My heroes

Friday I took the opportunity to do some work in my classroom.  Mark was going to help me but I got up early and left without him.  This early bird was getting her worm.  I wanted to spray paint some file cabinets and I wanted to do it in the shade, so I needed to be there early.

I dragged them outside alone, the whole time wishing my boys were there!

I painted them the same color as the chairs on our deck.  I liked the color, so why not?

Braeden called and when he found out we were working in my classroom said, "I'll come and help."  Because he's Braeden, that's why.

When Mark got there, I pointed him in the direction of some shelves from IKEA I had bought because he can put IKEA furniture together in his sleep.  

Braeden and I painted and Mark built stuff and went on errands (lunch and more paint).  We listened to good music and it felt like old times, me getting my boys to help me with projects that may or may not pan out.

Having big sons is such a blessing.  There was some of the usual, "Move this here, no, how about there," and they are used to it. I painted three big bookcases and two small bookcases white.  They were all different shades of dingy wood before and I think it will look cleaner and brighter.  

I bought cheap paint + the shelves were in terrible shape to begin with so they don't look that great but my boys pointed out they'll be full of books so no one will notice.  My proclivity to call things good enough, felt like that was good enough.

I had some black shelves from IKEA and I considered painting them white but then I decided to switch them out for a white shelf I had at home.  It was bigger than the other two combined and bigger is better for storage!

We loaded the black shelves into the van and brought them home to the chaos that is happening here (because we're getting new carpet and the trim painted next month).  The white shelves wouldn't fit in the van.  I offered Jack, who lives across the street and has a pickup truck, $20 if he'd transport it but his truck had a flat tire + the Porters were going out of town.  Rats.

Adam is the kind of husband that when I tell him a hare brained idea, he says OK and makes it happen.  He said on Saturday he would get it to my classroom.  He said, "We'll put it on top of the Subaru."

Mark thought it was a terrible idea and he thought he should text other friends with trucks and rustle up another solution.  Every time he told Adam it wouldn't work, I could see that Adam was more determined to make it work.

Sometimes I don't know where I got some of my stubborn children and sometimes I do.

Despite Mark's protestations, he did help Adam hoist the REALLY HEAVY shelf onto the car.  Adam found a rope and started tying it on.  I admired his fancy knots and he said it was because of his "eagle powers."  Boy Scouts for the win.  Mark refused to ride in the car with us (and we definitely were going to need his help to get the behemoth off the car).  He said he wasn't going to die because of the shelf.  Drama kids gotta be dramatic.

Adam conceded that it may be a good plan to have someone drive behind him and keep an eye on things.  So I drove Joan.

It was a bit nerve-racking at times (Pleasant Grove doesn't have what you would call smooth roads) but we made it!

Here's the triumphant shot outside my classroom door:

And the new shelf in its new place:

Ready to be filled with more stuff!

I appreciate the men in my life who love me enough to know that I need my classroom to be as pretty as possible and they help make it happen.  

I also appreciate summer time (especially now before the heat is trying to kill us).  I'm so ready to read books.

And enjoy sunsets from the deck.

This picture isn't from the deck, but the grass below.  You get the idea though.

Grateful Friday

Yesterday was a terrific and exhausting day.  It was the last day of school.  I had 53 pages left in Ramona the Brave and my students wanted me to finish.  Challenge accepted.  They colored pictures and folded paper airplanes and some of them just sat with rapt attention and smiles on their faces.  Beverly Cleary is magic.  Every once in awhile someone would raise their hand and ask me what a word meant that I was reading.  I drew a picture of oxford shoes on the board because they had no idea what they were.  They gasped at the chapter "Ramona Says a Bad Word" and then laughed hysterically when her "bad word" was guts.  They all cheered when I finished.

There is nowhere in the world I would have rather been at that moment.

My students gave me thank you notes and flowers and potted plants and gift cards and hugs.  I kept my tears in because no one needs to see their third grade teacher cry.

But I love those guys.

I will always remember them.  My little troopers who doggedly wore masks every day.

