I went in seeking clarity...

Tonight I went with one of my very best friends to see my first Indigo Girls concert. There were a lot of jokes pre-concert. Should we wear overalls? What about Birkenstocks?  All joking aside? It was amazing. I thought, as I was standing there just a stone’s throw from the stage, about how much those two women have been a part of my life through their music. Big things in my life have always had Emily and Amy as the soundtrack. I first heard them sing when I was in 8^th or 9^th grade. My friend Nicki gave me the tape (sigh…yes) of their self-titled album – not their first, but the first of many. As they belted out Closer to Fine tonight I looked around and watched the crowd.  Julie and I were laughing about how every single person in the room was singing. Everyone knew every single word.  That song, for whatever reason, connects with so many people on different levels, a bit of a coming of age song, maybe. I remember it as the song my stepbrother David and I bonded over when he came to one of many house parties I had when I lived with the boys. I was probably 23 and he was still in high school. He would come over with his guitar and we would sit on the back porch drinking cheap keg beer and singing. I’m sorry, Dave, I had to.

Before that, when I was an angsty 17-year-old, I took a mix tape to the first boy I loved. I made him listen to the song Ghost because I felt like it was written for us and he was leaving for the Marine Corps (angst…see?). He listened to it. And then he took my virginity. I apologize to whomever that offends, I had to tell that one, too.  It’s just another part of my story. I was most sad that they didn’t play Ghost tonight. Because even after all those years, I still hold fond memories of that song and all that went along with it. Earlier that same summer, the Rites of Passage CD was the soundtrack to my trip to Spain. Whenever I hear the song Joking I'm taken back to boarding the airplane to come back to the states and how saaaaaaad I was to leave that experience behind. 

When I was 25, I lived with Julie and Kathy, two of the most amazing women I know. We often had the Indigo Girls playing in the house. The fireplace in our living room was the stage for many, many impromptu performances throughout our time there. Some days you just need to break out in song – and you need a stage and friends who will laugh and sing right along with you.  They opened the show tonight with Least Complicated and midway through played Power of Two, both of which brought tears to my eyes because of all that came flooding back.  In fact, at one point Julie and I couldn’t even look at each other and later we talked about how many memories those songs held for us at such an important crossroads in our lives.

Music does that to people – it makes us remember. It makes us think. I’m so glad I finally got to see those two women perform – it couldn’t have come at a better time for me. In some ways I feel like I’m at another important crossroads in my life. My kids are getting older. I’m midway through grad school. I need to decide once again what I want to be when I grow up. Hearing these words tonight gave me comfort during a week where my heart really needed it: “we’re okay, we’re fine, baby I’m here to stop your crying. Chase all the ghosts from your head, I’m stronger than the monster beneath your bed; smarter than the tricks played on your heart…” Thanks, Amy and Emily, for once again giving reassurance to this girl through your music.

school's out for summahhhhh!!

Summer has officially begun at the W house. This weekend has included a new grill and copious amounts of barbeque, bringing out the girls' backyard pool, drinks with friends on the patio and dinner with good friends inside where it was much cooler sitting on our new dining room chairs! I haven't had time to write lately, or at least I've not given myself time. I'm hoping to change that soon. The girls will be in summer "camp", I am taking two classes this summer, and I am only teaching two days a week, which will seem like a huge vacation.  Really, I just wanted to say that I haven't forgotten about this blog and the 5 people who read it. OH! Also? My hairs are growing! See? That is all. Carry on.

willing to be disturbed

Last night I hung out with some very amazing friends. The conversation is always good with these people, and it ranged from standardized testing to The Beastie Boys to hoarding. Somehow those things are connected, I’m certain. Late in the evening, my friend Katie began to tell us about her elderly next-door neighbor and how she was a hoarder. She has since moved out of the house, and her children come by once in a while, but the home is not being lived in (by humans, anyway).  We all laughed a bit, I imagine we all were thinking about the TV shows we’ve seen, those unbelievably sad and yet totally scary depictions of people who can’t seem to throw things out. Then, my friend asked us if we wanted to see the place – the neighbor didn’t live there after all, and the door was unlocked.  I felt a bit like a 12 year old again, creeping through someone’s yard in the middle of the night, flashlight apps ablaze (well, that part was not like being 12, but you get the picture). And then we got to the side door, which, as predicted, was easy to open.

