My Heart: Act II

Friends,

It's been a long time since I've written because I haven't had the words to say. You see, last September my heart broke. In all honesty it was breaking beforehand, but as I understood it the whole fracture took place in a day. A hammer on stained glass. Scissors to a quilt. 

I thought afterwards that my heart must have stopped beating, and reflecting in the passing days I wondered how it could not have. It was a miracle. 

Lest you worry, physically I was fine. The boys were fine. Even J-Man was fine. I guess.

I don't really know how to discuss heartbreak here because there are always two sides, and if you're reading this I can only guarantee you mine. And I don't guarantee much of that because it's still my story, to be shared if and when I'm ready. It's my truth. It's a day that, however, did not manage to stop my heart.

In the months since then, my heart has proven time and again that it beats on. It races when I consider where to move or if that's right for me. Or for the kids. It races more when I think of starting at a new school and what changes that could bring. Or resentment. But then I hold my two sweet boys and wrap myself in the world of loving them. Cleaning nosebleeds and blowing bubbles and dancing to the music we choose. 

Of course, it speeds up again when I have to answer their tough questions about our family being forever. I tell them that their dad and I will love them more than anyone else, like we always have, and that our love is forever. In that way we will always be a family. 

It physically aches when they request the story of the prince and the princess. The one where the main characters both have castles in Harlem and meet at teaching school and get engaged in Central Park and give each other rings in front of friends and family to say they'll live happily ever after with their two little princes. PDG's timing on requesting that story is impeccably ironic. And also gut-wrenching.

The thing is, we changed part of the story. And then I changed how I tell the story. It used to be that was the end of it all. Now the two promise to love the princes forever, but one day decide to live in separate houses. I didn't think I could change it, and yet I did. 

I realized during one telling that just because the ending changed, it didn't actually alter anything else. The story is still full of happiness. The story is an outgoing, smart, and goofy guy falling for a polar opposite girl, and the two making a life together.

Of course I know that years from now I'll reread this entry and think of all I don't know yet. By then I'll know if I moved and where. If I got a different job in this school district. I'll know if someone else found me lovable, and if I learned to trust again enough to accept it. If I figured out how not to judge myself based on someone else's adoration. I'll know the myriad things I cannot even fathom that I don't know now.

I do know this, as I will in the future, my heart will keep beating. In eight months it has beat through a separation, a reconciliation, a #divorcemoon and yet another separation. It keeps going. And if I doubt that, I will channel the characters of my book, turn up some Ingrid Michaelson, and sing along with both MDG and PDG that "all the broken hearts in the world still beat." 

I'll keep doing the things I love. I'll write about the topics that hurt and scare me - both here and in my stories. I'll cry at times, but I'll smile more. I'll make new memories, adding more chapters to the story of my life. My heart will step into act II. 

So, here goes. Welcome to the journey.

Paint Night

Rather than catch up on all of the last month, let me just start with last night. I went to my first painting party.

My Work BFF Sra K was celebrating her fiftieth birthday, and despite the fact that I don't drink wine and my painting experience for the last two decades has been limited to wall primer and theatrical sets, I decided I was going to have fun. So I went, and I did.

It started simple enough, her feeding us tons of delicious food in that way that people who show love through giving and cooking excel at, and some uncomfortable mingling on my part. It shouldn't have been awkward, what with it being mostly coworkers and other great people that my equally great friend likes, but my introvert half kicks in when the threshold of six or so people gets crossed. This party had forty-five painters-in-training all ready to celebrate Sra K and get our artistry on.

 We began with a blank canvas. Obviously. And I'm going to spare you the many metaphors I could describe about potential and fresh starts and endless possibilities. It was a blank canvas and hung in front of us was the desired finish product - Birds on a Fence.

Our artist teacher took us step by step from easy - the turquoise sky, streaks encouraged - to the impossibly difficult - birds I never even attempted. Let's just say mine ended up being renamed to simply Fence.

I sat between two other language teachers and self-proclaimed non-artists, and we enjoyed making fun of our failures and frequently asking each other "what are we doing now?" and "do you really think he has the same brushes as us?" with the occasional "wow, yours looks way better than mine."

It was all quite intense and yet completely ridiculous because no one's, and I mean no one's, looked as good as his. Even if they did all shine in their own way. Get the pun?

