The Clugston Check-in

Revisioning

2011-02-22T08:10:00.000-08:00

Hi remaining readers.

Several things after the move led to me not updating my blog. Apparently adding another baby to the crazy house actually requires a lot of attention! Also, my purpose has changed. Obviously I'm not up north anymore. I do have bloggy things to say so I'm revisioning. I may revive this blog, or start new. In any event, since I've got FB at home now (as opposed to up north), I can notify eveyone when things are up and running again -- either under this title or another one.

See ya!

Ear Worms

2010-11-10T11:42:00.000-08:00

We've all had songs (good or otherwise) stuck in our heads from time to time, but have you ever had one drill into your head, gnawing away at your sleep or punctuating every momentary pause in conversation? Ugh. Try as I may, I simply cannot eliminate ear worms from my brain.

I'm pretty sure that my husband had Annie Lennox's "No More I Love You" in his head for the entire duration of our dating relationship. What's worse is that he only knew the "do be do be do bup bup... whoa" part.

Last night a particular ear worm got in my head and stayed there. Without any exaggeration, the song was in my head all night. ALL NIGHT. I watched the clock turn to 1am, 2am 3am all the while this song circled in my head and I could not get it out.

Are you curious about which song it was? I won't be responsible for infesting you with the worm... all I will say is that it leaves a Psalty taste in your mouth and is the very best way to show that you believe.

This is the second time in 2 weeks that this pest has robbed my sleep. Any ideas for getting rid of them?

Love/Hate

2010-11-07T07:49:00.000-08:00

In 2007 we bought a treadmill and ran ran ran. Both Hubby and I burned off frustration and pounds after work each day. It was hard work but we were stronger than ever. Now, after 2 kids and a few extra pounds in my life-preserver, it's time to push push push. I'm back up to 5km of running, albeit far slower than I'd like to be. My best running performance was 10 miles-- yes miles. I'm not sure how many kms that is. This isn't going to happen because I don't have 90 minutes to spend on it each day. I'm doing as much as I can in 40 minutes because that's all I can seem to carve out each day.

All this to say that in less than a month I've gone from huffing and puffing and hardly able to run a mile to over 3.3 (which is over 5km). I'm pleased with my progress and I've already dropped a pant size and 4lbs. Operation New Leaf is in full effect. My goal was 1lb a week until Christmas, and I'm on track despite pigging out at Halloween. I'm pleased!

A love/hate relationship

2010-10-18T20:14:00.000-07:00

I hate running.
I love the results.
I have been on the treatmill 5 out of the last 7 days with a minimum of 2 miles daily. Today was a good day. I ran for a solid 20 and then scaled back the speed and hiked up hills at a 9% and 6% incline. Much like the Grassy hills. Then Caleb pooped, and Judah woke up, so the session was over. The end result was a satisfying 3.4 miles. Not bad for day 5. I will meet my goals.

I will keep running although I hate it so.

Will I keep blogging? I don't know if anyone reads anymore.

cheesecake heaven

2010-10-14T16:51:00.000-07:00

I made 2 hazelnut pumpkin cheesecakes for Thanksgiving this year. After the first dinner we had half a cake remaining, which I left with the in-laws ("Well done lady!" Exclaims my thighs. "Why'd ya do THAT?" Begs my tongue)

I am turning over a new leaf. 4 years ago, during the early winter of our first year in Grassy, I decided I was packing on the pounds and committed (in a way I can't dream of now that I have 2 kids) to losing it ALL. It was hard work but so rewarding. I felt good about myself; felt healthy and strong. I felt like I could go to any store and fit into anything cute. I remember nearly crying with delight when I bought a pair of size 4 Levi's. Then I got pregnant and had a baby and then another one, and the rest is history.

I need to get back there. I have accepted that the size 4s are never going to make their comeback, but I crave that feeling of being STRONG and comfortable in my skin. I am turning over a new leaf. I will meet my goal by Christmas.

And then I remember the cheesecake. It is remarkably good. Even now while typing this I am salivating. How can one food so undermine my best efforts? I am beginning what I call the Grassy Narrows diet. Simply put, if we didn't buy it on Friday we didn't eat it. If I had the ambition to bake something, then I think the reward of eating it was acceptable.

I have a reasonable goal, but it still feels insurmountable when such tempting luxuries surround me.

Ex-Haust-ed

2010-10-11T16:46:00.000-07:00

I love to cook. I feel as though I can pour out my love for others in the form of food. Starting on Thursday of this week I shopped, made a squash soup, ripped up lots of bread for stuffing, made a cheese ball, a pumpkin cake and 2 pumpkin cheesecakes. Oh, and a huge 17lb turkey. After a swing by Wingham to visit with Hubby's side of the family, we welcomed my side of the family over for a feast.

After 5 years of living far away we were delighted to have family over into our own home. We carefully unpacked all of our good china and set it upon a beautiful table of golds and reds. Soon we welcomed our family over and enjoyed a feast.

Families take on many forms. Life happens and we gladly add people, and sadly say goodbye to others. Family is important and we've missed them dearly. Although I got myself working endlessly for this dinner, the presence of those loved ones sitting around our table made me the recipient of the greatest gift of the evening.

Happy Thanksgiving!

September

2010-10-02T18:30:00.000-07:00

So... where did September go? Does anyone else feel this? We had lots of fun, did lots of great late-summer activities and enjoyed watching the trees turn beautiful shades of red and gold, but it's like I blinked and now we're in October. It crept up on us so quickly that we didn't realize that our closets were still full of flip flops and shorts. I still refer to now as "summer" but we are most definitely not in summer anymore.

My baby is no longer a newborn. I need my fall sweaters (bliss!). I'm pulling out my fall harvest recipes, and whoa-- I think I just saw my first Christmas commercial!?

I love autumn, I just wish it would slow down-- or more accurately, I wish I could slow down, take it in, and enjoy each day as it comes... and enjoy the photos I took to remember it by (on my new very attractive new camera)!

Out of the mouths of babes....

2010-09-10T16:20:00.000-07:00

Caleb has been welcomed into the special network of kids that play in our complex. Yes, they understand that he's very small and so can't climb trees or ride a bike like they do, but they are so accepting and willing to include him in their games. He, consequently, loves playing outside with them. It's wonderful for him to have playmates-- even if they much older than him.

Today, after carefully studying the technique of the older kids (and by older I mean kids no older than grade 2), he said to me, "Mom! Watch this back flip!" Which of course was nothing even close to a back flip but was he ever proud.

Next, I asked Polite Neighbour Girl about Eid (which is today) and she told me about the fun games and food, gifts and the beautiful henna on her hands. Know-it-all neighbour chimes in, "Can you speak Arabic?" "No, I can't." I reply. "You must learn how to speak Arabic or [you're going to hell]." Interesting.

Next, Polite Neighbour Girl showed me her craftiness as she climbed high into a pair of cedar trees. Now we're joined by Two-Doors-Down who questions me about my baby, "Why did you name him Judah when he's a boy?" "Oh," I reply, "Judah is a boy's name. Judy is a girl's name but it comes from the name Judah"; at which point he shrugs as if he's completely lost interest by now, and rides off into the sunset on his bike.

I wonder what gems await us tomorrow when we go out to play with the kids from the complex.

In hindsight

2010-09-08T16:06:00.000-07:00

At some point a few years ago, a friend of us in Kenora said that God gave us such an easy baby because He knew it was all we could handle. Caleb was a perfect baby, I'm sure. Perfectly portable; nursed very well once he got the swing of things; fell asleep beautifully on his own and I'm sure I can count on my fingers the "bad" nights we've had. Initially, the comment was kind of offensive. Now, I'm wondering if there's truth to it. [The same friend also mentioned that if they'd have had their youngest 1st, they'd only have had one child, so it seems that they've walked this road before.]

Sigh. I wish we truly appreciated how easy we had it with Caleb. Judah is sweet and loves to cuddle, but I fear he's going to be much more of a challenge than his big brother.

I don't think I've ever (ever) been so tired in my entire life.
I honestly don't have enough energy to finish this post- or spell check.

And later that day...

2010-08-21T18:10:00.000-07:00

And later that day... our baby was born!

So, things have been pretty busy these days. Although the time allocated to my previous post says I blogged at 5-something AM, I didn't write then. I have no idea when in my frustrating day I posted it, but it was likely before noon at which point I decided to drown my sorrows in a hot bath.

Well, the bath was a bad idea because I threw up in the tub. I then crawled into bed and writhed around in pain for a while until about 2pm when I thought either the baby was clawing his way out of my belly, or I was dying. For some reason I was having really striking abdominal pain and couldn't take it any longer. It wasn't labour though, so we went to the hospital. 8 hours later I was holding my baby boy Judah. What happened?

We're pretty sure that the abdominal pain was a God-send -- and a red herring. When I was admitted to the hospital I was incredibly dehydrated (even though I had polished off a litre of Gatorade on the way). When they eventually got an IV in me (after 5 tries), they took blood to figure out what the problem was. They then gave me fluids ( I wasn't allowed to drink in case I needed an emergency section). After this I was given Nubane (I don't know how it's spelled, but it's basically morphine... and was delightful). The blood test revealed that my liver was failing. If you're like me, you might not know where the liver is. It's way up high on your right side. I assumed the major pain I was experiencing here was Judah kicking up in my ribs. The pain radiated around the back, where I assumed the problem was a rib out of place. Nope. Both of these pains were signs that my liver was in serious distress. So what was the abdominal pain? We don't know. Likely I pulled a muscle or tore a ligament from the vomiting I was doing in the days leading up to the 8th. Whatever it was, it got me into the hospital where the larger issue was discovered. I learned that whatever the problem was, it was caused by the placenta and so the placenta (and baby it was helping) needed to come out.

At this news, we were thrilled. We were very fortunate that the Pitocin worked very swiftly and I didn't need to have a c-section. I was given pitocin and had my water broken at 6pm. By 10pm he was born. Praise the Lord; what a beautiful baby. What a blessing.

Judah Paul was born at 10:03pm on 08/08/10. Paul finally got his 08/08 baby... just 2 years later.

And now a few pictures:

Caleb is a proud brother!

A Lesson In Patience

2010-08-08T05:49:00.000-07:00

Ask any woman who is in the final term of her pregnancy, "Are you ready to have that baby yet?" and she replies "Nah... I LOVE being pregnant" She is either delusional or just plain lying.

I know that this little baby of mine will make his debut at some point. I just wish he's quite teasing me. I've had at least 3 full nights of "practice labour", and just this weekend, a 27 hour unrelenting stint that truly made us all believe that this was the real -- but nooOOOOoo. The kiddo keeps bobbing up and down the birth canal like a buoy. One hour he's all systems go... and within minutes he's back in my ribs.

I'm 100% certain that he's on his way... I just wish that all of this "practice" wasn't so realistic or so painful.

Bossy Boots and DQ Proximity

2010-07-30T16:58:00.000-07:00

Hi!

PC (aka PB) has reminded me that I need to change up the information regarding this blog. I am, as you now know, no longer in NW Ontario. I am no longer teaching. The blog has sort of boomeranged and is now mainly to keep our "up north" family and friends in the loop... not to say that the small handful of you who are "down south" and read aren't welcome... it's just a shift of focus.

Things to know about our "loop":

1) Dairy Queen is 2km away. This, combined with a blazing summer and a wife who is 38 weeks into her pregnancy is more than convenient. Also, it's right beside an Arby's. I'm always thinkin' Arby's.

2) There are lots of kiddos in our complex. One is very bossy. I call her Bossy Boots. Just overheard: Bossy Boots chasing a kid with a pocket knife and calling him a "scaredy cat." Hubby popped his head out to warn the young girl (maybe... 8?) to be careful. She shoots back, "I know. I'm in karate!"

3) Caleb is a motor-mouth. July has been a really big month of development for him. He is beginning to come up with great one-liners and observations that you wouldn't think he's picking up on.

4) Baby Clugston #2 is getting huge. I am getting huge. I am very very ready to no longer be pregnant. My mother, in an attempt to coerce the new baby's name out of Caleb, has planted the idea in his mind that his brother is now named Eli. While a lovely name, it's not the name we chose and we absolutely cannot convince him otherwise.

5) We got our first electricity bill. The delivery fee for our electricity in July? $10.13. In Grassy... usually between $80- $110. I can get used to this.

Anyhow, I am passively watching the Blue Jays as I await my lovely hubby's return with a Blizzard from DQ. As anxious as I am for Babe to arrive, I know that whenever he does decide to show up, 7pm tv and junk food dates with Hubby will be a thing of the past (at least for a while). I'm going to try to soak it up while I can.

Note to our friends a waaaay up there: we miss you a lot. A LOT. And we love you.

