When having brown eyes is a bad thing

Dear Mom,
I am sorry your the only one in the famly with brown eyes. The good news is, your still in the famly! Hopefully you have a good mothers day and I promise to do what ever you tell me to.

Love, [the eldest]

P.s. I hope your feet don't stink!


Also, both boys expressed their gratitude for a mom that is so nice because "she plays video games with us all day long." I must have blushed when the preschool teacher showed me the middlest's drawing and sentence. She replied with, "It's when they say they love watching their parent play video games that's the problem. " Sweet, Super Mario Brothers gets to stay!

The strike is over

and I have a heavy heart. The same teachers that were trying to block students from coming to school yesterday were welcomed back with flowers and smiles today. I, on the other hand, was glared at and snubbed as I walked my son to school. I now get to finish out my years at this elementary school as "the mom that crossed the lines". I don't regret my decision at all and will accept the continued intimidation. A friend told me that she had never seen my kid so happy at school as when I was his teacher. This is all worth it.

But! The scale has been tipped toward homeschooling once again. We'll see...

Day 3 as a scab.

Last Wednesday, our teacher's union decide to strike. The teachers in our district were asked to leave their classrooms and stand out front, in a show of solidarity, to let the community know that they believed they had been wronged by the governing school board. These teachers were faced with a tough decision: Strike with their peers or cross lines and teach.
Last Tuesday, I was called and asked to substitute teach. I had a decision to make: To cross lines and teach, or to stay out of it. Staying out of it caused another decision making ordeal: would I send my kid to school across picket lines. Teaching meant that my kid would have a decent sub (me) and that his peers wouldn't be left to sit in the multi-purpose room all day because no one stepped up to teach. The decision was easy. My kid wins, always.
I was to report to school at 6:45. By that time, there was a group of picketers already assembled. I had to cross their lines to do my job. I know these teachers and they know me. I was taunted and yelled at as I tried to make my way into the parking lot. I had teachers stand in front of my car and block my entry. I hadn't expected this reaction and I was so disappointed.
Once inside the school, this were organized and calm. There were 8 teachers that had stayed behind for various reasons while their colleagues were just yards away holding signs and doing what people on strike think they're supposed to do. They knew that they risked much by staying in the classroom but they did it (and continue to do it) anyway. The day went off without a hitch. My goal was to make sure that these kids felt no effects of the adult situation even though their teachers had earlier blocked their parents from dropping them off. Kids were confused and scared but soon calmed and had a great day. We are fortunate to have administrators and teachers that had planned and organized so well. The kids came first once inside the walls of the school. Refreshing.
I have been so conflicted about taking sides and by sabotaging the plight of the teachers by crossing lines. Panic and anxiety have dominated my thoughts and have trickled down to my son. I hate that this is happening and that kids are seeing a negative side of people they trust. It's disheartening, to say the least. I've thought of backing off and calling in sick. Then I wouldn't have to take sides. My life would certainly be easier.
God is good though. Today in church, our pastor brought up the strike and talked about not having to take sides. SO true! My allegiance isn't to the teachers or the school board or to the union. My heart had been grappling with that concept for days! Whose side was I on? This made it easy: My heart is with those kids. As long as they show up for school, I will be in the classroom. If I hold my head high and stand firm, I will not regret anything. And I will be teaching my son a lesson as well. I had been panicking and hiding and he saw it. No more. For if God is with me, who can be against me? This political issue has become a God issue. Amen!

The Phantom Hot Dog

The other day I went to work with the kids in Oldest's classroom. I thought I'd be an awesome mom and brought him a hot dog, all warmed up and foil-wrapped, and stick it in his lunch bag. I didn't tell him what I'd done because I was really proud of myself and really, how cool is it to have a warm hot dog show up in your lunch? Next to your peanut butter sandwich?? Score!!!