In the end I decided I liked it though. And it makes me think of the song I sing my boys almost every night these days. (They're over "Twinkle Twinkle" and the backwards ABC's and are back to the Bye Bye Birdie ripoff "I love you PDG, oh yes I do..." and "You Are My Sunshine"). So when I presented it to the boys, I told them it was so that whenever they look at it they know the lyrics are true. They really are my sunshines, and they'll never know how much I love them both.

I mean, aren't they cute? And big? And full of energy and light?

Snow Day One... Of Many

Tomorrow I return to work after seven consecutive snow days. Seven. And tomorrow is a work day, so that means it will be eight business days - twelve actual days - without seeing any students. That is a really, really long time.

So long that I've lost my mind, just a tiny bit.

It started kind of cute. Wednesday night before the storm we were supposed to get a dusting. With J-Man having a terrible work trip to Atlanta all week, Mama and Papa H, along with Big Sis and Baby C, had come over for dinner and playtime. As they went to get in their car we saw this scene.

Over an hour later they made it to the onramp of the highway, only to learn the highway was shut down and not moving. Turns out no one within the beltway pre-treated the roads so it was a giant skating rink for rush hour. A little over another hour later they made it back to my house where it turned into an H family sleepover. Poor Baby C had no pack-n-play or crib, so it wasn't our best rested night in this house, but given that MDG exists, it was still far from the worst.

My school system doesn't play with snow anymore, so we shut down before midnight and the next day the boys got to ease into winter.

Little did I know that would be the beginning of an extended staycation snowed in. I'm looking forward to the return to civilization. But only sort of. I also really enjoyed an impromptu reason to stay home, build forts, watch too much TV, and get to know the neighbors through shoveling parties and shared outdoor child supervision.

Conversation Snapshots

Here are some sample conversations from this week:

The first day

4:30pm - Me: Mama doesn't feel like cooking. How about Happy Meals?

PDG and MDG: Yeah!

5:00-5:05pm - silent stuffing of faces. Nuggets. Fries. Sauce. Gogurt. Apple Juice.

5:08pm - PDG:  Mommy, my tummy hurts.

5:09pm - PDG: Bleggghhhh (is that how you type the sound of massive projectile vomiting?)

5:11pm - PDG: Mommy, I'm hungry. Can I have some dinner?

The Next Day - via text

Mama H: I can't put your book down!

Me: Really?! (book and smiley emojis)

Mama H: Yes. Dad called for me to help him and I made him wait! I can't believe she [spoiler]! Gotta go. Can't wait to see how this goes.


The Next Day in a last minute faculty meeting

Assistant Principal: We need each of you to use one of your planning periods to make continuous laps of the school checking every stall in every student bathroom and noting the time and what you find.

My inner monologue: I can tell you what I'll find in girls' bathrooms, and it will be disgusting, smelly, and likely bloody. Also, I miss New York and its union, where no one could make me do this crap without extra pay. Yes, a bathroom pun. Let's see how many of these I can work in until this temporary duty is over. Doo-ty. Score, another one.


The Next Day in a lesson on formal commands and giving directions around town

Student who mostly communicates through grunts: Sra G, you're the best Spanish teacher.
Me: We're all good. We just have different styles.
SWMCTG: No, you're the best.
Me: Well, then, gracias. Now back to work.

So yeah, a week of ups and downs.

Where Is the Love?

A few minutes ago I sat down to write this post about how the craziness of my return to work has subsided now that we all survived today. I plopped myself onto the couch, snuggled under the mexiblanket, grabbed a handful of potato chips, remembered I only had half my goal of water intake today, and checked my phone. Guess what, guys - it isn't over yet.

If you don't live in the DC area and/or don't watch the morning news, you might not know that my school has been the topic of conversation. Our new principal started last Monday, our first day back from break, and before she could go home the note below was discovered in one of the boys' bathrooms.

Classy guys. Way to start the year off with a bang. (Our head of security accidentally used that exact pun in our briefing the next day. He received nervous laughter and quickly apologized for the slip.) According to police, the threat was not credible. I still don't totally get the metrics of credible vs not credible, but I do believe it to be incredibly stupid.

As a staff we discussed lockdown procedures while simultaneously welcoming our new principal (a woman!) on board, and agreed to face the week like any other. Easy enough. A letter was sent home, extra police and security were called in for the week to make everyone feel safe, cameras were checked of who went into and out of that bathroom all day, and in my room, we kept on speaking Spanish. At least, attempting. It's amazing how much kids forget in two weeks.

