Peace Out, First Grade

Today is the last full day of school before summer break.  Let the fun begin!  I was expecting my 7 year old to be really excited for summer, and she is.  She's talked about summer camp a lot the past few weeks, and she cannot wait to see her favorite camp counselor, Robbie.  "You know, mom, the one that goes to our church."  She loves Robbie, and I'm excited she is excited.  There is an ease about things when you know your child has no apprehension towards the future, and summer camp is supposed to be fun!

I, on the other hand, have no summer break.  Because I was a slacker when I was younger, I force myself to go to school year round, so I can finish my degree before I'm 35 older.  Last night I got home early from class, and was very excited to be able to sneak into my girls bedrooms and wish them good night.  It was 8:30, and I knew they wouldn't be asleep quite yet.  I went into little G's room, and her face lit up with excitement!  "Mommy!  I need a stuffed animal!"  I tucked her newest Scooby Doo beside her, bundled her blankets around her, and gave her a big hug and kiss.  Sleep sweet, my baby.  I then snuck into P's room, climbed up her loft bed ladder, and felt like I was on the pages of "I'll Love You, Forever."  She rolled over, said "Mommy?" and burst into tears!  Now, in our house, we've been struggling with the attitude of 7 year old P, and immediately I was worried she had gotten into trouble for something, and in my excitement I hadn't gotten the low down from her dad.  When I asked what was wrong, she said, in between sobs, "Tomorrow is the last day I ever get to have Mrs. Thomas as a teacher!"  Oh, break my heart!  We talked for a few minutes about how Mrs. Thomas is a great teacher, and that even if P can't have her as a teacher any more, she can still write her letters, and she can still see her at school.  She shared her fears of second grade, and I assured her that any person as smart and vibrant as her would do exceptionally well in second grade, and she seemed to be put to ease, at least enough to sleep.

This morning, during our normal routine, she shared again with me how she was going to miss Mrs. Thomas.  I shared with her that Mrs. Thomas was a very wonderful teacher, and how it's obvious that she has impacted P's life, and how lucky P was to have had her.  I shared with P that she will forever remember Mrs. Thomas, like I remember my second grade teacher, Mrs. Litwiller (she was amazing.  She read us Amelia Bedelia books and was so kind.  Every year she would dress like the teacher from the book Miss Nelson is Missing and I believe she is the reason I love reading.  She also had the most beautiful cursive handwriting I have ever seen.  I did not get my handwriting from her.).  P informed me that I had to stop talking about Mrs. Thomas, because I was going to make her cry again.

My heart breaks for sweet P.  The whole year she has told everyone in contact with her that she LOVES her teacher.  "She even gives us candy," she whispers occasionally.  "She's young, dad, not old, like you."  "Mrs. Thomas does drive a Porsche, mom.  I've seen it in the parking lot."  "She's beautiful, and so nice."  "She's always very nice to me."  "She's the best teacher ever.  She never gets mad at us if we mess up."  These are a few of the comments I've heard about this wonderful teacher over the past year.

I'm so thankful that P had the opportunity to have Mrs. Thomas this year.  While a teacher's job is to educate children, Mrs. Thomas has been one of those few gems that hasn't been jaded by the system.  She genuinely cares about the children in her class.  Her rules aren't just rules, but foundations for lifelong happiness and productive citizens.  Her adoration towards her school children is returned, I'm sure at least 27 times each year.  And, right now, at P's 7 year old status, if my daughter adores someone, I can't help but adore them, too.  Her patience, with an overabundance of children, is something to marvel at.  Her spirit has always been so uplifting, as a grown woman I gravitate towards her.  She's made learning fun for my P, and has fostered a genuine desire to know more.  While P will always love Mrs. Thomas, I will always hold deep regard to the first grade teacher who helped mold my daughter. 

Did you have a teacher you loved in grade school?  Have you experienced the other end now that you're a parent?

Good morning?!?

*The author of this blog would like to make a quick parental advisory disclaimer on the nature of this blog post.  Some content may be too much for children, and possibly some adults.  It mentions me exercising, as well as some other hoopla.  Please be advised to continue reading, at your own risk.*

This morning I made a decision to do something that I don't normally do, and that's go wogging!  For those who are unfamiliar with wogging, it is defined by my good friend Shelly as "a mix between walking and jogging."  It's not nearly as technical as speed walking, it doesn't get me out of breath like straight jogging, its a perfect cardio mix while being gentle on this out of shape gal.  I got my sweetest non-looking pajamas out and put them on for my "work out gear," and I was ready to carpe the crazy out of this diem!  I opened the front door, went to step out, and there it was...  A bunny.  Dead and mangled.  On my front steps.

Now, we have a dog, and I am not new to dead, mangled bunnies.  My cousin Shanna can attest to this.  One night, we were on the back deck, and my sweet hunting dog, Jack, brought me a stuffed animal.  Except it wasn't a stuffed animal, it was a dead bunny he had caught.  Well, I imagine it was alive when he caught it, but it was dead when he brought it to me.  I thought it was a stuffed animal, and I was wrong.  BUT, that was in the back yard, where he, and the bunnies, are fenced in.  The bunny this morning, WAS ON MY FRONT STEPS.  As I was the only adult home, I was gifted with the pleasure of cleaning the dead bunny off my steps.  In doing so, I had to wonder, "How did this dead bunny get here?"  Here I have listed some possible solutions.

