to be gray and drab, this flower has other plans.  That no matter how overwhelmed I am at the moment or how absolutely insane the situation is, I am always surrounded by God's love.  Just as soon as I decide that I am failing or that I will decide to be grouchy or depressed that day, one of my kids makes me laugh, or I get a sweet email or a kiss from a dog.  Just as soon as I crack, a flower grows in the space.  


Thursday, May 30, 2013

I lost my wallet

Today was such a perfect, perfect day.  I woke up extremely early (4:30 I think) and was able to mark several things off my to-do list before the sun was even up.  I took Paul over to his friend Declan's house and I just sat on the patio talking to my friend Alli.  I just sat and enjoyed the breeze and chatter and it was wonderful and perfect.  The boys played together and didn't have one fight.  They got along so well we decided to go to lunch at Chick-fil-A so we could eat and they could play more.
When I sat down in the booth at Chick-fil-A, I noticed the gap between the seat and the back cushion and thought to myself, "That hole is perfect to lose a wallet in.  I have to pay attention so I don't lose mine."
I lost it anyway.  Somehow my wallet fell out of my purse and I know it was exactly in that spot because I always check a table before I leave.
I took Paul to Aldi and went to the check-out and realized my problem.  Immediately, I grabbed Paul and took him back to Chick-fil-A.
It is funny to me that in situations when I am stressed more than I can express, the children seem to function normally.  On the drive over I'm praying, breathing deep, and calling Adam to cancel my cards.  Paul started asking me about the Revolutionary War and did any guys from Texas fight with George Washington and did any Texas guys die? And what about those red guys? I continued to take a deep breath and explain a bit about the redcoats and their loss of the war as well as how Texas wasn't always Texas....
At Chick-fil-A the employees were so nice and helped me search.  One lady even went through multiple trashcans searching for it.  I offered to help the lady sort through the trash, but she wouldn't let me.  I knew for a fact that I hadn't thrown the wallet away but held a dim hope that someone took my cash and threw the rest away.  Paul and I paced the parking lot and I ended up leaving my name and number in case they found the wallet later.
While Adam was on the phone cancelling my bank card, our neighbor kept calling him.  He finally clicked over and found out a policeman was at the house with my wallet.
When I left Chick-fil-A, high school lunch was just beginning.  Both South Hills High School and Southwest High School are within a mile from the restaurant.  Apparently someone picked up my wallet, took out the cash, and threw it to the ground.  Immediately afterward, two honest girls from South Hills High picked the wallet up and drove it back to school, where they returned it to the campus police officer.
The campus police officer thought about calling Bank of America, but changed his mind and just drove to our house.  Our neighbor was home and called Adam.
So today I am grateful for:

1. My friend Alli who let me just sit and talk.
2. The people who found my wallet and only stole the cash.
3. The high schoolers who turned the wallet into a police officer.
4. The employees at Aldi who held my purchases until I could come back with money.
5.  The employees at Chick-fil-A who dug through trash and worked hard looking for my wallet.
6.  The Fort Worth police officer who returned my wallet to me.
7.  The neighbor who called Adam.
8.  Adam, who took his lunch taking care of his wife's forgetfulness.
9.  Paul for refocusing me when I was stressed out.
10.  My friend Melody who called during this fiasco and said a prayer for my sanity or the recovery of my wallet, whichever could happen first.

The whole situation was my fault and could have been avoided with a little more attentiveness, but I am so thankful that in the midst of it all, my wallet was only missing cash and I don't have to try to recreate my identity through membership cards and credit cards and all the other important cards that live in my wallet.  I am blessed.



Friday, May 24, 2013

Five Minute Friday: View

Our back room/den, which currently has stadium seating (i.e. two couches crammed together.)

The laundry couch is bowing under the weight.
View: What a funny topic to write about today.  My view around my house is drastically different today than it was two days ago.  When you're in the process of home renovation, everything changes.  Adam and I worked hard in preparation for the new floors.  All furniture was taken out of the living room and kitchen and relocated to our back room/den and our garage.  Yesterday the floor installers showed up, took one look at the floors and told us they couldn't do anything yet.  We have asbestos in the glue remaining on the slab.  We had been informed by multiple experts involved in our process that it is no big deal as long as we leave it alone.  We intended for the wood and tile to be installed over it.  However, the work crew said that the wood and tile won't stick to this.  So we'll be living in boxes for a while longer.
I've used all my chore time on moving furniture and packing and haven't had time to hang laundry.  Currently the laundry is shoulder-high on the couch.  That's clean laundry that will be folded, hanged, and put away this weekend.
The kitchen, which Adam and I starting to paint.  No flooring yet.
Our living room floor with the dreaded asbestos.
There is enough work to keep me busy from the time my feet hit the ground to the time my head hits the pillow for several days.  However, I am getting smarter about my limits.  Yes, the laundry pile is taller than both of my children, but I can work and work and work and work and work and work and all my work will never be finished.  Better to work hard for a time and then play hard for a time.  I wonder which super hero I can be today?
















