Crispie Treats and Cousin Time

My Uncle John makes the world's best rice crispie treats. Hands down. Once I even requested a pan of them in lieu of a cake for my 14th birthday. This was just an extra perk when our cousins visited last week.

My cousin lives in Arkansas and has a mini-her that's about a year older than my mini-me. Needless to say, we don't see them often, so this was the girls' first meeting. Boy was it a hoot. We started with a cookout at Uncle Eric's house.



Mine is the one that looks like a drowned rat. She suddenly decided it's awesome to run around barefoot (even if her feet get dirty) and play in the rain (even though she hates the shower). Don't get me wrong...I'm TOTALLY fine (maybe "overjoyed" would be a better description) with her willingness to do these things. I'm just confused at the sudden change. Anyway, they used the piece of plastic in Gracie's hand as a dog leash and took each other for walks around the yard. I love preschoolers hard at play. They're ridiculous.

On Tuesday we took our lovely offspring over to West Virginia's one and only amusement park. Close your eyes for a moment (after you read the description, of course) and try to smell a combination of dirty grease, hot asphalt, and corndogs. Now spin around in a thousand circles until you are about to throw up a corndog that you didn't even eat. Ok, open your eyes. You either just flashed back twenty years and were flooded with memories from childhood or maybe that was your first trip to Camden Park. Either way, I just saved you $20.99.

The girls had a blast. They don't know each other at all (in fact, Gracie kept asking what her cousin's name was) but they sure were holding hands and running all over the park like they were lifelong BFFs. (Three words: Move. Back. Home.) My favorite part of the evening was that Ainsley wanted to do everything. Twice. No hands. This was me as a kid. I think they got switched somehow. I hope that if they hang out a few more times before they have their own kids then maybe some of that will rub off on Grace. That would be great.

On Friday we went over and went swimming with Ainsley at her Grandparents' house. My kid loves the water as long as it's nowhere near her face. I cannot comprehend this, because I think I stared swimming then I was three days old. (That's right folks, and I was a December baby, too! And I walked to school uphill both ways in the snow and once in wind that surely would have blown piglet away.) Ainsley is a year older and ten times braver, so of course she was everywhere in the pool. I kept pointing this out to Gracie and saying things like "See? Ainsley puts her whole head in and it's not melting her face off!" She would reply something like "That's ok, I'm fine," and continue her delicate water play.

Ainsley finally had enough of this pansiness and said "See, I'll show you" and with her much bigger size and all of her cousinly love she grabbed the top of Gracie's head and pushed her under. She let go after the bubbles stopped...ok, ok...it wasn't that long, probably like a millisecond. But when your pansy child gets an unexpected baptism, it seems like a lot longer! Anyway, Gracie came sputtering up and looked at Ainsley as if to say "What. was the POINT. of that!?" It didn't help her psyche that my mom, her two cousins, and I were rolling on the grass laughing at her. (That's how our family rolls. "What? You ran a tent stake through your hand? Take an aspirin and put a slab of bacon on it. And don't forget to quit whining about it. It's fine. Man up.") In case you're still on edge-she survived.

She also forgave her cousin. We went back in the house when the kids started turning purple and they played awhile longer. When I started thinking that the Drama Queen might off someone's head if she didn't get some rest soon I started warning her. She began to insist that we didn't need to leave because she wanted to stay and snuggle with Ainsley in her bed. I went to retrieve them from this cuteness a few minutes later and they were hiding. (Seriously kid? I invented that move.) When they returned to the living room the begging began.

"But Mommy! I wanna stay here with Ainsley!"
"Well honey, I would like that, but we have to go."
"But AINSLEY said I could STAY!"
*enter Ainsley, stage left. Delivers sharp elbow jab to Gracie's ribs. Hisses through clenched teeth.* "You weren't supposed to tell them!"

We all died from laughter again. This time at Ainsley's expense. Sorry kiddo-Gracie just has too much to learn about these kinds of things and no cousins around to teach her! Ha! But when you move here, you can teach her. Good plan. See you soon!

Just Kidding!

I was just kidding about waiting three months to post. Here's what happened:

First I went back to work. Of course, this is really no excuse, because I only substitute teach two or three days a week. (Subbing is the best job ever. Every day I go in and pop in a movie (at the teacher's request) and sit back and rob the board of education of $127. If I dislike a particular school, I don't have to go back. If I don't feel like getting up, I turn off my phone. It's the best.) And I have no planning to do during the hour and a half breaks I usually have...ample blogging time...

