You Take the Good, You Take the Bad...

Admit it. You're singing the theme song from The Facts of Life. I know you are. And do you know the next line? The one before, "There you have...The facts of life...The facts of life"? Yeah, me either.

Stuff happens every day. I just thought I'd point out some things that happened to me today and how it makes me appreciate life.

1. Good: A little boy in my class has very nice manners most of the time, "Miss Rose, may I use the restroom?" After I say, "Yes. Thank you for asking so politely", he looked at me and said...
Bad: "I gotta dump." And this is what's wrong with America. Not only do I have to teach these small children to read, but I am also responsible for REVERSING crude phrasing such as "dump." Unfortunately, I know several grown men that didn't have intervention from their kindergarten teacher and they also use crude phrases...and think this is funny.

2. Good: I went running today. It was a great, 4.5 mile run.
Bad: A guy leaned out of his car and yelled, "Beep!" No, not an expletive, but the actual word "Beep!" B-e-e-p. Like it was a fake honk. I have gotten used to the honking, and typically wave as if to stick it to 'em while I run 4+ miles...but yelling "Beep!"? This one is new.

3. Bad first this time: The older elem kids take the TAKS test tomorrow. For younger grades, that means NO LEAVING THE ROOM except for bathroom and thirty minute lunch from 10:30-11:00. AM people. Basically, my classroom will be a prison.
Good: All my friends are leaving right at 3pm (this is extremely early, but allowable on a TAKS day) to go have happy hour. That's right. On a Wednesday. 10 of my best friends...happy hour beginning at approximately 3:30...dinner...beverages...dessert I'm sure...after a stressful day. That is one mighty combination and the result is: I might not be able to blog tomorrow.

Let It Go

I remember in college hearing a sermon, Bible study, or wise words from someone that said something to the effect of, "Take all the plans and things you want for your life and pretend like you're holding them in your hand. Hold them tightly in your fist." I did so as I sat in my chair. I remember gripping, gripping, gripping tightly and thinking about finishing school and moving to my hometown and becoming a teacher and getting a graduate degree and getting married and having a family and living a happy and fulfilled life. Then the speaker said, "Now let it go. Drop it. You can't control it and you can't hold onto it." I had a lump in my throat. I didn't want to do it. I don't know if I ever did.

I wish so badly to have the bold faith it takes to drop the plans and expectations I hold so dear, but I am a girl that likes to be in control. Of everything. Those who know me might...might...use obsessive-compulsive as a term to describe me. And I'm sure they do so lovingly. Just like how they'd use the term "bossy" lovingly. Because, while I have many things in my life, honest and patient friends are a true gift I've been blessed with.

I swallow hard even now when I think about holding my plans and then reluctancly opening my clenched fist. The only reassurance I have is that God is in control. And surely, if I were the one doing the controlling, it would not be a happy and fulfilling life. It might only be status quo, at best. At that time in college, I tried my hardest to release the expectations that I had set for my life. But somewhere along the way, I've been tricked into believing that I can do it better. And that when I exercise patience, it won't be good enough or it will take too long. How long is too long? I have a tendency to think, "Okay, I'll just hurry up and be patient." Have you ever heard of anything more oxymoronic?

I know that the more I plan, the harder I fall when plans don't come to fruition just so. And trust me, it's happened. Again...I tend to operate with a touch of the OCD. I find comfort in the control I have over events and circumstances. I plan and execute. There aren't many areas of my life that don't go according to my plan. In fact, there is only one. Regardless, I know that I must continue to try to exercise the bold faith that I so desire.

Do you know what that means? Patience (read: longsuffering) is a virtue.

Z. Cavariccis and Vanilla Ice Are Next

So we’re singing the Days of the Week song this morning for the 115th school day in a row. I hate the days of the week now. This is what teaching has made me: a hateful person towards the days of the week. And no one deserves an angry kindergarten teacher when it's supposed to be paste and crayons and nap time and snack and lots of stickers and warm fuzzies. But that isn't the world we live in today.

As an early childhood teacher, I can turn any simple tune into a song about a color, a season, a shape, a number, the days of the week or months of the year. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night singing color songs and the weather song and I hate my job. It is a sickness.

Today, I was grudgingly and unenthusiastically singing about Sunday, Monday, etc…to the tune of “The Adams Family”…and I spy something so spectacular. So spectacular that I stop, mid-Thursday, and gasp.

I tell the little girl with the spectacular item to come close. I ask her to take it off and show me. Can I hold it? She lets me and I instantly revert to the joys of 5th grade…with my boyfriend Jack Lambert, the maturation video (Julie’s Story), the United States song, the talent show and dancing with the boy I still have a crush on, learning prepositional phrases…AND THIS ITEM.

What did you love when you were in 5th grade? It was circa 1990-1992 and it brings me a joy that is unparalleled. With a slight touch of fear.

