To be a Reader

I believe that life is not necessarily marked by calendars, birthdays or appointments.  Rather, it is counted by experiences that shape who we are and who we become. 

In my world, one of those events was when I became a reader.  I grew up loving stories.  My dad is a fantastic storyteller of both true and not-so-true stories.  As we were growing up, he would entertain us in the car and around campfires with stories ranging from ancient monsters to ghosts to tales of his youth.  Who needed books, when you had my dad around?  (Little did I know, that many of his stories came from books that he had read).

Then came second grade.  The scenes are still burned into my memory.  By Whiting had asked Mrs. Hicks to read "Where the Red Fern Grows" to the class.  Each afternoon, we would flop onto the floor, mesmerized by the tale of a young boy and his hounds.  When we finally reached the end of the book, Mrs. Hicks, with her voice cracking, could barely read about the death of those dogs.  We all lay on the ground crying our little seven year old hearts out, unable to believe that a story could end this way. We comforted each other.  We laughed about the good memories and questioned the necessity of the bad.  We had just experienced about the power of the written word. We had become a community.  Since then, I've read the book many times.  Each time, I cry.  I've read it to my class, and with my voice cracking, I've had to read about the love that Billy shared with Old Dan and Little Ann.  It's one of those books that I pull off of the shelf when a reluctant reader comes to me.  For me, this book marks the time when I started to realize that there was a world outside of my own.  And yet, that world was not so big that I couldn't find common thoughts, experiences and emotions within it.

So you can imagine my satisfaction when Lauren abruptly stopped reading out loud a few nights ago.

 "Mom," she said in a hushed voice, "I can't go on."

Looking up from the dishes, I walked over to where she was pointing in her book.  "Mom, her mother just....died!...."  Lauren looked up at me, her eyes welling with tears, willing me to say it wasn't true. 

My eyes filled with tears as well. 


My daughter had just become a reader.

When Your School Colors are Red and WHITE

I have a sneaking suspicion that whoever chose WHITE as a school color never had to do laundry.  In fact, I know for a fact that Ray and Ryan (the baseball coaches) think that the white uniforms look "sharp".  I also know for a fact, that at least in my family, I am the one who sprays, soaks and scrubs these things numerous times a week so that they stay looking "sharp".  Rather than watch the games, we moms discuss whitening and brightening techniques.  (Slight exaggeration there....) But I have learned that Cascade dish washing detergent is a must.

After a night of soaking, everything is all right again.

But I'll tell you what.  If they ever decide to change our school colors, I'm voting for something that matches grass stains and dirt...

Easter Activities

Lauren woke me up early Saturday morning to let me know that the Easter Bunny had visited sometime during the night.  (At our house, the Easter Bunny comes on Saturday so that Sunday can celebrate the birth of Christ).  (Funny how the Easter Bunny is willing to work with each family on that....)  We let the big kids sleep in so that she could get ALL of the Easter eggs without any competition.

Later that morning, Cade and Syd went over to my mom's house to hide eggs for the annual Easter egg hunt.  They really outdid themselves this year...

Hayes had to climb on the roof to gather eggs....

Lauren had to search through the playhouse...

And Chase, well, he just had to be cute and sweet...

Cade thought it was all pretty clever.  (Jorden just did her best to put up with him).

There were so many eggs that Hayes and Lauren didn't even have to fight over them.

And once again, Syd hid from all of the pictures.

HAPPY EASTER!

My Springtime Peeps

Yesterday, Lauren and Mimi spent the day celebrating Spring Break.  They decorated sugar cookies as they discussed their favorite episodes of "Cake Boss".

They decorated their Chocolate Easter House (what else would you call this?) with the intensity of "The Ultimate Cake-Off". 

Can you tell we are watching way too much TLC this Spring Break?

I'm so glad that Lauren has Mimi in her life.  How lucky is it that her cousin is also her best friend?!

Today I went to a Funeral

I didn't know the man very well.  But I have worked with his wife for fifteen years now.  He leaves behind his wife and four kids, one who is still in high school.  His was a life ended too early by cancer.  While I celebrate that he is now free from pain, I mourn the family's loss of a husband and father.  When I walked into the viewing, I was overwhelmed by tears for the struggles they've had and the the ones that lay ahead.

As I waited in line to offer my condolences, I watched as the wife grabbed the couple ahead of me and with red-rimmed eyes said, "Love each other every minute.  You don't know how quickly it will go!"