At Home

2010-07-14T11:02:00.000-07:00

I feel at home. I'm sipping carbonated lemonade (a pregnancy fave) while my laundry hangs outside in my little weedy backyard. Hubby's watching summer league basketball and our little guy is napping.

The house is (ready for this?) UNPACKED! This makes me very happy. Even the basement, which had been a dumping ground of stuff which otherwise had no place, is now slowly looking more like the play room we had envisioned. Caleb likes to "wun!" back and forth down there hitting the walls with each length. His ball pit is inflated and the balls are... well, contained down there.

We have had guests over to our home for meals. Family is able to "stop in" which they've never been able to do since we got married. Our little niece who is still in hospital is only 30 minutes away and we can "stop in" to see her and her exhausted folks. People are just near-by. This is a pleasant and unfamiliar experience for us.

I feel like I've been able to exhale in our new space. Baby's room is set up so I can actually wrap my head around having another baby and bringing him home. I hadn't been able to really envision this part of the summer, but now we can.

It's strange that this place feels like home considering we really have no reason to be here. Hubby is still looking for a job, so apart from a lease, there's nothing really keeping us here... but does it ever feel like home.

Pictures of the place are up on facebook, if you're doin' facebook these days.

Tag-Along

2010-07-08T19:02:00.000-07:00

Our little Caleb is so small, but he truly is a champ. I credit his flexibility and sociability to the way we've raised him so far (albeit, a less-ideal path). He's been toted around from new place to new place. He's spent numerous nap times on our schedule, catching a few winks between errands. I've nursed him in idling cars and busy malls. For the most part, he's been a very accommodating wee guy.

He is nearly two (which is mind-boggling), and I think he's done being our tag-along. We have relocated to a GREAT little town home in the north end of Brantford. Caleb has a great big room with a bright blue wall and (you guessed it) dinosaurs adorned on the walls. He's got sports sheets and a rug that looks like a city with roads all over it for playing. His room is awesome and he loves it. He does not want to sleep in his room, however. He also doesn't want to listen to us (at all) anymore. We've never heard so many "NO"s. We've never seen so many bowls of cereal tossed off the table.

Yes... I totally understand that this behaviour is somewhat typical for nearly two year olds, however, it's not typical at all of our guy. It's so difficult to watch him be so frustrated. It's doubly difficult because the GIANT transition is about to arrive (in about.... 4 weeks).

Poor guy.

Big Changes

2010-06-25T16:08:00.000-07:00

Summer has arrived.

Every summer of my adult life has been spent outside of my own home. I've enjoyed countless summers at camp, and have enjoyed the generous hospitality of great friends who have accommodated us while we vacationed from Grassy. This summer, however, we're very close to getting settled... well... settled for who knows how long.

On June 30th Hubby and I get the keys to our new place. We're hoping that we can be child-less that day and bring basic kitchen and bathroom essentials with us that day as we wait for the much anticipated Roger's Cable guy- arriving between 2 and 5 (wink).

I'm feeling really mixed up about our move. I'm excited to be moved in... not to move. I'm not excited to unpack. I'm not excited to be a stranger again in a new place. I am excited to put down some roots. I am excited to bring baby home to his home. A place he and Caleb will likely know as home for some time.

We're also waiting upon the Lord's provision for a job. So, currently, we are homeless (just for a while longer) and unemployed with a baby on the way. Crazy? A little. Hopeful? Of course. God is good.

This week we got news that a dear friend from our "up north life" has lost a parent. It's the first time we've felt like we'd rather be "there" than "here". Our friends up north have become part of our fabric and the reality of being away from that support and fellowship is starting to set in.

We are close to family however. I'm sure that after the big move (July 3rd), I'll start to feel a little bit better about relocating my entire life to something so new and unfamiliar (the same but sort of in reverse of your experience eh EK?)

Baby's getting bigger (that's my way of saying that I'm getting bigger), and yet the reality of his arrival seems to be secondary to arriving into our new home... which doesn't have a backing to the stairs, by the way. Suggestions on how to ensure my toddler and new babe don't plummet to their death?

Meltdowns and Boiling Points

2010-06-09T13:35:00.000-07:00

For this post you must imagine me flailing my arms about in a fashion much like Elaine (from Seinfeld). This won't be much of a stretch for some of you to imagine... I'm getting worked up!

The principal decided to chaperone the grade 5 class on their field trip to Winnipeg- overnight. His absence creates a ripple-effect through the school. Behaviours (among students and staff alike) seem to reach their boiling point and we have... incidents.

WHAT is going ON these days?! [ you were imagining arm-flailing right? Good] I went into the office for some reason I don't even remember and there's this little girl with blood gushing from her nose... GUSHING! Another student (and her younger sister) apparently ganged up on this student and gave her a swift kick to the nose. I'm not saying that she didn't deserve it, I'm just sayin' her nose was grossssss. I look around... no one seems to act, I jump into "First Responder" mode. I don rubber gloves. I remain calm (even though I really really wanted to vomit). I dealt with the situation. All is good.

Nope.

Add another incident regarding disobeying and chalk-throwing, and a positively miserable kindergartner crying for no reason and that's the action from last recess.

Did I mention that chalk-thrower and nose-kicker (and nose-kickee) are all students in the same class who, according to their teacher, has had "one of those days" ("years" if you ask me) and spent significant time with their heads down?

I have a student juuuuuust on the near side of graduating who decided this week that he would take a job picking up garbage rather than... oh... being at school so he can be sure he's graduating!

PC: "Why is [the student] working instead of coming to class?"
Student's Friend: "So he can make money for college."
PC: "You do realize that without this credit there will be no college, right?"
Student's Friend: [shrugs] "You can't say "no" to $1500"
PC: "Uh... yes you can!"

*I just actually sighed out loud upon typing this*

Yesterday PC was told to "F*&% off, cracker". Pleasant. It had been a while since we've had an explicit racist term/swearing combo. Seemed timely.

OH! AND I just opened the most recent copy of our teaching magazine Professionally Speaking and found the most annoying punctuation error in an advertisement**. One would think I'd find the irony funny... not in June, my friends... not in June. I got no further in the magazine and threw it away.

So, it's fair to say that both students and staff have had enough. We're getting squirly. We're getting ready for a break.

** The advertisement for Teachers Life Insurance featured a tortoise and the heading "Why race when you're ahead." That's right. Did you catch the error?

Pack It Up, Pack It In (Let Me Begin...)

2010-06-03T07:15:00.000-07:00

I hate packing. A lot. I have packed and unpacked all of my belongings about 11 times since I began university 9 years ago. That's a lot of moving.

I am the type of person who relishes a hard taks completed. Over the last few nights, Hubby and I have been chipping away at big jobs like packing the kitchen and organizing the crawl space.

In one breath I am content with the work we've accomplished. A second later I am overwhelmed at what still needs to be done.

I am exhausted and the thought of the journey ahead of us this summer doesn't make me hopeful that I will ever regain energy. Such is life though... I suppose.

Mixed Metaphors Can't Even Explain...

2010-06-01T07:55:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: against my better judgement as an English teacher and English major, I've used a hodge-podge of metaphors here to describe my experiences. With more time and focus I could polish it up and select one continuous motif, but... I don't want to.

As Hubby and I prepare to wrap up our time here, I have started viewing my home with a new perspective. When we first arrived here in August '06 we were experiencing culture shock around the clock- literally. We had stones pelted at our house through the night by curious kids and our car scratched within the first 2 hours of arriving. We cried in bed wondering if we'd made a huge mistake in coming. As we met the students and got acquainted with our environment, however, we got so much joy from building relationships with some precious students. In our first year we met extreme highs and extreme lows.

In the middle two years, I would say that we were "adjusted"- at least things failed to shock us the way they did in the first year. Unexpected school closures, spontaneous power outages and an internet provider who (for some reason) refused to fix the signal near our house, bothered us, but we were able to swallow it and say, "It's just the way it is". Apart from school, there were some social difficulties that we had to (try to) separate ourselves from emotionally. This would be our students getting pregnant, and friends binge-drinking (just to list a few). It sounds callous to say that we had to separate ourselves emotionally, but I should mention that we weren't really successful. We had to try in order to keep ourselves going. We prayed for our community - a lot. It was all we could do.

Heading into our 4th and final year, we've begun to view our experience with the end in mind. What memories/accomplishments/impressions will be pack up and bring along with us? What will punctuate our final sentence? A period, question mark or exclamation mark? As we prepare to leave, the protective glasses we wore through the middle years have come off. To mix metaphors here, we've opened our hearts up again -- rather, they've been pried open, and we're again reminded of the highs and lows that grab on and take your emotions with them.

This weekend we experienced a low low low. To protect the privacy of those involved, I'll give only allusive details: kids outside in a rainstorm with no place to go because their parents were drinking and wouldn't let them inside; neighbours we've come to know and really like succumbed to their addictions and put their children (and themselves) at great risk. They will likely have their children taken away. The emotional struggle I feel inside is agonizing. No child deserves the be put into such a risky situation- ever. However, I do know these parents who, when in a good place, love and protect their children like any of us would. I am sorry they have such an addition destroying their lives. It makes me confront my stereotypes of addicts and see the human behind the monster.

These experiences are reality. They are our truth. The push, pull and prod our emotions in many directions at once. My eyes have been opened. My heart has been vulnerable... even scarred by some of our experiences. When I recall the scars I hope I will remember to pray; for if I force myself to "move on", this place will still remain. The people we have grown to love, will remain. The lives we've invested in, and have invested in us will (hopefully) remain. These low low lows will continue to overshadow the "highs" until and unless our neighbours begin to realize their true identity... their true potential... the true freedom in Christ.

I am reminded of Luke 5 where Jesus reminds the devoutly religious that "It is not the healthy who need a doctor but the sick." Our friends are sick. They need a Great Physician.

Anyhow, it's not my most eloquent writing and I'm sure I could give it the power-punch if I had the time or will. I just had a full head and heart and needed to empty it.

"Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain"

2010-05-27T13:32:00.000-07:00

For our first 3 years here, the phrase "the ministry" conjured up as many imaginations, fears, and general mystery as the Wizard of Oz. None of us really knew what to expect when the Ministry of Education sent their representative to our school to ensure our credits are valid. We did know, however, that if we didn't pass our inspection, the credits we taught would be invalid.

Our former leader would often use foggy phrases like "The ministry wants..." or "The ministry will..." which, frankly, scared and confused us simultaneously. She managed to create this drape of mystery without actually giving us any guidance as to what the ministry is specifically inspecting. You can imagine the fear:

Boss: You need to do the thing in order to pass inspection... and if you don't pass inspection... [make that throat-cutting motion with your thumb across your neck]

Us: But Boss, what's "the thing"?

Boss: The THING! The THINGS! You'd better do them or your job is on the line!

That's pretty much what it felt like- until we met the Wizard-- er, the inspector. We learned that, for all of the mystery, she actually knew what she was looking for! She told us, and we gave it to her. We passed, and [clasp hands together as to shake off dust] there you go.

Now we have new staff and we're trying to get them organized but still realize the importance of a passed inspection. I think that the things she's looking for are quite reasonable (although crazy time consuming). I think what she wants to see is (what should be) normal practice for high school teachers at an inspected school.

The payoff for all of the hard work is that when she came again this year (today, actually), I had no fear. I was just ready- and I didn't need to scramble to get things in order either (which is a good thing since I was taking care of Wee Guy due to the daycare being closed all week). I just didn't have time.

Anyhow, the inspection is done and even if WE as a high school team don't pass, I can rest assured that I did, and that I gave my new colleagues every chance they needed to pass as well. The rest was up the them.

[I'll let you know if we passed]

Suddenly Sliding

2010-05-20T09:09:00.000-07:00

Two blog posts in one week? What could possibly inspire that? Answer: my son.

This morning I was again on recess duty. It is stunningly beautiful these days. Definitely the best May weather we've experienced while up here. It is nicer this week than most of the summer last year- no kidding. Anyhow, this means that the wee ones at day care are outside a lot, which is great for them.

I took a brief minute from my supervision duty to peek on my little guy. I stood behind a post so as to hide myself. He was wearing his hat. This would make Grandpa very happy. He was crouched under the slide playing in sand, and then... well then I witnessed the incredible. He climbed the stairs of the jungle gym on his own (yay) and then went down the little slide all on his own. My heart leaped.

All this week when I pick him up from day care I have been asking, "What did you do today?" Usually he will tell me in his language what he did (complete with hand motions) and I haven't really been able to follow what he's saying, but I was catching a "swooping" motion with his hands and the sound "weeee". I have been asking him, "Did you go down the slide?" and he says "Umm... yeah!"

So two things have proven to me that we are, indeed, far from babyhood and well into boyhood (or at least toddlerhood). He is not only capable of conquering the jungle gym, but he can also report it to me (sort of) at the end of the day.

Every day I'm remarking to my hubby about how grown up he's seeming. There's no going back. He's our BIG boy... and we're so proud of him.