Never. Never in my entire life have I seen anything like this place. My friend Paul was brave enough to step inside and look around – and when I say step inside, I mean that Paul stepped up on top of the largest pile of papers, wrappers, food cartons and general junk that I’ve ever seen. Tin plates from pot-pies, baby items, newspapers, all things that this person could not bear to part with.  I was reminded of the Shel Silverstein poem "Sarah Sylvia Cynthia Stout" who would not take the garbage out. We were all clearly stunned by what we saw, and there was a lot of nervous laughter as we got out of there. Afterwards, I came home and thought about it until I fell asleep. And I woke up thinking about it. 

People intrigue me. Human beings are strange, strange creatures. I mean, I do understand that hoarding doesn’t just happen on its own. There are likely a variety of underlying issues that manifest in hoarding, but seeing it with my own eyes really shook me. The reasons that a person behaves a certain way, or doesn’t behave a certain way for that matter, are constantly a topic of conversation at my house. It’s not judging, really. Maybe it is. I just think that when we stop questioning things, or being surprised by things, we lose part of our humanity. Was that what happened to the woman who used to live in that house? What do her children do in there when they come by, as my friend suggests they do?  Was it always like that? These questions kept me awake last night.

Yesterday at a Writing Project gathering, we read an essay by Margaret Wheatley titled “Willing to be Disturbed.” It’s a piece I’ve read several times and each time I revisit it, something strikes me differently. Today I thought about Wheatley’s words while I was processing what I'd witnessed. Wheatley writes, “Lately, I’ve been listening for what surprises me…when I notice what surprises me, I’m able to see my own views more clearly, including my beliefs and assumptions. Noticing what surprises and disturbs me has been a very useful way to see invisible beliefs. If what you say surprises me, I must have been assuming that something else was true…my shock at your position exposes my own position…these moments are great gifts. If I can see my beliefs and assumptions, I can decide whether I still value them.”  My beliefs and assumptions about human nature were challenged last night. Once the laughing and joking were over, I became very aware of how that experience made me feel. And frankly, I’m not certain I like to think so deeply about why people do the things they do. It’s scary stuff.

oh, hi.

I don’t have any time anymore for ANYTHING. No time to write, no time to spend on anything but family, school, work, laundry, cooking, cleaning (this one is debatable) and stressing over the overwhelmingly full calendar. So…I thought I would give you an update on the past month or so. Here’s roughly what’s happened:

·      I listened to my children fight. A LOT. I heard things like, “you’re not my sister anymore! Get out of this house!” and, “you treat Zoe like she’s 10 and I’m the baby!” Also, the ass-kissing has begun. When one child is in trouble, the other has learned the trick of being sappy sweet to get on our good side. Today, Lucy even asked me if I could get her a snack – but ONLY when I had the time.  HA! 

·      We got a fish. The fish died. This story is only good because the fish was teetering on the edge of death for about a week before he croaked. The week before we went out of town, of course. And so, I left instructions for the girl who was dog-sitting to give me a call if the fish died so I could prepare the girls. We were headed to Colorado (another story) and got to about Lawrence, KS before Courtney called to say the fish was belly up. He’d waited just long enough for her to arrive before he bit it. Thankfully, Courtney is technically a Universal Life minister – thanks to the interwebs – and she was able to give Bubbles Chippie Blue a fitting tribute before flushing him. 

