Injury Stories

So we found out last night that Tucker's swim relay teams will be moving on to State competition, which is awesome, and was also just a few hours after he stubbed his toe on the bathroom door and it swelled up.
Offering the proper amount of sympathy for an injury is one of those mothering things I struggle with, as Grace would be happy to tell you. So when Tucker showed me his swollen little toe, it made me reminisce about the time I broke my little toe.
Of course, I didn't stub it on a bathroom door. That would be so bourgeois.
It was the summer I spent a month in Corsica...
I won't bore you with the details of the handsome doctor Francois, the younger brother of the family I stayed with, but one day Francois, his brother-in-law Yves and I took the family sailboat to a beach that could only be reached by boat. It was a special beach, they explained, but neglected to mention that it was a nude beach. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised -- they were French.
So we sailed for about an hour across the Mediterranean on their little white sailboat. The color of the Mediterranean, was startlingly blue. As we sailed beneath the beaming sun, small fish with gills like wings skimmed above the water for long stretches -- flying fish.
When we got to the special, isolated beach, we pulled the boat onto the sand. Francois and Yves immediately shed their bathing suits while I spread a towel away from them, afraid to even look their way. (I was so American.) It was on that beach that I learned most Frenchmen are not circumcised.
On the way home that evening, sizzling from a day at the beach, Francois suggested I try the trapeze on the sailboat. The trapeze is a wire that attaches to the top of the mast then comes down to a harness that can go around a person's waist. I stepped into the trapeze and moved to the side of the sailboat to act as ballast. (I'm not sure if this was a comment on my American lack of thinness.)
I was timid at first, afraid to lean out over the gleaming water. But Francois and Yves both urged me to trust the wire and lean back with my feet planted on the edge of the sailboat. So I did.

I arched my back and felt the spray of the water cooling me as the wind directed the sails and we glided across the Mediterranean. Then the wind changed or Francois wasn't paying attention and suddenly the boat lurched and I went swinging toward the mast, where I hit my foot and broke my little toe.
Francois was a doctor and he assured me that, although the toe was broken, we couldn't really do anything but wait for it to heal. Luckily, I had a few more weeks to spend barefoot on the beach in Corsica.
How about you? Do you have interesting stories about an injury?

Saturday Snapshot -- Swim Successes

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.
I'm kind of hungover today from a day filled with sports yesterday. I ran off to teach my 8 a.m. class, then my husband and I hosted 18 kids for breakfast preparing to swim at the District meet.

My son Tucker, 15, is a sophomore and was swimming in 4 events.

I might as well cut to the chase and say that Tucker made it to the podium for all 4 events, taking 7th place in 100 butterfly and 100 backstroke then finishing in 3rd for both relays he swam. The top 8 swimmers get medals and stand on the podium to receive them.
I was so excited. The whole day was exhilarating, even though we are waiting to hear if their team made it to states. I didn't even mind that I missed the basketball game that my other son was playing in.
Here are Tucker and his teammates, bald, on the podium for their relay.

No Rest for the Wicked

I don't mean to complain, which means this already sounds like a complaint, but I just realized that I have only one evening this week where I don't have to be some place.
In the winter, I like to stay home and hibernate, especially in the evenings, so that's a big deal.
Sunday evening, Earl and I went to our ballroom dance class. We're taking the intermediate class this time, so we're a little lost. We came home and shared Brie fondue with the boys.
Monday and Wednesday evenings I teach at 6 p.m.
Last night (Tuesday) was an away basketball game. One of the worst I've seen with our team only scoring 1 point the first quarter. The ball would go in, spin around inside the rim, and pop out. Oh, well. Another evening gone.
Thursday evening is my one night home. I'll spend it cleaning the house because we're having 20 swimmers here on Friday morning for breakfast before they go swim at districts.
After districts all day Friday, we'll go to a basketball game at home Friday night. Then another basketball game Saturday night, which is senior night.
So, rather than complaining about all the to-ing and fro-ing this week, I'll try to savor these waning moments watching my senior play basketball.
I'll cheer on my sophomore swimmer, who broke a school record a few weeks ago and made it to districts in all his events. I'll even cross my fingers that he makes it to states. And if he does, then maybe I'll be posting again next week about how busy things are as I get Tucker to swim practice then drive to northern Ohio for the state swim tournament. But...I'm getting ahead of myself.
I'd better get through the rest of this week first.