Fast forward to Thursday night, similar snuggling happening, I think we were watching Train Wreck, when my school's number popped up on my phone. Another idiot wrote another threat on another wall in the school. Maybe the same idiot. In these situations, all idiots tend to blend together into one giant fear-mongering mammoth of an idiot. The proposed date, which our principal chose not to broadcast but the student rumor mill spread anyway, was Tuesday January 12th. Today. Some even said 1:20pm.

The local channels got wind and thanks to a slow news day, set up their cameras at 5am Friday and kept replaying the same information all morning long until even Mama H called to be sure she shouldn't be worried. Kids were getting pulled from class left and right. Parents were terrified. A coworker of mine asked what I would do if my boys were at a school where there'd been two threats of violence in one week. I told her I felt safe, but truthfully, I don't blame any parent trying to protect their kid. I don't like giving in to terrorists, though, and whoever is writing these stupid graffiti threats is trying to promote fear for sure. They might also have had a test scheduled for 6th period and were hoping to scam us into an early release?

Today the school felt a step closer to normal. The extra security were less visible and the office less flooded with nervous mothers. Still, one of my classes had a third of the kids absent. Just in case.

So as I snuggled in, thinking it was over, we could shed this layer of general anxiety - even those of us who never fully believed it was more than a teenage prank, but stayed a little on edge with darting eyes of alertness anyway - I was beyond annoyed to get yet another robocall from my principal stating yet another threat for yet another future date.

Tomorrow the kids will tell me the details - they always know first - and I'll remind them I've been trained to keep them safe. We'll stick with this frustrating cycle a little longer until one of these vandals gets caught. I'll keep assuming it's a dumb act by a kid who could really just use a hug, a (metaphorical) slap to the face, and a better understanding of the devastating effects of gun violence and inciting fear.

I mean, people, what ever happened to snow dances when you want a day off school? I could join in that effort. I'd salsa the heck out of some snow rhythms. I'd get my whole class going. For the love of human life and happiness, let's stop with the shooting threats and get back to the things I love about school. Like conjugating verbs in the preterite.

These Bodies of Ours

Two weeks ago was one of those magnificent weeks that we teachers survive our first quarter awaiting: only three days of instruction! November is pretty great like that. I mean, September only gives you Labor Day (which used to come before instruction even started) and then October gives you that awkward-to-celebrate Columbus Day nonsense where we have teacher conferences but November... I love November.

This year the end of the marking period lined up with election day, so we got ourselves two work days in a row. Not as crazy awesome as the kiddos, who got a four day weekend straight up, but still pretty sweet. On Wednesday when we finally started teaching, it felt like we hadn't seen these kids in ages. I'd almost forgotten what I was doing. I was rolling my cart back to the planning room for the last period of the day when I found out my work BFF Sra BK had passed out while teaching.

What?!?!

My Asst Principal joked that maybe Sra BK was preggo (which I'm sure Sra BK had NOT found funny when being wheeled out of the school en route to the hospital) and immediately the speculation began. Dehydration? Blood sugar? Overexertion? Something scarier???

I don't do all that well with mortality. J-Man finds that ironic since the LDS church is all about eternal life and heaven for everybody and a billion second chances to do things 'right.' Still, when people around me get sick, I freak out. My neurons start firing in crazy directions and I can't concentrate and temporary madness sets in. (If you're thinking I should tell a shrink instead of you about this, don't worry, I'm steps ahead of you).

So I called J-Man to tell him about my weird day and how I was worried about Sra BK and might be emotionally a little off for the evening until I worked through my feelings in the ways I've learned to calm myself down, when he told me he had a terrible day too. Turns out one of his coworkers, our same age, way more physically fit than either of us have ever been, black, Georgetown Law grad, nice guy, etc, just dropped dead on the basketball court the night before.

I couldn't believe it. J-Man couldn't believe it. We were both being in-your-face reminded that our bodies are unpredictable and unreliable at the same time, and neither of us liked it.

I know everyone grieves differently, and luckily on my end Sra BK ended up being totally ok, but it just started feeling a little overwhelming. I thought about the four high school suicides that happened a couple weekends prior in our county. I thought about the Statistics teacher whose 34-year-old daughter (1999 valedictorian from the school where I teach) just died while biking to work. I thought about the eleven year old grandchild of two retirees from my school who just died on a dirtbike. Suddenly it felt like no one was surviving and everyone's life was fleeting and I needed to hold on to my J-Man a little tighter and kiss my boys eighty more times at bedtime. 

