It's been 3 months?

Three months, and here I am, again. I can't help but feel embarrassed that I go so long between posts. The whole idea behind "blogging" is to regularly add posts so that your followers have something to, well... follow. I've run the saying, "Life is crazy busy!" into the ground. But, if anything that I write is the truth, those words are.

Baseball is fast approaching. Actually, for my family, it's been here for awhile. Dustin and I are on the board (again). He, as the Safety Officer (again) and I, as the Information Officer and Juniors Player Agent. I retired my calculator, turned in the league checkbook and happily resigned as Treasurer. Other people's money gives me a headache. I'm much better suited to get things done, not handle large wads of cash. Opening Day is this weekend, scheduled long before "The Winter That Just Won't Let Go" was the reality. Possibilities of re-scheduling/postponing this weekend's festivities floated around our board meeting last night, but really, we cannot plan around Mother Nature. So, this weekend will happen, rain (most likely) or shine (fingers crossed).

Avery has moved up to the Major's division and Adam has moved up and over to the Juniors division and will play on the High School fields. As I look back at what I thought was in store for me as a parent when I first learned that a life was growing within, I never could have imagined what roads my children would lead me down and just how involved I would become in EVERYTHING. A great disappointment right now is the reality that I will undoubtedly miss some of my kids' baseball games due to the fact that they play on fields in two different locations. That, and I am in school again. I know Adam will play games on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays. I still do not have Avery's schedule. Adam will also travel with his team being in this new division. Thank goodness both vehicles are running again!

About two weeks before the Spring semester began I decided to go back to school. Dustin was actually my inspiration. He too had decided to further his education, and was already signed up for a class. We are both taking Speech 1 together on Thursday nights. At the beginning of the semester a classmate posed the question, "How is it, taking a class with your spouse? Don't you get competitive?" My answer was, "Fine, and not yet." And now that we're just past mid-semester, my answer is pretty much the same. Dustin and I work well together, when we do. As far as competition goes, I'm not very competitive by nature and I know my success is not measured against Dustin's and vice versa. So far I have done well on my speeches, but the tough stuff is still to come. My next speech is due this Thursday.

Dustin questions my choice of speech topics. There may be a recurring theme. In a 1-2 minute memorized speech at the beginning of the semester I chose to recite the Langston Hughes poem "Mother to Son". I have always loved Langston Hughes, and that poem especially speaks to me. Life is hard, but that's no reason to give up. We have to keep on climbing, keep "reachin' those landin's and turnin' those corners." This Thursday's speech is one to inform. I will inform my classmates about a man named Henry "Box" Brown. He was a slave who shipped himself to freedom in a wooden box. His story intrigues me. Henry's story has many holes and it's said that once free, Henry did not choose to locate the wife and children whose sale at the auction block prompted him to break the chains of slavery, but still, I'm fascinated. The human spirit is indomitable and Henry Brown shows me that there's always a way out of a bad situation.

April will be here before we know it and most assuredly before I'm ready for it. Taluelah will turn three on the 10th and Adam thirteen on the 18th. I can't help but fall in love with every picture I see of my sweet, rambunctious, rough and tumble little girl. There are a few pictures from last summer that keep popping up on my computer that I decided the world needed to see. We have a local magazine, Mendo-Lake Family Life, that circulates at the schools around here, as well as out at the stands. I uploaded a few of those summer photos to the magazine's website. The graphic designer has contacted me and one or two of Taluelah's photos will be in the April issue! That will make for a nice little keepsake for my girl to look back upon. Happy birthday to her!

I'm slightly in awe of the fact that I am going to have a teenager. Thirteen? Thirteen. Thirteen! I remember when I turned thirteen. My parents took our family and one of my friends to Six Flags Magic Mountain in Valencia. I rode my first inverted roller coaster that day. Oh, what a thrill! We had dinner at Red Lobster and I ate calamari for the first time. I felt more mature but really didn't have a clue. Looking at my oldest and seeing him through my thirteen year old eyes brings about understanding. The kid's brilliant, full of attitude, can't stand his brother (most of the time), adores his little sister (most of the time), has the biggest heart, is shy with girls and can keep up with the most intelligent of conversations. He's light years ahead of where I was as a thirteen year old. Though he has yet to go upside down on a roller coaster!

