I'm Living With a Stranger

I'm living with a stranger. I'm fairly certain it happened overnight. My little boy has turned into a full fledged teenager. I still know a lot about Noah. I know his favorite color is blue, he's a handsome boy, and a kind big brother. I know his passion is basketball, and he's smart and wants to go to a "good college"- in his mind means "out of state". I know all of his friends, and their parents. I know he eats and sleeps A LOT, and wants to have bigger biceps. I'm finding out he believes I know very little about everything- because I am always wrong, and he is always right. It's so hard to believe that only five years ago he told me everything that popped into his mind, and now... nothing, except his need for new basketball/football/running shoes and random sports equipment.
Just a few years ago he used to argue with his brother about who got to sit closer to me on the couch. In fact, I bought a bigger couch so they wouldn't have to share me. Now he uses that same couch to sit as far away from me as possible. I miss him, and he is sitting in the same room as me. When he walks up the steps in the morning I don't see the tired 14-year-old that he is. I see the 4-year-old that he was stomping up the steps demanding to know where Kitty is, and why he pooped in his room. As we are sitting at the supper table and he informs us that we need to pay for basketball, and he's going to start driver's training, all I see is a kindergartner telling us he has to stay away from the licker (Abby) at supper. I know growing up and detaching from mom is totally normal, and if I was his best friend (like he promised me I ALWAYS would be when he was 5) I'd be worried. I never went through this "my life is my own and my parents are only in it because they have more money", mostly because I always felt like my parents' love for me was a flip of the coin. I do one thing wrong, and it was gone. Therefore I have to admit what Noah and I are going through means I did a mostly good job raising him and it's perfectly healthy. I also know it's normal that teenage boys will eventually come back and need their mom, but what if he doesn't? I told him I'd move to wherever he goes to college, then he told me he wasn't going to tell me where he is going. What if he moves far away to college, meets a girl and marries her, and she doesn't want him to have anything to do with his family? He's a people pleaser. It will probably happen.
Last night I as I laid in bed tears started streaming down my face because he grew up too fast. What was I doing when it all happened? I know I didn't pay enough attention to him when Ethan was a baby. I have the video tapes to prove it. How could I have missed it? I'm a teacher, I get home early and I have summers off. Was I blind to his getting older? Did I spend too much time working on my masters, reading, laying in the pool, or away from home? How can someone who lived in me for 9 months be a stranger? Everyone says "It goes so fast" when it comes to raising kids. That is an understatement. I spend so much of my life wishing away time; I wish it was Christmas break, I wish it was summer, I wish it was 5:00 so I can drink a beer. Is that how I missed Noah growing up? I think for the rest of the summer I'm going to spend hours staring at both Noah and Ethan. I don't care how creepy it seems, I know they will thank me later.

Keep The Riff-Raff Out!

