1. Starting a new school year for my 1st grade little boy (I can't believe he's in 1st grade!)
2. Starting a new school year for my pre-k little boy (actual homework!)
3. Starting a new school year with my students (48 fourth-graders, to be exact)
4. Moving classrooms twice in a three-week period
5. Stressing about work and the general state of public education
6. Ignoring my broken computer
7. Trying not to stress about my broken computer
8. Having to face the reality that my computer is broken
9. "Writing" blog posts in my head
10. Stressing about the blog posts that are not making it into the blogosphere
11. Trying to lose the 8 pounds I gained over summer vacation
12. Realizing that as I approach 40, losing summer weight is not that easy
13. Waking up at 4:35 a.m. to make it to the gym (see #s 11 and 12)
14. Going to bed at 10:00 p.m. (see #13)
15. Entering the world of Soccer Mom (Soccer practices are how many times a week for a 6-year-old?!?)
16. Entering the world of tennis (how cute is a 4-year-old who actually asks to take "tennis classes"?)
17. Missing summer
Friday, September 14, 2012
Monday, August 13, 2012
Good-bye Summer!
Good-bye
~10:00 a.m. wake-up calls
~Going to sleep past midnight (usually us, sometimes even the kids)
~Monopoly Jr. games at 10:00 p.m. (what bedtime?)
~"What do you want to do today?"
~"Is it good beach weather today?"
~"We gotta do laundry for the next road trip..."
~Hanging out with my girls (and their kids) on a weekday afternoon
~Middle-of-the-day, middle-of-the-week art classes (for the kids)
~Middle-of-the-day, middle-of-the-week any activity (for the kids)
~Babysitting nights Every. Single. Week. (for Us)
~Wine on a Monday night
~And a Tuesday night
~Maybe a Wednesday too
~Stress-free Sunday nights
~"What day of the week is it?"
~Middle-of-the-day spontaneous gym visits
~Consistent conversations with Hubby all the time
~No need for "scheduling sex in"
~Tour de France on DVR
~Olympics on DVR
~Family Movie Night any night
~Flip flops 24/7 (what stilettos?)
~No routine, no schedule, no stress
~"Summer Liz" (the much-nicer-to-live-with version)
Perhaps I should keep that last one in mind?
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Happy Birthday, Aidan Kai!
Four years ago today you entered our world with terrible drama.
You drove us nuts the first few months with your endless piercing cries.
You've made every milestone and transition difficult.
And you've melted each and every one of us with your amazing sweetness, gentle nature, perfect dimples, and deliciously wicked sense of humor. Happy Birthday to the sweetest little marshmallow of a boy. We love you, Pokey-Chicken..."all the way to the stars" and "sooooo much."
Friday, July 20, 2012
The 4 of us for 8 days in a 20-year-old RV: My Life, In Lists
1. Going on vacation in an RV with two small children is not really a vacation at all. A vacation, in my mind, entails cocktails and reading by the pool and relaxing. This was more of an adventure. A really fun but really, really exhausting adventure.
2. Any time I open my mouth while anywhere north of the Disney World area will result in people commenting on my "accent" and asking me where I am from.
3. Revealing you are from Miami to anyone who lives north of the Disney World area in Florida will result in one of two very specific responses...either they shudder (in fear? anxiety? traffic phobias?) or they gasp in awe: "Why are you here, then?"
4. A squeaky dinette table hinge that was barely noticeable when you first purchased the used RV of your dreams will become Chinese water torture after a few hours (let alone 8 days).
5. Oil does not work on squeaky dinette table hinges.
6. Neither do paper towels or rubber tape stuffed into said hinges.
7. When one goes swimming in South Florida, you tend to see cocktails by the pool area. In a swimming hole in the middle of nowhere, you see cans of dip.
8. A whining 3-year-old is not as annoying as a defiant 6-year-old.
9. A normal size bikini in Miami will be the smallest one on the campground beaches.
10. I am still waaaaay more afraid of lizards than of enclosed spaces: I was just fine checking out the stalagmites in the dark tight quarters of the Florida Caverns State Park (even when they mentioned bats), but the minute I heard "black salamanders that live down here" I nearly had a full-blown panic attack.
