Wandering wondering...

Ding dong...

2009-03-12T17:16:00.000-07:00

the FCAT's done, the wicked FCAT's done! Love my job, hate that test. Thankful it's done.

What happens now?

2008-10-18T19:19:00.001-07:00

I have a friend who wrote a blog titled, "What happens when they don't need you as much?" It struck a chord then and now. My "babies" are 20 and 17. And being their Mom is still my primary job. It is my reason for breathing. Another friend said, "my job from the moment you were born is to get you ready to leave me." That is also true. My head knows that but my heart is not listening.

I have not been a perfect parent. I have not been a perfect wife. I have not been a perfect daughter, sister, friend, human being. It has taken me, oh...40 years to realize that God didn't expect me to be, in fact, sent Jesus because He knew I wouldn't be. I have tried and that's what I hope my kids have seen. They don't know that they are the reason I went back to school. It had very little to do with me and a great deal to do with them. Yes, I've always wanted to teach. More importantly I wanted them to know that anything is possible. So, when it was time for me to face Algebra, I did it. It wasn't fun, but I did it. As I thought about what my password should be throughout school, I knew it had to be something to do with them. That way, each time I typed it I remembered why I was doing what I was doing.

My daughter's song at her dedication was "The Cradle Song" by Sandi (then) Patti. A verse in it says, "though we might fail you often the Lord will still be there." As I stood at that altar with my husband, I never imagined all the things life would bring. That beautiful, beautiful little baby has been everything we wanted and so much more than we deserve. She is an "A" student (at UF!), contributing reporter for The Alligator, wears a seat belt when she drives and loves GOD. She is so ready to be on her own. I am not.

For our son, his song was "Another Child to Hold." As I've written in other places in my blog, he is a child with a heart of gold. He loves deeply and cares passionately. He knows GOD will help with whatever. He is as intelligent and gifted as his sister but has a completely different approach to school. He is a dual enrollment student and does fine. I don't think I've ever seen the child study...ever. I could tell you each time that I've proofread a paper for him, um...never. And I'm an English teacher. I worry how he will do in college. He wants to be a teacher. Or an entrepreneur living on Daytona Beach. I'm trying to stay quiet.

When the kids were very small, my husband and I worked for my brother's ministry. He travelled a lot and I was home with the kids. My daughter was, and still is, a Daddy's girl. That has always been cool with me since I was that too. I know how much I loved my Daddy and how I enjoyed the times we shared. Prior to his working at the ministry, he was a McD's manager. He took her to manager's meetings with him. The first sentence I remember her saying was, "go Mc don don's, I want fre fries." My son, born on the fourth of July, was our firecracker baby. He cried from the moment he hit the air. His dad left for a crusade on the Saturday after he was born. So, my son and I have always been close. He is a lot like me. For better or worse. Anyway, we made it through those four years as a "single" mom with two kids.

All the life experiences we have make us the people we are. I've always said there were two things I wouldn't fight over while raising my kids, hair and clothes. When I tell people that they are usually shocked. I have to explain that I didn't mean I would let them out of the house in anything inappropriate. I just meant I didn't care if they wanted to wear the same dress every day or sweatpants with cowboy boots, I was cool with that. As for hair...it will grow back. I didn't let my daughter have long hair and she still holds that against me. In all honesty, her hair was (and is) so thick and beautiful that she could wear it in a Mohawk and I would still love it. I just wasn't a brushoutyourhairlistentoyoucryputitinaponytail kind of mom. As you see in pictures elsewhere in the blog, my son's hair was a mass of Puerto Rican poofiness. Clothes and hair were (and are) battles I chose not to fight. They seem to have made it out to the other side relatively unscathed and fairly well groomed.

The battles I have fought are the ones their Dad and I believe matter. We didn't let them celebrate Halloween. We didn't let them watch cartoons that we thought were ugly. Power Rangers...I will NEVER hear the end of that one. It was a struggle to let him have Pokemon; her an N*Sync CD. We didn't let them see movies that we would be ashamed to tell their grandparents about. They didn't date or drive until they were ready. They had/have curfews. They had bedtimes. They told people thank you for gifts whether they liked them or not...it really IS the thought that counts. They were required to be kind and helpful to adults. They were not allowed to make fun of people who are disabled or different from them. They were ... spanked. They were raised to believe in GOD and that Jesus is his son and faith in him is the only way to the Father. They were always told as much as we love them, GOD loves them more.

The seeds we sowed are bearing fruit. They both know that GOD can answer any question, solve any problem, listens ALL the time and loves them. I know these things in my heart AND my head.

