Finding Nemo Every Day

My son loves Finding Nemo, so of course I've seen it eleventy-billion times.  I don't think that he really understands what the movie is about, but he loves the bright colors and since he asks for the movie by name, we are happy to indulge him. Particularly since we already have the movie on blu ray! 

So I was sitting with Zane this morning in my pre-coffee daze, and I started thinking about Dorie.  Dorie is a "boo" fish, as Zane says, who has difficulty with her memory.   She tends to forget things, and therefore doesn't seem as intelligent as Marlin, Nemo's dad, would like her to be.  Marlin is on a mission and he is so focused on that mission that he doesn't have time to think about all the many blessings he receives in his search for Nemo.  Marlin is focused on the past and the future and therefore has no time for the present.

Dorie, with her deficit memory, is all about living in the now.  She may not remember things, but she seems to thrive.  She takes everything as it comes to her, and is grateful for the experience; you can tell just by how happily she embraces life.  When sharks show up, she is happy to join in with her support.  When she is swallowed by a whale, she has absolute faith that everything will turn out.  Even when Marlin makes her cry or causes her to be stung by jellyfish because of his fears, she is quick to forget everything but the good.  The important thing to remember is that Dorie is happy.  She counts each blessing she receives as it comes to her because she lives in the present.  To Dorie, each moment in the now is a gift.  I wish I could be more like Dorie, but I often find myself behaving more like Marlin. 

How many times do we become so focused on what has happened or what will happen that we forget to focus on the now?  I know that I have a tendency to do that; even as I write this, my mind is already moving toward what has to happen tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that.  Part of being an adult is being responsible, and part of being responsible is preparing for the future.  But what if we spend part of each day, maybe the ten minutes before we fall asleep, just living in the now?  What if we just stop and think about the sound of our breathing, the feeling of the cool sheets on our legs, the sound of the ones we love dreaming nearby?  It won't hurt anything, I promise!  And if that might help each of us face the world with a little more faith in ourselves and a bit more positivity, wouldn't it be worth it? 

The Space-Time Continuum...

Has anyone else ever noticed?  I can be Ms. Efficient, have a list, all my coupons sorted and ready to go, and have all my stuff in the cart and I get to the checkout line and...time either slows down, or it stops completely. 

There's never enough cashiers online, so you have no choice but to wait in line.  Even if you do the self-checkout, you're still stuck in a time warp.  And no matter what line you choose, the people in front of you make the line move even slower. I usually get behind the woman with the food stamps trying to buy something not allowed by food stamps who also has three screaming kids with her.  Sometimes I'll get behind someone who is buying enough food to last four months.  It doesn't matter.  Once I get in line, time slows or stops. 

I try to pass the time reading or playing with my phone.  There've been times when I've read an entire chapter, looked up and...the line hasn't moved at all!  This doesn't happen at any other store I've visited, just Walmart.  I understand that people who wait in line tend to buy some of those impulse items that are perched next to the registers. I myself have occasionally succumbed to such marketing ploys.  But I had no idea that Walmart was so powerful as to be able to bend the space-time continuum in such a way. 

A Lovely Spring Day

Zane is feeling better, after another itchy night, his hives finally seem to be going away.  He actually slept until 10am, amazingly.  This was good, because Larry and I needed some sleep too!  So after we woke up we took Zane to Sea Island for some lunch.  Zane got to play while the food was being prepared, and he ate a lot of food, at least until he tried shoving an entire french fry in his mouth and swallowed.  He gagged, and then spit up all over the rest of his food.  He was none the worse for wear, and as far as I could tell we didn't ruin anyone else's appetite.  We cleaned him up, and then he ate more fries off of his daddy's plate. 

After lunch, Zane wanted to play some more, but it seemed to be too windy at Sea Island so we took him to the park at Live Oak.  We were the only ones there, and Zane had a blast running all over the place, climbing, sliding down the slide, and just exploring.  His biggest excitement came when he saw three black butterflies who seemed to be playing together.  They were black with some blue markings on the lower part of the wings, near as I could tell.   The butterflies swirled around him, and Zane held his hands out and chattered excitedly.  It seemed like the butterflies were inviting Zane to play!  It was exciting to see Zane so excited--I can't even remember the last time I got that excited about a simple part of nature like butterflies. It would be nice to be able to access those feelings of sheer joy in experiencing the world, wouldn't it?