Avery, being the "mature" fifth grader this year, just had the "BIG" talk at school. I remember when Adam had the same puberty talk and he was silent as a clam afterward. All I could get out of him was that he got two small Old Spice deodorants. This, after he had very recently seen me give birth to his baby sister, as viewed from my feet. Avery... well, Avery is a completely different child. He has used every opportunity since the talk to inform me of what questions were asked and by whom. What answer was given and what response was elicited from the audience of fifth grade boys. He even went so far as to ask his VERY modest older brother if he's had a wet dream yet. I literally had to go two rooms over and close the door to avoid my boys hearing me audibly choke on my laughter. Unfortunately, I missed my eldest's response due to my absence. I can only imagine his mortified face and less than forthcoming answer!

As a family we are faced with the possibility of having to move again. My job as the elementary library clerk is not as secure as one would think/hope/pray. Our school district is facing a deficit between $1.5 million and $2.3 million. My job was on the chopping block along with many many other classified positions. The idea is to have the one, only other library clerk in our district who currently serves the Middle School and High School, serve all four schools. Fortunately for me, the Board did not agree to cut my job for the upcoming 2011-2012 school year, but did approve keeping the possibility of cutting the position for the 2012-2013 school year as an option. I think of all the work I put into teaching the students how to properly use the library, much more work than my job description requires, and the reality that the entire library system will fall apart if one person is forced to manage all four of our libraries, and a deep sense of frustration fills me. I will continue to do the best I can by the kids, because when all is said and done they are the ones who really suffer when these cuts are made. I can only hope that the library will continue to stay open, the halftime that it currently is, at our elementary schools, but only time will tell.

In the meantime, I am left once again trying to figure out what the next step is. Hence, the return to college and the frequent web surfing looking for that place in this country or elsewhere that is thriving. I know, what a joke. There is a lot to love about Lake County, not the least of which are the people we have the pleasure of knowing and the beauty of our surroundings. But realistically, the economy is a shambles, worse here than a lot of other places. The job market is non-existent and if I am looking at the very real possibility of losing my job with the district, there's nothing left for us here. I'm keeping my eyes and mind open. That's all I can do. That, and run around like crazy after my three offspring, which doesn't give me a whole lot of time to dwell! Chin up, as I always say, 'til next time...

A Nose for the Truth

My Christmas shopping is almost complete. In years past I fretted over spending the exact same amount on each child and making sure the same number of gifts rested under the tree on Christmas morning. This year, a new version of reality has set in. Buying for a 2 year old is much less expensive than buying for a 10 or 12 year old. I have expensive taste in clothing, especially when it comes to my girl. In most areas of life I'm satisfied to live on my "beer wallet", but with Taluelah, my "champagne taste" is hard to control. Even so, I can find some adorable outfits for a fraction of what the 10 and 12 year old's super skinny jeans and name brand skate shoes cost.
The boys' lists to Santa included items that ranged in price from $10 to $225. Though, there was a small note next to the priciest item on both lists. Adam's included a "maybe" in front of his request for an iPod Touch and Avery's request for the same gift was followed by "if you can, but don't fret over it." I wonder often these days if my boys are humoring me, not wanting to break my heart and prove just how grown up they really are, by not disputing my claim of a jolly fat man who comes bearing gifts. As each year passes I am sure it'll be the last that's full of magic, for them, at least until they have children of their own.
I joke that the boys were getting too old and I wasn't ready to let go of my babies and so I had another. But, Taluelah is in fact one of the greatest blessings bestowed on our family, right in line with her brothers. I know that when the time comes for my boys to gently let me down off my Christmas high, the magic will still live thanks to our rambunctious little girl. I also wonder if this is another reason the boys haven't burst my bubble yet. If nothing else, I think I've instilled in them a faith in all that's good. They are sweet boys and would like for their sister to have the same "belief in something more than meets the eye".
We took the kids to see Santa at the mall over the weekend. It has been years since we've even entertained the idea of the boys sitting on Santa's lap. I thought that if they would play along then their sister would as well. Seeing Santa and telling him she wanted a present was all Taluelah could talk about for days. We passed by the Man in Red on a visit to the mall prior to this weekend and our girl just about had a fit trying to get Santa's attention. She nearly waved her hand right off her wrist.
The line wasn't as long as we expected it to be which I thought a good thing for various reasons. I figured the longer we had to wait, the more apprehension might take over Taluelah's desire to see Santa. I was also waiting for either of the boys to back out of the charade I was requesting them be a part of. I told them they didn't have to sit on Santa's lap, but just be in the picture. The photo people took over though when it was our turn. I handed a willing Taluelah to the Santa look-a-like. She plopped down on his knee happily. Adam was situated on Santa's other knee and Avery in the middle of them both on the chair. It took Taluelah a moment to realize that she was sitting on a stranger's knee. I think reality hit when she gazed upward at Santa's face and saw that this was not someone she knew. Her expression was priceless. I refer to the look as her "How dare you?" face. It is something of a cross between betrayal, obstinance and uncertainty. She narrowed her eyes, pushed out her bottom lip, dropped her head and refused to respond to her brothers or the strange man who was holding her.
Right before Taluelah's head dropped, the photographer got a shot of my offspring, Adam with an uncomfortable half-smile, Avery with a "this is hilarious" smirk and Taluelah looking not at all pleased. I really wish the captured image was of Taluelah, either looking up at Santa or the aftermath with her head down and brothers attempting to console her. At least then we could laugh and remember clearly, in years to come, her first reaction to Santa. Taluelah did manage to accept Santa's offer of a high-five and a knuckle bump once I removed her from his lap. When we asked our girl why she became upset after she looked at Santa, she said, "I didn't like his nose."
We hope to finish up what little shopping we have left this coming weekend. The house is decorated, tree up. I have one week left of work before a two week hiatus. We sit and wait with baited breath for our government wheels to turn in the right direction and keep the money flowing to Dustin and the other 15 million plus Americans who are currently out of work. Timing is everything and what more perfect time than the holidays to threaten to cut off the pittance of support unemployed citizens are receiving. I can't complain though. It has been exactly one year since I began this job I enjoy so much, and if the small amount that Dustin does receive can continue until he finds a place of employment, we will be fine. If the flow of government support does halt, we will be fine too. We always manage. We always will.
Happy Holidays!