11. When traveling for more than 5 days in an RV, you must pack a mani/pedi kit--even if you're "just camping."
12. Jack Johnson is the perfect soundtrack for a summer Florida road/camping trip.
13. Eating burgers and hot dogs around a campfire at the end of the day is awesome.
14. So is walking a mile down the beach to have shrimp and scallops at the nearest restaurant.
15. Watching your kids climb their first tree (in flip-flops, no less!) is exhilarating in the good way and the bad way.
17. When your sweet, animal-loving 3-year-old asks to see "the dolphin with no tail" over and over again, you are willing to wake up at 2:00 a.m. to drive through the night in order to make it on time to the marine aquarium. (Thanks, Hubby.)
17. "Young" couples can only afford the banged-up mobile homes.
18. I sleep better in our RV than in a fancy hotel room.
19. Even children who love the outdoors and have been looking forward to a camping trip for months are seduced by the lure of the portable DVD player.
20. Even parents who don't really like the idea of a portable DVD player being packed for a camping trip are seduced by the lure of the possibility of "grown-up time" thanks to said DVD player.
21. Laundry is, apparently, quite exciting while on vacation.
22. Much like hotels, there are campgrounds, and then there are Campgrounds:
 |
| Adequate but small, dusty, and swarms of mosquitoes |
 |
| Way bigger and only gnats, but still dusty |
 |
| Just as big, no dust, no bugs and practically beachside |
23. At some campgrounds, a 20-year-old RV will be the envy of all the tent campers. At some campgrounds, a 20-year-old RV will blend in just fine. At other campgrounds, you will hope that every one else is too busy watching their flat screen TVs or adjusting their satellite dishes to notice your 20-year-old RV chugging into its reserved spot.
24. Mold is not always green. Sometimes, it's white, and it can proliferate in a matter of hours given the right conditions.
25. The right conditions, apparently, exist in my RV kitchen cabinet.
26. White mold reeks.
27. I am way tougher than I thought I was, since I was the one who took care of reeking, white, proliferating mold without hesitation and with only minor (mostly) verbal complaints.
28. There is nothing like seeing your kid's dimply face light up when he catches his first wave on a boogie board.
 |
| That's me and Ben holding hands...he had no issues jumping in (over and over again). |
30. When you are the proud owner of a 20-year-old RV, expect things to go wrong.
 |
| A $700-pit-stop for an ailing generator |
31. I really love the outdoors.
32. I really, really love the beach.
 |
| 3 bike racers + 1 beach babe = 4 very happy people! |
Friday, July 6, 2012
Can I wash that vitamin down with some beer?
I have gone through many stages in my life when I realize that something's gotta change.
Sometimes, it's just my attitude, as in: I am being overly dramatic or overly pessimistic or overly pissy.
Sometimes, it's been my weight, like after I had the boys and I felt so trapped inside that swollen, slow, puffy body that I knew I had to make it my focus.
Sometimes, it's even been the people I associate with: a spouse who made me miserable, a friend who made me crazy.
It's simpler when the problem is easy to identify and the solution within your control. When you are attacked by falling hangers every time you try to pull a shirt out of your closet (true story), you know what you gotta do. A couple of hours and some minor effort later, the problem has been solved. But usually, life isn't that easy. You don't always know what the problem is, or whether it's within your control at all. Sometimes, the problem isn't even a problem; sometimes it could just be a string of bad luck. I'm not sure which of these applies to me right now, but I know I function better when I at least think I'm trying to do something about it. So I am.
The problem these days is my body. For a change, it's not about fitting into that perfect size 4 in the back of my closet. It's not about losing the stubborn pooch that came along with my two boys and likes to masquerade as a Shar-Pei when I bend over. It's not even about my thighs.
It's about my health.
I'm not sure what's going on lately, but my body's been complaining. And they say that if you listen really carefully, your body will let you know what it needs. Well, my body definitely needs something.
Over the last year, I've had several colds/bugs/viruses/under-the-weather-spells. I've been diagnosed with GERD, exercise-induced asthma, acute bronchitis, and a rib head disarticulation. (Yeah, I didn't know what it was either, but it hurts like hell.) I've had liquid drained from my good knee. I've had three sinus infections and three corneal abrasions. Throw into the mix my chronic migraines, and it's been a stellar year, health-wise.