Downtime is Not Always Relaxing

We are on our spring break.  Both Larry and I really needed this downtime and were looking forward to relaxing and taking Zane to various places.  Sunday Zane breaks out in hives.  Not the sissy hives that are just little bumps that are itchy. Not my son.  No, he breaks out in these huge, raised welts that are red around the outside and whitish in the center.  Otherwise he seems fine.  Larry wants to take him to the ER.  No, I say.  He's breathing fine, he doesn't have a fever and he is eating and drinking.  But then my dad says, well, could it be measles? 

Part of me says, "no, Zane was immunized against measles." 

Another part of me says "But YOU had chicken pox three times and you were supposed to have immunity."  Good point.

Still another part of me says "MY POOR BABY IS SICK!!! MUST DO SOMETHING!!!!"

These three voices yelled at each other in my head while my husband looks at me to make a decision.  He always does that.  He complains about my making decisions without consulting him, but when there's a crisis he immediately wants me to decide the course of action.  Whether this shows good thinking on his part depends on the result of our crisis.  Whatever--the two voices that were in favor of the ER won.

We drove all the way over to Stone Oak, about eleventy miles, to the children's hospital.  Gorgeous hospital, not a soul in sight.  Got in there pretty quickly.  Zane was running around exploring everything, like he always does.  He got checked in, and they put a bracelet on my wrist and one on his.  This brought back memories of when he was in the NICU, which weren't too unpleasant.  The nurse put us in a smaller exam room and closed the door. Zane was bouncing off the walls.  I had given him Benedryl earlier and apparently it made him a bit hyper. 

The doctor who came in to see Zane didn't impress me.  He treated us like we were from a special group home, and not in a good way.  The visit lasted a whopping five minutes, and I am sure that we will get a bill for 150$ for that.  He basically said that it was hives, it would last about seven to ten days, take Benedryl.  He did look in Zane's throat and listen to his heart.  Then he left.  An older woman rolled a computer into the room and took all of our insurance information and charged us 100$.   Basically my panic cost a hundred bucks.  Before we left a nurse showed up with a syringe of Benedryl, which Zane was not too happy about taking, since it tasted horrible.  Larry was able to get him to take it, and we went home.

Zane had a horrible night because the hives started itching. I got four hours of sleep. We had to get up early to see the early intervention specialist, who was coming to see Zane.  I noticed at that time that the welts were now spreading all over Zane's trunk and that they were purple in the center, although they weren't raised.  I called the pediatrician.  They finally called back in the afternoon and said to bring him in.  This doctor said that it was an allergic reaction, but more severe than hives.  (And actually, I had this exact same sort of rash all over my legs when I took penecillin, except I didn't have purple, I had very dark purple or black.  And was I itchy!--I told my doctor that I completely understood how someone might self-mutilate if they were trying to get some relief from the itching. )  But the treatment is the same.  Lots of Benedryl and ride the storm out.  He's not contagious, he just looks like he is.  Which might not be a bad thing at the zoo.

What did my son have an allergic reaction to? Amy's Organic Bunny Fruit Snacks, which I bought because I thought they would be better for him.  

One of the Ways Parents Screw Up Their Children

My husband is a teacher.  He teaches middle school Language Arts.  He's actually a good teacher.  I know he's a good teacher because he actually cares about his students. He brags to me about their successes and frets to me about their failures.  He has high expectations for all of them in August, although by January he's more realistic about those expectations. But he still keeps trying, even when it's not appreciated.  And most of the teachers he and I work with are the same way.  They're not perfect, but they do care, and they do the best that they can with what they have.  Nobody can ask for anything more from anyone. 

My husband noticed that his students, who are seventh graders, were pretty crappy readers(my words--I think that anyone over the age of ten who chooses not to read, whatever their skill level, is an idiot).  He asked me about what could be done to increase reading proficiency.  I told him that he needed to work on three areas--fluency, vocabulary, and comprehension.  I also gave him a few ideas as to what he might do to help them improve, including assigning his students to read at least 30 minutes a day.  Research says that kids need to read three to four hours a week to become proficient readers--which is about 30 minutes a day. That's about as long as it takes to get through the main article in a magazine, or to read three chapters in Twilight. The only way to get better at something is to practice.  Reading is no exception. 