·      Colorado. Where do I begin? Long story short – we were to drive to the mountains outside of Denver to celebrate my nephew’s first birthday with my sister and brother in law and her family. We got to Colorado on Saturday and smooched on each other long enough to pass around a stomach bug. We spent most of the trip in the hotel bathroom in a town with no grocery store or WalMart. Plus, Steve and I were both knocked for a loop (to put it nicely) because of the altitude. Man, I didn’t think it would affect me but it did. Between the barfs and the shits and trying to catch our breath, it pretty much stunk. Literally. Vacation re-do to come…

·       I had an x-ray of my back. Turns out, my discs are just as bad as they were 9 years ago (not sure what that means) but I also have bone spurs on my spine. I was scheduled for an MRI and told to not exercise. Wait. Were you wondering why I’ve gained so much weight? Not anymore! MRI on Monday the 9^th.  

·      Lucy has a loose tooth. It looks like an old kernel of corn hanging right in the center of her mouth. It’s awesome. We have bribed ear piercing, doll clothes, books. You name it. Her sister has taken to randomly punching at Lucy’s mouth to try to knock it out. I realize that eventually the tooth will come out on it’s own and that if she’s ok with it I need to let it go. But I can’t. 

·      I’ve decided that I actually DO like white wine. I know, this is news that can’t be exciting to anyone but me. I just figure, if I’m good at anything, it’s drinking, and that I should be an equal opportunity wino. 

·      My hair is still growing. Can you believe it? ELEVEN weeks without a haircut. I’m in that phase where I simultaneously want to rip it out and I’m proud of myself for coming this far…so it stays.

I’m not certain what else I can update on. I just mostly feel overwhelmed about 99% of the time and when I do sit down to write, I find that I’d better spend my time writing for school.  School. Which is done in just three weeks…at least until June. Hooray! I’ll leave you with this – last night a lovely older woman called our house to ask if I would be able to volunteer for the Obama campaign. I told her that while I supported the campaign I wouldn’t even be able to begin to help. I told her I worked full time, was in grad school and had two young children. She asked me, “do you sleep?” and my answer, quite honestly, was no. Nope. I don’t sleep. I lay down around midnight which is about how late I stay up to finish all of the work I can’t get done with kids underfoot, then I spend a chunk of time trying to wind down from the 8 bazillion things that happened that day, sleep about 3 hours and then wake up around 4am to worry about all the things that are to happen the NEXT day. Sleep is for pussies. And, there you have it! The last month of my life in 830 words or less. Ca-ching!

art show!

Yesterday was one of those days where I reflect on my job and think, “I do some pretty cool stuff with some talented little people.” Yesterday was the first annual art opening for our preschool classes.  Last summer, I read a great blog post from a teacher/blogger whom I follow quite closely.  Tom teaches at a cooperative preschool in the Seattle area, and he is an amazing writer who sums up his work with children so eloquently that I often just shake my head when I read his blog, wishing that I had written those words first.  So, when he wrote about having an art opening for his preschoolers, I knew it was something I wanted to try and something that my students would love.  We are lucky enough to have a family in our school that owns a small coffee shop in the heart of the Waldo neighborhood in Kansas City. One More Cup was a favorite hang out for me even before I knew that the Neffs owned it, and it’s the quintessential local business in my opinion. It is cozy and comfy and a favorite spot to curl up with a latte and a good book (Ha! You would think by reading this that I had actually done that. I’ve not, but I always look with envy on the people in there curled up reading…one day I’ll do it, too).  Yesterday, it was the perfect location to host dozens of family members and many, many little artists – at our first CECC art opening! 

 The idea began, like I said, with an idea from Teacher Tom, but it soon developed into something much more.  We are constantly doing artwork in our classrooms. Daily.  Using different mediums, working on different canvases, working alone or in groups. Artwork in the preschool classroom is something that we did every single day without thinking much of it aside from the esthetic quality…until this year.  This year, my friend and fellow preschool teacher Adriane and I began to dig deeper to find connections between the artwork that they did, and the development of the children. What we began to realize is that we weren’t giving the artwork enough credit for all the things it was teaching the children. Social skills, language and cognitive skills, math and science, measuring and exploring cause and effect, fine and gross motor development. This list could go on and could be much more detailed, but you get the point. The hard part wasn’t getting the children to participate in the artwork, it was making those connections between what we were doing and the importance of what the children were learning. Isn’t that always the hardest part for a teacher? 

