Buying a Fake Tree Saved My Marriage

     The older I get I realize the importance of sparingly using the word "never."  When I was young, naive and inexperienced I used to make two statements at Christmas.  First, I swore I'd never buy a fake tree.  Second, I emphatically stated that I'd never buy my own Christmas presents.  Now I know, never say never.  Giving into these two things has made life much simpler and happier.
   I grew up in Washington state.  My dad grew up in Arizona.  We always had a live tree.  I think it was one of his favorite parts of the holiday.  When I was really little we traveled to a farm and cut down our own.  The switch to a tree lot was a big deal and not an easy decision.  As we got older and got busier it just seemed more difficult to plan a day at a tree farm.  My husband also grew up with a real tree.  When we married we agreed that a fake tree was a horrible sin.  We would never have a fake tree.  I remember snidely commenting on fake trees and not understanding how anyone could ever own one and enjoy it. 
     However, as the years past, we'll be married 18 years in May, our priorities changed and our "nevers" became weaker.  Eventually, we realized buying a tree was a chore.  We found little joy in the experience and it often caused fighting.  First of all, trees are expensive.  We'd go to the tree lot and wander around seeing trees we wanted, but not being able to buy them.  Next, we'd settle for a pretty good tree in our price range.  Finally, after choosing, we'd head home.  The worst part was yet to come.
     Once we were home we had to set the tree up.  I dreaded this every year.  I prepped myself to stay calm, but it rarely worked.  Our cheaper tree always seemed to be too small for our stand.  Mike would be swearing under the tree, while I tried to hold it straight.  He'd harshly ask if I was holding it straight and them accuse me of not paying attention.  I would be easily offended and huffily remind him that I was doing the best I could.  After all, the tree was taller than I was and I was attempting to hold it straight while being poked in the face by branches and getting sticky with sap.  I hated putting up the tree.
    Next, came the lights.  First, we had to go through each strand and make sure they all worked.  Then we had to find the strands with the matching colors, some were more pink than red.  The redder ones for the tree and the pinker ones for other decorating.  Next, we had to argue about blinking, not blinking, and blinking pace.  Finally, I usually ended up putting on the lights and then Mike would come back and fix them.  (I'm getting ticked and frustrated just writing this.)  Once the lights were perfect Mike would usually take a few pictures or video the first ornaments being hung and then disappear, trying to calm down.  Not the way we wanted to start the holidays, but our usual pattern.
     Finally, about five years ago I gave in and bought a tree on sale the day after Thanksgiving.  One of the best decisions I ever made.  It was a difficult decision, I felt so guilty.  I felt like I was giving up.  A few points swayed me though.  First, we weren't killing a tree every year for a few weeks of pleasure.  Second, in the long run it would save us money.  Third, it was pre lit and I could set it up by myself.  Wow, has that fake tree taken a lot of the stress out of the holidays.  The pros definitely have out weighed the cons.  The thing we miss most is the smell, but that's all.  Putting up the tree for us was a similar male/female getting directions and figuring out how to get somewhere experience.  What was important and how we viewed it were so very different.
     Buying a fake tree allowed me to give up on my other Christmas never.  I swore I'd never buy my own presents.  I wanted to be surprised.  I like surprises usually.  Mike hated making decisions.  He was stressed by the pressure to figure out what I wanted.  I was frustrated because I felt like he was making it too hard.  Eventually I started cutting out adds and making lists of things I'd like for him.  He didn't find this helpful either though.  He didn't think it was a surprise to buy something from a list.  My argument was that I didn't know what exactly he'd get me from the list.    I have to admit I was a little sad when I finally gave in and bought myself presents.  However, once again so much of the stress of the holidays is gone that it was worth it.  Also, the last couple of years I've wanted something big and kind of expensive. I've wanted the money he'd spend on me to pool with any other money from parents and grandparents we might get.  I usually buy my present after the holidays when I see how much we have.  One year I wanted home and away hockey jerseys and this year I want another tattoo.  Two things I have to get myself.
     So the moral of this story is never say never because the holidays are supposed to bring you together and not cause frustration and fighting.

A Week Before Winter Break (Emotions)

           A Week Before Winter Break
                 (Emotions)
               By Meredith Johnson

Monday morning: Joy
                   Just one more week!
Monday afternoon: Dread
                   A whole week of this!
Tuesday morning: Hope
                    Today can’t be worse than yesterday.
Tuesday afternoon: Frustration
                      I’m only giving directions once.
                  One more time these are the directions.
                         Last time, the directions are...
Wednesday morning: Determined
                       I am the teacher.
                       I am prepared.
                       I’ve been teaching for years.
Wednesday afternoon: Vulnerable
            I was teaching, but no one was listening.
Thursday morning: Brave
            Giving a quiz today so they won’t forget over the break.
Thursday afternoon: Defeated
                       They’ve already forgotten.
Friday morning: Apprehensive
                 Expecting the worst.
Friday afternoon: Relief
                      I made it!
                      They’re gone!
                      I’m free!
                      Done.
          (And my head only hurts a little.)

Teacher Poetry

     Every December I teach poetry.  We do a variety of styles many lending themselves to silliness and fun.  I try to write my own poems while my students write.  I enjoy it and it sets a good example.  One type of poem they usually enjoy is the "Never Will I Ever" poem.  It's an acrostic poem.  Here's mine this year:

Never will I ever...
Endure complaints about hard work.
Vote to teach on the weekends.
Expect to only give directions once.
Race my class in the halls.
Withhold quiz information.
Indulge in more than three Diet Cokes at school.
Lollygag between specialists.
Linger past the bell in the lunchroom. 
Invade another teacher’s classroom.
End a lesson without answering questions.
Vow to teach kindergarten.
Exercise my influence for evil.
Request a new class.
                        By Mrs. Johnson

     Another style we attempt is called "Alphabet Soup Poems."  My musing this year:

My Kids                                                                       By Mrs. Johnson

Children, I love you, but you’re
Driving me crazy.
Everyone stop
Fighting!
Good job, now time for
Hugs.