So this week my husband and the other seventh grade teachers on my campus sent home reading logs.  The students are to read 30 minutes, jot down a couple of sentences about what they read, and get their parents to sign it. The end result counts as a test grade.  Easy, yes? 

Well, no.  Because a couple of parents in another classroom decided that their children didn't have to do the assignment.  Then they were complete idiots and told their children that they didn't have to do the assignment.  These children announced in class that they didn't have to do the assignment because their parents said so.  These children will be written up for insubordination and will be disciplined because their parents are idiots.  Why are these parents idiots, some might ask.

In the real world, ALL of us, no matter where we are, have to do things that we don't want to do.  We have to be nice to our mother-in-law. We have to take out the trash.  We have to show up for work on time.  We have to clean the horse poop out of the stables. Whatever.  If it's our job/responsibility, we have to do it, whether we think it is stupid, facile, whatever.  If we don't, we don't have a job.  Period. 

People don't realize that the main purpose of a school is to teach children the basic skills they will need to be successful adults.  Their 'job' is to attend school, pass all the appropriate tests, and graduate with a diploma.  On the way they learn all those little, seemingly random, behaviors that make them successful workers who can hold down a job for longer than the two weeks it takes to get their first paycheck.  Crazy skills, like following directions without argument, or showing up for work on time.   Every parent should want their child to be a successful adult.  (If you don't, see a therapist.)  So ponder this:  I'm an employer, your child is my employee, and I tell him to do a particular task, and he says no, because he thinks it's a silly task.  How long do you think your child will have a job?  Or even be employable?  Nobody wants to hire someone who won't do what they are told because they "don't feel like it" or "my dad said that I didn't have to".  (I don't think that those sort of people deserve unemployment benefits, to be honest.  That's like rewarding someone for being a flaming a--hat, pardon my French)

When my child starts school, I will back up his teachers 100%.   If I don't agree with something the teacher is doing, short of physical or emotional abuse, I will speak to the teacher about it.   I will not display inappropriate boundaries by telling my child that his teachers are stupid and that he doesn't have to do what they say.  I will talk to the teacher, and if the teacher doesn't listen to me then I will go up the food chain, but in the meantime my child will show respect to his teachers and will do what he is told to do.  In this way I will teach my child to respect authority as well as to persevere in situations that might be adverse or uncomfortable.  In this way I will teach my child to be a successful adult.  Not just because I love him, but because he has to be able to afford to pay for my nursing home. 

Rules for a Good Staff Meeting

It's been a busy week where I haven't had a moment to think, let alone get on here and write. I am hopeful that with my new phone I can at least start some blogs while I am sitting in staff meetings.  People think that I joke when I talk about our staff meetings, but I am unfortunately serious.  Think about a trip to the dentist's office for root canal and you have an idea.  So here are my rules for good staff meetings.  Feel free to add your own. 

1.  Staff meetings should not run longer than an hour.  People got things to do. 
2.  Any agenda item that can be stated in an email should be stated in an email and removed from the meeting agenda to save time.
3.  No item may be discussed longer than ten minutes.  If you can't get it all out in ten minutes, it's not that important.
4.  A timekeeper should be elected.  That person is never the boss, and the boss has to follow the timekeeper for the duration of the meeting. 
5.  Always serve food.  And chocolate. 

Anyone got anything else?

Book Review: Kaleidoscope

I just finished reading a book called Kaleidoscope, by Patsy Clairmont.  This is not the sort of book that I normally read, but I was looking to stretch my brain a bit.  The premise of the book, according to the book jacket is "A whimsical look at Proverbs from Women of Faith's pint-size dynamo of wisdom".   The author is supposed to "sift through the gems of Scripture" in Proverbs and find "inspiring reflections of the divine that bring clarity to our world". 

A kaleidoscope is, according to Merriam-Webster, "an instrument containing loose bits of colored material (as glass or plastic) between two flat plates and two plane mirrors so placed that changes of position of the bits of material are reflected in an endless variety of patterns."  Kaleidoscope can also refer to a "diverse collection".  Okay--that does apply to Proverbs.   Proverbs is not an easy book to digest.  Even for the best readers, second or third readings are often necessary, and given that the Word of God is "all things to all people", interpreting the verses can be difficult. 