Anyway, my second excuse is that I decided around the time of my last post that I would pretend to be a runner. (You know, kind of like I pretend to be a writer...) I did pretty good for awhile. I broke my pinky toe and got right back on it. I had an asthma attack (for the first time ever) and got right back out there. After about 10 weeks I was on week 7 of the 9 week Couch to 5K program. And then for some reason I just quit. (Kinda like this blog...)

So yesterday, my awesome little cousin reminded me that my blog is hilarious (Shout out to Alex!) and I thought, "oh yeah. I AM pretty funny. I should get back on that." And then I thought "Hmmm...I haven't run for about 6 weeks. I should do that too."

Of course I decided that the proper way to get back to running was to just go out and run 3 miles. No warm-up, no intervals, just do it. More evidence that I'm a pretend runner. I'm feeling that today. But I ran 2.8 miles in 31 minutes. Not really worth publishing, but I was satisfied!

The kid is plugging along. She tells me to go to work on days that I don't so that she can play with her Grammy. Thanks, kid. She had her third birthday since my last post. I'll go back and talk about that later. It was quite a week of events. Probably the best conversation we've had in awhile went as follows:

Kid *randomly*: Mommy? Where's the north pole?
Me: Way up on top of the world.
Kid: Well...I don't see why Santa doesn't just move here. Then he wouldn't have to come so far to see me.

Awesome.

Well, since I waited so long to blog, there's all kinds of pressure to deliver greatness. I just wanted to get over the hump of getting back on here...sorry to disappoint! :) More laughs next time...

Revitalization At Its Best

I need winter to end in the worst way. My soul needs an adventure. I need to feel the freedom of carrying the essentials along while I forget the other cares of the world. I need to smell the sunshine when it kisses my bare shoulders each time I venture out of the shade of things that are green. I need to stretch out in a shallow river and feel the water trickle over my weary muscles so that I can bask on a toasty rock the size of my living room while I dry. I need the taste of food that doesn't require a pause in my journey, at the same time knowing that when the time is right, I can make a home with what I have in the middle of nowhere.

I need to travel in step with a soul mate that I don't have to talk to and spend precious time with my Maker while we browse the landscape of His creation. I want to sing at the top of my lungs the joy that overflows when I'm gazing at the wonders of His work.

I need to put miles behind me on a journey that stretches endless more miles ahead- miles that are filled with such beauty that they saturate my senses and revive my soul.

Any takers?

A First Lesson on Driving

I was coming home on Rt. 60 the other day, traveling in a 45 mile per hour zone. Somehow, my child has discovered a need for speed very early in life, and kept asking me to go faster. This is the conversation that followed her request:

"I can't go any faster, baby. I'll get pulled over by the police."
"Why will they pull you over?" She inquired.
"Well...there's only a certain speed you're allowed to drive, and it's the policeman's job to make sure mommy doesn't go any faster." I think I'm keeping it on her level-not real sure.
"Will he be mad because you didn't mind him?" (At least she didn't say "why?" again!)
"Yes! He will! And he'll give me a ticket, which means I have to pay some money because I got in trouble. Kind of like grownup time out." (What she can't understand is that grownups would LOVE to have a traditional time out. What? You want me to sit in a room alone and not talk or be talked to for one minute per year of my age?? GLADLY. Can I get that in writing?)

I continued on down the road after that, satisfied in thinking that she understood my explanation pretty well. We talked some more and sang a couple of songs. She was pretty quiet as we pulled into our neighborhood. I checked the mirror to see if she was looking sleepy, but she sat in obvious contemplation.

"Whatcha doin, babe?" I asked her.
"Do the policemans have strings?" She asked, obviously still stuck on our previous conversation. I tried to approach this, but I honestly couldn't figure out what to do with it.
"Um...what?" Very intellectual, I know.
"Strings," she repeated, because it was clearly more obvious than I was aware. "To pull your car with."

At this point, I caught up with her thinking and laughed my face off. I'm so awesome at explaining adult life to a toddler. Yes, that's me, the master of child development. Just as my head was about to swell out of the sunroof with the greatness of my awesome parenting, I realize that my darling two-and-a-half, but-I'll-be-three-in-April year old now thinks that police officers lasso your car with a string and "pull you over" when they need to ticket you. Boy howdy.

Next Year's Christmas List

My child only asked for one thing for Christmas this year, and she got it, so now I think she's starting to see her fault in the asking process. Somewhere along the way, her brain has decided "I get everything I want for Christmas...I should have asked for 50 million things instead of just one." Ever since the day after Christmas, we can't leave the house without her seeing at least 27 things she wants for Christmas next year.

