Bruise

Bruises are interesting. They form after some sort of mistake. No one actually "tries" to get a bruise. They stay for days after, reminding you of what went wrong.

Last Monday I had an Alexander type of day. You've read the book. The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. That was me, Ms. Waggoner's version. I'll start at the beginning.

I woke up and didn't go work out. This gave me a good extra hour of sleep. I got up, and figured that getting ready would be swift and easy. However, I had to wear red for Red Ribbon Week and I couldn't get it to work with what I wanted to wear. I barely made it out the door in time. As I pulled into school, the floodgates of heaven opened on me in my topless jeep. I did my best to cover it up and hurry inside. I was irritated, but trying to remain calm as I began my day. During the morning ten minute reading time, I was drinking my coffee and enjoying the quiet. All of a sudden I heard what sounded like water spilling. Wrong. A child had thrown up across a large portion of the room. I got up and escorted him to the nurse and summoned a janitor.

Do you know those maps that roll up and hang from a chalk board? Well I have those in my classroom and I confess to not knowing how to work them. I pull them down, but cannot for the life of me get the map to roll back up. Of course I needed these particular maps for my social studies lesson. I pulled them down, taught the lesson and attempted to recoil the maps back up. In order to do it, I pulled... and pulled... and pulled.... until a red line appeared that said "STOP." ... so, I pulled some more. Frustration was building inside me, and so I gently tugged a bit more. Without warning, the entire metal rack with map in tow, wound up like a tape measure and jumped off of the hooks connected to the chalkboard. And, came crashing down, landing on my knee. 60 eyeballs stared in amazement as steam came out of my ears. A few rambunctious ones yelled, "OHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" To which I responded with, "SHH! BE QUIET AND SIT DOWN!!"

For those of you who don't know, I share a room with another teacher... and I teach 30 kids at time. I was ending the day with 4 minutes of writing. A lot can happen in 4 minutes. I had just barked orders regarding this 4 minute writing before the bell rang, when my partner came in and asked the kids to pack up because she needed the room.. Steam out the ears.

After school, it was my turn to have the computer, but she was holding a student council meeting. They also used my colored writing paper for "posters" around the school. I left that day, with not much accomplished.

Today is Sunday and I still have a black mushy spot about the size of a quarter on my knee from those darn maps. A reminder that haunts me from the previous Monday.

Today Mark preached on the feeding of the 5000. He talked about having faith. When my granddad got up to say the closing prayer, he told God (and the rest of us) that he called the little boy with the loaves and fish, "that fat boy" because he brought his lunch. "That fat boy" helped a lot of people believe that day. I think of this amazing miracle and am reminded to have faith in what God will do for me. Bruises or no bruises. Even with steam coming out my ears.

Ridiculous

Lately I have been stressing over a few things.

The first: My DVR. This, I'm sure was invented to ease the stress of TV-Watchers. But, for me, it adds to the stress. It haunts me with unwatched shows and exponentially increasing recordings. No longer can I relax and flip channels, I have a need to clear them out!

The second: Bubble Bath. Any of you that know me, know I love myself a good bubble bath. It is my way to relax at the end of the day. Bubble bath seems to be a frivolous thing to spend money on, therefore I rarely buy it for myself. I got some for Christmas last year and I will only squeeze a tiny bit out-- and not even every week! Actually using the bubble bath makes me anxious about the fact that it's going to run out.

Both of these situations are pretty ridiculous. Two of the things intended to relieve stress in my life, have added to it in the end. But, in all honesty, if these are the types of things that stress me out, I'm doing pretty good. Life is much more stressful for many other people. I am thankful for my blessings, and bought a few bottles of bubble bath so that I will actually enjoy it!

"Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. his love endures forever." Psalm 136:1

Who's Your Daddy?

This was title of the sermon this morning. It's message simple: Who's your daddy? Who's your boss?

