37 Grams Worth of a Mistake

Tonight, after taking a few loads of household items to our storage building (we're moving on Saturday) I talked Carl into putting Cale to bed because there were a few essentials we were almost out of, like milk (and with a one year old you can't even go a few hours without that) Carl despises going into Wal-Mart for groceries so he gladly chose to stay and handle bath and bed time. Because we're moving in with my parents on Saturday our once-overflowing cabinets have been pretty bare lately. So, we haven't had sweets in awhile. I decided that after having the stomach bug last week, we deserved a little splurge. So, I journeyed down an aisle in Wal-Mart that I only dare to enter a handful of times a year: The frozen dessert section. It was like stepping into a forbidden area. I almost felt like I was breaking a rule. It felt good. All the wonderful choices surrounding me...dozens of flavors of ice cream on my left, and pies on my right. I quickly decided on pie, because ice cream seemed a little too boring. My eyes glazed over the many delicious looking choices. This was going to be a hard decision. Finally, I had almost made up my mind on a pie we had tried before, when I saw it. Coldstone Creamery, Cookies and Cream pie made with chocolate cheesecake, fudge, white chocolate icing... At that moment, I knew the decision was made. Now I've had Coldstone ice cream before and the taste is indescribable. But, I've also read the lists that print in magazines and on the Internet about the most fattening foods out there. It seems like some item from Coldstone is always on that list. Side note: Why do people do that to us? They spend hours trying to figure out how to ruin all our favorite foods at our favorite restaurants by putting them on a list that displays the unthinkable amount of calories in the item. Can't they just let us eat in peace?!

I knew I shouldn't. I knew I would regret it. I didn't even want to do it. But, the suspense was killing me, so I did it; I looked. I turned the box over and looked at the dreaded number (not that it was going to stop me from eating it) What?! Were my eyes playing tricks on me? 37 grams? 37 grams in one small piece of pie. I stood there comtemplating my decision. My 45 minute workout right after school flashed before my eyes. I remembered the feeling of satisfaction I had leaving the gym having done something good for myself. How would I feel after eating this chocolate blob of fat? It's like a week's worth of going to the gym in one slice of cheesecake. I almost put the pie back, but then got gutsy and thought, "What the heck, we only live once." Oh, Carl and I have all kinds of excuses...here are some of our most used: "It's vacation... It's the holidays, It's the weekend" or my favorite, "We worked out today, we deserve it." Anything to convince ourselves that it's okay! :)

So, now I sit here at the computer feeling guilty as I eat this, much smaller than it looked on the package, piece of pie. I've decided that if I take small bites and savor each one it makes the experience worth all the grams. Halfway through and I'm already suffering from "Dunlap Disease".

Don't Turn Me In....

Carl had to work today, so Cale and I were on our own again. I hadn't been to the gym all week and was really hoping to work out today, so I decided that I would bite the bullet and take Cale to Fit Kids at the gym. I don't know why I've waited so long. Cale goes to a babysitter each weekday and to the church nursery on Sundays, but for some reason I've been avoiding the daycare at the gym. I think it's the guilt of taking him to yet another form of childcare...especially on the weekend. I quickly got us both ready to go and we loaded up in the truck (Carl took my car today). I got Cale all buckled in and started the truck, but then went back inside to get the bottle of water I had forgotten. When I got back outside I went to open the truck door, and it was locked. Oh no, I was one of those careless people who locks their baby in the car! I'll probably be on the news! (yes, my over-reactive mind thinks things like this) I sure didn't remember locking it! I actually just at this moment realized what happened. Cale had been playing with the keys while I was buckling him in (it's a trick to keep the tears away) and I guess he had pressed the lock button. Now, my mind was already racing by this point because my one year old is inside a running truck, along with my purse, phone, etc. Luckily, I managed not to panic (I didn't want my neighbors to get suspicious!). I stood there a minute, then ran inside to our junk drawer. Ahhh, after a few seconds of searching, there it was. The extra key. The beautiful, wonderful, extra key. I was SO glad I didn't have to go to our neighbor's house, explain to them with shame what I had done, and borrow their phone.