After they left, the teachers gathered in the library for a party.  There was a soda mixing station and gourmet cookies and Chipotle catered food.  Each team that had a person leaving gave a gift and said kind words about the person leaving.

Kate (happily) isn't leaving the school but is leaving our team.  Janelle and I wrote a song about Kate to the tune of My Favorite Things.  (We had a LOT of help from Emma. The world needs artists.)  We recruited several other teachers to sing with us.

The first grade team had written lyrics to the Fresh Prince of Bel Air song for their intern that is leaving.  It was choreographed.

There are regular people and then there are elementary teachers.  

We watched a slide show with pictures from the year, mostly of faculty.  I almost cried again, but maybe I'm growing up, because I held it in.  

But I love those guys.

No one is there for the money or fame.  They are fueled by love and it's hard not to be uplifted when you're around such good people.

I feel lucky and grateful.

Graduation!

 

So this happened.  My boy.  My baby.  Sniff.

I wanted to take a picture and Braeden said, "Let's stand by the clocks to illustrate the passage of time destroying Mom."

Braeden got his old horse head (why is that still at our house?  You and Anna can take it...) and had Mark wear it for a picture.

Braeden said, "Can I make a blog request?  Will you put both my picture and Mark's picture wearing the horse head on your blog?"

Sure.

My boys are kind of weird but I love them.

Graduation was at Rio Tinto stadium in Salt Lake City where the Real Salt Lake soccer team plays.

Adam met us there.  I felt very smug about our good seats but then the graduates didn't walk by where I thought they would.

They showed some scenes from Chess and I was too slow with my camera.  That is the back of Mark in the brown jacket.

We cheered on our boy when he got his diploma:

There were a lot of graduates to go but we all had phones for entertainment.  

Mr. Durfee retired and they honored him.  One of Mark's friends texted him this during the graduation and Mark texted it to us.

Emma created an album cover, just in case Mark ever starts a band?

On google maps it lists where we live as Monkeytown for reasons none of us know.

We got some more pictures when it was all said and done.  (Emma said, "Was my graduation that long?"  Yes.  Braeden said, "Was my graduation more interesting?"  Not really.)

The necessary Mark and Anna shot:

Here's a bunch of drama kids...being...dramatic.

I told Mark we could go wherever he wanted for dinner.  He picked Red Robin, much like his namesake would have done.

Adam and I rode home together and the kids all took the other car.

"Our last graduate," I said.

"Yep. It's weird."

"Yeah.  Not really sad, but weird."

It's almost too much to contemplate, let alone write.  This huge piece of our life is shifting, but also not.  We know that adult children are still a lot of fun (and sometimes stress).  It's not over by any means.  But it's different.  The only thing to do is enjoy every season as it comes.  

I love this big kid who is funny and smart and capable and maddening and talented and a bit battle worn.

At the same time, I'd pay big money to put my arms around this little guy, his damp shoulders wrapped in a towel warm from the sun.

It went too fast.

A good age

 A few nights ago Nola brought over half a watermelon that she couldn't fit in her fridge.  We chatted on my front lawn awhile and two young guys in matching polo shirts walked up, selling something.  They said, "Are either of you the homeowner?"  Nola and I looked at each other, deciding whether or not to lie.  Finally I said, "I am, but I'm not interested in whatever you're selling."

Nola said, "And I live across the street so don't even bother going over there."

They looked slightly taken aback by us and walked down the street.

Nola said, "Once I turned 50..."

I'm not even 50 yet, but I'm the age you are when you don't have to give solicitors the time of day.

Yesterday, we had two performances of the dance festival which is as fun as it sounds if that doesn't sound all that fun.  Somehow, I ended up on the side with several of the rowdiest boys and Kate and Janelle were on the other side with the other half of the third grade.  As part of my villain costume, I had a spray bottle filled with water.  I sprayed the third graders between dance numbers and they at first were shocked and I'd shrug and say, "Sorry, I'm a villain," like it was out of my hands.  Then they'd beg me to spray them again.  I would only spray them between dances if they were good audience members.  It is amazing how the dumbest things like that work.

