Jacelyn is sick, has been sick since Sunday afternoon. Fever, cough. She has been sick her entire spring break. Poor baby.
That's about it. I'm going home before it starts raining really hard. I am so boring.
For anyone interested, I did post on my catholic blog.
Wee-snaw,
Frank
:-)
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Monday, April 09, 2007
I'm Catholic, Yo
Saturday was the Easter Vigil, the service where I was baptized, confirmed and received my first communion. Saturday morning dawned in a rather tense way; the RCIA was supposed to meet up at 10:00am for prayer and reflection, and Jacelyn was supposed to be at an Easter egg hunt at 11:30. The original idea was for Michelle and Joe to come over, get Jacelyn ready, and then drive her and Brian's mother out to the egg hunt while I was at church. Then Brian announced that he would be in town, so plans changed. Brian was supposed to come in late Friday night and he would do the driving, and Michelle and Joe decided to stay home. I spoke with Brian twice Friday night, and both times he assured me he was going to be there. I ended up staying up late, until almost 3:00am, doing laundry and cleaning and getting all the stuff done I wouldn't have time to do over the busy weekend.
I woke up around 8:30 Saturday morning and discovered Brian wasn't there. His mother was all aflutter, I was annoyed. I spent the first hour of my day trying to arrange transportation for Jacelyn and Brian's mother. Finally I heard from Brian; he was on his way in. Whew. By this time it was 9:40; twenty minutes until I had to be at church. I took a load of clothes out of the dryer and folded and put them away, then I hastily dressed and was getting ready to leave when Brian's mother announced the heater wasn't working (it was quite cold over the weekend). So I rushed outside and messed around with the breakers until there was heat again, then sped off for church.
The clock in my car just clicked over to 10:00 as I pulled into the parking lot. Deacon Wulf directed me to the rectory, which is where the parish priests live. I knocked on the door, certain I was the last to arrive, and entered the house (and what a freaking house! they're living good, but I think they probably deserve it, what with dedicating their lives to God and all) to discover...I was the first person there. Whew again. Stephanie and Mrs. Wulf were waiting, and asked me how my morning had been thus far. I just answered, "I think I need the prayer and reflection". Shortly afterwards another student showed up, so while we were waiting for our other two members we scoped out the house. Very, very nice. Huge. Amazing, really. Beautiful woodwork. Nice porches. Very high quality toilet tissue. I was impressed.
We opened with a prayer, and then did some readings and had some time in the chapel (what a chapel!). After that we headed off to the living room where we answered some questions about our experience thus far on paper and then some of us shared some of our answers. Then we said the rosary together, which was actually quite nice. I had a rosary already, since my incredibly thoughtful and generous sponsor gave me quite a beautiful one the day before. I was a little nervous about the rosary thing, and while I don't know if it's something I will do regularly, it was quite nice. Meditative, contemplative, kind of a lulling sensation. Very calming. After the rosary we ate lunch with Father Casserly, Father Viet, Deacon and his wife and Stephanie. Father Casserly served us our food and drinks and we had a very pleasant lunch. Father Viet joked that he was going to leave the priesthood to become a mailman, and kept us all laughing the whole time. I can't describe how nice it was. It was almost like eating with family. Better than eating with family, in some cases.
We left the rectory around 1:15. I spent the rest of my day feeling anguished over some family stuff that was happening. Got dressed and headed to the church to be there at 6:20 for pictures outside. We took pictures, did a dry run of the baptismal process (credit for the dry run joke goes to Mike - it was very funny, maybe you had to be there but take my word for it, very funny), then headed off to the cafeteria for name tags. Mine had 'Valerie' at the top and the saint name I chose, "Francis De Sales" at the bottom. I put it on and then reconsidered its' location later, realizing that Father would have to stare at my chest to come up with my saint's name for confirmation. Name tag crisis averted, we sat down to wait.
The vigil really is a stunning service. Everyone was seated inside, but then directed outside, where a fire was lit. I amused by the missalette making certain to note that the fire should be in a suitable location. The Paschal candle was lit from this fire, and then someone lit their smaller candle from the Paschal candle and then lit the candle of the person behind them and so on and so on. We entered the church, where all the lights had been turned out and the only lights were from the candles of the congregation. Gorgeous. A lot went on, which I won't delve into here because not everyone cares, but suffice it to say it was very moving. Then came time for baptism. We were called to the front, where we stood in front of our sponsors and/or Godparents, and there were prayers and then the Litany of the Saints.
That is a beautiful prayer, or song, or whatever you want to call it. I mean, breathtaking. I started crying at that point, because I was utterly moved. The song/prayer (I don't know which it is!) is ancient, and as I stood there, listening, the thought occurred to me how many people it has been sung over, for how many years, and that, somewhere, most likely multiple somewheres, the same song was being sung in the same setting at that same moment and the scope of this faith that I have decided to follow snuck up on me all of a sudden. It was an amazing moment. Words cannot describe it. I can't do it justice. Then we were baptized, and presented with our baptismal candles from our sponsor/Godparents, and a white garment (think a small shawl or wrap) that we had to try and not set on fire with our candles.
We returned to our seats and had a moment to rest while two others made a profession of faith or statement of intent or something, I don't remember quite what, then it was back up to the front again for confirmation. Our heads were anointed with oil and father said a little prayer, after which we said "Amen", then he said 'Peace be with you" and shook our hand, and we came back with, "And also with you". I was confirmed with my saint's name, Francis, so Father, as he was supposed to, called me Francis instead of Valerie. I remember my 'Amen' and my 'And also with you'. Father moved on to the next person, and I was exhilarated. I caught Michelle's eye, and she was making a frowny face and mouthed the words "He called you by the wrong name!". I sort of waved and shook my head, hoping to get across that no, it was fine, that was what was supposed to happen. When we got back to our seats Mike called me Frank and made me laugh. Immediately after this I noticed my (red!) bra strap poking out of my sweater and anxiously wondered how much of the evening I had spent with my underclothes hanging out. In my frustration I said, "Sh*t!". In church. I did whisper it, it was very quiet, but still highly inappropriate. I had just washed away all my sin with baptism, and then started immediately piling it on again.
Then came time for communion. The choir booked it up to the front, as they usually do, and Father shooed them back so we could receive first. I don't know if I can describe that, or if I really want to try. By the end of mass I was in tears. The whole thing was very beautiful. Very touching. I know that I tend to joke, to make light, to poke fun at myself and others. But I'm serious about this whole catholic thing. I resort to jokes when I can't express the emotion, so I joke, but I mean this, and I mean to stick with it, and do as much as I can to take it as far as I can. Not in a crazed, fundamentalist kind of way, but in a reveling in the glory of my faith and God kind of way. And I don't think there's much more I can add to that.