Side story: One morning last summer Cale and I decided to see Carl off to work in the morning. We stood there waving as he drove off, only to realize with horror that he had shut the garage door. I tried running down the street yelling for him, but he didn't notice. Although, a neighbor who was getting in his truck did and I'm sure he thought it looked pitiful. Momma, with baby-in-hand, trying to chase her baby-daddy down, begging him to come back! Needless to say that neighbor quickly hopped into his truck and didn't offer to help. So bra-less me in my pajamas, with my baby in nothing but a diaper and t-shirt, trudged reluctantly to our 80-plus year old neighbors' house. They were so sweet and let me use their phone to call Carl. Cale and I just sat and chatted on their couch (I tried to hold Cale in front of me to hide the fact that I didn't have on a bra) I bet they were thinking, "hmmph, young people these days!"

Back to the current story. Cale and I made it inside the Fitness Center only to realize that Fit Kids didn't open for another 30 minutes. So, we drove around and ended up back home for a 'banana run' for Cale. When I got back to the truck with the banana, I noticed Cale looked different. He was all sprawled out, looking way too relaxed. Then, I realized that when I left the gym I had forgotten to buckle him in. No wonder he seemed so smiley and happy on the ride over. Wow, two stupid moves in a matter of about 30 minutes! I really will be on the news. I can hear it now: "Careless mom and teacher locks baby in running car and later forgets to buckle him in. Is this who you want taking care of your kids?" Hey, at least I'm not as bad as Britney Spears...I didn't drive with Cale in my lap. That's something to be proud of, right?

Monsters...

Last night, since we were all feeling better, Carl and I decided to take Cale out to eat. However since Sears was having a sale, we decided that we needed to check out some appliances before eating. Cale is in the walking stage right now which makes it really difficult to take him into stores for more than a brief period of time. For the first 5 minutes he was okay, but then he started squirming so much that we could barely hold him. Knowing this was probably a bad idea, we gave in anyway and put him down. He was so fast and didn't stay in one place for long. We spent the whole time chasing after him, searching for the locations of items that he had pulled off the shelf, and passing him back and forth to one another. I kept wondering if we were those parents. You know the ones. The ones the Sears employees probably complained about later. The ones that were unknowingly getting sideways glances from other customers. The ones that let their child run wild causing commotion. I think that might've been us last night (~Cringe~). After finally making a decision on a microwave, dishwasher, and oven, we purchased our items and were out of there. We chose to eat at LaHuerta's because we've found it is probably the loudest, most chaotic place in town. This mixes well with a small baby. One thing you'll learn when you become a parent is that you have to choose restaurants wisely. Quiet, dimly lit restaurants...baaaad idea.

Cale has a good track record with LaHuerta, so we eat there fairly often. From the charismatic Hispanic waiters racing around the restaurant in all directions, to the ear-splitting birthday chant that always mangages to be sung before the end of any meal at LaHuerta's, there's a lot to keep a baby entertained. This time was no different. Except that Cale arrived already having pent up energy that he needed to get out, but had not really been given the chance at Sears. Being the "prepared mom" that I am (haha) I had the little sticky mat for the table laid out, cheerios in hand, and chicken rings with carrots ready for Cale's dinner. Before I knew it, every (partially eaten, but then spit out) carrot and cheerio was on the floor, the green mat, that I had so carefully placed to keep the germs away, was being pulled up, the sippy cup was thrown across the restaurant at the feet of another set of diners, and my water was spilled everywhere. One year olds only look sweet and innocent. They're actually miniature monsters in disguise, capable of creating havoc and embarrassing parents in a matter of minutes. So, after eating quickly, we took our little monster home for a little play time and then bed.

Somehow, I love Friday nights.

So Long, Farewell

I think it is time our family must finally say goodbye to you, stomach bug. You've been an uninvited guest in our home for almost a week now. We have subtly given you hints that you weren't wanted. We even brought in our own SWAT team of Pepto to force you out. But, you've been persistent. Just when we think you're packing your things, about to hit the road for awhile, you decide to stay a little longer. Guess we've made your stay much too comfortable. Well, the subtle hints didn't work. The gallons of Pepto didn't work. You leave us no choice, but to be blunt. Please leave us alone!

I think we are finally all on the downhill slope of this stomach thing. When it started last Saturday, I assumed it might be the usual 24 hour bug. Five days later, I realize I was wrong. It began with Cale, then creeped it's way into me, then ended up in Carl. It's actually funny the way we all ended up laying around, pitiful with the same symptoms. But hey, I've got to look on the brightside. There are actually several positives that came out of this: 1. I didn't have to cook this week. 2. My grocery bill will be cheaper next week, because we didn't use most of what I bought for this week. 3. We all lost several pounds...which is a good thing for everyone but Cale. 4. Once we get our appetite back, we'll get to eat like pigs for a few days without feeling guilty. (That's the best one)

It takes feeling bad for a few days to make us appreciate how nice it is to feel good.