From Toilet Bowl to Christmas Tree

I find that whenever I allow myself to feel a bit smug, life generally flips a 180 and wallops me in the face. I've been at work for a solid 3 months surrounded by every variation of the common cold, influenza, conjunctivitis, whooping cough, buggers, spit... you name it, the kids bring it in all over their library books. I wash my hands like I have OCD. They show the wear. My daughter has had a cold of her own and while most nights I love snuggling up next to her (yes, she still sleeps in our bed) the last couple weeks have me strategically dodging the fallout from her sometimes incessant coughing in the middle of the night. Even the notoriously healthy Dustin, came down with a brief version of the sniffles. Through all of this I remained untouched. My immune system worked like a champ.
Dustin's dad left State before Thanksgiving to visit with family in New Mexico. It was decided that since we would not be traveling down to SoCal to spend Thanksgiving at my Aunt's house we would stay home and Dustin's mother would come to us. I love the holidays, especially at home. I spent the day before and all day Thanksgiving busy in the kitchen. Everything turned out well. I couldn't eat much, which I didn't think anything of. The one problem with preparing a feast is that usually by the time the feast is served, I'm too full from the smells to devour all the goodness that is. Taluelah didn't make it past her dinner roll before falling asleep at the table. The boys did a fabulous job cleaning up the dinner mess, though not without much consternation and moaning. Once Taluelah woke from her untimely nap, we packed up our pumpkin pie/cake, henceforth to be known as Pumpkin Pake, and headed over to Mike and Melissa's for dessert.
Now, by this point, one might wonder when that slap in the face I spoke of earlier is going to come in. During and after dessert I became increasingly uncomfortable. I couldn't put a finger on it, but I felt like my insides were going to explode. My stomach grew. Visibly. This wasn't the unbutton your pants, you've overindulged and need a little (okay, a lot of) extra room to be comfortable, kind of growing. This was "rock gut" to the extreme. Talk of playing a board game went around but I knew I needed to make an exit before I was befouling my poor unsuspecting host's water closet.
We made it home. I managed to ingest a glass of water and a handful of Tums before retiring to my bathroom. I spent the rest of the night somewhere between my bed, the bathroom and a pot. I cannot remember the last time I had the flu. I get my share of sore throats and sniffly noses. I am not immune to all the crud that floats around and into my library. Last year I spent quite a few days sick at work. I was just thinking, maybe a bit smugly, about how nice it was that I had managed to escape all the ails that have been affecting students and teachers alike. I attributed my health to my hand-washing compulsion. And then, just like that... Smack!
I spent Black Friday in my bed. I caught up on sleep I might have missed over the last month or so. I was entertaining the idea of joining a friend on a midnight excursion into Black madness. Only for the sake of seeing what truly crazy people look like. I had hoped to blog about my experiences in such an environment! I'm not sure which was preferable, trying to stay alive amidst shoppers intent on getting the best deal, at midnight, or hanging my head over a toilet bowl? At least the former would have been amusing, maybe. At the end of my ordeal, Dustin was kind enough to point out the silver lining - no worry of holiday weight gain.