Mixing It Up

Maybe it's because I'm always looking at Spencer from below, since he is a foot taller than I am, but his face looks like it's all angles to me. Knobby cheekbones and sharp jawbones. His chin square, like mine and my dad's.
On Saturday, during a basketball game, he went down in a pile of guys scrambling for the ball and managed to wrap his arms around it while signaling time out. The ref blew his whistle and Spencer unfolded to his feet rubbing his cheekbone, which bloomed a bright red. He shook his head a few times, and I worried that he might have hit his head.
"Darn, I should have had that baseline concussion test," I said to my friend Jane.
But after the timeout, Spencer was back in the game.
He told me later that he took a knee to his cheekbone. I took a picture, but it doesn't really capture the skin stretched tight over the bump that formed on his cheek, or the purple that spread under his eye.
His beaten up, angular face was such a contrast to the pictures I looked at last night while searching for shots of him for senior night. As a young boy, he had a round face and giant blue eyes.

Who knows if that round-faced little boy will make an appearance in his face as he ages into his 20s.

Saturday Snapshot -- Signs of Spring

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.
This week, the weather continued to be mild, and as I came home from work one afternoon, I noticed some fresh, painfully hopeful green sprouting in my flower gardens.

The plants and the earth are obviously confused by this very warm winter. They're deciding to begin sprouting.
And look at the contrast between the newly green plants and last-year's weathered mulch.

Then this morning we awoke to a few inches of heavy, wet snow and 11 degrees.

I hope those green sprouts are insulated from the cold by the snow. I'm ready for them.
This reminded me of the first time Earl and I traveled to Europe together after we had been married for a year. We stayed in a chalet in the Alps one night and when we woke up the next morning -- snow! On the tulips. Here's a copy of the picture.

Enjoy your day.

Scarf Impaired

I think I'm scarf impaired. No matter how I tie a scarf, it ends up looking like a thick string around my neck or a kerchief. Sigh.
This morning, I have on my purple cashmere sweater and a silk scarf from a blogging friend who moved from Texas to Paris for a year. The scarf has shades of green, some blue and pale purple running through it. I knew it would go perfectly with the sweater, but how to tie it?
It's a square, so I folded it in half to make a triangle and I turned to the Youtube video 25 Ways to Wear a Scarf.

The woman on this video is a genius and she makes everything look so easy.
I tried and tried to tie it, but each time it ended up looking like I was a cowboy wearing a bandana ready to cover my face in a dust storm created by cattle on the move.
Sigh.
Then I went to school to teach and scarf unwrapped itself like a snake uncoiling. Crumbs from my breakfast fell onto the desk in front of me and I wiped them away before any of the students noticed that my kerchief had captured my breakfast crumbs.
Eventually, I just tied the scarf in a knot in front of my sweater. That's as fancy as I'm able to get with scarves.

Feeding Teenage Boys

I mentioned in an earlier post that money is tight this week, so my cooking habits have to change.
That's when I realized how much money I must be wasting every month, and how much processed food my boys eat. Of course, they prefer the processed food, but that's another story.
Especially on Mondays and Wednesdays, when I work in the mornings and then work again in the evenings, I'm often loathe to cook dinner. I might let the boys fend for themselves with cereal.
Their crazy schedule also adds to the mayhem.
Spencer has basketball practice after school and doesn't get home until around 6.
Tucker has musical practice (he's in the chorus of Oklahoma!) until 5:30 then goes to swim practice at 6:30 til 8:45. He can't eat too close to swim practice because he's gotten sick before.
Truthfully, there's no time during the week when we can all sit down and eat dinner together. It's easier to set out a salad and put something in the slow cooker so everyone can eat on their own time.
This week, the boys quickly ate the granola bars and peanut butter crackers that I had planned to add to their lunches. Then they stood in front of the cabinet complaining there's nothing to eat. Spencer will grab apples and clementine oranges to eat, but fruit doesn't seem to fill that gnawing in their stomaches.
I've increased my cooking and baking. Luckily, even though finances are tight, I have plenty of flour.
I used to bake homemade bread all the time. I felt like even if I fed the family spaghetti with jarred sauce, a homemade loaf of bread made it a real meal. Then the boys got to a point where they wouldn't eat my homemade bread and I started working longer hours. I baked less and less frequently.
This week, I've made up for it. So far I've baked two loaves of banana bread, chili and French bread, brownies, chocolate peanut butter cookies and a loaf of Italian bread.
Tuesday I rolled out a homemade pizza and Wednesday, before I left for work again, I pulled a quiche from the oven. When I got home from work a little after 9, Tucker was climbing out of the shower after swim practice.
"Did you eat some quiche?" I asked.
"No," he said. "I don't want any."
"I'll warm it up for you," I said.
"Okay," he agreed. Did I mention that laziness, or perhaps pure exhaustion keeps teenage boys from eating homemade food?
In spite of all that baking, the boys still walk in the house and complain that there's nothing to eat. It's a good thing that we don't eat gluten-free, because I have no idea how I would fill my boys up if they didn't eat gluten.
The loaf of Italian Herb bread on Monday was a hit and made my house smell so good that I've included the recipe here.
1 cup + 2 Tbl water
1 tsp lemon juice
2 Tbl oil
3 Tbl sugar
1 1/2 tsp. salt
2 Tbl dry milk
3 1/4 cups bread flour
2 tsp dried Italian seasoning
1 1/2 tsp dry yeast

Mix up the dough and knead it. (I don't do a lot of kneading). Let it rise then knead again and shape into a loaf. Let it rise one more time. Bake at 400 degrees for about 20 minutes.