I enjoyed the author's "folksy" tone at first.  She appeared to be writing just like she might talk, and I could almost picture her dictating the entire book just so that intimate, conversational quality could be maintained.  It may be that that Mrs. Clairmont was going for that sort of tone so as to establish and build a sense of rapport with her readers, but after awhile the tone started to feel a bit insincere.  It was just a bit too much. 

The presentation of the chapters are short, two or three page discussions of a proverb with questions for the reader to consider, and additional Bible verses to consider that illustrate the same point made by the Proverb discussed.  Examples of the particular proverb are illustrated with stories from the author's life for the most part, which again appeared to be offered as a means of establishing a relationship with the reader.  I liked this method of short chapters.  I could read a couple and think about them while I went about my day. 

The author emphasizes how "in your face" Proverbs is, and how they provide "direct wisdom and clear understanding".  Simple, huh?  Well, no.  Most of the book, I finishe the chapter and there appeared to be no connection between the proverb she was supposed to be discussing and what she was saying.  I even went back and read again, looking for something, anything that connect the proverb to what ws in the chapter.  For instance, the chapter discussing the proverb "Apply your heart to instruction, and your ears to words of knowledge."  Clairmont only mentions the first part of Proverbs 23:12 instead of the entire verse; she seems to do a lot of this sort of cherrypicking throughout the book.  The entire chapter bounces around from place to place and never once touches on the actual meaning of the verse.  Another chapter spends time talking about "stretch marks of grace" when the verse has to do with giving to your enemy (again with cherrypicking--the very next verse after 25:21 tells us to heap live coals on the heads of our enemies).  A couple of times Clairmont was pitch-perfect, such as when she discussed how beauty is passing, but  most of the book left me scratching my head in confusion.

In other words, this book, while enjoyable, is not for those seriously interested in developing an understanding of Proverbs.  I would recommend it for someone looking for a light and fluffy read, but have your Bible next to you so you can refer to the original source. 

Not Every Day At Work is a Perfect One

I seriously thought about calling in sick today, which is my clue that I'm feeling like I'm in a rut.  The only thing that kept me from picking up the phone is the fact that I would have to deal with my MIL, who is essentially living here for going on two years(when someone asks if they can stay with you, just until they "get back on their feet", say NO).   So I got up, got dressed, and went to work.  It wasn't all downhill from there, but there were some definite low points, including a lovely bbq dinner at the Salt Lick in Driftwood that never happened(I know that it is Lent, but I think that God understands that good bbq is an exception, since He invented that wonderful, melt in your mouth experience).

I got written up for not going to some meeting that was held after work hours when all parents should be at home spending time with their children; I haven't gone to this particular after hours meeting for the last five or six years, but this is the first time I've been written up for it. This activity fell under "other duties as assigned", which is a cheap-assed way of getting employees to do arbitrary things like mowing your lawn.  If I lived in the town where I worked, if I got staff development credit, or if I were presenting at this meeting, I would probably have no problems with attending.  For years, I worked weekends that I didn't have to, stayed late to do trainings, and did lots of "extras" that I never even got a thank you for, although I did get a "stipend" of like 50 bucks a month after taxes. Seriously, what is the point?  So I feel like I've done my time and I should have a little leeway.

Now I have a child and my evenings during the week are sacrosanct.  I am tired when I walk in the door, but spending time with Zane is stress relief, mostly.  We cuddle and play and it's pure heaven for me.  There would have to be a darn good reason for me to miss out on that, and driving all the way back to work to be a seat warmer is not a good reason.  So it's highly likely that I will be written up next year for the very same reason.  And that is okay with me.  I take responsibility for my choices, and I choose to be with my son.  I don't think that my boss understands that she's making herself look bad by suddenly holding people accountable when she never has before, but I've told her over and over that she needed to start writing people up, and if I am one of those people who needs to be held accountable, that's what should happen.  I would be the worst sort of hypocrite if I expected others to be written up, but not me.   I may not like the rules, but there they are. 

I really would like to work in a place where I spend the majority of my time working with kids.  That's why I got the degree in school psychology in the first place.  Instead I spend a LOT of time doing...clerical work.  That's right.  I spend about three days out of five scheduling meetings, filling out notices, putting notices in envelopes, addressing envelopes, and calling parents to remind them about whatever it was that I mailed to them.  Some of that time is also spent putting papers together, making copies, and sending those copies to various individuals.   It sucks, to be blunt.  