I woke up around 8:30 Saturday morning and discovered Brian wasn't there. His mother was all aflutter, I was annoyed. I spent the first hour of my day trying to arrange transportation for Jacelyn and Brian's mother. Finally I heard from Brian; he was on his way in. Whew. By this time it was 9:40; twenty minutes until I had to be at church. I took a load of clothes out of the dryer and folded and put them away, then I hastily dressed and was getting ready to leave when Brian's mother announced the heater wasn't working (it was quite cold over the weekend). So I rushed outside and messed around with the breakers until there was heat again, then sped off for church.
The clock in my car just clicked over to 10:00 as I pulled into the parking lot. Deacon Wulf directed me to the rectory, which is where the parish priests live. I knocked on the door, certain I was the last to arrive, and entered the house (and what a freaking house! they're living good, but I think they probably deserve it, what with dedicating their lives to God and all) to discover...I was the first person there. Whew again. Stephanie and Mrs. Wulf were waiting, and asked me how my morning had been thus far. I just answered, "I think I need the prayer and reflection". Shortly afterwards another student showed up, so while we were waiting for our other two members we scoped out the house. Very, very nice. Huge. Amazing, really. Beautiful woodwork. Nice porches. Very high quality toilet tissue. I was impressed.
We opened with a prayer, and then did some readings and had some time in the chapel (what a chapel!). After that we headed off to the living room where we answered some questions about our experience thus far on paper and then some of us shared some of our answers. Then we said the rosary together, which was actually quite nice. I had a rosary already, since my incredibly thoughtful and generous sponsor gave me quite a beautiful one the day before. I was a little nervous about the rosary thing, and while I don't know if it's something I will do regularly, it was quite nice. Meditative, contemplative, kind of a lulling sensation. Very calming. After the rosary we ate lunch with Father Casserly, Father Viet, Deacon and his wife and Stephanie. Father Casserly served us our food and drinks and we had a very pleasant lunch. Father Viet joked that he was going to leave the priesthood to become a mailman, and kept us all laughing the whole time. I can't describe how nice it was. It was almost like eating with family. Better than eating with family, in some cases.
We left the rectory around 1:15. I spent the rest of my day feeling anguished over some family stuff that was happening. Got dressed and headed to the church to be there at 6:20 for pictures outside. We took pictures, did a dry run of the baptismal process (credit for the dry run joke goes to Mike - it was very funny, maybe you had to be there but take my word for it, very funny), then headed off to the cafeteria for name tags. Mine had 'Valerie' at the top and the saint name I chose, "Francis De Sales" at the bottom. I put it on and then reconsidered its' location later, realizing that Father would have to stare at my chest to come up with my saint's name for confirmation. Name tag crisis averted, we sat down to wait.
The vigil really is a stunning service. Everyone was seated inside, but then directed outside, where a fire was lit. I amused by the missalette making certain to note that the fire should be in a suitable location. The Paschal candle was lit from this fire, and then someone lit their smaller candle from the Paschal candle and then lit the candle of the person behind them and so on and so on. We entered the church, where all the lights had been turned out and the only lights were from the candles of the congregation. Gorgeous. A lot went on, which I won't delve into here because not everyone cares, but suffice it to say it was very moving. Then came time for baptism. We were called to the front, where we stood in front of our sponsors and/or Godparents, and there were prayers and then the Litany of the Saints.
That is a beautiful prayer, or song, or whatever you want to call it. I mean, breathtaking. I started crying at that point, because I was utterly moved. The song/prayer (I don't know which it is!) is ancient, and as I stood there, listening, the thought occurred to me how many people it has been sung over, for how many years, and that, somewhere, most likely multiple somewheres, the same song was being sung in the same setting at that same moment and the scope of this faith that I have decided to follow snuck up on me all of a sudden. It was an amazing moment. Words cannot describe it. I can't do it justice. Then we were baptized, and presented with our baptismal candles from our sponsor/Godparents, and a white garment (think a small shawl or wrap) that we had to try and not set on fire with our candles.
We returned to our seats and had a moment to rest while two others made a profession of faith or statement of intent or something, I don't remember quite what, then it was back up to the front again for confirmation. Our heads were anointed with oil and father said a little prayer, after which we said "Amen", then he said 'Peace be with you" and shook our hand, and we came back with, "And also with you". I was confirmed with my saint's name, Francis, so Father, as he was supposed to, called me Francis instead of Valerie. I remember my 'Amen' and my 'And also with you'. Father moved on to the next person, and I was exhilarated. I caught Michelle's eye, and she was making a frowny face and mouthed the words "He called you by the wrong name!". I sort of waved and shook my head, hoping to get across that no, it was fine, that was what was supposed to happen. When we got back to our seats Mike called me Frank and made me laugh. Immediately after this I noticed my (red!) bra strap poking out of my sweater and anxiously wondered how much of the evening I had spent with my underclothes hanging out. In my frustration I said, "Sh*t!". In church. I did whisper it, it was very quiet, but still highly inappropriate. I had just washed away all my sin with baptism, and then started immediately piling it on again.
Then came time for communion. The choir booked it up to the front, as they usually do, and Father shooed them back so we could receive first. I don't know if I can describe that, or if I really want to try. By the end of mass I was in tears. The whole thing was very beautiful. Very touching. I know that I tend to joke, to make light, to poke fun at myself and others. But I'm serious about this whole catholic thing. I resort to jokes when I can't express the emotion, so I joke, but I mean this, and I mean to stick with it, and do as much as I can to take it as far as I can. Not in a crazed, fundamentalist kind of way, but in a reveling in the glory of my faith and God kind of way. And I don't think there's much more I can add to that.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Guess what
I had to blog to say that the next time I blog (whenever that may be) I will be blogging as an official, baptised, confirmed, signed, sealed and delivered catholic. Later, slackers!
Kidding. I'll post soon. And it will be mammoth.
Kidding. I'll post soon. And it will be mammoth.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Dear Me
My esophagus just flared into burning agony. Heartburn rears its' ugly head. There's a lot going on right now. A lot of irons in the fire, and my, oh my, someone is going to get burned. The next few days are pivotal, in their own way. I can't do anything about what may or may not transpire, but what may or may not transpire will affect my life and the quality thereof greatly. I can't really say anything, or offer any specifics, but things are hopping. And not hopping in a cute little bunny sort of way; more like the hopping of enormous boulders falling down the side of a mountain and onto someone's head. I will let you know.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Nothing Going On
Not a whole lot happening here. I have started then deleted this post three times now, disgusted by my own overly-wordiness. So I have decided to go with bullet points. Nothing makes you attempt to be concise like bullet points. That being said:
- Jacelyn has come home with a stomachache the last two days. Yesterday, after an hour of misery, she was in the bathroom pooping in an explosive manner and confided in Michelle that she doesn't poop at school, only at home. Because it's gross to poop at school. We all tried to bolster her bathroom confidence and assure her that pooping at school is indeed OK, but she seemed dubious. So I wrote a note to her teacher, laughing uproariously the whole time, asking poor Mrs. Myers if she could somehow let Jacelyn know it's ok to poop at school. Then got the giggles while wondering if that note would go in some file somewhere at school, and when she's at her eighth grade graduation we will find this note about preschool pooping and laugh.