And this week? Recovering from hand, foot, and mouth disease. (Remember my post about how I was absolutely, definitely not getting strep? Well, I didn't. Instead, I got this.) "Adults don't usually get hand, foot, and mouth." "It's a children's virus." "If you get it as an adult, it's super mild." That's what I was told. But you know me. I got it BIG TIME. And if you don't know anything about this virus, let's just say it's super fun. As in, your closest friends literally cringe when you touch them. (It's okay, M, I would have cringed too.)
I realize that I have two small kids who bring everything home from pre-k and kindergarten. I realize that both Hubby and I are elementary school teachers who bring everything else home. I realize that we lead very hectic lives and run around a lot. And I also know that in the grand scheme of things, none of this stuff is a big deal and I really am lucky and blessed and healthy. But I've gotta try to make things a little better...help my body do its thing somehow. So the question is how? What's gotta change?
Well, for starters, Hubby pointed out that, lately, we've been spending a whole more money on beer than on vitamins. And my four-day-per-week-minimums at the gym have turned into twice if I'm lucky. Fish and salads for dinner have been swapped for dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and frozen pizzas. We've gone from a very healthy lifestyle to "What's the quickest thing we can throw in the microwave and does it go well with my Belgium lager?"
Even Hubby, who was sick--literally--like twice in the first 11 years we've been together, has been sick four times in the past year.
So what to do? I need a plan of action. I am an anal, Type A, list-making kinda girl.
Well, for one thing: cut back on the booze.
Go back to the runs, the bike rides, the gym visits. Make that a priority.
Pull out the yoga gift certificate I've had in my purse for 6 months.
Stop being so cheap and buy some good supplements again.
Buy more fish.
Become obsessive-compulsive about all things Dr. Oz.
Maybe none of this will make a damn difference. Maybe next week, I'll develop some other random, annoying, cringe-worthy virus. But at least I'll get a false sense of control over my circumstances. Even that's gotta be healthier than how I've been feeling lately. Then maybe I can start obsessing unhealthily about my thighs again.
Sometimes, it's just my attitude, as in: I am being overly dramatic or overly pessimistic or overly pissy.
Sometimes, it's been my weight, like after I had the boys and I felt so trapped inside that swollen, slow, puffy body that I knew I had to make it my focus.
Sometimes, it's even been the people I associate with: a spouse who made me miserable, a friend who made me crazy.
It's simpler when the problem is easy to identify and the solution within your control. When you are attacked by falling hangers every time you try to pull a shirt out of your closet (true story), you know what you gotta do. A couple of hours and some minor effort later, the problem has been solved. But usually, life isn't that easy. You don't always know what the problem is, or whether it's within your control at all. Sometimes, the problem isn't even a problem; sometimes it could just be a string of bad luck. I'm not sure which of these applies to me right now, but I know I function better when I at least think I'm trying to do something about it. So I am.
The problem these days is my body. For a change, it's not about fitting into that perfect size 4 in the back of my closet. It's not about losing the stubborn pooch that came along with my two boys and likes to masquerade as a Shar-Pei when I bend over. It's not even about my thighs.
It's about my health.
I'm not sure what's going on lately, but my body's been complaining. And they say that if you listen really carefully, your body will let you know what it needs. Well, my body definitely needs something.
Over the last year, I've had several colds/bugs/viruses/under-the-weather-spells. I've been diagnosed with GERD, exercise-induced asthma, acute bronchitis, and a rib head disarticulation. (Yeah, I didn't know what it was either, but it hurts like hell.) I've had liquid drained from my good knee. I've had three sinus infections and three corneal abrasions. Throw into the mix my chronic migraines, and it's been a stellar year, health-wise.
And this week? Recovering from hand, foot, and mouth disease. (Remember my post about how I was absolutely, definitely not getting strep? Well, I didn't. Instead, I got this.) "Adults don't usually get hand, foot, and mouth." "It's a children's virus." "If you get it as an adult, it's super mild." That's what I was told. But you know me. I got it BIG TIME. And if you don't know anything about this virus, let's just say it's super fun. As in, your closest friends literally cringe when you touch them. (It's okay, M, I would have cringed too.)
I realize that I have two small kids who bring everything home from pre-k and kindergarten. I realize that both Hubby and I are elementary school teachers who bring everything else home. I realize that we lead very hectic lives and run around a lot. And I also know that in the grand scheme of things, none of this stuff is a big deal and I really am lucky and blessed and healthy. But I've gotta try to make things a little better...help my body do its thing somehow. So the question is how? What's gotta change?