When I saw the Stats teacher a few days later, I felt guilty standing next to my boys in their matching shirts and boots and ear to ear smiles. My heart is so full of laughter and hers was still so visibly breaking and I was helplessly out of words. Not that my words mattered, the moment wasn't even about me. Which only made me feel this selfishly uncomfortable form of worse. I wished I knew her well enough I could have just hugged her and let that speak for itself, sparing us both the strange moment on the sidewalk.

I walked away from that enounter and took time to look at my family, I know I'm lucky. I know I have so much to be thankful for. I know we can't live forever, at least not here on this planet. I'm glad for every moment I spend with them. And I try to snap out of too many sad thoughts, because I want to make the most of the time I do get here. It's the best thing I know how to do. Also, on a practical note, I should probably listen to J-Man and go up my life insurance soon. These boys are fun and cute and all, but they're not cheap.

Sportin' Some Seahawks

Last year, the Seahawks had an awesome season. The year before they had an even more awesome season. And truly, every year since J-Man and I moved to the SeaTac area in 2008 they've been steadily improving. I like to think my fandom is what pushed them over the edge. The more of a fan I've become, the better they've done. 

That is, until the superbowl 2015 and its unspeakable final moments and the general apathetic disintegration that's been going on the past few months.

I say all this with love. I really like cheering for the Seahawks. Not enough to stay awake and watch late games. Not even enough to really pay attention during afternoon games while only the highlights are displaying on Red Zone. But enough to know the key players' names, get excited by memes, commercials and other franchise news, and have serious opinions about Russell Wilson's dating life. 

Also, J-Man bought me a jersey for my birthday last year, so I think that makes me a fan for life. These things ain't cheap. I'm a fan until this jersey wears out; I can't just go around buying new jerseys every time a team misses a perfectly opportune chance to run the ball in with the best runner-inner in the league.

So, back to me and my fandom and how my wardrobe has been affected... the first Friday of football season, I decided to sport my new Richard Sherman #25. PDG didn't have any navy/green, so he wore his "football shirt" with the numbers on it, that made him feel like he was in a jersey and thankfully had navy blue so it worked aesthetically. MDG didn't have any "football shirts" but he did have a navy and neon shirt that said let the games begin, so, you know, perfect in its own way. J-Man wore one of his many Hawks items (probably a few items really), and as a family, we earned the title of most fantastically fanified of all time.

It was fun and at that point, nothing bad had happened this season yet.

By the time Spirit week rolled around at my school, my team had already had some disappointing losses. Still, unwavering in my support, I decided to go all out. Every year I like to pick one or two days of Spirit week to really be a team player. I give less quizzes, I try to throw in some games on pep rally day, I blur the line of super-strict-til-Christmas and have some fun. Tailgate Tuesday called my name, and I had no choice but to raid J-Man's closet and respond with this.

Yes, I got teased plenty. I got accused of being a bandwagoner (to which I mentioned attending games back when Hasselbeck was QB and empty stadium seats abounded) and also questioned for hanging on despite the downward trajectory. I stayed true, even working my 6th period duty at the security desk, checking in all visitors to the school and working our fancy remote-operated doors. My clashing stripes and polka dots on pattern day didn't hold a candle to my neon proclamation. I'm a 12 for life. Win or lose.

But, if any Seahawks are reading this, just an fyi: it's way more fun for all us G's if you keep winning. Just, you know, in case you weren't sure. That'd be awesome. Or, you know, if it's not the winning you're having trouble with, then, maybe, just possibly, not losing at the very end. That'd be cool too. K. Thanks. Kisses.

Big Sis Brought the Snow!

It's been a weird, wet winter in these parts this year. While out by Mama and Papa H there's been plenty of the fluffy white stuff, those of us inside the beltway have mostly just gotten rain.  Sometimes freezing rain. Sometimes a dusting and then rain. But not that accumulating, watch-it-fall, beautiful snow.

Then, Big Sis came to town. And Big Sis has had a pretty rough winter this year. She's been saying how one of the major things she misses by living in the south is snow. She really, really wanted snow. And would you believe it? It came!

