Chatted with one of my former students on Facebook tonight. He's a working actor in LA now. As his former speech/theatre teacher (one of them, at least), I'm just...proud. This must be what it feels like when your kids grow up and leave home and do the things that make them happiest. He's working and he's happy and I'm sitting here grinning from ear to ear at his happiness- even though he has a lame day job (his words), he's living the life and he's happy and I had a teeny, tiny part in it. It's almost enough to make me go back into the classroom. Almost.

The whole thing has me thinking, though, about how my approach to theatre ed would be different if I were doing it today. I'm dabbling in mindfulness and the whole idea of being fully present seems so closely aligned with what I tried to teach as a theatre teacher. When I taught theatre, my whole point was that honesty was everything. Be fully honest about what you're feeling on stage and your audience will go along with you on the ride. Don't worry if it feels like the emotion doesn't fit the scene. Go with what you feel- own it, work with it, and trust the people around you to honor it- and you just can't go wrong.

Sounds a lot like being "fully present" to me.

We've been out of school for barely 72 hours and I'm pretty sure that only one of the three of us is going to make it to September. I'm not entirely sure which, but the odds of us all making it?

Growing slimmer by the moment.

We've spent the day at odds. Actually, since Thursday afternoon, we've been at odds. Want a taste?

"Can we go to the pool?"
"No. It's storming."
"WAAAAH!"

"Can we go to the pool?"
"No. It's 7:30 pm. The pool is closed."
"WAAAAH!"

"Will you buy me a slip and slide?"
"Well see."
"WAAAAH!"

"Can I have ice cream from the ice cream truck?"
"No."
"WAAAAH!"

"Can I play video games/ watch TV?"
"No. You've used up all your screen time today."
"WAAAAH!"

Right now, both of them are in their rooms throwing raging tantrums because their father wanted to take them over to the Rock Swap (which is much cooler than it sounds) and out for the afternoon. Yes- they're mad because we wanted to do something fun out of the house. I feel like I've done nothing but yell for the last two days. Please chew with your mouth closed. Please don't hit your sister with giant stuffed duck. Please stop whining. No, you may not play video games right now. No, you may not turn on the tv. No you may not have a cookie or ice cream or soda or crystal meth or whatever the hell it is you want.

They've bickered and fought and screamed over everything from who gets custody of the giant stuffed duck to who threw away the teeny tiny piece of paper that is suddenly the most important thing in the whole world. We have had arguments over who loves mama more, whether first really is worst, second is really best, third is actually the one with the hairy chest- not to mention the ongoing debate of whether seeing Molly (or Harry's) underpants is in truth the same as seeing London and France- and whether one has the right to finish the rhyme if "I see London, I see France," is actually not true. Harry has also decided that since he's in charge of his own body, that means we don't get to tell him what to eat, when to go to bed, or when to bathe. He's decided his summer project is to learn to burp the ABCs and has practiced pretty much non-stop, in spite of my repeated requests that he practice in his room or in the bathroom.

It's 1:00 in the afternoon and all I want is for my children to go. away. I'm the worst mother in the entire world- and DH has that look in his eye. The one that says, "I cannot be at home alone with these children all summer. I'm moving to Alaska." I'm seriously considering going with him.

Did I mention we got out of school on THURSDAY?

Of course you do!



Tie the world together, dude.

This is just...nifty.

and after the storm. You know that feeling you have right before something hard is going to happen? Well, the hard stuff is going to happen in about 12 hours, but I'm not feeling the ick factor. I'm not quite sure what that means- other than I might have a lot more time to write soon.

I think I've been going at a dead run for so long that I didn't realize that I was totally wiped out. Today turned out to bejust what the doctor ordered- should the doctor be the type to order a day of garden and writing. I'm slowly but steadily moving towards this thing that could be a portfolio...sort of. I've got 4 pieces- picture books- but I'm not quite ready to put myself out there to try to get an agent- heck I won't even join the Society of Children's Books Writiers and Illustrators 'cause I'm just not quite sure that I'm one of them</>. You know- the people who actually write and believe that someone besides their mom would want to read it- or at least read it more than once?