By day 2 post-illness I was rearing to go again. We joined a group of friends on a Christmas tree hunt. There were easily 20 of us, adults and children. The plan was to drive up into the Mendocino National Forest, a 3 hour trek through switchback after switchback to the top of Hull Mountain. We figured on seeing some snow and finding the perfect tree. Not too far up the mountain we were forced to put our vehicles into 4 wheel drive. All of the vehicles in our caravan, with the exception of one, were equipped to do so. We made a few stops along the way. Once so that the kids could play in the snow, another time to ease a bout of carsickness and give everyone a much needed potty break. The further we got on our journey up the mountain the more treacherous it became. The snow was not only covering the ground but it continued to fall as we rose in elevation. About 5 miles from our destination it became apparent that we could go no further, 4 wheel drive be damned.
When we reached the limit the road would allow, all vehicles were readjusted to face down the mountain, back the way we came. Dustin ended up having to pull the lone vehicle without 4 wheel drive back up a precarious curve. It was a tense moment for me... I had visions of watching both vehicles slide down the side of the mountain chained together, twisting chunks of metal, tires flying, helicopters airlifting, no Christmas tree to be had. Fortunately, both vehicles and occupants made it through in one piece.
The kids busied themselves with sledding, the adults with food, drink and fire. The decision was made that we had to hightail it off the mountain before it got too much later. All of the fresh snow that had caused us so much trouble on the way up would soon be ice on the way down. Faced with a 3 hour drive home, I wasn't thrilled with having driven 3 hours to simply play in the snow. People talked of trying again the following weekend. Not I.
The next day we woke early and with one of the families who had joined us the day before, trekked up a mountain much closer to home, still searching for the elusive Christmas tree. We chose a place we had gone last year. Once atop the mountain there is a glorious view of Lake County and Clearlake. Last year we had no problem getting to the top, we didn't even have to make use of our Jeep's off-road capabilities. It began snowing while we cut our tree and pulled it up from the side of the mountain. It was wonderful. The kids were full of joy at seeing the white flakes flutter down. It was all so... magical. This year the mountain was covered in snow. Go figure. It had only been raining with snow intermixed for days at 1800 feet. What a concept that there might actually be snow at oh, 4000 feet! We made it a good way up the mountain but once again our trek to the top was foiled by all that white stuff blocking the road. I wasn't sad to stop as the ride to where we were had seen me white-knuckled and ready to vomit from my frayed nerves. My friend and I made the decision that we were not going home without trees. It didn't matter if our kids had to decorate an oak branch or a manzanita bush, some form of shrub was coming down off that hill with us!
The two men of the group decided to hike to where they presumed the silver tips would be. The two women of the group waited with the kids. And waited. Taluelah defined the term "terrible 2's". It was past nap time and she was past listening and so she flopped and flailed and screamed. One minute she was laughing, the next crying, always bossing. I wanted to do the same, but didn't figure the only other adult with the group would take kindly to that sort of behavior. Finally the men returned, one with a twisted ankle. I jumped to work finding the nearest green thing I could to chop down.
After all was said and done, we did find two trees. While ours was not the kind of tree I would have normally picked, it will serve its purpose. It smells wonderful and when Taluelah is not tormenting the ornaments she's loving "her" Christmas tree. She has allowed that she will share the tree with us, but it is HERS.
On the way down the mountain we spotted those silver tips we started out searching for. They were just a bit down the mountain from where we stopped. Sometimes you can't win for losing! I feel like believing that next year I will go to Home Depot to buy a tree. But really, where's the adventure or memory making in that?