So we were at the mall a couple of weeks ago, and we were getting ready to leave Old Navy, and I was having trouble keeping the offspring tethered. This was an unplanned trip, so we were lacking in the stroller department. Anyway, I was using the old "follow me or get left here by yourself" threat. It was working quite nicely...until I looked back and no longer had her in my sight. (I think kids play that game on purpose and they're watching you and laughing because they can somehow see that your stomach just fell out of your butt from the panic.)

It was only for a split second, mind you, because after that second, here she comes, running through the crowded store, waving a sports bra over her head.

"MOMMY MOMMY! I WANT THIS FOR CHRISTMAS TO PUT MY BOOBIES IN!" I quickly glanced around. Just as I suspected. Everyone in America was watching and snickering.

"Hunny, let's put that back...you don't have any boobies to put in there yet." I thought this was a tactful enough answer, but of COURSE she just couldn't let it go.

"Well then I want BOOBIES for Christmas TOO!" Yes. The whole population of our lovely state is still watching, don't worry.

I pondered for a moment, and decided it wasn't fair for her to get all the laughs at my expense and loudly replied, "ME TOO!"

I bet neither of us will get our wish.

TV Brainwashing

I should have realized that my kid was watching too much TV. But you know...it just keeps snowing and the days and hours of Nick Jr. are all starting to blur together. I didn't mean to let her watch that much, honest.

It finally started to dawn on me the other day. I asked her to bring something to me (and she actually minded) and I said "Thank you, Baby!" To which she replied, "De nada, Mommy!"

Wait, what?!

Did my child just speak Spanish?! I mean, not like reciting numbers or something, but actually in context?! What's going on here? I demand to know who's teaching my child a foreign language! She knows how to say PLENTY in English, thank you, I don't need her out Spanishing me in a couple of months.

Then, in the background...I hear it..."Come on, vamonos! Everybody let's go..." Ah HA! DORA! It's YOU who takes over the brain in my child's head! "That's it!" I declare. "Turn the TV OFF!"

"But Mommy! I was about to go on an adventure!" I know she's also wondering why I'm wigging out that she's learning a foreign language.

I was convinced that turning off the TV was truly the right thing to do while I was riding in Mom's car yesterday. Mom stopped to run an errand while we waited in the car. The kid was playing with some sunglasses and she pinched her hand in one of the arms. I kid you not, this was her honest-to-goodness-no-frills-added response:

"Ouch, ouch! Mommy, help, help, HELP!" She continued on before I had a chance to respond (as if I weren't even in the car.) "What's that? Do you hear it? It sounds like a baby hand. We better help it!" (Emphasis mine, added to show my disbelief in what was happening.)

*Enter theme music as child continues*

"Wonder pets, wonder pets, we're on our way. We'll help the baby hand and save the day. We're not too big and we're not too tough..." (She did pause briefly to ponder the words, but unable to remember them, she brought it on home for a big finish instead) "GoooooOOOOOO WONDERPETS!"

Wow. "Hunny? Did you just say you're going to save a baby hand?" I mean, I could have heard wrong. I'm prone to delusions.

"Yep! I sure did!" She replied.

"Just checking," I mumbled. And vowed to destroy the TV remote.

My Little Digital Native

I learned a lot in my short career as a teacher. I know there are many teachers out there that will agree with me that some of the most priceless jewels of knowledge we acquire are the yearly "buzzwords." My husband even sent me an awesome idea for using these terms once. I'll pass it on for any current teachers out there.

Here's how it works:

1. Before (or during) you next meeting, in-service or staff development, prepare yourself by drawing a square. I find that 5' x 5' is a good size. Divide the card into columns, five across and five down. That will give you 25 one-inch blocks.

2. Write one of the following words/phrases in each block:

* no child left behind
* test scores
* core competencies
* standards of learning
* benchmarks
* proactive
* think outside the box
* action plan
* data base
* assessments
* knowledge base
* at the end of the day
* touch base
* mindset
* differentiated
* retention
* skills
* background knowledge
* effective learning
* exemplars
* implementation
* reflection
* writing process
* 21st Century Learning
* Problem solving

3. Check off the appropriate block when you hear one of those words/phrases.

4. When you get five blocks horizontally, vertically, or diagonally stand up and shout 'BULLCRAP!'

I got a real big kick out of this email, needless to say. I even copied it and passed it out to some friends at our next faculty senate meeting. You know, so that those of us who don't care about who's paying for the copy machine had something else to do.

ANYway...I say all this JUST to introduce my real point. (Completely unnecessary, I know, but I thought it was funny and it's my blog. If this were a paid publication, you would have seen my point much earlier. You're getting this hilarity for free, don't complain.)

