Back to School Doesn't have to be a Grind

Ah the dog days of summer. If you are anything like my family, summer is a time of no schedules, sleeping in, and flying by the seat of your pants.I am lucky enough to be home with my two boys over the summer, but it can be a huge adjustment when it is time for school to start. The lazy days of summer have done just that; made us lazy.
I treasure the fact that in the summer we don't have schedules, sports practices, and for myself work. I work part-time as a teacher, so going back to school means the same for me as it does my two resistant boys. What can you do to make this better?
There are some helpful things, that I have done, that have made the transition from summer fun to back to school tolerable. First of all, get your kids closets and dressers organized. I usually do this mid summer so it is not a huge task right before school starts. An organized closet and dresser make it easier to decide what to wear to school; which brings me to my next tip:lay out what your kid wants to wear to school the night before. This alleviates fighting and having to make fashion decisions when there is little time in the morning.
Have a space or place for all of your kids school needs. I have hooks in my garage for sweatshirts or coats, a place for shoes, and a hook for book bags. All are located in the garage where we walk out the door in the morning to grab our bus.
About two weeks before school starts I try to get back to regular bed times. During this time I explain to my kids the importance of a good night sleep for school, and how for close to three months they got to stay up later than normal. Usually, with a little grummbling, they comply.
Hate the paper trail that school brings into your house? I have designated stack trays with my kids names on them for important papers that they bring home each day. Each day after school, I stand at the trash can and toss what I don't need and put the stay at home papers in the designated trays. I also write important dates on the calender which I have right next to the stack trays so I don't forget anything. I have all this cleaned out and ready the week before school starts.
One more thing that keeps us organized is to prepare lunches the night before and have a designated spot for those as well. I store the lunches in our frig in our garage since that is where the kids shoes and book bags are located. Then all we have to do is grab and go on the way out.
Finally, once school has started, a morning routine is key. I require my boys to rise, brush teeth, get dressed, and make their beds, all before they come downstairs to eat breakfast. This means no television, no video games et cetra, before all of those other things are accomplished. Then, and only then, if we have time, I allow for five minutes of t.v. or video games before we hit the door.The bottom line is allotting enough time for everything in the am.
Organization is key in getting your family ready for back to school. Take your time and use the last weeks to get ready rather than rush days before. My family and I do so much better when we have a plan and are organized. Fall is upon us so why not use the rest of the dog days to breeze into the next season.
Take Care,
Kelly

Mommy Time

Being a mom nowadays is like a juggling act. I find that it is much busier than when my mom raised my two brother's and myself.I was actually looking forward to the "break" of summer because I knew that organized sports for my two son's and school was coming to end, at least for three months. We can all take a break and enjoy summer. So why now that it is here am I wondering what was I thinking?
My taxi driver hat is temporarily hung but now my entertaining hat is on full tilt. Each day starts with the question," what are we going to do today Mom?" I am lucky to be home with my kids this summer but it can be a challenge keeping everyone occupied, happy and out of trouble. Plus how do I enjoy some of that "me"time to keep myself sane?
When my kids were little I joined the YMCA. They have wonderful daycare and I was able to send my kids there worry free while I got a work out in. I was able to lose the post baby weight, enjoy some "me" time and do something healthy at the same time. Now that my kids are older(Nine and thirteen) we still go to the Y, now they can do their own workout at the weight room designed for kids; there is always a trainer or adult in there so I still can do my thing and the kids can have some fun too.
Another way to enjoy some time for yourself and keep your kids happy is swap with another mom. Find someone who has kids that have the same interests and age group as your own and trade kids. I did this for years when my children were small but it can work great with older kids as well. The kids need to get along and you need to trust the other mom but it can be a great thing. You can go and run errands or go get a haircut in peace while the kids are playing with other kids; then you need to return the favor to the other mom. I set up a swap once a week.
I also am a firm believer in getting my kids involved in whatever daily activities need to be done. Why should I do all of the chores? I have my kids help out with household chores each day. I call it clean up time. They each have a series of things that they must complete before they can go out and play or do whatever it is they want. I give them age appropriate things to do for example, picking up their rooms, taking out trash, cleaning up their bathroom. My nine year old helps out too by running "errands" for me. I might have him go get me some supplies for cleaning or have him water the outside plants.I don't expect perfection on this. The point is everyone pitches in and we get chores done faster and that leaves more time for "me" time.
Reading is a big thing for me. I love to read and realize the importance for my two boys to also partake. So another way I sqeeze in "Mommy" time is by incorporating the 15 minute reading rule. We all take a break and read something in quiet for at least 15 minutes. Who doesn't like summer reading? This encourages a little quiet time for everyone.If your kids are small and can't read on their own encourage them to simply look at the pictures of a favorite book or magazine on their own anyway. If you have older children they can read to the younger ones.
Friends are most important to me so another way to stay connected is to hang with other moms. I always feel better after a lunch out or a night out with the girls. Women need other women, it is that simple. You can compare notes and find out what other moms are doing with their lives and kids by staying connected. Get a babysitter or have your significant other watch the kids for a night or aftrernoon so you can grab a movie or dinner with a friend.
Enjoy your summer and stay sane! Don't ever let anyone make you feel bad for having some time to yourself. You'll be a better person and a better mom for it!

Kelly

Tri Tri Again

Well it has been a little while since I have written in my blog. I certainly have missed you dear blog, just busy the month of May subbing and training for triathon. As soon as the weather breaks I am outside whenever possible.I have had time to reflect on what I wanted to blog about as I am swimming, biking, or running; that is one of the many reasons why I love triathlon.
In April I turned forty four. It was not a significant birthday except for the double digits but for some reason I had some difficulty with the number. I started reflecting on my life and my accomplishments and decided what the heck had I really done? I've raised kids and now they are older. I am trying to return to the workforce but realize my skills need some tuning. I am at a crossroads in my life. Change is good and I usually embrace it but at 44 and only working part time I realized I had some major decisions to face. Do I spend a fortune on school to go back to college to get a teaching degree in which I will spend three years doing so? Do I stay where I am doing the part time thing and trying to make ends meet? How will I balance work and family when everyone has been used to me being home? Will I fall flat on my face?
During runs, bikes, and swims I even started to question whether or not I should continue to be an age group sponsored triathlete. While I have had great success with it and it has kept me sane during so many aspects of life; like when my children were babies or potty training, during illnesses of family and friends, maybe it was time to hang up my running shoes, put away my goggles and bike shoes and get a real job and a real life. Maybe I am getting too old for this nonsense. Maybe I should grow up and trade in the outdoors for more schooling, more inactivity, more mundane because isn't that what being an adult is all about? No, I said to myself, no!
And so I did my first race of the season in June at Pinchot Park in Lewisberry PA. and took second place in my age group. I don't even care about placing( well a little because I don't want to let Hydroworx, my sponsor, down.)Even while I was racing,( my first of four this season), I thought this is my last season, it is time to grow up.
Then after I crossed the finish line and was waiting for results I met some incredible people. The girl who beat me was just in a full Iron man competition in Utah. She said that she had just done it a month ago and here she was doing a shorter distance tri; to her the sprint tri was a mere workout for the day. Amazing I thought,and she was my age. Ah, another crazy person that doesn't let age get in the way. I was already feeling better by talking with her about my own situation.
Next there was a man hanging out with us that had a Beach2Battleship shirt on. I recognized it because I did the 56 mile bike portion with my friends. I commented on his shirt. "Hey," I said, "I did the half iron man last year as a team and we won," I gleamed proudly. He goes,"Great! I did the full Iron man last year." That shut me up! Meanwhile this guy was 60 years old. One of the benefits of tri is that they mark the backs of your legs with your age, well maybe that is not one of the benefits, but that's how I knew he was sixty. He maybe looked fifty! Again I was blown away.
Lastly, before they called my name for awards, I noticed a man standing in front of me. On the back of his left leg in black sharpie there was the number 70. That's right, the guy was seventy years old. Holy Sh--! He was totally in shape and did not even come close to looking his age. I grabbed my medal and as I walked by him he winked at me. That wink sent me to the moon and back again because at seventy this guy was still doing what he loved. I shook his hand and said,"You are an inspiration." He said, no my dear,"you are."
I'm still not sure what to do about going back to school. I'm still not sure about what kind of work I should look for full time or even if I'm ready for full time yet. I'm still not sure how long I'll continue to triathlon. How can anyone be certain of anything? There are risks in everything we do in life. I am certain of one thing. I can not give up triathlon yet. I am certain that no matter what changes my life brings I will continue to be a triathlete as long as I can. I read a statistic that the average triathlete is 37 years old, male, and has a family and a career. Okay so even with full time work I should be able to still continue.
I went home and signed up for the Beach2Battlefront half iron man this November as an individual.I hope I can make the 70.3 miles but that is what keeps me coming back for more; to tri, tri again! Happy Training!