Well, for starters, Hubby pointed out that, lately, we've been spending a whole more money on beer than on vitamins. And my four-day-per-week-minimums at the gym have turned into twice if I'm lucky. Fish and salads for dinner have been swapped for dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and frozen pizzas. We've gone from a very healthy lifestyle to "What's the quickest thing we can throw in the microwave and does it go well with my Belgium lager?"
Even Hubby, who was sick--literally--like twice in the first 11 years we've been together, has been sick four times in the past year.
So what to do? I need a plan of action. I am an anal, Type A, list-making kinda girl.
Well, for one thing: cut back on the booze.
Go back to the runs, the bike rides, the gym visits. Make that a priority.
Pull out the yoga gift certificate I've had in my purse for 6 months.
Stop being so cheap and buy some good supplements again.
Buy more fish.
Become obsessive-compulsive about all things Dr. Oz.
Maybe none of this will make a damn difference. Maybe next week, I'll develop some other random, annoying, cringe-worthy virus. But at least I'll get a false sense of control over my circumstances. Even that's gotta be healthier than how I've been feeling lately. Then maybe I can start obsessing unhealthily about my thighs again.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Taking a risk
Sometimes in life you have to take chances to be happy. You have to work at creating the life you envision. And most of the time, the decisions that get you there and the steps you have to take--big or little--can be scary.
We had been behaving responsibly for a while now: no lavish trips, no more high-end martini bars, cheap take-out had become an occasional treat, and random no-reason shopping trips were a thing of the past. We'd willingly and solemnly swapped our kick-up-our-heels, paint-the-town-red, live-for-today, spontaneous life of the Olden Days for the cliche we shockingly and embarrasingly realized we (gasp!) wanted: corner lot life with the big mortgage and two shaggy-haired boys.
It's what we wanted.
But despite what we used to think when we were in our early twenties, you can't have it All. So something had to go. Hence, we became responsible.
Budget-conscious.
Focused.
Grown-up.
And bored out of our minds.
Enter: The A-Team (R)Van.
Yep, we got an RV.
And yep, we gave it a name.
And yep, we named it after a bad 80's TV show.
And yep, it worked: we aren't bored anymore.
Hubby had grown up taking RV trips, and it was his dream to have one of his own. Although I loved camping and the outdoors in general, I never took him very seriously. I knew nothing about RVs. It seemed overwhelming and impractical and unnecessary. And certainly, financially irresponsible. How much did those things cost, anyways?
But Hubby kept at it. He scoured the internet for used RV deals, sure that "one day" he'd find the perfect, can't-beat-it deal. He shared blogs about families with young boys who were traveling the country each summer. He pointed out that with both of us not working every summer, we had the perfect set up to use an RV; with that much vacation time, we could take a few days to drive here or there and save tons on airfare. And with all of his biking races (especially now that the boys were racing in the kids' division too), we wouldn't have to drive hours before sunrise to get to a state race and then drive hours back when it was over. We could finally be one of those families we saw at these events: making it a weekend, camping out, turning it into an easy, fun activity instead of a chore to get there and back.
The more I started looking into it with him, the more it became my dream, too.
And this past December, two days after Christmas, we gave each other a special gift: a 20-year-old, Class C, 28 foot mobile home that sleeps at least 6 comfortably. (And the very next day, we went to the mall and returned all of the other "real" gifts we had opened on the 25th--more a symbolic gesture than one that actually made a financial difference.) It was an RV we had seen at a dealer, and we had liked it so much that it had become "The Measuring Stick" we used to compare all the other ones we went to see. After a few months of serious looking (and Hubby's aforementioned 2 years worth of casual scouring), I made the suggestion to go back and see it again and put in a low-ball offer. After some semi-serious haggling and a check-up by our mechanic, the dealer agreed to our offer and we brought home the latest addition to our family (affectionately called The A-Team around these parts).
Although it was in great working condition, it did, admittedly, look like the set of a bad 70's porn movie (or so I've been told, of course). After gutting and completely remodeling two houses with our sweat and muscle (really just Hubby's muscle and both of our sweat), we weren't afraid of tackling such a little space. So we gave it a major scrub-down, painted, tore out, replaced, and added our own special touches...
