Graduation in the time of pandemic

 Originally published in The Miami News-Record, May 2020

I finally graduated from college. I didn’t walk across the stage, but instead spent the day picking up a Walmart order, having lunch with my youngest and her beau (properly distanced), visiting with my momma (from six feet apart) and then coming home to watch some TV. It was not at all how I had envisioned my college graduation that was 29 years in the making. But I did it. The two semesters and summer semester at Crowder were all straight A semesters, even with a math class thrown in there. I graduated with a 3.5 career GPA. It was hard. I made it harder on myself due to this perfectionism thing I have anchored in my DNA and I could have eased up some, but there was that part of me deep down that needed to prove I could still do it. And I did. Woohoo. 

Right before campus closed, I got an email that I had been nominated to speak at graduation. I hadn’t even been sure I was going to walk since my niece, nephew, and Kady’s boyfriend were all graduating as well, all of us from different schools the same weekend, but the nomination reminded me that one item on my bucket list is to speak at a graduation commencement. So of course, I had to ponder it, ruminate on it, and finally write something for kicks and giggles if nothing else. So, without further ado: 

To the Class of 2020: wow. Just wow. We have certainly ended a year for the books. But here you are – you did it. It’s just not ending with you in your cap and gown, your family, friends, teachers, advisors, in the crowd, here to watch you in the culmination of no simple feat. But don’t let that lessen the accomplishment. High school was easy for me. College was not. I started this journey in 1991. I picked it back up again in 2007. Dropped it. Abandoned it. Kicked it a few times out of spite before I walked away. Then along came Crowder and people who said, “But what if you did….” and then my kids echoed it. And my momma and sister. And my husband. So I started. I went full time, online and started in the summer. I enrolled in seated classes for the fall semester, but a week-long hospital stay caused me to change my major, rearrange some things, and regroup. It would have been very easy to quit. Again. And oh, I thought about it. But I didn’t quit this time. 

My youngest always says, “Time and place” when she hears a story about circumstances and happenstances and things just working out. “Time and place” applies to just about everything in life, but man, it sure does for college. This past year just happened to be my time and my place. Your time and your place didn’t happen for you the same way it did for me. It doesn’t have to. We all have our journey. Some of them are straight shots to the goal, the streets lined with good grades, good teachers, classes we like, scholarships. Some of us don’t have support, some of us have to choose to work instead of going to school, some of us choose more time with our kids, some of us just need to take a break. 

However you do it, whatever it may be, just do it the best way you can. My mom has always said, “I don’t care if you choose to be a doctor or a dog catcher. Whatever you choose to be, be the very best one you can.” So to all of the 2020 graduates and all of you still enrolled, be you future doctors or dog catchers, this year you proved you can do just about anything in just about the worst environment possible. Remember that. Now go do big things, little things, amazing things, important things, kind things, all the things…the very best way you know how. You should be so proud of yourself. 

Being seen

Originally published in The Miami News-Record, January 2020

This week the program I work for brought Leon Logothetis, aka The Kindness Guy from the Netflix series The Kindness Diaries, to campus for two sessions. The premise of his show is that he travels the world with no money, food, or possessions and does it all while relying on the kindest of strangers. It’s nothing if not inspiring. 

The main premise of his speech was obviously kindness, but more than that he stressed how showing someone kindness - whether completely off the cuff or pre-planned - shows that person that you see them. Not just with your eyes, but with your heart, your soul, your very being. How many times have you felt invisible? Unseen? Like you are nothing and mean nothing? If you haven’t ever felt those feelings I’d say you are in the minority. 

Humans need love. Humans need interactions - yes, even us introverts. We’re not monsters, just….awkward and like to hide from like, everyone we think might want to talk to us about the weather or sports. But even the most introverted of introverts still needs human interaction. And being seen is so crucial for a person’s happiness and well-being. I’m not saying go seek validation because that’s not the same as being seen. The homeless guy at the intersection holding the cardboard sign? Sure, you see him, but do you see him? Do you smile and maybe give a weird non-committal fingertip wave and then stare intently at the stoplight internally chanting “Turn green, turn green, turn green”? Or do you see him and think about him as a human being? How cold or hot it is that day? How appropriate or inappropriate his clothing is for the weather? Is he hungry? Is he lonely? What’s his name? Does he have family that wonders where he is and how he’s doing?

Sure, we can’t help every homeless person, every struggling momma in Walmart counting change to buy formula, every student crying at her computer because her parents are divorcing and math is hard and life is too much, but if we all help a few just think of the impact that would have - on our campus, our workplace, our country, our world — on ourselves. Not selfishly, but in a completely self-aware way. In a way that will make us truly see those around us and make us want to do more and help more and be more. 

In his speech Leon said, “Heroism is built on a foundation of service and love.” One of the main tenets of Crowder College is servant leadership. When I first started working there I noticed how everyone helps every else, and not just staff and faculty helping students, but everyone helps each other. Effortlessly and without forethought - everyone just does. I had been there a few weeks before I actually heard the words “servant leadership” and I was so impressed by it, that an institution would make that such an important part of who they are. 

I was helping take tickets at the door yesterday before the presentation. I have been kind of in a funk lately - it’s winter and the semester just started and it’s just that time of year for funks. I was standing behind the table when a co-worker came up and said, “I was thinking about something last night. If you had gotten rich and famous rather than the Pioneer Woman, you wouldn’t be here. And you wouldn’t know us……and we wouldn’t have gotten to know you.” 

She saw me. 

I teared up immediately. She said, “Now, don’t go crying! We’re not those kind of women!” and we both laughed and I said something about needing some emergency estrogen and she moved on in the line. But her words echoed with me all day. She had truly thought about how her life would be without me in it. It was a simple statement, a simple gesture, it took nothing of her time and money, but she said it to me regardless. 

She saw me. 

Open your eyes. Open your heart. Open your mind. Watch. Listen. Look. See people. Really see them. Change their world if you can. And in the process you’ll likely change yours. 

First you have to find yourself

Originally published in The Miami News-Record, May 2019 

My final kid graduates tomorrow. She completed her Junior and Senior years this year and is enrolled at Crowder for the fall. It’s been a busy time since March finalizing everything and getting things ready. We are building her an apartment in the south half of our house, so on top of school stuff we now have added construction stuff. It’s been a whirlwind to be honest.  I haven’t really known how to feel about her graduating. I didn’t get particularly emotional when the other two graduated and haven’t really felt too emotional with this one either. Since she’s not really leaving the nest just yet like her siblings did, I can save the empty nesting for another time. So yeah, I think I’m handling it. 

Graduation is an exciting time. I didn’t have a really great Senior year and not a lot of super awesome memories from that time, but I remember standing on that precipice between childhood and adulthood and being SO READY for whatever was next. I had bounced from one career dream and college major to another about a dozen times - from lawyer, to judge, to teacher, to actress and a few more that year. I started NEO that fall as a Theatre major. One semester in I woke up and realized I wasn’t going to make it as an actress, I had very little support for my education and I dropped out. I went to work in a daycare, moved to Stillwater, worked in a grocery store, moved home, met my husband, got married, and well, voila. I am now a mom with three adult children, two grandkids, a husband of 26 years, a job I adore, and life is good. I was a stay-at-home mom for roughly 20 years, homeschooling seven of them, and I got to help raise a few other people’s kids over the years as their babysitter. I don’t have a giant resume to show off, but I have had the most gratifying time “growing up.” 

My mom worked for an attorney in Miami, Mr. James Reed, for several years and I worked for him a few summers. He was a daunting man, very authoritative, and formidable. He, however, had a heart for seeing people succeed. Inside the card he sent me for graduation he wrote, “First you have to find yourself. For some it is not easy. Accept trial and error.” I kept the card in its entirety for years, eventually just cutting out a square around his words and laminating it. Right now it hangs on a magnet board on my bathroom wall and I see it every day. It has hung in a prominent place in my home for 29 years now. And it is the best piece of advice I’ve gotten regarding the future. 

I’ve tried to make sure my own kids have always known that it is 100% okay to just not know. It’s 100% okay to try - and fail. It’s 100% to start over - repeatedly if you have to. And as my youngest child, my wild child, my “she definitely keeps life interesting” child is about to embark on her own journey into adulthood, I hope she can remember that because Lord knows her momma is the queen of starting over and the whole try-and-fail thing. She’s amazing and confident and crazy smart, so I think she’ll embrace it just fine. And I hope her daddy and I have created a soft, safe place for her to land if she needs to. 

Kadybugg, I cannot wait to see how this plays out. I hope you sincerely enjoy the journey of finding yourself. It’s been a pleasure seeing you grow and learn and bend us all to your will. You are a whirlwind of kindness, belligerence, strength, beauty, compassion, and empathy. I am so proud of you and the woman you have become. 

Happy Graduation to all the graduates. Y’all are gonna change the world. And I love that. Be kind. Be you. Be Love. 