But, it doesn't make letting them go any easier. I am used to being the one they talk to about problems. That's changing. I am used to being the one who could kiss the boo-boos and make them go away. They're learning to find the Band aids on their own. I'm used to being the boss. That's changing too. Maybe that is the hardest part of all.

I cringe when they don't answer their phones right away. My heart races when I hear a siren and don't know if they're off the road yet. I would throw people off a cliff to protect them. I will lose every bit of sanity I have left if I believe someone has hurt them. I have caught vomit in my hands. I have held a congested baby in a steam filled bathroom. I have rocked and cried right along with them when they were teething and there was nothing I could do. I know I am not the only parent who has done those things. But I know that these things are what I should do...that's what being a parent means.

Having done those things is what makes letting them go harder. No one will ever love them like I do. No one will ever bear their imperfections and shortcomings as I will. No one will ever think they're perfect and amazing and astonishing human beings as I do. But that will change too...they will meet the person GOD has for them and they will tell me how wonderful, amazing, and spectacular they are. I hope I will smile. I hope I can accept not being needed quite so much. I hope I can remember that the reason they are ABLE to do that is because I've done my job. I hope I will be there to see it all. They will always be my reason for breathing. I hope I will be able to stop holding my breath.

Germ carrying little children

2008-10-04T08:59:00.000-07:00

who shared their germs with me. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I feel like poo. I am going to go lie down. Oh, the perks of teaching! Take care of yourselves.

You'll always be my baby...

2008-10-02T16:06:00.000-07:00

We went to Gville this afternoon. I had to have my son do the driving. My mom had a doctor's appointment and I had a very upset tummy. He did a great job with a few exceptions.

This brings me to my point...well, sort of. It is one of the hardest things I have had to do as a parent. Let my babies fail. I can't stand it. I know it's a part of life, but that doesn't make it any easier. I want to fix it. I want it to be me and not them. He was trying to make his way around to the various places I needed to go. Gainesville. 5:00 traffic. Poor poor urban planning. You do the math. But, I sat there. I kept my mouth closed...for the most part. This is the whole reason why I wanted to ride in the back. That plus I really didn't feel well. He got to be his Grandma's chauffeur. She loved it.

She wanted HER baby to feel better. I guess it doesn't end. : )

And on another note, Happy FORTY SECOND BIRTHDAY to my best friend from when we were babies!! Now she's my age.

Teenage Weddings

2008-10-01T16:17:00.000-07:00

I wonder why these kids are so demanding?? Oh, wait, could it be because they are given E V E R Y T H I N G they want?

There has to be some connection to teenage pregnancy and entitlement. There are "Super Sweet 16" parties. There are prom dates that are more expensive than my wedding. There are prom,pageant,flower girl, homecoming attendant dresses in closets that are going to hang there for the rest of their life. What's left for them to celebrate? To look forward to? How will they top what they've already been given?

There are cars and trucks driven by these kids that are nicer than the one I have now. There are clothes on their backs and shoes on their feet that cost more than the GNP of Ethiopia.

A teacher reprimanded my child? A teacher told my child they should consider finding a vocation rather than a four year degree? An administrator TOOK MY CHILD'S PHONE? AFTER IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII sent them a TEXT during SCHOOL? How dare they.

A parent wonders WHY the school ALLOWED their child to be the victim of a cruel text message. A parent complains that the child has too much homework...but wants us to get them into a tier one college.

Yes, I'm angry. Maybe I need someone to buy me a car. Mine has a scratch.

Alrighty then...

2008-09-28T12:21:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday. I am remarkably relaxed. My son went grocery shopping. PRAISE GOD for driver's licenses. I'm getting ready to read and take a nap. I'm surrounded by cats...LOL...they had flea medicine and are not happy with the world. Happy week!

Kids on the Block

2008-09-27T20:03:00.000-07:00

M.I.A. Paper whatever...thanks. You're part of the reason I face the kids I face every day. Grow up and take responsibility for the junk you put out there. All of them: Lil' Stupid, The Lame, A Convict...take a long look at yourself. Yuck.

It isn't just rap, it's all of it. Katy Perry, Pussycat Dolls, and the list goes on. All the things that I try to share with the students I see...boom, means nothing because these people prove contrary to what I say. They do nothing and make a ton of money in the process. Same thing with athletes. Carmelo Anthony makes me want to throw up. Adam Jones...don't even get me started. I like Allen Iverson more than I like him. And my head would probably explode if I talked about Ricky Williams.