One boy was in the middle of the row and he was talking loudly and messing with the second graders in front of him and bothering the kids on both sides.

He isn't my student but as a veteran mom, I like to think I can summon a tone when I need one.  I crouched beside him and hissed, "You be quiet and you keep your hands to yourself.  Do you understand me?"  He nodded.  I have sat through worse venues with worse behavior (from my own children).  And I think he knew it and knew not to push me.  Then I squirted him in the face with the water bottle.  He was totally shocked and then laughed and said, "Do it again!"  I put my finger to my lips for him to be quiet and I didn't have another problem with him the rest of the time.

Why haven't I always just walked around with a spray bottle?

Anyway, it's nice to be old enough to already have experienced all the rowdy naughtiness of boys (mostly contained in my redhead).

There is a practicum teacher at our school and I talked to her yesterday and she seemed super familiar.  Her name is Jill and after we talked, I kept thinking she was familiar.  It occurred to me that maybe she was Jill from my freshman floor.  She'd been our Relief Society president.  Could it be her?  I didn't want to offend her by thinking she was as old as all that but later, when I saw her out of the field, helping to set up chairs, I asked her.  And it was her!  We hugged and reconnected and it felt so wonderful.

I immediately texted Adam and then messaged Erin and Rachel and Robbie.  They are also my friends from 30 years ago and even though our relationship is almost entirely virtual these days, they are my friends.  Robbie wanted to see a picture so when I went back out on the field, I took one.

We got caught up on the last 30(!) years since we'd last seen each other.  We showed each other pictures of our kids and it was so nice to catch up.

I was telling Adam later that it's great to be this age.  Years ago, I may have wondered how I measured up when I met someone I hadn't seen for a long time.  Now, I guess some of the insecurities of youth are gone.  I don't care how my life compares to hers or who is more "successful" in some arbitrary calculation.  I am just glad to see my friend.  I know that she's lived long enough to have good things and hard things happen in her life and so have I and it doesn't matter.  30 years ago, we lived on the same floor in the same dorm. She was my Relief Society president and was kind and caring to me.

And I'm thrilled to see her again.

I think I like being 48.

Happiness

Happiness is not wearing a mask the last week of school.  I keep feeling exposed without it, but then I remember I don't have to wear it and that is a fabulous feeling!

Happiness is seeing my students without masks.  One of the 4th grade teachers told me, "It makes me want to cry because I'm so happy to see their faces!"  Yes!  A thousand times yes!

Happiness is the conspiratorial smile one of my students gave me when I made a plan with her to keep her book safe over the summer.   She got a book as a reward and promptly put it on my shelf.  I told her she could take it home and she explained that her little brothers destroyed books (as evidenced by the fact that she owes money for her destroyed library book).  I know for a fact that her home life is chaotic and I also know that she probably doesn't have any books at home.  She wanted to give me the book and that broke my heart a little.  I said, "How about this, I'll keep the book until your brothers are older and don't destroy books so much."  I put the book on a shelf with my teacher manuals where it will be safe.  She was thrilled with the solution.  I just want them all to have books at home, but they don't.  I will have to make sure my classroom is chock full of books.  

Happiness is the teacher dance at the dance festival.  We did the dress rehearsal yesterday and some teachers are heroes and I'm with the other non dancer villains.  We "fight" each other and then Jami, our principal, emerges from a tower dressed as Spiderman.  He shot all the villains with silly string and the kids lost their minds.  Then he took off the mask and they saw it was Mr. Dawson (or Mr. Awesome as a lot of them call him which can't be good for his ego) and they screamed like they were at a rock concert.  

My students kept asking me, "When did you practice?"  Maybe they think I fold up and power down when they aren't in the classroom.

Happiness is this on my kitchen table:

Maybe it was no big deal for you to get a diploma in the hands of your covid senior, but I feel very grateful that it is done.

His actual graduation is Wednesday but they got the diplomas yesterday as bait to go to the assembly where they practiced graduation.  I don't know, it's almost like they've dealt with seniors before....