Stomach Bugs and All That Stuff

What day is it? What time is it? Where am I?

Uhhh, I just emerged from the land of baby sickness. And it wasn't pretty. Three full days of endless of tears and endless other bodily fluids that need not be mentioned. All I can say is this was yet another reason why I hate having white carpet. What was the original homeowner thinking? If I could just give her a piece of my mind...okay, okay back to the subject. Cale woke up on Saturday, a very grumpy boy. The grumpiness just continued to increase as the day progressed. He wouldn't eat, which was very strange for him. Then, by that evening it all fell apart. Carl and I were just going to bed, when we heard the first cry. To Carl's disappointment, it was his turn to be on nighttime baby duty. So, I snuggled up in my bed, smiling and thanking God that I am such a good scorekeeper when it comes to baby duty. But as it seems with every night off, something happened. Carl yelled for me and when I walked in and Cale was vomitting... everywhere...white carpets and all. Our poor little guy, he was so miserable.

We got him all changed, cleaned up, and settled down. Just when I was putting him back in bed, it began, round two. So, I changed the sheets, Cale's clothes, my clothes, and attempted to calm Cale down again. We were running out of bed dressings because in trying to get ahead on moving, I'd already packed up most of the extras. So, Cale was down to a living room blanket covering his mattress and a pillow, minus the case. Pathetic, I know. This was the way the whole weekend went. But, to make matters worse, I began feeling sick on Sunday. This was the first time that Cale and I have been sick at the same time. Moms must have super powers. It is so hard trying to console a screaming, miserable baby when you're sick too. But somehow you just push through it because your baby's comfort is more important than your own.

Of the whole long weekend, today, Monday, was the worst. When I left school on Friday, I was excited about my three-day weekend. I was hoping to go to the gym and get a little packing done on my extra day off. I ended up taking Cale to the doctor, finding out he did indeed have the stomach bug that had been going around, finding out that real fussiness was from the fact that the tubes he had put in about a month ago were completely clogged and not working, then holding Cale's arms down while he got another shot, and finally taking my sweet, miserable little baby home to cry for the rest of the day.

Ahhh, it's all in a day's work.

It wasn't a fun weekend, but the worst part was seeing our favorite little boy in pain. Thank goodness for grandmas. My mom is keeping Cale tomorrow morning and Carl's mom is keeping him in the afternoon. Hope they know what they're in for. I'm actually very excited about going back to school tomorrow. And it's even cafeteria duty and faculty meeting day. :)

No Ma'am

This is probably going to sound crazy. In fact, I know it sounds crazy. But, lately I'm having a hard time dealing with the fact that I'm getting older. No, 25, going on 26, is not old. It's not even the number that bothers me. It's what's happening to me. Just recently I've begun to feel a bit out of touch with the "young life". I don't always know what's in style and I feel too "grown-up" to wear certain things. I've been noticing lately that I get dressed in about one minute, without giving much thought to the clothes I put on. That's why I get to work, go the bathroom about mid-morning, and experience that "What was I thinking?" moment when I actually take a second to look in the mirror for the first time. I look down and realize that my socks don't match or that my shoes are beginning to look more like "geriatric wear" than than anything that resembles style. I think back to those pointy toed heels I wore just a few short months ago. Back then, beauty was just a little higher on the totem pole than pain.

I was sitting in the faculty meeting this week, when I looked down and realized that I had a large hole in the top of my sock. (Our faculy meetings are at the end of the day, so I had walked around all day with holey socks that resembled the color of aluminum foil.) I should never get dressed in the dark. So, after looking down during the meeting I realized I couldn't do anything about the intense silver (which I had mistaken for light gray) color of my socks. But, I nonchalantly tried to adjust my sock so that the hole didn't show, hoping nobody would notice.

I guess this happens to everyone once they begin to get a little older and have kids. Priorities change, free time disappears, basic grooming gets pushed aside at times. Probably way more often than most of us care to admit! I don't remember the last time I painted my nails or gave my eyebrows anything more than a quick pluck. Shaving my legs...ha, just ask Carl how often I do that!