Here's a funny picture of him... just to make you smile.

The Adventure of Waiting on Him

2010-05-19T08:03:00.000-07:00

I'm doing some soul-searching these days. My family hasn't really been in a season of waiting or needing in quite some time. The Lord has given us an amazing opportunity to lay a solid foundation for our family here in Grassy Narrows. He's given us the opportunity to develop our careers (within our teachable subjects even-- SO rare), quickly eliminate the burden of school debt, expose us to valuable cultural experiences, and sew us so closely together I have no doubts that the seems will hold for the rest of our lives. He has been so good to us.

Now, we're preparing to leap. We're getting closer and closer to the end of our chapter here in Grassy and suddenly we don't know what comes next. What an unfamiliar experience! And, what the heck, let's throw the arrival of a new baby into the mix! We really have to believe that God will provide for our needs, just as He always has. My job is secure- I'm full time, all hands on deck, Mommy of 2 next year. For Hubby, we simply do not know.

He's a great teacher; versatile, flexible, experienced... but he's still one of thousands of applicants. We just need to wait upon the Lord and trust that something amazing will come along. Perhaps he'll spend the year moving lawn mowers and soil at Canadian Tire, but maybe the Lord knows that it would be a welcome break from teaching. Really, He knows our needs better than we do.

A very wise friend of ours up here (whom we'll miss dearly) said once, "Let me not be so worried about God's provision that I miss the adventure of waiting to see what He'll do."

I am committing to title this next chapter in our lives "The Adventure of Waiting on Him".

I will keep you posted!

Secret Peeks on Gray Mornings

2010-05-13T12:10:00.000-07:00

I was on duty this morning and it was glorious. I've written before about my strange love for gray days. It was cool but not cold.
(You can tell the difference between cool and cold this way: can you wear adorable new wedge sandals outside without freezing your piggies off? Then it's cool- not cold)

Anyhow, I was enjoying this nice break outdoors when Miss Mischief scaled the fence and took off out of school boundaries- a decidedly illegal move. I went to the fence to call after her when I spotted my little blonde boy with jewel blue eyes playing in the day care play ground (seriously about 20 feet from that spot on the school ground). I never get to see him in the day while I'm at work and never get to see him interact with other kids in this way.

I wanted to watch him without him watching me... and I still wanted to catch Miss Mischief in the act. My heart swelled. I love that little boy so much. Seeing him play this morning was a beautiful bonus. He is smiling and laughing even when I'm not around.

I'm so thankful for the gift of my little guy and can't believe I get to be blessed with another one.

"Love keeps growing more love."
- Caedmon's Call

Restraint

2010-05-06T09:28:00.000-07:00

As a teacher and a parent, I can't make my son or my students do anything. I can influence them. I can encourage them. In a moment of weakness, I can even do it for them, but I can't force them to do it.

[ I can, and do, bribe my son to brush his teeth with stickers, but I'm willing to do that for the sake of general hygiene]

This morning the battle within me was editing an essay... then giving the essay a title. It would have been so much easier to take the laptop and edit the darn thing myself (since I'll do it when marking anyway), or to just tell him what to title his essay. Instead, like a farmer with a cattle prong I had to keep bumping the stubborn student to move... inches at a time. There's nothing I can note about this than, "SO annoying!"

J: You've got 20 minutes to edit.
R: I'm done editing.
J: Edit it again. Read each sentence out loud and hear how it flows. This is a good way to notice typos and sentences that aren't crafted well
R: UGH! That will take forever!
J: What are you in such a rush for? This is what we're doing today.
R: I'm DONE!
J: Did you give it a title, double space, edit, indent paragraphs?
R: YES!
[ I go to check it and instantly notice a handful of careless errors and no title]

This goes on forever. I ask leading questions (to force myself not to just cave and do it for him). "What is your essay about?" The suggestions and potential titles left me gobsmacked. "The story of Lee Melville and In Denial". 1) It's a play not a story 2) Lee is ONE character discussed in the essay 3) this is not even a coherent sentence. I try to keep it together. Is this a joke?

I have tried not indulging this student and having him live with the results of sloppy work, but it doesn't seem to be encouraging a change in behaviour. I must persist at getting him to push ahead and do these things himself. Somehow, I must show restraint and endure the annoying battles (the annoying, head-shaking, want to run from the room battles) in hopes that he will learn to stand on his own feet.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll try stickers?

The Kenora Pizza Quandary

2010-04-30T09:00:00.000-07:00

Friends and family from "Down East", allow me to explain this strange phenomenon about living in the Kenora area: pizza is really really expensive. I'm not kidding folks; it's really expensive!

I'm sure we can all identify with that particular pizza place in our respective towns/cities where we can score a huge slice and pop for less than $3. We know the places in town that do a great 2 for 1 special (or even 3 for 1).

In Burlington... mmmmm Lugano's Pizza where you can get a slice the size of your head for $2.50.
In Waterloo... what was that place behind the guys' house?? I survived on it the summer I got married because it was cheaper than cheap and so good. Paul has reminded me... it's Tito's Pizza.
In Wingham (go ahead Wingham-ites and say it with me) Godfathers.

But here in Kenora, the cheapest of the cheap is Dominos. Really? Dominos? No no no... this will not do. I'm buying pizza tonight for our small group and while I'm indulging in hyperbole (a bit), it would be cheaper to order from Manitoba and pay their delivery fee.

I am unsure, really, why this makes me so upset. Perhaps it's my background (which, most of you will remember, is rooted in dough as I was our pizza guru - working at various pizza joints and hooking you up with left-overs). Perhaps it is that I expect pizza to be cheap convenience food. For some reason I feel like it is a personal insult to me. A decidedly strange thing to be irked about, I know. It's just one of those "things"

And...

If I write about pizza, it will keep me from bloggggggggging about school stuff (which I could really go on and on and on and on about seeing as I had a bru-tal parent-teacher meeting yesterday).

The Devil You Know is Better Than The Devil You Don't

2010-04-23T11:58:00.000-07:00

We've all heard this adage right? While I wouldn't call him a "devil", he's not making good choices, and, to be honest, I'm sure he'd like to be known as a devil; a trouble maker.

This particular student came on the scene in our first year here. He was lanky, awkward, very capable, and from a loving and functional home. He was very goofy and unfocused, but harmless. This guy was full of promise. He didn't engage in the harmful and destrictive behaviour of his peers. He never smoked, drank, slept around or even swore. He wanted to be a chef, and, with his grades, was more than prepared to follow this dream.

At some point in grade 10 he decided that he didn't like being known as the "good kid", and slipped into a full-on rebellion. It was painful to watch; like watching a train wreck in slow motion. First it was swearing. Then it was drinking. These were followed by violent outbursts at home (requiring his parents to phone the police). Soon, his violence landed him in custody, and we didn't see him for a long time.

At various points in the year, we'd hear runours that things were going better for him, and that he'd be returning to both the community and the school. We were hopeful, but even when he did come back to the community, it was only brief because his parents were firm on their boundaries, and he could not abide by their rules.

Last year he was in custody for almost the whole year, with a brief stint in a neighbouring community (I still have no idea how he did that). Meanwhile, his mother (a colleague and friend) would share her heartache with me over countless recess duties. I can't imagine the hurt she and her family experience.

At some point in March (halfway through the semester), he decided to show up at school. He's living with his cousin (a decidely bad arrangement for both of them). I can't place exactly what it is about him that's unnerving, but it is very painful having him here. When he first showed up in my class this semester, my heart was torn. I was brought back to a very honest moment we shared before he went into custody in grade 10:

J: "This isn't you, W. Why are you making these decisions?"
W: "I don't know."
J: "Do you think that you're trying to make a new image for yourself?"
W: "Yep"
J: "Do you want to continue down this road?"
W: "No. Not really"
J: "Do you sort of think that you're so far down this road that you couldn't turn back... like you can't have people see that you're ready to get back on track?"
W: "yeah."

That conversation convinced me that all of this "tough guy" stuff was just an act; a costume. But I think he just needed to continue to behave worse and worse to prove himself to other people. Now, he's got so much of this costume on, you can't even recognize him anymore. The costume has taken on an entity of its own. This is why I look at him and remain unconvinced of his act.

Anyhow, today things came to a head. He's been pushing his limits since he strolled into school in March. He's been walking around, proud as a peacock, like he owns the school. The new teachers, and the younger students in the high school don't know him, and so are intimidated by him. I am not. He's arrived intoxicated and no one has even dared talk to him... except me (and I promptly kicked him out). He would hit a male student or teacher, but he wouldn't hit a woman. This I am sure of.

Today he came into Paul's room and got threatening. He was running his mouth and getting more and more aggressive until he had to be removed from the school.

The students were mumbling and crowding the halls to be "in" on what was going down. People are scared of him, which is exactly what he thinks he wants. I remain unconvinced. Really, I can't help but look at him and see this young kid, so scared to be real. I don't buy the act or even the threats. I think he's angry, scared and insecure. My heart breaks for him, but I can't take his garbage at school. Until other teachers realize this, I will continue to be stepping into business and situations that do not concern me, in order to handle the situation. He simply will not listen to anyone except those of us who were here years ago. I am suspicious that this is because we're in on his little secret.

I pray that his hard heart would be softened and that he'd find peace and acceptance in his true identity as a beloved child of God.

The Count-Down is Officially On

2010-04-20T11:29:00.000-07:00

I try my hardest not to indulge in count-downs, but I can't help it. I have a hard time keeping my head in the game and staying focused on today rather than looking forward to (and sometimes dreading) the future. As you can probably tell by my recent posts, work is difficult right now. We're in a sort of sluggish slow-down which is usually typically experienced in June; we're only in late April.

After nearly 4 years here in Grassy Narrows, my family prepares to close this chapter in only 9 weeks. It is both hard to accept, and really exciting, that after what feels like a life-time of living up here, we are going to be moving on to the unknown.

I have had to push hard to keep myself engaged in the here-and-now instead of day dreaming about our new life in Brantford. And so, in an attempt to focus on the good, here's a list of the things I've enjoyed about living and teaching up here:

1) witnessing, while on yard duty, bald eagles training their young to fly
2) PL giving me the exact example of a metaphor I had used 2 years earlier, when I was sure he was totally checked out
3) NS turning to me in the middle of We Will Rock You and screaming "Thank you for bringing me here!"
4) our dog Wanda
5) watching MA, SK, NS, DW graduate
6) meeting lots of quality teachers and friends
7) seeing how wonderfully the ladies at day care love and care for my son
8) the Anishinabe sense of humour
9) how almost anything is cause for a feast
10) "pay day" means we quit work at noon
11) I have learned how to fillet a fish, and witnessed the preparation of lots of wild game-- while on the job!
12) getting my shy drama class to play drama games
13) working right beside my hubby
14) the beautiful display of all 4 seasons; more vibrant than I've ever seen
15) having my own classroom and desk (this is not usual for high school teachers my age)
16) being able to teach a variety of courses and subjects within my teachable subjects
17) blitzing an insurmountable amount of student debt
18) the secrets that vulnerable students have told me in trust
19) how the Lord has opened my heart to new issues and emotions I've never experienced before
20) working with the same students through the past 4 years.

Now, truthfully, at several points while writing the above list, I wanted to start a new list entitled "Things that have driven me nuts while living up here", but I will act with some restraint (and save that for venting sessions over lemonade on back porches this summer).

So. I've got 9 weeks to close a chapter. As I've mentioned, my hubby's mantra is to "finish strong", and now I'm asking myself, "How can I make the most of these 9 weeks?" The answer? I'm not sure, but I'm trying to focus on being kind, direct, and honest in the relationships I have. We have met incredible people while up here. We have expanded our understanding of who falls under the category of "friend" and "neighbour". We have created a family of people here whom we will miss more than I can articulate. We don't even know what our lives will look like without this network of friends. My heart just sunk down deep into my stomach. You know that dropping feeling when you zoom down the steep slope in a roller coaster? That's the feeling that just took over my stomach as I wrote about leaving these friends. It is going to be incredibly painful.

9 weeks. Whew. In some ways it will feel like an eternity away, and in other ways, it feels like I will blink and then will be gone.

I am so torn!

Filling Void Time and Void Bulletin Boards

2010-04-15T11:25:00.000-07:00

I'm using my void time to leap ahead and plan, plan, plan away. Even is these lessons remain undone by June, at least I'm prepared should a miracle happen and students actually start attending and producing.