- Jacelyn's Daisy troop leader asked me if I would be a co-leader next year, and I think I'm going to accept. I think I'm doingly it purely for the patch Jacelyn will receive (it's huge and says, "My Mom's a LEADER!"), but regardless of motive, I'm leaning towards agreeing. I'll probably agree, anyone, since I lack the ability to say no. But that's ok.
- Jacelyn got a birthday party invitation from a classmate yesterday for a party that is this weekend, making me feel a little less behind the ball for not having her invitations out yet (Jacelyn's party is April 21st). It is for some Jump-Up place that is apparently one big moonwalk/trampoline. I've heard it's really cool. What I found terribly amusing, in a rather sad commentary on our society kind of way, is the liability waiver on the inside of the invitation that must be signed and turned in at the party. That is from the establishment, not the parent, and I understand why they have to do it, but it was still funny.
- I'm going tomorrow to pick out invitations for Jacelyn's birthday party. We are having a luau, complete with leis and the whole nine yards. For those of you familiar, it will be where Brian and I got married, which is also where Jacelyn had her first birthday party. It's going to be ridiculously expensive and stressful, but you only turn five once, so what the hell. Michelle won a free trailer rental at the same park where the picnic pavillion is, so we will actually be staying out there for the weekend. We are considering sending Jacelyn back with Brian's parents after her party and de-stressing with some serious drinking. Sigh. Why have we made birthday parties so hard? Why can't it be easier? Well, it could be easier, but I won't get into that, here.
- That's about it. Brian will be in town tomorrow, for the first time in two weeks. Jacelyn is looking forward to that. I'm looking forward to my day off tomorrow, since my schedule has been thrown all out of whack by my vacationing sister (hope you're enjoying yourself, Jennifer). Later!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
A Change?
I should change the title of my blog, because I don't think it accurately reflects my life anymore. Back in the day when I first started posting intimate details of my life on the internet via blogger, Jacelyn wasn't in school, or enrolled in any activities, or doing much of anything other than hanging out with her aunt. Now? Ha! Totally different story. I'm very glad - I think it's so much better for her, and for me, but damn, I'm tired. I remember choosing that title because I felt as though I had nothing, really, to report on. Teresa was in a foreign country, Jen going to school and working and being a band director and all the other stuff Jen does, and then there was me: working. Going home. Working. Going home. Now there' s a few more things in between.
I am, as I write, looking woefully at a page long e-mail I received from Jacelyn's Daisy troop leader. Cookie money is due soon (and not everyone has paid me, yet), at the next meeting I have to remember to bring a gallon container, a flat rock, and two recyclables (they are making the world a better place via those items, don't ask me how), there's a meet and greet with female pilots at the base on March 28th, on March 31st there is a camp day, on April 14th there is a cluster party, and on April 20th the girls are meeting at Sam's Fun City. There are also some tentative hike plans. Sigh. Many of the activities are on Saturdays, which means that I can't go. Jacelyn could go, if someone else would take her, but I hate to ask anyone. Busy, busy.
Teresa taught me how to knit, and I have been knitting small, misshapen things that are not easily identifiable. It's a nice, mind-numbing activity, though, that I enjoy, so I will probably continue making small, misshapen things. Thanks, Resa.
I just finished reading 'A Prayer for Owen Meany' and enjoyed it thoroughly. I would like to see the movie that is loosely based on the novel, but I haven't been able to find it anywhere. It's called 'Simon Birch' and doesn't follow the book too closely, but the book was so good that I want to see the movie.
That's it, for now. Maybe I shouldn't change the title - I still don't have a whole lot going on.
I am, as I write, looking woefully at a page long e-mail I received from Jacelyn's Daisy troop leader. Cookie money is due soon (and not everyone has paid me, yet), at the next meeting I have to remember to bring a gallon container, a flat rock, and two recyclables (they are making the world a better place via those items, don't ask me how), there's a meet and greet with female pilots at the base on March 28th, on March 31st there is a camp day, on April 14th there is a cluster party, and on April 20th the girls are meeting at Sam's Fun City. There are also some tentative hike plans. Sigh. Many of the activities are on Saturdays, which means that I can't go. Jacelyn could go, if someone else would take her, but I hate to ask anyone. Busy, busy.
Teresa taught me how to knit, and I have been knitting small, misshapen things that are not easily identifiable. It's a nice, mind-numbing activity, though, that I enjoy, so I will probably continue making small, misshapen things. Thanks, Resa.
I just finished reading 'A Prayer for Owen Meany' and enjoyed it thoroughly. I would like to see the movie that is loosely based on the novel, but I haven't been able to find it anywhere. It's called 'Simon Birch' and doesn't follow the book too closely, but the book was so good that I want to see the movie.
That's it, for now. Maybe I shouldn't change the title - I still don't have a whole lot going on.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
God's Big Hand
Farewell, Grandma. You will be missed.
I found out in the car yesterday morning, almost just as I was pulling into the parking lot of school. I walked Jacelyn up to class and was about to beat a hasty retreat to the car when another K4 mom stopped me and asked how I was doing. "My gramma died" I sobbed, surprising even myself. She comforted me, and offered to take Jacelyn for a play date over the weekend - very sweet. I made it to the safety of the car where I could cry with some dignity and drove to Jen's house, for an hour or so of inappropriate humor with the sisters.
I went to work, and left for the day when it was time to pick up Jacelyn. Down the road from school a little, I told her: Grandma had died and gone to heaven. She paused in her examination of her homemade 'Cat in the Hat' hat and said, "When will she come back?" Oh, Lord. "Well, she isn't. Once you go to heaven you don't come back". Another pause. "Well, how did she get to heaven?" Jacelyn asked. I thought for a moment, could come up with NOTHING, and answered, "I don't know". And she replied: "I bet God put his big hand down and scooped her up out of bed and put her in another bed in heaven". Me: "I bet you're right". Jacelyn: "Did you forget my juice? Because I'm thirsty". Whew. Made it through.
Considered going to McGuire's with the sisters and Steven, but ended up not going. Not because I felt it inappropriate, but because I spent some time at my aunt's house, and by the time I got home to feed Jacelyn I was exhausted and leaking from my nose (I might be catching a cold). Jacelyn and I ate and then snuggled on the couch for the rest of the night. I was sad, and tired, and sick, and just wanted to be with my baby. Hopefully the family can all gather together sometime, maybe today or tomorrow.