     We also experiment with List Poetry.  This is my poem this year:

By Mrs. Johnson

Reasons...

My homework isn’t done:
I left it at school, in the car or at my friend’s house.
I was at a Jazz game, a concert or a restaurant until late.
My mom/dad wouldn’t help me.
I didn’t know we had homework.
The teacher didn’t give me the work.
We were too busy.

Your tests aren’t corrected:
I left the key at school.
I was at my daughter’s basketball game.
My son needed his paper edited.
The baby had a fever.
My favorite tv shows were on.
I fell asleep.

   I know I repeat myself a lot.  Sorry I can't remember what I've posted before.  These are some of  my favorite teacher poems I've written:

Things to Do Instead of Get Started on My Assignment

Sharpen my pencil
Get a tissue
Look for my pencil
Pull out the wrong book
Ask to go to the bathroom
Try to go get a drink
Talk to my neighbor
Stare into space
Walk to my cubby for no reason
Tap my pencil
Dig through my pencil box
Doodle on the edge of my paper
Ask for help before reading the directions

Things Not to Ask Your Teacher

Do we have to write in complete sentences?
When is lunch?
What time does school get out?
Are we going to have homework?
Do we have to know this?
Would you repeat those directions, again?
Do I have to finish this WHOLE page?
What did you just say?

     I love to share these with my students.  Some get the joke, others ask questions that should be in my poem.  Poetry is such a good outlet.  I love teaching it and writing it.  Try some yourself and send them my way.

 

I'm the Boss

     My youngest is two and a half.  He is also 10 years younger than his sister and 12 years younger than his brother.  I often wonder what life is like from his perspective.  His life is dominated by giants who all have lots to say.  Often he has plenty of attention because he has almost four grown-ups at his disposal.  At other times he can be ignored in the bustle of daily life.
     He has discovered that mornings are his time to be in charge.  While the rest of us stumble around slowly waking, he quickly wakes up and is ready to go.  As the morning gets busy he gets bossier.  The closer we scramble to leave the house, the more orders he issues.
     "Get your shoes on, 'Lessia." he directs his sister.
     "Rilwyn!" he shouts down the stairs, "Time to go."
     "Let's go Riwyn."
     "Mom," he questions, "You ready?"
     "You coming dad?"
     "Open the door," he demands.
     He directs us all until we're all in the car ready to head out for our day.  Right now it's dang cute, let's hope his bossiness becomes more subtle and diplomatic as he gets older.

Thanksgiving, A Fine Holiday

     Thanksgiving has grown on me the older I get.  When I was younger it was just the holiday to get through until Christmas.  It meant spending the day with relatives, some I liked, some I didn't know very well and some I was happy I didn't have to see again until Christmas.  (Any relative I've accepted as a friend on facebook, you were in the first category.)  Also as a child I anticipated Thanksgiving's passing because Dad wouldn't let us play Christmas music until after Thanksgiving.  Our family tradition also included getting our tree soon after the turkey holiday. 
     My first Thanksgiving away from home was my first year at BYU.  A friend from home invited me to Thanksgiving with her sister and all her sister's in-laws.  I brought rolls, that didn't rise right.  It was okay, I'm a people person, but again just a break before heading home at Christmas.
     The next year I was engaged, but I'd promised to spend the holiday with my Grandma May in St. George.  Just the two of us.  I couldn't let her have Thanksgiving alone, but I also wished I wasn't leaving Mike.  We were that sappy, all over each other, annoying engaged couple.  Grandma drove to Provo to pick me up Wednesday.  We drove to St. George that night.  The next day we had planned to spend with the other retirees in the clubhouse at the trailer park.  However, I think after a phone call from my Aunt Cynde, we decided to drive to Tucson.  I was born in Tucson, but had never been there.  My parents moved to Washington state soon after I was born.  Tucson was where my dad grew up.  It was the place of his childhood stories.   My mom had lived there for a short time after they were married.  Being a girl from Tacoma, Washington, she had hated it.  I was curious about my birthplace and their conflicting opinions.
     Early Thanksgiving morning Grandma May and I hopped in the car.  We started our drive from St. George, Utah to Tucson, Arizona to visit Aunt Cynde.  We drove for hours.  Google says it should take between 10 and 11 hours.  I don't remember anymore how long it took.  I do remember thinking that it seemed that we were taking all the back roads and that it was the first time I saw Las Vegas.  Grandma wouldn't let me drive over the speed limit.  She made me set the cruise control at 55 mph.  When we finally arrived in Tucson we stayed for an hour.  Yep, a whole hour.  Then we got in the car and drove back to St. George.  That was one of the craziest, most memorable trips I've ever taken.
     Thanksgiving 1993 will always be memorable.  It was the first Thanksgiving after my dad died.  He died in October of that year from cancer.  My mom and my three younger sisters flew in to Las Vegas and drove to St. George.  Mike and I drove from Provo and my aunt Cynde's family arrived from Tucson.  We met at Grandma May's trailer.  We didn't all fit, so some of us stayed at grandma's friend's trailer.  Her friend was out of town.  Mike and I were assigned the other trailer along with my sisters.  We spent the night playing games and searching for an open store in the middle of the night.  We found a gas station open and bought the hardest Red Vines I have ever tried to eat.  The next day we gathered with my dad's family who we hadn't met very many times and enjoyed each others company. My father's Native American foster sister even arrived with her family. I remember wishing it hadn't taken his death to bring us together.  
     Once my children started school a new tradition emerged.  Waterford, the school I teach at and my children attend, has Grandparent's Day every year right before Thanksgiving break.  Grandparent's Day is a half day when grandparents are invited to attend school with their grandchildren.  My mom wanted to participate so she started coming to visit us every Thanksgiving.  She's here right now and we look forward to her visit.
     I've started to enjoy Thanksgiving more with age for a couple of reasons.  First, as a teacher I get a break.  Next, it's a fairly easy going holiday.  I've only attempted to host it at my house twice, I think.  I didn't volunteer easily.  Usually we go to my in-laws, my mom included and take our assigned piece of the meal.  I do little cooking, get to spend the day with family eating, watching football and playing games and I get several days off work.  What's not to like?
     Thanksgiving isn't my favorite holiday, but I don't dislike it.  It's a simple holiday and simple is good sometimes.  I don't mind Thanksgiving at all, it's just fine.

