Perspective

Living with teenage boys gives me a whole new perspective.

Exciting news from the Bossman's side of the family! Wedding in April! We couldn't be more excited. Or, could we?

Me: I think Aunt J's wedding will be this April.

Mav: Who's she marrying?

Me: Really? You know, that guy that she's been dating for over 11 years. You swim at his house. Holiday games, parties.... that guy. She's marrying him. You knew that, right? You're not clueless.

Mav: **slow consideration** I might be clueless, but at least I'm not blonde.

(Which is funny on this particular day because I had just returned from the beauty shop for an update of my natural 'blonde' status. Good one, Mav. You got me!)

In response to the April announcement, Fox's only reply was a question.

Fox: Am I gonna have to be an usher again? I don't want to be an usher again.

Me: Why not? You had fun last time.

Fox: Touching all those old people arms freaks me out.

And so, with that..... Congratulations Aunt Joyce and Steve. We can't wait to be blonde and clueless while touching old people arms.


Random, unrelated photograph. Just for laughs.

Adventures in Substitute Teaching: Outside All Day

I've just discovered a secret jewel in the crown of the substitute teacher. The PE teacher. Wait.... before you roll your eyes, just listen for a moment, there are moments of awesome. Truly blissful, awesome.

The PE teacher job is tricky. It's success depends greatly on weather. I was just happily the PE teacher for two solid days of absolutely beautiful sun-shiny weather.

The PE teacher job also comes with a tool. The whistle. Fans, until you've held the whistle power, you really do not know what you are missing. Literally, dozens of children will stop in their tracks when you blow the whistle. Some of the children will watch you carefully. Very carefully watching for the moment you may bring the whistle to your lips to signal the 'line-up' time. Their only goal? To be first in line.

The PE teacher job also comes with the liberty of wearing my most comfortable, most favorite sneaks to school. After all, I'm the PE teacher. That's almost like an assistant coach, right? I mean.... they let me have a whistle for Pete's sake.....

Whistle + Sneaks + children running = Coach-like person or PE teacher. It's science. Or simple math. Either way, it doesn't matter to me, because I'm the PE teacher.... no math or science necessary.

Many of you that know me, will be wondering how I might exploit this limited whistle power. Let me just tell you, children are fun. My options are almost limitless. Let's begin.

First of all, I quickly figured out this 'first in line' thing was a huge deal. Towards the end of every class, I would 'fake' bring the whistle to my lips, and 'almost' whistle. Children would run to the line. Then, I was able to actually blow the whistle to signal that it wasn't line up time yet. I know, it's subtle humor that mostly only I laughed at, but I've got to fill the day, right?

Next, I would hold the whistle in my mouth for no reason. The children didn't like that much.

"Why is the whistle in your mouth?"

or

"Why is that in your mouth?"

Two very popular questions. My replies were dumb:

"I'm warming it up."

or

"I forgot where I left it."

I'm outside all day with children. I'm making it fun for all of us.

Even when I got a little bit hot and a little bit sun burned it was okay because there was a shade tree and a bench to sit on. Under the shade tree were also boys digging in dirt and collecting rocks and sticks. Fun stuff, mostly only little boys will enjoy. I knew they had made me part of their club when I was presented with a prize. A bug.

Tiny little boys, digging in dirt and bringing me bugs. I am super good at that.

No whistle needed.

Friday at the Fair or Quality Time With the Bossman

I can't even believe it myself! I was tricked! Here's the story of how I became a Ninja lamb whisperer.

Early Friday morning, I was elected (by secret ballot) to be the 'helper' to the Bossman on the day to deliver the lambs to the fair for the stock show. The children were otherwise obligated for some silly thing..... oh yes, school! I wore old clothes and old sneakers.

I climbed up into the truck still rubbing my eyes after a late night football adventure the night before. The Bossman is grinning from ear to ear, "Are you ready for some quality time?"

We pick up the lambs and get them into the trailer without incident.

(A few years ago, we spent an hour chasing a runaway lamb. The Bossman got so mad he left in his truck to go get a 'lasso' to capture the runaway lamb. By the time he got back, I had the lamb's rope in hand while the silly thing was eating hay from my other hand. I just couldn't figure out how to get that lamb through the electric fence without shocking myself. That 'no lasso needed' lamb capture is still fresh in the Bossman's mind when we begin this adventure.)