Feeling out of style is no fun. But, that's not the worst part for me. Something has happened to me on two seperate occassions at the fitness center recently. The first time it happened, I was lifting weights in the corner. A guy, whom I thought didn't look that much younger than me, came up to me and said, "Ma'am did you drop this?" (By this he was referring to a key...but that's not important because that's not the part that bothered me) "Ma'am? Ma'am? Ma'am is what you say to your elders. Ma'am is what you say to people that are visibly older than you. I mean, I probably was 4-5 years older than him, but he wasn't suppossed to be able to tell by looking! Then, a few weeks later, it happened again with a different person.

So, I'm trying to accept it. I no longer look like a young college student. I look like a mother. I dress like a teacher. My clothes don't match and most of the time it takes me hours to even notice. Comfort is my top priorty. I am always covered in dribbles from Cale's sippy cup or his milk mustache. I constantly find cherrios stuck to me or pouring out of my car when I open the door. I live in hats on the weekends. Sometimes I don't even wear a bra to Wal-Mart. I just put on a sweatshirt jacket so that nobody can tell. On numerous occasions I have gone in stores without an ounce of make-up on (It's so bad that one of my student's parents didn't even recognize me...and I had her son last year.) I have truly become a part-time slob, gradually creeping towards full-time. Something has to be done!

Anyone want to sign me up for What Not to Wear? ;)

The Dreaded Awards Assembly

At the end of every nine weeks, our school, as most all schools do, honors students with an awards assembly. Oh the awards assembly. This is something I dreaded immensely when I started my teaching career. The thought of having to stand up in front of a crowd of people and speak into a microphone was horrifying to me. I can still remember that first assembly. I was visibly nervous, I'm sure. I had that "cold but sweaty" feeling the entire time I waited for second grade's turn. I could literally feel my heart beating inside my chest (I know, all that over a silly assembly, right?) Sometimes I wish I taught kindergarten. At least then, I wouldn't have the build up of waiting my turn. I can remember walking up to the microphone and saying that first name. "Whew, I got it out" And even managed to hide the quivering...in my voice, that is. After calling out a name we had to hand each student his/her certificate. I went to hand the first student the piece of paper and (to my horror) my hands were shaking so much I could barely get it into the hands of the student. Through all that dreading and panicking before the assembly, this was a problem I hadn't forseen, but would stress about before each assembly in the future. I tried so hard to mentally control my shakes, but it was impossible. (I knew there was a reason I didn't go into nursing. Wouldn't you love for me to give you a shot?)

As I continued calling out names, I had already mentally decided that everyone noticed, which only made me shake more. It was the best feeling in the world when I walked back to my seat, having called my last name. "Oh well,", I tried to tell myself, "At least nobody I was really close to was there to see...like my husband" (boyfriend at the time). That would have been the icing on the cake.

Guess what, it was the icing on the cake. I'll never forget how Carl and I were sitting on the couch one evening watching tv. We had only been dating a few months, so we were still in that self-conscious, nervous, giddy phase. "How do I look? Did I say something stupid? Does my breath stink?", You know, all those things we worry about when we start a new relationship. As we were flipping through the channels, I suddenly heard Carl laugh. I looked up, and there I was...standing in the London auditorium...calling out my names. I only thought it couldn't get any worse. Of course, to Carl, this was the funniest thing ever and he refused to change the channel, even with my mad dash to grab the remote, until my part was over.

This was the moment I began to HATE public access TV. FYI: The assembly must have been a hit because it aired several more times over the course of the next few weeks. Are we really that hard up for local entertainment?

So tomorrow, I get to make my way to the front of the cafeteria and speak. I get to experience those unexplainable jitters. I actually get to feel my heart beat. I get to sweat while being cold. I get to shake for unknown reasons. I just have one thing to ask. Please don't tape it.

