Under where? Underwear?

When I was in elementary school there was this funny little joke that use to crack me up. It went something like this:

Me: Whatcha eating under there?

Them: Under where?

Me: Hahaha! You said underwear!

I would try this joke on anyone and everyone. And laugh everytime it worked. As I was driving home from school last night, listening to the radio, I heard this song...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IeuGQNuPhGs (Pinch Me, Bare Naked Ladies)

The important lines being,"I could hide out under there/ I just made you say "underwear." I remembered the first time I heard this song (college, I think?). I remembered laughing and thinking that I wasn't the only one on the planet that remembered that joke and possibly thought it was clever enough to put into a song.

The things she'll do for me...

On our way home from dropping off Evan at school, Kyrsten says to me, "Mom can you get a game down for me? We can play it together."

I agreed with the disclaimer that I had to spend most of the day working on my Mythology paper. To which she replies, "I'll do your paperwork for you." (I know, but that's not the best part.)

I said, "No, that's nice of you, but I have to do it myself. Besides, it would be cheating."

She says, "I'll do everything for you mom." And then she goes on to make a list of all the things she'll do:

1. Do my hair.
2. Pick out my clothes.
3. Flush the toilet for me.
4. Pick out my jewelry for me when I have to go to a dancing party.
5. Pick out my jewelry for me when I have to go to a not a dancing party.

Now it seems to me that "one of these things just doesn't belong here, one of these things is not quite the same...."

Getting buzzed on the highway...

No, I was not drinking and driving. I was driving and puking.

I have had terrible migraines my whole life. The usual causes are lack of food and stress. Yesterday I had both and I had the worst migraine of all times. It totally took the number one spot on my chart of all time bad migraines.

Mistake #1: Didn't eat dinner and tried to replace it with a Snickers.

Mistake #2: Didn't stop by my car on the way to class to get meds even though the headache had already started.

Mistake #3: Stayed in class instead of leaving at break.

The result of these three mistakes was a trail of Puke from Ypsilanti to Howell. I was so nauseous, that I could barely drive 60 mph. The first and third pukefest happened before I entered and after I exited the highway. The second time though I could barely pull over on time let alone get to a parking lot or toilet. So I jump out of my can and commenced the projectile upchucking along the side of the highway. Just as I was finishing up, you know, spitting the little bits of leftover out, I looked up just in time to get buzzed by this little white car who didn't see the fully lit up van parked on the side of the road.

I guess I'm lucky it was close enough to splash the puke puddle back onto me.

Tiger's Fans

We went to see one of the last Tiger's games of the season. Baseball from such the distance we were sitting was not all that entertaining for our kids, but they loved the food, the people and the merry-go-round. I am also proud to say my Ohio-born husband now seems to be a Tiger's fan, owning the apparel and attending several games this past season. I haven't managed to turn him away from Ohio State football, but plans are in the works.

That is a Hello Kitty necklace paired with a Tiger's shirt! She accessorizes better than me.





What a smile!










Notice the hat!









Two other fans - I have to say, they are much more devoted than the average fan.





Oops! I think I got caught snapping this one!











I guess he also has Halloween taken care of.







Also, we were sitting right above the bull pen. One obnoxious fan whose picture I didn't manage to capture was screaming at the pitcher practicing down below. He was bellowing helpful tips like, "You have to throw the ball" and "Try to strike 'em out." I think there might have been a few "Your momma's so fat...." comments also. And this was all to the pitcher who wasn't even pitching. Go figure.

Arrgh!

My blog frustrates me. I want to write funny, clever, thought-provoking things. I want to be able to come back to my blog and be please, challenged, reminded, etc with what I see. I think one of my problems is I'm not sure who my audience is. Me? My comment leavers (you precious few)? The universe? When I took my college writing classes and even when I taught writing myself, one of the first things to do before you write was consider the audience.

Who is a blogger's audience?

The Safe World of Blogging

I just love the fact that I can type my thoughts, beliefs, opinions and questions in my blog and feel safe in the knowledge that any comments I get will not hurt me or infuriate me. This is not the case everywhere.

Today, I thought I would comment on an article in the local newspaper (on their website). Basically, it was just some questions I still had after reading the article. Someone else commented about my comment and implied I said a whole lot of things I never said, especially since all I did is ask three questions and make one statement. This person also took it upon themselves to brag about how they could find faults in others and liked to shove it back in their faces. What did he want, a gold star?