We arrive at the fair, and unload without any problems. Everything is going pretty smoothly. Then, the Bossman announces that it's time to start washing them. He decides we'll wash and shear one at a time before moving onto the next lamb. I just look at him in disbelief. "We're washing right now?"

It begins.

We start with the most unruly lamb. It's my job to hold the rope while the Bossman washes the lamb. Sounds like an easy enough task, until the Bossman turned the water on. This insane lamb starts to jump and thrash. He jumps up and almost out of the wash rack several times while dislodging the latch to the wash rack gate and almost escaping. The Bossman was impressed with my ducking skills when the lamb jumped up and almost kicked my face! I was kicked in the arm and chest but I never let go of the rope. (That's a super big deal.)

The washing and shearing goes on like this for about 45 minutes per lamb. At the end of the task, I was wet, tired and bloody. I look up at the Bossman and say, "You should have checked the boys out of school for this." He then laughs at me and says, "But then we'd miss all this quality time together. I'll buy you some lunch in a few minutes." He wipes some blood and sweat from my forehead and gives me a little kiss, then hands me a wire brush and tells me to start brushing out the legs on Southdown.

I'm greatly encouraged by the promise of lunch, so I begin my brushing task. "Her legs are still wet, the brush isn't working." The Bossman then sets me up with a blower. Now, I'm in my element! I'm blow drying and brushing out the leg wool of a lamb! This is almost like being in the beauty shop! No problem!!

I'm happily blowing and brushing this lamb's leg, when a large chunk of, let's call in 'mud', violently flies up and bonks me in the mouth! I'm shocked! Can this be right? Basically, I've just hit myself in the mouth with a giant old lamb turd? No. That can't be right. That would never happen at the beauty shop. I finish up the lamb's legs without mentioning the lamb turd to the Bossman. My only thought at that point was not delaying lunch any further.

The Bossman did buy my lunch that day. He said I did a great job of not letting go of the rope on any lamb, and the legs looked great on the Southdown. I devoured my lunch while not talking much. I was cold, still wet, still bloody and I was busy wiping the memory of flying lamb turds from my brain. I just told him to work on a better adventure for our next quality time outing. Less blood and maybe zero turds would be a good start.

A Day to Count Blessings

Today is a blessing. I am reminded that my daily life is pretty awesome. Mondays as a substitute teacher can be a great opportunity for gratitude. I'm not always a positive person when I'm in the middle of an unpleasant experience. Yesterday, in the middle of the worst of everything, I said to myself, 'Tomorrow you'll stamp and create projects for future events.'

A genuine smile for no apparent reason really confuses a room full of teenagers.

A few days ago, I had an extremely pleasant adventure. A whole day of holiday crafting! Early enough on the calendar to enjoy the projects without the holiday rush.

I think everyone had a very pleasant time. (I also had an opportunity to practice some indoor photography.)






These photographs represent the daily awesome that I enjoy. Sharing my passion for stamping and crafting..... it's my real job!

Up On My Soapbox & It's Not Really Very Funny

Late nights. Raw nerves. High emotions. Three volatile ingredients that fuel this post. Get ready friends, I'm up on my soapbox and it's not very funny. Believe me, because I know what is funny! This. Isn't.

Jag got 'Senior' pranked. I guess the entire school got 'Senior' pranked, but I like to keep this blog mainly about me. Or my family. So, let me just tell you what happened to Jag, from my point of view. Because I'm not going to be allowed to speak to the guilty teenagers. (I've already asked.)

All of his school supplies were stolen (pranked) from his locker. It happened sometime Tuesday night, and they're still looking for everything.

Specifically, he doesn't have any notes, books, spirals, graphs, charts or handouts for Honors English, Geometry, History or Chemistry. The teachers and principal are working right now to get him everything he needs. Everything that was stolen (pranked) from 3 1/2 weeks of school work. Teachers are sacrificing their conference/lunch/personal times to make new copies just for Jag. Thank you responsible grown ups for helping Jag right now.

Here's what was stolen (pranked) from Jag that can't be replaced. His sense of time. His ability to organize. His trust. I'm just sitting here right now wondering how to replace 3 1/2 weeks of time for him. Anyone have any ideas?