As a sidenote, Miss S, our fearlessly fabulous daycare provider, is in India celebrating a wedding for two and a half weeks, so Mama and Papa H have been amazingly watching both MDG and PDG recently. It's been on their terms, though, since it's a big undertaking, meaning they've stayed out at their house. So last week we went five whole nights with no bedtime stories or early morning potty adventures. The house felt strange and empty. The boys were obviously in great hands, but they weren't my hands, which felt really odd. (If you're wondering what I did to keep busy and distracted- I read the entire Divergent series in a week... like a fourteen-year-old. You can judge.)

So after a lovely Valentine's Day weekend, which I will hopefully post about this week, I drove Big Sis and the boys out to Mama and Papa H's house where they would spend the following days. It was a little gamble, but one that paid off when at 4:30 my county preemptively called off school for the next day. So for the first time this year, the boys and I woke up to a true snow day. Unlike the previous two we've had, and the many 2-hour delays, we actually had inches to play in, kick around, throw, scrape, and stare at in confusion. You can guess which of us did which of those actions.

Without further ado, here we are, playing in the snow at Mama and Papa H's.

No tears, but he was not impressed

like the boots? Big Sis didn't pack like her snow dreams would be coming true

Pretty sure teachers love snow days even more than students

Silver Lining Questions

This week has had too much dying. Far too much. Isn't this stuff supposed to stop at three? From a girl I ran track with to J-Man's grandma to my high school librarian who used to bring us farm-fresh eggs to my sister's childhood friend to the 16 year old student that was murdered at the edge of school property... Just way too much.

I think I'm handling it all.  I think we all are.  It's just a lot.

I'm thankful to have my faith and a set of beliefs that includes a restful and joyful afterlife, but that doesn't make thinking about the families of these people magically less painful. It doesn't make me wish that J-Man's trip west hadn't been able to take place early enough for MDG to meet his other great-great-grandma on the G side. It doesn't make me less furious that drug-related crime has led to a second student's murder in my high school in less than a year. It doesn't make me ache less for a seven year old who watched her mother battle a relentless illness for nine months.

So, rather than spending tonight dwelling on loss, I think I'll look at cute pictures of my little guys and consider a new angle to life after earth.

Cute, right?

But anyway, what I'm getting at is, what if when we die, we get to look back at our lives and really truly see everything? Not just the big spiritual stuff like - was I honest or compassionate or charitable, but the silly little details that you just can't get answers to while you're here.  What would I look for?  Here's my work-in-progress list

1) Did Adnan do it? (come on, you're listening to Serial weekly and wondering too, right?)

2) And what about all those episodes of Disappeared I watched this summer? What are those folks up to?

3) Where did PDG hide my school ID cards that day he went in my purse and took my work lanyard and then lacked the short term memory and vocabulary to help me find them?

4) Just how pleasant (or unpleasant) of a surprise was I to my parents when they got the news they were gonna have a 3rd kid... six years later?

5) What happened to my pet chicken, Peep-Peep, that disappeared with just a trail of feathers back in fifth grade? Was it really as gruesome and sad as I imagined? Or did he make friends with the wild turkeys and leave for a life of leisure?

6) What do the Russian ladies say at the park when they look my direction, then at my kids, pause, then lower their voices? I've been correct to assume it has nothing to do with me, right?

7) Lastly, but possibly most importantly, where was that bar where J-Man first bought me a coke, danced on a table, and sat by me discussing best-movies-ever while Guacamole Girl stuck her finger in my appetizer? The night we exchanged numbers. Spectacle night. Some might say, the night it all began. Where between 1st and 3rd avenues and 77th and 96th streets was it and why could we never, ever find it again?

I think answering these questions, plus a giant game of who-was-on-the-same-plane/bus/train-as-me-before-we'd-ever-met, should be a fun and not so heavy way to pass time in the eternities. If, you know, passing time there is a thing. At the very least it's nice to imagine that some day I might conceivably get some clarity.

What would be your burning, totally unanswerable questions?

Happy Happy Halloween

If you know me, you probably know Halloween isn't exactly my favorite holiday.  Yes, I do love treats, but I'm just not the sort of creative brain that can design and pull-off unique, elaborate costumes. I'm far better at admiring from afar.

Being a mom, though, Halloween is a must.  I mean, I don't want these boys to grow up and wonder why we're the lame family that hates fun.