How dare I hope to begin an intellectual conversation? I think I'll just stick to the safe world of blogging.

More Tae Kwon Do

Time for a Kyrsten Tae Kwon Do story. They call her age group (4-5) "Little Ninjas." Master Kil actually had them using nun chucks (had to look up the spelling-there is more than one) in their second class. I know, just picture it.

Anyway, if you have ever been around four and five year olds they ask a lot of questions and make lots of random comments. They also will blurt out a question or comment the moment one crosses their minds. And a question or comment can be triggered by anything. So imagine trying to teach the "Little Ninjas" a few aspects of Tae Kwon Do while they are asking bizarre(to us) questions or making random comments.

Something else you should know about this particular class is that it had a substitute teacher. He had a more militaristic style and actually expected the "Little Ninjas" to just follow directions without talking and seemed rather annoyed that they would just blurt out their random questions or comments.

So as the "Little Ninjas" (attempt to) stand at attention my darling princess of a daughter asks, "Do you have pink belts here?"

Master Military replies, "Um, no."

Then Little Ninja Kyrsten asks, "Well, do you have purple belts?"

M.M. replies, "No, we don't have purple either."

To which L.N. Kyrsten proclaims, "Well I like pink and purple."

At this point I expected Master Military to make them all do push ups (yep, he did that throughout the class), but instead he said to her, "Well, when you move on to the next belt, your mom can dye your white belt pink or purple."

This was a satisfatory answer for Kyrsten and for mom. Maybe I should give Master Military a little more credit.

Tae Kwon Do Class

There are so many stories from Evan's Tae Kwon Do class that I could tell. I was biting my lip to keep from laughing the entire time, while furiously texting all the funny things Master Kil (wouldn't it be scary if it were two l's) said to the new white belts to Natalie.

He would ask them questions and then tell them the answer he expected them to give when asked again. For example.

Master Kil: Who is your hero?

Students: My mom and dad because they do everything for me.

Sometimes he would ask a question, let the students give some answers and then tell them the expected answer to the question.

So then Master Kil asks, " Who is your best friend?"

And Evan shouts out, "God!"

Not what Master Kil was looking for, but a perfect answer in my book!

*Look forward to future Master Kil stories, I'm sure!

FINALLY DONE

This one deserves a blog! I am finally done with a paper I have been working on since approximately July 27, maybe earlier. Yeah, I need deadlines to motivate me. Teacher emailed today, "Where is your paper?" Hello motivation. I have worked on it little by little, but mostly I have just hemmed, hawed and procrastinated. I (the teacher) decided tonight was the night. Time to bite the bullet and get it done.

So here is to a whole day at the kitchen table writing about crap I really don't care about and going to bed at 2:00 a.m.!

Peace out!

The teacher

I lost my job today.

I am a teacher. I love teaching. I have been teaching at a small christian school for the last 7 or 8 years. The students there are amazing. Meanwhile, I spent most summers trying to break into the public school system where the money and stability were slightly higher. I had interview after interview and never seemed to be able to get my foot in the door, even though my husband did. It was exhausting, humiliating and discouraging.

Here I am again not able to do what I want to do so desperately. I can't imagine doing anything else. I truly believe it is what I am suppose to be doing.

So why can't I do it. I'm so frustrated, I'm angry. At the same time, I feel the need to pretend like it is no big deal. I don't want people to know I am doubting myself, my abilities, my destiny.

At the same time, I don't want to bring God into this (even if that isn't really an option). It brings up too many questions that can't be answered, and again doubts. Again frustration.

Try again tomorrow

Here I am, back in blog world, just trying to get in one entry before August is here. I'm going to blame my absence in July on the class I took, Children's Media Studies. I think I just figured out that I never come out of a class armed with the objectives the teacher set out with for the students. For example, I came out of this class with a new appreciation for video games thanks to a book called What Video Games Have to Teach Us About Learning and Literacy by James Paul Gee. Anyway, I had to do quite a bit of reading and movie viewing for the class and it ate up my July. Now I am trying to write a paper that is due in August sometime. I hate writing papers!!!

So here I am. With nothing to write, but a paper on children's media and identity development. Let's all just face it, I am much better at keeping up with other people's blogs than my own. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow.

Vacations and Namesakes

So, I took the month of May off from blogging. I know, I know, I said I would be here more often (I can see all three of you nodding), but maybe this time I won't be lying because I got a new laptop. I am getting ready to take my second Masters course, so my man bought it for me. Yeah!