Life and Turmoil

I find plenty of inspiration to write these days, just not enough time to do so. I miss my time here, pouring out the thoughts that cram my brain and swirl in the abyss that is memory. I keep telling myself I will make time. I will pick a day and stick to it. And I will. Just don't know how or when...

Football is in its last week. Adam did a lot of standing again this year, though with some good playing time mixed in. It was his third year playing, but his first on Varsity. He is quite small and can be outweighed by about 70 pounds by the biggest kids. At the end he is once again torn about whether he'll play football next year. He enjoys the team camaraderie, but does not care for his size disadvantage. He did have a very good coach, which is more than I can say for previous years. Not that the others were so terrible, but more that everyone has a different style and a different attitude and a different motivation to do what they're doing. This coaches motivation suited us better.

Avery is finishing his first year playing football on the Junior Varsity team and like his brother is majorly outweighed, at the most by about 60 pounds. Though unlike his brother he has a certain zeal, an aggressive nature, that is required to go up against a kid twice your size, get smashed into the ground and jump back up to do it again. He didn't do a whole lot of standing around. He started on Defense and played second Offense. I had hoped being bashed by kids who hit like steamrollers might knock some of the attitude out of Avery. I think it's had the opposite affect. He too rides the fence on whether he'll play football again next year. I'll be surprised if he chooses not to.

Taluelah was sworn off of cheerleading by her father at the beginning of the season. I'm sure Dustin is going to mark this as the first battle he lost with his daughter. I know it won't be the last. With her handed down pom-poms, 2 year old attitude and all the cuteness she can muster, the girl is a natural. She has her High-V down pat and is working on her kicks, usually when her brothers are in her way. The cheerleaders, in fun, have tried to teach her some of the cheers and her BFF is a cheer coaches daughter. There is no hope. Expect to see pictures of my girl stunting in about 10 years. I am slightly bothered that I even know the lingo that accompanies cheerleaders and their sport, but what's a mom to do but be the loudest cheerleader out there?

The school Superintendent, faced with a looming million dollar plus deficit, put together the District Reconfiguration Committee to look over our district's various money saving options. Our primary focus was on what kind of savings we're looking at if we close down a school site. We met at least twice monthly over the course of about three months. My work on the committee is finally done. While I don't feel like I had a lot of fact to contribute I did have a lot of opinion and a base knowledge of the community's feelings. The committee submitted our report to the Board of Trustees at an open board meeting on November 9th. Most members of the board allowed that they have no intention of closing our small community school, Riviera Elementary. Though, two board members did state that at some point we are going to have to look at the figures submitted by the committee and if the budget does not improve and in fact continues on its downward spiral something will have to be done. That "something" still sits uneasy in my heart as trickling down to Riviera and affecting a community with a lot of heart and soul poured into it's school. But for now, we cheer and hold on to the hope that California can't stay in such economic decline forever. Right?

Work has been busy and full of change this year. I'm a fan of change. I get bored when things stay the same for too long. I also understand how very necessary change is at times. I have run head first into those who are my polar opposite and it's not too comfortable. The changes actually affect the students in a positive manner, but blinders are on and comfort zones are stretched and I have a headache at the end of my days trying to keep everyone happy. I cannot possibly explain my stance, or the stance of the principal any other way. I've tried. I worry that work relations will be strained with teachers whom I've always gotten along with quite well. But really, when we got on quite well, I was working for them, doing as they said. Not working along side them, with my own rules and my own boundaries. Being split between two schools takes its toll. I feel it, others split like I am feel it. Teachers who can see outside their own box know it. There are still those who can't see beyond how a decision affects them and I receive the brunt of their vehemence. It comes in the form of belittling pronunciations. In exclamations such as, "Who gave you the power!?!" and "There are too many rules!" To the former my only response can be, "The panel who hired me gave me the power. Duh." But I do not say that out loud, because really these changes that are so opposed by some did not come from me. I guess I'm just the easiest target.

There has been much in the news regarding bullying and its affect on our children. I wonder if certain adults who spend so much energy on making sure our students are taught to be kind and just and caring and respectful pay any attention to their own behaviors and how they are perceived by others. Hypocrites are low on my list of people I claim as friends. It's a bit shocking when suddenly you are faced with the downside of someones character, when all the force of their negativity is directed at you. I'm disappointed and saddened and a bit disillusioned, but I will continue doing my job to the best of my ability. I love the kids and enjoy encouraging their love of reading. That's what it boils down to. And as a good friend said, "You have to be happy with yourself when you lay your head down on your pillow at the end of your day." I tend to be.