Jokingly I tell people the reason I became a teacher was because I liked being "the boss". And is it ever fun! I get to say when things happen, how they happen (well somewhat) and who they happen to. I am in complete control-- they ask ME. When I say jump, they say, "Frog hops or like we're jumping rope?" Being in control is euphoric. Like running. You move your feet one before the other and you breath air in and out. And, you move from one place to another-- you're making it happen. Perhaps that's why I like living by myself. Typically I am a neurotic neat freak and give everything a place. (Tonight, however, I decided to not wash clothes or take out the trash. My actions aren't affecting anyone except Hurley, and he likes dirty clothes.)

We wake up, we put on our faces, we go to work, we go to the grocery store, we go to the gym. We live a life in control. And, it's not until that control is taken away that we realize we're not.

This week I'm going to attempt to not be driven by my own "boss" (and see what happens).

Tuesdays

Tuesdays are long. I go to work, work late, work out and make it home around 6:45. This gives me time for a quick pick up around the house and then take Hurley on a walk. Then, a group from church comes over. They are generally mildly annoyed by Hurley. Ok, mildly is putting it mildly. Hurley just thinks that they are his best friends who came over to see him. He licks and jumps on them. I tried giving him a raw hide bone, but that did not suffice. So, even though he had been a captive for nearly 12 hours, I put him back in his kennel while they were here.

After they left, I couldn't WAIT for a hot bath. You know the kind I'm talking about. Just a hair too hot, so all your muscles relax. And even though you ration bubble bath like food in a concentration camp, there's just enough scent to be euphoric. It was PERFECT. Finally, a break.

The door opens.

Did I mention Hurley has figured out how to open doors? A new trick. He scampered in there and perched his front legs on the side of the tub while wagging his tail. His head poked up over the side. This is somewhat normal, so I talked to him and left it alone.

The next thing I know I am being splashed in the face by his slimy bone catapulting into my luxurious, stress-relieving bath!

Tuesdays.

There's a Boy in the Girls' Bathroom

Well, life has definitely sped up since August. The beginning of school is like a whirl wind in west Texas. You don't exactly know where it's going to go or if it's going to slap you in the face with dirt. This year has brought many changes, both good and bad. It is teaching me to grow as a person, employee, and teacher. I am really enjoying my kids. (yay!)

I say all that to say this. Our numbers are incredibly high this year and as a result, teaching space is limited. For half of the school day I work as a reading interventionist pulling low readers out for extra help. The only space available lies near the bathroom in a "pod" area. There is a white board, a janitor closet, a staff bathroom, and a bathroom used by the entire school. Sometimes, it's hard to get a small group focused. They are more interested in kids skipping down the hallway or janitors moaning and groaning in the closet while digging for a mop. Classes leave for P.E. or Library. A teacher they know walks to the bathroom and waves. Not unique to today, I felt pressed for time. I was working hard to keep the kids on track amidst the chaos ensuing around us. As I went to explaining plot, young girls ran from the bathroom yelling for me (even though they don't know my name, kids result to tattling to the nearest adult). I reluctantly left my hard working students and went to investigate the problem. "A boy is in the girls' bathroom!!!" they informed me. I wasn't sure what sort of mischief was occurring in this unsupervised area, but I was annoyed. I had kids to teach, here! I rounded the corner and found the stall door wide open and a small boy with pants unzipped. I backed up and let him finish. When he came out, I quite calmly and sweetly (OK, as much as I could muster) asked, "Did you know this was the girls' bathroom?" And this was his reply, "Yes. But the boys' bathroom is tooooo dirty." Oh my.

I escorted my new first grade friend back to class and tried to resume my "class".

And so it is a day in the life of me... teaching by the bathrooms.