The saddest part for me is the unrealistic life it portrays. Most kids have about a snowball's chance in Hades of making it pro. Look how hard Cedric has worked and he still isn't "there." Johnson is an anomaly. I'm not even sure if that's his name. Where are the members of CHS's state champ 4x100 team?

Our best athletes?...drug addicts, unwed parents, small time cons. There are only a few who've done anything. Jeremy comes to mind. Stacy. A good man and a Pastor. I know there are others from both CHS and BHS who I'm forgetting.

Sports and music. The biggest dream and the biggest lie. What if you get hurt? What if you get sick? How do you live then?

There is a whole big wide world outside. A world where you can be a doctor, a teacher, a pastor, a nurse, an engineer, an artist, a writer, a clerk, a scientist, a meter reader...a ton of worthy things.

Watching the people around you, admiring the people UNWORTHY of admiration, all lies. Don't be the one who rides a bike or your parent's car through town while talking on your Boost phone with your cubic ziconia, gold plated jewelry. It is not impressive. Don't rev your truck engine through the WAL MART PARKING LOT. It is not impressive. Don't post pictures of your butt, your bong, or your drunk driving/self/friends on the internet. Not only is it unimpressive, it is STUPID.

Focus on what you know you do well and DO THAT THING. Be you. Don't be a caricature of yourself.

Pay attention in school. Try hard. Give back to your community. Find a person to love and who loves you...not a friend with benefits. Don't date someone a week and say you love them. You don't. Be thankful. Be kind. Be a person worthy of admiration. Be a person of good character. Look for a greater purpose. Don't believe your own publicity. We live in a small, small place. Be the bigger person...walk away.

Sad randomnicity...I'm an English teacher so I can make up words...read the fine print.

2008-02-20T17:25:00.000-08:00

I'm supposed to have answers. I wonder who will answer my questions? This week has been a major challenge for me. I feel beaten and broken down. I don't feel successful. I definitely don't feel pretty. I don't think I've felt that in about 200000000 years. I see so many things around me that I wish were different. I ask my students and my children all sorts of random things. I imagine that I am quite an enigma. I look back now at my childhood and adolescence and realize that I am the weird child they talk about in the child development classes.

This weekend friends of our family lost their sister, daughter, aunt and mother in a car accident. Car accidents...for as long as I can remember...are one of my biggest fears. It seems too terrible to bear. My heart breaks for them.

I see so many kids doing so many things that are hurtful. Babies having babies, kids lying and stealing, breaking into the school- particularly my room- just to be vandals, kids calling in bomb threats, using language EVERY DAY that would make my Navy veteran Daddy blush, drinking until they pass out or smoking until they can't speak then posting the pictures ON THE STUPID World WIDE Web, arguing with one another to the point of fighting over things that won't matter two weeks from now, kids who will "yes ma'am" you 'til the end of the world and pay no attention whatsoever to what you've told them. Not to mention a lunatic pulling a gun on the campus my daughter attends along with many of her high school friends.

Is the rest of my career going to be spent speaking to noone listening? I don't know if I can handle that. I try really, really hard to make a difference. I love these kids, I really do. They can't understand, because of their youth, I know that...well, intellectually I know that. Emotionally, my heart breaks. Every day. A million little pieces.

I'm told not to trust them. They can't be trusted. Well, I trust them. I will trust them until they give me a reason not to. Once that trust is broken...not likely to get it back. Am I naive? Probably. Am I going to regret it...maybe. Do I believe what the Bible says about 70 times 7? EVERY DAY EVERY SINGLE WORD.

So then, that's the answer to my questions. I have to hold on to the hope that Jesus gives me. I have to believe he knows what's around every corner, behind every wall, and in every day. I have to believe the old adage that "If I can reach just one child..." I can only hope. There ya go...ramblings of an old, fat, menopausal lady. Be afraid...be very afraid.

Time marches on

2007-07-14T16:09:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm on my way. This has been a very long trip to end up back where I started. I don't know what happened, the how, or the why...but it did. Adversity makes you the kind of person you really are. I just hope I can show my kids and all those around me see Jesus in me. Hate is a bitter thing. Anger is a hateful feeling. Neither of them are worth it beyond the initial "it makes me hate the world" phase.

Being at S.A.I.L. (Summer Adventures in Literature) is yet another learning experience. These things often remind me more of what a bad teacher I've been instead of the teacher I can become. I am excited about my schedule at CHS. I will be able to teach something other than intervention classes so that's cool.

My eyes are swollen and my brain hurts. Yet another day in the life.

In Psalms, the Bible says,
"Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God."

So, yep, that's where my hope lies! And if you look closely at the picture there's a rainbow in that picture. God's promise to his people.