We did costumes the easy way - MDG dressed in a hand-me-down pumpkin suit (grandkid #5 to wear it), J-Man went as Russell Wilson by wearing all the Seahawk gear we already own, and PDG got to stand in Party City and point at the costume of his choice from a wall of possibilities (Spiderman).  As for me, I bought a $5 surgeon mask/gown that I never even opened.

My church does Trunk-or-Treat along with a massive pinterest-like party for all the families in advance of the big day. J-Man is a great sport every year, despite not even really being able to recognize the other ward members who tend to take the holiday far more seriously than we do. We went, got candy, played some games, ate pizza, and made it home before any G boys threw tantrums.  Success!

 

The following Friday, on the real day, I finally got to visit J-Man's new office for their office party.  It was A-Maz-Ing.  The whole place was decked out in cobwebs and black streamers and every cluster of cubicles had a theme to go with their giant bowls of candy.  In the biggest conference room were pizzas, snacks, a background for professional photographs and more. Who needed real trick or treating?

PDG won the slew of twenty-something techies over with his "happy happy halloween," "trick or treat" and manners that he actually decided to show off on command. MDG won them over just by being a baby.

It was a great afternoon that thankfully didn't need to be topped off with actual door-to-door treat-seeking, since we hit the road for more non-Halloween fun with the H Family.  (more on that sometime soon)

Summer Begins 2014

We're just over a week into vacation, and despite having taken my me-week, we've done lots of fun things together that should be captioned somewhere.  So, here's me and my family doing summertime stuff.

As teachers we're allowed to check out the day students take the last of their exams, but if we need more time we can come back the following day.  Clearly, I was out as soon as possible, because, well, summer.  Then, I picked up my boys and headed west to spend two nights with Mama and Papa H.

PDG quickly found his favorite alphabet blocks

MDG showed off his balance on this amazing Dr. Seuss quilt from a family friend

PDG remembered having watered flowers last time, and this time decided to water just about everything

And after hard work watering and running through sprinklers, everyone deserves a dip in the hot tub

Maybe I am raising country boys after all?

Sometimes it's too hot oustide, so we have to get silly to make inside sound like fun too

One more lil boy to add to KB's and my troop :)  Welcome to the world OP#2

The stroller has been a hit

They worked on fine motor skills using pipe cleaners. Clearly he was king of the park.

Celebrating JJ's 3rd birthday at a bounce house.  There were tears. And fears. And then a ton of burns from conquering the big slides over and over and over again.  Followed by pizza and birthday cake icing.

 Hopefully I remember to keep snapping photos and the boys keep napping well so I can post them

My ME week

Summer is here!

How fantastic is that? I know there is all this awareness out there that teachers put in plenty of work over the summer and some don't get paid and yada yada yada... but, let's not act like summer isn't still pretty amazing. I've worked my behind off and then, like some sort of magic spell, I got to turn off my 5am cell phone alarm the night of the 19th and not need to turn it back on until Labor Day.

Yeah, I know, I still have two precious alarms named PDG and MDG, and yeah, one of them does still sound his own feed-me alarm between 4am and 6am, but we're counting blessings here.

So, how did I celebrate the dawn of summer vacation? What makes me so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed during today's nap? It's a secret I will tell you so long as you promise to only judge me secretly and not to my face.

I took a ME week.

Not a MOM week. Not a TEACHER week. Not a WIFE week. Not even a H-FAMILY week. It was a week just for Nicole. I took the boys to daycare, spent the day as I pleased, and then picked them back up.

I think it is one of those things every mom, whether working inside or outside the home, daydreams of enjoying.  (right?)

I felt so guilty leading up to it that I had to practice how to describe it to people. I worried about what they would think. Would it make me a bad mom? Do good moms want a week without their kids? What would I even do?

But then Monday came, and aside from the two round trip schleps down south to Miss S's, I found myself with about 6.5 hours or so to do with as I pleased.  So I napped, obviously, and I pumped, naturally, and I put on crime shows, and then I....  cleaned!

Ha! Surprised? Me too!

I cleaned and I loved it. No one immediately trampled in the dust piles or proudly unfolded clothes to announce who they belonged to. I sang to myself, and not Wheels on the Bus. I did something I used to think was a chore and I loved every minute of it. And then my heart melted when at 3:30 I picked up those little boys of mine and saw their smiling faces.

Everyone had a good day.

