Fickle is as Fickle Does

If you've been reading this blog for very long (or, say, at all), you've probably realized I'm not much of a social person.  Given my own way, I'd stay holed up in my comfy house reading a good book, meandering in the back yard, or interacting with my kids.  The thought of being "out there" with lots of people, even people I know, makes me anxious, even if I do force myself to go and end up having a wonderful time.  My comfort zone consists of family and a small number of very close friends.

Finding those close friends, however, has always been a challenge.  Early on, I learned that girls are fickle creatures, and friendship with other girls usually involves cattiness and drama.  Growing up, I had one very good, very close female friend.  Most of my other friends were guys, and I preferred the straightforward nature of those friendships. 

These days, I'm somewhere in the middle.  Overall, I think I'd still rather hang out with a group of guys than a group of girls, though my closest friends in the world are women.  Even as adults and mothers, though, there has been a fair amount of cattiness and silly, juvenile behavior that drives me absolutely crazy.  Maybe it's silly, but I'm surprised to see grown women holding on to the stupidity that drove the high school cliques back in the day.  Are we women really that shallow, that we need to be the center of attention, or draw that attention to things we don't like about others?  Why is it so difficult to focus on being the best mother and person we can possibly be and let everyone else do the same? 

Crawling my way back into blogging

So it's been a long time since I've been here.  Ages.  I haven't even logged into Blogger to check on the blogs I subscribe to, because life has been so incredibly hectic and unpredictable. 

The teaching gig was fun, but I opted out for next year.  Life was going at such a breakneck pace, I felt like I was being pushed down my own path by a barreling locomotive.  While I think I did a fairly good job at teaching, I know without a doubt that the quality of my mothering and wife-ing suffered tremendously, and when it comes right down to it, the mothering and wife-ing are what mean the very most to me, so I decided they must come first.  Maybe someday I'll return to the world of elementary academia.  If I do, I'll go with the knowledge that I had a good, solid first year (which is quite an accomplishment in itself), and with the knowledge that I am welcome to return when I'm ready. 

For now, the goal is to transition back into a life that's not going 900 miles an hour, to a focus on my family and my home that doesn't make me hyperventilate because there are piles and piles of things that still need to be done, there are children desperate for attention, and what DID I plan to make for dinner?  Breathing is the name of the game. 

Remember me?



Hi there!  It's been a VERY long time since I've had a chance to write.  Our Bummer Summer came to an end shortly after my last post, and with it came extreme changes all around.  The biggest change occured four days before school was to start, when I got a facebook message from our school district superintendent saying something about a job at my kids' school.  Later that day, our school principal telephoned with a proposition:  Due to lots and lots of newly enrolled kids at our school, they had an immediate opening for a 5th grade teacher and they were offering the job to me.  In fact, they wanted me over anyone else. 

After a long, agonizing day full of prayer and angst-ridden thought, I met the principal at school and agreed to take the position.  He led me to a classroom full of dusty books and old furniture.  My task in the next four days was to clear it all out, get everything set up, and be prepared to teach 38 students. 

The next three months of my life were a high-pressured, stressful blur.  I lost track of the amount of times I wanted to chuck my teacher's editions into a puddle and go home. 

Since then, things have eased up a bit, but I'm still in a constant state of unrest.  There's never enough time to get things done on the homefront, and I hate coming back after a full day of work to a house that's got laundry piled up, a dining room table sprinkled with crumbs, and floors that desperately need vacuuming.  I'm feeling uneasy about the way the kids' behavior has changed (not for the better...), and feeling overall that I'm sacrificing my home and family life for the good of my students.  Don't get me wrong, I love my students and I cheer (inwardly AND outwardly) when they succeed, but it feels more than a little hypocritical to focus so much on other people's kids while leaving so little for my own.

The plan for next year is still up in the air.  Due to budget stuff, I fully expect to get a pink slip (layoff notice) and the end of the year.  Part time work would be ideal, but we'll just have to wait and see what happens.  I feel very strongly that God placed me in this position for a reason, but if He wants me to stay on, He hasn't shown me just yet. 