The garage.  Everything had to be moved out of the living room and kitchen.




What is Five Minute Friday?  It's an idea on Lisa Jo-Baker's blog.  You can find out more about it here.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Watch this

Devote 10 minutes today to watching this.


http://youtu.be/gGLavCC9H5E

That is all.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

My stress scale

Lately I've been using a scale to measure my stress level.  I came up with this on my own, although I don't want to claim that this is a patented Sarah Boyette idea because I'm sure it's not unique.
www.garrisonphoto.org
Like the 10-point scale that doctors use to help understand your pain level, I've started using a 10-point scale for stress level.  A one on the scale is me on an island by myself with a book and a full-service waiter at my beck and call.  A ten on the scale is my tipping point, so stressed I can't see clearly and I start crying at illogical events.
During the school year, I find that I live on a five or a six.  It's not ideal, but I've got a lot going on, so during the months of August through May my life (two jobs, two kids, two dogs, two fish, a hamster, a house, and a husband) happily plateaus at a 5 or a 6.  During the summer, I'm at a 3 or a 4 because we're just not under the time crunch that we are during the school year.
This has been helpful for me to recognize my limits.  If it's a stressful week at work, I might be at a seven the entire week, and if three things are added to my list, I just end up crying.  So that means that I can easily say "no" to invitations to serve on a committee or other ideas that would not be necessarily beneficial to my health or family.
I'm always looking for metaphors to express and understand life, and this has been quite a useful one.  I share it with my readers as a way to communicate with others what you are feeling.  Recognizing where I am has helped me prioritize and focus on the happy more.  

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Thankful Things

Life has been stressful around here with all our construction.  We still don't have flooring in our home.  About March 1 we had an incident where the water line that goes to the ice-maker broke and the house flooded.  Since then we've been working to get the flooring in 3/4 of our home replaced.  We also got all new bottom cabinets in our kitchen.
This has been an all-consuming project.  I don't know about Adam, but I imagined that since we had contractors doing the work, that there wouldn't be much work for us to do.  I was wrong.  We pack up everything in one room and move it to the next.  Then we do it again.  We've packed up the kitchen and I cooked meals from food found in boxes.  Fortunately I have cabinets now, but Adam has had to take off the doors so we could paint them.  Selecting the paint on the cabinets led to an understanding that we also needed to paint the kitchen walls.  We are currently stuck in a labyrinth of home improvement.  I am hopeful we will see the light at the end of the tunnel by July, but am not sure there is ever an end because once you fix one thing then you realize another needs improvement.
I haven't been able to write much because every second of my time has been spent working...working for my job and working on the house.  Adam and I both have been consumed with this.  Luckily the kids are resilient and patient with us when we can't play with them because we have to work on the house.

To refocus, here is a list of a few blessings I'm thankful for today:

1.  The flooring is already paid for and sits in boxes in our living room.  Eventually we will be able to walk barefoot around the house again.
2.  Our kids washed both cars on Saturday, without any prompting, and for a mere $5 per kid.  That's $2.50 for a hand wash; a great bargain as well as great fun for two kids with swimsuits and a hose.
3.  I've been able to clean out and organize the kitchen and hope to do the rest of the house.
4.  I'm learning my work limits and that I really do need downtime.  Working from the moment my feet hit the ground to the moment my head hits the pillow is no fun and causes me to be a little bit emotional and overwhelmed.
5.  All the seeds that the kids and I planted in January have sprouted and are growing beautifully in pots or my tiny garden.
6.  Hugs.
7.  Our wonderful neighbors have been a great help to us by offering advice, lending a hand, and helping watch the house when I have to pick the kids up from school.
8.  This is Paul's last week of preschool, so next week we'll be able to help get this show on the road.  That will also free us both up to spend some quality time together before Claire gets out of school.
9.  A stop at Half Price Books on Sunday ended with a large stack of new books to read, motivation for me to take time to read them and not just work all the time.
10.  Our friend Rev. Nancy is retiring this week and we are so happy for her and grateful for the blessing she's been to our whole family.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Clearing the clutter of my brain

I haven't written in a few days because my brain was just too cluttered.  This weekend we had a child who rotated between definitely ill to healthy as a horse.  Our air-conditioner went out; the capacitor broke.  Adam ripped out cabinets, new ones were delivered.  It was Mother's Day.  Then it was back to school and work and doing laundry and cooking and cleaning a bit at a time and drinking coffee.