It is impossibly cold outside. This winter has been horrible. We've had a range of 20 degrees to -60  since the day after Thanksgiving. On the rare days we have 20 degree weather, we have a 80 mile per hour wind with a -700 wind chill, so why bother having 20 degrees ABOVE? The big saying around here, mostly made by people who don't need to leave their houses on a daily basis is, "It's good. It keeps the riff-raff out." What is riff-raff you ask? Well, it's "ghetto folk", hobos, meth heads, and such. But the thing is, it doesn't get rid of the riff-raf. It just drives them indoors where everyone else is. I know this because I experienced it first hand during my last trip to Walmart. It all began on Sunday morning. I woke up with a pain in my stomach on the right, and it seemed right under my ribs. So, I did what every red-blooded American who understands technology does. I looked my malfunction on-line, where you should go for all medical advice. I self-diagnosed myself with gall stones. The remedy for gall stones is drink six ounces of apple juice for five days, because the apple juice makes the stones soft. On the sixth day, drink the apple juice, and don't eat after 6:00 pm. At 8:00 drink four ounces of water mixed with 2 tablespoons of Epson Salt, and repeat at 10:00. At 10:30 drink 4 ounces of olive oil mixed with two ounces of lemon juice. The Epson salt acts as a laxative and the olive oil makes it more slippery I guess. I think the Epson salt must give the concotion the explosive effect to help rid your body of the gall stones. I had everything except the Epson salt, which I didn't need until the following Saturday anyway. Yesterday it was only -16 degrees with a -25 wind chill and it was supposed to be the warmest day of the week, so I declared it my "Walmart/Target/Grocery" day. I typically don't go to Walmart, but the one by my school is a little classier Walmart. Even that sentence makes me giggle. Classy Walmart is an oxymoron, like non-dairy cream. Anyway, I needed more "Walmart" specific stuff than Target or Grocery store, so when it is this cold I only pick one store, and Walmart won. I parked my car at Walmart, making certain to look at which lane I parked in, because when the wind chill is -25, you don't have time to gallivant around the parking lot looking for your car. I walked into Walmart and immediately felt like I was in the ghetto. Yes. The ghetto of Fargo. I saw a 24-year-old mom with at least five kids I think. It was hard to count because they were all running so fast, but I know the two IN the cart were trying to get OUT, and at least three others were fighting to get in, and there were a few more climbing the shelves as she looked at Monistat. I wanted to grab a package of condoms off the shelf and throw them in her cart while she wasn't looking, but I knew one of the kids would tell on me and cause a bigger scene. I also wanted to assist the kids trying to get out of the cart before they fell, but then I thought 'oh well. Everyone needs a childhood scar story to tell. It would be unfair to rob these children of that.' I knew this woman was ghetto before she opened her mouth. Just because it's the frozen tundra of the north and she was wearing her WARM pajama bottoms and slippers doesn't make it any less of the fact that she is shopping while wearing pajamas. It could have been that, or her many screaming children, or the fact that she had dread locks, and the children looked like they haven't bathed in 2014, but it was probably the tank top that was too small and rode up, so it showed both her tramp stamp on the back, and her rolls on top of her rolls in the front. I wondered, 'where is her coat? It's fricken -25 out!' then I found it. Her five-year-old was wearing the hood of the mom's coat over her face and spinning around with her arms straight out. Hey- at least she was smart enough to try to keep her balance while knocking things out of the way with her arms instead of her head. Maybe she got the smarts in the family. After my entertainment went around the corner to terrorize an elderly couple in the next aisle, I went to work looking for Epson salt. I found it. It's also called bath salts. I read the package and in big letters it says DO NOT INJEST. How am I suppose to mix it with water so I can drink it up? I asked the pharmasist if they had Epson salt that can be injested. She looked at me funny and said, "No. They are BATH salts. Not salt, salt". Now I felt like the ghetto mom who had kids running around with my coat covering their face. I instantly remembered the situation in New York when the guy who injested bath salts ate off the hobo's face in the subway. Great. Now she thinks I'm that person. So I left Walmart thinking sure, leave it to Walmart to have the non-edible Epson salts. Target would have the right kind. Not regular Target, but Super Target would because if you want to injest bath salts and eat off someone's face, you wouldn't be shopping at Target. You'd go to Walmart. I paid for my extreamly cheep cleaning products and left to wander the parking lot looking for my car.