I was still proud of myself after school when Oldest came home in a great mood. It had to be the hot dog. Had to be. So I asked him about it so that he could thank me and hug me and we'd have a sweet moment and I could re-display my Mother-of-the-Year-plaque.

Yeah, he never ate it. I was dumbfounded. How could you not eat a delicious, warm hot dog that mysteriously shows up in your lunch?? How?

He replied, "Mom, would YOU eat a random hot dog that showed up in YOUR lunch for no reason? I thought some kid shoved it in there. I wasn't gonna touch that thing."

Lesson learned: The element of surprise, when hot dogs are involved, is not such a good thing.

This one ain't for the faint of heart.

Reason 1: You may die from this cuteness.

Reason 2: the above picture shows a grown Pink Baby with a vocabulary well beyond that of a 12 year old girl. Well, a 12 yr old with a baby voice. And the things that PB comes up with are quite imaginative.

Case-in-point: She has an obsession with TinkerBell. Everything she thinks of is somehow labeled or prefaced with some TinkerBell reference.

1. She thinks she goes to school- TinkerBell School. Lord knows what kind of learning takes place there.

2. Her food is all TinkerBell food. "TinkerBell _________ (insert anything: doughnuts, rice, nuggets, steak...)

3. All of her shoes are her "TinkerBell ones". Not one pair depicts TB in any way.

I'm sure you get the picture without me having to bore you with the rest of the details but I will leave you with one last one. The best one. The one that may make you die from laughter or make you strike me from your friends list because it's that strange.

4. When taking a bath with the middlest recently, she brought up that she does not have a penis. (this actually comes up a lot since she is surrounded by boys and their parts) I'm sure you can see where this is going. So I say, "No baby, remember YOU don't have one and that's how it's supposed to be." To which she replied, "That's okay, Gramma's gonna bring me one tomorrow. It's a TinkerBell penis and she has it in a baggie for me at her house."

I'm really in for it with this one, aren't I?

Breaking the streak!!

The Mr. said to me the other day, "You know, you haven't posted since August." This conjured two thoughts: 1. Shoot, he reads this thing and I need to mind my p's and q's, and 2. Dang, I am a lazy blogger. Need to do something about that.

I am breaking the streak with a good one.

Speaking of the Mr., today marks 15 years that we've been together. "Fifteen?! How can that be possible, you ask? You must have met in Kindergarten!" I know we seem far too youthful to have been in a relationship that has spanned a decade and a half.

In fact, we did meet in kindergarten but sadly, I moved putting the kibosh on any sparks that may have developed then. God tried again when in the early 90's and we found ourselves in middle school together. Nothing came of that except the memory of having apples hurled at me and that one time the freckle-faced kid was pushed into me by his buddy, nearly knocking me over. (We girls know what those things really mean.) Finally, God tried one more time by putting us in a night class together. It wasn't love at first sight since he spent most of class time flirting with my best friend at the time. He now says it was part of his strategy to "confuse the enemy". Nice try, Babe. You were just a big fat flirt, and wait, what's this "enemy" business? What it the same "enemy" that cooked you that fat steak dinner last night?

I spent the better part of a month trying get that freckled kid to call me after class had ended. I guess he was playing hard to get. It took a good amount of manipulation on the part of my current best friend (Thanks K!) to get us alone long enough to decide we liked each other. We unofficially decided on the 11th to be "going out" (what does that term mean anyway? Do kids still say that they are "going out" or have I just made myself sound ancient?).

Valentine's Day 1995 was our first big date. I can remember what I was wearing and how nervous I was. The coolest thing is, that 15 years later, he can still make me nervous and I am way more attracted to him today than I was back then (Sarah's School of Cool for Nerdy Boys helped tremendously).

Our friend Paul (or Paularino as our kids know him) has a song on his CD that makes me think of my freckled boy. In it Paul sings, "I'm right here, no matter how far. I'll always be... the boy that won your heart".

My heart has definitely been won over. For good.