10 Reasons Why Visiting My Dad Is Like Going to Another Country

10. You wash your face with freezing cold water.

9. The toilet doesn't work without some manual maneuvering.

8. Food is scarce.

7. When you walk outside, you can't be sure people will speak English.

6. It smells.

5. You have jet lag when you go home, waking up at 4:00 am like your body became used to.

4. Antibacterial soap.

3. You have internet, but scarce cell service.

2. Normal rules and laws do not apply.

1. Spiders, bugs and mice.. oh my!!

How Do You Wash Paper?

When I was little I got carsick often. One time while on the way to Lubbock, I sat in the back of the suburban. I was a big reader even then and was totally consumed in a story. For one reason or another, my mother had given me ibuprofen. Well, about halfway down the road, I threw up. All over the book I was reading. To tell you the truth, I couldn't ever finish it. It smelled horrible. I could swear years later it still smelled that way. How do you wash paper?

This past Sunday was a long day. I woke up early and read my book in bed while drinking coffee. My sweet puppy accompanied this moment by laying by side sleeping. I went to church and then served lunch to the homeless at Impact. Then, back at the church I met up with Marty who was singing with his accapella group later that night. We visited for a while and then I left to get a smoothie. Back to the church for hot dogs and the concert. The concert was fantastic! Afterwards, I was glad to get home. Not to mention, poor Hurley had been cooped up all day. I took him on a short walk, hoping this would give him enough exercise to soothe him for a little while. I took a bath and hopped into bed with hopes of finally finishing my book. I prop my pillows up just right and allow Hurley up because he looked so dang cute with his puppy eyes. Well, about one paragraph into my reading, I decide Hurley needs to be on the ground. He was romping every which way and driving me bananas. So, I put him down and ignore a few whimpers as I continue reading. Finally, he decides to forget about me and starts running all over the house. I don't mind, because I am really enjoying my book. After some time it's very quiet. You know what this means. He's into something.

I guess I should start by saying that Hurley is doing very well with potty training. However, for the past several days, I have smelled something near the door that makes me think he's gone to the bathroom. I sniff around and investigate, but never find anything. As I crawl out of bed to search for my little darling, an aroma wafts towards me. THAT'S IT! He's really gone this time. So, once again, I attempt to find the "mess". It's no where to be found. Where could he have gone? I decide to get down on his level and sniff around. I stop when I get to my school bag, placed on the floor. HE WOULDN'T. Yep. That's where the smell is coming from. I am fuming as I pull back pieces of paper, waiting to find this mystery turd. My suspicions are not confirmed when I find an old bottle with the cap off. Hurley had not gone to the bathroom.

Oh, about a month ago, I had gone to a training and taken a homemade protein shake with strawberries for breakfast. I put it in one of those reusable water bottles from Target. It was about a fourth full and lay forgotten in my bag. Apparently, this is the smell I had been smelling all this time. Hurley had dug and somehow opened the cap, spilling the rotten contents into my bag. I am holding my breath at this discover and start to pull things out and lay them on the table. I can't simply throw these papers away, I need them for school in August! I start wipe them off and douse them in fabreeze. Then, I pour the bottle's contents down the drain. This opens a whole new can of worms, as now my sink is contributing to the smell. I pour bleach into the bottle and fill it with water to soak. Then I pour bleach down the drain. Not that it helps much. I am frantic to get this dreadful smell as far as possible from my house. I throw the nasty paper towels in the trash and empty the bag completely. I throw it in the washer and am fabreezing EVERYTHING. I have now spread the smell from it's contained bottle, to the entire house. What was I thinking?? I am very frustrated at such an interruption in my plans. I shut the doors to my room in hopes that the smell with not follow me there. As I get into bed I see a small wet spot on my comforter. Well, I know I didn't do it. With as much control as I can muster at this point, I take Hurley and put him in his crate. Then, remembering I still have to feed him, I get a scoop of food and all but throw it at him.

It is morning now. The smell is still there, even after more rounds of fabreeze and bleach AND emptying the trash. And, I'm stuck with these papers until I can make copies and throw the soiled ones away. The smell haunts me.

How do you wash paper?