Back to the Blackboard

I am 46 years old. I have been out of high school for 28 years. In 1991, fresh out of the hallowed halls of WHS I took one semester of college at NEO. I hated it. I enrolled in 18 hours. Whoever let me do that was a total moron. My parents didn't really support me. I mean, they didn't not support me, but they sure didn't cheer me on and tell me it would all be worth it. I think if someone wanted to analyze me from a psychological standpoint there's a whole shitload of baggage thumping around inside my head, but what that dreaded first semester taught me was: college is hard.

I was a stellar student in high school. I always got good grades and they came easy. No one warned me that college was going to be the actual opposite of high school. They didn't warn me that the instructors were going to have different opinions than I did AND that they could actually argue (some quite angrily) with me about them and there was no penalty for that. The work was harder and while I still got good grades, I worked a lot harder for them. I put a lot of pressure on myself to be successful in college as I was in high school and before long I was having migraines almost every day. I stopped going to class. I. Hated. It. And so I quit.

Fast forward to 2007. I had three kids - 10, 8, and 5. I had a husband who didn't want me to go to college. My advisor was a neat guy, but I met him once and he didn't really give me what I needed from an advisor. (Let's face it, some of us are more high-maintenance than others. Me being the most high maintenance you can get.) I took ALL online classes that fall. I took algebra online. Whoever let me do that was a moron. (Oh wait, it was me.) However, I managed to enroll in another semester that spring and took classes for my actual major, I wrote for the campus newspaper, I enjoyed my classes. However, at that time we only had dialup internet and online classes were only getting harder and harder to do with internet that slow. I couldn't just go to town every day and use someone else's - that kind of defeated my purpose of staying home to do school. And so I quit. Again.

Over the years I convinced myself I didn't need the degree. I worked at DHS as an aid/secretary. I worked for a mom-and-pop small business as a secretary. Both jobs were not degree-worthy. But then I was asked to apply for a job at the other junior college in the area. I applied. I interviewed. I felt really good about the interview. They said they'd call the next day. They didn't.

So I had all weekend to stew over it. I was in crisis. I don't like disappointing people. I had all but decided not to take it, no matter how much I had vibed with the people who did my interview (my future coworkers) and no matter how much I longed for a change. I just didn't want to let down my then current employers and leave them in a bad spot. But I also had some issues with them over my husband's employment there. Yet still I felt loyal. I wrestled with the decision for a whole weekend and had pretty much decided to not take it if it was offered to me. And I was also deep down 100% convinced they were not going to offer it to me.

Then Julie called on Monday, just as I was getting in my car to go to town. I leaned against the hood as she started with pleasantries and how they all thought I was so funny and "one of them," then she said, "Okay, so all that to say, we'd like to offer you the job!" I was speechless. I was quiet as she talked about pay and scheduling. And my heart sunk as I realized that I was going to have to turn her down, she was so nice and bubbly. But then she went on to say, "Oh and as an employee, you get free tuition if you choose to enroll, plus Sam will get his tuition free and you husband and any of your other kids!" I literally just kind of flopped down into the seat of my car and sat there stunned. I told her I needed to think about it and she was kind and gracious and said, "Absolutely! Can you let me know in a day or two?" I told her I'd let her know the next day, hung up and just sat there. Free college. F R E E  C O L L E G E.

I called my mom, sister, husband, daughter, son, basically everyone just shy of the Governor of Oklahoma. They all said basically the same thing: "You're stupid if you don't take it."

And so here I am, 10 months later, a very happy employee of Crowder College and also a full-time college student once more. I am currently taking two online classes this summer and will take 12 hours this fall. I am a Journalism/Public Relations major. I'm not sure I will ever do a thing with that degree because honestly, I'm very happy with my job as the secretary for ProjectNOW, (where it's true, I am definitely "one of them" and we are all just a little twisted and weird and that seems to be what people love most about us.) but in a few semesters I'll be able to say I have a degree. My sweet little Kady With a D is also enrolled as a full-time student at Crowder in the fall as well. We have math together. I offered to switch to a different class, but she said, "No, stay. That way I know I won't be the only one crying in class every day."

If I wanted to take more than 12 hours a semester I could finish by May 2020, but I don't want to, so I'm not gonna. It will work out to where I'll take one final science class in the fall of 2020 and graduate in December. I haven't decided if I'm going to walk yet. I doubt it. But we'll see. The more blood, sweat, and tears I put into this, the more I may decide I want to.

I had a proper meltdown on the first day of classes. But I feel like I got it out of my system and should be good from here on out. I still put a lot of pressure on myself to be nothing less than 100% perfect, so I feel my stress levels rising quite often. All self-inflicted. It's just who I am. But this time I have support. I have colleagues who are cheering. Friends who are cheering. Family who is cheering. And I'm kind of cheering for myself this time. That's a new one.

And now I have written my first post in six months all while waiting impatiently for Blackboard (the website where all of my college sits and awaits my attention) to stop being broken. IT sent an email assuring they were on it. I took yesterday evening off to just watch some TV ("Westworld" - go watch it. It's amazing.) and did zero homework. Today I haven't been able to do any. I told Kady I was being punished for being a slacker. She assured me the universe doesn't give two shits if I take an evening off to watch a weird robot cowboy show. Always the pragmatist, that Kady.

Commencement Address

Last night was our oldest daughter's FFA awards banquet. As I sat at the table, picking at the plastic tablecloth, engaging in a game of "surreptitiously throw the FFA-themed confetti" at my husband and Abby's friend across the table, (Yo, Antonio. Whassup.) I listened to the keynote speaker, a fellow Okie who gratiously accepted the request to speak when the original speaker fell through. He was engaging and told stories of his three daughters, especially the middle child named Addison whom he declared was a terrorist. The audienced laughed at his stories of his daughters' shenanigans and how little Addison's sweet prayer included thanking God for the day, the world and polka dots. Of course, I egotistically thought, "Hmh. I could totally do what he's doing right now. I can motivate people." Then I remembered that sometimes my motivation methods border on drill sergeant. (Our youth group is babysitting for donations next weekend and one of the girls asked what they would do if some of the kids just wouldn't behave. They were worried there would be discipline problems. I looked at her and said, "They might not be afraid of you, but sweetie, do you think they're going to have a problem listening to me?" She shook her head and said, "Okay, no problems there then. We're good to go.")

But still, I continued to think, "If I were asked to address a group of students or - dare I dream? - a graduating class, what would I tell them?"

So without further ado, I present to you my

Address to the Graduating Class of 2012

Hey ya'll! Thank you for asking me to come here tonight and impart upon you my words of wisdom. I am not famous or a millionaire. I can't brag to you about how I was a finalist on American Idol or how I got kicked off of The Biggest Loser for being a big loser and not being a big loser. I'll let that one sink in a minute. I have never climbed a mountain or swam an ocean, I didn't save a litter of puppies from a burning building nor have a video of me pathetically playing "Just Dance" go viral on YouTube. However, I have accomplished a thing or two in my 39 years here on this earth. If you'll indulge me, I promise I won't take too much of your time and then we'll get to the real reason we're all here -- to see the fruits of the labor of 13 or 14 years of education (15 or 16 for some of you, bless your hearts) pay off and walk across that stage, flip that tassel to the other side and smile pretty for the camera.

The first and most important piece of wisdom I can give you tonight is to keep God first. Always. Of course, you are going to make mistakes. That's a total given. Some of you will make more than others, some of you will make bigger ones than others and some of you are just flat-out gonna hit rock bottom. But if you will keep your eyes and your heart on God, the lessons seem easier to learn and the bounce-back time is infinitely quicker. If you'll let Him, He's a really awesome navigator. Pray. The Bible says to do it "without ceasing". Take that to heart. Pray with your boyfriend, girlfriend, parents, friends, siblings, spouse, your children and your pastor. God loves to hear from you. He never gets tired of hearing your heart.

Secondly, wear sunscreen. A few years after I graduated Chicago Tribune columnist Mary Schmich wrote a list of things she wanted all of us to know as we grew older. Wearing sunscreen was the first thing on the list. I wholeheartedly agree. That tan that looks so hawt (with an "aw" not an "o") now will only age you. And quickly. And trust me, when you get to the ripe ol' age of 39 you do not need help with that. If you just have to look sun-baked, spray it on. I personally find nothing wrong with the marshmallow look. They say tan fat looks better than white fat, but folks, fat is fat. It's alllllll fat. It might as well be cancer-free fat. I mean, if you have the choice. And you kinda do.

That boyfriend? That girlfriend? The one you look all googly-eyed at right now? The one you cut your hair for or didn't cut your hair for? The one who kept you from going to Prom with a friend because she was jealous? The one who said it's okay for you to give him your virginity because he's "pretty sure" he's going to marry you? Yeah, that one? Statistically....you won't marry him or her. I'm not here to bust your bubble and make you doubt your relationship. I'm really not. And yes, there are high school sweethearts all over the place. Those are wonderful, time-tested relationships and I love hearing those stories. But don't be so quick to give it all up, change yourself and compromise because of a "promise" made at 17. I hope it all works out for you googly-eyed love-stricken weirdos. But if it doesn't, I don't want you to have regrets. If you do go on and get married, there is plenty of time to compromise and grow with that person. Just don't do it all too soon, right now, while you can't even vote or buy alcohol.