I have also been thinking about the last entry. I am still not sure about what names I would have chosen, but I have some ideas. I don't know whose naming process is best because either way, some children still have to live with horrible names.

My first child, Evan, would be a sensitive one. I became pregnant with him during my engagement to his father. We broke up for a time, but eventually got back together. There are names I could choose that would focus on the difficult moments of my pregnancy, but instead I would probably choose words that would represent the fact that he helped my husband and I realize our love for one another, he gave us hope for the future, and being pregnant with him I learned about strength I didn't know I possessed. Love, Hope, Strength.

Kyrsten was a different story. She was planned. We hardly had to try at all (bummer). It was as if all things said it is time for your family to grow again. I could focus on the fact that she stubbornly remained breach until the bitter end, but I would choose for her something more. When we found out she was coming we began looking for a house for our larger family. Joy, Beginnings, Content.

Lucas was a thought that manifested itself. We were talking about the possibility and surprise! I had such an easy pregnancy except for enduring all the "Was this planned" questions. It seems absurd to some people to have more than two children. What-ever! We were excited to wonder and meet this new person we really hadn't expected. Complete, Wonder, Possibility.

What to name the kid...

So I was in our morning staff meeting and a friend and fellow teacher was explaining how a friend of hers, who just had a baby, named the baby Journey. They were missionaries in Africa and there the people name their baby a word that describes the time period during which the baby was born or carried or conceived (not sure which).

I just started cracking up when I thought about what I might possibly have named my children if this were the case here in the States. Don't you wonder what your name would be if your parents had followed this naming procedure? I think I might ask.

Soccer Coaches are like a Box of Chocolates...

It is kind of hard for me to describe "the dictator," aka Evan's soccer coach with out you being able to hear her. Don't get me wrong, I think it takes a really gifted, special person to handle a group of first and second graders...short attention spans, frequent need for a bathroom, toilet humor, endless questions etc. She is not a very patient lady, so imagine someone saying "line up, line up...hurry up" in a very impatient voice while giving you .243 seconds to comply and you are about 20 yards from where she wants you to line up. Sounds frustrating, now imagine you are 7 years old.

At the first practice I was somewhat bothered. Natalie joined me and we joked around about it. After the coach talked to the parents I saluted and said "Aye, aye captain" as I walked back to my seat. Practice came to an end and I asked Evan, "How did you like it?" I was prepared to quit. This is for fun and if he wasn't going to have fun well then... He loved it. And at the second practice the coach was the same and he loved it. He even said he really liked his coach. What is it that children can see (or accept) in people that adults can't?

Needless to say, lessons were learned. No silly, not soccer lessons, life lessons. Am I going to let him quit anytime the situation isn't exactly what he expects? No, he has to learn how to make commitments and stick with them, and he needs to learn how to deal with people that bother him. So unless she starts berating the children or making them feel bad about themselves, she'll just have to be my chocolate covered maple cream.

Snow White

So, I'm trying to follow through on my quest to blog more. Here goes.

I am not one to go to the grocery store alone. Most may find this crazy, but usually all five of us go. Today, it was Kyrsten, Lucas and I.

Kyrsten was dressed in a complete Snow White costume, cape and all. There are two reasons she was dressed like this. One, she was like that when I picked her up from my mom's. Two, why fight about taking it off when it performs the same duty as clothes.

As I was walking through the store, people smiled and pointed. Then a woman actually came up to me and said, "I just want to say, you are a cool mom!" (See ego inflating here.) Apparently, uncool moms do not allow their children to dress as Disney characters at the grocery store. So I said to Kyrsten, "We need to go grab some fruit before we go." (I know, I know. They even eat fruit.) Then I looked at her with real big eyes and said, "We better not by apples. That didn't work out so well for Snow White last time." She looked back at me with big eyes and said, "You're right, I might die." And then we laughed.

We bought strawberries and bananas instead.

Castaway Cafe and Literary Criticism

There is this clever little business in our town called Castaway cafe. I don't know if I can even describe it well enough to do it justice. It is a huge maze/web of rope ladders, slides, cushion like blocks, tunnels and other craziness that extends upward toward a warehouse high ceiling. (Anyone with kids should check it out...even a section for the peewees.) We took our kids there today. Nothing takes you back to childhood like watching your own children.