On Monday I left chaos at home to go hang paper on walls again for testing at school.  I tried to use that as a time of spiritual reflection, but it's hard clear your mind and pray when you're fighting a stapler and a tape gun and the butcher paper keeps wrinkling.  Fortunately I completed my task early, so I was able to have an hour before Paul got out of school.  I spent that hour talking and starting to brainstorm for summer programs for church.

Monday night I had Bible study, which I love, and which I have decided is worth the effort to attend.  Everything has to be set in motion as soon as I pick up Claire in order for me to get out of the house.  We were doing well, but Adam got held up at work so I had to take the kids with me.  I decided it was okay for them to have McDonald's.  They don't have it very often, and really, what harm could one meal be?  So although I had a home-cooked meal planned and in the works, I allowed myself to drive through McDonald's for the kids.

Tuesday started just as frantic.  The dog keeps waking me up at 3:30 a.m. to go outside and I struggle to fall back asleep.  I refuse to get up that early.  So when I do get up, it's a little later than normal, but that's okay. Lunches are packed with food I dig out of boxes since half of the kitchen is packed up.  Claire got to school on time, but Paul wanted to spend a long time looking for a toy that starts with Z.  The closest we could find was Adam's He-Man toy named Buzz-Off.  Paul was kind of embarrassed it didn't start with Z, so even though he made a good show of going to take it, it stayed in the car.  Poor Adam was late to work because he stayed to help us search for a Zebra or something representing a Zoo.

Luckily my Tuesday meeting was short so I was able to sit in my office by myself for several hours yesterday, working, and I feel so much better.  I was able to put all the brainstorming ideas that have been floating in my head down on paper and create several informational flyers and announcement sheets.  I was also able to sit in quiet by myself.

Tomorrow morning our Home Depot pals will be here at the house to install our cabinets and life will slowly, slowly start making it way back to normal.

Here's what I've learned about myself when I'm this busy:

1.  I am discombobulated and have a hard time thinking in a straight line.
2.  I start forgetting important things.  Yesterday I thought I put my bag on my shoulder, but it's still sitting on my desk.
3.  I talk too much when I'm busy like this.  It's like my brain is too crowded and I have to get some words out.  I interrupt more and listen less.
4.  I'm crankier.
5.  When I'm this busy and distracted, I have almost zero tolerance for anything that's not on my to-do list.

It's not ideal, but it's where I'm standing right now.  This post isn't going to win any writing awards, but I am doing what I'm supposed to.  "Put your butt in the chair and write because you only have today."  Thank you, Anne Lamott.  I am also giving myself permission to not be perfect at writing or at life.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Thank God for Home Depot

About two months ago, our refrigerator line broke and our house flooded.  Since then, we have been on an exciting and educational journey.  It started when a friend suggested we call the insurance company to help us with cleanup.  Immediately we were plunged into a world of fans and de-humidifiers.
Next we watched cleanup crews remove our parquet floors.  Adam and Paul put on work gloves and safety glasses and grabbed crow-bars and hammers and helped out.
We moved everything from the parquet floors but then had to move it back so we could remove the carpet in the living room.  Under the carpet was hideous linoleum.  We borrowed a tool and slowly chipped away at that until a neighbor informed us of a power tool that could do the job quicker.  So last weekend Adam took the kids camping and returned to finish the job of ripping up linoleum. 
Under the linoleum was black gunk.  I thought it was mildew, but we have been advised by several professionals that it is actually glue containing asbestos.  Yesterday a floor professional informed me that our neighborhood is famous for using asbestos in the glue.  I was initially paranoid about this, but everyone says that if we leave it alone, we'll all be fine.  The new flooring will be laid on top of it, so supposedly there's not a health hazard, unless we start trying to sand the asbestos.
In the kitchen we had vinyl squares, which we have also removed.  These came up easily.  Once these were removed, I thought we had mildew stains on the slab.  Nope, that's asbestos again.  Today I am going to mop the floors with bleach to kill any germs on them, but will leave the asbestos alone.
Yesterday Adam took our lower kitchen cabinets off the wall.  This involved disconnecting and reconnecting the sink, the garbage disposal, and the hot water tap.  Much sawing took place, but he was able to successfully remove the cabinets and then push them back against the wall so I can use them until the new ones are installed.
Currently our house is an obstacle course of cardboard boxes and furniture.  Our new cabinets were delivered yesterday, so the living room has all the normal furniture, plus cardboard boxes, plus 13 new cabinets and accessories.
Besides the bedrooms, where we'll keep our carpet, our flooring is currently concrete slab.
Through this whole process, we have been so grateful for the help we receive.
When the house flooded, our neighbors provided help and equipment to dry out the house.  The insurance company sent us professional to the  house to take care of it.  We had no idea about de-humidifiers or moisture sensors.  The restoration people educated us and took care of the job.  Then the insurance company sent out an adjuster, who wrote Adam a check to pay for repairs.
Adam called several contractors to bid on our repairs, but we just didn't know anything about this process, so ended up choosing Home Depot both for price and for customer service.  We walked into Home Depot at 5:30 p.m. on a Sunday night and said we wanted wood floor.  The employee working in the flooring department was kind enough to walk us through:  Wood or laminate?  Snap on or Glue down?  American wood or Chinese?  Eco-friendly or not?  Hand-scraped or other?  What color?  What about tile that looks like wood?
Later, Adam arrived in the cabinet department and told our new friend Frank that we needed cabinets.  Turns out that was like walking into flooring and saying "I want wood."  Thousands of options to solve our problem.  This particular part of the process has been the longest.  Adam has been eating lunch every day at the little food truck outside Home Depot.  Omar tries to save Adam chicken fajitas every day, but sometimes Adam has to settle for a hot dog.  Every week day, Adam takes up pictures of our kitchen and talks to Frank about what we need and how to get it done.  One day I went to see Frank to finalize cosmetic decisions about the kitchen.  New drawer handles and knobs.  Which faucet?  New sink or our old one?  New garbage disposal?  What color counter top?
I think the Home Depot employees should have name tags that say either "Ambassador" or "Tour Guide" because all of these decisions are like entering a foreign world.  Color of grout?  Who knew there was an entire palette of grout colors?  We spent about 30 seconds on that decision.
We are so grateful for each and every employee at Home Depot that has helped us.  None have laughed at our ignorance and all have provided essential information and patience.  I think we have at least another month before this is mostly done, but at least we have friendly tour guides to lead us through this mystifying world of home improvement.