And so went the next four. I napped daily, and pumped daily, and did indulge in one massage (thanks J-Man). But I changed out all MDG's 6mo clothes for 9mo, and finished changing PDG from 2T to 3T. I did a billion loads of laundry.  I cleaned the bathroom and the bedrooms and the kitchen. I completed my first ever craigslist transaction and bought a sit-n-stand stroller for when I'd have my boys back full time. I shopped in Target instead of online! I cooked something that didn't call itself a 30-minute meal, and didn't come in a box.

All this, and when I picked up my kiddos, I still got to play with them.

At church on Sunday I was asked a few times how I felt because I looked refreshed. I finally had the courage to admit what I'd done. And to admit that now, after my me-week, I couldn't wait to have my boys all summer. I was/am excited to spend all day with them. I feel prepared. I'm not nearly as nervous as I was those final weeks of school leading up to this alone-with-two adventure. I may not be long-term SAHM material (and you know I give props to all those who are!), but I'm ready and willing and excited for my two months of it.

Bring it on, summer! We G's are ready to make some memories!

Back to Work Take One

Today, January 21st, at 7 weeks and 1 day PP, I returned to work.

Ok, no, I didn't.  I mean, I'm back as far as the paperwork goes, but Winter Storm Janus decided to sweep in and drop some snow on the East Coast.

I love how trustingly MDG is watching PDG

The best part?  Not only am I home, but J-Man got a work-from-home day too.  So it's like a little family vacation.

I expected to be exhausted and stressed and pulling my hair out right now and instead I have wet hair from a super long shower where I actually washed it - a true luxury these days.

So what have we been up to?  Straight chillin'.

We'll see what PWCS has to say about school tomorrow.  Can I get a 2-hour delay on attempt number two to return?  Fingers crossed, inside out pajamas, snow dances and ice cubes in the toilet.

Worst Month Ever?

I know we're only halfway through, but I'm ready to label January 2014 as the worst month of J-Man's and my time together.

Is that a little dramatic?  Perhaps.  But that doesn't make it less true.

Yeah, January, I'm lookin' at you

Also, I should clarify, this isn't to say that it's the worst our relationship has been.  Granted, throw enough stress inducers in the pot and any marriage will hit a bump or two, but that isn't really it.  It's just, um, everything?

There's the obvious one.  We have a newborn.  And he cries.  A lot.  Similarly to PDG, it isn't the kind of cry that requires any diagnosis like reflux or colic or what have you.  Just general fussiness until he figures out what life out of the womb is all about.  So, yeah, there's that.  It makes us feel a little nutty sometimes......

Then there's work.  My fears about returning so soon.  I go back next week at only 7 weeks - a far cry from the 5 months I had with PDG (though only 12 of those were expected if you remember).  And there's J-Man's work.  Where they're doing restructuring and being generally jerkish to him.  Which he would never want me to elaborate on so I won't.  But I think we can agree that when work feels miserable, it's easy for everything else to be miserable, no?

Plus, PDG threw up at daycare last week.  We thought it was just one of those random things that happens to little boys who eat as much as he does.  But, again, worst month ever.  Seems he had some kind of bug.  Bad enough that he didn't even want to play at the park with his grandma that afternoon.  Bad enough that he'd keep throwing up all evening.  And then bad enough that he'd pass it along to his exhausted and already dehydrated mama, who would lovingly share it with her annoyed-with-work husband.  Fingers crossed the baby doesn't get some form too.  I'm hoping the incessant nursing at least is passing along my antibodies to protect him.

I seem to recall there being something else craptastic these past 15 days, but you're getting the point, right?

On the upside (did you think I'd be negative ALL post?) a few great things have happened.  J-Man's mom is in town from Washington state.  She's been super helpful - especially during the stomach madness.

And, fans could argue even better, the Seahawks won.  We donned our tattoos and duct tape and jerseys, bibs, and hats to cheer them on.  Go Hawks.  Ca-Caw

November Thanks but No Thanks

Oh friends, what a trying first week of November this has been.  Rather than lament what feels like one disaster after another, I'm going to try to channel some of that Facebook what-I'm-grateful-for November attitude and reframe it all.

So with that said I'm grateful that....

1) PDG's doctor's office is open late.  Much better than a $200 emergency room visit when his random 102.5 fever joined up with crazy huge welts all over his body.  fyi - hives.