Slap-bracelets! I mean, who knew those were still a hit? Oh but they are. Do you remember having, and wearing, no fewer than three? Do you remember the fear that the thin fabric will tear and you’ll slit your wrist and die? Not me. I wasn’t scared. I was all about my slap bracelets. Well, those and wearing two pairs of socks, folding them over each other and alternating the colors on the other foot. I can see my slap bracelets now: purple with large black dots, red with tiny black dots, and the striped one that broke. I kind of want to go to my parents’ house tonight and find them because I am quite certain they are in my closet, hanging in the jewelry keeper. Quite certain. Right next to my dangle rings.

This makes me questions why a Kindergartener was wearing something as fashion-forward as a slap-bracelet. I’m willing to bet she got it from her 5th grade sister.

Let's Take Another Turn...

The revolving door of men...

MichaelKirbyBrianCarlosDominicJavierRyanMarkChrisZachPhillip.

These are just a few of the reasons I love my roommate.

Amen.

"They always call."

Whiz Kid

I promise that I won't do any more posts about my new house. Until the next one. Which may or may not be soon. Except that it probably will be soon because that's ALL I've been doing. I might even take a picture of my new refrigerator when it comes tomorrow! And of the DVR player. Or me reading the DVR Operator's Manual. Let's hope it comes in the "Dummies" version. Yeah, I'm gonna need that.

Dang. See how easily I got sidetracked from even writing a coherent blog? I blame my full belly. I ran 5 miles and then consumed my body weight in Julio's chips. That special little seasoning is something I can't resist. So to speak.

Since I'm not going to write about mi nuevo casa, I'll talk about the only other thing I do: los ninos! For you white folk out there, that means 'the children.' Specifically, the children I teach. I've had a GREAT couple of weeks. Today was really sweet with a little boy who only wanted to hold my hand and nuzzle against my hip. Because that's where his head hits people. He's really bright, possibly smarter than I'll ever be, and he has such a fun and quirky personality. And now he's taken to me. It only took seven months.

That sweet little boy was the reminder that I needed that children are not the spawn of the devil. Because sometimes I think they are deliberately trying to piss me off. But I was in a superb mood today and no one could make me angry. Not even the little boy that TALKS WITH A SHRILL AND YELLING VOICE ALL THE TIME. "HEY MISS ROSE CAN I SHARPEN MY PENCIL? HEY...NOW? NOW? CAN I?" Dude.

So, he didn't tick me off...but you know who did? The little boy that took a whiz on the playground. Y'all. I look over and see his back to me, the playground, the children, and his hands are suspiciously low and his back arched in just that certain way. I didn't want to yell or blow the whistle as to call attention to him, but all I wanted to say was, "LITTLE BOY YOU PUT THAT THING AWAY RIGHT NOW!!!"

Oh my heavens. On the playground, y'all. Taking a whiz.

It was over pretty quickly and I just sternly got in his face and told him that "the playground is NO PLACE FOR GOING PEE. You go into the toilet so you can flush and wash your hands."

To his credit, this little boy has two daddies...TWO DADDIES...who have no clue how to raise their son, and I know this because they ask me how to parent all the time. These two daddies apparently didn't tell their son not to whiz on the playground at school with 39 other children within 5 feet.

Miss Rose in the House!!!!!!!!

This is one of the few reasons I love being a homeowner...

...in my front yard! I MEAN!

And then I get to do this...

And it makes me smile and not even worry about the clutter and the fact that I don't have cable, internet, OR a refrigerator. But I have pretty roses, dangit.

Me So Sorry

I'm so sorry. Just loads and loads of sorry. If you are like me, you wait with bated breath for one reliable person to post their daily blog. I can't get enough of this blogger's love story in "From High Heels to Tractor Wheels" at http://www.thepioneerwoman.com/. Check it out. If Well Done is the blog you wait and wait and wait for, I apologize. I have failed you. I actually feel sorry for you. On several levels. 1. I am not that witty. and B. There is far better out there on the internet.

Now I'm nervous that all your hopes and dreams hinge on what I write right now. I have a little bit of stage fright. Nervous tummy, if you will. And I hope you do. But I'll just pony up and power through and share some pictures to disclose what I've been doing for the last week.

This is scary room #1:











This is scary room #2:











This is what I called a "good idea" at 9pm on Friday night:

This is what I call, "Oh sheet...what have I done? It's okay...I'll just lay here in the fetal position and suck my thumb."

To my credit, the room was pink. Baby girl pink. I much prefer the color now...but it was an illogical idea at 9pm at night. And the wine and fumes made for much giggling. Needless to say, we finished but I will be forced to 'touch up' the wine induced painting. We only spilled one glass, by the way.

Nothing saves a painting-gone-awry-situation like this next picture. This is what I call: Manna from Heaven at Midnight. Julio's chips, salsa, and Totino's pizza. They were $0.87. There are no words.











So that's what I've been doing. Again...I'm loads and loads of sorry.