I Love My Class

I have the best class this year! They are so good. None of my students have any behavior problems. On the first day of school I kept pausing while I was talking. I was getting more and more frustrated with myself. I was wondering, "Did I lose the teaching touch? What is with the pausing? Did I forget how to talk to a group of people?" Nope. It was because no one was interrupting me by shouting obscenities or swear words, no one was throwing any furniture or books, no one was threatening to kill me, no one was throwing a tantrum because I was giving someone else individual attention, and no one was spitting on their neighbor. I didn't know what to do. The past two years I wasn't able to finish a complete thought, let alone a sentence without a swear word, book, spit, punch or death threat being thrown my way. This year is a dream! I tell the kids all of the time they are the best class I've ever had. I actually get a little sad saying goodbye to them on Fridays because I know I won't see them until Monday. This class really couldn't get any better. They try hard, they pay attention, they do what I tell them to do, they don't even get crazy before a storm or during a full moon, and best of all they are excited about any new material I have to teach them. I swear, I could say tomorrow morning, "We are going to learn about watching grass grow," and they'd cheer. Their behavior is the best. I rarely have to tell them individually or collectively to "settle down", "listen" or "get to work".  Reverse psychology and positive reinforcement works wonders with them. I'll say, "I LOVE how Johnny is working so hard", then they all work hard. Or "you can do this, you are smart", then they go try their hardest. In the past if I said, "I LOVE how hard Johnny is working", kids would think, and often say, "Well, Johnny is a big nerd." In the past if I told them, "You can do this, you're smart", they'd tell me "No I can't and you are dumb if you think I can do it." Or they'd throw something and storm out of the room and run away.
Today marked the half way point of the school year. Last night I went to bed thinking "I have the best class. They are so excited to learn about everything. I am so lucky." Then it turned to "I am halfway done with this class. I will never have a class this good again. It took 14 years to get kids this good, I'll never strike gold twice." And worse, "Even if I do have a good class, I'll compare them to this class and they will never measure up. This class has blessed, and ruined me at the same time." Then I got a little teary and fell asleep. This morning I was still all nostalgic thinking, "I am so lucky. I love getting out of bed and going to work."  However, once I got to school it was a different story. The day started out with a girl announcing, "This is my last day. We are moving to (a southern state) tomorrow because my mom is sick of winter." I should tell you that the temperature (considering wind chill) has only been ABOVE -15 at noon for exactly 7 days since November 3. I hate winter too, but I've decided long ago that I'm stuck here because this is where I live. Considering up and moving because of the weather isn't something most people do, I didn't believe her. Sure enough, I got an e-mail at 9:00 from her mom telling me the movers came during Christmas break, took their stuff, and they are all hopping on a plane tomorrow morning and saying "Adios" to Fargo forever. This girl gave me a picture she drew(of the Eiffel tower) on the back of her homework that said, "Pairs. The Citee of Love. to mrs, farFled". All I thought was, "Well, now the pressure of teaching you how to spell is no longer mine." I only have seven girls in my class, so they are all pretty close friends. The girls who is moving is definitely a leader. The rest are very sweet, but not the "take charge" type. We went through her tearful passing out of her "good-bye cookies" then they pretty much pulled themselves together. I was sad and worried about how the remaining six girls will cope and wondered who will end up taking the leadership role.
My sad attitude continued well into the afternoon. I got an e-mail from our school secretary saying "This is an invite for you to join us in The Biggest Loser here at school" Right away I chuckled thinking "Ha ha! She's calling me a big loser, ha ha." Then I found out it was about losing weight. I was no longer thinking "ha ha" but, "What?! How many other people think I'm fat? Why would she send this to me? Does this shirt make me look fat, or is the pants? Is it the whole outfit? I am so embarrassed..." Then I looked at the "to" list and realized she sent it to everyone.  Even the teachers who weigh less than 100 pounds. Why am I so paraniod? It's not PMS. It could be lack of sleep, since during Christmas break and on weekends I sleep 12 hours a day, and this whole 9 hours a night just doesn't cut it. However, I have my happy light box now so I shouldn't need to sleep. Maybe I am sick of winter and should be hopping on a plane to live down south. Or maybe I need to move to Pairs, the citee of love.