Rain Rain Rain

2007-07-04T12:55:00.000-07:00

It's Raining! YAY! It's Raining! Bad for fireworks...

We went last night to see fireworks in a neighboring town. We came, we saw, we got wet.

Re: the last post, the birthday boy's actual birthday is the 4th of July.

Here's some of what we saw last night! Happy Birthday America!

Happy Birthday Sweet 16!

2007-07-03T13:30:00.000-07:00

It was a hot summer day, 16 years ago. I was pregnant with my second baby. Seems like I'd been hot since about February. Neighbors were building a house and it was DRIVING ME CRAZY with all the hammering and so on. Yet, July is a good month for me, my sister and I have July birthdays.

To say I was ready to have this baby would be an understatement. I had a difficult pregnancy and it didn't seem to be getting any easier. This pregnancy began as twins and I lost one baby. I can't tell you the sadness I felt when I saw the sonogram with just one baby. Then on the other hand, I can't tell you how happy I was that that one baby was still there. I knew from the beginning this baby would be special. Satan had tried to destroy him from the start. But we knew God's hand was on him.

Into NFRMC Women's Center I went. I was going to have medicine to start labor. It did. "Wheel of Fortune" was on and I've never wanted to kill anyone as much as I wanted to see Pat Sajak stopped. Around 7:30 during a bathroom trip, my water broke. The doctor then decided I would stay. Well, DUH!! I was in bed, biding my time...I think I even took a nap. Bert was there with me, eating a WHOPPER. Sheesh. And yes, I had an epidural. I am a wimp, yes. I am proud to be a wimp when it comes to childbirth!!

The doctor checked me around 11:00 pm and said it would be morning before the baby was born. That followed him telling me what great hips I had to have this baby. Well, those of you who've HAD a baby know that you're not really in a great mood when your body is in huge amounts of pain...and if it's your second baby, in disbelief that you let yourself do this again. So I didn't know whether to thank him or throw up on him. I managed to tell him I thought it would be much sooner than morning. Sure enough, I was right. After a few good pushes (I have hard pregnancies and amazingly easy deliveries) we had our little boy. All beautiful, healthy, 20 inches, 7 lbs and 14 ounces of him. And his lungs. Where his big sister cried meekly and was so sweet, he was NOT happy to be here and even less pleased to have people poking all over him. He didn't just cry, he SCREAMED. For a long time. Loudly. He stopped about 4 months later.

His first word was "light." He has been a light in our lives ever since. He grew into an adorable little baby with big dark eyes and dark curly hair. His sister wasn't quite sure she was as pleased as we were that he was here. I think she finally got over that...about three years ago.

Jonathan wasn't much of a talker until he was about three. He called spoons ,"foons" and forks, "sorks." His cousins would do all sorts of tricks to hear him say "church." I don't know how to begin to spell that pronunciation! And, if you know Jonathan now, he won't STOP talking. He loved playing with hats and listening to music. There is a Carman song that I will probably never get out of my brain.

As he grew, he became so tenderhearted. He couldn't stand to hear about children who didn't have food or toys. He would cry when he knew someone else was in pain. His heart is still tender. He loves deeply and is passionate about the things he loves. He is passionate about the things he believes are wrong. He is like me in that he hates injustice. He hates to see people taken advantage of. He is outspoken and strong-willed...like me. Fortunately for him, he is also like his Dad in that he can be mellow when he needs to be. He looks so much like his dad. He told me once when he was little, "Mom, Dad and I are just cursed with being good looking."

So as my little boy turns 16, I have a lump in my throat. I am so blessed that he is loving, kind, caring, generous, smart, and yes...good looking. He has been the light in my life when lots of other things were dark. He is a joy to be around...and he makes me laugh.

If you are his friend, consider yourself blessed too. He will always be there for you. He won't talk about you behind your back...if he has something to say he'll tell you. If you need something and he can help, he will. He values you and your friendship.

Jonathan has his faults. A dirty room, hair too long, won't do his homework in a timely manner, forgets things unless you tell him over and over...and over, calls his sister names, eats junk right before meals, and many others I will remember next time he makes me mad.

From "Dark Wing Duck" to Darth Vader. From telling time with "Ch ch ch Chip and Dale" to tying shoes with bunny ears. Stitches to staples. From our talks about literature and human nature to conversations with Grandma. From the mountains to the beach...Happy Birthday my sweet boy. I love you.

Dum de dum dum dee dum...

2007-06-28T19:47:00.000-07:00

Happy toes!

Happy girls!