He had the immense pleasure of briefly getting in trouble in all his classes yesterday for not being prepared for class. He would explain to the teachers that he didn't forget anything, it was stolen (pranked) from his locker. Everything gone. He explained it about 5 times yesterday. I can't imagine the frustration level yesterday. For everyone.

If I have to replace all of Jag's school supplies, I'll be out some cash. I hope it doesn't come to that.

Here's what I want to say about all this. Theft isn't a prank. Vandalism isn't a prank. Our kids can be arrested, charges filed, jail, probation, scholarships lost. Teenagers please think about it.

Is a Senior Prank really worth it?

Do you really want to be remembered as the kid that lost their scholarship or was denied enrollment in college because of a criminal record? Do you want to explain your criminal record to possible future employers for the rest of your life? Because your 'Senior Prank' was a crime? Really?

REALLY?

An Anniversary of Reclamation

On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, my dad was still age-eligible for "active recall" into the military should the U.S. Army see fit.  The first question I asked him when I called him that day was, naturally, "Are you okay?" to which he replied, naturally, "Yes.  In udder disbelief, but, yes.  I'm okay."  The second question I asked him--the one he answered without hesitation and still rattles me to the core--was, "Did Colin Powell call?  Do you have to go back?"

My dad's response--after a half-hearted under-his-breath chuckle:  "No.  General Powell didn't call.  I doubt he needs an old pilot with poor eyesight.....but if he did, I'd go back in a heartbeat.  Yep.  I'd sure go back."  


And so begins, from many who share the spirit of "Yep.  I'd sure go back," a time of Reclamation.

Today, we remember, reflect, and reclaim one of the most horrific days in our nation's history--September 11, 2001.

We strive to always remember those who were lost, who sacrificed, and who were left behind.  This is my friend and classmate:

CW2 Scott Jamar

But, knowing Scott, here's how he'd rather we all remember him--a well functioning gear in a well oiled team (he's the second from the right on the front row...kneeling):

Most importantly, though, is the most precious legacy he leaves behind and that defined him:

A Tribute to Storm Flight 557:

On this, our 10th Anniversary, our wounds may not be completely healed.  Our anger not completely quelled.  And our spirit of a nation-united hugely underestimated.  This year, we reclaim our tenacity and our fortitude in an effort to honor those we lost, their families, our country, and the world we welcome to our shores.  This year, our men and women breach the skyline that once was bare, but now clearly represents the resolve of this nation.  

Telling our stories is how we heal and how we honor one another.  We all have a story that connects us, in some way, to the tragic and senseless way our nation was changed on that Tuesday.  

What's your story? 

Star Wars, My Sister & Football: None of these things go together.

It's the beginning of Week #3 around here. School Week #3. So far, so good. It's normally about the middle of this week, when I start to feel a little bit anxious. A little bit like, this is too good to be true, sort of a thing. Keep your fingers crossed.

The busy is starting to really amp up around here. It's a good sort of busy. Next on the agenda. Junior High football. Yep, starts this week.



Repeat after me: I will not freak out. I will not freak out. I will not freak out.

We're seriously considering medicating my sister for this. She's not ready.

I thought I was ready. After all, I've already done this one time. In my mind, I was ready for this. I kept my cool right up until the first day of full pads, full contact. Then, I found out I wasn't as ready as I thought. No worries. I didn't embarrass anyone. I worried quietly in my own home. Over eating just the right amount.... you know, the normal 'mom' response. Then, I went to a card class and shared my cell phone picture of these sweet baby boys. All the ladies gave me just the right amount of encouragement. Now, I'm fine again. For now.

A closer look at the football photo reveals a super cool, most awesome twin thing..... the boys are in the right number order for who was born first. For some reason, that is stinkin' cool to me. I hope they get those numbers for their official game jerseys.

We survived the long holiday weekend. Thank you Spike channel for the 'Star Wars' marathon. If there's ever been a better series of movies ever made, I don't know what it could be. My sister refuses to watch 'Star Wars'. Any episode. This may be my great failure in life. I somehow must figure out a way to persuade her to watch. Any ideas?



Look at us. Today is her birthday. Mom says we look alike. 'May the force be with you' on your birthday. Make your life complete by watching a 'Star Wars' movie. Go ahead and do it.... all the popular kids are watching....