Be an individual. Some of you have cornered the market on individuality already. I applaud you. It takes true guts to stand out. The crowd says do one thing, the majority wants to rule you and you, with the blue-streaked hair, the all black clothing, the t-shirts that only make sense to other scientifically-minded folks like yourself *cough cough nerds*, the comic book afficionado, the one who simply says "No." when peer pressure closes in, you are the leaders of tomorrow. Yes, you will likely be labeled weird, maybe your already have been. Yes, you will be given some strange looks, you may already. No, you may not have been student body president, the most popular girl in school, the jock who has girls melting at his feet, but you already have this amazing potential to swim upstream, to think outside the box and to get it done in your own way. Please don't conform. Yes, you eventually have to get responsible and get a job and be all mature and stuff, but find ways to stay an individual without becoming a minion.

Hug your mom. Kiss your dad. I mean it. You are really not that cool anyway, so go ahead and just love on them. When you reach middle adulthood and suddenly look at your parents - I mean, really look at your parents - and yank your head out of your own daily battle with your own gray hairs, you realize that they lost that battle and have suddenly aged beyond your realizations, you will suddenly understand that hugs and kisses lost can never be regained. Video and audio record them talking. Please trust me on this. Right now you love them, I know y'all do, but maybe you feel like they harsh your ever-present mellow, suck the fun from every cool thing you want to experience and expect too much out of you - I totally remember feeling that way. But now I have been magically transformed into a parent myself and woah, it's heavy stuff. I find myself a mellow-harsher on a daily basis. It's a parent's job. Cut them some slack. Remember this commencement address because trust me, in a few years you'll be a gray-headed fun-sucker like the rest of us.

If you discover you have a talent or a knack for something, do it. Whether it's writing, painting, clog dancing, basket weaving, mime, baking or gluing googly eyes on rocks and selling them out of the trunk of your car, do it with all that you have in you. One of my very favorite quotes is from Erma Bombeck. She said, "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me." Use everything you are given and make it fabulous.

Your siblings are priceless. I used to slap the ever-lovin' snot out of my little sister on a regular basis. She used to annoy the ever-lovin' snot right outta me with even more regularity than the whoopings I gave her. Then suddenly, magically, nearly overnight, we became best friends. Our mother used to cry, wondering what she had done to make us hate each other so much, thinking she had done something wrong while she was pregnant with us, maybe scrubbing the kitchen floor with straight bleach had warped something in our fetal brains that killed all desire to love our sibling in the future. I can't tell you why we fought. I can't tell you why your little brother sticks his plastic rat in your makeup case or why your little sister hacks into your Facebook page to write embarrassing status updates. All I know is that someday you will appreciate them. You might as well start now.

Learn how to use commas correctly. If this is something you didn't master here in High School, please pay extra attention to your Freshman Comp teacher in college.

Please stay active. I'm not saying you have to become marathon runners. I still hold to my strict rule that I do not run unless there are zombies chasing me. However, I'm finding that the first 10 pounds I used to be able to lose by simply cutting back are infinitely more stubborn as I age. And we won't even discuss the other pounds that have taken up what appears to be permanent residence. Walk. Do Zumba. Play "Just Dance" with your kids. Heck, a good game of Duck, Duck, Goose will suffice when your kids are on preschool playdates. Not all of us are cut out to be Victoria's Secret models, but even if you're one of the chunky who will never be as thin as society would like, at least be a healthy chunky. You have one heart. I mean, literally ONE beating heart. They don't just sell those on street corners. Well, I guess they might, but you never know where those have been.

And finally, look around at the classmates sitting here in these seats close to you. Please know that those around you right here today, here in your present, might not be part of your future. And that's okay. They are here now because they are supposed to be. They may not be later -- because they aren't supposed to. Being popular isn't as important at 35 as it is at 18. There were nine of us that ran together our Senior year, a mixture of five guys, four girls. We thought we owned those halls and no one was allowed on "our" front steps of the school. We were big, bad and ooooh so popular. I rarely speak to any of them now 21 years later. However, I can tell you that I have three friends who spent many a night at my house and I at theirs in elementary school and Junior High. We forged indelible friendships that have literally stood the test of time. I look back at the pictures of us in our Brownie uniforms and the silly ones of us dressing up at slumber parties and compare them to the ones of the "cool kids" I ran with as we got older and I can say that these girls - these women - are indeed true friends. I only regret ditching them for a brief run at the popularity I so desired, abandoning my innate desire to be an individual. So I guess what I'm saying is keep the ones who want to be kept. Let the others go. Don't lose sleep over it or wonder if you did something wrong. You didn't. You're going to change as you get older. Strangely enough, they will, too.

Congratulations, graduates. You've got a life ahead of you, each and every one of you. Some will be easy lives. Some will be hard. Some will be nothing but happy. Some will be laced with sorrow and hardship. Some will be a roller coaster ride of infinite proportions. Some will simply be leisurely Sunday drives down back country roads. But here's the thing, yours is yours. You do with it as you please. Don't let anyone live it for you and in turn, don't try to live someone else's. Be you. Be amazing. Be true. Be fabulous.

I wish you nothing but the best. God bless.

I've got the power! (insert 90's techno music here)

Five and a half days without power.

Not something I ever wish to repeat. Ever. I make a fairly decent redneck, but a pretty crappy pioneer.

The lights came back on Friday night while Paul and I were out as a casino that had lights, noise and hot water and no children. I love my kids and all, but dang they got annoying after 5 days living in one room with them. You cannot imagine the whooping and hollering that went on when we drove up that driveway and saw our porch light and every other light in the house blazing. Apparently, even though we had no electricity and everyone in the house knew it, everyone was still flipping lightswitches on when they went into a room out of sheer habit. The result was that our house could've guided in a jetliner.

I ran the dishwasher as soon as we walked in because that filthy kitchen of mine was causing me serious freak-outs. I always run hot water in the kitchen faucet before I start the dishwasher and it was working properly at 11pm. It was such a welcome sound, that dishwasher filling and whooshing and chugging along happily in my incredibly dirty kitchen......

Turns out, that was the water heater's last hurrah. She died some time during the night. Services are pending. They'll probably be tomorrow when Paul tosses her in the back of the truck and installs the new one. The new one that works and holds a lot of hot water.

For at least a month I am going to refuse to boil water. Or even heat it on the stove. (Sorry kids, no mac and cheese for awhile) I have hauled enough water down my hallway in the last 3 days to last me a long time. And while I've never been a big fan of a bath anyway, I'm definitely swearing those off for a long time as well. I won't say I'll never take one again because that kind of statement would come back to bite me in the butt and I'd break my leg or something and have to take baths for like 8 weeks or longer, but I will say that it will be a long dang time before I voluntarily take a bath. I need my shower in the morning. A shower and coffee are the perfect way to start a day. I was deprived of coffee for 5 days and now a shower for 3 - I'm bordering on homicidal, people.

Work has been insane since last Thursday and I'll just be glad when this Thursday gets here and I'm done until the day after Christmas. The other aide and myself have been gathering last-minute requests for gifts from foster kids, last-minute donations from generous individuals and businesses and then doing last-minute shopping. I don't do last-minute well. I like order and pre-planning and lots more planning. I am learning to get over some of that working for the state. Today the other aide and I did 3 hours of toy shopping at Wal*Mart and tomorrow we're both planning on being to work before 8 in order to get the 150-some toys/electronics/clothes sorted, tagged and wrapped. Thank God we're not delivering, too. However, I do love my job, so I keep going back. Willingly. I can't believe I'm actually enjoying leaving my house and going to a job. Weird.

Because of the ice storm, finals were canceled at the college. All this did was get me out of having to take the 10 minutes out of an afternoon to report for my Algebra final and then politely leave the room. I took an "I" in the class - I'm not sure if that's better or worse than an F and frankly I don't give a flip. If I go back someday I know full well I have to take it again. I'll cross that bridge when Hell freezes over when I get to it. I managed an A in American Lit and an A in Computers. The shocker of the semester was the C I got in Macro. I just told my Sunday School teacher yesterday that I got a D in that class, never dreaming in a gazillion years that I'd get a whole C. Man, am I glad that's over. I did it. I passed. I also had a totally surreal moment when I flipped on the TV early a week ago Sunday morning to watch for weather updates and all that was on was preaching or some business program that I fully cannot fathom anyone watching on purpose - except for my Macro instructor. And maybe Stewed Hamm. Strangely......I actually almost sort of kind of knew what they were talking about. Okay, not really, but I recognized a few terms.

Tomorrow night I have to put the final touches on my tacky gift for the family Festivus celebration which is this Friday. I hope that I reach a pinnacle of tackiness this year because I already have the nail driven in my bathroom wall in preparation for the turkey I hope will soon be hanging there. Yes, I realize that last statement was incredibly weird and I'll explain our family's Festivus celebration one of these days. Not tonight. I'm not in the mood because I keep remembering that I have to get up 45 minutes early in order to heat water on the stove for my morning bath. Not shower. Bath. A tub of warm water just brimming with my filth. MMMmmmm just gets me all kinds of in the holiday spirit.