1.  Teen Wolf has come to Bloomington-Normal.  In an attempt to introduce himself to his neighbors, he left us all a gift, a mangled animal.  I'm sure I'm not the only person here that received one this morning.  I'm certain that my neighbors got their gift as well.  Since it is Teen Wolf, I can speak with some authority that its more than likely not just bunnies he left.  My neighbor to the left got a stray cat (he is helping the Normal coalition of capturing stray cats).  My neighbor to the right got a squirrel.  Down the street?  A groundhog.  Around the block?  A river otter.  Teen Wolf doesn't discriminate, and I'm not so certain that his act of kindness is going to be welcome in the neighborhood.

Just in case #1 may be far fetched and untrue (although I highly doubt it is, I feel its the most viable option thus far), I present hypothesis #2.  Somehow, someone in the neighborhood knew that when I woke up this morning I would have a renewed energy flowing through me and that wogging would be my only option for carpe-ing this Diem in a fun, healthy fashion.  However, living on a busy street, this unnamed person, "neighbor," if you will, wanted to spare the early morning drivers from having to witness my wogging and upsetting their stomachs before their breakfast had digested.  Therefore, they snuck into the stillness of the night, found a bunny that had been mangled (possibly by a car, possibly by Teen Wolf), and placed it on my front steps.  This "neighbor" knows me well, because they knew I would procrastinate until the absolute last minute to do my wogging, open the door to my gift, and wouldn't be able to wog because I had to clean carcass off my steps before families arrived.  Mission accomplished, "neighbor."

3.  It could be possible that last night, some animal found the bunny, and found my front steps a safe haven from traffic and other animals, and chose to do whatever it is that big animals do to little animals in a city neighborhood.  While this is highly unlikely, I suppose it could happen. 

4.  Someone has misunderstood my love for the Twilight saga, and assumes I'm either a vampire or a werewolf, and wants to send me a message.  Please note, misunderstood person, #1.  If I were a vampire or werewolf, don't you think I would know if Teen Wolf had moved here?  Please stop the messages.  (I add this because I assume that if someone has this assumption about me, they are probably keeping a close eye on me and reads my blog.)

In any event, wogging will just have to wait until this evening.  While I'm out, I will survey the neighborhood looking for signs of Teen Wolf.  But for now, I think I need to go hose off the steps.  Has anyone else ever had this happen to them?  What are you thoughts on how this bunny ended up on my front steps?

Have a good day to all my readers, and Happy early Mother's Day to all my mommy readers!  I hope your weekend is filled with wonderful surprises, not dead bunny ones. 

Risky Business

The other night something happened in my house that hasn't happened in a long time.  And by long, I mean I cannot remember the last time it happened.  I'm sure it has happened, but I just can't remember when.  What is this thing I'm making such a big deal of?  By 6:00 pm on Friday evening, I was at home.  Alone.  By myself.  Nothing but the tick tock of the clock.  And it was so much fun!

At first I was slightly skeptical over being home alone for two whole hours.  I had friends and family arriving around 8:00.  As I'm sure most stay at home moms feel when this rare opportunity arises, I wasn't sure what to do, so I did laundry.  Then I flat ironed my hair.  Then I sat on the couch in silence.  Then I decided to change my clothes, and that is when it hit me.  I'm seriously home alone!  I can do whatever I want.  No one will see me, no one will hear me, and it will forever be my deep dark secret what went on in this house on Friday, May 4, 2012.  But it was just too much fun to keep a secret, so I will post a blog instead!

First, I put socks on my feet and slid back and forth down the hallway Risky Business style!  Tom Cruise would have been envious of my sliding skills.  The first few times I slid I felt silly, but had a childish rush come over me.  Faster and faster I slid back and forth in my hallway!  Slamming into the door, catching myself before I crashed into the kitchen, faster and faster I went!  For 30 minutes I played Risky Business and I couldn't stop laughing at how fun it was and what a rush it was and why hadn't I tried this earlier?

When I was done with Risky Business, I did cartwheels in the back yard.  I'm sure they weren't the most beautiful cartwheels, and Saturday morning my leg muscles felt the strain of my gymnastics free for all, but it was worth it.  I attempted a back bend, but needless to say, that didn't work so well.  Who knew the blood could rush so quickly to the head region.  I don't remember that from gymnastics 20 years ago...

When I was done doing cartwheels, I went inside and grabbed a drink and realized my friends would be over soon, so I sat back on the couch and stared out the window.  I watched birds, bunnies, cars, trucks, walkers, runners, clouds, and I felt like a kid again.  I hadn't thought about anything "adult" for the majority of the home alone time.  It was wonderful.  Imagine how giddy I felt inside, after all of this childish behavior, to have my guests suggest that we play Hungry Hungry Hippos!?!

For an hour, we held the most intense HHH competition known to grown ups (*it is possible, I suppose, that it could have been the only HHH competition held by grown ups, ever, which, by default, would make it the most intense).  Marbles were flying, curses were shouted, triple marble-offs occurred to break ties.  Shortly after 11:30 our game night came to an end, and I went to bed one happy lady!

Some might say I lost my marbles on Friday, but I say it's so important for us in adulthood to remember what fun being a child was, and enjoy that fun every now and then.  Maybe next time, I will even include my children when I behave like a child.  Have you ever had a moment of childhood bliss as an adult?