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Slowing down for happiness

Due to my four a.m. baking blitz yesterday and non-stop life the last few days, I was simply exhausted yesterday.  I moved in slow motion most of the day, but found blessings in that.
After I walked Claire to school yesterday, I kissed her bye in the hallway and just stopped to take a breath before heading back home.  I stayed in the hallway watching her walk away with pride.  Another girl was waiting on her to go down the hallway and hugged her good morning and then they held hands all the way down the hall.  This is a girl who Claire had problems with before.  She and I had talked extensively about it, brain-storming ways to fix the situation and eventually I began to send lunch notes to Claire and a separate one for the other girl.  To see the girl naturally hug Claire good morning and to see them giggling and holding hands down the hallway nearly made me cry.  Love does always win.
I took a few minutes with Paul to begin cleaning his room which looks like a tornado blew through it.  Of course, the entire house looks that way now, so I don't know why I am disappointed in his end.  This 15 minutes I spent with him on his room didn't end the problem, or even get it to a manageable clean yet, but it did allow him enough room to be able to play later in the day.  When we went to pick up Claire in the afternoon, he said, "Awww, man!  I didn't have enough time to play in my room!"  Hearing that made me smile.
After I took Paul to preschool, I was driving home thinking and praying and journaling at red lights.  A car in the left lane was driving ten miles below speed limit, but I was in no hurry, so I followed suit.  A few minutes later I realized a policeman had been right behind me for quite a while, but since I was going under the speed limit, I didn't have a chance of getting a ticket.  He was probably frustrated I was driving so slow and hit the gas to whip around me.
I registered Paul for kindergarten, which took much longer than I anticipated, but that allowed me to talk to each and every staff person involved, offering cookies and begging for placement in a particular class.  They aren't allowed to take requests, but I gave one anyway, and I am hopeful that it will be granted.  Watching the hustle and bustle of the school office and the anxiety and hope in all the new parents' faces filled me with pride and contentment.
I spent some time at Subway, and since I was the only customer buying lunch at 10:15 in the morning, I was able to chat with the employees and be particular about what went in my sandwich.  It was just another part of moving slowly and benefiting from that.
I had lunch with Claire and she sat in my lap for nearly the whole time.  She pointed out who her teacher will be next year and students who were good and bad.  She updated me on each lesson she had listened to that day and recounted all the details in a funny story the substitute shared about stepping on a frog.
When I picked up Paul, I told him we were going on a secret field trip, and walked him down the block to Curly's Custard, where he fished all the gummy bears out of the custard, licking each one off to perfection before showing it to me and then eating it.  I think he might  have eaten three bites of custard, but all the gummy bears.  He also pulled some race cars out of his backpack and showed me how to race them.  His tiny fire truck was placed in the decorative fountain where we discovered that it knew how to swim and didn't sink to the bottom.
There was more fun in the day....a nap, laundry, cooking dinner, and closing the evening with reading my book, but the best part of my day was that I wasn't in a hurry the entire day.  I was exhausted and knew I could only do one task at a time, so I did it merrily.  I wish, on days that I feel like I can solve all my problems before nightfall, that I could remember days like yesterday.  They are happier and I think, more productive in the end.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Life in Triage

In the book, I Don't Know How She Does It, the author compares motherhood to work in the triage unit of an emergency room.  Allison Pearson (the author) defines triage as "the degree of urgency to decide the order of treatment."