Mommilies: Do I Sound Like My Mother?

     Every year in October our school invites mothers to join us in class for the morning.  As part of this tradition my class and in fact all the third graders write mommilies.  Mommilies are things that mom always says.  The students brainstorm for homework and then practice writing quotes in class.  I always enjoy this activity.  Lots of common sayings and idioms are listed, along with phrases unique to individual families.  My own two children did this activity in third grade.  Students pick their favorites from their lists, create final drafts and then a bulletin board is created in the hall outside our classroom. 
    
     The reaction of the moms is always mixed.  Most laugh, some shake their heads, some disagree with their kids, while others try to explain.  This activity is funny and sweet.
   
     This year on the day I sent the brainstorming home I also posted a request on facebook for friends to share either mommilies they themselves use or mommilies their moms said.  I listed several of my own personal mommilies.  Things that my kids used when they had this assignment.  Here are a few:
   
     "I can only do 50 things at once and that is the 51st!"
     "I don't really like you at the moment either."
     "What is your father doing?"
     "Am I embarrassing you?  I don't mean to embarrass you."

    
     A few I remember from my mom, mostly idioms, include:

     "If wishes were fishes we'd all live in the sea."
     "Mind your P's and Q's."
     "Money doesn't grow on trees."

     Here are the ones sent to me on facebook:

     "No blood, no band-aid!" (from my mom.... Mine is "hurry scurry")
     "There's no crying in ______" whatever we may be doing . .
     "You don't HAVE to go to school, you GET to."
     "You can want all you choose, but you still....(have to, can't etc.)"
     "Oh, I'm sorry I wasn't asking if you wanted to, I'm TELLING you. . .!"
     Once when Andrew was little and was driving me nuts asking for something and "why can't I do/have it? Huh, why, huh, why?" I got exasperated and said,"Because I'm a mean, horrible mother who must hate her children." He looked shocked and started to tell me how great I was instead of continuing the begging. That became our "mommily". Anytime we ... Read More didn't have time or patience to argue about something, it was, "because I'm a mean, horrible mother who hates her children" and I would get a hug or rolled eyes instead of fights.

     And finally, some from my class this year:

     "No MORE QUESTIONS!"
     "Nobody can make you do anything."
     "I'm leaving now, bye."
     "Love others like I love you."
     "Use your brain."
     "Do you need love?"
     "Turn off the lights.  I don't own the power company."
     "I'm not your slave/waitress."  (There were multiple versions of this.)
     "Only boring people get bored."
     "You can wreck it for yourself, but you can't wreck it for all of us."
     "Sing at the table, whistle in bed, along comes the chopper and chops off your head." (I just write them like I see them.)
     "Use your OWN brain."
     "NO!  Do you have enough beans?"
     "No bleeding, no broken, you're fine."
     "How ya doing pickle?"
     "If you don't do it your name is mud."
     "The four B's: Bath, brush, books, bed."
     "In you go Indigo."
     "Hard is good."
     "You know the drill."
     "Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now!"

     Mommilies just make me ponder and think.  Many moms in my class seem to have the same reaction.  What do I say when I'm on autopilot?   What do I tell them so often that they don't even listen anymore?  Do I sound just like my mother?
    

Halloween, Who Thought of this Holiday

    Halloween is my least favorite holiday.  Always has been.  I hate haunted houses;  I hated them as a kid and still hate them today.  I don't like being scared or scaring people.  I refuse to watch scary movies.  As a tween and teenager I would hide under my blankets, plug my ears and force myself to be the first person sleep.  My hope was no one would notice how much I was really scared.  I didn't find it romantic to go to horror films on dates.  I avoided those by enjoying kick-butt action films and talking my dates into seeing almost anything, but horror flicks.  Trick-or-treating was okay, but I was never a die hard.  The amount of walking and dealing with strangers never seemed to equal the reward of candy.
    Then comes that year, somewhere between when you turn 12 and 14.  That year when it seems that every door you knock on you hear, "Aren't you a little old to be trick-or-treating?"
     Halloween is all down hill from there.  You're now officially a candy passer outer.  You're stuck at home usually answer the door and giving candy away.  If it's a year when Halloween isn't on a school night, you hope you get invited to a party.  However, if you're not invited anywhere door duty is event more depressing and embarrassing.
   As a parent Halloween means helping kids afford, find, create or sew a costume.  It means hyper kids, too much candy and wandering the neighborhood in the cold.  Sometimes you just want to say, "Can I buy you a bag of candy?"
     As a teacher it means hyper kids, little can be accomplished the day of Halloween in a classroom.  There are endless distractions: who's wearing what costume, where everyone is trick-or-treating, and the piles of treats sent to class so we can celebrate.  The day after is full of over sugared, under rested, cranky, moody students.  Around Halloween is not optimal learning time.
     Occasionally dressing up intrigues my creative side a little.  However, I rarely have somewhere to wear a costume or the time to create something for myself.  Halloween is one holiday that I don't have the spirit for and I can wait until it's over.
  