I'm also doing some spring cleaning in my classroom. I dedided to take down my The Old Man and the Sea projects from my bulletin board. We did this novella in the first few weeks of the semester and by now are completely irrelevant. I've been keeping them up in the same way that people hang pictures over holes in their walls that they do not want to patch. I have no new work to put up in its place and don't want to really face that reality. I'm being serious. I haven't a single completed piece of student work that is either a) completed, or c) having a passing mark. I teach three classes and have not one piece of student work to display. How depressing. So, where there was once a drawing of Santiago, and a biography of Ernest Hemingway, there is now nothing but naked, sad cork. On my second display board, someone decided to fill the void by using the blunt end of a pencil to trace swastikas into my corrugated cardboard. Now, that's just a whole other can of worms altogether.

I will use some of my void time to create something interesting for that space. Still, "The Ministry" (a name invoking the same emotional curiosities as "The Wizard of Oz") requires that we display student work. I don't think they really know what they're asking.

I'm looking for inspiration. I'm hoping that by the end of next week I'll be planned until final exams, and then after that... shall I take up cross-stitching?

Another task complete

2010-04-08T13:58:00.000-07:00

It was partially my fault. Partially.

Today was the day of the dreaded standardized grade 10 literacy test (OSSLT). This test requires a pass in order for students to graduate from high school. If they do not pass they must take it again the next year. If they fail a second time they must take a literacy course. Yawn.

So this morning was test time! I had 2 blue plastic totes fastened tightly with zipper cords (I have no idea what you call those things). Anyhow, with about a half an hour to go, I begin tearing into the boxes and test materials. The head of resource helped me sort through the stuff. A few questions emerged.

Why do we have so many? (There were almost 40... we ordered 10)
Why are there 2 bins that are practically empty?
Why are there 2 sets of booklets with a different ID number?

We had another school's order of tests! This is a major problem since the tests must (MUST) be written today. Thousands of grade 10 students were writing this test today province-wide. Today was test day.

The big boss came in and we explained the situation. She swore a few times. I didn't blame her. This school is at least a 3 hour drive away. Like I said, the tests MUST be written today... and they're about $100 a pop. This is no small deal. We had our tests, but our neighbours were... up the creek.

Our principal promptly called the neighbour principal and then got in his car to meet her/him in Kenora to swap.

What a headache.

Anyhow, the tests were done to various degrees. The test is done... and tomorrow when I drop them off at the courier, the task and headache will be done. I think I should mention to them that they gave us the wrong box.... not in an angry way, but seriously? If I was the literacy teacher at this other poor school, I think I'd have had a coronary heart attack today.

His Love is New Every Morning... and Includes Bacon.

2010-03-31T07:31:00.000-07:00

I have often joked with my family that there is a 6th love language and that is pie. This morning, however, I think I will broaden that category and say that the 6th love language is food in general. Bacon, specifically, made me re-consider this classification.

I arrived at school earlier than usual this morning. This is a new goal for my hubby and I as we attempt to "finish strong". Instead of heading indoors, however, I was moved to stay outdoors for a few minutes of peace and tranquility. Now, only half an hour later, it is pouring rain. I'm glad for the chance to enjoy the gloomy grey morning when I had the chance. Perhaps there are only a few people who would love to wake up to a crisp (yet cozy) grey morning. It instantly brought me back to numerous mornings at camp; waking before everyone else pulled themselves out from their bunks. It reminded me of quiet walks to school. Somehow, I enjoyed the morning more when it was grey and cloudy than when it's sunny and clear.

It was also nice to sit out on the porch with a friend and colleague whose path I don't seem to cross nearly as often as I'd like. It was nice to share the moment with her.

When the bell rang and it was time to head indoors, I noticed that my coffee was terribly luke-warm. Needing to quickly rectify this situation, I headed for the kitchen to quickly heat up my cup before class began. And that, my friends, is when I spotted the pan of left-over bacon.

What a delicious and refreshing morning. I am so thankful for mornings. I so wish to be one of those people who thrives on mornings because, truly, they are stunningly beautiful and so energizing. Bacon is a nice bonus.

I needed to be up-lifted (as you can probably tell from the previous 2 posts). Who knew it would come in the last grey, grim morning in March?

"The Lord's lovingkindness indeed never cease, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning. Great it your faithfulness" - Lamentations 3:22-23

A Profound Sadness

2010-03-29T13:10:00.000-07:00

The wee baby inside of me is very active. Very active. This Saturday we just passed the 20 week (half way) mark of this pregnancy. Part of me thinks "Yaaaaay!" and then another part of me- the clear-minded part of me thinks "two boys under 2? Are you out of your mind!?" So he can just go ahead and bake away in the warm little oven he's enjoying right now.

I was not anticipating this pregnancy to be the same as my first, and it hasn't been. It's been a really different experience in many ways. Many ways except one, unfortunately. When I was pregnant with Caleb, I found that the winter evoked a sort of depression. I was deeply, deeply sad. Not because of the baby or the changes in my body or any of that type of stuff, I just felt down.

Now that March is s l o w l y coming to an end and spring is near, I am again struck with crazy home-sicknessand, yep, some sadness. I should clarify: it's not really home sickness per se because this has been home for 4 years! That's no small chapter. Here is home, but, to be honest, it's not where the heart is these days. We will soon be moving to a new city within a 3 hour drive from everyone we've pined for over the years. This past Saturday we missed another wedding. My sister-in-law is also expecting a baby, and we're missing it. Babies are growing in our absence, friends are doing cool things that we're missing, and family... well, we're missing our 4th consecutive Easter meal with family. I'm feeling left out.

After 4 years I cannot believe that this chapter of our lives is closing. I can't believe that this is the home-stretch here in Grassy. We're down to 12 weeks left before we make the long arduous journey back "down east" as people say (which, I realize doesn't seem to make sense).

Last week I had only 3 students in my classroom during a class. These three are crazy special to me. I love them, but they have all broken my heart. They should all be graduating together this June because they are the remaining 3 with whom we began our journey here in Grassy. Will they be graduating? I have no idea ( I say out loud with a sigh). I miss these three. They have so much potential and, like so many who have warmed seats in my classroom, slipped away. I was hoping that whenever we left Grassy these three would cross the stage in June symbolically wrapping up their time in high school and our time here. I haven't had these three alone in a class together in over 2 years. One is chasing a pipe dream, one is stuck in teenage depression/oppression and one is dancing in and out of the correctional institution. Truly, if anyone in their peer group could graduate, it would have been them. And they're not, so what does that say about their generation? I am sad.

So, to wrap this unusual Monday blog entry up, I'm feeling sad for a whole assortment of reasons. I'm sad to stay and I'm sad to leave. I'm happy to be moving, but it's not a joyous decision. I prepare my heart to leave, though thoroughly unsatisfied and, right now, sad.

Pushing forward

2010-03-25T09:12:00.000-07:00

My son has learned a new word: "push". It's just another word that he uses in play (with his Duplo blocks mostly or with his cars), but for me it has a more poignant meaning. When I hear that little word come from his little toothy mouth, I'm reminded that I too, need to push.

When the spring weather comes it feels like school is almost over. For those of you who do not work in a school, I'm sure you can remember the feeling. During our March break we were blessed (teased?) with beautiful weather which made me LONG for the summer. Although yesterday a few slippery snow flakes made an appearance, the cold, crusty remenants of winter's worth of snow have dissolved. The fact that we're in a cold snap reminds me that it's not June. We're just about half way through the semester and we've got to push forward. My husband used to always tell me in university to "finish strong". This is not my instinct.

One of my classes has nearly disintegrated. I had one loyal student who has recently transferred back to "town". This week I have 3 young men in class and, while they're pleasant enough, don't have a good track record of attendance. This leaves one young woman (whose parents I met with and commented on in an earlier post). Keeping a course on life-support is exhausting. Why? Group work doesn't happen. It can't. Presentations in front of the class can't happen. Also, you plan a lesson and have no idea if anyone will come. Progress grinds to a hault. I wish the class would just die and put me out of my misery. I could be a great help in another class or I could prepare for the monumental task of preparing for the big literacy test (which is happening on the same day that report cards are due and parent-teacher meetings are happening).

This leaves two English classes in the morning. They are also dying slow deaths. It's tempting to just sit back and get lazy. It is, after all, much easier to recline my chair and read Anne of Green Gables again, but that's not my job and that's not why I became a teacher. At the risk of being attacked by my seriously over-worked elementary teacher colleagues, I find I become dreadfully bored at work. I'm all caught up on my marking, planned well into May, and ready for inspection.... and bored. I'm the tear-out-my-hair, unstimulated, professionally idle, creatively spent kind of bored.

This is why it's hard to PUSH forward. It's like carrying dead weight. Still, I hope that we'll have a breakthrough with a small handful of our senior students and we'll see them walk across the stage this summer and receive their diploma. I hope....

It's hard to keep my head in the game when I've got this little miracle doing flips in my belly. All I can think about is next year.

Let me be clear, it's not about whether or not I care about the students. I think they're beautifully weird. I care deeply for those with whom I've journeyed for 4 years. They're funny and strange young people, but they just don't care about class- and that is contageous.

Introducing Baby Clugston!

2010-03-21T11:10:00.000-07:00

Hello friends, family, and those who have stumbled onto my blog by chance.

On Friday we got to see the first glimpses of our new baby BOY expected in mid August. The technician was able to zoom in to his little face and we could see his little mouth opening and closing like he was trying to talk to us. At first he was shy to "show himself" but as the process went on he decided to make "himself" known.

We are thrilled to be welcoming another boy into our family. Here are some pictures of the 19 week ultrasound and a few of my growing tummy.

On another subject, we're preparing to return to work tomorrow after a lovely week off. I feel recharged!

This one here is his little bum and foot. He's leaning to the right so his bottom is pointing to the left (like a little M shape).

This is him punching at me because he didn't like the ultrasound.

<-- me at 15 weeks. Chico picking at his ear.

<-- me last night at 19 weeks along.

Marching through March

2010-03-12T09:44:00.000-08:00

In 30 minutes March Break will officially begin. Yeah yeah!!

We have just overcome a huge project as a family. Hubby has completed the big sports tournament he's been planning all winter. It was a great success thanks to the many hands and volunteers who participated and had their hands in it.

side note: my poorly constructed sentences (and my unwillingness to fix them) is an indication of how much I'm looking forward to this break.

Back to March Break.

We are going to "the city" (Winnipeg) for a few nights. We're planning on going to the zoo with Caleb for the first time-- heck, I don't even remember the last time I went to the zoo... We're also planning on going to The Forks because there's lots of international cuisine available to dine on -- but NOT in a sit-down restaurant (just our style these days with our crazy man). The hotel we booked (for a STEAL over priceline BTW) has a pool and hot tub so that will be nice!

Last March we went to Winnipeg for a mini vacation and also to get Hubby's eyes "done" (which is the lingo for having lazer eye surgery). This time around there will be less zapping at bare eyeballs with lazers, and more monkeys!

God help us all if someone decides to cancel March Break.

GAH!! The rant to end all rants.

2010-03-05T08:13:00.000-08:00

Yesterday after school I had to meet with some parents and my principal regarding an "incident". First, to frame this [complete rant of a] blog, allow me to replay the "incident":

Act I:i
students have done a reading with new vocabulary. We then looked them up in a dictionary, took the words up, and wrote them on the board.
Student still has a blank page. Student is completely literate, in case you think I'm a horrible teacher. Also, this is a class of 2 students.

Jodi: Ok Student, I notice you haven't written anything down. Let's get to work please.

Student sits with arms crossed and slouched in her seat.
A few minutes later...

Jodi: Student, we took this up, what does "characteristic" mean?
Student: I don't know!
said in "teenager" tone with arms crossed and slouched.
Jodi: Ok, first, cut the attitude. Second, we did this work together. It's on the board. What is "characteristic"?
Student: I don't know!
Jodi: If you don't try, I can't help you.

And... scene.

Now I have a meeting with her parents. And this is where it gets good. In fact, it's so crazy that instead of re-hashing the entire meeting, I shall express my angst in a quiz. This quiz is based upon content of the meeting.
I should mention, because it's critical, that my principal is the man and fully supported me in what we both agree was a non-situation.

Quiz:

1. A logical reaction to your child facing hardships in school is to:
a) meet with the teacher or principal and find creative solutions
b) encourage your child to speak up when they are having difficulty
c) remove them from school and opt for an alternative like home schooling
d) remove them from school for 2 years... and let them ride a horse.

2. The reason your child is having difficulty in school is:
a) you answered "d" to the previous question
b) they refuse to do their work - even when it's written on the board for them to copy
c) they don't come to class
d) their white teacher clearly doesn't understand the culture and needs to be more sensitive

3. Your daughter "feels stupid". This is because:
a) she hasn't had schooling in 2 years
b) all of her peers are in school (grades 9 and 10)
c) she isn't made to do her homework
d) her white teacher assigns new vocabulary work

4. Your daughter has been "undermined" by her teacher. This is because:
a) I have no idea how to answer this question
b) I do not understand the word "undermined"
c) I used the word "undermined" because I think my daughter has more authority than her teacher
d) her teacher told her to stop flirting with a boy and get to class

5. Your daughter speaks to female teachers with considerable attidude. The best way to address this situation is:
a) remind her that there is a respectful and disrespectful way to speak to a teacher (or anyone)
b) have her apologize to the teacher
c) hope she grows out of it... she's a teenager after all
d) encourage it. We want her to be able to speak her mind.