The What ifs of Life

My Dad said it best once. “The ifs can kill ya kid.” What the heck does that mean you ask? We all travel down the road of asking meaningful questions about our lives, call it a mid life crisis, call it self reflection, call it becoming self obsessed. The bottom line is as we get older, we all, at one point or another wonder what if I would have…
Recently I had coffee with a great friend only to learn that she too has said, “what if…” She asked me a tough question which sparked this blog. She asked, “Do you have any regrets about your life?” I didn’t even flinch when I responded, “Yes, I am human.” She continued to tell me her struggles and without revealing our conversation it was as if she opened my head and spilled it out onto the table. I am happy to reveal my thoughts on the subject.
Most of my friends are in the same age group. We all range in our mid to late thirties to forty’s. I think part of the reason we travel down the “what if” road is that we are getting older. We have kids; we all have been married for longer than ten years. We start to question our meaning in all of the carpools, sporting events for our kids, the financial sacrifices with raising families. The question of the day is, is it all worth it?
My friend and I both share one other thing in common on this subject. We have both given up careers and dreams to stay at home and raise our kids. In today’s world most moms’ now work. We are in a minority here. Like my friend, I ask myself what the heck I have to show for myself. I am college educated and worked for eight years before my son was born. I was just getting started when my husband and I decided day care wasn’t the way we wanted our son to grow up. This debate can be seen on any daytime talk show; stay at home mother’s versus working moms, but that is not the main idea of this article.
After my coffee date I started to think about what I’d be doing if I hadn’t been a hopeless romantic and married my husband. Instantly I envisioned myself as a famous writer living in Chicago or maybe Manhattan. I could see my large apartment, decorated perfectly, overlooking the city. I dreamed of a walk in closet as large as my current bedroom filled with Prada shoes and designer suits all color coded. I saw myself being picked up each day by a Town-car and driving to my high rise office only to dine at the finest restaurants during my lunch hour. After my fabulous lunch my Town-car would drop me off at Harpo Studios where I would have a one on one interview with Oprah regarding my new best seller. During this day-dream I almost crashed into a car ahead of me, but that’s another blog.
Last week I turned forty four. During a celebratory drink with my husband and brother- in- law another question was thrown at me. “What would you be doing if you weren’t married to my brother?” asked my brother- in- law. I told him my latest daydream about being a writer in Chicago. “Yes,” he answered. “But you’d be so lonely.” Perhaps, but I still couldn’t quite let go of the bedroom sized closet full of goodies.
This week I had an epiphany all related to the “what ifs.” I was teaching an Intense Speech and Learning Kindergarten class. One of kids was severely disabled. She had the mentality of a three year old but was placed with five to six year olds in the program. While she was delayed and had a learning problem I couldn’t help but think that her life at home was probably not what my own kids had experienced. I don’t know for sure but I suspect after working with kids that there was very little interaction with her parents at home. I suspected that no one had worked with her at all. While I was busy teaching my kids their alphabet and numbers before kindergarten I felt that no one had even attempted to do these basics with her. Her clothes were dirty and she spit at the class to get attention. She clearly had some learning disabilities and just because someone is dirty doesn’t mean their parents don’t take care of them, but still call it instinct.
On a personal level I know about learning disabilities because my own son was delayed with speech and needed services for that as well as occupational therapy as he couldn’t write his ABCs. The difference between my own son and this little girl seemed obvious to me. Although my son was also developmentally delayed, the one noticeable difference was that he could do basic things for himself that I had taught him. He had instruction at home on how to pick up his toys and how to tie his shoes, basic responsibilities that I had demanded from him at home. I felt that this little girl had no structure at home and had not been held accountable for anything including tantrums; it was as if her parents just wanted the school do everything. Again just an opinion, call it an instinct because I didn’t have access to her file as a substitute teacher.
The epiphany was that I realized the importance of the role I had with my own kids as their mother. I was able to teach them things at home and hold them accountable for their actions. I truly believe that the connection between home and school is vital for my kid’s education. I’ve seen first hand as a substitute teacher what the kids that don’t have a good home life can be like. I realized my value again as a person who had given up a career and decided my family was important. I realized that yes it has really all been worth it! This is not a put down by any means on any woman who works and raises a family because I am in fact that woman now; at least part time. This is just a realization that I personally made the right decision years ago.
The bottom line is that no matter what path life takes you we all question and that is okay. I only hope that like myself when you get to the answer you can smile. Ironically enough my husband works for MetLife. Do you know what their slogan is? Buy MetLife for the “Ifs” in Life. I guess we really are meant to be.

More from new story... Food is Love

“Please stand for our Recessional Hymn, Celtic Song of Farewell,” the choir director said. I couldn’t understand why Aunt Deb picked a Celtic song.

***
There was a quiet hum as we gathered towards the back of the church; different groups were waiting to say hello to Dad and Aunt Deb. I spotted Grandma’s next door neighbor Sara, whom we had known for years. Sara had spent many mornings around Grandma’s kitchen table doing the coffee clutch thing. When we were still going to Grandma’s regularly Sara would always be over at one time or another discussing all the things you shouldn’t like politics or religion. Mostly she would complain about her husband Jack who died last year shoveling the driveway.
“Hi Sara,” I said reaching my arms out to give her a hug.
“Rachel. How are you darling? Jessie so glad you made it home. We’ve missed seeing you,” Sara said. Jessie was always the favored. No one missed seeing me.
“Denver is far away, I wish I got back more often,” Jessie swooned. She was milking the Denver geography. The truth was Jessie avoided the family whenever she could.
“Your dad said that she died suddenly. Russell found her at the bottom of the stairs? How awful. Do they know for sure what happened?”
“The doctor thinks she had a heart attack but they won’t know for sure until the autopsy is done,” I said.
“Well it is a shame. I thought she was in pretty good health. I haven’t seen her too much lately. I’ve been helping my daughter and her husband.”
“How is Kelsey?” Jessie asked.
“She is doing fine. Her husband lost his job last year and they’ve been living with me until they get on their feet again. I don’t mind, it’s kind of nice having the kids there since Jack died. Your Grandma hasn’t talked to me too much since Jack passed away. She was mad at me for a while; said I shouldn’t have had him out in the snow shoveling like that.”
Leave it to Grandma to blame poor Sara for her husband’s death. They had been together thirty years and were a close couple. I chalked it up to another awkward moment. I was hoping there wouldn’t be too many more to come.
“Nice seeing you Sara,” I said motioning towards Dad and Father O’Connor. “I need to make my rounds. Come on Jess.”
I noticed Dad and Father O’Connor in deep conversation and I wondered what was going on. I looked towards the front entryway and realized what they were talking about. The parking lot was now covered in what looked like ten inches of snow and it was still falling.
“We are going to have to wait to go to the cemetery,” Father was saying to Dad. “The ground is too snow covered and with the ground frozen…”
The funeral director was standing there now also throwing in his two cents. He was tall and sickly thin with white hair. His skin was so translucent that you could see his blue veins sticking out. He had on an expensive dark suit but it was off somehow like he had dry cleaned it one too many times. Dad had nicknamed him the crypt keeper and rightly so.
“What’s going on Dad?” I said as I approached the group.
“Who are these lovely creatures?” The funeral director said eyeing Jessie and me. His smile was even creepy. His teeth were so white. I envisioned the commercial with the Orbit gum girl with the gleaming white teeth.
“These are my daughters, Jessie and Rachel,” Dad said introducing us.
“It’s a pleasure, I’m Mr. Graves,” he smiled and his eye teeth stuck out. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two peppermint candies. Like we were going to take those, I thought. No way.
“What are we like ten?” I said sarcastically.
“You’ll have to excuse my daughter she is still grieving,” Dad shot me a look. Sharon stood by Dad looking mortified.
“I was just explaining to your parents that the ground is too frozen for the burial today. We will have to postpone the graveside service but we can still have the viewing at the funeral home. There is just too much snow right now too.
“Parent,” I said clarifying the crypt keeper. “My mother passed away two years ago. This is Sharon.”
“So sorry,” the crypt keeper said.
“Don’t mention it,” I said smirking.
“At any rate,” he continued, “Everyone should still plan on coming to the funeral home for the viewing. I realize the weather has taken a turn for the worse but we should still be able to fit it in.”
“I haven’t looked outside yet,” Dad said, “What’s it doing out there?”
“It’s really coming down,” I said. “It looks to me like more than six inches. The weather guy was saying we were probably going to get up to six inches but…”
“This wasn’t even called until just before Mass,” Dad said looking at Sharon.
Aunt Deb came over holding her cell phone to her ear. Father O’Connor gave her a look now, finally someone other than me. She ignored him and finished her call. The distraught look on her face said it all. “I just got off the phone with the caterers. They are not going to be able to make it over with the food today.”
“What do you need caterers for?” Dad said.
“In case you’ve forgotten, we have thirty people coming over after the viewing to eat and pay their respects.”
“Right, I just didn’t realize you hired a caterer Sis.”
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“Their truck with four wheel drive broke down and they are worried about the storm. They said we could come and get the food but they wouldn’t be able to deliver.”
“I have four wheel-drive on the Subaru, Deb,” I said.
“Let me call back Alfonso and see if we can fit everything in the Subaru.”
“Alfonso? Where are you getting the food from?” I asked.
“Italians Are Us,” she said.
“What?” I said smiling.
“I couldn’t make that up Rachel,” she said walking out into the snow.
Father O’Connor made an announcement to everyone that we would still have the viewing but that the graveside service was cancelled until the storm was over. I was glad he made the announcement and not the creepy funeral director Mr. Graves.
“Where are Dakota and Darcy?” I asked. I noticed that they were no where in sight. People from the Mass were coming out and mingling in the small vestibule area, even though there were only around thirty people here it was creating some noise and confusion. Everyone was realizing that we were in the middle of a snow storm.
“You know kids, they are around somewhere,” Dad said starting to go back into the main part of the church.
“I’ll check the bathrooms,” Sharon said heading to the corner near the front doors of the church.
I followed Dad back into church looking around and then I spotted them. They were crawling around the floor towards the left corner of the church. Darcy was almost all the way underneath the pew and Dakota was sitting up in the seat. Lucy was standing over them humming.
“There you guys are,” I said. “We’ve been looking for you two.” I made eye contact with Dad who was on the other side of the church now. “Got em,” I tried to whisper.
“I let them play with my car from McDonald’s,” Lucy said smiling. “They were giving away carrrrrs,” she said dragging out the word. “I love carrrrs,” she said. I realized she was humming, I’m lov’in it, the McDonald’s theme.
“That’s great Lucy.”
“Yeah, Lucy is the best,” Dakota said grabbing the tiny matchbox from Darcy.
“STOP!” Darcy screamed.
“Darcy, you can’t yell in church,” I explained. With that I heard Aunt Ellen’s voice in the background.
“Where is she? She’s just like an eight year old. I can’t leave her for a second,” she bellowed.
“I think your mom is looking for you,” I said to Lucy.
“I like carrrs. I want to play with the boys. Tell her to go to hell,” Lucy said. It didn’t take too long to realize where she had learned her language. Aunt Ellen’s voice carried into the church and she was screaming at the top of her lungs now, “Where the hell is she!” I saw Dad scurry out the doors to find Aunt Ellen. Once again Aunt Ellen managed to cause a scene.
“Come on you three, there are people looking for you,” I said. “Time to go.” I pulled Darcy out from under the pew. “Party is over.”
“Party is over!” Lucy chimed.
We found our way out front again and Jessie made eye contact with me. Her eyes sparkled with relief when she came over and grabbed Darcy and Dakota. “So do you believe this? We are in the middle of an unpredicted Nor Easter. We can’t bury Grandma and people are bailing as fast as they can because of the snow. Grandma is probably orchestrating this storm with the gods today. That would be just like her to create drama,” Jessie said.
“Come on, Grandma is gone. She has nothing to do with this.”
“I know but she did seem to always attract unnecessary chaos at most of our family events. Remember the last family reunion at Dad’s cousin’s house? She showed up three hours early and told all of us to come then? Poor Betsy, she was so taken aback that we all showed up and nothing was ready.”
“Yeah remember the grand finale of her falling when she went to smoke a cigarette? The neighbors stood outside watching EMS testing Grandma for a concussion.”
“Grandma insisted that I get in and swim with Brian’s four year old before she fell. When I told her I didn’t have a swim suit she badgered Betsy to borrow one for me. I went to sit at Grandma’s table with Aunt Ellen and she had four swim suits which she held up in front of everyone. Meanwhile I had my period and really didn’t want to swim. The whole day was so embarrassing!” I said.
The crowd stood in the vestibule and some were talking to Dad about the viewing. Dad made an announcement then. “I want to thank everyone for coming today. I realize the weather has taken a turn. We will have a viewing at the funeral home. The funeral home is short drive from here on route 114 in Mechanicsburg. You are welcome to follow me or the name of the home is Malpezzi.”
While everyone contemplated what their next move was going to be I too was wondering why I volunteered to go pick up the food. I was a glutton for punishment sometimes. I made eye contact with Jessie again. “How far is it to the caterers?”
“ Aunt Deb said that it's not far,” she said. “It’s actually close to the funeral home. You could grab everything and then come to the funeral home.”
“What about keeping the stuff hot?” I asked.
“No, we can reheat everything when we get to the house. Deb asked them if they could prepare it that way since they couldn’t deliver.”
“If I’m going to do this I should go now. The snow is not letting up and we have a small window before everyone starts showing up at Malpezzi’s.”
“You sure you’re okay with this Rachel?”
“No, but I’ll survive. Plus I’m dying for a cigarette and if Dad sees me smoking he’ll have a fit.”
“I love you. Be careful, see you over there.”


