Excuse Me, Your Age is Showing

Today I had the chance to observe a perspective teacher do a counting lesson with a kindergarten class. I remember being a young college student...so fresh, so inexperienced.

So not digital.

She was using the smart board, which, if you've never seen one, is like a giant, wall-sized iPad. In the course of teaching this lesson, she marked and moved things around on the smart board. When she swiped to the next screen, it inadvertently skipped a couple of pages.

"Oops," she said, "J.K."

J.
K.

J.K.?!?

What the? I wondered if the students wondered why she was reciting the alphabet when they were supposed to be counting. In reality, I think it went right over their heads.

But really, has life become so fast-paced, so instantaneous, so digital, that we are now speaking in initials? That we speak the way we text? By the way, does anyone else think it's funny that text is now a verb?

Just to be sure, I asked my 9-year-old if he knew what "J.K." meant. It went right over his head.

"So what does it mean?" He asked.

"Just kidding," I replied.

"No, really, what does it mean?"

"It means just kidding," I said again.

"Oh. Well that's dumb. Why don't you just say just kidding instead?"

Exactly. 

I WAS a Size 6

I've picked up a long-term sub assignment this month. It's back at my former school, which has been a lot of fun. It's been nice to talk to former co-workers and it's always a treat to get bombarded with hallway hugs from past students.

So I've been there for a few weeks and I have a couple left to go. In this time, I have learned something new about myself: I'm a stress eater and I have a drinking problem.

Lest you show up on my doorstep to haul me off to Jenny Craig or AA, allow me to explain.

I have this thing about paying with exact change whenever I can. I like the neatness of it. Also, it keeps my wallet from feeling heavy. Yesterday, when picking up pizza for my daughter and her friends, the total was $23.86; I did not have the exact change, nor any change, for that matter. And I realized -- I'd spent all of my spare coinage on multiple trips to the vending machine in the teacher's lounge. Doritos, Cheetos, fruit snacks... Snickers, Reese's peanut butter cups, trail mix... I know. I have a problem. But seriously, who calls the school, asks for the sub by name, and then complains about how they don't care for the quality of instruction their child is receiving?!? I would have told her to come on down and teach it herself, but my mouth was full of potato chips at the time. In her defense (as well as mine) she didn't understand that Title 1 help means remediation, not acceleration. But still. Complaining to the substitute?!?

On another occasion, the principal, a good and decent man, found out that I had a headache. After an hour of doing kindergarten assessments, I returned to my room to find a bottle of coke on my desk and a text on my phone saying I would need to get some ice. Does that make him an enabler? I don't know. I was too busy guzzling my room temperature soda to analyze his role in this situation.

This brings me to my drinking problem. Yesterday, as I cleared my desk for the weekend, I had a drinking glass, a travel mug, a water bottle, and yet another bottle of Coke to take home.

The goal pants are getting tight.

It Only Took Nine Years

Several years ago, I was on one of those crazy, nighttime grocery store trips with my two girlfriends, Liz and Jen. Because, you know, sometimes that's the most fun a mom gets to have. Liz and Jen are two of the funniest people I know.

So anyway, we're walking down the spice aisle at H.E.B. when Jen notices something. It's a small bottle of cinnamon and sugar mixed together, for some inordinate price of $3.29 or something like that. She picks it up, holds it in my face and says (with her loud Texas accent): "Seriously, HOW lazy is America?!?"

Maybe you had to be there, because it was all in the delivery. I promise, it was very funny -- and I don't think it had anything to do with the fact that it was 10:00 at night and we were using the grocery store for entertainment.

Fast forward to yesterday. My hubby and I are walking through Costco (at the perfectly acceptable hour of 4:00 p.m.). After placing a package of uncooked tortillas in my cart, I looked up and beheld something to finally add to Jen's "Lazy List" along with the pre-mixed cinnamon sugar:

Need I say more?

Dress Code: Pajamas

It's been an interesting weekend. Much like my son, my weekend started last Wednesday.

But now it's Monday and the dust has settled, my mind has cleared up a bit, and now I'm ready to write about it.

So back to last Wednesday. I was at a meeting for entrepreneurs, hoping to do a little networking. The subject of the meeting didn't really have anything to do with my objectives, which was all about securing angel investors for your company. I'm a one-woman show, and all I need is some people who need a good copywriter. As I was thinking up creative ways to sneak out of this 6-person meeting, the old iPad alerted me that I had a new e-mail. It was my friend, notifying me that Midway Elementary had a new opening for a kindergarten teacher and that I should apply so she could put her son in my class. Ten minutes later (clearly I had not yet figured out a way to sneak out) my formal principal called to also inform me of the position. As I hung up with him, another friend called with the same message.

I sent my husband a text to inform him of the job. Just to give you a little background, we are house shopping, and the thought of some extra money is really tempting right now.

By this point I had been out of the meeting room for a few minutes, so I figured I could go back in for my stuff and act like I had an excuse to leave. I sort of had one, right?

I drove to the school, tracked the principal down, and asked him about it. He invited me to apply and I told him I would think about it. That night I went home and did a little soul searching. I am still trying to prove to myself that I can do other things besides teach school. It's not that there's anything wrong with teaching; I'm just not passionate about it. I really, really want to earn money as a writer. However, the teaching job was for a one-year contract, so I figured I could do anything for a year, and teaching is a pretty good thing to do for a year.

I spent Thursday getting paperwork together and applied for the job -- with that tight feeling in my chest.

