Am I Brave?

When I was in first grade, I had a best friend named Claire.

She and I put on a Frog & Toad skit about seeds growing.

I wore a green sweat suit. She wore her brownies uniform with brown paper warts taped to it.

Her big sister helped us rehearse after school one day, and though I

was shy, she really helped me memorize my lines. Also, Claire's warts fell off a lot.

To say the very least, the experience was memorable. And Claire is still my best friend.

This evening I picked up the Frog & Toad book she gave to Dec on his first birthday.

I read the inscription from her to him.

He sat clean and cozy in his bed tonight, the first night, of his first day - of first grade.

His baby sis sat up on his bed with him.

The story we read was about being brave in the face of dragons and in the shadows of giants.

I love the story because it begins with Frog and Toad wondering if they

are brave. "Are we brave?" They wonder. And it ends with the two saying to each other, "I am glad to know a brave person like you!" Then Frog hides in a closet and Toad hides under the bed. They stay there for a long time. Feeling very brave together.

Earlier today I combed Dec's hair, re-buttoned his shirt, watched him leap down the front path to the huge awaiting school bus...helped Nonie straighten her skirt, tightened her backpack straps and lifted her out of the car in the school parking lot... while my eyes overflowed with tears. I cried because the completion of each tiny morning task - from serving up their granola and yogurt to snapping their first day of school pics - meant I was one step closer to saying farewell to the ones who help me feel brave.

onomatopoeia

I came home tonight to a formal note from the health department at the school warning of an outbreak of coxsackie - you know, hand-foot-mouth-disease. Awesome, I thought, as I flipped the notice into the recycling bin.

Anyway, just that word: coxsackie, makes me cringe a little.

Could we all just agree now that coxsackie sounds like its meaning?

Admittedly, fizz & hiss are better examples of onomatopoeia, but I think coxsackie is right up there.

For those still reading, the real highlight of the evening was coming home to these incredible eyes, this scattering of cute freckles, and this huge heart that sometimes spews forth passion and emotion that can bowl and unassuming mother right over.

Which leaves me with the point to all this:

Coxsackie?

Easy. Hard. Harder.

The easy part is hanging the clothes.

The hard part is folding them.

And the even harder part is putting them away, of course.

Bet they don't teach THAT in montessori school, now do they Nonie?

Those weren't pillows

Here's what I pulled out of my pocket when I got home from school.
- 4 bobby pins
- 1 mechanical pencil
- 1 marbel
- 1 bean

What did you pull out... SAND?
Ugh.

ME.

I think I suffer from mild to severe Christmas light decoration jealousy.
And this is only the beginning of the list of things that just aren't right about this week.

A co-worker handed me a piece of paper and told me to do with it "what the spirit guided me to".
It was a piece of paper. A simple newsletter.
What the spirit guided me to?
I can't get it out of my mind.
The spirit?
Of course, yes, I know what she means.
And of course, yes, I do believe in her message.
But I get so caught up. In life. Stinking, sometimes. Especially the week after a vacation in a room of 24 six year olds who seem to be on some personal quest to say my name as many times as they can without going hoarse. They never do seem to go hoarse. But it's a mystery to me how that is.
Oh anyway, I just take it all so personally. Where have a failed the child who opened up the bottle of glue and poured it all over the desk on Wednesday morning? How have I misled him? No worry that his father is in jail. It is my shortcoming that has gotten him to this point.
At would point should I have explicitly told those boys that they shouldn't punch a classmate in the stomach at recess? And the boy that got punched? When did I show him what putting up your middle finger means?

I get so self-centered. So wrapped up in me-ness. I assume I am the epicenter of all these actions and the roots behind them. But it is hard to separate the time, effort and money I put into making my room happen at all from the actions they choose while they are with me. They are with me for more waking hours a week than they are with their own families. Of course I take it personally.
But like I've said so many times before, and then forget once the words slip off the keyboard, I cannot think I am in this alone.
I am not in this alone.
Something is guiding me through it. 

And it's not all bad. There are silver linings, I just have to look harder for them.

Like... "Ms. H" (ugh) "here's you in your wedding dress"...

And, well, I still got my looks.

Right here, actually.

For some reason or other, I have had a million things on my mind lately.
After a 12 hour day, I came home and cut out construction paper pumpkins for 30 minutes. Then I cut out orange strips. Tomorrow, we'll make pumpkins.
Then I stewed for a few minutes about the parent-teacher (+principal for backup) meeting I had today. I thought I should write my principal an email about the thing I was stewing about before I forgot what it is that had me stewing so hard. But I figured if it was bad enough to stew on I would remember it and if I didn't in the morning then one less gray hair for me.
Then I looked at the pooch. He had been slapping me (he's a slapper) with his big hairy paws all night. I had pushed him away. Because even though he was by himself for 11 hours, I had pumpkins to cut, and stew to make.
On my way to the computer I decided to give Drake a minute of my time. So kind, I know. I laid down on his bed, and he snuggled right into me. I am often the one to break these moments. Got to keep moving, got to do this. Oh, and that. But tonight, he put his paws up on my side, and his chin down. And I thought of a question I ask my students all day long... "Where should you be right now?" As in, not inside your locker, or walking backwards down the hallway, or getting a drink without asking.
And I imagined someone asking me that question.