The Subaru cranked up and I searched through my CDs to find the one that was just right. I pulled out Simon and Garfunkel’s greatest hits and forwarded to Sounds of Silence. I felt the heat kick in as I turned on the wipers. I sat watching the blades catch the snowflakes that were washed across my car window. I lit a Marlboro light and rolled down my window.
Driving was so therapeutic. I listened to the words of the song and took a deep drag off of my cigarette. I wondered if Grandma was up there somewhere, looking down on us right at this moment. I wondered if she was trying to scream something at us but we couldn’t hear, we were silent soldiers doing our best to get her buried but maybe she didn’t want to be, maybe she wanted to tell us one last thing.
The song screamed, ’Fools,’ said I, ‘you don’t know silence like a cancer grows.’ ‘Hear my words that I might teach you; take my arms that I may reach you.’ But my words like silent raindrops fell, and echoed in the wells of silence.’ I wondered if being dead was like being in a dream; you could see and hear everyone but they couldn’t see or hear you anymore.
Part of me did think that Grandma was responsible for this snow storm; she would never want a funeral like this. Aunt Deb had planned the whole event.She wouldn’t want any attention drawn to herself. She didn’t even like her picture taken. Aunt Deb had said that the casket would be closed and that there would be a picture of Grandma. But Aunt Deb couldn’t even find a current picture. The one that would be shown was of Grandma, before she was married; standing outside of the university she never graduated from.
Grandma had been one year from graduating when she became pregnant with my dad. This was one of the reasons Dad gave for her not being a happy person. Her dreams were forced to be let go of when she got pregnant. She was forced into marrying my grandfather and apparently he wasn’t her first choice.
As I was deep in thought my car spun around. I found myself struggling to keep the Subaru on the road and then as fast as I had spun around I was sliding backwards into a ditch. I tried to remember my driving rules; steer into the turn, no steer out of turn, I told myself. My car stopped and I was down below the road in a small ditch which left me no room to maneuver my way out, so much for four wheel drive.
I put the car in park and got out to assess the situation. I was a few feet from the road but the ditch was deep enough that I didn’t think I would be able to get out. In the back of my hatch I had a scraper which wouldn’t help me dig the snow out from under my wheel. I picked up my cell phone and dialed Jessie; no answer. I tried Dad’s cell phone and it also went to voice mail. I was just a few miles from the funeral home, on a fairly decent road back in a neighborhood, I decided to sit tight. Someone would see me.

Happy Birthday Bryce, You are Thirteen!

It's hard to believe that thirteen years ago I gave birth to my first child and now he is a teenager. He was only five pounds and fifteen ounces and he looked like a little bird. The doc kept telling me that I was going to have an eight pound baby and I was glad as I had gained forty pounds so I figured at least eight of those forty was coming off as soon as my bundle of joy was born.
I read all the parenting books and thought I had it together when it came to having a baby and raising a child. Boy was I wrong- literally I thought I was having a girl; for nine months I swore that Bryce was going to be Jessica Grace. I did have the option of seeing what the sex was but I wanted to be surprised even though I was 99 percent sure it was a girl.
Three days after my bundle was born my mother- in- law showed up,even though my husband and I specifically asked her and my family to give us a week or so to get used to having a new born home. We spoke too soon as dear mother-in-law showed up as soon as she could get a ride down to us in North Carolina. The funny part was that she was so consumed with seeing the baby but she never came to visit when it was just the two of us. Her response was always,"Why would I ever want to visit you? I've seen my son his whole life." And so began my long and arduous relationship with my husbands mom.
As a new mom you don't have a clue; at least I didn't. I expected perfection right off the bat. This baby will be on a great eating and sleeping schedule, I'll have everything completely organized and I will look like the cover of Parenting Magazine when I take my son out in his new fangled stroller for the first time.I'll be the perfect breast feeder. I'll be the envy of all my friends as I'll have the mother thing so under control. And another thing, my life is not going to change!
I was completely in denial of what motherhood would be. I learned fast though because by day two I was exhausted from staying up all night. He had his days and nights mixed up. Every night at five o'clock he would scream bloody murder; apparently this was colic or fussy time according to the pediatrician. My milk had come in; surprise, forgot to put the pads in my bra and walla my shirt was stained on the front at the Harris Teeter Grocery Store as I shopped for whatever items we needed for the arrival of my mother-in-law. I had accidentally announced to the world that I was in fact a breast feeder!
By day three, I hadn't showered, my house looked like a tornado hit as all of the gadgets that we had received at my lovely shower were strewn all over. There was the swing that I "haaaad" to get according to my friend Nichole who gave me the shower. The only problem; I couldn't use it yet because he was so small, I realized the age requirements as I tried to put him in it and he almost fell through the leg holes. Rule number one: read the instructions on baby items. I would do anything to get him to stop screaming from five o'clock to seven but the swing was out. Once he was big enough for it he hated it anyway.
Thankfully, my wonderful husband didn't mind walking our beautiful baby around for two hours at a clip. That was probably why he was so tired in the middle of the night that he never seemed to hear the baby crying for that one am feeding; not that he could have helped there anyway. Another lesson learned; pump your breast milk, then there are no excuses, anyone can help with the feedings. The call to Fisher Price hotline completed that day when the three of us passed out as Bryce slept the entire night in the bouncy seat. I thought the vibration would have damaged him but the lady on the other end of the phone assured me things were just fine as long as he was strapped in. The bouncy seat became my new best friend.
But like any mom I survived the first few weeks which turned into years and it did get easier. Once I put down What to Expect the First Year I soared to new lengths of motherhood. I would catch myself when no one was looking, going to the table of contents of the book trying to look up whatever problem I had. I finally realized that having and raising a baby cannot be done by reading an instruction manual although I was sure I would find the answer. One night after my mother-in-law had insulted me for the twentieth time, after all she had seven, how come I couldn't handle one? I calmly put What to Expect in the back of my closet in my family room, high on a shelf and closed the door. I would figure it out; and I did.
Through all the years of raising my first child and then a second I learned so many different things; like everyone wants to give you advice. Once I was at Marshall's, shopping and Bryce was teething. I was letting him chew on my key chain, not the most sanitary thing, but hey he was safe and happy and I could actually look at something other than diaper cream and breast pads. A man came up to me and said how cute Bryce was and of course I beamed. "Thank you," I said smiling. That's when he went in for the kill. "I wouldn't recommend letting him chew on that, it's very unsanitary and it could hurt his gums." Dude get lost is what I thought and then all of the sudden the guilty mom voice popped into my head telling me what a terrible mom I was. No one tells you of the inner guilty mommy voice in What to Expect When you are Expecting. I was going to write the author a letter and tell her to please add that to her book of knowledge.
Bottom line, motherhood has been like a roller coaster, so many ups and downs. The best part is seeing your child grow and develop into a really neat human being, and that is exactly what Bryce has become. I am so proud of him today and always! Motherhood is a journey, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, a marriage of sorts without the shit- well not that kind of shit. The one thing about motherhood is that it is forever. You can leave a friendship but motherhood is always. Thank you Bryce for giving me the privilege of being your mom! And oh, by the way, Happy Birthday kiddo, you are the greatest thirteen year old I know. I know you'll read this someday and be mortified. Sorry, that's what we moms do:)
P.S. Stay tuned for life with Bryce as a toddler and early elementary years.

