Say wha???

I teach kindergarten...as you all know. I recently went to observe a teacher at another school to see if I could get some brainy ideas to get a better handle on my very "active" class. I've adapted several of the little tricks (for lack of a better term) that the teacher used. One in particular has led to some humor and I thought I'd just pass it on...

When the class is being pretty noisy, losing focus, etc., I raise my hand high and say, "Give me five." The expected response is that everyone stops what they're doing, raise their hand high, and look at me. I don't know why, but it seems to work like a charm. However, Friday afternoon, I was losing them, so I stopped what I was doing and said, "Give me five." One of the rather...challenging...little boys didn't miss a beat. He immediately said, "Give me some sugar!" Bahahaha, who can NOT laugh at that?

Or how about this one...

When I was observing at this other school, the teacher was doing small group reading lessons. In their story there were two ants who desperately wanted this big red juicy apple but couldn't get it off the tree. So one of their ideas was to just yell at the tree, "GIVE ME THAT APPLE!" By the end of the story they learn to ask nicely and use mannerly words like, "please." Reviewing the story, the teacher asked why the ants couldn't get the apple in the early part of the story. One little girl said, "Because he was talkin' trash to that tree!" Then there were others chiming in about "trash talkin'." Very funny stuff from a five year old. Trust me.

Not earth shaking stuff here, but hey, it's more upbeat than last night's blog! :)...and for the record, that's something to be thankful for!

Heartaches

The Thanksgiving holiday is coming down the pike. It is...upon us. You can tell because of the massive CHRISTMAS-IN-YOUR-FACEness that is in every retail place these days. When it's THIS "in your face" it's undoubtedly turkey time...or past. And judging by the fact that I'm not suffering a turkey hangover, I can tell it's turkey time.

For some reason that suddenly reminds me of a sing-songy thing we used to sing and laugh at as kids... "he's a redneck, turkeyneck" (repeat about 1000 times or until your mom gives you that look.)

Anyway, it's time for digging deep and sharing what we're thankful for, right? I have SO much to be thankful for...but I don't feel it right now...which is downright shameful. (And I don't mean that flippantly.)

Instead I feel overwhelmed. I feel fearful. I feel like life is going to blow up in my face and when the dust settles I'll see that I didn't measure up. I'll find out that I'm not enough...for anyone or anything.

And there's a big part of me that figures "who can blame anyone for judging me so?" I can't think of an area of my life where I "cut the mustard." I realize that this is such a pity-party thing...but it's this big dull ache right now and I had to vent it. (Aren't YOU the lucky readers??!) I'm just not sure how to get a grip when I feel like this.

Do you know how dangerous dreams are? Maybe some people dream the possible, but I don't think I can. I dream of things that are not attainable. I don't dream of accomplishments. I don't dream of "doing." I dream of relationships. I dream of stuff like...being chosen. I dream of stuff like...being wanted more than anything else that life offers. I dream of real true love...and finding that it can be reciprocal and not just some romantic nonsense in my head. I dream of someone seeing me, faults and all, and just loving me anyway.

I know it happens. I have this awesome brother. (Don't tell him I said he's awesome.) He's married to his awesome little wife. (You can tell her I said she's awesome.) They love each other. Like...for real. They see the faults, but the love is there. It's solid. It's a fact. Like a universal truth. I can love that way...but what do I have to offer that someone would feel reciprocally? (Is that even a word?)

My brother knew...he KNEW...by the end of one date, that he he had found "the one." He KNEW. I'm happy for them both.

I just can't help but wonder how on earth I made such stupid mistakes. Did I totally mess up the plan that God had for me? Or was it meant for me to walk this road...feeling invisible and bruised?

For the first time in years, here lately, I've felt hopeful. Hopeful that life was going to unfold in a positive way and it's not that those hopes have been smashed. It's that the fear has been stirred. What if I'm not enough?

Tough question.

I now return you to your Thanksgivinginess...and hope to get going here wth some humor very soon, cuz, frankly...this blog was (dare I say it?)...sucky.

Life Changes

Wow, has my life changed! My last post was August 9th, I think. Here it is, August 11th, and my life is so different, it makes my head spin.

Some of you know and some of you may not know, but a little over a month ago (lean in here, because I'm going to whisper this next bit...) I started dating again. Yes, I'm serious. Me. Hill. The woman who's been a single mom for like....400 years now? Yep. It's true. An amazing man seemingly appeared out of nowhere and asked me out. Ok...that might not be entirely true. He IS amazing. He DID ask me out. But no one really comes out of nowhere. I have known him ... on a professional basis ... since last December. I had enjoyed making his acquaintance, chatting whenever I saw him, etc., but had not contemplated anything further. My mom saw it coming. My bff saw it coming (and she's never met the man). I laughed them off. No one notices me...not like that, silly women. As if. Then...out of the blue...he asked me to dinner. I accepted. And here it is, a little over five weeks later, and we're still going out...and having an amazing time.