Today was one of my favorite days. First, because hubby got paid! We're a one income family 'til August...so this means I get to have food to feed my children for another two weeks. :) Second, because I got to spend time with the lady who has been my best friend since we were 4 years old. Third, she has little girls that I adore. Fourth, three of my favorite Gators went in the TOP TEN of the NBA draft. Woot Woot!! And last but not least, because we went to the beach. (Friend and I, not the Gators and I.) Because she has children who are younger than mine, she claims this makes her younger than me. I completely refute that argument. She is, however; three MONTHS younger than me. Anywho...

Because school administrators and school boards operate on a schedule all their own, I learned YESTERDAY that I was to attend a two-week conference-y thing nearby. Well, if I wish to be paid for the aforementioned conference-y thing I have paperwork to submit. Summer = all offices and schools are closed on Friday. Today = THURSDAY. Next Board meeting for my pay to be approved next Tuesday. So my beach trip was delayed by a trip to my school, back to my home and to the district office. GRRRRR.

Finally got there. Hungry girls and hot sun. It was good to see them play. The little one came up with a new friend and said, "we found a plasic bag and a nine-year old." LOL...out of the mouths of babes. The little girl they "found" was just visiting our area and was happy to have playmates. We saw dolphins frolicking. They found hermit crabs and jellyfish. I found my beach chair and "A Passage to India." Life is good.

Our trip ended on a cloudy note. "Med a lee" , as I am known to the girls, isn't a big fan of Florida's thunderstorms. When I saw it moving towards us, I hinted...not so subtly...that all good things must come to an end.

We headed back home. During a torrential rain. YAY! Greeted by the sound of a soon to be 16 year old boy practicing drumrolls out in the shed. All is well and life really is good. Happy summer. More to come later.

Wow...it's been a while!

2007-06-23T18:52:00.000-07:00

Unimaginable...it's been a busy time. I just got home from "Newberry's Backyard BBQ." They have near 'bout the best BBQ chicken anywhere around. It was a good ending to a long - but productive day. Started the morning with my favorite date (for the past 24 or so years!) went to my favorite bakery where they serve perhaps the best French pastries anywhere, drank my favorite coffee (Starbucks--yes, I am a corporate puppet). We then went leisurely WANDERING to pick BLUEBERRIES! Hurrah for Brad's Organic Blueberries! He's a post all on his own. :)

It was about 95 degrees but beautiful. The trees had been pretty well picked over but we still managed to get 3 lbs. At 2.50/lb. that was a steal. Even at WM (corporate puppet again) they were 2.48/PINT and that was on sale! Same reason I finally bought a Meyer Lemon tree...I HATE paying so much for fruits, herbs, and other produce. I never had a garden growing up but my grandparents, and their grandparents, and their..well, you get the point...did. I'm trying hard to learn about gardening and native plants. I'm mostly trying to learn how not to kill stuff. My great Grandma Quillen had a green thumb not to be believed. The smell of rich, fertile soil immediately takes me back to her yard with its beautiful roses and white half runner beans growing side by side. She was a native of Tennessee so you can imagine how much she LOVED being able to grow year round here in Florida. One of my worst memories from her yard though was eating a pepper I was told NOT to touch. I have no idea what it was I just know it was small, yellow, and HOT as Hades. I don't think I even put the pepper itself in my mouth, I just rubbed my hand over my lips. Man, I still feel that pain!

So now I'm off to get the berries in the freezer. Then off to bed with visions of blueberry muffins, blueberry - lemon tea cake, blueberry crepes, and blueberry tarts dancing in my head. Sweet dreams! :)

Some more SPRING!

2007-03-18T12:57:00.000-07:00

Spring!

2007-03-15T07:55:00.000-07:00

did I mention...

2007-03-13T18:35:00.000-07:00

that I'm a past member of the NCTE (Nat'l Council of Teachers of English)? So, I get their newsletter. Lo and behold, checking my school email I see the new newsletter. Then, to my shock and further mortification, I see the Gville Sun article about me there. Linked to a blog. ALL of it in a very public arena. I know GOD has a purpose. I just wish I knew what it was. It just goes on and on...http://ncteinbox.blogspot.com/

Outside

2007-03-09T21:15:00.000-08:00

I discovered Picasa! YAY!

and more...

2007-03-09T14:05:00.000-08:00

Even though it's a bad day, I'm surrounded by beauty. My diploma, the back of my Mama's house, the dogwood tree, a lily, the redbud tree on a blue sky canvas.

so you had a bad day...