Some days I find that my life is like that.  When you need 48 hours in the day and recognize that there are only 24 and you must sleep for some of them, you have to prioritize.  You see what fire is burning brightest so you can put it out.  Other fires might be smoldering right under your feet, but you can't fight all your battles at once, so you pick the most urgent.

Yesterday was a triage day.  I had several urgent tasks to get done at work.  I had several urgent tasks to get done at home.  I had two kids to take care of and I had to meet Adam at Home Depot at 6:30 to pick out tile and grout for the kitchen and bathroom.

Our home looks like a donations warehouse right now.  This past weekend Adam scraped up the linoleum in our living room, so we are completely walking on the concrete slab, except in the bedrooms.  Our den and living room are a collection of boxes and the couch is living on a furniture dolly right now.  Yesterday Claire and I started packing up the kitchen only to find out the cabinets are three weeks away from arriving.  Today we will repack the cabinets.

This morning the dog woke me up at 4:00 and I just decided to stay up.  It's teacher appreciation week and after nearly two hours at Home Depot last night, I couldn't bear to bake anything.  The oven is currently preheating because the next urgent action on my list is baking chocolate chip cookies for all of our teachers.

The problem with living life as a triage unit is that if you're always rushing to the next emergency you don't have time to breathe.  Also, normal tasks start stacking up just because they aren't urgent.  Everything starts looking disproportionate.

I can survive this way for a maximum of three days without having a nervous breakdown.  After that, my world starts tipping off its axis and I am prone to cry at an untied shoe or other minor event.  So this morning, I am working the triage.  Bake cookies.  Clean kitchen.  Wake and feed children.  Get self ready.  Take kids to school.  Feed dogs.  Register Paul for kindergarten.  Take Claire lunch.  Pick Paul up from preschool.  Collapse.  Pick Claire up from school.  Supervise homework.  Supervise baths.  Make dinner.  Clean dinner.  Read stories.  Tuck kids in.  Collapse.

I am fortunate, though, that the older I get, the better I can anticipate triage, so I can plan ahead.  Today is the day I need to register Paul for kindergarten.  Today is the day I will get on my hands and knees and beg the principal/office staff/whomever to put Paul with Claire's old teacher.  (I'm making double recipe of the chocolate chip cookies to make sure I have enough baked goods to accompany my begging.)  Knowing ahead of time that it would be a crazy day and week, I took of work today.  That way I can get the triage taken care of, then have time to take a breath before I dive into the next emergency.

I am so grateful for the ability to miss a day of work.  I am so grateful I have a husband who can talk to Home Depot daily to organize our new floors and cabinets while I hold down the fort at home.  I am so grateful for two healthy, happy children.  I am so grateful for every little event that crowds my calendar today because it means that I am useful and needed.  I am so grateful that I have two unscheduled hours in my day today.  I am so grateful for life, even in the triage unit.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Five Kingdoms, or How I Learned About Grand Theft Auto

Yesterday was teacher day again.  My job was to assist another teacher while she taught.  The homeroom teacher was teaching other students, trying to get them to pass their STAAR test.  Most of what I did yesterday was listen.  The substitute had everything well under control, so I just wandered the room, helping students with their work as needed and listening to the stories of early finishers.
I'm sure that one day in my history, I knew the five kingdoms of living things.  I never committed it to memory, though, so I was very interested in listening to and helping fourth graders learn about them.  For those of you that have slept since fourth grade, the five kingdoms are:

  1. Animal
  2. Plant
  3. Fungus (including yeast, mushrooms, and slime mold)
  4. Protist (including amoebas and algae)
  5. Moneran (bacteria)
I knew yeast was a living thing, but I didn't realize it was a fungus.  And slime mold?  I'm familiar with that from the mushrooms that I forgot to cook that hide at the back of the refrigerator.  I just didn't know it had a name.  

I was impressed with how this teacher refocused the class again and again.  She kept reminding them that they could do the work and her expectations were very high.  As more students finished their work and showed it to her, she would raise the standard.  She told me it was to provide the kids with enough confidence to know that the work could be done.  So at the beginning of the assignment she said, "My expectations are up to the ceiling."  When three people finished the assignment, she announced that it could be done and that "My expectations are through the roof."  When more turned theirs in, she said, "My expectations are up to the sky!  You can do this."
It worked.  Every child finished every assignment, even the ones that had trouble with focus or motivation.  Those students earned genuine applause from her when they turned in their work.  It was amazing to watch.
What I love about tutoring is that every day is unique and I get to watch different teachers with different personalities and tactics achieve results.  When I taught school full-time, I taught first graders and I had to be a little bit mama and a little bit teacher to help the students learn.  In the older grades, students are a bit more independent and it's fascinating to watch them work from their own motivation.