Middle Aged

In the last month a student slipped and called me "grandma". At least twice a month someone slips and says, "mom..." as they come up to talk to me, but never grandma.  On the 50th anniversary of John F. Kennedy's death, our principal told the school that he "was in 2nd grade when that happened." Keep in mind that makes him 57-years-old. One of my other students asked, "How old were you? Were you like in college or something?" "Do I look older than Mr. Principal?" I asked. His reply was to stare at me and tilt his head a little, reminding me of my dog, Max, when faced with a difficult choice. It made me wonder, am I really middle aged, or am I just boring? I don't think I'm middle aged. I don't think I've reached half my lifespan. I don't think when I am twice my age now, I'll up and die. Both sides of the family tend to live well into their elderly years. Friends from college will tell me about things I've said or done, but I don't have the foggiest idea what they are talking about. It sounds like something I'd do, but I sure wish I could remember it. Noah has an ap on his phone that plays high pitch noises, to check if you are deaf. Even my half deaf spouse can hear the tones before I can. I constantly squint because I can't see. Last night Ethan asked me why I was so mad at the TV being I was glaring at it. Yet, if I wear my glasses, I can't read. I went to do a load of laundry the other day and there was a load in there. I don't remember putting a load of laundry in the washer. So there it is. I'm losing my hearing, my eyesight, and my mind. I also tire easily. I think about when Ethan was born and wonder how could I have a baby, a toddler, be a full-time kindergarten teacher, and not drop from exhaustion. These days, all it takes is a particularly long math lesson and I am all in. I look at pictures of myself when the kids were small and wish I could go back and tell myself so many things. I've realized now that I'm no longer in my late 20's the emotional drama of growing up is behind me; the physical perils of aging are still to come.In the past few years it is easier to be grateful… and fearful. I am an expert on more things than I care to be, and I realize that most of my life has been of my own making. Yes, I've been dealt cards that are both good and bad, but ultimately, I was and am the one who plays them. With that realization comes a feeling of late great responsibility. I'm coming to terms with how many moments, days, and months have been squandered. Each day I promise to do better, but I know that I probably won't. I'm not a risk taker, and I like my warm house, pajamas and bed too much.

Maybe I am middle aged. In the past year, I left the house without make-up three times. That is one and a half more times than I had all together ever before.The number of people I need to look presentable for has declined. As has the term "presentable". I'm not talking Walmart Presentable, but normal matching, hair combed, etc... My favorite outfit is a pair of flannel pajamas and the best part of each day is when I can climb into bed.

In the past few years, my tolerance for mean people has hit rock bottom. Life is too short to spend any energy on bullies. I wish I cared that I'm not "in" with the "cool" 5-grade-basketball player moms. But I don't care. I find it more ironic that the "cool moms" have bratty kids, and I don't. Mean people are easier to eliminate from your life, while also easier to understand now that I'm middle aged. My life is full of fleeting moments of bliss and despair, mostly despair, as I watch my children grow up into independent teenagers. Thanking the universe that I raised them well in one breath, and wondering what will become of them in the other. Despite hard evidence that they are actually going to turn out okay, I remain fearful that the really deep-seeded neuroses won’t manifest itself for a few more years. Hey- they inherited a big dose of crazy from both sides. In the past few years I find myself constantly counting my blessings while at the same time trying to calculate when my luck will run out. It's at those times I remind myself, it's not paranoia if they really are out to get you. 

November

I am home with Sam because he ate an entire chicken leg and bone in two bites. He was acting funny so I thought I'd better take him to the vet.  I should be using my time wisely, but I have to blame the school librarian for getting me off track. That's funny since I just filled out the portion on my students' report cards that states "I take responsibility for my actions", and now I'm not, "it's Mrs. Kemple's fault. I swear, she made me..."  Anyway, back to the librarian. She sent us an e-mail telling us way more about "November is national month for" than anyone can ever hope to know. I am going to re-make the list:

November 2013 is...

Adopt-a-Senior Pet Month-  Why? Why would I want an old pet? If I wanted a pet that died within a few days, I'd get a goldfish.

American Diabetes Month- Perfect. Except the national holiday in November is one where we all eat ourselves silly.  American Diabetes Month should be in August.

Aviation History Month- Makes perfect sense. Thanksgiving is the most traveled holiday. 

Banana Pudding Lovers Month- It goes great with Pumpkin and Apple Pie.

Child Safety Protection Month- Every month should be child safety. I guess all the other months parents can be willy nilly about protecting their child's saftey. 

Diabetic Eye Disease Month- Again... Thanksgiving

Gluten Free Diet Awareness Month- Again... Thanksgiving and the delicious crescent rolls. 

Kids Goal Setting Month- I guess this is better than May.  "My goal is to not pick up a pencil or a book all summer".

National Adoption Month- I want to adopt a Chinese baby. I love those Asians. 