6. Your daughter is allowed to "express herself" in any manner she sees fit because:
a) she has a neurological disorder and cannot control herself
b) she is over 18 and doesn't live in your house anymore
c) I have no idea what you mean by this. Self-control is an important quality to teach a child.
d) her brain doesn't fully develop until she's 18 so we'll deal with it then

7. Your daughter's attitude is acceptable because:
a) This is a ridiculous question.
b) seriously... attitude is common, but not acceptable
c) where are you going with this question?
d) there are over 500 missing persons cases among aboriginal women in Canada.

If you answered D to all of the above questions... thank you for meeting with me yesterday. You effectively blew my mind. I am not too proud to admit when I've made a mistake, but seriously? Seriously.

I should mention that I handled myself in a manner my principal was most proud of. But after having my intentions (of working in Grassy) questioned, being told I don't have any understanding of the cuture, and basically being being blamed for their daughter's "problems" in school, a weeee little bit of my feist leaked out and I asked, "Are you telling me that you consider it acceptable for your daughter to speak with disrespect to a teacher? Just so we're on the same page here?" You can imagine the answer they gave...... YES! To which I replied, " That's not acceptable in my classroom. Not from your daughter or anyone. It's not a matter of being insensitive to your culture, it's about helping students be successful in life. In life you can't just lash out at people like that. That's the way it will be. If your daughter can accept that then she's welcome in my class."

For those of you who really can't imagine me sitting silently through a barrage of accusations and ABSURDITY as I've communicated, it's clear that I can't. I leaked it out. So even if they're nuts, I held my ground.

Gaaaah!

What Keeps Me Going:

2010-02-26T11:56:00.000-08:00

I have a cold. Another cold. I generally don't let them get the best of me, but for the sake of the Sequel, I can't take any cold medication. This morning I felt like I had an elephant sitting on my chest. I got to school where a handful of students informed me that they're blowing off their Careers exam to go play hockey. Sometimes Fridays feel more like Mondays.

Every evening while Hubby and I are unwinding from our days; after the mini me has gone off to bed (with or without his Pyramid of Success booklet he's been treasuring), we discuss our day. I usually ask the question, "What was the funniest thing Chico did today?" We usually laugh at various dance moves, expressions or word pairs he's trying out. He really is a little lantern, bringing light to our lives. We love him so much.

He keeps me going.

My husband keeps me going too. He's like those extra 30km that your gas tank seems to squeeze out even though the gas light has been on for like... forever. He gets me to push beyond what I think I can do. Plus he's resolved to put my laundry away for me. I hate putting laundry away. And I rarely accomplish the task (opting instead to live out of the clean laundry hamper one item at a time). This is a very nice gesture.

The Sequel keeps me going. Admittedly, still at this point, the entire pregnancy is a bit hypothetical since I'm not delightfully round yet, and the babe's movements are still few and far between. I still fight thoughts of worry that something is (or will go) wrong with the baby... but the baby keeps me going because it is new, precious, crafted-in-the-hand-of-the-Father gift. And it's beautiful.

My Lord keeps me going. He is sufficient for all of my needs. Furthermore, he provided all of my previously listed motivators. Truly, truly, where would I be without Him?

February is quickly (yay) coming to an end. The spring season promises to be extremely busy: Paul's course; his giant sports tournament that he's organizing; his pursuit of employment for the fall; preparing to move; preparing for another baby etc. etc. etc. Spring will be a whirl-wind.

I am truly glad that I have my arsenal of helpful, delightful, lovable, precious, joyous, motivators. And soon, the delight of spring (and the re-opening of Dairy Queen)

Mmm... Dairy Queen.

Olympic Fever

2010-02-18T08:34:00.000-08:00

I don't know where it came from, really. I've always been rather passively aware of the Olympics, and completely disconnected to our athletes. The 2008 summer Olympics in Beijing passed me by because, well, I was earning my own gold medal birthing our son. And, sister-of-mine, I understand that there are serious ethical problems with the Olympics. I don't think the treatment of the homeless population in Vancouver was treated favourably, and I know that there are lots of corporate problems as well... however,

I have watched several live events and bawled as these athletes realize that they have achieved GOLD. They are the best in the world. I can get behind that. In fact, I can celebrate that!

Throw in some hormone surges and emotional roller-coasters caused by the sequel growing inside of me, and I am a wreck. One day leading up to the opening ceremonies, I saw that CTV montage commercial... you know, "I believe in the power of you and I" and.... I cried. Then when it came on again during the next commercial break, I cried again. Plus, that singer is 15... FIFTEEN and she's amazing, so that made me cry too.

I have watched sports with intensity that I have never known before. Apparently my hubby is the go-to guy for all things sports, so he'll assist my habit by informing me that moguls skiiers wear patches on their knees so that the judges can see if their knees stay together; this sort of thing. I know he did a kin. degree, but where he learns these things, I have no idea.

So, our TV has been almost permanently tuned to CTV (and their assortment of affiliated channels), and I have even been checking online while at school to see what's going on. I sport my red Olympic mittens (the second pair purchased as I lost one mitten the day I bought them), hubby dons his Olympic hat; and our son plays mini-sticks with his team Canada stick.

We have Olympic fever and I will stand upon my little soap box to cheer,

GO CANADA GO!!

Alexandre Bilodeau- Gold Medalist- Mens' Moguls

Tantrums

2010-02-11T11:31:00.000-08:00

My heart is being pulled in several directions these days. Our little buddy is trying out a little thing we like to call "melt-downs" or tantrums as they are also affectionately known.

He wants to sit on my lap while I eat my breakfast. This has always been a "no no". Scream.
Daddy switches off Mickey Mouse to watch Raptors hilights. SCREAM!
He wants to eat toast, but not really... scream

and he will keep screaming...

and keep screaming....

and scream some more.

And here's where my heart is torn: this morning he just really wanted to be picked up and carried. I think mostly so that he could flick the light switches off and on, but the point is, he wanted to be carried. Paul and I hurry around trying to get ourselves ready for school (make coffee, brush teeth, pack lunch, pack diaper bag etc.) And through all of this our poor kiddo is crying-no, wailing! "Daddy!"

Oh, how I wish I could scoop him up (even though today it was Daddy he longed for), sit on the couch with some juice and watch Mickey Mouse with him. I would love to just cuddle him, carry him, indulge in his every whim. But this is not reality.

A child can't always get what they want (even though I want to give him the world). This is my conflict and struggle. His tears assure me that our son knows the conflict as well.

Brownies

2010-02-03T09:31:00.000-08:00

I think I will make some brownies.

They are delicious. They are decadent, and there's not one redeeming quality about them health-wise... except maybe they would do me some good with my mental health.

This, of course is an ideal. When I do get home I've been feeling so sick that the thought of even making supper grosses me out, and/or just plain tires me out. But brownies are delicious.

I am very frustrated today. I've got a classroom of great teenagers (I do hate calling them "kids"), but MAN are they being lazy. Oh... so lazy. I asked my students how they would respond if they came to class and I had nothing ready for them to do. I asked them to imagine having to sit there for 75 minutes with nothing at all to do. Nothing. They didn't like that idea. I explained that I do MY job by preparing a lesson and delivering it, and their job is to come prepared to DO it. "It's your job" I said. I'm exasperated. I'm really not asking them to do much, but it's just not getting done. I can't give grade 10 students 3 periods to write an informational paragraph. Can't do it! I can't give my grade 12s 2 classes to enter words into a vocabulary log.

What am I supposed to do here? Each class builds upon the previous class, and if they don't do the steps, they'll fall to the floor.

This, combined with a serious sugar/chocolate craving is making me long for a pan of gooey chocolatey brownies; loyal, obedient, delicious brownies.

Mmm....

Taking Friday Off

2010-01-29T10:49:00.000-08:00

I used to adore Fridays. It was a time to get in the car and leave the school behind me as I drank a hot latte, stopped in at the Early Years Centre and ran around doing various tasks before landing at small group in the evening.

I still love these things, but recently my interest has waned. Yesterday the very thought of rushing out of the school at 3pm sharp, packing up my little guy and then beginning the trek into town for a non-stop marathon was just daunting. "I don't want to go." I told Paul. It's not that I don't love our small group, but our social time runs so long that we often don't get home until 11pm. PM! Then we have to unload the groceries, empty the dirty diapers and THEN go to bed. It makes for an especially exhausting day-- especially when I, because of my car sickness, end up driving each way to town.

So. We are not going to town today. I feel liberated. I feel free. I'm very glad for the fellowship of our small group but with a little boy in the mix and with "everything" else going on with me, I end up balancing the good with the exhausting.

Today we're just going to go home after work and... well... just BE home.

Delightful.

A Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On.

2010-01-21T09:14:00.000-08:00

Things at the school are being shaken up; from the little things to the BIG.

I was just on recess duty. As a sidenote, it seems that most of my posts come after some inspiration on the recess grounds. I watched as probably 80% of the school happily slid down the hill on an assortment of sleds. For the most part, this was a good thing. The occasional aloof student thought it necessary to walk up the hill on the direct path of the "sliders" but overall, it was harmless. I was very thankful for sledding. It was a focused activity that kept students from (literally) climbing the walls. Oh sledding. Then a kid got hurt. Now let's just pause this story for a moment and think back to our own sledding-related injuries. I have a few gems from childhood, right through high school. I think we'd all raise our hands and agree that a certain amount of recklessness (and injury) is normal-- even expected of childhood play.

No.

There is to be no more sledding at recess.
Now, I realize that we don't want to encourage activities where students can get hurt, but the last time I checked, the "choking game" has resulted in more recess fatalities than sledding. Alas, we shall sled no more, and the students will again retreat to the far corners of the play ground and engage in potentially more harmful ways to pass the time in the frigid temperatures.

But that's not all that's being changed.

Our administration has just announced a major shift in the pyramid of power. My boss for the last 4 years has announced that she has resigned and accepted a position in Winnipeg. The principal is staying put, but the director's job will be filled by a woman on staff who currently heads the resource program. Her former position will be filled by the grade 1 teacher, and the grade 1 position will be filled by a new teacher.

Ok. This is big news. I can't help but wonder how things will change in the next few months. Paul and I have some significant insights into how we think the high school will need to adapt in the future. We think that perhaps these changes will rest better on the ears of the new director, and so we're excited to share our ideas. I think there are other changes, but at this point it's gossip and I can't confirm any of it. It has big potential for another major shift.

Currently, I have 3 students completing my last exam. 5 students have already handed them in and so far, no one has passed. I feel like such a failure, and then I remember that I TOLD them, in no uncertain terms, "This WILL be on the exam. Write it down: narrative poem." I can't shoulder the responsibility for students who hear that, and do nothing about it.

As I prepare for the new semester, I have cracked open a new text book I recently ordered, and have been spending the last few afternoons orienting myself with the teachers' resource. I have developed an unnatural love for this teacher resource. It makes me think about textbooks in a new way and frankly, I'd be happy to just close my door and be alone with my binder for days in a row. It is fantastic! It will be such a gift to my "reluctant learners" in the class next semester.

One more BIG shake-up, and this one I mean literally, Brother, I'm doubtful that you ever read my blog, but if you do, I'm so thankful that you are safe and that your home and your friends suffered no damage from the earthquake. Thank God! I love you.

Here's a few pictures from our sleigh ride this past weekend. Facebook is again blocked at the school.

The second image is actually a small goat hitching a ride on a sheep. Awesome.

Push to the Finish

2010-01-15T11:51:00.000-08:00

Today is the last day of classes for semester 1. Phew. I didn't think we'd make it. Attendance in my classes (and most others in the high school) dropped by roughly 70% since September. Exam week begins on Monday. Reports due in by Friday at noon and then we're done.

Allow me to frame this for my friends out there who don't teach high school. Course work accounts for 70% of a student's final grade. A "culminating activity" which draws upon content from the whole course, and the exam together equal the remaining 30%.

Ok. So allow me to share/vent some classic lines and situations from this week as we finish up culminating activities and head into exams.

1. Student working on an essay worth 20% skips class to play ball hockey and then hides in another teacher's classroom. When I find her, I give her a shake down. She gets mad and to stick it to me, goes AWOL until Wednesday when she shares that she's "given up" on my class. A classic high schooler temper tantrum.

2. Student working on a culminating activity in HISTORY asked me when WWII was. I felt like a failure. It's pinned to a 15 foot timeline in our classroom... and it was a month long unit and he hasn't missed a single class in the semester.