And, of course, life goes on in the meantime.  Apart from the joys and frustrations of the new job, there are dysfunctional relatives popping out of the woodwork, frenemies and girl drama to contend with, family issues, dance classes, local theater practices several times a week, and who knows WHAT else waiting in the wings. 

Summer Bummer

It has been one bummer of a summer.

Things looked promising at the beginning.  Once the hectic schedule of the school year was over, we all enjoyed sleeping in, going for hikes, grilling dinner, making s'mores at the fire pit in the back yard, and lots of other things we only really get to do in the summertime.  There were even a few nice, warm days (that's above 70 degrees here in Del Norte) that allowed the kids to wear the creases out of the new shorts I'd got them and allowed me to bare my ghost-white calves with a pair of capri pants.

Then the bummers started to happen. And they started to snowball.

We got a call saying my husband's grandpa, who had terminal cancer, was nearing the end.  Husband left for a good chunk of time to be able to talk to Grandpa and say his goodbyes.  Shortly after coming back, Husband got another call saying Grandpa had passed away.  He left for another chunk of time to attend the memorial service (and give the eulogy) and help organize some of Grandpa's possessions.  It was a very sad time, compounded by the fact that Husband was away so much and I was on my own with three children who had become very bored with summer and who didn't know how to express their grief over their great-grandfather's passing in ways other than arguments and outbursts.

That was the worst part of summer.  After that, it was a plethora of little things.  Hit Girl came down with a cold, prompting her to wake up several times a night and come into our room to wake us.  I managed to shut the garage door on the hood of our new minivan and scratch it terribly.  Did I mention the garage door was bent so badly it wouldn't work and the motor in the opener caught fire?  Just this last week, Pollyana's constant summer buddy, who was here visiting family in our neighborhood, left her with head lice as a parting gift.  Two hours after discovering this, the washing machine's motor ground to a halt.

So yeah, at this point I'm hoping for a vacation from our vacation.  Our family schedule during school is completely crazy, but its predictability looks pretty nice right about now.

Temper, temper!

I have a terrible temper.

Most people don't believe this about me.  Generally I'm a pretty sunshiny, Pollyanna type of person who skips around surrounded by chirping birds, crowned by rainbows in a sky where the only clouds have sequined outlines of silver.  My little world is a happy place and I stay there as much as possible.  But I don't always stay there. Oh, no.  Sometimes unpleasantness creeps in, embedding itself under my skin, irritating more and more with every breath until it becomes so difficult to ignore that my happy little world dissolves into a cacophony of dissonance, thunderbolts and lightning storms that leaves me gritting my teeth and digging my fingernails into my palms. 

Now don't think I'm easily angered.  I do my best to let things roll off my back and focus on the big picture, asking myself "In the grand scheme of things, will this really matter?"  So when the steam starts coming out of my ears, be assured it's been building for quite a while, which might explain the level of reaction when it finally comes. 

So I find myself wondering...is this healthy?  Is it normal?  I never really had a positive example of how to handle anger when I was a kid and, more than anything, I want to avoid the constant violent outbursts that punctuated life in those days.  Then I come across this:

But now you must put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth.
—Colossians 3:8
 
and things start to fall into place.  While I have a bit of pride over the fact that I am fairly slow to anger, the reality is, that's not good enough.   Temper, anger, whatever you want to call it - it's not from God.  It's a very real example of how easy it is to slip into the "me" mentality when my goal is to always be looking up.  If I give in to the foot-stomping and muttering, I'm grasping tools that, instead of helping me out of the pit of temper I'm in, will tear and bite into the ground to create a chasm of misery.  Looking at things that way, the answer to my question is obviously no, this is not healthy and this is not good.
 