More from my new story... Food is Love( scroll back to view the previous pages)

The snow was not predicted so when we awoke to Darcy and Dakota running around the house screaming, “It’s snowing, it’s snowing,” we were surprised. I was more surprised to see how excited they were about snow since they live in Denver.
Jessie was already in the kitchen making coffee and getting the boys breakfast. “So you guys don’t get snow in Denver?” I said sarcastically.
“Funny. We just haven’t had a whole lot this year.”
“They weren’t calling for this, although February is our prime time for snow. What time is the funeral?” I asked.
“Noon,” Jessie answered.
“Did you check the weather yet?”
“I did,” Aunt Deb was standing in front of the doorway. “Looks like we’re going to get four inches; no big deal; they’ll have this cleaned up in no time.”
Dad and Sharon sauntered in. Sharon was still in p.j.’s with hearts all over them.
“Celebrating Valentines already?” I asked. “Isn’t a little early for that, we still have a few weeks?”
“I like hearts,” Darcy said munching on his Ego waffle.
“Me too,” Dad said wrapping his arms around Sharon.
“I get first dibs on the shower,” Jessie said.
“No let me go,” I said, “then I can keep on eye on my two nephews.” I winked at the two of them. Darcy smiled, Dakota stuck out his tongue. Perfect I thought.

I took Jessie in my car with the two kids. I was happy not to have Dad and Sharon tagging along. I could not take one more question from her. How was my job, how did I like my apartment, why wasn’t I dating anyone, did I like living in Pennsylvania, on and on. As soon as I answered one question she was firing another. I wanted to ask her; hey did you know my mom just died of cancer two years ago?
My sister was like a mind reader sometimes. I was being too quiet when she asked, “So what do you think of Sharon?” I knew she was being facetious.
“You know exactly what I think of her.”
“I know you don’t like anyone that Dad dates. Remember the last one? You nick- named her Tweety bird because she had really short, blonde, spiky hair.”
“Oh yeah, Dad met her on one of those online dating services,” I laughed.
“Don’t knock it until you try it. My friend Jill just got divorced last year and she swears she has found her soul mate on Match.”
“I’m glad I have four- wheel drive on this thing, the snow is still coming down, and it looks like more than four inches to me.”
“Did you like the dessert that Aunt Deb made last night?”
“How can you think of food now Jessie?”
“Those lemon cookies were Grandma’s recipe. It made me think of the time when we spent the night with her; you were like nine and I was around eleven. Remember we ate an entire tin of those cookies and then you puked? We tried to hide it because Grandma was in a bad mood and she busted in the bathroom anyway when we told her to go away?”
“Yeah, I remember. Do you remember what she said?”
“I’ll never forget it.”
“She goes, ‘That’s what you get when you make a glutton of yourself.’”
“Yeah and then she told us to clean up after ourselves. She went to bed after that because I was trying to get some Ginger ale or Sprite for you and she wouldn’t answer her door.”
“What was she so mad about anyway?”
“I don’t know but the next day she threw the garbage can from the bathroom up the stairs at me,” Jessie said.
“What?” I asked.
“She didn’t say anything but she looked at me from the bottom of the stairs and then she threw the little garbage can from the hall bathroom up the stairs at me and walked away.”
“What was that all about?”
“I guess she wanted me to empty the garbage or at least put the can back for her.”
“Can you say weird? Can you say anger management?” I said laughing.
“I know she had her ups and downs you could say. She could be sweet when she wanted to be. I think she was angry with Uncle Russell all the time. Dad said that it was good that he was there with her but I wonder.”
“I’ve gotta pee,” Darcy said from the backseat.
“Okay, we’re almost there kiddo.”
The funeral was at St. Joe’s church in Mechanicsburg, which I didn’t quite get until I asked my dad about it. There were plenty of Catholic churches closer to Aunt Deb’s house. Dad explained last night in between courses that Grandma had banned the other Catholic Church, St. Michael’s, which was much closer, because she had had a falling out with the priest there. He wasn’t ordained before Vatican Two Dad explained and she had too many problems with modern day priests.
I recalled another memory of my grandmother making a bee- line directly to the priest at our church. She caused the line to get totally screwed up for communion because she would not take communion from a Eucharistic minister, who was a woman. Grandma believed that there was no room for women on the altar.
As I drove towards the church I realized how hard it had begun to snow and I was worried about the roads. Our brilliant weather guy, Steve Austin, did not predict the snow. I dropped off Jessie and the boys at the door. “I’ll be right in. I’m going to park,” I said. I secretly wanted a minute to collect my thoughts before going into to Mass.
I turned on the radio for a second to see if I could hear anything more about the weather. The man said that this wasn’t predicted but the weather pattern had changed and there was a storm coming up from the South and we could accumulate up to six inches. The ground was covered and it was still coming down. I wondered when it would stop. I took a flask out of my purse and took a big sip. The peppermint Schnapps burned my throat. It was only ten forty five in the morning but I figured it was five o’clock somewhere and I needed to take the edge off. I locked up the Subaru and went inside.
St. Joe’s was built in the early 1950’s but they have had many changes and renovations since then. The church is modern now with a large school attached. The big claim to fame with this church is the replica of the San Damiano Crucifix. The original hung in a chapel in San Damiano Northern Italy. Francis Bernadone came to pray in that church and the story is that he heard a voice from that crucifix that instructed him to repair the little church. He had found his vocation and he had begun to be St. Francis of Assisi. The replica of this crucifix now hangs over the altar. The only reason I know this is because one of the few times I stayed overnight with my grandma she made us go to church here and we had to go to the children’s mass where they explained this to us; for some reason I always remembered it.
As I entered church my dad was standing in the back talking to the priest. I heard dad say, “What happened Father? We were supposed to have Father Walton.”
I recognized Father O’Connor, the younger of the two priests in the parish, talking to Dad. Then I heard Father O’Connor say, “It seems your mother was quite spirited. She had told Father Walton to go to hell at her last reconciliation. Father sent me. He said it would be best.”
Figures, Grandma even ticked off the very priest she was supposed to have at her own funeral! I couldn’t wait to tell Jessie that one. I gave Dad a small smile and he motioned for me to go in; which I gladly did. I could tell poor Father O’Connor was uncomfortable.

The church was intimate and in a semi circular shape so you can see the whole congregation from wherever you are seated. The altar is pretty without being overdone or pretentious. I found Jessie and the boys up front. Aunt Deb and Uncle Jack sat in the pew behind them. The church probably would hold around one thousand or so parishioners but I was astonished at how empty the church was. The service was supposed to start at 12:00, in less than fifteen minutes, and there were only around twenty people here. Half of the twenty were family, so where the hell was everybody, I wondered?
“Aunt Rachel?” Darcy was pulling on my sweater.
“What babe?” I answered.
“You smell like peppermint. Mommy, Aunt Rach smells like peppermint candy.”
“Give him a mint.”
“I don’t have any,” I whispered. My sister raised her eyebrow at me. “If you want to meet me in the bathroom…”
“What are you talking about?”
I flashed my flask in my purse.
“You are unbelievable. Actually that was kinda smart.”
“Where is everyone?”
“You know Grandma. She had a beef with everyone in town. She even managed to tick off her best friend Mary- Grace. Poor Mary-Grace has cancer and she told her to toughen up and get a life recently.”
“How do you know that?”
“Dad told me earlier when I asked where she was today. Dad just said that Mary is still kind of mad at Grandma for giving her such a hard time when she was going through chemo and she didn’t know if she’d make the Mass today.”
“Whoa.”
Father O’Connor made his way to the altar and the music started. “Please rise for the Opening Hymn, Jesus Christ is Risen Today,” she said. The woman leading the singing today had been the choir director at this church for years. I remembered her from when I was little. The opening prayer was from Ecclesiastes 3:1-11: “There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven; a time to be born and a time to die… The word of the Lord,” said Father O’Connor.
“Thanks be to God,” we chimed. You could tell who was not Catholic as those people stood not knowing what to say.
I just kept thinking of the song by the Byrds, Turn, Turn, Turn, and what a rip off it was from this bible verse. I wondered how many people knew that the pop hit was based on Ecclesiastes. I couldn’t focus to hear what Father was saying and I guess I started to hum because Jessie gave me the mommy look again. Dad and Sharon who sat at the opposite end of the pew were now looking at me.
“What?” I whispered to Jessie.
“You are humming that old song by the Byrds.”
“Sorry,” I said. Darcy who sat next to me grabbed my hand to hold. Leave it to him to find a caring moment. He did have his sensitive side. I smiled at him.
“It’s okay Aunt Rachel,” he said.
I finally focused in as Father was saying that while life lessons are important, the life after we leave Earth is much more important, and although our loss is hard, the important thing to remember is that with death we are reborn and joined with Christ. As I sat thinking about this statement I realized that maybe that was why Grandma was so mean. She didn’t care what was going on here as long as she got to heaven. I guess that’s why she was always so concerned with getting to Mass.
My mind drifted back to one of the times Jessie and I had come to Mass with Grandma. Everyone was in a rush to get out once Mass had ended. The parking lot turned into a mini Indy Car Race as everyone juxtaposition to be the first car out. Grandma had rammed into her neighbor’s brand new Volvo that morning and cursed the whole way home. I remember asking her why she was in such a hurry to get to church but even in more of a hurry to get out of church. She simply said, “I’ve gotta get dinner on.” That was one thing about Grandma; she was always cooking.
Then suddenly from the back of the church there was loud screaming. Dad’s Aunt Ellen stood in the back of the church scolding her daughter Lucy. Lucy was born with Down syndrome. “What the hell are you doing?” she yelled at Lucy. Lucy was standing there looking like she’d lost her best friend. Dad looked mortified. This was typical Aunt Ellen, she never entered anywhere unnoticed.
Father was about to finish his Homily and have the family come up to say a few words about Grandma. He looked to the back of the church. “Everything alright?” he said.
Aunt Ellen yanked Lucy into the main part of the church and sat in the back. “Oh, nothing Father,” she said.
Father looked horrified and cleared his throat and said, “Some of the family and friends gathered here today have prepared a few words about their beloved mother and friend. I believe Debra would like to speak first.”
“Ann Castellato was a complicated woman. She was often misunderstood. As her daughter I knew just how complicated she was. We had a typical mother-daughter relationship. She was always right and I was always wrong…”
I nudged Jessie and said, “This is not exactly how I would want to be remembered.”
“Aunt Deb is starting out a little rough.”
The congregation was stirring and there was a little laughter from Aunt Debs’s description of her relationship with Grandma. I looked behind me to see a few more people in church than when Mass had started and I even saw Mary-Grace; she had shown up after all.
Aunt Deb continued on saying that Grandma was a challenging person. I kept wondering when we were going to hear about what a kind hearted woman she was or some kind of charity work she had done, but Deb was stretching. It was a brutal eulogy finally ending with her saying, “And so no one is perfect, especially my mother, but at least she is in a better place now and hopefully happy.”
“Remind me to hire a different speech writer if Aunt Deb is going to speak at my funeral,” I said whispering to Jessie.
“I was thinking the same thing. She really didn’t have one positive thing to say about Grandma.”
More of our family went up to eulogize our grandmother and it was much the same as Aunt Debra. No one had any one thing to say that was memorable or even portraying Grandma as someone other than a jerk. I knew she was difficult but this was unbelievable.
Then from the back of the church, a Mail Carrier, still in his uniform, came up to speak. “Hello. My name is George and I was Ann’s Mailman for the last twenty years. Ann rarely ever talked to me…”
Jessie and I looked at each other and I could only hold my head. I hoped this eulogy from the mail carrier wouldn’t be a brutal as the rest had been.
He continued, “But each year at Christmas she would always have something for me out in the mailbox. Many of the people in her neighborhood would leave me hot cocoa or cookies or candy but Ann always left me something special. This past year there was a note in the mailbox in her perfect handwriting that read, for George, good for one dinner at my home, Merry Christmas.”
All I could think of was the fact that Grandma did nothing but complain about the mailman. She would say, “That bastard can’t even bring my packages to the door. He leaves them out in the driveway for me. Doesn’t he know that an old woman lives here...?”
One year after a bad snow storm he left her a diagram in the mailbox of how to shovel around the mailbox so he wouldn’t have to get out of his mail truck to deliver. I elbowed Jessie again, “Are you listening to this?”
“This takes the cake,” she said.
He continued, “I went to the door that day to redeem her offer and she stood smiling. I really didn’t believe it but when I showed her the note she insisted I come on Christmas Eve. Somehow she knew that my wife had recently passed away and that I was on my own. She made a dinner fit for a king; a standing rib roast, home made potatoes, fresh horseradish sauce, cranberry relish from scratch, brussel sprouts and bread she had baked that morning. It was the nicest thing anyone had done for me since my wife had passed away…”
I drifted off while he continued wondering what provoked Grandma to do this. I wondered where Uncle Russell was on Christmas Eve. While I was happy someone had something nice to say my emotions were raw. George the mailman was the only person whose eulogy portrayed my grandmother as slightly human.