3. I assign a culminating reading assignment to my grade 9 English class on Monday. Since I've got reluctant readers, I read the story out loud. I then explained the C.A. point by point. On Monday. On Thursday a student who had been there since Monday said, " I need one of those things" which left me thinking... what thing? She meant an assignment outline. Which I handed out on Monday. She then read the assignment and asked, " What's the conflict in the story?" To which a classmate responded, "It's pretty obvious." Her answer, " Do I have to read it?"

Yes folks. She actually asked on Thursday (due Friday) if she had to read the story... which I read to her on Monday.

4. Student forgets culminating activity at home today. He left to get it... 45 minutes ago and just returned empty-handed. He couldn't find it.

While these situations are etremely frustrating, I do find some humour in them. Actually, I decided last week (after the student threw her grade 11 temper tantrum) to not worry about these things. Students sometimes need to just fall on their faces and learn from their mistakes.

The best part is that some of these students actually apologize to me. To which I reply (and I love this line), "Don't apologize to me. I've already passed grade 10 history."

As much as I am ready for a new semester, there is so SO much book work to do to prepare. I did, however, just order a very attractive textbook. I sort of love it in an unnatural way and I'm really excited to use it.

Well, I'd better get back at it.

Here we go!

The Secret World of Winter

2010-01-07T09:00:00.000-08:00

It's about time that I begin to develop something of an appreciation for our longest season up here. Generally, I have dreaded its arrival, faced it with some bravery, and then whined my way through half of February and well into March. Ok, sometimes April too.

For all my dread and worry, winter still comes. It is absolutely unavoidable in my world, so rather than being perpetually moody and grumpy, longing for the semi-warm days of melting snow and garage sales, I will try to embrace it.

Today on recess duty a student called out to me, "Chick-a-dee-dee-dee" and then pointed to two busy chickadee birds frolicking in the trees above us. It was -24 degrees (-34 with the wind chill) but for the first time, I didn't realize the cold. Instead I watched these curious birds above me. I then thought about all of the secret treasures hidden in this season that I have desperately tried to deny and blot out of my memory.

Have you ever seen a Whisky Jack? They are these beautiful and quite personable birds, sort of resembling a blue jay. They show up a lot in the winter and, while they're quite personable, they don't tend to join you in your living room. You must go out into the secret world of winter to meet her.

Winter up here doesn't even seem like the same season I grew up with in the Burlington area. Winter there was often grey, slushy and dirty. Snow wasn't even a guarantee, and -10 felt like the end of the world. Here, it's so cold that the air feels like you could snap it in half. The snow is purely white and it seems to squeak under your step. On sunny days, I can even say that the contrast between the royal blue sky and the blanket of white snow makes a winter scene stunningly beautiful.

How does one appreciate the secret world of winter? For me, there were a few realizations I had to make.

#1- Vanity goes out the window when the temperature drops below -20. You must wear a toque (with ear covers-- that's important). Snow pants are a big helper too (I'm sporting my brother's old OLD snowboarding pants from when he was like 12). Proper winter boots are an absolute, no compromise MUST. Goodbye fashionable winter footwear. I will see you indoors, and perhaps in the future.

#2- Adopt the Right Attitude. At the risk of sounding much like the teenagers I teach, there really must be a sense of "get over it" applied to my day. It is mighty cold outside. I cannot change it. It will be cold for several more weeks (months). I can choose to fight the inevitable, or I can make peace with it and decide not to fight it.

#3- Fake It 'Til You Make It- This is the big one. When #2 doesn't happen in its own, fake it until you believe it.

So hello January. Be kind to me.

February; don't gloat over how frigid you hope to make things.

March; oh please March, give me some reprive.

April... let's not go there.

Refreshment and Finishing Strong

2010-01-05T08:02:00.000-08:00

Well hello again readers.

Thank you for being patient with me as I neglected my dear blog over the Christmas break. My mother's computer is on the fritz, and at my in-law's house there's always something delightfully busy going on. While we enjoyed our visits with friends and family greatly, I, very honestly, had little to say and little desire to write.

Our Christmas break was delicious. We began our journey on Dec. 16th after our Christmas concert at school, which, for you interested, was by far the best one I’ve seen in my 4 years here. After a long day of travel we found ourselves in good old Hamilton. What a delight to see our family and friends again. It seemed like Paul and I packed as much action into our 2 week vacation as possible and while some days felt too busy for our own good, the trip truly recharged us.

Yesterday I walked into the school with a new perspective (thanks in part to the current Meeting House series “Take Your Job and Love it”) There was no day care (again) because the heating was (still) broken, and someone tampered with the heat in the HS wing (which meant I never removed my winter coat or boots for the entire day), but I was determined to keep my head up and stay positive. I had an excellent day with my most challenging bunch. In history one student apparently regressed to toddlerhood over the break and broke out laughing when I said the word “package”- Oh teaching high school. I do love it.

As we prepare to wrap up this semester I would have to say that professionally, this one has been the most difficult for me. I recognize that this is a surprise since I’ve taught each of these courses before. The biggie this semester was MOMENTUM. We never got it, and when we got glimpses of it, it disappeared like a phantom.

It’s a new year and I am determined to “finish strong” as my hubby would say. I’m determined to push forward instead of tapering off. I can do this!

Sticks and Stones

2009-12-13T22:24:00.000-08:00

So too many times this week I've found myself tossing and turning in my bed unable to sleep. I feel like my brain is a record player with the needle stuck in one place, and a single line is repeated over and over in my mind with no relief.

Sometimes this happens because I'm really excited. This happened the night before the triplets were born (http://www.stimersfamily.blogspot.com/) and before flying home for Christmas and stuff. This week though, I was not so fortunate. Sleep was robbed because the needle was stuck on one ugly, mean line spoken (written, actually) to me. I can't seem to shake it out of my mind. I can't seem to distract myself from it. The line follows me, stealing my joy and robbing my sleep. I can't seem to find any relief from it.

Here I am, at 12:02am on a school night, trying to figure out how to recover (at best) or at least just get some very necessary sleep.

I am not a perfect person. At all. I am deeply flawed. I make mistakes of omission all the time. And then I feel rotten. I would hope though, that for all of my faults, I would not e.v.e.r. speak maliciously to someone; intending to hurt them.

Do I steal people's joy, keeping them up at night? Do I lash out in anger and say things that slice the heart and leave scars I never intended? Do I insist on "pay back"; hoping that when I'm hurt, I can make others feel as awful as I've felt? Do I wish people harm when they harm me?

I hope that my answer would be a big fat NO. I hope so, but I bet it isn't always. So if you're reading this and I've hurt you with my words, I am sorry that I've stolen your joy. I hope that you can forgive me, and trust that I have experienced how much it hurts. And (doubtful though it be) if you are reading this and are the one who is responsible for my sleepless nights, I'm trying to forgive you. I am trying, if not for your sake, then for mine.

I was reminded this week when I was sharing my pain with friends and family that although I've been hurt, I shouldn't give that person more weight than the dozens who know and love me genuinely. How do we let one spiteful person carry so much weight in our lives? Forget it. I have dozens who love me even though I am perpetually messing up- and they don't feel it necessary to serve their rebuke with insults and name-calling.

Sigh. 12:14am- lots of typos and really tired... maybe it's time to crawl in bed and try this sleep thing again.

My life is full of joy. My son hold my cheeks and plants wet kisses on my lips. My hubby does way more than his fair share of the Saturday chores to let me nap. My mom has sacrificed so much in her life and overcome gigantic obstancles and still gives me encouragement and sage wisdom. My besties and I have history which trumps drama. I live in a beautiful secret nook of Canada with lovely people. My Lord calls me his own, and calls me friend.

So mean words spoken (written) to me this week, you are not entitled to ANY of my joy. It is more important than your few words spoken in anger. And if you don't mind, I've got a handsome hubby saving my spot in bed.

just a note.

2009-12-11T10:00:00.000-08:00

for those of you who check on Thursday or Friday for my blog, it's coming, but not today.

Frozen Ground

2009-12-03T09:35:00.000-08:00

Winter has arrived. Sigh. I knew it was coming. We had that premature snow a few months ago, and that made me sad, but it melted and stayed far away for a long time. It's here though, and I’d better dig out my pashmina and get used to it (grumble grumble).

Wow, school is uncharacteristically dull these days. Viruses and the allure of an annual compensation cheque have people at home or in the city so the halls are pretty empty. The grand total of students in the high school today:7.

For those who are here, their interest is waning also. No matter how important the assignment, we are just having an extraordinarily difficult time getting students to DO anything. Progress, like the ground around us, is coming to a cold and hard stand-still.

In an effort to preserve my sanity, I've decided not to fight the students right now. It only exasperates me, and they won't do it anyway (and then they'll be lazy AND mad). So today, as I'm again covering the grade 9 math class, I'm writing my blog and addressing Christmas cards. Ho ho ho!

I've also decided not to fight the administration right now, which has me ready to - oh man, I really can't take it right now. So in protest, I've got Glee playing in the background on my laptop as I write my blog and address Christmas cards. Ho ho ho!

These major annoyances really make my blood boil. I really can't stand how people are so ready to accept mediocrity and short-cuts. The conflict between what is being done and what should be done; what is expected and what should be accomplished is immense. I don't know what to do with this conflict. I've fought several battles. Some I've won, some I've lost. In any event, fighting these battles leave me exhausted.

SO many issues are unfair and unjust. I've come to the point where I am finished fighting. We will finish as strong as we can, but we're not willing or able to continue here. I am, in essence, raising my white flag.

Oh MAN! Am I ever ready for Christmas break. I need to eat exorbitant amounts of stuffing, dip my Christmas biscotti in some piping hot latte and chuckle heartily with my loved family and friends.

I rarely do this, but I’m going to indulge in a countdown. Days to a Yuletide bliss: 14 days!

The following scenario happened this morning which assured me that, yes, I need a holiday. Chico found a pencil. He then walked into the laundry room (the mecca of forbidden toys) and proceeded to draw on the walls with it.

Things wrong with this picture:

#1. Rather than taking the pencil from him, I watched with intrigue to see what he would do with it.

#2. I watched him draw on that wall and thought, “That’s a cool design.”

#3. I let him play in the laundry room while I ate Special K so that I could have 2 minutes to myself.

These reasons, plus that fact that I'm simultaneously blogging, writing Christmas cards, and watching Glee during class time, assures me that I, too, am frozen and hard and needing a break.

14 days!

Bay-BEE Bragging

2009-11-27T09:37:00.000-08:00

My son is finding his voice. He is also discovering major tantrums, but he's my son, so that's expected. He is getting very excited about knowing words. He is anxious to use them, even in inappropriate situations.

Chico's vocabulary includes:
- ma!    which we're not sure of. it could mean "mine" or "more" but it seems to come when he wants one or the other.
- whoa! accompanied by a "that just blew my mind" expression
- dough   which means down. We know this because he emphatically points to the ground when saying it
- done!    with both hands above his head in triumph
- bedda-budda   which means "belly-button"
- baby - said "bay-BEE" raising the second syllable up about two more octaves
- yeah/yep    affirming it with a head nod. "Chico, did you poop?" "Yep!"
- no/nope     with a shake of the head.
- mom / dad these are old hat.
- buh which I think is book
- wu wu dog! we just say, "dog" but he added the sound effects

This is an exciting time. He is rehearsing these things in preparation for the big show (visiting with family and friends) over the Christmas break.

I realize this is probably really boring. Baby braggers generally instigate major snooze-fests. Today I am deciding not to care. He is awesome!

Way to go Chico!

Love Mama

Failure and that Something Undeserved

2009-11-19T08:53:00.000-08:00

"Do you believe that people get second chances anyway?" This question just came from one of my students. You may remember him from earlier posts. He is a mature student with a flair for the arts, and a deep fear of himself and success.

His question was out of left field (as are many of his remarks). Do I believe in second chances? In a word, yes! What a pitiful word it would be if there was no opportunity for recovery after failure. How sad it would be to have to stew in the reality of your mistakes with no relief?!

I'm reminded of a Homer Simpson quote, "If at first you don't succeed, give up."

We all need second chances in life or we could get nowhere.

Second chances have another meaning; grace. A wise friend once defined grace as “something undeserved.” I’m so thankful for grace because my mistakes are many.

However... receiving grace is not an excuse to allow yourself to roll over and play dead every time something challenging comes your way. Neither is it a “free ticket” for stupid or harmful behaviour. At our school several students have used grace like that punching-bag of a friend in every school. They call him a friend but make fun of him and tease him because he'll quietly take it.

Grace is not an excuse for acting like a meat-head (to borrow a popular expression from my students).

The apostle Paul wrote in Romans 5 and 6,

"But where sin increased, grace increased all the more...What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? By no means!"