*sigh*  I am glad that today is Friday so I can get my "roll with the flow" attitude back, at least for one more week until Spring Break.

Religion, but Not Politics. Rambling thoughts

I was just reading about the cleric who issued a fatwa against Islamic terrorism. It's about frakkin' time.  There are how many Islamic clerics out there, and it's taken all this time for one of them to get up the courage to issue a fatwa?  Of course, the fatwa would have more merit if it came from say, the governing body of clerics for Islam, but that's not going to happen.  The reason it's not going to happen is that Islam, being a religion, is ultimately about butts in seats.  These days we all seem to like our religion light and fluffy with a side of positivity.  Any actual truthiness regarding the validity of terrorism or any other sensitive issue would 'offend' and people would go somewhere else.   Religion should always be about truth, whether it's a good truth or not. Sometimes we all need a good swift kick in the backside to tell us that we are on the wrong path or have screwed up.

Most of the time, I am okay with hearing the truth, even if it is bad news.  Rip the bandaid off quickly so I can move along. Yet sometimes, I find myself in a state of Delay, trying to keep myself from knowing the truth about something before I am ready to deal with it.  I'll avoid my boss if I suspect that she wants to yell at me about something(usually ever day).   One of my friends told me today that she was going to stop digging for information about her philandering husband because she really didn't want to know any more. She was searching for a truth, but didn't like what the truth was telling her, so she stopped searching.  That was probably good for her peace of mind.  I suppose in that kind of a situation it is necessary to protect your emotional self.

We have become stunted in our spirituality.  We expect to be forgiven by both God and Man no matter what the crime,  our sins washed away without any consequences so we can be fluffy like happy clouds. We don't remember that part where, after we confess our sins, the priest says to "sin no more".  In other words, it's okay if you screw up, just don't do it again. In my experience, this doesn't happen.  We all seem to want absolution so we can go out and sin some more instead of sinning no more.  Why is that?

I May Have to Get Medieval

My son was a preemie.  Preemies have a higher incidence of developmental disabilities.  I work with kids who have disabilities.  So I have been on the lookout for any problems since the day my sweet baby was born.  I have worried about his vision, his hearing, his muscle growth, his oral motor skills, his gross motor skills and his fine motor skills.  I have bothered the people I work with who spend time with the younger kids with questions about what is normal and what is not.  (a special shout out to our Occupational Therapist, who probably has wanted to tell me to shaddup on several occasions, for answering my questions so cheerfully.)

Zane is a very smart kid, even if I'm a little biased.  He's very alert, and it's obvious that he is fascinated by his world and that he wants to know all about it.  He's what I call a Problem Solver.  For example, most kids will go in another direction when the way is barred by a baby gate.  Not my son.  He sat in front of the baby gate, studied it, and figured out how to get it out of the way.  He didn't just do this with one baby gate--he's done it with three different gates.  He watched us opening the front door, and before we knew it he had figured out how to open it.  We put on one of those things that is supposed to "childproof" the door so a kid can't open it.  Plus we lock the front door.  Zane figured out how to turn the lock and overcame the "childproof" door handle.  Ultimately we had to have a second deadbolt installed at our eye level so Zane wouldn't exit without anyone knowing(when you are in the kitchen, you can't see the front door). 

My son is smart, yes, but he is a little behind on his expressive language. So we got him some early intervention services.  These are the services that are supposed to be happening before the child turns three.  The goal is to eliminate future problems by intervening early.  Zane qualified for those services, and in December we worked out a plan where he would see an intervention specialist to work on his behavior and a speech therapist to work on his speech.  The intervention specialist has consistently been to see Zane twice a month, just like the plan stated.  The speech therapist has been to see him once, in December.  She has called my sister-in-law a couple of times to say that she couldn't make it and she would reschedule, but then hasn't called back.  We have tried calling her and she has not returned our calls. 