Don't you hate when you get done cooking dinner, finally get everything cleaned up, get your child bathed and put to bed, tidy the house just enough that it at least "appears" clean at quick glance, and then finally sit down to relax only to remember that you have a load of laundry in the dryer accumulating a new wrinkle each minute it remains and dishes in the dishwasher waiting to be put up? That's got to be one of the worst feelings in the world. So what did I do when this happened to me tonight (as it does several nights every week)? Beg my husband to fold the laundry? Nope, I've tried that and my things always end up sitting at the bottom of the laundry basket. You would think that if I can figure out where his things go, the same would go for him. But, I guess men get a "play dumb" card when it comes to certain chores! Did I ask him to empty the dishwasher for me? No, for two reasons. One, certain pots or pans...well who am I kidding, ANYTHING besides silverware, plates, or cups doesn't get put up. Because in 2 years of living at this house, he still doesn't know where they go. Reason two, he's playing Call of Duty...LIVE, so he can't stop to do dishes. I mean he's got online teammates out there in cyberspace counting on him! ;) Very convenient!:) I really do love my wonderful husband, I just enjoy giving him a hard time. We have an agreement. He takes care of the outside chores, and I take care of the inside chores.

I did none of the above. I decided to do the honorable, noble thing. I came in here to blog about my chores instead. Makes perfect sense, right? Defying wrinkles and a once-full kitchen cabinet, I typed on. Procrastinating like this never ends well.

Actually, I did forget to mention one thing that I accomplished. I prepared the ingredients for tomorrow's dinner of chicken and dressing in the crockpot, so that dinner will be waiting when I get home from work. This has got to be one of my most favorite things. (Along with raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, of course)There's just something about going through the work day then suddenly having that panicked thought that hits me at some point most everyday: "What am I cooking for dinner?!" The panic which is followed by the realization that dinner is cooking itself. At that very moment. Ahhh, it feels wonderful. What's even more wonderful is walking into the house and inhaling the smell of a home cooked meal.

So, tomorrow will be one of those days. If you haven't tried crockpot cooking, you should consider it. It's actually pretty addicting once you get started.

The weekend is almost over, and it seems like it just began. I guess that's the way life works. We have to start a new week, so that we can look forward to a new weekend all over again. The weekend was fairly uneventful. Carl spent most of his daytime working with my dad at our new house. So, that left me all alone on baby duty. I don't mind being alone with Cale, of course, but sometimes it's nice to tag team it. Saturday afternoon I was in desperate need of a shower. We were going over to the Oliver's house for dinner, and I was a mess. Through trial and error, I've discovered a trick for getting clean while keeping Cale entertained at the same time (previously my only shower came when he was sleeping or if Carl was watching him) Now that he's bigger, I just put him in the shower with me. Problem solved. He loves this, and begs to get in anytime the shower comes on.

Yesterday, I started the bath and filled the tub up to give him a little play time. I went ahead and got in to, because he likes to have a buddy to play with. Somehow, when I wasn't looking Cale grabbed the bar of soap and surprisingly (yeah right) put it in his mouth and bit a small chunk off. Of course, I took the bar of soap from him, but secretly I thought, "Well, maybe this will teach him that not all things taste good"...since sand, toilet water, and dog poop haven't quite made that sink in yet. After a minute or two, Cale started making an awful face and then...he threw up. Not spit up, throw up. Alot. In the blink of an eye his previously eaten lunch was floating all around us. Now, this was one of those moments that only parents can understand. I simply stood up, pulled the drain, and kept shaving my legs. Yeah, I know it's gross, but hey, at least I got out of the water, right? To tell you the truth, my first thought was, "Is there anything I can use to scoop it out, because I really want to finish this bath". (Now before Cale, I would have thrown up myself and been tramautized by an occurence like this) That's just another day in the life of a mother. To make it worse, I was sitting at the computer later when I noticed a crusty, dried booger on my sleeve. No, not mine! I had used my sleeve to wipe Cale's nose hours before, and hadn't even bothered to clean myself off! I know it's gross. But, if you're a mom, then you already understand. If you're not...just wait. :)

Beware: Random Wal-Mart Cheek Pincher on the Loose

Cale was in one of the best moods tonight. Which was surprising because he got 4 shots today at his one year appointments, was functioning on an hours worth of sleep all day, had been shuttled to Hector and back (anything past 15 minutes is too long in the car), and ended that kind of day in a high chair at a restaurant. I know what you're thinking, this could and should have been a recipe for disaster...it was almost positively a bad idea. But, somehow the thought of onion soup, Hibachi fried rice, stir fry veggies, and chicken gave us the courage we needed to soldier on through the potential baby-storm. Plus, we decided that we can't let Cale control our whole lives. Ha, I couldn't even say that with a straight face.