One boy in the class finished his work and was dying to talk to me about his new game "Grand Theft Auto."  I agreed to listen to an uncensored monologue about this.  We were on the side of the classroom, so we wouldn't disturb the others.  I don't know much about this game, especially from the perspective of a sweet (really) fourth grader.  As he talked to me, he told me that I used to tutor his sibling.  Immediately I placed his family.  He has supportive parents who take him to church multiple times a week and make sure he does his homework.  I've never met them, but I know from teaching his sibling that they are a caring, close family.

Here's some snippets I was able to write down, quotes from what he told me.

"I got this game Grand Theft Auto.  I killed a person.  Nah, I didn't kill a person.  I killed a cop.........I killed everyone but five people.....They had the army and S.W.A.T. team and police all after me.  I ain't gonna lie.  I took off running.  Only thing I could do was jack a car to keep going......."

Some people would have cut him off and not allowed him to finish his discussion.  Some would have shut him down, citing inappropriateness of that conversation at school, in particular from a 10 year old.  This boy was so excited about this game, though, he was busting at the seams to tell someone about it, so I let him....He actually seemed calmer once he talked to me about it.  

I was disturbed to hear his description of the game.  He obviously knows it's not real and lives in the TV screen, but this is something that was consuming  his brain power while at school.  It's not a real event, but of real concern to him.  I'm sure he's not the only elementary school kid playing this game and talking about it at school.  I don't think he's going to translate his actions on the game into real life.  But I fail to see a positive when students are meditating on imaginary violence. 

It's hard to grow up, and it seems to be getting harder every day.  

Monday, May 6, 2013

Taking my time

Saturday Adam took the kids camping.  As soon as I found out I would be on my own for 24 hours, I made all sorts of plans.  I was going to

  1. Go to my favorite thrift store
  2. Plant/transplant some seedlings
  3. Finish my book
  4. Scrub the bathrooms, particularly the shower, until they shined.
  5. Clean the kitchen
  6. Bake cookies to surprise the kids when they got  home
  7. Stroll Mayfest by myself
  8. Go to Central Market and just browse the aisles, buying whatever strikes my fancy
  9. Write for at least three hours
  10. Finish the church newsletter
Obviously I had high hopes.  These all changed, though, when my cousin called me and asked me to take my grandfather to the ER.  My cousin was showing houses and couldn't do it but my grandfather was requesting to go for a sore on his foot.  No problem, I'll do it.

After making sure the kids and Adam were taken care of and had packed their sunscreen and insect repellent, I grabbed my book and hit the road.  When I arrived, I immediately saw my grandfather's foot was swollen and obviously infected.  I took him to the urgent care facility closest to his apartment.

This was not a day for rushing.  My grandfather typically is slow, but he was in a lot of pain, so he was even slower.  Independent even when it hurts, he chose to take his old-fashioned walker, not his wheelchair or rolling walker.  With a mixture of pride and fascination, I watched him struggle to make it from the car to the clinic, from the chair to the exam room.  But even with all that struggling, every time someone would pass him, the man would stop to tip his ball cap.  I felt helpless and proud at the same time.  
He wouldn't let me help him with anything he could do himself.  He's told me before that he doesn't like people making a cripple out of him.  When he used to drive, though he's been walking with a cane and a raised shoe since I can remember, he would refuse to park in handicapped parking, to allow someone who was "really handicapped" to park there. On Saturday, he admitted that he qualified for handicapped parking.

Several hours later, I returned him to his room with his new medications.  Once we figured out how to get the pill bottles open and labeled with the hour he should take his medicine, he urgently wanted me to leave so he could use the restroom.  I did.

On my way out, I ran into his friend Jan.  She's Paul's number one fan and first girlfriend.  When we go to visit my grandfather, we also go visit her.  She gets Paul to honk the horn on her electric wheelchair and won't stop asking until he gives her a hug.  She has the best sense of humor and often makes me laugh so hard I have to struggle to stop.  She saw I was without the kids so she asked me if I would come to her apartment and have a glass of wine.  I immediately accepted.

I was honored to be drinking Franzia chilled wine with my friend Jan, who also served me Great Value Chex mix.  ("I don't go to Wal-Mart without buying a bag of this.")  She served me the snacks on a plastic disposable plate, which she immediately washed when I had finished.  (I even ate the crumbs, at her insistence.)