The last time I spoke to the intervention specialist I mentioned that Zane had not seen the speech therapist.  I also mentioned that I would be asking for compensatory services.  She said she would be there twice a month, so she owes us at least five sessions.  The intervention specialist called this morning to say that yes, we would be getting services that were agreed upon.  She asked me if I wanted to take my complaint up the ladder.  I said that all I cared about is that my son get what he needs, and if that is happening, I'm happy.  I don't need to beat anyone up about this...yet.  My impression of this speech therapist is that she thinks that the parents of her clients are ignorant, that we won't notice that she's not doing what she said she would do.  I'm sure that she has some excuse, and maybe it is legitimate, but I don't care.  What I care about is that my son is having speech problems and the person who is supposed to be working on those speech problems is not doing her job.  And if she is treating MY son with this much inattention, what is she doing for the kids who have parents who don't know enough about their rights to complain?

I may have to raise a ruckus, as my dad used to say.  And raising a ruckus is something that I am pretty good at!

Lost

We watched Lost on ABC this evening.  We've been watching since the beginning, and are still trying to figure out what the heck is going on .I could have become frustrated and just quit watching rather than trying to figure out what is going on, but that is not how I roll.   It's been an interesting ride, but I am glad that the show is ending.  A show like Lost needs some sort of ending rather than being dragged on for years after anyone is left interested. 

I have been reading a few blogs about the show, to help me figure out the puzzles.  The Man in Black and Jacob don't seem to be definitely good or definitely evil.  There is a murkiness about both of these characters, although the viewing audience very definitely appears to see Jacob as 'good'.  But his 'goodness' only extends to doing what he has to do for his island.  Toward that end Jacob appears to be willing to meddle in the lives of others that he deems to be "candidates". 

Jack has always been my favorite character on the show, and I am glad to see that he has started heading in the right direction.  The first season showed Jack as a decisive leader, but he lost that in the other seasons when he was morally and spiritually bankrupt.  Now it appears that he has become a man of faith, as his 'duel' with Mr. Alpert demonstrated. This viewpoint seems to be opposite of what we saw of Jack in earlier seasons.  I am glad.  I like this version of  Shepherd.  I hope that they let him be strong again. 

I also liked Locke in his earlier incarnation, before he becomes a psycho hosebeast.  Locke is always sure of himself, even when he steps in the proverbial doo-doo.  I don't really care for Claire or Kate or some of the other characters, mainly because their stories don't seem to add anything to the mythos .But I could be wrong!   

I love 24!

I love 24.  I love Jack Bauer.  He's my hero.  Think about this for a second.  When Jack says that he's going to do something, like saving the world, he actually does it.    And he does whatever it takes to get the job done, from sawing a guy's head off to pissing off the Chinese.  Jack doesn't mess around, but gets right to work, and that is just awesome.  He gathers information and decides what to do almost immediately, without any sort of waffling.  Jack gets things done quickly. 

How many people do you know make informed decisions and implement them within the hour?  I don't know a single one.  Even when I was growing up, if I asked my dad something, he would always say "Ask your mother."  When I would go to my mother she would say "Ask your father."   Where I work, if there's a decision to be made, the people who are supposed to make the decision usually aren't anywhere around, and when they are they won't decide anything without consulting the Management.  Management has to consider whether the decision might a)cost money; b)require paperwork; c)involve lawyers; or d)make us look bad.  The Management sends the question through several departments, and by the time there is any sort of answer, we have all forgotten the question.  Part of me thinks that that was Management's idea in the first place.  However, I don't think that there is anyone on the planet who would think that this sort of practice is good management in any business.   

Which is why I love Jack.  I sometimes wish that Jack worked in our office.  I'm sure that we'd all be paid better and be utilized in a more efficient manner.  I doubt that Jack would want any person with my skills in testing and designing interventions to be spending three days of every week filling out invitations to meetings, addressing envelopes, calling parents to remind them of meetings, and making copies.  No, Jack would know right away that a school psychology specialist should be working with kids and teachers and parents, instead of completing secretarial work. 

Yeah, I know.  Jack Bauer doesn't exist. But I can dream, can't I?

The Couple that Plays Together

My husband is an avid computer gamer.  He is usually waiting at the door of the local Best Buy when they offer a new computer game for sale.  Sometimes he even drools while he waits.  He's hardcore about it.  If you ask him a question about a game, he will start talking and I swear it will remind you of that scene in Forest Gump where Bubba is telling Forest about the shrimp.  Sometimes you don't even have to ask him a question, he'll just start talking.  Most of the time I love that about him.  Not everybody gets that into a hobby. 