School days

Emma is taking her last two classes this term at BYU.  She is enjoying them.  One is a translation class.  I think.  I don't know the official name.

For her project, she is reading three different translations of the Finnish epic, the Kalavala.  Hearing her discuss the pros and cons of each translation with Adam makes me glad I'm not in college anymore.  

Mark and Adam are all in with Eurovision.  

They watched it late at night.  School night?  What's that?  I get an automated call every day from the school telling me Mark missed this period or that period.  That's on you, school.  You're the one that said attendance wasn't going to matter this year.  

Mark texted us Eurovision updates that I saw the next morning (because I actually do go to school).

Braeden lent some of his insight:

I just wanted to illustrate that our family group chat is a safe space where no one gets mocked....

As for me, Friday was field day.  When I was in 4th grade I faked a sprained ankle on field day and my parents let me skip school in 5th and 6th grade on field day.

I had to go to field day as the teacher though.  

Before it started, I pulled out some hot wheels and tracks the third grade team bought recently for force and motion instruction.

It felt like Christmas morning.

I loved listening to them problem solve and figure out that the track couldn't be too steep or the cars wouldn't stay on.  We tested which car was fastest and it blew their minds that the heavy cars were faster.

This is the last week of school.  The kids are keyed up, the teachers are walking around with wild eyes and at the end of each day we feel battle worn, yet triumphant.  We did it!  We survived another day in May!

Grateful Friday

School has been hard lately.  It has felt less like teaching and more like babysitting.  Our main thing has been preparing for the dance festival.  My students are at best unwilling and at worst lying down on the grass in total mutiny.

I bribe them with candy, which kind of helps.

The other teachers are way more into it than I am.  Almost every day I feel like I am among people who get me, but occasionally, like on Halloween or now with the dance festival, I feel like who are these people?!?

Yesterday one of my students asked me if she could stay in for lunch recess because she has terrible allergies.  I told her sure.  She started chatting with me and she said that her parents were asking her about 3rd grade and she said that all the other teachers she's had would get frustrated when the students wouldn't listen but that I never did.

She said, "You never get mad."

At my ten year high school reunion, my high school drama teacher dramatically asked (is there any other way for high school drama teachers to talk?), "Thelma, tell me you're still acting!"

Well, apparently I am.

Because sometimes I feel like my eyes are going to bulge out of my face from the effort it is taking to maintain a pleasant expression.

I mostly don't get too mad though.  I mostly love my job and I'm grateful for that.

I'm also really (really) looking forward to summer.

Introverts unite! (separately)

Braeden and Anna gave me the book Quiet:  The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking.  Back when I was breaking up with Facebook (the separation is pretty much complete now), I took it to school, thinking I would read the book when I was eating lunch instead of scrolling on my phone.

I was kidding myself though.  I don't really scroll on my phone all that often while I eat because I'm usually one-handed trying to get work done while I'm eating with the other hand.  It was a noble idea, but I never really read during lunch.

Kate saw the book on my desk though.  She said, "I love that book!"

We are a third grade team of introverts.  Some teams eat lunch together in the faculty room and the third grade team goes to their individual classrooms and shut the door.  It works for us.

I'm newly on the leadership team, taking over for Kate who is starting a new role.  We were talking after the meeting and I was asking her advice about being on the leadership team.  She said, "I have imposter syndrome so I never feel like I belong at first.  That's how I feel with this new role too."

I felt heard and seen.  I've never named that feeling before, but I've felt it.  My default is to think I don't belong in a new place.  Extroverts everywhere probably think that's crazy, but there it is.  The feeling usually doesn't persist very long (depends on the place though).  

When I got home, I told my friendly neighborhood introvert, Emma.  She said, "Oh yeah.  Completely."

We're all in this together.  Awkwardly navigating and feeling uncomfortable.  It's nice to have each other.

I could never have an office job

Sitting all day is not for me.