Try this!

Hello,



Try this; think of someone or something and within forty eight hours that person or that event that you were thinking of will come back to you in some form. My husband and I have been doing this "mind" exercise for the past year and it works. Most of you reading this are probably wondering where this is coming from and what have I been smoking or drinking?

Last year my husband had a motivational speaker named James Spooner come and speak to his insurance reps. James is the owner of the Bentley Club in Harrisburg PA. In very simple terms he coaches people on the power of positive thinking and how anyone can earn the riches they want. His philosophy is based on the Napoleon Hill Foundation or the law of attraction; which is based on an essay written by Andrew Carnegie called the Gospel of Wealth.

My husband told me all about this guy Spooner and I was skeptical at first. But then we started playing this game where we think of someone or something and it almost immediately comes back to us or at least within forty eight hours. Let me give you an example. We had a huge snow storm last weekend here. I was watching the weather channel and my husband was outside shovelling snow. I watched a segment stating the importance of checking our outdoor heating unit for excess snow. The reporter said to make sure that you clear off your unit otherwise the weight of the snow could cause an unnecessary shut down of your furnace and that would not be fun during a nor'easter.

I hollered out to my husband and told him to check the unit; he smiled and said,"Spooner." I asked him what he meant and he said our neighbor had just given him the same information. Another "Spooner" philosophy is that everything is connected and there are really no coincidences. Later that day I had mentioned an old favorite movie of mine that had not been on in a while and later when we were flicking around there it was listed on the guide as being on that evening. That same day I had thought of my dad in Florida and how I needed to call him. As I was walking in the door from the grocery store the phone was ringing and it was my dad giving some information that I had suspected; my step mom is really sick. I suspected something was wrong when I hadn't heard anything from them in weeks.

Now you are probably saying, so what. Yeah things like that happen to me all the time. They are called coincidences. Maybe so but as I started thinking more and more about it I realized that the more you pay attention to this stuff the more it happens. When we first started the experiment it was maybe once a week, now it is daily. Why is this important you ask?

Part of the other Spooner or Napoleon Hill foundation is that we have the power in our minds to make things happen. Whatever your mind can conceive and believe your mind can achieve. You can achieve whatever you put your mind to regardless of your education or your past failures but you have to have positive thinking. We are all energy and the energy we put into the world is what we become. Remember Negative Nancy in one of my past blogs? There's a prime way to put negative energy into the world.

There are some key things that you need to do in order for this to work and the first thing is to write down in a notebook what it is you want to succeed at. Next you need to write down what you will give back to society as a result of your success, then you need to memorize both statements and repeat daily. Lastly,and this blew me away as I have recently written a blog on gratitude( again there are no coincidences) , you need to say a prayer of gratitude. The prayer goes something like this: I ask not for more riches but for more wisdom from the gifts I've been given at birth. We have all been given gifts at birth we need to remember what they are and put those gifts into motion; the first step is believing in our dreams! You must believe and then take action to put it out into the universe, the rest will take care of itself. Think of the possibilities!Now there is one other part to this and that is that you have to be open to it and if you are not then it will not work.

Why does this matter? I wanted to share with all of you this information as I want to become a successful author, in doing so I will give back by entertaining and informing a large audience, and I will give back by being able to donate money to important charities for children. It seems so simple and I believe it can really happen.

I think of my life with my husband. We started from humble beginnings. He has bought into this idea of positive thinking for years. He is a successful manager in a large firm; he struggled for years but once he told himself over and over that he would be successful then it happened.

I think of how many successes I've had as a triathlete. There is one thing I say to myself over and over as I am racing: I am going to finish, I am not going to be last and I have trained for this so I can win. Guess what? I have finished, I have not been last, and I have won my age group many times.

One last powerful example. A family member almost died before Christmas, in fact many family members said goodbye. It was the belief of one doctor that gave everyone hope that he could possibly make it back. Family members believed he could make it back from a coma and he did; in a short eight weeks time! The power of positive energy along with the grace of God sent him home this past Friday.

Whatever your mind can conceive and believe your mind can achieve. Try it!



I believe!
Kelly

More from new story... Food is Love

The three of them came barreling down the escalator. Jessie was carrying Darcy. Dakota was pulling his own suitcase on wheels and carrying his monkey which was hanging by one arm. Darcy was about to lose his blanket and my sister looked like she was about to lose her mind. She had multiple suitcases on wheels which she was trying to maneuver along with her two very active children. She had on a beautiful brown fur coat, I was not sure what type of animal it was or used to be but it was stunning. Leave it to Jessie to be dressed to the nines. She had on a skirt and boots and a cashmere sweater to match her ensemble.
The kids looked like they stepped out of an L. L. Bean catalog; in matching outfits. Their angelic look did not match their sparkling personalities. I knew I was in for a long drive to my aunt’s house.
“Can you take him?” she asked.
“Hi Jess, how about saying hello first?” Suddenly I was overwhelmed with the smell of throw up. I spotted something on Darcy’s red crewneck sweater. Dakota was whining that he was hungry.
“Sorry, the delay killed us. I had everything timed to a tee and then with the cancellation we ate too early and then Darcy got sick on the plane. Because we ate too early now they’re hungry again. I can’t win. How are you?” she said kissing me on the cheek.
“I’m fine, except for the smell.”
“Oh give him back to me I’ll go change him before we get into your car,” and like that she whisked him away to the restrooms down the corridor.
“So,” I said to Dakota, “How’s it going dude?”
“I want Mommy!” he whimpered.
“She’ll be right back; she just went to change your brother. He smelled bad.”
“I want Mommy!” he screamed.
Then out of nowhere a security guard came over. Accusingly he said, “Everything all right here?”
“Perfect,” I smiled.
“I want Mommy!” Dakota yelled.
“Are you his mother?” the security guard asked.
“No, thank God,” I said jokingly.
He raised his eyebrow and said, “What?”
“No, I’m his aunt; his mother is in the bathroom changing his little brother.”
The security guard just looked at me and then just stood there. You could tell he wasn’t a real police officer but he took his job very seriously.
***
We found our way to the car and the kids passed out immediately. Silence really is golden. My sister seemed preoccupied and we just enjoyed the quiet for a while until I couldn’t take it anymore. “So are you going to tell me where Derek is?” I asked.
“He had to go out of town. He couldn’t watch the kids for me so I had to bring them.”
“Don’t you guys have a babysitter that helps with that sometimes?” I asked.
“Yeah, Beth but her finals are next week.”
Derek was a very successful insurance wholesaler and his job did require travel. I wondered how it was every holiday, every reunion, every family event, Derek conveniently had to work and my sister seemed perfectly comfortable with the arrangement.
“That’s convenient,” I slipped.
“Rachel, I didn’t come here to fight with you. Our grandmother has died for God’s sake. Can we change the subject please?”
“Fine, it would be nice for your husband to pretend sometime that he is part of the family.”
“Rach? What the hell did I just say?”
“Fine.”
“When is the last time you saw Grandma anyway?” Jessie asked.
“I don’t know. It’s been a while. I think last year at Christmas.”
“Last year?”
“I thought you didn’t want to fight Jessie,” I said.
“You haven’t seen her in a year?”
“I’m busy. I do have a full time job.”
“Oh, like I don’t.”
“You have more flexibility than I have,” I said.
“Yeah and I live all the way in Denver! It’s not like I can get back here that easily. I have little kids Rachel.”
“I guess I haven’t been a good grand daughter. I don’t have a great relationship with Grandma. She wasn’t the nicest growing up. She was always yelling at us…”
“You don’t have any relationship with her Rachel. You never did.”
“When is the last time you saw her?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh so you are going to criticize me on Grandma? How long has it been Jessie, like three years?”
Jessie was quiet. I guess she didn’t feel like getting into it at the moment. I thought back to when our mother was alive and realized that my sister and I really didn’t have much of a relationship with our grandmother. My mother never said anything bad about Grandma but she would make comments like, “Your grandmother once told me that my cleaning lady did such a nice job with our house.” We never had a cleaning lady. Once my mother told me that my grandmother made the comment, “It’s your dad’s house; he can do whatever he wants.”
I knew comments like this sent my mom into a tizzy. She and my dad had many heated arguments over my grandmother’s nasty tongue. Mom would say, “Bill why can’t you stand up to that woman?” Dad would just shake his head and tell her that it was his mom and what was he supposed to do? The excuse was always that she treated everyone like that. Mom was just supposed to suck it up like everyone else.
I guess that’s why we never really visited much growing up or now. I wondered if everyone else in the family thought the same thing about Grandma. I felt a little sad thinking this; I felt even worse knowing I wasn’t really sad that she was gone.