Sunday I have two church rites. At the 10:30 mass is the Rite of Sending, where the congregation sends us off to the Rite of Election, which is at 3:00. I'm excited but tired and feeling icky. We'll see.
I found out in the car yesterday morning, almost just as I was pulling into the parking lot of school. I walked Jacelyn up to class and was about to beat a hasty retreat to the car when another K4 mom stopped me and asked how I was doing. "My gramma died" I sobbed, surprising even myself. She comforted me, and offered to take Jacelyn for a play date over the weekend - very sweet. I made it to the safety of the car where I could cry with some dignity and drove to Jen's house, for an hour or so of inappropriate humor with the sisters.
I went to work, and left for the day when it was time to pick up Jacelyn. Down the road from school a little, I told her: Grandma had died and gone to heaven. She paused in her examination of her homemade 'Cat in the Hat' hat and said, "When will she come back?" Oh, Lord. "Well, she isn't. Once you go to heaven you don't come back". Another pause. "Well, how did she get to heaven?" Jacelyn asked. I thought for a moment, could come up with NOTHING, and answered, "I don't know". And she replied: "I bet God put his big hand down and scooped her up out of bed and put her in another bed in heaven". Me: "I bet you're right". Jacelyn: "Did you forget my juice? Because I'm thirsty". Whew. Made it through.
Considered going to McGuire's with the sisters and Steven, but ended up not going. Not because I felt it inappropriate, but because I spent some time at my aunt's house, and by the time I got home to feed Jacelyn I was exhausted and leaking from my nose (I might be catching a cold). Jacelyn and I ate and then snuggled on the couch for the rest of the night. I was sad, and tired, and sick, and just wanted to be with my baby. Hopefully the family can all gather together sometime, maybe today or tomorrow.
Sunday I have two church rites. At the 10:30 mass is the Rite of Sending, where the congregation sends us off to the Rite of Election, which is at 3:00. I'm excited but tired and feeling icky. We'll see.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Emotional Roller Coaster
There's something about the weekend, apparently, that causes my sick grandmother to first hover near death and then miraculously and for no discernible reason recover, at least somewhat. Last Saturday? Internal bleeding. The doctors could not figure out from where, nor why it was happening. Panic ensued, then all was well-ish: the internal bleeding stopped. Whew.
This Saturday, today, dad calls: reports are dire, it was just a matter of time. Her IV line post became infected, and then the feeding tube they tried to insert failed. The doctor had cried in front of my aunt the day before, saying they just couldn't get her to wake up. Hope was forgotten; my aunt was making phone calls to let people know. She hung up the phone after speaking with my dad (who then called Jen and I) and then looked down and there was Grandma, wide awake. And hungry. And wanted to get up. I can't help but smile when as I type this. Funny stuff, that.
This Saturday, today, dad calls: reports are dire, it was just a matter of time. Her IV line post became infected, and then the feeding tube they tried to insert failed. The doctor had cried in front of my aunt the day before, saying they just couldn't get her to wake up. Hope was forgotten; my aunt was making phone calls to let people know. She hung up the phone after speaking with my dad (who then called Jen and I) and then looked down and there was Grandma, wide awake. And hungry. And wanted to get up. I can't help but smile when as I type this. Funny stuff, that.
Reluctantly Connected
I have developed a love-hate relationship with my new cell phone. For instance, when my grandmother took quite ill the other day, it came in very, very handy indeed, allowing me to quickly ascertain pertinent information and pass it along to others in a timely manner. Great. I hate how intrusive it is, though. Drive time used to be my time. I spend a lot of time in the car, driving Jacelyn to school, then myself to work, then picking Jacelyn up from school, then dropping her off at someone's home, then driving back to work, then later driving home again.
At first I found myself rather disgruntled with all the time spent in the car, then I found myself enjoying it. It has become kind of an oasis for me, a little isle of tranquility. Some down time between work life and home life, a little space where I don't have to be anybody, I can just be. The jetta is my domain and mine alone, the only space in the world that is exclusively mine. I put a air freshener scent in that I enjoy, I can listen to whatever music I want to or none at all. In the car, I am in charge. In that time, there are no expectations of me, except that I will arrive somewhere, eventually.
That little bit of time that was previously blissfully my own has now been intruded upon by technology. On the way to pick up Jacelyn, my SIL will walkie-talkie me, the conversation sometimes lasting until the bell rings and Jacelyn is delivered to the car. On the drive home from work, someone will walkie-talkie me - sometimes Brian, sometimes his sister. Where are you? is usually the first question, followed by the relaying of some need or desire that I can fulfill upon my arrival home. A few moments into the conversation comes the inevitable question: Where are you now? I hate that. Leave me be. Let me have these fifteen minutes. But alas, it does not seem to be.
I feel safer with the phone, and it has come in very handy. I am very glad that I have it, in case there is an emergency and I need to contact someone, or someone needs to contact me. I just can't stand being so....available. I was at the hospital Sunday, sitting in the room with my grandmother when, much to my horror, the phone rang. I had forgotten to turn it off. After nearly breaking my neck to answer it quickly, who is on the other end of line but my SIL. "I haven't heard from you in a while, what are you doing?" she asked. Sigh.
I still consider myself a holdout on some points of cell phone ownership. I keep it turned off, most of the time (unless Brian is in town or Jacelyn is doing something at school). I do not own an earpiece or hands-free headset. In the car, if I receive or make a call, I put it on speaker or use the walkie-talkie function. I don't feel the desire or the need to be that available. I appreciate the safety and convenience but mourn the loss of privacy. Oh well; such is life, there's a downside to everything. I'll get used to it.
My father just called. My grandmother is on the downswing, apparently. They have removed all of her tubes - her feeding tube and another IV line they had in her shoulder (that became infected). Dad said it is now just a matter of time before she passes. This to Teresa: do not feel bad. You cannot control this, no one can, and you cannot get here any faster than you can get here. DO NOT FEEL BAD. She knows you love her, and she has been so proud of you, always. We all are. I love you and can't wait to see you next week and if she does happen to die before you get here do not feel bad. You can only do what you can do. Don't feel bad. Did I say that enough? I love you.
At first I found myself rather disgruntled with all the time spent in the car, then I found myself enjoying it. It has become kind of an oasis for me, a little isle of tranquility. Some down time between work life and home life, a little space where I don't have to be anybody, I can just be. The jetta is my domain and mine alone, the only space in the world that is exclusively mine. I put a air freshener scent in that I enjoy, I can listen to whatever music I want to or none at all. In the car, I am in charge. In that time, there are no expectations of me, except that I will arrive somewhere, eventually.