Yesterday I was in an ALL day meeting at school and it was no fun.  Sitting at a table in the school library for almost 8 hours was the worst.  I usually get about 10,000 steps just living my normal teacher life and yesterday when I got home, I looked at my fitbit and I had 3,500 steps.  No wonder I had a headache.  

The good news is that my friend Misty was my sub.  She has substituted for my class before and they love having her.  She got there before my meeting started and so I asked her advice on my bookcases because I know she is an organization guru.  She said she'd think on it.

Then she texted me pictures of my class and their engineering project (which I loved receiving) and after school she sent me an idea for my bookcases.  When I finally got back to my classroom, well after school was over and done, there were post it notes on the board where my students had written something they were proud of about the day.

So I guess the takeaway is that if you have to sit in a meeting all day, get Misty as your substitute.

Last curtain call

Friday ended the run of Chess, Mark's last high school production.  Marianne's family and my parents were there which meant a lot to Mark. I had texted them a synopsis prior to the show because it's hard to know what is happening.  I saw it several times and it was still unclear.  

I loved seeing those kids perform their hearts out.  I loved watching their faces and knowing they were giving it their all.  It's easy to root for someone who is bravely being so vulnerable.

I didn't cry except a few little tears, but it took effort.  It feels emotional to be ending this stage of life.  It also is exciting.  I love watching our children move on to their next thing.  It's also scary.  It's a lot.

Saturday Mark went back to help strike the set.

First, they had a chess game with actors as chess pieces.  One of the stage crew took pictures and I had Mark text me the pictures.

They look like they're involved in some sort of ritual, but it's just chess.

I love how some of them, including Mark, are horses with hands posed.

Drama kids.  Whatever they do, they're all in.

 

Grateful Friday

I had another dentist appointment yesterday.  This time to put a filling in the treacherous tooth that decided to die from the inside.  The best case scenario is that my body won't freak out and I'll be able to get a crown (that's the best case?!?).  The worst case scenario is that I'll need an implant.

I asked Adam last night what would happen if I just had the tooth pulled and didn't get the implant.  He explained the horrors.

I don't like teeth.

We went to Mark's show and I think I'll always associate watching Chess with a sore mouth.  Adam read to me for a little bit before I went to sleep.  It turns out to be a really good antidote for sleeplessness.  Every few pages he pauses and looks over at me and asks, "You good?" and I eventually declare myself sleepy.  Before bed, I mentioned to Adam that I didn't know what I'd take in my lunch today.  Usually I take leftovers but everyone had been going different directions and my mouth was so numb I couldn't eat anyway so I'd had a frosty from Wendy's for dinner.  (me = health nut, I know)  

At about 1:00 am, I woke up because my jaw was throbbing.  I went downstairs for some Advil and Adam was in the kitchen, inexplicably cooking.  "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Roasting potatoes," he said, like it was the most normal thing to do at 1:00 am.

There were groceries on the counter because he had apparently gone shopping too.  He said, "I have hummus and pitas and cucumber and potatoes.  It's for your lunch."

It was all soft stuff I could eat with this ring ding mouth and it sounded wonderful.

He's wonderful.  

Retraction

I think it's more of a correction but retraction seemed to have more gravitas.  

Emma said, "I noticed in your blog post you mentioned how hot your classroom had been but you didn't mention that I brought you a fan."

I said, "You read my blog?"

She said, "Sometimes."

So, I guess I need to behave myself.

It was stupid hot in my classroom.  I knew Emma was going to work so I texted her and that little angel brought me a fan.  She brought it right in and she got to meet one of my students I always tell her about who Emma loves because of the tales I tell.

So Emma saved the day and I didn't give her credit.

Other than that, it's the end of the year and things are crazy and my students have discovered the little bin I have of stress fidget toys.  They don't need them because they're stressed, they just want to play with them.  They've broken four of them so far.  It turns out if you squeeze those squeeze balls enough, they explode.

Negotiation fatigue

I taught boys how to play partner tag at recess because all they do is fight when they play soccer.  

I prodded students to get up off the floor when we were practicing our dance.

I tracked down an escapee who was crying outside my classroom door and cajoled him into coming with me back inside the school.