 Yesterday was the culmination of a journey we began back in August, and it was so much fun to see how excited the children were to show off their work.  Giving the public the chance to meet the little artists was a success! I’m lucky to have Adriane to work with, as she feels as strongly about teaching as I do.  Teaching parents and the community about what we do in the preschool classroom. Teaching about all of the connections the children are making in their artwork. Teaching that more goes on in a preschool classroom than crayons and markers.  I don’t think Adriane and I ever thought about this journey as something new for the kids: rather that it might be new for the adults in those kids’ lives.  We thought about it in terms of how we might show the outside world how important this experience would be for a four year old. I think it was a success.

The CECC art will be available for viewing and purchase during the month of March at One More Cup (7408 Wornall Road, KCMO) come see it!

hair project, week three

The curls are back. It’s a good thing, really, as growing this dumpy mop of hair will be much easier if I can pass off the messiness as my curls. Also, this week I’ve been looking at old photos both at home and at work.  I’ve seriously had the same haircut for about 11 years now.  The only thing that has changed is the color – and man, there has been a lot of color. I’ve made myself a color appointment for mid-March and I am going to stay blond…it just fits me best, I think. In the meantime I have started a “hair” board on Pinterest. I love that site, and particularly because now all my inspiration for my ‘do is in one place. The only downside is that people keep saying to me, “I love all the short haircuts! We should get our hair cut together like that! Great haircuts!” For me, though, it’s NOT a cut – my hair is so damn short that most of those pictures are MONTHS of growth for me! OH! the best news? I found the stash of barrettes I'd put aside so long ago. Yay! I present, week 3 (which is actually a lie - it's been SIX whole weeks since I've had my hair cut.) Ta-da!

week three

valentimes

I spent yesterday wondering how or what I could have written differently in my last blog post. It bothered me that I set off such a firestorm of comments and I felt like I hadn’t conveyed my message in the right way. Even though I enjoy making people think and talk, I never intend my words to offend or upset people beyond that. That was yesterday...sleep offered up perspective and today my children are running around in their underwear (inside, of course, they've made a beach in my living room) enjoying the first snow day of the season. I’m done wondering what I could have done differently yesterday because, in the end, it doesn’t really matter.

Today I’ve been thinking about Valentine’s Day and how much emphasis people place upon it.  It’s always been ridiculous to me, even before I married the guy who earns his livelihood in the greeting card business.  I think about Valentine’s Days past, where we would transform shoeboxes into mailboxes with tissue and glitter and stickers, and we would wait for children to place notes inside.  Later, in high school, I remember watching who would have a carnation delivered during 3^rd hour. It was always, in both cases, a popularity contest disguised as something different. I’ve never seen the point in using one day a year to profess your love to someone.  At least I’ve never understood being strong-armed into buying flowers or chocolates or even (yep, I’m going to say it) cards – none of which will last very long.

I’m terrible at showing my love for my husband in appropriate ways. I’m certain he will be the first to agree with me on this. I like to laugh and to poke fun and I rarely tell him in so many words how happy he has made me over the years.  A lot has changed since Steve and I met and in the 11 years since.  The past year or so has been particularly challenging for me. I’m not wholly certain why, but I know I’ve not been the best spouse, or even a very good friend at times.  And I continue to assume that he knows how I feel, even though I often do a shitty job of showing it.  It’s not fair to him, really.  I said last week that anyone who professes love over and over again on the internet is probably lying. I’m not going to do that here for a lot of reasons: mostly because I can hardly do it to his face without turning it into a joke of some kind. That’s just how we do things around here. I will say that it’s never, ever been a popularity contest for us. And I thank my stars for that.