Paxil Commercial

You know that commercial with that sad, white stone that hops around? The one for depression medication? Welcome to my life today.

The Spurs AND the Aggies lost yesterday. What is going on in the world?

And I still have two more days this week of teaching yet my brain has already resigned for the year. Every year that I have been a student or a teacher, school was out before Memorial Day. The great district I work in has decided they want us to work for 8 days after the holiday, which is practically the same as shoving bamboo shoots up my fingernails. I sat in my car in the parking lot for 7 minutes this morning trying to convince myself to come inside the building. I lied to myself and said that no one would cry or bleed or whine. Everyone would do things the first time I ask. I made it to the foyer of the building before all of those dreams were dashed.

And the Aggies and Spurs lost. I fully expect the Apocolypse.

Moderation is Key

I have an addictive personality. When I find something I like, I tend to take it to the extreme. This is the case with hobbies, food, and everyday chores. Overkill.

It runs in my family, too. My dad knows no moderation. He'll buy 3 tubes of toothpaste instead of one. He'll order sopapillas for the entire table when he is the only one that wants to eat them. Overkill.

When we gather for a family event, we have 4 dessert choices instead of one, and we eat the entire cow instead of a couple of ribs. Most often in our family, it's the whole pig instead of a few slices of ham. Let's remember the Great Easter Throwdown of '07 which saw me consuming so much pork that my entire body swelled for 3 days. Overkill.

Though, the puffy feeling was worth every piece of honey-glazed goodness.

As you can read, I use excess most often when it comes to food. But I do it with hobbies such as running. I'll run 4 miles when 2 would keep my heart in good condition. Most recently, my obsessive tendencies and addictive personality has manifested when it comes to cleaning. This would normally be acceptable but yesterday I realized that I was doing something completely irrational.

I really like to Squee-Gee the glass in my shower when I turn off the water. I REALLY like it. It keeps the glass relatively spot-free and then I have to windex the glass less often. Bonus. Well, after my shower yesterday, I Squee-Geed the glass and then proceeded to the walls. When I finished with the walls, I had a feeling inside of completion. So, I then Squee-Geed the FLOOR of the shower. There was not a drop of water left in that shower.

Overkill. Mixed with feelings of accomplishment, pride, and pristene cleanliness.

Like I said...addictive personality, knows no moderation, takes things to the extreme. Is this normal behavior? I'll ask myself that next time I'm Squee-Geeing the commode or kitchen sink.

Heaven forbid!

Here and Now

Far too often do I think about tomorrow. Or the next thing. What do I need to do? I can't wait for what is next! Oh no, what am I going to do about this? Looking toward the future is a mixture of worry, fear, excitement, anticipation, and longing for me.

And it's not wrong to think about tomorrow. I should plan for tomorrow but live for today. I forget about where I am...the here and now. I lose sight of the people and places that I am currently experiencing, all in anticipation of the next great thing.

Because I teach small children, I easily focus on the here and now with them. I am focused on who they are today in my classroom. But, I am also preparing them for the future. For their tomorrow. Often, I hope tomorrow is better than today.

Like when one little boy made me want to drop-kick him on Tuesday.

The important thing to remember is that I didn't. Yet.

Kidding. Sort of.

It is a struggle for me to revel in a good experience because I gloss over it and look for my next adventure. I guess I never want to be disappointed. And nobody does. I think it is crucial for me to remain alert and be present. So I'm going to try. I will try by not wondering what is next and just "enjoying it for what it is." So many trusted friends have told me that in the last few months. And you know what? They were right.

Cousin, SNL, and TV have all told me that and it only took 4 months and 7 different ways to hear it before I understood and obeyed. I'm selective like that.

So, I'm going to enjoy my time with my 18 children today because I only have 12 more days with them. I'm going to enjoy the hustle and bustle to the end of my week. I'm going to enjoy time with a friend this evening and not worry about what happens next.

What will you enjoy doing in the present?

You Be the Judge

A little girl drew this at the science center today.

She said it was a butterfly.