Who can conquer the day effectively knowing that the crud they just washed off their body didn't really get washed off but was instead soaked on?

Not me, man. Not me. There will be no day-conquering until I get a shower.

I'm not dead

Okay, so I hear that people have actually been writing down my web address from up at the Park of Lights and have been checking me out here at my little home on the web. Well, I hope y'all had time to look around a bit and really look for the good stuff because I'm afraid there's not been a lot of quality posting as of late. Just randomly pick some older stuff from the archives and don't give up on me after reading what's on my front page.

Twice in the last two weeks I've been called "funnier than hell" if that accounts for anything at all. Of course, like my 11-year-old pointed out - "Uh...Mom? Hell isn't funny at all, so is it really a compliment?" Yes. I'm taking it as one.

Oh, and leave a comment, will ya? You can even leave 'em anonymously, just so long as you leave 'em. I'd love to see who's stopping in because of a camouflage trailer and 8 pink plastic flamingos.

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I have taken my Macro final and my Lit final. I felt pretty decent about the Macro test really. Well, until that last page, but I'm not losing any sleep over it. I really should be taking my Computers final like, right now, but eh, I'm posting this then I'm going to bed. I'm scheduled to take the cursed Algebra final on Tuesday at 1:00. Prayers, good thoughts and maybe mailing chocolate directly to my home or sending me a bouquet of daisies to work would be appreciated. I don't expect to pass it, nor do I expect to pass the class, but I'm taking the final just so I can tell people I didn't totally wuss out. I just moderately wussed out. Moderately is definitely better than totally. Trust me.

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For your viewing pleasure....... bad pictures of my display at the Park of Lights.

There she is, all lit up and glowing. Ain't she purty? Purtier'n a pink dress, eh, Mrs. Coach?

I think the pink flamingos add so much.

Here it is without so much flash.

I'll have to try to grab some video of me walking around it one of these afternoons. That way I can point out all the nuances and special touches.

I didn't manage to get any pics of the clothesline where ol' Santa hung his duds, so yeah, I need to video it for y'all. I'll try to get to that this week, barring we're not actually entering the next Ice Age as the meterologists around here are predicting....

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Sam had his first basketball game today. I cannot believe how much more improved he is from last year! His coach last year was great, but the coach this year is even better. She's teaching them basics and fundamentals and whaddaya know, he came home from practice one night and said, "Mom! You are never gonna believe this, but now I know what a layup is!!" Every time his coach told him to work on his lay-ups last year he was too embarrassed to ask him what a lay-up was, much less how to work on one. So I really have to give Coach Summers some serious kudos for teaching my boy some mad basketball skillz.

He fouled a kid today and the kid got free throws. There were fouls all over the place from all the boys on both teams, but for some reason Sam's was bad enough to let them have free shots. He was kinda proud of it, but I told him that it really wasn't something to be all that proud of considering it could get him kicked out of a game. I guess it goes without saying that he's a much more aggressive player this year, too.

They lost 29-20, but they brought it up from 11 to 20 in the first few minutes after the half, so I was impressed at whatever she said to them during halftime. It made an impression, whatever it was.

He got the crap knocked out of him at one point and I just so happened to have caught that moment on video. Paul had to work today and when I was showing him what I had recorded he kept having me replay the part where Sam hit the floor and scooted a foot backwards on his booty. Paul said, "Why didn't you get up and knock the sh*t outta him, son?" Sam shrugged and said, "Eh, it wasn't worth it. The refs were biased anyway." I don't know where he wouldve heard that........

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I left the house yesterday morning at 8:45 only to get on the highway and hear my phone ring. It was the school's number and I wondered who had puked already. It was Abby telling me she had spilled a carton of milk all over herself in the cafeteria and could I bring her some clean clothes? I turned around, went back to the house, dug around in that cave she calls a room, found some clothes that I think were clean and only a little wrinkled (they were in her closet, but that means nothing in Abbyland), took them to her, then went to town. I got almost to the turnpike entrance when I remembered I hadn't picked up my work study check at NEO, so I turned around, picked that up, then decided to go ahead and cash it since I was going shopping, then when I was in the bank drivethru felt my stomach rumble and remembered I hadn't eaten breakfast, pulled into McDonald's drivethru, ordered a McGriddle and a sweet tea and waited for what seemed like 4 hours while they butchered the hog to make the sausage patty and squeezed the chicken for the egg to make a perfectly round and quite disturbing egg patty and FINALLY got on the turnpike at 10. Then I'll be danged if I didn't pass right by the exit where the Harley shop was - the HD shop, Academy Sports and Toys R Us were my main reasons for going to Joplin.

Rather than turn around, I went on into Joplin and straight to Academy Sports where I bought my son a Benjamin pellet air rifle that the salesguy told me shoots at such a high velocity that the pellets will pierce the skin and could possibly kill someone in the right situation. Oy. My husband couldn't figure out why I had such reservations...

But seeing the look on Paul's face when I showed him the gun last night was pretty awesome. He had a Benjamin when he was a kid. That's why the squirrel population in the backwoods of Wyandotte is just now recovering after a heinous mass slaughter by a red-headed freckled boy 35 years ago.

I finished all of my shopping yesterday except I never made it back to the HD store. The kids and I can do that next weekend hopefully. I may lack a thing or two for KD because with her being born 5 days before Christmas, I never seem to have enough gifts for both events. Tater and I need to decide on Mom's gifts and then I'll be completely done.

Paul says he doesn't want to get me a desk chair for Christmas, but if it's what I really want, shouldn't he just shut up and buy it for cryin' out loud? All I asked for was a laptop battery that lasts longer than 37.2 minutes (because that's about all I can get out of this one) and a comfortable desk chair. He's balking on both. I guess I should get myself a Harley - he'd have no trouble buying for me then, huh.
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We got a phone call from the director of the kids' Sunday School department last night asking if the kids were going to make it to practice for the program in the morning. I hadn't planned on them going because of Sam's basketball game and the fact that I'm playing single mom on the weekends and I haven't figured out the space-time continuum yet, but the guy said the teachers had all voted and they wanted Kady play Mary in the Nativity. I double-checked to make sure he didn't mean Abby, but nope, they wanted Kady for Mary, Abby for an angel and Sam for a shepherd. So after me letting down my over-protective Mom-Guard I said I'd leave the girls at the church for practice while I took Sam to his game. It's not that I don't trust the church people, it's just that I'm neurotic and like to be with my kids for stuff like that.

While we were running around like chickens with our heads cut off getting ready this morning Kady laid her hand right on my nuclear hot Chi iron and burned the ever-lovin' you-know-what outta her hand. Fortunately I had some Silvadene and bandages and wrapped her hand. I was comforting her after she was bandaged up and she sobbed, "But Momma, how can I cawwy da Baby Jesus wif DIS on my hand?" I said, "Oh honey, you shouldn't have any trouble carrying Baby Jesus. He should be pretty light. Ask Joseph for help if you need it. As the step-father of our Lord and Savior he really should step up and help you out." Abby, not impressed in the least by all the drama, said, "Man.... if there was ever going to be a Mary with a burn from a straightening iron, it would be from our family."
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Conversation between Abby and me after KD's 26,000th meltdown of the day:

"Good grief! Mom, why is she crying AGAIN?"

"I don't know, honey. I guess she's just having a bad day."

"And you say I need a Midol! Can you give a 5 year old a Midol?"

"No, I don't think you can, but she'll be 6 in a few weeks. Then you can share yours."


Sam and Paul have no chance at all. None.
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Blogging from Work, part hell I don't know

I'm at my work-study job for the next to the last week, so there will likely only be one more installment of Blogging From Work. Try not to cry too hard because this means that I will actually be blogging from HOME again! Whoo hoo!!

Oh and many thanks to everyone who offered to help us with Wii shopping. We managed to get our hot little hands on one yesterday after my mother stalked the Baxter Springs, KS, Wal*Mart until they had one. The kids got off the bus at 3:35 and were happily virtual-bowling by 3:45.

Today, my arms and shoulders are sore from all the baseball my son and I played last night. And I totally knocked my little sister out in boxing AND I chopped onions faster than her once. (We won't mention the 40 gazillion other times she out-chopped me...) My gosh, I don't know how we lived life normally before we owned a Wii. It's a good thing I quit school so I'll have more time to play now.

In about 34 minutes I will start taking my final Macroeconomics test. In about 25 minutes I should be quite done failing it as effectively as I possibly can. I got a 69 on the last test which was open-book. Does that tell you anything about how much I understood this class? Tomorrow or Saturday I will take my final in Computers and then I will be done since I'm not taking the Algebra final. Or at least, I don't think I'm taking it - the instructor hasn't responded to the pleas of the students who are wanting to know when the heck the final is. She may insist we all take it and if she does, fine. I'll take it, but I won't pass it. And you can't make me.