25 Things About Me

My sister posted 25 things about herself on her blog Inquisitive Mom http://theinquisitivemom.blogspot.com/2009/10/tidbits-of-me-now-its-your-turn.  She asked people to respond here's mine:

1. Mindy already knows lots about me, but I have to sit up for 1/2 an hour after I take my medicine so I'm doing this to distract myself.
2.I am Mindy's oldest sister.  I think that our dad being diagnosed with cancer while I was away at my first year of college played havoc on birth order in our family.  I've always felt a little out of place since that happened.  The next oldest, Merilee, really took over the oldest role at that time.  I don't blame her, what do you expect from a group of strong women.  However, being away from home when he died has always made me a bit of an outsider. 
3. I've often brainstormed a book in my head called, "MY SIDE OF THE STORY: How Four Sisters Dealt with Death and Healing."  In this book each of the four girls in our family writes about there experience dealing with dad's cancer and death.  I think it would make an interesting book.  Four different perspectives of the same powerful event.  We're all so opinionated and different.
4. I received my first two rejection letters for my two children's picture books. I'm not upset or surprised, just excited I dared to be rejected and put myself out there.
5. Whether or not I like a tv show all depends on the characters.  I love good characters whose lives I can get involved in.  I really am a believer in the USA networks motto: Characters Welcome.
6. I like people.  I enjoy getting to know people.  People talk to me easily.  I make friends in the grocery store line.
7. The greatest compliment someone recently gave me was, "When you talk to people it's not about you.  You'll talk to everyone.  You're not a flirt.  You talk to men and women the same.  You have lots of guy friends, but it's friendly.  You don't talk to people to draw attention to yourself."
8.  I do have a lot of male friends.  My husband is never jealous though.  I'm too trustworthy he says.  Sometimes it's a double edged sword.  Is it bad to wish sometimes he would get jealous?
9.  I wish I had more money, more time and better health so that I could play hockey more often.
10. I also wish I had more money so I could go out with my husband more often.  I think we'd see more concerts together.
11.  I think I'm a cool mom.  I don't fool myself into thinking that my teenagers call me that.  Though I think I'm not horrible to them.  I think this because I try to participate in life with them.
12. I do love embarrassing my teenagers.  Who knew it could be so much fun to be old.
13. I wish radio wasn't struggling so much.  I recently discovered a real enjoyment in listening and interacting with radio.  I think I'd love to have a talk show.
14. I wish Mike would find a band to play his songs with and get more joy out of his music.
15. I don't want to hurt my family and this next statement will, but my family, especially my husband, hasn't been happier since we let religion go at our house.
16. I still believe in God.  I just struggle with organized religion.  It is strange sometimes though because so much of my life was connected to religion in the past.  Often when I'm thinking, I'll pause and say where did that idea come from, then I'll realize it's from my religious past.
17. I know these comments worry and hurt my mom and my sisters.  I've been in their shoes before.  That's what bothers me the most.
18.  I'm not a very private person.  Sometimes this drives my husband crazy.  Sometimes it's what he loves about me.  I don't really care, it's just me.
18.  I love twitter, facebook and blogging.  I love talking to people.  These just give me more options.  I connect way more with my family, due to these devices than I ever did before.  I'm a bad sister and daughter otherwise.  I never was good at long distance relationships.  That's why I never would have waited for a missionary.
19. I love having a unique name.  Thank you mom and dad.  I hope my kids appreciate their unusual names also.
20.  I secretly really, really, really want to go on the Amazing Race.  Mostly with my husband, but he wouldn't do it, ever.  I don't think I could even bribe him with sex.  Anyone else interested?
21. I love being a teacher, most of the time.  It was the right career for me.
22. When I was sixteen I used to tell people I wanted eight kids.  When I was 34 I knew I was done having kids with just two.
23.  When I was 35 I had my third child.  There is only so much planning you can do in life.
24.  Can I have my 16 year old body (that I thought was fat) back?  However, I want my 37 year old mind and experience.
25. I love sports and being active, why don't I do it more often?