That little bit of time that was previously blissfully my own has now been intruded upon by technology. On the way to pick up Jacelyn, my SIL will walkie-talkie me, the conversation sometimes lasting until the bell rings and Jacelyn is delivered to the car. On the drive home from work, someone will walkie-talkie me - sometimes Brian, sometimes his sister. Where are you? is usually the first question, followed by the relaying of some need or desire that I can fulfill upon my arrival home. A few moments into the conversation comes the inevitable question: Where are you now? I hate that. Leave me be. Let me have these fifteen minutes. But alas, it does not seem to be.
I feel safer with the phone, and it has come in very handy. I am very glad that I have it, in case there is an emergency and I need to contact someone, or someone needs to contact me. I just can't stand being so....available. I was at the hospital Sunday, sitting in the room with my grandmother when, much to my horror, the phone rang. I had forgotten to turn it off. After nearly breaking my neck to answer it quickly, who is on the other end of line but my SIL. "I haven't heard from you in a while, what are you doing?" she asked. Sigh.
I still consider myself a holdout on some points of cell phone ownership. I keep it turned off, most of the time (unless Brian is in town or Jacelyn is doing something at school). I do not own an earpiece or hands-free headset. In the car, if I receive or make a call, I put it on speaker or use the walkie-talkie function. I don't feel the desire or the need to be that available. I appreciate the safety and convenience but mourn the loss of privacy. Oh well; such is life, there's a downside to everything. I'll get used to it.
My father just called. My grandmother is on the downswing, apparently. They have removed all of her tubes - her feeding tube and another IV line they had in her shoulder (that became infected). Dad said it is now just a matter of time before she passes. This to Teresa: do not feel bad. You cannot control this, no one can, and you cannot get here any faster than you can get here. DO NOT FEEL BAD. She knows you love her, and she has been so proud of you, always. We all are. I love you and can't wait to see you next week and if she does happen to die before you get here do not feel bad. You can only do what you can do. Don't feel bad. Did I say that enough? I love you.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Here's to Grandma
Jen put up a thoughtful and insightful post on her blog, which encouraged me to post about what has been on my mind lately (although, I'm certain, my thoughts will not be nearly as well written). Our grandma is quite sick and possibly on the verge of passing away. I am sad, and don't want to lose her, but she's been in so much pain that I think she should feel free to go, if she wants to. Fight if you want to fight, Grandma, hang on if you want to, but if you're tired, go on. I will miss her, terribly, but I hate her being in so much pain. Her quality of life has been much-reduced lately, and now it has only gotten worse. She can't swallow, so she has to have a feeding tube. She has stress fractures all over her body. The few moments that she is awake she just moans in pain. My other grandmother said the other day, "Maybe she just needs to go on and be with the Lord". Amen, grandma, amen.
The other morning, when dear Michael Clark and I were discussing 'Garp', I noted that the two John Irving books I have read thus far, his characters endure these enormous, life-shattering tragedies, but Mr. Irving may only dedicate a paragraph or so to the actual event, and then the rest of his book to people's reaction to that tragedy. Mike pointed out that is actually true of real life; that the actual tragedy or life shattering event can take mere moments, but the ripple effect can be far reaching through time (those are not his actual words, those are my words for his words; dear Mike is far more articulate and eloquent than I, both in the spoken and written word). That is so true. My mother's death, for example. There was the short hospital stay, the worsening health, and the morning to prepare ("someone call Dad's doctor and get a prescription for his nerves"), and then she was gone. In a moment. She was there, she was gone. Everything after that was just reaction. I remember feeling, as I drove home from the hospital, is this it? Is this all that there is? Someone just died, my mother just died, and that's it? And after her funeral, when life started picking back up again, it felt so wrong. How can I go to work? My mother is dead! How can I go buy ice cream! Shop for shoes! I was outraged and righteously indignant at the idea of life continuing on without my mother in it. But it did. I adjusted; I moved on, but in a guilty way, constantly feeling that there was something inappropriate about moving on.
Grandma leaves behind a legacy of love. Of care, of good deed and action. I remember biscuits for breakfast at her house, when mom was in the hospital. I remember her taking care of me when I was sick in that way only a grandma can, the cooling, comforting hand to the fevered brow. She was always on my side, always taking care, always supporting, loving, celebrating each accomplishment. She was feisty, and determined. I will fondly remember grandma for one recent exchange. A little background: when Jen, Teresa and I were in girl scouts, grandma always got stuck sewing our patches onto our uniforms. I remember her doing this without complaint, and always very proud of what we had earned. Life has circled and now Jacelyn is a girl scout, only I am the one doing the sewing now. I was visiting with her one afternoon and mentioned how hard it is to sew those patches on, and she snorted and said, "Tell me how hard it is!". I laughed, she laughed, and I felt the significance of the moment, literally spanning generations. Cool.
So here's to you, Grandma Tucker. I love you and will never, ever forget you. Anytime I hear, utter, or read the phrase "Damn Yankee" I will think of you fondly. I will try to love the way you loved me, and all of us. I will try and do for others the way you did for us. I will remember how your love was unconditional, and how rarely you were angry or raised your voice. I will remember you and honor you by trying to be more like you. I love you.
The other morning, when dear Michael Clark and I were discussing 'Garp', I noted that the two John Irving books I have read thus far, his characters endure these enormous, life-shattering tragedies, but Mr. Irving may only dedicate a paragraph or so to the actual event, and then the rest of his book to people's reaction to that tragedy. Mike pointed out that is actually true of real life; that the actual tragedy or life shattering event can take mere moments, but the ripple effect can be far reaching through time (those are not his actual words, those are my words for his words; dear Mike is far more articulate and eloquent than I, both in the spoken and written word). That is so true. My mother's death, for example. There was the short hospital stay, the worsening health, and the morning to prepare ("someone call Dad's doctor and get a prescription for his nerves"), and then she was gone. In a moment. She was there, she was gone. Everything after that was just reaction. I remember feeling, as I drove home from the hospital, is this it? Is this all that there is? Someone just died, my mother just died, and that's it? And after her funeral, when life started picking back up again, it felt so wrong. How can I go to work? My mother is dead! How can I go buy ice cream! Shop for shoes! I was outraged and righteously indignant at the idea of life continuing on without my mother in it. But it did. I adjusted; I moved on, but in a guilty way, constantly feeling that there was something inappropriate about moving on.
Grandma leaves behind a legacy of love. Of care, of good deed and action. I remember biscuits for breakfast at her house, when mom was in the hospital. I remember her taking care of me when I was sick in that way only a grandma can, the cooling, comforting hand to the fevered brow. She was always on my side, always taking care, always supporting, loving, celebrating each accomplishment. She was feisty, and determined. I will fondly remember grandma for one recent exchange. A little background: when Jen, Teresa and I were in girl scouts, grandma always got stuck sewing our patches onto our uniforms. I remember her doing this without complaint, and always very proud of what we had earned. Life has circled and now Jacelyn is a girl scout, only I am the one doing the sewing now. I was visiting with her one afternoon and mentioned how hard it is to sew those patches on, and she snorted and said, "Tell me how hard it is!". I laughed, she laughed, and I felt the significance of the moment, literally spanning generations. Cool.