It blows my mind really. I know you complimentary friends who will say "you look beautiful," etc., but it never sinks into MY brain...or heart, really. So now there's this amazing man, sweet, intelligent...and yes, lookin' fiiiiine, ...who tells me I'm beautiful...and stares at my face, looking his fill.

How did it happen? A gift from God, I'd say. An answer to prayer. A blessing.

My thoughts are getting jumbled and I'm not blogging so great, but this is the time to be blogging, I say. Life is more than a survival routine now.

And I'm too tired to think of how to wind this up, so I'm just going to back away from the keyboard now.....

And that's when my eyes popped out of my head.

Today was a good day. It was really really good. I got up and got ready for church, thinking it would be cool to put some curls in my hair. Now curls are NOT a bad idea...but they just didn't pan out the way I had hoped and I came off looking like Bozo's lost cousin. Unfortunately it was time to head out the door to Praise Team practice and so off I went, curls bouncing along and seemingly wanting to attack my face. Mom said that the curls looked good ... that they were fine. Then I'd look at her and she'd collapse into a fit of giggles. She swore it was the look on my face...but the curls are the reason for the look on my face, so I figure it's all connected, right? The curls are to blame. So I grab my sun glasses and kind of maneuver them up on top of my head like a head-band of sorts and into the church I went. No one on praise team laughed at me. Yay them! So practice was over and Mom and I headed out for breakfast during the Sunday School hour because I'd taken too long with curls to mess with eating. There we sat in Dunkin' Donuts when Mom was overcome with another fit of giggles. There was nothing to do but head for home and go for some damage control. So we did. And amazingly enough, it worked. Sometimes I try to "fix" hair-gone-wrong and it backfires. Today worked out, though.

But enough of that. At church we were told that there would be no Praise Team practice this evening, as is the usual on every other Sunday night. It was cancelled for preparation for VBS. So a couple of us on the praise team were talking it over and, long-story-short, I ended up volunteering for everyone to come to my house for a social in lieu of practice.

So Mom and I came home after church service and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. And did I mention we cleaned? But you know what? My house was actually in decent shape for company when they all arrived. I will ALWAYS be one whose house has signs of "life" in it. I'll never live in a show case. But it was in good shape. That always makes me feel good. I don't even care that I would not open the door of my bedroom because of the fright that was inside there. Doesn't matter, because the "public" portions of my house were goood.

And now the whole reason for my blog tonight. You're wondering when my eyes popped out of my head, aren't you? Well, here we go. When we got home from church I went into my bedroom to change into clothes so I can really have a go at the cleaning. (Now there's a scary lead-in, no?) I put on a shirt and grab my long black shorts. I tried putting them on and it was no easy task. Yes, I got them up, but it was like being in a movie. I laid back on the bed to make my tummy flat enough to fasten the dang thangs. I've been weighing myself off and on the past few weeks and my weight has been hovering at 115...which is about my norm. After I got the shorts on I walked out to the dining room where my scale happens to be. Why? I don't know, but it's there. My dining room and living room have no wall between them, just different flooring. The dining room has hard ceramic tile...which, by the way, is incredibly slippery when wet. The living room has carpet. Well the scale had been pushed over onto the carpet and, not thinking about that fact, I step onto the scale. I glance down, looking toward the scale reading, but not really thinking yet, because I'm waiting for it to stop moving. The scale slows and stops at 180 pounds. 180!?!?! THAT's when my eyes popped out of my head. Then in that split second I realized that my scale was on carpet instead of on a hard surface. Whew! I was wondering how I could gain 65 pounds without noticing! I moved it back onto the ceramic tile and got a much better reading, lol. Higher than normal but compared to 180 it was wholly acceptable.

Praise team friends came over and we ate yummy cake and did a lot of laughing.

A good day.

Where'd You Get an Idea Like That?

Obsessive? Me?? Well, I guess that depends on how you define obsessive. I KNOW what obsessive means but you know, sometimes you're not sure how to put it into words...into black-and-white, so to speak, so I looked it up and found that an obsession is "the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc." If that's how YOU define it, then the answer is yes.

I know that's shocking for those of you who know me and have known me for any length of time, particularly through my "Wiggles" years. "Mimismum", the quiet one who always left you guessing just where her loyalties lied...laid...lay??? (NEVER mastered that verb.)

Lately my obsession is still here at my keyboard...in facebook. Facebook "hooked" me because it's SO awesome to reconnect with people from the past...and connect with friends and family who live so far away. You guys know. You get that, right? So THAT isn't a problem. What's a problem is those darn games! TOTALLY useless. (You should see my farm in Farm Town, though.) TOTAL wastes of time. (Have you seen my high score in Brick Breaking?!) TOTALLY frustrating. (WHY is there no REAL way to guarantee a good game in Bejewelled???) Yet there's just a bit of challenge there that keeps me going back and wasting time. And there's my nice slow heartbeat from sitting here with eyes glazed over from playing just "one" more game. That nice slow heartbeat that makes you think it's not necessary to ever get off your back side and do anything.