A few bumper stickers to give it some personality...
And, finally, never underestimate the power of a vintage hula girl...
We've gone out in it already 4 times: one time locally to try everything out (I will spare you the details of the first time poor Hubby tried to work the sewer system or, as I like to call it, the Poop Tube), once for a biking event, once just the four of us in the middle of nowhere, biking and hiking and barbecuing, and once with ALL of the grandparents AND the kids. Each time, I've been sad when it's time to pack it up and go home (yes, even the time with the grandparents). This coming Saturday we leave for our first "real" trip: 8 days all over Florida, exploring the old town of St. Augustine, 2 Florida beach campgrounds, Florida Caverns State Park, and possibly an elephant sanctuary and/or the famous little dolphin from the movie "Dolphin Tale." I have never felt as disconnected from the real world, stress, and the relentless noise in my own head as when I've been camping with the RV. Hubby says I'm a different person; he suggested making a tiny model of it and making me carry it around in my pocket. (I know, he's super funny, right?)
And yet, we almost didn't do this.
The night before we went to pay for it and bring it home, we almost chickened out. We had capped our adventurous tendencies so tightly, we almost forgot how to take a risk. It was like if we had been the responsible parents in the corner lot house for so long, we had forgotten how to be ourselves. It was when we realized that, that we knew we had to do this. Even if it didn't work out. Even if, in 6 months, we had to sell the thing. We needed this. We needed to remember what it felt like: to take a leap of faith, to look for adventure again, to be who we used to be, who we wanted to be again, now that things had "settled."
And so, we're not bored anymore. For now, anyways. I'm sure that in a few years, we'll find another adventure to jump into...now that we've remembered what it feels like to be excited again.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
It's in the genes
I didn't even know he knew how to play Hangman.
"Yes, Mommy, I know, I knooooow. You don't have to teach me. I've seen you do it with your students before and I've played with Sofia a couple of times."
"Ok, Ben, but then don't you want me to go first? How are you going to know how to spell the words? And what if you can't think of anything?"
Then he busts out with this:
I'm not sure if the grin on my face was more from his message or the fact that he whipped it out without hesitation, informing me first that "It's 4 words."
For Round 2, the only explanation he gave is that he's "not really sure how to spell it" so he's "gonna do it the way he thinks it sounds."
For those of you not fluent in "invented spelling," that's SARCASTIC for ya.
Sarcastic.
As if that weren't enough, he hung me with it, too.
WTF?
"Yes, Mommy, I know, I knooooow. You don't have to teach me. I've seen you do it with your students before and I've played with Sofia a couple of times."
"Ok, Ben, but then don't you want me to go first? How are you going to know how to spell the words? And what if you can't think of anything?"
Then he busts out with this:
For Round 2, the only explanation he gave is that he's "not really sure how to spell it" so he's "gonna do it the way he thinks it sounds."
For those of you not fluent in "invented spelling," that's SARCASTIC for ya.
Sarcastic.
As if that weren't enough, he hung me with it, too.
WTF?
What kind of kindergarten graduate comes up with "sarcastic" for Hangman?!?
Oh yes...MY kindergarten graduate. And really, now that I think of it, his FATHER'S kindergarten graduate, too.
When I told the story to some of my friends and family, they just chuckled and said things like "Figures," and "I'm not surprised," and "So there you go." I don't know why we are ever surprised by Ben's personality; he is nearly exactly like us in so many ways.
It's like if now, all of a sudden, we have another partner in crime. It's not just the two of Us anymore, now we've got another one on the team.
And it's pretty cool.
For Father's Day, one of the gifts we had gotten Hubby was a book I knew he had really wanted. A few days before Father's Day, Hubby does what he often does right before a gift-receiving occasion: announced out of nowhere that maybe we would all go to Barnes and Noble the next day to hang out and shop because there was a book he really wanted to get. (It almost never fails: whether it's a book or a $3000 bike, Hubby's impatience usually kicks in and he gets himself whatever I got him.)
But this time, I had someone else on my side.
Ben stops with his cereal spoon midway to his mouth and (almost) subtly looks over at me. We make eye contact across the table, and I realize that he got it. He gets it enough, in fact, that he says nothing over breakfast, but comes immediately over to me in my room when we are done. He whispers: "Mama, we can't let Daddy go to Barnes and Noble!"