First Paragraph, Tuesday Teaser -- Maine

Every Tuesday, Diane at Bibliophile by the Sea posts the first paragraph of her current read. Anyone can join in. Go to Diane's website for the image and share the first paragraph of the current book you are reading.
Finally, I picked up the book Maine by Coutrney Sullivan. I've wanted to read it for quite awhile. Here's the first paragraph:

Alice decided to take a break from packing. She lit a cigarette, leaning back in one of the wicker chairs that were always slightly damp from the sea breeze. She glanced around at the cardboard boxes filled with her family's belongings, each glass and saltshaker and picture frame wrapped carefully in newspaper. There were at least a couple of boxes in every room of the house. She needed to make sure she had taken them all to Goodwill by the time the children arrived. This had been their summer home for sixty years, and it amazed her how many objects they had accumulated. She didn't want anyone to be burdened by the mess once she was gone.

What do you think? Would you keep reading?
If you aren't sure, take a look at this teaser.
Also this week is Teaser Tuesdays.

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

Grab your current read
Open to a random page
Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!
Here's my teaser from page 119:
"She didn't want to leave him. She just wanted him to change, even as she recognized this as classic child-of-an-alcoholic behavior, even as she could hear her mother's voice in her head saying the only person you can ever truly change is yourself."
Are you intrigued?

Getting in Shape

As someone who runs, I usually think that I am in fairly decent shape. At the beginning of December though, right around the time that I needed to figure out a way to get my daughter home from France, I started having lower back pain. Yes, it might have been stress.
I couldn't easily pinpoint what was causing the back pain because it didn't bother me when I ran or when I did P90X, but the pain would wake me up in the early morning as I lay in bed unable to turn over. I ended up sometimes grasping the side of the mattress and hoisting myself over with my hands. I hated that. Then most mornings, my back would be so stiff I couldn't bend over to pick up my shoes or slide open a drawer to pull out clothes.
I decided to cut back on my running to see if it made a difference. I tried lifting weights, not lifting weights. Running, not running. Walking. Changing shoes. Avoiding the couch in the evenings. The pain continued.
Finally around the beginning of the year, I got serious about documenting the pain. I went to the Y and ran 3 miles on the treadmill and was surprised how quickly I'd gotten out of shape. I couldn't run 3 miles in a row. I'd run one mile then need to walk.
I got into the habit of running at my regular speed then sprinting before walking some. I kept mixing it up, still disappointed at my lack of stamina.
Then February loomed and I knew I needed to get serious about getting back in shape for two reasons other than the back pain. One reason is that my birthday arrives in February. My birthday is a time when I do a little self assessment. Being in shape is definitely a criteria I want to meet. The other reason is that senior night is coming up for the basketball players. My son Spencer is a senior, so my husband and I will accompany him across the gym. I know that if I'm in good shape, I'll walk with confidence rather than slumping across the gym a foot shorter than my husband and son. (Note to self, Wear Heels!)
As my rambling runs on the treadmill continued, I was able to correlate a connection between the days that I ran and the next morning when Ihad no back pain. Eureka. So I needed to keep running. I figured five days a week should keep me out of pain.
Then the nice weather arrived. I couldn't figure out why I should go run on a treadmill when the mornings were balmy in the 40s. So I started to run outside. I'll admit to some back pain the first morning that I ran four miles along the street. My mind raced. Was it the extra mile? Was it the asphalt? I decided to keep going to see what happened.
And this morning, for the first time in nearly three months, I ran five miles from start to finish without stopping to walk in between.
I officially declare myself back in shape, even though no one who looked at me might see much of a difference from two months ago, my lungs and my leg muscles know what I'm talking about.

Saturday Snapshot -- Food

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.

This is one of those weeks where paying for college leaves me, and the men in my family, eating noodles all week. That made me want to include a photo of something yummier to eat.
Here's a picture of some kind of chocolate twist pastry that Grace had in France last fall. I can almost taste it. Can you?