2007-03-09T13:50:00.000-08:00

Yes, a bad day. A bad week. I am on administrative leave from my teaching job. I am heartbroken. But, I know that God is in control. "I don't know about tomorrow, there are things I don't understand, I don't worry over the future, but I know who holds my hand." Here's what I've spent my days doing... and the chocolate cake is actually amazingly delicious...the pic doesn't do it justice. : )

and today I became lunch

2007-03-06T07:22:00.001-08:00

Now I know how that little duck really felt...

My teaching life...

2007-03-04T11:27:00.000-08:00

I often wonder if I've chosen the right career. Sometimes I feel like this little duck...I'm there just checking things out, but in the back of my head I know I might be lunch.

Sometimes we fight for the wrong reasons

2007-02-17T21:22:00.000-08:00

and people die.

It makes me sad when I think about injustice. Attending the festival in Olustee today brings up mixed feeling for me. I am proud to be a Southerner. I am proud to be a Floridian. I am not proud of the way African Americans have been treated here. I've felt this way all my life. It's just been an inherent feeling for me. It has always given me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. We are all SO much more alike than we are different.

I am a word person. I LOVE language. I love the way words sound. I love the way they feel in my mouth. I love to hear people with different accents speak. So then, when I see words in Latin or French or Spanish or English and compare the similarities between the words, it makes me wonder even more why we insist on being different. Sharing something as basic and necessary as language, the very way we communicate, should cause wonder. It should inspire kinship. Yet, even still today it causes us to fight for the wrong reasons. And people still die.

Friday night and warm friends...

2007-02-16T18:12:00.000-08:00

I guess I love Friday nights. It's the end of a work week, my family is usually home, and it's amazingly relaxing. As the kids have gotten older, time spent at home is slowly decreasing. They have friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, dances, jobs and so it goes. My daughter still wants to watch "Lion King" with us. That makes me happy. My son still tells me his stories. That too makes me happy. It's 35 degrees here now. My daughter made homemade bread. I live a blessed life.

Poems

2007-02-12T15:44:00.000-08:00

OK, so pretty much poetry makes me happy. I was never much of a poetry fan until college. It is SUCH a release. I'm trying to make my little angels understand that...it's one area of English where there really, honestly are no wrong answers. They're supposed to recite a poem from memory on Wednesday. My Valentine's Day gift to them! :) So, my Valentines gift to you, a couple of mine. I hope you get to spend Valentine's Day with the ones you love. Enjoy!

Last Words
I wanted him to know I understand.
I tasted
the crabapple rage.
I smelled
the mocking isolation
Were God's eyes open to our heartbreak?
My emotions appear as
worn words
on serious white paper.
Yours spill out
in brash, splashy color
on stylish canvas.
Starry Night Vincent
Exquisite.
Wrapped in blue darkness,
the steeple closed its eyes.
God did too.
What eternity do we face?
You and I share a black-cum-gray world.
Players in a tragedy.
Your paintings of anguished release.
My muddled words
fill simply empty air.
We don't belong.
I am sorry for your fight with Gauguin.
I am sorry I missed the train.
I toil with the heaviness of the wheatfield
crows that terrify me.
Dr. Gachet thought you were doing well.
I made it to you Vincent.
If only you had held tighter
to those spiraling tress you painted at Saint-Remy.
I understand the sunflowers now.
They answered for us both.

Dripping a Valiant Death

You watch quietly.

Flickering light.

Billowing.

Flame like an old lady's fingers.

Fiery life's blood drips like tears.

How sad to feel

your body waning.

Each drop steals a bit more.

Scent of wildflowers settling

dim as twilight

Still as a sated lover.

coffee warm.

Flaming, but without malice.

Burning, but not destructive.

Silently knowing your benefit to me

is death to you.

whisper hot words

guide a young man's hands.

Dauntless now. Skin shed.

Your loftiest aspiration to serve.

Gallant light, breathe your last.

Wilt away.

MY Friday night lights

2007-01-26T18:53:00.000-08:00

It's Friday night.
9:53
37 degrees
made it through the first week having my attack student back
new furniture (1st in 18 years!)
hot coffee
new magazines
Jimmy Stewart on the TV
hubby playing a video game
daughter out with a "friend"
little boys (son and bud) playing with fire in the back yard -
they are getting ready for the Medieval Faire
haven't talked to Mama all day (daughter did, she's fine)
candle glow
smells like peace (is that possible?)
cats all snuggled up and warm
my life is blessed
It's Friday night.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

2006-12-13T16:26:00.000-08:00

Grandma and the "babies"
One of 20+ years of the Christmas Cousins on "Poppie's couch"