I am seeing just how thinly stretched some people have become. It's hard not to notice all around. Our school teachers are overloaded, our principals and other school employees are shared, our parents are overworked, there is not enough money to keep a roof overhead, forget about enough money to be comfortable. Kids arrive home to an empty house. People are tuning out. Kids don't know how to engage. Black clouds follow like shadows. These are tough times. I don't know when relief will come. I just hope to keep on smiling through all the doom and gloom and to try not to take things personally, even when they've been made so.

Summer Daze

I'd swear that when I woke this morning the sun was in a different place. I don't know what it means but here I sit for the first time in months in an attempt to rid my head of the whole flotilla of blog posts that have built up. There's not enough room in one post for all that's here, but I have to start somewhere.
Time. It's never enough. I was sure that when summer came I would allow myself the opportunity of writing space in my week. It hasn't happened. It's not that we've been sitting around with nothing to fill our time on these not so lazy summer days. We've been quite busy enjoying the freedom that being a child, working in Education and Unemployment affords. As absurd as it is, we've enjoyed our time this summer more than any other in recent years. I have the comfort of knowing I will return to my job as "Librarian" at my elementary schools. The boys and their sister are kids and so the weight of the world and all it's disasters have no real effect on their mood. As it is, they're all pretty easy going people, mostly anyway. Dustin still struggles to find work locally but has that ever dependable unemployment check to look forward to.
My uncle sent my cousins to visit from Ireland. This was their first trip back to the States since they moved away all those years ago... family intact. As corny as it is to say, it made my heart happy to hug those two sweet kids and let them know I love them. July makes a year since my aunt, their mother, left all of us, especially them, trying to understand why she left. It's not so difficult as an adult to see the pain and conflict she lived with. It's not so easy as a child to see the same. Either way, we loved her while she was here, we love her while she is gone and we love love love those two wonderful little people she and my Uncle Sean created.
We based our trip to Southern California around when we could see my cousins. While we were down there we decided to actually have a vacation, not just sit at my mom's house. We took in two Dodger games which was heaven to my baseball obsessed husband and children, girl included. Taluelah still puts on her pink Dodger cap and asks if we can go to Dodger Stadium. I can't say that I minded going to the games either... it's been quite a few years since I caught more than one game in one season in Chavez Ravine.
My mom joined us at the first game we went to. The Dodgers played the Cubs and my mother and I couldn't help but note that it was odd to be sitting where we were, watching the teams we were, given the time of year it was. July 11th made 6 years since my dad passed away. He was from Chicago and would do his best to root against the Dodgers anytime they played the Cubbies. We sat very near the seats we used to sit in. It would have been nice to be sitting there with my dad again.
My only real request for our time in SoCal was a day at the beach. That blue expanse, the taste of salty air on my lips, the sting of the hot sand on my bare feet, the tug of the Pacific around my ankles, allowing myself to be overwhelmed by the nothingness of floating in water shared by so many creatures... that is when my soul finds a certain peace it lacks in everyday life. When it was time, I wasn't ready to leave. But then, I never am.
We made it home in time to spend 24 hours before we had to be packed and headed up to Richardson Grove for our annual camping trip. Due to California's budget crisis our normal "neck-of-the-woods" Oak Flat, was closed. We stayed in the Redwoods instead. It was still beautiful, still relaxing. Though, we could have done without the mosquitoes. The Eel River was wonderful. The water just right. Taluelah became more brave as the trip went along. By the last day she realized she could walk in the shallows all by herself. Her brothers have graduated to jumping off 20 ft. rocks and braving the "rapids".
Summer is beginning to wind down. There is another trip to SoCal in my near future. Family from the East Coast will be here at the end of August. The boys are getting older. Adam will be in 7th grade, Avery in 5th. Adam goes in on August 2nd to have braces put on. Taluelah has shown me the equivalent of a little boy wanting his nails painted. She has been requesting a drawn-on mustache. If we don't help her she finds a marker and does it herself. I have no idea where she comes up with these things??? I am continuing to decorate my arms with ink. Our new home is great and the owners want to sell. What it all means, I do not know. But it is. And so we live.
to be continued... soon, I hope.

Nothing much, really...