Again, everything you ever needed to know, you learned in Kindergarten.

Vulnerable

There is this band that I like called Secondhand Serenade. Actually, from the research I've done, it's just one guy. But I have no clue why he goes by that. Perhaps his parents were cruel and named him that. Like the parents of a kid that I saw at a birthday party this weekend. The parents, Mr. and Mrs. McCauley, named their kid Caul. Caul McCauley. On his birth certificate. His sister's birth certificate says Molly. Molly McCauley. They were cruel, horrible people and I felt sorry for their children in fast forward. Because middle school's gonna be a witch for them.

I digress.

Secondhand Serenade is great. Soulful, thoughtful, soothing yet passionate. I recommend it. I think I'm going to buy the CD. Do people do that anymore? I have no clue how the iTunes phenomenon works. I'm sure it is smarter, for whatever technological reason, but I can't committ. So I'm just going to go out and buy the CD. Just like I've been doing since 1994 when I got the Boyz II Men CD. That was my first. Complete with "I'll Make Love to You," "On Bended Knee," and "Water Runs Dry." Oh how I loved "Water Runs Dry."

I digress.

Secondhand Serenade has a song called "Vulnerable." It's just perfection in the musical form. I love the melody and the lyrics. I recommend going to www.myspace.com/secondhandserenade and clicking on the song. My favorite part is the line that says, "Just because you hurt doesn't mean you shouldn't bleed."

Seriously? Nobody ever told me this. I started pondering this line last night. Sometimes doctors make patients bleed for good reasons. I'm no MD, but maybe stuff like reducing swelling in the brain, lancing things, etc. Again...not an MD. My point is this. I've been too scared for too long to bleed. I'm gunshy about getting hurt again. But just because I've been hurt doesn't mean it wasn't good. It doesn't mean I shouldn't have bled a little. And oh how I bled.

For me, I'm afraid of bleeding and hurting in relationships. But it is not limited to this. What do you bleed about? Your children? Your parents? Work? Responsibilities? Life is jam-packed with all sorts of things that can hurt us. But sometimes the blood is good to get us to where we need to be.

FYI...I bleed maroon.

I Must Have Been Adopted

So my uncle is/was a public figure in a Texas city. He has been interviewed by local television for the last couple of years, months, and very often over the last couple of days.

The important point to remember is that he was not convicted.

Oh I kid. He's one of the most law-abiding (and remarkable) men that I know.

My cousin sent me a video clip from a recent television interview so I could watch an impressive interview with my dear Uncle. I got the email at the end of the school day and fired it up while the kiddos were supposed to be packing their backpacks, stacking the chairs, cleaning the floor. Basically, it wan an invitation to run amok while Miss Rose was watching TV.

It's amazing they're letting me keep my job.

So I'm watching the video clip and a smart girly comes over and says, "Whatcha doin' Miss Rose?" and I told her that I was "Watching my Uncle on TV. Look..." At that precise moment a black man was also in the video clip.

It is now a relative time for me to tell you that I'm not black. At all. Miss Rose = Super White Girl.

So the girly watching sees the man on the video clip and, without shock or confusion or hesitation, said, "Oh. The black one is your uncle."

It was a statement y'all. She didn't even ask. It was so clear in her head that my Uncle is, OF COURSE, a black man.

You learned everything you need to know in Kindergarten, folks.

School of Thought

I know my blogging has not been perfection, but I have tried to blog more often than the month of March. I'm sorry if I have failed you, friends. I would hate to fall off the face of the planet and then you wouldn't know where to turn or what to do without the daily wit of Miss Rose to keep you going.

Okay, perhaps that was a bit dramatic.

I have something very important to talk to you about today. I'll need your full attention.

What are your thoughts on figs? Newtons, right? That's all I can think of, too. I've never eaten a fig other than in a Newton. I've never heard of fig pie or fig preserves or a fig tart.

But doggonit, I've got a fig tree in my backyard. Big and bloomin'.

Just in case I want to make some Newtons. Awesome.