Cat Injuries

If anyone looked at me closely today (and no one every does) they might have noticed the shadow of a round bruise just above my lip. The small circle might have been mistaken for a smudge of newsprint, or perhaps a small mustache as I age.
But as I stood in front of three classes and in front of both my boys and my husband, no one noted the bruise on my lip or the one slightly higher on my cheek that came from a house cat.
I know, animals can cause injuries. I've had my share of scratches and a few sore shoulders when the dog used to pull on the chain, but the face bruise, well that's a new one.
I walked in the back door after work on Tuesday to an empty house, except for the cats. The cats generally gather near the back door in hopes of getting food or escaping whenever anyone comes in or out.
Tupi, the big, extra-toed cat, was sitting by the back door on top of the oak cabinet that we call a pie safe. It's one of his favorite spots for looking out doors and windows.
I walked in the door and let the screen slam behind me. This last day of January was a balmy 62 and the cats were feeling fiesty, which is perhaps why Tupi decided to jump onto the kitchen counter across from the pie safe.
So as I stepped into the kitchen, he squatted onto his haunches and launched himself into the air to make the forbidden and risky jump across the kitchen floor.
That's when we collided.
I took a cat head to the right side of my face and he dropped to the tile floor, of course, landing on his feet.
I worried about him for a minute as I put my hand to my face. Did that just happen? Could the cat have a concussion? Did he knock out any teeth?
"That really hurt, Tupi," I said as he scampered off.
I felt a bump swell on my lip immediately.
By morning, the swelling was gone and only a dark bruise remained, plus this slightly bizarre story about being head-butted by a cat, that no one will ever hear, because no one notices the shadow of a bruise on my upper lip.

Hectic and Hoarse

This morning, I'm a bit hoarse from all the cheering I did yesterday. It was one of those hectic, yet satisfying days spent supporting our boys in their athletic endeavors. And though the boys weren't always victorious, I'm proud of their achievements.
The day started when I dropped Tucker at the high school at 7 a.m. to catch the bus to the swim meet. I had dashed into Panera to get him bagels and we pulled up right at 7. He climbed on the bus, the swim coach stepped off, and the bus drove away at 7:02 a.m. I sat in the car for a minute, then turned it off and walked over to the rubberized track to run a few miles.
The swim meet, the league championship, started at 9:30 and we got home around 3. So it was a long day. But our boys team came in 3rd, the highest they've ever placed. Tucker swam in two free relays. You know the freestyle stroke: that's the one people sometimes call the crawl. In the final relay, our boys were four points behind the second place team. If they won the relay, they could pull into second place. Two senior boys, along with Tucker and his best friend Josh, who are sophomores, swam the relay. Tucker went last because Josh said he couldn't stand the pressure. Usually, the fastest swimmer goes last, and Tucker and Josh trade places as to who is fastest. I wish I could tell you that when Tucker dived in, a great arcing dive as Josh touched the end of the lane, that he pulled them into first place. He didn't, but he swam an amazing race and came in 3rd by hundredths of a second. All the boys had good times.
As an exhausted Tucker pulled himself out of the pool and walked around the corner toward the coach, he stopped in front of the stands where Earl and I sat. He looked up to the balcony and held up his hand with a 5, then a 2, then a closed fist and a 1. His time swimming the 100 free. 52.1 seconds. That's his fastest time ever. But the real thrill was that he wanted to take the time to share it with us, his parents.
He was exhausted, of course, and so were we. After a brief rest at home, plus some paper grading, we went out into the cold night to watch Spencer play a basketball game.
They played a team that had beaten them by 20 points last game and our team was tied with them for 1st place in the league. At the half, our team was ahead by two. The second half, Spencer started with no fouls, which is unheard of for him. In the third quarter he got four fouls -- many of them questionable. In the fourth quarter, his nemesis on the other team gave him his fifth foul by jumping into the air and landing on his back. What? All the parents screamed. How could that be a foul on Spencer? But it worked twice as the same guy gave our other big guy his fifth foul by landing on his back.
We lost by 4 in the end, but the team played hard and Spencer scored 11 points.
We returned home at 10. I had two more papers to get graded by midnight and with a scratchy throat I fell into bed at 11:30 after a hectic day.

Saturday Snapshot -- Summer

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.

I don't know about you guys, but I really need some summer pictures about now. Here's one from the Scioto Mile. That's a new area along the Scioto River in Downtown Columbus.

I'm trying to remember how unbearably hot I was that day when we rode our bikes down and walked along the riverfront.
And here's one of the flower arrays along the Scioto Mile.

Aaah. Summer will be here soon.

Happy BIrthday

Twenty years ago, I lived in a warm climate and a spotless house. I was a size six with 18 pounds of basketball belly when I got up early in the morning, about this time, and drove to the hospital an hour away. Four hours later, Grace was born. Eight pounds, eight ounces.
And, obviously, my life has never been the same -- in a good way. Yes, we've had our mother daughter run-ins and temper tantrums (both of us). But when I went to the hospital, I could never have dreamed that I'd be giving birth to one of my best friends.
Sometimes I think that she relies on me too much, but then I realize that I rely on her too. She's always happy to talk about my day and offer advice on how raise her brothers. We laugh together a lot, and I don't think there's much more I could ask for from her. Someone who loves me, who makes me laugh and who I have watched become a beautiful, confident young woman. And that's only the first 20 years.
Happy Birthday, Grace