A couple of years ago, Larry started playing World of Warcraft, aka WoW.  He was obsessed with it, to the point where I basically had to issue an ultimatum.  To his credit, he chose me over a computer game, and I was eternally grateful because I wasn't sure how I would be able to make a house payment by myself.  (I keed, I keed.)  But at that time, Larry complained that I never wanted to do anything that he liked to do.  I listened.  Lord of the Rings Online was about to come out--a massive, multi-player role-playing game(mmprpg).  So we got two copies of the game, two accounts and signed up. 

Now, my 'gaming' skills at that point were limited to games like SimCity, Civilization, and Solitaire.  I did try to play Half-Life once, but the first person shooter angle made me nauseated and I had to lie down.  Also, I am not ashamed to admit that I have the Walk and Chew Gum Syndrome, and as a result I have difficulty using both hands at the same time without looking down.  So I had no illusions about my gameplay.  But I wasn't there to win, I was there to spend quality time with my husband. 

My first "solo" instance was completed with Larry looking over my shoulder and telling me what to do and how to press the buttons and don't forget to read on that side and this is what you have in your packs and how not to die.  Once I got through that instance, he could come with me in the virtual Middle Earth and we got to do quests together.  And I had fun.  Mostly--sometimes I also would want to throw my monitor out the window when I got frustrated.  My character is a Loremaster, which means that I have spells and a really big stick that I can whack things with.  We joined a kinship and we have worked really hard at forming raids(groups of 12 or more) to kill the really big monsters.  Surprisingly, I am not the only woman in the kinship, but I am the least experienced gamer.  I know this because I seem to ask the lamest questions, at least in my own mind.  But the guys in the kinship have all been very kind to me, and most importantly, they've been helpful.  And I'm finally starting to feel more comfortable doing quests by myself and leveling my character up on my own.  And I kind of think that Larry is proud of me, but if he isn't, I'm at least proud of myself. I did something different that was out of my comfort zone, and I not only survived, I learned something about myself. 

Signs of Spring!

Yes, the sun was shining today, the temperature was positively balmy, the weeds that are my lawn were swaying gently in the wind.  Spring is on the way.  I especially know that it's almost spring because we got our letter from the homeowner's association telling us that we need to mow the lawn.  We get one every year about this time.  As if we didn't know this. 

Last year we were in a drought.  All of our grass died, and lots of hardy weeds showed up.  Since they were greener than the grass, we let them hang around.  But now that the drought is over, it's time for us to get outside and work in the yard.  I'm not pulling up any weeds.  No, I'm going to kill them with weed killer.  Or at least that will be the first attempt.  Usually spraying the weeds around here with poison just encourages them, but I'm hopeful that this particular poison is effective.  In between the weeds is a lot of dog poop.  Literally.  My MIL's yappy dog Rascal, the only dog I have ever wanted to punt for yardage, is a little poop machine.  There isn't any place in the yard he hasn't visited with his little turds.  So when we clean up the yard, we will have to do something about the poop as well.  Then we will have to pick up all the little bits and pieces of toys that my son has thrown all over the yard, including spoons, Megablocks, and the odd FisherPrice toy. They lie buried in the tall weeds, and will probably only be discovered when the lawn mower hits them, but maybe we will find a couple.    Then I plan on throwing down some dirt and grass seed to see if I can get some sort of an actual lawn back.  Because I do like the feel of a nice cool lawn underneath my bare feet in the summer. 

One of my favorite childhood memories is of rolling down a hill over and over.  We were at someone's house in Germany and they had a really nice hill behind their building that was perfect for rolling down.  I wasn't yet allergic to grass, and it was a beautiful day and the grass felt cool on my skin.  I associate that day with the Bellamy Brothers' song "Let Your Love Flow", which is still one of my favorite songs. 

I Did Something Nice

I don't always think about doing thoughtful things for other people.  I tend to be oblivious to what other people need, especially if I'm focused on my own problems.  But every now and then I manage to make a conscious decision to do something nice for someone.  It could be a small gift or something bigger or something else entirely, depending on what that person might need.  My 'nice' might consist of just sitting and listening to someone vent for a few minutes.  It costs me nothing and it makes the other person feel good for a little while, so it's all good. 