Okay, I'm off to find the new room they've moved Macro to. We were in two different rooms in two different buildings during last week's classtime and this week we're scheduled to be in some conference room in this building, yet.... I don't recall ever seeing a conference room in this building.

Putting that baby to bed

I just completed my final in my American Lit class.

Tomorrow night I will impair my vision attempting to type in the smallest font possible, one page front and back of notes for my Macro final. I'm not hopeful that a cheat-sheet is going to make the test any better - the test we took last Thursday was open-book and I don't feel like I did any better than on any other test.

Friday I will take the final in my Computers class. I'll make a C just like on every other one I've taken, but with the curve I'll get an A or at least a mid B. I still love that curve.

I am going to flunk Algebra. And I'm okay with that. The class is pass/fail. If you don't complete all 186 topics, you don't pass. I was 40-some behind the other night, managed to work hard enough to get it up to 30-some behind, then took a friggin' "assessment" (fancy schmancy word for test) and it knocked me back to nearly 60 behind! If you miss it on the assessment it adds it back into the topics. See, I mentioned that retention thing I don't have goin' on.....I totally wasn't lying. So, I'm going to fail because I have no intention of losing out on valuable sleep in order to bust my arse to get ahead only to get kicked to the curb when I take another assessment.

I should be kollij-free by the weekend.

Halleluiah.

Busy, busy, dreadfully busy

This is the next-to-the-last week of school for me. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that it is almost over. I am so ready to have this monkey off my back. I am still about 58,000 topics behind in Algebra, though and have a final to take, so I think it's pretty evident that I'm not going to get an A in the class. I'm not holding my breath on passing it either because I have absolutely NO retention in this subject! I can do problems, get a handle on them enough that the program will let me move on to the next topic and the next day when it reviews the previous day I have to look back over the work to remind myself what the hell I did just 24 hours ago. I truly am a mathtard. However, I was able to help Abby with her algebra homework the other day. My FIFTH GRADER. The fifth grader who is doing pre-algebra. Yeah. But thanks to one of my dearest friends in Texas I was able to impart upon her the wisdom I was given regarding order of operations. So I guess my kollij experience hasn't been entirely for naught.

I have one last assignment in my Lit class and one final paper. The paper is a literary analysis and since I did my last paper over "The Fall of the House of Usher" by Poe I decided to do this one over "The Minister's Black Veil" by Hawthorne. She picked my last paper to itty bitty smithereens, so I'm not hopeful that this one will fare any better, but I'm gonna give 'er a whirl. I want to be a writer, I'm told I'm good at writing......so WHY IN THE HECK do my English/Lit teachers rip me a new butthole every time I write a paper???? Not words of encouragement like "You have hidden potential. Hey, do you blog?" or "This paper is evidence that you are a diamond in the rough. Let me put you in touch with my cousin who is an agent" or anything like that. Instead I get "Double-space your sources, dipwad" and "You nitwit, you left out 16 commas. Duh." Okay, so technically she didn't call me a dipwad OR a nitwit, but I think she was secretly thinking it. And in my defense, I was going on about 2 1/2 hours of sleep when I wrote that paper - although I'm sure all the other Freshman were going on less. Of course, they were sleepless because they'd been partying with a beer bong, a trampoline and a goat named Bubba and I had just been crying hysterically for 14 hours straight over the fact that I have no mad math skillz and obviously no mad grammer skillz either. But I'm not bitter.

Tomorrow night is the last Macro test before the final. I got a whopping 65 on the last one and while these last three chapters are over money and monetary policy and I kind of almost halfway understood it, I'm still not going to get excited and think I might fare better than failure. Failure looks good on me these days. See? I think my butt looks smaller in failure, don't you? Okay, maybe not, but I still have awesome boobs.

Monday I took KD to the doctor because we spent all day the Friday after Thanksgiving doing breathing treatments because she sounded like a baby harp seal. I was close to taking her to the ER, but back-to-back treatments did the trick. Of course, she bounced off the walls after that and nearly drove me nuts with the incessant talking, shaking and chattering because of it. Her PA said her asthma has progressed from Stage 1 to Stage 2, meaning that instead of the occasional to rare flare-up, she's now having more frequent flare-ups. He put her on the Advair inhaler which he seems to think will do the trick. I'm sure her teacher will appreciate it when the new meds kick in and I'm not writing her a note every day giving her endless information about KD's breathing and wheezing.

Today I took the kids to the dentist in Tulsa for the six-month checkups/x-rays/cleanings. No cavities again, thankfully. Even though I have neglected them this entire year, I have still demanded they brush their teeth. I refuse to go totally redneck and allow dental decay in my children's mouth. In fact, because Abby is an overachiever like her mother, she's growing two whole extra teeth. When they handed me her x-ray I noticed these little nubbins down below and between a molar and bicuspid. Shortly after I noticed them, the hygienist said, "Doctor, I think Abby has some extra teeth." I asked if it was rare and he said rare, yes, unheard of, no, but he hasn't had a case in his practice in years. Leave it to my kid. He said they would eventually need to be extracted and I asked, "They'll have to be cut out, right?" He whirled around at me and said, "We prefer not to use the word 'cut' around the children." Whoops. My bad. It didn't seem to bother Abby regardless. Anyway, he wants to give them some time to develop a little more before he removes them, which hopefully will be before they undo all the progress we've made in the attempt to keep her out of braces.

Sam and I got a stern lecture because he's still not doing his lip exercises and I'm still not enforcing it. He hates doing them and I hate making him. Normally I am a bit of a drill sergeant when it comes to making my kids do things that I feel important - so I guess maybe I've decided the lip exercises aren't important? I dunno - I just hate making him walk around with a popsicle stick pinched between his lips in an effort to make his lips strong enough to pull a Volkswagon. After the dentist lectured us both thoroughly, he then told me that he will not start Sam in any orthodontics until he breaks the habit of biting his lip which can only be broken by doing those stupid lip exercises. So now, it has become "important" and I will soon go into full-force drill sergant mode. He's already getting some kids making fun of his teeth and I'm tired of him wallering his food around because he can't chew properly and if it means he has to walk around with a stupid popsicle stick in his mouth to train him to not bite his lower lip, so be it.

Today at work I learned that the Easy Bake Oven has been recalled because of "partial finger amputation." OW. I thought the foremost safety hazard with an Easy Bake was spontaneous combustion of your house and/or daughter wearing non-flame-retardant pajamas and running with scissors while her shoes are untied, but nope, turns out we all have to look out for them lobbing off part of their fingers, too.

A story

Once upon a time there was a girl. She was a cute girl, not a gorgeous, Most Popular Girl in the School girl, but a good girl nonetheless. She was voted Teacher's Pet her Senior Year and had been called that her entire education career. She got her first C when she was a Freshman and cried for days. Everyone said she should be a teacher. She was in Band and Competitive Speech and was on the Honor Roll and ran for Student Council President (even though she didn't get it). Everyone said she'd really be something. Everyone said she had to go to college and that, boy howdy, would be her ticket to the world. She could do anything, everyone said.

Yet.....

All she wanted to be was a mommy. She wanted her own dream, not the one everyone was dreaming for her. But she took the ACT and even threw in the SAT. She went on an overnight trip to an all-girl's college in Missouri because they had an incredible Drama program and were heavy on the arts. Everyone said that school would make her a wonderful English teacher (and a lesbian, but we won't go there). She enrolled at the junior college in her hometown with a whopping 18 hours her first semester. She didn't declare a major because she wasn't sure what she wanted to be. She started getting horrible headaches from the stress of trying to succeed in something she didn't want. She started skipping classes. She cried a lot. Her momma said she needed college because what if she wound up divorced at 40 with two teenagers and no education? She told her momma that she didn't think that would happen to her. Her daddy said she needed to stay in school because he had gone back to school in his 30's and it wasn't all that much fun. Teachers told her she was making a mistake. She didn't think she was.

So she dropped out of college. She disappointed everyone. Her parents, her teachers, and everyone who said she'd be something. She knew she'd be something, but it wasn't going to be an English teacher.

She went to work in a daycare as the toddler teacher. She was doing what she wanted to do until she could have kids of her own. She loved her job. Then her fiance dumped her and she moved to a college town 3 hours away to get away from everything that reminded her of her failure. She got a good job, thanks to a friend of her mom. She started smoking. She went to the bars and had a good time. Until her ex boyfriend from high school moved down there, too, and started calling her for booty calls and then would kick her out after sex. She missed her momma. So she moved home, got another job as a daytime nanny for some great kids and was still biding her time until she had kids of her own because that..... that was her dream.

She met a man. Not a boy, but a man. He loved her. He sang to her while he was drunk and then he kissed her and held her so tightly and she felt so safe and somehow centered. She fell in love. So did he. Three months later, on an icy New Year's Night, they got married and began their life together. She got a great job as a Pharmacy Technician and thought about going to Pharmacy school, but that was only available at a school 4 hours away and she didn't want to leave her momma again and he didn't want to leave the only place he'd ever lived. She dreamed of all the babies she'd have with him and they were happy.