Making Connections

It's a funny thing, the difference a button can make.
Last week, Spencer came home from basketball practice with a picture of himself in his basketball uniform posted on a big button. He proudly presented it to me and I attached it to my coat.
When I arrived at work, I told the secretary and the department head that "Yes, I have become one of those people who wears pictures of my children on my coat."
When I got home from work that day, Spence was sitting on the couch and I leaned over to kiss him. "I like your button," he said.
It's good to make him feel proud or happy that I'm wearing a picture of him around the city. However, I've been surprised at the conversations that people strike up based on the button.
People I know comment on it, but people I don't know too.
Like the guy at 7/11, which I never stop at, but had to run into last night on my way to teach a class. I needed a box of spaghetti as a building supply for my class lesson on teamwork. Who would have guessed that 7/11 sells spaghetti, but it does, so I carried the expensive ($2.79) box of spaghetti to the counter and plunked it down. The clerk asked about the boy on the button.
"Is that your son?" he asked in his singsong accent.
When I confirmed, he asked how old he was and where he went to school.
Isn't that strange?
Then at the downtown Columbus library, I was greeted by a librarian who offered to find the books by call numbers that I had written on my Post-it note. I handed over the yellow note and traipsed after him through the stacks. Yes, I can find a library book myself, but it seems rude to turn down his offer. After he found the books, he asked about the button on my coat.
"What school does he go to?" the librarian asked.
I told him and he said his brother teaches science at the school. Believe me, in such a small school district, the odds are rare.
I laughed and told him Tucker has had his brother as a teacher both freshman and sophomore year.
So the button is helping me make connections and making my son feel loved. I guess I'll keep wearing it. At least until he goes away to college.
I'm sure Tucker will have a button to replace the one Spencer gave me.

Basketball Dynasty Upended

We moved to our school district five years ago when Spencer was in the 8th grade. I had homeschooled the kids til that point and Spencer wanted to go to school, in part, to play basketball.
Every year since 8th grade, they have lost basketball games to a school that is run by a mega church. Now, I could complain about how the mega church recruits players and gives scholarships, while we're a small public school, but last year they had their comeuppance. They were found to be in violation of rules and most of their superior players deserted the school.
Our team travelled to the mega church's gym this weekend and our boys won. Here are four of the players, the three from left to right are seniors, who have been there to see every defeat for the past five years. In the picture, they're watching a teammate shoot foul throws. You can tell from their contemptuous or righteous looks that they were happy to see the end of the era of domination. That's my little boy, Spencer, on the far left. He scored 12 points and had 7 rebounds, all in the second half.

Saturday Snapshot -- Homecoming

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.

My nephew flew home from Afghanistan this week and we met him at the aiport, pulling the boys out of school.
That's him in the hat hugging his little sister, surrounded by my kids.

Wish he didn't have to go back.

Excuses

So, I hope that some of you visit my blog regularly enough to notice that I haven't been posting as frequently, or as interestingly, as in the past. This is my excuses post, so you feel bad for me and give me a break. JK.
I am kind of bogged down teaching seven college classes. Add to that basketball season, which means games twice a week, plus breakfasts twice a week for the team. (I'm not sure if it's this way everywhere for high school basketball, but we feed these boys constantly. Breakfast from Panera, dinner after school from a local restaurant, Subway for the bus ride home from the game. On the weekend, we make a "spread" at someone's home and serve them that. This weekend I did waffles with blueberry sauce, cheesy potatoes, fruit, and another parent brought 8 pounds of bacon plus 4 pounds of link sausage! Do they think the parents can't feed them?)
Then Tucker is in high school swim season. We don't feed them as much, but the meets always seem to be far away and last for several hours. On Monday we drove to Marietta. I carried the swimmers' bags in my car so I followed the bus and it took two hours and twenty minutes. Next a three-hour swim meet and then a two-hour drive home.
So if teaching and sports were not all that is going on to keep me away from my blog, Grace is home for one more day. She goes back to school tomorrow.
Sometimes it's hard for me to process the fact that she'll actually be gone.
In spite of deciding that this far away school is the right choice for her, she's feeling very anxious about returning. I have tried to be supportive, saying things like, "Remember how nervous you were before you went the first time" or "This is nothing compared to staying in France for three months alone."
As her anxiety continues to rise, I decided tough love might be better. "Everyone would prefer to lie on the couch and watch America's Next Top Model rather than going to school or working..." or "It's what kids your age do. They go to school. It's not a big deal." Truthfully, if Grace doesn't go away to school, then I have failed at the process of raising her and setting her free. What Mama bird wants to set her baby bird free and the bird decide to stay in the nest?
I know Grace is just nervous because she hates change and because last year at this time she became depressed at school. She can't handle the idea of feeling like that again. I don't want her to feel that either. But she chose to return to this school and so we need to march onward so she can stop anticipating the bad.
So those are my excuses for why I haven't been blogging as much or commenting on other people's blogs.
Forgive me, but I see no respite in sight for another month or so.