My Aunt Debra’s house was a four bedroom colonial that set on top of a hill. The two acre property backed into a corn field. She once awoke to a herd of cows in her yard. There was a dairy farm down the road and the cows decided to go for a walk one day and ended in her yard.
Aunt Deb loved company so when we showed up with my sister’s kids she was never happier to see everyone. She had a large house and now that my cousins were grown she said it reminded her of the old days to have young kids here. I’m sure she was especially reminded when Dakota threw his stuffed monkey at her glass vase from Tanzania. She had done a Peace Corp stint over there years ago and this was one of her prized possessions she had brought back from some village.
“I’m so sorry!” Jessie said grabbing Dakota.
“It’s okay, I can probably glue it,” Debra said.
“I show up with my two kids and now this. How can I ever make this up?” Jessie said close to tears.
“No worries. We have enough to think about in the next couple of days. Why don’t you girls go upstairs and get settled. I made some chicken stew for dinner. I’m sure everyone is hungry.”
“Yeah that it part of the problem. Our plane delay caused a lot of problems.”
“Where’s Uncle Jack?” I asked changing the subject.
“He’ll be home soon. He could have retired but he insists on working.”
My Uncle Jack was a principal at an elementary school. He had been there for thirty years, but I guess he loved it.
“I thought he’d be home by now,” I said.
“They had a meeting tonight.”
“Go on and get cleaned up and by the time you do that it’ll be time to eat.”
We climbed the stairs and our rooms were next to each other at the end of the hallway. There was a Jack and Jill bathroom adjoining our rooms. Jessie took the room on the right as it had a double bed and a trundle for the kids to sleep on. My aunt had bought that for when her daughter comes to visit with her little girl. My cousin Stacy was a piece of work. She wasn’t able to come in for the funeral. She was a District Attorney in D.C. and couldn’t get away from a case. I flopped down on the queen bed and closed my eyes for a minute. I wondered when Dad was going to show up. I wondered what his new girlfriend was going to be like.
***

The doorbell rang. I looked out the window and there was Dad and the new girlfriend. I figured I would check her out before going down to meet them. She was tall and blonde, athletic looking. Dad had mentioned that she was a runner and they had met at a 5k race a few months ago; The Race for the Cure, which my dad ran every year since mom died. I pulled at the locket around my neck; I didn’t need to open it to remember the picture of mom with her head shaved wearing her pink tee shirt the day we all ran it together. I wondered if she was watching us now.
“Hi Dad.”
“Hi Rach! Come here I want you to meet someone.”
“I’m Rachel,” I said.
“I’ve heard so much about you. Your dad talks about you all the time.” She said trying to hug me.
“I wish I could say the same. What’s your name again?” I said reaching to shake her hand. Dad gave me the look.
“Rachel, you know this is Sharon,” Dad said irritated.
“Right, I am so bad with names,” I said smiling.
Aunt Deb said, “We are just about to eat some dinner. Rachel why don’t you help your dad and Sharon take their things upstairs.”
“Okay,” I said and grabbed Dad’s duffle bag from him. “Follow me you guys.”
Dad grabbed Sharon’s large suitcase and dragged it upstairs. I looked behind me and said, “You guys bunking together? There’s plenty of room in here with me Sharon.”
Dad gave me another look and then I ducked back into my room before he could say anything. Shortly after my slighting Sharon there was a knock on my door. Dad didn’t wait for me to respond he just appeared. “So do you want to tell me why you are acting like you are sixteen instead of twenty five?”
I went to feel for my locket again. “How could you Dad?”
“How could I what?”
“Mom has only been gone for two years and you already have someone else. And then you bring her here, to Grandma’s funeral?”
“First of all it is really none of your business. But I will humor your little tantrum. I miss your mom terribly; no one could ever replace her. I am trying to move on with my life Rachel. I am lonely. I just want someone to go out to dinner with or go for a run. I’m not looking for anything permanent. Sharon was on the board to get Race for the Cure started in our area. We have a lot in common. She lost her sister to breast cancer.”
“Whatever Dad. I don’t think it is appropriate to bring her to a funeral.”
“She insisted. She is very supportive. I have become attached to Sharon. She is easy to be around. I’ve had enough drama the last couple of years. Be nice Rachel.”

Dinner went well. Aunt Deb had given the boys some snacks while everyone else was settling in so they actually sat nicely at the dinner table. We kept the conversation pretty light and everyone seemed tired from their travels. That is until Uncle Jack asked me about work.
“So Rachel,” Uncle Jack started, “How is work going?”
“Fine. This week I had one case of herpes, a kid who was talking to himself because his ADD medicine was off, one teen who thought it was okay to have oral sex…”
“This is at the middle school?”
“Yep, it’s a lot different than when we were in middle school. The worst thing I ever told the school counselor was that I had hidden Amy Alden’s training bra in another locker in gym class. She had to go the rest of the day without her bra.”
“What’s oral sex?” Dakota asked.
My sister gave me the mommy look.
“What’s herpes?” Darcy chimed.
“I think it is time for you boys to help me get the apple crisp out of the oven,” Aunt Deb said, saving the day.
“So you are a school counselor?” Sharon asked.
“Yep. Didn’t Dad tell you?”
“What do you like most about it?” Sharon asked avoiding my question.
“I don’t know. I guess I like helping the kids.”
“What is the worst problem you’ve had with the kids?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Rachel,” Jessie said with her mommy tone.
“Well maybe she just wants to take the focus off of herself,” I said. “Shouldn’t we be asking you questions? We barely know you.”
“That’s enough Rachel.”
“Apple crisp is served,” Aunt Debra said.
***

Technology- Techscmology

Hello,

So my husband and I were conversing over dinner the other night; yes our family actually tries to sit down and eat together, several nights a week, without the television on, without the cell phones(God Forbid) without the Blackberry. Mind you some of these devices go off but usually my family will look at me and then instantly know that if they get up to go to any of these devices they might not ever return to the dinner table.
The kids asked to be excused; I know we even have manners, hard to believe. My husband continued to tell me about a present that he did not get me for Christmas this year but that he had thought I might like. "Well don't keep me in suspense I replied. A present of any sort is always appreciated," I added. Secretly I was hoping it was some expensive jewel that was simply so rare and so hard to obtain that he was going to tell me that it was on the way from Zimbabwe.
He informed me that he was going to get me a Kindle but after careful consideration decided not to. Humm. I thought a minute and then the debate started. While the idea is okay I assured him he made the right decision. How could anyone take a wonderful book away? Well he explained that the Kindle was a book on a handheld device with many bells and whistles. You can download any book right away onto it. But why would I want to do that? "It'll save you so much time." Oh yes, that.
One of my absolute favorite things to do is go to a bookstore. I will seek out bookstores on vacation just to go in and look around. During "free" time my favorite thing to do is head to Barnes and Nobles or Borders where I can look from section to section and dream of the many places I might visit with the countless books in the stores. I love the different book jackets, the different sizes of books, the different print inside. Call me a geek but reading from a handheld doesn't seem like much fun at all. Most of the time I read I am trying to escape from the everyday stresses, like technology! Oh yes it makes some things easier for sure but does all the technology really make things better?
When I was a little girl my favorite place to ride my bike to, imagine we did not have Wii Fit so I had to go outside for exercise, was an old Tudor house that was converted into a library. There were small rooms, large rooms, even a tiny room that was once a pantry, filled with wonderful books. The house had some water issues and some of the rooms were a bit musty and as a result some of the books had a musty smell. There was a room with an old radiator in it that hissed and steamed and I loved going in that room in the winter when it was cold out.
There was an old librarian and she was not the friendliest. She was always at me to check out my books and be on my way. And where was my mother, she would always ask me? I would spend hours wandering around trying to make my decision and then when I finally made up my mind I would sit a the large wooden table in the room with the big windows. I'd look around at the men and women and kids sitting in the library. I'd wonder what they were reading and where they lived and what they liked about this place. Then I'd read for a while. Then I'd watch. Then I'd read.
I'm sorry but you can't get the same smell or feel of a book from a Kindle. You can't ask the store clerk if she liked the book you are about to buy and the librarian won't be on the Kindle wondering where your mother is. You can't get a coffee and wander around a Kindle. You can't make eye contact with another customer on a Kindle and spark a conversation. You can't touch the cover and feel the newness or oldness of the paper.
We have gotten so into our technology that we have taken away experiences. I love the experience of getting in my car or riding my bike or walking to the bookstore or library. It is part of that experience that brings me to a place where I can buy or borrow a book. It is the sight, smell , touch of the book and surroundings that keep me coming back for more. It is the conversations that I'll have or over hear. I'm sure I could talk to the Kindle but will it answer me?
Before my trip to France last year I was at Barnes and Nobles; imagine. I wanted a travel book on Southern France to help me navigate and know where to eat and stay. There were so many choices. I spotted two girls standing next to me looking at Italy travel books. Excuse me I said," I can't decide between these two books. I've never been to Europe, which do you think is better?" They both replied that the Rick Steves book was by far the best one. They chimed,"He'll be your new boyfriend! He is so awesome. He'll tell you exactly how to walk places, where to eat, what to see, all on a budget!" Wow, I replied and said thank you to the girls.
I stood talking to the girls for another few minutes. They told me they were going to Italy. I waved goodbye and thanked them again. Then I went to pay for my new treasure and the cashier said she had gone too and this was a great book. I know the Kindle could not have done all that.
You chose wisely smart husband! Meet me at the bookstore where I'll be smelling a Starbuck's and looking for a new book.