Not Quite a Dream Come True

      Maybe I'm a worse mother than I thought, but I doubt it.  I think many mothers have had a similar dream from time to time.  The dream to be sick or injured, not seriously, but just enough so that they can take a break without feeling guilty.  A daydream of having someone tell them that life was out of their hands and their was nothing they could do or say about it.  Well, this has sort of happened to me for two weeks and I admit it's not really that relaxing or happy.
     First of all, I always seem to forget what a control freak I really am.  I like to pretend I'm a go with the flow kind of girl and point out that my key ring is a disaster.  I can't be a control freak if my keys are not on the ring from smallest to largest or if I still have keys from cars long gone or to things I'm not sure where to find.  I'm not an OCD kind of control freak.  I'm a control freak in that I like to know what's going on and to have a say in how things are done.  I like to make sure things keep moving and make sense.
     Second, this is not a year to feel comfortable getting sick and missing work.  It's a little irrational, but last year there were changes made at work because of the economy that shocked and surprised me.  I don't think anyone feels safe in their jobs.  Also, I don't think many people understand this, but it is really hard to plan for a sub.  Gathering materials,  writing directions for routines, writing lessons plans and directions for several subjects, remembering hints about dealing with different kid's needs or behaviors, it is very draining and time consuming.  I can't just cancel appointments, reschedule or find someone to cover my shift. 
     Lastly, it's beginning to get really lonely.  I have a two year old who I wave to from my room where I'm sort of quarantined.  I don't want him to get sick so I've stayed away for two weeks.  I tell him I love him and I don't want to give him owwies, so I can't snuggle or hold him.  I sleep alone, so Mike doesn't get sick and my coughing doesn't keep him up.
     This whole situation is really starting to get me down.  I'm not so sick that I'm oblivious to the world around me.  I haven't had a fever for two days.  However, I'm still coughing up a storm, hoping to not pee my pants every time a fit occurs.  I get worn out really easily and my head still pounds.  I'm healthy enough to finally realize everything I have to do at work when I get back, but sick enough not to be able to do it.  I miss my kids, my students at school and playing hockey.  I wish I could make myself dream of something else, but the dreams of my sleep aren't actually any better.  I keep dreaming about class reunions involving murder mysteries and funerals, playing hockey naked, storming a radio station and yelling at my boss.  I think it's time for more cough medicine with codeine.

Ramblings From My Sickbed

Before I begin this blog let me state that I have been sick for about 10 days as of today.  Now, I don't tell you this because I want sympathy, though it's much appreciated, I tell you this to let you ponder how many hours of television I have watched.  Between naps, drug induced spurts of sleep and some reading, I have tried to distract myself with LOTS of television.  I'd read more if I could fix two things.  First, if I'd known I was going to get sick I would have brought home more reading material.  Second, sometimes my head hurts too much to read.  Many an hour has passed with the t.v. on just so I could listen to it, so I didn't feel alone.
Having said that one t.v. show I discovered has started me thinking.  It's called, "House Husbands of Hollywood."  A bunch of couples in Hollywood, who happen to have the wife as the main bread winner at the moment, agreed to let the cameras of the Reality Channel follow them.  One couple includes a former baseball player and a make-up artist, another includes a former Cosby kid and the spin off, "A Different World," I think it was called star.  The other couples include actors, lawyers and talk show hosts.  They're all mostly engaging, entertaining people to watch.  I chose to watch episodes of it over reruns of shows I've seen a million times.  I was interested in seeing how this idea of role reversal played out.
I don't feel like I saw anything very surprising.  I can't say if that has to do with my age.  I feel like I grew up in a generation where I was told girls could do anything and that roles didn't have to be set.  Or if it is more of a personality thing.  I'm kind of stubborn and don't like to be told how things are supposed to be, I will want to do the opposite.  Or if society has really changed enough that it shouldn't be a surprise that people decide what's best for them as a couple and the rest of us don't care.  Who knows?  The point is it made me think about a discussion I often have at my house and hear about between men and women.  Which job is actually harder?  Can the two rolls actually be compared?  And what really happens when both people work AND supposedly take care of the house?
Whether it is the man or the woman who stays home and their spouse works, it seems the two sides can never see the others' perspective.
I've often thought that it would be more interesting to follow a couple such as my husband and me.  Not because I want to be on t.v. (my house would embarrass me too much and I would mortify Mike with my honesty too much), but a couple who do both jobs, work full time and take care of the household chores, routines and needs.  Not just any jobs though, I think what makes us so unique is that we do the exact same job everyday.  I think somebody should follow around couples with the same full time jobs.  This would eliminate some of unknowns of understanding each others' perspectives.  When the couple gets home they KNOW first hand what the other person's day was like, no guessing, or sympathizing , just understanding.  I think this would be a much more interesting, eye opening series.

The Inquisitive Mom: Scentsational Mom Giveaway: Scentsy DIY (Design It Yourself) Kit

The Inquisitive Mom: Scentsational Mom Giveaway: Scentsy DIY (Design It Yourself) Kit

Blogging: Is It In the Genes?

I'm the oldest of four girls. We've all grown up to be fairly opinionated, strong women. Sometimes we disagree, occasionally we agree. That's one thing I love about us. A few of us have desire to share our opinions with a larger audience, so we blog. I go through spurts of blogging, it is balm for my soul. My youngest sister Mindy however is much better at it. In fact, she has a great giveaway going if you visit her site. Check it out. She's much more organized and informative, not just opinionated like me. http://www.theinquisitivemom.blogspot.com/

Teacher Trouble (A short story and a cartoon attempt.)

Ms. Jones stood in the front of the room ready to start. Few people were paying attention to her. Many were playing with their chairs, others doodled on papers, while others chatted loudly with their neighbors. She had to get their attention somehow.


“Please stop talking Leslie and Judy,” said Ms. Jones firmly, “It’s time to begin.”

The two culprits looked up guiltily and quickly quieted down.


“Now, I’d like to start...” began Ms. Jones when the door opened.

Jack sheepishly grinned from the doorway, “Sorry, um, late, um, mom, and, um, I had to use the bathroom. Sorry again. I tried to get here on time.”

Ms. Jones sighed, tucked her hair behind her ear and calmly replied, “It’s fine, just come in quickly.”

Jack nodded, smiled and found his seat.



Ms. Jones began again, introducing her topic when a hand began to wave in the back of the room.

“What NOW?” She thought to herself. I’ve barely begun.

Gathering her patience she asked, “Yes Betsy?”

“Should we be taking notes?” inquired Betsy.

“Patience.” Ms. Jones chanted repeatedly in her head. Then she smiled at Betsy and said, “Taking notes might be a good idea.”

Suddenly Betsy stood up.

“Where are you going?” asked a confused Ms. Jones.