So here's to you, Grandma Tucker. I love you and will never, ever forget you. Anytime I hear, utter, or read the phrase "Damn Yankee" I will think of you fondly. I will try to love the way you loved me, and all of us. I will try and do for others the way you did for us. I will remember how your love was unconditional, and how rarely you were angry or raised your voice. I will remember you and honor you by trying to be more like you. I love you.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
By the way
Thank you, to Mr. Mike Clark, for 'The World According to Garp'. If you haven't read it, you should. It's a great book. And the only thing better than reading a great book is knowing someone who has also read it and can discuss it with you, show you a little different perspective, point out some things you never noticed. Garp is one of those books that makes you think afterwards. I finished it late last night, and found myself attaching signifigance to everything: when I walked outside, it was just starting to rain. What does that mean? I pondered. While I was outside a small possum darted up the driveway and into the backyard. Blurg, what does that mean? I wondered, again. I eventually concluded it all meant nothing - there was a slightly damp possum in the backyard, that's what it meant. But that's how the book got me. I love books that get me. Thank you, Clark. You're the bomb.
Oh Good Grief
Jacelyn had nightmares the other night, bad ones. She was restless all night long, tossing and turning and sighing and crying out. It was a rough, long night. The next morning I asked her: what gave her nightmares? Her reply: "That vegetable game, it scared me". She was referring to her new Veggie Tales video game (see image above). I am not normally a veggie tales fan, but the game was on clearance for $3.50, so what the heck. The irony here: Jacelyn loves vampire movies. She watched "Kill Bill" with her father from her booster chair at the ripe age of two, munching on Cheerios (until I came home and put an end to it). The other day Michelle was watching "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" when we got to her house, but changed the channel shortly after we came in. Jacelyn wanted her to put it back on the scary movie. She watched part of "The Grudge" with her father (again, until I put a stop to it). But what gives her nightmares? Veggie Tales. I will never, ever understand that child.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Bad Mood
I'm a grumpy bear. Maybe a day off (with the exception of the phone call I have to make at exactly 7:05 in the morning, in the midst of my morning routine of all the stupid times) will do me good. Maybe I will return to work refreshed and ready to go. Doubtful, but maybe.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Sometimes, sh*t just don't work out
Nothing is going the way I want it to. Nothing is going too badly, don't get me wrong, and while things could be decidedly worse, I am not pleased. I have reached a wall with my journeys into the world of faith and religion (nothing I can't handle, but frustrating nonetheless). And home life just sucks. Sucks, sucks, sucks. I take Jacelyn home where the in-laws, once again, are preparing to go shopping. It's a gorgeous day outside, most other children her age are already outside or are preparing to go outside, and she's suiting up for a trip to Wal-Mart. Sigh. I feel guilty, for not giving her a more normal life, or lifestyle. No backyard to play in (the backyard where we are now is not the most child-friendly), no swingset or sandbox. No parks in walking distance. No good roads to ride a bike on, and not even really a bike--the big wheel that stays at our house has some steering issues. She got roller skates for Christmas that have never seen the light of day. Her helmet, knee and elbow pads ended up at Michelle's house where I believe them to be lost forever. Sigh. Oh well. I'll figure something out. She spends her afternoons shopping, watching cartoons, or playing video games. That's not right or healthy for a 4-year old. On occasion, there's nothing wrong with the above, but not every day. I'll work it out - I always do.
On a high note, Jacelyn was good at church today. The bishop was there for Mass, and she was warned repeatedly about the expectations for her behavior. The report was positive; when the teacher put her in the car she said, "Much better today!". Jacelyn's take on the whole thing: she was good, and she liked his hat. When I asked her what he talked about she said, "Church stuff. Can I have my fruit snacks?". Oh well. She was good, that was enough for me.
Much better than reality
This is the picture I would like to have by my name on the store's website. The thought of seeing this picture beside my name on the 'Staff' page made me giggle. Just though I would share.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
For Teresa
This song has reminded me of you since I first heard it. The lyrics are great; the song itself is even better. You have to find it and listen to it. Anywa, here's to you, Resa: Extradinary Machine, by Fiona Apple (sung by her, at least, I don't know if she wrote it):
I certainly haven't been shopping for any new shoes-
And-I certainly haven't been spreading myself around
I still only travel by foot and by foot, it's a slow climb,
But I'm good at being uncomfortable, soI can't stop changing all the time
I notice that my opponent is always on the go-And-
Won't go slow, so's not to focus, and I notice
He'll hitch a ride with any guide, as long as
They go fast from whence he came-
But he's no good at being uncomfortable, so
He can't stop staying exactly the same
If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine
I seem to you to seek a new disaster every day
You deem me due to clean my view and be at piece and lay
I mean to prove I mean to move in my own way, and say,
I've been getting along for long before you came into the play
I am the baby of the family, it happens, so-
Everybody cares and wears the sheeps' clothes
While they chaperone
Curious, you looking down your nose at me, while you appease-
Courteous, to try and help - but let me set your
Mind at ease-
Do I so worry you, you need to hurry to my side?-
It's very kind
But it's to no avail; I don't want the bail
I promise you, everything will be just fine
If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
I need a nun
It is catholic schools week, and there is a fervor of activity at Jacelyn's school. Yesterday was parent luncheon day, so I got to join Jacelyn for lunch. She acts out in my presence sometimes, and she attempted that a few times during the course of the meal, but the close proximity of a nun tempered her behavior somewhat. I encouraged this by occasionally whispering, "Sister is right there. Do I need to call her over?""NO!" she would respond emphatically. I need a nun to kind of follow us around, to restaurants and stores and whatnot. When Jacelyn starts acting up I can just point to our lurking nun and she will straighten right up. No disrespect intended to nuns, by the way. I have all the respect, awe and amazement in the world for them.
Jacelyn's Daisy troop had a tea party last night. The girls were told they could wear whatever they wanted to wear, and to bring a teacup. Well. The fashion was amazing, as was the variety of teacups. There were a couple of girls in church-type clothes, one in a little plaid suit with boots on. There were a couple of party dresses, one American Girl Doll dress, and one girl had on pajamas. And Jacelyn---well. She had on a white Barbie wedding gown, with so much tulle that we could barely fit her into her car seat. With this bustled gown she wore glittery green fairy wings (worn upside down, so that they protuded a good two feet above her head), a headband of green and yellow flowers with pearls, and green ballet slippers (there was a moment of great indecision and agonizing as to whether she should wear the green ballet slippers, or the red, sequin encrusted Mary Janes). To this ensemble she added a pink feather boa and a glittery tiara dripping with huge fake gems. "I'm a fairy" she told me, as she checked herself out in the mirror. Indeed.