Jan is 76 and over a glass of wine, she shared with me her life story.  She's a widow now, but when she was young, she hoped to have a baby girl.  She decorated a room pink and bought baby clothes, but was never lucky enough to have a baby.

She's in an electric wheelchair because during heart surgery, a cardiologist damaged some of her nerves, and one of her feet became twisted and she cannot stand.  She can only wear one shoe and has offered me one of her unused shoes before.

Jan also told me about having breast cancer.  She's a survivor.  I mentioned a dear friend of mine with breast cancer and Jan said, "Do you want to know what breast cancer looks like?"  I was puzzled.  Then she lifted her shirt to show me the result of her mastectomy.  The surgeon got all her cancer, and she decided not to reconstruct.  After showing me, she made me promise not to tell my grandfather.  Don't worry.  I couldn't even begin to start a conversation about that.

So instead of my list of plans, here's what I did Saturday:
  1. Took my grandfather to the urgent care clinic
  2. Observed never-erring courtesy
  3. Learned to ask for the easy-open bottles at the pharmacy
  4. Listened to an elderly woman's story
  5. Learned that Great Value chex mix is just as good as Chex brand
  6. Saw a lady topless
I went home and finished my book.  I didn't get anything done that I planned to do, except for finish my book, but I couldn't have even planned a day like that.  

Friday, May 3, 2013

Innocence Lost

Yesterday was a heart-crushing day for me.
Claire, in a unexplained move, broke apart a puzzle Paul had completed.  Then they yelled at each other.  She stuck up her middle finger at him and he followed suit.
I was in the kitchen making dinner.  They were supposed to be getting ready for baths. At first, all I knew is that they had been yelling at each other.
Paul rushed in the kitchen to be the police reporter and tell me about the crimes that had just taken place.  Claire rushed in to label her brother a tattle tale.  I immediately separated them to find out the details.
Claire confessed to all crimes, and said she stuck up her middle finger because "it felt good to stretch it out." She knows what that  means because kids at school showed it to her and even explained it.  I had talked with her about it previously so she could understand how mean and hurtful and vulgar it was.
When I talked to Claire, she also told me Paul had done the same thing.  Paul is four.  He didn't even know what the middle finger was until his sister taught him just yesterday.  When I confronted him about it, he initially denied it but then told me the truth.
I didn't yell at them.  In classic Love and Logic style, I told them I was sad but not to worry because we'll figure out what the consequence is later.
It turns out the consequence is a sad mommy, no night-night stories, uncomfortable silence, and no television for an extended period of time.
I sent them to bed immediately after dinner, at 6:30 p.m.  They were in bed for ten minutes or so when Claire realized I hadn't put curlers in her hair.  Adam or I have curled her hair every day this week and she's looked gorgeous at school.  I told her no, I was too sad to curl her hair.  Not tonight.
What makes me more sad than the actual events that took place, awful as they were, is that there is no way I can protect them from the world.  Just one month ago, Claire, age 6, had never seen someone raise the middle finger.  We don't watch much television around here, and when we do it's Power Rangers or Wheel of Fortune.  Adam and I are very conscious about what the kids are exposed to and even our behavior in front of them.  But I cannot follow my child around the playground at school every day.
Sure, I could home-school my children, but eventually they will have to learn  how to live in the real world and not under Mama's protective wing.  I do believe it's better for them to learn how to live in society now where they can grow up with other children and gradually learn about the world, rather than protecting them at home until a determined date when I thrust them out into the world unaware.
So all I can do is explain as much as possible and offer them love.  I silently held Claire last night for at least 15 minutes while she cried.  Paul fell immediately asleep and apologized several times.
It's hard being a parent, because even if you paint the world with rainbows and butterflies, sometimes darkness seeps in.  Like Eve and the apple, once world-knowledge is obtained, it isn't lost.  This is just a fact of life.  My kids are growing up.  I can be in hiding and denial or I can work hard to help them understand the world around them.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Finding My Voice