Testing, testing, a preview of a new story...

Food is Love


I was blasting Alanis Morissette on the way to pick up my sister Jessie at the airport. My grandma had just died and the funeral was tomorrow. Jessie lived in Denver,I was still stuck in Pennsylvania.
The Harrisburg Airport was a tiny little airport located in Middletown Pa near my grandmother’s house. We were going to stay at my aunt’s house; she lived a mile from my grandmother. We could have stayed at my place but it was the size of a postage stamp. Jessie lived the life of luxury. Unlike my four hundred square foot apartment, Jessie’s house was 4,000 square feet. Her husband and two kids would not make the trip, which was fine with me. The last time I visited I spent the entire weekend chasing my nephews through various stores in Denver.
The grand finale was at Trader Joe’s when Dakota took down the whole display of dark chocolate while screaming that he needed to go poop in French. Darcy stood his ground at the bakery, demanding multiple samples of cinnamon rolls. The clerk tried to convince him that there was only one per customer until Darcy decided to scream at the top of his lungs, “NOOOOOO!” Another clerk from a different department showed up with lollipops for both the kids. This is one of the many reasons I don’t have children.
I never understood why my sister named her son Darcy. Dakota was pushing it but I could understand as my sister would pick things that were trendy. Darcy sounded like a girls name to me but she insisted on it because she said it was French in origin. My sister was going through a French phase. Her husband had promised a trip to Southern France when the kids were old enough to appreciate it. According to my sister that was next year when Dakota would be five and Darcy would be four. Sounds just like the right age to me.
She had even enrolled the kids into a French school in Denver called, what else, but La Petite Academy. They had a preschool and an elementary school that was “French” centered, whatever that means. Leave it to my sister. All I could picture was spoiled little brats sitting around drinking coffee out of white porcelain cups and learning how to make bread or pain, pronounced pan. The only reason I know the French word for bread is because during my last visit, Darcy decided he wanted some bread one morning for breakfast and stood in the kitchen yelling for it in French. My response to him was, “Do you know how to say please in French?” He looked at me and said, “PAIN!!!!!” Then he kicked me in the shin.
Anyway I was looking forward to some one on one time with Jessie even though the circumstances were not the greatest. My grandmother had died of a stroke. She was eighty nine years old and lived with my Uncle or should I say he lived with her. Apparently it is not that uncommon, according to my dad that a grown man lives with his mother. I thought it was outrageous but what did I know? I was just a struggling guidance counselor at the middle school, living in a tiny apartment, trying to make ends meet.
My Uncle Russell lived in a three bedroom house, got his meals cooked, laundry done, drove a brand new car, and spent most of his days at the VFW, but hey I was unreasonable. Uncle Russell helped Grandma stay alive all of these years. I wondered what he would do now.
My cell phone rang; it was Jessie saying that her flight had been delayed and that it would be a few more hours until her flight got in. Great, I thought, now what do I do? It’s not like I’m into shopping to kill time and on my salary I don’t have extra money most of the time anyway. Did I hear crying in the background?

I picked up Jessie after spending some time at an old record store near the airport that had been converted to a CD store. The guy who owned it was an old hippy that kept a large glassed room in the back with old vinyl records. It was actually a really cool store called Old and New. I remember my dad taking us there to kill time sometimes before we went to Grandma’s house. We spent more time at the record store than we did at Grandma’s I never really understood it until I got older.
I pulled into the parking deck marked hourly. I was hoping that her flight would not be delayed any longer as there was nothing to do out this way. I remember thinking this when we would go to visit her. Even though she only lived about thirty minutes from us we always complained how far away she lived. Her house was out in the country a little bit, at least compared to Harrisburg and there weren’t many kids to play with.
I pulled into a spot close to the elevator doors and I locked up my Subaru Outback; this was my second one. I loved my little wagon. Anyway I locked up my car and went into the airport, checked the monitor for flights from Denver, which wasn’t hard as this was a tiny airport and then went downstairs to baggage claim. I figured with security this would be the best spot.

Negative Nancy

Hello,

Well my usual Susie Sunshine, Pollyanna personality finally came to an end the other night. That's right, I let the other side of my head come out. While I have a Pollyanna side the other part of my ego is the three headed negative monster I'll name Negative Nancy.
Negative Nancy can ruin just about anything. She came out the other night after I had written my blog about dear old Francis. I was happy with what I wrote about my friend but I was also feeling a little melancholy. Then like a cloud of black smoke a pop up appeared in my computer. The pop-up said that I had a virus in my computer and that I'd better download this software or else! Being the technologically challenged girl I am I fell for it.
Basically all hell broke out on my computer. I had infected my computer by downloading this software that was supposed to help me! These companies and people who put this stuff out there should be shot;okay well maybe just punished.
That is when Negative Nancy appeared. My other ego reminded me of how stupid I can be and how could I fall for such a scam. Nancy really let me have it and then started telling me how horrible of writer I am and how this goal is unattainable and how could I think I could accomplish my dreams? Nancy is a pain in the ass. Nancy had me in tears feeling sorry for myself. She is like the "so called" friend in your life that is always telling you that you can't do something; you know the type everyone knows someone like that.
Negative Nancy got me in a fight with my husband as then I started to question everything about our relationship. Negative Nancy is so clever. She then got me so upset as everything in my house needs to be replaced and remodeled, I am fat, I am a horrible mother, I am horrible at being married, I am basically worthless.
Negative Nancy ruined my night. She had me in tears and feeling miserable and she even had my poor husband wondering what to say. He was scared to death of Negative Nancy! Finally my husband was able to break through her with some really powerful words.
He said I feel like that all the time but I tell myself that,"I am the guy." This got Negative Nancy's attention! "What do you mean?" she said. He continued to tell her that he goes to work every day telling himself that he is number one and that he can conquer anything. Negative Nancy was skeptical. He continued to explain that the reason he is so successful is because he won't let negative thoughts in."If you keep telling yourself these things it will be true," he said. "Look at our life. We have always said our goals and dreams out loud and they have pretty much happened." Kind of like a self fulfilling prophecy Nancy asked? "Exactly!" he said.
Negative Nancy started to go the corner and Susie Sunshine was starting to emerge again. "You mean I matter? I am not a bad mom and I am not stupid because I infected our computer? Just because I have stayed home with kids doesn't mean I am not successful in my own right? Maybe I could get my writing published?" My husband smiled and said, "Exactly!" We have self talk all the time but it is what we tell ourselves over and over that we become.
Pollyanna woke up, wiped the tears from her eyes, and said," Hey you know what, I was thinking the other day and I have a really good idea for a business." My husband raised his eyebrow and said," lets hear it." He listened and smiled and said, "My entire office would be into that!"
Negative Nancy ran for the door. Susie and Pollyanna called after her," Don't let the door hit you on the way out! Sianara sucker! See you later Nancy!"
Hello Susie Sunshine! Now I know why I married you I thought. Susie wasn't quite ready to say it out loud, but she sure thought it!