That's all for now. I have another post brewing somewhere in my mind, but I don't want to go there right now. Maybe later.
Jacelyn's Daisy troop had a tea party last night. The girls were told they could wear whatever they wanted to wear, and to bring a teacup. Well. The fashion was amazing, as was the variety of teacups. There were a couple of girls in church-type clothes, one in a little plaid suit with boots on. There were a couple of party dresses, one American Girl Doll dress, and one girl had on pajamas. And Jacelyn---well. She had on a white Barbie wedding gown, with so much tulle that we could barely fit her into her car seat. With this bustled gown she wore glittery green fairy wings (worn upside down, so that they protuded a good two feet above her head), a headband of green and yellow flowers with pearls, and green ballet slippers (there was a moment of great indecision and agonizing as to whether she should wear the green ballet slippers, or the red, sequin encrusted Mary Janes). To this ensemble she added a pink feather boa and a glittery tiara dripping with huge fake gems. "I'm a fairy" she told me, as she checked herself out in the mirror. Indeed.
That's all for now. I have another post brewing somewhere in my mind, but I don't want to go there right now. Maybe later.
Monday, January 29, 2007
My pants are too big
Brian's mother kindly bought me a pair of pants yesterday while she was out shopping. She paid some ridiculously low price for them - like, $1.28. Some people leave tags on to show you how much they paid, my MIL leaves the tag on so you can see how little she paid. Anyway, I gratefully accept the pants and notice the size -- hmmm, they might be big. I try them on: yes, they are. Not so big that they fall down, but large nonetheless. So after washing and drying them (and they are still too big) I decide to relegate them to the bottom of the pants pile (which would be my closet-less version of back of the closet). This morning, I was getting ready to iron a different pair of pants, when my MIL points out that I wouldn't have to iron the new pants she got me. Didn't I like them? No, I loved them, I told her. So I am wearing the overly-large pants and have resigned myself to a day of hitching them up. As of this very moment of writing the crotch of the pant is about four inches below where it should be. Sigh.
The weekend was fun. Saturday Jacelyn and I vegged out on the sofa and watched movies, and did some science experiments (cleaned some pennies with lemon juice, made our own plastic out of milk and vinegar). Sunday we made pizza from scratch. And when I say scratch, I mean scratch, dammit. Down to the crust - we made our own pizza crusts. I had never made any type of bread, like worked with yeast or anything, and I was fairly nervous, but it went well. I think I was just as excited and amazed as Jacelyn when we went back and saw the dough had indeed doubled in size like it was supposed to.
That's about it. Busy week this week - it's catholic schools week. Tuesday is Parent Luncheon Day. Thursday is bring a friend to school day, but Jacelyn doesn't really have any friends outside school so we won't be participating in that. Friday is a teacher luncheon, and I was asked to help watch the kids in the classroom while the teachers have lunch. Ha! I'm actually excited. Tomorrow night her Daisy troop is having a tea party, and the girls can dress up and bring their favorite teacup. That also seems promising. Brian will be in Thursday through Saturday (leaving just before my birthday, how convenient). Saturday night is the annual family gathering at Golden Corral. That's always enjoyable - seeing people you vaguely recognize whose names you can't remember but of course they remember you, and then trying to have a coherent conversation with those people while not letting on that you aren't even certain that you are related, much less what their name might be. I end up saying things like, "So how is...... everybody?" and then, once I have abandoned all pretense, I say things like, "What's your name again and how are we related?".
Oh, and once I get my birthday money, I'm totally buying a banjo. Sweet! Talk to y'all later!
The weekend was fun. Saturday Jacelyn and I vegged out on the sofa and watched movies, and did some science experiments (cleaned some pennies with lemon juice, made our own plastic out of milk and vinegar). Sunday we made pizza from scratch. And when I say scratch, I mean scratch, dammit. Down to the crust - we made our own pizza crusts. I had never made any type of bread, like worked with yeast or anything, and I was fairly nervous, but it went well. I think I was just as excited and amazed as Jacelyn when we went back and saw the dough had indeed doubled in size like it was supposed to.
That's about it. Busy week this week - it's catholic schools week. Tuesday is Parent Luncheon Day. Thursday is bring a friend to school day, but Jacelyn doesn't really have any friends outside school so we won't be participating in that. Friday is a teacher luncheon, and I was asked to help watch the kids in the classroom while the teachers have lunch. Ha! I'm actually excited. Tomorrow night her Daisy troop is having a tea party, and the girls can dress up and bring their favorite teacup. That also seems promising. Brian will be in Thursday through Saturday (leaving just before my birthday, how convenient). Saturday night is the annual family gathering at Golden Corral. That's always enjoyable - seeing people you vaguely recognize whose names you can't remember but of course they remember you, and then trying to have a coherent conversation with those people while not letting on that you aren't even certain that you are related, much less what their name might be. I end up saying things like, "So how is...... everybody?" and then, once I have abandoned all pretense, I say things like, "What's your name again and how are we related?".
Oh, and once I get my birthday money, I'm totally buying a banjo. Sweet! Talk to y'all later!
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Tuesday is book day
I love books. I love reading. I love shopping for books. My budget, however, does not allow for full-retail shopping sprees. I went to Hawsey's yesterday, a used bookstore here in the area. Michelle was with me, but I literally kind of forgot her as I blissfully browsed.
I passed up the audio books and went straight for the cookbooks. I picked up a diabetic cookbook while I was there, and then moved on to Hobbies, where I checked out some books on photography but didn't buy, and then to Arts, where I searched for a book on various painting styles and eras (for Jacelyn) but couldn't find one. I scoured the children's books and found a wonderfully illustrated book about how trees grow, which was a super-bonus because Jacelyn and I had been talking about that in the car just that morning. I checked out the Religious Section, which should be renamed the "Left Behind and Purpose Driven Life" section, since that was almost all that was in it, and then moved along to Classics. I was looking for a new John Irving, since I enjoyed 'Hotel New Hampshire' so much (thanks, Mary!), but they only had two of his books, one which was very cheap but also disgustingly filthy, and one that was pristine but overpriced. After some more browsing I ended up with a copy of 'The Great Gatsby' for a whopping $1.25. At this point I notice Michelle, who has been following me around for at least twenty minutes now, bored out of her skull. Oops. Avid readers and non-readers should never end up together in a bookstore, especially a poorly organized used bookstore, unless they came in separate cars. So we left.