Paints a pretty picture, doesn't it?

Well, tonight I was just getting onto one of my cyber-farms when my mom asked if I'd gotten "that mail from the mailbox." Well, yesterday I "bought" a mailbox for that farm so I got all excited and asked/exclaimed, "YOU CAN GET MAIL IN THE MAILBOX!!!??" After a bit of confusion, she clarified that she was referring to the mailbox right here in the REAL world..not the virtual one. I had to laugh at myself...and at the same time thought, "Who's obsessive???!"

Before the internet became popular books were my obsession...and I miss them. I've been reading the same book for a few months. I used to finish one in a matter of a few days. Books were my obsession for sooooo long that I don't remember a prior obession...unless Winnie-the-Pooh counts (which he TOTALLY does.)

I know many of you (well, I suppose I'm playing it a little loose with the word "man"...all 3 of you who may read this) may think that rambling is an obsession of mine, too, based on the way I've been writing lately. Rambling with very few points to be made...or just not knowing where I'm going when I start writing and not knowing how to stop. But..I'm not going to let that stop me for now because I want to get going and writing more again...so if you bear with me long enough to read these, I apologize and I thank you for being here. Better days ahead, I hope....

Moments

I love the little moments of life. There's some saying about that out there these days. Something like, "We don't remember days, we remember moments." Something like that, though most likely much more eloquently put. But the point's still there.

The moments. I love love LOVE the funny ones. Then there are the ones that are so sweet and full of love that you think you just might burst. And of course there are the ones where you think you'll blow that little vein near your temple if not your jugular from something that just cranks you off in a really bad way. I don't love the veiny moments, but they're there. I had one a couple days ago and at moments that gut-twisting feeling starts to stir again and I wonder how everything is going to work out. But enough of that. It's not what this little bloggy-blog-blog is about.

About a month and a half ago my mom moved in with us, at my request, to help me with an impossible schedule conflict between my work and the girls' school. Over the weeks she's been here we have had SO MANY of those laughing moments. The laugh-so-hard-you-cry laughs. The don't-say-anything-else-until-I-get-a-bathroom-break laughs. The you-oughta-be-committed-for-laughing-that-much laughs. They're awesome. And they're with my mom which makes it even more awesomer. And what's great is that so often they're things that if you told, people would look at you and listen as you told the story...then sit and just blink at you repeatedly, waiting for the funny part.

For example, tonight we're sitting here in the quiet of the evening. The girls are in bed. The dogs are laying on a blanket near me on the million-dollar-sofa looking like they've been hit by a car. And Mom and I are in our respective seats with laptops perched on our knees. I'm on the chaise at the end of the million-dollar-sofa and Mom is in the glider catty-cornered across the room. We're enjoying the quiet. I shift my leg and unwittingly knock some toy off the end of the sofa. It's light enough that I didn't even notice it touching my foot. BUT it happened to be this little gadget that shoots out of this pipe-sort-of-thing and shoots a polly that is strapped to it gliding off into the galaxy...or the living room. So we're sitting there quietly when suddenly FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFWUP! out shoots the glider and scares the LMNOP out of us as it shoots past Mom's legs!

Now see? You're probably sitting there blinking, aren't you? Waiting for real hilarity? I laughed until I couldn't breathe, people! I mean...I'm a rising comedian's dream audience, I guess.

But isn't that really how it works? The really good stuff is the simple stuff, right? The polly aircraft seemingly spontaneously flying through the room. The dog doing a headstand when you try to rub her nose in ... well ... her business (yes my yorkie does that and I laugh everytime...push her head toward the offense and she can get her rump up in the air nearly to a 90-degree angle, lol). Simple, no-account moments. But the good lovey moments are like that, too, aren't they? Like when your tweenie comes running back to give you one more hug and kiss before she takes off with her friends? When your little girl says, "I just want to be WITH you, mama." Eye contact. A wink (oh that one sleighs, no?) Being told "it's okay." Simple, little things that make all the difference in the world.

I don't know that I have a point to make in all of this. Guess I just wanted to say that I love the little moments. I do.

A few of my moments...







WAIT! How did THAT get in here???? Ah well, no harm done. None at all.......


Help. I can't breathe. Neither can Mom. lol

Famous Firsts

Ok, maybe not so "famous," but a first anyway. I guess instead of writing about it, I should be ashamed, but be it as it may, tomorrow will be a first for me.

A couple days ago I told my girls to each invite a friend to go to the movies with us tomorrow and to spend the night at our house. I've NEVER had my girls invite anyone over. I've been a lazy mama. I've been ... apprehensive. I've been ... a dud.

But tomorrow we're doing it. We're going to see G-Force and then they're spending the day playing together...and one of them is staying over for the night.

It doesn't make for much of a blog...but I've got to get started again. (I've been saying that for waaaaay too long.)