They decided to start trying to have a baby and found out she wasn't able to have babies like normal people do. She went on fertility pills and the first month they saw two pink lines and they were ecstatic. Her dream was coming true. She quit her job at the hospital and prepared herself for motherhood. Then that dream turned into a nightmare when they found out that their dream, their promise, their baby had died. For five agonizing weeks she carried in her womb, the womb that had failed her, a child that was no longer living. She slipped deeper and deeper into depression before she finally called her doctor and said she needed closure and that the "natural" way of aborting her child wasn't healthy for her. Two days later she was empty and alone and sad and angry. She was very angry. A few months later she went back on the fertility pills because well, that was her dream and no one was going to take that away from her. She was told, after months of failure and disappointment, that she would never have children and they should try to adopt. After crying a boat full of tears and telling her husband that he should leave because she was broken and she was a failure, he held her and told her he wasn't going anywhere and they called the adoption agency.

Then they saw two pink lines. She took hormones to sustain the pregnancy, the pregnancy she wanted so desperately and they had a baby. A beautiful dark baby that looked like a papoose and she was perfect. They were told to love her with everything in them because they'd never have another. And they did. The girl's dream had come true. Not exactly the way she had planned, but she had a baby and a husband and she was happy.

Then their marriage started to fall apart. She was angry, he was angry. They slammed doors and yelled and she cried. The baby cried. And they decided they would get a divorce. The next day they saw two pink lines again and when she asked him what he thought about it he replied, "Well, I guess we aren't getting that divorce, huh?" They had another baby, the surprise blessing they were told they'd never have. A boy. They put on a good show - mommy, daddy, girl and boy. Things got better. She got happy again. Things were rough, but she was happy.

They bought a house in the country and because of a housewarming gift in a black nightie one night after the kids were asleep, they saw two pink lines again in a few weeks. She laughed at the doctor that told her she'd never have any kids. They had another girl. They were happy. They were complete. She was a stay-at-home mommy and her life's dream had been fulfilled. They bought her a van. She was a mom in a van with three kids and a husband and she felt like her life was exactly where she wanted it to be. They had a nice home, toys for the kids and the grownups, she babysat other kids while she raised her own and her heart was full.

Then the kids got bigger and she felt the walls of her house closing in on her because she never left it and she wasn't so happy anymore. She quit babysitting and started college again after 16 years because she didn't know what else to do. Because she lived in the information age, she went to school online while her youngest was still at home. Then her baby started Kindergarten and she got a job and enrolled for another semester of college. She found herself stretched incredibly thin. She was missing out on reading to her kids before bed. She yelled at her kids and made them cry which in turn made her cry. Her kids would start sentences with, "Momma, I know you're busy, but....." and that made her sad. She was struggling to keep her grades up. If she concentrated more on school, she neglected her kids and husband. If she spent more time and energy on her kids, her grades suffered. She began to hate her job. She quit sleeping. She gained 30 pounds. She started getting horrible headaches from the stress of trying to succeed in something she didn't want. Again. She cried a lot. She had a total meltdown one weekend and that got her to thinking - why was she making herself miserable for something she didn't want? She wanted to like her job again, she wanted to read a book that didn't deal with principles of economics she didn't care about, she wanted to make cookies for her kids when they asked, she wanted to sleep in the same bed with her husband. She wanted to write a book.

The girl, who was now a woman in her mid 30's, was tired. She wasn't sure what to do. She cried. She prayed. Others prayed for her. One friend said she'd pray that she would find a way to prioritize better and that offended her. How dare anyone tell her her priorities weren't right? Then she found out that there was a lecture in her night class that she could not miss because she would fail the class if she did. It just so happened that that lecture was on the same night as her daughter's play at school. She cried when she told her daughter that she couldn't go. Her daughter was understanding and said it was okay, but deep down in her heart she knew it wasn't.

She had finally disappointed herself.

And she prayed that God would help her. She literally fell to her knees and asked for help. And when God told her that school would always be there if she needed to go back, but her kids were only going to be 5, 9 and 11 for a little while, she felt a sense of peace literally wash over her and she quit crying. She took a deep breath and she praised the God who had never abandoned her and had been there all the time, but He, too, had been pushed way down the priority list in the midst of her self-centered confusion.

She withdrew from the classes she had enrolled in for the next semester. She bought her daughter roses and asked her husband to give them to their daughter at the play because she couldn't be there and then she apologized a few dozen more times. Her family and she began a countdown - a countdown to when they'd get their momma and wife back. She still felt God's peace and knew that He had had it all under control the entire time - but she had to be knocked down to look up.

The End.


Note: Her lecture was cancelled and she was there to give her daughter the roses in person.

Out of the frying pan

I enrolled today. And looks like I have a non-paid internship with the local newspaper.

Wow.

Of course, the local newspaper isn't my lifelong dream, but it will hopefully look good on a resume and will give me something to put in my portfolio.

My advisor said I could do 1, 2 or 3 hours of credit with the internship, but that however many hours of credit I chose, I'll have to actually work twice that many. I opted for right in the middle and took 2, so I'm an indentured servant for four hours a week. And he seeemed to think that I can start pretty quick, well before the semester even starts. I think that's good? I'm not sure yet. I don't have any delusions that I'll actually do any real writing for the paper, but if they throw a softball my way, I'll sure take it.

Because of the internship and the fact that the schedule had one class listed wrong, I will be taking 14 hours next semester. The Introduction to MassComm was listed as a one hour class in the course schedule, but it's actually 3, so I had to leave behind the Creative Writing class I so wanted. I hope that the local paper is a fair trade.

The History of Film class sounds fun and easy - we watch a film every week and do a review of it. He's not strict on attendance and we can watch them at home if they're available to rent. The Photography class is taught by an adjunct teacher and my advisor said it would be a good class to take after the hellish semester I've just endured since it's a lot of fun. I also got the internet AmerLit class I wanted.

He assured me that he can make a case for my Advertising class to count as my Mass Media Writing requirement and I also double-checked to make sure that my 14 hours from 1991 are still countable. As the woman in the registrar's office said, "Honey, those credit hours don't go bad." I was so relieved that I'm not going to have to take Government again - the same instructor that I had 16 years ago is still there and he's still a very liberal Democrat and I'm out of the closet as a Republican. I doubt it we'd get along any better now. I can't tell you how many times Stacie would smack me on the leg and say under her breath, "Quit agitating him! We'll never get out of here if you don't stop!" and there was rarely a class period I didn't leave in tears of absolute frustration. Of course, then I was a rebelling 18 year old who was angry at the world. Now I'm an exhausted 34 year old mother of three - I don't have much fight left in me.

While next semester is technically more hours than this semester, I think altogether it will be a better one. It has to be. I can't take it getting any worse. I think the fact that I'm taking these classes in person, in the classroom will lighten the load somewhat. I am grateful for the internet courses up to now because they allowed me to start a semester earlier than I would have been able to otherwise, but internet classes are really hard. Not like childbirth hard or sitting in the ER with your blue-lipped child who is gasping for breath hard or even missing your daughter's stage debut because you really just cannot miss the last lecture in Macro before finals because you simply cannot fail this class hard, but still pretty hard.

And it looks like I'll be graduating in December 2008. I think. Since NEO doesn't have a full-fledged Print Media Mass Comm program anymore, my advisor says we'll have to get creative on a few credits. Hey, creative is good for me. Worst case scenario, I'll graduate in the spring of 2009. Gosh, that is like, so forever away.

Gosh, I hope I recognize my kids when they come to my graduation.





Oh, and it appears my husband traded his boat for a Harley yesterday. There's a high possibility I'll be a widow by spring. He was reckless on the Honda, but has had a Kawasaki to be boring with, so now that he has a Harley I'm pretty sure he'll do something stupid again. (Note to self: Check on the status of his life insurance.)

A big ol' "Praise the Lord!!"

Remember that meltdown I had over the weekend? (You don't? Well, I guarantee ya, my family does.) Turns out, it was quite unnecessary, as most of my meltdowns usually are.

Saturday's meltdown was mainly over the fact that I was nearly 5 weeks behind in Algebra. At the beginning of the semester she gave us a schedule and told us that in order to finish all 180 topics by finals week, we needed to do 12 topics a week. Okay, no big. Except that the website told me I had 231 topics to finish, therefore I needed to do 16 topics a week. To someone who isn't mathtarded and doesn't have 3 kids and a husband and two jobs, this probably wouldn't be a big deal, adding 4 topics a week, but yeah, well, haven't we already established that I am a big whiney baby? Yeah. It was a HUGE deal. I could never get caught up and just got steadily further and further behind. A few days ago I emailed my instructor, something I should've done a long time ago because turns out, the company who runs the website updated the cirriculum and added 51 extra topics and the instructors didn't realize it. She told me they would be removing the extra topics tomorrow, so now I'm only about a week behind!!! I'm happier'n a bulimic in a room fulla tongue depressors.