My favorite buzzword of my last year teaching was "digital native." You see, someone, somewhere, whose job it is to sit and create these ideas for teachers to argue as they attempt to determine which new fad is best for our students, decided that there is an actual difference in the brains of "us teachers" and "them students". They call the students digital natives. And the teachers? You guessed it--immigrants. The thinking behind this theory is that all of the fast paced technology constantly surrounding our students in their lives causes their brains to actually perform differently. They can multitask much easier than we can, they are used to having information at their fingertips at lightening speed, therefore making it difficult for them to READ and actually ANALYZE material in search of answers. They also have the attention span of gnats. This guy says it's because they were born with the internet, I say it's because they're twelve. But then, he probably has money and I'm broke.

So as we sat through endless meetings discussing our disadvantage as "immigrants" and our urgent need to embrace technology and learn to use it effectively so that we may learn to understand the inner workings of the adolescent minds around us, I stuffed my iPod earbuds in, started a text chat with a teacher friend in another county I happened to know was also in a meeting, and pulled out my marching band drill charts and lesson plans.

Waaaaaaait a minute...who you callin "immigrant"...son, I grew up with the internet. I was on AIM before these kids were born. I was in COLLEGE when facebook came out and was only for people in COLLEGE. These other guys are the ones that are Two Thousand and LATE. Not me.

That's what I thought, anyway, until my own child proved me wrong. As usual.

I mean, I was ok with her not knowing that cameras weren't always digital. Even though I was behind and didn't get my own until the summer she was "thought of", the technology had been around for awhile and it never bothered me when she asked to see pictures on the back of a disposable camera. I understand her need for that instant feedback.

Another event that cause me to believe that I was more native than I am occurred when I was visiting my best friend. She has one of those little "built in the wall phone stall" dohickies in her house, and when I was visiting her, we were saying how cute it would be to get a pretty antique phone and put in it (for looks, you know, cause who still has a landline?!) She then mentioned that she thought about putting her cordless phone in there (so apparently some people with security systems DO keep a landline), but there was no electrical outlet--just a phone jack.

We both stood there momentarily, me with my college degree for which the State pays me to educate young minds, and she, a medical student at a very good school, pondering this dilemma. We finally burst into hysterical laughter and began making fun of ourselves, because we each knew what the other was wondering--"How do you NOT plug something in? I mean, how does that even WORK?" I'm embarrassed to even type that, but I have to strengthen my case that I am NOT an immigrant.

My kid busted my pinata with one whack. My husband bought me some new records (yes, vinyl.) for Christmas, and I took them out to the record player in our entry room to try them out. Of course, the kid came with me and had a million questions, which I expected. I know she doesn't know what a record is. Why would she? Some people my own age probably never owned one. But the following conversation is what REALLY got me:

"Mommy, what's THAT?!"

"It's a record, pumpkin." I replied

"What's a record?" This question I expected.

"Well, baby, it's a thing that plays music out of this player, kind of like a CD." I thought this was a sufficient answer, and then she shot me in the heart. Are you ready for this? All babies of the 80's please remain seated for the following comment. I am not responsible for anything that results from your reading of this question:

"Mommy? What's a CD?"

That's it. Stick a fork in me... How do I even respond? I tried to collect my thoughts. I may as well start trying to explain to her how you don't plug something in. Or how to end world hunger.

"Ummm, well hunny..." More time, I need more time. I need Google. I need a shot of espresso. I can DO THIS. She finally bailed me out:

"Is it like an iPod?"

Look at me, trying to mask as a native while my two-year-old gives me a lesson in electronics.

She sealed the deal a couple of weeks ago. We were at mom's house and she was playing on my old upright piano in the basement. After an "inspiring" concert of "variation on twinkle, twinkle little star" that included lyrical arrangements of Jesus loves me, she ran into the room next door and hopped up on the computer desk chair and started going to town on the keyboard. This alarmed my mom.

"No! Gracie, what are you doing? You can't play a concert on Grammy's computer keyboard!"

The kid stopped mid-typing, and slowly turned her head toward my mom (who's pretty savvy around technology herself) and I swear she rolled her eyes.

"Grammy. I'm not playing a concert. I'm emailing my concert to someone."

Um. Well. Mom and I just looked at each other, rolling our own eyes so that we wouldn't have to admit defeat. But I think we were actually had. Offspring are good at that.

Before my child was a walking, talking prover of facts, I was convinced I was a digital native. On second consideration, I think I may have to admit a bit of immigration. I'm still sticking with the fact that it was a short move, because I refuse to be labeled with the illegal technological aliens out there.