We ended up at Wal-Mart, where I bought Jacelyn two more first reader books and some word recognition flash cards. I also picked up a copy of 'Hoot' (Carl Hiaasen) for myself. I have read Carl Hiaasen before, and he has the eccentricities of full-time Florida living down. I mean, really. His writing isn't the best, but he can be funny, and he gets being a Floridian: tourists, over development, environmental issues, hurricanes. I first heard about 'Hoot' at Brentwood Middle School, where the whole school was reading it. When I saw that I was alarmed - the last book of his I read was about a hurricane, and involved insurance fraud, prostitution, and some other things that middle schoolers really shouldn't be reading about. But thus far, 'Hoot' has turned out to be pretty good. It is a children's book, aimed at tweens, I think, but it is still not a bad read, and I love the concept and the fact that he's trying to tell these kids that they can make a difference, if they try.
I recently finished off 'The Da Vince Code', and well....I don't know what I think of it. It was an OK movie, it was an OK book. I am interested to know (yet too lazy to find out) what of the information presented is fact and what is fiction. I have been interested in learning more about the Knights Templar, since first hearing about them years ago, so I might pursue that a little further.
I passed up the audio books and went straight for the cookbooks. I picked up a diabetic cookbook while I was there, and then moved on to Hobbies, where I checked out some books on photography but didn't buy, and then to Arts, where I searched for a book on various painting styles and eras (for Jacelyn) but couldn't find one. I scoured the children's books and found a wonderfully illustrated book about how trees grow, which was a super-bonus because Jacelyn and I had been talking about that in the car just that morning. I checked out the Religious Section, which should be renamed the "Left Behind and Purpose Driven Life" section, since that was almost all that was in it, and then moved along to Classics. I was looking for a new John Irving, since I enjoyed 'Hotel New Hampshire' so much (thanks, Mary!), but they only had two of his books, one which was very cheap but also disgustingly filthy, and one that was pristine but overpriced. After some more browsing I ended up with a copy of 'The Great Gatsby' for a whopping $1.25. At this point I notice Michelle, who has been following me around for at least twenty minutes now, bored out of her skull. Oops. Avid readers and non-readers should never end up together in a bookstore, especially a poorly organized used bookstore, unless they came in separate cars. So we left.
We ended up at Wal-Mart, where I bought Jacelyn two more first reader books and some word recognition flash cards. I also picked up a copy of 'Hoot' (Carl Hiaasen) for myself. I have read Carl Hiaasen before, and he has the eccentricities of full-time Florida living down. I mean, really. His writing isn't the best, but he can be funny, and he gets being a Floridian: tourists, over development, environmental issues, hurricanes. I first heard about 'Hoot' at Brentwood Middle School, where the whole school was reading it. When I saw that I was alarmed - the last book of his I read was about a hurricane, and involved insurance fraud, prostitution, and some other things that middle schoolers really shouldn't be reading about. But thus far, 'Hoot' has turned out to be pretty good. It is a children's book, aimed at tweens, I think, but it is still not a bad read, and I love the concept and the fact that he's trying to tell these kids that they can make a difference, if they try.
I recently finished off 'The Da Vince Code', and well....I don't know what I think of it. It was an OK movie, it was an OK book. I am interested to know (yet too lazy to find out) what of the information presented is fact and what is fiction. I have been interested in learning more about the Knights Templar, since first hearing about them years ago, so I might pursue that a little further.
On a side note, yesterday morning Michelle and I met up with our Mary Kay consultant and her 'Sales Director'. Our consultant is supposed to be practicing her interview technique, and we were the guinea pigs. We met up at a coffee shop, where the very perky sales director (like, crazily perky, like annoyingly perky, like on some sort of drug perky) conducted the whole thing. As soon as I could appropriately do so, I explained that, while I am certain Mary Kay is a wonderful opportunity and works wonders for some people, it is not for me and I have no interest in selling.
At a later point in the interview, Mrs. Perky looks at me and says, "If you were going to sell Mary Kay, and I know you aren't, but if you were going to, what would hold you back?". I answered: "I'm lazy." It was the best answer I could come up with on short notice and is partially true. Mrs. Perky just nodded and started talking about how "some people need other people to tell them what to do" and how "like you've just said about yourself, some people just can't self-motivate, not even for the sake of their child". What, bitch? I self-motivate for my child all the time. Different strokes for different folks. And all because of an answer to a hypothetical question about something I have no interest in doing. I have nothing against the Mary Kay people, if it works for them, great. I use Mary Kay products. But just because I choose not to sell it does not make me a bad mother. Them's fightin' words. Urg!
Friday, January 19, 2007
Who's my smart girl?
Jacelyn is! I have been buying a ton of the first reader books for her. There are a lot of series out there, like the one below (one of her favorites):
The last week or so, I have changed up our bedtime reading. I will read her one or two books, and then she will read me one of her first reader books. I told her teacher this, thanking her for what she does and whatnot, but not much was made of it. I think she might not have believed me, but that's ok. Every parent thinks their child is a genius, and some of us are prone to exaggeration.
Yesterday I was sitting in the carpool line, waiting for one of the aides to bring Jacelyn to the car. Instead of an aide, Jacelyn's teacher comes bounding out to the car, and you can tell that she's excited about something. She opens the door and starts putting Jacelyn in, and tells me that Jacelyn read out loud, by herself, to the class. She is apparently one of the first kids to do this. She got a certificate for being an early reader, and she got to get a toy out of the prize box (she chose a plastic lizard). Jacelyn was clutching a Dick and Jane collection in her hands, the book she read out of. "She read 21 pages of this book to the class by herself!" Mrs. Myers announced proudly. She let Jacelyn borrow the book to read to us. She is also going to read for the principal, Sister Patricia, today.
I was so proud. I sniffled a little bit, I admit it. I told Jacelyn I would buy her that book if she wanted me to. I think Sunday I am going to take her to the bookstore and let her pick out a few new things. I want to encourage her to be a reader. Like Stephen King says, anyone can talk about the weather, but as a general rule readers can go on from there.
We are going to keep doing what we're doing - one or two stories from me every night, and then one from her. We have been talking lately about buying the first Harry Potter in paperback and reading a chapter of that each night. She's all for the idea, even after I told her there were no pictures.
She's doing so well, and I am so proud of her. Her class has actually had homework lately, although it's not called homework. Generally it's a writing worksheet, and her teacher writes at the top "For Practice at Home. Please return". I'm cool with it, though. I think they are prepping them for kindergarten, because the kindergarten gets 15-30 minutes of homework daily (except for Friday - Sister doesn't let the teachers assign homework on Fridays). I'm excited for her.
That's it. I hope everyone enjoyed the deluge of pictures I put up yesterday. Since I was at work until almost 10:00pm, I had time. I hate meetings. I clocked in yesterday at 7:53am, took probably a two hour lunch to pick up Jacelyn and drop her at home, then did some stuff around the house, came back to work, and clocked out at 9:48pm. I'm tired!
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