Surprisingly, Cale had so much fun simply squealing (he's got good pipes), spilling food, dropping spoons, and people watching. We actually made it through the entire meal without one single fuss! The doctor who put Cale's tubes in was even sitting next to us. Come to think of it, maybe that's why Cale was so charming. Guess he thought he'd better straighten up and fool the doc into thinking he was a hundred percent better. Guess he didn't want to go through that again. And when I say that, I think the worst part to Cale was not having any food or drink after midnight. (Our boy likes to eat) But, in all seriousness, it took a few weeks, but Cale does seem to be doing better since his tubes. He's been so happy and playful this week and has been sleeping fairly well most nights.

After we ate dinner we braved the cold and went to Wal-Mart, because that's what all married couples do on a Friday night, right? For the first time, I let Cale down to "explore". You would have thought he was at Disney World the way he laughed and smiled and went from one thing to another, stopping only long enough to touch everything in reach. We let him play in the toy section for awhile. He was in Heaven.

At one point, Carl went to look at something in the electronic section. I try to stay out of that section because things like "1080p, contrast resolution, or pixel definition" don't mean a lot to me. So, Cale and I stayed in the toy section to play. Suddenly this woman was standing right beside us. Very close. Like, in our personal space close. It startled me, because it seemed like...poof, she was there. Then, she reached down (I watched, horrifed she was picking Cale up, and trying to figure out how I would react) and pinched both of Cale's cheeks. This wasn't just like a quick pinch. She held on for several seconds. I'll tell you the truth, I sort of froze. I was thinking, "Okay, I'm a mom now. I'm suppossed to be in charge. I'm suppossed to keep Cale safe...what should I do?" Then, the strange woman let go of Cale's cheeks, but then proceeded to tap the end of his nose several times (which is funny because after the fact, I realized he had a large, crusty booger on the end of his nose) After the random nose tapping, she ended with the grand finale...pinching his poor little rosy cheeks again. By this point, I was pretty sure she didn't speak English (because "bye" seemed like a stretch for her.) I was also pretty sure her elevator didn't go all the way to the top, if you know what I mean. So, Cale and I kept playing...but I kept my eye out for her.

This is your warning. Maybe you can react faster than I did and save your child from the deadly grips of The Wal-Mart Cheek Pincher.

Wal-Mart is never boring.

So, we finally got another Netflix movie. My mom and sister talked us into starting Netflix and we love it! We go online, put several movies in our cue and they begin coming within days. One movie comes at at time and as soon as you send it back another one comes in the mail. It's pretty addictive! But, I'm going to have to do a better job getting to the computer before Carl because mysteriously there just haven't been any good "chick flicks" in the mail yet.

The reason I say we finally received our movie is because we "lost" our last one and were unable to get another until we paid for it. When I say lost, I mean threw away. And when I say "we", I mean me. If you've ever watched Everybody Loves Raymond, you may have seen the episode where Raymond gripes at Deborah because one of their drawers is so messy. So, she cleans it out and throws away an autograph or something really important. And an argument follows.

Well, that was me a few days ago. Carl had been complaining about our junk drawer...you would think it was just my junk, the way he complained! :) So, finally I decided to tidy it up, predicting that it would only stay clean for about a week. I threw away coupons dating back to August, pens that didn't even work anymore,dog wormer (yeah, not sure why that was there) and a bunch of other junk that had accumulated in this one small drawer. That night Carl walked in and asked if I put the Netflix in the mail, like he'd asked me to earlier. Apparently, it had been on the kitchen counter. Now, it was at that exact moment that I realized what I must have done. But, the kid in me came out and I played dumb. "The movie wasn't on the counter and I hadn't seen it." Hey, that much was true. I just left out the part about cleaning out the drawer and the fact that I laid all the "throw-away" pile on the counter...most likely on top of the Netflix. I figured that playing the blame game wouldn't bring the movie back, right? That's always what we think when we're to blame!

Well, my husband is OCD when it comes to losing things. Of course, he began to look. It didn't take him long to do what I feared. I heard the drawer open, my heart began beating, and then he asked the question (with what I'm sure was accusation in his voice), "Did you clean this drawer out today?". I wish he wasn't so observant! I knew I was caught. My hubby hates losing things and hates having to pay for things. So, I began digging through all of the trash cans in the house, even the big, green smelly Waste Management bucket in the garage. I wanted Carl to think that I was really trying hard to find it. But it was nowhere. That's probably because I forgot to mention that I emptied the drawer out shortly before the trash came that day. Oops.