Hug a Teacher

It is Teacher Appreciation week and someone provided desserts after lunch in the teacher lounge today. I ate a brownie and chocolate chip cookie after at 11am.

Nothing speaks my love language like chocolate.

I'm pretty sure I can make it another 19 days, 2 hours, and 30 minutes.

Oh and the chocolate fudge frosted pop tart this morning did the trick, too. You'll remember how I purchased those at a weak moment with incredibly low blood sugar a couple weeks ago at HEB. 100% unnatural chocolatey breakfast pastry goodness does not disappoint.

Amen.

The Secrets That We Keep

Every Sunday morning, I visit this website: http://www.postsecret.blogspot.com/. This website is a place where people illustrate and mail in postcards anonymously and share their secrets. Yes, it is likely to have a couple of questionable images. However, I find more often than not, that I can relate to these secrets...thoughts...questions...experiences. I bet you can find one or two that you can relate to as well.


The website is updated on Sundays and I look forward to seeing insight into the lives of people I don't know. And everyone is just walking around out there carrying their burdens. We come across these people every day! Many of the secrets are common among people. We have challenges. We have things we don't share. We don't want people to know. We do this because even though humanity strives "not to judge," it is a fact of life. We don't share because we are afraid of others knowing our true selves. We think, "Oh if they only knew the real me or what I felt or thought about this, then they will think I'm a bad person and they will leave." So we hide these thoughts and feelings. And they become secrets. And sharing them anonymously allows us to purge ourselves of worry. I have thought about it many times but I never know which secret I would write.



I'm going to share some now.

1. When you are talking to me and I don't respond orally, it is because I want you to shut up. Now.

2. I run down one of the busiest streets in my city during a high traffic time because I want people to see me and think, "Wow. She's athletic. And hot."

3. Sometimes I think I'm better because I've done things independently.

4. I'm afraid I'll never fall in love because I'm too intellectual and independent. I wonder if I should dumb it down and seem helpless. It never works. Vicious cycle.

5. At a size 2, I still don't like my stomach and want to fix it. Women can never win.

Honesty is the Best Policy

Earlier today, I commented on how boys are ew. Girls are never ew. Ever.

Watch this.

http://www.vimeo.com/973345?pg=embed&sec=973345

Boys. Ew.

We've been in school for 155 days so far this year. I know this because we do the same, monotonous routine of couting by hundreds, tens, and ones. Every. Single. Morning. It makes me shake.

155 days does not prepare you for hearing a little boy explain how his junk is "sticky." That's right. Sticky. His junk.

I only have a certifcate and this sounds like something someone with a license should deal with.

A little boy in the class next door, (and secretly, I'm so thankful that he is not in my class), was telling his teacher and me at recess today how "here and here" -pointing to his two 'boys'- are "sticky." The other teacher has a middle school boy of her own, so this kind of talk was no surprise. I, on the otherhand, gave him the most revolting face and just walked away.

If I have a future talking to any kind of male about how "sticky" he is "here and here," then I don't want to date. Or marry. Or have children.

Ew.

Mrs. Butterworth Would Be Turned On

One of my favorite kids in the class came up to me and stuck out his wrist. I had no earthly idea what he wanted, but kids often try to communicate sans words. This is a welcome change from the ones who often talk to see how loud they can get or just to make my ears bleed.

So this kiddo with his wrist out just stands there and looks at me and I start to giggle. He's quirky, highly intelligent, and loves to hold my hand. It only took him 7 months to warm up to me, but a while back she started letting me in and I love it. He's all hard on the outside but soft in the middle. Like the perfect chocolate chip cookie. Do you see how I can always bring everything back to food?

Kiddo standing...wrist out...both giggling...7:40am...and I manage to say, "Use some words, please." and he says, "Smell." I would normally be a little wary of smelling a kid's arm -or any other part of their body, and believe me, they ask- but this kid is clean and cute so I took a whiff.

He was the perfect mixture of cologne and syrup (oddly enough). It actually smelled good. He unnecessarily told me that he put on dad's cologne and had waffles for breakfast. Mmmmm!