I hustled a girl along who was s l o w l y working on her test.

I listened to a student tell me all about how she didn't need to do the prewriting activity because she "already knew everything."

I pushed another student to include more details in his story of "Spiderman had no money for a suit so he went to the store and bought a suit."

But how did he get the money?

I debated with another student whether a bin was dark brown or black.  Then I realized what I was doing and said, "it doesn't matter."

All day I negotiate with students to get back to their seats and complete their work.

I came home and to answer Mark's question, I told him dinner was leftover meatloaf on onion rolls Adam had bought along with arugula and horseradish.  (It's delicious!)  Mark hates meatloaf.

I told him it was exactly the same as meatballs and he likes meatballs. He argued back and I finally said, "I don't care.  Eat whatever you want."

There comes a point when I don't have it in me any longer.

Teacher in May

Friday was hot.  So hot.  It was 81 degrees in my classroom and I don't know what was happening with the air conditioning, besides it wasn't working.

Yesterday was cold.

Spring in Utah.

We had our dance festival practice outside because the 6th grade teachers signed up for the gym first.  Imagine wrangling seventy 3rd graders.  They are all shivering and cold and squirrelly and can't hear you and so they are all doing their own thing.  

Then it started raining.

Mass pandemonium ensued as children sprinted toward the school but I made my class stay outside until they had a line.  I knew there wasn't going to be forming a line once we were inside the school and I had to get them a little settled before we paraded by the other classrooms.

So that was fun.

Then without warning or preamble, a doting aunt and uncle brought 6 pizzas for the class to celebrate their niece's birthday.  They brought them about 2 minutes before we were supposed to go to lunch.

More pandemonium.

Everyone was super excited about pizza but half the kids had lunches from home and some of the kids wanted to get their milk and fruit from the lunchroom and some of the kids wanted to just eat pizza.  I distributed pizza and took some of the kids to the lunchroom and we were late and got tangled in 6th graders coming in from recess.  I asked Kate to keep an ear on the students who were staying in my classroom to eat pizza.

When I got back, there were boys throwing footballs and a boy pouting because the birthday girl had cut him off from pizza.  She had stacked the leftover pizza in two boxes on the floor beneath her backpack.  Fine.  I sent them all out to recess.

When it was time to go home, the pizza was swarming with ants.  The floor all around the boxes was swarming with ants.  I threw it all away and told the custodian.

Weekend

Friday after school, Adam and I headed to Nevada for Marianne's 50th birthday party.  We were two hours late for the surprise, but we still got some good food and I won a prize in the Marianne trivia game which wasn't really fair because I've known her for 48 of those years plus I cheated a little by asking Olivia on a few of them.

I still took the prize.

I love my sisters.  I'm always happy when I get to celebrate with them and their dazzling children.  I loved when Morgan arrived partway through the party, home from a track meet.  His four sisters descended on him and he backed away, but he was smiling.  Sisters are a blessing.  I stole this picture from Olivia's blog this morning.  

We visited into the night and then Braeden and Anna (who were also there) and Adam and I went with my parents to their house for the night.  We haven't stayed there for a very long time and it was nice to be back. All the things that used to seem commonplace are nice to revisit now that we've all been vaccinated.

My mom made us a lovely breakfast and we enjoyed visiting some more and I didn't want to leave, but I also wanted to get back to lay eyes on Mark, who I haven't seen too much of lately, before his call time.

We stopped at Olivia's on our way.  She had dug up some yellow roses for me.  I'm determined to get yellow roses and she generously keeps giving me starts to kill.  I have a good feeling about these.  When we were in church and singing "Love at Home," and got to the part "roses bloom beneath the feet," I whispered to Mark, "Maybe that's the secret to getting the roses to live.  Love at home."  I'll try.

Adam spent most of the rest of Saturday on his talk for church and I went grocery shopping and did a few tasks.

We went to Mark's show again.  It's not terrible, sitting there next to Adam.  We sat in the back row so we could see more of the set.  The cast comes in a few times and walked up the aisles singing.  Mark poked me on the back.  I like hearing him sing.  