Yesterday was my day to put on my teacher hat.  I am a part-time tutor at an elementary school, which means I show up with my teaching certificate and I teach whatever I'm asked to whomever I'm asked to teach.  It's nice because you can't get bored; every day is unique.
During testing time, I had two days where my main objective for the day was to hang black paper to cover instructional material in the hallway so students couldn't get any ideas as they went to lunch or the restroom.  (I believe this was a state-wide practice because I know we weren't the only school doing it.  It was required.)
Another day during testing time, my job was to pace the hallways.  I walked seven miles that day, all in the building.  On that day, and other test days, I was also needed to relieve teachers so they could use the restroom.  Every class I went into, I assured the teachers that I was certified, had signed an oath on testing practices, and they could escape for a few minutes.  One questioned my teaching pedigree.  "So you have taught before?  What school?  What grade?  And what do you do here?"  Once all that was answered, she felt safe enough to leave her students for a moment and use the restroom.
If you don't know, state-mandated testing is serious business.  Entire schools shut down to focus on the test. My school is no different.  We had a teacher watching each restroom in the building to ensure there wasn't any talking or cheating occurring. Hand dryers in the bathroom were disabled and paper towels used to keep the noise level down.  One teacher was creating unique origami from paper towels as she spent the day staring at a restroom.  Extra monitors paced the cafeteria to make sure a silent lunch room was actually silent.  No class, testing or not, was allowed to have recess.
The administration at my school works hard to keep everything positive.  We all have to follow the rules from the district and the state, but they keep smiles on their faces, encouraging students and teachers as they walk the hallways.  The lounge was full of baked goods to wish teachers good luck.  Test days aren't fun for anyone, but they do try their best to make them tolerable.
Yesterday when I showed up for school, I learned that I would be teaching fourth grade math.  The regular teacher had been pulled so he could focus on teaching struggling kids that have to test again.  Immediately, I was anxious because I've never taught an entire day of fourth grade, some of the kids are as tall as me, and I'm not a math whiz.  I took a deep breath, though, and decided to make the best of it.
I scanned the material the students were working on and decided it was doable.  So then I started having some fun.  Inside, I was laughing hysterically all day, but somehow, on the outside, I kept a straight face.
I told the students that if they didn't get quiet, they would be forced to listen to me sing and join the band.  I started singing the theme song from The Sound of Music.  Oddly, my melodious voice made them be quiet.
A few students kept talking, so I made them move their desk to the center of the room so they could be in my band.  I hummed a bad impersonation of a musical scale and encouraged them to join along.  They decided math was more interesting.
One boy was apparently the local pen dealer, because I caught him throwing brand new pens across the room to his buddies.  I was ecstatic, told him how much I loved writing with good pens, and got three to stick in my ponytail.  One boy, who was no less than seven feet tall, was having a stare-down with me and refused to give me his orange pen.  Inside, I was intimidated, but I stood my ground, with my hand out, singing "Doe a deer, a female deer, Ray, a drop of golden sun..........."  I got the pen quickly after I began singing.
After the students finished working independently, we went over the paper and checked their answers.  On the ones I didn't know right off, I had students stick their thumbs up to tell me which one was the right one.  I figured out the right answer by popular vote more than once.  (Yes, I could do the math, but making them tell me the answer was much quicker.)
By the end of the day, I was exhausted, and had successfully taught math to two classes of 24 fourth graders.  No one wanted to actually start a Sound of Music band with me, and I am not going to switch to full-time teaching, but I survived.  I found my voice, and that was enough for the day.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Life Stories Told

Yesterday at lunch, Rev. Nancy and I had a short conversation with our cashier about her tattoos.  She had a beautiful array of rainbow tattoos covering her entire left arm.  Rainbow Brite was there with her horse, as well as She-Ra, Care Bears, and pictures of other children's toys from the 1980s.  She said that when she was a kid, the most exciting event for her and her siblings was when their mother took them to McDonald's.  Her arm represented happiness from her childhood and the joy she received when she got a toy out of her Happy Meal.  Her right arm was bare and she said that she was considering, since only girl toys were represented on her left arm, that she would fill her right arm with pictures of Happy Meal toys for boys.
In my new pursuit of story, I recognized that this tattooed lady was using her arms to tell the story of her life. Excited, I've been brainstorming other ways that people use to tell their life story.  Everyone has a story inside of them, and we all use different ways to express it.
Personally, I write in my journal and on this blog.  But there are so many other ways that stories are told.  My mother-in-law collects antiques and figurines.  She can tell you a story about each one.
My husband Adam's engineering story is told in the buildings he helps build.
Claire and Paul both can tell you their life story from their stuffed animal/doll collection.  Each toy has a story about how they love the person that gave it to them and the special circumstances in which they received it.
Jesus' life story is recorded in the Bible.  It would be interesting to note, though, how many people's life stories have been entwined in recording Jesus' story.  The oral story-tellers, the scribes, the archaeologists, modern day translators, all have spent countless years focusing on the importance of the Biblical stories.  I wonder if any of them have or had Bible tattoos.  "This was when I translated Exodus. Dude, what a battle that was. We had scrolls all over the place!"  (Because since I've never met a Bible translator, I can imagine that some of them are surfer guys)
For anyone needing help in recording their life story the more traditional way, the website Proust will help you do it.  Each week they email you a question/writing prompt and then you go log-on to record your answer.  Eventually your life story and/or the story of those you love will be recorded.  I also have a handy book called The Book of Myself that is full of question prompts to help you write your own autobiography.
When I'm at school today, I will be seeking out more ways to tell stories.  And no, you won't find me at the tattoo parlor tonight.