“I have to get a pencil if I need to take notes.” was Betsy’s reply.

A chorus of “Me too” arose throughout the room, along with the sounds of digging and searching as everyone scrounged for paper and pencil.

Puffing out her cheeks and slowly letting the air out, Ms. Jones commanded, “Stop. Never mind. Just listen carefully for now and I’ll give you copies of the information later.”

Sighs of relief were heard as everyone returned to their seats.


“Okay, we don’t have much time left, so no more interruptions please.” Ms. Jones stated as she tried to start, yet once again. It was at this moment that out of the corner of her eye she spotted movement.

She continued to talk, but tracked the movement with her eyes. It was just as she suspected. Someone was passing notes. Quickly she raised her gaze and made eye contact with the guilty party.

Tom turned bright red as Ms. Jones shook her head ever so slightly at him. Silently he crumpled the note in his hand and listened to what she was saying.

Later, sitting at her desk, sipping a diet soda, Ms. Jones sighed deeply. “Why?” she asked herself, as she did each week, “Why are teachers so much trouble? I think being in charge of faculty meeting is more difficult than teaching a class of students!”

Just Thinking

I was reading tweets from various people when I came across one from someone boarding a plane. It said something like, “Damn. Lady with a baby just sat in my row.” I smiled, thinking of that person and remembering when I would have had the same reaction. It’s just interesting how your experiences change you. Now, I would be the lady with the baby sitting down by him tweeting, “Great, cute, but grouchy looking guy in my row. He’s already glaring at me.” I would be grumbling in my head, “ Probably single and has never had to travel with a kid. I hate traveling with a baby, but I have a right to visit family too.” While wishing I could sit a few rows ahead with the nice looking older lady who probably knew what I was going through. I didn’t want to be that “damn lady with the baby,” but we all get our turn.

A couple of years ago, before my adorable “surprise” called Hewson I had a different perspective about riding a plane with infants. If I boarded a plane and sat by a woman with a baby my message would have read something like, “Sitting by woman with toddler. Poor lady, just glad it’s not me.” And that would be the truth, all I’d be feeling was relief. I’d offer to help and just smile at the cries, because they weren’t my concern.

That’s why I couldn’t help, but chuckle at the tweet, because some day it will be the complainer’s turn to be the one on the plane with the baby. I’ll be happy when it’s my turn to be the helpful older lady.

Just a Quick Announcement

Guess What! My roller hockey team finally won a game tonight! It was close, 7-6, but we won with a rookie goalie. Guess who the goalie was, ME! I've played goalie before, for the kids, when they didn't have enough players, but never for adults. I've always wanted to play goalie, but I hate to experiment when it's not just for me. A whole team depends on a goalie. I didn't want to screw things up for everybody. However, tonight we had to have a goalie and nobody else wanted to do it. I step up and took the chance. I think the rest of the team played harder because I was in goal. They knew I was nervous, but they respected me for taking a chance when they wouldn't. They also knew I wasn't very good, so they had to play hard. Whatever was happening it all turned out. I'm glad I'll try new things. It's how I found the joy of hockey in the first place. It's also easy to succeed when the expectations are low, but you got to start somewhere.

Motherhood: Too Young or Too Old

I’ve been musing a lot lately about motherhood. Particularly about myself as a mother and how much I’ve changed from my first child to my last child. I’ve been pondering the right balance of over protective, let them learn from their mistakes, lots of advice and too lazy. A couple of things have brought on this self reflection.

First, my younger sister is due to have a baby in a few weeks. I am the oldest of four girls. The second oldest is the one pregnant. What’s so funny? Interesting? I’m not sure how describe the situation, is that she’s kind of doing a repeat performance of me two years ago. Two years ago I had a 11 year old and a 9 year old. My husband and I were enjoying the experience of having older children and all that we could do as a family. We were happy with two children. We had out grown our younger ideas of a bigger family and realized life was good. We were doing everything to avoid getting pregnant, except one of us having surgery. I was 34 and my youngest was 10. I was happy having my kids when I was younger and I never wanted a huge gap in their ages. (Everyone has their own experiences, but for me having my kids in my 20’s was how I planned it, I wanted to be done being pregnant by my 30’s. I’m not saying one way is better than the other, I’m just commenting on my own experiences.) Of course it’s when you get the most comfortable that life throws the unexpected at you.

My husband gets embarrassed when I say this, but I don’t really care, it’s how I think of it, I call it our “swear in the bathroom pregnancy.” When the stick turned blue and I said, “Shit.” Then I bought three more tests to be sure. Next, I told my husband.

His response was, “Is there a way I’m supposed to react?”

I told him, “No, you can swear, I did.”

So, ten years after our daughter and twelve after our first son we were starting over. This time I was in the at risk category because I would turn 35 a month before he was due. I was old this time and felt it.

Well, here it is 2 years later and my 34 year old sister called me this fall and said,”Guess what? I’m pregnant and we weren’t trying either. Maybe it’s a family thing to be really fertile at 34.”

She turned 35 during this pregnancy too and she had about the same due date I had. Strange, or maybe not, maybe I don’t know some medical reason women get fertile about this age, one last ditch effort by our bodies before time runs out. Let me know if there is, otherwise I’m sticking with the family curse and warning the other two sisters.

Her gap between kids isn’t quite as big as mine, but it’s still significant. It’s just such a strange experience having my kids spread out so far and doing things all over again. Sometimes it’s easier, because I’m older and wiser. Sometimes it’s harder because I’m older and so done with it all. This brings me to two other experiences that induced my deep thinking.