It's the beginning, the middle and the end! I LOVE Christmas. I love everything about it. The only thing that tempers the joy is that my Daddy died December 7th. He loved Christmas too. I miss him a little more around this time of year. I know Mama does. That's what makes this even harder. I know that I should take care of her without complaint. But, it is HARD. I didn't expect to be the caregiver for teenagers and a Grandma. When Daddy died, I said I would do anything to help and I did. I moved in with my husband (God bless him), my children (6 and 3), lock, stock, and barrel! Did I mention MY grandma lived there too? So anyway...point is, I've been doing this caregiver thing for a while.My mom has recently taken to falling. Forward, backward, sideways...every which way but loose. She has bad knees, diabetes, osteoporosis...and so it goes. I talk to her oh, probably 12 times a day. Did I mention she lives within spittin' distance? So I see her daily as well.

My mom is a throwback. She wanted to be a wife and mother. She wanted to stay home with her kids. She was raised by her "Mama and Papa" because her mom was a wild child. She was "Mother" to her, never Mama. She grew up knowing who her father was and that he didn't take care of her as he did his "legitimate" children. She loved him still and cried when he died. She cooked every meal, washed all the clothes, paid all the bills, wiped most of the tears and cleaned most of the scraped knees. Daddy was in the Navy until 1966 and Mama had four kids at home. Kids born in 1955, 1956, 1957, and 1966 (that'd be me and no, I am not an accident) She didn't drive...never had a license. She taught me about God and took me to church every Sunday. She made sure I knew that was the most important thing. She was instrumental in the integration of our school in the early 70's. She babysat in the 80's so I could have Lacoste shirts and a car. She kept Daddy from killing my brothers when they wrecked cars. She kept him from killing my sister when she wrecked a Jeep with me in the front seat and my teeth hit the dashboard. She babysat for me in the 90's so I could work without paying for daycare. She cried right along with me when I became the first college graduate in our family(at age 39.) I don't think she could have been more proud. So, when I think about it, maybe I owe her a little more than I like to give. I know she won't be here for a whole lot longer. And I know I'll miss seeing that phone number (which we've had for my whole life) on the caller ID. Maybe it takes seeing things in black and white to see them clearly.

Maybe I should let her read this too.

Post Thanksgiving wonderings

2006-11-24T12:30:00.000-08:00

My days "off" for the holiday have been like this:
Wake up
Check on Mama
eat something
check on Mama
watch Hallmark or Food Channel
help Mama off her potty
cry and stress over Mama
drink tea
check on Mama
I guess you get the picture. She fell Sunday and ended up in the ER. She wasn't able to go to my brother's for Thanksgiving. I don't think I'm ready for this.

Wow...now I'm a real teacher...

2006-10-16T18:16:00.000-07:00

Well...today I walked into a vandalized classroom. That classroom was mine. I've been egged (2x) and now spraypainted and books trashed. It's frustrating. It hurt my feelings. But, I'll go back tomorrow, smile, and tell them welcome back (Today was a teacher workday.)

Hopefully some of the things I do make an impact. Things like turning the other cheek when you really want to punch someone. I try wholeheartedly to practice what I preach---especially in front of my kids (both personal and school.) I've always believed in justice, that good things happen to good people. But as I get older, who knows anymore. I'll add the little angels to my prayers tonight and have a better day tomorrow. Good night.

Teaching, Talking and Teenagers...oh my

2006-10-04T14:15:00.000-07:00

This is such an interesting week at my school. It's homecoming and apparently the kids think it's vacation time. They're wild and crazy! Me, I'm just CrAzY. Here are the pictures of the flowers I've always called fire flowers. Being able to come home and see things like this make it all better! There's also a pic of Mama's persimmon tree. The only thing I know to do with them is make persimmon bread. Any other suggestions?

The demon seed---Golden Rainshower trees

2006-10-01T10:59:00.000-07:00

They are the bane of my existence. As you see, they grow anywhere and they LOVE my rain gutters. These pics are from my yard and Mama's. The biggest(the full shot) tree is the one in her yard that started it all. It was beautiful outside this morning. The air was a little cooler and there was a light fog. Ah, fall in Florida. More outdoor pics from this morning to follow.

I hate Golden Rainshower trees. But I love these guys.

2006-09-30T14:58:00.000-07:00

I have a love-hate relationship with these trees. They are beautiful. They are stunning actually. But they spread like bunnies on steroids. On our block, there are probably 10 to 20 of these things. There are about 5 houses on the block. What's important to understand is that these are all the spawn of one tree in my mom's yard. I've lived in this same location for 30+ years, so I know they weren't here from the get-go. They are all the things I hate about plants---the ones I want to grow, won't. The ones I wish would die a slow painful death, thrive! SO, I was going to show pics of these trees and was side tracked by a trip to WalMart. It was dark when I got home so I'll try to get them in the morning.