"I know, Ben, so here's what we're going to do..."
Between the two of us we devise a plan to get Daddy home and avoid the bookstore altogether, and the next day, the boys and I surprise Hubby with breakfast in bed (Ben's idea) and a bag filled with gifts, including the book he really, really wanted.
It's kind of odd, this shift we have felt from baby to full-fledged kid. And a smart, funny kid, at that...one who can actually be part of the conspiracies, instead of have them explained to him all the time.
It's funny, because waaaaaay back in the days before kids, one of our biggest concern was our "cocoon." We used to say that we had this little cocoon of two, and we were very hesitant to let anyone else in. We liked each other so much, we weren't sure how we were going to handle having to share each other with someone else. (And don't get me wrong; there are definitely plenty of days when we would like nothing more than to throw the kids out the window drive-by style at the grandparents' house.) "Can you imagine?" we would ask each other. "We're gonna have a whole little person around here, another human being, sharing our space, our home, our life, our cocoon..."
And yet here we are now, stuffed in tight, the four of us, into this space...and now it feels like Ben has crossed over to really feeling like one of Us...similar humor, strong in his opinions, blunt in his thoughts, curious about everything.
Welcome to the team, Ben.
But this time, I had someone else on my side.
Ben stops with his cereal spoon midway to his mouth and (almost) subtly looks over at me. We make eye contact across the table, and I realize that he got it. He gets it enough, in fact, that he says nothing over breakfast, but comes immediately over to me in my room when we are done. He whispers: "Mama, we can't let Daddy go to Barnes and Noble!"
"I know, Ben, so here's what we're going to do..."
Between the two of us we devise a plan to get Daddy home and avoid the bookstore altogether, and the next day, the boys and I surprise Hubby with breakfast in bed (Ben's idea) and a bag filled with gifts, including the book he really, really wanted.
It's kind of odd, this shift we have felt from baby to full-fledged kid. And a smart, funny kid, at that...one who can actually be part of the conspiracies, instead of have them explained to him all the time.
It's funny, because waaaaaay back in the days before kids, one of our biggest concern was our "cocoon." We used to say that we had this little cocoon of two, and we were very hesitant to let anyone else in. We liked each other so much, we weren't sure how we were going to handle having to share each other with someone else. (And don't get me wrong; there are definitely plenty of days when we would like nothing more than to throw the kids out the window drive-by style at the grandparents' house.) "Can you imagine?" we would ask each other. "We're gonna have a whole little person around here, another human being, sharing our space, our home, our life, our cocoon..."
And yet here we are now, stuffed in tight, the four of us, into this space...and now it feels like Ben has crossed over to really feeling like one of Us...similar humor, strong in his opinions, blunt in his thoughts, curious about everything.
Welcome to the team, Ben.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Summer Jinx?
My mom believes in the "evil eye."
Mal de ojo.
That's what they call it in spanish. The old Cuban way of thinking is that if you have good stuff in your life, then people will wish you ill. They will be jealous. They tell me this--my family--over and over again. Even young, professional, educated, modern, Cuban parents fall into this superstition: everywhere in Miami, you see cute fat babies with little black beads hanging from their necklaces--azabaches--to ward off the infamous evil eye.
I never believed in it.
When I had my kids, I refused to put one of these little black stones on them. I lectured my parents on karma. I told them that if someone wished my delicious, perfect little boy ill, then that person would surely get it back from the Universe. They, in turn, tried to tell me that most of the time, when you got this evil eye, it wasn't purposeful; it was actually accidental: people were just admiring your child, your choices, your life.
How could this be? I scoffed. You're trying to tell me that someone who is happy for me has accidentally given me bad luck? Nonsense.
Then again, I am the person who knocks on wood--literally--every single time I say something about how great things are. I mean, I actually wander around, mid-sentence, looking for wood, or something that resembles it, to knock on if I say something like "Everything is good. Everyone is good." It's like, I don't want to throw it out there...to the universe...that all is good...I feel like just maybe, I might jinx myself.
Isn't that silly?
Isn't that almost the same thing as my mom with her evil eye and black beads?
For the last 17 days, at least one of the people in my household has been sick. Not sick-sick (I just knocked on the plywood computer desk), but sick as in strep throat, high fevers, overall misery. Poor Ben had it for a whopping 15 days. Aidan for a mere 2 (we cheated and broke every rule and gave him Ben's antibiotic the minute he started with the symptoms). And now, Hubby.