First, was playing hockey with my 14 year old. Once a week I play roller hockey in a recreation league with my oldest. It’s one of the highlights of my week. I can’t wait until my daughter is old enough to join us. Her skills are good enough, she’s just too little. We’re not on a very good team, but we’re together, doing something I love. Last week we lost big time, however we scored one goal. That goal just happened to be a pass from mother to son for the score. My hope is that someday this will be as memorable to him as it is to me. This is one of the benefits of having kids when I was in my 20’s, being able to mostly keep up with them in their teens. I thought about my toddler, when he’s 14 I’ll be in my 50’s. I still plan on playing hockey of course, I just don’t think it will be the same.

The last event happened at the park Saturday. My youngest was climbing on the playground equipment, while his sister’s soccer team warmed up. He was climbing a ladder and I just stood back and watched. It wasn’t tall and I was close, but I wasn’t hovering right behind him. I remember when my oldest first explored a park. I used to follow him around “spotting” him. I’d let him try things, but I was always right there in case he slipped or fell. I don’t feel the same need to hover with my youngest.

In fact on the same trip to the park he tripped and I discovered myself saying,”That’s okay, everybody falls sometimes.”

He got right back up smiled, brushed his hands off and played some more.

I distinctly remember rushing over to my firstborn on such instances gushing,”Are you okay? Are you hurt?” And him bursting into tears.

That’s what’s nice about being an older, more experienced parent, I know it’s okay to sit back, watch and let things happen. It’s true, everybody falls sometimes and often it’s no big deal.

So, which is better, being a young, active mother with more energy, but less experience? Or being an older, wiser mom with less energy who sometimes lets things go? I’m not sure, but I’m feeling sort of lucky as I realize I get to be both. I get the best of both worlds. In fact as I sat in the Jumpolene in my in-laws backyard yesterday singing songs with my toddler I realized that because of the ten year gap all of my kids get some benefits. The first one got attention because he was the oldest, the middle got different attention because she was a girl and the youngest gets everyones attention because he’s so far behind the rest. Motherhood, never what I expected, usually more to learn, always an adventure.

Why Hockey and Romance Don't Mix: A Cautionary Tale.

Saturday, March 14, 2009 at 11:47pm

My husband and I are a t.v. sitcom when it comes to romance. Hopefully he won’t be too offended when he reads this, but if he thinks about it he knows it’s true. (Our mothers worry about us.) There are many reasons. Three reasons have names- Rilyn, Alessia and Hewson. Another excuse is often money. Going out costs money and flowers cost money (Mike worked for a wholesale florist in college and knows how much flowers are really worth.) If there’s only so much money and choices have to be made, I’d rather spend it on hockey. He’d rather spend it on music or sports channels. Mike hates being told or pressured into being romantic by holidays, he says that seems fake. Honestly, we’ve gotten lazy. I can think of lots of reasons and excuses that we are not very romantic. (Yes Dear, I do remember the song you wrote for me. I wrote a whole other blog about it.)

Occasionally though we do make an effort and that is why I bring you this cautionary tale. We’re on Spring Break and though we are too poor to actually travel anywhere I checked out the specials at a local hotel. It’s called The Anniversary Inn and we had the pleasure of staying there once before. The Anniversary Inn is a fun establishment set up for romantic getaways with theme rooms and plenty of privacy. The first time we went we were lucky enough to have received a gift certificate. We were excited to use it, but put it off until the last minute. Suddenly it was December and about to expire, so I scrambled to get reservations and find a sitter. On the only night that worked I also happened to have a ice hockey game.

As we planned our evening I talked Mike into letting me play. The game wasn’t too late, I think it was at 7pm. He rarely came to watch me play, this was a perfect chance for him to see a game without the kids. We could check in early and spend a little quality time before the game. I could play and we’d still have all night. It was a perfect plan. Also, ice hockey is expensive, why waste the money I’d paid to play when we could obviously do both.

The day arrived. We dropped the kids off at my in-laws, checked in and explored our wild west room complete with covered wagon bed. A little over an hour after our arrival we headed to my hockey game. Now I won’t go into much detail here, I’ve blogged about my hockey addiction before, but I love hockey. I didn’t start playing until after I turned thirty and I’ve been playing about 7 years. I haven’t had very many injuries, I mean I’m always bruised, but not many sprains or breaks. I’ve had one really good black eye, one concussion and a separated shoulder. I think those are it. The night we went to the Anniversary Inn was the night I separated my shoulder.

Yep, I had convinced Mike to let me take a few hours out of our night so that I could play hockey and what happens? I get injured. The funny things about this event (yes, there were funny things) were that first, Mike rarely comes to my games. Good thing he was there because I couldn’t get myself undressed or drive to the doctor. Second, I got injured along the boards when some teenager rammed me into the wall and I got sent to the box. Third, I didn’t leave the game right away. I tried playing until I was sure I’d broken my collar bone and was worried I wouldn’t be able to play for a long time. I finally left the game, Mike helped me change and we went to the Instacare.
The Instacare took a couple of hours, but the good news was I’d only separated my shoulder. Then we drove around town looking for an open pharmacy to fill my pain killer prescription. None were open so we finally gave up until the morning. Next we needed dinner. We had planned to go out after the game before heading back to the hotel, but now it was too late. Our only option was fast food drive thru. I was in so much pain I didn’t care. We finally arrived back at the Inn and sheepishly returned to our room. It was a little embarrassing to pass the front desk. We’d left laughing and we were returning with me in a sling. When we finally got to our room we still made good use of it; just not how we’d planned or how most guests usually do. I spent most of the night soaking my aching shoulder in the huge jetted tub. Mike watched t.v. on the big screen without me complaining or kids interrupting.