This week I only have to do this and last week's Algebra topics, write 8-10 questions/comments about Edgar Allan Poe and "The Fall of the House of Usher" which will be no big deal since I just wrote a paper over both and maybe, just maybe I'll get a week or two ahead in Lit as well. I do have to go to Macro tomorrow night, though, since I missed last week because of the fundraising auction and will miss next week to see my daughter's stage debut.

I got my grade for the last Macro test, by the way - a big fat 64%. But hey, you'll see me shedding no tears. I have a 73% in the class. You really can't get more average than that. One more bad test, though, and you'll see tears, though. I'm still praying that something miraculous happens in that class.

Four weeks until finals. I can hardly contain my glee at the mere prospect of this hellish semester ending. I am going to try to enroll for next semester tomorrow. If things go the way I want them to (ha! Like that happens often) I will take 13 hours next semester:

Intro to Mass Communications - The class all MassComm majors are supposed to take their first semester. Oops. It's only my third. It's one hour a week. Like Freshman Orientation only more mass-ly communicative. Or something like that.
Beginning Photography - I am so stoked about taking this class I can hardly stand it.
Photo Lab - Even more stoked there's a lab!
History of Film - This is one of those 3-hour, one day a week classes, but instead of 6-9 like Macro is this semester, History of Film is from 1-4. I won't be missing any evenings with my kids!
Creative Writing - This is the only class I'm taking that isn't actually a course requirement, so it's actually counting toward nothing other than the fact I want to take it. I need to do something fun and for me next semester and since getting lipo and a boob job while in Disney World on the Tower of Terror with Zach Braff who just happens to like kissing my face is out, I'll just take Creative Writing.
Survey of American Literature II - Part Deux of the AmerLit class I'm taking this semester, same instructor and my only online class next semester. I just hope and pray she runs Part Deux like she's running Part Uno (yep, I know I switched languages - because I don't know how to spell the French word for "one")(I can say it, I can't spell it)(Yes, I know where Google is on the Internet)(No, I don't want to look it up) because it's predictable and I'm learning something and I'm almost enjoying it, strangely enough.

So there ya have it - let's just hope I don't fail Macro and have to take it again next semester.

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Monday Abby stayed home from school because her face was all swollen up from her sinuses. She's always had allergies and sinus issues, but never this bad. She laid on the couch with warm washcloths on her face all morning, watching SpongeBob through two little peepholes, bless her little heart. She's better, but still not 100%. She does not have silver snot, however.

Today, when I got home from work, after I met Mrs. Principal so she could load up the time machine, I went in to change clothes and realized I had the beginnings of a headache. The internet was having issues with both computers, so I took that as a sign from God that I needed to veg instead of solve linear equations. And veg I did. When KD and Sam walked in the door from school (Ab was at play practice) I was semi-conscious on the couch. Sam curled up next to me and KD crawled into the recliner. I dozed off and when I woke up I looked around and didn't immediately see KD. I finally found her curled up in the chair, tears streaming down her face. Of course, feeling horrendous maternal guilt for dozing when there was obviously an issue with my youngest child, I hauled myself up off the couch to figure out what was wrong. She quietly said her eyes wouldn't quit cwying and her tummy was wumbly and her head huut weal bad. I scooped her up and sat down with her on my lap and felt heat emanating from her. Bless her little heart, she was running a fever and hey, just send that Mother of the Year trophy to my post office box, will ya?

All three of us were cuddled up on the couch - Kady soaking up my extra pats and rubs due to extreme guilt and Sam pouting because I won't let him skip school and repeatedly saying that I was punishing him for being the healthy child - when Paul and Abby got home. Paul took over Kady duty while I threw in a load of laundry and made Paul a lovingly microwaved homemade meal of Schwan's chicken pot pies. Fortunately Abby can nuke a HotPocket and Sam thinks Tyson chicken patties are manna from Heaven.

Kady's crashed on the couch right now, still slightly fever-y and I guess she won't be getting that flu shot tomorrow. And while I'd love to stay home from work yet another day this week, I guess I'll take Mom up on that offer to stay with KD tomorrow while I run back and forth across the county, going to work, going to the school to pick up Abby and Sam, taking them to the dr's office for flu shots, taking them back to school, enrolling for next semester, working at the college THEN going to my night class. I'm already tired just thinking about it.

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Yesterday was our Thanksgiving dinner at DHS. Today they put out the leftovers in the kitchen and I wasn't in the mood for turkey so I just heated up some broccoli rice casserole only to discover that the warmth I was feeling in my guts was from the jalapeno peppers the preparer had added to what would've been a perfectly good casserole WITHOUT the peppers. Omg, that was a bad, bad trick to play on unsuspecting government employees. We're already cranky as it is - adding jalapenos to broccoli just adds to the agitation.

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It's the first full week of November and I have already managed to fill up every single weekend until the end of the year. HOW does that happen?? Between son's birthday, 3 parades (in one day, no less), parties, volunteering to take pictures of children with Santa at a drive-thru state park light display event thing, finals, youngest daughter's birthday, a trip to Branson to Silver Dollar City because that's where the real Santa is and we can't miss seeing the real one, and oh yeah, Christmas, I'm a busy girl until 2008. Who am I kidding, it's going to spill over into 2008.

BUT in 2008 there will (hopefully) be no Macroeconomics.

Average and dehydrated

I am having a very bad day. I've actually had a whole fracking caboodle of bad days.

A mere one day past deadline, at 2am, I wearily turned in my barely six-page paper on "Gothicism in American Literature" which analyzed "The Fall of the House of Usher" by Poe. The instructor gives all assignments a one-week grace period at the price of a drop in one letter grade, but waived the grade penalty for this paper. I think I love her. The paper wasn't my best work, but at this point in the semester I have abandoned the Pollyanna -ish thoughts of maintaining the 3.75 GPA from last semester and I'm just shooting for passing all of the classes. At this point, Cs are SO acceptable. And I never, ever, EVER thought that thought would ever be in my head. Ever. I have become average and frankly, I'm pretty okay with it. In fact, below average is looking better and better.

I got behind in everything because of Halloween. I know, I know, blame it on an innocent pagan holiday and use it as a scapegoat, but seriously, it really was Halloween that made me behind. See, we were sent an email at work that "encouraged" us to dress up for Halloween and in my mind "encouraged" meant "show up in costume or else." I was going to go with my original plan of a loose interpretation of Tracey Turnblad from the movie Hairspray because well, fat chicks are pretty limited on costumes at Halloween time - I mean, dressing up like Paris Hilton is out, as well as dressing as a French maid or Catwoman. We're pretty much destined to be the Cookie Monsters, Grimaces and fat old ladies with walkers come October 31st. But the Friday before Halloween, the day I am off EVERY WEEK, the day that everyone in my department KNOWS I am not going to be in, it was decided that Child Welfare was going to all dress as scarecrows. 'Scuse me? Scarecrows? My initial response when the other aide told me on Monday - a mere TWO DAYS before Halloween - was, "I don't think so, sister. I just won't dress up. That's BS." (That was a much milder version than what I actually said, mind you.) Then my wise younger sister told me I wasn't being a team player and that working with a group of people at a real big-girl job required bending like a willow, not standing firm and unmoving like a 400 year old giant sequoyah and after I told her to stick her willow where the sun don't shine, I realized she was right and set to work making my costume.

I hot glued raffia to the inside cuffs of a shirt I picked up at the Friendship House for $1.75, sewed patches all over my shirt and jeans, hot glued my finger to my jeans and tried my best to get into the spirit of things. Tater came over and hot glued the raffia to my hat and helped me figure out my makeup and such. I didn't do any homework, but I had a killer scarecrow costume. In fact, it was so killer that I won best costume at work. Yeah, I'm such an overachiever at stupid stuff that it's mind-boggling.

So now I'm about 150 problems behind in Algebra. I was behind before and am even behinder now. And I have literally - not exaggerating here - cried all day. If I am not yelling, I'm crying. Those are my two capabilities right now - screaming and sobbing. My kids are quite bewildered and my husband just sits in his recliner and tries not to breathe too loudly for fear I will murder him in his sleep. An hour and a half ago I was crying so hard I thought I was going to hyperventilate. I was talking on the phone with Tater while I was blubbering to beat the band and it hit me that I sounded like my five year old when she's throwing a tantrum. I am not only average, but I'm also a big baby. These are the things college has taught me, people - that I'm not as good as I thought I was and that I am not able to juggle my life as it is right now. I am going to get an F in multi-tasking this semester.

I have cried so much that my head feels like it's going to split wide open, my eyes are blurry and dry and there' s a chunk of my hair that is all stiff because after I hung up the phone with Tater, I laid my head down on the edge of the kitchen sink and sobbed some more. That is, until I realized that my hair was in the pan that was soaking in the sink. So I stood up and while I sniffed back four gallons of snot and blinked through my tear-speckled glasses, I dried the parts of my hair that had just marinated in chicken casserole and soap bubbles the best I could with a dish towel of questionable cleanliness.