We postponed a major road trip with the 4 grandparents and 2 kids (yes, FOUR grandparents and TWO kids--sick ones, at that-- in one RV) and then went anyways and then had to come back one day early in a huff and a rush with a little one puking and suffering with 104. (Truth is I think the grandparents suffered more just watching and worrying and wishing I would have just put one teeny tiny little black bead on the kid...).
Now I postponed an annual girls' getaway because of Hubby.
I was told by my good wise old friend: "You know you're next."
No.
I will NOT be next.
I refuse.
I can't take one more thermometer, one more dose of nasty-smelling antibiotic, one more cold washcloth on a steaming forehead.
I am officially pronouncing us all done.
Done.
You hear that, Universe? You hear that, jinx agents of the world? You hear that, Karma gods?
But maybe, just maybe, just in case, I will ask my mom for a couple of those beads...
(Knock-knock)
Mal de ojo.
That's what they call it in spanish. The old Cuban way of thinking is that if you have good stuff in your life, then people will wish you ill. They will be jealous. They tell me this--my family--over and over again. Even young, professional, educated, modern, Cuban parents fall into this superstition: everywhere in Miami, you see cute fat babies with little black beads hanging from their necklaces--azabaches--to ward off the infamous evil eye.
I never believed in it.
When I had my kids, I refused to put one of these little black stones on them. I lectured my parents on karma. I told them that if someone wished my delicious, perfect little boy ill, then that person would surely get it back from the Universe. They, in turn, tried to tell me that most of the time, when you got this evil eye, it wasn't purposeful; it was actually accidental: people were just admiring your child, your choices, your life.
How could this be? I scoffed. You're trying to tell me that someone who is happy for me has accidentally given me bad luck? Nonsense.
Then again, I am the person who knocks on wood--literally--every single time I say something about how great things are. I mean, I actually wander around, mid-sentence, looking for wood, or something that resembles it, to knock on if I say something like "Everything is good. Everyone is good." It's like, I don't want to throw it out there...to the universe...that all is good...I feel like just maybe, I might jinx myself.
Isn't that silly?
Isn't that almost the same thing as my mom with her evil eye and black beads?
For the last 17 days, at least one of the people in my household has been sick. Not sick-sick (I just knocked on the plywood computer desk), but sick as in strep throat, high fevers, overall misery. Poor Ben had it for a whopping 15 days. Aidan for a mere 2 (we cheated and broke every rule and gave him Ben's antibiotic the minute he started with the symptoms). And now, Hubby.
We postponed a major road trip with the 4 grandparents and 2 kids (yes, FOUR grandparents and TWO kids--sick ones, at that-- in one RV) and then went anyways and then had to come back one day early in a huff and a rush with a little one puking and suffering with 104. (Truth is I think the grandparents suffered more just watching and worrying and wishing I would have just put one teeny tiny little black bead on the kid...).
Now I postponed an annual girls' getaway because of Hubby.
I was told by my good wise old friend: "You know you're next."
No.
I will NOT be next.
I refuse.
I can't take one more thermometer, one more dose of nasty-smelling antibiotic, one more cold washcloth on a steaming forehead.
I am officially pronouncing us all done.
Done.
You hear that, Universe? You hear that, jinx agents of the world? You hear that, Karma gods?
But maybe, just maybe, just in case, I will ask my mom for a couple of those beads...
(Knock-knock)
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Hello, Summer!
Goodbye...
~daily routine
~inevitable morning chaos
~4:40 a.m. gym wake-up calls
~kindergarten (Ben!)
~part-time pre-k (Aidan)
~lunchbox packing
~working late with tutoring students
~"Does Ben have clean uniforms?"
~"Have you washed Aidan's napping stuff?"
~"Have you finished your homework?"
~"What am I going to wear to work today?"
~sight word lists
~backpack checks
~cafeteria salads
~teaching 53 students all day long
~worrying about the FCAT
~rushing to make it to bedtime
~Sunday night dread
Friday, May 18, 2012
Six Word Friday: A Parenting Conundrum
When will you grow up already?
They grow up way too fast.
What does the word GROW bring to your mind?
Join us at Six Word Fridays!
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