So last week when I suggested the Anniversary Inn the only thing Mike said was, “Okay, but no hockey.”

What Did You Say?

Friday, May 15, 2009 at 8:06pm

In case you missed me whining today, let me complain one more time: today was Field Day at school. Now many of you may have fond memories of Field Day, I used to, unfortunately it has been forever ruined since I’ve become a teacher. Field Day is hell. The kids are hyper all morning as they wait for the afternoon, then I have to traipse around in the hot sun for two and a half hours. Relays, obstacle courses, tag games and other adventures await us. I must create even teams, while reminding everyone that this is fun and not a competition. I’m also responsible for making sure no one gets hurt, dehydrated, sun burned, lost and has a potty break without missing a single activity. Are you picturing the fun?

So, let’s just say I was not looking forward to today. It went pretty much as I expected, I’m so exhausted right now. However, there was one funny spot in the day that is still making me giggle. It was one of those “kids say the darnedest things” moments. When it first happened I was glad my “filter” worked and I didn’t say,”What the hell?”

My group had just completed the “Sponge Relay.” They had a blast, but were soaking wet. It was not cold outside, but of course once the relay was over several began to complain they were cold. We had a few moments before our next rotation so we took a break. They all decided the best way to warm up was to lie on the concrete in the sun. All sixteen did this. Shortly one student yelled,”Flip!” and they all rolled over. Seconds later someone else shouted,”Flip!” and they rolled back. This went on for a few minutes. When it was finally time to go to our next station one of my boys excitedly ran up to me and exclaimed,”Mrs. J. did you see us master baking?”

This is where I paused, got control of myself and calmly asked,”What were you guys doing?”

“We we were master baking.” he told me again. One little girl in the class overheard him this time and looked at me sharply, wide eyed.

Still calm and mostly straight faced I asked,”What’s that?”

He looked at me strangely and then replied,”Master baking, you know, sun bathing.”

Finally I could smile as I said,”I did see you all sun bathing. You should all be plenty warm now.”

Phew! I thought. He’d had me worried for a second. I wasn’t sure what kind of damage control I was going to have to do. Thankfully overall third grade is still pretty innocent and so for a moment Field Day wasn’t so bad.

Go Forth and Conquer...Fourth

Tuesday, June 2, 2009 at 6:36pm

Today was the last day of school and like every year I have very mixed emotions. Fearing I would repeat what I said last year I reread what I wrote. Not surprisingly, I would have repeated myself because I have pretty strong feelings about being a teacher. So I think I should start by quoting myself from last year's blog (Something like Yours, Mine and Our Next Adventure):

Today is the last day of school. I can not tell a lie, I'm ready and I'm excited because I'm exhausted. I think what some people don't understand about teaching is how draining it is mentally and emotionally. Every September I fall in love with 24 new people. I get to know their strengths and weaknesses. I yearn for them to succeed, learn and grow. I study, plan, adapt, adjust, conference, brainstorm, pray, test and do many more things because I care about my students. And don't get me wrong, I like what I do, I'm just a little worn out by this time of year.

I feel the same way today. This year I only had 22 students, but beginning in September I started to get to know each of them and make them my own. I've spent months working, encouraging, pushing, challenging, teaching, preparing and learning with them. The goal has always been for June to arrive and for them to be ready to move on. I think they're ready, they might not be sure, but I am.

I liked how one observant kindergarten teacher put it last Friday,"They were horrible today. They're breaking up with each other. They're breaking up with you. They're getting ready for the end."

Change is never easy, but often it is good. I'm not really sad. I'm excited for them and I know that they're in good hands next year. I also know that there's another group of 3rd graders waiting for me in a few months, after I've regrouped, reorganized and recuperated.

How I Got Addicted to Hockey

I often get asked how I got into hockey. It's not a common sport for women, there aren't many leagues in Utah and I'm not, well, young. I'm not old either, I'm just not young.

It's my husband's fault I play hockey. Now he might not see it that way and he'll probably remember things differently, but this is how I began my addiction to hockey.

Mike and I can agree that one of the things that attracted him to me was my love of sports. Early on in our marriage we played on a lot of athletic teams together, particularly in college. After college we played parks and rec coed softball. Eventually our softball team fell apart as more and more of the wives became pregnant. Soon there was no longer a coed team, but just a men's team. I was very depressed and frustrated by this turn of events. I wasn't very good at being one of those wives who sat in the bleachers and watched, I wanted to be participating. Also, I was tired of the two choices of either chasing kids around at a game or sitting home alone with them. So one night as I cried angrily about my lack of choices my husband desperately and stupidly said, "It's not my fault you don't have any hobbies. I would gladly babysit while you went to do something, if you had a hobby."

I think Mike forgot who he was talking to, because that sounded like a challenge to me. It sounded to me like "If you only had a hobby..." So I made it a goal to find a hobby. I started out with a book club, but the ladies in it were a little strange and depressing. Then I tried scrap booking, but everyone was doing that. They were doing these perfect pages exactly alike and so I would do mine as opposite as possible. Sometimes they were really ugly, but they weren't like anyone elses.

Finally I got a flier in the mail from the Olympic Oval. Inside was a class "Learn to Play Hockey " and it was just for women. Now that was original and active! So I signed up. It was me and a bunch of teenagers, but who cares. I loved it! Hockey is so perfect. There is so much you have to do at once, skate, defend, move the puck, shoot, look up; it was made for those of us with ADHD. There's nothing I'd rather do. I'm not very good at it, oh well. That's the best thing about learning a new sport after 30, you can just plain enjoy it. Nobody expects you to be any good. You can just play for the pure joy of it and I do.