Someday when I'm famous and happy and stable, will y'all remind me about this blog post? Just in case I ever get too big for my britches and think I'm all hot stuff or something? Because this is a pretty humbling moment.

Tater reminded me that at this point, a mere five weeks from the end of the semester, I just have to pass. I don't have to have a good grade, I just have to have a grade. She added that an F is also a grade. She also said that I'd be surprised at how many people have to take Algebra more than once - I told her I wouldn't be surprised at all. Then she told me that I truly do have a gift - a gift for writing, a gift with words, a gift that is the ability to put words into stories that entertain and make people laugh and someday that gift is going to take me somewhere... but that I did not, however, have a gift for doing math because I am a mathtard and there's nothing anyone can do about it. And then I laughed. And I realized that I have one awesome family.

My oldest daughter did a load of laundry on Thursday night. All by herself. My son hasn't had to be reminded twelve times to take out the trash all week. My youngest emptied the bathroom trashcan and only left half a dozen pieces of trash on the floor this time rather than the usual dozen and a half. My husband attempted to snake out the washing machine line that backs up when the washer drains; and even though he didn't succeed, he at least attempted it because it was adding to my frustration. At TotTwo's football game this afternoon my mom patted me on the leg - she didn't have to say anything, she just reminded me she was there. All of these people love me and know that I will someday be sane and back to my normal self.

Or else they're just trying to keep me calm until the guys with the white jackets arrive.

My life is a Reba video

This song was released in 1991, which was my senior year. Seeing as how I used to have GIGANTIC Reba hair, it goes without saying that I was a Reba fan back when she had a last name. I used to tear up when I'd watch the video, but now I bawl like a baby. I think I just needed a good cathartic cry today and man, did I get it when I watched the video. Twice.

Little did I know that in just 16 years after its release, this video would pretty much be like putting a video camera in my life for a week or so.

There are lots of similarities and a few differences, though:

Of course, my husband wouldn't call me as I was leaving my busy job at a cafe, he'd call me on my cell phone at my busy job at DHS. Or my other busy job at the college. And chances are, the school would call me first anyway.

I know exactly the emotion she portrays when she walks past the cute young thang in a tight skirt and looks down at her own jeans and "mom" shirt and wonders when she started looking so frumpy. And when did I become so old?

I know what it likes to have the instructor call you out in class by your last name. However, when he hollered out, "Hoover! What's the answer?" I didn't come back with a correct answer - I simply blurted out after a few seconds of silence with "I have no freakin' idea."

I, too, literally turn out the lone desk lamp long after the rest of my family is asleep, however usually Paul is asleep on the couch because the lone desk lamp is here in my office, which is part of our bedroom. He can handle the light, it's the perpetual pecking of the keyboard that drives him batty. If he has happened to make it to the bed, I slide into that bed as carefully as I can - I'm not like Reba who actually wanted to wake her husband up. By the time I slide quietly into bed it's usually 2 or 3am and no way am I puttin' out at that hour.

Last week, Paul and TotOne had brought their usual banter out here to my office for some reason. At that same time, Abby was checking her email on the desktop next to me and Kady was in the floor coloring. Paul and TotOne managed to knock over an entire pile of precariously stacked papers in what I call "my elaborate filing system" and as I sighed heavily and bent over to pick them up I thought of Reba in this video and got a serious case of the giggles right after I blurted out, "I don't need anymore accidents in my life!" Paul and the kids all stopped and looked at me like I was insane.

My husband hasn't had to use a hair dryer to dry a soggy research paper, but he has cleaned soggy, rotting mouse out from under our refrigerator - and he did not use a hair dryer, he used a Wal*Mart sack. In my opinion, that totally trumps the job Huey Lewis undertook in the video.

I have fallen asleep while my daughter has read to me. I feel horrible when I do it, but it's literally the only time I am not sitting at my desk typing or writing or cursing wildly and well, I am up till 2am every morning and up again at 5:45. I'm kinda tired lately. Hearing Kady read about Nat the fat cat sitting on a mat while Dan and Jan bat in a hat is strangely relaxing to me these days.

I have yet to have an instructor tell me I have a "remarkable grasp of the subject" because well, for one thing the one class where I actually see an instructor, I don't have a grasp - remarkable or otherwise - on the subject. Last semester, though, the newspaper advisor told me I had "true, honest talent" for writing. So I'll take that as close.

And while Huey Lewis is a fine lookin' man, my husband is way cuter. And he smells good. And he kisses my forehead if he leaves for work and I'm still in bed. He takes care of the kids on "Pizza Thursday" while I'm in class (They have literally eaten frozen pizzas every Thursday night since the semester started) and he makes sure they read out loud, practice sight and spelling words, brush their teeth and don't fight too much. He also took them for four hours yesterday so I could work on a paper.

Huey Lewis and Reba have nothin' on us.

Can I whittle wood with you?

(Remember that line from Son In Law with Pauly Shore, one of the funniest movies ever made? As annoying as he was, you gotta admit, Pauly was a hoot. I'd have totally dated him.)



Okay, since my last post:

* I have missed yet another day of work with a puking child (not a strange child, mind you, but one I have genetic claim to, and she didn't barf on the couch either).

* I have found out that there has been a confirmed case of Mono in my Kindergartener's class.

* I have wished I still had a prescription for Xanax because of said case of Mono.

* I have started taking child welfare/abuse referrals at my main job, something which makes my stomach hurt, which also makes me realize even more (as if there was doubt) that I do NOT want to be a social worker. The job I'm doing is fine, I just really don't want to go into social work - I am not cut out for that. I admire anyone who is. Wow.

* I have called my daughter's PA because she woke up Thursday morning with a sore throat, one of the main symptoms of Mono, but was told that even if it IS Mono there's not a dang thing they can do about it and dang, do I hate viruses because I like utter germ annihilation, not wait-and-let-it-ride medicine.

* I bought my son $58 John Deere brand cowboy boots because my husband said if I bought him cheap plastic pointy-toed cowboy boots from Payless again this year he will begin divorce proceedings AND report me for child abuse.

* I have cried on my husband's shoulder four times.

* I have realized that he's not such a bad guy and I love him more every day.

* I have come to terms with the fact that I am more than likely going to fail this next Macro test and I'm actually borderline okay with it because everyone else in the class is going to fail it, too, just ask them.

* I have realized that I still want to write with all my heart, but until a book deal falls from the sky, I want to pursue a career in PR. Which is weird because I don't like people. But good because a MassComm degree will get me there. Eventually.

* I have gone from bawling my head off over my mother and sister and wishing I could fix all their problems to wanting to strangle them both in mere minutes.

* I have bought myself my very own pair of work gloves because the kids and I are helping Paul haul wood today. Every year when we haul wood, Paul will dig a nasty pair of gloves from the bed of the pickup, one of which is usually a camouflage winter glove and the other is a leather-palm work glove and have God knows what lurking down in the fingers, toss them at me when I start whining about my hands getting dirty or that I might break a nail and well, I simply cannot work under those conditions. So this year, I bought my own gloves and will haul and stack wood and at least match while I do it. I'm also hiding them when I'm done so Paul can't add them to the collection in the pickup bed.

* I have gotten my mid-term grades in three of four classes - One A (Computers), One B (AmerLit) and One S (Algebra). I'm hoping that S still stands for "satisfactory" and not "sucks". There hasn't been any more gradework in Macro, so I guess the course grade still stands at B. Well, it will until next Thursday when it will plummet pitifully.

* I have partnered with my husband in deciding on whether all five children plus the two of us will fit in the bathtub when the tornado comes. We had Tater's two kids Wednesday night and one heckuva storm rolled in with crazy lightning, wind and tornadic-like stuff. Fortunately, we were saved from being strewn off to Oz and instead spent the night without power and no tornado. Whew. I like a good storm, but with two kids, Paul and I have a pretty good chance of holding onto all three - with five kids, we are short one arm.

* I have realized that my youngest daughter is a painfully accurate version of me. My gosh, that child cries at the drop of a hat, freaks out over the simplest of things and has a tendency to over-apply blush. Just like her momma.



Here are a few pics from the Corn Maze last Sunday -

My big girl at the pumpkin patch.

















Tater's friend Justin decided to break Sam of his whining to "go REALLY high" on the swing....

Click on the pic to get the full effect of the look on that boy's face! Then also notice the look on Justin's - totally takin' it all in stride. Those two cracked me up all night - Sam insisted on calling him "JT" and Justin's middle name is Allen. We're not sure where JT came from - I guess Sam just thought it sounded cool.



This was pretty much how Kady spent the entire afternoon and evening - bawling, whining, snotting and just generally making us all not like her very much.

I was totally expecting an asthma attack at some point because the only time she acts that bad is right before she starts wheezing.

Unfortunately, it turns out she was just being a brat






Oh look! A brief moment of smiling from my youngest! (Only because she wanted to go get her "pitchew taken wight now befowe I cwy again, Momma" and we caught her in that brief moment of she totally got her way because we were all just so sick of her.)