2) amoxicillin tastes like bubble gum.  Makes 10 days of antibiotics for strep for a 19 month old actually possible to administer.  Benadryl - work on that, would you? (did you know strep can cause hives? weird)

3) PDG is old enough for, and loves going to, nursery at church.  I do feel guilty sometimes at wanting to spend any more time away from him than I already do, but since he turned 18 months and started getting to attend Nursery, I've gotten to feel like I'm getting more out of Sunday School and Relief Society again.  Plus, it's helped him learn to fold his arms to pray - super duper adorable.

4) My nesting carried over into having my 1st quarter grades entered well before the deadline on Tuesday.  Otherwise I would've joined the ranks of teachers flipping out that our electronic gradebook shut down the three school days before all grades/comments were due.  Instead I got to spend all day making copies of worksheets for the next six weeks and weekly outlines of lesson plans for whenever this baby MDG decides to show up.

5) NPR keeps me calm when a tractor trailer full of fuel crashes on I-95 south, shutting down the entire interstate, and turning my 30 minute commute into a 90 minute one.  No longer can I say I've never been late to work.

6) Mama H answers the phone as early as 5:30am.  (Sorry Mama H for all the calls this week!)

7) Papa H insists I keep AAA coverage.  When stranded on the side of the road with a dead car and a very active toddler, knowing help is on the way is one of few positive thoughts

8) My coworkers are as excited about this baby as I am.  So when I thought my water might have broken during 1st period (I'll end details there for TMI reasons) I had an army of women getting a sub to cover, walking me to the bathroom, and getting me a ride to L&D to get checked out.  Of course, as you probably guessed, it wasn't my water.  And not enough contractions to move things along.  But a good practice run I guess.

9) PDG can cheer up just about anyone.  After this long week, and particularly long day, I told PDG it was time to go "night night." Because he's a strange little boy who loves bedtime - don't hate me, ok? - he immediately put down his toy, started waving his arms to say bye, and then looked at J-Man.  He stopped, smiled, said "kiss" and then walked over and gave his daddy a kiss.  Then he began climbing the stairs waving at us both again and repeating "night night."  I don't think I could love that boy more.  And I don't think J-Man's smile could have been bigger.  What a perfect way to end a far from perfect week.

So, November, what are you gonna throw at us G's this week to keep us focused on gratitude?

Spirit Week

One of the fun things about teaching in a high school is remembering just how big and important those high school rites of passage are.  While I'm finally getting over my enjoyment of high school dramas on TV, I'm still daily reminded of why settings like prom and graduation make for perfect season finales - they are crazy important to 16-year-olds.

While a notch down, so is Homecoming.  Who are you going with?  What will you wear?  Oh, you're not going?  Is it because no one asked you?

WSHS has a really complicated system for the dance.  About three weeks out you get a form that has to be stamped by the school treasurer and librarian saying that you don't owe the school any fines.  Then, after that deadline comes and goes, you have to take that stamped form to the table outside the cafeteria in order to buy tickets.  Oh, what's that, you didn't get your form stamped because you were too cool to plan on going but now you've been asked and you want to buy your ticket???  Too bad.  You missed the deadline.

Intense, right?

I didn't go to the dance this year or last year, but I hope it's at least worth all those hoops.

Well, the part I was willing to participate in was the dressing up.  We had America Monday, 1960s Tuesday, Out of this World Wednesday, Throwback Thursday (or #tbt) and Class Color Friday. Pictures below.

I did skip on 1960s because I figure, people were pregnant in the 60s, right?  Good enough.  And a friend helped us out with Wednesday.  Thursday and Friday were easy.  A 1999 Regional Track t-shirt threw it back and then a combo of a green WSHS tee with a black WSHS sweatshirt with yellow writing covered all but the freshman class's assigned colors.

The kids of course went all out.  Distractingly all out.  Do you know what it's like to teach commands to a classroom filled with painted faces, fairy wings, togas, antennae, wigs etc? Of course, I didn't give much sympathy as I did expect them to learn commands while wearing all that too.  Some did, some didn't.  Oh well.

It was a blast though.  Maybe next year I'll be creative enough, and fit into enough of my wardrobe, to commit to all five days.  Maybe.

In the meantime, I'll at least have a little fun with them, let them soak in the all important competition within the school, then together against PSHS or whomever we play next year, and I'll try to remember how great it felt to strive for and win the Silver Gavel all those years ago at my own JHHS.