Adam gave his talk in church.  He did a good job, like I knew he would.  He always gets very nervous, but I always have a lot of confidence in him.

I took two naps on Sunday afternoon.  If that isn't a good mother's day, I don't know what is.  We had dinner and I opened gifts.  Some of the kids wanted to play a game and I said I wanted to go on a walk instead.  So we did.  That is also a good mother's day.

I am grateful for my good mother and Adam's good mother.  I'm grateful for our grandmothers and all the women who have impacted my life in important ways.  I'm grateful I get to be a mother.  It is not an easy job but I'm glad it's mine.

Grateful Friday

 1. My root canal 2.0 was a success.  The endodontist declared the tooth worth saving.  Janet told me years ago to never get a root canal from a dentist, but to go to an endodontist.  I should have listened.  It was a much different/better experience (and I really like my dentist!).

2. I had to leave school early for the root canal and I had two aides cover my class for me and I REALLY appreciate them.  It's nice leaving my class in familiar and capable hands.

3. When I was leaving my class, my students said, "Good luck!" and "I hope it works this time!" and "We'll miss you!"

4. Last night was opening night of Mark's show.  His last high school performance.  In three weeks, he will have graduated.  The graduation bit makes me feel queasy, but I was happy I got to see his show.  Mark sang a solo and Emma leaned over to me and asked, "Are you crying?"

I said, "A little."

She said, "Me too."

5. I'm looking forward to weekend plans.  I hope yours is a good one!

Western day

It's Hope Week at school and yesterday was Western Day.  Almost all the teachers dressed up.  I am probably the only one that grew up on a dirt road but I don't have any "western" clothes.  The teachers mostly wore aggressively pointy boots and straw hats with the brims squashed up on the sides.  Not the kind of clothes you'd ever see actual cowboys wear, but it's an elementary school.

My boys came in for literacy and one of them was carrying a red bandana.  He said, "Do you know how to tie this?  Like a cowboy?"  I said I did.

I said, "My dad is a cowboy."

"He is not!"  One of them was vehemently suspicious of me.

I said, "He is.  So is my brother."

"No.  You are lying.  You are a big fat liar."

I thought the big fat was hurtful and unnecessary but I pulled up my blog on my computer because it is a good way to win arguments.

I scrolled for pictures of my dad.  I found one and he was wearing a cowboy hat.  "See," I said, triumphantly.  I showed them a picture of Tabor for good measure.

The one student was still not having it.  He said, "Does he ride a horse?  Unless you show me a picture of him on a horse, I won't believe you."

I told him, "I'm not going to give you a smiley face today.  Just for doubting me."

Every day he brings a chart from his teacher that tracks his behavior.  I can either circle a smile, a neutral face, or a frown.  It's so dumb but it works like magic.  If he ever gets out of line, all I have to say is, "Where did I put your chart?" and I look around for it and he immediately shapes up.

He likes getting those smiles.

I found a picture of my dad, horseback.  Both boys said, "Whoa."

I don't think they intended a pun.  

For the rest of literacy, they talked with a sort of twang and called each other partner.  They swaggered around the room and said they were cowboys.  The doubter asked me, "Has your dad ever shot anyone?"

I said, "No."

"But, is he a bank robber?"

There's reality and then there's 3rd grade reality.  They don't always intersect.

(And I gave him the smiley face at the end.  He's that cute.)

Restorative

Monday night, Adam and Emma and Braeden went to the Jazz basketball game.  Adam said I should come too and I said, "...." 

He said, "If you need a restorative night at home, you should take it."

There is beauty in being married to a man who understands you.

Mark came home from a long rehearsal and he was pretty done for too.  He'd had an early AP test and a full day.  We went to Mo Bettah's for dinner which I don't love but he does and it's by Walgreens and we needed to pick up insulin.

I enjoyed dinner with Mark.  We don't have enough time together, just the two of us.  Sometimes you need to have dinner with your curmudgeonly opinionated 18 year old.