National Alzheimer's Disease Awareness Month- This would be better in December. That way the person with Alzheimer's can get away without buying Christmas gifts. 

National American Indian Heritage Month- Makes sense. Without them, the pilgrims would have died. 

National Inspirational Role Models Month- At least this isn't in October when we have Columbus day. Columbus was a terrible man. He didn't discover America, and he was actually lost. For as much as I get lost, I should have at least 3 days with my name on them. 

National Marrow Awareness Month- Never been aware of my marrow.  Now I will be. All month. 

National Novel Writing Month- I have a novel in my head. Oh no, it's not a novel. It's the voices. 

National Scholarship Month- Because a lot of kids start college in November. 

Peanut Butter Lovers' Month- It's great for the gluten allergies and diabetics. 

PPSI AIDS Awareness Month- I don't even know what that is.

PTA Lifestyles Month- The PTA is a Pain To my Ass.  All they do is dream up more work for me that I don't want to do.

Vegan Month- Nothing says Happy Thanksgiving like a starving vegan. 

Flower: Chrysanthemum

Birthstone: Topaz

Moon Phases: New (11/3); First Quarter (11/20); Full (11/17); Last Quarter

(11/25)

All Hallows Day (All Saints Day) (11/1)

Give Wildlife a Break Week (11/3-11/9)- Also known as "Hunting Season"

National Animal Shelter Appreciation Week (11/3-11/9)- Go get your old dog. 

Use Your Common Sense Day (11/4)- Shouldn't you do this all of the time. It's like National breathing day.

General Election Day (11/5)- OH now I see why you should use your common sense the DAY BEFORE elections. Then it's all used up in time to vote.

National Parents as Teachers Day (11/8)- OMG! I HAVE MY OWN DAY! Does that mean parents are teachers. Or does it mean parents should come in and teach? Either way I'm game! My new favorite day is Nov. 8.  Unless it is "the teachers are parenting their students" In that case, that is every day.

National Farm-City Week (11/10-11/16)- What? Farm? City? I'd say that's national opposites day. 

American Education Week (11/17-11/23)- We celebrate by putting in three 12 hour days for conferences that week. 

 Better Conversation Week (11/24-11/30)- Just in time for Thanksgiving.

Church/State Separation Week (11/24-11/30)- Is this to remind difficult parents and students that there is not Christmas in school?

Thanksgiving Day (11/28)

Electronic Greeting Day (11/29)- For those of you who forgot to call the folks on Thanksgiving.