In any case, it doesn't matter 'cause there were hummingbirds on my columbine this morning and the garden looks pretty good and the laundry will...fold itself while I'm gone.

About twice a year, I get called downstairs to the business office for a spanking (metaphorically speaking). Today's my spring spanking and I"m dreading it- even though I've got at least one person coming to back me up. It's humiliating and frustrating and enraging and I just *hate* that it happens. Why does it happen? Because my office is different than others and we're understaffed and sometimes we make mistakes. We also make $250,000 a year (plus a whole truck load of goodwill and friends) with no help from the larger institution, but that's besides the point. So today's my spanking. I have to say, I dread my yearly visit with the Ob/Gyn less.

Sigh.

It's seed starting day! That means that I've spent the last 2 hours outside (where it's nearly 70! Degrees! Farenheit!) getting my hands dirty setting up 99 starts. A little of this, a little of that, a whole lot of flowers...It's shaping up to be a good spring. Oh wait. You want to know *exactly* what I started? Here you go, in alphabetical, garden-obsessive order:

Cosmos- Bright Lights
Cosmos- Sensation Mix
Delphiniums- Giant
Delphiniums- Blue Mirror
Hollyhocks
Heliotrope
Jalapenos
Marigolds
Peppers
Petunias
Sweet Peas (the flowers, not the vegetables)
Tomatoes- Rutgers
Tomatoes- Pearson
Tomatoes- Siletz
Tomatoes- Break O Day
Tomatoes- Matina
Zinnias

Heaven...except now I have to go clean out the back room so I can set up the grow light, officially kicking off the "I'm not growing weed- I swear" phase of the year.

This crossed my path today and I'm thinking we could all use it right now.

Sometimes

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.

-Sheenagh Pugh

Don't think for a moment that I don't get the irony of this:


And this:




Yup. I'm ready to start seeds and we've got a Nor'Easter headed our way (we're right there on the edge of that light pink), proving once again that this winter will never, never, never, ever end.

On the other hand, I have 10 weeks until the first set of starts will be ready to move outside. (Delphiniums and Heliotrope, just in case you were wondering...) Here's hoping the snow will be gone by then.

The kids sang at church this morning. I'm sort of lukewarm on the whole church choir thing, but the kids really, really want to do it so I act supportive. The singing is sort of secondary to the whole thing- it's mostly about the snacks and the chance to hang out with big kids who have attained the ripe old age of 9. Watching Harry today, it became clear to me that my dad is right. Harry is a puppy. He wants to do what we want him to do. He wants to stand still and sing but then there's someone lighting candles and there are flowers and the kid next to him is new and who's that coming in over there? Plus his nose itches and his pants are falling down and he's got a tooth that's loose and...

You get the point. Watching Harry try to sing in the choir is like watching a puppy trying to obey. Frustrating, painful, maddening and absolutely, undeniably cute.

Join Camp Girlfriend as we salute our new First Lady by wearing pearls on Inauguration Day. No matter where you are you can participate in this salute. it's simple- wear pearls. Little girls, big girls, all girls...let's wear pearls! Contact your family and friends and ask each one to wear pearls on January 20. To work, to school, the Inauguration, the balls, in front of the TV.

girlswithpearls@gmail.com

This came from the Forum for Education and Democracy, an educational think tank devoted to keeping the "public" in public education. Got here to sign their online petition. Please?



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How lovely it was to discover the letter from Hermit Island in my mailbox today, confirming that this is where TMOTH, the munchkins and I will be spending a week this summer.




If you were sitting at the picnic table, you'd be looking out over the Casco Bay. It's up on a bit of a bluff, just high enough that no one is tromping through your site to get to the beach, but it's got all the pretty one could possibly want.

Now I just need the snow to melt and the temperatures to get above 3.

Sigh.