It's never easy for me to admit I'm wrong, especially when I know I'm right.  My angry thoughts may well be justified.  Let's face it, people in general are not kind, they are not altruistic and they often hurt others in order to benefit themselves.  Anger is a natural reaction.  But it takes something more, something otherworldly, to refuse to let that take hold, to push it aside in favor of humility and obedience and maybe even forgiveness.  A work in progress, I'm nowhere near mastering any of that.  But I can do pretty much anything with God's help, so I'm going to keep trying.

The 4th in the 'Norte



Fireworks over
Battery Point Lighthouse



The 4th of July in Crescent City is a big deal.  Summertime is the only time of year when we're not completely inundated with rain, so this holiday is the perfect one to highlight the beauty and unique features of our area while celebrating the birth of our country.  There are myriad trails that twist through lush redwood trees growing so tall you can only see a hint of blue sky peeking out from above the canopy of branches.  The ground below, pillowed with dried leaves and pieces of bark, springs up with each footstep.  Fallen tree trunks provide hiding places for all manner of forest creatures and excellent climbing challenges for kids of all ages.  Much as the rain during the other 3/4 of the year depresses me and makes me long for a different climate, summertime reminds me why I could never leave this place completely. 



July 4th, 1915 on Front Street



The amount of activities going on the 4th is astounding for such a small town.  The entire schedule is printed in the local paper, and it's possible to be involved in something from before breakfast until the wee hours of the night.  The one thing I never miss is the parade, which seems to be getting longer each year.  It begins at 10 am and goes until noon this year.  All but one member of my family are part of it and numerous friends and their children are also participating, so the enthusiasm that brings should hopefully overshadow the length.  Two hours is a looooong time.

After tomorrow, Crescent City will return to the sleepy little town it usually is, minus the rather colorful populous that makes the newspaper and the news of record on a regular basis.  Enjoy your 4th and be safe!

The girl is crafty like ice is cold!



Four. Feet.

 I just got back from a wonderful afternoon crafting with three of my favorite people.  While I worked on the neverending crochet shrug (FOUR FEET of the same stitch over and over and over), Rainbow Bekah and Easily Amused Jamie made flowers and hair bands and all manner of cute creations I couldn't make from scratch if my life depended on it (The lovely Miss Mandy spent her time holding the cutest. baby. ever.). 



Yay!



After my hand went numb from single crocheting an hour of my life away, Bekah took pity on my flowerlessness and showed me how to make a fabric flower clip of my very own.  Not too shabby for a beginner, eh?  Now I'm desperate to go through my fabric scraps and see what flowers I can create.  My girls are eager to help, and I'm sure this will end up being a project for the three of us.

Currently holding a pocketbook, comb, brush, receipts,
hand lotion, sanitizer and one small blue racecar.



The sewing machine is intimidating me less and less, and I have two projects to show for my determination to show it who's boss.  The first is the Amy Butler Birdie Sling.  Since making this one, I've ditched my teensy handbag and embraced the gigantic shopping tote-sized purse I made from the pattern.  Sure, it's huge.  Maybe a little ostentatious.  But boy, can I fit a lot of stuff in it!

The second is a dress I lovingly refer to as Pollyanna's First Mumu (for blogging purposes, I've renamed my children The Professor, Pollyanna and Hit Girl. More on that in another post).  The pattern is for your basic pillowcase dress, of which you can find any variation on the web.  Just google. 



Not to be confused with the
sound a cow makes.

Because she's 7 and taller than the toddlers pillowcase dresses are designed to fit, I let Pollyanna pick out any fabric she wanted off the clearance rack so we could make the dress as long as we wanted. True to form, she chose a very loud flowery rayon type material that resulted in a flowy, parachutey look that she loves.  I'm still forming an opinion on whether I like how it turned out, but being enamored with anything Mama makes, Pollyanna is thrilled and has vowed to wear it as often as I'll let her. 



Obviously, I'm still a fledgling crafter, but each time I make something I feel that much better about my skills.  Maybe someday I'll create my own tutorial or be featured on one of those fantastic craft lists all the creative bloggers make!