While we were in line at the Walgreens' drive thru, Mark said, "Do you want to play cards when we get home?"

I said, "...."

He said, "Well, I was just saying that because I thought you'd want to.  I'd rather have some alone time."

The introverts nodded appreciatively at each other.

Mark did his thing and I watched Netflix and while I watched, I organized my phone by color.

Now, it takes a bit to remember the color of the different apps...

...but it's pretty. 

(Also, it should be said that the number of unread emails would make Mark throw hands, but it is actually a really low number for me.)

When a bowl of low quality chocolate is your solace

Yesterday was a whole thing.  We started testing.  I knew about how it was going to go when I wrote the test ID on the board and one of my students came up and asked me if she could erase it. (They LOVE to erase the board.)

"I just wrote it," I said.

She looked at me blankly.

"I need it," I said.

Then I told her to go back to her seat.

I walked them through logging in.  They were to type in their name and then their SSID which was on a card I gave them.  I said, "The test ID is on the board."

I had no fewer than ten students ask me what the test ID was.

IT IS ON THE BOARD.

Sometimes I think about the fact that I have a pretty house and an entire shelf of books that I haven't read yet and what on earth am I doing wasting my time when I am clearly not.  Getting.  Through.

We got through day one of testing though.  

After school we had a faculty meeting.  For 1 1/2 hours.  It was all about proposed changes for next year and here I am with a not so bendy brain and it stressed me out.  I was sitting next to the kindergarten teachers.  Halfway through the meeting one of them leaned over to a nearby table and grabbed a bowl of chocolates.  We sort of stress ate through the rest of the meeting.

It was that kind of day.

In my box in the workroom, there was a book from the PTA with contributions from my students about me.  

It 100% delighted me.

There was a certain amount of effusive hyperbole:

And also some honesty:

And I decided that the shelf of books can wait their turn.  Also Kate told me, "We only have three more Mondays."

That, my friends, sounds doable.

The first Saturday in May

Often, I'm fresh off Women's Conference on the first Saturday in May.  But alas.  It's virtual and I haven't watched because while I'm sure it's good, it's not the same.

I dug and weeded in my front flower bed.  I pruned a bush (which I love doing to the sometimes peril of our bushes and our marriage).  I planted a daisy and put my geraniums in big pots by the garage doors.  One of them didn't like the transfer very well so we'll see how that goes.  I had four enormous spider houseplants (that all started from one spider plant).  I repotted three of them and threw one away and cut the root balls in half and we'll see how that goes too.  My heart won't be broken if they don't all survive because it was starting to feel like a spider plant farm.  I repotted the Moses plant that Olivia gave me a start from.  It originally was my Grandma Dahl's Moses plant.  I repotted Emma's Christmas Cactus that Olivia gave her a start from.  It originally was my Great Grandma Egbert's Christmas Cactus.  I transplanted those two more carefully because they feel like family heirlooms.

I got a lot of dirt under my finger nails and my face turned beet red like it does (if my body would just sweat like a normal person I wouldn't get so hot and red faced).  I lay on the steps of the garage when I was just too tired and hot.  It was more comfortable than you'd think.

Adam had mowed and lifted all the heavy pots and helped me repot.  We cleaned up and met Emma for a late lunch (Mark was at rehearsal).  We went to Home Depot for the third time this week and we finally decided with input from Emma and the Home Depot lady (who declared herself a professional designer and who was I to argue?) on the carpet we want for our upstairs.

Then we went grocery shopping (Adam and me, not Emma).  We could shop at Winco competitively if that was a thing.  We have a whole system.

We got home just in time for the Kentucky Derby.  The horse Braeden picked in our earlier text conversation won.

When we texted him the good news, he wondered what he won.

Mark texted back:

I guess Mark's not big on prizes.

Speaking of Mark, Friday evening he said, "I have something for you..."

I asked, "Is it chocolate?"

It was his cap and gown.

It's not really a great gift for a mother, I'll just go ahead and say it.  I hung up the gown in the coat closet and put the cap on Horace.

Everyone else is graduating, why not him?