My husband and I are alone at home. That's happening more and more these days. As we drove up to our son's soccer game that same thought hit me again. What will we do when there are no more soccer games to attend? No more papers to proof read? No more last minute permission slips to sign, not to mention the "oh, I have to have $10,20, 100 for this" requests. I'm not sure I'm going to be a good "empty nester." Then I worry I will REALLY turn into my mom, calling them 50 times a day to tell them there's a new place on my arm and I think it's cancer and should I have it looked at??? Sheesh, what comes around goes around. Why is it that when you really WANTED all that alone time with your mate there was none to be found? But, now, when you're 40 and you'd likely rather sleep than participate in any other nighttime festivities, there's all the time in the world? Youth really is wasted on the young.

Well, the school week ended without incident. It isn't easy being old and starting a new career no matter how much you know it's where you're supposed to be. I am glad it's the weekend. Now my problem is I want to accomplish too many things and have too little time. I am going to rest. I am going to cook. That much is for sure. Everything else is on a wait and see basis.

Lazy Sunday

2006-09-24T16:07:00.000-07:00

Here I sit. Sunday evening. I know this because 60 Minutes is on. I've cooked two meals---biscuits and gravy, chili---and done little else.

I went to bed last night with big plans for the day. Those would be the same plans I had Friday afternoon when I left school, I would set my room up for fall and my lesson plan book would be perfection for the balance of the year. Left school with a pile of ungraded tests and a headache to beat the band.

This past week has been extremely stressful. Too many IEPs and 504s and referrals and lesson plans turned in to be "graded" by the administration. I'm overwhelmed. This week holds a meeting for my own child...one I'm not looking forward to. He struggles with math just like me. I had a teacher in high school, the same school he attends but not the same teacher, who said in front of the class that I would "never cut the mustard in math." That quashed any math hopes for success I had. Well, my son has a teacher who was in the military. Belief in order and black and white. My son is a very liberal arts kind of kid and she is not. So there is the first conflict. Then there's his own stubbornness. He doesn't want to do the work. There are consequences: loss of guitar, drums, best bud...not to mention loss of GPA. My husband and I don't really see eye to eye on this one. He has a math-type personality and can't imagine why this is so hard. I know from personal experience why it's hard. I feel the fear my son feels---25 years later. So, it's off to the school to figure out how to help. Fingers crossed that I approach the meeting more as a teacher and not so much as a Mom!

On a happier note, hubby dragged the fall decor down from the attic. This makes me a very, very happy person! I love fall. I love football season. It is the only season I wish I lived somewhere other than Florida. So, I try to bring some of the glorious fall color into my home since I don't get to see it outside, well, except for about 15 minutes in November. Down goes the thermostat and out come the blankets...a girl can dream!

I have lesson plans to write. There are reading and writing skills to teach. There are kids who feel about English as I did about Math. Things happen for a reason, huh?

Imagination---more important than knowledge.

2006-09-23T21:07:00.000-07:00

I am not one to do things the normal, easy way. I have taken a lot longer to get to where I am than the average person. *sigh* But, the best part is, I'm here. I made it and I get to wake up every day and go live a dream. That makes life something fun. It also makes me thankful that God is God and I am not.

I have lived in Florida all my life. My parents moved down here from Tennessee a few months before I was born. I am the youngest of four kids. I'm the only native Floridian...Becoming a rare breed these days. Everyone else was born at the US Naval Academy in Annapolis. I am thankful for those days my Daddy spent in Annapolis(and everywhere else) because it paid a lot of bills and still provides for my Mama today. I love my life in rural Florida. I can't imagine living or raising my family anywhere else. It has given me roots that bring me a great deal of peace. I love Florida...but I anguish over the loss of the real Florida. Each trip I take to my MIL's house near Orlando, my family gets to hear the same agonizing sigh from me. It breaks my heart to see the beautiful orange groves being sliced down making way for cookie cutter houses. I think sometimes I should have been alive a long time ago.

So, I start this blog on a hopeful note. Writing makes me feel better. I love the sound of the keys on the laptop and the look of the words on a page. I hope I will have something to say that makes people taking the time to read these words imagine what life can be regardless of what it is at the time. Albert Einstein's words grace the wall of my classroom, "Imagination is more important than knowledge." I couldn't agree more.