I did what I could to make sure I got one more post in before the end of the year, but it seems finding the time to write now that I am working, is much harder to fit in. My job is ideal for me, in the fact that it involves books and kids. Being back on staff at Riviera is like returning home after a very long vacation. Being in the library at Riviera is like returning to a mansion in the place of my old shack. I always enjoyed my job as an Aide, but it seemed more redundant than what I am doing now, and at times, it involved math. Ack! Now I have all the world has to offer and then some at my fingertips. Part of my job is to know what my library has to offer. The only way to really know, is to read. I get paid to read to kids and to read to myself. I wonder if the powers that be realize I already did that sort of thing free of charge? Either way, I won't be returning my paycheck!
The library at Kelseyville Elementary needs some TLC. I am in the midst of revamping. There is no "E" section, which generally contains the easier reading materials. Everything is mixed together, which makes for more work for everyone who uses my library, including me. As I pull the "E" books off the shelves I am finding a lot of discrepancies in the way books are labeled. My first self-appointed task is to create a section with appropriately labeled books for everyone. I'm not sure where this section is going to be located, but it will be...
The kids have all adjusted fairly well to our new schedule. Taluelah is having a hard time letting me go in the mornings lately, which makes leaving her that much harder. She does seem to enjoy her time with Mike, Melissa, Ginger, Tracy and Bryce. Dustin is still away during the week, in an attempt to work, when there is work to be had. I'm not sure how much longer this arrangement is going to work for any of us. The kids miss their dad and I am a single working mother during the week. We're making it work, but it is far from ideal.
We move into our new house at the end of this week. I still struggle with the fact that we are leaving our home, little though it may be, to become renters again. Nostalgia hit hard the other night, after a day of packing, surrounded by boxes, just me and the kids. Our first night in this house, it was just me and the boys. We picked up pizza from Pogo's and ate off of the tops of moving boxes. I remember feeling like I had finally arrived.
Nearly 4 1/2 years later I am surrounded by moving boxes, again- only this time they are being filled not unpacked, it is just me and the boys (plus a girl) at night, again, and I am waiting to arrive, again. Crazy are the twists and turns this life will take you through. I'm starting to embrace the fact that I will not arrive until I am done traveling. When I look at life through those glasses, it doesn't seem quite so blurry.
My next post will surely find me in a new place. My computer will have a new home right along with the rest of us and our stuff. I wonder if I can find a spot that will inspire the creation of "writing time"? Being able to create more time in my day would be preferable, but since there isn't a chance of that happening, I'll have to settle for sitting and plunking away when my kids are all occupied just right and my stars line up just so. The order that allowed for this post has returned to chaos and so I'm off, 'til next time.

It all depends on what you believe.

Christmas has come and gone, as it always does. Dustin and I lament the speed of it all. We do so much to prepare and then in a blink, it's all over. My boys, who are either humoring me or who do still believe in a flying sleigh with a jolly fat elf, go to bed with little hassle and await the morning's bounty. They wake at 3am and one of them tackles their sleeping grandpa, who instead of knocking some sense into the attacker, joins in the rumpus. Through the fog in my head, I see a head streak by my bedroom, headed for the glow of Christmas lights in the living room. Dustin gets up and points them back to bed. Sometime between 4 and 5am a head goes by again. Again, Dustin gets out of bed to steer our overly eager offspring back into bed, if not back into sleep. At 6am a face closes in on mine and states that he has waited 3 hours now, and can we please get up! I send him back to bed until 7am. I am met with much resistance, but the closing of my eyes finalizes the deal, until another attempt at 6:30. Not a second after the clock strikes 7, both boys are in my room explaining that it is now TIME TO GET UP!!!!

I remember the excitement of my youth. The lights beckoning, wondering if Santa brought me the boots I REALLY REALLY REALLY wanted, or the Cabbage Patch Doll that the rest of the world had to have and I was just sure I would never get, the anticipation as we got closer to the end of unwrapping the packages since the best presents were always magically placed at the back. I also remember the wonder that I felt when I looked at the plate that now held only cookie crumbs, the empty mug of milk and the quickly scrawled "Thank You" note beside the plate. I felt real joy seeing my parents and sister open gifts that I had purchased with my own money, once I was old enough to do so. The love that filled our home as family members showed up to join us for dinner. The whole day was wondrous. And so I drag my tired butt out of bed, wake my sleeping baby and walk into that land of wonder my boys still live in.