That Time of Year

It's that dreaded time of the year again. School starting. Every year I say I dread it, but when it comes down to it, I am excited to start with a new group of kids. A fresh start, with new school supplies. You have to be a teacher to appreciate a brand new sharpened pencil the way I do.  I'm even known to be all "fakey" happy, something I loathe, during the first two weeks of workshops and school. I used to think if I faked being happy about being treated like a pile of poo, I'll really be happy. Then realityalways sinks in and I realize, the last three years have sucked, and each year was worse than the previous one. You can only be beaten down each and every day for so long before you lose your passion, self-confidence, and excitement. For the past two weeks I've woken up thinking, "I don't want to go to school. They bully me, call me names, put me down, and no one will sit with me at lunch. Then I meet my students and go into the classroom and they throw stuff and spit on me." However, after getting new bitch-be-gone pills, I am going to be neutral. My new motto is: "I used to worry/fret/be sad/get excited/be happy about/etc... but now I take medication for that." I did try to work in my room the other day. I sat at my desk, stared at my bent, previously organized, books on the shelf that got ruined during summer school. I looked up at the falling number line and borders. Then I looked in my desk drawers that were cleaned last spring, but now held balled up papers, confiscated toys, a jar of Slimfast, and a bag of moldy bread (all left by the summer the school teacher), got overwhelmed and went home. It took all morning to get nothing done. It's OK. I'm neutral now. Last year I would be all, "I gotta figure out who was in my room and ask her to not leave 'science experiments' in my desk and to bring her own books for the kids to wreck". But the new me says, "Well, she DID have my old students for summer school. They wrecked the books- they should have known better. A few do always have toys that need to be confiscated, the balls of paper were probably proof of what they throw at her, she had the Slimfast because she needs to lose weight being the kids are driving her to drink which causes weight gain, and the bread? I'm not sure about the bread."
 All of my friends have moved on to bigger and better things. We've lost about half the staff. Apparently no one took the whole, "Tell the new school you'll only come if Sara Fairfield can come with" seriously... Oh well. I'm starting the year neutral.  I have 20 students, 10 boys and 10 girls with a WIDE range of abilities. I don't have any that are notoriously out of control that I know of yet. I have 3 students that are siblings of previous students, and only one kid dropped (or moved away) after finding out I am his teacher. See there is my neutral.
Along with my new happy pills, my psychiatrist gave me good advice. This is kind-of a big deal, because usually she just looks at me and blinks her big eyes. She said, "Your dad is just not the father you need him to be. He isn't going to say the words you need to hear. He isn't going to do the things you need him to do. You need to re-create...(I kinda stopped listening here because I was thinking of the things I need him to say- she may have said "relationship" or what I'm going with- "father") and you will be able to come to terms with it." So, I'm not sure if she thinks I need a new imaginary friend and call him "dad", or come to terms that my dad likes other people's children and grandchildren better than his own. I going go with the imaginary dad thing for awhile just so my kids have something interesting to write about on that first day of school "Write about your summer vacation" writing assignment.  I'm going to set an extra plate at supper for invisible dad, carry on one, and two-sided conversations with imaginary dad, such as, "Well, if it's not my beautiful daughter Sara!" "Hi invisible dad". "I just can't get over how proud I am of the person you've become!"  "Gee, thanks imaginary dad". "And those boys, they are the most handsome, best behaved, smartest boys who will succeed at anything they set out to do. And it's all because you are such an outstanding mother." "Thanks invisible dad. I sure hope they have something good to write about on the first day of school." "Well, they could certainly write about how you gladly sacrifice for their happiness every day"... I'll also move the furniture around when they aren't looking and blame it on invisible grandpa. And when Sam barks for no reason, I'll tell him to stop barking at grandpa. I think it's a great plan, and a nice way to wrap up our last few weeks together. Who knows, they might even get an award for their creative writing about their summer vacation. It's a whole lot better than, "I went to camp all summer." or "I played baseball every damn day  until the day football started."

Home-Ecky Becky

We are throwing a barbecue on Sunday for Ethan's basketball team and their families. So this week, I did not go in the pool...

I painted and redecorated the bathroom...

Stained the deck... And even used a ladder- on rocks! Yes, I do take my life in my own hands sometimes. 

And broke out the sewing machine and sewed some curtains for the kitchen!

I also cleaned out the drawers and closets, and the whole house is shiny and sparkly. This whole "summers off" is a lot of work!! I have a sneaking suspicion Scott arranged this party just to keep me busy and to get the house cleaned. Oh well, at least it's summer. After July 4th I feel like there is a giant clock above my head ticking "School's Starting. School's Starting, School's Starting". I don't want school to start. I don't want to be bullied by the 8-year-olds and a couple adults. I put in for a transfer and each day that goes by proves a smaller chance of moving. I think my dread is ruining my good summer mood. I feel like a dud. I lost my sense of humor and social skills. At baseball games I know I should wander around, mingle and visit with the other parents, but I'd rather keep track of the innings with my array of sunflower seeds spread out on the bench in front of me. It's strange how I wish my life away during the school year, "I wish it was Friday, I wish we were done with conferences, I wish it were spring, I wish it was the last day of school", but now I want time to stand still. I wish it was July 1st for the next 5 days, then it can be July 2nd for for five days...Today I have to grocery shopping for the par-tay, paint one wall in my living room, make a Target run and put fresh chemicals in the pool. Next week my oldest baby will be at camp, so I better find a long project to keep me busy.  Maybe I should make a deck around the pool?...
Thoughts I think: Obviously I didn't get enough sleep last night, because my bitchy britches are fitting mighty fine today...