Now that most folks have taken down their decorations (in direct contradict to my previous orders), I'm stuck for things to do with the munchkins during the drive home. Tonight, though, I struck gold. Or ice, as the case may be. Who's up for a round of "Find the longest icicle?" It's hours of fun. Hours and hours of cold, cold, cold fun.

It's going to be 5 tomorrow. Degrees. As the high. Why the hell didn't I move to California when I had the chance?

Oy.

I'm noticing that we're about the last house in our neighborhood with the outside lights still on. As a result, I've drawn on my old Student Congress skills and put together the following resolution.



Whereas:

1) nights in New England begin at 2:30 pm and,

2) holiday lights are cheerful and non denominational when you really think about it, and

3) removing holiday lights before April is near-impossible anyway due to the 2-6 feet of snow on the ground, and

4) the lighting of holiday lights beyond mid-January has traditionally been considered bad form, and

5) the aforementioned "bad form" is based upon old-school assumptions regarding social status, and

6) old-school assumptions suck.

Be it hereafter resolved that:
holiday lights shall remain lit in New England communities until such time as sundown occurs after 7 pm *or* crocuses have been blooming, without penalty of punitive gossip by neighbors.

Exception shall be made for anything obviously religiously themed or inflatable because Christmas is really *over* after January 7th and those inflatable snow globes? FAIL .

Agreed? Agreed.

I spend hours wondering if Harry is soaking up any of the moral lessons I'm trying to teach. He seems pretty impervious to any and all input, so nights like tonight are a wonderful surprise. As I was tucking him in, I asked him what he wanted to say thank you to God for (my artful dodge of the whole "now I lay me down to sleep" thing). Usually (like for the past 18 months) I get "Thank you for everything but the war and bad guys." Tonight? Tonight I get "thank you for our warm house and our food and for electricity and because we can donate stuff to people who don't have enough" Nice, right? But wait. Before I can add the "Amen," he say, "Mama, when I grow up, you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to build a big house in every state where people can go to live when they don't have any money. It will have a golf course and a tennis court and a grocery store where everything is .01. And it won't be like a hotel, it will be like real homes because having a real home is important. And it will be solar powered with wind power for the back up. And I'll build it with solar powered tools."

Hear that Barack? The standards have been set pretty high for you.

We're in the eye of the storm these days. Vacation means a few days to rest, reconnect and try to figure out how to do the next 6 months- the monochromatic months- with a minimum of fiscal, physical, and emotional trauma. For me, this means trying to remind myself to look at myself, my life and my loved ones with soft eyes- the eyes I know they (mostly) use to look at me. But first, I rest and stretch and try to find a calm center.

From NPR's Tinsel Tales (courtesy of MOMcrats):

A Modern Day Mary & Joseph by Scott Simon.

"I think I finally understand," he said. "Why we're here. Why we've been given the gift of this child.

"It doesn't matter who the father is, does it? Every child born cries for our love and deserves our care. Every child who's hungry in Sudan or Louisiana or Indonesia. Every little girl who's abandoned by the roadside in China. Every little boy in Uganda who's dragged into somebody's army while he's still not as tall as the gun they put in his arms. Every teenager who never seems to take off their ear buds. Every little boy and girl anywhere who's threatened by a bomb, an epidemic, a bullet or a storm. I must love them as a father loves his child."

Mary and Joseph sat with their arms around each other and around their baby boy. [...] The star that had found them seemed to stay above them for a moment. While their child breathed softly and safely and peacefully in their arms, looking out at a world that seemed suddenly new.

Courtesy yeswecanholdbabies.com

You know, kids just know stuff.

First, 'cause it's Sunday, here's a way to get churched while also keeping Harry (and TMOTH) happy.

Plus, a little reincarnation for those who swing that way:


We've got a collective birthday party hangover today- and we're in mourning over the way Mizzou embarrassed itself yesterday, so I'm thinking this is a really good day to clean and cook and go to the store and ignore the looming pumpkin festival and the way that Halloween is slowly but surely creeping up on me.