And I took a deep breath.
And Drake snuggled in.
And I knew.
Right here.
Actually.
I'm exactly where I should be.

win-win

The other day I must have been feeling hopeful.
I also must have been feeling like I had some time to spare.
Because when I got to school I saw a beautiful rainbow and I decided to take a picture of it.
Notice, if you will, that I am the first car in the lot,
always am.

That must have been just a few hours before I decided to go on and get married in 5 months.
Emotionally I am ready.
YEEHAW!
Mentally,
woah.
There are a lot of people to coordinate to get together on one day,
did you notice?
Goodness me. This thing can really get out of hand.
BUT that's why 5 months is better than 12 months. Do you see? Just cram it all in THEN enjoy it after the fact. I mean, during. Right, this is fun. During. And after, too.

Did I tell you that while trying to coordinate dresses and photographers and musicians x3 and
peacocks and priests and family and invitations and accessories and friends and lodging and pre-cana weekends and, and, and...
I am also left to coordinate how 23 6 year olds and 1 5 year old should co-exist in a hot sweaty classroom to learn and also to pretend that each-other is not farting their way through the day?
They do. It's gross.

So when I get an email that someone is bored.
Bored.
I can't help it. I just can't.
All of my planning. My 10 hours at school a day. My poor dog that I leave at 6:30am and come home to at 5:30pm. My water bottle that sits empty because I know I can't fill it because I don't have time to go to the bathroom.
All of those factors go... excuse me? Excuse me?

Don't you know?
Don't you get it?
Don't you see?

I've got a wedding to plan.

Oh, but I know. I signed up for it. All of it. From the job to the toots to the reception. I took it on. It's all mine.

So maybe. I can let him lick some envelopes?
Win-win.

A day in the strife I mean life

I remember a few years ago after a night of dancing and weekend of walking around San Fran, Emmajane woke up with the most insane case of sausage toes.
(Mind if I share that story?)

(Too late.)

Well, I've got them. My feet are throbbing and I think I know why.

Imagine if the Cousins Club were all in the same class at school. That would be so fun right?
Wrong.
It would be tiring. It would,
my dears,
get old.
Even after just 3 days.

If their teacher was Ms. Me,
Ms. Me would say things like,
"When Ms. Me does this" (show: closed eyes, take a deep breath, open eyes to check if they are still there.... note: they are) "You know you have gone too far".
And
"Ms. Me does not DO wiggly teeth"
and
"Ms. Me does not LIKE the pencil sharpener"
and
"Ms. Me will TAKE those scissors AWAY if you can't walk with them.

There is something so exciting about being a teacher. It's such an unwanted (maybe?) power-trip.
It's a LISTEN TO ME and an OR ELSE and a SIT OVER HERE day in and day out.
It's a GUESS WHAT MS. ME? and a WANT TO COME SEE WHAT I BUILT? and a WHAT COLOR WILL SHE TURN IF I OPEN AND CLOSE MY LOCKER ONE MORE TIME? kind of day.
Have I told you I don't like lockers?

It's not so bad. I make it sound like prison. It's not.
We have our fun. I am the tagger in our "octopus" game.
I tie shoes. I put on bandaids. I don't give "time outs" (yet). I wait until Grandma comes to pick them up after school even though I am hungry because I didn't eat lunch today. I say "don't worry" when their star looks like a smoosh. I share my cucumbers and goldfish when their parents forget to pack a snack. I open milks. I count to 3 at the water fountain. I think of clever book titles like "How did I get glitter on my cheek?"

It is ups and downs. It has to be. I celebrate the highs and mourn the lows. It's just that it all happens so fast.
Like a rollercoaster.
All day.

Well when I got off today's roller coaster (read: came home) there was a surprise in my driveway.
I have to explain myself to the burly construction workers who don't understand why I have tied my dog to the tree in front of my house to take a picture of a tractor.
"I thought my nephews would get a kick out of this in my front yard. And the dog is just making it cute".
This is much easier than explaining why I have to ask you to go use hand sanitizer after I catch you with your finger up your nose during snack.
Or why I confiscate your silly bands and wear them home.

I wish I could explain myself as well as my plants can.
I'm just droopy.
You see?
Must I explain all day?

Well,
this all explains why my feet are STILL throbbing.
Not to mention,
but to mention,
about 1 minute after getting home tonight,
my shoes quit.
But I won't.

Because (as I told my kids)
Thursday is the day first graders come to school and listen and follow directions all day.
And who knows.
They just might.

Show me the way.

I pray for signs.
Clear ones.

So when I turned on my phone last Monday and had two messages,
one text from Erin asking for my address,
and one from the principal of St. Francis Xavier School.
I knew I had received one.

I thought...
Erin's son's name is Francis Xavier
and the principal is calling from Francis Xavier.
And my middle name is Frances and that relates to Carmel somehow (although I am too young to know how)
and I was craving a caramel which is spelled like Carmel.
... and I knew.
I just had this feeling.
Something could maybe possibly come of this if I think real hard about it.

And it did.

So on August 25th with 25 first graders walk into their classroom at SFX,
they'll find me.




MUWAHAHAHAHA.

are we ready?

i guess tomorrow is a good thing. it will prepare me for what is to come this september.

all i want to know right now is how did he grow so quickly. how could he possibly be ready.

is he ready?

we've focused so much on nonie visiting his school and getting acquainted with being there - that tomorrow has caught me off guard.

kindergarten.

kindergarten?

is he ready?

am i ready?