Let this be a reminder that a second chance (grace) is always available. We can always be forgiven for our short-fallings. What great news! Shame on us, however, if we use this as an excuse for laziness or abuse of ourselves and others. We may think that we’ve found a loop-hole on this issue, but the only ones we’re hurting is ourselves and we're missing the point of a saviour.

Yes, I certainly do believe in second chances. What a reminder that I too, need to have grace, since my mistakes have been cancelled by that mystery of grace;

that something undeserved.

An inward grumble of crankiness

2009-11-13T09:41:00.000-08:00

You know those moods that rest upon you like a heavy fog? It seems to blur your vision and insights, and no matter how much you try to talk yourself out of it, it follows you sullenly; like that ghost who haunts Scrooge (McDuck in the Disney version) in A Christmas Carol.

I've got some heavy chains these days. Lack of exercise, fresh air and mental stimulation has certainly contributed to this funk. Annoying work issues and - ugh, people, seem to perpetuate the problem. I am, in short, in a bad mood.

When you are in a bad mood, there is this paradox of feeling like you are spinning out of control in a world of chaos, and also an odd feeling of total control. It doesn't make any sense and it doesn't really fix the problem. It's an odd thing, but lots of us do it: we cling to our misery tightly until our knuckles turn white. Do not attempt to snap me out of my mood thankyouverymuch. This is my funk and I'll control it as long as I want to.

But the thing is, it's a toxic state to be in. We are reminded in the book of Philippeans 4:8,

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

This is what I need to focus on. Why? Because if I’m going to have my mind consumed with anything it needs to be outward focused; and needs to glorify God. My focus needs to be on being a light and representing what is good and godly. As a believer, I am an ambassador.

When I stew in my own frustrations I am drawn inward and not for introspection, but to stay stuck in self-pity. It’s too inward! It’s too ME centered. It does no good and only serves to isolate me from community and love. It’s no good.

Feeling like I am justified in my stink is a deception of an enemy who seeks to destroy. I’m not his ambassador, so I’d better get myself in order.

In the Words of Stephanie Tanner, "How RUDE!"

2009-11-09T09:53:00.000-08:00

Oh high school students.
Currently Chico is at home sick, so I'm covering hubby's math class- the delightful, insightful, polite collection of students.

Now, let's just get this out there: I certainly R-A-N my mouth in high school (PB laughs as she reads this). I really dished it out there. I thought I was totally justified in my rantings. The world was, in the eyes of a teenager, most unfair.
Fast forward to today; supply teaching the math class. I was mouthy, but never intentionally mean spirited (to teachers). Today however, I got peppered with an assortment of nice comments such as, "You're not teaching us... are you?" "Ugh. I wish Paul was here." And my personal fav of the morning, "She's [inaudible]" (followed by a chorus of laughs).

The thing is, there's no way I can be offended. Insulting the supply teacher is a rite of passage- even if she's your regular teacher next period. I think it's a mob mentality. It's bully behaviour (for sure), but I can't say it's not expected.
Last week a student gleefully looked at me and said, "I don't like you." And suddenly, right then and there, in an instant of professional lapse of judgment I said back "I don't like you either." I instantly and simultaneously knew that I shouldn't have said what I did, and also felt so relieved that I had let the beast out- kind of like a well-times cuss word after spilling hot soup on your hand.
I was rude. I was wrong. I was the grown up and she's just an angry teenager with the weight of the world on her shoulders. But the truth is, I don't like her. I should, since she's made it her mission to make the world mad at her. It doesn't change the truth that she needs love. She was still crafted in the hand of the Creator and reflects his glory (even just a l-i-t-t-l-e bit).
I think being insulting is a cover-up for a raw and insecure heart. If I can hurt you first, maybe you'll run away and not hurt me first.

I'm not here to be a friend, but to help these guys learn. They want buddies, but I can't be that for them. So the bottom line is that it's my tendency to take these things personally, but then I remember those golden words from my Mama, "Consider the source." Which mouth delivered those hurtful words? What things rest on those ears? What burdens and scars hide beneath their skin upon the surface of their hearts?

If they need to dish out insults as a means of self-defense, then so be it, but I hope and pray that they can find healing and peace instead.

My Sister (the boss)

2009-11-05T08:16:00.000-08:00

When I was young my sister seemed as important to me as royalty. She knew it too. I pined for her approval and begged for her to include me in her games. She did, for the most part, but my role was (more often than not) to act as her minion. Allow me to explain.

We used to have a cat. His name, Oscar, was quite appropriate. He was a tyrant. Oh, he was a bad cat. One day Big Sis decided to play a little game in which she would dangle said cat over the banister and drop him into my open arms (one storey below). This was one of a few incidents involving this cat and my sister’s shenanigans. In another equally painful incident she sent me outside dressed in a snowsuit (for protection, of course) to break up a cat fight between Oscar and another cat who has trespassed onto his turf. If you aren’t aware, let me share some insights with you. 1) Wearing a snow suit in the summer is very warm. 2) A snow suit is insufficient coverage for cat claws- as both cats seemed most offended by my officiating their brawl. She was the boss. Let's be honest; she still thinks she's the boss sometimes.

I was so willing to do whatever my sister wanted, and I wanted to do anything my sister did. I secretly tried to shave my legs once she got permission (and I gouged y shin nicely). I cried when she got her braces and got to wax her eyebrows (because I hated my smile and bushy brows). There was this balance between admiring her and being fiercely jealous of her. Did we ever fight!

As we got older I began to distance myself from her. We are very close in age, you see, and this seems inevitable. We took very different hobbies and interests, and were very divided politically and in matters of faith. It seemed that we were very happy to go our own ways and not concern ourselves with one another. Until...

Well, as with many families out there our parents got divorced. It happens and we all must do what we can to reorganize the pieces and make sense of our new reality. It was during this stage of our lives (in our early 20s) when I was most proud of my sister. She undertook some big challenges during this time and carried a huge burden of responsibility. She grew up a lot. We all did (we’ve got a brother and I’ll write about him soon).

Big Sis was able to make some very difficult life decisions and move forward bravely. She pursued a career in social work because she is passionate about social justice. She cares for her body and I admire her commitment to an active lifestyle.

So, Big Sis, I just wanted to share how much I love you. You aren’t a saint though. Sometimes you still bug the crap out of me and I want to give you a beating. I pray for you and hope that as you continue your journey through school and life that you will find healing and peace... and lots of love.

Bongs, ZombieLAND and lost innocence

2009-10-28T09:40:00.000-07:00

I was on recess the other day when a barrage of kindergarteners flew around me making groaning and gasping noises. A little girl announces to me from between dirty cheeks, "We're playing ZombieLAND" [emphasizing the word "land" for some reason] Zombie Land? Kindergarteners? Sigh.

The playground upon which the Zombie Land re-enactment took place is covered with the nastiest vulgar slang and drawings-- not done by bored teens, but by unsupervised youth who really don't understand what they're writing (for instance "West Siiide Rocks"). I'm p-r-e-t-t-y sure they don't have the faintest clue of the realities of gang life, or that they do not, actually "rock" - in that they are not rock stars.

Last week our PE teacher (my hubby) taught health in the classroom because the gym was being used for other functions. An SK student really asked, in all seriousness, "If your hand is cut off does that make you a zombie?" These children can't count to 20 but they know about zombies?

I'm fairly certain that in kindergarten I was anxiously watching Mr. Dressup, awaiting his daily craft, or waiting for Minue (the French-Canadian cat) to appear on the Polka-Dot Door. I don't think I had much of a clue about horror movies. Ok. Ok. I will confess that somehow Big Sis and I got a hold of Dirty Dancing at far too young an age and learned that sometimes boys and girls dance under the sheets, but I was quite ashamed to know that. Also, there was this one time that my parents were watching Pet Cemetery and I insisted on watching it with them. They said NO several times, but then left me to reap the consequences of my decision. I'm pretty sure I peed the bed because I was afraid dead dogs would eat me on the way to the bathroom. I knew that watching these adult things were not normal and I held my premature adult knowledge close to me, somewhat proud of myself, but too ashamed to share it. And I think I played horses at recess.

Later that week the lovely PE teacher made his way to grade 3 where he introduced the topic or drug awareness. One student announced that her dad had this thing that he smoked. Another student chimed in, “That’s a bong!” “Oh yeah!” She replied, “A bong!” Later they talked about how caffeine is a drug and it makes you shake. The same girl informs the class that, “My dad shakes when he’s trying to stay sober.” No shame; just fact.

Back to recess time. I found myself walking around these small bodies who were at once carrying this knowledge of adult things, and driving toy cars through the sand. I found myself humming that Jason Mraz song that goes like this:

“What about taking this empty cut and filling it up with a little bit more of innocence. I haven’t had enough, it’s probably because when you’re young, it’s ok to be easily ignored. I’d like to believe it was all about love for a child.”

Where’s the innocence of these children? It’s there still, and I see it in glimpses. The fact that this grade 3 student innocently shared with the class her father’s binge habits shows that she’s still got that uninhibited ability of a child to say exactly what’s on her mind.

My hope is just diminishing. What hope can you have that these children are going to go any different direction than their parents? I know that there’s always exceptional kids who decide to break the cycle of abuse and addiction, but that leaves the rest of these kids to grow up and repeat the same sad mistakes in parenting.

Why are these kids watching Zombie LAND or every single Saw movie? Because they want to. And mom and dad, or Auntie, or grandma or grandpa or whoever, doesn’t want to let them down (probably the same way that they were let down). The other possibility is that the kids are too much of a handful and I’ll give them whatever shuts them up.

Yes, ok. I know that no matter where you grew up, or wit whom you grew up, kids enjoy getting into naughty stuff. They revel in it. They love to break rules. It happens and I s-u-r-e did it too! The difference is the severity or it, and the acceptance of it.
In any event, I feel jealous and angry for some of these kiddos. The worst part is that it’s so normal. It’s so normal for kids’ parents to abuse drugs and alcohol in front of them. It’s normal to hear your friends talk about how their parents are binging again. It’s normal to allow your 5 year old to watch smut because it’s just... normal.

What’s normal isn’t necessarily what’s healthy. In fact, what’s normal is rarely health these days.

Children really are our futures. I know that it’s about as cliche as it comes, but it’s really true. It’s not the children’s responsibility to raise themselves. We need to stand up for them and care for them; prepare them to be able and competent adults. Unless we do, I don’t see much hope of this cycle ever changing. There needs to be a spiritual rescue here. We're in far too much of a mess to expect that we can clean it up ourselves. We must allow Creator in to break the bondages here, and allow these little children to grow up to their fullest potential.

Monday

2009-10-26T07:26:00.000-07:00

Monday. Groan.
This week we will have Halloween. We will carve pumpkins, go to a party and dress up (Caleb as a dino, me as Mini Mouse, Paul TBA); but today? Today is Monday. I think if we did some research we would discover that few significant things in history happened on a Monday.

I am not feeling witty today... I blame it, in part, to the fact that it's Monday.

Caleb decided to start his week at 3am this morning- awake for no other reason than to hang out. He stroked my hair, whispered into my ear and hugged my neck. I was initially annoyed and exhausted but when he began whispering "Mom" into my ear with his arms wrapped tightly around my neck, I melted into a big sappy pool of Mama. Soon he won't cuddle like that. So while I don't encourage these middle of the night hang-out sessions with Caleb (he did go down after a period of cuddling and then screamed for over an hour), I will cherish moments like this morning.

I don't have much to say this morning except that I will try to rejoice in each day that the Lord has made- even sleep deprived Mondays. Even in our sluggery and exhaustion He gives us little gifts (like little boys who would still prefer to cuddle Mama than his prized Mickey Mouse).

Doting

2009-10-20T08:10:00.000-07:00

Caleb is pushing molars through. He's such a big boy! But molars, being big teeth often mean big struggles. Those aren't the only things he's pushing. He's pushing boundaries, as toddlers do, and getting into mischief. Hair pulling; "Gentle touch!" (straining through clenched teeth). Nose-picking and then sharing; "No thankyou." Surfing on the rocking char: "On your bum."- followed by a wide mouthed shake of the head implying, "No Mama!" Major meltdowns when his route of discovery is denied (venturing into the toilet, dangeroud cupboards, and pulling on electrical cords), lead to an exasperated mama.

What a lesson in patience-- in that I have none and need lots. Oh patience. I've found myself grumbling "Enough!" when his fit over splashing in his Rice Crispies has gotten the best of me. I find myself taking off down the hall for a breather leaving a confused and crying little guy watching me while movie-style tear drops slide one at a time down his red cheeks. I need more patience!

The thing about toddlers is that we've all been toddlers and our parents seemed to have lived through it. I, apparently, was quite a pill. I believe it too! I had quite the temper, according to Bevy. Toddlers DO this kind of stuff. It's a part of who they are. It's how they learn.