I was certain this would be the year Santa would die. I have been preparing myself for it for the last couple years, just waiting for the inevitable question. When I grew bold enough to ask, I was 10. And when I learned the truth it was as if a family member had died. In memory, my mom was so cavalier about killing Santa. She simply asked what I believed and when I, trying to trick my mother into telling me the truth, said I didn't believe, she said I was correct. That was that. I still get a pit in my stomach when I revisit that memory. Sometimes I wish my parents had just let me live happily ever after in my faerie tale. Perhaps that's why I stray away from really discussing the logistics of a flying sleigh and 8 tiny reindeer with my two boys. We all need to grow up, but not yet! Right?!

The question of what Christmas is really about came up on Christmas Eve, and not from one of my children. Avery was in his deep mode, asking about good and evil and religion, which led to my mom-in-law asking what Christmas was really about? I've always tried to be very careful about my opinions on religion around my boys. I really don't believe it's my place to tell them how to believe. There are many doors that lead to many paths that very possibly all lead to the same place. That's just my take. What they end up following if they chose to follow is ultimately up to them. And so when the question of what we're really celebrating on Christmas comes up, I preface my explanation with the same phrase I am accustomed to using whenever a philosophical question arises from one of my boys or someone in their presence. It all depends on what you believe.

I try to base my explanations on the facts as I believe them to be. I also do my best to impress upon my children that really, what everything in this life is all about, is being the best person you can be. Spreading cheer, sharing wealth, looking at, not through, the pain that is out there, saying what you mean and meaning what you say, living with the best of intentions, being responsible to your family and yourself. Christmas is a great day to remember all those things and carry them forward with you into the quickly approaching new year. My boys are 11 and 9. I am mom. I'm sure they want to tell me to shut up, but instead they smile and say, "hmmm."

This last year has been a challenge in many ways. Many moments have had me sitting back saying, "hmmm." There are a great number of people in my life who are wise and have good info, good advice and who care and dare to show that they do. That doesn't stop me from wanting to tell them to shut up every now and then. But really, I know that what everyone has to say can be used productively, even the negative comments. If it weren't for the support that Dustin and I have been blessed with through the last really difficult months I am not sure how we would have come out. One of my old friends was wondering why, when a number changes in our calendar year, do people suddenly think that their life is going to change too? As people, I think we have a difficult time seeing each day as an opportunity to make necessary changes. The new year gives us an opportunity to reflect and say our thanks, cut our losses and move forward. To see what didn't work over the last year and change things in the new year. Hence, resolutions.

I have never been a big fan of making a New Year's Resolution. The only real explanation I can give, is that I don't like to set myself up for failure. How's that for some insight into my psyche? I don't need the added stress of a resolution hanging over my head every time I pick up a cookie instead of a carrot. Every time I say "fuck" instead of some less offensive idiom. Every time I snap at my children instead of taking a deep breath and explaining something for the umpteenth time. For me, it's a whole lot easier to simply stay on the path I am currently on. I strive to be conscious of my actions and aware of how they affect myself and others. Less stress equals more success in my world.

I will still reflect on the old year and try to put behind me the people and ideas that haven't helped motivate and encourage. I will still look forward and think of all the new year could possibly present and how I will handle each new person and idea. I will continue to hold dear the people and ideas that have held me and my family in their hands, hearts and minds through all times, up and down. As always I will thank my lucky stars, the heavens, and my angels all around that I am still breathing and can celebrate the coming of another new day. I believe this next year has to be better than the last, but that doesn't mean it won't be worse!

In the first month of this new year we will have a new place to call home. We will gain another bedroom, a dining room, and a kitchen with counter space all rolled into 800 square feet more of living space and shed approximately $250,000 of debt. I find it hard to imagine not calling my little shoe box house on Chippewa Trail home, but am very grateful that we will have a new place to call home that is just a couple of streets over. I will return to my new job as the elementary school librarian, shaking up the libraries and encouraging kids to read! I am reminded that as bad as things can get there is truly a light at the end. Dustin and I are not there yet, and really I hope not to be anytime soon. Reaching that light means my days here are over and I have achieved all I was meant to achieve. Instead, we will continue to strive ahead, one foot in front of the other, hoping more light falls upon us as each day passes into months into new years. I can't help but believe it will.

Happy New Year!