Awkward Conversations

Talking to a grown up nephew is, well, awkward.
I see it on both sides of the family.
The nieces always seem to have a lot to say. I can ask them questions about studies and jobs and life choices. The guys generally answer in monosyllabic grunts of yes or no. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has this difficulty because I've seen my adult relatives feel the same awkwardness when trying to talk to my teenage boys. Sometimes I'll jump in the conversation with stories, illustrations. My boys rarely volunteer examples.
Tomorrow, my nephew Michael comes back from Afghanistan. Our family will meet him at the airport. The crowd of well wishers will probably prevent one-on-one conversation, but some time in the week that he's home, I hope to get some time to talk with him. And I need a plan so I can have a real conversation.
Michael was the first child of my siblings, a surprise baby the year my little brother graduated college. I had just finished grad school and taken a job in far away Florida but I immediately fell in love with those big brown eyes and the unruly brown hair of his. My brother and his wife would travel to Florida to stay with me for vacations and I loved spending time with Michael. I gave him his first haircut and cleaned up his puke from too many chocolate donuts.
He was an overactive little guy and found mischief wherever he went -- like the time he stuck the tweezers in the outlet of my makeup mirror blowing the circuit or when he stamped his foot during our visit to the llama herd. He got a sword at Disney World and broke it the next day before making up the saddest song ever about how "Michael breaks his toys..."
It's strange that after sharing an aunt/nephew life with so many good memories, we now have awkward silences.
Michael is 24 now and has been in the Navy for five years. He volunteered for duty in Afghanistan rather than going back on the nuclear sub he has served on in the past. I'm proud of all he's accomplished, but there's not much of a response to "I'm proud of you."
So, any suggestions on conversations with young men who, when they were little, climbed in my lap, and now have nothing much to say?

Graduation is Nearing

I can hardly believe it's already time to submit baby photos of the seniors to the yearbook. A lot of people go with toddler photos, so I wanted this one:


But Spencer said he preferred this one:

Even though he's holding his Pooh bear in it.
I'm also supposed to send photos of Spencer hanging out with friends in high school. I can't find any except from prom and since he and Claudia are no longer an item, that would be awkward. He doesn't have a Facebook, so no one tags him there. Guess I'll have to keep searching his friends' Facebook pages to see if he appears.

Saturday Snapshot -- Lone, Bare Tree

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.

My husband went hiking again and he sent me this great shot. Can't remember if he said it's an oak or an elm.

Impending Troubles?

How do you respond to someone's prediction of doom?
I'm not really sure what to do with this. Maybe you can help.
Just this morning, I called Sheila, asking her to review how she handled her 20-year-old son's teenage years. Tucker seems angry whenever he's home. I want things to be better, but I end up getting angry back at him. Sheila and I talked for awhile but, as usual with parenting, we didn't come up with a solution. As I dropped Tucker at school this morning, the slam of the door resounded like an exclamation mark on our relationship.
I've been worried about Spencer the past few days too, since he came home at 9 p.m. Saturday. He hasn't hung out with his friends since then. He claims everything is fine, he's just decided to stay home more. That makes me nervous. He's the most social person I know. Is he fighting with his friends? Is he trying to avoid trouble?
So worry about my boys was nibbling at my brain when I got home and checked my email. One of my former students, Muhanned,a smart man who I trust and stay in contact with, sent me an email. Muhanned was born in Saudi Arabia, grew up in England and the U.S.
His email was titled "I had a dream." I figured he was sending me another video of his baby daughter. But not. He wrote about his dream that "some harm came to your son" and "you were offered $300 million in compensation." He woke up with a feeling of foreboding and wasn't able to shake the feeling for the past few days, so he emailed me.
I felt tears fill my eyes.
Should I go pull both boys out of school and keep them home -- forever -- to keep them safe?
I don't know whether Muhanned has prophetic dreams like his namesake, but the idea of something happening to either of my sons is frightening. And when I thought about it, I realized there is nothing I can do to protect them from the world.
Of course, I analyzed Muhanned's email. I wanted to shoot back questions: Which son? Have you had dreams come true before? Did something happen during the day that made you think of me, which could have spurred the dream and had nothing to do with my future?
And I looked at his carefully chosen words: "some harm." He didn't say "die" but why would I get compensation if said son was still alive? $300 million compensation meant some sort of accident and a big corporation responsible. I brooded on his words. I needed to make sure my boys were safe.
The thing is, there's nothing I can do to make sure my boys aren't involved in an accident if Muhanned's dream is correct or if it isn't. The only thing I can do is to make sure that the boys know how much I love them, to be certain our relationship is fine in case anything should ever happen to them or me -- whether it's related to Muhanned's dream or just to life.
So I asked Tucker to go to lunch, but he turned me down. He wouldn't mind if I gave him his weekly allowance though. So I dropped by the school. Tucker and his buddies filled the car and asked me to drop them at Qdoba. He leaned over and game me a kiss before he got out.
Then I saw Spencer walking with a few friends on their way to lunch on this beautiful, sun-drenched day.
Whatever the future holds, I hope we can all say we didn't waste our time together fighting or complaining.
And I'm thankful to Muhanned's dream for forcing me to go make peace with Tucker and take a few minutes out of my day to remember how much I love my kids.