Friday, I interviewed, and I questioned myself all the way there. A few hours later, the principal called to tell me he decided to go with the other candidate, who had just finished her student teaching on that very team. I have to admit, it was an effort trying not to sound elated.

In the end, I'm flattered that so many people were looking out for me. I was told flattering things about myself as a teacher. And yes, sometimes I do miss it.

But do you know what? I've spent this entire morning writing and doing writing-related things. And I feel light and happy; and most importantly, I feel at peace. This whole doing-what-you-love and following your passion? I'm a believer.

Besides, you can't teach school in your pajamas.

A Little Bit of Pride

I woke up this morning feeling a little bit excited. Now that the Republican National Convention is over, and all the speeches have been made, for the first time in my adult-voting life, I can finally say that I actually like our guy! The first time I was old enough to vote was in 1992 when it was George H.W. Bush running against Bill Clinton. Bush was nothing to get excited about. And then came Bob Dole. I mean, seriously? And then George W. Bush came along, and to quote American Idol judge Randy, "he was just o.k. for me." Last time around, we had John McCain, who hails from the great state of Arizona, but who fell dreadfully short for me. Honestly, I was just tired of voting for the guy that I disliked the least.

That's not to say I dislike anything our democratic presidents have done, but I'm excited for the possibilities that the Romney/Ryan ticket brings. The speeches I heard this week were inspiring to me. I like the enthusiasm and the energy I felt when I listened to them. It was probably very much the same feeling many Obama supporters felt four years ago. I don't need CNN or Fox News to tell me what I do or do not like. I loved the theme that America is a great country, without exception.

When Mitt Romney first announced his candidacy, I was wary. I'm sure there were many Mormons who jumped on the Romney bandwagon simply because he himself, is a Mormon -- and I just couldn't do that. As the primaries went on, I kept finding myself drawn to Santorum, actually. But now that Romney is the nominee, I support him fully, and it has nothing to do with my religion. His political ideals closely match my own. I like his running mate. I think they mean business. And I'm excited about the possibilities they represent.

Of course, I am proud to able to say that for the first time in history, a Mormon is a serious contender for the White House.

And that's what's so great about this country. Anything can happen. We create our own history. We can cheer for our own guy. Vote for who you will, and so will I!

Campaigning

I'm starting to think my 9-year-old has a future in politics -- as long as his platform is built on super-hero Legos. For the past couple of weeks, he has been doing that thing kids do when there is something they really want: dropping hints.

I'm working at the computer when he comes in and says, "Mom, I think the Captain America Lego set is a pretty good deal because it comes with like, 92 pieces."

And I'm too lazy to calculate the cost per piece, so I say, "hmm," hoping that I can just finish revising the current page I'm on.

Another time, I'm painting a piece of furniture in the garage when he comes out to tell me this: "I was just thinking how awesome it would be if I had two sets of the all the Marvel Heroes Legos because then I could really trick them out and even share them with my friends and I was thinking that I could give some to Layton because he is the only friend I have who is REALLY into Legos."

It's a noble and benevolent thought, but those things are stinking expensive, and I'm sweating to death painting a yard sale dresser that cost me less than any Lego set.

Later, I'm battling my wok for homemade Pad Thai when he saunters in and says, "I was just researching the complete Avengers Lego Set and I think it would be a good investment. Plus, they have all these cool details you can add to your Lego guys, and I already have the markers to do it. But I'm going to need some stickers to give Captain America some helmet wings, because, you know, he doesn't come with them."

I fling a noodle at him and say, "You're right. He's supposed to have wings, isn't he?" And then I think what a rip-off it is to pay twenty bucks for a 92-piece set that doesn't even include helmet wings.

I'll admit he did add some pretty cool detail to Loki's sword with nothing but a magic marker. And Iron Man is looking fine with his now bright-blue arc reactor. However I'm far more impressed with his campaign strategy, slipping in subtle hints here and working it into the natural flow of a conversation there. Sometimes he's just so in-your-face about it that you can't help but pay attention. But like most politicians, eventually the sound bites turn into rhetoric and you find it pretty easy to tune them out.

Especially when you're the one who has control of the banks.

Calgon, Take Me Away!

Aaaarrrgghh!

Okay, I need to vent for a minute. As weepy as I got the other day when school started, I was expecting to have a little more freedom by now. Thursday and Friday were fine. Saturday, we spent at the lake paddle boarding (Have you tried it? I love it!). By Sunday night, Jamison was complaining of a sore throat, and he woke up Monday with a fever of 101.

After a much needed work-out this morning, I spent a couple of hours taking him to the doctor and getting a prescription filled. He has strep. After TWO DAYS of school.

Are you kidding me?

Is it a dirty little secret that we moms all breathe a collective sigh of relief, respite, and a glory hallelujah on the first day of school? Or is it just me? My husband gave me a gift certificate for a massage on VALENTINE'S DAY that I was really hoping to have used by now. So there's the side of me that whines.

And then there's the side of me that feels guilty for whining. I'm a mom, and it is my job, after all, to take care of my kids and make them my first priority. And I do it gladly (sometimes most of the time). However, throw in a husband who travels frequently, a small business to get up and running, a household to run, church responsibilities, a myriad of other little things, and well, I'm a little stressed at the moment.

"And technically, there are still a few weeks of summer left," she said, through gritted teeth.

But I'll post about that later, because my daughter just handed me an assignment that we are supposed to do together.