Thanks to a surprise snow day yesterday, today was officially the first day back to school since the break. I got up at 5:45, as planned, and was completely showered, dressed, fed, and ready to go by the time Cale woke up! (So far, so good on that New Year's Resolution.) So, my morning was calm and relaxed, just the way I'd hoped it would be. Carl, Cale, and I even managed to get out the door by 7:20...which doesn't happen often these days!

It was actually nice to be back at school. The routine of it all, the familiar faces of coworkers, the sweet faces of my kids. There were new haircuts, new clothes, glasses...a lot can change in two weeks. Overall the day was pretty uneventful. As uneventful as a day can be with cafeteria duty and inside recess. (shudder) Two of the most horrific things in a teacher's life. You finally finish cafeteria duty...the screaming, the yelling, the food spills...you can't wait to get to your quiet classroom to sit in peace and try and accomplish something with the rest of your barely existent break. And then you realize it. Actually you hear it. The sound is echoing as you come down the hallway. It's loud. It's crazy. It's wild. It's inside recess! So, I packed up my stuff and found an unoccupied room in the building to work. I'd probably work in the bathroom if I had to. That's the only way I keep my sanity on these days! :)

During science today, we were discussing how matter comes in 3 states. (I bet my sister is already laughing because she, the once-science teacher, knows that science is NOT my thing.) Anyways, after reading, the class helped me create a chart in which we brainstormed examples of solids, liquids, and gases. The lesson was going fairly well. The students seemed to be getting it and were actually participating. Then, we got to the last state of matter. Gas. I asked if anyone had an example of a gas. That question was followed by a real life example of flatulance. It was loud. It was nasty. It was the real deal. It was an example of gas. Now usually one of three strategies is taken by me after something like this happens. 1. I ignore it, while giving the evil eye to any gigglers or whisperers. 2. If number 1 won't work because the class is already roaring, then I give the..."It happens to all of us" speech. 3. Last, if someone is pointing a finger and placing the blame, I give the "He who smelt it dealt it" speech. But this time, for the first time ever, I did none of the 3 things. I did something unthinkable. I laughed. Really hard. I laughed until I almost cried. My laughing made the class laugh harder. Now before you go thinking I'm an awful teacher, the suspect was laughing also and openly claimed it, because the person knew there was no sense in denying it. How could I fault the kid for giving us a real-life example?

Now, I really thought this was an accident because even though the child was laughing, it seemed that it was not "planned". That was why it struck me as so funny. But, later I found out the student had meant to do it. That took a little of the hilarity away, but I must say I was a bit impressed. To muster up one with the strength and power of that, at the exact right moment? Pretty good.

It can't be! Back to school already?

Well, the time has come; The much anticipated Christmas Break is finished; The two weeks looked forward to since the first day of school in August; The two weeks marked by smiley faces and "woo hoos" on my desk calendar; Over. Oh well, it's been fun. It's been semi-relaxing, as much as a break can be with entertaining a one year old, Christmas shopping, multiple family get-togethers, packing, planning/decorating for a birthday party, throwing a first birthday party, coming up with a plan for the mountains of toys we now have invading our living room (Oh who am I kidding? CALE'S living room). Even though it was hectic, it was a needed mental break from the stress of work.

However, tomorrow morning it's up early again and back to the grind of teaching.

One of my New Year's resolutions is to get up earlier for work. I usually get up at 6:00, which is plenty of time for me to get myself ready. But, it's not just myself that I must get ready anymore. Cale usually wakes up anywhere from 6:30-7:00. So, if I don't have myself ready by then...it's chaos. Which is what most every weekday since August has been. I turn into a grump most mornings around 7:15 when I'm trying to brush my teeth, brush Cale's teeth (when I have time...I know that's terrible), get Cale dressed, get the coffee poured into the mugs, and get Carl and Cale out the door to head to the babysitter's house. By the time I get into my car, I'm frazzled, I'm potentially late...well, later than I want to be, and just flat out in a grumpy mood.

So, I vow to avoid those frantic morning situations. I want to get ready at my own pace and to actually be able to SIT and eat my breakfast. I want to get into my car and take a leisurly drive to my job. I want to start my day with a positive attitude. Because, once I step onto the elementary campus, that's when the real chaos begins! :)