And so,

Today I played Frisbee with Lauren, let Syd go for a cruise with a friend (even though she should have been cleaning her room), went for a walk with a friend, visited a great-uncle at the retirement home, and told my parents that I loved them.  I also did many many loads of laundry, got the mail, cleaned the kitchen, cleaned the bathroom and chauffeured kids around. 

I'll let you decide which group of those carries the most importance.  As for me I'm going to get off this computer, lay down by Ryan and ask about his day....

Boy oh Boy!

I get a kick out of boys. I really do. My days are largely spent trying to convince 13 year old boys that schoolwork is an important component of their lives. (The majority of learning disabled kids are boys). I enjoy their enthusiasm for all things dirty, dangerous or leading to disaster. I enjoy their devil-may-care attitude that is a lot more swagger than substance. I appreciate their belief that all things can be fixed with enough courage and confidence.


In fact, just the other day, my school printer got jammed beyond belief. Luckily, I had a class of boys at the time. All ten of them crowded around the machine offering their opinions.

Open this, open that.
Pull this, pull that.
Its right here, it's over there.
We need a screw driver. We need to take apart this.

I let them have at it. (Stopping them only when the consensus was that complete disassembly was the only option). I figure that boys need the chance to work out problems. To fix things. To become men.

Unless of course my daughters are involved.
 Then I just want to put them in the dirt.
With my bare hands.

Soon after the printer incident, Lauren came home crying from school. After determining that she was physically OK, I began to question her. Two boys in her class had been tormenting her. One had thrown a ball at her head and called her "evil", while the other boy laughed and told her she was dumb. This isn't new. These boys have been picking on her off and on for a year now. I've offered to call her teacher, call the principal and call Aunt Michelle (the LIBRARIAN). I've even offered to send her big brother down to recess. But in third grade tattling is a capital offense. So Lauren just has chosen to suck it up and deal with it. I've had to break it to her that sometimes boys do things like that to get a pretty girl's attention. Especially when those boys are in third grade.

The thought of that fills her with utter and complete disgust.

The very same day, Syd came home from her softball game in complete disgust. A boy had just texted her to say, "You suck!" That morning the same boy had written on her book, "You are retarded and you smell." (I can assure you that neither is true...) She was irritated and wanted to punch him in the nose. Especially because it is known about the school that this boy likes her. A lot. So it seems that the third grade mentality is alive and well in high school. Come to think of it, when I was pregnant with Cade, Ryan thought it was funny to call me "Sweaty" instead of "Sweetie" during those long summer months.

I am happy to report that as he gets closer to forty, Ryan no longer calls me irritating names, thinking that he is funny. Probably because I would punch him in the nose.  But my poor girls...they still will have to endure those boys...

A Special Treat

You probably remember "J", the autistic boy that I teach.  He continues to tickle (and occasionally frustrate) me every day.  Autistic kids are known for their poor social skills and their inability to connect with those around them.  "J" often fits into this category.  He subtly leans away from you when you bend down to work with him.  He jumps if you touch him, and if you lay a hand gently on him, he will rub that spot when you move.  His verbal skills follow along these lines as well.  Ask him a question, and he may just repeat your words.  Or he may recite the lines from a movie.  In various voices.  Or, he may just answer your question.  You never know.

Today after Lauren showed up at my class, we went in the gym to check on the mega hot air balloon that the 7th grade is building (again).  James saw Lauren and skipped right on over to her. 

"Hi Lauren.  How old are you?"  he asked in his robot voice.  (I haven't mentioned that he currently wants to be a robot.  Or a dinosaur).

"Eight," was her reply.  They continued to have an awkward conversation for a minute.  Lauren and I turned to go, and James headed back to his spot near the stage.  As we went out the door, James came (literally) skipping and jumping back toward us.

Throwing his hands up in the air he yelled, "Love you!  Love you!"

Now, I'm not one to encourage sharing a lot of affection at school.  In fact, out of necessity for a specific group of kids, I have to limit affection in order to teach appropriate boundaries.  But this was not the time.  This was definitely not the time.  Sometimes, I believe that God lifts the veil just a little bit so that we can see directly into the hearts of those who can't speak for themselves.  With tears in my eyes, I turned back to look in "J" 's eyes.

"I love you too kiddo.  I love you too."