On the other extreme, he's becoming such an independent and adventurous little boy. It warms my heart so much. Last week he conquered climbing up the couch, over the arm, and then onto the toy chest where he triumphantly screeched and raised his arms above his head in victory. "Look at me! I did it!" Hooray little guy! You really did it!

One day I lazily requested from the rocking chair, "Go get a book and Mama will read it to you." He promptly stopped what he was doing, B-lined it for the book shelf, got a favourite and brought it to me. What?! How did he do that? He's also been opening his mouth to try to speak to us. The other day dropping him off at daycare he pointed to a poster with pictures of babies on it and said, "baba".

I don't deserve this little joy in my life. He is a gift from the Lord. Why do I get the privilege of watching him grow (so quickly) before my eyes? Why do I get to be his mother? Because the Lord is so good. I can understand God's love for me a little bit better because He calls us his children.

He is our father and He delights in us the same way (only way more). And when we get cranky and insist on doing annoying things (like slapping our hands in our Rice Crispies), He doesn't take off down the hallway huffing and puffing. He's so patient. He sometimes closes cupboards that we really REALLY want to climb in, but He does it for our own good.

What a lesson to remember when I'm being a little stubborn toddler. He's patient with me and stands by. He also rejoices with me when I conquer a challenge, like scaling the couch. He also calls us to grab a book, bring it to him, and sit close to Him to read. What assurance we have of His love.What a father we have!

Snow: a metaphor

2009-10-13T07:36:00.000-07:00

So there's lots of snow blanketing Grassy this morning. It's been landing on and off since about Friday. It's really beautiful but far too premature so we all have mixed feelings about it (kind of like an anticipated dinner guest who comes before you wipe the grease off your face, change and do your hair).

I'm not happy about mid-October snow. Not happy at all, but I suppose it was all inevitable.
I like to think that we all move and groove through our lives in various seasons. Some seasons last a long time, allowing us to drink up every drop of their sweetest harvest. Some seasons come with a fury and leave just as quickly.

We were making it through a literal and figurative Autumn season. We were shifting back into the teaching rhythym. I was adjusting back to teaching. Caleb was transitioning to daycare. It was a time of exhaustion and trial along with some hidden beauty too. Suddenly, with no warning, came the snow- literal and figurative. News of a friend's death came as heavy and unexpected as a heavy white blanket over a colourful Autumn landscape. Suddenly, I'm surrounded by winter.

The thing about winter here up in NW Ontario is that it's long. It's so long that you can hardly imagine that spring will ever come again, but it always does.

I can't imagine the pain of losing a friend ever going away. I feel at times like the blanket of snow is so heavy around me that it suffocates me. It's all I can feel, see and imagine. It weighs heavily upon my chest and I can feel it with every heave of breath. It gets into me and chills me to the bone and I feel trapped in it. I want to get away!

I know that no matter how deep my grief; no matter how chilling and alone my winter, spring always comes. It always melts away the snow. I'm so thankful that my Creator brings along spring. It's not always when I want it (just like early winters), but I can depend on regrowth. I can rely on eventual rejuvination. I can move on to healing.

What is mind-boggling to me though is that we need winter. Farmers need winter in order to get ready for a new season of growth, prosperity and harvest. The water from the melting snow saturates the ground and sets the stage for bounty.

I suppose that I sort of need winters too. I suppose that my tears which spring from the aches in my heart, do, in fact, seep into my soul and push forth new growth. My winters change me. So while I can' t imagine spring coming any time soon, I know that it always follows winter. We will all heal from this in our own way. We can move to spring. We can take the good from this life (gone too soon) and let it nourish our soil for new growth.

There's hope, even when winter comes too soon.

Obsessed

2009-10-06T09:40:00.001-07:00

We are news obsessed. We love to know who we can be angry at; on whom we can project our fears and pity. We watch the news and murmur, "How horrible." and now we know that such-a-place has been devastated by flood (how terrible), so-and-so was robbed (oh no!). Why do we love this sort of thing? Are we moved to action by what we see or read? Does it change our lives or do we sort of turn it into our own twisted form of entertainment?

The pursuit of celebrity smut drove a princess into a guard rail and killed her. But we wouldn't have complained if the outcome was a juicy tabloid instead of a premature death. Tabloids- ok, we can agree, they're not likely a valuable source of reliable information-- but we read it anyway because we are obsessed.

Even if we don't frequently peruse the tabloids at the grocery store check out, we are guilty of feeding into the same fervor in mainstream news. Journalists are instructed to remove their emotions and get "the" story.

Such an industry killed a lovely and honest man. Those of you who know us or know what we're about know what I'm talking about. Regardless of how the news shaped the story, they didn't know him. They chased a story and got IT at any cost-- even the cost of his life.

News is not meant to be entertainment. News is meant to keep us informed of important happenings in the world. It is a symptom of a big problem when we watch the news as we would watch CSI-- hungry for recreation and entertainment.

Shame on you media (I won't mention the names)

Shame

Shame

Shame

Someone's Son

2009-09-28T08:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I'm enjoying a low-key Sunday morning with my messy little boy, when a sudden pounding on my front door shatters the peace. A neighbour from the next building stands on my porch with her head in her hands sobbing and asking for me to call the police for her. Her husband (stinking drunk at 10am) has been beating her senseless. She's worried about her 12 year-old son who is still in the house. Paul goes to the house to see if the boy is alright. A few minutes later Son arrives on our porch bleary-eyed (having just woken up) and both embarrassed (that we are wise to his secrets) and aware of his mom's situation.

Just when I was settling into my comfortable routine and beginning to compain about things like being tired and over-worked, my eyes are opened again to the reality of a world that is broken and looking for love. 12-year-old Son who came to the porch happens to be a real tough guy at school. Wouldn't you? I am reminded that behind every scowl or attitude there are raw hearts. Hearts that have been isolated and forgotten; hearts that are lonely and broken.

A sad but faint light of a student has our hearts. We want to see him succeed and every once in a while get a glimpse of hope with him. He arrived today drunk and sad. He can't go home but he can't stay here. I've sent him to his friend's house, where it's more of the same thing; it's the best I can do for him. He has advertised to the teachers close to him that his goal in life is to complete high school and then take his life. This is why he's 20something and still in school. It's his way of prolonging his inevitable outcome (in his own words). My heart breaks for the broken.

We bandage our wounds with things that numb the pain. We keep others away by being prickly- this way we can hurt them before they hurt us. We can drink/smoke/whatever away the pain just so that we can forget how much we've failed or are starving for what we cannot have.

12-year-old Son and Faint Light are someone's sons. Each were born to some woman who put out her arms and held him close. When did things go so wrong? We cannot really know, but we can be a gentle voice, a phone call to the police, a glass of water to the parched. We can be kindness in a world of rushing around, individualism, dog-eat-dog and sterilization. We can care and we can love.

Let's take our headphones out and listen to the cries of the hurting (they're often so quiet). They are the cries of someone's son or daughter.

Are You Kidding Me??

2009-09-22T09:00:00.000-07:00

I have a blog which serves as a figurative soap box, so please indulge me and allow this one rant.

I was preparing today's lesson for my Native Studies class. We're talking about the use of Native names and mascots in professional sports.

Wikipedia has a really well balanced article about this issue, but what has really lit my fire was the reasons behind this garbage. According to many school presidents, these names and mascots are "respectful" and "pay homage" to the native cluture in their areas.

Hmmm... does anyone care to explain to me how "Chief Wahoo" (Cleveland Indians) or "Chief Fullabull" (Florida Seminoles) are respectful? How does doing the "Tomahawk chop" (which, by the way isn't even a weapon but a gardening tool) show respect for a marginalized group?

Furthermore, why is this accepted at all? Such stereotyping of any other people group wouldn't even remotely be considered.

"Hey Charlie, who is your team?" "This season I'm following the Black Skins." Never!

These names and mascots perpetuate negative stereotypes that our First People are all the same, silly looking or savage. There is no good! None! Consider the impression these images give children and rednecks

Let's just get real and say the real reasons for not addressing these issues:

- rich white people don't think it's a big deal because it doesn't hurt them

- people have given up caring about Native rights

- there's too much money wrapped up in the stereotypes to change- money matters

I'm tired of people glossing over their racism or apathy with excuses. My students laugh at these things because they don't know how to show their sadness. They laugh with sad eyes.

Swimming in September and Beautiful Death

2009-09-20T06:54:00.000-07:00

We are getting toward the tail end of September and there's still plenty of time for swimming. In September. In southern Ontario, frost is waking up the corn stalks in the morning. In Grassy, it's time for a swim. So here's photo evidence of swimming on the 19th of September. It wasn't torture either; it was quite nice.

I noticed it the other day. There was that distinct and beautiful smell of Autumn teasing me in the morning. I love fall in Grassy. There's a limited time when the drive to town is accompanied by the choreography of golden poplar leaves dancing on the road. It's their glorious curtain call before a long winter.

This weekend marks the 1st anniversary of a terrible tragedy in Grassy involving one of our students and her unborn child. It's odd to take this discussion in this direction, but even in this situation I am reminded that we are never abandoned in this death or shame. Life follows death. Beauty comes from ashes, like new green growth after a forest fire.

This is one of the reasons I love Autumn so much. Even though it is a season of death, it is beautiful. Is there more to death than we realize? Does our human grief hold us back from seeing how the beauty of life is realized in death? In my sorrow I'm reminded to fall into the arms of my Heavenly Father who orchestrates the changing of the seasons and who ordains the coming and going of our lives. He takes the shame and sorrow away and gives us the beauty still. Will we choose to see the beauty among death? We can, in faith, know that we aren't always stuck in Autumn. Seasons change and eventually Spring comes again.

"Because grace makes beauty Out of ugly things, Grace finds beauty In everything "- Grace, U2

What a mess

2009-09-17T08:45:00.001-07:00

A sheepish hello to you!

Since you've made it here, I'll assume that you got my e-mail and were able to and willing to put up with my foibles to find our blog. Bless you!

Below you will find my two previous posts. Thanks to those of you who followed my e-mail link to the other blog and read. It gave a little pat to my ego and made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

Please do become a follower which I think means that you will be notified when I write a new post.

There's chips and candy in it for you* (<-- read this line in a sing-song tone)

* chips and pop not guaranteed but I could make things happen if anyone wanted to volunteer to come and relieve me of my ENG1L class... anybody??

Fake Out and Goopy Eyes

2009-09-16T12:44:00.000-07:00

Eye goop. In my experience this has always and only ever meant pink eye. You can imagine my horror when Caleb woke up with gross green goo smeared over his eyes (gross). Much to our relief, this was only the sign of a cold, but it meant that Caleb was banished from Eagles Nest (day care). This was fine by me. I was missing Caleb in a major way and wanted some extra time with him.

He ate lots of Rice Crispies, took off his Go Diego Go pj pants, and insisted that I hang him upside down like a bat. It was the only way he was happy. Eventually he went down for a nap but not before mysteriously breaking the t.v. remote (which, let's be honest, was bound to happen). After getting into a tube of Ben Gay and a box of tissues (admittedly I gavethis to him to keep him quite while I was on the phone), he crash napped and I made coffee.

In a matter of weeks I had totally forgotten how busy it is to be at home with Caleb. Paul and I have tag-teamed this effort. I took the morning while he was teaching, and then we swapped at lunch.

I have a student that needs to eat more Rice Crispies and hang upside down like a bat. Maybe it would improve his demeanor. September 16th 2009: the first "removal" of a student from the classroom of the year. Apparently talking back is his personality and I'd "better get used to it."

And now the fake out:

We came home after school to find Internet Guy (hmph) on our roof trying to fix the equipment. Could it be? Could we possibly bet getting internet after 3 years of being without? It's a good thing I didn't really get my hopes up. As you may have guessed by the title of this blog, it was a big fake out. It solved problem #2 but left problem #1 (the main problem) unsolved. Internet Guy is a tease.

Getting Started

2009-09-14T08:17:00.000-07:00

Picking a name for this blog was tricky. I love my dear in-laws, but not much, paired with "Clugston", is catchy. It's the best I could do though, so let's all just accept it together.

Here we are in Grassy Narrows again although if you had asked me at this time last year, I would have laughed at the notion. Our friend S.T. advised us to start a blog when we moved here, but clearly, I've dragged my heels.

This will just be brief and then I'll get back to work, but I just wanted to say "hello" to you all, my dear friends. I'll be posting photos (let's be honest, mostly of our Caleb) but also other stuff because, while I love him dearly, I'm certain he's not the centre of the universe.

Blogging is weird. I don't even know if anyone will read/care what it is I have to say. It's not like I'm having triplets or anything (http://www.stimersfamily.blogspot.com/),but even if it's just me reading, as least it's a cathartic outlet.

Well, that's it for now. I'll get back to work (sigh). Stop by again- heck, even become a follower - even just to humor me.

Peace out.