First Paragraph, Teaser Tuesday -- What Came First

Every Tuesday, Diane at Bibliophile by the Sea posts the first paragraph of her current read. Anyone can join in. Go to Diane's website for the image and share the first paragraph of the current book you are reading.
I'm back to entertaining, escapist books now that I'm teaching full tilt again. I just picked up What Came First by Carol Snow. Here's the first paragraph:

The chickens are getting restless.
It is just past sunrise on a chilly Saturday morning in January, and insomnia kept my brain whirring until after two a.m. Now all I want to do is stay buried under my hypoallergenic faux-down comforter and return to the dream that is already slipping away.
But the chickens have other ideas -- assuming their primitive little brains are capable of anything that can be termed an idea.

Hmmm. The opening doesn't seem to offer much, but I kept going and the book is pretty entertaining. It follows three women who used the same sperm donor to father their children for various reasons.

Also this week is Teaser Tuesdays.

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

Grab your current read
Open to a random page
Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!
Here's my teaser from page 140:

He said good night and turned to go.
I said, "Wait." I was going to ask him if he wanted my phone number. Instead I kissed him. We held each other for a long, long time and then exchanged phone numbers. Later I asked him why he hadn't asked for mine in the first place. Was he just going to walk away and forget about me? He said he'd been planning to find me in the Sears houseware department the next day. He was going to buy some pots and pans and then ask if he could make me dinner. How weird: Eric's most romantic gesture is something he never actually did.

Adapting

My friend Stephanie teared up on Saturday when she talked about her daughter going back to college. She couldn't think about it, much less bear to watch her leave the house and return to the college two hours away.
It's times like this, that I realize I may be lacking in some basic emotions. It's not like I love my kids any less, I'm just not overly emotional about them heading off to college or France or wherever their lives take them.
I've hypothesized before that I'm less emotional about it because I homeschooled them and I feel like I've spent plenty of hours getting them prepared for life beyond home. But I think something else has helped prepare me too.

Three years ago in March, my husband found out that the newspaper was laying off employees. We found out the next day that Earl wasn't laid off, but he was moved to the evening shift. This left him home during the day. Since I am an adjunct college teacher, I'm sometimes home during the day too. We had to learn how to adapt to new schedules and learned how to enjoy time together while the kids were gone to school.
Sometimes we walk downtown to get coffee, other times we venture out for lunch or ride our bicycles. Sometimes, we just watch sitcom reruns. We've remembered what we enjoyed about each other before the kids came along.
I think this alone time together has helped prepare me for the empty nest that is coming. This year Spencer will graduate and head off to college. Two years later, Tucker will follow suit. Then, unless Grace comes home after college, Earl and I will be home alone throughout the school year.
The idea is certainly different. No basketball games or swim meets or musicals or orthodontist appointments. No big shoes strewn across the kitchen floor. No pile of wet towels waiting to be washed. And no one to stretch up to on tiptoes so I can kiss their stubbly cheeks goodbye as they head out the door for school.
I imagine that if Earl is still working evenings, cooking dinner will go by the wayside. I'll probably settle for a bowl of cereal or a salad.
Even as I strain to hear the back door slam with the approach of oncoming teenage boy feet home from school, I don't feel teary at the idea they'll have moved on.
I'm not a martyr taking a stiff upper lip as they move on, and I'm not so selfish that I can't wait until they go. It just feels right that the kids take up new challenges. They live in a college dorm full of other tall boys and girls who dance and watch Disney films. They are busy carving out their own niches now.
And luckily, I'll still have days filled with my husband and dreams of traveling to exotic places.

Saturday Snapshot -- Mild January Day

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.

My friends and I met to run as we do every Saturday morning, beginning in the dark. When we returned, the sun was rising and sending pretty pink colors across the sky.


I love the way the colors reflect in the lake. This looks like it could be an impressionist painting.
In the other direction, the colors were still pretty but not as stark, and looked lovely reflected in the lake.