I reminisced about the days of Chucky Cheese with my husband. They still have these, but they are a watered-down, video-game overloaded, wanna be version of the old Chucky Cheese. (Remember the big ball tanks. They were great until some kids barfed his pizza in it and they had to close them for cleaning. And they had a real mouse guy walking around and singing on stage, not the robot version they have now.)

Anyway, every time we went to C.C., I made new friends, and I watched my kids do it today. They took off running and every time I saw them they were with a posse of kids challenging each other to the highest slide, comparing ages and finding out they were the same, pretending to be dogs, finding new routes to the top, and who knows what else. Good times.

I need to post more. One of the reasons I haven't been in blogworld lately except to comment on some lovely blogs is because of my Literary Criticism class. One of my goals this year was to begin work on my Master's degree. Boy, did I pick a doozy! Ask Natalie, she has been on this journey with me, maybe dragged along is a better way to say it. You know how criticism in general makes you feel, yeah this class is like that. I think it was created just to suck the life out of people who enjoy reading. I see the light at the end of the tunnel, I have enjoyed being back in academia (for the most part - another post), and I am probably getting the toughest class out of the way first. Now if only that acceptance letter would arrive.

Ode to the Loves of My Life

Very few of the few people who read my blog have met my children. Well, this post is dedicated to them and their fabulousness.

Lucas (aka Lukster-miester, Lukey, and young padawan)
One year old
Only child of mine who will eat peas, breast fed, and weighed 20 lbs before his first birthday
Has "evil" laugh when being mischiveous
Prefers to be carried by dad
Loves the outdoors, climbing on stools, Praise Baby, and making others laugh

Kyrsten (aka Ki-ki)
Four years old (in March)
Needs lots of sleep unless you would like to see her dark side - though you may see it anyway without any notice
Knows and uses way too many "grown-up phrases"
Prefers staying in her underwear all day long
Loves make-up, candy, playing with big brother, dressing up, singing and projects
Has the cutest little voice that includes switching b's for v's, ch's for t's, w's for l's and did you know today is Balemtime's day
Wrote a song called "What's Your Name" - it is an interactive song

Evan (aka bud)
Seven years old
Smart as a whip
Loves video games, playing outside, riding his bike (for miles), school and a million other things
Also prefers to be in underwear only
Is growing up too fast (i.e. used the phrase "as well" the other day)
Would eat noodles with just butter ("no sauce") for every meal
Writes poetry and just began a journal
Future is wide open for this kid

This is just a glimpse of the miracle that is my children. Only a creative and loving heavenly father could have created such wonder. As I think about them and their uniqueness I feel as if God is saying directly to me, "Happy Valentine's Day, Sarah!" What a gift of love each day is knowing them and being known as "mom."

Just sitting around...making up new words.

So, you may have heard about the dashing mayor of Detroit and the texting scandal with his chief of staff. That is a whole other blog, for a whole other person on a whole other day. Anyway, Natalie and I were watching the news and all the channels were discussing his press conference apology. They were interviewing several people and getting their opinions on whether he seemed sincere or not. As one man answers the question, he mentions something like the "malfeces of the mayor."

"Did he just say 'malfeces'?"

Ok, he did not say "malfeces." It was just what Natalie and I heard. I think he may have said "maleficient," but I can't be sure. Anyway, this led to the discover of said word "malfeces."

malfeces \mal-`fe-seez\ n. poopy talk (malfecious adj.)
1. I don't want to hear that malfeces come out of your mouth again.
2. Such malfecious language is not allowed in this classroom.

My goal is to try and work it into a real classroom situation. Shouldn't be too difficult with a room full of middle schoolers!

Random

"Random" is one of those words I use to get joy from using because it was just not everyday that something/someone deserved the use of that term. I would pull it out of my file cabinet of words like I was pulling out my favorite pair of socks on the rare occasion they were clean. Or like when you use a brand new tube of lipstick for the first time. You just know it is going to be a while until you do it again so you savor the moment. When I say the word "Random" I savor the sound of the word as it rolls off my tongue and delight in how unique and well chosen it sounds in the context of the moment.

Well, I use to.

Now the word is everywhere. It is like the use of the word random is no longer random. How can that be? I feel as if the world is becoming even more unstable than I once thought.

My students started it last year. Someone makes a comment. Another student says, "Wow, that was random." I thought it was one of those little inside group things. No, the students this year do it too. I hear it at least three times a class period. And I heard it on the radio and the TV just this week.

So, as I grieve the loss of the use of such a beautiful and precise word, I hold on to the hope that one day, "Random" will be random again.