I have to go now so I can clean out Negative Nancy's closet.
Kelly

Goodbye

Hello,

I have never liked goodbyes. Perhaps because I know it is the end of something and beginnings are so much more fun like when you are on your way somewhere or starting a vacation. The anticipation of what is to come is always so much better than after the fact.
Today I went for my swim at the YMCA where we've been members for years. The West Shore Y in Harrisburg has some interesting characters as members. The usual stay-at-home mom group, the hard core jocks, business guys and gals grabbing a quick workout between appointments, and the seniors.
No one really gives me the time of day except a cute little group of senior men. I have fondly nicknamed them my boyfriends. Most range in age between sixty and eighty. Since I've moved to Pennsylvania, four years ago, they are the only "Y" members that ever talk to me. Why couldn't it be some twenty year old hottie? Anyway there are around four or so that always talk to me.
Gene, Jack, Jack(there are two),Joe, and Francis. They all have different things they do at the "Y" but one way or another they usually make their way over to say hi while I'm running on the treadmill. I will seek them out as well to shoot the shit and procrastinate my workout.
My favorite character of the bunch is Francis. Francis is around eighty and survived quadruple bi pass surgery. He comes to spin class and usually sits on the bike next to mine. There are some talkers in this class to the point of being obnoxious, myself probably included. Francis does his own thing. He comes to class because the doc told him to exercise and since he retired his wife kicks him out of the house.
There are mostly women in spin class and when you get a group of women together for an hour the topics are flowing and abundant. You'll hear everything from what books we are reading, to the latest trend for kids, current events,religion, and yes politics. The latter is one of the reasons I haven't been for a while. Anyway the whole hour, as we are prodding and pedalling and yacking, my friend Francis pedals away with a large grin on his face. I'm not sure in agreement or in amusement of how obnoxious we are. We asked him once what he thought on a subject and he replied," What she said," and pointed to the redhead across from me. Then he said,"That is why I've been married for thirty years." We all laughed as Francis was easy going and easy to be around, unlike some of the spinners ingrained in their opinions, Francis was happy to listen.
Francis always wears a Notre Dame cap to class and sweat pants and a sweat shirt.I once asked him if he ever got too hot wearing sweats to class and he gently replied that since he developed diabetes he got cold sometimes. I was embarrassed by my own question and said I was sorry but Francis replied, "There's nothing to be sorry about kiddo." That's Francis; gentle and kind.
Francis always leaves spin class like a gentleman. He will usually leave early, he has earned that right, but always with a goodbye and a tip of his hat."Bye Francis," we will all chime. He waves and smiles.
I haven't been to spin class in a while. Today I went to swim and was thinking about Francis as I had not seen him in so long. I had heard through my "boyfriends," that he was in the hospital. I stopped on my way out today to say hi to the group. They were sitting in the lobby enjoying their post workout coffee.
I asked how things were going and then I asked Gene how Francis was doing. The two Jacks were there and Gene. Gene answered by saying,"Francis? Who is Francis?" I said,"you know Francis, he always does spin class with us?" Jack responded by saying,"Fran? He's married to Pat?" Yes I responded although I had never met Pat. They all looked at me with a blank stare and then Jack said,"Fran passed away a few months ago." I felt sick to my stomach. Jack continued to tell me that his last name was Hannon and that he had worked for Mars Candy as a salesman for thirty years. I realized how little I knew of the kind man in my spin class. Jack also said that his wife Pat was still coming to the "Y."
I never met Pat before but I hoped the next time I go to the YMCA to meet her. I will tell her how special Francis was to me and that he always said hello and made me smile. I wish the last time I saw Francis I knew it was going to be goodbye as I would have hugged him for always seeming like he was happy to see me.
That is the trouble with goodbye; there are no more hellos.

Until we meet again,
Kelly

Balance

Hello friends,

It has been a few days since I have been here but you should know that I have diligently been working on Karaoke Fridays. Now I am completely sick of the story and hate it. That is usually what happens after I have spent so long on anything, I begin to loathe it; in every single aspect. Oh well chalk it up to my ADD; which brings me to the next topic of balance.
Balance is a weighing device,counteracting weight,force, or influence; to equalize or bring into harmony. Ah but I like the latter where it states balance as bringing into harmony or equalizing.
The other day when I was swimming,(triathlon parallels so well with life), I realized that like triathloning, writing is a balance. I can not possibly conquer everything in one day or even one week; like triathlon, writing is a slow but steady process, but like everything else in life it is a balancing act to keep it going.
We all have things to balance: work, family, exercise, hobbies, our finances. The hard part if finding time for the things that are truly important. That is difficult because we all have different values placed on what is priority.
I think what I've learned lately is relationships and family are priority and everything else is a balance. Living every day to its fullest, now that is priority. Writing, triathlon, finances, well for now I have to keep those things in check.

See you later,
Kelly

Editing, editing, editing...

Hello,

Well after six months I finally finished Karaoke Fridays yesterday. I spent much of today editing after a fight with Microsoft Word(I'll write on that later). At any rate after I printed out 97 pages and read through my wonderful manuscript I found some things I need to tidy up a bit but really I was pretty excited that there weren't too many wholes or grammatical errors.
I can not post the whole thing on here as I feel it is too long but I could email those interested in the story. I think I will try to put a few pages in the blog to get you interested or maybe not so interested. Give me time to do this, I heard it wasn't the easiest thing to paste in here for some reason. That's all for tonight. I am tired and my eyes hurt from reading.
Oh I did buy a Jane Austen book today. I've never read her and I'm told she is great. I chose Sense and Sensibilities as it was her first novel. One of my firm beliefs is that to become a decent writer I must be a good reader as well, so there you go, more on that later.

Kelly

Commitment

Hello again,

Okay so I missed a blog yesterday, in fact I did not write at all;again baby steps. The one thing about my writing is that even though I didn't log into the computer or log into my blog I did think about how I want to end Karaoke Fridays, my latest story. So does that count? I'm thinking it does because as a writer I need to play out certain scenes in my mind before I write them down; this is part of the process so I believe that it totally counts. I am very visual. I have to sort of see a movie or picture play out in my mind a few times before I am comfortable with it. That is where triathlon comes into play. When I am running, swimming, biking it is also thinking time and it is there that I can play out scenes and ideas in my mind most clearly. The two tie in very well together. In fact this very moment I am jonesing for a run, which leads me to my next point;commitment.
Commitment is to perform or do; pledge. Aha pledge, so by pledging to write or think about what I want to write I may actually do this. I've read that it takes about two weeks to form a habit. I am on week two. So maybe it is not about commitment but rather habit? Humm. I think it is the ability to do both. Once I commit to something I am more apt to finish. When I commit or sign up for a race I am more apt to do it as I've payed money, I've told people, I've commited to completing the race. After a while the workouts become habitual. I am approaching writing the same way. So today, after this blog, after I run( I can't do anything until that is done), I have to commit to sitting in this chair and finishing Karaoke Fridays. I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow!

Kelly
P.S. If any of you are reading this please let me know. I feel like this is more of a diary than anything. Also I am worried about posting stories on here without having my work copyrighted so if any of you know anything about that let me know.

Joy

Hello,

Okay so what I'm noticing is that I am spending more time writing in this blog than finishing my latest story. My procrastination is kicking in here as I am distracted by the blog. However I am writing something and that is the goal. By the way I forgot to mention in my gratitude blog how truly grateful I am for my niece Jennifer and her husband Tivoni. They are the people who helped me set up this blog as I am not as technologically savvy as the typical twenty year old. I am trying.
Now that I've cleared that up I'd like to touch on the emotion joy. I am seeing a pattern here with this blog. Humm.
Joy is the feeling of happiness and perhaps one of my resolutions this year is to find simple joy in things that I do everyday or things that I do in life. I'm thinking that by finding simple joy it can lead to contentment- not that I'm not already content but...
I substitute teach in my children's district and realized yesterday that by rotating around to the different elementary schools I am learning what I like and I don't like; in case I ever commit to this full time. Yesterday I discovered a wonderful little school down in Wellsville. I was in for kindergarten and the building is the schools old building that they only use for kindergarten now. There are two classes in the building and that is it.
The building is an old stone school house. The classrooms are huge and there is coatroom that separates the two classrooms. There is a fireplace in the room and old fashioned piano. I felt like Laura Ingalls going to school.They have their own separate playground too which is wonderful for kids just going to school and learning the routine.
I felt true joy just with these pleasant surroundings but I knew that feeling could change in an instant because as a substitute you are fair game for nonsense and the kids know it. They are like little predators; they know when to pounce when you hesitate. Thank God I am a good actress. Subbing 101, even if you are not sure of something( which will happen to you about a million times) fake it.
The day was flowing and it was truly joyful. The kids were listening, their little eyes sparkling as they held onto to all my words about polar bears and penguins. When you are flowing it is the best feeling in the world. You feel like a rock star on stage as they are smiling and nodding and holding onto to every word until one of them strikes your concentration.
Yesterday was no different than any other day subbing except perhaps I was able to let go a little and realize that these little people are giving me such joy even with the hundred questions of when they could use the bathroom or that they had a boobo that was bleeding; and two of them really did.
The funniest part of the day was a child who I'll call Cindy. There is always a Cindy in class. She wasn't bad, just precocious and questioned every word I said even though I give a speech in the beginning of class reminding the kids that I am not their teacher and I will do things differently. Most of the kids buy into this speech but there is always one...
During recess, Cindy and I were able to converse one on one. She told me she was sick and I replied, "You shouldn't come to school sick Cindy." She replied, " But Mrs. S does." Mrs. S is her regular teacher. I thought this was funny but also probably true as five years olds are brutally honest.
My next exchange with Cindy was me asking if she was having a good day and liked having me as a substitute. Her reply was,"No." My heart broke instantly and that early joy dissipitated instantly. "Why Cindy?" I asked. "I like it when Mrs. K visits us." "Who is Mrs. K?," I asked. "She is our school nurse." Ah suddenly I didn't feel so bad anymore. The school nurse is a rock star in her own right.
During centers I was rotating around the room as if you are behind your desk for a second you are dead. Cindy was on the computer, not exactly on task, so I helped her get back on track. She looked at me and said, "You don't need to come over here, I know what I'm doing." "Indeed," I replied and had to laugh to myself, the joy was coming back as I remembered my own experiences with substitutes. Testing the waters was always so fun!
Later Cindy and two others were studying a large floor map. They asked me to point to where Pennsylvania is on the map. I said," We live in Pennsylvania don't we?" The boys shook their heads yes but not Cindy. "I don't live in Pennsylvania!" "Where do you live Cindy?" I wondered where this was going. "I live in the mountains." I nodded.
The morning flew by and we said our goodbyes.I lined them up, helping button their coats and telling them how much I enjoyed them. I looked at Cindy as they walked out to get on the bus and I tried one more time to win her over.
" So," I said, " What do you think, can I come back and visit sometime?..." She looked at me with a raised eyebrow and said, "Maybe." And like that they all ran off to their parents or onto to the bus and I was forgotten instantly. Imagine the joy those kids felt just knowing they were going home for lunch!

See you tomorrow,
Kelly