Working Blues

Is it possible to be this tired after working only three days this year?
I feel like such a wimp. (Does anybody use that word anymore?)
I'm sitting at my computer, waiting for Spencer so I can drop him at school before I go teach -- my fourth workday of 2012. My energy is fine right now, but yesterday evening, I was a limp rag, and grumpy. I expect the same results after I work today.
The thing is, I don't even work regular hours like most people do, which gives me even less reason to be so exhausted.
I do have two days this quarter where I work 8 to 12 then come home for the afternoon and work 6 til 10 p.m. That's what I did Wednesday, which probably added to my tiredness. And I could point out that the evening class is north of the city and I have to leave about 5:15 to get there. Still, when you add up all the hours that I'm physically teaching, it's not much compared to the hours most people work.
My husband, always on my side, would point out that I spend a lot of hours at home preparing for class and grading papers. I can't shake the feeling that if I had to work a regular 9 to 5 job, I'd never make it.
Last night, I knew I had to go to the grocery store. We were out of milk and eggs. Tucker needed snacks for a swim team trip this weekend. I sat on the edge of the couch, ready to pull myself up and go to the store -- for an hour and a half before I finally shoved myself out the door.
I patted myself on the back for having prepared dinner every evening after work, but when I walked in from the grocery store and the sink was still full of dishes while my teenagers lounged around the house, I wanted to scream. Well, I might have done a little yelling.
And the teenagers weren't lounging all day. Two went to school, one went to jury duty. Two had sports practices and one volunteered in the high school costume shop for the upcoming musical. Then they lounged.
The scary thing is that I like my job but I'm still feeling over my head trying to keep up.
How about you? Are you exhausted after work or does it just take some adapting to the new year?

First Paragraph and Tuesday Teaser -- The Forgotten Waltz

Every Tuesday, Diane at Bibliophile by the Sea posts the first paragraph of her current read. Anyone can join in. Go to Diane's website for the image and share the first paragraph of the current book you are reading.
Anne Enright, who won the Man Booker Prize for The Gathering has a book called The Forgotten Waltz. A lot of times I don't enjoy award-winning books so much, but this one sounded intriguing. Maybe I'll agree with the award committee. Here's the first paragraph:

I met him in my sister's garden in Enniskerry. That is where I saw him first. There was nothing fated about it, though I add in the late summer light and the view. I put him at the bottom of my sister's garden, in the afternoon, at the moment the day begins to turn. Half five maybe. It is half past five on a Wicklow summer Sunday when I see Sean for the first time. There he is, where the end of my sister's garden becomes uncertain. He is about to turn around -- but he doesn't know this yet. He is looking at the view and I am looking at him. The sun is low and lovely. He is standing where the hillside begins its slow run down to the coast, and the light is at his back, and it is just that time of day when all the colours come into their own.

I haven't started this book yet, but I have to say that I'm put off by all the passive sentence constructions, all the wasted words -- the "there was" and "he is" and "he is" -- words I'm working to get out of my writing.
What do you think?

Also this week is Teaser Tuesdays.

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

Grab your current read
Open to a random page
Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!
Here's my teaser from page 41:

"I'm not bothered."
"You take it personally, don't you? The house, the car, the holidays in the sun. You take it personally, because you're Irish. If you were American, you'd let them have it. Because, you know, these people are not connected to you. They bought their nice house and your name didn't even come up. They went to the Bahamas and they didn't even forget to invite you."

Last Day of Lollygagging

Even as I plan to spend the day watching football games, I know that the rush is coming. I know that tomorrow when school starts again, I'll start with a tiny snowball of activity and quickly be rolled into a giant avalanche.
I spent the end of last week preparing the syllabus and the online components of my classes. Then last night, I started on lesson plans. Sometimes I can re-use lesson plans from previous quarters, but I always need to tweak them. And this quarter I have a class I haven't taught since 2008, so the book has changed. That one took a long time to schedule and will take even more time to plan each week.
I'm teaching 19 hours at one college and 8 hours at the other college. Thus, the coming avalanche. However, I plan to swim steadily forward at the top of the avalanche, until I am forced to tread water and if I am buried by the avalanche, I'll stick up my ski pole so someone can dig me out.
After all, the quarter will end eventually sometime in March, and if I work hard and my students work hard, we could end up avoiding the avalanche. And the money that I make teaching all of these classes will cover my daughter's next semester of college.
How about you? Is the new year going to be a challenge?

Happy New Year

This morning I fulfilled my husband's new year's wish -- I stayed in bed and slept in until after 10.
See, I'm kind of a morning person. I'm rarely still in bed after 6 a.m. My husband works evenings, so he's rarely in bed before 2 a.m.
I think the mornings are for accomplishing things and he thinks the mornings are for sleeping.
I will have to admit that I woke up and thought of the things I could be getting done -- taking down Christmas decorations, baking cinnamon rolls, preparing for my classes this week, reading a good book, walking to Caribou for coffee. Then I rolled over and did none of those things.
Sometimes the thing to accomplish is to go back to sleep and start the year off cuddled in bed with the one you love.
How about you? Did you sleep in or did you accomplish something this morning?