Today I surprised my husband with a trip to a local spa, the Retreat, for a massage.  He'd been complaining about his back hurting for some time, and today was the big writing test that he had been working with the kids on for the past month.  So his treat was to get a massage. While I waited for him I got a pedicure, since I couldn't just sit out there in the waiting room for an hour.  Larry said it was the 'bestest' massage he'd ever had, and he was very happy about it.  And I was happy that he was happy. 

I think that marriage should be about doing things that show consideration for each other. Notice that I didn't say a word about talking. Talking doesn't count. Actions speak louder than words. You can tell someone "I love you", but if you don't behave as if you do, then that's the message the other person hears.   I'm not talking about grand gestures, any idiot can do those.  Think smaller, more intimate!   Let your spouse sleep in every now and then, or write them a short note or text saying something complementary.  Make them a cup of coffee in the morning and bringing it to them while they are getting ready.  Buy them a copy of their favorite magazine without them asking for it. Massage their feet while the two of you are watching TV.  Let your spouse pick a movie every once in a while and don't complain about their choice.  There are so many things we can do to show how we feel about each other that don't cost money and give us so much in return.  Choose one.

Motivating Myself

I have a difficult time motivating myself.  I'll make plans to clean out the garage or lost weight, and then something shiny distracts me, I lose track of the time and then I run out of time.  I would love to be able to finish what I start.  I could blame it all on my husband, who hears me say that I want to clean up the backyard and doesn't say a word or lift a finger one way or the other.  I could blame it on my son, who seems to develop a strong need for Mommy whenever I want to step out of the room.  But it's my responsibility for my own decisions, and I need to get my butt in gear. Particularly with my weight.  I'm reading this book(I have no idea how that picture got there!)-by Dr. Oz.  He seems like a plain-spoken person, which is rare for a doctor.  Anyway, the book has started on a good track, with a focus on health.  We will see if that continues, but I'm hopeful. 

Every Child Can Learn and other Ramblings

I work in the special education department for a school district.  My job is to assess children to determine whether or not they meet eligibility for special education services, and if they do not, the information I gather can be used to determine individual interventions for that child that will help them become successful learners.

Every child can learn.  Let's just get that out in the open.  Repeat it with me:  EVERY child CAN learn.  When a child is not learning, the very first thing to do is figure out why.  That is part of what I do, but I'm at the end of the intervention continuum.  The teacher and the parents are at the beginning.  The parents are the experts on their child, if they want to be.  Unfortunately, I find that quite a few parents just want their child "fixed" or they want to blame someone for their child not being perfect or they want to use their child as a means to an end.  I'll be honest with you--I generally find myself wanting to lean over and slap those parents upside the head. 

Children are not to be fixed.  Children were not made to be someone else's version of perfection.  Children were not made to be soapboxes for anyone to stand on.  Children were made to be exactly who and what they are and they are perfect that way.  Adults need to work with the spark that makes each child special. 

And before anyone thinks that I'm advocating just letting kids run wild, I'm not.  We all need rules, boundaries and limitations, just like Cesar Millan says on his show.  Children thrive within boundaries, and they falter when there are no limitations.  School is one of the best places for kids to try and figure out these things, these rules for life.  And they all can learn.  

Good teachers figure out what each student needs to succeed and they figure out a way to give it to them. I've seen it in many classrooms.   If a student does better with pictures, they get pictures.  Hands on activities are the best way to reach other kids.  If you plan it right, then some lessons can be taught using pictures, lecture, and hands on activities.  The main thing that gets kids interested in learning is the teacher's interest in learning.  Kids take their cue from the adults--if the adult is excited about what they are teaching, then the kids will be excited about it.   I would never be a great math teacher--because I don't like math and there's no way I could muster up any sort of enthusiasm about it. ( I joke that math is a necessary evil.)  But I could go on and on for hours about history topics, and I know that I could find lots of ways to get my students interested in the subject right along with me, and I'm not even a teacher.  But I think that every adult has something positive to pass on to the next generation, and that something is whatever they are passionate about.  I just wish that teachers were paid more, so that the good teachers who had to leave the profession in order to feed their families, would be able to come back to the field. 

Think about it.  The people who taught the doctors the basics--how to read those medical books, how much medication to administer, etc.--those people get paid horribly.  Why is that?